The Ice Warriors

by Brian Hayles

  ‘The weapon has only to be primed, and fired at my command,’ hissed the warlord. ‘Zondal is an expert bombardier. Let us hope he does not have to demonstrate his skills more than once!’

  When Clent and Miss Garrett arrived in the medicare centre, Jamie was already encased in the computerised diagnostic chamber. Penley, who was overseeing its purring function, didn’t seem to hear Clent enter. But when he did turn round to acknowledge the Leader’s sour greeting, his expression was one of deep relief.

  ‘So you’ve come back!’ commented Clent.

  ‘Of my own free will,’ replied the renegade scientist. ‘Largely because I was talked into it by that chap the Doctor – and this young friend of his.’

  ‘Is that all you expect?’ jibed Clent. ‘Free medical treatment? Don’t think you’ll be reinstated! You’re an outsider – self-declared!’

  Jan was examining Jamie. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ she asked Penley anxiously. He smiled in reply, appreciating that she didn’t share Clent’s anger.

  ‘He was shot by the warriors’ guns,’ Penley answered soberly, ‘when they killed Arden. I was afraid there’d be some neural damage, but the diagnosis says it’ll only be temporary – given the right treatment,’ he added challengingly. ‘Or will you try and put a stop to that, too?’

  Walters, hovering in the background, looked uneasy. All the signs pointed to yet another row between the two scientists. Clent gestured Walters to remain.

  ‘Stay here, Walters,’ he ordered, ‘you may be needed.’

  ‘I’m not liable to be violent!’ snapped Penley. ‘I’m here to make sure that this lad gets the attention he needs – that’s all. Besides which, there’s this chap the Doctor—’

  ‘Where is he?’ asked Jan quickly. ‘We lost contact with him over an hour ago. Have you seen him?’

  Penley nodded, then threw an acid glance at Clent, who glowered back at him fiercely. ‘He’s up to something inside the alien spaceship. Trying to save your skin, I suppose!’ Clent stiffened, but Penley continued. ‘What are you going to do about him then?’

  ‘There is nothing we can do,’ announced Clent. ‘The computer has given its instructions.’

  Instantly, Penley flared into anger. ‘You haven’t changed have you? Can’t you ever think for yourself? It won’t fall apart because you tell it to mark time for a couple of hours!’

  Clent’s reply was cool and smug. ‘We are marking time – at the request of the computer itself. For once,’ smirked Clent, pleased to score over Penley’s incessant jibing at the computer’s authority, ‘you and the computer are in agreement!’

  ‘In that case, something’s badly wrong. Has it got indigestion – or mumps even?’ he asked hopefully.

  Jan replied, trying desperately to keep the peace. If only these two would sink their petty differences and co-operate, she thought, their problems would be solved in no time!

  ‘The spaceship may contain a reactor system that could explode under the effect of the full Ioniser impact,’ she said simply. ‘We daren’t use it. But World Control have ordered us—’

  ‘I know about the spaceship’s reactor,’ Penley replied. ‘Didn’t anybody have the sense to work out the time needed for isotope degeneration? For all we know, it may be perfectly harmless…’ He turned to Clent, no longer joking. ‘Now there’s a sensible job for your computer, Clent.’

  Clent almost snarled with rage. ‘I have no intention of diverting the Base computer from its official programme!’ he shouted. ‘Least of all for something so trivial and irrelevant! The computer’s judgement is quite clear—’

  Penley started shouting back. ‘Clent – you’re a fool! Not even a man – just a slave to that stupid machine!’

  ‘We all know your sort of freedom, Penley!’ replied Clent savagely. ‘Freedom to run away: from responsibility, from loyalty, from service to the community.’

  ‘At least I have a mind of my own! I dare to act – but you dare not!’ He grasped hold of Clent’s arm. The gesture wasn’t in any way violent, but Clent tore himself free and shouted at the security sergeant:

  ‘Walters! Use your tranquilliser gun! Shoot!’

  Instinctively and swiftly, Walters obeyed. The numbing drug took effect almost immediately. Penley slumped, unconscious, to the floor. As Walters holstered his gun and lifted the limp body on to a nearby bed-trolley, Clent caught Jan’s look of disgust.

  ‘I had no choice!’ the Leader protested. ‘You saw him grab me!’ Jan said nothing. Everyone present knew the truth – including Clent. He turned to Walters, defensively. ‘Strap him down,’ he ordered. Clent ushered Jan towards the door. ‘We have work to do…’ he declared. But Jan stood fast, her face cold and determined. She pointed towards Jamie, still unconscious and cocooned inside the diagnostic unit.

  ‘What about the boy?’ she demanded, her tone daring Clent to ignore his condition. Clent glanced towards Jamie’s helpless form; his face softened slightly. He stepped to the control panel of the machine, and pressed a brief sequence of coloured, illuminated tabs. The machine took on a new hum of increased activity, and a status panel now read TREATMENT IN PROGRESS.

  ‘The machine will do the rest,’ said Clent calmly. ‘We must go back to the Ioniser Room and wait.’ As she and the others left the laboratory, Jan threw one last glance back at Penley, drugged and pinioned. She couldn’t help feeling that with he and the Doctor out of action, all hope had faded… Varga’s voice rasped harshly from the spaceship’s loudspeaker system, bringing Zondal and his prisoners sharply to alert.

  ‘I am at the perimeter of the Earthling Base! Prepare the sonic cannon for firing!’

  Zondal’s mighty fist touched the response switch. ‘Pulse amplifier in operation now,’ he replied to his unseen master.

  Unseen by Zondal, the Doctor mimed a tearful face to Victoria. She responded by bursting into tears. As the Doctor drew the sobbing girl to his shoulder in gentle sympathy, Zondal turned briefly to them, and sneered.

  ‘It’s all right, Victoria,’ murmured the Doctor comfortingly, ‘you mustn’t be afraid…’

  ‘When Varga, our warlord, returns in victory,’ declared the Ice Warrior proudly, ‘then you will have cause for weeping!’ He turned back to the complex process under his control, having no inkling of the furtive conversation which was being carried on behind his back. The Doctor handed a large handkerchief to Victoria. In its folds nestled one of the phials he had dialled from the Base dispenser. She looked surprised, but continued to sob aloud.

  ‘Come along, my dear, have a good blow,’ said the Doctor, then continued in a whisper, ‘When I give the word, throw this stuff into Zondal’s face!’

  ‘What is it?’ Victoria asked between sobs.

  ‘Ammonium sulphide.’

  Ammonium sulphide?’ Victoria blinked. ‘But that’s what they use for making stink bombs, isn’t it?’

  ‘I can see you’ve had a sound English education,’ the Doctor commented. ‘You’re quite right – in fact, it’s a minor poisonous gas. Unpleasant, but harmless to humans.’ He threw a quick glance at the hulking Martian. ‘But to aliens – quite possibly deadly.’

  The shrill whine of power had reached such a pitch that it was now virtually inaudible to human ears. Zondal activated his radio-link, and reported. ‘Pulse amplified and held,’ he hissed. ‘Ready to fire.’

  ‘Good, Zondal,’ replied Varga. ‘I will now contact the scientists. On my command, you will fire – once. Do you understand?’

  ‘Understood, Commander.’

  Suddenly, Victoria cried out in alarm.

  ‘Doctor! Look! There’s water coming into the spaceship!’

  ‘Great heavens!’ exclaimed the Doctor, beckoning the Ice Warrior across. ‘Do you realise what this means, Zondal? The ship is breaking up under the ice!’

  Caught between staying at his firing post, and investigating a possible disaster, Zondal hesitated – and was lost.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘Do not tr
y to trick me!’ Then, as he peered to see what the Doctor was indicating, Victoria threw the contents of the phial straight into his face. For a second, the liquid had no effect at all. Victoria glanced at the Doctor in horrified dismay. Then, just as Zondal seemed to be recovering from the puny attack, his sonic pistol poised for action, the toxic fumes began to grip the creature’s throat. He lurched and fell, choking, to his knees. The Doctor poured the contents of his own phial on to Zondal’s bowed and retching head, and then, like Victoria, skipped nimbly out of range. But even as they watched, the Martian’s body convulsed into a helpless wreck. Varga’s harsh voice rang out again.

  ‘Zondal! Fire – now!’

  The stern command had the momentary effect of pulling the desperately weakened warrior back from the edge of oblivion. Zondal lunged weakly towards the control panel, reaching for the firing button. The Doctor dashed forward – but he was too late. Zondal’s fist struck home, and the cannon fired!

  9

  Counter-Attack

  THE BLAST STRUCK the control room without warning. Clent and Miss Garrett were hurled to the floor. Clent’s first thought was that there had been a localised earthquake – but a quick glance at the seismic chart gave no indication of a natural disaster. He and Jan had barely risen to their feet, half-stunned, when Walters burst into the control room, dusty and battered.

  ‘Sir—’ he gasped. He paused to steady himself.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Walters,’ demanded Clent, ‘what’s happening?’

  ‘The documentation wing, sir’ – explained the security sergeant breathlessly – ‘it’s gone – blown apart!’

  They stared at him in disbelief. Then a glimmer of understanding crept into Clent’s brain. ‘We’re under attack!’ he whispered wildly. ‘But who on earth…’

  Suddenly, the videoscreen flicked into life. Partially distorted by interference, but hideously recognisable, was the grim face of the Ice Warrior.

  ‘Leader Clent,’ came the terrifying hiss, ‘you are at my mercy. Obey me, or you will be destroyed!’

  Clent snapped back, hysterically defiant. ‘I refuse! You cannot destroy us!’

  ‘You do not believe me? Must I fire again?’

  Clent turned towards the others, but hardly seemed to see them. His eyes looked glazed; he rubbed his hands together in nervous desperation. Jan suddenly felt an enormous surge of pity – he was on the verge of losing his nerve completely.

  ‘What can we do?’ he croaked, looking about him aimlessly. Suddenly, his eyes brightened. ‘We must play for time!’ Walters was more realistic.

  ‘The building won’t take any more like that, sir! There’s men killed already.’

  ‘Then we’ll talk to them,’ snapped Clent, and, acting with a little of his old authority, he addressed the image on the videoscreen. ‘Exactly who am I speaking to?’ Jan moved forward and stood by his shoulder.

  ‘My name is Varga, warlord of Mars. I order you to surrender – or you will die!’

  ‘You will gain nothing by destroying us,’ replied Clent. ‘We both have urgent needs. But I will agree to talk – nothing more.’ At first, the Martian didn’t reply. The tension became almost unbearable.

  ‘If I come in peace,’ the voice replied at last, ‘there must be trust between us. No treachery!’

  ‘There will be no traps – or conditions,’ declared Clent.

  ‘See that you keep to that,’ rasped Varga, and his image faded from the screen.

  It took several minutes for the scientists to regain their normal composure.

  ‘What does he want…’ whispered Jan.

  ‘My men don’t stand a chance against weapons like that, sir,’ insisted the security sergeant. ‘It’d be murder!’

  ‘That wasn’t in my mind, Walters,’ retorted Clent. ‘You heard what he said – no treachery!’

  ‘But can we trust him?’ asked Jan.

  ‘We have to, don’t we?’ replied Clent. ‘He has… certain advantages – like the ability to blast us and this whole building apart!’

  ‘We could try bluffing him,’ suggested Jan seriously. ‘He doesn’t know about the computer’s command to hold back. We could threaten to destroy the glacier and his ship with it!’

  Before Clent could answer, Walters stepped forward, his face eager. ‘Better than that, sir, why don’t we do it anyway? It’s our only chance of survival—’

  Miss Garrett turned on the burly security commander. ‘There are human lives at stake there, man: the girl’s and the Doctor’s! We can only bluff!’

  ‘We will not use the Ioniser,’ clipped the Leader firmly, ‘unless the computer authorises it!’

  ‘Don’t tell me about that damned machine!’ shouted Walters. ‘What’s your precious computer ever given us, Clent? Nothing! Nothing but trouble! And it’s time somebody put an end to it!’ He dragged his tranquilliser gun from its holster, and was about to use it to smash the sleek head of ECCO. Suddenly Clent cried out, and pointed towards the open doorway.

  ‘Walters!’

  The wild-eyed security commander spun to face the intruders, gun in hand. His eyes widened at the sight of Varga and his three warriors. It was the last thing he ever saw. Almost instantaneously, Varga’s men reacted to the sight of Walters’ weapon with a concerted burst of sonic fire-power. The burly man fell, his face horribly contorted with pain.

  As Jan stifled a scream of terror, Clent stared dully at the body.

  ‘So much for trust…’ hissed the warlord.

  ‘That wasn’t planned!’ protested Clent. ‘He wasn’t going to harm you – it was the computer that he wanted to smash!’

  ‘I do not need your explanations,’ responded Varga. ‘Our truce is at an end!’ As the Martian strode into the control complex and began studying its equipment and layout, Jan had the distinct feeling that the truce was never intended to be kept. This alien was ruthless; unless they were careful, Walters would not be the last to die. She motioned to the few remaining technical operators to do nothing to antagonise the Martians. One glance showed her that they were not likely to make even a token resistance.

  ‘What is it you want?’ Jan boldly asked.

  Varga looked at her arrogantly. ‘I have one major need; mercury isotopes for my spaceship’s reactor. You will give them to me.’

  Clent frowned, and intervened cautiously. ‘But… we don’t use mercury isotopes.’

  ‘The Doctor stated that you had what we need – here! Do not try to trick me!’

  ‘He was wrong – we have none,’ answered Clent simply. ‘What good would lying do?’

  The warlord glowered at Clent, then moved towards Jan. He spoke gently, but the menace in his voice was unmistakable.

  ‘Tell me,’ he whispered smoothly, ‘what will happen if we shut off your reactor in order to extract the fuel elements that we need?’

  ‘You can’t do that!’ Jan answered in alarm. ‘It powers everything: heat, light—’

  ‘And the Ioniser…’ hissed the Martian. ‘Without the reactor, you would be completely at the mercy of the glacier.’

  ‘You don’t realise the dangers!’ Clent exclaimed, his face pale with stress. ‘The power source is locked in directly with the Ioniser. If you cut out the energy pulse before it reduces to safety level, the feed-back effect will blast you and this building into a state of ion-flux!’

  The warlord studied him briefly, then moved across to examine the Ioniser control panel. ‘What is its temperature range?’ he hissed, his great fists poised above the controls.

  ‘Don’t touch it!’ cried Clent. ‘It’s fully primed!’ Varga’s hand fell back, but his arrogant head turned towards Clent, waiting for the answer. ‘It can melt rock,’ muttered Clent reluctantly.

  ‘It can volatise rock!’ the Martian was obviously impressed. ‘What a weapon!’

  ‘It isn’t a weapon!’ insisted Clent nervously. ‘It’s a scientific instrument!’

  ‘But highly dangerous,’ interjected Jan, ‘unless it’s ha
ndled correctly. You do so at your own risk,’ she added.

  ‘You are its operator?’ hissed Varga, then taking her nod of assent as answer, continued, ‘You will take it down to safety level. Now!’

  Jan looked towards Clent. His shoulders slumped; he nodded wearily in agreement. But Jan hadn’t given in completely yet. ‘It’ll take some time,’ she said.

  ‘Do not attempt to trick me,’ rasped the Martian. ‘I know that you are afraid its heat will explode my ship. If you make one false move…’ he placed his sonic destructor at Jan’s head ‘… you will be the first to die!’

  Clent stepped forward to defend Jan. Varga’s gun swung in his direction. He strove to hide his fear. ‘Miss Garrett is the only person who is qualified to disconnect the Ioniser safely! If you kill her—’

  Varga moved closer to the Leader. ‘And what exactly do you do here?’ he asked softly. A little of Clent’s old dignity returned. ‘I am in charge of this establishment, with the official rank of Leader.’

  The Martian coughed out his menacing laugh, and placed the sonic weapon at Clent’s ear. ‘Then you have less value to me than your colleague, who has more valuable skills.’ The warlord looked at Jan; her eyes showed her fear. ‘To kill this man, your Leader,’ he hissed, ‘would be no loss to me. Do you wish to see him die?’

  ‘No!’ cried Jan. ‘Please!’

  ‘Then do as I say! Close down the machine as quickly as is safely possible!’ Varga brutally thrust the sonic weapon against Clent’s cheek, making him howl with pain. ‘Or your Leader will be destroyed!’

  Zondal had been so affected by the toxic gas that he was likely to remain in a deep coma for hours. Victoria kept glancing at the sprawled, massive body nervously – but the Doctor was wholly concentrating on adapting the intricate mechanism of the sonic cannon’s control panel to a purpose all his own.

  ‘But what is it you’re trying to do?’ asked Victoria.