Doctor Who: War Games (13 page)

One of the attackers, a young British corporal, had come right up to the window. Using his teeth he pulled out the pin of a hand grenade. He threw the grenade into the room.

‘Why, you—’ Sergeant Russell dropped his rifle and sprang at the corporal, grappling with him in hand to hand fighting. As the sergeant knocked out the corporal, Jamie threw himself at the grenade. In one movement he picked it up and hurled it back through the windows. It exploded outside with a blinding flash and a roar.

Carstairs ran to the little bedroom where the Doctor and Zoe were working. ‘Doctor, they’re starting to break in. We must either surrender or try to make a run for it under cover of darkness.’

‘I don’t think there is any need for either of those courses of action,’ replied the Doctor. He made a finishing touch to his adjustments to the control console set in the wall. ‘Now let’s see if this thing can do what I want it to do.’ He turned one of the control knobs. The console hummed with power.

‘Doctor,’ Carstairs pleaded, ‘there’s no time now to be fiddling with gadgets.’

‘Isn’t there? Then listen.’

Lieutenant Carstairs was about to speak again when he realised that the sound of battle had ceased. An eerie silence hung over the chateau.

‘Doctor, what have you done?’

‘I’ve set up a time zone barrier all around this building.

That’s what this gadget was for—to create and control those mists.’

‘Don’t you see,’ said Zoe, enthusiastically, ‘none of the processed soldiers will be able to get at us. But all of us will be able to move about freely.’

‘By jingo,’ said Carstairs. ‘That’s devilish ingenious.’

‘Exactly what I thought,’ said the Doctor, rising. ‘The battle is now over.’ He moved past Carstairs into the main room. ‘Don’t worry,’ he announced to the astonished resistance fighters crouched at the windows. ‘There’ll be no more shooting tonight.’ He noticed the young British corporal whom Sergeant Russell had knocked out. Jamie and the sergeant had tied the man’s ankles and wrists.

‘Who’s he?’

‘A brave lad,’ said the sergeant. ‘And a pity he’s on the wrong side. He’s our prisoner.’

‘He’s just the person I need,’ said the Doctor. ‘Quickly, get him untied and sit him on a chair.’

On the war map a bright red ring glowed all around the château.

‘Smythe should have destroyed that apparatus as we ordered him,’ said the War Chief.

‘And we should have sent in my security guards,’ said the Security Chief.

‘Silence!’ said the War Lord. ‘I will not have this bickering. The use of human specimens to smash the bandits has failed. We must now take direct action.

Security Chief, prepare a landing party.’

*

‘Come on,’ he said sharply. ‘What can you see?’ The young man looked around the motley group of soldiers.

‘Where am I? Who are you all?’

‘He seems pretty confused,’ said Lieutenant Carstairs.

‘Wouldn’t you be,’ responded the Doctor, ‘if one moment you think you’re fighting the Germans, and the next you know you’re in a room surrounded by Turks, Russians, Frenchmen
and
Germans?’ He turned back to the corporal. ‘What can you remember?’

‘I was on the Somme.’ He smiled as he remembered some good news. ‘The Americans have just declared war on the Kaiser. That means we can’t lose now.’ Confusion returned to his face. ‘Then everything went funny. Have I been hit? Is this heaven?’

‘This proves that machine works,’ said Sergeant Russell.

He grinned. ‘But we’re going to have to explain a lot to these fellows—’

The sound came from the bedroom. At first it was almost inaudible against the chatter of the exultant resistance fighters. By the time it had impinged on everyone’s mind, the materialisation noise of the sidrat was almost complete.

‘Take up positions of defence,’ ordered Lieutenant Carstairs. ‘Get these tables up as barricades! ‘

The soldiers scrambled to get the trestle tables across the floor to use as shields. A group of soldiers rushed to the bedroom door, firing their assorted rifles, shotguns and revolvers into the room. In return came the zing of stun-guns. Two men fell dead. All at once silver-uniformed security guards were coming through the door, firing their stun-guns indiscriminately. Three guards made straight for the Doctor, grabbing him before he had time to move.

‘Don’t shoot!’ Jamie yelled. ‘You’ll hit the Doctor!’

The Doctor was dragged, kicking and struggling, into the bedroom. The security guards withdrew as quickly as they came. An Austro-Hungarian soldier raced to the bedroom door, fired a shot, and recoiled as he was hit by a stun-gun.

The sidrat’s dematerialisation sound filled the whole château.

9

The Security Chief looked down at his prisoner. The Doctor was securely strapped to a chair, the pain cowl over his head.

‘Admit it,’ said the Security Chief. ‘Admit that the War Chief sent for you. You are both of the same race. Your arrival on this planet is part of a plot to betray us to the Time Lords!’

‘You would never believe the truth,’ said the Doctor. ‘So I prefer to remain silent.’

‘What you prefer doesn’t matter.’ The Security Chief signalled to a guard to turn on the power. ‘Can you feel pain coursing through your head? Believe me, I can destroy your mind. When I have finished with you, you will be an imbecile.’

The door of the security room flew open. The War Chief and two of his bodyguards stepped in.

‘Are you trying to kill him?’ the War Chief demanded.

The Security Chief signalled for the power to be turned off. ‘I’m trying to get the truth from him.’

‘I congratulate you on the capture, but you will never make him talk that way. He is of my race. Your machines cannot work on us if we choose to resist.’

The Security Chief stepped back. ‘You admit that you know him, War Chief?’

‘Of course. And only I can deal with him. Release him.

He’s coming with me.’

‘He is my prisoner.’

‘And I am your superior. Get all that stuff removed, please.’

In silent outrage the Security Chief turned to the security guard. ‘You heard what the War Chief said.’

The security guard removed the pain cowl and the straps.

‘I shall question him in my own way in the war room,’

said the War Chief. ‘No doubt you will wish to report that to the War Lord the moment we have left this room.’

Escorted by the bodyguards the Doctor left the room followed by the War Chief. The Security Chief stood staring at the closed door, his face crimson with anger.

The War Chief took the Doctor into his private office just off the war room and told his bodyguards to leave.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘a traveller in a time-space machine. There is only one person you can be.’

‘I had every right to leave,’ said the Doctor.

‘And to steal a TARDIS?’ The War Chief smiled. ‘Not that I am criticising you. I left our people too. We are two of a kind.’

‘We most certainly are not!’ the Doctor protested.

The War Chief shrugged. ‘Well, we were both Time Lords. Tell me, why did you decide to desert our kin?’

‘I had reasons of my own. Rather different from yours, I imagine.’

‘Probably they were. Why don’t you sit down?’ The War Chief settled himself into his own comfortable chair. ‘How much have you learnt of our plans here?’

‘Obviously you have kidnapped soldiers from various times in the history of the planet Earth, and you’ve brought them here to kill each other.’

The War Chief nodded. ‘Very good observation. But do you realise our ultimate objective?’

‘No objective can justify such slaughter,’ said the Doctor.

‘The war games on this planet are simply a means to an end,’ the War Chief explained. ‘The War Lords intend to conquer the entire galaxy. For this an army is needed not only of immense size but also of the utmost ferocity. Our purpose with these mock wars is to eliminate the cowards and the fools. We are only interested in recruiting the survivors.’

‘How disgusting,’ said the Doctor. ‘But tell me, whyhave you only abducted fighting men from the planet Earth?’

‘Mankind is the most vicious species of all in the galaxy.

Consider its history. Since they emerged from apes they have been systematically killing each other, either to gain land, or in the name of God, or for politics. We can turn the savage instincts of these humans to good purpose. We shall bring a new order of peace to the galaxy. And you can help.’

The Doctor eyed the War Chief. ‘You have given these War Lords our knowledge and science to carry out this despicable scheme?’

‘To create eternal peace, Doctor.’

‘It sounds more like an empire of slaves.’

‘With you and me in control.’ The War Chief leant forward in his chair. ‘Doctor, I am trying to save your life.

If I can convince the War Lord that you will help us—’

He stopped short as the door opened. The War Lord entered followed by the Security Chief and his guards.

‘Interrogation,’ said the War Lord, ‘is the business of the Security Chief.’

The War Chief stood up, but not so quickly as to suggest humility. ‘I know this man. He is a fugitive Time Lord.’

‘Like yourself,’ said the War Lord. He turned to the Doctor. ‘Have you informed the Time Lords of what we are doing?’

‘He dare not,’ said the War Chief. ‘It would betray him.’

‘He has allied himself with the resistance,’ said the Security Chief. ‘He has organised them against us. He must die.’

‘On the contrary,’ said the War Chief. ‘He now knows that the resistance is futile. I have convinced him to join us. He can help us destroy the resistance.’

‘He should be killed now,’ the Security Chief insisted.

‘We cannot possibly trust him.’

‘Silence!’ The War Lord paused to consider. ‘If he helps us to destroy the resistance then his life will be spared. War Chief, I shall hold you personally responsible. Failure will mean death—for both of you.’

The War Lord turned and left the little office. After a moment’s hesitation the Security Chief and his guards followed.

‘I didn’t promise to help you,’ said the Doctor.

‘I have just saved your life, Doctor. Show a little gratitude. You will help me because you have no alternative.’

‘And help people like your new friends to conquer the galaxy? Never!’

The War Chief sat back again in his comfortable chair.

‘Not people like that, Doctor. People like us. I intend to become the supreme ruler. Would you not like to share power with me?’

With dawn the resistance fighters at the château buried their dead and counted the wounded. The German soldier came down from the attic room where he had spent most of the night keeping watch on the surrounding land.

‘Ze mist is still there. All soldiers are gone.’ He slumped onto the floor, his back against the wall, exhausted. ‘I see Sergeant Russell coming with Mexican man.’ He fell fast asleep.

‘My goodness,’ said Lieutenant Carstairs. ‘I wonder just how many wars they have going on in this place?’

During the night, search parties had been sent out to seek more resistance fighters. With the aid of Zoe’s remarkable memory they had drawn up a list of people they wanted to contact.

Sergeant Russell arrived at the french windows with the Mexican. The newcomer wore a sombrero; his huge frame was bedecked with cartridge belts, knives, hand grenades and two holstered pearl-handled revolvers. In his fist he clutched a rifle.

‘Arturo Villar,’ Russell announced. ‘He is holding two of our people outside the grounds as hostages in case this is a trick. His troops are surrounding the place.’

‘Not troops,’ said Villar in a strong Mexican accent.

‘Bandits!’ He grinned.

‘Jolly glad to meet you,’ said Lieutenant Carstairs.

‘What war were you taken from?’

‘Mexico,’ said Villar. ‘In Mexico is all war. The soldiers kill the peasants, we kill the soldiers. You wanna be my friends, huh?’

‘We want you to be our friend,’ said Zoe.

Villar looked at her, astonished. ‘What kind of men are you? You let a girl speak for you.’

‘She’s one of us,’ said Jamie. ‘A fighting member of the resistance.’

At the sight of Jamie, Villar bellowed with Jaughter. ‘A man in a woman’s dress! You got no trousers to wear?’

‘Tell me, Mr Villar,’ said Carstairs. ‘How many men can you contribute to the army we are creating?’

‘Is secret. But plenty. All dirty fighters. Take no prisoners.’ Villar ran his finger across his throat and laughed again.

‘Are they a disciplined force?’ asked Carstairs, persevering,

‘Sure. They don’t do what I say, I strangle them with my bare hands. They are plenty disciplined.’

‘I think we’ll find them useful,’ said Sergeant Russell.

‘We need everyone we can get. Perhaps we could tell Mr Villar our plan.’

‘It’s quite simple,’ said Carstairs. ‘We intend to make a mass attack on the base of the terrible people who have brought us all here. During the attack there is someone there that we must rescue.’

‘Okay,’ said Villar. ‘You tell me where is this base, we go kill everyone.’ He poised himself in the french window ready to go the moment someone told him where.

‘It’s not so simple,’ said Carstairs. ‘We can only get there in one of these boxes that appears and disappears. We know this château is one of the landing points, but we are surely under observation here.’

‘There’s another landing place we know,’ said Jamie. ‘In a barn that’s by a wood. We could assemble any number of soldiers under the cover of those trees.’

‘I know that place,’ said Boris Ivanovich Petrovich of the House of Trebetskoy. ‘It’s true—an army could hide there.’ He sat on the floor nursing an arm wounded in last night’s battle.