Chapter Seven
The ages of humanity flashed past Alison as she and the Doctor hastened down the passageway, every pod they ran past taking her a little further back in time. Before she knew it the comatose occupants were in skins and furs. Not long after that they were not even human; they were low-browed, heavy-featured approximations of human she realised with a superstitious shudder were neanderthals. And all the time the gloomy, claustrophobic passageway curled around and down ahead of them, taking them down in a vast corkscrew shape, more and more pods lined up as far as her straining eyes could see.
The Doctor was no longer paying attention to the sleepers. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and his mouth tightened at the corner.
This is no good. They re getting nearer.
Who s... ack!
Caught by surprise by his hand clutching her jacket at the shoulder, Alison stumbled to a halt and found herself pushed against the wall, the Doctor s palm held up inches from her face.
Stay there.
He delved into the sinuous tangle of circuitry which surrounded the hunched, broad-shouldered, naked creature in the nearest pod, twisting parts of it free and deftly snapping tubes, a pale fluid leaking unregarded onto the floor. His face locked rigid in concentration, his fingers stabbing into the machine with the precision of surgical implements, he seemed completely oblivious to the feral swarm of young women rising into view from along the passage.
Outside organisms, came the low, diamond-hard voice of the leader. Sterilisation is required.
Doctor? hissed Alison.
Hush, was his response, without so much as a flicker in his expression.
She could only stand and stare like a rabbit caught in a truck s headlights as the women swept towards them, their swaying, lazy motions accelerated into a ruthless, catlike economy of movement. She stared desperately at the Doctor, clutching at her faith that he was about to pull some miraculous rabbit out of a hat as he had done so many times before.
The Doctor grimaced with the effort of driving his hand hard into the opening he had made in the wall, then winced at an electric blue flash from whatever he was gripping. Teeth clenched, he didn t recoil, but tightened his hold and pulled. In a tangled spewing of pipes and tubes, an egg-shaped block of densely structured grey metal came free, a strange red light streaming from it, swimming and twisting like a living thing. The Doctor whirled to face the women who were now just feet away, and played the light directly into their faces.
Alison tensed, expecting those curled, outstretched talon-like fingers grabbing and tearing at her limbs. It didn t happen. Inch by inch, she uncurled from her defensive crouch and saw what had happened. The women stood like a paused film, frozen in place, so still they seemed two-dimensional. The Doctor stood calmly, keeping the red light on them, the device in his hand still joined to the wall by a silvery-white filament.
Stasis field, he explained with a sideways glance at her. It s what they re using to keep these people preserved in their pods, and about the only thing that would be effective against projected illusions, if that s what they are.
He rested the ovoid gadget carefully in the torn hole in the wall, its light still aimed at the trapped women, and took a step forward towards them, their wide blank eyes staring, their grasping hands just inches from his face. He linked his hands behind his back and inspected them closely.
Alison hung back uncomfortably.
Doctor, let s go. Who knows how long that thing will hold them?
It s a time machine, he replied distractedly. It will hold them for eternity.
Unconvinced, she fidgeted and glanced over her shoulder, half expecting a second wave of attackers to appear. The Doctor was as close to the foremost woman as he could get without being caught in the beam himself, his eyes focused tightly on the skin of her face.
If she s artificial, he said, there ll be imperfections, it s inevitable. If there are imperfections, they may give us a clue about where these things come from and who made them.
Just wish we could do that without standing here asking to get caught, she grumbled.
She knew better than to try and talk him round and fell silent, itching to be under way. At least the device he had plucked from the wall seemed to be working steadily. The thought drifted across her mind that ripping it from its moorings must have damaged something else. She considered the question of what it had previously been used for, and her eyes slid to the half-human cave creature in the recess beside her.
He was no taller than she, but his shoulders were broad as a weightlifter s. As she watched, his eyes flickered and the muscles of his arm twitched. Alison s breath caught in her throat.
Doctor she managed to hiss.
He made a dismissive fanning gesture to quieten her down.
Yes, yes, in a minute.
She grabbed his sleeve, hauling him back, but it was too late. The apelike thing in the pod was awake, and as it took in its surroundings its features contorted in a mottled twist of fury and fear. Even as the Doctor half turned, at last realising something was up, a hairy arm lashed out like a club, striking him between the shoulder blades and sending him stumbling across the corridor. At the same time, the caveman s other arm slammed hard into the wall where the time device was wedged, making it wobble precariously on its perch. Frantic, Alison leaped forward and rapped her arms round the creature s barrel chest, trying to pull it back, but it threw her off as though she were weightless and she landed heavily on her back, the breath driven from her lungs.
Helpless, she watched another wild swing strike the device, sending it clattering to the floor, its light flashing around wildly before beaming uselessly into the wall. Wheezing like a beached fish, she struggled to reach it but it was too late. The women were freed from its influence as though nothing had happened, and they swarmed forward with arms outstretched. Alison could think of nothing to do but close her eyes and clench her teeth against the end.
