“I still don’t get it,” said Garon. “How could your ship just materialise in these caves and then disappear?”
The Doctor, who was sat with his knees drawn up to his chin shrugged. “She really didn’t want to be here.”
“Nobody wants to be here, fella,” said Bren.
“Spaceships don’t have minds of their own,” said Garon. “How do we know we can trust you?”
“I see a spaceship once,” said Bren, picking at a small, shiny pebble on the ground, “that flew itself. It didn’t have a crew or nothing. Just passengers.”
“You, my dear Bren, are not the most reliable source of information,” said Garon.
“Seen more of the world than you have, pretty boy.”
“Okay, okay,” said Zeela, looking between Garon and Bren, “now is not the time for another one of your sparring competitions.”
“Agreed,” said Cobalt. “We must look at the facts.”
“Which are?” said Garon.
“That these two people are here. They appeared in the tunnel, which we know is inescapable, and are now trapped down here with us.”
“Finally,” said Mary. “Do you always get these sort of questions, Doctor?”
“Always,” said the Doctor, solemnly. “I’m a traveller,” he said, turning to the others, “but I don’t quite know what planet we’re on.”
“How can you travel to a planet and not know where you’re going?” asked Garon.
“If I ever get my ship back then maybe you can find out for yourself.”
Mary looked to each of them. “You can trust him, believe me,” she said. “I met him only a little while ago, but he’s a nice man.”
“And what about you?” asked Zeela. “You seem to be…oddly dressed.”
Mary looked down at her strange get-up. She still didn’t feel comfortable in these sorts of clothes. “My name’s Mary and I’m from Earth.”
“Oh, god,” said Garon, rolling his eyes, “I thought I recognised the swagger.”
“Swagger?” said Mary, looking confused. “Sir, I don’t believe I have a…well, swagger.”
“What century is this?” asked the Doctor.
“What?!” spat Garon.
“Are you serious?” asked Zeela. “I can kind of accept that you didn’t know what planet you were on, but the century?”
Cobalt looked up from her collection of data pads that she had been reading. “It’s 2955 and you’re on the planet Hallean.”
“Hallean…” mused the Doctor.
“Doctor, I still get what he means by swagger,” said Mary.
“It’s the 30th century, Miss Auckland,” said the Doctor. “The Earth Empire is all over the galaxy right now, colonising worlds and not always doing it with the best intentions.”
“You mean…” she thought for a moment. “You mean we won the war only to cause problems out in space.”
Zeela and Garon looked at each other, bemused.
“There are peaks and troughs throughout the history of Earth. This isn’t a particularly nice period of it.”
Mary frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” she said to Garon.
Garon frowned back at her. “You are bizarre, girl.”
“The Earth Empire has stretched this far out,” said Zeela, “but thankfully our government hasn’t yet capitulated to any of their, shall we say, offers yet.”
“I don’t remember much about Hallean really,” said the Doctor. “A small little planet in the Fed’Sian system. It never got on with its neighbour planet, Rathtok.”
“Which is kind of why we’re down here,” said Zeela.
“Well I didn’t think you were all down here on your holidays,” said the Doctor. “I mean this is pretty grim.” His eyes rolled up to look at the blue-tinged stony ceiling.
“What happened to you all?” said Mary.
“We’ve been down here for seven months,” said Zeela.
“Seven months?!” exclaimed Mary. “Just the four of you?”
“There used to be five of us,” said Cobalt.
“Until old Mrs Yaltos passed away,” said Bren. He looked sad. “She was a lovely woman.”
“Yes,” said Garon. “Can you smell that stench?”
The Doctor and Mary sniffed and then both of them looked at each other with disgust.
“We buried her as far down the tunnel as possible,” said Zeela, sadly, “under a pile of rocks.”
”Have you tried to get out?”
“Are you an idiot?” asked Garon.
“Have you tried everything?” said the Doctor, sounding irritated with him.
“Well we haven’t spent seven months down here sat on our arses!”
“I don’t get it,” said Mary. “How’d you end up here anyway?”
Zeela looked up at the ceiling. “It’s a relatively short story.”
City Banking – the biggest banking company on Hallean. Zeela had been working there for a number of years. She had spent 18 months at its Volka branch before being promoted to Assistant Manager at the Borick branch. She’d enjoyed her time there. She enjoyed helping to run things and enjoyed interaction with the customers.
It was a sunny, mid-week morning when it happened. She had just returned from her dinner break and was finishing her coffee. The entrance to City Banking was through a huge, stone-arched doorway that led into a large hall, four stories high. The floor was polished black and white tiles and huge, ornate pillars rose from the floor to the ceiling with stone ivy carved into them. Behind the pillars were various different desks with bank clerks sat at each one. At the front of the hall was her desk and a doorway leading off to the vault and managers office.
She sighed, but it was a contented sigh. She enjoyed working here. She enjoyed the challenges that came with the job, and the pay wasn’t that bad either.
“For the last time, no!” she heard a familiar voice yell. She frowned and turned to the person it was coming from – Garon Tor.
He was sat at his desk whilst a scruffy looking man in a dirty mac with unkempt hair and grey beard stood hovering over him.
Zeela sighed and walked over to them. “Is there a problem, Garon?”
“No, Miss Vos,” said Garon, trying to hold back his frustration.
“Then why are you raising your voice at this gentleman?” she said, calmly. She knew exactly why he was yelling at the man. He had been in here every day this week.
“Mr Fasko has been told before that we simply cannot help him with a loan.”
Zeela looked at Bren Fasko who smiled his toothless grin at her, looking as sweet as any little old, scruffy man could.
“Mr Fasko is a customer, Mr Garon,” said Zeela.
“Yes, I know, but- ”
“But nothing, Mr Garon,” said Zeela, coolly. “Despite Mr Fasko’s financial situation, he should be treated as any other customer should be treated.”
“Thank you, Miss Vos,” said Garon, smiling again.
“However, Mr Fasko,” said Zeela, “you have been in here every day for the last two weeks. I’m afraid we are in no position to offer you a loan of…”
Garon flashed up the figure on his screen.
Zeela stifled a gasp. “Ten thousand yaraks.” She smiled at him again.
“It’s just to get me self set up,” said Bren. “You know how it is, Miss.”
“Unfortunately we don’t,” said Garon, looking smug again. “Although I do remember how difficult it was that one time my penthouse swimming pool lost it’s heating the other year.”
“Garon,” scolded Zeela, frowning at him. “That’s enough.”
“Zeela, I’d rather you not reprimand me in front of the general public.”
“Then don’t humiliate yourself,” said Zeela. She looked back at Bren, who had been watching back and forth between them. “Mr Fasko, can I suggest something?”
”Of course, darling.”
Zeela managed to stop her eyes rolling but continued to smile. “I understand that you’re living under one of the bridge arches on Lemon St, yes?”
“That’s right,” said Bren.
“There are homeless shelters out there that you can go to. They can help you.”
“You can help me,” said Bren.
Garon shook his head. “See, waste of time.”
“Is this gentleman bothering you, Sir? Madam?” asked a slightly emotionless voice from a few metres away.
Cobalt was a striking figure. Dressed in a grey one-piece suit with a high collar. She was bald with bright blue eyes and a very small camera attached to the side of her head. She was head of security at the bank and was part of a very small group of Rathtokians living on the planet. They were a cold and emotionless race, but Zeela had never had a problem with Cobalt.
“I can deal with this, Cobalt,” said Garon.
“Oooh, are you gonna escort me out, darling?” asked Bren. “You certainly have the muscles for it.”
Zeela noticed that Cobalt was now flexing her bare arms, but her face hadn’t changed.
“Mr Tor, what would you like me to do with the gentleman?”
“I don’t need you to do anything, Cobalt.”
“And what does that mean, Garon?” asked Zeela, folding her arms and looking down at her colleague.
“I simply mean-”
“He means he does not need a Rathtokian dealing with his problems,” said Cobalt, flatly.
“I didn’t mean that. I just-”
“Garon, I think you’ve said enough,” said Zeela.
Bren was looking between the three people with fascination in his eyes. There was almost a glee there. He hadn’t been this entertained for a long time and it was all of his doing.
“I shall repeat my question,” said Cobalt. “What would you like me to do with the gentleman?”
Before anyone else could speak there was a blinding white light and a piercing burst of white noise.
There was a scream from towards the front doors of the bank.
Soon the light began to fade and Zeela realised she was lying on the polished tiles of the floor. Her hearing was muffled, but she could hear the distant sounds of laser fire, explosions and screaming.
She managed to sit up. Her head felt woozy, but she steadied herself. Clambering to his feet was Bren, looking shaken at what had just happened but resolute. Garon was still sat in his chair, unconscious but stirring now and Cobalt was bent over, her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.
Zeela’s eyes were drawn to outside the doors. She couldn’t see much because of the smoke, but she could see the occasional laser bolt illuminating the thick, grey smoke.
“It’s them. It’s the Rathtokians,” said Bren, fear in his voice.
“But…but the government said…it was on the news this morning…the deal…” Zeela shook her head in disbelief.
“It can’t be,” said Cobalt. Zeela was sure she heard her normally emotionless voice crack.
“Your bloody people, Cobalt. Your bloody people!” shouted Garon, getting up from his chair.
“We need to get outta her,” said Bren.
“We can’t go that way,” said Zeela, as a heavy-set man flew through the glass doors and landed inside the entrance with a deathly thud.
“This place must have a vault,” said Bren. “We can hide in there surely.”
“Yes,” said Zeela. “Yes we can hide until the security forces get us out.”
The woman in the red coat came running past them and Zeela grabbed her arm. “Mrs Yaltos, you can’t go out there.”
“I have to get away,” she sobbed.
“You have to come with us,” said Zeela.
The group made their way through the inner doors of the bank and down a long, wood-panelled corridor until they reached a huge, metal door with a large wheel handle.
Garon took out his bank access card and swiped it through a slot on a computer panel on the door and there was a clunk.
Cobalt grabbed the wheel and began to turn it. Soon the door was able to swing wide open. Cobalt ushered the others inside and turned one more time to see about half a dozen bald-headed Rathtokian’s enter the corridor, guns brandished.
Once they were all inside Cobalt pushed the door shut with a thud and turned the wheel to lock it into place.
“Oh, excellent,” said Bren, “the vault. You know they can still get in if they want to?”
“I know that,” said Cobalt.
The room was fairly spacious – about 50 feet in length and 30 in width – and was lined with small metal drawers each leading to some one’s worldly goods.
“Help me with this panel, Mr Tor,” said Cobalt, kneeling down in the centre of the metal-panelled floor and prising up one of the slabs. Underneath was another, far more ancient metal wheel.
“Where exactly is this going, Cobalt?” asked Zeela, frowning.
Cobalt started to twist the handle with Garon assisting as best he could. “It’s a place only the security officers know about.” The handle groaned some more. “In the event of a robbery – or in our case an attack – the most likely scenario is that people would flee to the vault. The vault may be secure but it’s not impenetrable. This tunnel underneath is not on any of the plans.”
“But surely any attackers would just see that we’d disappeared and find the tunnel anyway.”
“Except the tunnel leads under the city and out into the countryside.” Cobalt flashed what Zeela thought for a moment was a smile. “It’s not somewhere to hide. It’s an escape route.”
There was a satisfying click and the panel slowly eased itself open leading down to a dark and lonely looking pit.
“We’re going down there?” said Bren, peering into the darkness.
“It’s the only way,” said Cobalt.
There was another explosion followed by muffled screams somewhere nearby.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” said Garon. “After you, Mrs Yaltos.”
“Oh dear,” said the old woman as they began to clamber inside.
“So…” said Mary, replaying what the four of them had told her, “why can’t you just go outside? And I thought you said this tunnel led out into the countryside.”
“So we thought,” said Zeela. “Except it’s just solid rock 200 metres down that tunnel from where we are.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” said the Doctor. “Why build a tunnel that doesn’t go anywhere?”
“And that’s not the only thing,” said Zeela. “Nobody has come for us since. There were Rathtokian soliders coming after us when we got into the vault, but they never attempted to come down here.”
“There are still explosions up above though,” said Garon, looking towards the rocky ceiling.
“Maybe they’re just leaving us to die,” said Bren.
“That is not like my people,” said Cobalt. “They do not leave a job unfinished.”
“And you’ve tried to get the panel back into the vault open?” asked the Doctor.
“No,” said Garon, sarcastically, “we’ve just decided to leave it and starve to death down here.”
The Doctor raised his eyebrows at the frustrated man. “I had to ask. Can you show me the panel?”
“We can,” said Zeela, “but the power is out up above. There’s no way of getting it open.”
“Oh,” said the Doctor, his eyes twinkling and a smile playing across his lips, “I may have a way.”
On a small monitor somewhere in a darkened room a shadowy figure watched on in interest. The screen showed a black and white image of Cobalt, Bren, Garon, Zeela and the two newcomers crawling through the tunnel in search of the hatch.
The figure narrowed its white eyes and it lifted a microphone to its mouth. “This is Watch-4. Subjects are attempting to leave the tunnel. Repeat: subjects are attempting to leave the tunnels. All units stand by for the next stage.”
To be continued...
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