It was just that hesitation that Steg had been counting on. ‘Surely you will allow a defeated enemy to depart in peace?’
Even as he spoke, Steg’s hand flashed to the mini-blaster concealed at the back of his belt. He fired, and this time Kurt didn’t dodge quite quickly enough. The blast took him across the top of the shoulder, smashing him to the ground.
Before Steg could fire again, Lisa shot him down.
He staggered back, slammed into the wall beside the airlock door and slid slowly to the ground.
He raised his head, looking up at Lisa. ‘I was wrong,’ he said feebly. ‘It was you I should have killed.’ His arm moved painfully across his chest. ‘I salute you, Captain Deranne. You were a worthy...enemy...’
Steg’s eyes closed and his head slumped forward.
A glowing sphere drifted along the corridor, transforming suddenly into Zorelle – but not the Zorelle they had known. Her body glowed with power and she looked taller, statelier, more beautiful than ever before.
When she spoke her voice had a remote, alien quality. ‘Is he dead?’
‘They’re all dead,’ said Lisa bitterly. ‘All the Sontarans and most of my crew. I take it Mari and the real Zorelle are dead as well?’
‘Death is inevitable in war,’ said the Rutan in Zorelle’s form. ‘Do not attempt to harm us unless you too wish to die.’
There was a crackle of energy and a tentacle of light sent the blaster in Lisa’s hand spinning across the corridor.
Lisa rubbed her tingling hand. ‘I shouldn’t dream of it.’
‘We could kill you now with ease, but we share a common enemy,’ said the Rutan. ‘We shall spare you. We go now, in our enemy’s ship, with the secret that will save our people – and in our natural form.’
The Zorelle shape blurred and vanished, and a glowing sphere of light, trailing fiery tentacles, hovered before her. It floated away down the airlock.
Suddenly Lisa heard a faint voice. ‘Destructor bomb...airlock tunnel...’
It was Steg.
Without conscious thought, Lisa hurled herself into the tunnel. She snatched up the cylinder from its place inside the door and ran to the far end of the tunnel where the door to the Sontaran ship was just closing.
She thrust the cylinder through the gap and ran back down the tunnel. The door at the far end was closing too.
Short as the distance was, Lisa saw that the door would close before she could get through. She would be trapped in the airlock tunnel – which was just about to depressurize.
She flung herself at the fast-closing gap, knowing that she was already too late. A massive three-digited hand curled round the edge of the door, holding it back for a few vital seconds.
Lisa squeezed herself through the gap, Steg released his grip, and the door closed.
On the other side, Steg looked up at the closed door, eyes blazing with triumph. ‘I win, Rutan. I win!’
His head slumped forward, as if the effort had been his last.
Lisa went over to Kurt who was beginning to revive. ‘Quick. We must see the end.’
With Lisa’s help, Kurt managed to get to his feet and make his way to the control-room. There, on the monitor screen, they watched the Sontaran assault craft curve away from their ship.
Moments later it blew up.
It was some time later. Kurt was in Robar’s seat, Lisa in her command chair. She was spraying plasti-skin onto the deep groove burned into Kurt’s shoulder. It stung, and Kurt yelled in protest.
‘It’s only a fringe-burn,’ said Lisa dismissively.
Kurt grunted, shrugging back into his coveralls.
‘Told you Steg would try to blow up the ship.’
‘All the same,’ said Lisa, ‘he saved my life.’ She sighed. ‘Some shakedown cruise. A damaged ship and a dead crew. That’s the end of the Inter-Systems Solar for me.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘With a ship full of dead bodies to explain?’
Official enquiries held few terrors for Kurt.
‘You worry too much. There’ll be an enquiry, sure. We’ll come out of it heroes.’
‘Maybe so – but I’m still out of the race. I’ll never get a new owners’ syndicate together in time.’
‘You’re looking at it,’ said Kurt complacently. ‘I persuaded the others to make the syndicate a tontine.’
‘A how much?’
‘Anyone died, the rest shared the money.’ He tapped his chest. ‘Sole survivor, sole –’
‘Owner!’ concluded Lisa. She smiled at him. ‘This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’
‘When we get to Station Beta we’ll have a full refit, hire a professional crew and sail the socks off every other space yacht in the system!’
Lisa’s face lit up with hope. ‘If we can only be ready in time ...
‘Call up Beta and get things moving.’
Lisa flicked a switch on the sub-space com-unit. ‘Solar Yacht Tiger Moth to Space Station Beta. Tiger Moth to Beta...’
Slumped back in his chair, Kurt looked affectionately at her eager face. He reached out and touched her gently on the cheek.
Lisa gave him a wary look. ‘This is just a solar racing partnership. It doesn’t mean we’re sexually pair-bonded.’
Kurt put on his innocent face – the one he always used when he was lying. ‘Never entered my head.’
Lisa turned back to the com-unit. ‘Tiger Moth to Space Station Beta. Tiger Moth to Beta. This is Lisa Deranne...’
Battered and bruised, but undefeated, still a contender, the solar yacht Tiger Moth moved on through space, heading for Space Station Beta.
BOOK THREE
AFTERMATH
16
Breakout
‘Right,’ said the Doctor. ‘Here’s my plan.’
Two pairs of eyes gazed hopefully at him.
‘Well?’ said Roz.
‘What plan?’ asked Chris.
The Doctor sighed. ‘Joke!’
‘Nothing to laugh about,’ muttered Roz. ‘How much longer do we have to take this?’
‘Not long,’ said the Doctor.
They were still imprisoned in the refectory of Space Station Alpha. It was as good a location as any to be held prisoner in, with food, drink and sanitary facilities all readily available. Half a dozen Sontaran sentries stood guard over them.
‘So what are we going to do?’ demanded Chris.
‘I keep telling you,’ said the Doctor testily. ‘We wait.’
‘For what?’ asked Chris.
‘For events to take their course.’
‘What course?’
The Doctor sighed. Sometimes working with Chris was like dealing with a seven-foot toddler, full of insatiable curiosity.
‘The Sontarans came here after Karne,’ he said, ‘just as you did. As a species, they’re not the greatest brains in the galaxy, but they’re single-minded and extraordinarily thorough. So – what do they do first?’
‘They round up everyone on the station and check them out,’ said Chris. ‘Like they just did.’
‘As they just did,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘If they don’t find him – and somehow I don’t think they will – then what?’
‘They’ll search the space station in case he’s hiding somewhere,’ said Roz.
‘Exactly,’ said the Doctor.
‘And if they still don’t find him?’
‘They’ll search again. As a matter of fact, I rather think that’s what they’re doing now. And if that doesn’t produce any results, they’ll conclude, just as you did, that he left on one of the ships that came and went between his arrival and theirs.’
‘So they’re stuck, just like we were,’ said Chris.
The Doctor shook his head. ‘Brilliant as we undoubtedly are, there are only three of us. A full-scale military expedition has rather more resources. They’ll get a list of the ships concerned, go after them, and stop, board and search every one.’
‘That’s a pretty for
midable undertaking,’ said Roz.
‘The Sontarans are a pretty formidable species.’
‘So we sit here and wait for them to go away?’ said Chris. His expression made it clear he thought it a pretty feeble plan.
‘We wait for most of them to go away,’ corrected the Doctor. ‘This space station is swarming with Sontarans at the moment. Far too many for us to tackle with any hope of success. When they’ve convinced themselves the Rutan’s gone, they’ll go too. But I think they’ll leave a small crew just in case it turns up somewhere – and to make sure we don’t send out any warnings.’
‘Wouldn’t it be simpler just to blow up the station?’ asked Roz.
‘It would,’ said the Doctor calmly. ‘They may still do it. But there are diplomatic reasons against it. They can probably get away with a few missing ships, especially if there’s no real proof. Accidents happen in space. Missing space stations are rather harder to explain away.’
Since then they had waited – and waited.
Considerable numbers of Sontarans had come and gone. Occasionally members of the space-station staff were taken off for interrogation. Some returned in a shaken state, others didn’t return at all.
They’d eaten several tasteless prepackaged meals, and Chris had tried every drink and snack in the dispenser. Their fellow prisoners sat around listlessly, some brooding alone, others muttering in groups. Roz and Chris both found the waiting hard going, and even the Doctor seemed affected by the monotony.
He wandered over to an ornamental stand in the corner, lifted down an elaborate steel sculpture of a solar yacht, and carried it over to their table. Fishing out a pocket-knife with every imaginable gadget on it, he began taking the model to pieces.
Chris watched him in puzzlement. ‘What are you doing, Doctor?’
‘Deconstructing a solar yacht,’ said the Doctor.
Chris gave up.
They heard the sound of some kind of craft taking off from the landing bay.
‘Gone back to report failure,’ said the Doctor, still busy with his model. He was assembling the different steel pieces into a weird-looking metal framework. ‘There must be some kind of mothership close by. Won’t be too long now.’
Some time later they heard the ship return. Soon afterwards, a Sontaran officer appeared in the doorway.
‘You will be held prisoner here for a short time longer. As soon as this operation is concluded, you will be released. Meanwhile, remain here quietly, obey all Sontaran orders, and you will not be harmed. The sentries have orders to shoot any troublemakers.’
There were no questions. The Sontaran didn’t expect any. He turned and marched out, leaving only two sentries on the door. Before long they heard the sound of a ship taking off.
‘All right,’ said the Doctor quietly. ‘I think most of the Sontarans must have gone. Stand by to move when I say “Now!” ‘
‘When will that be?’ asked Roz.
‘As soon as I’ve finished this piece of artwork.’
The Doctor went on working on his metal frame.
Roz looked at him worriedly, wondering if he was cracking up.
‘What’s it supposed to be, Doctor?’ asked Chris, in the soothing tones of someone humouring a hopeless case.
‘It’s an abstract,’ said the Doctor. ‘I think I’ll call it “Sudden Death”.’
Chris studied the contraption in puzzlement. The Doctor had used the steel wire of the model solar yacht’s cables to put several of its metal masts under tension. Now he was turning an improvised handle to wind in the cables and bend the masts, increasing the tension still further.
One of the Sontaran sentries made occasional patrols of the room, leaving the other to guard the door.
‘Look out, Doctor, he’s coming round again,’ warned Roz.
‘Let him,’ said the Doctor.
The Sontaran came nearer – and paused by the Doctor’s device.
‘What is this?’
‘Abstract sculpture,’ said the Doctor proudly.
‘What is its purpose?’
‘It’s a work of art,’ said the Doctor. ‘It has no purpose.’
He tightened the cables another notch, and inserted a steel rod, formerly the model yacht’s mainmast, into a groove in the centre of the contraption.
‘If it has no purpose, why make it?’ asked the Sontaran.
‘To express myself,’ said the Doctor loftily.
Obviously feeling himself in the presence of some obscure alien ritual, the Sontaran moved away.
‘Now!’ whispered the Doctor. He hunched over his model, sighted along it and touched a lever. There was a metallic twang and the steel rod shot from the device, thudding home into the departing Sontaran’s probic vent.
The sentry stiffened and fell forwards with a bubbling scream.
The second sentry ran from the door, blaster in hand. ‘What has happened?’
‘I think he must have fainted,’ said the Doctor.
‘Sontarans do not faint!’ The sentry looked down and saw the steel rod projecting from the back of the dead trooper’s neck.
‘You have killed him!’
He aimed his blaster at the Doctor, but before he could fire, Chris shoulder-charged him, knocking him off his feet.
They rolled over and over, struggling furiously, sending chairs and tables flying. Their fellow prisoners – passengers and technicians – gathered round, cheering Chris on but powerless to help.
Chris was exceptionally strong and for a time he actually held his own. For one glorious moment he found himself sitting on the Sontaran’s barrel chest and thumping its head on the floor.
It couldn’t last. Sontaran muscles can exert incredible strength, far beyond that of any human. All too soon positions were reversed. Chris found the immense weight of the Sontaran pinning him down, while two huge hands tightened about his neck. A roaring blackness started swallowing him up, and the last thing he was aware of was the red glare of the Sontaran’s eyes, staring down into his own.
Suddenly the Sontaran screamed. Its body convulsed and the huge hands released their grip.
Chris scrambled from beneath the crushing weight and saw the steel rod projecting from the Sontaran’s probic vent. He looked up and saw Roz beaming down at him.
‘It worked once, so I thought it might work again,’ she said. Chris realized she must have snatched a second rod from the Doctor’s model and rammed it home. He scrambled to his feet.
‘Thanks!’ He looked at the model, which had now collapsed into its component parts. ‘What is that thing, Doctor?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing really,’ said the Doctor modestly. ‘I just reinvented the crossbow!’
‘You might have given us a bit more warning,’ protested Roz.
‘Sorry. I had to fire as soon as I realized I had him in my sights. You only get one shot with this thing, and it takes hours to reload.’
The Doctor took the blasters from the dead Sontarans, and handed them to Chris and Roz. Their fellow prisoners gathered round, all talking excitedly.
‘Well done,’ shouted one of the technicians. ‘What do we do now?’
‘I’d advise you all to stay here for the moment.’
‘Come on, can’t we all join in? We’re dying to take a crack at them.’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘There are probably a few more Sontarans still on the station and they won’t be too happy about all this.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Oh, we’ll just go and mop them up,’ said the Doctor confidently. ‘I know you mean well, but please don’t try and help. My friends are professionals, and you’d only get in their way.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ said Roz, as they headed for the door. ‘Personally, I’ll take all the help I can get.’
‘There won’t be many more,’ said the Doctor reassuringly. ‘No point in getting innocent people killed. Now, the communications room is this way, I think.’
The Doctor led
them along bare metal corridors to a set of open double doors. A shaky voice came from inside.
‘This is an all channels announcement from Space Station Alpha. We have had an accident in the power area and we are leaking dangerous amounts of radiation. We can accept no further dockings until the situation is under control. All vessels are requested to divert to Stations Beta, Gamma or Delta.’
A Sontaran voice said, ‘Excellent. Continue to transmit this announcement at frequent intervals.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ said the Doctor, strolling casually into the communications room. He saw a Sontaran officer standing over a tall, thin and terrified technician. Another technician lay dead in the corner.
‘I’m happy to tell you that the invasion’s over,’ said the Doctor. ‘Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.’ He turned to the Sontaran. ‘I don’t suppose you’d care to do anything sensible – like surrendering?’
The Sontaran officer drew the blaster in his belt.
‘No, I thought not,’ said the Doctor regretfully. He leaped nimbly aside and the Sontaran fired at him and missed. The technician snatched up a chair and hurled it at the Sontaran. It did no damage at all, but it distracted him while Chris and Roz came through the doors, blasters in their hands. At this range even Roz couldn’t miss, and they caught the Sontaran neatly in a crossfire.
Roz nodded to the technician as the dead Sontaran crashed to the ground. ‘Thanks.’
‘You take some chances, Doctor,’ said Chris. ‘How did you know we’d be ready to back you up?’
‘Because we’re professionals,’ said Roz. She booted the Sontaran’s body, making sure he was dead. ‘Any more, Doctor?’
‘I doubt it,’ said the Doctor. He turned to the technician. ‘Are there?’
‘They only left three behind,’ said the shaken technician. ‘Two guarding the prisoners in the refectory, and this one here.’ He gave the Doctor an anguished look. ‘That’s Ferris in the corner there, Station Manager. That Sontaran told him to transmit a fake message, to keep people away. He refused, so the Sontaran killed him and then asked me. I transmitted it all right, over and over again.’ He began to shake.
Shakedown Page 17