by Various
‘Oh yes,’ the man said, as if this was obvious. ‘It’s all a question of finding the right frequency.’
With the help of the station’s scientists, the scruffy man set up a series of devices that could emit sounds on different frequencies. They then connected the devices to the inside of the Cybermat’s head – a screen showed a magnified view of the creature’s brain. The scruffy man watched the screen carefully while the scientists operated the devices. As the scientists tweaked the dials and changed settings, different tones sounded – some were low buzzes, others high-pitched wails that made the chief’s ears ache.
‘There!’ the man exclaimed suddenly. ‘That one again, please.’
By this time, they had been working for over an hour, with no apparent progress. Now, however, the man was hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. ‘That’s it!’ he declared. ‘That’s what we need.’
The chief was thoroughly confused by now. ‘You believe this sound alone will destroy the Cybermats?’ he asked the man, who was furiously scribbling notes on a sheet of paper.
‘Oh no,’ the man said. Seeing the chief’s disappointment, he smiled. ‘But it will draw them to us. Unfortunately,’ he went on, looking across the cluttered workbench, ‘this equipment isn’t really mobile.’ He clicked his tongue as he considered. ‘Play it again,’ he ordered.
The note that played was neither high nor low, but a pleasant sound somewhere inbetween. The scruffy man frowned as he considered. ‘About 440 hertz,’ he murmured. ‘Would you say that was D?’ he asked. ‘Or possibly C sharp?’
‘I really don’t know,’ the chief admitted.
‘Never mind,’ the man said. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a long tube with holes in it. He put it to his lips, covered some of the holes with his fingers and blew. The note that came out of the tube was exactly the same as the note the devices arranged on the workbench had emitted.
‘Perfect!’ the man said, lowering the tube. ‘It’s a recorder,’ he explained. ‘I’m quite good with it, even if I do say so myself.’ He hesitated. ‘Not sure my friends Jamie and Zoe would necessarily agree, but never mind. Now, let’s go back to that walkway round the hull and play hunt-the-Cybermat.’
They returned to the part of the corridor where the first Cybermat had been hiding. The scruffy man looked around, nodded, then put his musical pipe to his lips and blew. A single pure note rang out, loud and clear, through the station.
The chief was not really sure what the scruffy man expected to happen – it all seemed quite mad to him. But as he and the guards who had come with them watched, the Cybermats started to appear. At first there were just vague flashes of silver. Then, slowly, they all emerged from hiding. The creatures slid out from ducts and shadows; they crawled up from beneath the walkway and down the sides of walls. Smiling as he continued to play, the man started along the walkway and the Cybermats followed him. Drawn to the sound of the scruffy man’s musical note, more and more of the metal creatures joined the line of silver that stretched behind him.
Finally, when the strange procession had been all the way round the outer hull, and the chief was sure there could be no more of the creatures, the scruffy man led the Cybermats to the secondary aft hold – this was where the chief had decided the man should bring them. The area had not been used for years, and the station wouldn’t miss it.
Guards opened the main access hatch; it was rusty and stiff with both age and lack of use. As soon as it was open, the man marched inside, still playing his constant note. The Cybermats swarmed after him like a great metal river. They followed the man across the huge, empty space to the far side of the hold. Then, the music changed.
The sound from the recorder warbled between several notes. The Cybermats swung around, disoriented and confused. As they turned back and forth, the scruffy man broke into a run and headed back towards the main hatch. Slowly the Cybermats began to realise what was happening, and turned to follow the man. He kept running, no longer playing the recorder. Behind him, the Cybermats seemed to sense where he was, and started back across the hold after him.
‘Oh, my giddy aunt!’ the man exclaimed breathlessly as he ran. ‘Quickly – close the hatch as soon as I’m through.’
The chief hurried to help the guards to swing the cumbersome door back into place. Not a moment too soon, the scruffy man dived through the narrowing gap. The nearest Cybermat leaped after him just as the chief and the guards slammed the hatch shut; they heard the loud clang as the Cybermat collided with the other side of the heavy metal door.
The scruffy man stood wiping his forehead with a grubby handkerchief. ‘They won’t stay in there for long,’ he told the chief. ‘You’ll have to move quickly.’
Already the guards were at work on the section’s locking clamps. As soon as they were primed, the chief gave the order – the section was sealed off, and the clamps blown up. Without the clamps to secure it in place, the whole of the secondary aft hold detached from the main station. It drifted slowly away from Space Station Hamlyn, with the Cybermats still inside.
On the central screen in the station’s control room, the chief and the scruffy man watched a close-up view of the detached section as it drifted away. Already the Cybermats were burrowing through the exterior. Gleams of silver caught the starlight as the creatures began to tear their way out.
As soon as the hold was far enough away from the station, the chief gave another order. The main X-ray laser swung round to aim at the detached section, then it fired. The screen that the chief and the scruffy man were watching disaplayed only static as the hold was blasted to pieces.
‘That’s the end of your Cybermats,’ the scruffy man said quietly. ‘The Cybermen won’t try that again.’
‘Thank you,’ the chief said. He turned to face the man. ‘I think that leaves only one thing to be sorted out. You.’
The scruffy man looked startled. ‘Me? But I don’t need sorting out.’
‘I want to know who you are and how you came here,’ the chief said. ‘How did you get past our defence shields? Why are you here?’
The man sighed. ‘I suppose I do owe you a few explanations,’ he agreed. ‘The answers to all your questions are in that large blue box you found me with.’
The chief’s guards had been unable to open the blue box. When the chief mentioned this to the man, he simply smiled and said that he had a key – but he refused to hand it over, explaining that it would only work for him. ‘You have to know exactly how to use it. My TARDIS – that is, the box – has no ordinary lock, you know,’ he told the chief.
So the chief and several of his guards led the man back to the blue box. They watched as he unlocked the door.
‘I promised you an answer,’ he said, ‘but I’m afraid it may not be quite the answer you’re looking for. In fact,’ he admitted, ‘it might only raise a few more questions in your mind.’ Then, before the chief or any of the guards could follow him, he stepped inside the box and closed the door behind him.
‘It’s all right,’ the chief told the guards. ‘It’s not as if he can go anywhere.’
But the chief’s words were drowned out by the sudden scraping, trumpeting sound that echoed from the box. Then, slowly, as the chief and his guards watched in disbelief, the blue box faded away and disappeared.
Long ago and far away, there once was a young woman called Helana who lived with her father on the edge of town. Helana’s father was a scientist. When Helana was young, he had worked for a large corporation and was in charge of all their research and development, but when the corporation’s profits fell the facility he worked in was closed.
From then on, Helana’s father worked for himself, selling his expertise to whichever companies he could. When her father had work, things were good – Helana and her father ate well and could afford new clothes and trips to far off lands. Other times, though, when her father did not have work, Helana knew that things were tight. So, when she was able to, she worked in the town to earn
a little extra money, helping in the library or one of the shops.
One day, Helana’s father received a message. It was an offer of work: a private individual needed some research conducted and wanted Helana’s father to do it.
‘I shall be away for a few weeks,’ he told his daughter. ‘At least the money is good, and the work sounds interesting.’
Helana was not concerned. Her father often worked away from home, and she was quite used to coping on her own for a while. Gradually, though, the weeks became months, and Helana heard nothing from her father. She began to worry. She left messages on his communicator, but got no reply. She even went to the local constable to ask his advice, but he assured her that there was no need to be concerned – especially since money continued to appear in their household account each week. The constable was sure Helana’s father was safe, and was probably just wrapped up in his work.
But Helana was not convinced, and she became increasingly worried until at last she decided to go through her father’s messages to find the offer of work. When she had found it, she made a note of the address and programmed it into her transporter’s navigation systems. Soon Helana had left the town altogether and was speeding through empty countryside in her transporter. It was a long journey, to a region she had never visited before. As the evening drew in, Helana still had not arrived at her destination.
Night fell, and Helana began to wonder if she would ever reach the address where her father was working. In the sky above her, a sliver of a moon was all but lost in the trees.
The transporter turned off the main road and headed down a narrow lane that ran through a dense wood. The lane ended at a pair of huge, elaborate metal gates set in a high stone wall. The transporter stopped. ‘You have reached you destination,’ the computerised navigation voice told Helana.
Cautiously, Helana got out of the transporter. As she approached the gates, she was able to discern a shadow in the distance that gradually morphed into the silhouette of a grand house. A long road wound its way towards the house, and a light burned in one of the windows.
There was no entry coder or communicator that Helana could see, so she pushed tentatively on one of the gates. It moved slightly. The metal was heavy and cold, and rust flaked off beneath her palms. She pushed harder, and the gate creaked and protested, but it swung far enough open to make a gap that she could squeeze through. Helana considered trying to open both gates fully, in order to bring the transporter through with her, but it had been so difficult to open one just a little that she decided against it – it would most likely take more strength than she possessed.
She was about halfway along the road to the house when a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the sky. Thunder split the silence. Helana hurried faster towards the house, hoping to get there before the rain started – but almost immediately a torrential downpour hit and, by the time Helana at last reached the front door, she was quite drenched.
Blinking the rainwater out of her eyes, she wiped her damp hand across her soaking face. She couldn’t see a bell or a door knocker, so she hammered on the door with her fist, as hard and as loud as she could. She heard nothing except the distant rumble of thunder and the splashing of the rain. Just as she was about to knock again, she noticed the sound of heavy footsteps nearing the door, then heard several bolts being drawn back and a key turning in the lock.
The door swung open.
At first, Helana could only make out the vague, dark outline of an enormous figure standing in the doorway. But, when a new flash of lightning split the sky, Helana saw the face staring down at her. And she screamed.
The creature that stood in the doorway was something between a man, a bear and a lion. His face was covered in thick, matted fur and a huge paw with long, sharp claws reached out to grab Helana’s shoulder and drag her inside. The creature’s breath was rancid and stale. With deep-set red eyes, he glared at Helana. Yet, even through her fear, Helana thought she detected a flicker of kindness buried somewhere deep in those eyes.
‘Who are you?’ the beast growled. ‘What do you want here?’
Helana was too terrified to speak. Taking a deep breath, she tried to remind herself that the creature had not hurt her – it had merely pulled her in out of the rain – and that the questions it was asking were not unreasonable.
‘My name is Helana,’ she stammered at last. ‘I am looking for my father.’
‘Your father?’ the beast echoed. ‘And what makes you think he might be here?’
‘He came here,’ Helana said. ‘At least, I think he did. He is a scientist. He was offered work at this house.’
‘Ah …’ The beast nodded as if this made everything clear. ‘Yes. You had better come through to the laboratory.’
Struggling to keep her fear hidden and under control, Helana followed the creature deeper into the huge house. The beast led her along corridors and down flights of stone steps until they arrived at a heavy wooden door studded with iron rivets. The beast turned a huge key in the lock, drew back a bolt and pushed the door open. He stood back, gesturing for Helana to go inside.
With some trepidation, she entered the room, half afraid that the door would slam shut behind her and that she would hear the key turn and the bolt being shot across to lock her inside. But the huge, hairy creature followed her into the cavernous, dimly lit chamber beyond the door.
At once Helana’s fears were forgotten, swept away by a wave of relief when she saw the figure on the far side of the room staring at her in disbelief. Helana ignored the heavy wooden workbench, glassware, monitors and electronics that filled the room. She ran past it all without even noticing. Her attention was fixed on the man now facing her. Her father.
She ran into his arms, and they held each other close for a long time. Only as they stepped apart did Helana realise that the beast had gone, and the door was closed – closed, and locked. Her father nodded sadly at her. ‘I am a prisoner here,’ he told Helana. ‘And now I fear you are too.’
The beast did not return for several hours. During that time, Helana’s father told her how the creature had locked him away in the cellar laboratory and demanded that he work for him. ‘But what he asks is impossible,’ her father confessed. ‘It requires a knowledge of genetics and DNA sequencing that I do not have – that no one in the world has.’
‘Have you told him that?’ Helana asked.
Her father shook his head and looked away. ‘I am afraid that if he discovers I cannot do what he asks he will kill me.’
They sat in silence for a while. ‘I shall tell him,’ Helana said at last. Then, before her father could protest, she went on. ‘Sooner or later he will realise that your work is going nowhere, and what will the consequences be then? No. We must tell him now – better to tell him the truth sooner than let his anger grow worse with time.’
Her father sighed. ‘You may be right,’ he conceded. ‘Despite his temper and all the threats he makes, I do believe there is some decency hidden deep within him.’
‘I think so too,’ Helana said – and she remembered the touch of kindness she had glimpsed when she first looked into the beast’s red eyes. ‘You know,’ she added, ‘I think that above all he is sad.’
So, when the beast returned, Helana told him that her father’s work was done.
‘He has completed the task?’ the beast asked, surprised. A burst of excitement flared in him, but it was quelled by Helana’s next words.
‘No,’ she told him. ‘What you ask is beyond him.’
‘It’s beyond anyone,’ her father added quickly. ‘I am sorry. My daughter felt you should be told the truth.’
For a moment, Helana and her father both held their breath, waiting to see how the beast would respond. The beast’s massive body heaved, and they flinched … but all he did was give a melancholy sigh. He buried his hairy face in his great paws.
‘So,’ Helana said quietly, ‘can we go?’
For a while, the creature did not answer. When it looked up, th
e fur round its eyes was damp from tears. ‘No,’ it said. ‘If I must suffer without your help, then I must have company. I cannot endure this alone.’
‘Please!’ Helana’s father sank to his knees in front of the beast. ‘I shall stay. I shall keep you company – but let my daughter go.’
‘No!’ Helana heard herself say, with such force that it surprised her. ‘My father is growing old. He should not have to live out the rest of his days as a prisoner here. Let him return home. If you will promise not to lock me away and to let me live in the house properly, and if you will allow my father to visit once in a while, then I will stay with you. But let him go.’
The beast stared at her through his deep red eyes. ‘You would stay in order that your father might go free?’
‘Yes,’ Helana said. ‘I would.’
‘But aren’t you afraid of me?’ the beast asked.
‘When I first saw you, I was terrified,’ Helana admitted. ‘But now I sense that you are simply lonely, and I believe there is kindness in your heart. I believe you are just as afraid as we are, though of what I do not know. If you insist that one of us stay here with you then, please, let it be me.’
The beast stared at her. ‘Very well,’ he said quietly.
Helana’s father was distraught. He tried to persuade his daughter to change her mind, but she was decided: her father’s freedom was more important to her than her own.
The storm was over, and dawn was breaking. The beast allowed Helana to accompany her father back down the road to the transporter, which was still waiting by the gates. The creature walked a few paces behind, in case Helana should try to escape, but she had made a promise and had no intention of breaking it. When they reached the gates, she made no effort to follow her father through them.
‘This is my home now,’ she said, unable to keep the sadness out of her voice.
