007 - Doctor Who and the Brain of Morbius

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Why do so many spaceships crashland on Karn, a bleak,

lonely and seemingly deserted planet?

Are they doomed by the mysterious powers of the

strange, black-robed Sisterhood, jealously guarding their

secret of eternal life? Or does the mad Dr Solon, for some

evil purpose of his own, need the bodies of the victims?

And more especially the body of DOCTOR WHO...

ISBN 0 426 11674 7

A Target Book

Published in 1977

by the Paperback Division of W.H. Allen & Co. Ltd.

A Howard & Wyndham Company

44 Hill Street, London WIX 8LB

Corporation

Printed in Great Britain by

Hunt Barnard Printing Ltd, Aylesbury, Bucks.

ISBN 0 426 11674 7

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of

trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated

without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or

cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar

condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent

purchaser.

DOCTOR WHO

AND THE

BRAIN OF MORBIUS

Based on the BBC television serial The Brain of Morbius by Robin

Bland by arrangement with the British Broadcasting Corporation

TERRANCE DICKS

published by

The Paperback Division of

W. H. Allen & Co. Ltd

CONTENTS

1 A Graveyard of Spaceships

2 The Keepers of the Flame

3 The Horror Behind the Curtain

4 Captive of the Flame

5 Sarah to the Rescue

6 The Horror in the Crypt

7 Solon's Trap

8 The Doctor Makes a Bargain

9 The Monster Walks

10 Monster on the Rampage

11 Deathlock!

12 A Time Lord Spell

A Graveyard of Spaceships

Kriz was dying.

Painfully he dragged his insect-like body away from the

blazing ruins of the shattered spaceship. Only a powerful survival

instinct kept him alive and moving. Two of his legs were broken, and

he scrabbled painfully across the razor-sharp rocks with the

remaining four. The tough, chitinous carapace that covered his body

was cracked clear across, and thick purplish blood welled sluggishly

from the wound, leaving a glistening trail across the rocks behind

him. Kriz paused, swinging his huge head with its shining, many-

faceted eyes. Behind him he could see the ship, its body as buckled

and shattered as his own by the savage impact of the crash. Black

smoke was pouring from the wreckage. Even as he watched there

was a sudden red glow, and a shattering explosion as the fuel-

chamber of the Zison-drive blew up. The rilium plates twisted and

buckled in the fierce blaze, molten metal running over the rocks.

Dimly Kriz felt that the life-blood of the ship, like his own, was

pouring away onto the rocks of this bleak alien planet.

Painfully Kriz crawled on. His dying mind was still full of the

moments before the crash. It had been a routine exploratory flight.

Kriz came from a world where his insect-like species had evolved

into the dominant race. Their deep-seated instincts for order, co-

operation and selfless hard work had built a great civilisation. Kriz,

like all his people, existed only to serve the Race, which in turn was

symbolised by the Nest, and by the Great Mother, Goddess and

Queen in one. The Race had only one problem—lack of living space.

As Nest after Nest was established, the home planet became

impossibly crowded, and they sought always for new worlds to

colonise. Not to conquer, for Kriz's people were a moral race. Planets

too harsh to sustain other species, worlds devastated by the wars in

which other life-forms so often destroyed themselves, were taken

over and made habitable by the technology of the Race.

This had seemed just such a world. Orbiting the planet on his

preliminary survey, Kriz had seen nothing but ruin and desolation on

his scanners. A world of mountains and rocky deserts, barely able to

sustain life. A few ruined buildings suggested a civilisation once

powerful but now vanished. Kriz remembered his growing feelings

of exaltation. Surely this was another home for the Race... Then

something, some incredible force had seized his little scouter and

smashed it down at the foot of this mountain range.

Kriz struggled on. He had no very clear idea where he was

going and he sensed that even if he found help, he was too badly hurt

to survive. But while he lived, he would struggle. It was not in the

nature of the Race to surrender.

On the mountain slope just above him, a massive figure leaped

ape-like from rock to rock, moving ever closer. Condo, attracted by

the smoke as a vulture is drawn by blood, was stalking his prey.

Satisfied there was no danger, he rose to his full height, a massive

figure in rough leather garments. He steadied himself against the

rocks with the steel hook that took the place of his left hand.

Should he wait till the creature was dead? Even though

wounded it could still be dangerous. Sometimes those who survived

the crashes carried weapons... Condo rubbed a scar on his massive

forearm. He growled impatiently, deep in his throat... It might take

the creature many hours to die. If Condo moved quickly enough... He

drew the heavy, short-bladed sword from his belt, running a grimy

thumb along the razor-sharp edge. Suddenly he bounded forwards,

following the blood-trail across the rocks.

Kriz's failing senses gave him no warning of the hunter's

approach. Suddenly the massive figure was there, looming above

him. Feebly Kriz moved two of his fore-limbs in the Intergalactic

signals that offered peace, and begged for help. He saw the shining

blade in the newcomer's hand, and realised that here was no help—

only death. Kriz gave a high-pitched whistling scream of distress.

The blade flashed down, and his pain was over.

Condo bent over the body, dragging a grimy sack from inside

his jerkin. Minutes later he straightened up, thrust the sword back in

his belt and bounded away across the rocks. He carried a round,

sacking-wrapped bundle beneath one arm.

Darkness was falling as he made his way across the barren,

rocky landscape. There was a distant rumble of thunder, an

occasional lightning-flash. Condo shivered with superstitious fear.

Solon, his master, had told him time and time again that the frequent

sudden storms were a purely natural phenomenon. But to Condo they

were the work of the black-robed Sisterhood, weaving their evil

spells in a temple deep in the mountain caves. Apart from Solon

himself, the Sisters were the one thing on Karn that Condo feared.

Perhaps it was because he sensed that, in spite of all his denials,

Solon feared them too.

There was another lightning flash, a louder crash of thunder.

Great spattering drops of rain began to fall. Condo increased his

already headlong pace, hoping to reach the shelter of the building he

called the castle before he was hit by the full fury of the storm. Deep

in his savage heart he believed that the Sisters summoned up the

storm, riding on the night-winds like great bats in their long black

robes.

He came to the castle at last, an immense towering structure

that dominated the end of a narrow valley. So huge was the edifice

that it seemed to merge with the towering mountain range behind it.

The ramparts and terraces, the broken towers and shattered turrets,

stretched up and up against the lightning-streaked blackness of the

sky. The place would have given most people the screaming horrors,

but to Condo it was home.

He padded lightly across the broken drawbridge. It was never

raised now, nor could it be, since the complex electronic machinery

that controlled it was long since rusted and useless. Condo set his

shoulder to the great main door. Slowly it creaked open, revealing

the shadowy depth of the great hall. Solon was working in the little

pool of light cast by one of the fossil-fuel lamps. On the stone table

before him was the head-and-shoulders clay bust of a humanoid, with

high, domed forehead, arrogantly jutting nose and a great square jaw.

It was a face for a king and emperor. Condo watched silently as

Solon's long slim hands caressed the still-wet clay. Solon had made

and re-made the bust a hundred times, always creating the same face.

Always he destroyed his efforts and began again, muttering that it

was 'Not right, not right...' Condo stood waiting, not daring to speak.

Solon hated interruptions when he was engaged on this

seemingly endless task, and Condo feared to provoke one of his

sudden, terrible rages.

Solon stepped back, frowning with dissatisfaction. Still gazing

at the bust, he said suddenly, 'You were quick, Condo. Did you find

survivors?'

Condo jumped. 'One—oxygen-breather.'

'Excellent. Quick, quick, let me see.'

Fumbling in terror, Condo passed over the sack. Solon groped

inside and pulled out the head of Kriz, severed cleanly at the neck.

He held it up. Kriz's sightless, many-faceted eyes seemed to glow in

the light of the lamp. Solon examined the head, moving it closer to

the lamp. 'Oh, no, no, no. That won't do. No, even if the ganglia

could be re-connected... the cranium is too narrow, the development

of the cerebrum totally different.' He held the severed head up

against the clay bust. 'Look—it's an insect! Even a half-witted

cannibal like you can see it won't do.'

He flung the head down in disgust. It rolled across the table

and thudded to the floor. Condo cringed away. 'But the big-heads not

come, master. Not come to Karn.'

Solon's eyes gleamed. 'They will, Condo. One day... One day a

true humanoid will come, warm-blooded with a compatible nervous

system. One such specimen, just one, and I can complete my work.'

Condo touched the head with a booted foot. It rolled a little

further. 'Not want?'

Solon sighed. 'Oh, take it to the laboratory. I can always use it

for experiment.' As Condo gathered up the head and crept from the

hall, Solon returned to the bust. His voice was low and yearning.

'One day, Morbius, I promise. One day...'

A wheezing, groaning sound filled the night air of Karn,

merging with the occasional rumblings of thunder. A square blue

shape materialised out of the air. In outward form it was a police box,

of the kind once used in a country named England, on a distant

planet called Earth. Inwardly it was something very different—a

Space/Time craft called the TARDIS.

The door opened and a very tall, very angry man sprang out.

He was casually dressed in a loose comfortable jacket and trousers,

with a battered, broad-rimmed hat jammed on to a tangle of curly

hair. An extraordinarily long scarf was wound round his neck. He

shook his fist at the lowering night sky and shouted, 'All right! Come

on out! Just show yourselves, I dare you!'

A slender, dark-haired girl followed him out of the TARDIS.

She was carrying a big torch which she shone round the unfriendly-

looking landscape. She shuddered, not very favourably impressed by

what she saw.

The Doctor ignored her, still addressing his unseen

adversaries. 'Meddlesome interfering idiots,' he bellowed. 'I know

you're there somewhere. Come out, I say!'

There was no reply. Just the constant rumble of thunder, the

howling of the night wind. 'Messing about with my TARDIS,

dragging us a thousand par-secs off course...'

The girl tapped him on the shoulder. 'Have you gone potty,

Doctor? Who are you shouting at?'

The Doctor looked round impatiently. 'My dear Sarah, the

Time Lords, who else?' He glared round indignantly. 'And now, you

see? You see? They're out there listening and they haven't even the

courtesy to show their noses!'

Sarah sniffed. 'I don't wonder. Probably afraid of getting them

punched, the way you're carrying on.'

The Doctor stamped up and down, muttering, 'Intolerable!

Well, I won't stand any more of it!'

Sarah looked thoughtfully at him. At times like this, she

realised she knew very little about the Doctor, and even less about

his mysterious superiors, the Time Lords. She'd first encountered the

Doctor when he was working as scientific adviser to an organisation

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摘要：

WhydosomanyspaceshipscrashlandonKarn,ableak,lonelyandseeminglydesertedplanet?Aretheydoomedbythemysteriouspowersofthestrange,black-robedSisterhood,jealouslyguardingtheirsecretofeternallife?OrdoesthemadDrSolon,forsomeevilpurposeofhisown,needthebodiesofthevictims?AndmoreespeciallythebodyofDOCTORWHO...I...

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