Free Doctor Who: Time and the Rani by Pip Baker, Jane Baker Page A

menial of tasks. When she is so near to completing her experiment, why would I now take such a risk?'
    'What happens then? When her work is finished?'
    'She will leave Lakertya.'
    'Will she, Beyus?'
    'That was her promise.'
    'And when she does?'
    'Our fives will return to normal.'
    'Normal, Beyus? . . . Without Sarn . . ?'
    Understanding her grief, sharing it, Beyus escorted her to the exit.
    'Deliver the message to the Doctor, Faroon. I believe you will find him in the Centre of Leisure.'
     
    Argumentative and resourceful was how Mel had described Ikona during her brief reunion with the Doctor.
    Well, the Doctor would be eternally grateful for the resourcefulness, but the verbal hassle was missing as the tall, young Lakertyan uncommunicatively led him across a brook.
    Beyond the creek, carved into the sheer face of a towering mountain, was an intricate, abstract motif of pyramids. Although apparently at random, the composition conveyed a civilised harmony that contrasted vividly with the primordial landscape.
    'Quite artistic,' said the Doctor encouragingly.
    'We Lakertyans excel in decorative skills.' The trenchant irony did not invite discussion on local culture!
    Several Lakertyans sauntered from an entrance tunnelled into the mountain.
    'There's no restriction of movement then? Lakertyans can come and go freely?'
    'Providing they obey the edicts of Beyus!' retorted Ikona. 'And don't try to get into the laboratory complex.'
     
    Courteously and with an affable smile, the Doctor lifted his straw hat to a couple of Ikona's compatriots.
    He was studiously ignored.
    Disconcerted, he lingered.
    Not Ikona. Unabashed by the lack of social graces, he continued into the Centre of Leisure.
     
    Light twinkled and scintillated from the myriad polished surfaces of a huge, many-faceted globe. Suspended from the roof, it revolved like a mobile, its rhythm almost mesmeric.
    Yet the globe was at odds with the dominant theme of the Centre, which appeared to have been designed by a devotee of cubism. A honeycomb of cubicles boxed in a plaza which encompassed a crystal clear pool. Fringing the pool, were terracotta statuettes decorated with ceramic silver fronds.
    Gracefully-chiselled fish spouted fountains of water.
    Many Lakertyans idly frequented the peaceful setting. Some occupied the cubicles, playing video and hologram games. Others, lounging on cushioned, swinging recliners, were immersed in strobic lights, listening to music through headphones.
    Exotic frescos, plants and goblets of wine completed the hedonistic scene.
    Strolling onto a gallery overlooking the plaza, Ikona paused until the Doctor joined him.
    'Centre of Leisure!' Ikona declared sarcastically. 'Centre of Indolence!'
    'Not a favourite haunt of yours, I gather, Ikona?'
    'No.' He preceded the Doctor along the gallery. 'I can't imagine why Beyus told you to come to this place.'
    'He said I'd find the answer to his subservience here.'
    'From these spineless pleasure-seekers?'
    'Why not?'
    'It'd require effort, that's why. They've become spoonfed drones. There's no need for them to strive. An indulgent system provides all!'
    They descended a staircase.
    'Didn't Beyus give you any clue what to look for?'
     
    'He was too anxious for explanations.' The Doctor peered about. 'Whatever the threat, it must be considerable.'
    Bathed in a languid peach glow, the Centre exuded tranquillity.
    'Can you see anything that's different? New?'
    'Only that!' Ikona indicated the globe. 'Another pointless embellishment.'
    'Mmmm. I wonder . . . Let's ask.'
    'We'll be interrupting their pleasure!' Despite his scepticism, Ikona ducked into the nearest cubicle.
    'Can you tell me -?' The player shunned him!
    In the next cubicle, the Lakertyan did not even wait for the question before rudely snubbing Ikona.
    'I did warn you,' he said to the Doctor.
    'There's none so deaf as those who clutch at straws.'
    'If you say so.' Ikona placidly accepted the mixture of proverbs.
    Then: 'Lanisha!' Ikona