‘OK,’ said the Doctor. ‘I think I’m with you so far, but can’t the Rutans shape-shift? Why go to all this bother to get breathed in by humans, or Sontarans, or whoever, when they could have just turned themselves into humans or Sontarans?’
‘We are not as primitive as you think, Doctor. Their technology was crude and often fallible. We have the technology to tell Sontaran from Rutan, regardless of shape and size. The Rutans are a breed of parasites, Doctor. . . For them it was far more fitting to exploit a host. In their plan those hosts would have been Sontarans from the nearby clone world that was once Earth. In the event, the birthing planet was not to happen, and the humans got here first.’
The Doctor allowed himself a moment’s thought.
‘OK, OK. . .’ he said, ‘but that means you’re unable to scan for anyone who might have breathed in the Rutan spore, doesn’t it?’
‘Quite right, Doctor.’
‘So then,’ said the Doctor, ‘how are you going to. . . well, you know. . . root out the Rutans? Ha. . . I quite like that. Root out the Rutans. Sounds like a board game, or something, doesn’t it?’
Colonel Sarg now stepped forward and, in a hushed voice, said, ‘General. . . What he says is true. Would it not be wise, if we are unable to tell the difference between human and Rutan, to simply destroy the whole colony? It would eliminate any possibility of the Rutans escaping, sir.’
‘Oh no,’ said the Doctor. ‘I heard that. No. No no no no no. You can’t do that. I know there are Rutans here. I saw what they did, and we need to sort this out, but no. . . No. I won’t let you kill people.’
Kade turned to the Doctor and raised one hairless eyebrow quizzically.
‘Won’t let me?’ he said. ‘As I see it, Doctor, you have no say in the matter. Soldiers. . . Take him away.’
‘Wait!’ said the Doctor, as two of the Sontarans held him by the arms and dragged him toward the door. ‘Where are they taking me?’
‘Wherever you wish to go,’ said General Kade. ‘Our quarrel is not with you. You have been our adversary in the past and, as I have said, you have bested us. On this occasion that is not an option available to you. I would strongly recommend you leave this colony as quickly as you arrived. You are, after all, the only one who can.’
‘You can’t kill them!’ said the Doctor. ‘They’re unarmed. Where is the honour in that, General? Didn’t you say you were the Intelligence Division?’
Kade gestured at the guards to stop dragging him away.
‘I did, sir.’
‘Well. . . Not very intelligent, just blowing this place up, is it?’ said the Doctor. ‘I mean. . . You are meant to be intelligence, after all. Surely it would be much more intelligent to find out who the Rutans are first before you make any rash decisions?’
Kade looked from the Doctor to Colonel Sarg and then back to the Doctor.
‘‘You may be right,’ he said, and then, turning back to Sarg, ‘Order all Rutan suspects to be placed into custody immediately.’
Sensing a moment’s pause, Mayor Sedgefield held up his hand like a schoolboy and leaned into Kade’s field of view.
‘Er, hello. . . Yes. . . Er, we have visitors,’ he said, ‘Newcomers. They were guests for the Flower Show. From what you were saying. . . It sounds as if the Flower Show is where these friends of yours. . . the, er, Rutans, wasn’t it?’
‘The Rutans are no friends of Sontar!’ barked General Kade.
‘No. . . Well, er, quite. . . But what I was going to say was. . . If anyone here on Chelsea 426 is a Rutan, it will be them. The Newcomers, I mean. The people on the ships. The ones who were at the Flower Show.’
‘Splendid!’ said Kade, slamming one hand on the desk. ‘You have been most cooperative! Guards, take the Doctor away. We have no further need of him.’
The entrance to the office opened with a mechanical hum, and the Sontarans clutched the Doctor by the arms once again, pulling him away from the Mayor and General Kade. He could have fought against them, but there was no point. He had to get back to the Grand Hotel, and quickly.
‘YOU GAVE ME quite a fright there,’ said Mr Carstairs, gently placing one hand on his wife’s shoulder.
She had been gazing out of the window of the hotel bar at the Western Docks for an age, silent and expressionless. The Doctor’s words echoed in Mr Carstairs’ mind, about her not being his wife. He didn’t believe a word of it. What did this Doctor know, anyway? Whatever had happened at the Flower Show, the Doctor’s explanation seemed so far-fetched, so ridiculous. There had to be a rational explanation, and one that did not involve his wife being a creature from another planet. He had a good mind to turf the Doctor out the moment he returned. The colony had been a perfectly peaceful place until his arrival.
‘Bess?’ said Mr Carstairs, taking his hand away.
Mrs Carstairs turned to face him and smiled.
‘Yes, dear?’
‘I said you gave me quite a fright, there.’
‘Did I, dear?’
‘Yes. Yes, you did. You were out cold.’
She smiled again.
‘Well I’m feeling much better now,’ she said. ‘Just a little tired, that’s all.’
‘I see,’ said Mr Carstairs. ‘Well just so long as you’re OK.’
‘And where are the children?’
‘They’re out in the lobby with the Major. He’s holding the fort. He reckoned he was going to get his gun and show those. . . those people a thing or two, but I talked him out of it.’
‘Good,’ said Mrs Carstairs. ‘Good.’
Mr Carstairs heard footsteps from the other side of the room and turned to see the Doctor.
‘You. . .’ hissed Mr Carstairs. ‘I’m only surprised you’ve got the nerve to show your face here. After those things turned up. Who are they, anyway?’
The Doctor walked across the bar slowly and sat next to Mr Carstairs.
‘They’re Sontarans,’ he said. ‘A clone race from the planet Sontar. Bred for war. A whole race of soldiers.’
‘Nonsense!’
‘It’s not. Trust me, it’s not.’ The Doctor turned to Mrs Carstairs. ‘You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?’
Mrs Carstairs frowned and then smiled politely.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean, Doctor,’ she said.
‘Of course you don’t,’ said the Doctor, and then, more coldly, ‘The people on this colony are going to die unless you meet the Sontarans head-on.’
She frowned again and laughed dismissively.
‘I’m sorry, Doctor, but what do you mean?’
‘Stop using them,’ the Doctor snapped. ‘This isn’t their war. They didn’t ask to be used like this. The Sontarans are out there, right now, rounding up the visitors from their ships and holding them captive. Goodness knows what they’ll do to them.’
‘Newcomers?’ said Mr Carstairs. ‘They’re rounding up the Newcomers?’
The Doctor nodded.
‘Well it’s a good thing they are,’ Mr Carstairs continued. ‘If you ask me it’s the Newcomers who’ve caused all this fuss and bother. We had no trouble here until they turned up. Or until you turned up, for that matter, Doctor.’
‘It’s not the Newcomers,’ said the Doctor, gritting his teeth. ‘It’s an alien species. They’re called the Rutan Host. They’ve been at war with the Sontarans for tens of thousands of years, and they’re using the spores, the ones found by Professor Wilberforce, to take over the people here. Visitors and residents alike.’
Mr Carstairs laughed, shaking his head. ‘And you expect us to believe that? You’re accusing my wife of being one of these. . . these. . . what did you call them?’
‘Rutans,’ said the Doctor.
‘Do you hear that, Bess?’ said Mr Carstairs. ‘You’re a Rutan. Have you ever heard anything so preposterous in your life?’
Mrs Carstairs said nothing.
‘If they round up the Newcomers and take them away, we’ll just be rid of
a lot of unwanted company,’ Mr Carstairs went on, ‘and there’ll hardly be a person on the colony who disagrees with me.’
Just then Jake and Vienna ran into the bar. They stopped a short distance from their parents and the Doctor, as if sensing the icy tension between the three adults.
‘Mum, Dad,’ said Jake. ‘Come out here. . . There’s something on TV. About what’s happening.’
The Doctor was the first to stand, running out into the lobby with the children. They were joined eventually by Mr and Mrs Carstairs.
From the video screen above the seating area in the lobby, the face of Riley Smalls sneered down on them.
‘So,’ said the presenter, one eyebrow raised in a laconic arch, ‘I hate to say “I told you so”, but. . .’
He paused, sitting back in his large leather chair with folded arms.
‘Our visitors say that we have been invaded,’ Smalls continued. ‘And have I not said this all along? Right now the Sontaran army, for that is their name, are out there rounding up the Newcomers. Are any of us surprised? Here on Chelsea 426 we have enjoyed years of peace and prosperity, and the moment any Newcomers turn up, en masse, we have this! Scenes of chaos and disruption on the streets of our tranquil home. Residents running for their lives.
‘It seems quite clear to me now that the Sontarans are not our enemies. The Sontarans are our allies in this, our darkest hour. Unlike the Newcomers who, it transpires, are vicious and conniving aliens. . . Yes, you heard me correctly. . . aliens. . . The Sontarans are a proud and noble race who mean us no harm.
‘I say we should help them and assist them in their work. If you, or anyone you know, have Newcomers staying with you, you must report them immediately. They may have come with smiles and good manners, but that does not mean they are to be trusted. The good citizens of Chelsea 426 have nothing to hide and therefore nothing to fear from the Sontarans. Only if we allow them to investigate this matter properly will we ever enjoy the happy and contented lives to which we were formerly accustomed.’
The Doctor clapped his hand to his forehead and groaned.
‘Do you see?’ said Mr Carstairs. ‘I was right. They’re saying so on the television now, Doctor. It’s the Newcomers who have brought this on us.’
‘You’re going to listen to him?’ said the Doctor. ‘Riley Smallbrain? Oh, please. . . The man has the IQ of an amoeba.’
‘He happens to be a very intelligent man,’ said Mr Carstairs. ‘But I can’t say I’m surprised that you doubt him. After all, you happen to be a Newcomer yourself.’
‘Intelligent?’ said the Doctor. ‘Him? But he’s a Cryogen.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Mr Carstairs. ‘Full of empathy and understanding, except when it comes to Cryogens. Well. . . I certainly didn’t realise we had a Cryophobe staying with us. . .’
‘It’s not. . . Wait. Cryophobe? Is that even a real word? No, Mr Carstairs. . . I’m quite serious. Riley Smalls is an early twenty-first-century Cryogen. The process they used in those days was flawed. The people they brought out of cryogenic suspension suffered massive, irreversible brain damage. Which perhaps makes my Smallbrain joke a bit tasteless, but that doesn’t alter the fact. . . You can’t take his word for it. Cryogens are renowned for having poor judgement. They’re hasty, bad-tempered and most of all they’re very, very confused. The poor man must have come here before the people on Earth realised. Most of the Cryogens there live in nursing homes.’
‘Well,’ said Mr Carstairs, ‘Whatever you may think of Mr Smalls and his views, the fact remains, we have nothing to hide so we have nothing to fear. Those Sontarans aren’t coming for us, are they?’
‘No,’ said the Doctor gravely. ‘Not yet.’
‘IF YOU COULD all please remain calm,’ said Captain Thomas, walking among the passengers on the deck, his voice as calm and reassuring as it could be, given the circumstances. ‘I’m sure there is nothing for us to worry about.’
It was Zack and Jenny’s honeymoon. They had saved up for almost a year to pay for their tickets and even then, even when they had received an ‘extra bit of help’ from their parents, they had only been able to afford a cabin in the lower decks of the Pride of Deimos. Still, that had been enough for Jenny.
Their journey to the sky dock near 588 Achilles seemed a very distant memory now. They had held hands practically the whole way and, as they’d landed and the great silver cruise ship came into view, Jenny had thought she might burst with joy. Zack had done a good job of keeping his emotions to himself, as he always did, but she was sure she saw the slightest flicker of a boyish grin and the budding of tears in his eyes when they first saw it.
The Pride of Deimos was, in every sense, a billion miles away from home. Zack worked on the T-Rails, programming destinations from the central hub, and Jenny worked in an AlphaMart on the outskirts of the city. People like them didn’t normally get to set foot on a ship like the Pride of Deimos, let alone sail on her.
As they passed through the air-locked bridge and into the ship, all Jenny could say was, ‘I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.’
The ship itself was like a fairy tale: twinkling chandeliers and ornate fountains at every turn. The other passengers spoke in clipped colony accents, the kind Jenny had only ever heard in films or on television. They were nothing like the people back home. Zack, meanwhile, acted as if he were only mildly impressed, though Jenny could tell that deep down he was as excited and as awestruck as she was.
From the Trojan Asteroids the ship had taken them out past Jupiter, where they flew over the tumultuous carmine vortex of the Great Red Spot at a distance of just a few hundred thousand kilometres. They had passed the Galilean Moons, watched volcanoes erupt on Io, and had gazed down upon the scarred ice fields of Europa as they glistened in the sunlight like a endless ocean of crystal.
Even the intervals of empty space, black and seemingly limitless, that lay between the asteroids, planets and moons had a strange beauty about them. It was humbling to think of their home back on Earth, floating in this vast and infinite wasteland.
When the Captain had announced they were making an unscheduled stop on Saturn, the passengers were elated. There had been talk back on Earth of the plants discovered there, a rare thing these days. It wasn’t often that news from the colonies made much of a splash back home, but this had stirred the imaginations of many. Jenny had never thought she and Zack might be among the privileged few to actually be there to find out what all the fuss was about. Now their excitement and their joy seemed like little more than the set-up to a cruel joke with a savage punchline.
The passengers were gathered on the deck of the Pride of Deimos, beneath the almost invisible protection of the force fields, but hardly anybody spoke, and when they did it was with hushed concern.
‘What do you think’s happening?’ Jenny asked, gripping Zack’s hand as tightly as she could.
Zack shrugged.
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ he said. ‘Maybe it’s a fire alarm or something.’
‘A fire?’ said Jenny.
Zack squeezed her hand and smiled.
‘Not a fire,’ he said. ‘Just an alarm. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, just like the Captain said.’
His words were sadly contradicted by the appearance of the soldiers, although they were unlike any soldiers Jenny or Zack had ever seen before.
They came up onto the deck, marching in file: squat men in metallic blue armour, their faces hidden beneath domed helmets.
The passengers collectively gasped, and Captain Thomas immediately ran across the deck toward the new arrivals.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked. ‘What is this?’
One of the soldiers stepped forward and addressed Thomas directly.
‘I am Colonel Sarg of the Fourth Sontaran Intelligence Division. Are you the Captain of this vessel?’
The Captain nodded.
‘Then I hereby commandeer this ship in the name of Sontar. Your passengers must disem
bark immediately, under our custody, and will remain our prisoners until our investigation is complete.’
‘Investigation?’ said Thomas. ‘Now you look here. . .’
‘Captain, that is not a request; it is an order.’
The Sontaran lifted his rifle and aimed it squarely at the Captain’s head. Hearing the weapon power up with a faint hum that rose in pitch, Captain Thomas looked to his crew, and then back at the armoured creature before him. With great reluctance he closed his eyes and nodded.
The Sontarans marched out onto the deck and formed a circle around the passengers.
‘Oh no,’ said Jenny. ‘What’s going to happen to us?’
‘It’s going to be OK,’ said Zack. ‘Everything’s going to be OK.’
It had always been a possibility.
Indeed, their original plans had counted on the Sontarans arriving on Saturn to mine for hydrogen, and so this was not so much a hindrance as a slight alteration to the itinerary.
Professor Wilberforce sat in his office, watching events unfold in the colony on the thin glass monitor in the centre of his desk. He laughed as he saw the Sontarans board each of the visiting ships, rounding up the passengers and leading them down into the loading bays and docking areas.
The Sontarans were such a mindless, brutish race. They lacked the finesse and the sophistication of the collective Rutan mind. They were clones but, in his opinion, clones bred from inferior stock. The Rutans were their superiors in every way imaginable, only ever submitting to their age-old enemy when it was tactically appropriate, or when they were met with the sheer force of numbers that the Sontarans could muster.
It was this latest plan which allowed the Rutans to match that force of numbers, even if their hosts were human. If they could now reach the Earth, an Earth which had not been conquered by the Sontarans, there would be ten billion potential hosts for them to exploit, with all the spacecraft and weaponry that the humans had at their disposal.
The Taking of Chelsea 426 Page 7
