Doctor Who BBCN04 - The Deviant Strain Read online

  Barinska was limping – almost dragging herself forwards. Why had she come back? She looked a wreck – a glimpse of her face made Rose almost cry out. Almost. If Barinska hadn’t been wearing the same clothes, she could have been another woman – her grandmother. Or great-grandmother. Ancient, skin parched and lined, body shrunken and weak. Her breath a stentorian wheeze.

  The old woman staggered as far as the hidden door under the stairs.

  ‘Are you down there?’ she croaked. ‘Have you found it?’

  Rose pressed back out of sight, knowing that Barinska was calling to her – knew she was here, somewhere.

  Sofia Barinska leaned against the boards and the door sprang open.

  She peered into the darkness beyond, as if considering. She looked close to collapse. After a moment, she pushed the door shut again and shuffled towards the stairs.

  Rose pressed herself back, desperate not to be seen, though she doubted the woman could do her much harm now. She could hear the heavy breathing as the woman struggled up the stairs.

  Eventually Rose crept into the hall. The stairs were clear. From above she could hear the sound of machinery – a building hum of power. Hardly daring to breathe, she went up the stairs, keeping to the side by the wall in the hope they wouldn’t creak and betray her.

  The noise was coming from the spare room. She risked a look round the door – just a peep. A glance and then she pulled back.

  It was enough.

  Sofia Barinska was sitting in the chair, the headpiece attached to her scalp. In that one glance, Rose could see all she needed to. She saw the form of the young woman trembling with satisfaction. Her 83

  youthful face set in a smile of triumph. Wisps of dark hair spilling out from the headpiece. The life force flowing through her and revitalising her. Making her young again.

  As quickly as she dared, as quietly as she could, Rose went back downstairs. She ran to the hidden door and pressed urgently at the boards, where Sofia had leaned.

  The door clicked open just as the hum of power from the upstairs room cut off. Rose went through, almost falling down the steep steps that led into the darkness below. She pulled the door closed behind her, cutting off the little light there was, and started slowly, carefully downwards.

  The steps seemed to go on for ever. But at last she reached the bottom. She had her hand on the wall to steady herself, when her fingers bumped against something. She felt round it – a switch. Did she dare?

  She pressed it, holding her breath, and the lights came on. They were hung at intervals along the tunnel roof – bare bulbs strung up in makeshift fashion, dusty and old. Some of them had blown and not been replaced. But it was enough. Rose could see now that she was in a tunnel hewn from the cold earth. The sides were shored up with planks of wood. The wood was old and bent with age. Some of the planks had rotted away. The floor was packed earth and the roof looked as if it had been hastily boarded over some time long ago.

  All caution gone now that she could see where she was, and now that Sofia would know she was here if she came down and saw the lights, Rose ran. She ran for what seemed like ages. The tunnel was sloping gently downwards and she had no idea what direction it was going in. But it must lead somewhere. And the further and faster she got away from Sofia Barinska, the better. The sooner she found a way out into the open air – and escape – the better.

  It ended eventually in what looked like the door of a bank vault –a round, heavy, metal door with a locking wheel and clamps across.

  Rose pulled the clamps back. They moved easily, which suggested the door was used often. The wheel swung just as smoothly.

  Rose pulled the heavy door open, leaning back to let her full weight 84

  help drag it. Then she stepped through and looked around.

  ‘You are kidding!’ she whispered.

  Jack was pressing himself down into the floor as hard as he could as the bluish flesh closed in on him. A sudden lurch of movement as the creature rolled forwards, the slivers of blue were pulled back through the mesh and moved on with it. As soon as it was past him, Jack heaved up the deck plate and pulled himself out. Ahead of him, the screaming stopped, abruptly, as if it had been switched off.

  Jack was already pulling up the next plate as quickly and quietly as he could. He put his finger to his lips as Sergeyev looked up at him, eyes wide with fear. Sergeyev nodded, or as much as he could in the confined space. They hunted by sound – Razul had screamed and they had found him.

  The creature was over the deck plate that covered Sergeyev’s legs.

  Jack reached in and managed to get his hands under the man’s arms.

  He pulled, dragging him clear – far enough for Sergeyev to be able to push himself up and out of the crawl space. They made their way quickly down the corridor away from the creatures.

  ‘No hope for Razul and we’re still trapped,’ Sergeyev whispered.

  ‘They’re between us and the hatch.’

  ‘Not if I draw them off,’ Jack told him. ‘You get into one of the cabins. If they hear me, if they chase me, they won’t stop to check.

  Let’s hope,’ he added quietly.

  Sergeyev was shaking his head. ‘I shall draw them off. I am a combat soldier, I expect to die. You Intelligence people – no backbone.’ He smiled thinly. ‘And having seen what it does, it’s backbone it wants.’

  ‘That’s a good point,’ Jack conceded. ‘But I outrank you. Whether you like it or not, I’m in charge and you have your orders. Get in there.’

  He pushed open the nearest cabin door and thrust Sergeyev inside.

  He didn’t care about the noise it made. Didn’t care that the creature ahead of him was slowly oozing back down the corridor. Slowly at first, but gathering speed. That was, after all, the point.

  Sergeyev was at the door, protesting. But Jack waved him to silence.

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  ‘You complain and we’re both dead. Get in there and shut the hell up!’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Sergeyev hesitated, then unbuckled the holster round his waist. He folded the belt round the pistol and handed it to Jack. ‘It might help.’

  Jack nodded. They both knew it wouldn’t. But the gesture was important, the trust it implied. ‘Thanks. I’ll give it back to you later.’

  Again, they both knew he wouldn’t. But Sergeyev nodded, saluted, stepped back from the door.

  Jack ran, stamping his feet, hearing the sound of his rapid footsteps echoing metallically round the submarine. Hoping both the creatures would follow him.

  And all too soon he was at the end of the corridor, in the wide, low room that filled the end of the sub. Alone and at the end of the road.

  ‘What the hell are you doing, Jack?’ he said out loud, looking round for any chance of escape. Any chance at all.

  Well, if he was going to die he might as well put it off as long as possible. There was a heavy circular door into the room. It was rusted open, but by bracing himself against the bulkhead, Jack could just manage to move it. It swung closed, desperately slowly. A blue glow lipped over the door sill and into the room. Just a bit further. A tentacle stretched inwards, feeling round, probing the air above Jack’s head. He shoved harder – a final effort.

  The weight of the door broke through the rust and it swung suddenly smoothly on its hinges. It slammed shut with a clang and Jack spun the locking wheel. There was an unholy screeching of pain and anger from the other side of the door, barely muffled by the thick metal.

  Behind him, a severed tentacle thrashed and careered about the room. It slammed into a rack of torpedoes. The rack collapsed, spilling the heavy cylinders across the floor. One of them trapped the end of the tentacle beneath it and the thing slapped spasmodi-cally, slowly weakening while Jack ran to avoid the rolling weapons, hoping they didn’t go off.

  Finally, all was quiet and still. Jack sat down on one of the torpe-86

  does and sighed. ‘What a life,’ he murmured.

  He glanced over at the door. Watched it
shudder and strain in its frame, as the creatures outside tried to force their way in.

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  Rose picked her way across the enormous room. It was like a cathe-dral made of rusted metal. Every surface was coated with a layer of dust or corrosion. Wires and shattered components littered the floor.

  The whole place was lit with a pale glow that seemed to emanate from the walls, floor and ceiling. Bizarrely, there was a clipboard lying on top of one of the control panels. It looked so ordinary it was completely out of place.

  Her first thought was that it was another submarine – experimental perhaps. Open-plan. But the technology seemed so totally alien, and not just Russian-alien. Alien-alien. Blobby underwater aliens with flippers and snorkels? Get real.

  She was almost at the main control chair, facing the largest of the instrument panels, before she realised there was someone sitting in it. Or rather, there had been. The body was slumped forwards, as if all the hones had shattered. It was almost mummified it was so old –desiccated and decaying.

  There was another hatch, like the one she had entered through, on the far side of the ship. Beside it was an area taken up with long, low couches. Sleeping quarters perhaps, or a medical facility. There 89

  were sheets draped over the couches – thin and torn with age. Poking through the sheets Rose could see the remains of what looked like bodies – human bodies – beneath. She swallowed hard and ran for the hatch.

  It opened as easily as the first. Only when she opened it did she worry about what might be outside.

  In fact it was a cave – almost as big and impressive as the interior of the ship. But barnacled rock replaced corroded metal, and algae stood in for dust. Water was lapping at the edge of the shelf of rock she found herself on. The roof stretched away, gradually lowering to meet the water. The only way out of here was to swim.

  The light was strange – a glow through the open hatch of the ship and the faint, dappled moonlight that shone through the clear, cold water. It was difficult to make out much detail, but obviously there was nothing of interest or use out here. Rose turned to go back inside the ship.

  The sudden splash made her turn. Something was coming – rising up from the water, spluttering and coughing and lurching towards her. A shadow, a silhouette in the pale light. A shape looming up, arms outstretched, shaking uncontrollably.

  She just stared in disbelief as the figure staggered up onto the shelf of rock and sank to his knees.

  ‘You scared the life out of me,’ Rose said. ‘What’re you doing?’

  ‘I think. . . ’ His teeth were chattering so much he could barely talk.

  Jack stared up at Rose, his face pale and his whole body shaking with the cold. ‘I think I’m freezing to death,’ he managed.

  ‘You’re not wrong,’ she said, and hugged him tight.

  The door was not quite closed. Sofia Barinska tapped thoughtfully on the wooden board beside the door. The girl Rose had been here –she’d left the car outside and broken the lock on the office door. What had she seen? What did she know?

  If she had gone down the tunnel, then she would find the ship. She might not understand it, might not realise what it meant. But the Doctor surely would.

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  That was a risk she could not afford to take. Sofia opened the door and stepped into the darkness beyond.

  He was still shivering, but Jack no longer seemed to think he was going to die. Rose managed to prise herself away, and sacrificed her coat to the cause. He sat huddled inside it on a spare chair inside the ship. At least he was up to taking an interest now.

  ‘So who persuaded you to go swimming?’ Rose wanted to know.

  Jack pulled himself to his feet, stamping and pulling her coat tight about him. ‘It was that or an appointment with the blob creatures,’ he said.

  ‘Oh yeah. I met one of them.’

  ‘They had us trapped in the sub. Got Razul. I think Sergeyev made it. I hope.’

  ‘What do you make of this, then?’ Rose led him back to the area with the couches.

  ‘Got myself stuck in the forward torpedo room, with no way out,’

  Jack was saying. ‘Well, there was a way out but it was a bit drastic.’

  ‘You had a tin-opener?’

  ‘Sort of. I opened the torpedo tubes and flooded the place. Swam out through one of the tubes when the water stopped rushing in.’

  ‘Sounds dangerous,’ Rose conceded.

  ‘I think it was. I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again in my life.’

  ‘You might as well give me my coat back, then.’

  ‘So what’s all this?’

  ‘Dunno. You tell me. You’re the expert.’

  ‘Spaceship. Old. Crashed. Source of the distress signal. What’s under the sheets?’

  ‘More bodies, like the pilot back there. Humanoid. I think, from the shape.’ Rose pulled back the sheet on the nearest couch.

  ‘You sure?’ Jack said quietly.

  Rose just stared. ‘What the hell is that?’

  The lecture theatre had not been used for years. But Colonel Levin had decided it was the best place to gather them all together. Several 91

  of the soldiers carried out boxes of papers and rubbish, another couple swept the floor.

  One of the patrols had returned from the docks once they found they had lost radio contact. There was no sign of the others. Levin was sure they could take care of themselves and were waiting for the fog to clear. The Doctor was not so sure. He had expected to hear back from Rose and Jack by now. He was not worried exactly, but getting anxious.

  Klebanov, in contrast to Levin’s calm, was furious. The Doctor sat sideways in his chair, arms folded, stifling a yawn as the director let off another volley of invective.

  ‘You have taken over my institute, filled it with your troops, encouraged Minin to indulge his bureaucratic fantasies, lost radio contact with your men, and now I discover you have invited some old work-man from the village in for a drink!’

  Levin raised an eyebrow. ‘The radio blackout is a temporary phe-nomenon caused by the weather,’ he said. ‘And Minin has been cross-checking the supplies situation for me. We must know what equipment and facilities we have available to us. As for this old man. . . ’

  He looked round, obviously expecting an explanation from one of his men.

  The Doctor sighed and put his hand up. ‘That was me,’ he admitted.

  ‘And it wasn’t just some old man. It was Pavel Vahlen’s father. He wanted to see his son’s body, and I certainly wasn’t about to tell him he couldn’t because it might give some officious director an ulcer.’ He met Klebanov’s glare with a grin. ‘Oh, and it’s not the weather, by the way.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘The problem with the radio. It’s not the weather, it’s the stones.

  In the circle. There’s a vein of quartz-like material threaded through them.’

  He looked at Catherine, who nodded in agreement.

  ‘It seems to resonate, much like quartz,’ she said. ‘The Doctor thinks it’s powerful enough to interfere with any transmissions.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ Klebanov announced. ‘We’d have had trouble before 92

  now.’

  ‘You have,’ the Doctor told him. ‘It’s all in the logs. And strangely, as Alex here and I have found out, it tends to coincide with the deaths.

  Oh, yes,’ he told Levin, ‘they’re not new either.’ He stood up. ‘Now, if we’re all done, I’ve got things to do. And so’s everyone else.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Klebanov sneered.

  ‘Oh, really,’ the Doctor replied darkly. ‘Levin needs to organise patrols. There’s something nasty out there and we have to know what and where it is. Boris and Catherine need to analyse the weird rock sample I brought and see if they can find a way to stop this radio jamming. Alex and I have some more investigations to conclude, as well as finding Rose and Jack. If anyone can walk into trouble, they can.

  And you. . . ’ He s
hrugged. ‘I dunno. I s’pose you must have something you can be getting on with.’

  The meeting broke up with Levin telling his men he’d speak to them separately. The scientists, Minin and the Doctor took the hint and left quietly. Except Klebanov, who stamped out.

  ‘So what’s his problem?’ the Doctor asked Alex Minin when they got back to his office.

  ‘Klebanov? He likes to be in control. He’s afraid his power is being taken away.’

  ‘And what’s his background? Where’s he from?’ ’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Thought you had access to all the files.’

  Alex nodded. ‘So I do. But Klebanov doesn’t have a file. He was here when I first arrived. Been here longer than anyone can recall.

  He’s older than he looks.’

  ‘Aren’t we all,’ the Doctor muttered.

  ‘I can show you the records if you want. Whole room full of them.’

  ‘Might be fun,’ the Doctor agreed.

  Alex laughed. ‘I don’t know about fun.’ He led the way out of the office and down the corridor. ‘I actually asked Klebanov for his file once. He got very angry. That was when he told everyone I’d been asking about the monkeys. You’ve heard about that, I expect?’

  ‘Oh yeah. It was mentioned.’

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  ‘Wish I hadn’t mentioned it now. Seemed important at the time.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  It was obviously something that still rankled. ‘I mean,’ he said, ‘I know it’s before I even came here, but the paperwork’s all filed away and in order. The simians – that’s how they’re referred to – the simians were shipped out. They were signed for off the supply ship at the docks. Yet no one knows what happened to them. They’re obviously not here. But what would anyone want with half a dozen monkeys in a place like Novrosk?’

  ‘Well, I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Jack confessed. He had Rose’s coat draped over his shoulders like a cape and he’d just about stopped shivering.