Doctor Who_ The Twin Dilemma - Eric Saward [25]
As the Ferrail rays continued their relaxing work, the elderly Time Lord considered staying in the modulator forever. There were worse ways, he reckoned, of spending life than being gently pummelled and massaged into an oblivion of ecstasy. Outside the machine was only heartache, frustration, anger and disappointment. Why not leave it there? he thought. Inside the modulator he was safe, happy secure.
But he was wrong.
At first he paid no attention to the minute deviation in the purr of the machine. He had no reason to. It had done it many times before. After all, it was quite old and in need of servicing.
Even when he became aware of a strong smell, not unlike that of rotting vegetation, he still paid little attention. It wasn't until the odour had developed into a near stench that he began to worry.
But then it was too late.
Unable to leave the modulator until the timer had run its course, Azmael concentrated with all his effort to eradicate the nauseating sensation. But the harder he tried, the more powerful the presence became.
Then as suddenly as the smell had arrived, it was gone. Slowly, Azmael allowed himself to relax. As he did, he began to feel a familiar but unpleasant sensation - the presence of another consciousness in his own mind.
It was Mestor!
Poor Azmael. The only place he ever felt safe and alone had been violated by the thing he hated most.
'I know you're here,' said the Time Lord nervously.
There was a loud harsh intake of breath and the sickly, sibilant voice of Mestor began to bombard his mind.
The gastropod was, as always, angry. He had expected an all out attack by the Earth authorities, which had not materialised. This delay had meant a waste of vital time and Mestor wanted Azmael to suffer as it was his carelessness that had first led the now destroyed starfighters to Titan Three.
Even though the gastropod now knew that the Earth authorities had been horrified by the sudden loss of six of their finest and deadliest warships, and that they had recalled all their patrols in anticipation of an attack on the planet, he still had to exercise his revenge.
The attack continued until Azmael felt he was about to die.
But Mestor was not a fool. He still needed Azmael in one piece. As he sensed the Time Lord's mind crumbling, he withdrew, leaving what felt like a screaming silence in the old man's head. This was, for a moment, almost as painful as the verbal onslaught.
As the modulator came to the end of its timed cycle. the automatic control clicked once more and the door of the machine slid silently open. Azmael, looking and feeling more wretched than when he had entered, staggered out.
As he lowered himself into an easy chair, Noma and Drak entered.
'We are to return to Jaconda,' he said, trying to hide the strain in his voice.
Noma and Drak exchanged a furtive glance.
'Orders of Mestor. We are to leave at once.'
'But there is importance maintenance to be done on the ship,' said Drak.
'It must be done in flight. Now make the ship ready!'
Drak and Noma bowed, neither of them very pleased at the sudden change of plan, whether the order had come directly from Mestor or not.
7
THE REUNION
Long skeletal shadows stretched across the surface of Titan Three, as the blue star, known as Singos Forty-Two, seemed to perch on its horizon, like an oval Humpty Dumpty on a wall. Soon it would be gone, its duty to spread light and warmth on the far side of the barren planet.
Peri had never seen a blue sun before and wished that the circumstances under which she was watching it were more agreeable.
The hump the Doctor had spotted on the scanner-screen in the TARDIS had proved elusive, and with the light rapidly failing, would probably remain so.
The wind had also grown colder and stronger and had started to whip the grey surface dust into mini dunes.
The thought of spending the night in the open did not appeal to Peri, for she knew that once the sun had set, they would not be able to find their way back to the TARDIS.