Doctor Who: Target - Novelisations [147] - The Space Pirates by Terrance Dicks

Author:Terrance Dicks
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780426203469
Publisher: Target Books
Published: 1990-07-13T22:00:00+00:00

9

The Prisoners

The Doctor, Jamie and Zoe landed one by one at the bottom of the shaft.

Zoe instinctively rolled over as she hit the ground.

Jamie narrowly missed her, falling heavily close to one side.

The Doctor, however, landed partly on top of Jamie provoking a yell of protest.

Gradually they sorted themselves out.

‘Doctor, are you all right?’ gasped Zoe.

‘No,’ said the Doctor sadly. He fished in the back pocket of his baggy chequered trousers and produced a broken cardboard box of drawing pins. ‘I like drawing pins – usually.’

Jamie tried to get up, and winced with pain. ‘I think I’ve twisted my ankle.’

The Doctor helped him up. ‘Can you stand, Jamie?’

Jamie limped a few paces backward and forward.

‘Aye, its no so bad.’ He looked round. ‘Now then where are we?’

They were in semi-darkness: the pit seemed to be lit by only the faint light from the tunnel above.

They looked round, trying to accustom their eyes to the gloom.

‘It looks a bit like a prison cell,’ said Zoe.

The Doctor nodded. ‘I think this is where they were driving us anyway…’

A low moan came from somewhere in the dark recesses of the pit. Raising a hand for silence, the Doctor moved cautiously forward, Jamie close behind him.

The Doctor saw a shadowy figure stretched out in the corner, and knelt beside it.

As he came closer, Jamie saw that the figure was in uniform. ‘I think it’s one of those men from the beacon, Doctor, the ones that were firing at us.’

The Doctor finished his examination. ‘His shoulder’s been hit by an energy-bolt, but I don’t think it’s broken.’

Looking round, the Doctor saw an earthenware jug half full of water. He dipped his handkerchief in it and used the damp cloth to moisten the unconscious man’s lips and forehead.

The man moaned and stirred, his eyelids fluttering open.

From his hidden control room, Caven was talking to Dervish, now reluctantly in space on the pirates’ Beta Dart.

The face on the vid-com screen was sweating with fear.

‘I’m returning to base, Caven, you hear me? I’m bringing the ship back.’

‘Calm down, man,’ said Caven gently. ‘What’s your position?’

‘We’re forty-three thousand miles out, on an intersection course with the beacon segments.’

‘You’ll be among them in minutes then. What’s the panic?’

‘We’re running into a trap. Our scanners have picked up the Space Corps cruiser just over two hours away on a convergent course!’

Caven considered. ‘How long will it take you to get those beacon sections diverted to Lobos?’

‘At least two hours, maybe more. We just can’t do it before the cruiser gets in range.’

‘You’ll have to work quickly then, won’t you Dervish. Find some way to cut the time.’

‘We can’t, I tell you. The battle-cruiser will send minnows to blast us to bits. I’m coming back.’

Caven held up a simple hand control, plugged into the panel. ‘I’m sure you recognize this, Dervish? After all you helped to design it.’

‘It’s a UHF detonator.’

‘That’s right, and it’s keyed to a charge under your atomic drive.’

‘I don’t believe you. You’re bluffing.’

‘If you think I’m bluffing, Dervish, just try turning back.

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