Doctor Who_ Deep Blue - Mark Morris [98]
He turned his attention once more to his captors, whose expressions of shock were almost comical. Then blackness swarmed into the Brigadier’s eyes as he turned them on Turlough and the surprise was replaced with cold, hard fury.
Like a chain reaction, the same expression spread through the soldiers and, as if responding to some unspoken command, they each tilted their heads to regard him.
Turlough, on his knees in the sand, cried out in terror as they threw down their weapons and rushed towards him.
The TARDIS had barely travelled any distance at all. The Doctor had merely allowed the pull of the Xaranti queen to guide his movements and had set the coordinates accordingly. As the TARDIS re-materialised, he patted the pockets of the spare jacket he had procured from the TARDIS
wardrobe then pulled a lever on the console. When the doors opened with a faint hum, he drew himself to his full height and stepped determinedly out into Hell.
He was surrounded by Xaranti, by the stink of them, their bodies pressed together so tightly that it was like standing on a tiny island in a sea of dark, spiny flesh. Xaranti scuttled over one another, their legs pistoning the air; they clung to the walls like scorpions; hung from the metal roof-supports high above his head.
As he took a step forward, they regarded him balefully with their black, unblinking eyes, but they did not attack. Indeed, they edged backwards on either side as he slowly advanced, creating a narrow channel through which he could walk, increasing the crush of their already tightly packed bodies.
Perhaps they had orders from their queen to let the Doctor through, or perhaps they simply recognised him as one of their own. Certainly, his physical transformation was advancing rapidly. His eyes were swimming with blackness, the buds of spines were visible on the backs of his hands and on his neck, and the space between his shoulder blades was already starting to bulge.
The room in which the TARDIS had materialised was large and functional, evidently some sort of security clearance chamber ahead of the energy core that was the ship’s heart.
Several hundred yards away, at the end of the channel that the Xaranti had created for him, the Doctor could see a door of dull metal, emblazoned with Morok symbols. Beside it was what had evidently once been some sort of security access panel, now a cannibalised jumble of wildly contrasting technologies. On the metal wall above the door was a large embossed symbol that resembled a flaming star, depicted in vivid purple.
The Doctor did not recognise the literal significance of the symbol, but he did recognise a danger sign when he saw one.
Nevertheless he strode forward calmly, confidently, almost regally, head held high, back as straight as the hump between his shoulder blades would allow, hands clasped loosely behind him. When he reached the door he examined the access panel and traced its meanderings to a bulbous metallic nodule that he guessed might have been Kraal in origin. He twisted it and the door slid open.
The corridor beyond was little more than a metal tube with a grilled walkway along its centre. At the far end was another door and another cannibalised control panel. Ignoring yet another star symbol - this one larger and situated right in the centre of the door - the Doctor again operated the access panel. This door, too, slid open and the Doctor stepped through.
The energy core that powered the ship’s engines was enclosed in a heavily shielded metal tube, like a vast central pillar, which ascended through a circular