Doctor Who_ The Zarbi - Bill Strutton [67]
Barbara fought a further step sideways to keep the Doctor out of her line of fire. Desperately now, she levelled and aimed the Destructor at the fiery mass whirling on its pivot in the centre of the chamber.
Nothing happened.
‘It’s... not working...!’ she gasped, and pressed the trigger again.
She stepped forward. Perhaps if she got in closer...
But as she did so the field of force closed around her and the pull on her grew immensely more powerful.
She staggered forward, stared about, and saw a fissure suddenly open up in the floor beneath the great sparkling web. A strange, curly spear poked through it, then hands gripped the floor and the figure of a man heaved his body up through the crack and stood gazing blindly about him on the vast floor of the chamber.
It was Ian!
‘Ian...!’ screamed Barbara.
Ian turned to look towards the voice and then threw up his arms against the light which blotted out all else. He staggered and fell, groping blindly around him, lost.
Barbara saw that they could all now count their life in seconds – and that everything now depended on her.
She was dragged a step closer to the flashing light and raised the Destructor: She fired it again, this time holding her hand clamped down on its electronic lever.
The Voice droned on echoingly, apparently unharmed, addressing them all.
‘You have not... the power... power... I...
Master...of...you...’
Barbara kept the Destructor pointed at the heart of the monstrous shape and breathed a prayer, blinking against the light, steadying her hand to keep the Destructor on its target.
Was it because she was dazzled – or was this monstrous creature changing its shape? Was she imagining it – that its breathing was growing ragged, its steady pulsing light changing into an irregular, staccato pattern, first bright, then darkening to a dull glow...?
The Voice became more bronchial, more hesitant, and stumbled.
‘... Master... the... the...’
She was not dreaming! She held the trigger lever of the Destructor grimly pressed, its squat muzzle pointing unwaveringly towards the searingly bright Ellipse, and the Voice rose to a whining scream.
‘... the... the... Universe...’
Suddenly the Voice choked, and was silent. Its bronchial wheezing faded, gasping, and was stilled. The pulsating light within the bladder dwindled slowly down to a ruddy glow — and then blanked out. A darkness came into the room, and with it, a coldness.
The lifeless bladder shape continued to revolve, slackly, without breath, slowing, and spun tiredly to a stop. The silence in the room now was total.
The centre of all this evil which had seized Vortis in its grip shuddered once, and was still.
Barbara dropped the Destructor. It clattered through the now-lifeless web on to the floor below.
Doctor Who roused himself and stepped towards what was left of the Intelligence. Vicki joined him. Ian had picked up the Destructor and weighing it curiously in his hand, stared around the room.
‘It’s dead,’ Vicki said in a flat, tired voice, ‘dead...’
Ian nodded and put his arm around her. He turned her head away from it.
‘It’s all over,’ he said gently. ‘We can leave now.’
Doctor Who’s control table with its astral map and its clutter of equipment had been loaded back into Tardis.
The Doctor stood with Prapillus before the smashed remains of the Zarbi’s control panel. He eyed the Web Destructor admiringly and laid it down.
‘A giant can die, from the sting of a fly,’ he quoted.
‘Yes... an interesting weapon.’
‘If I had not lived to see this — I would have counted my life entirely wasted,’ old Prapillus said. His voice trembled.
Doctor Who put a hand on the old man’s shoulder. He said, ‘It was your wisdom, Prapillus, that helped us to defeat this creature — and all it controlled.’
He turned towards the ship. Barbara and Vicki were near the door, waiting. The Doctor paused and said to the old Menoptera, ‘Well — there’s nothing more to keep us here. It’s... time to leave.’
He held out his hand to Prapillus, and smiled. ‘Good-bye.’
Prapillus clung to the Doctor