Doctor Who: The Devil Goblins From Neptune (12 page)

'Wait a minute,' he said, staring at Shuskin. 'I know you.

It's Captain Shuskin, isn't it?'

'Yes, you murdering pig,' she replied.

'You know each other, then,' said the Doctor, somewhat pointlessly.

'This woman is, or was, a leading member of the Soviet UNIT force,' growled the Brigadier. 'We met in Geneva last year. Captain Shuskin, stand to attention when in the presence of a superior officer.'

Shuskin barely moved.

'Do you know what you're saying?' asked the Doctor.

'I believe so,' said the Brigadier. 'I'm saying that one group of UNIT troops have invaded a sovereign state and committed acts of aggression against the local UNIT force. I believe I'm saying that this incident could be the end of UNIT

And the beginning of war.'

The corridors of UNIT'S United Kingdom HQ rang with worried voices and strained conversation. The adrenaline rush of combat was fading away, replaced by an uncertain tension as it became clear that a foreign branch of UNIT had been involved in the skirmish.

It was dark outside, but even in the middle of the night the entire building had snapped into wakefulness long before the Brigadier's return. Lethbridge-Stewart paced the hallways anxiously. The mixture of standard army troops and UNIT

men had handled the situation well, had it not been for the unfortunate incident towards the conclusion. As he approached his office he saw two soldiers talking conspiratorially. He had a fair idea what about, and could hardly blame them. What a disgraceful and shambolic end to an otherwise well-executed operation.

The two men snapped to attention as Lethbridge-Stewart strode towards the room. He pushed open the door. The Doctor sat, seemingly so deep in thought that he did not see the Brigadier enter; standing in front of the desk were Captains Yates and Shuskin. Both came to attention as Lethbridge-Stewart entered, as did the two soldiers stationed to the side of the room. Both carried Sterling sub-machine-guns, but it was clear from the prisoner's attitude that her righteous indignation, and potential to be any sort of direct threat, had now receded.

Lethbridge-Stewart nodded to the men, who stood at ease. He walked solemnly around to his chair in silence; even the Doctor failed to make a flippant comment.

The Brigadier sat, glanced down at the papers on his desk, and cleared his throat. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet and deliberate. 'Captain Shuskin, I would like to begin by assuring you that every effort will be made to discipline the individual responsible for the death of Sergeant...' He paused. 'Kramerev.' 'Komarov,' said Shuskin flatly.

'Ah, yes. I will keep you informed as matters progress, but rest assured of my intention to pursue this matter to the satisfaction of us both.'

Shuskin nodded, but said nothing.

The Brigadier indicated the seats in front of his desk, glancing up at both Shuskin and Yates. 'Please sit down.'

Yates went to sit, but Shuskin remained where she was.

'I prefer to stand.'

Yates hovered uncertainly for a moment, glancing between the Brigadier and the Soviet woman, and then straightened. Whether it was out of solidarity with a fellow soldier or down to macho pride the Brigadier didn't have the time or the inclination to speculate.

He turned to the Doctor. For the first time Lethbridge-Stewart could remember, he wasn't lounging with his boots on the desk but sat hunched and leaning forward slightly, as if expecting to be called somewhere at any moment. He seemed both excited and concerned. He returned the Brigadier's faint smile.

'Your comments on the operation, please, Doctor.'

'With one great exception, it all seemed to go smoothly, Brigadier. Mike was excellent - he recognised Captain Shuskin for who she was almost immediately.'

The Brigadier glanced at Yates, who for some reason was staring stoically at the floor.

'I think their decision to make a move that very evening surprised us both,' continued the Doctor. 'But at least we now know who we're dealing with. Why might be a more pertinent question.'

The Brigadier nodded, but decided to keep Shuskin waiting a little longer. He turned his attention to Yates. 'Your preliminary thoughts, Captain?'

'Much as the Doctor said, sir.'

'And Captain Shuskin?'

The Brigadier noticed Yates glance away momentarily.

'She's done a lot of homework, sir. Good grasp of English, adequate working knowledge of the life and culture of contemporary Britain. She almost had me fooled, sir.'

Finally the Brigadier turned to Shuskin, who was staring at him with a hint of defiance in her eyes. 'Under different circumstances, I'd have said that congratulations were in order, Captain. You've shown extraordinary determination.

But given that the aims of your mission almost beggar belief I can't really find it within myself. We all ought to be grateful that only one life was lost.'

'I can explain, sir.'

'I was hoping you would. I assume that you are acting in some sort of official capacity?'

'Very much so, sir.'

'And your aim was to take the Doctor back with you to the Soviet Union?'

'Yes, sir. We need his help.'

'Then why in heaven's name didn't you ask?' exclaimed the Brigadier angrily, thumping the desk. 'You must know that the Doctor's role as scientific adviser isn't one that restricts him to -'

'We did, sir. Or, rather, Colonel Katayev did. He has been petitioning UNIT HQ in Geneva for two months.'

'Any request for assistance from the head of Soviet UNIT

would have -'

Again Shuskin interrupted. 'Each request was turned down, sir. Blocked, you might say, at the highest level'

The Brigadier's eyebrows arched. 'Really?'

'Yes, sir.' Shuskin unzipped a pocket and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. 'Colonel Katayev said I should bring this and show it to you if there were... complications.' She handed the sheet over to the Brigadier.

He unfolded it carefully, switching on his desk lamp. It was a copy of a telex - thankfully in English - from Geneva UNIT HQ to the national headquarters in Moscow. He scanned it quickly, catching more than one reference to his name, and then read it again.

He looked up. 'According to this telex, I was consulted before these men came to their decision. I attended a meeting in Geneva, examined the evidence that your office had provided, and concluded that - and I quote - "There is little reason to believe that the Doctor's presence would in any way accelerate the speed of your investigation or the likelihood of its reaching a successful conclusion"' The Brigadier snorted.

'Doesn't even sound like me.'

'Sir?'

'I wasn't there, Captain. Haven't been to Geneva for eight months. And I certainly wasn't made aware of any request for assistance.'

'Then something is rotten at the heart of UNIT,' said the Doctor.

'You could say that,' said the Brigadier. He passed the telex over to the Doctor, indicating a list of people in supposed attendance at the meeting. 'Some of UNIT's top brass have effectively countersigned this refusal.'

'Or appear to have done.' observed the Doctor.

'But certainly it seems that at least one senior UNIT

commander has been fabricating information and obscuring the truth.'

'It's called lying, old chap, and it means that somebody, somewhere, was desperate for me not to travel to the Soviet Union' The Doctor turned to Shuskin. 'What is it I'm not supposed to help you investigate?'

Shuskin smiled. 'I am told it is as if a black hole has appeared in the heart of Siberia. Animals, people - even soldiers - who went in have never returned. A Red Army regiment was sent to investigate. We never heard from them again.'

'Then I'd better pack my thermals,' said the Doctor.

'You mean you're going?' said the Brigadier.

'Of course. And Liz is coming with me, too. If the Soviet authorities were prepared to go to these lengths to secure my services then it's only sporting that I comply.'

The Brigadier considered. 'Captain Shuskin, why didn't your superiors order you to come straight to me with this?' He indicated the telex.

'They didn't know if you were implicated, sir,' said Shuskin. 'Far easier to retrieve the Doctor by force, explain the situation to him, and risk even the wrath of the UN. As I hope to be able to show the Doctor, this isn't a small-scale problem.'

The Brigadier nodded. 'Indeed' He glanced round at the Doctor. 'Very well, you and Dr Shaw will return with Captain Shuskin and her troops to the USSR' The Brigadier stood up.

'And if someone has gone to the trouble of faking meetings in Geneva just to keep you away, then I feel a certain response is expected of me.'

'Meaning?' queried the Doctor, a look of delighted surprise crossing his face.

Lethbridge-Stewart smiled. 'I'm told Geneva is beautiful in the summer.'

Bruce had been woken by the clamour of troops leaving the base. He'd gone to the window, seen helicopters taking to the air and soldiers jumping into the back of canvas-covered trucks. Were the Russians in the process of ghosting the Doctor away? It seemed so, and there was nothing that he could have done, even had his orders been to protect the alien. But his orders were to spy, to steal secrets. And to cause a bit of collateral damage.

He'd stood there, wondering whether all the confusion could be used to his advantage. No, balls to that. Better by far to wait for the grunts to return, start running around like headless chickens. That would be perfect.

And so Bruce now strode around the base with a smile almost permanently etched on to his face. The atmosphere of tension and uncertainty was palpable, and Bruce found it strangely thrilling. You wait until you see what I've got lined up for you next, he thought.

He bumped into the Brigadier's adjutant in a corridor. 'It's Corporal Bell, isn't it?' asked Bruce, switching on the charm in an instant.

'That's right, Mr Davis.'

'Please, call me Bruce' You stuck-up bitch.

Bell smiled sweetly. 'I wasn't expecting the Brigadier to drag you in tonight as well'

'Couldn't sleep'

'I'm not surprised' She paused. 'Is there something I can do for you?'

Drop dead, perhaps? 'I'm looking for the Doctor's laboratory. I thought I might as well start tomorrow's work tonight. There's something I need there'

Bell gave Bruce the directions, then rushed off towards Lethbridge-Stewart's office.

Bruce strode along the corridors, a file under his arm.

He'd been collecting Photostats of top-secret information since his arrival - after all, why use miniature cameras and the other trappings of cheap spy fiction when he was currently above suspicion and allowed virtual free access to everything that UNIT most wanted kept hushed up? But this time he carried a few uncopyable memos. They'd be missed, of course. But it was almost time to go.

Time to go out with a bang.

And he'd only just arrived, as well. Shame.

'The sooner I'm out of this pudding club, the better,' he muttered under his breath.

The Doctor's lab was a room made oppressive by equipment and over stacked shelves. A large blue box stood in the centre, humming slightly. Flexes snaked across the floor from the object, running to banks of electrical devices, still switched on. The points of light that flickered reminded Bruce of the monitoring equipment in a hospital emergency room.

Bruce swore as he pushed the unbidden image to the back of his mind, then swept an armful of papers and journals from a cluttered work surface on to the floor.

Christ, thought Bruce, I don't think you'd even notice a bomb going off in this dump.

He got down on to his hands and knees, drew a small detonator from his pocket, and set about fixing the plastic explosive against the metal legs of one of the benches.

SECOND INTERLUDE:

THE GREAT SNAKE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE WORLD

No one had realised that the Doctor and Liz had been kidnapped until a wild-eyed Mike Yates staggered down the staircase, bleeding and shouting hoarsely. As most of the people enjoying the party were as dazed as Mike, they'd left him to it. Only when the soldiers came did they start to pay attention.

Fay Hardy watched everyone else being helpful, answering questions dutifully, making the men cups of coffee.

How square. Suddenly it was difficult to tell the fascists from the kids.

She glanced over at Mark. Despite the assurances of a young and amused UNIT lieutenant, he was desperate to make sure that Liz was safe. Mark rushed off, having offered a lift to the still-shaken Captain Yates.

At 3 a.m. the military left. Most of the guests soon followed; the atmosphere was tainted. A small knot of Cambridge students and British Rocket Group scientists remained, sitting cross-legged on scatter cushions in the centre of the room, drinking red wine. The Velvet Underground and Nico murmured from the stereo. Fay sat with her head obstinately close to one of the speakers.

'All right, Tony,' said John Gallagher forcefully. 'I know you've got some stash on you, man. The John Waynes have all gone home to bed now, so you can start passing it round'

Professor Anthony Leman giggled in a girlish, high-pitched squeal. 'But... It's, like, illegal, Johnny!'

Fay watched the others collapse in fits of drunken laughter. Leman was a popular man on campus, known to his fellows as 'Candlestick Tony', on account of the fact that he'd been present at the Beatles' comeback gig in San Francisco.

Fay was the only one who seemed to find his after-dinner story of taking acid and talking to God in the middle of 'It's All Too Much' boring. 'Cut the crap,' she snapped.

'Cool it,' muttered John quickly, turning back to Leman with a knowing glint of evil intent in his eyes. 'C'mon, Tony, I know you've got some. Gimme a bang, man.'

'You're too eager, Johnny. Too quick into the five-bar-gate jumping.' said Leman softly. 'I think, I mean, you know...' He paused, aware that he was talking gibberish. 'Take off your crushed velvet, man, you're giving me a headache. Can you dig it?'