somewhat battered, tall-crowned hat on his head, looked thoughtfully around. He shook his head.
‘No, Jamie my lad – this isn’t a mountain,’ he mumbled, grabbing at his hat as he ducked out of the way of the snowball which had been thrown at him by Victoria. He began to gaze at what looked like a wall of ice which reared up only a foot away from the blue box. ‘It’s something altogether more peculiar than that.’
Intrigued by his voice, and puzzled by the curious way in which he was sweeping the snow from the ice face, the two youngsters scrambled to join him. Victoria stared at the smooth, dull grey substance that he had uncovered, then looked at the Doctor with laughing, rounded eyes.
‘It looks like a great wall of ice,’ she exclaimed. ‘Perhaps it’s the Palace of the Snow Queen!’
‘It’s not ice, Victoria,’ commented the Doctor, ‘it’s plastic.’
Jamie put his hand on the material, then nodded. ‘Aye,’ he agreed, ‘it’s no really cold. But it’s so smooth and curved, can ye no see?’
The Doctor took a pace or two backwards, nearly falling as he did so. ‘It’s a dome,’ he declared. ‘Some sort of protective dome…’
‘But it must be huge,’ Victoria wondered aloud. ‘I can’t see any end to it, can you?’ She turned to the Doctor eagerly. ‘I wonder what’s inside!’
‘There’s no door,’ observed Jamie with dour Scots realism. No sooner had he spoken than the quiet hum of electrically operated machinery reached their ears. The youngsters, reacting quickly to the Doctor’s warning gesture, huddled down behind a drift of snow. Now they could see without being seen…
A door in the plastic surface beneath the ice slid back, and two ragged, unkempt figures stepped out. Having glanced furtively to left and right, the smaller of the two dropped several of the parcels he was carrying; his companion, burlier, and with a wild shaggy beard that made him look like a pirate, snapped at him irritably.
‘What’re you doing? Come on, man, hurry!’
The smaller man hurriedly picked up what he’d dropped, and stowed away his obviously precious prizes in a number of the many pockets which seemed to be concealed beneath his layers of protective animal skin. He seemed much calmer than his irritable comrade.
‘Don’t worry. That alarm wasn’t because of us.’ He started off again, his ill-gotten goods tucked safely away in his poacher’s pockets – then paused, and looked back thoughtfully. ‘I wonder what’s wrong, though…’
‘That’s their problem,’ growled the bearded scavenger. ‘Come on, let’s get away from here!’
For all his bulk, the big man moved through the snow as swiftly as a hunter. The little poacher followed him energetically but with less skill, floundering through the drifts as though unused to legwork. Soon, both men were out of sight. The Doctor and his companions emerged from behind the snowdrift and hurried eagerly towards the sliding door. It fitted perfectly, and seemed to be without handles or catches. It seemed impossible to open – until the Doctor found a pressure control in the plastic moulding which surrounded the entrance. He pressed it. With a gentle whine of power, the door panel slid back. A small vestibule faced them – with an identical door beyond. Jamie saw the opening device there, strode forward, and pressed it – but it wouldn’t budge. He turned back to the Doctor, and shrugged helplessly.
‘It’s locked.’
‘For a very simple reason, Jamie.’ Seeing the exasperation on Jamie’s face, the Doctor quickly supplied his explanation. ‘It’s an airlock. It won’t open until we’ve closed the outer door.’
‘But why?’ asked Victoria. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the air outside, is there? We were able to breathe all right.’
The Doctor smiled, and ushered Victoria into the airlock before shutting out the world of snow. ‘If my guess is right,’ he said, ‘I think we’re in for a pleasant