Killing Ground Part 15

Grant and Max had withdrawn to relative safety behind the curtain - but, although Max had hidden behind the depleted vat of reddish-brown compound, Grant had been unable to sacrifice his viewpoint on the scene in the main part of the bunker.

His first coherent observation was that the Bronze Knights outnumbered the Cybermen nine to two. His second was that the latter were much stronger, more experienced and had surprise on their side.

Tension stole his breath as the first of the silver monsters clambered into the cellar. But the Knights' position gave them an advantage. Two of them yanked the Cyberman clear off the ladder. It resisted, its strong hands snapping free two rungs. It emitted a mechanical, keening wail and lashed out blindly. Its fists caught one of its captors. The Knight relinquished its grip and staggered into the wall. Its fellows shifted to avoid its uncontrolled lurch and, still unsteady on their feet, two collided and fought to keep each other upright. The confined s.p.a.ce was working against them. The Cyberman had already managed to wrench itself free and its in-built gun blazed furiously. Electricity coruscated around the bulky armour of a Bronze Knight. The Cyberman fired again and Grant felt a tingle of hopeful excitement as its victim managed to remain upright. It reached for its attacker and struggled forward. Then, to Grant's dismay, it pitched into an uncontrolled dive and, aided by a chop to the neck, crashed helplessly to the ground at the Cyberman's feet.

Its colleagues were closing in now, and the foremost three brought up their arm-mounted blasters. Grant had not seen them operate before and he was impressed, in an awful sort of way. Accompanied by the sound of a gunpowder blast, they shot out jets of blue flame which seemed almost liquid. The bursts converged on the intruder's chest. It reeled, but didn't fall. Suddenly, the second Cyberman appeared in the midst of the melee and Grant realized, in a heart-stopping moment of horror, that it had leapt from the top of the ladder and taken its enemies by surprise. It brought its powerful fists down on two bronze heads and followed through with equally devastating blows to the abdomens of the same Knights. In one case, it was lucky. Its fist penetrated to the complex circuitry beneath the armour. An electrical fire broke out in the Bronze Knight's stomach. Its scream grated even more than that of the Cyberman before. It flung its hands to its face - a typically human reaction - and went backwards head over heels, bringing down one of its allies with it. Something exploded inside its casing and Grant knew this cyborg would not be getting up again. He had lost track of which Bronze Knight was which - had he just witnessed the death of Henneker? Or Lakesmith?

The rest of the Knights, unused to combat, were having trouble coping with a two-p.r.o.nged attack. They couldn't use their weapons without risking harm to each other, and the Cybermen more than matched them for strength. The battle had descended into a confused ma.s.s of heaving armoured bodies. Grant found the sight repellent and yet compulsive.

One of the Cybermen was in trouble. Four Knights had managed to coordinate their efforts. One held each of its arms, preventing it from operating its weaponry. A third whipped its legs out from under it and the fourth achieved a headlock. It still didn't give up. It heaved and strained and managed to free its left arm, knocking over a Bronze Knight in the process. But it was too late for it to build on that success.

Grant watched with wide-eyed fascination as the Cyberman's head was pulled inexorably from its body. It thrashed its free arm and gave out a nerve-jangling distress rattle. Its colleague was hemmed in and could do nothing to prevent the inevitable.

The Cyberman's head was held high like a trophy, its winner giving an electronic whoop of triumph. The decapitated creature jerked and finally toppled. The broken ends of wires sparked in its neck and a viscous, dark liquid seeped into the dirt. It might have been oil; it might equally have been blood. Grant flinched from the gruesome sight, either way.

The other Cyberman, surrounded by enemies now, began to fire indiscriminately. At least three Knights were hit, and one went down as a thin haze of smoke drifted across the battlefield and clawed at Grant's throat and tear ducts. Through a watery veil, he saw the Cyberman breaking through the living barrier which had kept it from its colleague.

It made a belated attack upon the slayer and floored it with three crippling blows. Grant blinked, reacted too late to the near-spherical, shiny projectile which span through the air, and screamed as the first Cyberman's disembodied head landed squarely in his hands, its mouth disgorging a small quant.i.ty of clear liquid onto his shirt.

Max heard him and yelled, 'For G.o.d's sake, get over here!'

Grant pushed the head away from him; by the time he had forced himself to avert his gaze from its upturned, lifeless face, the fight had moved closer. Another Bronze Knight fell and grasped at the curtain but only succeeded in bringing it down. Suddenly exposed, Grant tried to join Max behind the vat, but a retreating ally cut off his path and he could do nothing but cower against the wall and pray that the invading monster could be kept at bay The battle had become concentrated in what had been Max's work area. The Cyberman hefted one of the tables on which her operations had been carried out, and hurled it. But the Knights were more coordinated now and making use of their heightened awareness and improved reactions. Two of them moved to catch the makeshift weapon and proceeded to use it to drive the Cyberman across the bunker's width. It was staggered for a moment, but then fired twice more. One of its foes fell. The Cyberman matched its strength against the other and managed to fling both Knight and table away from it.

Another Knight closed in and leapt on its back, one arm snaking around the Cyberman's throat in an attempt to do to it what had been done to its colleague.

Grant had no hope of reaching Max, but he did now have a clear run at the exit. He looked from ladder to Cyberman, paralysed by indecision. He reasoned that he could hardly put himself in any more danger, and made the break.

Halfway, he froze at the sound of the Cyberman's death-throes. It was still held fast and another Bronze Knight had moved in and fired its blaster, at close range, into its chest unit. It fired again and something exploded. Grant knew he should continue his flight, but he was rooted to the floor. His skin still crept at the sight of friends and foes alike, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away from the spectacle.

When the dying Cyberman's last, misdirected blast struck him, Grant's first reaction was one of utmost surprise. He gaped at his own chest and saw no sign of an entry wound - but he felt that something had broken inside. For the smallest part of a second, he thought he might have sustained a minor injury. He could stand and talk and ask Max for medical help, once the dust of battle had settled.

But then something burst in his stomach and Grant felt a trickle of blood welling over his lower teeth and onto his chin. The Knights - those which remained standing - had cl.u.s.tered around the fallen Cyberman and were making sure of their victory by gleefully dismembering its corpse. He tried to shout to them, but couldn't even manage a croak as he felt his legs give way and his immediate surroundings suddenly seemed much further than they were.

The last thing Grant Markham saw was the ground rushing up to meet his open eyes. He couldn't even put out a hand to arrest his fall.

Jolarr had long since stopped measuring time's pa.s.sage. He only knew that it seemed he had been running across Agora's barren land for ever.

His formerly pristine graduation suit was soaked with sweat and his chest felt like a circular saw had been let loose inside it. He couldn't even think about the monster which was following him any more, nor about the blessed escape which lay at the end of his ordeal. He just had to concentrate on his feet, to make sure that the hard, lumpy ground didn't steal them from under him - and with them, his life.

He finally reached the spot where he and Hegelia had hidden the time ship, an eternity ago. As he fumbled in his pockets for the recall unit, he looked behind him for the first time in minutes. The Cyberman had lost ground, but not nearly enough. And it was still coming. He panicked as he couldn't find the device, then felt a cold wash of relief as his fingers closed around it. The white box's keypad blurred and he cursed and forced himself to concentrate. It was harder than it should have been; he kept expecting to be bathed in the lethal fire of the Cyberman's gun. But then, as fear sharpened his senses, it all became clear and Jolarr stabbed out the combination which would bring him salvation.

Nothing happened.

A p.r.i.c.kly feeling crept up his spine. He operated the unit again, but with the same alarming results. He cast about for some evidence that he had come to the wrong place, but saw none. He tried again and again, knowing that such efforts were useless. Somehow, the time ship had gone. He was trapped here. And doomed.

The Cyberman approached.

Jolarr gave up. He knew that the only thing he could expect now was death. He dropped the recall unit and surrendered to fatigue. He greeted the Grim Reaper on his knees, waiting in miserable submission for the Cyberman to enter killing range.

He had heard that, at times like this, one's life was reputed to flash before one's eyes. All Jolarr saw was the four walls of his room at home, the computer screen and a pile of academic texts. He felt regret at having used his time to do nothing more than study the writings of others, and at never having had the chance to make his own discoveries or to put his knowledge to good use.

But then, if he had stayed within those walls and continued to experience life at a distance, he might have lived a lot longer.

The Cyberman stopped and, for a moment, Jolarr thought it was deliberately attempting to prolong his agony. That wasn't logical, he told himself. It seemed to be making some sort of decision, and Jolarr suddenly felt hope once more. What if he could slip past the monster whilst it was distracted? He could return to the village and make a further attempt to shake it off amongst the buildings.

Sharp pains stabbed through his knotted leg muscles as he tried to rise, and Jolarr realized that his optimism had been premature. Even if he could overcome his physical limitations, he would have to take a wide arc to circ.u.mvent the Cyberman without getting too close - and it would move to cut him off. At his peak, it would have been difficult to escape. At the moment, it was impossible.

As Jolarr accepted his bleak destiny a second time, the Cyberman turned and marched away in the direction from which it had come. He stared, hardly daring to believe the evidence of his sight - but, as its back diminished further into the distance, Jolarr had no option but to believe.

It must have received a signal, said one thought amongst a whirlwind.

It must have been told of something more important than his destruction. Fate had spared him.

And, for a long time, all Jolarr could do was sit with his face in his hands and weep.

When Max was sure it was safe to do so, she emerged from her hiding place and surveyed the smoke-obscured, emotion-wrenching aftermath of the brief but hard-fought battle. Her Bronze Knights had won, but at a cost. At least four were damaged and two would not be fighting again.

'The Cybermen know of our location,' said one of the survivors, 'but we have proved we can defeat them. We must attack now, before they can surprise us again.' The speaker had to be Henneker; as dispa.s.sionate as ever. More so. Perhaps it was best.

'Be careful,' warned Max in a dead voice. 'You still outnumber them, but they've proved it won't be easy. The score is two all.' She indicated the fallen.

'They have killed three,' a Knight corrected her, matter-of-factly. She thought that this one had Lakesmith's voice.

At first, Max didn't know what he meant. But then, as she stepped gingerly over the bodies of the dead, she felt an ice-cold hand reach into her guts and turn them upside-down.

She hadn't seen Grant fall - but his body lay, all the same, twisted painfully, his face frozen into an open-mouthed expression of shock.

She knelt beside him and tested for a pulse, but Lakesmith confirmed what Max already knew she would find.

'His heart no longer beats,' the Bronze Knight said. The information clearly meant little to him, and Max cursed herself for dampening that particular emotional response. 'He is dead.'

9.

Desperation

adrox had not said a word since his death sentence had been M rescinded. He still half expected the Cyberleader to march in and deal with its 'unfinished business', and he wasn't about to remind it - or its troops - that he was here and alive. He hovered at the periphery of the circular control centre, ready to respond with staged efficiency to any request made. He watched as the four men of Patrol Two carried out their monitoring duties, supervised by two Cybermen - and he studiously fixed his mind on the time, a few short hours hence, when this would be over. Once the conversions were complete, the masters of Agora would leave for another three years.

No - for a mere eighteen months, this time. He couldn't let that matter, though. So long as he survived, he would have reason enough to be grateful.

Madrox was then almost overcome by a miserable sense of impending doom when he realized that yet one more thing had gone wrong. The Cybermen didn't communicate verbally at first, but they turned to face each other in a way which, had they been human, might have denoted concern. One strode towards a console, ignoring the Overseer who darted out of its path. 'I will request instructions,' it said - and, as it operated the controls, Madrox shrank into the shadows and prayed that the unspecified problem wouldn't be the death of him.

For too long, nothing happened. Then, just as he was beginning to think that the uncertainty, the silence and the tension would break him, a siren squealed. The perimeter breach alarm had activated.

The Overseers leapt to emergency stations, knowing what the price of hesitation would be. The Cybermen moved as one to the main screens and watched as a nervous operator punched in a section code relayed by one of his fellows. 'There they are - they're trying to break in!'

Madrox edged around the room until he too could see. He suppressed a gasp at the sight of half a dozen or so figures cl.u.s.tered around Population Control's fence. The night was drawing in and the camera didn't function well in the dark, but Madrox saw that the would-be invaders were like nothing he knew. They were squat but imposing - and, although they were humanoid, there was a non-human quality about them. They seemed to absorb what little light there was, but Madrox thought he detected a glimmer of red. His first notion was that these were alien enemies of the Cybermen, mounting a surprise attack. His second was that they were automatons, devised by Henneker and his rebels. Either way, he would be considered responsible.

The foremost of the figures had already managed to damage the fence. Now, with a tremendous effort, it tore the chain links apart and created a hole just big enough to pa.s.s through. Even over the piercing shriek of the alarm, Chief Overseer Madrox fancied that he could hear the sound of one more nail entering his metaphorical coffin.

'Things not going well, I take it?'

Hegelia couldn't believe that her fellow captive was taunting their jailer again. 'Do not draw his attention,' she whispered. She could feel that he had almost slipped his bonds. Did he want to have to go through the process a third time?

' He?' the Doctor repeated with loud indignation. ' He? I think even our Cyber friend over there would agree that it is a more appropriate p.r.o.noun for such a creature.' He raised his voice further, directing his remark towards the Cyberleader. 'Despite its occasional pretence at humanity!'

Still he was ignored. The Leader had not so much as glanced at its prisoners in the last few minutes. In mid-response to one of the Doctor's insults, it had frozen, then c.o.c.ked its head to one side as if listening. It had now positioned itself behind a console, where it worked in silence. 'What do you think has happened?' asked Hegelia.

The Doctor shrugged. 'Who knows? Technical failure? Armed uprising? Perhaps my a.s.sistant has finally got his act together.' His hands were still working behind their backs. He stopped suddenly as the Cyberleader swung to face them. It crossed the chamber and stood, towering over them, legs astride. It placed its hands On its hips, then seemed to think better of the gesture and removed them.

'I have to attend to other matters.'

'Ah, well. Goodbye then,' the Doctor responded cheerfully.

'You will not attempt to escape in my absence.'

'If you say so.'

'My Cybermen have orders to damage you should you ignore that instruction.'

'I rather thought they might have.'

The Cyberleader turned and left via the ladder to the c.o.c.kpit. The Doctor immediately slipped his hands free from the wire. 'What are you doing?' Hegelia hissed.

'Risking crippling injury and possible death to save a large number of lives. It's my job.'

'But you heard the Leader. You are not being logical!'

'Thank you,' said the Doctor, 'I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me. Now, when I move into action, I suggest you take cover. I don't want those Cybermen to see you. They might decide to stop me by using you as a hostage.'

Hegelia's skin felt cold and p.r.i.c.kly, as if gooseb.u.mps were breaking out across her face. She flexed her wrists experimentally and the wire fell from them. The Doctor had freed her too. She looked at the two remaining sentries, nervously. Both were working at their consoles.

'One of them has a gun.'

'I had noticed actually, but thank you.'

'Are you positive that you are not going to place us in peril?'

'Of course not. But I am sure that, if I do nothing, five hundred people not a million miles from here will, suffer the consequences.'

Hegelia swallowed and fell silent. She wondered if a prayer might be in order at this juncture.

The fence was down in three places and the robots - or whatever they were - were in the grounds. Madrox felt drained, as if he had simply run out of fear. The only emotion he could feel was awe at the sight of the monstrosities; seven of them, marching in formation. Whilst they were only pictures on the monitor, they seemed unreal. He had to remind himself that only a short distance separated them from him.

A short distance and a devastatingly potent defensive system.

'Orders, sir?' The request had to be repeated before Madrox realized that it was meant for him. He snapped out of his reverie, turning cold as he saw that he was being stared at by four Overseers and two Cybermen. 'I thought -' he began, giving his masters an apologetic look.

No, never mind what he had thought! They didn't want to hear excuses.

They were waiting for their Chief Overseer to do his job.

'Erm - switch from random defence to manual. Bring the concussors on line. No, belay that.' His mind was beginning to work. 'Prepare the grids. Let's give them a shock to their systems.' He moved in closer to the screen, pushing between both Cybermen in the process and only registering that he had done so when it was too late to be nervous about it. This wasn't a problem, he told himself. This was going to be his salvation. One last chance to demonstrate his effectiveness.

The Overseer at the console punched up a status report. The lines of a circuit diagram flickered and changed. As Madrox had ordered, al power could now be routed into the metal plates which lay, scattered across the grounds, an inch beneath the soil. Another display juxtaposed their positions with the radar images of the attackers. 'That's good. Now power up, on my mark. Not yet - no point in wasting it, and we don't know what detection equipment they have. We'll do this on the last second.' He glanced back at the alien onlookers. They had to be impressed by this. He concentrated on the screens, breath held, until the optimum moment arrived.

'Mark!' he snapped. A scarlet coloration swept across the diagram, illuminating the routes to the plates as they became live. He grinned. He had got four of them. He switched his gaze to the video screen, on which those afflicted were thrashing in pain as electricity crackled across their casings. He noted with glee that one had grabbed hold of a colleague, conducting the lethal flow. These were no robots, he saw now - merely weak men in armour. Henneker and his cronies, no doubt. They would learn the cost of challenging him before they died.

Madrox's celebrations were premature. He hadn't seen the guns welded onto the forearms of each creature. One went into action, powerful blasts churning the ground beneath its alles. Another followed its lead. Madrox scowled as the lights representing two plates blinked out. A third attacker was dragged free by the very comrade it had inadvertently stricken - whilst a fourth accomplished the impossible itself, shooting its own plate into fragments once it was clear.

'We've damaged them,' said Madrox. He wasn't sure if that was true, but it was important to maintain morale. 'Now, while they're reeling, prime the mines - everything in B Quadrant. That should finish them.'

A sudden explosion and a deathly scream distracted him. He looked up in alarm and saw an Overseer tumbling from his chair, smoke rising from his collar, face set into a ghastly rictus. Behind him stood the Cyberleader. Although its normal weaponry would most probably have proved fatal, it had chosen to use its more powerful handheld gun to announce its presence. 'He was not working efficiently,' it said. Madrox gaped as a second Cyberman brushed the dead Overseer aside and took his seat, keying the relevant information into the console. He tore his gaze from the macabre scene, knowing that this was not the time to let fear freeze him. The display showed that his orders had been obeyed with greater speed than he had expected. The example of Overseer 2/4 had not been lost upon his erstwhile teammates.

Madrox studied the video monitor, feeling pinp.r.i.c.ks of sweat breaking out on his cheeks. The creatures blundered across the minefield, heedless of danger. At last, one made a misstep and a cloud of mud and smoke blossomed around it. As the disturbed earth settled, another mine exploded and Madrox's vision was obscured once more.

He waited impatiently to see how much damage had been done.

The answer seemed to be very little. The casings of the attackers had been tarnished and smoke-blackened. The torso of one was even chipped and distorted. But still, all seven marched on.

'Ready the concussors! And release the gas - they can only be human inside that armour!'

'No.' The Cyberleader had decided to intercede. 'Divert all power to the laser blaster.' Madrox was speechless, but didn't dare to object, as the Overseen followed their new instructions. 'Now, aim for the foremost of the targets - and fire!'

The screen flickered, losing its picture momentarily as the most powerful of Population Control's weapons blazed into action. Madrox had a fleeting impression of flying shards of metal - and by the time the image was restored, one monster was finally down. Its armour had burst open and Madrox could see the wiring within. He also thought he could discern human organs, but he averted his eyes. He didn't want to know too much.

Another of the attackers had been caught in the periphery of the tremendous blast. It had lost an arm and it swayed but remained upright. The remaining six creatures drew inexorably closer. 'There's nothing I can do now,' Madrox protested. This wasn't his fault. 'You've drained all power. By the time the defensive systems are back on line, they'll be here!'

'That is correct,' said the Leader, 'but all other measures would have been ineffective. I have killed one of the intruders.' With chilling indifference, it added: 'We will deal with the remainder at close quarters.'