Part Four
Sarah couldn't keep still.
It would be dark again soon, the light was already fading, and the probe's crew must have finished loading by now, surely, she hadn't heard anything for ages, time was running out – and here she was stuck in the survey team's bunkroom with two unconscious lumps…
She carefully checked the two unconscious lumps again to reassure herself that they were both still alive and breathing steadily, and then resumed her pacing about the room, as far as the chain tethering her to a bunk would allow, worrying at a fingernail as she went. She'd found some ration bars on a shelf and nibbled at one to ease her growling stomach, but could hardly bring herself to swallow – too jumpy in case something happened and too anxious that nothing was.
The enforced idleness of captivity did not grow easier with practice – worse, if anything.
At last the Doctor began to stir and she hurried to him, hovering anxiously as he groaned and mumbled to himself a little before his eyes abruptly snapped open.
"Someone shot me!" he indignantly declared, sitting bolt upright – and then grimaced, grinding the heel of a palm into his eye.
Sarah had seen that reaction before, always after he'd been stunned. "Headache?"
"Never mind that." Brushing it off, like he always did, because he liked the universe to think him invulnerable and always had larger concerns on his mind, he shuffled over to the next bunk, where Harry was just beginning to twitch, and began patting at his face to rouse him. "Is that ship still here?"
"Yes," Sarah assured him. "It's all gone quiet, but they haven't taken off yet."
"Then there's still a chance. Wakey-wakey, rise and shine, Harry. Come on, man, look lively – we've an escape to be getting on with."
Sarah had long since scoped out the possibilities on that front and headed for the door while the Doctor hauled a groggy Harry to his feet.
"Psst," she loudly said to get their attention, and then pulled the door open. "It isn't locked."
The Doctor beamed at her in delight – but then looked worried. "Power's drained again, more like."
"Not that it's done me any good up till now," Sarah sighed, rattling the length of chain attaching her wrist to the bunk; she could reach to open the door, but not pass through it. "Why else do you think I've been sat here twiddling my thumbs waiting for you two sleeping beauties to wake up?"
She regretted her use of the word 'beauties' immediately as Harry flashed that schoolboy grin again, bleary-eyed still but awake enough to be mischievous. Then the Doctor produced his sonic screwdriver from the depths of an inner pocket, made short work of three sets of shackles, and they were away.
As soon as they set foot outside the base, Sarah knew something was wrong.
"It's cold." Not the freezing chill of an attack, but cold enough to be noticeable, colder than this planet had been ever since they arrived – and the atmosphere felt wrong, strangely pressurised, with something almost like a humming sensation that was just on the edge of audibility, as if the air itself were vibrating. "What is that…?"
"We're running out of time," said the Doctor, leading the way across the glade looking grim.
She could have kicked him for being so cryptic at a time like this, had to trot to keep pace with him. "Running out of time for what…?"
The sentence died on her lips. Across the glade, Commander Vishinsky and a small team were just emerging from the forest, staring at them in disbelief.
"How…?" Vishinsky began, astounded to see prisoners on the loose, and then he went for his gun. "Hold it right there!"
All of them had their guns at the ready, even the ones they'd talked to, who'd seemed to understand, who should know better. Sarah slowed at once, catching at Harry's arm to hold him back, because there'd been enough shooting already and she was sick of this now, furious with these idiots for their stupidity and close-mindedness …but the Doctor simply charged onward, arms in the air to show that he meant no harm, and what could they do but follow?
"Commander, please, you must listen to me!" he called out.
"So you can tell more lies?" Vishinsky had seemed almost sympathetic earlier, but now he just looked tired – disappointed, even. To some of the crewmembers with him he snapped, "Get that kit stowed away," and to the Doctor he demanded, "What have you done to our ship, Doctor? What can you hope to gain now by this sabotage?"
"Sabotage?" The Doctor was flummoxed by the new accusation, which wasn't something you saw every day. Then his face cleared and he slapped a hand to the side of his head. "Draining power from the probe – of course, I should have guessed. Commander, that isn't sabotage, at least not of our doing. The same thing happened to the survey team, the base has been losing power all day, faster than the solar cell can recharge – Technician Landa here can confirm."
He gestured toward Landa, prim and sedate at the commander's elbow, and she nodded, just a hint of reproach in her voice. "It's true, Commander – I did say so in my report."
"Listen, you must take your people away from this planet," the Doctor urged. "As soon as you possibly can –"
"That's the plan," Vishinsky growled.
"Without attempting to take Sorenson's crystal collection with you," the Doctor continued. "They won't allow that."
"They who? Doctor, I'm growing tired of these games."
"The creatures that live on this planet, of course. The creatures that killed the survey team and your crewman, the creatures who are all around us right now. They exist on another plane, unknowable and untouchable, but they can reach into this dimension, they've more than demonstrated that, and they know, Commander – they know you mean to leave and they know what you mean to take with you. Can't you feel the disturbance in the air?"
"There's a storm brewing," Vishinsky stubbornly insisted. "We'll leave before it hits."
"Oh, open your mind, man – use your intelligence!"
Harry chimed in now, arguing, "You said yourself nothing human could have caused those deaths," and then Sarah noticed Wijaya, at the back of the group, frowning and glancing around, the air of disinterested nonchalance he'd affected earlier nowhere now to be seen.
She sidled closer, worried. "What's wrong?"
"I thought de Haan was behind me…" he muttered. Then he looked her in the eye and she knew that he now believed, at least enough to be afraid for his missing shipmate, because de Haan was definitely not with the group. He spoke up, his tone urgent. "Sir, we've lost de Haan."
Vishinsky was whirling around in anger at the interruption before the words registered, and by then the Doctor was already running.
"We'd better find her then, quickly! Stay together," he yelled over his shoulder, moving fast enough that no one had a hope of staying with him.
Sarah caught at Harry's hand as they rushed after him, determined to keep at least one of her friends close by, and noticed that the strange chill and the weird atmosphere began to dissipate the moment they left the clearing, apparently localised around the probe.
Something was there, all right, and it definitely knew something was up.
Shouting for de Haan, they crashed through the undergrowth, which was beginning to glow luminescent again as afternoon became evening – a bad sign, surely, the night was dangerous, Sorenson had said – and then between one step and the next the temperature dipped once more and Sarah stumbled, still clutching at Harry's hand, into a small clearing.
De Haan was there, still standing, just, her body rigid, wide open eyes glazed over, staring at nothing. She was ashen, almost grey, lips tinged blue, skin beginning to wrinkle and shrivel…they were too late, too late, Sarah desperately thought, and there was a presence there, she could feel it, a disturbance in the air that was invisible and yet she knew it was aware of them…and then, with a crackle, it was gone.
The air became warm once more. De Haan collapsed.
Harry rushed over to her, swiftly joined by the Doctor and Vishinsky, and suddenly everyone was there, all babbling in agitation.
Sarah hung back, knowing she couldn't help. "Is she dead?"
"Not quite," said the Doctor, pulling back to allow the others room to work.
"Can she be saved?" Vishinsky's urgent demand was directed at Harry, the designated medical officer, who floundered, casting frantic eyes toward the Doctor as if expecting – perhaps hoping for – him to take responsibility for the emergency, with his greater knowledge and expertise…but the Doctor seemed content to leave it to him.
He did that quite often, Sarah had noticed. If someone else possibly could, he'd step back and leave them to it, not interfere. He liked people to help themselves. And it freed him to focus on other priorities – like trying to save everyone else.
Harry's hesitation lasted only a moment before he collected himself, took a deep breath and just got on with it. "Well, I don't know, but we can certainly try. She needs fluids, a blood transfusion – your med bay…?"
Vishinsky's determination to re-arrest them had vanished without trace.
"You'll find everything you need. Go." Casting a sharp glance around at his team, he selected one at random, rapped out, "Utoblo, go with him, assist," and turned back to Harry, who was already lifting de Haan's body from the ground. "The plasma infusion unit is built into the bio-beds, Utoblo can show you."
Harry nodded and hurried off without a backward glance, as fast as he could go with de Haan's dead weight in his arms, Utoblo scurrying after him. Sarah stared after them, remembering Carly de Haan's friendly smile and willingness to believe, when no one else did. Was there any way she could be saved? Harry had admitted ignorance of the probe's medical technology and what did he know, really, about reversing whatever this creature had done?
He was willing to try, though. That mattered.
"All right, Doctor. I'm off the fence." Vishinsky looked haggard, as if all the stuffing had been knocked out of him. "Explain your theory – what do we do?"
"How long until launch?" the Doctor sombrely asked.
"Not long. Sorenson was anxious to be gone before full night and we must achieve lift-off before the power drain cripples us – the fuel reserves were already low."
"But we have a little time, yes?" It was the Doctor's turn to hesitate, just for a moment, his keen mind whirring away behind those brilliantly blue eyes, weighing up options. "Captain Salamar isn't open to reason, and neither is the professor, so perhaps our only hope is to approach the other side, appeal to them before it's too late. But how to communicate…?" He whirled around. "Sarah, the place Sorenson showed you, where the crystals were found – do you remember the way?"
Sarah hesitated, tried to orient herself. She wanted to say yes, but it had been so dark and Sorenson's route so haphazard, his pace so frantic, she knew she'd struggle to find the place again. "I'm not sure – I can try…"
"I know the way." Vishinsky's eyes were deeply troubled, but he'd committed himself now. He turned to his two remaining underlings. "This is unauthorised action – you should return to the ship."
"We were assigned to you, Commander," said Landa, chin held high, eyes glittering with determination, but still as cool and collected as ever. "You may still need us."
Wijyaya rolled his eyes a little, but nodded.
"Well, if she's going I'm going," he drawled, patting at his head self-consciously, as if he feared a hair might be out of place. "I'd hate to miss out on all the fun."
His tone was insouciant but there was a hint of steel behind it. Vishinsky eyed him sternly, then narrowed his eyes at Landa, who folded her hands behind her back and met his gaze unblinkingly. Wijaya lifted an eyebrow, a stubborn, nonchalant gesture of what are you going to do? Vishinsky sighed.
"Rank insubordination," he chided, but there was no rancour in his voice. Nodding tiredly, he turned back to the Doctor. "Very well. This way."
dwdwdwdw
Charging back to the probe with a fast-fading life in his hands – literally – Harry hadn't stopped to think about what he'd do when he got there, being an escaped prisoner and all.
He did think about it, too late, when he reached the glade, moving from humid air to chilly between one step and the next, only for the ever-dour Ponti to pop out of the probe like a jack-in-the-box and train a gun on him.
"That's far enough. Where are the others?"
There was simply no time for explanations.
"This is an emergency, we must get to the medical bay," Harry urgently insisted, ably backed up by young Utoblo, who was all but bouncing with agitation at his side.
"Medical emergency, Ponti – let us through!"
"What's wrong with her? What did you do?"
It was all so absurd and the situation so urgent, Harry could no longer summon the energy to be indignant at being accused yet again.
"She was attacked, just like the others, but there's still a chance she can be saved if you let us pass!"
Ponti glared at Utoblo. "But the prisoner…"
"Go tell the captain then, but let us through, she's dying!" Utoblo shrilly squawked.
Torn between conflicting priorities, the man growled in exasperation, but at last stood aside to let them board the probe.
"On your head, Utoblo – the captain's already on the warpath. Stay with him!"
Harry remembered the route this time and rushed on to sick bay, mind a-whirl with the effort of translating what he believed the patient needed into what he'd learned of this technology, painfully aware of how little he knew.
Utoblo hurried after him, moaning, "Shouldn't have shouted at him, he ranks me, I'm for it…"
Carefully placing de Haan down on the nearest bio-bed, Harry tried to remember where the controls were – and what did what. They'd analysed corpses earlier; a live patient was an entirely different proposition, and the patient's condition was far too urgent for any mistakes to be made.
"Are you familiar with this equipment?" he demanded.
"A little – why?"
More by luck than judgement, Harry found the 'on' switch and was heartened when the bed lit up to show that it was functional, the scanner which had earlier displayed test results for the dead now detailing the flickering life signs of his patient. She'd lasted this long. There was still a chance.
"I don't entirely know my way around this equipment," he admitted. "So I need assistance – and I'm afraid you're it…Nurse Utoblo."
Utoblo's eyes went wide with alarm at the responsibility being placed on his young shoulders. He glanced across the room toward the mortuary cabinets where the three corpses were now stored, looked down at de Haan and swallowed hard, but then nodded determinedly and looked Harry squarely in the eyes.
"All right, then. For Carly. What do you need me to do?"
dwdwdwdw
"The transference is unstable," the Doctor explained – or at least, Sarah presumed he thought he was explaining, although she wasn't much the wiser, hurrying after him at full pelt as he charged through the forest. "The victims are always alone, had you noticed – but you said you were with Sorenson, Sarah?"
He stopped so suddenly she almost ran into the back of him, blazing eyes suddenly fixed on her, an anomaly in the pattern he'd spotted. Except that…
"No," she realised, casting her mind back. "No, he'd gone on ahead when it happened. And then it stopped when he came back."
Those brilliant blue eyes gleamed with something like triumph, mingled with affection; she'd confirmed his theory. He started moving again, talking rapidly still.
"Just as de Haan was released when we found her. Harry and I had gone on ahead the first time you were attacked. De Haan was alone when she was attacked. Bartrum was alone. Everyone who died was alone. The victims have been picked off individually, opportunistic, and if someone else arrives on the scene they're released – an unstable transference, broken by the introduction of a variable."
"Then what are we worried about?" demanded Vishinsky, panting with exertion.
"The power drain, Commander. They've learned how to draw power – from the base, from the probe. The logs confirm the base only lost power at the very end, which means this is new, that power intended for a purpose – and they were massing around the probe. Which way now?"
"This way." Recognising at last where they were, Sarah took the lead, scrambling up the steep incline that led to the plateau.
Again she was struck by the chill of that rocky hillside, and this time knew enough to connect it with the invisible creatures, recognising also a hint of that strange, thrumming tension in the air – not as noticeable as back near the probe, but she could feel it nonetheless. Evening was drawing in fast, but it was still light enough here, away from the shade of the trees, to see that Sorenson's jumble of equipment was gone now, removed to the probe for the journey home. The crystals were still there, though, twinkling in the dusky half-light.
"Ahhhh." The Doctor bent to scoop up a handful, his expressive face lit up with fascination. After all this time, everything they'd been through, this was his first glimpse of them. "I wonder," he murmured, turning to Vishinsky without completing that thought to ask, "How many did you take?"
"Two crates, no more," Vishinsky defensively replied. "As you can see, we've barely dented the volume available – surely no one would even notice –"
"Oh, but they have, Commander. They've noticed, all right. Don't you see? Can't you feel it?" As the Doctor dropped a few crystals into Vishinsky's unresisting hand, Sarah remembered the tingling sensation she'd felt when she handled them, like a mild static charge.
But Vishinsky only shrugged. "The crystals have unusual properties, it's true – that was the purpose of Professor Sorenson's research, he says. He's found a means of harnessing their potential as a fuel source."
"Pah. Is that all you see? Potential? Power? Profit? Take two crates of these with you now and then what? Return with a whole fleet for the rest? Humans!" The Doctor's voice dripped with derision. "Deplete your own resources and go searching for more to exploit, is that it?"
Vishinsky's expression became closed off and angry, his tone defensive. "The Morestran Federation is in desperate need of –"
"Feel that?" The Doctor reached out to close the man's hand tight around the crystals. "Feel the energy? Yours for the taking, is it? You fools. Blind, greedy fools."
"Then what's the solution?" Vishinsky shouted. "What would you have us do?"
The Doctor spun around, stepping to the edge of the crater at the centre of the plateau.
"Look down there," he said in a light, conversational tone, as if the anger and disdain of a moment ago had never happened. "What do you see?"
Sarah glanced down at the inky black surface, a foot or so below the edge.
"It's a pool," she said with a shrug, wondering where this particular tangent might be leading.
The Doctor lifted an eyebrow, flashing an aggravatingly knowing smile. "Look again. Wouldn't you expect to see a reflection?"
She looked, and saw what he meant. There was no reflection. The surface of the water – or whatever it was, not water; something else – was completely dull and matt and still. It wasn't even a something, more like a…a nothing, a void where a something should be.
"That isn't water," exclaimed Landa, kneeling for a closer look. She found a pebble and dropped it in – but instead of landing with a splash, it was absorbed without as much as a ripple. "What is it?"
"I shouldn't get too close, if I were you," the Doctor warned, and she pulled back, turning puzzled, curious eyes toward him.
"Why? What is it?" Sarah sharply asked. She knew that voice, it was the voice he used when he thought he was onto something and began to make plans accordingly, always several steps ahead of everyone else and never thinking to communicate properly.
He was as infuriating as he was captivating.
"This is the nexus," he said. "The point of intersection between our universe and the other."
Sarah stared at it, a gaping abyss of nothingness, just lying there among the rocks.
"And the crystals?" She looked at them again, piled up around the edges of the crater, shimmering softly.
"They can only be found here, at the nexus, nowhere else." His expression rapt and thoughtful, the Doctor bent to take up another handful, let them trickle between his fingers. "Feel that energy. They exist in a half-state, right on the cusp between dimensions. Fascinating!"
"But what are they?" Wijaya spoke up for the first time. His dark brown eyes were troubled and even his coiffed, colourful hair looked subdued.
"That," said the Doctor. "I should very much like to find out."
"You said something about communicating with these creatures," Vishinsky reminded him, shrewd eyes narrowed to regard him closely.
"I did," the Doctor agreed, staring intently down into the crater.
Sarah's skin was prickling, goose-bumps rising on her arms. He had a plan, she knew, and she wasn't going to like it. "Doctor, what are you up to?"
The Doctor clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly.
"Well, we must communicate with these creatures, Sarah," he boomed in that careless, confident way of his. "Unless we talk to them, find out what they want, how can we resolve this situation? It's entirely possible they don't even know how their touch affects human bodies. Here, take these."
Pulling a crumpled paper bag out of his pocket, he emptied sticky jelly babies out of it into her hand and then tipped a few crystals into the bag in their place, twisting the neck of the bag to secure it before dropping it back into his pocket.
"Insulation," he explained with a careless shrug, taking a step back, his brilliant blue eyes fixed on her face, solemn and searching. "Alone," he said. "I must go alone."
A chill ran down Sarah's spine. The jelly babies tumbled from her hand. "Go where? Doctor…"
"Oh, Sarah Jane." He smiled gently, reaching out to lightly touch her arm. "I'll take care. Wait here."
"Wait, what are you doing?" Vishinsky demanded.
"Oh, I'm not entirely without influence," the Doctor airily assured him, stepping right up to the edge of the crater. "And contact must be made, there's no other way. Here goes nothing – I hope I'm right!" His tone was absurdly cheerful as he stepped forward again, forward and down, into the crater, into that gaping nothingness.
He vanished completely.
dwdwdwdw
With Utoblo's help, Harry managed to get de Haan hooked up to the plasma infusion unit Vishinsky had talked about, marvelling once more at such splendid medical technology. He discovered how to adjust the nutrient content to suit her specific needs – even how to determine those exact needs with remarkable ease and precision that he rather wished he could take home with him, always assuming he ever made it home again – had Utoblo search the computer for the Morestran equivalent of the medication he thought she should have, and found a warming blanket to drape over her, to raise her core temperature.
Without much more he could usefully do, for the time being, he was anxiously monitoring her condition for any sign of improvement when a commotion at the door heralded the arrival of Captain Salamar, in bullish mood.
Utoblo had been fluttering around like a butterfly, anxious and upset and full of earnest helpfulness, but he came to a quivering halt now, struck dumb by the disapproving presence of his captain.
"What have you done to de Haan?" Salamar demanded, eyes flashing and pallid cheeks flushed pink.
Harry was tired of such accusations now, so decided to ignore this one.
"I'm treating her for severe dehydration and hypothermia, Captain," he said with as much professional good cheer as he could muster. "We've started a plasma infusion, although ideally a blood transfusion would –"
"That's not what I meant and you know it," Salamar interrupted. "How did you escape?"
"Well, the door wasn't actually locked," Harry mildly replied, opting not to add that the Doctor had picked the lock of their restraints.
Salamar glared at him.
"Commander Vishinsky and two other members of my crew were last seen chasing your accomplices into the forest. They have not returned and we can't raise them on comms." He glanced up as the lights flickered, snapped a curt, "Find out what that is," to Utoblo, and turned back to Harry to demand, "Where are they?"
The question brought Harry up short as he suddenly realised he had absolutely no idea where the Doctor and the others might have gone, if they'd not followed him back to the probe.
"Well, I suppose the Doctor would want to investigate further," he slowly suggested.
Salamar exploded. "Investigate what, exactly? Phantoms? Ghosts? Why should I believe in an unseen killer when I have flesh and blood stood before me, with no good reason for being on this planet? Admit that you killed these people –"
"Why?" Harry angrily burst out. "Why on Earth would I bring this girl back here for treatment if I were the one who'd attacked her in the first place?"
"Sir, they didn't do it." Utoblo spoke up now, hand poised over the communication panel on the wall. Eyes wide at his own daring, he looked younger than ever, but his voice was steady and determined. "All three of them were with us when de Haan was attacked. And we saw the thing that did it, sir – that is," he became flustered, "We didn't see it…but we saw something. It wasn't them."
A muscle worked in Salamar's jaw. He had no idea quite what to think or do, Harry realised, but was desperate to assert his authority anyway – and that was never a good combination.
"Look, we really are on the same side here, Captain Salamar, I assure you," Harry offered, wondering what it would take to convince the man.
Salamar opened his mouth to reply…and an alarm went off.
dwdwdwdw
Sarah cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed into the void that was the nexus, "DOC-TOR!"
The minutes were ticking by fast, full night drawing in faster still, the chill in the air intensifying rapidly, and there was still no reply, still no trace of the Doctor. The Morestrans' communicators weren't working, so they couldn't make contact with their ship, and Vishinsky was beginning to look at Sarah with an almost unbearably sympathetic expression.
"I'm sorry," he said, with no-doubt kindly meant pity. "But I don't think he's coming back."
"Of course he's coming back," Sarah sharply retorted.
"If his theory is correct," said Vishinsky, "Then he's stepped into the vortex between dimensions – ceased to exist. How could anyone come back from that?"
Ceased to exist. Sarah felt cold, deep in the pit of her stomach, in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature on this hillside. She couldn't – wouldn't – believe it.
"The Doctor knows what he's doing," she stubbornly insisted. She might never have studied cosmology, might know nothing of the science involved, but she knew the Doctor, trusted him absolutely. "You heard him: he had a plan to communicate with the aliens." But looking down again at the nothingness that was the nexus, certainty warred with fear for her friend because the Doctor's plan had been no more than theory and she knew it, and her voice became very small. "I just wish he'd hurry up."
More than that, she wished there were something – anything – she could do to help.
"It's getting very dark, sir," Landa quietly piped up. She was shivering, rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm herself.
"We can all see that," drawled Wijaya, his sardonic humour back in place, but Sarah could see the cracks in it now, the anxiety it was attempting to mask.
Landa turned on him, her composure suddenly giving way to a flash of anger. "We were supposed to take off before full night, Eslam, they're waiting for us – this mission was unauthorised…"
"It was your idea to come, trotting after your hero commander –"
"Enough," snapped Vishinsky, and they subsided, glaring at one another. "Technician Landa is right: we can't wait any longer. We'll return to the probe –"
"No, we can't!" Sarah protested in alarm. "We can't leave the Doctor!"
"The Doctor is gone," Vishinsky firmly declared. "It isn't safe for us to stay here – the important thing now is to return to the probe and leave this world before any more lives can be lost."
"And then what?" Sarah furiously argued. "Will you have the captain leave his cargo behind? Will he listen to you? The Doctor said you couldn't take off with it on board."
"Why?" demanded the commander. "What's to stop us? I can't act without good reason."
Sarah almost laughed. "After everything you've seen, you don't think you have good reason?"
Vishinsky looked tired.
"For that," he said, "No. Sorenson won't abandon his discovery, not now, and Salamar –" He broke off before he could say anything that might malign his captain, turned away and began pacing fretfully.
"Look out, something's up," Wijaya suddenly called out.
Sarah turned just in time to see the inky void of the nexus stir, disturbed for the very first time. A hazy shape became visible through the gloomy half-light, and began to ascend from the void – it was the Doctor…but Sarah's relief lasted only an instant.
He seemed to hang in the air, hovering over the void as if suspended on an invisible string like a puppet. His eyes were wide open, staring sightlessly ahead, his skin waxy pale and his body rigid: a frozen statue, almost ghost-like, completely stripped of all his usual energy and animation.
Was he even still alive?
"No!" Sarah breathed, staring at him in horror.