Doctor Who_ Warmonger Part 1

WARMONGER.

by TERRANCE d.i.c.kS.

Prologue.

In the Panopticon on Gallifrey, great events were coming to a climax.

The vast circular hall, so immense that clouds formed in its domed ceiling, was packed, every Time Lord in his appointed place.

All but one.

The President's place on the central dais was empty.

The brightly coloured, high-collared ceremonial robes of the Time Lords seemed to shimmer in the diffused light of the hall.

The orange and scarlet of the Prydonians vied with the green of the Arcalians, the heliotrope of the Patrexes dominated the more subdued colours of the lesser chapters.

All eyes were fixed on the great staircase that led down to the central dais. It was from this dais that the President of the Council traditionally addressed his fellow Time Lords. Two of them stood waiting now.

One was a tall, white-haired old man in the ornate red and gold robes of the Vice-President.

The other was a slender, dark-haired figure in the sober grey robe of a Junior Cardinal.

A stir of movement at the top of the great staircase caught everyone's eye. Three figures came down it. The one in the lead wore the robes of the President of Gallifrey, and bore the insignia of his office the Coronet, the Sash and the Rod of Ra.s.silon.

He had, however, no need of robes or insignia to impress.

Slightly under medium height with a high domed head and cla.s.sically handsome features, he exuded an effortless charisma, an authority that made him the focus of the entire Panopticon.

Behind him came two armed officers of the Chancellery Guard. They might have been his bodyguards, except that such a function was almost unknown on Gallifrey. In fact they were simply his guards.

The Time Lord in presidential robes stopped when he reached the two waiting figures. He spoke, briefly and contemptuously. 'Well?'

In a high, old voice the Vice-President said, 'The decision of the High Council is unanimous, Lord President. You are hereby deposed.'

The Junior Cardinal's voice, by contrast, was hard and strong.

'From this moment, you are no longer President of Gallifrey.

Vice-President Saran will a.s.sume your position until new elections are held.'

Moving forward, the Junior Cardinal reached for the Sash of Ra.s.silon. Furiously the ex-president thrust him away. The guards stepped forward, seizing the ex-President's arms.

With ruthless speed and efficiency, the Junior Cardinal stripped the ex-President of Coronet, Sash and Rod.

Turning to Saran, he invested the old man with the insignia of his new rank. He stepped back and his voice rang out.

'Time Lords! Acknowledge your President!'

To a Time Lord, the vast audience rose, holding high their right hands.

'Hail Lord President Saran!'

With a rustling of robes, they resumed their places.

The deposed President watched the ceremony in scornful silence.

Shaking off the restraining guards, he said, 'Saran, you're a senile old fool. Do you really think you can fill my place?' He swung round on the Junior Cardinal. 'You were always an ambitious young swine. I suppose you think you'll be wearing the President's robes after the election? You're behind all this!'

'I had the honour to chair the Committee of Enquiry into your activities,' said the Junior Cardinal calmly. 'It was scarcely difficult to uncover evidence of abuse of office. And once your fellow conspirators in the Celestial Intervention Agency had confessed...'

'You spineless fools! I would have made our Time Lord race masters of the galaxy of the cosmos. Now you will degenerate into useless, pa.s.sive observers observers.' As he spat out the last word, his voice dripped with scorn.

'The prisoner will be silent,' said President Saran. There was unexpected authority in the old voice. 'You sought to lead us into a policy of war and conquest that would have brought devastation to the galaxy and eventual ruin to our race. This is High Treason, and for this you deserve death. However, in view of your past service to Gallifrey, the sentence is commuted to exile permanent exile. You leave Gallifrey this day, never to return.'

Shocked gasps and murmurs filled the Panopticon Hall. In the minds of some of the a.s.sembled Time Lords, death would have been more merciful. To any Time Lord, Gallifrey is a part of his very being. Even the few, the very few, who rebelled and left voluntarily, held the knowledge in their secret hearts that some day they would return. Permanent exile was death of the soul. The ex-President, however, heard the sentence with apparent equanimity. His eyes ranged over the audience as he addressed them for the last time.

'You are making a mistake a grave mistake. For the moment, I say only this. I shall return to Gallifrey, at a time of my own choosing.' He paused, his glance sweeping over the crowded a.s.sembly. Curiously, every Time Lord in the crowded hall felt that the burning stare was directed at him, and at him alone.

'I shall return to Gallifrey,' he repeated. 'And I shall not come alone.'

He turned and began to climb the long staircase, followed by his guards.

Lord President Saran turned to the Junior Cardinal. 'Well, it's over.'

The Junior Cardinal sent a scornful look after the deposed President. 'Theatrical to the last!'

'All the same, he had great talents,' said Saran thoughtfully.

'And in many ways his judgement was excellent.'

'I don't follow, Lord President.'

Saran smiled amiably down at him. 'You really do hope to replace me at the election though you won't. And you really are an ambitious young swine, Borusa.'

Junior Cardinal Borusa held his gaze for a moment and then bowed low. 'I wish only to serve, my Lord President. To serve you and Gallifrey.'

In perfect understanding, they turned and left the dais.

Book I

Guerrilla

Chapter One.

Ambush.

'We're all going to die,' thought Peri. 'Maybe not today but soon very soon.'

Oddly enough, the thought gave a kind of relief. They had been fighting so long, so hopelessly, the odds against survival lengthening every day. Like everyone else, Peri was exhausted, sick of running and hiding and killing. They couldn't win. But they wouldn't give in.

'We shall fight them in the jungles and in the deserts, on the rivers and on the lagoons,' thought Peri. 'We shall never surrender.' She paused, frowning. 'Somebody else said that something very like it anyway.'

She wiped the sweat from her forehead. Even crouching motionless was exhausting in the steamy tropical heat. She wondered about the strength of the forces against them. With any luck..

The army of the enemy was vast, but his empire was expanding at an astonishing rate, planet after planet falling to his invading hordes. The conquering army swept on but the occupying forces left to hold each captured planet were stretched very thin.

It was the only thing that gave Peri and her companions any chance.

There were six of them, half a dozen ragged guerrillas, waiting in ambush on the overgrown jungle trail that led to the enemy's main jungle base. The hovertrain, due any moment, would be carrying weapons, food, medical supplies, all desperately needed by the enemy troops.

The guerrillas needed them even more.

Peri heard a distant rustling, the sound of jungle vegetation ruthlessly brushed aside by some heavy moving object. 'Right, they're coming.' she said. 'Positions everyone. Marko, you set off that mine too early and I'll make you wish you'd stayed down the salt mines!'

The hairy giant grinned. 'Yes, boss.'

'Nothing to laugh about.' whispered Kyrin, her second-in-command. 'She means it!'

Kyrin was an alley-cat, lean and scarred and a ferocious fighter.

Timing was important because they only had two mines. The first was to blow up the head of the hovertrain, stopping and disabling it; the second would be exploded behind it to prevent retreat. Hovertrains had engines at both ends.

Gina, the rear lookout, came slipping through the dense jungle.

'Just round the next bend.'

'Right,' said Peri. 'Stand by. Positions everyone.'

Gina nodded silently and disappeared into the jungle. Crop-haired and skeletally thin, she seldom spoke.

They strung themselves out along the path and waited, motionless, dripping with sweat in the oppressive heat.

Peri reviewed her plan. She'd deliberately chosen to attack when the hovertrain had almost reached the enemy base. The dangers of the journey apparently over, the guards would be relaxed, perhaps careless.

Moments later the front of the hovertrain appeared, sliding silently along the jungle path like a giant black snake.

It was an all-terrain vehicle, heavily armoured, and it was a tough nut to crack. Attacked from the front, the hovertrain could instantly reverse... You had to disable both ends simultaneously. Gina was in charge of the second mine, she wouldn't panic. But Marko could be impulsive...

Peri crouched down as the shiny black bulk of the hovertrain slid by. She watched as its head reached and pa.s.sed the mine-point.

'Too late, Marko, you great ape,' she screamed silently.

The solid thump of the first mine interrupted her thoughts, followed immediately by the sound of the second.

The hovertrain convulsed like a worm cut into writhing segments by a spade, front and rear control cabins neatly severed.

The guerrillas descended upon the hovertrain just as doors slid back along its length and a handful of outraged, grey-uniformed guards jumped out of the train.

Concentrated blaster-fire from the guerrillas mowed them down. Their bodies jerked and twisted in a grotesque dance ,then slumped to the ground.

Peri cupped her hands round her mouth and yelled, 'Marko, Gina, well done! Get the corn-units!'

Marko and Gina were already sprinting for the severed control cabins. Seconds were precious now. The longer the enemy troops at the nearby base were confused about what was happening, the longer it would take them to organise a proper pursuit.

Led by Kyrin, the remaining guerrillas, a stocky ex-farmer called Brand and a bean-pole of a student called Lon, ran towards the storage compartments. In a well-rehea.r.s.ed sequence of actions, they blasted open doors and loaded supplies into the huge empty rucksacks on their backs. Their tasks completed, Marko and Gina joined in. Peri watched the process with satisfaction. It was, she thought, a nice, well-organised little train robbery. Jesse James would have been proud of her.

Suddenly a guard sprang from the wrecked hovertrain and sprinted along the path. Young and terrified-looking, he'd obviously stayed in hiding, waiting for his chance.

Automatically, Peri unslung the laser-rifle from her shoulder and took aim. The guard was running for the nearby base. He might even reach it, give the alarm.

She focused the white dot of the aiming system between his shoulder-blades. A touch on the firing-stud and the guard was dead. Peri hesitated, shifted her aim a fraction and fired. The laser-blast zipped past the boy's ear and he accelerated his pace and disappeared round the bend in the track.

Staggering under the weight of his loaded backpack, Kyrin ran towards her, Marko close behind him. She saw the reproach in Kyrin's eyes.

'You can shoot better than that, boss.'

Peri re-slung her rifle. 'He was just a kid. By the time he reaches the base, we'll be long gone.'

' He He'd be long gone if it was up to me.'

Kyrin had seen his wife and children ma.s.sacred by the invading troops. He was all out of sympathy for the enemy.

Peri pointed to Kyrin's backpack. 'That thing's bigger than you are. Where's my one?'

Kyrin shook his head, tapped his forehead. 'Nah. We sweat, you think. That's what you're good at. Marko'l carry yours.'

Marko nodded. 'No problem. Carry you as well if you like.'

Peri shook her head, but she knew they were right. Planning and rehearsal, everyone given a specific job, kept them successful and alive. Her job was to see that everyone else did theirs. And she couldn't think straight if she was exhausted.

'Right, everyone loaded? Let's move.'