St Anthony's Fire by Mark Gatiss

Author:Mark Gatiss
Format: mobi, epub

11

The Rings of Betrushia

Swirling with misted cloud like a great blind eye, Betrushia blazed emerald green in the light from its adjacent star.

The rings encircled the entire globe, glittering fabulously; every icy fragment, every captured asteroid or particle of dust catching the light of the sun and refracting it into a dazzling white light.

By contrast, the old blue paintwork of the TARDIS glinted dully as it hung amongst the rings, just one more block in the countless fragments of debris which made up the greatest wonder of Betrushia.

Inside the TARDIS, Ran had sunk into a padded armchair which the Doctor had provided for his comfort. His twitching eyes were fixed with a kind of blank horror on the scanner.

The Doctor had clambered into the pressure-suit and was balancing the transparent helmet on the edge of the console whilst his other hand danced over the controls.

‘Now, Portrone,’ he concluded, his dark eyes flicking over the console readings. ‘Once I’ve sealed off the internal dimensions you’ll be quite safe in here.’

Ran blinked and looked up. ‘But why are you going out there, Doctor? My world is dying! We have to do something about it!’

The Doctor held up a gloved hand. ‘We are doing something about it, Ran. I think my problem and your problem are related. If I can solve the one, then…’

Ran leaned back in his chair. ‘Can I help?’

The Doctor pointed to the console. ‘This display shows how Betrushia is getting along. Just keep an eye on it. I’ll be relaying readings back to you, so stay alert.’

In the palm of the pressure-suit’s glove was an arrangement of fibrous wires. The Doctor made a fist and steam hissed from the back of the suit.

‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘That’s all in order.’

He locked the helmet onto the top of the pressure-suit and turned to Ran.

‘Oh, in case I don’t come back, the controls are pre-set to take you back to Betrushia.’

Ran wondered grimly whether he really wanted to go. A return ticket to a doomed planet did not hold much appeal.

The Doctor pressed down a row of buttons and then pulled at the door lever. Ran stepped back involuntarily as the great double doors swung open and then closed behind the Doctor as he vanished across the dimensional threshold.

Ran heaved a huge sigh and rubbed his claws over his face. His muscles twitched beneath his sweaty palms like butterflies trapped in a net.

He glanced down at the console display where a computer image of Betrushia shone with brilliant intensity. All around the screen, various panels indicated the state of the planet’s behaviour. Almost without exception the displays, which Ran couldn’t pretend to understand, were clearly veering towards danger level.

But there was something he could do. A small chance of survival. For it to work he had to return to Betrushia, preferably with the Doctor. And soon. He looked again at the red displays. Soon.

Imalgahite walked slowly into the bottle-green, funereal light of the conference room, his face fixed into a troubled frown.

Grek looked up as he entered.

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