Doctor Who_ The Zarbi - Bill Strutton [51]
‘But... they won’t let us out of here just like that...!’
Doctor Who was wagging his head over that problem.
‘I don’t know...’ he mused. ‘Now — if the other creatures think that we are the ones being directed — to this slave colony the Voice spoke of, for instance — they might, mightn’t they? Mm...?’
‘I... suppose so...’ Vicki said uncertainly.
Doctor Who seized her arm reassuringly. ‘Come along then — let’s try it...!’
He turned and pointed at the Zarbi, then towards the nearest doorway to a tunnel.
Dully, the Zarbi responded. It walked on its ungainly hind legs towards the tunnel.
There Doctor Who stopped it with a commanding finger. He placed himself and Vicki in front of the Zarbi.
Then he turned and beckoned the Zarbi to follow.
As they entered the tunnel a Zarbi guard emerged from the far end and came scuttling along towards them. Doctor Who and Vicki walked steadily towards it, their faces blank, apparently unseeing, the creature under their control shuffling along behind them.
The oncoming guard paused, glaring curiously — and then passed on.
Only when it had passed did Vicki venture a look around them.
‘I expected to see more of these Zarbi creatures about than this, Doctor.’
‘Mm — they must have been sent to the plateau... to meet this spearhead... Be careful now — I’m afraid we’ve still a long way to go...’
They walked warily on down the tunnel.
Barbara was staring about her in wonderment. So were her Menoptera friends — Hrostar, Prapillus, Hlynia and Hilio.
‘It’s... a temple,’ Hlynia breathed.
‘An ancient Menoptera temple,’ Prapillus murmured. ‘It must be fifty generations old.’
Hrostar pointed at the walls. ‘It was of such things that our great civilization was made.’
Their voices had a strange echoing quality. The great sheer walls were carved with immense designs of Menoptera wings, and still — though crumbling and decayed — brilliantly coloured. Gold and coppery markings, some of them turned to a luminous green with age, shone down among the ochres, the reds and sky-blues of the vivid wing patterns.
They saw that the rock walls which had opened to let them in and then closed behind them were shaped and carved too, into the pattern of a massive pair of wings.
Prapillus, the wise old scholar among them, was entranced. ‘One of our temples of light,’ he whispered. ‘I knew they existed. The legends about them have been handed down. But I thought they were lost forever...’
Hlynia turned to her father. ‘There are others?’
Prapillus nodded. ‘According to the stories — scattered in the craters and the plateaux of Vortis... slowly crumbling away, their locations long since forgotten as our ancestors sank into slavery...’
Barbara and Hrostar were leaning against the great winged walls, now folded down, closed.
‘It sounds as if they’ve gone... given up,’ Barbara said.
Hrostar faced their party. ‘One of us must explore.’
Prapillus shook his head. ‘No, Hrostar, not yet. The Zarbi are almost certain to mount guards. We must wait.
Perhaps... find another way out.’ The old Menoptera looked around him.
Hrostar stared up at the brilliant walls. ‘The Light God was kind to us today. It is a good omen.’
‘Is it?’ Barbara challenged him. ‘From what I saw of the battle – the spearhead was wiped out!’
The spearhead officer Hilio drew himself up, proud and confident. ‘All is not lost – the main invasion force will soon arrive. Then we will triumph!’
‘But they were relying on your spearhead, weren’t they, Hilio?’ Barbara asked.
‘It was only... a... a setback. But we will not be stopped by the Zarbi! After all these years of planning, it is now or never. Nothing will stop us! Even if our electron-guns proved, er, disappointing in battle against the Zarbi, we shall rely on our numbers, our... courage!’
‘It is fine to make patriotic speeches, Hilio,’ the old Menoptera Prapillus said coldly. ‘But they will not free Vortis for us!’
‘You must face it,’ Barbara urged him. ‘Both your scouting party and your spearhead failed!