Doctor Who: The Mark of the Rani (7 page)

Before eliminating his loathed adversary, he intended to turn the screw; orchestrate his suffering to a crescendo.

Peri’s future was determined; she would be given to the Rani. But what of the Doctor’s favourite planet? ‘A turbulent time, Doctor, in Earth’s history?’

‘Not one of its most serene, I agree.’

‘A critical period?’

‘You could say that.’

‘Oh, I do. The beginning of a new era.’ He sought Peri’s opinion. ‘Why do you think that should happen now?’

‘I guess I’ve never given it much thought.’ She was mesmerised by the Rani’s clinical preparations with the brain extractor. She had no concept of what the tubes and the crystal flagon were for, but this cold-blooded woman gave her the shivers!

‘Ah, but you should.’ He caressed the left side of Peri’s neck, knowing that soon the tube would be grafted there.

‘I’m talking about the impact of the individual. Has not your country based its philosophy on the cult of the individual.

Repelled by his black-gloved touch, Peri recoiled.

The contemptuous exposition droned on: ‘A sentimental concept that squanders the opportunities presented by the exceptional gifts of these men of genius.’

‘Doctor, do you get his drift?’

‘Only too well, Peri.’ Indeed he did! The mosaic was complete and the picture formed had at its centre the forthcoming meeting: the congress of George Stephenson’s talented contemporaries.

‘He wants to pervert history!’ Peri suddenly realised.

‘I’m afraid the Prince of Darkness here would not see it as perversion.’

‘Maudlin claptrap!’ A vehement reply from the Master.

Travelling Time Lords were forbidden to interfere with events on earth, but he rejected such edicts. Why should he observe the rules of Gallifrey? He’d been cast out and no longer recognised the Council’s jurisdiction. ‘The talents of these geniuses should be harnessed to a superior vision.

With their help, I can turn this insignificant planet into a powerbase unique in the Universe!’

Mustering all the self control he could, the Doctor tried to maintain his pretence of nonchalance – an attitude that might incite the Master to overplay his hand. ‘And you intend to use the Rani’s bag of tricks to achieve this egocentric scheme.’

‘You are indeed a worthy opponent, Doctor. It is what gives your destruction its piquancy!’

Nevertheless, the Doctor’s condescending stoicism was beginning to rankle. The Master pressed the vermilion tabs of the scanner.

‘Excellent! Feast your eyes, Doctor, on the imminent demise of the TARDIS!’ He swivelled the scanner round.

‘Demise?’ Peri could see the TARDIS being shunted through the village.

‘Death! Destruction! Finito TARDIS! How’s that for style?’ The Master’s exuberance knew no bounds.

‘Doctor, if they destroy the TARDIS –’

The Doctor cut in. ‘Very clever. Optical illusion recreated on the screen. I’ve tried that but never succeeded.’

‘It’s no illusion!’ The Master’s affirmation was unequivocal.

‘I hope you’re right, Doctor.’ Troubled, Peri watched the progress of the TARDIS along the street.

‘He’s not.’ Uncompromising dismissal from the Rani.

‘Believe me I am, Peri. The Rani’s cleverer than any of us. She’s obviously been able to modify this scanner so that it reflects what is in the mind instead of what is happening in reality –’

‘Push!’ The Master had had enough.

‘The – the trolley?’ Peri felt disorientated. What the heck was happening?

He levelled the TCE. ‘One false move...’

‘Push it where?’

‘Outside.’

‘No!’ The Rani was too astute to be gulled by the Doctor’s ploy. ‘He doesn’t leave here.’

From his breast pocket, the Master yanked the phial of brain fluid and flaunted it before her. ‘I wonder how many weeks of work this represents.’

Balefuly, the Rani refused to concede.

‘And how many of the Doctor’s precious humans have contributed,’ the Master continued.

Even in her confusion, Peri sensed everything hinged on the resolution of the confrontation.

The Rani accepted defeat. ‘Do as he says.’

A magnanimous smile. ‘You shall have the girl when we return.’ The Master tucked the phial into his breast pocket, then brandished the TCE. ‘Now, push! Unless you prefer a swifter end!’

Fear giving her added strength, Peri trundled the trolley through the bath chamber and into the hallway.

They reached the street just as the procession with its noisy pall bearers was passing. From their yells and roars, only the words ‘pit’ and ‘shaft’ could be distinguished.

‘The Last Rites, Doctor!’

‘I can’t really see from this far away.’

‘You can hear!’

Peri had given up. There was nothing anybody could do. Not even the Doctor, she thought.

She should have known better.

‘I gather they’re going to throw my TARDIS down the pit shaft.’

‘All the way down to the bottom!’ The words were mouthed with relish.

The shouts of the hyped-up aggressors grew louder as they neared the pit gates.

‘Stop or we’ll fire!’

The threat proved inflammatory. Using the cart as a battering ram, they recklessly smashed through the gates, scattering the guards in disarray.

‘Nothing can stop them!’ In his excitement, the Master failed to register that he not the fated Time Machine held the Doctor’s attention.

Shots ricocheted. Casualties fell. But the defenders, forced to disperse, were unable to impede the cart’s relentless progress towards the pit shaft.

Green darted ahead to remove the cover; a bulky wooden platform that fitted over the gaping hole to prevent accidents when a shift was finished. Baying with triumph, the brawny aggressors hoisted the TARDIS from the cart and heaved it over the edge...

The Master’s elation overwhelmed him. Momentarily.

That moment was all the Doctor needed.

A sharp kick – and the TCE flew from the Master’s grasp.

‘Shove, Peri! Shove!’

Galvanised into action, Peri shoved – but in her eagerness, instead of pushing the trolley uphill away from the pit, she pushed it downhill.

‘Wrong way!’ The Doctor’s cry came too late. Gathering momentum, the cumbersome vehicle sped down the slope.

She sprinted after it, but her pace could not match the runaway.

The trolley bumped on, shaving trees, threatening to collide with boulders and posts that would capsize it with bone-fracturing impact. Able only to raise his head, the Doctor was scared. Above, foliage became a blurred mass punctuated by dazzling rays of sunlight.

Then luck smiled on him. A group of miners stepped onto the path. To his relief, they caught the trolley and brought it to a halt.

‘Thank you, gentlemen. I’m most grateful. Now if you’d release me –’ He faltered. The neck of the nearest miner had the tell-tale crimson mark.

Peri, still chasing, was approaching.

‘Stay back, Peri! Stay back!’ The Doctor had identified another of the saviours – Jack Ward.

‘Now it’s your turn! You can join your diabolical box!’

They swung him in the direction of the shaft and began running... faster... and faster...

‘Let him go! Let him go!’ Peri’s pleas had no effect as she tore after them. Their death lust was not to be denied.

From his hilltop position, the Master felt sure the humiliations of the past were about to be avenged.

The trelliswork of timbers and the giant wheel above the shaft loomed ominously into the Doctor’s restricted view. A final mighty thrust – and the hapless Time Lord accelerated inexorably towards the yawning black hole...

10

Sleeves rolled up, a man was concertinaing creaking bellows to rekindle the forge fire. As he paused and dragged a rag from his thick leather belt to wipe the sweat from his brow, he heard Peri’s screams.

In reflex, he turned, took in the situation and sprang for the pit.

The trolley’s momentum would have made arresting it a physical impossibility. Astutely realising this, the man ran for the shaft.

It was even money who would reach the gaping hole first. The stake? The Doctor’s life.

Lungs pumping. the man kicked the bulky cover into position. Relentlessly the trolley came on. He fumbled with the stay. It clicked home as the wheels jarred into he cover, braking...

When the reverberations subsided, the Doctor’s vision came into focus. Despite the agape mouth king in air, there was about his rescuer a piercing telligence emanating from rugged, plebeian features.

The Doctor’s thanks were profuse. But for this anger’s quick thinking, he would now be spinning to death in the bowels of the earth.

‘Are’t tha’ hurt? Harmed at all?’ The solicitude was genuine.

‘No. A trifle cramped.’

‘Aye... Aye. Tha’ would be.’

‘It’s these straps.’

Instead of releasing the damps, the stranger was feeling their texture. ‘Aye, I suppose... Intriguing.’

‘The straps? Yes, well that’s a long story.’

‘This metal. I’ve nay seen the like of it afore. Dost know which foundry forged it?’

In the midst of a calamity, what sort of individual would be so diverted as to enquire about the composition of a metal? Recognising only too well the impulse, the Doctor beamed.

‘George Stephenson, I presume.’

‘Aye, I’m Stephenson.’

‘An enormous pleasure to meet you, sir.’ The Doctor lifted a shackled wrist as far as he could and Stephenson gripped the fingers in a warm handshake. ‘Would you be kind enough to undo these straps?’

Stephenson complied. ‘Forgive me. T’were metal that took my attention.’ This was understandable. The titanium the Rani had used was not known in the nineteenth century. If it had been, many inventors would have benefited. Especially George Stephenson who was experimenting with steam engines and would eventually design the famous Rocket.

‘Run, Doctor! Run!’ Peri’s warning preceded her panting arrival.

The Doctor looked back as he slid from the trolley. Jack Ward and the aggressors were returning to the attack.

Intent on slaughter, they would spare none of them.

‘Quickly, we’ve got to get away!’

‘Follow me.’ Stephenson hared off.

Drawn by the racket of the fracas, Ravensworth was at the breached pit entrance surveying the shambles of the battle.

Ripped from its hinges, the gate was beyond repair.

Already villagers were drifting in. Ravensworth knew he could not count on their loyalty. Understandably. The attackers, however demented, were their kinfolk. His pressing task was to secure the mine area.

‘On the gate!’ he commanded a guard. ‘No-one enters or leaves! That’s an order!’

A second guard was rubbing his bruises.

‘Here! Take this!’ Ravensworth gave him his blunderbuss. ‘Round up all the able-bodied men you can.

Search the pit. I want every one of those scoundrels hunted down!’

A crowd of bystanders surrounded a sentry whose wounds were being dressed by Luke.

‘How bad is it?’

‘Can’t tell, m’lord. Lost a great deal of blood.’

‘Where’s Stephenson?’

‘In’t forge. I were on’t way over when I heard noise.’

‘Find him. Tell him to stay in the workshop until those ruffians are under restraint.’

‘Shall I finish binding –’

‘
Now!
’ On the double, Luke obeyed.

‘You!’ Ravensworth summoned the drayman. ‘Make yourself useful. Staunch the bleeding while I get a bandage from the office.’

He stalked away. The guards watched his departure. So did the Master. His simmering fury fuelled his determination to extirpate his rival. He must get into the pit before its defences were reassembled.

Handicapped by her costume, Peri had difficulty in keeping up as Stephenson and the Doctor fled through a haphazard muddle of buildings, wagons, stables and loading bays.

‘Come on, Peri! Come on! We haven’t lost them yet!’

A predatory holler confirmed the Doctor’s declaration.

Their pursuers still had the scent.

In a grain store, they disturbed a furry swarm of feasting vermin. Peri gulped, closed her eyes and ploughed on; she tried not to think of the long skirt brushing the floorboards.

They had almost reached the workshop when Luke blundered into them.

‘Mr Stephenson, his lordship says-’

‘Lift planks!’

Luke shifted a couple of planks at the rear of the workshop.

‘Inside!’

Unceremoniously, Stephenson bundled Peri and the Doctor through the hole.

Scrambling in after them, Stephenson and Luke slotted the planks into their fixings.

The workshop’s major exhibit was a prototype railway engine. Rough wooden benches claimed the rest of the limited space. Jotted calculations and primitive tools cluttered their surfaces.

‘His lordship told me to keep-’

Stephenson motioned Luke to silence. With bated breath, they listened to their pursuers thumping past. Only then did they relax.

‘Somewhat unorthodox entry,’ remarked the Doctor.

‘Lord Ravensworth’s notion,’ said Stephenson. ‘He thought we should be prepared lest the Luddite riots started here. Seems he were right.’

‘Except these men are not Luddites,’ came the Doctor’s reply.

‘They’re not?’

‘No. That’s what you’re meant to believe.’

‘Then why did they attack thee?’

‘Assumed I was attending this meeting of yours.’

‘And for that they were prepared to kill thee?’

‘Afraid so. Not just me either.’

Luke knew this assertion to he true. ‘That’s what I were trying to tell thee,’ he added. ‘Tha’s to stay workshop, his lordship says. He’s feared for safety of thee and rest of visitors.’

‘Tha’ means Davy, Faraday, Telford and t’others are in danger?’

‘Don’t you?’ asked the Doctor.

‘Nay, I find that incredible!’

‘If tha’d seen devastation at gate tha’ wouldn’t, sir.’

‘You can’t reject the evidence, Stephenson.’

Peri joined in. ‘That’s not the first time they’ve tried to kill the Doctor either!’

‘’Tis truth.’ Luke’s golden hair shone in the light from the wicker lamp that burned in the anarchic workshop.