052 - Doctor Who and the Ribos Operation

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Reluctantly cancelling his well-earned holiday, the Doctor

sets off in the TARDIS to trace and re-assemble the six

segments of the Key to Time on which the stability of the

entire Universe depends.

Assisted by the argumentative Romanadvoratrelundar and

K9, he lands on the planet Ribos in search of the first

segment and finds himself entangled in the machinations of

two sinister strangers, Garron and the Graff Vynda Ka.

Who are they? Is Garron simply a shady confidence-trickster

dealing in interplanetary real estate? Is the Graff Vynda Ka

just a power-crazed exile bent on revenge? Or are they both

really agents of the Black Guardian, intent upon seizing the

precious Key in order to throw the Universe into eternal

chaos?

Risking his life within the monster-infested catacombs of

Ribos, the Doctor has to use all his wit and ingenuity to find

out...

ISBN 0 426 20092 6

DOCTOR WHO

AND THE

RIBOS OPERATION

Based on the BBC television serial The Ribos Operation by Robert

Holmes by arrangement with the British Broadcasting

Corporation

IAN MARTER

published by

The Paperback Division of

W. H. Allen & Co. Ltd

A Target Book

Published in 1979

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

A Howard & Wyndham Company

44 Hill Street, London W1X 8LB

Broadcasting Corporation

Printed in Great Britain by

Hunt Barnard Printing Ltd, Aylesbury, Bucks

ISBN 0 426 20092 6

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.

CONTENTS

1 Unwelcome Strangers

2 The Beast in the Citadel

3 A Shaky Start

4 Double Dealings

5 Arrest and Capture

6 Unlikely Allies

7 Escape Into the Unknown

8 The Doctor Changes Sides

9 Lost and Found

10 Conjuring Tricks

Chapter 1

Unwelcome Strangers

The tall loose-limbed figure, clad in voluminous shirt-sleeves and

baggy tweed trousers tucked into creaking leather boots, strode

around the faintly humming chamber. His nose was buried in an

enormous tattered chart which he held up in front of his face

with long, outstretched arms. From time to time he stopped in

mid-stride and muttered unintelligibly to himself before setting

off again, deep in thought, in the opposite direction.

Suddenly the chart flew out of his hands. He uttered a short

bellow of pain and hopped about clutching an injured knee, his

movements grotesquely reflected in the polished metal walls

surrounding him. Then he stood still and glared at the

hexagonal control console which pulsed and flashed in the

centre of the chamber.

‘Can’t you look where you’re going?’ he cried, with a

resentful frown. He picked up the chart and spread it out over

the mass of switches, buttons, dials and lights which covered the

buzzing console. Smoothing the crackling, curling edges with

large, careful hands he pored over the maze of faded patterns

printed on the thick, brittle paper. As he bent forward with a

frown of intense concentration, his rugged features were

dramatically illuminated in the fluorescent glow spilling over

them.

Suddenly his eyes opened wide and he fixed a spot on the

chart with a piercing stare.

‘That’s the place...’ he cried, straightening up and ruffling

his shock of curly brown hair with both hands. ‘The very place.

We’ll go and take a look at...’ His excited booming voice was cut

short by a tremendous cracking sound. He whirled round, body

tensed and arms at the ready, in a stylish karate stance. But the

chamber was empty: he was quite alone. For a few seconds he

stood there, blinking in confusion. Then he suddenly crouched

on the defensive again as one of the doors leading from the

chamber seemed to open slightly. All at once he broke into a

broad toothy grin as he realised his mistake. Turning to the

console he saw that the chart had rolled itself up with a snap into

a tightly coiled tube.

‘As I was saying,’ he went on, seizing a broad-brimmed,

rather shapeless brown felt hat from its perch on top of the tall

glass cylinder which formed the centre of the control console,

‘we’ll go and take a look at...’

Once again the cheerful resonant voice stopped in mid-

sentence. The tall figure looked round the chamber. ‘K9?’ he

called, staring at the door which was ajar. Then he shrugged,

and after frantically fumbling in his cluttered pockets, took out a

tiny silver dog whistle and blew several blasts. His cheeks bulged

and his eyes popped with the effort. The whistle made no sound,

but immediately there came a distant whirring and clattering,

and seconds later the door was pushed wide open. Into the

chamber trundled a curious dog-like creature with metal body

and head, fiercely glowing eyes and eagerly revolving antennae

in place of ears.

The mechanical hound stopped with a jerk, cocked his head

sharply to one side and announced in a rasping voice, ‘A less

extreme ultrasonic signal is quite adequate to effect summons,

master.’

The tall figure glanced at the tiny whistle in his hand. ‘I’m

very glad to hear it, K9,’ he panted, dabbing at his flushed face

with a large, red and white spotted handkerchief. ‘Next time I’ll

be sure to...’

‘Your statement not understood, master,’ retorted the robot,

his circuits chattering busily. ‘The signal is not audible to the

human ear.’

The tall figure wagged a warning finger. ‘I am not human,’

he said firmly, ‘kindly remember that.’

‘You are the Doctor,’ K9 replied, ‘and according to my data

bank that name is of human origin.’

The tall figure crouched down and tapped the robot on the

muzzle. ‘I didn’t call you in to be argumentative, K9,’ he

murmured scoldingly. K9’s eyes dimmed and his antennae

drooped. Slowly he lowered his head. His circuits went quiet.

The Doctor sprang to his feet, cramming the battered hat on

the back of his riot of curly hair. ‘Listen, I’ve got a surprise for

you,’ he cried with a delighted smile. ‘We are going to take a

little holiday... just the two of us.’

There was a pause while K9’s circuits buzzed into activity

again. ‘Holiday?’ he rasped, raising his head.

‘Why not?’ the Doctor said, striding over to the console and

eagerly unrolling the chart. ‘I thought we might pop over to

Occhinos and bask in one of its suns for a few...’

At that moment all the lights in the central console blacked

out and the systems went dead with a dying whine. The Doctor

uttered a cry of dismay and stumbled round the console in the

eerie glow from K9’s eyes, frantically flicking switches and

pressing buttons. Nothing happened.

‘There would appear to be a general systems malfunction,

master,’ K9 announced, trundling towards the console with

antennae busily waving, his probe emerging from his muzzle,

eager to help.

‘Stay!’ the Doctor ordered. ‘Don’t touch anything.’

Obediently K9 ground to a halt. Silently he watched as the

Doctor tried in vain to locate the fault, struggling with the dead

controls in the silent shadows.

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摘要：

Reluctantlycancellinghiswell-earnedholiday,theDoctorsetsoffintheTARDIStotraceandre-assemblethesixsegmentsoftheKeytoTimeonwhichthestabilityoftheentireUniversedepends.AssistedbytheargumentativeRomanadvoratrelundarandK9,helandsontheplanetRibosinsearchofthefirstsegmentandfindshimselfentangledinthemachin...

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