As the water closed over her head, Jasmine instinctively squeezed her eyes shut, then forced herself to open them. At least it was crystal clear and brightly lit; she could see the little hatchway in front of her as if in broad daylight. Refusing to let herself stop and think, she jammed her head and shoulders into the gap and forced her way onward.
It was so close, it was like being swallowed by a snake. She had to turn diagonally to fit through, and cursed her layers of skirts and petticoats as she dragged them through after her. Now, enclosed in a waterfilled corridor no wider than the hatch itself, she wriggled determinedly deeper into the spacecraft, cheeks puffed outwards with the air she had crammed into her body, until she came up against the metal doors at the far end.
The Doctor had pried open just such a door with his fingernails, and assured her she could do the same. She clawed at the hairline gap running down the centre of the opening, deliberately at first, then with a gathering sense of desperation as the sound of the blood pounding in her ears grew ever more intense and the air in her lungs grew stale. At last she found purchase, and expended more precious energy forcing the magnetised doors apart.
Now at least she was swimming free, floating out of the confines of the corridor into a five foot high, ten foot wide circular room which, to the Klavites, must have seemed a grand chamber. But it was too late. She was suffocating, pressing her lips together to hold in air that was now of little use to her. It dawned on her that this plan, to which she had agreed in the heat of the moment, was madness. She couldn't force open another door, struggle down another corridor, take over the control room and force the Doctor's hoped for crash, all on the single breath of air she had taken with her. Nobody could. She was going to drown, trapped in this flying coffin, in a matter of seconds now.
She twisted around, the swelling panic telling her to make a rush back to the exit, the knowledge immoveable that this would be fatal with the ship now in flight, and then she saw it. A silver trail of bubbles, tiny at first then rapidly growing to the size of her fist, streamed in through the hatch and floated up above her head. All at once she understood the part of the plan the Doctor hadn't had time, or had forgotten, to explain. With the water that filled the interior of the ship dragged out and spilled as the craft picked up speed, something had to come in to replace it. Just a little bit of precious air.
Jasmine expelled the little she had been able to retain in her lungs, and pressing her feet against the floor pushed her face up into the bulging pocket of gas collecting in the curve of the ceiling. It was like waking from a nightmare. She gasped and choked, weeping with relief, and only the support of the water that still surrounded her prevented her from buckling at the knees and collapsing weakly to the floor.
She must have stayed there, breathing hard in the steadily expanding treasure trove of oxygen, for several minutes before her head cleared and the strength flowed back into her limbs. She was alive, and now it just needed one more effort to do what had been asked of her. She drew down another lung stretching gulp of air and ducked below the surface again.
Third hatch on the left. She knew what she was doing this time and the doors parted easily under her fingertips. Ten feet down yet another tight squeeze of a corridor, to another set of doors that she pulled apart. Then she was pushing herself forward into another open chamber, this one filled to its furthest corners with nothing but water. A curving viewscreen took up one entire wall, and showed a hellish image of her familiar clifftops repainted a bloody red and black and flashing past at a speed she couldn't have dreamt of. At the very centre, there was a cylindrical column of controls, and gripping the levers with its tiny hands was an ugly little fish creature just like the one she and the Doctor had captured earlier that night.
It twisted to stare at her, its malevolent little eyes widening into yellow orbs as she dragged herself from the grip of the corridor and forward. She saw it hesitate, loosening its grasp on the levers, only to grab them again as the ship lurched horrifyingly to the right, then as she reached forward, stretching her hand out towards its tail, it yielded to the inevitable and flitted away out of range, darting agilely to the other side of the room.
There was no point in chasing after it. This was the Klavite's environment and by comparison Jasmine was as clumsy as a beached whale. Instead she gripped between finger and thumb the tiny central lever it had been using to steer, and experimentally twitched it to one side.
The craft reacted instantly. Where it had been slewing gradually down and to the left, heading for a crash into the ocean, it leapt up into the air and was immediately hundreds of feet above the clifftops. The Doctor had wanted a crash, she knew, but where? As her uncertain touch on the sensitive controls took them in a crazed succession of violent swerves and zigzags, she saw through the viewscreen that whatever roundabout route the pilot had taken was only now bringing them back home. Lit up in red, she could make out Heffer's mansion, her home for all these years, with the Doctor's little house buried in its shadow, and highlighted like bright white stars she could see figures hurtling closer. The four Klavites in what the Doctor had called xenosuits, and a tiny, fleeing shape, his coat streaming out behind him as, with an astonishing turn of speed, they gained on him with every pace. He reached the sanctuary of his own home and vanished inside, but they were closing in. Surrounding him.
Only one thing to do. Clenching her teeth to maintain focus as her lungful of air grew stale once more, Jasmine used the most delicate touch she could muster to bring the ship into a shallow descent, thundering towards the robotic monsters at high speed. She would save the Doctor in the nick of time.
Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement. The lone Klavite was swimming directly at her, and now it was gripping some kind of gleaming silver rifle the size of a knitting needle. Jasmine dropped the controls, flinging up her arm protectively as a beam of pure reddish white light slashed out at her face, and she lost half of her air in an exclamation of pain and shock as it cut into her wrist like a knife, her blood mingling with the water before her eyes like a swirling black mist.
The next second - impact. The metal saucer smashed into the side of the mansion, scattering it into a ruined mess of bricks and stones for hundreds of yards around as if it had been blown apart with a thousand tons of gunpowder. It tore a great muddy furrow across the lawn and destroyed the Doctor's house too as if it had been built of matchwood. Then it struck a vast granite boulder, flipped over onto its back, and lay still.
It was so close, it was like being swallowed by a snake. She had to turn diagonally to fit through, and cursed her layers of skirts and petticoats as she dragged them through after her. Now, enclosed in a waterfilled corridor no wider than the hatch itself, she wriggled determinedly deeper into the spacecraft, cheeks puffed outwards with the air she had crammed into her body, until she came up against the metal doors at the far end.
The Doctor had pried open just such a door with his fingernails, and assured her she could do the same. She clawed at the hairline gap running down the centre of the opening, deliberately at first, then with a gathering sense of desperation as the sound of the blood pounding in her ears grew ever more intense and the air in her lungs grew stale. At last she found purchase, and expended more precious energy forcing the magnetised doors apart.
Now at least she was swimming free, floating out of the confines of the corridor into a five foot high, ten foot wide circular room which, to the Klavites, must have seemed a grand chamber. But it was too late. She was suffocating, pressing her lips together to hold in air that was now of little use to her. It dawned on her that this plan, to which she had agreed in the heat of the moment, was madness. She couldn't force open another door, struggle down another corridor, take over the control room and force the Doctor's hoped for crash, all on the single breath of air she had taken with her. Nobody could. She was going to drown, trapped in this flying coffin, in a matter of seconds now.
She twisted around, the swelling panic telling her to make a rush back to the exit, the knowledge immoveable that this would be fatal with the ship now in flight, and then she saw it. A silver trail of bubbles, tiny at first then rapidly growing to the size of her fist, streamed in through the hatch and floated up above her head. All at once she understood the part of the plan the Doctor hadn't had time, or had forgotten, to explain. With the water that filled the interior of the ship dragged out and spilled as the craft picked up speed, something had to come in to replace it. Just a little bit of precious air.
Jasmine expelled the little she had been able to retain in her lungs, and pressing her feet against the floor pushed her face up into the bulging pocket of gas collecting in the curve of the ceiling. It was like waking from a nightmare. She gasped and choked, weeping with relief, and only the support of the water that still surrounded her prevented her from buckling at the knees and collapsing weakly to the floor.
She must have stayed there, breathing hard in the steadily expanding treasure trove of oxygen, for several minutes before her head cleared and the strength flowed back into her limbs. She was alive, and now it just needed one more effort to do what had been asked of her. She drew down another lung stretching gulp of air and ducked below the surface again.
Third hatch on the left. She knew what she was doing this time and the doors parted easily under her fingertips. Ten feet down yet another tight squeeze of a corridor, to another set of doors that she pulled apart. Then she was pushing herself forward into another open chamber, this one filled to its furthest corners with nothing but water. A curving viewscreen took up one entire wall, and showed a hellish image of her familiar clifftops repainted a bloody red and black and flashing past at a speed she couldn't have dreamt of. At the very centre, there was a cylindrical column of controls, and gripping the levers with its tiny hands was an ugly little fish creature just like the one she and the Doctor had captured earlier that night.
It twisted to stare at her, its malevolent little eyes widening into yellow orbs as she dragged herself from the grip of the corridor and forward. She saw it hesitate, loosening its grasp on the levers, only to grab them again as the ship lurched horrifyingly to the right, then as she reached forward, stretching her hand out towards its tail, it yielded to the inevitable and flitted away out of range, darting agilely to the other side of the room.
There was no point in chasing after it. This was the Klavite's environment and by comparison Jasmine was as clumsy as a beached whale. Instead she gripped between finger and thumb the tiny central lever it had been using to steer, and experimentally twitched it to one side.
The craft reacted instantly. Where it had been slewing gradually down and to the left, heading for a crash into the ocean, it leapt up into the air and was immediately hundreds of feet above the clifftops. The Doctor had wanted a crash, she knew, but where? As her uncertain touch on the sensitive controls took them in a crazed succession of violent swerves and zigzags, she saw through the viewscreen that whatever roundabout route the pilot had taken was only now bringing them back home. Lit up in red, she could make out Heffer's mansion, her home for all these years, with the Doctor's little house buried in its shadow, and highlighted like bright white stars she could see figures hurtling closer. The four Klavites in what the Doctor had called xenosuits, and a tiny, fleeing shape, his coat streaming out behind him as, with an astonishing turn of speed, they gained on him with every pace. He reached the sanctuary of his own home and vanished inside, but they were closing in. Surrounding him.
Only one thing to do. Clenching her teeth to maintain focus as her lungful of air grew stale once more, Jasmine used the most delicate touch she could muster to bring the ship into a shallow descent, thundering towards the robotic monsters at high speed. She would save the Doctor in the nick of time.
Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement. The lone Klavite was swimming directly at her, and now it was gripping some kind of gleaming silver rifle the size of a knitting needle. Jasmine dropped the controls, flinging up her arm protectively as a beam of pure reddish white light slashed out at her face, and she lost half of her air in an exclamation of pain and shock as it cut into her wrist like a knife, her blood mingling with the water before her eyes like a swirling black mist.
The next second - impact. The metal saucer smashed into the side of the mansion, scattering it into a ruined mess of bricks and stones for hundreds of yards around as if it had been blown apart with a thousand tons of gunpowder. It tore a great muddy furrow across the lawn and destroyed the Doctor's house too as if it had been built of matchwood. Then it struck a vast granite boulder, flipped over onto its back, and lay still.