Part 17 (1/2)

If this statement was incomprehensible to Peri, the next did little to enlighten her.

'I must get those two into the TARDIS.'

TARDIS? Which TARDIS? Peri, who had been stranded in the bath house when the wardrobe dematerialised, felt her temper rising. Must he always talk in riddles!

'Any chance of an explanation?'

'Later.'

'Later! That's all I ever get! Later!'

The Doctor rattled a pit prop. Firm. He shook another.

The same result. The loose prop he had b.u.mped into must be further in... where the Master with his TCE lay in ambush.

An all too accurate prediction.

The Master squinted at a bend round which he expected his protagonist to appear. 'Now you see why I didn't kill the girl,' he said to the Rani.

Suddenly, the Doctor flitted across the tunnel, offering himself as a target. The Master fired. Missed. Hit a pit prop exactly as the Doctor had intended.

The prop glowed red... disintegrated.

A slight trickle of dust from the roof... A faint rumble...

Then, eerie silence... The Doctor wondered if the stratagem had failed.

An almost imperceptible grinding groan... increasing in volume to an ominous rumbling. Grabbing Peri, the Doctor scarpered for the exit.

The Rani and the Master fled further into the mine towards her TARDIS.

Another lull brought the false promise of respite.

Convinced the storm would still break, neither of them slowed.

They were not wrong.

A sibilant rustling preceded the onrush of fissures that crazed every surface. The cracks streaked ahead of them in a banshee discord of rupturing stone.

Groping, stung and scratched by slivers of rock, they stumbled blindly on through the mounting cataclysm.

Large chunks of debris pelted them as the roof cleaved apart. Then the inferno took on a new dimension; a torrent of sludge oozed in through the rift, swamping them.

Squelching in the rising goo, the quaking Rani thrust the key into the lock of the grey wardrobe.

Indifferent to the Master's plight, she squeezed in the door, not even wanting to offer him the asylum of her TARDIS.

But his instinct for survival was invincible. Before the door could shut, he sc.r.a.ped in.

Refusing to be denied, boulders bombarded the outer sh.e.l.l of the time-machine. Inside, with frenzied discipline, the Rani began the dematerialisation drill at the console.

'Quickly! Quickly! You'll destroy us both!' The Master's accusation enraged her.

' I I will! You blame will! You blame me me?' shrieked the Rani.

Panicking, he leant across the console to operate the controls himself.

Whack!

A mighty wallop sent him reeling!

Winded, he was unable to retaliate as, outside, an ear-splitting tremor released a crus.h.i.+ng avalanche. This exterior cauldron of violence was matched by an interior cauldron of seething emotion: acerbic recrimination consumed the dissident pair.

The Rani completed the dematerialisation cedure. All they could do now was be patient.

'You wouldn't be told!' Her shrill voice lacerated him.

He alone was the reason they were in this predicament!

She would never have delayed for the Doctor's return! She would also have antic.i.p.ated his cunning and not been suicidally tricked into firing the TCE! When she'd said that the Doctor always outwitted the Master, she was not just goading, she meant it!

A sonic murmur provided respite. The dematerialisation commenced. Above the console panel the silver rings corkscrewed into their intricate intertwining.

Relief brought temporary amnesty.

'Set the co-ordinates for the mine owner's office,' urged the Master.

'Do what?'

'Don't you understand? Run away now and you'll never be free of the Doctor. But feed Lord Ravensworth one of your impregnated maggots, and we'll be able to take over!'

Intuition urged her to reject his advice... and yet...

'It's the last thing he'll be expecting,' he entreated.

'I'll probably regret this.' She adjusted the s.p.a.ce continuum.

'We'll be waiting for the Doctor when he gets there!'

19.