Shakedown

by Terrance Dicks

  ‘Sure you are. And I’m a humble trader, in search of an honest credit. Nothing like getting your story straight.’

  They came for Kurt and his companion shortly afterwards, a human guard backed up by two Sontaran troopers. They were marched across the landing-field to the central administration buildings.

  Apart from the one wrecked outbuilding and a toppled space-freighter there were few signs of battle. Kurt saw his own freighter, still unharmed, at the edge of the field. Unharmed, and, presumably, still fully loaded.

  Kurt shook his head, thinking sadly about wasted profits. If the Sontarans had invaded a day later, they could have had the planet and welcome to it.

  The spaceport’s main conference room had been transformed into a court. A flag, presumably that of the Sontaran Empire, was draped over the rear wall, flanked by two Sontaran troopers.

  A table stood before the flag with an empty chair behind it. Kurt and his companion were taken to a spot directly in front of the table and left to wait. A huddle of spaceport officials stood under guard at the back of the room.

  After what seemed a very long time, the door behind the table opened and a Sontaran came through it. The Sontaran guards stiffened in salute, arms across their chests.

  The Sontaran officer walked to the chair and sat down. He removed his helmet, placing it on the table beside him.

  For the first time, Kurt looked into the face of a Sontaran. It was a moment he was never to forget.

  The Sontaran’s huge round head seemed to emerge directly from the massive shoulders. The hairless, strangely ridged skull was covered with leathery greenish-brown skin. The nose was a pig-like snout, the cruel mouth long and lipless. But the worst thing of all was the eyes. Small and red, they glowered out from beneath bony ridges, like savage fires burning deep in a cave.

  Kurt had seen many aliens in his time, and done business with most kinds. He had traded smuggled goods with everything from arachnoids to octopods. He liked to say any conceivable body shape, any assortment of eyes, claws and limbs, was fine by him – as long as the credit rating was sound...

  But never before had he met an alien life-form that conveyed such an immediate chill of fear. It was a primitive, atavistic sensation, and suddenly Kurt realized its origin.

  Kurt had grown up in the back-alleys of his native planet’s Port City. He had been brought up, more or less, by a kind-hearted, slatternly woman who kept a back-street tavern. At bedtime she had told him gruesome fairy-tales from a score of planets.

  The Sontaran, Kurt realized, came straight out of his childhood nightmares. It was the monster in the woods, in the cupboard, under the bed. It was the bogeyman that would get you if you were a bad boy.

  Kurt had been a very bad boy indeed in his time. Now the bogeyman had got him.

  The Sontaran raised his burning gaze and stared into Kurt’s face. ‘I am Commander Steg, commander of the Sontaran Expeditionary Force, currently in charge of this newly constituted Sontaran outpost. First case.’

  The voice was harsh and guttural.

  A white-faced spaceport official came reluctantly forward. ‘Who are you?’ barked Steg.

  ‘I am the Prosecuting Officer of the Jekkar Spaceport Authority.’

  ‘Continue.’

  ‘This man is known only as Kurt. He has a long criminal record and is a known smuggler and arms runner. He has also been accused of space-piracy, although charges were never proved –’

  Steg cut across him. ‘His criminal past does not concern me. What crimes has he committed here, on Sontaran territory?’

  ‘He was caught attempting to smuggle jekkarta weed immediately before your – arrival.’

  In a trembling voice, the official gave details of Kurt’s offences against Colony law. They were many and complicated.

  Steg listened impassively. He considered for a moment or two.

  ‘Guilty!’

  ‘Now hang on a minute!’ shouted Kurt.

  The Sontaran trooper raised his blaster.

  Commander Steg held up his hand. ‘Sontaran justice is renowned galaxy-wide. The prisoner may speak.’

  ‘Ah, well,’ said Kurt, rubbing his stubble of beard and struggling to rally his thoughts. Then, as so often in a crisis, his mind went into overdrive and inspiration came.

  ‘Even if I did commit this smuggling offence – and I’m not saying I did, mind you – what do you Sontarans care? What’s it got to do with you?’

  Commander Steg frowned. ‘That is your defence?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Kurt defiantly. ‘The crime – the alleged crime – took place when this planet was an Earth colony. It is now a Sontaran outpost. Do the Sontarans have any laws concerning the export of jekkarta weed? I very much doubt it.’ He folded his arms triumphantly. ‘I rest my case!’

  The Sontaran’s thin lips twitched in what might almost have been a smile. ‘Ingenious. Most ingenious. However, it is the policy of the glorious Sontaran Empire to uphold the laws of such territories as it may acquire – except when such laws conflict with the guiding principles of the Sontaran military code.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘Anything not expressly permitted is forbidden.’ Steg slammed a three-digited hand down on the table. ‘The prisoner is found guilty. He will be shot at dawn.’

  ‘Shot for smuggling?’ Kurt was outraged. ‘I thought you were committed to upholding Colony laws.’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘Well, the most they’d have given me for smuggling is a fine. How can you justify the death penalty?’

  ‘It is quite simple,’ said Steg patiently. ‘You were found guilty under Colony law, but you will be punished under the Sontaran Military Code, where the death sentence is mandatory.’

  ‘For smuggling?’

  ‘For everything. Next case.’

  Kurt was dragged back and the other prisoner shoved forward.

  This time a Sontaran officer came forward to give evidence.

  ‘The accused, who gives his name as Smith, was found without permission on Sontaran territory. He is charged with spying.’

  Steg nodded. ‘Has the prisoner Smith anything to say?’

  ‘I most certainly have,’ said the prisoner Smith indignantly. ‘I am a harmless and innocent scholar, studying the native life-forms. When I left Port City this planet was an Earth Colony.’

  ‘When you returned it was Sontaran territory,’ Steg pointed out. ‘Since you are undoubtedly here, you are undoubtedly, technically speaking, a spy.’ His hand slammed the table once more. ‘Guilty. To be shot at dawn.’

  The prisoner Smith was also inclined to protest. ‘That’s outrageous! What am I supposed to have been spying on? There’s nothing of interest on this planet but anthropoids in trees!’

  ‘They are now Sontaran anthropoids in Sontaran trees,’ explained Commander Steg. ‘Everything inside Sontaran territory is automatically classified as top secret.’

  ‘But they weren’t Sontaran anthropoids when I was studying them. Nor are they now. The Jekkari are a free people.’

  ‘Not any longer,’ said Commander Steg. He rose and studied the two prisoners. ‘You may consider your sentences harsh. In a sense, they are. But that is for a very good reason.’

  ‘That’s nice to know,’ said Kurt, who reckoned he had nothing to lose. ‘Are we allowed to know what it is?’

  ‘This planet is now a Sontaran military outpost. Its laws must be scrupulously obeyed. Your deaths will serve as an immediate and dramatic example to others. Insignificant as you are, you give your lives for the glorious Sontaran Empire. I trust you appreciate the privilege.’

  ‘It’s a great consolation,’ said the prisoner Smith politely.

  ‘Puts the whole thing in an entirely new light,’ said Kurt.

  Commander Steg turned and stalked from the room. Two troopers bustled Kurt and the prisoner called Smith away.

  As they crossed the landing field they passed close to a couple of Jekkari, who were clearing rubble from
the wrecked building under the supervision of a colony guard.

  Smith stumbled and fell against the nearest Jekkari. As he gripped a massive hairy arm to save himself, Kurt saw his nimble fingers beating a swift tattoo. One of the troopers dragged Smith free and shoved him onwards.

  Back in their cell, Kurt marched up and down cursing the Sontarans and all their works. ‘Pot-bellied, potato-headed, murderous, short-arsed bastards. Call that justice!’

  Smith perched cross-legged on the bunk, listening with mild amusement. ‘You should be grateful for at least one Sontaran characteristic.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Their strong sense of military tradition. For some reason prisoners are always shot at dawn. If they ever sentenced people to be shot at tea-time we’d be in trouble.’

  ‘You mean we’re not?’ said Kurt bitterly. ‘I must say, Smith, you’re taking all this very calmly.’

  ‘Not so much of the Smith, if you don’t mind,’ said the little man with dignity. ‘I’ll have you know you are in the presence of General Smith of the Jekkari Liberation Army.’

  Kurt gaped at him.

  Smith leaned forward. ‘I originally came to this planet because I didn’t like the way the colonists were treating the Jekkari. I didn’t bargain for the Sontaran invasion, though. Maybe I can kill two oppressors with one revolution.’

  ‘Those Jekkari,’ said Kurt slowly. ‘All that tapping business...You were communicating with them.’

  Smith nodded. ‘The Jekkari don’t speak because they have no vocal cords. They communicate by a very complex system of signing.’

  ‘But if the Jekkari are as intelligent as you say – why do they hang round doing dirty jobs for the colonists...Kurt saw the answer as soon as he asked the question. ‘Yes, of course...’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Smith. ‘Intelligence agents. Spies if you like. It cost them quite a few lives at first, but as soon as the colonists became convinced they were dim and harmless, the Jekkari could come and go as they liked. They were studying the colonists to discover their weaknesses. They completely fooled the colonists. With luck, they’ll fool the Sontarans too.’

  Kurt was only concerned with his own survival. ‘Will they help us to escape?’

  ‘They’ll help me,’ said Smith. ‘And you might as well come along – if nothing else, it’ll annoy the Sontarans.’

  ‘Thanks a lot. So what do we do now?’

  ‘We wait till dark.’

  As the shadows of night spread across the little cell, there came a muffled thumping from the corridor outside. The heavy metal door of the cell began to creak and groan and vibrate. With a shriek of metal it disappeared – ripped from its hinges from outside.

  Smith and Kurt moved out into the dark corridor. They could just make out the massive shape of a Jekkari crouched over the prone body of a guard. It was rocking mournfully, to and fro.

  ‘He’s upset because he killed the guard by mistake,’ whispered Smith. ‘They hate killing.’

  He drummed rapidly on the Jekkari’s shoulder, and the giant anthropoid rose and led them down the corridor.

  Another guard came round the corner, saw them and said, ‘Hey –’

  It was all he said because the edge of Kurt’s hand took him across the throat. Kurt drew back his arm for the second, killing blow, but Smith caught his wrist in a surprisingly powerful grip.

  ‘No! I hate killing too.’

  Smith’s fingers gripped the still-choking guard’s neck, and the man went limp. Kurt caught him and lowered him to the ground. He rubbed his wrist. Little Smith was stronger than he looked.

  They moved across the dark, silent landing field until they reached Kurt’s freighter.

  ‘Can you pilot that thing by yourself?’ asked Smith.

  Kurt nodded. ‘I had it adapted for solo use. Partners cut down profits.’

  ‘Then I’d get on board and blast off. I don’t think the Sontarans will follow you. Most of them are out subduing Port City. The ones left here are due for some unexpected trouble at their command centre. The Sontarans won’t find this planet as easy to hold as they think.’

  As if to belie his words, a harsh voice croaked, ‘Halt!’

  Kurt, Smith and the Jekkari all froze, as a Sontaran trooper stepped from the shadows, covering them with his blaster.

  ‘You are all my prisoners. Return to the command post. Resist and you will be killed.’

  Kurt decided that he couldn’t face losing his freedom now. He tensed himself for a suicidal attack. If he could get his hands on that blaster –

  Smith put a restraining hand on his arm.

  A huge dark shape materialized behind the Sontaran trooper. Giant hands seized him, raised him high in the air – then dashed him head-first to the stony ground with such shattering force that they heard the skull shatter and the thick neck-bones snap.

  Kurt let out a long shuddering sigh. ‘I thought you said they didn’t like to kill.’

  ‘They don’t. But they can do it now, if they must. It’s something I had to teach them,’ said Smith sadly.

  Kurt swung the metal wheel that opened the entry-hatch.

  ‘Come with me. I’ll take you anywhere you like.’ Sudden, overwhelming gratitude pushed Kurt into utter recklessness. ‘Hell, I’ll even give you half my profits on this trip – well, a third, anyway...’

  Smith smiled and shook his head. ‘Keep your profits, Kurt. If they’re big enough, you could even turn honest.’

  ‘How are you going to get away from here”

  ‘I’ve got my own transportation, hidden in the forest. Besides, I’m not leaving yet. I’ve got unfinished business here.’

  Kurt opened the hatch. ‘Suit yourself.’ He paused, looking at the strange little man, flanked by his two giant allies.

  ‘I owe you, Smith, I owe you big. I’m an honest criminal, I always pay my debts. Anything I can do, anywhere, any time.’ He grinned. ‘John Smith! I don’t even know your real name.’

  ‘Few people do. Why don’t you just call me the Doctor?’

  The Doctor turned and vanished into the darkness.

  Kurt scrambled inside the hatch, closed it behind him, and climbed the ladder to the control room, praying that the ancient engines would fire first time.

  Just for once they did. Smuggler’s luck, thought Kurt, as the old freighter lumbered into the sky. Well‘ he was due for some.

  He set the course on automatic pilot, took a bottle of Jekkar brandy from a locker and took a long, long swig straight from the bottle.

  As the comforting warmth seeped through his veins, he started thinking about the Doctor, wondering if the odd little man would survive.

  After a while he gave up on that and started working out the profits from the trip. They should run into millions. He decided that he might even be able to afford to go straight as the Doctor suggested. He wondered if he’d like it. What would he do for excitement? He’d have to take up some upper-class sport – like solar yacht racing.

  On the edge of the forest, the Doctor paused to study the skies and raise a hand in farewell. Nice fellow, Kurt.

  It was curious, thought the Doctor, how he’d always got on better with rogues and riff-raff than with field-marshals, high officials and other top people. If it wasn’t for that he might still be Lord President of Gallifrey.

  Thanking fate for less than respectable tastes, the Doctor looked up at the towering forms of his two gorilla-like friends.

  ‘Me Doctor, you Jekkari,’ he said. ‘I wonder if I’d look good in a loin-cloth?’

  The two Jekkari looked politely puzzled.

  Smiling, the Doctor followed them into the dark forest.

  BOOK ONE

  BEGINNINGS

  1

  Ripper

  All over Megacity, the word was out.

  From the penthouses where the fat cats lived, high above the stench and filth of the smoggy streets, in mid-town bars where the wheelers and dealers connived and plotted, down to the s
leazy dives of a thriving criminal underworld.

  Someone was asking questions. Two someones to be precise. Humans, or at least humanoid; a big fair-haired man and a small dark woman. They’d arrived from somewhere off-planet and they were on someone’s trail. Somebody big.

  The rumours grew in the telling. Those with something to hide – practically everybody – were getting nervous. One ambition united crooked politicians in their office suites and muggers in back alleyways. To find out what the newcomers wanted and make sure that they didn’t get it. Not without paying a very high price – like their lives.

  Lingering over an over-priced breakfast in a hideously over-decorated and expensive hotel, Roz Forrester thought that Megacity was an Adjudicator’s nightmare. She was used to corruption. It had caused her to quit her job with the Adjudication Service – a job that had been her entire life. But at least that had been a case of corruption within a reasonably honest system.

  Here in Megacity, corruption was the system.

  Megacity covered most of a planet called Megerra – as unattractive a planet as you could wish to avoid. A rock-ball in space – but a rock-ball of incredible value. Megerra was mineral-rich to an amazing degree, with vast deposits of gold, silver, iron, nickel and uranium.

  The planet was carved up between Earth’s major mining corporations – who were ripping the guts out of it.

  Megerra was covered with mines, factories and workshops – and with Megacity, where its inhabitants lived, worked, played and very frequently died. Megacity was a very dangerous place.

  The race to rip out the minerals promoted a boom economy. Miners and engineers flocked in from all over the galaxy. The money they made attracted gamblers, whores, drug-dealers and just plain thieves, dedicated to taking that money away from them.

  Megerra was a planet where you came to get rich quick and move out. But while you were there, you had to eat and drink and enjoy yourself. Megacity catered for every imaginable taste, all round the clock. Just about everything went in Megacity – as long as it didn’t cut mining profits or slow down production.