It was not surprising. How could the Church rival as ma.s.sive a symbol of salvation as the Ship?

When they reached Mirath, would the Church be able to maintain its position of influence? That the old Elite families had fared no better against the rise of the Functionaries was little comfort. He did not want the company of Vendam and his kind if their cla.s.ses, traditional pillars of society, dwindled into irrelevance on the new world.

Then had come the final insult. The mayor had welcomed aliens into the city without so much as consulting him. That was clearly a violation of Church prerogative. If he was to maintain any sort of following he had to act, even if it was...

clandestine. Still, the truth would be allowed to filter through to the Believers to rea.s.sure them that the Church had stood firm.

He would consult with Zeckler. The archdeacon was not a likeable person but his single-minded devotion was unquestionable and Fostel knew he could trust him to carry out his orders to the letter. Perhaps that was what they all needed now to restore their faith.

A show of old-fashioned fundamental religious principle.

'Why do you need to take such precautions inside the city?'

the Doctor asked. 'Surely n.o.body would wish to interfere with work on the Ship.

Lant's car was pa.s.sing the high security fence that ran around the entire launching site, enclosing not only the Ship and its gantry but the storehouses and workshops that serviced them.

Lant made a wry face. 'You'll see in a minute, Doctor.'

On either side of the main gate, in addition to a standard checkpoint guardroom, were two temporary huts rather like those in the NC2 camp.

As the regular guard stepped forward to check their pa.s.ses, men emerged from the huts. One was a dark-robed priest, the other a young, smartly dressed man. Each was carrying an electronic notepad on which they recorded the registration number of the car and details of its occupants. Both glared at the Doctor with varying degrees of suspicion and resentment, evidently recognising him from the public broadcasts.

'Why are you taking this alien on to the Ship?' the priest demanded of Lant angrily, pushing his face up to the open window. 'We don't know if his kind can be trusted.' Lant ignored him.

'Will he be coming with us?' the well-dressed man asked from the other side of the car. 'We can't spare the room and I won't be giving up my place for him.'

'I can a.s.sure you I have no intention of usurping anyone's place,' the Doctor said sharply.

'Do you recognise the will of the Maker?' asked the priest.

He was wearing a token marked with a series of concentric circles on a chain about his neck. Now he thrust it forward intimidatingly.

'I know nothing of your G.o.d,' the Doctor snapped back.

The sentry waved them on and they pa.s.sed through the second set of gates.

'Sorry about that, but now you see how it is,' Lant said.

'The Church and the Elite can't be trusted to keep to their baggage allowances and they're always accusing each other of trying to smuggle extra stuff on board with the general cargo.

To keep the peace we have to let them check everything that goes in or out of the launch site. That's why we have the fence and the security. We have to keep track ourselves to stop them making false claims. A waste of time and manpower, but there it is.'

'I presume that was why the mayor was hesitant about letting me view the Ship... knowing my presence might cause more animosity.'

'Probably. This is one place where we must must keep to schedule, so the engineers' wishes come first around here. I'm going to be working myself on Launch Day, stewarding the people on board. I'm not sure what you'll be able to see. keep to schedule, so the engineers' wishes come first around here. I'm going to be working myself on Launch Day, stewarding the people on board. I'm not sure what you'll be able to see.

They're still loading the last of the cargo, and the flight crew are running through simulations in the control cabin of the Lander. If they're busy we can't disturb them.'

'I had hoped to meet Professor Jarrasen in person,' said the Doctor. 'So far I have only conversed with him over a video link.'

'Well, he should be here if anywhere.'

The car drew up beside the gantry and they got out.

The Doctor craned his neck to look up at the vast latticework structure set immovably into a ma.s.sive concrete ap.r.o.n. Around its base, transporters were unloading modular containers on to large cargo lifts. A maze of pipes and lift shafts ran up through the gantry to the service arms and bridges that reached out to the silver skysc.r.a.per of the Ship.

From where they stood they looked up into the multiple array of hexagonal exhaust nozzles protruding from its tail, each the size of a small house. A huge pit had been excavated in the ground beneath the nozzles. The Doctor walked over to the guardrail that ringed it and peered down.

'Why excavate such a large blast pit?' the Doctor asked.

'The Ship will only be lifting off once, and surely it hardly matters what damage it does to the surrounding buildings since by then the city will be empty.'

'Apparently Professor Jarrasen calculated that the backwash might damage the Ship's support legs. Vent shafts from the bottom of the pit radiate out in all directions and come up just inside the perimeter fence.'

'Ah, of course.'

They turned back to the gantry.

'Where do you want to start?' Lant asked.

'At the lowest level possible and work upwards.'

'Well, the engines themselves are sealed off now the atomic fuel elements have been installed. Nothing but service robots can get near them. The lowest accessible decks are the cargo holds.'

'Then I will be pleased to see them. I have an interest in fine engineering wherever I come across it.'

Lant looked at him doubtfully. 'Your technology is obviously far more advanced than ours. This can hardly interest you, surely.'

The Doctor's eyes sparkled. 'On the contrary, Captain. I believe this Ship will prove to be the most remarkable vessel of its kind I have ever encountered.'

Susan blinked up at the dimly blue-lit ceiling in confusion.

She had been dreaming she was in a warm bed. Then, gradually, it all came flooding back to her: the conveyors, the recycling plant... the locked door.

She sat up stiffly. At least her double layer of coveralls had kept her warm, and while she slept her body had had a chance to finish healing.

She drank some cold water from the shower and tested the door again. It was still immovable and still n.o.body responded to her pounding and shouting. She searched the chamber carefully but found no tool with which the door could be forced. That left the garbage conveyors as the only means of escape. She had been dumped on to the conveyor somehow, so logically there should be a way back out. Unfortunately it was impossible to turn the belts off, so to make any progress she would have to run against their motion without a chance to rest or any idea how far she would have to go. If only the standard rubbish chutes she had encountered were not so narrow.

Rubbish.

She sniffed the air. It was quite fresh despite all the waste being continually pa.s.sed through the chamber. This meant it was replaced rapidly, which suggested a high-volume venting system. She chided herself for not having thought of this earlier, though she knew she had been too tired.

Now that she was looking she found the vent grilles easily enough. One was set low down at ground level, while the other was positioned high up in the opposite corner of the chamber, above the walkway.

She tested the lower grille and felt a steady draught of cool air emerging from it. Obviously fresh air entered at the bottom of the chamber and was drawn out from the top. a.s.suming the system force-vented air on the exhaust side, the bottom grille was the one she needed to open.

Except that it was secured in place by four heavy recessed screws that were quite impossible to turn by hand and she had no tools.

It took a couple of agonised minutes before she thought of using the edge of one of the coverall buckles. After some straining she managed to release the screws and drop the grille to the floor. The square metal tunnel beyond was just large enough to take her.

With a last look round the reprocessing chamber Susan took a deep breath and climbed into the shaft.

The Doctor really did want to see everything everything in the Ship, Ben soon discovered. in the Ship, Ben soon discovered.

In the cargo decks he pottered along rows of modularised pods and cartons already secured for flight. He stamped on floor plates and tapped the great structural girders that ran up inside the hull. In machinery s.p.a.ces he examined tanks of water and oxygen, pumping systems and air-purifying equipment. On the pa.s.senger levels he studied intently the row upon row of couches that were stacked three deep, tilling each deck from floor to ceiling.

'To make the take-off easier, everybody but essential crew will be anaesthetised beforehand,' Ben explained. 'Then they'll use light sedation throughout the flight. That will keep the demands on the life support systems down to a minimum and prevent people moving around too much. With eighty thousand on board it's going to be pretty cramped in here otherwise.'

Eventually they reached a set of double bulkheads and airlocks leading into the landing module.

Once again the Doctor subjected every accessible part of the vessel to close study, tapping and prodding and occasionally muttering: 'Really... most remarkable,' to himself.

They reached an upper bay crowded with banks of electronic processor units. A familiar green-ringed camera eye stared out of a console.

'Ah, Monitor,' said the Doctor. 'Yes, of course. This is where your duplicate mainframe unit has been installed.'

'That is correct, Doctor,' Monitor replied. 'While landlines connect the ship to the city communications net, I can operate from here as well as any other terminal.'

'Can we visit the control cabin or are they in the middle of another simulation?' Ben asked.

'One moment, Captain Lam, I will check,' Monitor said.

In a half a minute he answered: 'You may enter.'

They climbed up to the cabin and its crew of six. Captain Warvon greeted them and introduced the Doctor to his co-pilot, navigator and flight engineers.

'You can imagine we have been very keen to meet you and your companions, Doctor,' Warvon said enthusiastically.

'As we understand it, you've done in reality what we've only done in simulations.'

'I admit I have not piloted this cla.s.s of craft recently,' said the Doctor modestly. 'However, if you feel you can benefit from my practical experience I will be only too glad to help. I imagine it is the landing on Mirath that is troubling you.'

Warvon looked relieved. 'It is. Putting a vessel of this size down safely on largely unknown terrain, with unpredictable meteorology, is going to be no small task.'

'No indeed. How many variables have you programmed into your simulation?'

The conversation became technical and Ben felt excluded.

Fortunately it was interrupted when Professor Jarrasen's face appeared on one of the bridge screens.

'I'm sorry I could not meet you in person, Doctor,'

Jarrasen said, 'but I was called away at the last minute. I hope Captain Warvon has been explaining everything to you.'

'He has, thank you. I must congratulate you, Professor. A most extraordinary feat of engineering, considering the limited time you have to master the technology. You must be very proud of it.'

Jarrasen grimaced. 'After so many years of frustration, I'm not sure I have that much pride left in me, Doctor. All that time my research was starved of funds because the Elite said it was a waste of money and the Church thought building rockets might offend G.o.d. But when the emergency came and they realised a rocket was their only means of escape they were quick enough to support the project.' He chuckled mirthlessly.

'Then they were surprised to learn how long it would take to design and build a working ship capable of reaching Mirath.

But we did it anyway. Not just for ourselves but to show them that we would be saved by scientists and engineers, not empty prayers or meaningless t.i.tles.'

Ben sympathised with the sentiment but felt uncomfortable at its expostulation before a stranger. The bridge crew, however, seemed to thoroughly approve of Jarrasen's pa.s.sionate speech.

The Doctor simply looked about the flight deck nodding slowly to himself.

Barbara was scrabbling her way through a cleft choked with mud and rock. She was sobbing with the effort even as she fought back the utter terror that threatened to engulf her... the fear that at any moment the earth would collapse and she would be buried alive, to die in this darkness. If only she hadn't been forced to drop her faithful torch.

When the surge of water had finally subsided and deposited her, coughing and gasping for breath, in ankle-deep water she had no idea of how far she had been carried along the pipe. Worse, she knew she had been tumbled over several times in the process and had completely lost her sense of direction. Which way led back to the main tunnel?

The water about her was now motionless. Presumably the increased flow had been caused by a rainstorm. If that had pa.s.sed, the flow would subside, but wouldn't there still be some movement of water? Unless the tunnel behind her had blocked again. Or did she mean in front of her?

After what seemed an endless period of indecision she had simply guessed. Forcing herself to her feet, she had begun her painfully slow progress, bent half double with one hand outstretched ahead of her in the blackness.

After another timeless interval she had become so exhausted she had to rest, sitting with her back braced against the curve of the pipe and her legs in the water. Incredibly, she actually fell asleep in this position.

She had woken shivering and deathly cold, not knowing how long she had slept, but certain that she could not survive much longer in soaking wet clothes without food or warmth.

The only way to warm up was to move.

Shortly afterwards, sand and gravel had begun to crunch under her feet, then pebbles and small rocks. Finally she stumbled over a mound of earth and rock. Feeling about in it she came across a section of curved, hard plastic half-buried in the pile. The pipe had cracked and caved in.

The discovery had almost broken her spirit. She knew she could not return the way she had come. In desperation she had reached up over the top of the mound to see if she could possibly pa.s.s over it. Her hand stretched further upwards than she had expected. There was a slight gap between a sloping wall of compacted earth and the mound of debris that filled the pipe. She blinked. After so long in total darkness her eyes had become very sensitive and she thought she could see a ghostly glimmer of light filtering down from above.

She began to climb the mound. It was loose and she had to claw frantically just to prevent herself sliding down again.

Stones embedded in the wall of hard earth sc.r.a.ped her back.

There was hardly any room to move, but the light was growing stronger! A glimmer became a hard-edged c.h.i.n.k at some indeterminate distance above her.