Working inwards from the edge of the burial ground, stopping to make a series of sample excavations, she eventually managed to establish a rough outline of the buried figure. It was large, quite incredibly large, and seemed to be almost triangular in shape. A giant bird perhaps, with outstretched wings? Suddenly Bernice remembered fleeing through the woods, the bats chittering and swooping around her head. That's it, she thought, suddenly certain. Not a bird, a bat - an enormous bat.
But why was the creature so large? Some freak mutation? A giant species that had since become extinct? Why were its remains treated with such reverence? Why was the site a place of worship and of human sacrifice?
And why had the missing scout ship from the Tower plunged like a great metal arrow into its heart? And who had been pillaging the site, taking away parts of the creature's remains? During her excavations she had come across frequent signs that someone had been there before her. She was convinced that much of the giant creature's skeleton was now missing. But why? Simple vandalism, mindless desecration? Or some more sinister purpose?
A chill wind blew across the burial ground and Bernice decided she had had enough. It was already afternoon and she'd had nothing to eat since breakfast. Searching through her pockets she came up with a crumpled packet of silver foil containing a left-over chunk of dehydrated space rations. It was dry and fibrous, much like eating tree bark, but it was all there was. Washing it down with a swig from her flask, Bernice set off for the inn.
She was all right till she got into the woods. The treetops grew into a close canopy, shutting off most of the light, and the trees themselves seemed to crowd round the narrow, twisting path. Bernice kept feeling that she was being watched.
It was all imagination, of course, she told herself. In the gloom her fears made the surrounding trees and bushes seem like human figures. Take that bush on the edge of the path just ahead. It looked exactly like a man in a hood.
The bush stepped onto the path in front of her, and suddenly Bernice realized that it was a man in a hood. A tall figure, cloaked and hooded in grey, stood barring her way. A shaft of light glanced down through the trees, gleaming on the blade of the sword in the figure's hands.
11 RESISTANCE
Bernice grabbed for the blaster in the pocket of her jacket, wishing she'd spent more time practising her fast draw. Inevitably the blaster snagged on the lining of her coat and it seemed ages before the heavy weapon was in her hand, levelled at the sinister figure before her.
Not that the sinister figure seemed at all bothered. It stood there, waiting patiently for Bernice to get herself sorted out.
When she'd finished it said wearily, "Drop the weapon, my Lady. Look around you, you're surrounded."
Bernice obeyed and saw that the trees and bushes by the path had turned into more grey-cloaked hooded figures, grouped around her in a loose circle. They were armed with a variety of weapons: swords, bows and axes. One or two were carrying long staves.
With her thumb Bernice felt for the controls in the butt of her blaster, struggling to remember Ace's instruction lecture. Although Bernice was always telling her she'd had a perfectly adequate military training at her Academy, Ace never quite seemed to believe it:
"This is your basic military hand-blaster right? Standard issue on hundreds of planets. Dead simple, nothing to go wrong. Power-pack clips into the butt, lasts practically for ever. Two controls, set into the butt, operated by the thumb. The lever has three settings. Setting One produces the effect of a good solid punch, it'll discourage someone without doing any real damage. Setting Two will knock somebody down and probably knock them out as well. Setting Three will kill. The little wheel controls the beam setting. Away from you gives wide-beam, towards you needle-point ..." And with a final sceptical look, "It's supposed to be foolproof."
Setting Two, wide-beam, thought Bernice, frantically adjusting controls. If I can knock enough of them out I can dash through the gap and make a run for it. "Step aside and let me go on my way," she called in a voice that quavered a little more than she liked. "I don't want to use this but I will if I have to."
For a moment nobody moved. Then the figure before her stepped aside. Relaxing a little, Bernice moved forwards, seeing too late a blur of movement in her eye corner. One of the figures to her right spun its staff with dazzling speed, knocking the blaster from her hand.
Ace had forgotten to tell her Rule One, thought Bernice bitterly: don't let anyone take your blaster away from you.
Someone snatched up the weapon and two of the hooded shapes moved up behind her, grasping her elbows. Before she could resist a third popped a hood over her head, blinding her completely.
"This way, my Lady," said someone politely. They bustled her off through the forest.
It was a nightmare of a journey conducted, as far as Bernice was concerned, in total darkness and it seemed to go on forever. The men holding her arms did their best to guide her but they were crossing rough country and she couldn't help slipping and stumbling. Strong hands on her elbows held her up and urged her remorselessly forward.
After a time Bernice got a feeling that they'd come out of the woods and onto open ground. Finally they stopped for a moment or two, and she heard a faint whine of machinery. Then they moved forward again, this time on a smooth surface. She realized that they must be somewhere indoors. Another short walk on a downward sloping surface and they stopped again.
The hood was whipped from Bernice's head and she looked around, blinking in the harsh glare of artificial light.
She was in a large circular chamber that seemed to have been dug out of the ground. Its walls were reinforced with wooden pillars and rusty iron plates, with grass and earth peeping out between the joins.
The room was filled with an assortment of technical equipment. There were control panels, computer terminals and sections of what looked like rocket engines. Bernice thought suddenly of the stripped-out engine room in the base of the Tower - the Tower that was really a spaceship.
The whole place was spotlessly clean and all the different bits of machinery were gleaming and polished. Despite all the neatness and cleanliness, there was something musty and unused about the place. Not so much a control room as a museum.
All around her, her captors were stripping off their grey cloaks and hoods. Underneath they wore rough homespun clothing, much like that of the peasants she'd seen in the village. But there was something different about these men, thought Bernice. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't a matter of appearance but of bearing. There were only about a dozen of them but every man there looked, strong, confident, capable. The sort of men who'd be natural leaders in their communities.
An incredibly ancient man in a spotless white robe appeared from the back of the room. The leader of Bernice's captors, a tall hawk-faced young man with wiry black hair, came forward to greet him.
"We got her, Kalmar," said the young man proudly. "We picked her up in the forest, she'd been snooping around the burial ground."
"I trust you treated our guest with courtesy, Tarak," said the old man reprovingly. "I told you to invite the Lady to visit us, not kidnap her."
The young man shrugged. "I was just about to when she pulled a blaster on me. There didn't seem very much point in politeness after that."
"Well, what do you expect?" said Bernice indignantly. "You jumped out at me in the woods like a lot of grey ghosts. Of course I was alarmed. I was just trying to protect myself."
The old man came up to Bernice and bowed stiffly. "You must forgive Tarak, my Lady, he is young and impulsive."
"Young and cautious you mean," said Tarak. "I don't want to die young like my father. I mean to live to be as old as you are, Kalmar, and I won't manage it by being too trusting with strangers."
They looked set for a prolonged wrangle, and Bernice decided it was time to ask the obvious questions.
"Look, who are you people? What is this place, and why have you brought me here?"
"We will ask
the questions!" snapped Tarak.
Bernice looked at him unbelievingly.
"That's the first time I've actually heard anyone say that."
"Tarak!" said the old man. "Please be seated, my Lady."
He led Bernice to a sectioned-off part of the big room. It had been fitted out as a simple living area with a table, low chairs and a number of metal storage lockers. A simple bed covered with rough blankets occupied one corner.
The old man ushered Bernice to a seat and sat down beside her. The others gathered round, some filling the remaining chairs, others sitting on the ground. Tarak flung himself on the bed, glaring sulkily at Bernice.
The old man went to one of the lockers and returned with a wooden tray holding a number of metallic containers.
"Refreshments for our guest," he said.
To her astonishment, Bernice saw that the tray held a selection of pre-packed space meals. She peeled the top from a self-heating container and sniffed appreciatively at the hot stew inside. The savoury smell made her realize how hungry she was. Unclipping the built-in spoon from the lid, she started to eat.
"There is drink as well," said the old man proudly.
Opening a flask-shaped container, he poured liquid into the cup formed by the lid and passed it to Bernice.
She sipped it cautiously and opened her eyes in surprise.
"It's quite a decent brandy, actually," she said and took an appreciative swig. "Where did you get all this stuff?"
"I found it all here, long ago," said Kalmar. "Everything here was stripped from the Tower in the Dark Time, thrown out and abandoned here in the wastelands. We built this headquarters, furnished and equipped it from the dumps. We have a generator for heat and light and power. We found this food too, which lasts forever and heats itself at need. We keep it for special occasions, there is little of it left by now."
Bernice went on eating, thinking over what she'd heard.
"I am one of the few left who remembers those days," said Kalmar. "I wasn't young even then, but somehow I survive and I tell the others."
"My father was the leader of the rebels," said Tarak proudly. "I bear his name. He died when they attacked the Tower and destroyed the Lords and the monster they served."
"Not without help, remember," said Kalmar. "Had it not been for the strangers-" He broke off as if he had said too much.
"So this place was the headquarters of the resistance movement," said Bernice. "But the old Lords were overthrown years ago. Why do you need a resistance movement now?"
"We didn't, not at first," said Kalmar. "When the Tower fell, I stayed on here to look after things. I'd lived here so long I wasn't comfortable anywhere else. The place became a kind of memorial for a time. Then people forgot. They stopped coming and I lived here alone - till young Tarak appeared."
"I could see signs that the Dark Time was returning," said Tarak. "The Lords were trying to restore their rule, the Black Guard were active again, there were even rumours that the Undying Ones had returned." He touched ears, eyes and mouth in a ritual gesture, and every man in the room did the same.
"So I came back to this place and found Kalmar," Tarak went on. "He shared my fears, so we revived the old movement. We recruited men from the other villages, these men you see here. You do not need to know their names - but I promise you that every man here can call upon many more. This time we are ready. We shall never be slaves to the Lords again."
"Now you know all our secrets, my Lady," said Kalmar. "It is time for you to tell us yours." He smiled benignly at her. "I must tell you that unless we are satisfied with your answers, you will not leave this place alive."
The threat was so unexpected that at first Bernice didn't take it in. But as she looked into Kalmar's faded old eyes, she realized that he meant what he had said. In his own quiet way he was as much of a fanatic as Tarak.
Bernice managed a smile. "My secrets are soon told. I-"
Kalmar held up his hand. "One moment, my Lady" He raised his voice. "Bring out the Truth Machine."
A couple of the men jumped up and went over to the other side of the dome. They returned trundling a wheeled trolley on which stood a simple machine. It consisted of a metal cabinet with a vision screen set into the top. Beneath the screen there were two heavy metal handholds. There was a row of controls on the front of the machine. One of the men uncoiled a heavy cable and plugged the machine into a power point in the wall of the dome.
Kalmar fiddled with the controls and the screen fit up. Black dots moved across the middle of the screen in an endless line.
"There!" he said happily. "We are ready, my Lady."
Bernice regarded the machine suspiciously. "What is that thing?"
"A Truth Machine, my Lady. In the time when the Tower was a spaceship it was used to interrogate prisoners. I found it and got it working again. This seems a splendid opportunity to test the device. If you will kindly clasp the handholds?"
"I'm not going anywhere near that thing!"
Tarak pushed his way forward. "There's nothing to be afraid of - my Lady." He grabbed the handholds. "Show her, Kalmar."
Kalmar adjusted controls. "What is your name?"
"I am Tarak, son of Tarak."
The dots continued their steady progress across the screen.
Tarak stepped back. "You see?"
"How does it work?"
"The machine measures pulse, body temperature, muscle tension, perspiration," said Kalmar. "As long as you tell the truth - or what you believe to be the truth - there is nothing to fear. My Lady?"
The circle of men around Bernice drew a little closer. She still didn't like it, but there didn't seem to be any way out. Maybe she could bluff the machine - it all depended what they asked her.
Reluctantly she stepped forward and gripped the handholds. Kalmar touched another control and twin clamps slid out of the body of the machine, fixing her hands in place. Alarmed, Bernice tried to pull free but she was held fast.
"Hey, what is this? Let me loose!"
"Shall we begin, my Lady?" said Kalmar. "What is your name?"
"Bernice Summerfield."
The dots chugged steadily across the screen. "Where do you come from?"
"From another planet - from many other planets. I'm a space traveller." And that's true enough, thought Bernice. So far so good.
"Why are you here?"
"I was brought here."
Kalmar gave her an impatient look. "Why did you come to this planet?"
"I'm an archaeologist." The machine gave a faint ping and the line of dots juddered a little. Bernice felt a faint tingling sensation.
Tarak leaned forward. "What does that mean? Is she lying?"
Kalmar frowned, studying the screen. "Not exactly. But there seems to be some element of doubt involved."
Bernice bit her lip in anger. Somehow this blasted machine had picked up the trace of self-doubt that never left her.
"Are you an archaeologist?" asked Kalmar.
"Yes of course I am," shouted Bernice. "I'm a Professor of Archaeology - "
The machine gave a sharp angry ping, the line of dots suddenly peaked - and a jolt of electricity shot through Bernice's body. She gave a yell of pain and rage.
"If you lie the machine delivers a shock," explained Kalmar.
Bernice felt a wave of humiliation sweep over her. She had lived with that particular lie for so long it had become a kind of truth for her. But her body knew it was a lie. Her body knew that she'd been expelled from school without any proper qualifications, that "Professor" was a mockingly affectionate title bestowed by the kids she'd helped when she was hiding out in the woods.
Her body knew it and it had betrayed her to the machine.
"Are you an archaeologist or not?" asked Tarak. Bernice thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully.
"I am a student of archaeology with a great deal of field experience. I have led expeditions on a number of different planets."
Tarak looked at Kalmar, who l
ooked at the screen and nodded.
"She's telling the truth."
"All right," said Tarak. "It seems you are an archaeologist of some sort. Now, why did you come to this planet - Professor?"
"To study your history with a view to mounting a full expedition - "
Another ping from the machine, another savage jolt of pain.
Bernice gasped and slumped forward over the machine.
"Every time you lie the shock becomes stronger," said Tarak. "If you keep on lying the machine will eventually kill you." He grabbed Bernice by the hair and pulled her upright.
"Now, why did you come to this planet? Who are you working for?" Bernice clenched her teeth and glared hatred at him without speaking. A third jolt of electricity, the worst yet, convulsed her body.
"The machine punishes silence as well as lies," said Tarak. "Well? Why did you come here?"
"All right, damn you, I'll tell you," shouted Bernice. "The Doctor sent me here!"
Kalmar stared unbelievingly at the screen. "She speaks the truth! You fool, Tarak, she comes from the Doctor and you nearly killed her!"
With a sudden heave Bernice shoved the machine forward, knocking it clean off the trolley. It crashed to the ground amidst a shower of sparks, and the clamps came free from her wrists.
Springing to her feet, Bernice launched herself across the shattered machine, straight at Tarak. She bore him to the ground and sat on his chest, beating his head on the ground. She was banging happily away and resisting attempts to pull her off when a cool voice said, "May I enquire what's going on?"
Disentangling herself, Bernice got to her feet. Striding towards her from the doorway was a small, neat woman with a high forehead and long fair hair. It was the horsy woman, the one who'd warned her off at the burial ground.
In the same cool tone the newcomer went on, "Did I hear you mention the Doctor just now?"
"That's right. Do you know him?"
"We used to be very good friends, once upon a time. I'm the Lady Romanadvoratrelundar, by the way. You can call me Romana."
"I'm Bernice Summerfield," said Bernice. She looked at the dazed and battered Tarak, who had just struggled to his feet.
Doctor Who - [New Adventure 29] - [Vampire Trilogy 2] - Blood Harvest Page 9
