Doctor Who: War Machine (6 page)

He moved through the Store Room. It was like going through a hive of bees, or an anthill. No one deviated from his function. The individual was a means to an end.

He stopped by a group around a mechanical structure. The leading scientist joined him.

Brett indicated the prints. ‘Follow in exact detail. The outer sections are being prepared elsewhere. Welding of the casing has begun.’

On the other side of the room a vast welding machine was belching forth a blaze of sparks. Team after team of welders took over the work.

The scientist inspected the prints carefully. It was not work in which he had specialised before, but somehow he understood.

Brett moved on. It was his concern to keep the pressure going.

He stopped by the next group. ‘Electronic sections are to be assembled in this order,’ he instructed. The group examined the new instructions, and returned silently to work.

It was some time later that night when the tramp returned to Covent Garden as he had told Ben he would do. He’d managed to eat well that evening, and he had drunk even better. He was a little unsteady as he made his way under the arcades and stopped to get his bearings. Nothing looked quite the same as it had done a few hours earlier.

But he was almost sure where he was. This was indeed the warehouse in which he had spent the previous night. But there was something different.

‘They’ve painted out the number,’ he muttered, screwing up his eyes to concentrate.

With his usual caution when taking up residence, he moved towards the door at the side of the building, passing a parked truck at the kerbside.

He had edged the door open before he heard anything, then–what was it? A faint noise like machinery? A distant humming – the sense of hushed, intense activity? He was incredulous, and gently eased his way into the darkened corridor. The noise persisted; he was drawn towards it. The place had been empty the night before. What was happening?

The welders wore protective masks as they worked through a shower of sparks. Shadows danced on the walls around them. From time to time a man would collapse under the strain of continuous activity, but another would take his place. They were all expendable.

The ant-heap around them never relaxed. The concentration was awesome. And from where he stood – just outside the inconspicuous door at the back of the store room–the tramp was indeed overcome with awe.

He didn’t know what to make of it. The transformation was so complete that he wondered whether he had come to a different place. Perhaps he had drunk even more than he had thought.

But no... he recognised the high rafters that crossed the roof. He saw stacked against the wall the crates and boxes he had seen the night before. He even recognised the piles of sacking in a corner he had used to keep warm.

This was his warehouse, all right. But what was this bizarre vision – this crackling of electronics, this hum of computers, dynamos, the shower of sparks in the corner, dancing shadows on the walls? It was a picture out of hell, and he froze on the spot. There were a couple of hundred devils at work here. But what were they doing?

A man moved through the crowd. He called out, ‘Hurry! Time is short. Take over when necessary. This prototype must be completed by dawn. It is to be programmed by Wotan... Nothing must be allowed to –’

He broke off as an oscillation echoed through the room. The sound rose and fell, grating on the ears. There was an urgency about it. The meaning was undoubted.

‘Close all doors!’ shouted Brett. ‘Electronic locks to be activated.’

A tremor went through the work force. The rhythm was shaken – then the moment passed and work was in full flow again.

‘Security on duty,’ called Brett.

A number of men seemed to appear from nowhere. They looked, to the tramp, to be identical. The man called out again, ‘There is an intruder amongst us.’

It was impossible for anyone to have seen him – the tramp knew that. But he was sobered with fear. He wanted to turn and run, but he couldn’t move.

A small knot of men clustered round an instrument in the centre of the room. One of them was taking measurements. He called out, ‘The intruder is in the North Section. He is static, at two hundred and seventy degrees from the detector.’

A wave of adrenalin swept through the tramp. They must be on to him! Not that he was doing any harm. Besides, he had more right than they had to be there. He had squatter’s rights. He’d staked a claim the day before. But now the blood was back in his veins, and he was determined to run.

He hurried back to the side door. Unaccountably it wouldn’t budge. He sweated to pull it open, but something held it rigid. He knew there was a second door in the warehouse. It meant crossing part of the store room, but there was nothing else for it. He saw the little group of men advancing on him, and made a dash for it. He got halfway across the room, but it was hopeless. He tried to control his voice, but it shook as he called out, ‘Look. if you’re the Law, I’m clean. Stands to reason, I have to be – I’ve just come out... a couple of weeks ago... You’ve got nothing on me!’

The group of men had stopped. They didn’t appear to understand what he was telling them.

‘Well, if you ain’t the Law, it’s all right with me. Live and let live, I say. I don’t give a cuss what you’re doing here. None of my business... I’ll just move on.. find another place to doss.’ He gave a brave wave of the hand. "Night, all,’ he called.

‘Cover the door,’ ordered Brett.

The group fanned out in a half-circle, moving slowly but relentlessly. The outcome was never in doubt. ‘What kind of a welcome is this?’ pleaded the tramp. ‘When a bloke’s just out of jug... They won’t get a word out of me.’ He turned to Brett. ‘I promise you, guv.’

He was panic-stricken. He tried to back off. He was up against the wall..

‘What’s this then? A ruddy madhouse? What’s going on? What are you, anyhow?’

No one bothered to reply.

‘Keep off. Get your ‘ands off... Get back... Get away from me!’ The last was little more than a shriek. The knot of men surrounded him as he shook the handle of the door. He was out of vision as far as the central computer was concerned. The eye-line was obscured, but the noise abruptly diminished – the wail of the alarm stopped dead – the baleful revolving lights faded and a soft glow filled the room. The group dispersed. It was as though nothing had happened.

Everyone was studiously back at work.

‘Repeat,’ said Brett, ‘I repeat... Prototype to be completed by dawn..’

Breakfast with Sir Charles Summer was an opportunity for the Doctor to catch up with the news of the day. Passing through so many Time Zones made it difficult to pinpoint just exactly what period of Time – historically – one was in. His mind adjusted automatically, but he felt more at ease when he’d glanced through the newspapers for the last few weeks.

It was a rare occasion for the Doctor to have breakfast at all, much less a full English breakfast. It took his digestive system a day or two to adjust to the differences between planets and centuries.

But he had to admit that he had enjoyed his kippers, poached eggs, toast, marmalade, and endless cups of tea. The process came to a full stop as he flipped through the pages of one of the later editions of the morning paper.

‘Good gracious!’ said the Doctor.

‘What is it, Doctor?’ asked Sir Charles.

His guest laid the paper on the table before them. ‘Look at that,’ said the Doctor.

Sir Charles frowned over the item. ‘It appears a tramp has been found dead not far from Covent Garden.’

‘Precisely,’ said the Doctor. ‘Found in a gutter at three o’clock.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘I can’t remember exactly what the time was when we last saw him.’

‘You know the man?’ Sir Charles raised his eyebrows.

‘We met last night for the first time,’ said the Doctor. ‘Or rather this morning... We took his taxi to come here.’

‘What an extraordinary coincidence.’ But Sir Charles was not particularly concerned. He read aloud, ‘The police appear to believe it was a road accident.’

‘I suppose that’s possible,’ said the Doctor.

‘You doubt it?’

‘I’m sure I don’t know.’ The Doctor frowned again. He was assailed by doubts.

‘Besides,’ went on Sir Charles, ‘I would like your advice on a very real problem which has cropped up.’ ‘Certainly.’

Sir Charles handed two letters to the Doctor. ‘These arrived this morning. Both letters of resignation, and both from absolutely splendid scientists in my Faculty.’

The Doctor read them through. ‘H’mm. No reason given in either, I see.’

‘That’s the strange thing,’ nodded Sir Charles. ‘Two of my best men.’

The Doctor noted that both letters were written in a similar style, but he said nothing.

‘I’ve been unable to get in touch with them,’ added Sir Charles. ‘No one appears to have seen them since last night. Extraordinary, isn’t it? Two first-class scientists suddenly vanish.’

The Doctor looked thoughtfully at Sir Charles. ‘Now I wonder... Do you suppose... I mean, if... No, I don’t suppose you would.’

Both men turned as Polly knocked and carne into the room.

‘I hope I’m not late,’ she said breathlessly.

‘Late for what?’ Sir Charles was puzzled.

‘For work,’ said Polly. ‘If you show me where your secretary has her desk, I’ll start at once.’

‘I don’t follow,’ said Sir Charles.

‘But Major Green told me to get round here as quickly as possible. Professor Brett won’t need me today. I understood your secretary was ill.’

‘Actually she is away today. But I don’t see how Brett or anyone else could have known about it.. But I’ll be glad of your help. Her office is through there. I’ll join you shortly.’

‘Right.’ Polly turned to the Doctor. ‘How is Dodo this morning?’

‘Here she is now,’ said the Doctor. ‘She’ll tell you herself.’

Dodo had just walked into the room.

‘I’m fine,’ said Dodo. She sounded a little cool. ‘Isn’t it time you began work?’

Polly raised her eyebrows. ‘Sorry I asked,’ she said as she went out.

‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting, Doctor,’ said Dodo.

‘Not at all,’ said the Doctor, surprised. It was unlike Dodo to be so curt with anyone. He turned to Sir Charles. ‘Sorry I can’t help you with your problem. I’m rather out of touch these days.’

Sir Charles was still thumbing through his letters. ‘It won’t be easy to fill their places. Men of this quality are hard to find. Especially with their high level of computer knowledge.’

‘Computers?’ The Doctor looked at him sharply. ‘The man who could help you there is surely Professor Brett,’ said Dodo unexpectedly.

‘That’s true,’ agreed Sir Charles.

‘We could call round and see him now,’ she suggested to the Doctor.

‘I thought you wanted to show me London,’ he said. ‘This sounds much more important,’ she said. ‘That’s very understanding of you, my dear.’ Dodo was becoming very responsible, mused the Doctor. ‘I’m ready,’ she said promptly.

But the Doctor hesitated. ‘Perhaps we should make an appointment. Maybe I should phone him first?’ She agreed quickly. ‘Yes, that would be best.’ ‘Go ahead. Use the phone,’ said Sir Charles. The Doctor thanked him as he dialled the number. He heard a voice at the other end of the line. ‘Hello... I’d like to speak to Professor Brett please... Yes. That’s correct..

In his office, Brett covered the phone with his hand and turned to where Krimpton was receiving a spate of signals from Wotan.

‘It’s the Doctor... On the line! Feed him through. Direct to Wotan!’

Krimpton operated a switch. A light blazed from the computer. A new sound emanated from within... a high-pitched whine which was soft at first but rapidly increased in intensity.

Dodo watched the Doctor expectantly. She knew what was about to happen. She could even hear the high-pitched sound herself.

‘Hello... Hello... ’ He could make no sense of what was happening. There must be something wrong with the phone.

He held one hand over his other ear... A pain shot through his head... It was like an electric shock... And yet, try as he might, he could hardly pull the receiver away from his other ear. It could have been a powerful magnet.

With all his strength, the Doctor managed to throw it aside. He staggered under the impact. The force sent him tumbling to the floor.

Dodo hid her triumph by running to the table and pouring a glass of water. ‘Are you all right, Doctor?’ He waved the glass aside as Sir Charles helped him to his feet.

‘I’m all right.’

‘I’ll get the girl to call a doctor,’ said Sir Charles anxiously.

‘No need.’ The Doctor appeared to have recovered. ‘Then take some brandy at least,’ insisted Sir Charles. He hurried away.

As soon as he had gone Dodo turned to the Doctor comfortingly. ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ she said. ‘This is merely a method of establishing contact... Sometimes it has to be like this as time is so short.’

The Doctor at by the table, still dazed, unsure he heard her properly.

‘You must know construction has begun already,’ she whispered. ‘You are needed urgently.’

He was holding his head in his hands; now he looked up. ‘What happened?’

She wanted to reassure him. That way they would be able to get to work quickly. ‘It’s safe to tell you now, Doctor. You are one of us. One of the advance guard. We have an enormous honour. My function was to bring you into contact. Now I shall serve as an assistant until discarded.’

The Doctor pressed his hands against his head. The echo of that infernal noise still persisted. What on earth was Dodo saying? ‘Whatever are you talking about, Dodo?’

‘Listen carefully, Doctor. This construction is taking place at several strategic points in London..’

He interrupted, looking up at her. ‘I’m sorry, Dodo. I don’t think I’m hearing you properly... My head feels as though it had been struck a terrible blow, but that’s a little better... Now, what were you saying?’

He was making a great effort to concentrate. Dodo looked at him, overcome with doubts... Beginning to wonder if he really had... ?

‘But you made the call,’ she said. ‘You made contact, didn’t you?’