Doctor Who: Dreams of Empire: 50th Anniversary Edition

by Richards, Justin

  He keyed the communicator. But there was nothing except static. As the VETACs disappeared round a corner, Darkling pulled his helmet off. He breathed deeply for a few seconds. Then he turned his helmet over and felt inside, tracing the connections from throat mike and earpieces. Sure enough, one of the connectors was loose. He wiggled it with his fingers, trying to force it back into place.

  ‘Come in,’ he hissed into the helmet as loudly as he dared. ‘Can anyone hear me?’

  Again, there was just static. He considered his situation. It might be possible to get back to the Secure Area, back to Trayx, and report in person. But Cruger was probably right: the VETACs would be there by now. His best option was to follow Cruger and try to find out what was happening. At the same time he could try to fix his communicator, or find another.

  As he stood up, swaying unsteadily on feet that felt as if they belonged to someone else, Darkling noticed Gunson’s body lying across the corridor. He stumbled over to it, rolled it over and reached for the battered helmet. He was almost relieved to see that the comms unit was obviously smashed beyond repair. Removing the helmet, seeing whatever was left inside, spilling it out on to the floor, had not been a pleasant prospect.

  It was as sudden as it was unexpected. One moment Victoria was making her furtive way across a sparsely furnished room. Helana Trayx was close beside her as they negotiated a path between a faded tapestry hanging on one wall and a low table in the middle of the room. From the other side of the room, an old man watched from a dusty portrait, his painted eyes following their hesitant progress. Ahead of them Sanjak was in the doorway, peering out into the corridor beyond.

  The next moment there was a shout from behind them. Howper was running, overtaking them, leaping the table, catching it with his foot and sending it flying as he grabbed Victoria’s hand and dragged her along. Victoria grasped for Helana’s hand in turn, pulled her after them. Beside them the tapestry exploded in a fireball of dusty orange thread and Helana screamed.

  A bolt of energy shot over Victoria’s head – from in front of them. She thought for a second they were cornered, then saw Sanjak framed in the doorway. A curl of smoke was twisting its way out of the barrel of his gun as he shouted at them to hurry.

  She risked one quick look over her shoulder as they reached the door. And wished she hadn’t.

  The leading VETAC had reached the low table, which was standing at an angle where Howper had knocked it with his foot. The VETAC seemed not to notice it in the rush forward. For all their bulk, the creatures were certainly fast. The robot’s heavy metal boot crashed down on the table, shattering it to pieces as the VETAC raced after its quarry. The VETACs behind it compounded the destruction, the wood shattering and grinding to sawdust and splinters under their feet.

  It was to Darkling’s advantage that they were following the route of one of his regular patrols. At last the evenings of mind-numbing boredom were of some use, he reflected, as he ducked into an alcove. He was able to follow at a distance with little fear of being seen. At one point, Haden turned and looked back. It was impossible to tell if she knew he was there. She probably guessed that he was conscious again by now and following, but she could not have known when she reset her blaster to the minimal that his communicator was down. She might well assume he was calling in backup. Although where he could get it from was an interesting question.

  They were close to the Banqueting Hall now. Perhaps that was their destination. Darkling slipped closer, as close as he dared. He was straining to hear what Cruger was saying. At the same time he was fiddling with the connections inside his helmet, desperate to make contact.

  It was obvious as they got close that the VETACs had set up a command centre of some sort in the Banqueting Hall. As they approached, Darkling could see the ranks of silver figures standing motionless inside the room, waiting. The hall was still lit predominantly by the candles that Logall and his men had brought through. The flickering light reflected off the angular surfaces of the VETAC troopers, so that the whole room seemed alive with dancing firelight.

  Cruger and his party were at the door now. ‘A guard of honour?’ Cruger was asking. ‘You may tell your commander that the Fifth Legion has acquitted itself well this day.’

  ‘You may tell me yourself,’ a loud metallic voice said as the door was closed behind Cruger, Haden and their VETAC guards.

  But Darkling hardly heard the response, hardly noticed that the door had cut them off from him. He was standing in an alcove, his mouth hanging open in surprise. The Fifth Legion? What the hell was going on here? He sat down heavily on the floor, ripping the lining from the inside of his helmet. Now he had to get the circuits working again. Had to.

  The Doctor and Kesar were playing chess, much to Jamie’s disgust. He could just about follow the game – the general flow rather than the intricacies and nuances. But he still felt that this was a diversion from more important matters. The pounding on the main doors was as regular and insistent as ever, and Prion was giving them intermittent updates on Victoria’s progress, which suggested that she was at the very least in some trouble.

  ‘Is Cruger a good chess player?’ the Doctor asked suddenly.

  Kesar paused, caught in mid-move. He completed the move, placing one of his knights further up the board. ‘He would like to think so.’ The reply was considered, the tempo of the electronic voice as measured as the metronome thump of the VETAC assault.

  ‘You mean no.’ The Doctor seemed to play his own move without looking at the board, without considering Kesar’s.

  ‘He is impulsive, given to acts of temper and emotion rather than reason and logic.’

  ‘I’ve heard that said about you as well.’ Now the Doctor did look at the board. ‘But your play seems to give the lie to those rumours.’

  Kesar’s mask-face tilted slightly so that it was angled directly at the Doctor. ‘Defeat makes philosophers of us all,’ he said.

  ‘Except for Cruger, it seems.’

  ‘Perhaps he has yet to admit his defeat.’

  The Doctor pushed his queen across the board. Again, he barely seemed to consider the move, asking, ‘The night that Remas was killed, you played chess then?’

  ‘We did. I was in here. Cruger was in his own quarters.’

  ‘I know.’ The Doctor’s face was stretched into a grin. ‘I’ve seen the tapes. How did you think Cruger played that night? As impulsive as ever?’

  ‘You tell me. I think you have seen the tapes.’

  The Doctor leaned back, steepling his fingers. ‘So I have,’ he said. ‘Check, by the way.’ He waited while Kesar considered his next move. Then, as Kesar brought back a bishop to take the Doctor’s rook, he went on: ‘His play seemed fairly even and logical to me. A bit boring. Uninspired even. Safe.’

  ‘It was not a typical game.’

  ‘I thought you might say that.’ The Doctor moved his queen again. ‘But it was similar to the game he played against me. When Sponslor died.’

  ‘What are you saying, Doctor?’ Kesar was studying the board. His hand hesitated over a piece, then moved on to another. But still he did not play a move.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Checkmate.’

  Kesar was laying down his king when Prion called across to them. Kesar’s hand froze at his words.

  ‘I’m getting a signal from Darkling,’ Prion said. ‘It’s disjointed, broken up. But he says the VETACs are from the Fifth Legion.’

  ‘Impossible.’ Kesar’s voice was a harsh scraping of rusty sound. ‘That’s impossible.’

  ‘Oh? And why’s that?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘Because there is no Fifth Legion.’

  Trayx was beside them now. ‘We don’t know that,’ he said quietly. ‘We don’t know anything for certain about the Fifth.’

  ‘Oh?’ the Doctor asked. His manner was apparently casual, but Jamie could see that his eyes were darting from Trayx to Kesar.

  ‘The Fifth Legion disappeared, Doctor.’ Trayx sat down between the Doctor and K
esar. ‘Just before the beginning of the civil war, they were putting down a rebellion on one of the frontier worlds. A simple enough task.’

  ‘So what happened?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘Nobody knows. They vanished. Disappeared from the face of the Republic.’

  Kesar slowly got to his feet. ‘Until now, it seems.’ He seemed to be staring off into space, though the mask made it impossible to be sure.

  ‘There is a high probability that their appearance here is connected to the war,’ Prion said, and Jamie realised that even across the room the robot could hear perfectly every thing that was said.

  ‘And why is that?’ the Doctor asked.

  ‘If it were not for the Fifth Legion,’ Trayx replied, ‘I might not have spoken out against Kesar. In which case, in all probability, he would now be Emperor of Haddron.’

  Darkling pressed himself further back into the shadows of the alcove. He was pretty sure he had managed to get through to Prion before the comms unit packed up again. A few words only, but it should be enough. His problem now was what to do next. It was apparent that he would never make it back through the fortress to the Secure Area without being spotted by a VETAC patrol, so his options were somewhat limited.

  Added to that, he was tired. Very tired. His head was still throbbing, and he was having trouble focusing. He tried to concentrate. He knew this fortress, knew this area in particular. Where would be the best, the safest place to take refuge?

  All Victoria could hear was the sound of her own breath as she stumbled after Sanjak and Helana. Her whole world was the sight of their feet on the stone floor and the stertorous sound of her panting. Her lungs were sore and her throat was ragged with the effort.

  Behind Victoria, Howper was shouting into his helmet microphone.

  A VETAC appeared ahead of them, at the junction with the next corridor. The first of many. Helana was screaming, Sanjak shouting as he dragged the women back the other way and into an opening they had just passed. Howper let off a long blast from his weapon and dived after them. The doorway exploded behind him.

  ‘How – how do they know where we are?’ Helana stammered through her gasps as she tried to catch her breath.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sanjak said, dragging Helana and Victoria onward. ‘But they know.’

  They were reeling down another corridor now, Howper shouting at them from behind to hurry. Lumps of stone flew from the walls around them as fire raked along the passage, gaining on them as they raced for the far end.

  The pain was sudden and intense, tearing at Victoria’s shoulder. At first she thought she had been hit, then she realised that Helana had tripped, was falling, her weight pulling at Victoria. Sanjak was yanking her back to her feet, Howper skidding on the flagstones as he tried not to stumble into them, knock them flying.

  Then, in the middle of it all, a burst of orange flame exploded in the heavy air. Helana screamed again, clutching her arm as she twisted and fell away from the fire. Howper turned, firing wildly back down the corridor. Sanjak was still holding on to both the women, dragging them onward, oblivious to their shouts and cries and screams, teeth gritted as he fought to pull them further.

  It was only as they turned the corner, as Victoria heard the heavy sound of metal boots on the stone floor, that she realised Howper was no longer behind her. She shouted to Sanjak to stop, tried to make herself heard above the percussive detonations and Helana’s sobs of pain.

  But Sanjak was still dragging them on. ‘Forget it,’ he screamed back at her. ‘It’s too late to help him now.’

  *

  The room glittered in the flickering candlelight. It was difficult for Haden to pick out what was an ornament and what was a silent, standing VETAC. She had fought in the same battles as VETAC detachments, of course. Until the civil war, though, she had never had to fight against them. But whatever side they were on, they were as impressive and frightening as they were deadly and efficient.

  For purely practical reasons, the VETAC commander and his lieutenant were even bulkier than the troops. For the leaders, mobility and speed was less important than defence. For the Fifth Legion, VC5 was a walking command centre with VL9 as backup and command staff rolled into one. As with any military unit, there was a degree of leeway in terms of delegation, but for the most part a VETAC legionnaire was not capable of command decisions. Its relatively basic processor, devoid of AI and expert system-support, was simply not up to the task.

  Neither Haden nor Cruger was particularly tall, and standing between VC5 and VL9 they were dwarfed by the huge metal figures. But whereas Haden was diffident, uncertain what was happening or whose side the VETACs – and she – were really on, Cruger was assertive and confident.

  ‘I have already provided you with the enemy’s command frequency,’ he said, his voice silky smooth. ‘Permit me to offer one further gesture of goodwill.’

  ‘Your profile is in the command chain,’ VL9 said. ‘No gesture is necessary.’

  ‘Indulge me. In terms of the military strategy to defeat Trayx, I leave that to you. I don’t pretend to be a match for him on the field of battle. I learned that, if nothing else, at Trophinamon.’

  ‘What is this gesture?’ VC5 demanded.

  ‘An ally. Access to someone within Trayx’s group who will work for you.’

  ‘A traitor?’

  Cruger smiled. ‘In a way. And then again, it is the person Trayx trusts most.’ He glanced at Haden. ‘You see, anyone can be suborned, if you just have the right lever. Or frequency range.’

  ‘So what happened to this Fifth Legion?’ Jamie asked. ‘Why is it so important?’

  Trayx gestured for Prion to answer. ‘They were on duty out on the rim, among the frontier worlds of the Republic. Their last mission was to put down a rebellion on Sertus Minor. They never reported back in.’

  ‘Well perhaps these rebels wiped them out. That’s possible, isn’t it?’

  Trayx shook his head. ‘The relief team found that the rebellion had been crushed. Sertus Minor was completely subjugated. There had been a small disagreement over changes in the level of taxation being levied from Haddron. Not really a rebellion at all.’

  ‘Wasn’t sending a legion of VETACs a little extreme in that case?’ the Doctor asked.

  ‘Standard policy, Doctor. We cannot afford dissent, especially so far from Haddron. Allow one world to get away with it, and others would follow.’

  ‘So who were these rebels?’ Jamie asked. ‘Just ordinary people who wouldn’t pay their taxes?’

  ‘In effect,’ Trayx agreed.

  ‘And you wiped them out?’

  ‘As I said, it’s standard policy. They knew that when they refused the taxes.’

  ‘Yes, well maybe they just couldn’t afford to pay,’ Jamie snapped back. ‘Did you not think of that?’

  ‘I don’t think that is the issue here,’ Trayx said heavily.

  ‘Oh, isn’t it?’

  The Doctor caught Jamie by the hand. ‘It’s an issue, certainly, but there are more pressing matters just now.’ He turned to Trayx. ‘You must forgive my friend,’ he said, ‘but he has been on the receiving end of a greater power putting down a rebellion himself,’ He continued quickly before either Trayx or Jamie could answer this. ‘When we have a moment perhaps we could discuss some alternative ways in which you could maintain your reach without actually wiping out entire populations.’

  ‘But Doctor –’ Jamie started.

  ‘Now, Jamie,’ the Doctor cut in, ‘we have to acknowledge, if not condone, that you don’t get to run an empire – forgive me, a republic – across half a galaxy by being nice to people.’ He turned back to Trayx and Prion. ‘Now, you said something about the Fifth Legion being responsible for the civil war.’

  Trayx looked at Prion, but he did not answer. Instead, it was Kesar who spoke: ‘The Fifth Legion was loyal to Kesar, to me. When it vanished, this was seen as a final indication that I was unfit to rule. It was used as a lever by the anti-imperial forces.’r />
  ‘It was the decisive moment,’ Trayx agreed. ‘When Mathesohn and Frehling told me Kesar had lost the Fifth, that was when I finally decided what I had to do.’

  ‘And that was to oppose Kesar?’ the Doctor asked. Trayx nodded. ‘And now the Fifth Legion just turns up again, as suddenly and unexpectedly as it disappeared.’

  ‘Which suggests,’ Trayx said slowly, ‘that its disappearance was engineered to have exactly the effect it did. Given their obvious mission here, I would surmise that the Legion was somehow commandeered by Mathesohn. What is your analysis, Prion?’

  But still Prion said nothing. He was standing absolutely still, his eyes apparently focused on the far wall of the room.

  ‘Prion?’ Trayx took a step towards his ADC. ‘Are you all right?’

  Prion turned slowly, as if in answer, until he was staring straight into Trayx’s face. Then, without changing his expression, without sound or comment, he launched himself at the General in Chief. Prion’s hands were outstretched, closing round Trayx’s neck, bearing him to the floor.

  ‘Frequency open,’ VL9 reported. ‘Control is established.’

  An image swam into existence in the air above the banqueting table, projected from a small unit built into VL9’s upper torso. It was the view through Prion’s eyes.

  Haden stared at the image. It was tinged red, either from the way it was transmitted and displayed or from the emergency lighting in Kesar’s quarters. Trayx’s face was staring back at her, his eyes wide, bulging, his hands just visible at the bottom of the picture as he struggled desperately to break Prion’s grip on his throat. The background was moving – there was a rush of people towards Trayx, and the walls were rushing past, the floor swinging into view as Prion pushed Trayx to the ground and stood over him.

  She stared at the images, mouth open in a mixture of horror and disbelief. She barely realised that the faint sound coming from beside her was Cruger’s quiet chuckle of satisfaction.

  The Doctor was the first to reach them. He struggled in vain to prise Prion’s hands away from Trayx’s throat. Jamie was beside him in a moment, adding his strength to the Doctor’s.