Doctor Who_ Illegal Alien - Mike Tucker [37]
Peering out of the canvas back of the speeding lorry, the last thing Ace had seen was the two huge wooden doors which had slammed behind her, cutting off the road, the city, the light. As the van had juddered to a halt she had slipped from the back and into the plentiful shadows, where she had crouched as she watched the creepy little man it had to be Wall, judging by the description and his Cyberhenchmen disappear into the darkness.
From what she had been able to make out she was, in a tall, narrow nave, crisscrossed high overhead with metal gantrieswroughtiron grilles emerging from and disappearing into the void. Sunk into the side walls were deep openings, corridors more like tunnels, leading to the deep hum and throb of huge machines. Ace had slipped silently past each of these entrances, crouching, watching, then springing like a cat, picking her way cautiously back to the gates. Stealing a look back into the darkness, she had begun feeling her way along the gates, looking for a way to open them Nothing.
They were well and truly locked. If only she had some Nitro Nine on her. The Doctor was always forbidding her to carry the lethal explosive: this time he had been adamant. If such an advanced weapon should fall into the hands of a nation at war... blah, blah, blah. He had lectured her for half an hour on the danger of advanced technologies falling into the hands of cultures not yet ready for them. When he had finally shut up and got on with landing the TARDIS she had secretly thrown her Walkman into her rucksack, just to spite him. Her Walkman, but no Nitro Nine. She had thought to use the truck to escape, simply by driving it through the locked doors. She immediately discounted that idea: the doors were too solid, the lorry facing the wrong way. She would have to try the stunt in reverse gear. No chance. The only option seemed to be to wait until the doors were opened again. She had slipped back into the shadows; huddled herself against the wall, out of sight under a raft of pipes, rough with limescale stalactites, and waited.
And waited. Hours had passed. She was exhausted. She had had to grind her knuckles into the rough sides of the pipes in order to try to stay awake. Finally, in spite of herself, mastered by sheer fatigue, huddled in the dark, she had drifted off into the deeper darkness of sleep.
She awoke cursing. How long had she been asleep?
Had the huge doors opened while she was dozing? Had she missed an opportunity to escape?
Nothing seemed to be any different. Apart from the low rhythm of the machines, apart from the constant subterranean flow of water, the place was silent. There was no sign of Wall or the tinheads.
So what to do? Think like the Doctor. Logically, there seemed to be only two courses of action. Either stay at ground level and try to find an exit down one of the side corridors or go up on to the gantries and try to find a window she could climb out of. There must be windows...
As far as she knew, Wall and the Cybergoons were still on ground level; she decided to go up. She skirted the wall until she came to the nearest of the steeply ascending metal staircases. Silently, she began to climb.
If anything, it was even darker up here.
She stopped. A noise, overhead. Footfalls? She edged slowly forward along the narrow gantry.
There it was again. Too light to be a Cyberman. Too furtive to be Wall. Somehow the footsteps sounded scared.
More boldly now, Ace mounted another staircase. Still the sounds seemed to be above her. How tall was this place?
Above, as below, she could see only darkness. She ascended a third staircase. The walkway that stretched ahead of her was narrower than the lower two; on each side of it was merely a single handrail. She must be a good sixty feet up. She was suddenly aware of a faint breath of wind. A good sign there must be some access to the outside. She stopped.