by Ian Marter
As Tobias Vaughn, closely followed by Packer, strode purposefully out of the private elevator into his London office, the videophone was bleeping urgently on the desk. At Vaughn's touch the screen flickered and the pale tense features of William Routledge appeared.
'This is priority scramble, Vaughn.'
'Yes, Routledge, what is it?' Vaughn demanded impatiently. 'I'm busy.'
'Listen, Vaughn, Lethbridge-Stewart's started stirring things up and I can't prevent him,' Routledge blurted out.
Vaughn snorted contemptuously. 'Nonsense, pull yourself together. You have the authority to...'
'I have no jurisdiction outside this country,' the General interrupted. 'He's sending a report to UNIT Command in Geneva. They're bound to investigate. I must say your staff were a bit heavy-handed.'
Vaughn threw a furious glance at Packer who was hovering at the window. 'Listen, Routledge, when will Geneva make a move against us?'
The General closed his eyes and pressed his fists against his temples. 'I think they... I think... they...' he stuttered feebly.
'What the hell's the matter with the man?' Packer snarled.
Vaughn ignored him, staring impassively at the videophone unit. 'Listen to me, Routledge...' he enunciated slowly. 'You will obey my instructions.'
Routledge shuddered and opened his eyes. 'Obey your instructions...' he repeated dutifully.
'You will leave your office immediately and come here to me.'
'Come to you...'The tortured face seemed to relax a little, but the eyes were pitifully confused.
'Do you understand, Routledge? You will tell no-one.'
'I understand. No-one. I obey. Now.'
The screen dazzled into static and went black.
Packer looked severely shaken. 'What's wrong with him?' he repeated nervously.
Vaughn frowned, clearly somewhat disturbed. 'Our control over him seems to be weakening,' he admitted.
'But that could be fatal,' Packer protested. 'If he doesn't obey you then we...'
Vaughn stood up, quickly regaining his customary bland manner. 'Oh, he will, Packer, he will,' he murmured confidently. Then he rounded sharply on his Deputy. 'What concerns me far more, Packer, is your bungling ineptitude. That is what has precipitated this whole crisis!'
Packer opened his mouth to object, but then closed it again and his resentment seeped away to collect like poisonous pus in a festering boil.
6
Secret Weapons
There was a tense hush in the Operations Room inside the Hercules while Captain Turner and Sergeant Walters tried to contact the Brigadier at the Ministry. To their dismay they learned that he had already left some time ago and that Major-General Routledge himself was no longer in the building.
'We're too late, Doctor, the Brig's already seen Routledge,' Turner reported despondently.
The Doctor shrugged. 'If I'm right and Routledge is under Vaughn's control the Brigadier will have had a wasted journey, I'm afraid.'
At that moment, Lethbridge-Stewart's voice surprised them. 'I loathe helicopters,' he boomed from the doorway. 'Utter waste of time, Doctor,' he announced, striding in and throwing his cap, baton and gloves onto his desk. 'The man's totally incompetent.'
The Doctor poured him a mug of strong tea from the vast pot, sat him down and quickly told him of his suspicions concerning Vaughn's real activities.
When he had finished, the Brigadier drank the sugarless tea in one prodigious gulp. 'This is incredible, Doctor,' he cried. 'Cybermen? Are you quite sure?'
'No more incredible than the Yeti,' srniled the Doctor.
'They seem to control some pretty important people,' Zoe remarked.
The Brigadier nodded. 'I wonder who else they have besides poor Billy Routledge. Doesn't give us much of a chance does it, Doctor?'
'Unless we can upset their plans before they invade,' the Doctor speculated. 'But there are so many unknown factors..
'Like where they're hiding all the Cybermen,' Jamie butted in.
'That's obvious,' Zoe told him. 'In Vaughn's London headquarters.'
'Not enough room,' Jamie objected. 'He's probably got an underground store or something.'
Zoe laughed mockingly. 'Oh, really, Jamie...'
The Doctor had been pouring himself some fresh tea. Suddenly he banged the heavy pot down. 'Jamie's quite right,' he exclaimed to everyone's surprise. 'Brigadier, would you by any chance have a map of the London sewerage system?'
At a resigned nod from his commander, Turner jumped up and soon returned with a large plastic sheet.
The Doctor eagerly swept aside the cluttered tray and examined the map. 'Ahal' he cried triumphantly. 'You see? There's a main flood relief channel running right underneath Vaughn's warehouse. Now, isn't that a coincidence!'
The Brigadier looked doubtful. 'What about the ah... the water down there: wouldn't that affect them?'
The Doctor shook his head. 'Anyway, such a tunnel would probably be mostly dry except after heavy rainfall,' he declared.
Isobel giggled. 'So what do we do? Pray for a cloudburst?'
The Brigadier glanced at her witheringly. 'Please, Miss Watkins, the future of the world may be at stake,' he scolded.
'I'm sorry, but it's just such a crazy idea to swallow,' she chuckled, nudging Zoe.
'So was the attack by the Yeti, miss. Nevertheless it happened.'
Captain Turner intervened tactfully. 'With respect, sir, she's right. If you go to Geneva with this story they'll think you've gone bananas.'
Lethbridge-Stewart sighed. 'Yes, Jimmy. We need some concrete evidence.'
The Doctor looked up from the map. 'What we need is some idea of the plan of attack,' he decided. 'Jamie, have you still got that ghastly little toy Mr Vaughn gave you?'
Jamie took the miniature radio from his waistcoat pocket and handed it over reluctantly. The Doctor opened the back and studied the monolithic circuitry again, muttering to himself in a strange technical jargon as he fiddled about. Eventually he turned to the Brigadier, his nostrils dilating as if he was beginning to pick up the scent of a fruitful investigation.
'Do you have any equipment here manufactured by International Electromatix?' he inquried eagerly.
'Indeed we do, Doctor. Mainframe computers, various radar and communications components...' _
'Could I see them at once, please?'
The Brigadier nodded to Turner.
'This way, Doctor,' said the Captain, as the Doctor bounded out of his seat like a terrier. 'What exactly are you looking for?'
The Doctor grinned enigmatically. 'I don't know until I find it. A needle in a haystack perhaps!'
Major-General William Routledge sat hunched in the chair facing Tobias Vaughn across the gleaming curve of the desk, his expressionless eyes peering out from his bowed, lolling head. Packer hovered restlessly behind him.
'You must tell me,' Vaughn purred. 'How long before UNIT forces could act against me? How long?'
There was a brief silence. 'One... maybe two days...' Routledge said in a ghostly whisper.
Vaughn sat back with a smile of satisfaction. 'Time enough.'
Packer stepped forward. 'I don't like this. Suppose they move faster than that?'
'Let me do the supposing, Packer!' Vaughn snapped dangerously.
His Deputy stared down at their miserable, slumped victim whom his fingers were itching to torture and subdue. 'Yes, Mr Vaughn,' he whined submissively.
'There's a good fellow,' Vaughn smiled. 'Now, just to be on the safe side we'll conduct a little experiment. Have the Professor's Cerebration apparatus taken down to the warehouse. I'll join you there shortly.'
'What are you going to do?'
'Wait and see, Packer, wait and see.'
Packer poked Routledge as though he were a sack of potatoes. 'What about this?'
'Leave that to me. Now run along, Packer.'
Smarting under Vaughn's patronising treatment and frustrated in his desire to deal with Routledge, Packer slowly wa
lked out.
Vaughn locked all the doors by remote control from his desk. Then he took out his fountain pen and twisted the top. The wall opposite the windows parted to reveal the glittering secret machine. As Vaughn walked over to the alcove, Routledge followed with his clouded eyes.
Vaughn gazed unblinking at the buzzing apparatus. 'There are some unexpected difficulties. We must therefore adjust the plan,' he informed it.
'Report the details. We will assess them,' rasped the metallic voice.
'We must bring the invasion forward.'
The machine crackled angrily. 'Our invasion force is not complete.'
'Nevertheless, the invasion must begin in thirteen terrestrial hours time,' Vaughn insisted unflinchingly. 'Otherwise we may face the combined forces of the entire world.'
Behind Vaughn, Routledge was now sitting upright, alert and listening.
'Your report is being assessed...' the machine announced, its central crystal revolving busily to and fro.
'You must accept my judgement or our partnership will terminate,' Vaughn threatened. 'The invasion will commence at dawn tomorrow.'
As Routledge stared at the bizarre and sinister apparatus in the alcove, his mind rapidly began to clear and a renewed glint of purpose gleamed in his eyes.
Vaughn stood his ground fearlessly while the Cyber Unit consulted with its masters. Eventually it replied in a dry brittle tone.
'It is agreed. Data will be revised and new schedules transmitted to you. Discussion terminated.'
With a victorious, preening toss of the head, Vaughn closed the shutters and turned round. He found himself staring down the barrel of a compact revolver.
'Dear me, Routledge...' he laughed after a momentary hesitation. 'Are you going to kill me?'
Routledge steadied himself on his feet and nodded. 'I must,' he croaked.
Slowly Vaughn walked towards him. 'But you can't kill me. I control you.'
Routledge backed away from him, holding the gun with both hands. 'I know what you've done to me,' he muttered, 'but I can fight it now.'
Vaughn continued his slow advance. 'No, you can't. And even if you could squeeze that trigger, you wouldn't be able to kill me,' he murmured almost hypnotically. 'Now turn the gun round and point it at your chest.'
Routledge uttered plaintive little whimpering noises as he watched his trembling hands turning the weapon round towards his own body. Tears of frustration ran down his cheeks as he fought to resist Vaughn's implacable will.
'Now, fire!'
Routledge's whole body shook with violent tremors, as if it were acting totally independently of his mind. Vaughn winced as a deafening crack split the air. Routledge remained standing like a waxen dummy for several seconds. Then he vomited a stream of blood and pitched forward onto his face at Vaughn's feet.
Shaking his head at the mess on the carpet, Vaughn strolled over to his desk and unlocked the doors.
Down in the warehouse, teams of technicians in protective suits were busy activating the lines of cocoons in their open containers, using portable machines identical to the one which the Doctor and Jamie had watched at work earlier.
Packer swaggered in and observed the process critically. 'Come on, get a move on!' he whined. 'Mr Vaughn's ordered a general shake-up down here.'
He watched the newest Cyberman glowing and bursting into life, a gasp of awe escaping from his bloodless lips as the monster emerged. It stood about two metres high, with a square head from which rightangled loops of hydraulic tubing protruded on either side. Its rudimentary face comprised two blank viewing lenses for eyes and a rectangular slit for a mouth. The broad chest contained a grilled ventilator unit which hissed nightmarishly. Thick flexible tubing ran along the arms and down each leg and was connected into a flattened humplike unit on the creature's back. Faint gasping and whirring noises inside the silvery body accompanied every movement. The movements were spasmodic and jerky at first, but gradually they grew suppler and more human as the creature strode across to take its place among the assembled ranks of activated Cybermen standing motionless and silent in row upon row in the centre of the warehouse.
With a shiver of excitement, Packer marched across to a large steel panel in the brick end-wall of the building. Opening it with a special key, he threw several switches in the control box behind the panel. A section of the warehouse wall began to rotate, slowly revealing a bare brick chamber about a metre above the floor level of the warehouse. In the centre of the chamber was a circular well about two metres in diameter, covered by a domed steel lid hinged at one side. A short flight of steps led up to the chamber level and a steel railing ran round the well at hip-height.
Packer threw more switches and with a grinding hum the massive lid gradually opened up into the vertical position, locking itself with a series of echoing clunks. Packer closed the panel and locked it. Then he walked over and climbed onto the raised platform, staring down into the fetid darkness. Stout steel ladders clamped to the mouldering brickwork led down from the rim of the well into a huge shaft. Eerie sounds echoed up from the darkness and a cold, dank breeze wafted fitfully into his face. Like an admiral on his poop deck, Packer grasped the handrail and turned to the ranks of motionless Cybermen.
'First Legion,' he snapped. A dozen Cybermen hissed into life and lumbered heavily forward. 'You have your instructions?' Packer demanded.
'Affirmative,' chorused the creatures with an exhalation of rubbery breath.
'Phase one. Proceed through tunnels to your allotted sector and stand by for Phase Two,' Packer ordered, thoroughly enjoying his newfound powers.
The Cybermen jerked forward and marched with creaking, hissing determination up the steps and onto the platform. Then, one by one, they swung themselves onto the ladders and down into the shaft. Steadying himself on the handrail, Packer grinned with delight as he watched the disciplined, obedient monsters disappearing underground, trying not to retch at the sickly, oily exhalations they released as they passed him.
'Second Legion. Proceed,' he commanded, swelling with self-importance.
At that moment, Vaughn hurried out of the nearby elevator followed by Mr Gregory who was struggling with the delicate but heavy mechanism of the Cerebration Mentor in his scrawny arms. Vaughn paused for a moment out of sight, watching Packer's antics with scornful amusement. Then he strode forward.
'There you are, Packer. Everything going according to plan?'
'Yes Mr Vaughn,' Packer preened himself.
'Excellent. Time for our little experiment.'
Gregory set down the Professor's machine on the steps. 'Mr Vaughn; sir, I don't think this is wise,' he ventured timidly.
Vaughn rounded on him. 'It would be even more unwise not to test,' he hissed under his breath. 'We must be sure that we have an effective weapon against the Cybermen.'
Packer looked alarmed. 'You actually intend to use that thing?'
Ignoring him, Vaughn strode across to the nearest cocoon awaiting regeneration. 'I am a man of science, Packer, not a cowardly sadist,' he snapped, motioning to two technicians to connect the portable bioprojector to the cocoon. 'Now, partially activate. Just sufficiently to enable it to emerge,' he instructed.
The technicians started up the process. Within a few seconds the Cyberman came to life amid a shower of sparks and fibres and the piercing undulating whine. As soon as' it had broken free they switched off and the monster froze, halfway out of its container. Vaughn nodded his approval and gestured to Gregory to prepare the Cerebration device.
'Connect up Watkins's little box of tricks,' he said impatiently.
Reluctantly Gregory plugged two leads into the machine and then fitted the pads, to which they were connected, on either side of the creature's head.
Vaughn took a step or two back as a precaution. 'I'm waiting,' he prompted.
Gregory's hands hovered hesitantly over the controls. 'Please, Mr Vaughn, we don't know what effect this is going to have...' he pleaded.
Vaughn cast his ey
es to the roof in despair. 'Exactly. That is precisely why we are conducting this experiment,' he explained painstakingly. 'Now get on with it, Gregory.'
'What er... what emotion shall I attempt to induce?' Gregory mumbled.
Vaughn considered for a moment. 'Fear, I think. Let's see how our mighty ally reacts to fear,' he suggested eagerly.
Gregory selected settings and pressed buttons and then retreated like a child lighting a firework.
There was a faint clicking sound and the Cyberman twitched slightly.
'Increase power,' Vaughn shouted, his good eye narrowing like the other as he observed the effect intently.
The clicks increased in frequency. The Cyberman started to writhe and clutched at the pads convulsively.
'More power!' Vaughn yelled.
'Now it's at maximum...' Gregory shouted, adjusting the settings and taking refuge behind the nearest stack of containers.
The clicks ran together into a strident pinging sound. Uttering grating, guttural cries of distress the Cyberman tore off the pads and wheeled about, flailing the air with its powerful arms. Packer whipped out his pistol and emptied the magazine into the Cyberman's chest, but the shots had no effect and he was sent reeling across the warehouse by a vicious blow from the monster's fist.
'I warned you. The device isn't tuned yet...' Gregory screamed.
The crazed Cyberman suddenly turned and staggered up the steps into the chamber over the sewer shaft, shrieking like knife blades scraping against each other.
'It's following the others into the sewers!' Packer gasped, hauling himself to his feet in a daze.
'Let it go,' Vaughn ordered impassively, still standing his ground as the Cyberman disappeared into the echoing shaft.
'The thing's gone berserk. It could've killed me!' Packer blustered, reloading his pistol as he walked unsteadily over to Vaughn.
The Director smiled sourly. 'Yes, I think we have established that Watkins's device can be effective. Get him back to work on it immediately, Gregory. I want more power and remote directional control,' he declared.
The cringing Research Director nodded meekly and set about disconnecting the lethal machine.
