‘I can book passage on this ship?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir, she’s a private yacht, they don’t carry passengers.’
The traveller staggered a little and the clerk noticed that his face was pale.
‘Are you all right, sir? Shall I call the station medical officer?’
‘No, it is all right.’ The passenger made a ghastly attempt at a smile. ‘I have been rather overdoing it recently. Where can I find Captain Deranne?’
When Kurt arrived back in the bar, Lisa was still trying to explain things to her astonished crew.
‘I’m sorry it’s so sudden, and I realize it’s something of a liberty to ask you to sail with someone you don’t even know. But at this late date, there’s just no alternative.’ Zorelle opened her mouth to protest and Lisa said, ‘And it does mean I don’t have to ask you all to increase your contributions.’
‘Just as well, my dear,’ said Zorelle acidly. ‘I’m practically ruining myself for you as it is. But I’m still concerned that you should accept a man of his somewhat dubious reputation...’
She broke off as Kurt wandered up to the little group. He nodded to Lisa and said, ‘All taken care of.’
She gave him a quick, grateful smile.
He glanced round the little group, sizing them up. The older woman, dressed up to the nines, had to be Zorelle, using everything that money could buy in the way of clothes and make-up to fight off the years.
The luscious young beauty in the low-cut sleeveless gown would be Mari, and the handsome young fellow with his arm around her must be Nikos. Love’s young dream, and the best of luck to them.
Then there was Lisa. She made the proper introductions and Kurt shook hands all round.
‘It’s very good of you to save the day for us like this,’ said Mari, with an automatically flirtatious smile.
‘It’s a pleasure and a privilege,’ said Kurt. He saw Nikos look hard at him and added, ‘It’s a privilege for us all to crew for Captain Deranne.’
Lisa gave him a look and said, ‘If you’ll forgive me, I’ve still got quite a lot to do. I’ll see you all back on board.’
With Lisa gone they all looked a little awkwardly at one another.
‘Let’s have some champagne and drink to a successful voyage,’ said Kurt. He raised his hand for the barman. ‘I’d better go over the financial side with you all, my contribution and so on.’ He smiled around the still-wary group. ‘By the way,’ he added casually, ‘anybody ever heard of something called a Tontine?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Lisa Deranne. ‘It’s quite out of the question. The Tiger Moth doesn’t carry passengers.’
The arrangements and formalities were all complete at last, she was eager to be off – and now this tall white-haired stranger had accosted her with his absurd request, just as she was about to go on board.
‘If it is a question of credits –’
‘No it isn’t. I’m not licensed to take paying passengers. Besides, I’m going on a shakedown cruise with a relatively inexperienced crew.’
‘But your eventual destination is Station Beta?’
‘That’s right, but there’s no telling when we’ll get there. We’ll be proceeding under solar sails for some of the way. I’m sorry, but what you ask is impossible.’
The stranger made a last effort to convince her. ‘It is really important for me to get a passage from this station as soon as possible. Its atmosphere does not agree with me.’ He managed a ghastly smile. ‘As you can see, I am not in the best of health.’
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help you, I really can’t. Believe me, a solar yacht is no place for a sick man. There’ll be a liner leaving soon and they have full medical facilities.’
There was a roar of engines and the hull of the Tiger Moth vibrated with power.
The stranger looked hungrily at the ship, eyes gleaming. ‘You leave at once?’
‘Very soon. The crew’s on board and my engineer is just running up the drive. If you’ll forgive me, I’ve a lot to do.’ The stranger stared fixedly at her.
(Kill? Copy? Negative. Role too difficult to sustain.)
‘Are you all right?’ asked Lisa. ‘Shall I call help?’
‘No, forgive me, I am just a little tired.’
Lisa went on board, and the stranger watched her go.
As the entry-lock door closed behind her, the stranger shimmered and blurred, re-forming into a feebly pulsing sphere of light. The sphere hovered for a moment, as if gathering its forces, and then floated towards the rocket vents beneath the ship.
Soon afterwards Bay Four depressurized, the exit doors slid open and the solar yacht Tiger Moth moved away from the space station to begin her shakedown cruise.
10
Takeover
After Tiger Moth set off on her cruise, life on Space Station Alpha went on as usual – for a time.
The next shuttle from Megerra arrived, disgorging a number of hungover engineers, a small dark angry woman and a large blond cheerful young man, both of whom immediately started asking questions.
They questioned station officials, technical staff, stopping-over space-crew, passengers in transit and anyone else who would talk to them. They were seeking news of a tall silvery-haired man, possibly rather unwell, who had arrived on the previous shuttle from Megerra. They got it too, up to a point – then the trail simply disappeared.
It wasn’t easy keeping track of people on a busy space station. All the time space freighters and space liners were making routine arrivals and departures, picking up and setting down goods and passengers, so that the population was constantly changing.
By the time the Doctor arrived, Roz and Chris had followed the trail to a dead end. He found them in the bar, where Roz was trying to persuade Chris to stick to beer rather than try the barman’s recommendation, a Dravidean Deathwatch.
‘I’d take her advice if I were you,’ said the Doctor. ‘Three beers, please, barman.’
The barman started to ask him who he thought he was to interfere, caught the look in the cold grey eyes, and went to get the beers.
Chris and Roz greeted the Doctor enthusiastically, though their delight at seeing him soon gave way to despair at what they insisted on seeing as their failure.
‘One step behind, that’s us,’ said Roz gloomily. ‘If I were you, Doctor, I’d fire me and hire the Pinks.’
‘Nonsense,’ said the Doctor firmly. ‘I don’t know of any other investigators who could have found Karne’s trail so quickly and held on to it for so long.’
‘Trail is the word,’ said Chris. ‘As in trailing behind.’
‘That’s enough breast-beating,’ said the Doctor. ‘Tell me about what happened on Megerra.’
Interrupting each other as usual, Roz and Chris told him the full story.
The Doctor was particularly interested in the events in the nightclub on their last night on Megerra.
‘It sounds to me as if our Rutan friend will be in a pretty feeble state.’
‘It was far from feeble in that nightclub,’ said Chris.
‘It carved up the whole place single-handed,’ agreed Roz. ‘And most of the occupants as well.’
‘Ah, but it was fighting for its life,’ said the Doctor. ‘Lashing about in a frenzy. And you say it absorbed a good deal of blaster-fire?’
Roz nodded. ‘Everyone in the place was blazing away at it.’
‘Didn’t seem to do it any harm, though,’ said Chris.
‘It may not have seemed to,’ said the Doctor. ‘It will have put up an energy shield, you see, absorbed most of the blaster-fire. But to do that must have been a tremendous drain on its power levels. And if the shield faltered it may even have suffered some tissue disruption. It’s very hard to kill a Rutan with energy weapons but it can be done.’
‘How do you kill them?’ asked Roz. ‘Could be a very useful piece of information.’
‘I dispatched my first one, or rather my friend Leela did – purely in self-defence, mind
you – with a rocket-launcher stuffed with bits of old iron, a sort of improvised blunderbuss.’
‘An improvised what?’ asked Chris.
The Doctor explained. ‘In a way, the more primitive the weapon the better. They can shield themselves from energy weapons, and projectile weapons go straight through them without doing much harm. A blunderbuss blows them to bits.’ He looked severely at his two companions. ‘May I remind you both that we don’t want to kill this particular Rutan. We want to persuade it to share some valuable information with us.’
‘I might try to get hold of a blunderbuss though,’ said Chris. ‘Just in case I need it – purely in self-defence, mind you.’
‘The point is,’ said the Doctor, ‘it sounds as if our Rutan friend – let’s keep calling him Karne – may be in a pretty bad way.’
‘He was looking pretty feeble when he left the spaceport on Megerra,’ said Roz.
‘I wonder why he reverted to the Sakis shape?’ said Chris. ‘You’d expect him to kill again, if only to get a new form.’
‘He may not have felt strong enough,’ said the Doctor. ‘Easier to revert to a form he’d used. You’re sure he caught the shuttle before you?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Roz. ‘What’s more he arrived here too. Went straight to the transport office and started enquiring about leaving again. They said he looked dreadful, really ill.’
‘And where did he go?’
‘That’s just it, he didn’t,’ said Chris. ‘Not before we arrived anyway, there were no ships leaving. We started hunting for him as soon as we got here, but he’d just disappeared.’
‘We searched the whole place,’ said Roz. ‘Not a sign of him.’
‘Then ships started arriving and leaving,’ said Chris. ‘We checked every departure, but he must have got past us somehow. We thought he must have changed shape again – but from what you say, that’s unlikely. And there were no deaths reported, and no more robberies.’
The Doctor stared into his beer. ‘But you’re sure he was here when you arrived?’
Roz nodded. ‘Must have been, there were no departures between the two shuttles.’
‘Well, only the space yacht,’ said Chris.
‘What space yacht?’
‘Something called Tiger Moth,’ said Roz. ‘Solar yacht on a shakedown cruise to Station Beta. But they don’t take passengers, we checked.’
‘I wouldn’t mind betting that they took this one,’ said the Doctor. ‘He knew you were close behind him, he’d have been desperate to get away, on the first available ship. If they wouldn’t take him as a passenger he’ll have stowed away. Either that or substituted himself for one of the crew.’
‘If he did the copying here there’ll be a body around,’ said Roz. ‘We’ll have to search for it, then we’ll know his new shape.’
‘We must get a message to Tiger Moth as well,’ said Chris. ‘Let them know what they’re carrying.’
In the communications room of Station Alpha, Ferris, the station manager, a short, stocky, confident type, was congratulating his staff, and himself, on a model work-shift. ‘Solar yachts and space freighters, spaceliners and shuttle ferries,’ he said eloquently. ‘They arrived on time, they departed on schedule, and we handled them all. Well done!’
Dobbs, Ferris’s number two, who was tall and thin and nervous, crossed his fingers behind his back. He felt that this kind of talk was tempting fate.
Dobbs was right.
Ten seconds later, a massive alien ship appeared on the main vision screen. It was shaped like a massive wheel, like two wheels, connected by a dome.
‘What the hell is that?’ demanded Ferris. ‘It’s not a scheduled arrival!’
A voice blared from their com-unit speakers. ‘Station Alpha! This is the Sontaran War Wheel. We are sending a boarding party. Do not resist. To convince you of our seriousness, we shall now fire one warning shot.’
Ferris ran to the com-unit. ‘Must let people know what’s happening.’
There was a shattering crash, and the whole station shuddered.
In the bar the Doctor, Roz and Chris were still making plans. Roz lowered her voice. ‘Can you catch up with Tiger Moth, Doctor – in the TARDIS?’
‘Well, it’s a tricky thing materializing on a ship in flight, but I’ve done it before – usually when I didn’t mean to.’
Their plans were interrupted by the blare of an alarm, followed by a panicky voice over the intercom. ‘Everyone, please remain calm. It appears that this station is under attack by an alien military vessel...’
There was a crash of laser-cannon that shook the whole station and the voice cut off.
‘Come on,’ said the Doctor, heading for the door. Roz and Chris hurried after him.
‘Where to?’ asked Chris.
‘The TARDIS. I checked her in at the storage depot. Whatever’s happening here, I want to be somewhere else.’
As they ran along the corridors towards the storage section they heard the clang of a docking craft somewhere ahead.
They turned a corner and ran into squat dome-headed figures in space armour who covered them with blasters.
‘Halt!’
They halted.
One of the figures stepped forward. ‘I am Lieutenant Vorn, in command of this Sontaran Assault Group. This station is in our hands. All personnel will assemble in the main refectory hall. Obey and you will not be harmed. Resist and you will die.’
‘Blast!’ said the Doctor.
They were taken to the refectory, a big brightly lit hall filled with plasti-steel chairs and tables, with a long counter along one end. There were Sontaran sentries on the door. As they arrived, other occupants of the station, both passengers and officials, were being rounded up and herded into the hall. A line of Sontaran troopers, blasters drawn and levelled, stood along the wall. They looked, thought the Doctor ominously, like a firing squad.
At the other end of the hall two Sontaran troopers were setting up a piece of apparatus. It consisted of two parabolic reflectors connected to a small console. A Sontaran officer stood by the console. Under the blasters of the assembled Sontaran assault force, the line of prisoners was made to pass, one by one, between the reflectors.
‘What’s going on, Doctor?’ whispered Roz. ‘What shall we do?’
‘Just walk through like the others. Whatever happens, don’t fuss. Don’t draw attention to yourself. And don’t call me Doctor!’
The Doctor was the first of their group to walk between the twin reflectors. The process produced a powerful tingling sensation throughout the body.
The Doctor was waved on, and stood waiting for the others.
When Chris went through the apparatus gave a high-pitched buzz. He was stopped, roughly searched, and his vibroknife, cosh and blaster taken away. He was waved on.
Much the same thing happened with Roz.
The three of them stood aside and watched the rest of their fellow captives file through.
Those who were armed had their weapons confiscated without comment.
During the entire procedure, no questions were asked, or answered. Those who protested were ignored. Those who made nuisances of themselves were clubbed into silence.
A burly mining engineer who tried to get tough was killed.
Things ran much more smoothly after that.
Roz was inclined to be indignant at what she saw as very sloppy security work.
‘What a way to run a round-up,’ she said. ‘Even Chris could do better. They didn’t ask us who we were or where we were going. They didn’t even want to know why we were armed. What’s going on?’
‘That device is some kind of cellular scanner,’ said the Doctor. ‘The weapon-detection is just a fringe benefit.’
‘But why no questions?’
‘At the moment the Sontarans only want to know one thing about you. Are you really the carbon-based life-form you currently appear to be, or are you a cunning simulacrum produced by a mimetic, polymorphic energy-system?’
‘A Rutan, dummy,’ said Roz. ‘Right, Doctor?’
‘Right. If you’re not a Rutan, the Sontarans don’t want to know you. Let’s keep it that way, it’s a lot healthier.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘We just lie low and wait.’
Some time later on the Sontaran War Wheel, currently in orbit around Space Station Alpha, Admiral Sarg presided over another planning conference.
With his fellow Sontaran officers, Commander Steg watched as Lieutenant Vorn, newly returned from Station Alpha, marched into the conference room, crashed to attention and saluted.
‘I have the honour to report that the capture of Space Station Alpha is complete.’
Typical of Vorn, thought Steg, to make the takeover of an unarmed commercial space station sound as if he’d conquered the Rutans’ home planet.
Sarg wasn’t impressed either. He came straight to the point.
‘Have you captured the Rutan spy?’
‘No, Admiral. He is not on board the station.’
Steg sighed gustily. He had wanted to lead the expedition himself, but the High Command felt that this simple but important operation offered Vorn a chance to distinguish himself.
‘You are certain of this?’ rasped Sarg. ‘Rutans are cunning; the spy could be concealed somewhere.’
Lieutenant Vorn was dim, but he was very conscientious. ‘Every centimetre of the station has been searched with the tracker, Lord Admiral. Every life-form on the station was detected, rounded up and scanned. Most were humans and similar inferior species. Every life-form has been scanned. The Rutan is not there.’
The Admiral turned to Steg. ‘Suggestions, Commander?’
‘If our Intelligence agent’s report was accurate –’ He broke off. ‘Have there been any supplementary reports?’
A communications officer said, ‘None. We attempted to communicate with the agent to arrange a requested pick-up, but could make no contact.’
Abandoning the question of the vanished agent – now being digested by a number of Wolverines – without further thought, Steg said, ‘There are only two possibilities. Either the Rutan spy is still on the space station, or he is not. To cover the first possibility, the search should be renewed. If the Rutan has assumed its dormant condition it may be able to elude the trackers.’
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