Killing Ground Part 11

He redoubled his efforts. From what he remembered, these Cybermen had head-mounted weapons; lethal but with limited range. If he could get out before it closed the gap between them, he would be safe.

Wrong again! It produced a gun and blasted a chunk of ladder out from beneath him. The Doctor grabbed at the first balcony and hauled himself up onto it. He flattened himself as he heard another shot and he felt a blast of heat in which molten rivulets dripped from the railing.

He tentatively raised his head and saw that the Cyberman was marching towards him with frightening speed. No doubt its colleague above would be doing likewise. He scrambled up and dived through this level's doorway, narrowly avoiding a third shot. He was in a corridor identical to the one above, but as he sprinted down it, he was dismayed to see that the exits from this one were closed. Worse still, as he rounded a corner, he glimpsed another Cyberman at the corridor's far end, collecting a group of prisoners together. It had heard his footsteps and it whirled to face him.

'Stop!' it ordered. The Cybermen were nothing if not imaginative, the Doctor thought. He turned to see that his trigger-happy friend from the chamber was emerging into the pa.s.sageway. No escape that way. He ducked back around the corner. The Cyberman in this corridor at least had no gun - but it was approaching at an alarming rate. The Doctor's hands groped across the flat outer wall in search of the invisible seam which had to be there. He found it and forced his fingernails beneath it, flipping it open to reveal a control pad. He stabbed at it and stumbled gratefully through the revealed aperture before it was half-formed. The cell into which he emerged was occupied and a middle-aged Agoran man leapt to his feet and stared in terror.

'Do pardon my intrusion,' the Doctor muttered. He grabbed the wires from his pocket as he raced across to the main door. Short-circuiting the system would be difficult from this side. He pushed two bared ends into the gap between door arid wall and wriggled them blindly. A tingling in his scalp alerted him to the fact that his pursuers had arrived.

The prisoner cowered in a corner as the Cybermen took one step in unison and halted inside the room. The armed one brought up its weapon, although at such close quarters it wouldn't need it. The Doctor turned to face them, his eyes drawn - as the Cybermen's designers had intended - to the cl.u.s.ters of barrels which peered from their helmets.

His hands were still behind his back, working frantically.

'You are our prisoner.'

'Yes, it appears so. I suppose you're going to lock that door, then, and leave me trapped here in this nasty old dungeon?'

'No. We are going to kill you -'

'Oh.'

'- if you do not cease your interference with the security mechanism and raise your hands.'

The Doctor smiled bashfully and slowly brought his right hand around and up.

'Both hands!' the Cyberman ordered.

The door slid open, thankfully, and the Doctor, forcing himself to act on instinct alone, pushed backwards and fell, face-up, into the corridor. Two blasts pa.s.sed over him and blew a hole into the far wall.

He scrambled up and threw himself towards the nearest junction. As on the level above, he had a choice of four directions. He chose one to take him away from the cell block. There was no time to make a more considered decision: despite having sacrificed speed for endurance, the Cybermen were far from slow - and they were persistent, above all. He had to lose them, fast.

A narrow staircase offered a return to ground-floor level. He took it three steps at a time, but descended considerably faster at the sight of three Overseers at its head. They hadn't seen him, but the diversion had wasted time. As he bounced off the bottom step, the first Cyberman appeared in the connecting corridor and fired. Another wave of heat swept across the Doctor's face and he knew that the guards above would have heard the explosion. He reached a crossroads and propelled himself in a random direction before any of his foes could get him back into sight. The pa.s.sage twisted around a number of outcropping rooms and the Doctor made himself slow down so that his footsteps wouldn't ring out so prominently.

Minutes pa.s.sed with no sign of pursuit. Then, to his alarm, the corridor ended. His own distorted reflection greeted him mockingly from a blank silver wall and he remembered the exterior layout of Population Control, seen as he was marched towards it three weeks ago. He recalled its sprawling wings, the legs of the great mechanical spider, and he realized with horror that he had blundered straight into one. All the Cybermen had to do now was station a sentry at the junction and search each corridor in turn. They would find him.

A klaxon alarm began to sound and the lighting panels in the ceiling dimmed, taking on a blood-red hue. News of the Doctor's escape had been relayed to the control centre. He now had every Overseer in the building to contend with - as well as the Cybermen. A scout s.h.i.+p of the type he had seen would normally have a crew of eight. He had encountered three. The other five could be anywhere.

The Doctor hurried back along the pa.s.sageway, trying each door as he pa.s.sed it. Maybe one of the rooms would provide access to a different level. At least he might find somewhere to hide from the inevitable patrols. The first door was locked; the second opened onto a small storage area, piled high with circuit boards and fuse wire. The third took the Doctor into a darkened room which, as his eyes adjusted, he saw was some sort of medical laboratory. Three beds were covered in crisp white sheets and surrounded by complex equipment, primarily scanning devices. Clearly, this was where Overseer surgeons investigated the s.e.x and genetic purity of the unborn, tampering with either if necessary. Where the child-to-be was deemed unsalvageable and of no ultimate use, the machines provided a further option. The Doctor was repelled, but hardly surprised.

He closed the door, m.u.f.fling the wails of the alarm, and crossed to one of the scanners. Booting it up was a simple operation - as was programming it to give him what he wanted. Another flaw of Cyber thinking, he thought with grim satisfaction. Population Control's systems were efficiently designed and fully integrated, which made it easy to access one from another. Once he was inside the medical computer, he could leapfrog into the defensive and architectural datapools and call up full schematics of the complex. If there was a way out of this, he could find it in short order.

If there was a way out of this. there was a way out of this.

The emergency alarm had been sounding for almost five minutes.

Madrox's immediate reaction, prompted by an electric jolt of terror, had been to spring across the control centre to check the status of the defences. He had had nightmare visions of Henneker leading an army across the grounds. Although they had been unfounded, the truth was not much more palatable.

'Patrol 3B reports that the Doctor has escaped from his cell, sir,' one of the Overseers had told him. Madrox had not even listened to the details. He had ordered all patrols to be recalled to duty, to track the alien down. He had tried to sound as efficient and in control as possible, although he had known it was too late to impress the Cybermen. He had presided over one problem too many.

It had come as a surprise, then, when the Cyberleader had not only failed to reprimand him, but had also countermanded his instructions.

'My troops will deal with the Doctor,' it had said. Since then, it had not spoken. Madrox sweated, even under the cold red light, and wished it would just put him out of his misery.

He retracted that wish when, finally, it swung around to face him.

Madrox clenched his fists and gritted his teeth and wondered what it would feel like to die. Its words were unexpected. 'You have done well.

Census records show an increase in Agora's population during each of the last three periods.' Madrox didn't know what to say. He wanted to ask why he was not to be punished for the Doctor's escape - but why tempt fate?

The Leader took four measured steps towards him. 'Our race is in need of organic resources. We will convert the current prisoners and return for more in precisely 1.5 years. You will ensure that each holding cell is filled as normal.'

Madrox was aghast. One and a half years? Eighteen months before he had to face them again? Five hundred more Agorans to die at the Cyberleader's whim? 'I-I beg your pardon, Leader, but I don't think we can do it. The population of the colony -'

'Population levels will be maintained.' The Cyberleader loomed over him, adopting an exaggerated posture which suggested anger at the questioning of its edict. It could have felt no such emotion, of course, but the simulation was clearly affected for the sake of intimidation. It was successful. 'Your own computers show that it is possible. You will oversee. If you cannot serve in that capacity, then you will be just as useful to us as the first of Population Control's new intake.'

Madrox nodded hurriedly, realizing that shock had made him push too far. At least his own life wasn't in danger. At least he was still in command. Any time was better than none. Far better than lingering death.

'Leader,' said the Cyberman at the console. 'There is a problem.'

If those words had had physical form, they would have been shards of ice sliding down Chief Overseer Madrox's back. The Cyberleader seemed to glare at him for a moment, then it strode to its deputy's side.

'I have received a report from a unit at the conversion chamber,' the Cyberman said. 'One holding cell is empty. The quota for this period has not been met. Our human agents have failed.'

Madrox took an involuntary step backwards as the Leader rounded on him. 'What do you know of this?'

'Nothing, I swear.'

The monster crossed the distance between them far more quickly this time. It bore down on him like an unstoppable tank and Madrox lost all composure. He cringed, threw up his hands and babbled, 'The cells were full, I swear. It must have been one of the Overseers. It must have been Taggart. He betrayed me before you arrived. I didn't think it was worth bothering you with details. I was going to sort him out myself, but he hasn't been detained yet and he must have freed the prisoner.' He ran dry, but thankfully the Cyberleader had checked its approach. It was well within reach, but it hadn't moved to strike. Could he have been so lucky again? He cautiously lowered his hands, aware that he had been humiliated before Patrol Two. He hated such undermining of his authority.

'Overseer Taggart is known to us. He is recorded as a former dissident in our history computer.'

'That's right,' said Madrox, nodding eagerly. 'He helped out in the rebellion, but you gave him a chance because he surrendered.'

'He will be dealt with.'

Madrox was beginning to relax, the immediate danger averted.

'Taggart is still young enough to be good conversion material,' he offered. 'He could replace the missing prisoner.'

'As could you.'

Before the significance of those words could sink in, the Cyberleader's hand was around Madrox's throat. His breathing was stifled and he felt his cheeks turn crimson, his eyes bulging Out of his head. Hydraulic muscles flexed and he was lifted clear of the floor. His feet pedalled uselessly; his hands lashed out, but only bruised themselves. The Cyberleader's words were dulled by a sound in his ears like rus.h.i.+ng water. 'However, if, as you say, Taggart can be converted, then you are dispensable. You can pay the price for your failure and become an example to those who will follow you.'

The pressure increased and, in the seconds remaining to him, vivid memories flashed through Madrox's mind: the gamble with which he had become a slave; his predecessor, reeling from a fatal blast; himself returning the Cyberleader's gaze steadily as his colleagues recoiled.

Above all, Madrox thought of his child. His first one, unborn. He would not see him now.

The Doctor dropped into a crouch as the lift doors opened. If there was a Cyberman waiting for him, he wouldn't be able to hide - but at least he could surprise it by attacking from beneath gun level.

He needn't have worried. The service elevator opened into another unoccupied laboratory. This one held a dozen huge containers, in which the Cybermen's plastic-metal compound seethed, prevented from solidifying by an electrical current. Thoughts of sabotage crossed the Doctor's mind, but he had no time. His use of the lift would have been reported to the control centre. He had programmed it to visit every level - and, hopefully, the ground floor with its exits would be seen as a better prospect than this upper sub-bas.e.m.e.nt - but still, he should move on quickly.

A short walk brought him to the cell block, which he circ.u.mvented.

He recalled the plans of the complex, mentally superimposing them over the reality. He knew where he wanted to be.

The door to the chamber was locked, but not so efficiently as to resist the Doctor's well-practised abilities. The room beyond was enormous and dark, but in the dim red light from the corridor, he could just make out a familiar shape. The TARDIS. The Doctor smiled. The main computer's inventory file had been correct. He greeted the deceptively small blue box like an old friend, running his hand along its pitted surface. But something was wrong. His key - which the Overseers had confiscated - was in the lock. Not that they would have been able to use it. It would only respond to the Doctor's unique molecular structure. But then, why had they left it here?

Part of him wanted desperately not to worry about it. He had pinned his hopes on being able to somehow force the TARDIS's emergency exit door, combining his lockpicking skills with his telepathic link to the s.h.i.+p. It wouldn't have been easy and it might not have been possible.

Now fate had handed him a quicker, more sure way. Hadn't it?

The Doctor reached out and grasped the key. Then paused. The darkness closed in around him and he felt the skin of his neck begin to p.r.i.c.kle with a familiar premonition of danger. He twisted to look back over his shoulder. He stared intently into the deep shadows, and frowned.

Something glimmered.

The Doctor sighed, removed the key and turned his back to the TARDIS. 'I'm sorry. No entry.'

The Cyberman emerged from the dark recesses. Two more closed in from equidistant points around the chamber, cutting him off from the door. Hegelia had been quite right. The Doctor's so-called escape had been controlled from the start, from afar, with the intention of bringing him here. The Cybermen had wanted him to open the TARDIS door.

Once he had, they would no doubt have shot him on the threshold.

'I hate to disappoint you,' said the Doctor, straining to put a brave face on his defeat.

'There is no disappointment. That would be an illogical reaction.'

'Oh, yes. I was forgetting.'

'You merely force us to put an alternative plan into effect.'

The Doctor had a quarter of a second to consider ducking as fire flashed in the Cyberman's head-mounted weapon. Not long enough. A sharp, hot sensation built in his chest, circled to encompa.s.s his torso and erupted into a roiling ball of electric pain. He gasped and fell to his knees.

The Cyberman fired again and the Doctor lost control of his muscles. He felt himself pitching helplessly forward, but lost consciousness before he hit the floor.

Hegelia had seen enough. She marched into the control centre and halted, arms folded, her eyes burning holes into the Cyberleader's helmet. 'Leave him alone!'

The Cyberleader turned to face her. Hegelia prayed that she had engaged its interest rather than its wrath. That seemed to be the case. It loosened its grip on Madrox and lowered him. His face was purple, his breathing forced.

'The Chief Overseer has not failed you,' she said.

'Explain.'

'He was instructed to provide five hundred humans. He has done so.'

'He has not. One cell was empty.'

'I know. And, meanwhile, I have been waiting an intolerable length of time for your attendance. Had you been more efficient, I could have informed you long ago that I am your final candidate.'

The Cyberleader didn't answer. Hegelia imagined its logical mind ticking over, trying to work out the rationale behind her statement. She allowed a smile to play about her lips as she clarified her intent with the p.r.o.nouncement she had waited a lifetime to make.

'You heard me correctly, Cyberleader. I wish to be converted. I want to be a Cyberman.'

7.

Adapt or Die!

aggart's half-waking dreams were worse than ever.

T Their livid colours exploded across his mind's eye each time sleep beckoned. The imaginary smells of carnage made his nostrils twitch. His pulse rate quickened with terrors long past.

The year was 2178 and Benjamin Michael Taggart was twenty-six and already living on borrowed time. The image of the s.h.i.+p was obscured in his mind by a mist born of panic, but Taggart remembered the children, bundled into its c.o.c.kpit, barely comprehending what was happening.

Only Grant Markham, the eldest, appreciated that they were about to leave their planet. Youthful excitement lit his face and widened his eyes.

He was too young to understand everything.

It had taken three weeks of furtive trips to the landing site to work out the unfamiliar ignition and navigation controls. Three weeks during which the Overseers of Taggart's patrol had debated what to do with their find over and over again. This was their eventual decision: to give at least the children some hope of a normal existence. They christened the mysterious vessel Lifeline Lifeline and prayed it would live up to that name. and prayed it would live up to that name.

They couldn't even watch its automated launch. They had to be on the far side of the colony. Once the children had gone, life would continue, and they couldn't afford to be found when the radar reading was investigated.

2191 again. Taggart opened his eyes and stared up at the dull metal ceiling of his meagre quarters. The clock revealed the cruel truth of how little time he had lost to dozing. It was always this way when they were here.