‘But you’ve been processed. So you know what’s in there.’
Carlisle blinked. ‘Of course.’ She drew her handgun. ‘All right, Captain. I’ll take her from here.’
‘Thank you, Major,’ Reeve said. ‘But I want to see her in a cell myself.’
Carlisle glanced at Amy. ‘Not surprised. All right, come on then.’ She jabbed the handgun into Amy’s ribs. ‘Move it.’
Amy had about two seconds to grab the gun. She could do it – she knew she could. While Carlisle was staring into her face, almost daring her to try. But she couldn’t move; she was frozen with sudden fear. What if the gun went off? What if Major Carlisle wanted her to try it?
Then the moment was lost. Almost reluctantly, it seemed to Amy, Carlisle withdrew the gun, and motioned for Amy to continue down the corridor.
As they approached the hub, Amy knew she had no chances left. There was no way back, and the only other escape route from the hub area was down the corridor to Pod 7. No way out.
Unless…
There was something stirring at the back of her memory. Something to do with the route to Pod 7 – think. Think.
It came to her as the door slid open and they entered the foyer area with its huge window looking out at the prison block at the hub of Base Diana. If she could just get to the far end of the long room, to the door to the corridor down to Pod 7.
Major Carlisle pushed her roughly forwards, as if sensing that Amy was planning something. But if it was her intention to frighten Amy out of it, the action had the opposite effect. It gave Amy her one, last chance.
Surprised, Amy went staggering across the foyer. Behind her, Captain Reeve laughed. As she managed to catch her balance, Amy glared back at the two soldiers. Carlisle had stepped in front of Reeve as she followed Amy – blocking the Captain’s gun. Carlisle’s own gun was still in her hand, but her hand was by her side as she watched Amy. The Major smiled, as if pleased with her handiwork.
But to Amy it signalled that she could go for it – all or nothing. Now or never.
Do or die.
Still staggering backwards, she turned and kept going – running as fast as her long legs would take her down the long room.
‘Stop her!’ Reeve yelled.
‘Oh don’t worry,’ Carlisle replied. ‘Where can she go? What can she do?’
Amy knew exactly what she could do, if only she could get there. She didn’t turn back as she heard Carlisle’s shout of realisation:
‘If she sets off the evacuation alarm, she’ll open all the doors. She’ll release the prisoners!’
She hadn’t been sure what breaking the square glass plate would do. The most Amy had hoped for was a distraction – something that might bring help from soldiers not yet possessed by the aliens. But right now releasing the prisoners sounded like a good idea.
She jabbed at the glass plate with her crooked elbow, shattering it.
Immediately a klaxon started to sound. Red emergency lighting cut in, flashing in time with the noise of the alarm. The doors at either end of the foyer area slid open – and so did the doors all along it. The doors to the cells.
Captain Reeve was staring in horror at the opening doors, his gun raised. Major Carlisle looking along the length of the room at Amy. There was the ghost of a smile on her face, as if she knew already that Amy’s action had been in vain.
Then the prisoners appeared in the doorways, and they were not what Amy had expected at all.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected – large, fierce-looking men with broken noses and a wealth of tattoos maybe. Not thin, emaciated figures in ill-fitting overalls. Some of the men were barely out of their teens. There were women too, their faces haunted and eyes sunken. All of them looked half dead with exhaustion and despair.
If she had a moment of distraction, a moment to get past Reeve and Carlisle and escape, this was it. But Amy didn’t take it. All she felt was horror and pity. It sapped her strength and she fell back against the wall, trembling.
‘Oh you poor people,’ she murmured. ‘What have they done to you?’
Chapter
16
The Mission Control building at the Johnson Space Center in Houston had three main floors. The first two contained identical control rooms. The third floor was allocated to the US Department of Defense, and housed a mission control suite very similar to the others. Except that on the third floor there were no cameras, no press access, no way for details of military-funded space projects to leave the room.
It was impossible for any other agency – even NASA itself – to get access to this floor, let alone ‘borrow’ it to control a secret launch of their own. It took Agent Jennings eleven minutes to get agreement from the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
Candace Hecker personally chose the control staff. Flight Controller was Daniel Bardell, veteran of a dozen shuttle launches. Jennings, Hecker and Walinski watched from the back of the room as Bardell checked each of his senior technicians was happy.
‘I need a Go or No-Go decision from each of you.’
‘I’m getting some seriously weird readings here from one of the crew,’ the Medical Officer called.
The Doctor’s voice came over the speakers loud and clear: ‘Ignore that. Otherwise all right?’
Bardell nodded his agreement to the medical officer.
‘I guess. That’s a Go, then, Flight.’
It was incredible, Candace thought, that just twenty-four hours earlier no one had really believed the huge Saturn V would ever leave the ground. Now it was fuelled and ready, waiting in the secret crater several hundred miles away in the vast, empty desert. The crew was installed in the Command Module – a tiny capsule at the top of the enormous structure. The Doctor’s non-stop, frenetic work leading a team of technicians had achieved the impossible.
‘Go, Flight,’ confirmed the last of the technicians.
‘Then let’s get this baby off the ground,’ Bardell said. ‘We are at T-minus 40… 39… 38…’
Jennings leaned over to Candace, and asked quietly: ‘You seriously think this is going to work?’
‘The Doctor does.’
‘You really respect that guy, don’t you?’
Candace nodded. ‘I’ve seen him working the last day. Never mind six impossible things before breakfast, he’ll get through sixty and still have time to make the toast.’
‘He knows how to get the best out of other people, too,’ Walinski put in. ‘He inspires them. His enthusiasm rubs off.’ The General turned back to face the main screen at the front of the room. As well as numerous data feeds and graphs, it showed a live video feed of the huge rocket, smoke drifting from beneath it.
Overlaid on this main image was the countdown: 19… 18… 17…
‘Guidance release,’ a technician announced.
15… 14… 13… 12… 11… 10…
‘Main engine start.’
Fire and smoke erupted from the bottom of the rocket. It trembled on the launch pad.
‘All Stage One engines, thrust OK.’
The metal gantries from the launch tower to the side of the rocket swung clear. Cables dropped away.
‘Umbilical disconnected.’
Slowly, almost ponderously, the Saturn V began to lift. At first it seemed like it would rise only inches from the pad on its cushion of smoke and flame.
‘We have lift-off.’
Then it gathered speed. A cascade of ice crumbled from the sides of the rocket, so cold from the liquefied fuel inside, and fell in chunks into the roaring flames spewing from the engines. The rocket continued to rise.
‘Apollo 23 has cleared the tower,’ a technician declared as the engines passed over the scaffolding structure that had supported the rocket.
Less than a minute later, the spacecraft reached the speed of sound. A minute and a half after that, all fuel exhausted, the first stage dropped away and the second stage rockets fired, powering Apollo 23 onwards.
There was a smattering of applause in the con
trol room. Candace Hecker couldn’t suppress a grin. She was pleased to see that Walinski and Jennings were both smiling too.
‘Well done,’ Walinski told her.
‘That’s the easy part over,’ Jennings joked. ‘Now it’s up to the Doctor.’
Candace checked her watch. ‘With the adapted M3 Variant fuel and the modifications the Doctor made, they should achieve lunar orbit in about eighteen hours. They’ll land as soon as they can after that.’
‘So long as nothing goes wrong,’ Jennings said.
‘You’re a pessimist,’ Walinski told him.
‘I’m a realist,’ Jennings countered. ‘If the Doctor’s right and there’s an alien invasion force gathering up there, how much do you want to bet they know he’s coming?’
‘But what can they do?’ Candace asked.
‘I guess we’ll find out,’ Jennings said quietly.
A voice rang out from the speakers. A single word from the most experienced of the crew of Apollo 23 as they began their journey: ‘Geronimo!’
Several hours out from lunar orbit, the third stage of the Saturn V disengaged to reveal the pod where the Lunar Excursion Module was stored. The tiny Service Module with the main capsule – the Command Module – attached to it swung round to dock with the LEM, the craft that would actually land on the moon’s surface.
All that now remained of the huge craft that had taken off from the Texan desert was a stubby cylinder with a single rocket engine, attached nose-first to a fragile module made largely out of thick metal foil. With its four landing legs folded underneath itself, the LEM looked like a glittering spider ready to pounce.
‘You reckon they know you’re coming?’ Pat Ashton asked.
The three astronauts were making the final checks before entering lunar orbit. The Doctor was in the middle of the three chairs, Pat Ashton on one side and Marty Garrett on the other. Ashton was the Command Module pilot – he would stay in orbit while the Doctor and Garrett descended to the moon in the LEM.
‘Oh they know,’ the Doctor said without turning from the controls he was checking. ‘They’ll have seen us coming.’
‘Base Diana might be on the dark side of the moon,’ Garrett said, ‘but there are satellites to bounce radio signals down to them. They’ll have tracked us most of the way.’ He grinned. ‘Probably wondering who we are and what we’re doing.’
‘They’ll be waiting for you, then,’ Ashton said. ‘You ready for that?’
‘I’m ready for anything,’ the Doctor told him. ‘Question is – are they ready for me?’
‘You got some experience of tackling alien invaders then?’ Garrett asked. His tone was suddenly serious. His eyes seemed to lose colour as he turned slightly to watch the Doctor answer.
‘Just a bit. Well, quite a lot actually.’ The Doctor adjusted a dial and tapped a gauge. ‘That’s funny.’ He glanced at Garrett. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I don’t expect they’ll give me much trouble.’
Ashton leaned forward to examine the same dial as the Doctor had tapped, straining against the straps holding him into his seat. ‘Looks like a radio wave,’ he muttered. ‘But there’s nothing on the speakers. Nothing from Houston.’
‘There wouldn’t be,’ the Doctor said. ‘That’s coming from the opposite direction.’ He pointed a gloved hand towards another readout. ‘See? A signal of some sort. But what’s it for?’
‘It’s for me,’ Garrett replied, his voice devoid of expression. A moment later, his booted foot slammed into the centre of the control console.
Sparks erupted from shattered dials and gauges. A mass of red indicator lights blazed into life. A buzzer sounded insistently. Garrett drew his foot back, ready to kick out again. The whole ship lurched, throwing him sideways in his seat. His colourless grey eyes glared across at the Doctor, who was already unstrapping and floating clear of his seat.
‘What the hell?’ Ashton yelled above the alarms and the explosions. ‘Are you crazy?!’
‘Possessed more like,’ the Doctor yelled back. ‘Get this thing under control.’
Ashton struggled with his straps, floating clear of his seat to grab a small fire extinguisher.
Garrett was also free, kicking against a bulkhead to float after the Doctor. There was no escape in the tiny cabin.
‘What’s going on up there?’ Bardell’s voice was tinny and distorted by the speakers. ‘We’ve got alarms going like crazy down here. You guys OK?’
‘Not now,’ Ashton shouted back. ‘We’ve got problems.’
Garrett was holding a heavy metal spanner. He swung it at the Doctor, who managed to roll backwards out of the way. The movement spun Garrett too, disorientating him as he turned lazily in the zero gravity.
‘I’ll get him out of your way,’ the Doctor shouted to Ashton. ‘It’s me he’s after.’
‘There’s nowhere to go!’ Ashton pointed out. But his voice was lost as another alarm went off. Ashton punched the button to reset it. ‘We’re venting fuel. That’s not good.’ He glanced round as he worked, wondering what he could do to help the Doctor – wondering what had happened to Garrett.
But the capsule behind him was empty.
The docking linkway between the Command Module and the LEM was only a few metres long. The Doctor launched himself through the hatch from the main capsule, glancing back to check that Garrett was following him. With luck, Ashton would be able to sort out the problems caused by Garrett’s foot… If not, then it didn’t really matter if the Doctor could escape Garrett or not – they’d all be dead.
If he’d had time and thought about it, the Doctor would have brought his helmet. Without that, it didn’t matter that he was wearing his spacesuit. The Apollo craft was so fragile – designed to be as light as possible, not to endure an attack from a possessed man. What had Amy said they were called? Blanks.
That made sense. The radio signal, the transmission was a download of some sort – instructions beamed into Garrett’s mind. The man’s eyes were pale grey as he floated down the linkway after the Doctor. As if the humanity had been drained out of him as well as the colour.
‘When did they get you?’ the Doctor asked.
Garrett didn’t answer. No chance in engaging him in conversation while the Doctor thought of a plan, then.
‘Not in your instructions to answer, I suppose.’ The Doctor pushed off gently from a control console in the LEM, floating across the small craft. Garrett had to change course to follow him, flailing for a while in the weightless environment before he could adjust.
‘Is it a switch, in the true sense of the word?’ the Doctor wondered out loud. ‘Your mind primed and ready to be switched off, changed for a new set of instructions? Presumably instructions to ensure that I don’t make it back to the moon.’
Garrett was braced against the opposite side of the LEM, ready to launch himself at the Doctor.
‘Maybe you had to gauge if I was a threat first. Hence the questions about my experience with alien invaders.’
In a blur of motion that defied the graceful, weightlessness the Doctor was experiencing, Garrett flew across the LEM. His hand snatched at the Doctor.
But the Doctor was already pushing himself away, out of reach. ‘Maybe that’s why you ended up on Earth. Someone realised you’d been got at and sent you for a burger…’ He remembered Amy recounting her story over the radio. ‘Aha! Liz Didbrook, at a guess. The original saboteur, trying to attract attention when she realised something was terribly wrong on the moonbase. Then I guess Jackson realised that breaking the quantum link wasn’t such a bad idea after all, so he could work in peace.’
Again, Garrett’s sudden movement was a fraction of a second too slow. He crashed into a bulkhead. The whole craft shuddered. The Doctor could see the metal skin of the LEM shimmer close by as it stretched under the impact.
‘I guess – that is, I hope – you’re more used to the shuttle,’ the Doctor said. ‘If you remember anything of your own experience.’ He’d managed to manoeuvre hi
mself closer to the linkway back to the Command Module. He’d need to get out of here fast and close the door.
Garrett’s blank face twitched in what might have been the hint of a smile.
‘You think that if I shut the hatch, you can just open it again from this side,’ the Doctor said. ‘And you’re right. There’s no way to lock it. Except, to open it again you’d have to be still inside the LEM.’
The Doctor moved as he was speaking, pushing against the solid bulk of a storage locker. Immediately, Garrett hurled himself after the Doctor. He kicked out strongly against the wall behind him with both feet at once.
‘They had to keep the weight right down, you know. And the walls in here are so light, so fragile, they’re like tin foil,’ the Doctor said.
But his words were lost in the sudden explosion of noise as Garrett’s feet kicked through the thin metal membrane of the LEM. The fragile skin was all that protected the occupants of the craft from the freezing vacuum of space.
Explosive decompression. The spaceship slammed sideways as the air was sucked out. Garrett’s face was suddenly a mask of surprise, pain, and fear. For a fraction of a moment, his eyes were pale blue, staring back at the Doctor. Then he was gone – tumbling away into the vast blackness of space.
The Doctor braced himself against the wall of the linkway. Once he moved the hatch slightly, the air rushing past him slammed it shut. The Doctor spun the locking wheel.
‘Turn the oxygen pumps off in the LEM,’ the Doctor gasped. ‘Otherwise it’ll tear itself apart as the air escapes.’
Ashton battled to stabilise the capsule as it bucked and twisted, rolled and shook. Finally, the craft settled down and Ashton turned in his seat.
‘Where’s Garrett?’
The Doctor was looking through one of the thick triangular windows, sadly watching a tiny figure spinning away into the inky distance.
‘He went outside,’ the Doctor said. ‘He might be quite some time.’
Chapter
17
A cloud of fine grey dust kicked up from the main motor of the Lunar Module’s descent stage. The wide pads settled into the lunar landscape. The dust floated gently down to the ground and everything was still again.
Doctor Who: Apollo 23 Page 11
