THE DOCTOR WAS never to know if the raging Kraag had understood his words of warning, or if it had even heard them. A red mist had come down in front of the Kraag’s eyes – quite literally – and the Doctor, who had made a career of shouting ‘Wait!’ at people or things that were preparing to shoot him, but could sense the rare occasions when that just wasn’t going to work, did the only sensible thing, and ducked.
A bolt of red-hot plasma energy blasted from the Kraag’s outstretched claw and smashed a gaping hole in the facing wall. Rivulets of molten metal spattered across the room.
And, true to the Doctor’s prediction, the station that housed the Foundation for Advanced Scientific Studies began to creak and groan ever more perilously. The survivors, huddled in their corner, began to moan and scream in uncomprehending terror, hooting and howling like wild beasts.
The Doctor found he still held the connecting wire in his hand. Chris and Akrotiri were still linked together. But there was no chance of getting the final coordinates now, no chance of finding Romana or stopping Skagra. The Kraag was already stomping after him, claw outstretched to blast him to atoms.
The Doctor yanked the wire free.
Chris screamed and leapt from the alcove, straight into the Doctor’s arms.
Through the haze and the mist they heard a faint, tinny voice. ‘Master! Master!’
‘K-9!’ shouted the Doctor.
The Kraag was almost on top of them.
Suddenly Akrotiri leapt from his alcove into the line of fire. Summoning all his energies, the tattered figure screamed wildly, ‘Six-one-ZERO!’
At the last word, his frail, ancient body took the full force of the Kraag’s energy bolt. For one terrible moment his skeleton was visible as the flesh boiled away. Then even his bones turned to ash, disintegrating in a wave of heat that threw the Doctor and Chris heavily to the floor.
Now the Kraag towered over them.
Suddenly the gridded metal floor-plates beneath its feet turned to slurry. With a roar almost of surprise, the Kraag slid down through the hole in the floor, jerkily, vanishing section by section. First its legs, then its torso, and finally its head with the glowing red eyes disappeared through the smoking gap.
Chris tried to gather his senses. All around was confusion, heat, smoke, the noise of the rumbling, roaring Kraag down below and the rending metal of the station.
‘I told you we should have dealt with it before!’ he found himself shouting in the general direction of the Doctor.
‘Don’t worry!’ the Doctor shouted back. ‘I’ve thought of something.’ He called out into the black smoke. ‘K-9! Are you there?’
‘Master,’ came the faint reply. ‘Advise immediate evacuation!’
‘Well, yes, that would be nice,’ the Doctor called back. ‘But we can’t see in all this! Activate a homing beacon, lead us out of here, back to Skagra’s ship!’
‘Master,’ said K-9 obediently.
A moment later Chris heard a steady and ear-splittingly loud beep. It repeated every other second.
The Doctor clapped Chris on the shoulder and shoved him away from the smouldering hole in the floor and in the general direction of the beep.
Chris kept his head down, remembering first-aid-class advice on how to avoid smoke inhalation. Faintly he saw the bright red rectangle of K-9’s eye-screen retreating down from the control area.
It took Chris another second to realise that the Doctor was not following him.
He stared back into the haze and confusion and called desperately, ‘Doctor! Where are you? Doctor!’
‘Carry on, Bristol!’ came the reply.
Chris squinted. He could just make out the figure of the Doctor, on one side of the hole formed by the falling Kraag. On the far side cowered the other four survivors, pressing their bodies together in a pitiful huddle.
The Doctor was reaching out over the widening chasm, trying to encourage them to jump across and join him.
‘Doctor, leave it!’ cried Chris.
‘I promised!’ shouted the Doctor.
Suddenly the station shook as some vital part disintegrated. The centre of gravity shifted, knocking the Doctor back to the floor.
With a chorus of ghastly wails, all four survivors tumbled into the pit.
Chris yelled and lunged towards K-9, flinging himself on to the metallic body of the little robot. Thankfully, K-9 seemed to have some kind of internal traction system of his own. He held firm, and Chris held firm to him.
There was a sudden silence, and then a grinding, splintering crack that chilled Chris to his very heart. The station was finally breaking up.
Nobody will know, Chris thought crazily. He was going to die. In fact he was going to die in the most bizarre and extraordinary circumstances, blown to bits aboard an alien space station thanks to a creature made of living rock, in the company of a Gallifreyan Time Lord and a robot dog. But it wouldn’t even make the Cambridge Evening News or Anglia Tonight. They had trouble covering events as far afield as Ipswich, let alone deep space. He felt quite affronted, and then quite surprised at being quite affronted. But then, might people think he had disappeared mysteriously and gone to reinvent himself in some dramatic and romantic way? He sighed inwardly. No, they’d just assume he’d hit a loose cobble, come off his bike and fallen in the river.
Suddenly he felt himself lifted up by the scruff of the neck, like a kitten being gummed by its mother. The next moment he was being hurried down the crazily shifting outer corridor of the station after the beeping, retreating K-9.
A loop of multicoloured scarf was flung over Chris’s reddened, stinging eyes and burning mouth.
And then, just when he was feeling better, Chris fainted.
The Doctor careered onto the command deck of Skagra’s ship, carrying Chris carefully in his arms as if he were taking a sleepy child up to bed. K-9 came trundling in behind them, still bleeping and blinking.
‘Emergency, emergency!’ the Ship was crying, ringing all its alarms. ‘My sensors tell me that there’s shortly going to be an absolutely enormous explosion in our near vicinity!’
The Doctor tried to clear his throat and dumped Chris into the command chair. ‘I know!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t you think you ought to do something about it?’
‘Emergency escape procedures will be implemented,’ said the Ship. ‘That silly Kraag has gone and ignited the zison energy source of the station!’
‘Zison energy! Then stop nattering and get on with it!’ yelled the Doctor.
‘Though why I’m implementing these procedures, I can’t personally fathom,’ the Ship nattered on. ‘Do you know, Doctor, I have combed my databanks for legends of the afterlife from over thirteen thousand cultures across this galaxy alone, and I can’t find a single one that suggests that things carry on after death rather suspiciously exactly as they did before. Hmm.’
‘Just get us out of here!’ cried the Doctor. He aimed a big angry kick at one of the control panels. ‘And don’t you talk to me about life and death! Come on! Don’t you realise this is a matter of life and death!’
‘No need for violence,’ sniffed the Ship. ‘That hurt!’
‘Do it!’
The Ship rumbled as it disengaged its locking clamps. ‘Preparing to reverse docking procedure,’ said the Ship. ‘Engaging engines.’
‘Not that way!’ cried the Doctor, almost despairing. On the screen he could see a boiling red aura from the station, building up to a cataclysmic end for the Think Tank that would easily take them along with it. ‘I told you how to do it! Dematerialise!’
‘Oh yes,’ said the Ship. ‘So you did, Doctor, so you did. And frankly I don’t mind if I do.’ She coughed and turned off her alarms.
The familiar wheezing groan of a relative dimensional stabiliser soothed the Doctor’s ears.
‘Ooh,’ said the Ship. ‘Ooh!’
The forward screen view of the burning station dissolved into the comparatively relaxing vista of the endless spinning space-time vortex.
*
Chris regained consciousness to find the Doctor staring out at those same patterns, his hands buried deep in his pockets.
‘We made it!’ said Chris exultantly. The Doctor showed no sign of having heard him, and continued his brooding.
Chris was astonished to discover a golden trolley laden with exotic delicacies next to the command chair. ‘Is this for me?’
It was the Ship who answered. ‘I thought you might need refreshment, dear boy, after such a terrifying experience.’
‘Thank you.’ Chris leant over and grabbed something that looked almost like an apple. He bit into it. The flavour was unfamiliar but sweet enough. ‘What happened? I guess I must have blacked out.’
‘The space station was destroyed,’ said the Ship.
‘But did we discover anything? About Skagra?’
The Doctor turned at last. ‘Thanks to Dr Akrotiri, yes. He gave his life to save ours, shouted out those final coordinates after his brain was disconnected from yours.’
‘But you told me that was impossible,’ said Chris, ‘after his mind was stolen.’
‘It was,’ said the Doctor, nodding. ‘Quite, quite impossible. But he did it.’
Chris didn’t quite know how to deal with the Doctor in this mood. ‘Then we can get after Skagra, and save Romana. Isn’t that a good thing?’
K-9 piped up. ‘This ship is already in transit to the stated coordinates.’
‘Good,’ said Chris.
The Doctor harrumphed. ‘I just saw the best minds of this generation destroyed by the madness of a rampaging Kraag. And I couldn’t lift a finger to help them.’
‘Then we’ve got to make sure we don’t waste what Akrotiri gave us,’ said Chris. ‘It’s impossible things like that that show us we have to keep going.’ He reflected how odd it was that it was he, who had never before experienced action, adventure and sudden death outside a cinema, that was taking this better than the Doctor.
But incredibly his simple and, he thought, rather clichéd words had a galvanising effect on the Doctor. He burst into a spectacularly wide and toothy grin and pointed straight at Chris. ‘I like you,’ he said.
‘Sorry to interrupt this moving moment,’ said the Ship, who sounded more left-out than sorry. ‘But I think I ought to inform you gents that we’ll be arriving at our destination in ten minutes of relative time.’
‘Excellent, Ship,’ said the Doctor. ‘I like you too.’
‘Thank you, Doctor,’ said the Ship, sounding appeased.
Chris coughed, caught the Doctor’s eye and nodded over to K-9, whose tail antenna was cast down.
‘And of course I positively adore you, K-9,’ said the Doctor quickly.
‘This unit does not require adoration, Master,’ said K-9, but nevertheless his tail perked up.
‘Doctor,’ said the Ship. ‘I feel I should tell you that despite the warmth of our relationship, and all that you have done for me, much of my deceased circuitry feels uneasy about continuing to accept instructions from a dead man.’
‘Well, just tell it not to worry,’ said the Doctor breezily. ‘I’m sure your great lord Skagra will be very anxious to pay his last respects to me.’
‘Hmm, would he now?’ said the Ship, who sounded to Chris like she was raising an eyebrow.
‘And to you, of course,’ the Doctor added hurriedly.