by Craig Hinton
‘Useful in the war effort, then?’ said the Doctor.
‘What do you think? Thanks to Professor Ketch and his subspace researches on Oberon, we’re making progress in finding out how to beat the blockade, but we’re still nowhere near ready to take on the invaders. But with whatever the Greenies are hiding at the Pole -’
‘So why go to all this trouble?’ interrupted McGuire. ‘Why not just Transit your troops into the Pole and take it by force?’
‘Because there is a subspace jamming field affecting a radius of about two hundred kilometres around the Pole, McGuire; even with the Transit-web, Ketch’s team couldn’t resolve a Transit beam within that field, and a group of heavily armed Adjudicator shock troops making their way to the Pole would be rather... noticeable. Despite what everyone thinks, we knew that there were still Greenies on Mars. It might have been taken as a hostile act – and a skirmish between Martians and Adjudicators so close to whatever they’re hiding at the Pole would probably have merited the invaders’ attention. As the Doctor said, they ignore nothing.’ She nodded at the blue barrier. ‘I presume that that’s responsible for the jamming field around the Pole?’
‘The hull of a WarScarab is opaque to subspace fields,’ explained the Doctor. ‘A necessary consequence of the Osirians’ version of FTL drive.’ He tapped the barrier with his umbrella once more. ‘The Osirians built their shielding into the molecular structure of their vessels. Typical Osirian efficiency.’
‘I can see that this metal’s going to be a bonus for the Bureau.’ She checked the Transit-web; the glow was deepening to a throbbing blue, meaning that the stunnel would be open within a couple of minutes. ‘When we found out about the Mayor of Jacksonville’s plan to send an expeditionary force to the Pole, we had hoped to use it as cover. But the Mayor hand-picked the team, and decided to include both a member of the Colonial Marines and a known Martian sympathizer. We didn’t know what to expect at the Pole – if we’d had to do some double-dealing to secure the subspace device, we couldn’t have Marines and Greenie-lovers spoiling things.
‘Then again,’ she continued, looking over at the Abbot, ‘we were more interested in the Abbot’s pilgrimage than the Jacksonville expedition.’
Aklaar raised a clamp. ‘How would the human Bureau of Adjudicators know of our holy mission? It was conducted in sacred silence, known only to the Holy Bishop and the Leaders of the Polar nest.’
Santacosta smiled. ‘It isn’t solely a human Bureau, Abbot,’ she replied enigmatically; did the Abbot really think that the Bureau wouldn’t have recruited a few Martians; they were the only other intelligent life form in the Solar System. She quickly checked the progress of the web: a sphere of iridescence was forming above it, the visual interpretation of a subspace meniscus. ‘It stood to reason that you would know a way in – it was the reason for your pilgrimage. My mission was to ensure that I reached the Pole at the same time that you lid, Aklaar; then all I had to do was wait for a breach in the barrier and then activate the T-web.’
She grinned. ‘Now we’re all here, the barrier is open, and a crack squad of Adjudicators is about to arrive.’
‘You would dare to profane the holy grounds of Oras with your human belligerence?’ hissed Aklaar. ‘What sort of a person are you?’
‘A practical one. You’ve got a subspace manipulator in there which can help us get Earth back, Abbot. And if getting our hands on it means a bit of desecration, well... this is war.’
Roz listened to Santacosta’s explanation and shook her head. The woman had had it all worked out from the start – Roz could see that the ancient Bureau of Adjudicators was as clandestine as the Guild in her own time. A movement distracted her; far down the corridor, a blue shape was resolving. Knowing exactly what it was, she nudged the Doctor.
‘Doctor – there’s another one!’ she hissed.
The Doctor looked puzzled for a moment, before following her gaze. The expression on his face when he saw what was floating towards them was almost indescribable: a mixture of disbelief, shock and pure joy. Then he frowned.
‘Another one? You’ve seen this phenomenon before?’ She nodded. ‘Twice so far.’
‘And you didn’t see fit to tell me?’ he snapped. ‘This changes everything!’
Roz knew that she should have said something earlier, but the Doctor had erected a cold, hard barrier around him since their arrival on Mars, a barrier that Roz had felt uncomfortable getting close to. ‘Is it important?’ Stupid question; of course it was important.
‘More than you could ever imagine,’ he muttered. ‘But this is too soon.’ He looked around the group; thanks to their position, none of the others had seen the TARDIS yet. ‘We can’t let it interact with the Transit-web, Roz – the result would be disastrous!’
He moved towards the coruscating sphere of susbspace energy.
Santacosta trained her gun on him. ‘I really wouldn’t recommend it, Doctor. This is Bureau business.’
The hissing voice from behind was unexpected. ‘Drop your weapon.’ Santacosta spun round to see three Martians standing in the doorway, sonic disruptors aimed in her direction... For a second, she wondered whether she could make a break for it, but then she thought about the Transit-web; the stunnel terminus was almost complete, a globe of sparking green light that hovered about ten centimetres above the web. In less than a minute, fifty Adjudicators would come pouring through, and even three Greenies wouldn’t stand a chance. She just had to keep them busy for a few seconds more.
They all saw the translucent shape at the same time, a large blue box coming out of the corridor, floating about a metre above the ground. What the hell was it, wondered Santacosta. Whatever it was, it appeared to be heading straight towards the Transit-web.
Cursing herself, she remembered the Doctor. He was right next to the T-web, hurling a metallic object into the stunnel terminus. She suddenly realized that it was the Divine Sight of Horns that he had pocketed earlier.
‘No!’ she shouted. She didn’t know what he was up to, but she did know that the Doctor could be incredibly resourceful – and was probably a Martian sympathizer into the bargain. She aimed her gun at him, but he was standing directly behind the terminus; Santacosta knew better than to fire a directed energy weapon into a subspace field. She could only watch as the surface of the terminus began to ripple and fluoresce.
She groaned as the terminus started to collapse.
Then there was no terminus, just a contracting blur of radiation and a low, teeth-rattling groan. The blue box, which had been only metres away from the T-web, disappeared at the same time, simply popping out of existence. She cast her gaze to the ground, and watched with a sinking feeling as the strands of the web contracted into the central sphere. The stunnel had been aborted, and that was that.
The Doctor stared at the T-web nucleus, dabbing his forehead with a large spotted handkerchief. ‘That was very close. Too close.’
‘You idiot! Do you know what you just did?’ yelled Santacosta. ‘The T-web was our only chance!’ She began to aim her gun at his head, but realized that it would be a waste of effort. The damage had been done.
The Doctor nodded. ‘Indeed I do, Adjudicator Santacosta. Thanks to the deleterious effects of Osirian technology on subspace fields, I narrowly prevented a minor subspace infarction. Minor, but enough to consign all of us to an early grave. You should be grateful; the feedback would have blown up the stunnel generator on Oberon into the bargain.’ He turned and doffed his panama hat towards the unusually patient Martians waiting in the doorway. ‘Anyway, we appear to have a reception committee. I presume you were expecting this, Abbot Aklaar?’
But the elderly Martian remained silent. Frightened, even. Great, thought Santacosta; the whole operation goes down the pan, and now we could all be in even more trouble.
Roz sidled up to the Doctor. ‘I’d appreciate your making a window in your diary to explain what the hell is going on. Why are we being haunted by the ghost of the TARDIS?’
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br /> But the Doctor wasn’t listening. He was staring at the Martians in front of them with a frown twisting his mobile features. ‘Why is Abbot Aklaar’s religious pilgrimage being met by a squad of Ice Warriors from a military nest, I wonder?’
With that disturbing comment fresh in her mind, Santacosta followed the others through the opening in the metal wall.
She failed to notice the Doctor reach down and shove the inactive Transit-web nucleus into his pocket.
Chapter 9
Felice freely admitted that she was terrified. She and Rachel had been unstrapped from their beds by Yeess – none too gently, come to that, although what had she expected? Hotel service and a massage? – and escorted from the ‘waiting room’ to yet another welcoming chamber carved from solid rock, presumably the location of the Martians’ precious Brain-rack. She tried not to look at the complicated and possibly painful assembly on the far side of the room; she’d rather wait until the inevitable. Chris’s proposed plan had culminated in their rescue, but how could they be rescued if their minds had been coerced into obeying the Martians? The idea that she might be forced to gun Chris or Rachel down – or betray her own race, come to that – under the influence of the Greenies wasn’t reassuring.
‘There are no harmful side-effects to the Brain-rack,’ Yeess assured them, not particularly convincingly. ‘It wears off after a week or so, as the artificial engrams decay and your natural pathways reassert themselves. And a week should be all that we need for you to complete the GodEngine.’
‘And what will you do then?’ asked Rachel. ‘Kill us?’
Yeess shook his head. ‘Despite your propaganda, we are not barbarians, Professor. We are an ancient and honourable race with tenets forged in fire and blood.’
‘Don’t you think I don’t know that?’ Rachel snapped, and Felice was surprised by the ferocity of the reply. It was as if something deep within Rachel was taking its last chance for freedom. ‘My brother spent a year in one of your military nests.’ Felice frowned; she had known that Rachel had had a brother – Michael – but the circumstances of his death had been a mystery. Felice had gathered earlier that Rachel was far more familiar – and comfortable – with the Martians than most humans, but this was a revelation.
‘Michael was assigned to the UN peacekeeping force on Mars about ten years ago,’ Rachel explained. ‘At first, he was like the others, regarding the Martians as nothing more than monsters. Then he fell in with a group called the Martian Axis.’
‘The Axis?’ repeated Felice. ‘But they’re terrorists.’
‘They weren’t at first. In the beginning, they just wanted peaceful coexistence with the Martians. Michael joined them, and bought into their ideals. It was only later when he realized their true purpose.’ She looked at Yeess. ‘They were using their cover to further their own cause, which was nothing more than civil disobedience.’
‘But the Axis always claimed that their actions were sanctioned by the Martians,’ said Felice. How could she forget the images of carnage that the news broadcasts had shown, the dead and injured that followed each atrocity?
Rachel shook her head. ‘That was exactly what everyone was supposed to think – it gave a sick sort of justification to what they did. All their well-known attacks – the bombing of Coventry, the destruction of the Montreal monorail system – were nothing more than plain and simple terrorism, and the Martians got the blame.’
Felice touched Rachel’s arm. This was the big question, but she had to ask it. ‘What happened to Michael?’
Rachel closed her eyes, clearly torn apart by what she was about to say. ‘He left the Axis when he realized what they were really up to. He wanted to seek out the real Martians. He made his way off Earth, and tried to find the planet where the Martians had settled. He never found it.’
‘He found our base on Cluut-ett-Pictar,’ stated Yeess.
Felice suddenly realized that she was at a disadvantage; Yeess and Rachel both knew the circumstances far better than she did. ‘Your brother found a Martian base?’
Rachel nodded. ‘Their exodus fleet made a brief planetfall on a world in the Rataculan system – the Martians called it Cluut-ett-Pictar. A few stayed behind, and Michael found them.’ She sighed. ‘He did more than that, Felice; he joined them. That’s how I know so much about Martians; Michael wrote to me every week, passing his letters through a dumb satellite that Earth had forgotten about.’
Yeess’s fingers made some very odd, almost nervous, movements. ‘Your brother is a hero of the Martian people, Professor. He died defending the nest on Cluut-ett-Pictar against an Arcturan strike-force.’
Rachel suppressed a choking sob. ‘I – I never knew how. The letters just stopped, but I just knew that he’d – he’d gone.’ She thrust her face upwards towards Yeess. ‘I got his last letter, though, telling me that it was time that Earth knew the truth about the Martians – about their honour, their loyalty.’ She looked up at Yeess. ‘I know your ways, Yeess – if Michael was a hero, why are you treating us like this?’
Yeess’s voice was tinged with regret as he replied. ‘Sadly, I have no choice, Professor – it is not my decision to make. The GodEngine must be completed, and your knowledge is invaluable. If it means anything to you, though, I am no longer happy about this; there is something... dishonourable about subjecting the sister of a Martian hero to the Brain-rack.’
‘What is the GodEngine?’ interrupted Felice, mainly to take the pressure off the clearly upset Rachel. ‘The subspace manipulator?’
Yeess nodded. ‘In our own tongue, it is Ssor-arr duss Ssethissi – the Engine of Ssethis, and the means of restoring our glory. But you will learn more after you have been processed. The Brain-rack will increase your learning rate by three hundred per cent.’ He gestured towards the only object in the room, the thing that Felice had been at pains to ignore: a tall construction of silver pipework interlaced with the unmistakable amber of trisilicate. There was a man-sized gap in the centre. Actually, it looked rather too Felice-sized for her liking. That was when she discovered that she had tempted fate. ‘You first, Dr Delacroix.’
Felice gulped, but knew that she had no choice; even without his body armour, Yeess could easily overpower her. Stepping into the gap, she closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable searing agony. But it wasn’t like that. She felt a delicate, almost tickling feeling across her scalp, a soothing sensation that forced her to relax. Suddenly, she experienced a surge of panic as she realized that she was being anaesthetized, but it was far too late for that. Any thoughts of a last-minute rescue attempt by Chris receded rapidly as brand-new thoughts began to flower and bloom in her mind. But these thoughts were nice thoughts, thoughts free of any negative feelings.
As she opened her eyes, she saw Rachel standing in front of her. But she didn’t recognize her as a friend or colleague: she was simply another resource pledged to the service of the GodEngine.
‘Welcome to G’chun duss Ssethiissi, honoured guests. I am Supreme Lord Draan.’ The Ice Lord, dressed in the full regalia of smooth-domed helmet, tabard armour and cloak, was standing behind an impressive stone table, with two Warriors flanking him. Roz shared the Doctor’s concerns; this really did not feel like a pacifist nest. What the hell was going on? Not for the first time, she wished that Professor Bernice Summerfield, or Mrs Jason Kane, or Benny Kane-Summerfield, or whatever she was going to call herself, had been with them, rather than a few blurred memories of a few blurred conversations.
‘Lord Draan – when will the ceremony take place?’ It was Aklaar, his tone of voice understandably eager.
Draan bashed his clamps together and clearly agreed with Roz’s analysis. ‘I understand your eagerness, Abbot, but I also realize that you have all had a strenuous and tiring journey. I suggest that you take some rest before we proceed.’ He looked over at Sstaal; more specifically, he looked at his backpack. ‘And that is the Sword of Tuburr. Excellent. The ceremony will mark a new beginning for Mars, the start of an entir
e new history for our people. I share your anticipation, Abbot, but am sure that you will enjoy the ceremony far more if you have rested. We have waited a long time for this moment; a few more hours will not matter.’
With that, the Ice Lord dismissed them.
‘Short and sweet,’ said Roz as they filed out of the room with their escort.
‘Too short, too sweet,’ replied the Doctor. Roz had noticed that the Doctor’s odd behaviour of the last couple of days had abated somewhat. Was it to do with the mysterious floating TARDISes, or the fact that Aklaar’s pilgrimage wasn’t as innocent as it had first appeared, justifying his mistrust? It did seem to her that the Doctor was looking for any opportunity to expose the Ice Warriors in what he believed were their true colours. ‘Draan is an Ice Lord – which makes it quite clear that this is not the pacifist nest that the Abbot thought he was heading towards. But Draan isn’t in charge here.’
‘Why do you say that? He seemed pretty sure of himself.’
‘Because he isn’t senior enough, Roz. From the size of this base, it merits a Marshal at least. Possibly even a Grand Marshal.’
‘But you said the Grand Marshals were executed after the Thousand Day War.’
‘All but two,’ corrected the Doctor. ‘Falaxyr and Abrasaar. The two most brutal, sadistic and unpleasant of the lot. Their bodies were never found.’ He growled, ‘Aklaar was expecting to be met by pilgrims; instead, there’s a military reception. And I’m sure that I recognize Draan...’
