TITLE: The Case Of The Dying Machine pt1
AUTHOR: Talepiece
RATING: 12 cert.
PAIRING: Vastra/Jenny
SERIES: The Casebook Of Madame Vastra
CONTINUITY: This is the first of a three parter and continues from The Case Of The Artist's Legacy.
DISCLAIMER: I own them not, please sue me not.
CREDITS: This story is based on EM Forster's The Machine Stops.
NOTE: Apologies for the delay in posting the new Casebook stories. 2015 has been a series of unfortunate events so far and it's knocked me off my stride. (Friendly Advice #1: try to avoid pouring scalding liquid all over your hand; not a fun idea.)
Volume Four will be one story told over three parts, each a direct continuation of the last. They're based on EM Forster's truly remarkable short story The Machine Stops. I first read it years ago and try to revisit it regularly. I've been looking for a way to get it into the Casebook stories and this seemed the perfect time.
POSTED: May 2015
The hum was so constant, so pervasive that the occupant of the room had never been aware of it. It hung in the air, just below conscious thought. It was the heartbeat of the Machine and, hence, the heartbeat of her life.
Vashti sat in her room, a cell of little more than ten feet square with nothing but an armchair and a reading desk upon which sat a large, ornately bound book. There were no windows or visible doors and yet there was light; a soft, gentle light that soothed Vashti. There were no obvious ventilation shafts and yet fresh air circulated about the room. And there was no musical instrument or playing apparatus and yet a soothing musical accompaniment played to the old woman's meditations.
She was old indeed, small and thin, as pale as the summer's clouds that she had never seen. She had no hair and no teeth but her eyes burned with a fierce intelligence and a certainty that would have terrified anyone who met her. Had anyone met her in many years.
Vashti winced at the slight distortion of base on the exquisite piece. It had been so long since the music system played without these little faults that she was barely aware of them on a conscious level. Somewhere deep down, though, somewhere in what might once have been called her soul, she felt it.
It was de rigueur now to ignore the slight variations, some said that they added to the interest of the piece. One acquaintance of hers had even said that it bought the listener closer to the original performance, since it would have been played on cruder instruments than the Machine. Vashti tried to agree but there was always that terrible nagging regret at the lose of the immaculate renditions of her younger days.
The music ended and she gave a gentle sigh before reaching out to press one of the myriad buttons on the arm of her chair. The buttons could be used to summon a bed, a bath full of hot water, her food or her medication. This particular button did none of those things; it opened the world to her.
Immediately the chair turned around to face the reading desk and a bank of communication portals appeared on the wall beyond. There were chirps and bells to indicate incoming communications and a background buzz of the voices clamouring to speak to her. They wanted to know her thoughts on this new - yet so old - piece of music. They wanted to share their own thoughts. They wanted to question and brag, to praise and denigrate; to express themselves and to puff up their own egos.
Vashti shook her head and filtered out all of the people that she did not wish to hear. She disliked being faced with opinions so far removed from her own. They did nothing but distract her from the truth. And there were some - some blasphemous creatures - who still clung to the idea that original thought was possible, even preferable. It had been proven nonsense, of course, but some still wished to look beyond the wisdom of The Book and the Great Thinkers. Fresh ideas...ridiculous! Vashti shook her head again but quickly set the thoughts aside in favour of stating her opinions as clearly and loudly as she could.
She had her say, waited impatiently while others offered up their own readings of past thesis and then made to restate her original comments. She was interrupted by a fresh chirping of the communication system and received notification that her son wished to speak to her.
Vashti reluctantly disentangled herself from the myriad of connections that held her in their web. She pressed another button to isolate herself on the incoming line and spoke sharply.
"Not more nonsense, Kuno, surely?"
"It is not nonsense, Mother."
Vashti looked up into the now solitary screen which filled the wall opposite her. Kuno was tall and erect, stronger in appearance than he had been in his youth. She had not seen him in person for many years but he did like to, Vashti sighed at the expression, 'keep in touch.' Why, she had no idea but it had not troubled her until this past few months.
"What now?"
"You must visit me, Mother."
"We can talk now. So talk," Vashti waved an impatient hand, "Talk and I will listen. But be quick, boy; I have a lecture to give."
"I can't say it like this, I've told you."
"Then is it worth saying? The only things that cannot be said 'like this' are blasphemies and lies. Speak not ill of the Machine, Kuno. You have been tempted from the truth."
"So I've been told," Kuno muttered but he said, "Mother, I beg you, this is important."
His entire countenance was imploring, his eyes burning with hope, and Vashti felt the faintest rush of maternal instinct within her breast. Which was nonsense, she told herself firmly; parental responsibility ended for the man after conception and for the woman after birth. He was a child of the Machine and he should be thankful for it.
Still she remembered the day, mere hours after his birth, when the great arms of the Machine had reached in and taken the swaddled child from her. It left a sense of dread and longing that even Vashti's fierce intellect could not quite deny. And there was something of her in him, not in his manner or is attitude - Praise The Machine - but in his face and his eyes and in the mind that roared behind them.
"I will consider it, Kuno, but I am very busy-"
"Rehashing old lectures on ancient themes! Mother, there is much you must know. Please, come visit me."
Vashti's eyes flashed a dark warning but his desperate expression did not alter. She reached out to terminate the communication but said, "I shall see," before she pressed yet another button.
Kuno's room was identical to that of his Mother despite being on the other side of the planet but unlike her, he did not fear what lay beyond. He waited impatiently as the wall opened before him and then stepped out. Kuno did not wait for the rumble of an approaching car, instead he strode off down the platform in search of what he was now certain was his destiny.
He had been afraid on his first escape from the room. Terrified even, though not of the rails below or the rush of the oncoming cars. Kuno's fears had been deeper, fears of what the Machine might do to him. But there had been no punishment, no repercussions at all. His weakened bones and muscles had barely allowed him to walk a few yards that first time. Not that Kuno had known the word 'yard' then; what use were measurements of distance when everything came to you?
Exhausted, he had returned to his room and relived every brief moment of his adventure. He had escaped again and again, walking further each time, building up his body until he was stronger than he had ever been. He felt reborn physically and renewed mentally in a way he was sure would attract the attention of the Machine or at least one of the myriad committees that purported to control it.
There had been nothing, merely the slowing down of the mechanisms that governed the lives of everyone in the hives. But was that everyone on the planet? Kuno researched extensively, again waiting in dread that his lines of interest might attract the wrath of the Machine. Still nothing and his expeditions - for he thought of them as nothing less - grew more lengthy and more physically difficult. Until that blessed day when he had found what he sought. A way out.
Kuno had reasoned that if man had built the hives, which he surely had, then those men must have been from the surface. The Book said that the surface had been scarred by war, that the air and water had been poisoned. That might have been true but surely those poisons would dissipate? The Book was written so long ago and Kuno's research had confirmed that ancient weapons could not pollute the world indefinitely.
He wondered why no-one had ever considered that before but had decided that most of his brethren had grown lazy in their reliance on the Machine. They did not consider it because they did not wish to consider it.
Kuno thought of nothing else and he walked and crawled the tunnels in the hope of finding the access shafts that had carried man and machinery from the surface. He had found nothing on his own room's level but had discovered a small shaft that held a rickety ladder. With some trepidation, Kuno had climbed the creaking rungs until he found himself on another level exactly like his own.
Extending his search each time he had eventually found another shaft that took him to the level above that...and the level above that. Six levels in all forming a great hive of humanity, all boxed and catalogued by the Machine. Kuno had read a little about bees and laughed at the irony of the comparison.
On the sixth level, Kuno could not find a small shaft, even after weeks of searching. That too Kuno had learned; not simply to measure distance but to measure time. With the measurement of time came the concept of impatience and the disheartening realisations that he might never find that which he sought.
And then he found it and with the finding a further realisation; that his perception was greatly improved too. He had spotted the seemingly insignificant clues that lead him to a few wall tiles out of place.
It had taken him some time to fashion a tool and prise the tiles away but eventually Kuno had uncovered the wider opening of a shaft that appeared to run into nothingness far above him. The air was foul as it wrapped around his head while he stared up into the darkness and rejoiced. He tested the thick rungs of the ladder that chased up the wall and found them solid, though painfully cold to his touch.
Kuno had reluctantly made the return journey to his room, each step filled with the wonder of what he might find on the surface. He needed to plan, Kuno had thought, needed to consider the possibility that the air might still be unbreathable. Was it worth the risk? He laughed again. Of course it was worth the risk, what else had he done all this for?
So he would go and accept the dangers, both above and below. He would make his escape and never return. He would remain above ground and find the surface dwellers that he felt certain would be there or he would die with the sky above him and the grass at his feet. With either one, he would be free of the Machine forever.
There were things he required first. He needed stout gloves and clothing for the climb up and food to live on should the air not kill him. Asking the Machine to provide gloves had had an unfortunate, though ultimately helpful effect. The mechanism had assumed that he was cold and had increased the temperature in his room until he was comfortable in nothing but his underclothes. That at least gave him spare material and Kuno had spent a few days learning of sewing and darning. A few repurposed bits and pieces that the Machine innocently provided served as tools and he had fashioned some rather crude but effective gloves.
Another request gave him a rich store of thicker clothing, though also a further increase in temperature which left him naked. It was as liberating as his expeditions, Kuno decided and pranced around his little cell in celebration. Now he was stronger and healthier than ever before, he was equipped as best he could be and he was ready for his great adventure. There was only one thing that Kuno had wanted before he left forever.
Kuno hesitated in his stride and sighed deeply. He had so wished that his Mother might visit with him before he left. Wished and begged but to no avail. Not that she would have understood a word of anything he might tell her, despite his endless rehearsing of those words. She might even have reported him to a committee or the Machine itself. She probably would, Kuno thought sadly.
She believed that their race was safely housed below the surface under the tender care of the Machine and all was right with the world. Except it was not right, not right by any measure in Kuno's mind.
There was the possibility that on this one fact his Mother and her blessed Book were correct: that there were no surface dweller to welcome Kuno to the world far above. Perhaps those of the hives were all the living inhabitants of the planet. And if that were true and Kuno was one of only a bare handful above ground - him on the surface, all others in the airships - well, the thought was too awful to consider...
So Kuno chose not to consider it further. He had made his decision long ago, made his plan and settled his mind to it. His Mother's fate was her own decision, whether she knew it or not, and he could do nothing about it. Neither could he help all of the countless others if they would not help themselves.
He could survive, though, for he had learned much more than simply sewing and units of measure. He had armed himself with as much knowledge as the Machine could provide and that was all the knowledge of his race. He had read of surviving in wild landscapes and hunting for food. Old tales, perhaps, but knowledge that he might require in the near future. He had read of forming shelter and making fire, of seasons and weather patterns and all manner of creatures.
His doubts crowded out by his excitement at the life to come, Kuno straightened himself, took a deep breath and resumed his journey.
The atmosphere in the house on Paternoster Row could only be described as chilly. Actually, Archie thought, it could be described a fair few other ways but none of them polite. He stood in the doorway to Madame Vastra's lab and watched the green face as it in turn watched the moon-faced man with the curly hair and the strange clothes.
"'Ere, Doc?"
"Please don't call me 'Doc', young man," the Doctor said.
"Right you are, Doc, but 'ere, how does this thing work then? I mean, it's queer enough that your blue box can bounce around in," Archie mimicked the Doctor's voice, "time and space but that thing?"
The lad pointed to the leather bracelet that lay on the worktop at the centre of the room. The Doctor had been working on it for days and Madame Vastra had barely taken her eyes from him throughout. She was still standing there in his multi-coloured coat, her skin loosely patched with reddened bandages that Mosa had pressed into her hands.
Mosa and the little gal had come as soon as Archie got word to them. They were upstairs now, keeping the house going and fending off any interest that the neighbours or local constabulary might show. Archie had tried to encourage Vastra away for a few hours to sleep and wash and dress. Mosa had simply carried down a bowl of hot water, some soap and a change of clothes.
The water was cold now and the clothes remained slung over the back of the one chair in the room. The desk which it stood before was covered in a collection of implements that the Doctor had sent Archie to find. Sent far and wide and not always entirely legally. There would be a few collectors feeling very sore this morning and a few coppers kept very busy for the next little while. There was always a silver lining, Archie smiled to himself.
"Madame Vastra," the Doctor said in his firmest tone, "You really must make your toilette now."
"And why would that be?" Vastra all but snarled.
"Because I am almost finished here and because I really would like to have my coat back."
Vastra stared down at herself in amazement. She blinked as if waking suddenly and then looked somewhat chagrined while saying, "I apologise, Doctor, pray give me but a few moments."
"Take twenty minutes," the Doctor said as Vastra turned on her heels and left the lab, "That's about how long it will take to finish its charge."
He and Archie watched Vastra stalk down the corridor, past the kitchen and then disappear above on the back stairs. The Doctor sighed and returned to his work, muttering, "Miss Flint must be quite a girl."
Jenny Flint stared around her in horror, "- and who the bleedin' 'ell are you?" she said as fiercely as her pounding head would allow.
"Hey, language!" Peri said as she dragged herself up on the edge of the console, "You're a nice Victorian Lady, remember?"
"I'm a bleedin' angry lady's maid is what I am!"
"Yeah, got that, thanks."
Peri finally righted herself, leaning on the console next to Jenny for a moment before carefully pushing away and standing on her own two feet. She glanced at her new-found companion and saw a pale but intensely annoyed face glaring at the rising and falling time rotor.
"Are you OK?" Peri asked and quickly added, "Apart from the shock, I mean."
Jenny stared at her for a moment and then laughed, "I'm practically starkers, I've been attacked by a big pink thing with a hammer and abducted by a foreigner," she looked Peri up and down, "in a scandalous sort of frock."
"Hey!" Peri smoothed out the crumpled front of her top and mini skirt, "Give me a break here."
"It can be arranged," Jenny menaced.
Peri waved her hands in a placating gesture, "Easy, tiger, easy. Let's get you some clothes and I'll explain everything. Well," she smiled, "maybe not everything but at least what I can."
"Start with the starkers and that thing," Jenny indicated the time rotor.
Peri's smile waned, replaced by a grimace, "Yeah, that."
A few minutes later, Jenny stood at the entrance to the Wardrobe Room and stared in amazement. "How many of you are there? And what do you people wear?"
"Only me at the moment and whatever you want. Trust me, if you want to wear it, it's in here somewhere. You might like that aisle over there."
Jenny followed Peri's outstretched hand and mounted a few steps until she was at the beginning of a long row of familiar garb. "Blimey," she muttered, "Madame would love this. Anything with britches and a shirt?"
Peri clamped down on her surprise and nodded, pointing again, "Try over there."
She watched as Jenny again followed her directions and took a long moment to consider the clothes on offer. She kept glancing back though, checking that Peri remained in place. She's scared but she's brave, Peri thought, that'll help.
"You feeling OK?"
"OK?"
"All right. Better, I mean. You took quite a beating."
Jenny stopped, turning back from the lines of outfits to consider the question. She remembered the workings...the men and the Silurians...and those things, those pink creatures were there and then...
"I was hurt?"
"Yeah, you were."
"Bad?"
Peri hesitated and Jenny started towards her. She thrust out her hands again, "Easy, just take it easy. The Doctor and I found you in the," Peri's hands waved vaguely, "Tube entrance thingy. You and Madame Vastra. You'd-"
"How is she? Is she alright? Where is she?" the last came out in a hard tone.
"Fine. Really. And...er..." Peri wondered how to explain this and decided to plough on regardless. It always seemed to work for the Doctor after all. "The thing is, this," Peri indicated the Tardis around them, "this is a ship, of sorts, a ship that travels in space and time. And when we were attacked, er, well, I think maybe the old gal panicked and just got the heck outta Dodge."
Jenny took a moment to translate and finally said, "Is it one of those Tardis things? Bigger on the inside and all that?"
Peri gawped at Jenny for long enough that Jenny glared once again.
"Yeah," Peri eventually blurted out, "Yeah, exactly like that. How the heck do you know that?"
Jenny laughed, "Oh, Madame Vastra's told me some tales."
"I guess so."
"So where's it taking us then? And when can we get back home? My home, I mean. No offence."
"None taken. But," Peri emphasised the word, "it's kinda a tough question to answer."
"Then start thinking on it while I get some clothes on, eh Miss?"
"It's Peri."
Peri waited while Jenny examined the racks twice over. Apparently there wasn't anything quite to her taste. That funny little velvet outfit earned an appraising glance but one or two options received censorious mutterings. Eventually, Jenny returned to the middle of the line, pulled something out and disappeared behind the rack.
Peri listened to the sounds of Jenny donning her new outfit while she considered what to tell the young woman. This was not going to go down well, she thought and found out quite how badly a few minutes later when Jenny was standing before her. Jenny stared at her for what felt like days, her expression dark.
"So you don't know where we are and you don't know where we're going and you don't know how to get back. Is that it?"
Peri tried for a reassuring smile but knew she was failing, "Well...yeah, that just about sums it up."
"Marvellous," Jenny dragged out the word. She twitched a little in the unfamiliar clothing and glanced down at the tight trousers and loose shirt. This was what the pirates in all those lurid tales must look like, she thought but she said only, "So what happens when we arrive then?"
As she spoke, the humming vibration of the Tardis ground to a halt replaced with an eerie silence. Jenny raised a brow to Peri, who gave a weak little laugh and said, "I guess we find out."
"Bleedin' marvellous," Jenny muttered but she followed Peri out of the Wardrobe Room and through the seemingly endless corridors back to the place that Peri had described as the Console Room. "Now what?" Jenny said as they both stared at the immobile time rotor.
Peri grabbed for the door control and grinned, "A trip outside, I guess."
"You're guessing an awful lot, Miss Peri."
"Just Peri, please," she said and turned for the widening doorway.
Vashti had considered Kuno's words for some time. She was so deep in thought that she forgot even to deactive the isolation filter. It was the closest to silence that she had lived in for so long that it unnerved her almost as much as her son's words.
He had always been troublesome, from gestation to birth and so ever onward. Vashti had thought that once the Machine took him into its care, she would be free of all those strange, unsettling emotions that had troubled her throughout the pregnancy. Apparently it was not to be. Apparently a parent's worry never ended. She considered that carefully, determining to research the Great Thinkings on the topic. Surely, she was not the only mother who had been so fevered by their offspring?
She was still considering it hours later as she returned to her deliberations on the maternal instinct. Her hand reached out to touch the single button that would open all of history's great thoughts to her. Instead - and utterly to her own surprise - her finger fell to another button and the room shook around her.
Had that happened before, Vashti worried as her armchair swung around to face the far wall. Could she even remember the last time she had done this?
The wall folded out on itself to expose a long tunnel beyond. There was a brief sense of the rushing air, rank with the stench of the outside world, but the Machine quickly compensated and Vashti breathed easy once more. The chair rolled forward to the edge of the entrance and stopped. Here Vashti would be forced to stand and take a few steps into the car that sped towards her.
Her entire body shook as she pushed herself out of the chair and she wavered dangerously before finding her balance and taking a few, faltering steps. She looked out through the gaping hole in the wall to see the tunnel curving away in one direction, a short expanse visible in the other before it too curved out of her sight. The tunnel's air troubled her. The sounds did too; here the buzzing of the Machine warred with the noises of the tunnel and the car speeding onwards.
It came in a rush, a swooshing sound quickly followed by the protests of little-used rails, and then the car was before her. One side folded away as had her wall and Vashti stepped uncertainly into the vehicle. The whole reformed behind her and her journey had begun.
She sat heavily in one of the little seats that lined the car. It was built to carry six people but at least she was alone. That fact comforted her. She could not bare the idea of sharing space with another human being; it was the most terrifying part of this whole, terrifying business.
Vashti looked around her and a flame of the old curiosity ignited. New experiences were such a rare thing that they had become as difficult to comprehend as sharing space with someone. Still, it was refreshing in an odd sort of way, this seeing something that she had not seen in many years.
The car sped on, hurtling through the hive that housed humanity on this continent. There were other hives too, under other landmasses and even, it was said, under the oceans. All of humanity housed neatly and efficiently in a series of little rooms exactly like her own. All of them connected with everyone else on the planet. All of them alone in body but never in thought. It was, Vashti believed, just as things should be.
The car ran on through the tunnel towards the vomitorium; the hubs for the Airships that still flew above the barren surface, ferrying those few poor creatures who were required to leave their beloved cells. It was an anachronism, of course. Left over from those far-off days when humanity believed that technology should be used to ferry people to things. Now, in these more enlightened times, humanity had come to understand that their only true purpose could be to bring those things to the people. All controlled by the Machine, Vashti thought with some pride and said to the empty car, "Praise the Machine."
With a lurch of fear, Vashti realised that the car was slowing. She peered out through the domed front but could see no sign of the hub that should await her. Another surge of fear came when she considered that the car might be malfunctioning but she cast that aside. The Machine would never allow such a thing and surely the Committee Of The Mending Apparatus would have dealt with any minor flaws immediately.
And then that hint of doubt came again. The music systems had been malfunctioning for so long, what if the transport system was too?
The car slowed and came to a shuddering halt at nothing more than a small way-station mid-point between two sets of habitation clusters. Vashti looked on in horror as the doors hissed open and two people stepped, hesitantly inside.
"Hey, how are ya?" one said in an accent so strong that Vashti could barely understand her. She was wearing a scandalously bright outfit that hurt Vashti's delicate eyes.
"Evening, Ma'am" the other one said in an equally impenetrable but different accent, "Or morning?" she looked to her companion who simply shrugged.
That, at least, Vashti could sympathise with; in an artificial world, with artificial light, times of day became arbitrary at best.
Vashti managed a nod of acknowledgement but was too overwhelmed by the experience to speak. They were woman, girls in comparison to her own advanced years. For a moment Vashti wondered how old she was but immediately set the thought aside as irrelevant. She considered the girls again. The second one was dressed in plainer colours but more flamboyant clothing. Vashti hadn't seen anything like it since she had read Kuno those ridiculous fairy stories over the communication system when he was a little boy.
And those accents! No-one spoke in such a way, no-one had for decades. Vashti had a vague memory of a favoured lecturer from her youth, a man from a place that had once been known as...
"California," she said aloud.
"Maryland, actually. Hi, I'm Peri. This is Jenny. We're new around here."
Vashti stared at the girl as if she were quite mad. Which she must be to say those things. How could such a child know the details of her birthplace...or her ancestor's birthplace...or whatever she thought this Marie Land was? And if they were new around here, as she claimed, that must mean that they had been moved from their original rooms. That was so rare after the age of ten that it almost never happened now. In fact, it only occurred when the ill or deluded had transgressed the Machine's will in some way. Some terrible way.
The first punishment was to be moved closer to the Committee of Correction offices. The second was Homelessness. There was no third. Vashti turned from the women in horror. Peri and Jenny stared at her for a moment and turned back to each other. Peri shrugged and muttered, "Nice folks around here."
They took seats as far away from the Vashti as they could and watched the tunnel speed by as the car got under way once more. As their vehicle moved on, the girls leaned in together and spoke in hushed tones. Vashti glanced at them but it became a horrified stare as she realised that they were conversing in person as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if they did it all the time even! She looked away again and willed herself to forget that the creatures even existed.
"I've preset this time and location for the return, you simply press here," the Doctor said indicating the vortex manipulator.
"And it will carry two people?"
The Doctor glanced up at Vastra, a twitch of annoyance on his face, "Of course, I've set it specifically to do so. Miss Flint must be holding on to you as you press like so," he repeated the gesture, "and then it's Home James."
He attempted to keep a sage expression on his face but the Doctor's eyes beamed with pride. He couldn't help himself and went on, "It was quite a challenge, I must say -"
"Yeah, you must," Archie laughed from behind them, "Thing is, will it work?"
"Of course it will work! Honestly! Now, Madame, if you are ready for departure?"
Vastra settled her hastily-donned clothing and cast a nervous look at the device in the Doctor's hand. She had waited impatiently for this moment but now it loomed about her and she felt oddly uncomfortable. It must be these clothes, she thought looking down at the somewhat musty and coarse garb. Jenny would be furious that she had found it necessary to wear her older, less well tailored 'work clothes'. More furious still that they had suffered somewhat during their time in the spare room. A great number of small creatures would be hunted down on her partner's return.
The thought made Vastra smile, quickening her pulse and raising her excitement at the journey she and the Doctor were about to make. They would find Jenny and Miss Brown, bring them both back from wherever they might be and order would once again be restored to her life. Or what passed for order.
"Madame?" Archie said.
"I leave our household to your tender mercies, Master Archie."
"Never you worry, Madame, Mosa and me'll keep the place spick and span."
"Mosa and I, Archie," Vastra said but she smiled at the lad, "Thank you. Well then, Doctor, shall we see if we can find our companions?"
The Doctor cinched the strap of the Vortex manipulator to Vastra's wrist and took her arm, "I believe we shall."
With that he gave a curt nod to Archie, took a firmer grip on Vastra's arm and slapped his hand down on the controls. There was a gust of icy air, a thick, swirling energy writhed around their bodies and then they were gone.
Archie blinked, staring at the empty space.
"Bloody 'ell."
"So where are we then?" Jenny said, leaning in to her companion.
Peri shrugged, "No idea. Some sort of habitation complex maybe? At least it's got a transportation system."
"And where is it transporting us to exactly?"
"I have exactly no clue."
Jenny harrumphed, sitting back in her seat and glancing at the dower old crone who looked away from them quickly. The old woman appeared to be ancient, closer to the mummified remains that she and Vastra had seen during their adventures beneath London. The thought made Jenny's heart lurch with pain. And annoyance; why hadn't Vastra and this Doctor of Miss Peri's found a way to save them by now?
"You sure we should be leaving that Tardis of yours?"
"Nope."
Jenny muttered and Peri couldn't hold back a smile. "Something funny, Miss?"
Peri's face fell, "Just relax, it'll work out. Trust me," she emphasised.
"Oh aye."
Jenny didn't have chance to say more as the car was already slowing. Beyond the clear shell she could see a platform begin to form at the side of the rails. It was longer and better lit than the one that they had discovered only a few yards from the Tardis door. There were people too and much to Jenny's relief, they were younger and less sour-faced than their fellow traveller.
Jenny glanced over at the old woman and caught the flash of sheer terror that flooded the otherwise pale, lifeless features. She appeared to be paralysed, locked stiff in her seat and unable to rise as the car came to a halt and the side folded open.
"You all right, Ma'am?" Jenny said despite herself.
The old woman said nothing and remained in place. Peri touched Jenny's arm and whispered, "Let's go," before rising. Jenny followed her but glanced back at the woman. What could possibly scare her so badly?
Jenny and Peri stepped out and on to a moving walkway that ran the short length of the platform. They stood as the grey walls idled past them, joining the thin line of people moving towards a large, glass-walled lift. Jenny looked back as the car began to move and continue its journey. The old woman had struggled out just in time but she stood on unsteady legs at the very edge of the platform.
"Should we help her?"
Peri hesitated and glanced back, "Looks like they have people for that."
A particularly ruddy-skinned man in a grey outfit that might have been a uniform was approaching the old woman. She was only just beginning to take a few, shaky steps and he reached out to steady her.
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, recoiling in such abject horror that Jenny's fists clenched involuntarily.
The man apologised profusely, though he was not particularly surprised or perturbed by the outburst. Instead, he offered a few words and pointed to the lift. Peri and Jenny glided towards it and there joined the short queue to enter. It was a large space, certainly large enough to comfortably accommodate the six or seven people who were already waiting inside. At least Jenny thought it was comfortable but the locals were clearly quite the opposite.
Jenny and Peri pressed themselves to the glass wall, Peri turning to stare around her, Jenny watching the old woman hobble her way across the threshold and stare in yet-greater horror at the loose cluster of people inside. She shivered visibly and remained as close to the door as the attendant would allow. He checked the lift with a lazy glance and then pressed a button that was set almost flush to the metal frame of the door.
The lift gave a little jerk of protest as the mechanism began their ascent and one man amongst them was so startled that he dropped the book that he clutched to his chest. The book fell with a thud and the man, along with all of the other travellers but Jenny and Peri stared at it as if waiting for something to happen.
"You'll have pick it up, Sir," the attendant said, "these floors do not adapt."
There was a gasp of horror and the other inhabitants looked aghast.
"Here you go," Jenny said and leaned down to retrieve the book.
"No!" the man and old woman said as one.
Jenny stopped, her hand quivering mere inches from the leather cover. She looked up without straightening and stared back at the mix of horror and confusion that stood sharp on all the faces, even that of the attendant.
"Just leave it," Peri hissed.
Jenny did as she was told, though she cast them all a hard glare as she rose. Ungrateful buggers, she thought but kept her own counsel. After a long moment of utter silence, the man bent down and picked up the book himself, though he could barely stretch down far enough to manage it.
Much to Peri's relief, the lift slowed to a shuddering halt and the doors opened to expose another moving platform that lead to the entrance of another form of transport. She held Jenny back as everyone else stepped out, each one casting them nervous glances as they went. Jenny glared back and Peri hoped that they weren't about to start some sort of intergalactic incident.
When only they remained, Peri pulled Jenny into motion and they took up the rear of the platform as it slide on. As they cleared the main part of the structure, Peri looked up to see the wide, curving skin of an airship.
"It's one of them Zeppelins," Jenny muttered.
"Awesome," Peri grinned, "I always wanted to travel in one of them. Without the fiery death part, obviously," she added to herself.
They and the airship itself were housed in a super-structure of glass and thin metal supports. Peri turned to see a much heavier, darker metal forming the uppermost shell of whatever complex they had just left. She felt a moment of panic; they were getting further and further away from the Tardis. They required answers, of course, possibly more than proximity to the Tardis but finding answers closer to their only safety would have been preferable.
"Are you all right, Miss Peri?"
Peri jumped a little, pulled back from her thought by Jenny's quiet words. She smiled, "Sure, just fine. Wish this thing took cargo, though."
"We are leaving it unattended, will it be safe?"
"Oh, the old girl can look after herself," Peri said and hoped that she wasn't lying.
The floor slide on, passing from the outer platform, through the wide hatchway and into the gondola. Peri noted the large pneumatic pistons that served to close the hatch tightly to the skin of the ship and felt a little better about the vessel. She had no idea what heights they might reach and preferred to know that the thin air outside would remain there.
The interior platform curved into a circular corridor that appeared to circumvent the entire ship. There were large, glass portals set all along the gondola's side and they both looked out as they glided on. There was little to see on this side, only the glass and metal super-structure and hints of the immense structure that it sat atop. As they wended their way around the gondola, the view changed and both women stared out in awe. A vast expanse of ocean stretched out to a clear, blue horizon.
Jenny looked up, sure that all of their party must be just as inspired by the sight but the few of them who dared look out appeared to be shocked, even horrified by it. Most had their eyes locked on the platform at their feet.
"Can you not cover these," the old woman hesitated as if struggling to find the word, "windows? The light is unbearable."
Jenny made to speak but Peri clamped a hand onto her arm and shook it urgently. Jenny said nothing and the attendant explained that they would be safely in their cabins in only a few moments.
Sure enough, the platform was slowing every few seconds as each passenger stepped off and through a small door set into the central section of the gondola. Each went alone into their cabin, Peri noted, not a pair amongst them.
Eventually only Jenny and Peri remained and the attendant indicated that Peri should take the next cabin.
"Actually, we'd prefer to share," Peri said. An expression of such horror shaped the attendant's features that she hastily added, "We're just friends, honest; we'd like a twin room, not a double."
Now the attendant appeared less horrified and more uncomprehending. "A twin?" he said, utterly baffled.
"How about you just point us to the dining car and we'll be settled," Jenny said, suddenly aware of how hungry she was. Not able to remember the last time that she had eaten, she whispered to Peri, "I'm famished."
"The dining room, right," Peri beamed her most innocent smile at the man, "We'd like our dinner early, please."
Kuno hissed in pain as the rungs cut through the material of his crudely made gloves and dug into his soft skin. That was one thing he had not worked on, his little-used and thinly skinned flesh. He had not worked to improve it because the thought had never occurred to him before. How could it? His entire life had been nothing more than the press of a button away. Even as he began his expeditions - even as they widened and grew - he had needed to do little more than pull himself up the warm shafts with their smooth rungs.
But here, in this ancient shaft with the roughly hewn metal rungs that had warped and rusted in the cold, damp air... Here his hands bleed with all the tiny cuts and great gashes that plagued his skin. Yet he climbed on. Return was not an option; to what would he return? And for all the rank air and the harsh metal, the stench of disuse and the taste of rust, he was free.
The silence wrapped around him and for the first time in his life, Kuno understood how prevalent the Machine truly was. Its humming filled their ears, its proscribed knowledge filled their heads and its Book filled their souls. At least so his Mother would have it.
So Kuno climbed on, discarding his tattered gloves after some unknowable period of time, ripping the bottoms of his shredded trousers from his legs and the shirt sleeves from his arms. Climbing on into the utter darkness that surrounded him with nothing but his own determination and the thought that this was freedom.
Until the ladder came to an abrupt halt, its path skyward blocked by a metal portal that was oddly warm to the touch. Kuno's heart swelled with wonder and pressed his hand to the metal as far as he could reach.
He found nothing but that same smooth, warm material and suffered a harsh moment of despair. When his determination fought back through the haze, he stretched as far as he could and the very tips of his fingers brushed against something that might be a handle of sorts. He rested for a few moments, flexing his aching muscles as best he could in the cramped confines.
And then he jumped. Launching himself upward and to his right with as much thrust as he could manage. His right hand waved madly in nothing but air and Kuno felt himself begin to slip back into the void that now dropped below his feet. He lashed out with his hands in a wild gesture of desperation and his fingers caught on a short rung.
The weight of his own body suddenly pulling on the tenuous grip almost defeated him but Kuno held on with all his might. He swung wildly, his legs thrashing for a moment before he calmed himself. Tightening his grip, he stretched up his free hand and took a second hold. His weight triggered some form of opening mechanism in the hatch and he began to spin in a slow arc that sped up until there was a gush of air, a grinding of metal and the hatch released.
It blew open with such force that the rung was ripped from his grasp and the hatch itself broke free from its hinges. Kuno was flung clear, barely conscious from the impact. He came to and blinked into the bright light of day. His eyes burned and he turned his head, one blooded hand coming to his face to protect them.
It was some time before he realised that the light was natural and that if he squinted a little, he could look about him. His breath caught as he saw the expanse of green that curved upward around him, joining at its topmost edge with an even greater expanse of blue that stretched out as far as his limited vision could see.
He sat up carefully, aware of a pounding that filled his head and body. It was worse than the Machine's endless buzzing but he didn't care. It was life; his own blood, his own pain. Kuno stared in amazement at the hatch as it bobbed at the apex of a high column of escaping air. The air from the shaft, though rank, had been breathable by his own standards. Now it rushed out, keeping the heavy metal door dancing above and filling the hollow that it opened on to.
Kuno crawled over to the hatch, struggling against the press of air, and peeked over the edge. He could barely make out the top rung from which he had made his leap of faith. He looked around and knew that it had been worth that risk and many more.
One more at least, he thought and slowly rose to his feet. The ground was covered in a soft, perfectly green grass that gave off a pleasant scent. Kuno had never thought before about the pleasures of such a thing. Below the air was filtered, leaving nothing but a pure yet lifeless breath.
Kuno stood, his legs shaking but as much with excitement as exhaustion. He took a few hesitant steps, growing used to the strange experience of walking on anything but a perfectly level, artificial floor. He was soon scrambling up the side of the hollow, using his tortured hands to drag himself on when his feet slipped in the soft, wet soil.
He felt his lungs begin to burn but pressed on until he was at the top. He collapsed there, his head just over the lip of the rise, his eyes drinking in the vista. His hollow was one of a few that shaped a vast landscape of green and brown. The bright blue of the sky raced away in all directions and only a few puffs of white cloud and the occasional speck of a passing airship troubled the sky.
Kuno's lungs continued to burn and he realised that it was not simply his exertions. Reluctantly he tumbled back down the slope, laughing like a child as he stumbled and rolled before coming to a halt lying once more in the thick grass.
He studied the hatch and thought that it was falling a little closer to the ground. Was the air running out? The Mending Apparatus healing the breach? He must acclimatise his lungs to the natural air, if it were even possible and enjoy his few moments of freedom if it were not.
As Kuno tumbled back, the air a little way to the east of his hollow suddenly sparked and danced with energy. There was a noisy whoosh of air and light and then two dishevelled figures appeared. The sparks flashed and faded around them and once more all was peaceful.
The Doctor shook himself, his voluminous coat rippling around him. Vastra gasped, sucking in air and steadying her roiling belly by sheer force of will. After a long moment they both stilled, straightening up to look with interest about them.
"Well, what a lovely spot for a picnic," the Doctor said with a broad grin.
"Jenny is not here," Vastra glared at him.
"No," the Doctor hesitated in the face of impending Silurian rage, then rushed on, "Neither is there any sign of Peri or the Tardis, I might point out-"
"I suggest you do not."
"No, well, quite." The Doctor stared up at the sky, watching the slowly approaching speck shimmer into the form of an airship as it neared, "You don't see many of them, alas."
"The humans call them Zeppelins," Vastra said when she realised the subject of the Doctor's digression, "They insist on filling them with inflammable gases."
"That is rather a downside. Still," he reached in to one of his many pockets and pulled out an improbably long, Georgian spyglass, "I'd say whoever they are, these people have solved one or two of the issues."
He offered the monocular to Vastra and she growled at him from deep in her throat.
"As you wish," he returned the spyglass to yet another pocket and pointed up to the lip of the nearest indentation in the ground, "Let's get the lie of the land, shall we?"
They strode through the scrubby ground, rising up slightly before they found themselves at the head of the deep crater that sank into the earth.
"Can't say I was expecting that," the Doctor muttered.
They looked down on a scene of some chaos. A fountain of air held a hatchway above an open shaft at the centre of the hollow. The hiss of escaping gasses could be heard even from the top of the hollow. A little way to the side, a man lay on the ground, his arms and legs flung out as if swimming in the deep grass. He stared so intently at the sky above that he did not seem to have noticed their presence.
The Doctor was just about to give a bellowed hulloo when the hatch fell to the ground, sinking deep into the soil on the far side of the crater. The man gave a startled cry and rolled over, peering into the shaft. He made to rise, a flash of panic on his previously angelic features and he began to scramble backwards even as he pushed himself to his feet.
Vastra glanced at the Doctor, "I fear he may require our assistance, Doctor."
With that, they were both slipping down the incline towards the man. As they reached the flat of the crater, the man looked up and gave a shriek of mixed fear and delight. He raised a hand to them and made to speak but there came an almighty screeching sound from the shaft. The sound intensified, filling the hollow with the scream of tortured metal and then the fountain of air was replaced with a fountaining spiral of metal. The metal resolved itself into long, thick tentacles of dulled, creaking silver-grey. They writhed arthritically, jerking spasmodically when they seemed designed to slither as if part of a living beast.
The man shrieked again, this time in abject terror and waved madly for Vastra and the Doctor to stay back. Though the tentacles appeared to have no interest in anyone but him. They writhed and lashed, moving ever closer to the man who had edged back to the the base of the incline but appeared unable to drag himself upward.
With one last, screeching rush, the tentacles closed upon him. The tip of one flared open into a dozen smaller tendrils that wrapped themselves around him. He was pulled off his trembling legs and dragged screaming back towards the opening. His arms waved around him, wildly reaching for the sky. Just as he was sucked into the shaft, he cried out, "The Machine stops!"