Doctor Who: The Zarbi Read Online Free PDF Page A

speckled now with a high-pitched chirruping. She stared towards the screen in hopes of seeing the comforting figures of Ian and the Doctor in the distance, out among the crags on the planet, but the inspection window was black. Then something caught her eye.
    The control table to the right of the ship’s doors moved
    – visibly. A metal food canister on the table’s surface jumped – then fell back with a clatter. Its lid dislodged and fell on to the floor, spinning away into a corner and rolling to a stop.
    The control table turned, slowly at first, then spun, violently. A ruler and several containers whirled off it on to the floor and scattered loudly.
    Barbara gasped and instinctively moved to halt the table and gather the fallen containers – but she could not budge.
    It felt as though her feet were suddenly glued to the floor.
    She remained, back to the dormitory door, frozen now with fear.
    As she stood there her arm jerked abruptly – out of her own control. She gave a little scream and tried to pull her hand back to her side but it remained immovable, pointing towards the ship’s exit doors.
    A moan of terror died on her lips. She caught her breath quickly as, slowly, the ship’s doors slid open.
    ‘What... what’s happening?’ she whispered.
    Beyond the doors she could see the shadowy crags and a pale gleam of light on the brittle ground of this strange planet.
    The humming and the chirruping now rose to fever pitch, and with it Barbara’s face clouded slowly and her eyes grew blank.
    Dully, like a sleepwalker, with her arm still held out before her, she began to move.
    She took a reluctant step towards the door, then another. The gold of the Roman bracelet glittered on her outstretched arm. She moved on stiffly and did not even pause as she went out of the now open doors.
    Without looking around her, and with her face now blank, empty of expression, Barbara stepped on out and walked dreamily forward into the gloom of the planet.
     
    The ship’s doors whirred quietly and slid closed behind her.
    As they did so the humming and the high-pitched chirruping which overlaid it faded. It seemed impossible to believe that such a total silence could follow such all-enveloping sounds. But now, as a container lid ceased spinning on the floor and settled after a final clatter, the control room was ghostly quiet. The control table had ceased spinning and stood solid and motionless.
    In the dormitory Vicki had been turning in a troubled sleep, moaning, her face puckered and strained.
    It was the abrupt silence which suddenly woke her. She sat up and listened.
    ‘Barbara?’ she murmured.
    The dormitory door to the control room was closed.
    ‘Barbara?’ she called louder.
    There was no answer, no sound from the other room.
    Vicki threw aside her blanket and got up. Sleepily she slid aside the door and came into the control room.
    It was empty. She peered into the corners. The scatter of metal containers across the floor caught her eye.
    Again she called, ‘Barbara!’
    Suddenly a terror seized her too. Wildly she looked at the scanner, then at the closed exit doors.
    She screamed, ‘Where are you?’
    The control room only threw back the panic sound of her own voice.
    Vicki stared about her again. She was alone in the ship.
    Doctor Who, Ian and Barbara had now all left it!
    She lunged towards the control table and pressed the exit button. A quiet whirring answered her, and they opened.
    Vicki ran to the door and peered out fearfully. The landscape with it sinister towering crags, harsh and empty in the ghostly light, gave back no sign of life, no sound now.
    Vicki was afraid to break this chilly silence, but then her fear of being alone overcame all other thought.
    ‘Barbara!’ she screamed. ‘Barbara...!’
    Doctor Who and Ian listened, but the roaring hum and the strange chirruping that had risen with it had now vanished utterly, so that when Ian took a pace forward, his step echoed again. He halted,