Doctor Who_ Enlightenment - Barbara Clegg [4]
‘Are you the White Guardian?’ she demanded. The figure mouthed silently, and Tegan completely lost her cool.
‘The message!’ she yelled. ‘The message – Hurry up!’
She moved the lever higher still, and the White Guardian’s voice suddenly broke through in mid-sentence.
‘... must not win. Tell the Doctor. Winner takes all...’
‘... all... all... all...’ came the echo as the figure grew fainter.
In the silence that followed, the muffled explosion from the depths of the console sounded like a volcano erupting.
There was a shower of sparks, the tenuous shape disappeared, and every light but one went out. All that remained was a dim glow from an emergency working light, and from the scanner screen itself. It was then that Tegan saw the face looking in. For a moment she was completely bewildered.
‘Who are you?’ she called. ‘Are you the White Guardian?’
There was no answer, simply a dazzled smile, as though the sight of her had caused whoever it was to lose the power of speech. The smile changed suddenly to a look of anguish as the viewer seemed to overbalance, and abruptly he disappeared from view.
‘Oh no!’ Tegan exclaimed. She had suddenly remembered something. The scanner camera was positioned in the flashing light on the roof of the TARDIS.
The young man’s face had seemed so close on the screen, that it must have been near the lens – he must have climbed up there. After falling from the height of the roof he might be hurt. Without a second thought, she grabbed the torch which the Doctor had been using for his repair work and hurriedly opened the main door onto the blackness which lay beyond.
2
The Race
The Doctor and Turlough emerged slowly and cautiously through the hatchway at the top of the companion-ladder, and found themselves in a dimly lit alleyway below decks.
There was no sign of the man they had been following, and the passage seemed to end in a blank wall.
‘Dead end?’ asked Turlough, almost hoping that it would be. But the Doctor, running his hands over the surface in front of him, shook his head. The tips of his fingers had come in contact with a tell-tale crack.
‘It’s a door,’ he said softly, pressing his ear to the wood and listening. ‘Can’t hear anything.’ He looked at Turlough, an unspoken question in his eye. Turlough nodded, somewhat reluctantly. Taking a deep breath, the Doctor shoved the door open with his shoulder and they both walked through.
The room in which they found themselves was cramped and low-ceilinged and the air was full of tobacco smoke. A group of men were playing cards; another, lying on his bunk, was darning a sock; someone was idly picking at a banjo. There was no pause in the activity, but six pairs of eyes were turned to the newcomers.
The Doctor was the first to recover himself.
‘How d’you do?’ he said, with an affable smile all round.
There was a vague murmur as a couple of them returned the greeting. The rest either nodded briefly or did not even bother to do that. The Doctor and Turlough might not have been there for all the notice that was taken of them.
They exchanged a puzzled look. ‘Who are they?’ Turlough asked, under his breath. ‘The crew,’ answered the Doctor, in the same way. To Turlough’s surprise and discomfiture, the Doctor suddenly strode forward to one of the bunks, and with a firm hand started testing the mattress.
‘Not bad,’ he said, in a loud bluff voice.
‘Are you insane?’ Turlough hissed, longing to drag him out of the room. ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’
‘Behaving as though we’ve just joined the crew,’ was the Doctor’s soft answer. And then more loudly, ‘This one’ll do for me. You take the top.’ And to Turlough’s horror, he picked up a newspaper lying on the table, sat firmly on the bottom bunk, and calmly began reading. Turlough sat next to him. He could not think of anything else to do. Then he realised why the Doctor was holding the paper up