They cause rock falls... they press in fumes... then... suck them out, just as quickly.’
Ian got up. ‘We’re in luck.’
‘Indeed,’ Vrestin muttered. Hetra was reviving. He called weakly to the others, ‘We must continue our journey before it returns. Nemini...! Rouse as many of our diggers as you can...’
Nemini nodded and went among his workers, shaking them awake. Two of them did not respond. They remained huddled where they were, and Nemini halted, looking down.
‘Can we try reviving them?’ Ian asked.
Nemini shook his head. ‘The gases thinned too late —
for them,’ he said, and turned away towards the rock face.
He raised a spear probe and tapped at the wall. Nemini nodded at Ian.
‘Here... the wall is thinner! Stand back.’
Ian moved back to allow Nemini room. The stocky little Menoptera swung his digger and struck at the wall. A crack opened suddenly — and as it did so, fumes, then liquid spurted through. Nemini gave a yell and staggered back.
‘A leak — from the surface! Get back!’
‘The acid pools!’ Ian yelled. ‘Nemini, come away!’
But Nemini stood his ground. Ian wheeled to Hetra.
‘Order him back!’
Hetra shook his head. ‘Someone must block that gap!
Otherwise we shall all die!’
Ian made to leap forward, but Hetra raised a hand and two pigmy diggers grabbed at him and pulled him back.
Ian stared in fascinated horror as Nemini, snatching up handfuls of rock and gritting his teeth against the agonizing pain of the liquid that spurted through, splattering and drenching him, frantically worked to block the gap.
‘He doesn’t stand a chance!’
Hetra watched stonily, his lined old face drawn and tense. He shrugged.
‘It is a danger that is always with us,’ he said simply. He rounded on the other workers. ‘Try the other wall —
quickly!’
Somehow the reeling Nemini had succeeded in packing the seeping crack with loose rock and now he staggered back, groaning and weaving to and fro in agony. Ian started forward to help him but as he did so the short figure of the workers’ leader crumpled to the floor. Nemini stretched out and immediately stiffened.
Ian reached down to touch the dead pigmy Menoptera and halted in horrified amazement. The eyes were already sightless. The body, where his hand touched it, was brittle and crumbly, as though mummified. He remembered the hollow body his foot had crunched into when he and the Doctor had first emerged from
Tardis
to explore this planet.
It had happened in a matter of moments.
A call came from Vrestin, leading the other workers in an attack on another part of the cave wall.
‘Ian — we’re through!’
Hetra touched Ian’s arm gently. ‘Come...!’
Ian got to his feet. There was nothing anybody could do for Nemini now. Ian looked backward at the body as he walked and stumbled over rock.
‘Coming...’ he muttered.
Doctor Who stood in the centre of the ancient temple, looking down thoughtfully upon the map and the plan of Vortis that the others had drawn.
Vicki had directed the harmless Zarbi into a corner.
Hlynia stood at the door, waiting and listening, on guard, while the three Menoptera men stood respectfully back, awaiting the Doctor’s verdict.
Doctor Who raised his head.
‘M’yes... yes... very detailed sketch... Excellent...’
‘Do we have a chance, Doctor?’ Barbara asked.
Doctor Who considered that. ‘I think so, my dear.’ He turned to the Menoptera Officer, Hilio. ‘Tell me, Captain
— what is at the centre of this web, mm? Do
you
know?’
Hilio shook his head and turned the question to Prapillus. The old Menoptera came forward.
‘Nobody here knows for certain — an alien Intelligence, definitely... but its shape, or form...?’
Prapillus shrugged.
‘But if it arrived here,’ Barbara said, ‘from another planet — then surely
somebody
must have seen it!’
Prapillus shook his hoary head. ‘Such research as I have been able to make shows that its presence was only noticed when it was already gaining power, controlling the Zarbi...
spreading its web... only then did they know that something had risen into being here... our people were only interested in a peaceful life. They were probably quite unaware of it for years...’
‘Yes, yes — quite understandable. But — Prapillus, did your studies show where this... this
force
it possesses is drawn from...?’
Prapillus hunched his frail shoulders. ‘The answer may be found in one fact perhaps,’ he said simply.
‘What is that?’
Prapillus eyed Doctor Who and replied slowly.
‘The centre of the web rests on the magnetic pole of this planet,’ he said.
Doctor Who’s face cleared suddenly and he stared.
‘Of course! Of course! It is drawing on — using — the actual power of the
Planet Vortis
!’
‘It would explain, would it not, these new satellites that have appeared on the sky, Doctor? They too could have been pulled here by this... power...!’
Doctor Who was wagging his head. ‘Tch-tch — I should have realized that! Yes — the same force drew and held
Tardis
here! Well, well...!’
He stroked his chin and moved away to digest and ponder this new light on the Intelligence behind the web.
Barbara hesitated to interrupt his reverie. Finally she ventured, ‘Doctor — are you going to go ahead with the plan?’
‘Eh? Mmm? Oh... yes, my dear, er — with a slight variation... Yes!’
‘A change?’ Hrostar asked. ‘What?’
Doctor Who turned and faced them. ‘You can carry out the mock attack as planned — your job, Barbara. We’ll agree a time.’
Barbara nodded. Hilio picked up the Destructor. ‘And this?’
Doctor Who reached out a hand. ‘I’ll take that, if I may, Vicki and I will return to Zarbi Headquarters.’
Hrostar nodded at the Web Destructor. ‘Can you smuggle that past the Zarbi?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ the Doctor said calmly. ‘I came out with this...’
And he pulled out an electron-gun from under his old-fashioned frock-coat.
‘An electron-gun — useless,’ Hrostar growled.
‘So I discovered... when I examined it,’ the Doctor murmured. ‘And for a good reason.’
‘Oh?’
‘I suspect,’ Doctor Who explained, ‘that the reason it could not hit its target was that the Zarbi bodies deflected its aim. Repelled it — magnetically... in some way...’
‘Then the Web Destructor is probably just as useless!’
Hrostar maintained.
Doctor Who shrugged at that. ‘Perhaps there’s a way...’
he murmured, half to himself. He brightened cheerfully.
‘Well, we shall have to take that chance! Eh? To me, the design of this Destructor appears far more promising. Your men of science seem to have given it far more thought...’
He smiled at them, turned away to go, halted, and patted the Destructor.
He said dryly, ‘In any case, we have no choice...’
A pause. The Menoptera eyed each other uncertainly.
‘Any questions?’ Doctor Who murmured.
‘May we get it clear, Doctor?’ Barbara asked. ‘You’re going to return to the Headquarters. Once you are inside, we attack, draw the Zarbi - leaving you to make for the centre of the... web...’
Doctor Who beamed on her. ‘Excellent — full marks, for a clear, simple summary.’ He turned. ‘Vicki, my child...?’
Glumly Vicki came forward. She hung her head in order not to show her dislike for going back to the evil web –
among the Zarbi. Doctor Who saw it and understood. He patted her gently.
‘Don’t worry, my dear. Um... in fact... I don’t particularly want to go back there either.’
Vicki mustered a smile for him. ‘It’s all right. After all, we do stand the best chance. Anyway – the
Tardis
is still there...’
‘Good girl, good girl.’
A call from Prapillus checked them.
‘Doctor...?’
Doctor Who crossed to join Prapillus. ‘Yes – what is it?’
he asked, testily.
Prapillus pointed at the captive Zarbi. er, wondered if we could borrow this creature. He will be very useful in our attack.’
Doctor Who stiffened. ‘You think so?’ he sniffed icily.
‘And how, pray, do we get back into the Headquarters without it?’
Prapillus smiled calmly. ‘I’m sure your brains are equal to that. Besides, if a lifetime of slavery has robbed me of a scientific career – at least I have made a study of the Zarbi..
and could use him better.’
Doctor Who drew himself up in thunderous outrage.
‘Oh, really! Better than I, Mmm? And who managed to gain control of it? Eh?’
‘That may be. But I have the experience, I am an old man...’
‘And what do you think I am – sweet sixteen?’ Doctor Who roared. ‘How old
are
you?’
Barbara heard the dispute and moved smoothly towards the two old men. ‘Doctor... Prapillus – is something wrong?’
Doctor Who turned brusquely away. ‘Oh, nothing, my dear... nothing...’
‘A small matter, a small matter,’ Prapillus muttered and glared at the Doctor’s back.
Doctor Who simmered down, relented. ‘Prapillus made the brilliant suggestion that he took this creature with your party... that’s all...’ he said.
‘... and I was congratulating the Doctor on his achievements over the Zarbi,’ Prapillus said, gently, swallowing hard and mustering a polite smile for the Doctor.
‘Oh – for a minute it sounded like a row...!’
‘Bless my soul,’ Doctor Who exclaimed, ‘Never...!’
Prapillus wagged his head reprovingly at Barbara.
‘Really, nothing could be farther from the—’
‘I should have thought you’d have known me better than that, my dear,’ Doctor Who added. He gave his rival Prapillus a wintry smile. ‘Young people have very little respect, Prapillus. You must forgive her.’
‘Come, Vicki,’ Doctor Who called. He raised a commanding hand at the Zarbi.
‘Here, you – what did you call him, child?... Zombo...!’
The Zarbi scuttled obediently forward. The Doctor thought a moment and turned to Prapillus.
‘There is a way in which this creature may... serve us both...’ he mused.
‘How, Doctor?’
‘... supposing I were to use the Zarbi to get me back to the centre... and then – I sent him back to you...?’
Prapillus beamed delightedly. ‘Capital, my dear Doctor... a truly splendid thought...!’
Doctor Who bowed. ‘Coming from a thinker like yourself, that is a compliment indeed.’
Doctor Who paused for a last look at Barbara and the Menoptera, gathered to watch them go.
‘When we meet again,’ he said quietly, ‘let us hope this evil that rules on Vortis will be ended forever.’
The Doctor turned and strode away, with Vicki holding his hand.
Hrostar watched them go gloomily.
‘
If
we ever meet again...’ he said, and stared out at the gloomy Vortis landscape as the rock wings parted to let them through.
Ian, Vrestin and the pigmy-menoptera leaders had now broken clear through into another tunnel and were hurrying along, stumbling over rock and around the bristling stalagmites in the direction pointed out by the aged Hetra.
As they forged ahead they became aware of a pulsing sound which seemed to come from the very rock itself above their heads. It was like a faint, steady heartbeat. Ian heard it and paused, clutching at Vrestin’s arm. They went on slowly now - and then the frail land of Hetra stayed them with a warning gesture.
They listened. Hetra stared around above him, head cocked.
He turned to Ian and Vrestin - and nodded.
‘The web - it is right above us now.’
He turned and signalled to his diggers. They came running forward, looking up - a little awed.
Ian braced himself. He pointed to the roof of the tunnel.
‘We go up - there!’ he announced.
The stocky diggers hesitated a little, then mustered their courage and sprang forward. As agilely as monkeys they swarmed up the stalagmites till their curled spears were within reach of the roof.
They began attacking it, weaving aside as the rock they levered came crashing down to the cave floor. The diggers exchanged worried glances among each other as they hesitated and dug farther upward.
Ian noted their fear. He exchanged a look with Vrestin.
‘I... hope they will not let us down,’ he muttered, eyeing the diggers anxiously.
Cautiously, Barbara led her Menoptera companions in the wake of the distant figures of Doctor Who, Vicki and the obedient Zarbi. She halted them and they sheltered in the shadow of a crag.
Doctor Who had reached an opening in the great web which now reared ahead, its light wheeling and flashing over the landscape and outlining the crag under which they stood.
‘The web is opening - they’re going in!’ she whispered.
‘We’ll wait on your word... when to attack,’ Prapillus murmured.
Barbara nodded, watching. ‘Thank you. We’ll wait -
make sure the Doctor has got back to the Control Section..
The Guard let the Doctor and Vicki into the entrance tunnel, together with the Zarbi, without challenge or hindrance.
Once inside the web tunnel Doctor Who halted and turned. He gestured commandingly to the Zarbi and pointed.
The creature stopped, hesitated. Doctor Who glared, willing it to understand him and obey. He pointed again.
The Zarbi wheeled and scuttled back towards the entrance through which they had come. The Zarbi guarding the outer door paused, staring, then raised the webbed barrier and let its comrade through - watching it lurch away across the landscape.
Doctor Who and Vicki saw it go. The Doctor rubbed his hands.
‘Excellent -
excellent!
... doing exactly as it’s told! Let’s hope that old... er, let’s hope Prapillus makes good use of him. Come, child...!’
The Doctor took Vicki’s arm and headed down the corridor in the direction of the control room.
As they made their way tortuously down tunnel after tunnel leading inward, they were aware of furious activity, somewhere ahead of them.