immediately.'
Captain Stapley reeled at the staggering optimism of the man. It was all very well leap-frogging about in an old police box, but Concorde was something else. Had the man no idea how the aircraft gobbled up tarmac before getting airborne? The facilities needed for startup? The damage done by that crash landing?
The Doctor smiled hopefully. 'Wing and a prayer, Captain?' His enthusiasm was contagious.
'I suppose we could cannibalise Victor Foxtrot for spare parts,'
suggested Roger Scobie.
'That mudflat could never be rougher than the runway at Kennedy,'
conceded Andrew Bilton.
And even Captain Stapley had the idea for a cunning lash-up to start the jets.
'The coordinates are all set,' shouted the Doctor to Nyssa and hurried off with Tegan.
The Tardis reappeared on its side in the hold of the Concorde. The Captain was first out, hauling himself through the door of the police box. He quickly briefed his copilot and engineer. 'Andrew, you and I will start
the cockpit checks. Roger, I want you to do a preliminary walk-round of the aircraft.'
Nyssa wandered round the stalk-like legs of the aircraft with Roger Scobie, It was an alien, mechanistic technology to the noble woman from Traken. She gazed up at the delta shape above her like a tourist at a mediaeval cathedral.
Roger pored over the undercarriage mechanism. 'The brakeline's fractured and we've lost a lot of fluid,' he pronounced.
'Is that bad?' Nyssa asked innocently.
'Bad?' The engineer grinned. 'It's a miracle! We can probably nick the spares from Victor Foxtrot.' Scobie picked up his tools and started to walk the couple of hundred yards to the other Concorde. He stopped.
'Do you see that?'
The distant aircraft shimmered like a calm sea at sunrise. Then the moment passed. They decided it was a bit of mist or a trick of the light and moved on.
The footsteps of Tegan and the Doctor echoed through the deserted Citadel. At every bend, every doorway, every dark corner, the Doctor looked round nervously. 'Keep your eyes open,' he whispered to Tegan.
'The Master could be anywhere.'
'Why did the Master take the passengers?' asked Tegan as they walked.
'Molecular disintegration,' answered the Doctor. 'That way he's got a neat little store of protoplasm with which he can do anything he wants.'
'Melt them down?' Tegan felt sick. 'We've got to stop him!' she cried.
When they reached Kalid's chamber, it was obvious the bird had flown.
The pedestal beneath the crystal had been ransacked for its components. Nor was there any sign of the modules the Master had removed from the Doctor's TARDIS. But the Doctor knew the Master could not have gone far. His TARDIS must be somewhere near the Citadel - in a new disguise perhaps.
A terrible thought came to him. 'Quickly!' he shouted to Tegan. 'We've got to get back to Captain Stapley!'
The Doctor and Tegan left the Citadel behind them and strode across the hard frozen earth. Tegan imagined how the centuries would erode that great monolithic pyramid, till, in her own day, there was no evidence it ever existed. As she scanned the primordial landscape, she tried to visualise the motorway, the airport hotels, the housing estates to which they were so anxious to return.
The Doctor's thoughts were less philosophical. He stopped as he spotted the two Concordes on the horizon. 'Just as I thought!' he cried.
'Come on!'
'What's the damage, Roger?' Captain Stapley swung round from his instrument check as Scobie poked his head into the narrow cockpit.
'Fractured brakeline.'
'Is that all?' Bilton couldn't believe their luck. 'Not a bad landing, Skipper!'
'Can you repair it?'
'With a bit of luck, and a bit of Victor Foxtrot.'
They were delighted at the sheer resilience of the aircraft. Only one problem remained. They had no way
of starting the engines.
Captain Stapley smiled rather smugly.
Captain Stapley reeled at the staggering optimism of the man. It was all very well leap-frogging about in an old police box, but Concorde was something else. Had the man no idea how the aircraft gobbled up tarmac before getting airborne? The facilities needed for startup? The damage done by that crash landing?
The Doctor smiled hopefully. 'Wing and a prayer, Captain?' His enthusiasm was contagious.
'I suppose we could cannibalise Victor Foxtrot for spare parts,'
suggested Roger Scobie.
'That mudflat could never be rougher than the runway at Kennedy,'
conceded Andrew Bilton.
And even Captain Stapley had the idea for a cunning lash-up to start the jets.
'The coordinates are all set,' shouted the Doctor to Nyssa and hurried off with Tegan.
The Tardis reappeared on its side in the hold of the Concorde. The Captain was first out, hauling himself through the door of the police box. He quickly briefed his copilot and engineer. 'Andrew, you and I will start
the cockpit checks. Roger, I want you to do a preliminary walk-round of the aircraft.'
Nyssa wandered round the stalk-like legs of the aircraft with Roger Scobie, It was an alien, mechanistic technology to the noble woman from Traken. She gazed up at the delta shape above her like a tourist at a mediaeval cathedral.
Roger pored over the undercarriage mechanism. 'The brakeline's fractured and we've lost a lot of fluid,' he pronounced.
'Is that bad?' Nyssa asked innocently.
'Bad?' The engineer grinned. 'It's a miracle! We can probably nick the spares from Victor Foxtrot.' Scobie picked up his tools and started to walk the couple of hundred yards to the other Concorde. He stopped.
'Do you see that?'
The distant aircraft shimmered like a calm sea at sunrise. Then the moment passed. They decided it was a bit of mist or a trick of the light and moved on.
The footsteps of Tegan and the Doctor echoed through the deserted Citadel. At every bend, every doorway, every dark corner, the Doctor looked round nervously. 'Keep your eyes open,' he whispered to Tegan.
'The Master could be anywhere.'
'Why did the Master take the passengers?' asked Tegan as they walked.
'Molecular disintegration,' answered the Doctor. 'That way he's got a neat little store of protoplasm with which he can do anything he wants.'
'Melt them down?' Tegan felt sick. 'We've got to stop him!' she cried.
When they reached Kalid's chamber, it was obvious the bird had flown.
The pedestal beneath the crystal had been ransacked for its components. Nor was there any sign of the modules the Master had removed from the Doctor's TARDIS. But the Doctor knew the Master could not have gone far. His TARDIS must be somewhere near the Citadel - in a new disguise perhaps.
A terrible thought came to him. 'Quickly!' he shouted to Tegan. 'We've got to get back to Captain Stapley!'
The Doctor and Tegan left the Citadel behind them and strode across the hard frozen earth. Tegan imagined how the centuries would erode that great monolithic pyramid, till, in her own day, there was no evidence it ever existed. As she scanned the primordial landscape, she tried to visualise the motorway, the airport hotels, the housing estates to which they were so anxious to return.
The Doctor's thoughts were less philosophical. He stopped as he spotted the two Concordes on the horizon. 'Just as I thought!' he cried.
'Come on!'
'What's the damage, Roger?' Captain Stapley swung round from his instrument check as Scobie poked his head into the narrow cockpit.
'Fractured brakeline.'
'Is that all?' Bilton couldn't believe their luck. 'Not a bad landing, Skipper!'
'Can you repair it?'
'With a bit of luck, and a bit of Victor Foxtrot.'
They were delighted at the sheer resilience of the aircraft. Only one problem remained. They had no way
of starting the engines.
Captain Stapley smiled rather smugly.
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