by Mike Tucker
She was in a laboratory of some kind. Or a hospital. The lack of anything that even remotely resembled human technology made it almost impossible to find a common frame of reference. The walls were some hard, grey stone, almost like granite. Light from hidden sources bathed everything in a sickly yellowish light. She was standing in a circle of stones, each made from the same granite-like rock as the walls, each with the same swirling patterns as the circle back on Earth.
‘What is this place?’
‘You are in the Bunker. That is all the information you need,’ hissed the larger of the creatures.
‘You must forgive General Legriss.’ Maagla raised his claws apologetically. ‘He has the mind of a soldier. Come, let me show you.’
Ignoring the protests of the other Wyrrester, Maagla led Clara from the laboratory, ushering her down a wide passage constructed from the same grey stone. At the end of the passageway Clara could see reddish light, and there was a sound; a bubbling, hissing, screaming roar that made her hesitate.
‘What is that?’
‘That is the sound of our species dying.’
They emerged onto a wide balcony. The air above them fizzed and crackled, and Clara realised that it was a force field of some kind. Maagla scuttled forward to the balcony edge. ‘This is how it ends…’
Clara edged forward to join him, staring in disbelieving horror at the scene in front of her.
They stood at the top of a tall, featureless building in the remains of a shattered, ruined city. Once-proud spires now stood blackened and crumbling beneath a boiling scarlet sky. Strange alien craft lay smashed and twisted amongst the rubble, black smoke rising in huge columns filled with ash and glowing embers.
And as far as the eye could see, to the edge of the city and out to the distant mountains beyond, the landscape was crawling with Wyrresters. Millions of them, crawling over their fellows, a seething, screaming mass of insect bodies, clawing to stay on top of the pile.
It was a vision of hell.
Maagla turned to Clara and the alien visage cracked into a horrible semblance of a smile.
‘Welcome to my world.’
Back on Earth, Gebbron, the Wyrrester in Clara’s body, looked around the strange building in which he found himself. It never ceased to amaze him how much unnecessary clutter these creatures surrounded themselves with. Even Clearfield, brilliant as he was, still retained the untidy compulsions of the rest of his species.
He watched as one of the soldiers guided another human male into the room, leading him to a metal receptacle that stood against the wall and dousing his head with water. The acrid reek of the insecticide on his skin made Gebbron want to retch. He had heard the death cries of the insects outside as the chemical had destroyed their nervous systems, but in his mind he had felt the deaths of the Wyrresters who had been inside those bodies.
He felt a blaze of hatred for these pitiful creatures. If they had been able to complete the bridgehead seventy years earlier, none of these animals would ever had existed.
Another two of the soldiers entered the room and Gebbron took an involuntary step backwards as he saw that one of them was carrying the pressurised canister of insecticide spray.
One of the men, an obvious leader, turned to face him.
‘I’m Captain Wilson, British Army. Are you able to give me any useful intel about what is going on out there?’
To Gebbron’s relief the other human, the female called Angela, was more than happy to speak.
As she explained to the soldier about the laboratory and the experiments taking place at the industrial estate, Gebbron took the opportunity to weigh up the opposition that he faced. For the most part they would be relatively easy to dispose of: the man seemed old, and obviously unwell; the smaller human was nothing more than a frightened child. The female was fit, and of equal weight, so she would be a challenge, but not an impossible one. No. It was the soldiers that would prove to be the most difficult obstacle.
He scrutinised the weapons that they were carrying. They were considerably more sophisticated than the ones that had been used against his species previously. The humans had obviously made significant military advances in seventy years. Perhaps there might be a place for some of these human creatures after all in the new order.
The discussion between Angela and the soldier had become heated, and Gebbron returned his attention to what they were saying.
‘Don’t be ridiculous! The Doctor isn’t behind this, he’s doing everything he can to stop it! Clara, tell him!’
A sly thought entered Gebbron’s head. If he could suggest to these soldiers that the Doctor was part of this, sow the seeds of dissent amongst this group, then that could only be to her advantage…
As Gebbron opened Clara’s mouth to speak, the other male, the one who had been riding the bike, interrupted. ‘Captain, I can vouch for the Doctor. Without him, all of us here would be either zombies or dead by now.’ He turned and looked at Gebbron with a conspiratorial smile. ‘I envy you, Clara, travelling with him.’
Aware that the moment for his deception had passed, Gebbron forced the body he had stolen to smile back.
‘Right then.’ The leader of the soldiers had obviously reached some kind of decision. ‘Now that we know the location of our objective I suggest that we get on with our mission. Arnopp, Palmer, you’re with me. Hawkins, you stay here with the civilians, inform the Colonel that we have a positive ID on the location of the Bell.’
‘Sir!’ All three soldiers snapped to attention, then two of them followed their leader out to the primitive transportation device at the front of the dwelling.
As the three men clambered aboard and the engine coughed into life, Gebbron allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. The odds had just turned significantly in his favour.
Clearfield watched as the last few insects were finally herded back into their cages, the air as thick with the smell of ozone. Cattle prods might not have been the subtlest way of getting the job done, but they were efficient.
He turned back to where technicians were swarming around the Bell, trying to repair the damage that the Doctor had done. He glanced at his watch. Less than three hours to the vernal equinox.
‘Well? Have you found out what’s wrong yet?’ he snapped.
One of the technicians turned slowly to face him. ‘A Xerum 525 fluid link has been removed.’ His voice was slurred and emotionless.
Clearfield felt a jolt of panic. Xerum 525 was one of the few components that they could not replace. They had tried with limited success to synthesise an alternative. If he failed the Wyrresters…
‘Start preparation of replacement solution 540.’
‘Solution 540 has not been effective in full-power tests…’
‘Just do it!’
‘Tut, tut, tut. Getting snippy with the workforce, are we? That’s never going to engender a good working environment.’
Clearfield turned to see the Doctor walking slowly across the warehouse floor towards him. Several of the technicians hurried to intercept him, but Clearfield waved them away. ‘Doctor. How nice of you to give me another opportunity to kill you.’ He shook his head, smiling. ‘But you’re too clever for that, aren’t you. Let me guess. Kill you and I’ll never discover where you’ve hidden the Xerum 525, correct?’
‘Actually, it’s right here.’ The Doctor reached into his jacket and withdrew the glass vial.
‘Then perhaps you’re not as clever as I thought.’ Clearfield raised his revolver. ‘If you’ve brought it back then can you give me a good reason why I don’t just shoot you right now, and take it from your dead hands.’
‘Well,’ said the Doctor holding up the vial in front of his face. ‘That depends on whether you’re colour blind or not.’
Clearfield stared at the vial in horror. The once violet liquid was now a dark green. ‘What have you done?’
‘Something very, very clever actually.’ The Doctor tossed the vial into the air and caught it again. ‘I’ve tweak
ed its structure slightly at a subatomic level. Quite simple to make the necessary adjustments to the control circuits so that it will still function as it should, but only if you have the right formula.’ He tapped a finger to the side of his head. ‘And that’s in here.’
‘And I’m guessing that the price for that will be the safe return of Miss Oswald’s mind to her body. How very predictable.’
‘The oldies are the goldies.’ The Doctor held out the vial. ‘So, do we have a deal?’
Clearfield nodded.
‘Good!’ The Doctor handed the modified Xerum 525 to one of the waiting technicians and turned to examine the insects lurking in their cages.
‘Didn’t really get a proper chance to look at these earlier. Very impressive! The creatures currently loose in the village are earlier, less successful experiments, I’m guessing. But these…’ He peered into one of the cages. ‘A synaptically enhanced hybrid of spider, ant, mosquito and crane fly. Shells for the Wyrresters to transfer their consciousness into when you turn on the machine during the equinox.’
‘Excellent, Doctor.’ Clearfield nodded approvingly. ‘With the stone circle incomplete, a full physical transference was no longer possible, but a mental transfer… It just took some time to find the perfect hybrid of insects that was suitable for their minds to inhabit.’
‘But why?’ The Doctor spun to face him, his eyes narrowing. ‘Why are you doing this? What have they told you?’
‘Our race has no future here,’ explained Maagla. ‘We have long passed the point where our numbers can be sustained by the planet’s resources. There are no other suitable planets in our system, we have nowhere left to go.’
‘So you figured that you’d just take over the Earth?’
‘We were looking for a way to save ourselves! The stone circles that exist on your planet and ours, and many others, are the remnants of technology from a long-dead race. A technology that we have worked long to understand and control. When functioning properly the circles are capable of acting as transmat stations across unimaginable distances… Seventy of your years ago we opened up a link with your planet. Sadly, that option is no longer open to us.’
‘But even if it were, you can’t just transport millions of your people onto Earth. The results would be catastrophic!’
‘Millions of us?’ Maagla gave a wicked laugh. ‘We have no interest in saving the squabbling masses down there. They have already relinquished their entitlement to life. Only we, the elite, have earned the right to survive.’
Clara backed away in horror. ‘You’d abandon your own people?’
‘They refused to accept our solution! Here, in this city, in this very building, Gebbron had already proved that careful, selective liquidation of certain genetic groups could drastically reduce the population. If he had been able to do this on a planetary scale…’
‘Genocide,’ breathed Clara. ‘You were advocating mass slaughter of your own people.’
‘To survive! When the only other option was death for every living creature on this planet! Gebbron should have been hailed as a saviour. Instead he is hunted and reviled. Persecuted by our so-called leaders. This facility…’
‘Shut up!’ The revulsion Clara felt was almost more than she could bear. The scientists, the soldiers, the creature whose body she inhabited, and whose mind had invaded her own body, were war criminals.
The Bunker was a death camp.
Chapter
Eighteen
‘Asylum seekers?’ The Doctor’s eyes narrowed even further. ‘These are Wyrresters! Savage, brutal warmongers, without any moral compunction—’
‘And Gebbron has rejected that philosophy!’
The Doctor snorted. ‘A peace-loving Wyrrester! Planet after planet in the Furey-King Maelstrom has been laid waste by their military machine. Whole species decimated.’
‘And it has brought them to the edge of extinction. It is true that their attempt to invade seventy years ago was a military operation, but Gebbron has abandoned that strategy. He and his fellow scientists just wish to survive.’
‘Man and Wyrrester living side by side in harmony?’
Clearfield glared at him. ‘They are our superior in every way. They can guide man to achieve his full potential.’
‘And you are quite happy to help them achieve that?’
‘Once they are in power, man will begin a new golden age of scientific progress. They deserve to lead us!’
‘And if you believe that then I don’t need my sonic screwdriver to tell me that you’re an idiot.’ The Doctor shook his head. ‘It’s not your fault. The venom that’s in your system probably contains a suggestive agent; their version of the Scopolamine you’ve been using to control the villagers. You’ve been part of Gebbron’s back-up plan from the beginning.’ He sniffed. ‘I suppose that you’ve been promised a position of power in this new world order.’
Clearfield said nothing.
The Doctor just nodded. ‘I thought as much. Just another quisling.’
Clearfield stiffened. ‘Think what you like, Doctor, whether you like it or not, if you want to see your companion again, then you have no choice but to help me.’
‘Yes.’ The Doctor smiled grimly. ‘I know.’
‘Very well, Private Hawkins, situation understood. But I want regular updates. And I mean regular! Over and out.’
Gebbron watched the soldier carefully as he finished making his report to his superiors. Clearfield had been clumsy in his attempts at subterfuge. There was obviously a sizeable military force nearby. The first course of action would be to neutralise that force. He needed to get word to General Legriss.
There was a sudden tugging at the cloth Clara wore around her legs. Gebbron turned to see the young human child standing next to her. He recoiled in disgust at its touch.
‘What?’ he snapped.
‘Constable Bevan says that you’re a friend of the Doctor’s. That you’re his assistant or something?’
‘What of it?’
‘Do you know where he is?’ The child was obviously distressed about something. ‘I really need to speak to him. It’s important.’
Gebbron was about to dismiss the child, but then hesitated. If this creature had something important for the Doctor then it might be of relevance.
‘Is it something that you can tell me?’ He did his best to sound friendly and reassuring, trying to keep the revulsion from his voice.
‘I’ll show you. Come on.’
Gebbron rose and followed the child to the rear door of the building. As the child opened it and indicated to him that he should follow him, Gebbron allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. This could work out better than he had thought. A chance to dispose of this human in private.
Checking that none of the others had seen them leave, he followed the child into the enclosure at the rear of the property. Once again he found herself bemused by the humans insistence on surrounding themselves with trinkets. If they only knew how it was to share every inch of space with dozen upon dozen of your fellows…
The child was pulling at the foliage at the side of the path. Gebbron tensed. Once the child had told him what it was that he knew, his death needed to be swift, and done in such a way that it would cause maximum panic amongst the others.
He moved swiftly towards the child, then caught sight of the thing that he was struggling to uncover and stopped, barely able to believe his eyes.
The ancient symbols in the rock were unmistakable. The means of opening the portal to Gebbron’s own world had been here in this place all this time.
Gebbron threw back his head and roared with exultant laughter.
After seventy years of assuming it had been destroyed, here was the missing stone from the circle.
As the vintage motorcycle and sidecar roared along the country road towards the industrial estate, Corporal Palmer, sitting in the sidecar with the two anti-tank weapons resting in front of him, turned to Captain Wilson with a grin.
‘Jus
t like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, eh, Captain?’ he yelled.
Wilson, clinging tightly to the back seat of the Norton, rolled his eyes. Dobby Palmer was a real film buff. ‘Personally, I always preferred The Great Escape!’ he shouted back.
‘Well, Arnopp had better not try and jump any fences in this old crate.’
Before Wilson even had a chance to reply, something huge erupted from the hedgerow alongside the road, slamming into the sidecar, and sending the bike careering off the road and crashing into the adjoining field. Thrown clear by the impact, Captain Wilson hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from him.
He staggered to his feet to see the huge, armoured shape of the beetle burst through the hedge, bearing down on where the bike lay on its side. Wilson could see Arnopp and Palmer struggling to pull themselves free.
Throwing his rifle to his shoulder, Wilson fired, the armour-piercing rounds tearing into the beetle’s carapace. Screeching in pain it scuttled around to face him, giving the two men by the bike the time they needed to scramble clear.
Aware that the huge insect was now bearing down on him, Wilson started to back away, still firing in short, controlled bursts. Despite the damage he was causing, he didn’t seem to be slowing the monster down. Concentrating on his target, and not on where he was putting his feet, Wilson felt his left leg give way beneath him as he stepped into a rabbit burrow.
He crashed to the ground, pain lancing up his leg as his ankle twisted awkwardly. As the creature seized its opportunity and rushed forward to strike, Captain Wilson thought about how ridiculous it was that a man was about to be squashed by a beetle.
The creature was almost on him when it stopped, screeching in alarm. As it began to back away, Wilson started to scramble to his feet. Then he became aware of a shadow falling over him, and long bristle-covered legs planting themselves on the grass either side of him.
He looked up in horror to see the vast abdomen of the spider looming over him, blotting out the sky. He froze, pressing his body flat onto the grass as the spider slunk forward, hissing angrily at the beetle that was attempting to steal its prey.
