cabinet had been shattered and its contents removed. The Doctor switched on the torch and leaned through the huge jagged hole to inspect the mountings for the missing exhibits and the weird hieroglyphics on the indentification tags. Only one word of the ancient Didoi text meant anything to him.
‘ Khakhuiljan ...’ he whispered, giving the mysterious symbols their nearest equivalents in human speech. ‘Our old friend Koquillion, unless I am very much mistaken.’
Putting on his spectacles again, he fretted over the other symbols for quite some time, but failed to make any sense out of them.
Eventually he gave up and returned to the huge central altar. ‘Many generations of sacrificial victims...’ he mused, running his hand along the worn edges of the polished slabs. Deep in tought, the Doctor sat down in one of the eight throne-like chairs elaborately carved out of the corners of the altar.
He settled himself as if expecting a long wait for someone or something and brooded over his suspicions, occasionally nodding his head with grim misgiving. ‘And I have a nasty feeling that certain ancient rituals have recently been revived..
Ian stepped gingerly out through the external hatch and stood in the eerie light of the three moons. He peered around and listened for some trace of the missing girls.
The night was full of deep colossal shadows cast by the massive structures of the wrecked space craft and the air was filled with the distant unearthly sounds that the Doctor had heard. Listening to the bizarre noises, Ian began to imagine horrible visions of Barbara and Vicki being dragged helplessly away by unspeakable monsters to their mountain lairs. It seemed impossible that they could have vanished without trace in such a short space of time.
Finally he plucked up courage and ventured out into the shadows around the hull. ‘Barbara... Vicki... Are you there?’ he called. The distant sounds seemed to mock him.
He jumped as something suddenly clanged against the side of one of the huge scorched cylinders forming the space craft’s tail section. Slowly he approached the massive structure looming against the sky. It looked as big as a stadium. The thump of his heart against his ribs frightened him almost more than the fantastic shapes silhouetted against the moons.
Reaching one of the detached cylinders whose leaning black bulk rose out of the sand like a windowless tower block disturbed by an earthquake, Ian took a deep breath and felt his way cautiously into the yawning bell of metal at its base. ‘Barbara? Vicki? Where are you?’ he called. His voice echoed in the cavernous tubes and chambers in the darkness above him like an announcement of doom. He listened for a reply with fading hope, more and more convinced that something dreadful had befallen the two girls. Gradually he became aware of a low hoarse breathing sound somewhere nearby. It made him think of huge leather lungs being worked by some sort of cybernetic mechanism, like a giant robot bellows. Crouching down, he felt around and picked up a stout metal bar. As he straightened up he heard another sharp metallic clang.
This time it seemed to come from one of the other detached cylinders standing some distance away.
Feeling a little more confident armed with the primitive weapon, Ian crept out of the tilted base of the cylinder and ran across the dry rutted ground to the nearest of the other broken-off cylinders a hundred metres or so away. As he edged round the curved skirt of the cylinder he recognised the strange drapery of gauzy foil hanging in the mouth of the structure. The drapery was twitching and flapping here and there even though there was no longer any breeze to disturb it. Cuffing the clammy sweat out of his eyes, Ian forced his feet to move his trembling body towards the sinister metal drapery. He froze as something scuttled and scraped in the distant shadows beneath the main structure.
He thought he glimpsed a momentary silvery flicker
‘ Khakhuiljan ...’ he whispered, giving the mysterious symbols their nearest equivalents in human speech. ‘Our old friend Koquillion, unless I am very much mistaken.’
Putting on his spectacles again, he fretted over the other symbols for quite some time, but failed to make any sense out of them.
Eventually he gave up and returned to the huge central altar. ‘Many generations of sacrificial victims...’ he mused, running his hand along the worn edges of the polished slabs. Deep in tought, the Doctor sat down in one of the eight throne-like chairs elaborately carved out of the corners of the altar.
He settled himself as if expecting a long wait for someone or something and brooded over his suspicions, occasionally nodding his head with grim misgiving. ‘And I have a nasty feeling that certain ancient rituals have recently been revived..
Ian stepped gingerly out through the external hatch and stood in the eerie light of the three moons. He peered around and listened for some trace of the missing girls.
The night was full of deep colossal shadows cast by the massive structures of the wrecked space craft and the air was filled with the distant unearthly sounds that the Doctor had heard. Listening to the bizarre noises, Ian began to imagine horrible visions of Barbara and Vicki being dragged helplessly away by unspeakable monsters to their mountain lairs. It seemed impossible that they could have vanished without trace in such a short space of time.
Finally he plucked up courage and ventured out into the shadows around the hull. ‘Barbara... Vicki... Are you there?’ he called. The distant sounds seemed to mock him.
He jumped as something suddenly clanged against the side of one of the huge scorched cylinders forming the space craft’s tail section. Slowly he approached the massive structure looming against the sky. It looked as big as a stadium. The thump of his heart against his ribs frightened him almost more than the fantastic shapes silhouetted against the moons.
Reaching one of the detached cylinders whose leaning black bulk rose out of the sand like a windowless tower block disturbed by an earthquake, Ian took a deep breath and felt his way cautiously into the yawning bell of metal at its base. ‘Barbara? Vicki? Where are you?’ he called. His voice echoed in the cavernous tubes and chambers in the darkness above him like an announcement of doom. He listened for a reply with fading hope, more and more convinced that something dreadful had befallen the two girls. Gradually he became aware of a low hoarse breathing sound somewhere nearby. It made him think of huge leather lungs being worked by some sort of cybernetic mechanism, like a giant robot bellows. Crouching down, he felt around and picked up a stout metal bar. As he straightened up he heard another sharp metallic clang.
This time it seemed to come from one of the other detached cylinders standing some distance away.
Feeling a little more confident armed with the primitive weapon, Ian crept out of the tilted base of the cylinder and ran across the dry rutted ground to the nearest of the other broken-off cylinders a hundred metres or so away. As he edged round the curved skirt of the cylinder he recognised the strange drapery of gauzy foil hanging in the mouth of the structure. The drapery was twitching and flapping here and there even though there was no longer any breeze to disturb it. Cuffing the clammy sweat out of his eyes, Ian forced his feet to move his trembling body towards the sinister metal drapery. He froze as something scuttled and scraped in the distant shadows beneath the main structure.
He thought he glimpsed a momentary silvery flicker
Similar Books
