Doctor Who: BBC Eighth Doctor Adventures [033] - Coldheart by Trevor Baxendale

Author:Trevor Baxendale
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780563555957
Publisher: BBC Books
Published: 2000-04-02T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

The Expedition

Tor Grymna’s men were commanded by a muscular Eskoni named Mekulo. His long nose had once been broken, in a fight allegedly, and left him with a somewhat crooked expression. He remained dour and noncommittal during the preparations to leave, almost as if he considered the expedition a trivial waste of his men’s talents. He nodded tersely when told that he was to take instructions from Brevus, and, after him, the Doctor.

Brevus was relieved to find that Zela was acting as Mekulo’s second-in‐command. He at least knew Brevus and was easier to communicate with.

Two sandcars were loaded up with men and supplies; the equipment included ropes, climbing tackle, electric torches and, perversely, cold-weather gear. As the sun broke cover and hurled its first onslaught of the day’s heat, the sandcars crawled out from the shadow of Baktan and headed for the ice mine.

‘Did you see that?’ asked the Doctor, pulling himself back level with Compassion. He had been leaning over the side of the sandcar, peering down at the ground surrounding the outer gates of the city.

Compassion nodded. ‘The cracks are wider.’

‘More subterranean activity?’ wondered Brevus.

‘Undoubtedly,’ responded the Doctor, thoughtfully stroking his upper lip. ‘I wonder why we haven’t felt any tremors.’

‘I have,’ said Compassion. ‘During the night. Very minor, but there was definitely geological movement.’

‘Really?’ The Doctor’s eyes were wide. ‘I wonder why I didn’t feel it.’

‘Probably you were too busy running around arranging things.’

‘Well I didn’t exactly have much in the way of help,’ the Doctor replied tersely. ‘Where did you get to, anyway, if you didn’t sleep?’

‘Nowhere,’ said Compassion dully. She leaned forward in her seat and let her gaze travel across the desert. ‘Where can I go?’

‘Come on, we’re off.’ Fitz spoke just loudly enough for Ckeho to hear him. He didn’t want to have to touch him to wake him up. He didn’t know what he would do if he felt something move beneath the kid’s skin. The mucus was bad enough.

Ckeho opened his cream-white eyes and blinked stickily.

‘Don’t make a sound,’ Fitz whispered as the slimer’s eyes widened in sudden fear. ‘Come with me, and be quiet about it.’

Fitz turned and walked off, thankful that the sand cushioned the noise of any movement. The slimer town was still, quiet in the sunrise, waiting for the horror and depravation of a new day.

Fitz had thought about leaving without Ckeho. It would have been easier on his own, for a kick-off. He could have made it back to the city gates and probably talked his way in without much trouble. With Ckeho in tow that might be a problem, but, when the time had finally come when Fitz felt able to move, he found he couldn’t leave the kid behind.

For one thing Ckeho was terrified. The business with the dying slimer last night had scared him as much as it had scared Fitz – probably more so. But Fitz hated to see him shivering with fear in the night, a huddled-up ball of rags and coughs.

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