Doctor Who: War Machine (9 page)

Although it was the man who spoke, the words were undoubtedly issuing from the machine, and Ben made sure he shifted a heavy crate at speed as they viewed him in passing.

The moment they had gone, he lowered his load, and carefully checked to see where Polly was.

She worked by herself a few steps away, and looked as though she were on the point of collapse.

He managed to move closer. ‘You all right?’ he asked.

‘Why do you speak to me?’ she replied coldly.

‘See if you’re all right, girl. You look on your knees to me.’

‘I am well, and happy to work for the triumph of the Machines.’

‘No accounting for tastes,’ muttered Ben. ‘But you’re all-in, love.’

‘That is not important.’

He guessed he wasn’t going to make contact. ‘Oh, sure. Yeah.’

‘The work must now be completed by tomorrow noon,’ said Polly. ‘There is no time to speak.’

He looked at her sharply. ‘Why noon?’

‘Then the attack begins.’

‘The attack?’

‘The city will be taken over by the Machines.’

‘Oh, that.’ He pretended he knew. ‘And you’re looking forward to it?’

‘Of course.’

He nodded his agreement. ‘On with the job,’ he said, and cautiously looked round. ‘Taken the guards off the doors, I see,’ he said.

Polly seemed to know what was going on. ‘Naturally. None of us wish to leave. We don’t need guards. All we wish for is victory.’

‘Good thinking,’ said Ben. ‘Dedicated to our task. An open prison, in a way. No one wants to leave. No wonder. It’s a real cushy billet here.’

He moved away, humping a crate on his back, and making sure it shielded him from where the Major kept watch.

‘Explosives to be prepared,’ he was shouting. ‘Collection over here.’

A line of used crates were stacked against the wall. Ben checked them. They ran parallel to the wall. With a little pushing and shoving he reckoned he could make a passageway to the door.

He started to edge behind the crates, saw he was seen... stopped, pretended to be checking... saw he was no longer being observed, and quickly ducked down out of sight.

He made his way along the wall. Once or twice he had to shift rubble, but he could still see the door. Freedom from this nightmare was in his grasp.

From where she worked, Polly stood watching the occasional movement of the crates as Ben forced his way behind them. And when he had to come from behind cover and make a dash for the door, she saw him, still watching impassively, hesitating, then returning to her work.

He opened the door just wide enough to slip out, careful not to set off any alarms again.

The air outside was intoxicating.

The Doctor decided it was time for action. The waiting had been the hardest thing for him.

‘I’m going myself,’ he informed Sir Charles. ‘But Doctor! What can you do?’

The Doctor was adamant. ‘After what happened to Dodo I should have known. I should never have let those young people out of my sight.’

He had opened the front door as the street bell rang. Ben stood in the doorway. The Doctor was shocked at his appearance.

‘Ben!... Thank goodness!’ The Doctor peered at him. ‘What in heaven’s name has happened?’

Ben steadied himself. ‘I’m okay,’ he said. ‘It’s Polly and the others we’ve got to worry about.’

They got him into the house. Even then his words didn’t make much sense. ‘She’s still there, Doc. They’ve got her. Well, at least, he’s got her. Or it’s probably that machine that’s got her... It’s got all of them. I don’t know how they’ve done it! Hundreds of people, working to help this killer machine. And going about it quite cheerful! Signing their own death warrant, most like!’

‘And Polly is one of them?’

‘Too true... Enthusiastic, she is! Not her fault, Doc. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. None of them do. Not even that ruddy Major. They’re all just creatures of that flaming machine.’

‘Where is she?’

‘In that warehouse. Where you said. I tell you, Doc, if we don’t stop it, half of London will cop it.’

Sir Charles had said little. Now he looked at the young sailor as though he thought him off his head.

There was no letup in the warehouse, although the Major realised from the signals he received that they were keeping pace with their schedules. Every second that could be saved was a reward in itself. He was helped in every way by a battery of instruments and calculators.

It was in checking these instruments that he realised one discrepancy. One of the workforce was missing. A double check and that missing person was identified.

He faced Polly. ‘Where is the stranger?’ he demanded.

She stood before him, unresponsive, with an air of puzzlement, genuinely troubled.

‘You are responsible for him,’ the Major informed her. ‘Where is he?’

In the background the War Machine moved in closer. It recorded the unease... A grating sound built up from within.

‘Do you know what has happened to him?’ the Major insisted.

Polly couldn’t understand the struggle going on inside her. Her loyalties should be clear and obvious. She was dedicated to this wonderful work... And

‘Answer!’ the Major ordered.

‘He escaped,’ she said simply.

‘How do you know?’

‘I saw him.’

‘You saw him?’ The Major looked at her blankly. ‘And you didn’t give the alarm?’

She hesitated. ‘No.’

He tried to understand. ‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘He has gone... and you let him go?’

She was unable to understand her own actions. She could think of only one thing. ‘He was my friend.’

The Major blinked at her. ‘You have no friends,’ he said. ‘You are an instrument. You work for the Machines!’

She nodded; she agreed. That was correct.

The Major turned to where the Machine had stopped beside him. ‘She has betrayed Wotan,’ he said. ‘She must be punished. She must be returned to Wotan at once.’

As if they had received a signal, two men moved in beside Polly and escorted her away.

Sir Charles had difficulty in restraining himself. ‘Don’t tell me you believe this fantastic story, Doctor!’ For some reason the Doctor had been sitting, listening to this load of rubbish! There must be something wrong with the boy!

‘I’m afraid I do,’ said the Doctor.

‘What! You think there’s a machine, put together by us, by scientists, by mankind... and it’s came to life! That it’s far in advance of us!’

‘Only intellectually,’ said the Doctor.

Sir Charles didn’t want to continue that line of thought.

‘I had my suspicions before,’ added the Doctor.

‘Oh really, Doctor! The boy’s suffering from some sort of delusion, that’s all.’

‘Are you sure of that, Sir Charles?’

Well, what else..

‘So you aren’t sure?’

‘It’s impossible! Here? In the heart of London!’ Every second of time that was wasted was vital, and Ben knew it. He was in despair at the way his report had been received. Sir Charles thought he was a fool. ‘Look, Doctor! Do something! It’s happening now! Don’t let’s waste any more time. For a start, Polly’s there on her own.’

‘This is not a waste of time, my boy. We need Sir Charles. We need his authority. No one is going to listen to us, or act on our word. Without Sir Charles we can do nothing.’

Ben turned to the other man. ‘Then every minute that passes is down to you, guy. They’re putting together an arsenal that could blow up London.’

‘Then why haven’t the police forces been informed?’ ‘I’m informing you now, ain’t I? What are you going to do about it?’ and when Sir Charles hesitated Ben went on, ‘I tell you, they were going to do me in. What more proof do you want? You could be telling the coppers now! And if you don’t, it’ll be on your head!’

‘The boy is talking sense,’ said the Doctor.

Sir Charles was unconvinced. ‘Well... If you consider it necessary, I’ll have a word with the Commissioner.’

The Doctor stopped him. ‘Maybe the police are not sufficient for this situation.’

‘We can leave it to the Commissioner to decide,’ said Sir Charles coolly. ‘How many people did you say there were in this... er... this warehouse?’

‘Could be over a hundred,’ said Ben.

‘All obeying this machine of yours?’

‘Right... And what’s more the girl said something about an attack tomorrow noon. That should get a few dead-heads moving!’

‘We’ll see... It should be a routine matter to surround the place and arrest a hundred or so unsuspecting citizens. It’s probably one of those strange religious cults, or something. Shouldn’t give much trouble.’

‘And who’s doing the arresting,’ asked Ben drily. ‘That’s what the police are for,’ said Sir Charles. Ben shook his head. ‘That machine will make mince-meat of them in twenty seconds flat!’

‘Then presumably they’ll call in the army. That should take care of this famous machine.’

‘I think we may have got our priorities wrong,’ warned the Doctor. ‘It’s possible there may be more than one machine.’

‘You can bet there are,’ said Ben. ‘They way they’re organised they’ll be building those things all over the place!’

‘We don’t know where they might be,’ went on the Doctor. ‘It wouldn’t be possible to find them all by noon tomorrow..

‘What do you suggest?’

‘We should strike at the heart of this matter. We should see what we can do to incapacitate Wotan.’ ‘That won’t be necessary, I’m sure,’ said Sir Charles huffily. ‘As far as I can see there is no link-up between Professor Brett’s magnificent project and this wretched War Machine story.’

‘No link-up!’ Ben jumped up. ‘Cripes! What more do you need? And what about Polly?’

‘That’s quite enough from you, young man!’ Sir Charles got up angrily to go. ‘I’ll handle things my own way, if you don’t mind.’ He strode out.

‘What’s he going to do?’ asked Ben.

The Doctor shook his head thoughtfully. ‘I’m afraid we may have upset him, Ben. The official mind can take in only so much at a time. We will have to do all we can ourselves.’

The Doctor was already hurrying from the room. Ben raced after him.

Sir Charles had decided not to take any risks. If there were any truth in this story, then he was certainly going to cover himself.

He and the Commissioner had a brief but effective conference. The affair had to be played down, but in case some lunatics were playing games, it was best to be cautious. They used the old-boy network to bring in – with as little fuss as possible – elements of the armed forces. ‘Call it a special manoeuvre or something,’ advised Sir Charles.

The citizens of London were unaware of what was going on when the streets leading to Covent Garden were closed off to both traffic and pedestrians. People who lived in the district were evacuated. ‘In their own interests... Won’t be for long... Situation being investigated... Probably everyone will be back before tea.’

But there was some surprise to see a number of armoured vehicles moving through the streets, and to catch sight of tanks converging on the centre of London.

Military personnel diverted the traffic. ‘Sorry, an. Don’t know what the problem is... All traffic turn down towards the Embankment.’ It was a minor irritation, but not a matter of great concern.

‘Nice work,’ agreed Sir Charles. ‘Play it down.’

He and an army captain were sheltering with the Commissioner under the arcades of the market. Preparations had been carried out quickly and efficiently. A system of communication had been set up, with an effective headquarters in one corner of Covent Garden.

A number of soldiers were already patrolling the area, keeping in touch with their walkie-talkie radios. After a discussion the captain had set up a machine-gun position to cover the entrance to the warehouse. Sir Charles prayed that the whole affair didn’t turn out to be a complete fiasco.

The Captain and Commissioner pored over a map on a field table. ‘We don’t want anyone slipping away down some back street,’ mid the Commissioner. ‘Not after bringing us out like this.’

A sergeant came in with a radar chart. ‘We’ve checked these bearings, sir,’ he told the Captain. ‘Seems they intersect here.’

They showed the chart to Sir Charles. ‘We’ve taken a fix on the electronic signal we’ve been getting,’ explained the Captain. ‘It looks as though it’s definitely from that building... That’s this warehouse, isn’t it, Sir Charles?’

He had to agree... Confound it! Perhaps something was going on in there, after all!

The Captain checked through a batch of signals. ‘There’s a whole lot of radio and electronic activity being picked up from there. Any idea what it is, Sir Charles?’

‘I’m given to understand there’s a large store of explosives.’

‘That can’t be it,’ said the Captain.

‘And there’s talk of a dangerous War Machine undergoing tests in there... though how much truth there is in that I don’t know.’

‘Who’s in there?’

‘We don’t know that, either.’

‘Well, they won’t get for anyhow,’ said the Captain. ‘We’ve got platoons covering the back of the building, and my lads are at each end of the Market, covering roads in and out.’

‘We’d better see what’s going on,’ suggested Sir Charles. ‘How about sending in some of your men?’ It’s all arranged, sir,’ said the Captain. ‘There’s a squad standing by. Just give us the word, and they’ll go in and have a look round.’

Sir Charles hesitated. The affair had turned out to be more serious than he had expected. That old Doctor fellow had been close to the mark in some of the things he had predicted. He hoped that he wasn’t going to be right about everything. ‘This might be a little more dangerous than one thinks,’ he said.

The Captain remained cheerful. ‘My lads can handle it.’

‘Very well,’ said Sir Charles. ‘If you’re ready we’ll go ahead.’

‘Right, Sergeant,’ called out the Captain. ‘This is it. Stage one... let them know.’

The sergeant spoke over his field radio. ‘Calling Orange patrol... calling Orange patrol... Your objective number one... Reconnoitre and report... Repeat... Report before taking any further action. Go ahead... Out.’