‘Come on. Let’s see if we can find out.’ The Doctor opened the door into the broad main corridor beyond. For a brief moment, they stood alone in the deserted corridor; then, as though summoned by a bugle call, a small group of grimly determined men erupted from a corner passageway and charged straight at the Doctor and his young friends. With no possible chance to run or hide, they stood resigned to being captured – the Doctor even going so far as to raise his arms above his head in surrender.
To their astonishment, the task force ran straight past them, down the corridor, and disappeared out of sight.
Almost
disappointed, the Doctor called after them half-heartedly, ‘I say, could you tell me the way to…’ His voice trailed off, and meeting the puzzled faces of his young companions, he shrugged. ‘It’s all very strange…’
Another man ran up from the opposite direction, but, like the previous party, his face looked determined and set. The Doctor smiled and tried to catch the runner’s eye. He stretched out his hand. ‘Excuse me, old chap—’
The only response was a shove in the chest as the runner dashed past, that sent the Doctor staggering into Jamie’s arms. Victoria could only stand and giggle as the Doctor, a look of bewilderment on his face, set his hat straight.
‘They don’t seem to think much of you, Doctor…’
‘I can’t understand it,’ muttered the Doctor. An attractive girl now walked up to them and, without uttering a word, briskly attached numbered plastic tags to their lapels. She had finished the job and moved on before Jamie had recovered sufficiently from his surprise to call out to her – but she paid no attention.
The Doctor smiled. ‘She doesn’t want to know, Jamie…’
Victoria had twisted her tag so that she could read it.
‘It says we’re on Evacuation Flight Seven!’
‘Not very hospitable, is it,’ commented the Doctor. ‘We’ve only just arrived.’
‘Hey, and have ye seen
this
!’ Jamie showed them the reverse side of his tag. ‘It says we’re scavengers! I’ll not have that – I’m no beggar!’
Victoria couldn’t help laughing at the insult to his Scots dignity, but the Doctor had moved to a nearby doorway
and
was listening intently to a faint sound coming from within.
‘Shush a minute, Jamie lad,’ said the Doctor.
At that moment, the relayed warning call drowned the sound from beyond the door as it repeated its ominous broadcast.
‘Phase Three, red alert. Evacuate immediately. Flights One to Five now on departure circuit. Flights Six and Seven, stand by. Phase Three, red alert…’
When the warning had ceased, the Doctor beckoned Jamie and Victoria back to the door. They could hear vague humming – but nothing they could identify.
‘What is it, Doctor?’ asked Victoria, intrigued.
The Doctor looked thoughtful, and not a little worried. ‘I’d say it’s electronic machinery of some kind – perhaps a computer – but there’s something badly wrong with its pitch…’
‘It’s no ours – let’s leave it’, suggested Jamie. He knew all too well from past experience where the Doctor’s curiosity could lead them – usually into trouble. Victoria agreed.
‘It could be dangerous,’ she pointed out.
But the Doctor had already made up his mind, and quietly opened the door. ‘Stay out here if you like,’ he murmured, ‘but I’m going in.’
In the Ioniser Room, the tension was electric. Jan Garrett was standing poised over the main control deck; Clent strode nervously from monitor to monitor, noting the figures presented by each. At the door leading into the Grand Hall, stood two security guards, their backs to the library interior. Because of this, the Doctor –
followed
reluctantly by Jamie and Victoria – was able to enter unnoticed. While they paused to take in the bizarre contrast of the ultra-modern electronic gadgetry and the antique library setting, the Doctor moved stealthily behind Clent, and began to jot down the monitor readings on his shirt cuff. His face grew more and more disturbed.
‘Still out of phase…’ muttered Clent, unaware of the bizarre onlooker at his shoulder. ‘Seven two point four…’
‘Seven two point four?’ repeated the Doctor to himself. ‘That’s bad…’
‘We must balance those readings, Miss Garrett!’ declared the Leader. ‘Seventeen degrees off the norm!’
Jan heard, but could do little; her eyes remained glued to the control panel.
Clent paused anxiously before the final monitor screen; he mopped his brow with his handkerchief and whispered the desperate figures to himself.
‘One three seven nine already… If it reaches fifteen hundred…’ He took a deep breath. How long could they last?
‘One three seven nine!’ echoed the Doctor, his face expressing equal alarm. Unable to keep quiet any longer, he tapped Clent on the shoulder. Jamie and Victoria held their breath. What was he doing?
‘Excuse me,’ said the Doctor politely, ‘but I’m afraid you’re in serious trouble here, old chap…’
Clent turned on the Doctor. The sight of the oddly dressed, obviously non-scientific intruder brought a flush of justifiable anger to his face.
‘Who the blazes are you?’ he demanded. Without
waiting
for a reply, he shouted an order to the security guards. ‘Get these scavengers out of here – quickly!’
‘I’m trying to help!’ protested the Doctor as he and his young friends were expertly bundled towards the corridor.
‘Get them on to the next available flight out of here!’ shouted Clent. He turned back to the control panel dismissively.
‘In two minutes thirty eight seconds,’ cried the Doctor, as he was pushed out of the door, ‘that Ioniser is going to explode. The readings say so. Why don’t you do something about it?’ The effect on Garrett and the guards was startling; even Clent froze in shocked alarm.
‘You can’t possibly know that!’ he snapped. ‘I haven’t even processed the figures through the computer yet!’
‘My dear chap, I don’t need a computer!’ replied the Doctor.
For once, Clent paused, unsure of himself. Garrett flung a look of grim desperation at her leader.
‘If he’s right, it’s already too late to escape,’ she stated icily. The security men, uncertain what to do, made no attempt to check the Doctor as he slipped quickly back into the room.
‘It doesn’t
have
to happen. If you’ll just allow me…’ he said brightly, his hands already hovering over the controls.
‘Don’t!’ shouted Clent. But his cry came too late. The Doctor had gone into immediate action – and as though mesmerised by the stranger’s personality, Miss Garrett was actually helping him!
‘Uncouple the stabilising circuits and the reactor link for a start,’ the Doctor directed, his eyes taking in the monitor
readings.
Jan obeyed automatically.
‘Raise the density phasing to par… quick as you can!’
Miss Garrett frowned. ‘There isn’t enough power—’
‘Then we’d better produce some, hadn’t we? A short burst from the reactor link – now!’
Without arguing, Jan switched on a heavy duty connector; there was an immediate hum of power.
‘Now off!’ commanded the Doctor. Then, without waiting for her to complete the action, he snapped home a series of switches. ‘Tie in each of the circuits to the reactor link…
now
bring in the computer stabiliser…’ He paused, then smiled to himself, obviously pleased. ‘That should hold it, I think…’
He turned. Clent and Miss Garrett were looking at him in sheer amazement. That a ragged clown could perform such a miracle! Remembering his earlier brusqueness, the Doctor began to apologise.
‘Not a perfect job, mind you…’ he murmured genially. ‘You ought to get an expert in really…’
Clent, remembering his position as Leader of the Base, snapped out of his reverie and tried to reassert his authority.
‘It was all bluff, wasn’t it – that business about two minutes thirty-eight seconds to destruction?’
The Doctor looked modestly pained, but spoke quietly.
‘Not in the least. It was near enough correct – give or take a second or two.’
‘Rubbish!’ snapped Clent, irritated by the thought that a human being could be the equal of his beloved computer.
The Doctor looked offended and angry.
‘Check it on your precious computer then – go on!’
Clent stared at him, then smiled arrogantly.
‘Miss Garrett,’ he ordered, ‘process those figures, please.’
Jan activated
ECCO
and read out the relevant figures, while Clent hovered over her, smiling smugly.
‘Ioniser fall rate – seven two point four… Ion compensator – minus seventeen degrees… Ion flow rate – one three seven nine. Assessment, please.’
The computer’s reply was virtually immediate. As it spoke, the smirk was wiped from Clent’s face, and he stared at the Doctor with something akin to respect.
‘
Immediate emergency!
’ announced the computer. ‘
In two minutes thirty-seven seconds, the reactor will suffer feed-back and explode! Action must be taken—
’
Miss Garrett ended its panic, and looked towards Clent. It was a long time since she had seen him accept another scientist as his equal. Would he reject this one, as he had rejected Penley and so many others before him?
‘I apologise for the odd second,’ muttered the Doctor modestly. ‘But we can’t all be perfect, can we…’
‘Leader Clent,’ interjected Jan, barely restraining her excitement, ‘it’s steady on half power now. We can hold our own!’
Its oscillators steady, the machine’s operating purr was soft as silk – the healthiest it had been for weeks. This stranger certainly knew what he was up to… Clent frowned.
‘Even Penley couldn’t have done better,’ he admitted. ‘But where on earth have you sprung from?’
The Doctor threw a sharp look back at Jamie and Victoria, and raised his eyebrows. Then he turned back to Clent, smiled and shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t want to have to enter into a full explanation – and fortunately Clent was in no mood for it. In spite of being desperately tired, he was elated. Perhaps they could still win! He clapped the Doctor on the shoulder, and then read the details on his plastic tag. His mind was made up.
‘Flight Seven, eh?’ he repeated. ‘There won’t be any need for that. Come with me to the laboratory – I think there’s something we need to discuss…’
At last the great block of ice stood free from the glacier face! Arden gazed in excitement; even Walters and Davis were impressed. And within it: the massive figure of an armoured man, which looked like a monument to some ancient king…
‘Amazing…’ whispered Walters.
‘A giant among prehistoric men,’ agreed Arden, his mind racing. This discovery must go back at least three thousand years!
‘Is it a sort of armour he’s got on, sir?’ asked Davis.
‘Yes,’ replied Arden. ‘And that’s the most exciting thing about it. You see, he looks pre-Viking… but no such civilisation existed in the prehistoric period before the first Ice Age.’
‘Proper sort of ice warrior, I’d call him,’ suggested Walters, smiling.
‘A good description, Walters,’ Arden agreed. ‘Even from here you can see how cruel and terrifying he must have been…’
He recalled the old legends of the Viking raiders; brutal, bloodthirsty killers, whose only ambition had been conquest.
‘I reckon even Leader Clent’ll want to take a second look, don’t you, sir?’ asked Walters.
‘I should hope so. And what do you think that blessed computer will make of it, eh?’
Davis had finished packing away his drilling equipment.
‘We’d better be getting back, sir,’ he said, looking up at the sky, ‘while the weather holds…’
Arden nodded in agreement. Time for celebration when they’d got the Ice Warrior back to Base. What Clent would say was anybody’s guess – but he couldn’t deny that it was a find of great importance.
‘Bring the airsled as close as possible,’ Arden ordered, ‘and we’ll get him loaded up.’
The three men, now fully absorbed in their difficult task, were totally unaware of being observed. Less than a hundred yards away, hidden by a wind-scoured outcrop of ice, the pirate and the poacher crouched and watched intently.
‘What’re they up to, Penley?’ asked the big man suspiciously. He smelt potential danger in anything that Clent’s scientists got up to – and he didn’t like the look of this particular bunch one little bit…
‘I don’t know, Storr old son,’ cheerfully replied Penley, shrewder and more thoughtful. ‘Arden must’ve found something buried in the ice, something to take home to Clent.’ He smiled knowingly. ‘It won’t
be
appreciated though…’
Storr glowered, his wild beard making his fierce gaze look even more ferocious. ‘Why don’t they leave well alone?’
Penley knew all about Storr’s hatred of technology. He tried to explain what he knew would be in Arden’s mind – a quality he’d once admired when they’d been working colleagues.
‘Arden was always a searcher. He was an archaeologist once.’
‘Archaeology!’ sneered the burly hunter. ‘What good’s that?’
‘It’s good to know things, Storr – even if they’re dead.’
‘Nothing’s sacred to you blasted scientists, is it?’
‘It’s in my character to ask questions, I suppose. Sorry.’
‘You swore you’d give all that up! Changed your mind, have you?’
Penley turned to Storr, his dirty face full of patience – and determination. ‘Look, old son, discovery is as exciting and purposeful to me as hunting game is to you.’ He could see that Storr wasn’t convinced, and continued sarcastically, ‘We’re not all like Clent, you know. He’s the kind that uses scientist’s skulls as stepping stones to the top jobs…’
Storr smiled at this manifestation of Penley’s bitterness and then changed the subject.
‘Come on, we’ve got to move. Let’s leave them to their stupid games!’
He turned away from the sight of the scientific party loading their airsled, and moved skilfully across the snow,
followed
by Penley. Coming to a small crevasse, he paused. Beyond it was a glacier overhang that would give them all the cover they’d need. But to get there would mean a leap across the open fissure that would bring them into full view of the scientists. Storr motioned Penley to wait, and watched for the moment when the distant trio, who were still working on the upper glacier face, were turned away from them. Suddenly he saw that something had distracted them. Pushing Penley ahead, he prepared to spring across the gap…