Ten Little Aliens: 50th Anniversary Edition

by Stephen Cole

  ‘Put the gun down, Shel,’ Haunt ordered, her voice rising.

  Shel convulsed, his face twisted in pain. There was the sound of a gun firing, and Polly gave a short, high yell. But the Doctor was unharmed.

  Haunt bellowed with rage. ‘No!’

  Frog was clutching her own pistol. She’d shot the gun from Shel’s hand. His mouth flapped open and closed now as he stared down at the bloody stumps of his fingers. Frog stared too, apparently fascinated. Polly looked away, sickened.

  Now Haunt leaped forward and held Shel in a necklock.

  ‘Be careful with him,’ the Doctor advised her.

  ‘Look!’ Frog moaned. ‘His arm.’

  Polly looked automatically, and her hand flew to her mouth.

  Metal points stuck through Shel’s gory finger-stumps. The skin hung away from a hole in the wrist, too, and Polly saw gleaming silver shafts and coloured wires.

  ‘He’s got an artificial arm,’ Haunt said, transfixed.

  ‘Away,’ Shel croaked. ‘Away.’ His cheek twitched faster and faster until a tiny metal coil burst through the skin, flecking his face with bright blood.

  ‘It’s not just his arm,’ Polly whispered. ‘It’s all of him. He’s a robot too.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  NEMESIS

  I

  SHEL’S FACE TWISTED with anger. Polly bit her lip as he pulled Haunt’s arm from his neck and shoved her backwards with inhuman strength. She rolled over and over across the floor.

  ‘We’ve been set up! Shel’s gonna kill all of us!’ Frog brought up her gun and fired again. A spark leapt from Shel’s chest. He swayed, then bashed the gun out of her grasp. Frog overbalanced and knocked against the Doctor, who gasped as he tried to stop her falling. He staggered back against the body in the chair, which skittered away on its castors.

  Shel swung round to face Polly.

  ‘Don’t hurt us,’ she pleaded. His eyes were unfocused, glassy – or perhaps just glass.

  ‘Leave Polly alone,’ the Doctor commanded. ‘Whatever your purpose here, this girl has done you no harm.’

  Shel ignored him. He raised his rifle with his good hand. Polly backed away closer to Shade, who lay still and oblivious.

  Haunt was back on her feet. Her own rifle was aimed at Shel’s twitching head. ‘Put down the gun.’

  Shel lowered the rifle without bothering to turn round.

  ‘If you want to live, start talking.’ Haunt took a step closer. ‘Who sent you?’ Another step. ‘Who pushed you on to me?’

  Polly wasn’t sure if Shel’s mouth was opening with any intent to speak, or if whatever machinery controlled his lips was giving out like the rest of him.

  The Doctor slowly advanced on him, his arms raised. ‘Why are you really here, Shel?’

  ‘He’s here to kill all of us,’ Frog whined. ‘Whatever’s going on, he’s planned it all.’

  The Doctor looked at Shel more sternly, and swept an arm at the dais behind the console. ‘Did you arrange all this, sir?’

  Shel swung the rifle up and fired. The Doctor reeled back instinctively. Polly screamed as a bolt of light shot into the console beside him.

  At the same time Haunt opened fire on Shel, who staggered under the impact. He turned and ran for the exit, firing the rifle behind him apparently at random. A blast scorched past Polly’s shoulder before she could even react.

  Then something grabbed hold of her leg, and pulled. Mid-scream, she went down, as another blast shot overhead.

  Shade relaxed his grip on her calf. She almost wept with relief that nothing more sinister had got a hold of her, and wriggled over on her front to shelter beside his force mattress.

  ‘Frog, after him,’ Haunt bellowed.

  Polly decided it must be at least a little safer to get up now. She squeezed Shade’s hand to say thank you and cautiously rose to her feet. She glimpsed Frog as she sprinted through the doorway. Haunt had already vanished. The Doctor stood alone by the shattered console, inspecting the blackened hole carved out by Shel’s wild shot.

  ‘That could’ve been you,’ Polly said shakily.

  ‘Yes, I dare say it could,’ murmured the Doctor. ‘We must find out why. Shel’s badly damaged, he shouldn’t get far.’ He tutted. ‘Just look at this vandalism! My dear, would you check our new discovery beneath the console is undamaged, hmm?’ He rubbed his back meaningfully.

  Polly felt a little uneasy at the way the Doctor could seemingly forget all the violence they’d just lived through to concentrate on a bit of broken technology, but she crouched down obediently just the same. Beneath the console she saw the junction box was scorched and smoking. ‘Looks like this has had it.’

  ‘He’s managed to fuse the controls.’ The Doctor grimaced. ‘Dear, dear. And just as I was about to deactivate the force shield and study those bodies!’

  Polly looked at him doubtfully. ‘That was probably the point, wasn’t it?’

  Stamping feet made Polly turn. Haunt had re-entered the room. From the look on her face, Shel had got away.

  ‘Where’s Frog?’ asked Polly.

  ‘Outside, guarding the corridor,’ she said. ‘We couldn’t catch him. He moved too fast, even wounded like –’ She caught herself. ‘Even damaged like that.’

  Polly wondered how long Haunt had known Shel, how many secrets she’d trusted to him. She shook her head, walked over to the Doctor.

  ‘He was a most convincing human being,’ the Doctor murmured.

  Haunt snorted bitterly, as if suddenly recognising there had been something blindingly obvious about Shel’s deception all along. ‘You realise that only someone at the highest level in Pent Central would have access to the kind of technology needed to make a thing like that,’ she said quietly. ‘Frog’s right. They assigned him to my unit so he could lead us into this trap. We have to find him. Find out what he’s been planning, and why.’ She raised her wrist to her lips. ‘I’ll alert the others to be ready for him.’

  She began by calling Creben.

  Nothing but reedy static greeted her in response.

  ‘Tovel? Joiks? Roba?’

  Polly felt a chill shiver down her. If anything, the shushing of the static was growing louder, angrier.

  Haunt swore. ‘Right. I’ll just have to tell them in person.’

  ‘You’re leaving us here?’ Polly asked.

  Haunt paused briefly in the doorway. ‘Watch the bodies. Watch Shade.’

  That said, she turned and left.

  Polly waited until she was sure the woman had gone, then ran over to the TARDIS. The door wouldn’t budge. She let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. ‘If you’d shut down their invisible barrier thing, we might’ve been able to get back into the TARDIS.’

  ‘Yes, quite so,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘I do wish I knew what sort of a stasis field is operating here. Until I do, and can find a way to counteract it, I’m afraid none of us are really safe.’

  ‘Safe,’ Polly said numbly. The word seemed to have lost its meaning. She leaned back against the police box’s stubborn doors and stared up. The endless fragments of glass set into the high ceiling sparkled reflected light at her eyes, and she closed them wearily. ‘I do hope Ben’s all right.’

  ‘He’s a resourceful young man,’ the Doctor said, as if this was a talisman against evil and all Ben needed.

  Polly’s eyes snapped back open as Shade cried out suddenly. She found it hard to believe such a high-pitched, childish sound could come from a man so big. ‘Watch Shade,’ Haunt had told them. Polly thought back to her earlier suspicions. They seemed somehow foolish now. Shel was the bad guy, not Shade. Hadn’t Shade saved her life when the guns were firing, dragging her to the floor? As she walked back over to the Doctor, her cheeks prickled. She realised she was blushing.

  ‘Are you all right, my child?’ the Doctor asked, glancing up at her.

  Caught off guard, Polly gave her cheeks a token scratch and shrugged. ‘My, er, skin. It feels sore, itchy. Like sunburn.’ She smiled ruefu
lly. ‘Only I could get a sunburn in the middle of an underground cavern.’

  The Doctor could only be half-listening, because he seemed to take her perfectly seriously. ‘It isn’t the sunburn that causes the itching,’ he said. ‘That is caused by the skin healing itself.’

  Polly politely mulled over this nugget of information until Shade shouted out again.

  ‘Go to him,’ the Doctor said softly, still staring at the useless console. ‘See what you can do to help.’

  Polly nodded, and crossed back over towards Shade. ‘What is it, what’s the matter?’

  ‘My face,’ Shade whimpered as she came close; but by then there was no need for the explanation. His skin had become a sticky black mess. Fresh blood dribbled steadily down into his ears, teeth and hair. His teeth were clenched, every muscle she could see was bunched up with tension, and his body shook as if racked with silent sobs. ‘What’s happening to me?’ he said, grinding out each word. ‘My face feels like it’s tearing apart.’

  It is, Polly wanted to tell him, as her own eyes welled up with tears. She scratched the back of her itching neck. I think it is.

  II

  After all the endless trudging through the dank tunnels, stooped and squashed and single-file, Ben was pleasantly surprised when Roba led him, Joiks and Tovel into some kind of vast vaulted chamber, roughly pentagonal in shape. The luminous weed hung down in thick strands, danced around by the usual attendant fleas. There were even piles of it on the floor. In the far wall was another tunnel, as dark and uninviting as all the others. There bad been several narrow channels leading off from the main passage on their journey, but they’d decided to stick to the A-roads first. If they had to double back up a B-road and scarper at any point, Ben wanted to know what they’d be running into.

  So for now it was the five towering stone pillars dominating the room that grabbed Ben’s attention. They were arranged in the same pattern as the dots on a dice or a domino. At the top of the two columns nearest Ben, there rested duplicate pairs of oversized stone babies with angel wings. They looked like they’d scoffed a few rusks too many. Nothing crowned the pillar in the centre, nor the one behind it to the left. But the final column supported four of the ugly statues, crowded together with their backs to any onlookers, like they were up to something. The overall effect of the design left Ben feeling strangely uncomfortable. There was no logic to it. Modern art, he supposed.

  It seemed the others agreed. ‘This is different,’ said Joiks, without much enthusiasm.

  ‘This stinks,’ Roba said more succinctly, and Tovel nodded.

  Creben stayed quiet, just walked about and shone his torch diligently into the five corners of the chamber. ‘Nothing,’ he announced. Then he stopped dead, staring over Ben’s shoulder.

  Ben spun round in alarm, but while his eyes scanned the wall behind the hanging glass tapestry, he could see nothing untoward.

  ‘Look,’ Creben urged the others.

  It finally hit Ben.

  ‘The tunnel,’ he breathed. ‘It’s gone!’

  Roba folded his arms, with the air of someone not about to fall for a joke. ‘How can a tunnel go anywhere?’

  Ben walked up to the wall. It looked solid, and when he kicked it, he knew for sure. ‘Search me, mate. But it ain’t where we came through.’

  ‘We must’ve come through that one,’ Roba said, pointing to the tunnel they could all see. ‘We just lost our bearings.’

  ‘Uh-huh. Thanks for that, Roba,’ said Tovel dryly.

  ‘It was here,’ Joiks murmured.

  Creben nodded. ‘It must be some kind of secret passageway, one that can’t be detected from this side of the wall. These doorways could be littered all over the place.’

  ‘Great,’ said Ben sourly. ‘So our little search won’t be over till we’ve accidentally gone through every one of them.’

  Creben shook his head. ‘I imagine we’ll have reached our destination long before then.’

  ‘Always there with a cheery thought, ain’t you.’

  ‘We’ll just have to look harder in the places we can see,’ said Tovel decisively. ‘Starting here.’

  Even as Tovel spoke, Ben noticed with a jolt some dark fleeting movement on the pillar behind him. ‘What’s that?’

  Tovel protested mildly as Ben shoved him aside. A thin black trail had appeared on the pillar. It stretched vertically down from top to bottom, where it resolved itself into a sticky liquid pooling round his boots.

  ‘Blood out of a stone,’ he murmured nervously, while Tovel just swore in disbelief.

  ‘Where’s it coming from?’ Creben demanded, unholstering his gun. The others followed suit.

  ‘Up there,’ said Tovel.

  Ben took a few steps back and several shaky breaths. Whatever was at the top of the column, spilling blood, it was obscured by the huddle of statues crouched over it.

  ‘If we want to see what’s bleeding,’ Ben said grimly, ‘we’re gonna have to climb for it.’

  Joiks laughed briefly. ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘You volunteering?’ Roba said expectantly as he knitted his huge fingers together into a makeshift stirrup.

  Ben looked round anxiously. ‘Well…’

  ‘We’ve got to know what’s there, after all,’ Creben said mildly.

  ‘He’s right,’ said Tovel with the faintest of smiles. ‘Reckon you can make it?’

  So, it was time to earn his place with the boys again. Fair enough. The column was broad, but there were occasional chips and ridges that could give him footholds.

  He put his right foot in Roba’s hands and the giant propelled him upwards. The trail of blood smeared against his body as he wrapped his arms round the pillar, holding on tight while he kicked about for a footing. He heard whistles and claps, shouts of encouragement, urging him on. His breath pushed out in ragged gasps through clenched teeth, his heart was racing, but slowly he was scaling the column. The rough stone scuffed and stung his palms as he searched for cracks and ledges he could use to help lever himself further up. His feet caught in crevices, and some were pronounced enough to take his weight. He was going to make it. Then he tried to imagine what grisly scene was waiting for him at the top, and felt less elated.

  Far below, the lads still shouted their encouragement. The sounds echoed strangely up here, were almost lost under the rustling of the vegetation, thick with fleas, and the ghostly clinking of the glass tapestry. As he climbed the final few feet, the shadowy statues at the top loomed above Ben. He saw their wings, their smooth stone backs lit with a gentle radiance.

  ‘I made it!’ he shouted.

  One of the statues twisted round to look down at him.

  Ben’s pounding heart nearly stopped dead. He wanted to shout out, but the sound died in his throat.

  The statue’s stone eyes were wide and innocent. Its thick lips were smiling at him benignly.

  A scrap of wet, dark material fell from its huge bloody hands, flapping like a bat past Ben’s face.

  In the thick shadows at the statue’s feet he thought he glimpsed a human hand, slender fingers twisted and outstretched.

  The smiling stone angel reached for his neck.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE SECRET ADVERSARY

  I

  BEN SLID PAINFULLY down the column as fast as he could go, resisting the instinct to abandon it altogether and take his chances with the fall. He caught crazy corkscrew glimpses of the angel as he spiralled downwards, the pitted rock clawing at his arms and legs. Around him, bolts of energy shot up into the ceiling, pounded into the pillar, caught the statue full in the face. Slowly, the other enormous cherubs reacted to the onslaught. Heads cocked to one side. Arms reached slowly out towards the soldiers. Stone wings began to flap, and the air twittered with movement.

  Lazily, the smiling statues launched themselves into the air and drifted down after him, like falling leaves.

  Ben leaped down the last ten feet, fell awkwardly. Roba stopped firing long enough to scoo
p him up and push him towards the mouth of the tunnel.

  ‘Out!’ yelled Tovel. The soldiers scattered as the angels drifted after them, pushing through the air like swimmers through water. The air seemed alive with the soft, rhythmic sound of their wings beating.

  Ben pelted for the opening in the rock. He was almost there when a bolt of searing brightness shot from out of the darkness. It nearly took his face off. Finding himself under attack again, Ben threw himself instinctively to the ground and landed in a pile of fallen fleaweed. ‘There’s something in the tunnel!’ he yelled, his voice cracking in panic, the pale fleas dancing about him, crawling and jumping over his face. He crawled away, spat them out, saw the grey angels as they floated ever nearer.

  Two more yellow bolts whizzed into the room. Then Ben heard a familiar voice, and realised he’d almost been killed by the cavalry.

  ‘What are they?’ Haunt was standing in the mouth of the tunnel, brandishing her rifle, looking on appalled.

  ‘They were statues before,’ Roba said, backing away until he stood beside her. ‘Just statues.’

  Haunt’s voice was barely audible. ‘Constructs. Morphiean constructs.’

  ‘There’s a girl’s body up there,’ Ben said, the words tumbling off his tongue. ‘I dunno whose, I only saw the shadow. God knows what they’d done to her.’

  The angels bobbed closer in utter silence. Their smiles were compassionate. Their fingers dripped blood.

  ‘Come on.’ Joiks led the way out of the chamber, and Tovel and Roba pushed through after him.

  Haunt stared at the creatures, revulsion on her face, clutching her stomach like she was going to be sick. ‘Angels,’ she said. She seemed transfixed by the drifting statues. The nearest of them was almost close enough to touch.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ Ben almost screamed. He grabbed Haunt by the arm and dragged her out of the room after him, without looking back.

  II

  Shade roared with pain as Polly pressed some kind of surgical wipe to his sticky red face.

  ‘This will soothe the skin, make you feel better,’ she said shakily, but wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. Truthfully, she’d never seen anyone look so awful. Ordinarily she wasn’t too bothered by blood. She’d seen plenty of fights before, living in London. Cuts and bruises dished out down alleyways or outside clubs. She’d even been the reason for them starting once or twice. But looking down at Shade there was no comparison to a bloodied nose, or a cut cheek. Shade’s entire face was an open wound. The blood was bright red, watered down with a sticky clear fluid. As fast as Polly could mop it up, it kept squeezing back out. How much more could there be in him?