Doctor Who_ The Dying Days Part 20

EMAIL MESSAGE.

From: Power Commission Ltd, London To: PCL, Washington Subject: Business Development, United Kingdom Date: 8/5/97:10.15 BST Greetings Abe, It's been a busy day here, but things have calmed down now. As you know, the server went down about eight, approximately the time the UFO turned up! The engineers were here already, and they knew all about the fault, because they were in touch with the manufacturers.

About nine PCL employees were down in Trafalgar Square, the rest of us were out of town. There were a lot of tourists there, and they watched two politicians going aboard for a pow-wow. There was a carnival atmosphere in the Square. Our business partners are in the dark about long-term prospects - some of them are optimistic. PCL will maintain its operation here.

Regards to the kids, John.

Eleven o'clock British Summer Time is 6 am in Washington.

Pentagon officials had been trying to determine the situation in the United Kingdom all day. International phone calls to Britain were proving erratic, although they had other means of contacting their emba.s.sy.

Every intelligence a.n.a.lyst that could be spared was being flown to Langley.

72.A host of agencies from the IMF to Omega Sector were put on stand-by. UNIT ONE, the Creative Intelligence division of the American branch of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce was co-ordinating the groups, while UNIT THREE was liasing with NASA and the White House on the feasibility of a counterstrike on Mars itself.

CIA a.n.a.lysts were treating the situation as an invasion, and the Provisional Government as a puppet organisation.

It happened in third world countries al the time - some faction would receive funding from another power and topple the inc.u.mbent president, tyrant or whatever. The foreign power always had a purpose for doing that - strategic, economic or political reasons.

The military capability of the Martians was unknown. Their ship had arrived without registering on radar, but there was no evidence from the spy satellites that there was more than one ship over the UK, and there wasn't a mothership in orbit, as far as anyone could tel . The ship was a kilometre long, so there could be thousands of Martian troops...o...b..ard. It was armed with energy weapons and armour plating, but the ship hadn't demonstrated what a.n.a.lysts called 'Clarke Level' abilities: technology so advanced that it defied current scientific knowledge.

The PCL email was the first news from UNIT.

Oswald held up the printout of the PCL message.

'I can't believe you managed to intercept this. Doug, I think you may just have become the first person to hack into UNIT.'

Doug raised his finger to his lips, looking around the Cafe. The place was busier than ever following the Invasion - with most phone lines down, email was the only way to send an international message. And you could only do that with some highly il egal hacking into the BT system. 'I didn't do anything.'

'You know about UNIT?'

'Only what I read in FT. The paramilitary meet the paranormal, and go in all guns blazing. So this message is in a UNIT code?' If anyone knew it was Ozzie. Oswald was a regular at the Cafe. Although he was only twenty-three, he was an expert on the alien incursions that were still meant to be a secret. From the Abominable Snowmen to the Zygons, Oswald knew his stuff. He'd even spoken at conventions in America.

'Not a code as such. It's a simple system based on key phrases. It's been in use for years. '

'It's comic book stuff. I don't understand why they didn't just use a secure line or encryption.'

Oswald nodded thoughtful y. 'That's the scary thing. UNIT clearly no longer have access to the equipment, or they have been compromised. They'd only use this method as a last resort. It's meant to look like an ordinary business letter to any censor or monitor. It's the sort of crypto a Third World country would use, not an European one.'

Doug tried not to think too hard about that. 'So what does the message mean? I've worked out that PCL is UNIT, Abe's the ... President?'

'That's right. "Power Commission" is the United Nations, strictly speaking. "Server" is the local government, "engineer" means soldier, "manufacturer" means foreign power. It's real y hokey.'

Doug was reading back the message. 'So what they're saying, this bit here, about the engineers already being in contact with the manufacturers, is that the British military were in league with the aliens?'

'Yeah. Told you so.'

'So now you're saying that you knew this was going to happen al along.'

'Well, if you remember, last week I did tell you that the Martian atmosphere was breathable.'

'Sure, just before you told me that Elvis died in November 1995 of diabetes.'

'I played you his last CD,' he laughed, 'what more do you want?'

Oswald scrutinised the printout again, for theatrical effect more than anything else. 'Reading into it, the two guys who went into the saucer were in on the deal, and those that weren't have been rounded up and put in prison.

That's the "in the dark bit".' He paused. 'The conspiracy runs deeper than I thought.'

Doug laughed, and began wiping down the counter. 'Yeah, but whaddya going to do?' he said in his best Homer Simpson voice.

Oswald fixed him with that intense stare of his. 'We fight back.' He motioned around the Cafe. 'From our state-of-the-art command centre.

At one o'clock precisely, David Staines was let into the Prime Minister's office deep within Number 10 Downing Street.

Greyhaven looked at home already, sitting at the same place as his il ustrious predecessors. On the staircase up to the PM's study there were paintings and later photographs of all the previous occupants of the office, rows and rows of portraits. Like most Britons that pa.s.sed them, Staines could recognise a dozen or so, the list becoming more complete as he reached the top of the stairs and the twentieth century. He paused at the last photograph. He and the Prime Minister had never been close political y, but they respected one another. Staines had no idea that Greyhaven had been planning to kill him.

There was still a const.i.tutional problem - Greyhaven couldn't just make himself Prime Minister regardless of how many Martians backed his leadership bid. The British const.i.tution being what it is, there was some dispute about what conditions needed to be met - the dissolution of Parliament muddied the waters still further. One thing was for certain: just because Greyhaven had the mace didn't mean he was the Prime Minister. For the moment, officially, he was still only the Acting-Prime Minister.

Staines chose not to draw attention to this. 'Prime Minister,' he oozed.

'Home Secretary.' Greyhaven was studying a typed report and didn't look up at first. Finally, he granted Staines his full attention. 'What is the mood of the country?' he enquired in the tone of voice you would normally used to ask after the health of a maiden aunt.

73.Staines had spent the morning receiving police, army and intelligence reports from around the country. 'It's settling down. The country is nervous, as you'd expect, but most people went to work as normal. London's more subdued.

We've had some problems in the North - rival army units fighting on the streets in Manchester and Bradford.'

'Our support?'

'All the army units and police chiefs that we contacted beforehand have stayed true to their word. They are helping to keep a lid on things, and at the moment their men are following orders. We've had a few objectors, but not enough to affect operational efficiency. We've got enough people on the ground.'

'Yes. Half the staff at Downing Street were unwilling to serve here, or they're in mourning. I had to order out for lunch. Still, it always was part of the plan to slim down the government machinery. The opposition?'

'Taken by surprise, unaware quite how close we can keep tabs on them. A number of barracks and bases have sealed themselves off and put themselves on full alert, but they aren't moving against us. We've got control of the communications and surveil ance networks, so we'll be able to mobilise against them very quickly. So far there hasn't be a single report that the "no fly" order has been violated by civilian or military aircraft.'

Greyhaven nodded. 'The bases wil be trying to contact each other - keep a very close watch on them. If they start moving, we might need Xznaal to enforce our authority. What else?'

'The SNP are organising a demonstration in Edinburgh tonight. They claim that const.i.tutional y, they are not bound by the terms of the peace treaty with Mars and that England is ignoring them.'

'Big deal. Next.'

'The Archbishop of Canterbury is urging people to remain calm, but not fully to co-operate with the Provisional Government until the situation is more clear. There were vigils at quite a few churches last night. There would be, I suppose.'

Greyhaven raised an eyebrow. 'Really?'

'Well, it's one of the Big Questions, isn't it? Life on other planets. Do you think that Xznaal's a Protestant or a Catholic? The Pope has sought an audience with him, you know.'

'Everyone wants to speak to him, David. Which reminds me: the first few rooms of the Tower will be refrigerated this afternoon. Xznaal wil be holding a reception there at seven. You're invited, of course, as are a number of our colleagues. Could you see that they are warned about his appearance? At the same time, make sure that the press don't know about this - I don't want any telephoto shots of the Martians.' Greyhaven pa.s.sed across the guest list.

Staines scanned it. 'Miss Waugh will be there, I see.'

'She will,' Greyhaven said levelly.

'But not your wife?'

'My wife is at home, David, a hundred miles from here. How I choose to conduct my private life is my own business.'

Staines could see the newspapers' reaction to the discovery that the Prime Minister had a mistress. The tone of Greyhaven's voice suggested that he wasn't concerned, that he thought the papers had better things to be talking about. The Home Secretary knew better. He didn't dare say anything, but made a mental note to have a word with a couple of his friends in Fleet Street.

'Yes, Prime Minister,' he said.

'The foreign situation seems to be stable - no-one wants to pick a fight with the Martians. Xznaal's proclamation was clear and unambiguous. Too clear, if anything. I'm still not sure what he's planning to do with the American airbases. As for his plans for Eire if the IRA attack our boys...' he shook his head disbelievingly. 'It's been a while since we put the Dail to the sword. And, do you know, despite the Euro-sceptics I don't think that the British government has ever threatened to "smite" the EU before.'

'Teddy, I'm worried.'

Greyhaven frowned in mock-concern. 'Are you, Staines?'

'Yes. You've opened a can of worms. You're using Xznaal to control the country and to crush our enemies, but how do you plan to control them? Quis custodiet ipsos custodes, eh, Teddy?'

'I have my means,' Greyhaven said firmly. 'The Martians serve a useful purpose for the time being, but once our power base is secure, we won't be needing them.'

'You can destroy them?'

'If it proves necessary. It's only one ship, Staines, it wouldn't last long against the RAF. I have the situation under control. Can you say the same about Alexander Christian, or the Doctor?'

Staines chuckled. 'Surely now the Martians are here we don't need to - '

Greyhaven leapt from his chair and grabbed the lapels of the Home Secretary's jacket. 'Those two are the greatest threats to what we are doing here. Find them, Staines, and kill them.'

'You don't want them captured?'

'So that they are brought here and I can tie them up while I boast about my plans? No, I want them dead. Post that to all police and army units.'

Staines made a note of that. 'Is there any more business?'

'That wil be all, thank you Home Secretary. See you at seven.'

Just before three o'clock Eve Waugh received a phone cal . She was in her hotel room with Alan, getting ready to go to the Tower of London. They were talking through their plans: they would try and charm Xznaal into granting an interview.

74.'How do you dress to meet a Martian warlord?' Alan asked her.

'Edward told me to treat it like any other state banquet.'

'That helps,' he chuckled.

'Your tux will be fine,' she a.s.sured him.

'And I'm taking my camera but keeping it in my bag?'

'That's right. Don't even try to sneak a shot of the Martian, you might cause an interplanetary diplomatic incident.'

The phone rang. Eve answered it and spoke for a couple of minutes.

'Don't change just yet,' she told Alan when she'd finished. 'Where's Canterbury?'

Alan checked his road atlas. 'About an hour away, I think. South of here.'

'That was the Doctor. He says he wants to talk to us. He's told us exactly where he is and says he wants to meet us at four-thirty. We can get there and back in time for seven?'

'No problem at all, if we leave quickly. I'm sure that your friend Greyhaven would like to know where the Doctor is.

Are you going to tell him?'

Eve hesitated.

75.

Chapter Ten.

An Englishman's Home

The Doctor had lit a fire, shaking the match until it went out.

Benny and the Brigadier sat in front of it, nursing the mugs of cocoa he had just made for them. It was getting dark outside, the sun was already dipping behind the orchard. For the moment, they kept the curtains open, watching the view. If Bernice had been in one of her periodic melancholy moods, or if she'd had something a bit stronger to drink than cocoa, she was pretty sure that she would see something deeply symbolic about the blood red sky. The Brigadier was sitting in the Doctor's favourite armchair, so the Time Lord sat down on the sofa, alongside her.

'Miss Waugh is late,' the Brigadier said, a gentle warning in his voice.

'If she was going to call the authorities, she would have done that already,' the Doctor replied.

Their journey to Allen Road had been along something of a scenic route, avoiding the motorways, A-roads and big towns. It hadn't helped that the Doctor had got them lost somewhere south of Maidstone. Tempers had become frayed, but they'd ended up in Adisham just before three o'clock. The Doctor had stopped off at Mrs Darling's shop to buy some milk and bin bags, and to make a quick phone call. Then they'd driven up to the House and parked Bessie safely undercover in the garage. Only then had the Doctor revealed that he'd just told Eve Waugh, the American journalist, and anyone tapping her line, exactly where they were.

'Why did you cal her?' Benny asked.

He had looked puzzled. 'We need al ies. Help. She's a talented young lady, and people in America will listen to what she has to say.'

She and the Brigadier had looked at each other, unsure whether to trust the Doctor's judgement or to run to the hills. After half an hour of cheerful domesticity away from the rioting and alien devastation, they had become more relaxed. The landscape here was peaceful, unchanged by the Martian Invasion. From here it was easy to believe that the s.p.a.cecraft over London was a ma.s.s hallucination or purely a local difficulty for the capital to deal with.