Deep into the planet’s surface, yet not far from the major Karfelon city, Katz and Sezon were regrouping their forces. Up until recently they had acted as two totally independent rebel units, trained and motivated to strike against the Borad’s stern reign of terror and control. Now they had united as an attack squad, determined to outwit and restore true democracy. Their new shelter was an old mineral mine that had not been used for at least one hundred years, about the same time as the planet’s near demise - a famine so severe that it nearly wiped out the entire population within a year.
Such reflections seemed little comfort to the team of a dozen rebels who had chosen not to bend to the will of the dictator of Karfel. They led simple nomadic existences.
Survival was a simple consideration made daily.
Possessions, a few personal items, X6 alpha blasters, acquired on a raid of a military supply dump some months ago, plus the basic trimmings of an infantry soldier. The only item in abundance was morale, but Sezon and Katz both knew that even that supply had its limitations.
Sezon was the driving force of the paramilitary brigade, a tough Karfelon and rapid decision-maker who often placed his life in mortal danger. A stocky individual, with a rugged appearance, Sezon stood for no nonsense, and his hard manner was only tempered by his second-in-command, a resolute Karfelon woman called Katz. Her full name was Katzin Makrif, after Maylin Makrif, the former leader of the Inner Sanctum, who died mysteriously at the time the Barad acquired control through his so-called bloodless coup. Katz was only sixteen then, and very naive.
It took her ten years of servile submission and indignity before she realised what she needed to do. Her fond memories of her father had flourished over the years, as if his spirit had always remained within her, growing with her maturity and leading her to seek vengeance on his part.
Katz felt his death was no accident, and she had new evidence that linked the Borad with the Maylin’s demise.
Katz and Sezon broke away from their mainstream in order to check a few traps they had set the previous day for small gardinos. These creatures were the only edible animal life on Karfel. Small and bright orange, the hard-shell sand-crawlers offered layers of soft meat when cooked in excess. Sezon relished the idea of having one snared, especially as it was a very long time since the last occasion of such a rare feast. The rebel party were tiring of their staple diet of baked berries and fruit juices.
Winding their way quite apart from the others, the duo, who always worked well as a team, eventually located the animal traps. Unfortunately there was little to show for their efforts: a solitary gorse spray caught up in the main snare. Sezon selected a large rock and hurled it at the traps, causing them to snap shut with a loud clatter. He was naturally upset but more because of general things going wrong for the team of fighters. Katz immediately made light of their bad luck, sitting near the primitive food snares, soon to be joined by her muscular colleague who wiped the sweat from his forehead. The beating rays of the twin suns made life difficult and uncomfortable for their activities most of the time, but their determination to preserve was strong and alive.
Katz flicked sand with the cap of her boot, uncovering a large print firmly embedded in the ground underneath.
Sezon caught her chilly reaction, as an uncomfortable realisation grabbed her forcefully.
‘Sezon.’
Sezon nodded. He realised too.
‘We must have wondered too far west. Didn’t think they inhabited this area. No wonder we never caught anything.’
Katz and Sezon were sitting in the centre of a Morlox area. The fact that the Morlox footprints had been covered over clearly pointed to the creatures using that region as a home. The ‘corner’ technique was a trait of the enormous intelligent animal.
‘Don’t make any sudden moments,’ warned Sezon craning his neck to see if they had any company. ‘Maybe if we slip away we’ll be all right.’
Both of them took to their feet, eager to leave that vicinity as quickly as possible. Suddenly Katz identified a low moan that could only be a few feet away. She reached for her hand blaster, only to realise that it would have little effect on a fully grown Morlox.
‘Let’s run for it Katz,’ urged Sezon who was in a better position to make an escape.
‘You go, I’ll follow.’
‘Not on your life. We are leaving together - and in one piece.’ Katz appreciated Sezon’s loyalty and support, but it was not the time or the place to dwell on such issues.
Slowly they both back-stepped, hoping they had not been noticed. A strong aromatic fragrance filled the air. There was now no doubt at all what was behind the rock face a few feet away. The noise of the creature got louder as it now partially lumbered into view. First the long neck, supporting a thick set head and bulging cranium, then two closely-packed eyes and flaring nostrils protruding from the creature’s main features, contrasting the large mouth and jagged set of razor sharp teeth.
Katz looked to Sezon for inspiration. Any moment now they would be spotted and an inevitable battle for life would ensue. They held their breath as the Morlox’s head and armour-like neck returned into the cave area. Frozen in their places and reluctant to run because of the sound they would create, the two rebels stood their ground, Katz with her eyes half closed in prayer. Sezon, however, decided to take positive evasive action and whispered a command to tactfully withdraw, ignoring the positive risk.
Katz signalled an agreement and they both shuffled away from the area cautiously. An unannounced appearance of the Morlox prompted Sezon to pull Katz into the cover of another cave mouth, and they plunged deeper into the darkened cavern in the hope of not being spotted.
All too soon they realised the cave had no through route and the Morlox also entered the rocky enclosure, making itself comfortable by the only main entrance. Tucked behind a tiny boulder, Katz and Sezon huddled together, their weapons drawn for some small comfort - but they may as well have had sling shots. The thickness of a Morlox’s outer shell meant that only a shoulder-mounted blaster would stand any real chance of hurting the sensitive core of the giant creature.
A howl stimulated their cave companion to its feet once more. To Katz and Sezon’s horror, two smaller Morlox entered the tight cavern, identifying themselves quite plainly as part of a family unit. If the three creatures only knew of their hidden guests, they would have inevitably brought forward their evening meal.
Sezon brainstormed his mind for the solution to their unwholesome predicament. Katz was beginning to feel grossly uncomfortable in her cramped position and was acutely aware that their concealment was going to be extremely temporary.
The family of Morlox communicated with each other, gnashing their teeth viciously in play. The cave was filled with a pungent odour, typical of the Morlox. The smell was used to attract prey for food and was the only pleasant feature of the monstrous creature.
A trumpeting sound from outside the cave stopped the family at play as the largest Morlox, probably the mother of the other two, moved out into the open. From Sezon’s viewpoint, he could see the Morlox preparing itself for a change of mood and situation. Its tail bounded impatiently and its back flexed aggressively.
Within seconds it had met its match as a fierce battle raged between the female Morlox and the intruding Morlox. A territorial dispute took shape as the gutteral groans of pain surged between the antagonists. The smaller Morlox took off in panic and fear, allowing their mother to fight alone.
This had to be Katz and Sezon’s opportunity to escape and they took it swiftly without any further thought.
Running wildly past a ball of matted Morlox flesh - the latest stage of the fight for death - the rebels sprinted out of the forbidden area and into the relative safety of their own environment some five minutes away. Completely out of breath, Sezon embraced Katz. It had been a close thing and they had very nearly lost their battle and become mere fodder for the Morlox.
They made their way back to the camp reluctant to tell others of their adventure for fear of ridicule. Time was moving on and the temperature was dropping. Sezon organised the team and a water system to go through the short night.
Katz flicked her long blonde hair from her face, stirring the embers of a primitive camp fire. The light and warmth below the surface were welcome accoutrements to the resistance fighters who knew the dancing flames served one other purpose. To frighten away the life form that occasionally preferred a carnivorous diet. The Morlox.
Sezon joined Katz, placing his blaster rifle carefully on the ground. Sparks from the fireside reflected along the barrel of the well-kept weapon. Katz poured him a hot drink from a home-made receptacle which he consumed with relish. Each evening they would invariably end up meeting in front of the fire, on some occasions following a burial of a departed freedom fighter. They had agreed to take each day as it came, and never planned more than twenty-four hours ahead.
‘Storage tanks?’ suggested Sezon, between sips.
‘Too risky,’ said Katz, stretching out for the first time that day.
‘Time we showed them what we’re made of.’
‘They’d certainly see that, as they collect our bodies.’
Sezon was rattled. He was not used to being challenged, especially by a woman. Inwardly he realised that Katz was not displaying fear, but his body sought conflict, and he needed to release his own hatred and revenge against the regime of the Borad.
‘Perhaps if we take a look first? Do a bit of planning.
Hit them when they’re least expecting it.’
Sezon had to smile at the fresh face of the pretty Karfelon. He admired her pluck, and the fact of
who
she was.
‘Okay, but what about the Morlox? We’ll have to cut across their territorial caves twice if we don’t hit the tanks first time round.’
‘Let’s just be careful,’ concluded Katz, closing her eyes and adjusting her position to make herself more comfortable on the rocky floor of the chilly cavern.
Sezon got up. A sketchy plan for the following day had been made, and it was his turn on guard while Katz slept.
He felt the two or three days of facial growth on his gritty face as he signalled all but one of the others to also get some rest, an instruction they did not need repeating. A fairly young group of fighters, once numbering thirty-five in total, they settled themselves for another rest before perhaps their last day of battle.
Sezon took up his weapon and moved to the mouth of the cavern. He looked into the blackness of the underground tunnel taking up his position between two rocks. There in the emptiness before him appeared an expressionless face as it always did - an old bearded man with sharp Satanic eyes. The Borad.
2
Whenever circumstances became challenging, the Doctor seemed to change his attitude and general behaviour, so Peri observed. It annoyed her intensely and often drove her very nearly to the depths of despair.
‘Are you going to enlighten me, Doctor?’ she bellowed, as the Time Lord flitted from control to control with seemingly little concern for anything else. Then, rather reluctantly, he coyly lifted one bushy eyebrow and allowed his assistant a split second of eye to eye contact.
‘It’s a blessed Kontron Tunnel,’ he mumbled, then resumed his work at the humming controls.
‘Then it
is
serious,’ snapped Peri, trying to recapture his faint interest in her presence. The Doctor stopped and raised his head. He knew by Peri’s tone that it was time to offer more information or suffer the inevitable consequences of eternal nagging, something he could little tolerate, and worked to avoid at all costs.
‘In a nutshell, a Kontron Tunnel is a sort of time corridor in space, and we’re heading straight for it.’
Hoping this would satisfy his helper’s insatiable thirst for knowledge, albeit temporarily, the Doctor dashed to the scanner to observe a dazzling collection of thin yellow bands forming the shape of a cylinder.
‘It’s there. just waiting for us. Rats in a trap. The attraction forces are too great ...’
All this did not alarm Peri, though she did glimpse the Doctor’s worried countenance.
’Can’t we go past it?’ It appeared an obvious suggestion to the young American. ’We are in a time-machine after all.’
The Doctor smiled wryly at Peri’s blissful ignorance.
’It’s like saying you want to swim to the shore from the centre of a whirlpool. I don’t think we have a lot of choice in the matter, young lady.’
A burst of mechanical clatter diverted the Time Lord’s attention back to the pulsating control console. As he scanned the delicate banks of temporal instrumentation, a glimmer of realisation crept on to his blank gaze. Peri noticed, and egged him on to share his discovery.
‘At least I know where the tunnel originates,’ he beamed. ‘1179 AD - Earth.’
Peri was pleased. It could have been a lot worse. In fact, twelfth-century Earth sounded quite a nice place to stop off and explore.
‘Few Americans ever learn about this period in history first hand, Doctor.’
Yet her fellow traveller was soon to put that notion to bed. The Doctor bellowed across the room at his assistant’s apparent lack of understanding as to what was about to happen. Simplifying with a curt gesture a gigantic explosion, he left Peri in no doubt as to what could follow.
‘And that, my dear Peri, is the most likely outcome of time particles colliding with a multi-dimensional implosion field.’
She squirmed uneasily on the spot, looking for her saviour.
‘The interior of the TARDIS will attempt to realign itself, and as it does so, there will be an internal explosion.’
Peri frowned. ‘Is that inevitable?’
The Doctor simply offered a look in the same mould of his rhetorical questions. Peri stepped back. The last thing she wanted to do was stop her companion’s work, especially now she knew the gravity of things.