The Well-Mannered War Part 30

He brought the hammer crashing down on the controls.

The first of the Killers fell in a smoking heap, its hand blown off: its face shattered. K9 beeped proudly. 'Target destroyed, Mistress.'

'Good boy, K9,' called Romana. She saw the second Killer advance and raise its weapon, now aiming not at her but at K9 himself, and cried, 'Watch out!'

A red blast shot from K9's nose laser and sliced through the Femdroid at the arm joint. It slumped and staggered forward, then fell still in an odd, crooked pose.

Romana waited for the smoke to settle, then stood up from behind the desk and brushed her velvet jacket down; Through the door stepped Galatea, as icily composed as ever, with Liris trailing behind. She squared up to them.

'You're finished. Let these people go.'

Galatea looked disparagingly from her to K9 and to the fallen Killers. 'It is always the way with organics.' She turned to Liris. 'You understand now why we could not tell her the truth? Rash action would be the result.'

She turned back to Romana. 'I reign over nothing and n.o.body. I am merely a servant of my Creators. I exist to fulfil my program. The maximum happiness for all citizens of Metralubit.'

'You can drop the pretence.' Romana gestured out at the burning city. 'Do you call that happiness?'

Liris spoke, her tone almost pitying. 'You cannot understand the good that is done here, Romana.'

'Good?' Romana stepped forward. 'There are two billion people on this planet. How many are you going to kill this time?'

Galatea frowned and looked up. 'I do not like this. It is not how the scenario was intended.' She seemed almost to be speaking to somebody else, another invisible presence in the room. 'She is a danger to us all. You must-' Romana was about to ask who she was addressing when the lights flickered, and there was a sudden, high-pitched signal of incredible ferocity.

K9 started to spin. 'Mistress!' he called. 'a.s.sistance, Mistress! '

A moment later Galatea and Liris both clapped their hands to their heads and started to moan softly. It was a haunting sound, electronic burbles breaking through the normally calm pitch of their voices. 'No,' said Galatea still looking up. 'What - what is happening?'

Romana hurried to K9's side. She put out a hand and tried to stop his crazy spin, but his casing was burning hot. 'Electrical interference,' he called, his tail wagging up and down frantically. 'Ma.s.sive etheric disturbance.'

Harmock tapped Romana on the shoulder. 'I don't understand what's going on.' All his pomposity and strength of character had disappeared. He looked like a frightened old man.

'Galatea!' Liris called out. Her knees buckled and with an odd grinding sound she keeled over. 'The master control!'

'It must be Stokes,' said Romana. 'I suppose everybody gets a turn at making themselves useful once in their life.'

K9 managed to croak, 'Negative, Mistress. There is danger. Reverse flux is gathering strength.' His casing starting to glow red hot. 'Please take cover.'

Romana felt Harmock dragging her away. 'K9, the must be some way to stop this!' she called. She could not bear the thought of seeing him explode before her eyes.

'My force... field... is strong...' K9 gasped. He was now not much more than a red steaming blur.

Liris's head hit the floor and she gasped, 'Galatea, the plan will come to nought.'

Galatea was still on her feet, her eyes turned upwards accusingly. 'It must succeed, Liris... I know it will... has been promised to me ...'

'We are dying, Galatea,' gasped Liris. 'The organics ... doomed without us ...' There was an odd, sparking noise from somewhere inside her and she fell still.

Galatea pulled herself over to the window and collapsed against the gla.s.s.

'I tried...' she whispered as the energy left her and her fingers slid down. 'I tried to save you...'

What happened next was obscured from Romana's view by the heat haze coming off K9. She was conscious of a moment's turbulence, enough to match a seismic tremor. Then the high-pitched tone oscillated a curved even higher, pa.s.sing beyond the range of hearing. This was accompanied by a noise like sizzling as K9 started to slow down and the glow surrounding him began to turn pink and then fade away.

And then there was an awful, total silence. The room went totally quiet; the dome's background hum was gone the sounds of the riots outside cut out.

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Harmock stirred. 'What in heaven's name is going on? With some difficulty he pulled himself up to his feet 'I'm still completely in the dark, and I must demand immediate explanation for -' He broke off and put a hand to his mouth. 'Oh, my...'

Romana looked closely at K9 as he reached a stop. 'K9 are you all right?'

'Affirmative.' He turned about to face her, coughed and twittered. 'There is some damage to my circuitry. The disturbance was strong.'

Harmock tapped Romana on the shoulder. 'Look,' he said, his mouth opening and closing in a startled 'o'. 'Look.' He pointed through the window.

Romana brushed him away. 'What about the Femdroids?'

K9 turned his eyestalk on their p.r.o.ne bodies. 'No activity, Mistress. They have been incapacitated.'

Romana felt a rush of relief 'That's a start, anyway.' She stood up and said to Harmock, 'Now you and your people can begin to...'

The words died in her throat.

Through the window she could see the city - the same curving white towers, parks and tubeways. But it was intact, if rather overgrown. It was also totally empty.

Chapter Ten - Explanations.

The Glute-screen shimmered and went blank.

Immediately the Darkness shivered and convulsed, and a moment of panic rushed through the Onemind. A clamorous chittering spread in a wave'

throughout the central cavity. The Caring stilled it, releasing a warm stream of fluid particles to soothe the constricted carrier vessels. Then the Onememory set to work, piecing together the seconds leading up to the cessation and trying to discern a reason. The imaging nets behind the screen were in perfect order, glistening with the spoor-juice of the telepath species that had given the Darkness its talents, and the remote reports from the surface of Barclow - from both the human source and the dissociated Cloud - were coming through clear and strong.

Perhaps, a section of the Onemind suggested, it is the humans' it is the humans'

communications that have failed them.

Another put in, Yes. The path of electrical technology is unreliable. Yes. The path of electrical technology is unreliable.

The Onememory replied, This is possible. The s.p.a.ce-Cloud Ones are still This is possible. The s.p.a.ce-Cloud Ones are still in floatation near the army's east satellite. The Onememory suggests they in floatation near the army's east satellite. The Onememory suggests they investigate its systems and report. investigate its systems and report.

The Onememory is wise, replied the Onemind. We shall send the s.p.a.ce-Cloud Ones to the satellite. We shall send the s.p.a.ce-Cloud Ones to the satellite. It connected with the s.p.a.ce-Cloud Ones and relayed the order. It connected with the s.p.a.ce-Cloud Ones and relayed the order.

Fritchoff edged very slowly through the control centre, even more slowly through the connecting pa.s.sageway beyond, and entered the Chamber of Death at a pace that a snail could have disparaged. As he moved he pressed himself flat with his back against the walls, going by the a.s.sumption that if he kept out of the Chelonians' way - and they had their feet tied at present with the war - they would forget to kill him, at least for the moment. Fortunately n.o.body looked up from their business, and he was able to stay alive, if teeth-chatteringly terrified, all the way to where the Doctor was suspended, his extremities spreadeagled in the slowly stretching Web. General Jafrid, his sh.e.l.l perpetually rumbling, was at the forefront of the watching group. His old eyes were angled up, and Fritchoff saw moisture in them. He was wary of reaching conclusions about non-verbal signals sent by such an unfamiliar being; even so, an air of regret seemed to hang in the air in much the same way as the Doctor was doing.

'There's still time,' the Doctor called down. His arms and legs were pulled out to what looked like their fullest extent. 'Call up your chum the Admiral and make friends.'

Jafrid sighed. 'You will soon be unable to speak, or to express anything but your agony,' he said. 'Would it not be better to make your last words full of repentance?'

'I've nothing to repent,' said the Doctor. 'Nothing that concerns you, anyway.'

An aide shuffled into the chamber, thankfully ignoring Fritchoff, and crashed to attention before the General. 'Sir, something strange is happening. The sensornet says that the computer guidance of all the humans' systems has ceased to function.'

'Strange?' Jafrid perked up. 'But this is excellent news. How did we manage that?'

The aide looked down. 'That's just it, sir. We don't think we did. Their guidance beams just suddenly stopped registering.'

Jafrid heaved himself up. 'Interesting. Perhaps it's some sort of trick. I shall come to have a look.' He shuffled off towards the control centre, again ignoring Fritchoff. He called behind him, 'I shall not forget you, Doctor. I shall return to witness your death.'

'Thank you,' the Doctor called after him. 'I'm touched to be in your thoughts.'

Jafrid's a.s.sistant followed him out, brushing right past Fritchoff The edge of his sh.e.l.l actually brushed Fritchoff's arm. But again, Fritchoff was ignored.

As soon as the chamber was empty of Chelonians, the Doctor hissed down, 'I'm very pleased to see you. Good job I saved you earlier, wasn't it?'

He wiggled his fingers. 'This is getting quite uncomfortable. Be a good chap and cut me down, will you?'

Fritchoff moved over curiously to the control panel located in front of the Web. 'They want to kill you, do they?'

'Well spotted.' The Doctor winced. 'The pressure's building. Quickly, cut me down, before they come back.'

Fritchoff folded his arms. 'I'm not sure whether I should.'

'What?' The Doctor stared down at him, incredulous.

'Well,' said Fritchoffm, 'when it's placed in a historical as well as a socio-economic context, their action in putting you up there is actually worthy of my support.'

'I beg your pardon?'

Fritchoff relished the chance of explaining his cleverness. 'By dint of standing against the oppressive regime that has destroyed all chances of a peaceful settlement, the Chelonians are engaging in intrinsically socially productive activity. Your death is a token of their belief system, which as a non-aligned rebel I feel to be the most logical and correct one at present.'

The Doctor yelped as one of the strands tightened around his neck.

'Fritchoff,' he called, 'if you don't cut me down this planet won't stand a chance against the real enemy.'

'There you go again,' said Fritchoff 'You criticize anything that prevents you, as a bourgeois male, from exercising an automatic right to power, characterizing it as an enemy in order to increase an area of mythic threat in the meaning structures of those around you.'

The Doctor groaned and let his head fall back.

For six hours Cadinot had been hunched over his station, giving commands he had never expected to give, watching displays that were normally empty fill up with the blips that signified losses of men and equipment. Even now it was hard to remember that this was not a drill, and every few minutes he shivered with realization of the carnage going on in the war zone. The Chelonians had deployed their forces with aplomb, selecting sheltered ground sites for missile attacks and following through with barrage fire from their saucer fleet. The post's defences were stretched to their ultimate capacity as wave after wave of Chelonian firepower rained down. The strategy would be effective in the end, Cadinot knew. They could hold out only an hour or two longer. It would take only one plasma missile to strike the Strat Room, and the war for Barclow would be all but over.

He was dragged from these musings by an urgent sequence of clicks and bleeps originating from the satellite link display in front of him. He watched, startled, as one by one the indicators that charted the satellite's computer guidance snapped out like stars covered by dawn.

'Admiral!' he called over his shoulder. 'The east sat's playing up again.' He punched in an auto-check program on the link. 'All our guidance lines have snapped out!'

Dolne's natural quietness had increased over the last few hours. He had been content to sit back in his command chair, apparently lost in thought and unconcerned with directing the progress of the team. But now he was crouched forward; his face contorted, as if in silent communion to some G.o.d. When he spoke it was in an unfamiliarly gravelly voice, empty of much of his usual inflection. 'Cadinot,' he said, dragging himself over. 'The time has come.'

The Strat Room had gone unnaturally quiet as the computers went off-line.

The team's heads turned to watch the Admiral as he tottered forward. He seemed to have gained about ten years, thought Cadinot. 'Are you all right, sir?'

'The time has come,' Dolne went on, 'to leave this place and go to the surface.'