Doctor Who_ The Dying Days Part 16

Its head was bigger than a motorcycle helmet, was roughly the same shape, and looked like it had been carved from a block of stone. Its eyes were red, the colour of burning coals, but they were concealed far behind two plates of thick, protective gla.s.s, like semi-visors. Staines peered up at the face, unsure whether what he was looking at was the creature's head or some kind of s.p.a.ce-helmet. There was a gap in the faceplate below the eyes, and through it, softer, gnarled skin was just visible. This parted, revealing two rows of fangs packed together between thin lips. A red tongue, forked like a snake, flickered over the front teeth.

Staines screamed.

60.

Chapter Eight

Death and Diplomacy

'Ssilence that creature,' the monster hissed, raising a claw like a giant crab's. The voice filled the room.

'Be quiet, Home Secretary,' Greyhaven ordered. Staines clamped his mouth shut, although whimpering noises continued to escape.

Greyhaven tried to ignore his colleague and turned to the monster. 'Lord Xznaal, I presume?'

'Lord Geryahavunn,' it whispered. The Martian looked down at Staines. Although this monster was incapable of facial expression, or even of moving its head, somehow it managed to communicate its disdain. 'Thiss iss the leader of the United Kingdom clan?' it barked.

Greyhaven looked down apologetical y at Staines, who was cowering behind him. 'Upon your arrival, the clan leaders fled their lands. They left behind this fellow. He is a good man, but he is surprised and frightened by your appearance.'

'You are not?' it grunted.

Greyhaven looked the monster up and down. 'I admit that you are not how I pictured you. Your voice has also changed - the effects of the Earth atmosphere you have provided for us in here?'

'That iss correct.' It paused to draw breath. 'How did you "picture uss"?'

Greyhaven laughed. 'As a powerfully-built member of my own race,' he admitted.

'Likewisse,' the monster chortled, lifting its head back to bark a laugh. 'We have only ever sseen your people in their ss.p.a.ce-armour.'

'Y-you know this creature?' Staines asked.

'Show some respect, Home Secretary. This is Lord Xznaal, leader of the Argyre Clan. He controls territory the size of Arizona.'

'Larger, now,' Xznaal reminded them.

'Indeed.' Greyhaven conceded. 'Which reminds me.' He bent down and unzipped his bag.

'Are you concealing a weapon?'

'Yes,' Greyhaven said simply.

The Martian lurched at him with surprising speed, batting him out of the way. It probed the inside of the bag with a claw, lifting out what it found. Xznaal held it between powerful pincers, examining it. 'A mace?' it asked.

'The mace!' Staines exclaimed.

Xznaal swiped the air with it experimentally. 'It iss consstructed from a ssoft metal. It would disstort when ussed in combat.'

'That is not the point ... my Lord,' Staines explained. 'That is the symbol of parliamentary power in this country.'

'A ssacred object?'

'Near enough, yes,' Greyhaven said smugly.

Staines walked over to his colleague. 'Where the h.e.l.l did you get it?'

'The House of Commons, Staines, naturally. You should have asked me how I got it. 'Greyhaven turned to Xznaal.

'Possession of this gives you at least some claim to political power. We will have to examine the full const.i.tutional position.'

Staines grabbed Greyhaven's shoulder. 'What is happening here?'

Greyhaven shook him off. 'A coup d'etat,' he explained. 'With the support and a.s.sistance of a foreign power.'

Xznaal bent over Staines. 'Thiss human iss unaware of the plan?'

Greyhaven shrugged. 'The Home Secretary here knows that my followers have been plotting a coup, using Martian technology. He did not expect the creators of that technology to turn up in person. In fact, he thinks that your race is extinct.'

'Now might be a good time to tel me.'

'Very well,' Greyhaven said,'Over twenty years ago, the crew of Mars Probe 13 encountered Xznaal's people, the native race of Mars. Alexander Christian and his crew infiltrated a subterranean city, and were caught spying in a scientific research facility. Christian was the only one to escape. As you know, I was Minister of Science at the time, with responsibility for both the Mars programme and s.p.a.ce Security, and so it fell to me to sort out a potential diplomatic disaster. Once the language barrier was overcome, the Martians demanded two things: Christian's extradition, and an a.s.surance that we would stay away from their territory. The extradition proved a logistical problem - the Prison Service would have blown their budget for the next hundred and twenty years transferring Christian sixty million miles. Eventually Xznaal agreed that we could keep him imprisoned here, but that we mustn't ever release or debrief him. We have stuck to our agreement.'

Xznaal grunted his approval. 'If a Martian had been caught at Alderma.s.ston or Ssel afield, would you have been sso lenient?'

'Almost certainly not,' Staines admitted quickly. 'And now the Martians are angry at us because the Mars 97 breaks the other side of the agreement? But Teddy, you were the driving force behind Mars 97.'

Greyhaven and Xznaal shared a laugh.

'My dear chap, why do you think that we haven't been to Mars for over twenty years?'

'Lack of funding? The money could always be spent better elsewhere.'

61.'Nonsense. Think about the prestige of being the first country to put a man on Mars. Think about al the mineral wealth in the asteroid belts, think about the possibilities of a military base on the Moon, or a steel works in zero-gravity. There are energy sources and minerals in this solar system that would provide the solution to al mankind's problems; the population boom wouldn't be a problem if we could move people to Mars or Venus. Would a few billion pounds really be better spent on social security for a couple of million layabouts on one small island?'

'Mars is uninhabitable, Teddy. It doesn't have an atmosphere, it's highly radioactive.'

Greyhaven laughed. 'If Mars is uninhabitable, Home Secretary, what, precisely, do you think that is?'

'Things might live there,' Staines blurted,'but not humans.'

'Congratulations, David, that is precisely what I want people to believe. Before the mid-seventies, most scientists thought that Mars might be capable of supporting life. The Mariner probes didn't rule it out. Why do you think Britain wanted to go to Mars back in the seventies? Because it was the only planet in the solar system, other than Earth, that might be fit for colonisation. Now, I agreed with Xznaal that no Earthman would land on Mars, and it wasn't too difficult to wind down the British Mars Programme - the death of Alexander Christian's crew made it a great deal easier. But the last thing I wanted was some American or Russian mission there. I may have some clout in this country, Teddy, but I have very little influence on NASA policy. So the British s.p.a.ce Centre reported back that Mars was uninhabitable, we released reams and reams of scientific "evidence" proving that Mars wouldn't support a human colony, that there was far too much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. Almost straight away, without question, the international scientific community accepted our version of events. Only the Americans weren't sure - until one of MI6's double-O agents went to Cape Canaveral and subst.i.tuted the real data collected by Viking with our fake. Their plans for Mars missions have been more half-hearted since then, much easier to sabotage. The best they've come up with in twenty years is a fossil that might be from Mars. Even if it is, do you know what they thought the fossil was? The waste products of single-cell creatures. Three billion year old bacteria pooh that may or may not be from Mars.'

'But ...'

'Be quiet, Staines. You want to know the truth, then here it is: For twenty years, elements of the British security services have been active throughout the rest of the world covering up one vital fact about Mars: you or I could walk on the Martian surface without the aid of a s.p.a.cesuit. Yes, it's normal y as cold as a Scottish winter, and the air is thin, but any reasonably fit man with a pair of gloves and a wool y hat could live there. '

The crowd were beginning to disperse. Necks were getting cricked, it was getting late and the UFO was just hanging there doing nothing. The police had sealed off the area, so no-one else was getting in. There were still many hundreds of thousands of people in and around Trafalgar Square, but the crowd was appreciatively thinner than it had been. Those that remained where quiet again, expectant. Someone was proclaiming that Jesus was the one true saviour, another that the end of the world was nigh, another that he was selling soft drinks.

Everyone else stood or sat, listening to the radio, looking up at the s.p.a.cecraft or down at the police and military presence. The Evening Standard had published a late edition, with ten pages of eye-witness reports and photographs. Virtually everyone in the crowd had bought a copy, hoping that it would explain what was going on.

It didn't, of course.

The Doctor was staring up, his eyes screwed up. He was holding the sonic screwdriver out in front of him.

'Now what are you doing?' Benny asked, tucking her newspaper underneath her arm. None of the policemen or soldiers had seen them yet, but surely it was only a matter of time.

'Knocking,' the Doctor said quietly.

A series of grunts and barks filled the reception chamber of the Martian ship, making Staines jump. Greyhaven's was a more measured response.

The voice swirled around them. It was the same 'holographic sound' technology that the Martians had used to communicate with Greyhaven for twenty years. Alexander Christian had brought trinkets back with him - a Martian walkie-talkie and a couple of electronic keys. These were based on a form of silicon unknown on Earth, but which could be crudely duplicated. Greyhaven had built the communicator in his office himself, and currently only that prototype existed.

The Martian leader turned to Greyhaven. 'A human in the crowd iss ussing a ssonic device. You informed uss that your race had no ssuch technology,' he spat.

'We haven't,' Greyhaven said cool y.

Xznaal hissed an order into the air.

A globe materialised in the s.p.a.ce between them: a hologram. The image was a panning shot of the crowd, presumably from a camera mounted on the hull. Now the picture moved with more purpose, and began zooming in on a section directly below them.

62.Standing by a police box was a man and a woman. She was tall and leggy, and had adopted a tomboy look: short hair and a baggy, garish jumper. Her companion was just as striking: a man with shoulder-length hair in a full-length Victorian housecoat. They were both peering upwards at the ship. He was holding something aloft - a microphone, perhaps, or a measuring instrument of some kind.

'I know him,' Greyhaven said quietly.

'Who iss he?' Xznaal demanded.

'He was at Mission Control this morning. Do you remember, David?'

The Home Secretary shrugged. 'Yes, I think so. It was the chap that didn't know who you were.'

Greyhaven silenced him with a glare.

'I sshall desstroy them.'

'No!' Greyhaven shouted.

Xznaal hissed his displeasure.

'Xznaal, everyone on the planet is watching this s.p.a.cecraft. There are a million people down there in that crowd. At the moment, they are nervous. They don't understand the benefits of co-operation with the Martians. Their reaction will be the same as Staines' - horror, terror.'

Xznaal stepped back. 'That iss how it sshould be,' he wheezed.

'If you open fire, all the human clans wil panic. My people will work with you willingly, given a little time. Better, surely, that my soldiers capture the man. That way you could question him.'

'You are a wisse counssel, Gerayhavunn. We sshall bring those humans aboard.' He barked another order into the air.

'A hatch is opening,' Bernice informed him.

The Doctor adjusted the settings on the sonic screwdriver. 'Can you see if there's anyone on the platform?' he asked her.

She was rubbing her neck. 'Not yet - wait a second. No, it's empty. And it's heading towards us.

The crowd were getting boisterous again.

The disc was about eight feet across, about six inches thick. Rivets ran along the underside. As it dropped below head height, the Doctor could see that the upper surface was coated with a stippled material. There were no other features, such as a control box or a communications panel, The Doctor stepped up onto the deck, helping Bernice to do the same.

'It works on a very simple principle: there are magnetic ray projectors mounted along the hull of the ship.'

'There isn't even a handrail,' she moaned.

'More serious problems are at hand,' the Doctor informed her.

The disc began rising. Bernice was unsteady on her feet, trying to keep upright. The Doctor had no such difficulty.

'Try to stand stil ,' he advised her,'Admire the view.'

London glittered beneath them. The neo-cla.s.sicism of the National Portrait gal ery looked good picked out by spotlights and street lamps. Beyond it was the London Coliseum, behind them Admiralty Arch and the imposing buildings of Whitehal .

Bernice was on her knees, looking a little green around the gil s.

'I'm not very good with heights,' she explained.

'Neither am I,' the Doctor comforted her, gazing at the Houses of Parliament about half a mile away. Westminster Abbey was sitting next to them, as ever. There were military units there, presumably ready to defend the bastions of democracy and English life if the Martians attacked.

Bernice pulled herself back, trying to straighten up. 'It's not often you get the chance to throw up over a million people.'

'Throw up what?' the Doctor asked, distracted by Big Ben ringing half past eight. Traffic was flowing along Westminster Bridge and Piccadilly just as it would be on any other night at this time.

'Never mind. I think I'm all right, now. 'She glanced up at the s.p.a.ceship. 'It looks even bigger now, doesn't it?'

'That's because it's closer,' the Doctor explained patiently.

'I know,' Bernice replied through clenched teeth. The hatchway opened above them, and the disc pa.s.sed through it.