Doctor Who: Ribos Operation (6 page)

‘A million gold...’ the Captain breathed incredulously.

‘Perhaps more,’ Garron nodded, his finger to his lips.

The Captain stared at Garron with growing respect. ‘If a
word of this was to get out...’ he murmured, glancing round at
the busily-occupied Shrieves.

Garron nodded vigorously. ‘We might all be murdered in
our beds—there’s so much lawlessness about.’ He ventured a few
steps towards the Relic Cabinet. ‘My colleague is anxious to find
a safe depository for his funds—just for the next day or so, and
he is willing to pay a generous commission in return,’ Garron
went on as the Captain joined him. Again he leaned confidingly
towards the silent Shrieve. ‘And it occurs to me, Captain,’ he
continued in a low voice, ‘that nowhere in the city is more secure
than this Relic Cabinet, so closely guarded as it is by the
Shrivenzale, and by yourself and your excellent Shrieves.’

Garron wandered casually around the cabinet for a few
moments, admiring the Sacred Relics and nodding graciously to
the Guards. Then he stopped beside the Captain: ‘What do you
say?’ he murmured. ‘A commission of one thousand gold opeks
was mentioned, I believe...’

The Captain stared at Canon in shocked amazement. Then
he shook his head violently. ‘The Relic Cabinet is a sacred place,’
he protested. ‘It is forbidden on pain of death to...’

‘Oh, I quite understand,’ Garron interrupted, waving his
hands as if dismissing the subject and turning to leave. ‘My
apologies, Captain—I am forgetting myself,’ he said humbly,
and made towards the door.

The Captain followed after a moment’s thought and stopped
Garron in the entrance. ‘Of course... a contribution of one
thousand opeks to the Sacred Funds would be most...’ he began.

Garron swung round with a smile: ‘Did I say one thousand?
Oh, no, no, no,’ he murmured apologetically, ‘ten thousand, my
dear Captain... ten thousand.’

The Shrieve’s eyes widened and he swallowed visibly. ‘You
said just for two or three days...?’ he asked in an undertone.

Garron nodded. ‘Maybe less,’ he said.

The Captain spoke briefly in Garron’s ear, and then went
over to supervise his Guards.

‘I am deeply, deeply obliged, Captain,’ Garron beamed. ‘I
shall go at once and inform my colleague.’ With that, he
retreated through the doorway, bowing low and elaborately
towards the Relics.

At once the Doctor darted from his hiding place and bustled
Romana out of the chamber, his hand clapped firmly over his
startled assistant’s mouth. As they hurried up the worn steps
Romana managed to free herself, not without some difficulty.

‘What now?’ she demanded. ‘How are we going to remove
the Segment from the cabinet?’

‘We aren’t just for the moment,’ the Doctor muttered,
pushing her unceremoniously into an alcove while some citizens
passed them on their way to make obeisance to the Relics.

‘You seem very unconcerned, Doctor,’ Romana murmured
reproachfully. ‘We do have an assignment to carry out, you
know.’

‘Our first job is to follow our “merchant from the north”,’
the Doctor snapped, setting off again as soon as the way was
clear.

Reluctantly, Romana tagged along as the Doctor darted in
and out of alcoves and doorways, carefully shadowing Garron as
he waddled breathlessly through the maze of passageways. ‘We
are wasting valuable time, Doctor,’ she protested. ‘We should
ignore this this insignificant stranger.’

The Doctor suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, whirled
round and seized Romana’s arm, ‘What if he’s after the Segment,
too?’ he retorted. ‘You hadn’t thought of that had you, my
dear?’ he added with a superior smile, hurrying on again.

Romana looked very startled. ‘If he is, then he most at all
costs be prevented,’ she said in an outraged voice, catching up
and clutching at the Doctor’s sleeve,

The Doctor smiled in obvious amusement at his assistant’s
frustration. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said, ‘it could save us a great
deal of trouble if our merchant friend has devised an efficient
method of removing the Segment from the cabinet...’

Before Romana could reply, the Doctor pulled her sideways
into a deep alcove beneath a low arch. Ahead of them, Garron
had stopped in front of a door. After looking furtively up and
down the apparently deserted passage, he knocked softly and
was immediately admitted.

‘Unless, of course, he’s an agent of the Black Guardian,’ the
Doctor murmured, peering round the edge of the alcove. ‘Oh
dear...’ he went on, putting a hand over his mouth, ‘you’re not
supposed to know about that, are you?’

Trying very hard to keep calm, Romana stood face to face
with the Doctor in the confined space and spoke through
clenched teeth: ‘Doctor, I do wish you would stop treating me
like a child.’

‘But my dear—you are a child,’ the Doctor grinned. ‘On the
other hand, he might be just a petty swindler; we’ll simply have
to wait and see.’ Winding his long scarf around his neck against
the bitter cold, the Doctor settled himself to wait for Garron’s
reappearance. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said gently, giving Romana’s
arm a squeeze of reassurance, ‘you’ll soon learn the ropes.
Fascinating, isn’t it?’

As he entered the Graff Vynda Ka’s quarters, Garron put on his
air of polite humility. He went over to give the dying fire a boost
with the bellows, and asked if the Graff had passed a comfortable
night.

‘I have slept in worse places,’ the Levithian Prince replied
with a grimace of disgust, ‘but the Cyrrhenic Allies forgot the
sacrifices I made in their service easily enough.’ Angrily he shook
the dust out of his robe and fixed Garron with blazing eyes. ‘I
returned battle-scarred from their campaigns to find myself
deposed and my half-brother on the Levithian Throne. Where
was the Alliance then?’ he cried.

Garron was completely taken aback by the Graff’s hysterical
outburst. He shook his head and tut-tutted and clasped and
unclasped his podgy white hands.

Pale-faced and violently trembling, the Graff stared into the
fire. ‘Not a single hand was raised in my support...’ he hissed.

Sholakh came forward from the shadows, his ever-watchful
eye on Garron’s artful face. ‘Do not dwell on the past, Highness,’
he murmured. ‘We must prepare for the future now.’

Gradually the Graff Vynda Ka calmed himself. ‘Good advice,
as ever, my faithful Sholakh,’ he nodded. Suddenly he strode to
the table. Snatching a handful of papers, he thrust them directly
under Garron’s misshapen nose. ‘This preposterous figure of ten
million opeks...’ he cried.

‘It... it is negotiable, Highness...’ Garron mumbled.

The Graff thrust his cruel, chiselled features into Garron’s
sweating, waxen face. ‘Tell me, Garron,’ he snarled, ‘why is the
Conglomerate selling the planet if it intends to keep the mineral
exploitation rights for itself—for ever?’

Garron stared back at the young Prince like a hypnotised
animal. ‘Oh, some temporary shortage of cash perhaps...’ he
smiled uncomfortably, dabbing at his temples with a grubby
handkerchief. ‘The condition is a common one in such deals,
Highness...’

Sensing that his back was against a wall, Garron launched
into an elaborate explanation of how Ribos was still only a Grade
Three Planet with protected inhabitants, and that mining would
not be possible until it had achieved Grade Two status. That, he
concluded, would not happen for hundreds of years.

The Graff Vynda Ka continued to stare impassively at him.
The fire was beginning to scorch the back of Garron’s legs, and
he tried to move a step or two, but Sholakh and the Graf blocked
his way.

‘None of this can possibly affect your Highness’s enjoyment
of the property,’ Garron continued desperately.

‘Enjoyment?’ the young Prince suddenly burst out.

Taking a deep breath, Garron pushed gently past them.
‘Perhaps when I have shown your Highness some of the more
attractive features of the planet?’ Garron pleaded. ‘May I suggest
that we begin by paying our respects to the Sacred Relics of
Ribos?’ and with that, he led the way towards the door.

Meanwhile the Doctor had drawn aside a heavy skin drape
hung across the back of the arched alcove where he and Romana
were concealed, and was looking out over a large colonnaded
square over which hung a dense pall of smoke. Round the sides
of the square were clustered dozens of ramshackle lean-to
hovels, and crowds of ragged, fur-clad figures were milling
about in the shadows.

‘Fascinating, isn’t it?’ the Doctor murmured. ‘No doubt fuel
is rationed here and so the inhabitants are forced to...’

Romana exploded in sheer frustration. ‘Doctor, will you
please try to keep your attention on the vital assignment with
which we have been entrusted?’ she cried.

The Doctor whipped off his hat and stuffed it over Romana’s
face. Voices were approaching along the passage. With a single
sweep of the arm, he shoved her into the narrow space between
the hide curtain and the small window opening. Seconds later
the unsuspecting Garron passed by, conducting the Graff and
Sholakh towards the Relic Chamber.

‘For example, the great Crown of Ribos—most interesting
Highness...’ Garron was holding forth pompously as they strode
by without a glance. ‘Almost nine thousand years old. The
natives believe that whoever wears it has the power to...’

‘Call up the sun again at the end of each Ice Time.’ The
Doctor completed Garron’s sentence under his breath as the trio
passed out of earshot. ‘Fascinating superstition, don’t you think?’
he remarked, uncovering Romana’s face which was almost
purple with indignation.

‘Doctor, it must be the Crown,’ she said decisively. ‘The
Segment must be disguised in the form of the Crown of Ribos.’

The Doctor silenced her with a reproving look. ‘Never,
never jump to conclusions like that,’ he warned. ‘They can lead
you up the garden path... and stop you seeing the wood for the
trees.’

Romana’s finely arched eyebrows rose higher still, and her
well-shaped chin stuck out even further as she retorted: ‘Such
figures of speech betray a serious lack of logico-cognitive
discipline, Doctor.’

The Doctor blinked. Then he clutched at his belly as if he
had just been run through with a sword. Finally he shook his
head violently from side to side as if recovering from a knockout
blow. ‘I really cannot stand here indulging in verbal fisticuffs
with you,’ he exclaimed. ‘I have an assignment to complete.’

With that, he flung aside the drape and shot off down the
passageway in the direction of the Relic Chamber.

In the Sacred Chamber, Garron continued his elaborate
salesman’s patter: ‘Observe the workman-ship, Highness, the
honest peasant artistry achieved with nothing but the crudest
implements. What treasures lie in this holy cabinet...’

Sholakh was motionless in front of the display, his gaze fixed
on the blue and silver nugget of Jethryk. ‘Highness,’ he
breathed. ‘Highness, look...’

Nodding and faintly smiling in Garron’s direction, the Graff
Vynda Ka murmured out of the side of his mouth: ‘I have seen
it, Sholakh. There can be no mistaking it’

But Garron had observed the effect of the nugget with
carefully concealed satisfaction. Immediately he started to move
round the cabinet. ‘Now notice over here the...’

The Graff raised his heavily gloved hand. ‘This silver-blue
stone here—it is called Jethryk, is it not?’ he enquired casually.

Garron went through the motions of peering at the nugget
‘I really have no idea, Highness,’ he said, shrugging. ‘It’s pretty
though, whatever it is. Now over here, Highness, we see...’

The Graff moved closer to the cabinet. ‘Perhaps one of the
attendants could enlighten us,’ he suggested, watching Garron
constantly.

Reluctantly Garron turned to the nearest Shrieve, who was
dressed in an extremely ill-fitting assemblage of skins, furs and
plaited leather. ‘I say, fellow,’ he shouted haughtily. ‘That blue
stone there—what is it?’

The Shrieve raised his head. It was Unstoffe. Garron was
flabbergasted. He took several seconds to conquer his shock and
surprise, glaring at Unstoffe with his back to the others.

At that moment the Doctor and Romana entered the Relic
Chamber unobserved. They bowed briefly to the Sacred Cabinet
and then lingered unobtrusively in the background.

‘What is the stone called, fellow?’ Garron demanded again,
his voice cracking and his puffy features growing almost
apoplectic with outrage.

The Shrieve respectfully touched his forelock and shuffled
forward. ‘That he what we calls Skrynge Stone, sir,’ he
mumbled. ‘If you hangs a bit round your neck, sir, you won’t
never suffer from the skrynges, no matter how cold it be..

For some time Garron could only stare at his grinning
young associate in silent disbelief. Then he recovered himself
enough to say that no doubt the stone was pretty common on
the planet.

Unstoffe said nothing.

Garron glanced at the Graff Vynda Ka and Sholakh and
then turned back to the Shrieve with a stirring motion of his
podgy hands. ‘There’s a lot of it about, I suppose,’ he muttered,
grimacing suggestively.

‘Oh no, sir,’ Unstoffe suddenly said. ‘The secret of the mines
was lost.’

The Graff Vynda Ka swept towards Unstoffe, his forehead
etched with a deep frown: ‘Secret... Lost...?’ he murmured
threateningly.

Garron turned away, flushed with anger and dismay.

‘One Ice Time, sir, a glacier come and destroyed the mine,’
Unstoffe explained. ‘Ever since they been searching an’
asearching—but they’ll never find it, sir. they’ll never find it.’

The Graff glanced at Sholakh. ‘Even if the mine is buried, its
approximate location must be known,’ he snapped.

Unstoffe shrugged and said nothing.

Garron turned to the Levithian Prince with a scornful laugh.
‘Pay no attention to these fairy tales, Highness,’ he cried.