The Ice Warriors (8 page)

The computer fell silent. Clent turned to Arden, who could barely hide his excitement.

‘You heard what’s to be done, Arden. Do you think you can handle it?’

‘He’ll never cope with that Ice Warrior by himself!’ insisted Jamie.

‘I could do with a security guard,’ agreed Arden nervously.

‘The computer has nominated one man only,’ snapped Clent irritably. ‘It will have to be enough!’

‘What about me?’ asked Jamie eagerly. ‘Let me go with him!’

Clent frowned, about to give a sharp retort, but the Doctor cut in quickly. ‘He’s a capable lad – and he’s not on your staff. He’s extra.’

Clent studied the Doctor thoughtfully, then shrugged. It was true: this boy was surplus, and as such, not Clent’s responsibility. He was also something of a troublemaker – better out of the way.

‘Very well. As the Doctor is going to help us with the Ioniser, the boy can go.’ As Jamie glanced triumphantly at the Doctor, Clent scowled. ‘But there must be no delay!’ he insisted harshly. ‘Go – now!’

Jan Garrett smoothly explained Clent’s apprehension. ‘The sooner we know whether there
is
a nuclear reactor buried inside the glacier, the better.’

‘Aye, mebbe,’ replied Jamie curtly. ‘But our Victoria’s important too, ye know.’

Clent turned on him savagely.

‘Don’t you realise, boy? The fate of the whole of Europe
could
be at stake! That’s what’s important – not this prehistoric freak of Arden’s, nor the girl! She’ll just have to take her chance!’

4

Back from the Dead

STORR GRITTED HIS
teeth against the pain. Penley threw a quick glance at his drawn, pallid face, then deftly completed the task of bandaging the now swollen arm. It was a bad break; the bone-torn muscle was rapidly going septic, and Storr wasn’t far from a coma. But it was his own pigheaded stubbornness that had brought about his present critical state. Penley knotted the make-shift bandage tight, and felt Storr wince.

‘What’re you trying to do? Cripple me?’

‘Sorry, old chap,’ soothed Penley. He tried to make his surly patient more comfortable. ‘The trouble with you, you know, is that you will insist on being stupid.’

Storr turned his face away. He hated admitting he was wrong – but he had to be honest. ‘How was I to know it’d get infected?’ he growled, then sank back weakly.

Penley looked round at Storr’s bizarre den – the abandoned Victorian conservatory in which, years before, Storr had established his plant museum. How much longer would it last, he wondered? How long would it take before the ice – which was again rumbling ominously outside – was in there with them?

‘You should’ve listened to me in the first place,’ said
Penley,
‘shouldn’t you?’

‘And given you the chance to stuff me with anti-this, and anti-that?’ grumbled Storr. ‘I’d’ve been flat on my back for months…!’

‘Whereas now,’ observed Penley drily, ‘you’re fighting fit, of course.’

Storr rose to the bait as usual. ‘Someone’s got to do things!’

‘Well that someone isn’t going to be you for a while yet. And it serves you right.’

‘It’s nothing!’ snapped Storr. ‘I’ll pull through!’

He gazed at his precious plants through a haze of pain, desperately trying to concentrate his mind.

‘… how it was before they killed off all the plants,’ he gabbled, half-smiling. ‘There would have been
Spring
, then – fruit, on trees, waiting to be picked…’ His ravaged face tightened into bitterness once more. ‘Now… you damned scientists – destructive meddlers!’ His anger subsided again. ‘Killed all the plants… and flowers…’

Penley could see that he was slipping into a coma. Soon, there would be no wood left from their precious stock, and without that warmth, the deadly cold would start to creep into Storr’s haven. He had to act – and quickly. He stood up, and started to put on the heavy skins for snow travel. His quick and decisive movements woke Storr. ‘What’re you doing, you fool!’ mumbled the half-conscious man.

‘The Base,’ replied Penley curtly.

Storr tried to rise, but he had no strength. He fell back helplessly, but his eyes burned with fever and accusation. ‘You’re going to turn me in… like a dirty coward. I don’t
want…
rehabilitation… Africa…’ He was nearly out, but still he protested. ‘Never trust… scientists.’

Penley turned. ‘It’s for your idiotic sake that I’m going! For drugs! And if I don’t get them…’ He looked down at the unconscious body, ‘you’re as good as dead!’

‘Think!’ commanded the Ice Warrior in that strange, fierce whisper. ‘Tell me what it was they used to give my body life!’

Victoria could see that there was no escape. But what could she tell him when she knew so little herself?

‘I don’t know what it was called, so how
can
I tell you?’ she explained desperately.

But Varga wasn’t going to be satisfied that easily. ‘Describe it!’ he hissed sharply.

Victoria tried hard to remember what the scientist Arden had done to the great ice block – but it was difficult. She hadn’t really been paying attention at the time. The body inside the ice had been the subject of everyone’s fascination – and now here it was, alive and menacing, holding her prisoner!

‘It was a sort of… small black box,’ she suggested vaguely.

‘Go on!’ demanded Varga with an urgent gesture. ‘Explain how it worked!’

‘It had wires,’ recalled Victoria hesitantly, then blurted out ‘and they connected the wires to the ice. It made a funny, quiet sort of noise – and nobody knew you were going to come to life, but you just did!’ She paused, breathless and afraid.

But it was enough for the Ice Warrior to understand. His great clamp-like fist pointed towards his armoured chest. ‘A power source,’ he hissed wonderingly. ‘High resistance… great heat… and then – life!’ He swung round to face Victoria, and pointed the device at her terrified face.

‘This room we came from,’ he whispered harshly, ‘I wish to return to it – now!’

Victoria’s face brightened. ‘I’ll tell you how to get there!’ The Ice Warrior wasn’t taken in by her sudden co-operation.

‘You will take me there,’ he commanded, gripping her arm. ‘You will help me find the power unit. With that my men, too, can be brought back from the dead…’

Desperately, Victoria searched her mind for excuses, all the while aware of the numbing pressure on her wrist, and the delicate menace of the device on Varga’s arm.

‘But we’ll have to go along the corridor,’ she pointed out quickly. ‘And supposing someone sees you holding me prisoner?’

‘Then I shall be forced to kill them,’ hissed the Martian warlord calmly. ‘And you also, if you attempt to call for help.’ He held the device between Victoria’s frightened eyes. She swallowed hard, but spoke bravely.

‘What is it?’ she asked fearfully.

‘It is a sonic destructor. To put it simply, it will disintegrate your brain with sound waves.’

She looked at the Martian, eyes wide.

‘All right,’ she said, trying to hide the fear in her voice. ‘Are you ready now?’

Varga silently gestured for her to lead the way. Victoria
slowly
opened the door, praying desperately that they would meet nobody on their way to the medicare centre. She paused for a moment, surveying the corridor outside. It was deserted. Varga shuffled close behind her, urging her onward. Blindly, she obeyed. The alternative was too horrible to think about…

Penley had approached the same corridor from the terrace. Huddled in a shadowy corner, he was contemplating his next move. The corridor was unusually quiet – without even the normal security guard. What could it all mean? Was something really wrong – or was it some sort of trap? He listened intently. In the far distance, he could hear the high pitch of machinery which had once been so familiar to him. The Ioniser was still functioning then – though not for much longer, he thought grimly. But all that was Clent’s problem now. The immediate goal was to get into the medicare centre and select the drugs needed to save Storr’s life.

Suddenly, he froze. His ears had caught a sound – subtly different, puzzling – coming along the corridor towards him: slow, ponderous, shuffling – and accompanied by a lighter, more timid step. He looked cautiously out from the shadows that concealed him – and his eyebrows shot up in amazement.

Advancing cautiously towards the doorway of the medicare centre was a girl – but it was her companion that had shocked Penley. He had seen nothing like it on Earth! Immense – eight feet tall at least – it looked almost prehistoric. A glint of light suddenly caught its helmet and clumsy mechanical hands. Penley barely managed to stifle
a
gasp. His mind raced, throwing up a flood of questions. What was it? What was such a creature doing inside the Base? Who on earth was the girl?

Then, Penley saw the tight look of terror on the girl’s young face – barely more than a child, he realised, as she moved closer. Her slender wrist was gripped by the monster who was hulking beside her. They stopped outside the medicare doorway.

Then, as the reptilian giant biped thrust the doors open with one blow of his massive arm, the girl looked about her desperately, before being dragged inside. Her eyes widened as she saw Penley. His first reaction was to rush forward to help – but something in her face stopped the movement almost before it began. Although her eyes pleaded with him, her head gave the slightest of negative movements – stay away! Penley was soon to know why. As though angered by the girl’s reluctance to go through the medicare doors, the monster pointed his free arm directly at her head. The gesture was unmistakable, and Penley caught a clear glimpse of the strange tubular device… The girl obediently stumbled into the room and out of sight, followed by the massive creature. Once more the corridor was silent and empty, leaving Penley totally unnerved and desperate to know what to do next.

Inside the medicare centre Varga paused, taking in the room and its complex equipment. On the far side of the room stood the trolley that had once borne his lifeless body. It was slopping with water and fragments of melting ice. Satisfied, he released Victoria from his iron grasp.

‘This is the place…’ he hissed, then gestured curtly at
Victoria,
who was standing frightened and helpless in the centre of the room. ‘The black box!’ he exclaimed. ‘Find it! Quickly!’

A rare calm reigned in the control room complex. For the first time in weeks, the Ioniser hadn’t kept everyone in a state of permanent tension. Jan moved along the ranks of monitor technicians, and felt almost elated. This was how their great project should be – totally under control.

She glanced across at the
ECCO
conference table, where Clent and the Doctor were studying circuit blueprints on the videoscreen. Could one man make such a difference, she wondered, as she studied the clownish figure seated by Leader Clent. Her respect for his intelligence far outweighed her displeasure at his irreverent treatment of her or his impudent smile. She also knew that Clent had accepted the Doctor as his equal – in brainpower if not in authority. And this had been the most important factor of all in stabilising the near-to-panic atmosphere. She sighed inwardly. If only Penley could see the place like this instead of as it had been the day he stormed out under a hail of sarcasm from Clent…

Clent looked at the Doctor, who was concentrating on the videoscreen by his side. ‘I still say it needs an expert,’ commented the Doctor, nodding towards the elaborate circuitry designs on the videoscreen. ‘Can’t you afford one?’

Clent’s face stiffened. Had the Doctor been reading his mind? ‘I choose not to,’ he clipped.

‘Why?’

‘You are not here to question my decisions! You have no authority.’

‘I know,’ agreed the Doctor, unruffled. ‘I’m here to help – if I so choose.’ He smiled. ‘I think we should trust each other, don’t you?’

With an effort, Clent controlled the instinctive resentment he felt whenever this bitter subject cropped up: a rational explanation should clear this matter up once and for all, he decided. He didn’t realise that behind the Doctor’s seemingly innocent and trusting gaze was a probing intelligence that could – if need be – winkle the truth out of a giant clam.

‘You’ll appreciate,’ stated Clent, ‘the importance of this mission. I was chosen because I never fail. My record is one hundred per cent success. And I’ve handled some big projects, I assure you, Doctor.’ He paused, and frowned. ‘As always, I hand-picked my team… but for once, I made a vital mistake…’

‘This chap Penley?’ suggested the Doctor, knowingly.

Clent nodded. ‘The best man in Europe for Ionisation studies… but as it turned out, hopelessly temperamental!’

The Doctor looked at Clent shrewdly. The Leader’s defensive reaction had already revealed what was wrong. ‘Temperamental,’ the Doctor queried gently, ‘or individual? Creative scientists have to be allowed some freedom of thought, you know, otherwise—’

Clent cut in angrily, stung by the way in which the Doctor had hit the nail on the head. ‘Creative poppycock! When Penley walked out of here, he publicly proclaimed himself to be criminally irresponsible!’

‘You don’t think, then, that what he did could have been a simple gesture of protest?’

‘He was always protesting! This unit is a team – a team with a mission! If we fail, how can others expect to succeed?’

‘And it’ll be your name that suffers, of course,’ replied the Doctor keenly. ‘And that’s important to you, isn’t it?’

Suddenly Clent was on the defensive. ‘I lead the team, but I depend on the experts that I select. With the exception of Penley, my judgement was sound. But others won’t see it that way. They’ll only mark up the failure!’

‘So you really need this chap Penley.’

‘No! I do
not
need Penley!’ Then he added hastily, ‘But I do need an equivalent brain to take over from where that… traitor left off! Normally, it would take months to train up a stranger.’ His face had a look of desperation. ‘There simply isn’t time – that’s the truth of the matter! And that’s why we need
you
!’