by Stephen Cole
Her senses felt numbed and she put it down to shock. High above, the slabs of glass in the ceiling winked and glowed with reflected light, disorientating her.
‘Pain… kill…’ Shade croaked.
‘No,’ she told him. ‘No, you’ll be fine.’
‘Killer,’ Shade said more desperately. ‘For pain.’ Polly screwed up her nose as she wiped away a miniature mountain range of hard black crumbs from one of his gashes. ‘Big hypo.’
Polly got his meaning. She left him for a moment, mumbling apologies, and scrabbled through the medical box until she found something that fitted the description: a sort of metal syringe with odd ends attached. What was she meant to do with it?
She needed a second opinion. ‘Doctor!’ she called. ‘I need your help!’
The Doctor reluctantly left his hole in the console and pottered over to see. ‘How is he?’
‘Terrible,’ Polly said sadly.
She handed the syringe-thing to the Doctor, who studied it for a moment curiously. Then he twisted a dial and jabbed a wide nozzle into Shade’s neck. The soldier yelled again, louder than ever, then started to convulse. Polly bit her lip and wondered if the Doctor had got it all wrong. But a few moments later the fit passed, and Shade lay back, eyes closed, his breathing swift and shallow.
The Doctor looked down at Shade and tutted to himself. ‘Remarkable,’ he murmured. ‘His body seems to be rejecting the dead tissue in his face, forcing it out through his skin.’
‘Is he going to die?’ Polly whispered, in case Shade was listening.
‘I don’t think so, my child,’ the Doctor said thoughtfully. ‘No, I don’t think so. But his body is reacting to some kind of stimulus…’ His eyes narrowed. ‘A force of some kind. A force that we have not yet identified, and yet may be all around us.’
‘Is that why Shel got sick too?’ Polly wondered.
‘It could well be, yes.’
‘But if he set all this up… how come he didn’t make himself immune to this… whatever-it-is?’ She glanced over at the Schirr bodies. Had they been immune? Had they killed each other in some terrible madness? A horrid thought occurred to Polly: ‘Will the rest of us get sick?’
‘I’m afraid I cannot tell,’ the Doctor confessed.
The two of them sighed together, which brought faint smiles to their faces. They spent a few moments silently with their thoughts. Gradually, Shade’s breathing began to ease.
‘The worst of the pain is over for this young man,’ the Doctor announced. ‘He’ll need rest, but he should recover.’
‘In time for what,’ breathed Polly.
‘Now, if you don’t mind watching over him alone, my dear, I shall return to…’
His voice trailed off. Something was wrong. As if in slow motion, Polly turned to see. Her heart lurched.
The corpse in the chair had vanished.
So had yet another body from the platform.
‘DeCaster,’ muttered the Doctor. ‘Their leader.’
‘How?’ whispered Polly. ‘The stasis field is jammed on. The console and the junction box are ruined!’
The Doctor seemed not to hear her. ‘He is at large again, it would seem.’
Polly grabbed the Doctor’s sleeve. ‘But how? We never left! We only turned our backs on them for a few moments!’
‘The one in the chair,’ blustered the Doctor. ‘DeCaster’s most trusted disciple. Shel called him Pallemar…’
‘He can’t have been dead,’ Polly said in a small voice.
‘But he was. He was dead.’ The Doctor sounded furious, like a cheated child. ‘I examined the corpse myself. Death has its own posture and appearance…’ He shook his head, as anger gave way to bewilderment.
Polly shivered. All the Schirr were scary, but the thought that DeCaster, who had murdered so many millions of people, could be walking about somewhere on the asteroid terrified her half to death.
‘Six of them left, now,’ the Doctor mused, a little more calmly. ‘Only six. But how? How did they do it?’
Polly stared on in disbelief. The frozen expressions on the bloodied Schirr faces seemed to her less representative now of terror and agony, more like those of creatures laughing hysterically, till it hurt, till the tears came rolling down.
III
Haunt pulled her arm savagely from Ben’s grip as they ran together down the tunnel. One of the stone figures floated out of the gloomy chamber and into the darkness of the tunnel, trailing after them like a balloon gusted on the wind. Haunt accelerated, beat him to the junction where Tovel, Roba, Creben and Joiks were anxiously waiting with Frog, ready to go. Haunt must’ve put her on sentry duty here while she went on ahead.
‘It’s Shel!’ Joiks shouted as they approached. ‘Frog says it’s Shel!’
‘Get moving!’ Haunt bellowed, eyes flashing. ‘Go!’ Her moment of hesitation back in the chamber had passed. She was back in charge all right.
They raced down endless tunnels, lit only by the juddering beams of the soldiers’ torches. Every shifting shadow seemed to conceal something more sinister, ghostly hands reaching out to tear at them as they passed.
Ben picked up the pace, imagining the gory stone fingers of one of the statues reaching up behind him, groping for his throat.
At last they approached the great metal doors that led to the centre of the complex. Once the threshold was crossed they came to a panting halt, too breathless to speak, making do with mute and frightened eye contact.
Ben saw Roba had clamped one giant’s hand around his forearm. There was a tear in his sleeve. ‘You all right?’ he puffed.
Roba nodded fiercely, but there was a look in his eyes that suggested he was less certain. ‘Cut myself getting out,’ he muttered. ‘It’s OK.’
The crowd set off again. Ben gritted his teeth, prepared to make after them, but his legs were cramping up. He felt like one of those marathon runners, he needed someone to run up to him with a cup of weak orange and a big blanket. What he got was Frog, who turned away from the pack, and came back to help him along. She slipped an arm round his waist. His shoulder pressed against her chest. He felt her breath on his face, surprisingly sweet.
Her big bulging eyes met his uncertain gaze for a fraction of a second. Then she looked away, half-carried him along the shadowy path.
IV
Polly’s heart leapt as Haunt sprinted back into the control room. She held her side as if she had a stitch.
Polly frowned. It only seemed like a few minutes since she had left.
‘Back so soon,’ the Doctor observed, as if picking up on Polly’s thoughts. He gestured to the empty chair and to the latest empty space on the dais. ‘But I’m afraid not soon enough.’
Haunt stared at the bodies. Her face slowly screwed up as if the absences were causing her physical pain. ‘DeCaster… Pallemar…’ She seemed utterly dumbfounded. ‘Both gone? What happened?’
The Doctor looked troubled. ‘We turned away for a few moments only. When we looked back…’
More footsteps heralded the arrival of the rest of the soldiers. Polly looked anxiously as first Creben, then Joiks and Tovel, and finally Roba entered through the glowing pentagonal doorway.
‘Where’s Ben?’ she called, her voice higher than she’d intended.
Right on cue, he entered. Half-carried, half-dragged along by Frog. Polly watched sceptically as the ugly little woman helped him over to one of the consoles. He clutched hold of it, smiled his thanks at her.
As the others gathered round the depleted platform of corpses in sullen disbelief, Polly ran over to see Ben. He saw her coming, and made an effort to stand unaided. ‘All right, Pol?’
‘I’m so glad to see you.’ She smiled at Frog. ‘Thank you for helping him.’
Perhaps her smile had come out a little tighter than she’d planned.
Frog shrugged. ‘All yours now, honey,’ she muttered. ‘Enjoy.’ Then she walked away to join the Doctor and the others as they exchanged updates and information.<
br />
Polly half-listened as she waited for Ben to catch his breath; caught occasional words: ‘Shade’. ‘Sick’. ‘Cyborg’. ‘Chase’. ‘Blood’.
She was grateful of the chance to have a more personal catch-up with Ben. She told him about Shel going mad, and about Shade, who was sleeping peacefully now. Ben blew air out of his cheeks, not sure what to make of it all.
‘What happened to you?’ Polly asked in turn.
Ben shuddered, leaned back against the console. ‘Statues. Dirty great flying things. Came for us, didn’t they.’
Polly felt a tingle run down her spine. ‘Flying statues?’
‘I swear to you. And they had a body up on their pedestal.’ He shook his head. ‘Denni or Lindey, I’m not sure which.’
Polly felt her mouth go dry. ‘But, Ben, there are statues of the cherubim right outside!’
Ben stared at her. ‘I didn’t see anything… I mean, I wasn’t looking, but I don’t reckon…’ He stood back up again, felt nervous energy twitching at his muscles. ‘Marshal Haunt! Polly says there were more of those things earlier, perched right outside!’
Haunt’s head snapped round to face them. Polly prepared to defend her opinion, but the marshal simply nodded. ‘Frog. Joiks. Check it out. Creben, Roba, I want a barricade up outside. See what you can safely rip out of this place.’
‘Not a lot.’ Creben glanced around at the banks of equipment dotted about, and the ornamental trellises railing in the ducting round the walls, out of reach. ‘The console housings, maybe.’
‘We don’t know what this stuff does,’ Roba grumbled. ‘What if we disconnect life support or something?’
Creben smiled wanly. ‘We put it back together. Quickly.’
‘You’re funny,’ Haunt told him. ‘Now get on with it. This is going to be our base, and we’re going to make it as secure as it can be. Tovel – see to Shade. Sounds like his face needs stitches.’
‘He’s asleep,’ Polly called over.
Tovel smiled ruefully, tapped the medical kit. ‘Not for much longer.’
The soldiers moved to obey, without further question. Polly and Ben nervously joined the Doctor and Haunt.
‘I wonder,’ the Doctor mused aloud. ‘What intelligence is coordinating this affair, and to what end?’ He nodded, pursed his lips. ‘Yes. Yes, that is what we must ask ourselves.’
‘It’s madness,’ Haunt muttered. ‘A madman’s scheme.’
‘I can’t believe Shel was a…’ Ben trailed off. ‘What was he?’
‘A cyborg.’ Haunt’s voice was hollow. ‘They’re only used for intelligence work. Programmed never to give themselves away.’ She looked pained, pale. ‘I never knew what he was. My last adjutant was reassigned six months ago, and in all that time I never knew…’
‘No one could have guessed his true nature,’ said the Doctor. ‘But now that we do know, we must decide how it affects our judgement of the situation.’
Polly remembered now what the Doctor had been talking about earlier. ‘Until both DeCaster and Pallemar vanished,’ she pointed out, ‘there was one Schirr missing for each person missing.’
The Doctor steepled his fingers together. ‘Quite so. And the Morphiean sciences – as practised by these Schirr also, let us not forget – place the emphasis on the body.’
‘What’re you saying, Doctor?’ Ben asked uncertainly.
Haunt seemed to think she knew. ‘That Shel used Lindey and Denni’s bodies to somehow reanimate the corpses of DeCaster and his disciples?’
Ben shrugged. ‘Figures. Ten of them for ten of you.’
‘Before we came along,’ Polly pointed out. ‘But in any case, there’s eleven of us now – if you can even count Shel since he’s a robot – and six of them. How does that work?’
‘And even with the stasis field jammed in place thanks to Shel’s handiwork,’ said the Doctor, ‘the corpses seem able to come and go as they please.’ He considered the problem, his eyes darting from side to side. ‘Then there’s the sickness. Again, affecting the body. Severely so in the cases of Shel and Shade. I imagine the interface between Shel’s flesh and circuitry has begun to break down as the effect increases.’
‘Making him crazy?’ Polly asked.
‘Presumably, having brought you all here and set events in motion, his task is complete…’ The Doctor swung round to Polly. ‘My dear, do you still itch all over?’
‘Well, yes,’ Polly said worriedly. ‘But I feel fine in myself.’ She considered. ‘I feel better than fine.’
‘Me too.’ Ben chipped in, scratching his arms. ‘I feel like I could go on forever.’
Haunt’s eyes were red-rimmed, her face shiny with sweat. ‘You think our own bodies are being affected by something on board?’
The Doctor agreed with her genially, as he might if someone had offered him a sweet sherry. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it’s possible.’
Polly jumped as Roba leaned in over her shoulder. He looked furious, sweating profusely.
‘Who gave you all the answers, old man?’
‘No one gives me answers, sir,’ the Doctor retorted. ‘I seek them out for myself, as anyone can.’
‘Great, OK – so what’s gonna happen to us?’ Roba was fidgeting, uncomfortable. ‘Seeing as our bodies are being affected.’
‘I don’t know yet.’ He half-smiled at Roba. ‘But the truth will come in time. I have no doubt.’
‘Think you’re so smart,’ Roba hissed. ‘But we still don’t know a thing about you.’
‘No, indeed, you do not.’ The Doctor seemed almost amused by this comment.
There was a long tear in the sleeve of Roba’s combat suit, and Polly could see a bandage beneath it. He’d been hurt. Maybe that was why he was acting like a bear with a sore head.
Ben scowled at the huge man. ‘Ain’t you got a barricade to build, Roba?’
Polly looked to Haunt to break this up before it got any nastier. But the marshal’s eyes were shut, her lips pressed together. She looked fit to drop.
A second later, she did, clutching her side. Her head smacked into the solid stone floor. Her eyes snapped open, unseeing, and a trickle of blood stained her lip as she bit her tongue. It wasn’t enough to stifle her low moan of pain.
Polly turned to Roba, expecting him to lift his fallen marshal. But he just stood there and stared at Haunt in hurt disbelief. Like a child learning there’s no such person as Superman.
‘Dear, dear,’ fussed the Doctor. ‘We must help her, quickly.’
‘There’s an airbed over there,’ Polly said, struggling to keep calm. She gestured to the translucent rectangle of Shel’s abandoned force mattress. ‘Ben, help me carry her.’
Tovel rushed over from Shade’s side with the medical kit. Creben came over to join Roba, staring on in astonished silence as Polly and Ben lifted Haunt over to the force mattress. Polly felt the considerable muscles in the woman’s arms and shoulders twitch and clench.
‘Take more than instant sutures to fix this,’ Tovel breathed.
‘What do you think’s wrong with her?’ she heard Creben ask behind her.
‘A physical malaise of the most extraordinary kind,’ was the Doctor’s utterly unhelpful diagnosis.
As Ben tried to straighten out Haunt’s sweaty form on the mattress, she gave a rattling gasp of pain. He snatched his hand away.
‘What is it?’ Polly asked.
‘Not sure,’ Ben said. ‘A big lump or something, above her hip.’
‘She was holding her side before,’ Polly remembered.
Tovel took a scalpel from the kit and cut with difficulty through the damp fabric of Haunt’s combat suit. The pale skin beneath was dominated by a huge red swelling, like a mosquito bite gone septic.
‘What we gonna do?’ Roba whispered hoarsely to himself over and over. He stared down at Haunt, fearfully. ‘What we gonna do?’
‘Is something inside that thing?’ Ben wondered.
The Doctor had by now arrived to investigate, shooing them out o
f his way as he peered closely at the swelling through Victorian-looking pince-nez. ‘I don’t think so. It is more likely to be an abnormal growth of some kind.’
‘A tumour?’ Creben didn’t sound convinced. ‘She’d never be on active service with –’
The Doctor interrupted him, removing the pince-nez. ‘I imagine it has never been detected before. This effect I’ve been speaking of, it must drive out impurities in the flesh.’
‘Like poor Shade’s face,’ whispered Polly. She glanced at Tovel. ‘How is he?’
‘Better than he should be,’ Tovel muttered. ‘Those sutures sting like nothing else, but he didn’t even stir.’
Ben, predictably, seemed less interested in Shade’s welfare, still grappling with the Doctor’s explanation. ‘You mean this tumour or whatever is just being…’ Ben groped for the right words. ‘Pushed out of her?’
The Doctor nodded. ‘It’s remarkable, quite remarkable.’
‘I’ll do what I can for her,’ said Tovel, rummaging in the medical kit. ‘Jeez, what the hell is happening to us?’
Roba turned, pushed roughly past him. He got back to building his barriers.
V
‘I don’t see no angels out here,’ Frog said, playing her torch beam along the amorphous features of the giant stone figures that flanked the end of the narrow passageway to the control room.
‘That means they’ve gone,’ Joiks said. He swung his own torch anxiously from side to side. The fleas squirmed and jostled under the light, worrying away at the fleshy leaves lining the ceiling.
‘That’s good.’
‘It’s not good. There were a bunch of them out here. That means they can move too.’ Joiks shuddered.