Killing Ground Part 18

Hegelia saw the merest glimmer of Madrox's old obsessional light returning to his eyes. That was what she needed. But he was clearly recovering his a.n.a.lytical skills as well and a shadow of suspicion clouded his face. 'What do you want out of this?' he asked.

She told him.

The conversion chamber was cold, its lighting subdued. Grant stepped off the main entrance ladder and headed for the room's edge, head down, taking shallow breaths through his mouth to avoid the stench of putrefaction. As per Max's instructions, he climbed to the highest balcony and counted to the tenth compartment clockwise. He eased open the gla.s.s door, on which a thin layer of frost had formed. He half expected the arms of a Cyberman to spring out and encircle him.

Instead, there was just a man, nestled within a mechanical coc.o.o.n. A metal skullcap had slipped askew on his head, internal needles drawing blood. Grant was glad that so much of the ravaged body was concealed.

For a second, he thought the man was dead. Then Ben Taggart's eyes flickered open and a half-smile twisted his face.

'I'm glad... you could make it,' he croaked with obvious effort. He allowed his eyelids to fall. 'So much to tell you. Don't know where... to begin.'

The compartment was radiating deep cold, matched by the chil within Grant's body. 'You're my father, aren't you?' he blurted out, the words almost painful as they pa.s.sed through the lump in his throat.

Taggart's eyes opened again, in surprise this time. 'How... did you know?'

'I just did - almost from the time we met. Then, when you asked to see me...' He let the uncompleted sentence hang in the air. He was feeling something inside, but he wasn't sure what it was - nor what it should be. Ben Taggart was his father. The man he had not seen for thirteen years, and rarely before that. And his father was almost certainly dying. How was hp supposed to feel?

'You don't... remember?'

'Very little,' said Grant honestly. 'My mother's face, sometimes - but not always the same. The Cybermen, in nightmares.'

'Your mother. She was a good woman... Jean Markham.' Grant had already observed that, on Agora, the mother's surname was pa.s.sed to her offspring. Taggart, after all, would have fathered more children by other women, keeping up conception rates. Grant wondered how many half-brothers and sisters he had; how many the Cybermen had killed.

'She didn't... deserve what happened,' said Taggart. A tear seeped onto his cheek.

Grant was fascinated, yet at the same time frightened. He wanted to ask more, but couldn't. But Taggart was keen to unburden himself and Grant had no choice but to listen. He was rooted by the lure of a secret past life, terrified of what he might find there.

'2175,' whispered Taggart. He was more lucid now, more in control of his vocal chords. 'You were... how old?'

'Three.'

Recollection brought a faint smile to his lips. 'Three, that's right...

and we were plotting to depose the Cybermen. Arthur Lakesmith was going to save the world. We could do anything then. We... beat the Overseers and waited. We waited for a year. But the Cybermen... were too much. The guns didn't harm them.' The smile had gone, replaced by an expression of tortured anguish.

'I've been told about the rebellion,' said Grant, attempting to speed the tale past this uncomfortable chapter.

Instead, Taggart seemed to remember something. His eyes widened in alarm. 'I betrayed them. I betrayed them again. I sent the Cybermen to the rebels' bunker.'

Grant took that information in and made a quick deduction. 'But you couldn't have told them about the Bronze Knights.' He tried to sound enthusiastic. 'You sent the Cybermen into an ambush. They were torn to pieces!'

'That's... good to know.' Taggart settled back into his memories, adopting a haunted, far-away look. 'It didn't work out so well last time.

They... wanted revenge for the uprising, you see. They swept across the colony, killed anyone they found. Jean... Jean... went into the street. She thought it was over. They shot her. She died.'

Grant stared. His mind was racing, filled with thoughts he could barely comprehend. They resolved themselves into recollections, crystal clear, as if they had been there all along. He had known his mother's fate. The images of that day had been stored in his subconscious; he had just needed someone to point them out. And now Grant Markham was Four years old and playing with a wooden abacus on bare, but homely, floorboards; giving up his calculations as a premonition of danger hit, communicated silently by Mummy's fretting. Four-year-old Grant burst into tears. Mummy tried to bring comfort, but it was only a token effort. Her face was lined, her body tense. Grant was inconsolable. And then she was leaving, with a promise not to be gone too long. She wanted to know what was happening; if the home team had won. She hurried outside and little Grant suddenly felt more alone than ever before or since. A tow line of fear yanked him through the door, crying out for her as he hurtled down the dirt track of the road, arms outstretched. She was still in sight and she turned at his cries. He doubled his speed and fell, bawling as he sc.r.a.ped his elbows and knees.

When he looked up, there were robots in the street. Two silver giants, bearing down upon Mummy, who saw them and screamed and backed away. But the robots advanced like the evil mechanoids of fairy tale; childhood bogeymen made solid.

Grant closed his eyes and stifled a sob at the memory of his mother, twisting and burning in the fire and smoke of the robots' weapons. The body had not so much fallen as melted, the force of the blasts disintegrating bone and frying tissue. The monsters had swept on towards him. Grant had lain facedown, fists pounding, tears blocking his vision so that all he could see were the silver poles of their legs as they stalked closer, preparing to send him to join Mummy in the pits of h.e.l.l.

The robots - the Cybermen - had spared him that day. They had left him with the nightmares, the instinctive fear and the memories which he had kept locked away for over a decade. Others had not been so fortunate.

There was more. Strapped into the c.o.c.kpit of a s.p.a.ceship, looking up at a ring of faces bidding him farewell. Grant thought he recognized Ben Taggart amongst them. Then the fleeting image was gone. He was looking at an older, paler Taggart, eyes closed and breathing shallow as if sleeping. Grant reached for the cubicle door and was about to close it, leaving his father to his final rest.

He couldn't.

'What happened next?' he asked in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. 'How did I come to leave Agora?'

For a moment, he thought Taggart hadn't heard. Then his eyelids fluttered and his cracked hps moved to resume his muttered tale. 'Two years pa.s.sed. I became an Overseer. I... sold out the rebellion to save my life. But things weren't as bad for us in those days. Madrox hadn't taken over. Security... not quite so tight. My patrol found a ship... one day, in the Outlands. We thought that at least a few could flee. The Old Earth Organization had left, years before the Cybermen... with the colony ship. They'd established New Earth. We thought we could save... the children, and send a message with them. There were four of us in Roylance's patrol, four s.p.a.ces in the c.o.c.kpit. We filled one each.

You weren't my only child, but you were the last... you were the one without a mother to look after you. I thought ... at least you didn't have to grow up with the fear.' His eyes closed again then. Just as Grant thought they weren't going to re-open, Taggart thrust his hand out of the compartment, trailing wires behind it, and clamped his freezing fingers onto his son's wrist. 'Why... did you come back?'

'I didn't mean to - but what does it matter? We defeated the Cybermen. We made Agora safe - and it was partly thanks to you.'

Grant didn't have the heart to mention the imminent reinforcements.

Taggart smiled. 'And you... your Bronze Knights. We made a good team in the end, didn't we?'

'Of course we did.'

'We... did.' And then Taggart's grip went limp and his arm fell back to his side. The cold emanating from his compartment was intense now and Grant realized that he would have to close the door to give him a chance of being frozen like the others. Not that it mattered, a voice inside told him. Ben Taggart was already dead.

'Goodbye,' Grant whispered. It seemed inadequate. He waited a moment longer, not wanting to bring this to an end. But Taggart didn't move. Grant closed the door and, watched as its inside surface frosted over in a second, obscuring Taggart's peaceful face.

He stood then, surrounded by emptiness, lonely in the knowledge that he had gained a father only to lose him for ever.

It was a long time before Grant Markham summoned up the will to leave the chamber.

The Doctor put out a hand to halt Max outside her newly outfitted surgery. 'You can't do this,' he insisted. 'Take a look at what you're creating. The Bronze Knights have had their emotions stunted and their powers increased beyond your ability to control them. They've become single-minded and ruthless. You must stop this insane experiment!'

'And do what?' Max countered hotly. 'Allow the Cybermen to dominate us again?'

'Give me time. I can prepare a surprise for them.'

'Like what? You've been here for weeks, but all you've done is wait to be rescued! It took my Bronze Knights to get the Cybermen off Agora - and they're still the surest way of keeping them off!'

'Can you live with their actions on your conscience?'

Max boiled over. 'Don't you dare preach your sanctimonious cliches to me!' she thundered. She stabbed a finger in the vague direction of the conversion chamber. 'My brother is lying dead in their ship. And you - you haven't had to live through Cyber occupation. You've never had a part of yourself ripped out because it didn't live up to expectations!' She placed a hand on her bloated stomach, feeling her body shake as her protective armour cracked and the force of her lifelong hurt finally flooded out. It felt m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tically good. 'They killed my baby in the womb, Doctor - don't pretend you can imagine a fraction of that pain! And then, when I couldn't keep up their breeding quotas, when I felt incomplete and I couldn't let any man come near me... then they came for me in the night and dragged me into their G.o.dforsaken complex. They made sure I met their quotas then, all right.'

The Doctor looked crestfallen and sympathetic, but his lower lip still protruded stubbornly. Max clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, fighting down the dangerous tide. 'Don't tell me my methods are wrong,' she threatened in a low, husky voice, 'and don't get in my way.

I want the Cybermen off this planet, out of my life - and I'll do anything to achieve that. Anything!'

As Hegelia reached the steps to the roof, she was startled to see the young human boy - Grant Markham, she recalled, the Doctor's current companion - descending them. 'Where have you been?' she snapped.

Grant looked as if he hadn't been aware of her presence. 'The conversion chamber,' he answered in miserable, leaden tones, confirming Hegelia's suspicions.

She softened her words with effort. 'Did you leave anybody in there?'

Grant shook his head. 'It's empty. The subjects have been frozen over.'

'Good!'

Hegelia was about to start forward when Grant stopped her with a plaintive question. 'You're a researcher, aren't you? You've been studying the Cybermen?' She nodded, keen to get on. 'What do you think it feels like?' Grant asked. 'To be converted, I mean?'

The ArcHivist's impatience dissipated. She felt a smile tugging at her mouth. 'I do not know. It is impossible to tell.'

'To have your brain operated on,' mused Grant, 'your personality altered. You wouldn't have to know fear or sadness again - but would you still be in control?'

'Your thought processes would be clearer.'

'And the body much more reliable.' Grant looked down at his own hands as if considering their weaknesses. 'Things wouldn't hurt as much, would they?' Hegelia was no longer sure if he was talking physically or emotionally.

'That is certainly true.'

Grant nodded. Then, as if in a daze, he walked on past her, resuming his journey, lost in thought. Hegelia watched him for a moment, her own mission almost forgotten. He was in the process of making a decision; perhaps the most important one of his young life. His next stop would no doubt be Max Carter's surgery. Hegelia approved, and she hoped that the boy would find what he was searching for.

But she had needs of her own - and she was not planning to settle for second best.

11.

Ultimatum

ight had fallen and almost lifted again. The excitement and the N frenzied activity which had greeted the last sunrise had been replaced by muted apprehension and seething impatience. People were beginning to remember the last ambush laid for the Cybermen and to realize that victory was not yet certain.

Grant dozed in a chair in Max's surgery, conscious enough to recognize his dreams of killer robots as precisely that and to resent their continued intrusion upon his psyche. He opened his eyes and stretched, accepting that true sleep was a long way off despite his weariness.

Max laboured over half a dozen gestating Bronze Knights; the day's third batch. Population Control's medical computer had speeded up the process exponentially. Four colonists had recently staggered into the room under the weight of yet another vat of reddish-brown compound, brewed in a chemical laboratory nearby.

The Doctor had steadfastly refused to help out. Confined to the surgery by Henneker, he had spent the first hour at the computer terminal, reprogramming it so that he had access to the building's long-range scanners. Since then, he had placed himself on unstinting watch.

It comforted Grant to know that so long as the Doctor was quiet, the Cybermen were far away.

He wondered how long that state of affairs could last.

Madrox had managed to compose himself. Hegelia's visit had given him fresh hope, and sheer will power had helped him to cope with the throbbing pain of his injuries. One foot was useless and he was sure that a muscle had been torn in his left arm. He struggled to stand anyway, using one wall of his cell as a support.

He thought of his unborn baby. A year ago, the idea of procreation wouldn't have occurred to him. It was something that he, alone in the colony, didn't have to do. Paternal feelings, then, had crept up and hit him when they were least expected. Driven by inexplicable urges, he had taken the next opportunity to provide himself with a sire. Now the prospect of the birth was half of what kept him from giving in. He needed to regain the Chief Overseer's position. He had to be able to provide the best for his boy; to keep him safe. Then, once she had seen his love for the child, Max Carter would accept that he had only done what he had to. Perhaps she could even begin to love him.

The invisible hatch in the cell's back wall slid open, revealing the pa.s.sage to the Cyber ship's conversion chamber. Framed by the aperture was ArcHivist Hegelia. Madrox greeted her with a nod and a confident smile. 'I'm ready.'

'Then let us not delay,' she said. She hung Madrox's arm around her shoulders and supported him as he hobbled out into the corridor.

Jolarr sat and fidgeted in the control centre, wishing he knew where Hegelia was and what she was planning. Failing that, a conversation with the Doctor (or better still, with Grant, who was altogether more approachable) would have been acceptable - but Henneker had forbidden anyone from disturbing work on the new Bronze Knights. So Jolarr was trapped here, feeling useless, waiting for something to happen. When it finally did, he cursed himself for his impatience, longing for the comfort of inactivity. But it was too late for that.

'The Cybermen are here,' announced Henneker. He turned from the controls and marched towards a mushroom-shaped console in the centre of the room. In his wake, three human colleagues crowded around the information displays, straining to discern what Henneker had seen already. It took them a few seconds longer, but their worried expressions attested to the fact that they had corroborated their leader's observation.

Henneker batted a metal chair from in front of the communications console. He glared down into the blank viewscreen and waited to be contacted.

'Oh, no!'

Grant was sorting through and priming a stack of newly constructed blasters when the Doctor's whispered explanation froze him. 'What is it?' he asked, dreading the answer. But the Doctor was already on his feet and heading for the door.

'Get out of here, both of you!' he shouted over his shoulder.