Part 3 (2/2)

Suddenly the soft, Turneresque colouring of the cloud turned harsh and livid. Hugo gave a small, boyish cheer, but his celebration was short lived. Instead of its destruction, the cloud launched a ball of blue fire which rapidly moved towards the second fighter.

Although the pilot took evasive action, twisting, diving, wriggling everyway possible, the ball found its target with ease and the burning fighter silently exploded in the vacuum of s.p.a.ce.

Again, the cloud launched another fireball. Determined not to meet the same fate as his command, Hugo thrust his craft into a ma.s.sive power drive towards t.i.tan Three. His intention was to pull out of vertical descent just before hitting its atmosphere. With luck, the following fireball would be travelling too fast to do the same and would enter the atmosphere and disintegrate.

But it wasn't to be.

Such was the speed and force of the dive, plus the gravitational pull of the planet, that Hugo was unable to correct his descent in time, and the s.h.i.+p hit the thin atmosphere with a sickening thud.

Although the s.h.i.+p remained in one piece, there was little its pilot could do to correct its rapid fall. In a last desperate attempt. Hugo fired the main retro rockets, but the fighter continued to plummet towards the surface of the planet.

Aboard the freighter, Azmael watched in amazement. Although impressed by the cloud's performance, he was more than a little concerned as to whether it would prove as hostile towards him.

Azmael lowered himself into the pilot's chair and slipped on the safety harness. Like the crew of the starfighters, he wasn't going to give up without a fight.

As he snapped the fastener of the harness shut, the bridge suddenly filled with a misty red light which then wrapped itself around the trapped Time Lord. At the same moment, his head was filled with a slurping, sibilant voice he knew only too well - Mestor's!

Deliberately, angrily, hatefully, the voice began to slash at Azmael's tired mind, d.a.m.ning the Time Lord for his incompetence, for endangering the mission and for causing him to waste so much energy and effort.

Mestor continued his mental attack until the Time Lord thought his mind would explode. Then as suddenly as it had started, the a.s.sault stopped and the red mist evaporated. At the same moment, the cloud which had destroyed the starfighters also dissolved.

Azmael collapsed back into his chair, his body rigid and his mind raw. As the pain eased, he slowly opened his eyes and saw the sneering face of Noma. 'You never did understand the Lord Mestor's power,' he said. 'He's everywhere. Can do anything.'

Azmael was reluctant to concede that Mestor had the power of a deity, but he could not deny he had destroyed six fighters with little apparent effort. It also made him wonder how regularly Mestor monitored his thoughts and how much he knew of his plans to destroy the hateful gastropod.

Azmael watched as Noma operated the controls of the s.h.i.+p - he was preparing to land. It seemed that the Time Lord would be allowed to continue his work on t.i.tan Three. This surprised him.

Perhaps Mestor wasn't as all-seeing as Noma thought.

It didn't occur to Azmael that Mestor knew precisely what he was up to and didn't care. He didn't need to. He had the power to kill the Time Lord any time, any place, he wanted.

5.

t.i.tAN THREE.

It is strange how coincidence can seem to conspire. t.i.tan Three has the reputation of being the most desolate and unvisited planet in the universe. Yet all of a sudden, disparate events had caused several parties to arrive more or less simultaneously.

First had been the Doctor and his highly distraught companion, Peri.

Nearby, and as yet unknown to the Doctor, Azmael's s.h.i.+p was making a controlled landing.

Closer still was Hugo Lang. His s.h.i.+p was far from controlled. But the firing of the retro rockets had had far more effect than he had dared hoped for.

On the ground, the Doctor and Peri emerged from the TARDIS and surveyed the bleak horizon. In spite of Peri's gallant attempt to persuade the Doctor to the contrary, he still wanted to be a hermit.

Worse still, he had decided that the TARDIS was too comfortable a place to live and that a dank, draughty cave would be much more suitable.

Like a Victorian explorer, his hand s.h.i.+elding his eyes against the dull, watery sun, the Doctor continued to scan the horizon. A cold wind had started to blow, disturbing the powdery, grey dust that covered the surface of the planet. Peri began to cough as she inhaled the dusty air and then started to s.h.i.+ver. The thought of spending the rest of her life in such an unpleasant environment did not please her at all and she felt as though she wanted to cry and cry.

What the Doctor felt at that particular moment was a mystery, even to himself. Although he still maintained his David Livingstone stance, his hand on his forehead like the peak of a cap, his mind, in fact, had gone blank. Even the deafening sound of screaming engines, like those of a starfighter falling out of control, couldn't penetrate the inner sanctum of his conscious mind.

It wasn't until the fighter crashed and exploded that his mind slipped back into gear.

Picking himself up from where he had been blown, the Doctor looked eagerly around. Some distance away he could see a burning wreck and was puzzled as to how it had got there. Peri, who had thrown herself flat on the ground the instant the fighter had appeared, also scrambled to her feet.

Without a word, the Doctor leapt forward towards the wreck.

Suddenly he wanted to be a hero. A s.h.i.+p had crashed. Lives were in danger. He must go to the rescue. With mightly bounds, he dashed across the rough terrain with Peri in pursuit.

As they approached the fighter, there was a small explosion sending up a column of flame and black smoke. This seemed to delight and excite the Doctor even more. In his mind this was real danger. Peri wished he still wanted to be a hermit.

As they arrived, they saw the body of Hugo lying near the wreck.

Fortunately he had been thrown clear before his s.h.i.+p had burst into flames. Quickly the Doctor felt for the young man's pulse. It was still there, weak, but still pumping.

With effortless ease, and much to Peri's amazement, the Doctor scooped up the unconscious pilot and ran back to the TARDIS.

While Peri searched for the medical kit, the Doctor examined Hugo for broken bones. Apart from the odd cut, a little bruising and a few burns, he seemed otherwise undamaged.

As Peri carried the medical kit into the console room, the TARDIS shuddered slightly. The wreckage of the fighter had given up and exploded.

Peri noticed that once more the Doctor's expression had changed and wondered who he thought he was now. Christian Barnard?

Pasteur? Alexander Fleming? Madame Curie? Whoever he fancied himself to be, Peri hoped he had stopped being a hero and had forgotten about being a hermit.

As the Doctor dressed Hugo's wounds, the young man started to regain consciousness. The children...' he muttered, 'my s.h.i.+p ... my squadron!'

Suddenly Hugo's eyes were wide open. With unexpected speed, he pulled out a small gun from a holster at his waist. Using both hands to steady it, he pointed it at the Doctor. 'Murderer!' he screamed.

'You destroyed my whole command!'

Quickly, the Doctor s.n.a.t.c.hed the gun and simultaneously chopped Hugo across the side of the neck. Instantly the pilot was rendered unconscious.

'He was going to kill me.' The Doctor's voice was squeaky with a mixture of outrage and fear.

'Poor guy... Think what he must have suffered.'

That is quite beside the point. For all you seem to care, I could be lying dead at your feet this very moment.'

'But you're not. You're safe, Doc.' She stressed the word Doc, knowing how much he hated the diminutive. 'The point is, can you save him?

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