Doctor Who_ Wooden Heart - Martin Day [3]
‘Is that what drew you here?’ asked Martha. The mystery of it all – a Mary Celeste that drifts in the spaces between the stars…’
The Doctor took a step back, suddenly serious. ‘It reminds me of another ship, a craft with a link to a person from the history of your planet…’ He trailed away, his eyes intense, as if he could stare through the metal hull of the craft and see the stars and nebulae beyond.
‘The Pollux?’ suggested Martha hopefully.
‘Never mind the Pollux,’ said the Doctor abruptly, replacing what was left of the panel’s outer covering. ‘It’s this vessel that fascinates me now. What happened here?’
He began to stride down the corridor; big, confident steps. Steps that wanted to march into the future, to turn corners, to find out what happened next – and to revel in it.
Martha chided herself for downplaying this particular trip in the TARDIS – she’d forgotten that, with the Doctor at your side, words like ‘mundane’ and ‘everyday’ just didn’t seem to count.
‘Probably just a systems malfunction,’ offered Martha helpfully.
‘There’s no sign of any great systems failure in the central computer system,’ said the Doctor. ‘But perhaps it just healed itself. Stranger things have happened.’
Martha drew a long breath. ‘If you say so.’
‘Ah,’ said the Doctor. ‘This looks interesting.’
The corridor terminated at a circular door about three metres in diameter. It looked like a resolutely closed metal iris, and horizontal bars extended from the walls on either side and through large metal loops to give an even greater impression of solidity.
‘To keep something out, or to lock something in?’ wondered Martha out loud.
‘My thoughts exactly,’ said the Doctor. A quick wave of the sonic screwdriver and the bars retracted into the walls, leaving behind a faint smell of ozone and grease. Then the main door blossomed open.
‘Hello!’ the Doctor called as he stepped through. ‘Anyone home?’
‘You sure there’s no one on board?’ said Martha. ‘Little bit of courtesy goes a long way, you know.’
‘The TARDIS didn’t pick up any life signs,’ said the Doctor. ‘As long as the life forms in question aren’t hidden behind some sort of electromagnetic shield… Or out of phase…’
His voice dwindled to nothing as they found themselves on a high gantry, a circular walkway that had fifty or more doors leading away from it. Three metres above them was another walkway, and another; Martha risked a glimpse over the edge of the handrail, and the tubular structure they found themselves in seemed to disappear in both directions almost out of sight.
Martha took a step back from the edge. ‘This place is huge.’
‘It is,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘Any other thoughts?’
‘It’s very utilitarian,’ said Martha.
The Doctor nodded. ‘We know this is a research vessel and not a hotel, but even so… It’s not at all what I was expecting.’ He pointed to the identical doors, evenly spaced along this and all the other walkways. Each had a tiny observation window at head height. ‘Remind you of anything?’ he asked.
‘A prison,’ said Martha suddenly. ‘It’s like a huge prison.’
‘I was worried you were going to say that,’ said the Doctor, walking past Martha to the first door. He waved his sonic screwdriver over the control panel at the side of the cell. ‘Shall we take a look?’
TWO
The door hummed open, a momentary interruption to the thick silence that gripped the vast chamber.
Martha paused, not sure what to expect. If you’ve encountered rhino-headed storm troopers and witches on broomsticks, she reasoned, you’ve got to keep your options open.
Nothing happened – nothing beyond a slight tingling sensation on her skin, as if the air in the cell, maintained for so long at a certain temperature and pressure, was now being released.
The Doctor stepped into the small room. ‘It’s perfectly safe,’ he announced, though there was an ambiguity in his voice that did not inspire confidence.
When Martha followed him inside she understood the Doctor’s uncertain