Read Doctor Who: Terror of the Vervoids Online
Authors: Pip Baker,Jane Baker
Tags: #Science-Fiction:Doctor Who
How many short months had elapsed since she had inhabited the secure purlieus of Pease Pottage where keeping abreast of the rapid changes in computer hardware was the greatest challenge?
A sinister rustling from the rear brought her back to the present. The latecomer was shuffling towards the lair via the duct in which Mel had taken shelter.
The Second Vervoid, already disquieted, moved swiftly to investigate the rustling. An action that convinced Mel she would be trapped between the two creatures.
Allowing panic to dictate her response, she scrambled from the inlet.
With contemptuous nonchalance, the tall, plantoid Vervoids formed a towering barrier about the diminutive human specimen now rooted to the spot in quivering paralysis.
‘The vionesium, Mel!’ the Doctor bawled.
Jolted from her stupor, she fumbled with the catch on the golden capsule.
Abandoning cover, the Doctor flipped open his capsule and lobbed its contents into the midst of the Vervoids. On cue, the Duty Officer did the same.
The distraction gave Mel the opportunity to open her capsule.
Three sticks of vionesium hit the ground, instantaneously flaring into brilliant white light.
Bedazzled Vervoids tried to shield their eyes... but the pulsating flares encircled the hapless creatures.
Disorientated, they reeled helplessly, moaning in pain: a
dance macabre
whose descant was the eerie ululations.
Haloed against the harsh incandescent light, the Second Vervoid loomed over Mel – but the Doctor, risking his own safety, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and dragged her into the darkness fringing the bulkhead.
Pulsating, wavering shadows from the lair were thrown across Mel and the Doctor as the Time Lord’s prognosis was realised. The leaves on the Vervoids’ torsos were no longer olive-green. Instead they were changing to autumn yellow.
Mel clamped her hands over her ears to block out the melancholy lament.
Throughout the ship, on the bridge, in the lounge, the crew’s quarters, the plaintive requiem could be heard, permeating an overwhelming sense of sadness.
A sadness that afflicted the Doctor. In the lair, the leaves decayed to a russet brown and, curling, began to fall to the ground. The ululations declined into senile whimpers. Soon even the vines that formed the Vervoid skeletons withered and dropped.
Silence.
All that remained of the Vervoids was a carpet of dried, brittle leaves and twigs....
Releasing Mel, the Doctor picked up a leaf – it crumbled to dust in his palm... From his pocket he took a communicator:
‘You can restore power, Commodore... It’s over...’
The TARDIS was a welcome sight for Mel. She and the Doctor were preparing to leave.
Janet and Commodore Travers had come to bid them farewell: on his part not so much a gesture of politeness as a desire to make certain the Time Lord actually left!
‘
Au revoir
,’ said the pretty stewardess.
The Commodore grinned ruefully. ‘Not
au revoir
! I owe you my thanks, Doctor, but let’s make this the "sweet sorrow" of a final parting!’
‘I’ll remember that the next time we get a Mayday call,’
quipped Mel, smiling.
‘And she’s not joking!’ The Doctor looked down at his petite companion. ‘Memory like an elephant.’
‘That’s his idea of a compliment, comparing me with an elephant.’
‘It’s so ludicrously inappropriate, I find it funny.’ The Doctor’s face creased with delight.
‘Well, at least if you’re laughing you can’t be singing!’
Mel mocked. ‘Ever heard his rendering of
On With
The Motley?
’
Amused, the Commodore shook his head.
‘Count your blessings! Come on, Doctor!’
Grabbing the initiative, she pushed him inside the TARDIS.
But she had already initiated a train of thought. Above the familiar wheezing of dematerialisation, the strains of the operatic aria could be heard being sung in the Doctor’s own inimitable style.
Mel had brought that punishment on herself!
‘None of the unfortunate creatures survived, Doctor?’
The Matrix screen had been switched off as the TARDIS dematerialised.
‘No, my Lady. Had even a leaf survived and fallen on fertile soil, a Vervoid would have grown.’
‘Every Vervoid was destroyed by your ingenious ploy?’
Was there a hint of suppressed excitement beneath the Valeyard’s guileless question?
The Doctor hesitated before replying: he was perturbed by the seeming complacency. ‘Yes...’
Barely able to conceal his triumph, the Valeyard rose to address the Court. ‘Whether or not the Doctor has proved himself innocent of meddling is no longer the cardinal issue before this Court,’ came the sonorous tones. ‘He has proved himself guilty of a far greater crime.’
The Doctor’s ruddy face blanched.
‘You refer to Article Seven of Gallifreyan Law?’ The Inquisitor’s voice was grave.
‘No! No! That cannot apply!’ protested the Doctor.
‘Had the Vervoids reached Earth, the human race would have been eliminated! Or – at best – banished to the barren deserts or the Arctic wastes!’
Valeyard was unrelenting. ‘My Lady, Article Seven permits no exceptions. The Doctor has destroyed an entire species.’ Dramatically, he faced the accused.‘The charge must now be genocide...’