by Brian Hayles
‘It’s a bit difficult to explain, Victoria,’ replied the Doctor, without pausing. ‘You see, this weapon works on the basis that sound waves cause the objects in their path to reverberate.’
‘The objects vibrate in sympathy,’ nodded Victoria. ‘I know. Father told me about it once.’
The Doctor frowned at a particularly involved piece of circuitry, then carried on. ‘Well, if you can produce an unsympathetic vibration, severe damage results…’
‘Damage?’ asked Victoria, then added brightly, ‘Like when a singer hits a note that breaks glass?’
‘That’s it – only the Ice Warriors make it happen to the neural and cell systems of the human body. My plan is to change the frequency of this gun’s pulse rate so that it affects the Martians, and not us – to frequency seven, I think.’
‘Frequency seven? What will that do?’
‘Primarily, it affects liquids. And I’ve got a theory that the Martians’ cells contain a much larger fluid content than ours.’ He stood back, apparently satisfied, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
‘But you’re not sure.’ Her eyes widened in alarm.
The Doctor nodded soberly. ‘There are bound to be side-effects,’ he agreed, ‘but the warriors should get the worst of it. You see, their helmets will trap and intensify the sound waves – in fact I’m banking on that!’
‘You mean it’ll knock the Martians out,’ asked Victoria tentatively, ‘but just leave the scientists a bit dizzy?’
The Doctor carefully replaced the casing of the control panel. Victoria could tell from his face and the hesitation in his reply that he wasn’t at all happy.
‘Or can something go wrong?’ she demanded.
He looked her straight in the eyes, and gave her an honest answer. ‘Human brain cells also contain a high percentage of liquid. Unless I’m very careful, the effect on our friends could be fatal.’
Jan stepped back from the Ioniser controls, her face bitter with defeat. ‘It’s done – operating at minimal status.’ She looked at Clent – but found no response there. It was as though he was in a world of his own. ‘The ice is already advancing.’ She pointed to the chart. Varga wasn’t interested in the glacier.
‘Disconnect the machine totally!’ he barked.
With no alternative but to do as he commanded, Jan opened the power connector and the machine died. Its pitch sank to a feeble drone.
‘Now the reactor!’ ordered the warlord.
‘Not until all residual power has drained off!’ replied Jan sternly. ‘You know the danger!’
‘You will regret this, Varga,’ Clent declared, strangely calm. ‘You cannot fight the whole world!’
‘Your world is nothing!’ hissed Varga contemptuously. ‘We will live to regret only that my superiors on Mars cannot congratulate us.’ He gestured abruptly towards Jan. ‘Hurry!’
All eyes, Martian and human, were on the dying machine. No one noticed the ragged form that had hidden so skilfully in the shadows outside the doorway to the control room, and who watched with dismay the fateful situation in which Clent and Jan were trapped. Penley had woken from the effects of the tranquilliser gun to find himself strapped down to the trolley in the medicare laboratory. It had been minutes before he realised that whoever had fastened the restrainers had left them cunningly half-caught. It had been an easy task to unloose them and set himself free. Jamie, cocooned within the healing confines of the diagnostic unit, was unconscious but seemed, Penley noted, to be improving rapidly.
But Clent was a different matter – somehow, he had to be made to see that what he was doing could only end in disaster. It wasn’t until Penley reached the vestibule outside the control room and realised just how desperate the situation was, that he felt a genuine respect for Clent’s courage. It would have broken a lesser man. Faced with not only death but the destruction of all he held to be of importance in his scientific career, the Leader remained quietly defiant… and utterly helpless.
But so am I, thought Penley to himself. These Martians seemed invincible! Silently, he drew back into the shadowed corner to think – and in doing so, jarred his shoulder against a control box. Irritated, he glared at the unit – then looked again, wild thoughts racing through his mind. It was an air-conditioning stabiliser. At present set on automatic, with pre-set limits, it could also be converted to manual. His mouth dry, Penley’s fingers fumbled rapidly to open up the casing; his mind swiftly assessed what he knew about the Martians. It was the boldly labelled status gauges that had triggered his thoughts: temperature, oxygen ratio, and humidity. These aliens were entirely at home in such Ice Age conditions as might exist on certain parts of their home planet, Mars. Well, thought Penley, we’ll soon put an end to that! Switching the controls to manual, he increased all three elements to maximum – and prayed.
The effect was almost instantaneous. Rintan, the warrior standing closest to an air-conditioning grille in the control room, started to reel. The floor was rising and falling beneath him like a sinking ship! His great fists clawed at his throat, and his usually softly wheezing breath changed to a series of great tearing sobs. Within seconds, the humans, too, felt the increased surge of toxic heat – but still threatened by the warriors’ weapons, they looked on helplessly as each of the Martians struggled to remain conscious. Only Varga kept any degree of keen awareness. He whirled to confront Clent furiously.
‘What have you done to us!’ he snarled. ‘You have tricked us! For that you will die!’
But even as he raised his gun, a new terror struck. An immense, pulsing throb of sound filled the room – and its effect on the Martians was even more astounding than that of the heat. The humans slumped lifeless to the floor, like stones. The effect on the Martians was more terrifying. The sound flooded over them, through them – but, worst of all, it seemed to penetrate their great helmets. Crying out hoarsely, lurching in agony, there was no escape from the relentless sound that threatened to crush their very brains… Then, just as suddenly, the sonic terror ended.
But the combined effect of the sound and the atmospheric assault – which still hadn’t stopped – had left the warriors, Varga included, in a state of confusion and shock. Then, even as they still recovered, the voice of the Doctor came through on Varga’s personal communicator.
‘Varga! This is the Doctor. Will you retreat – or shall I use frequency seven again?’
Nearly out of his mind with pain and anger, Varga still registered that deadly number: Frequency Seven. Used in the prisons of his home planet as a form of aversion punishment, continuous doses of it could destroy the brain, leaving the body a living vegetable. How did the Doctor know this?
‘Varga!’ came that relentless voice once more. ‘Answer – or I fire again!’
There was no other choice but to obey. With a furious, sweeping gesture, the warlord ordered his warriors from the building. Furious, Varga shouted aloud the message to the Doctor: ‘You will suffer for this!’ Then, lurching past the crumpled body of the human in the vestibule outside, the Ice Warriors streamed out into the freedom of the snowy wastes – and the protection of their spaceship.
But when they reached the ice cavern, they discovered the sonic cannon fused and destroyed, Zondal unconscious, and both their prisoners gone…
10
On the Brink of Destruction!
JAMIE, WHO HAD just recovered consciousness, was helped out of the snug confines of the diagnostic unit by an almost hysterically relieved Victoria. The Doctor had gone on ahead to the control room without explanations. He had told the two youngsters to follow as soon as possible.
‘What’s been happening?’ asked Jamie, stretching his cramped limbs. Then, as memories crowded back, he looked at Victoria more thoughtfully. ‘Arden – is he—?’
She nodded quickly. Then, as they walked through the empty corridors to the control room, she filled in what had happened during Jamie’s healing sleep, and what they might expect to find. On arrival, the Doctor quickly made it clear t
hat there was no time for questions or answers. As he helped Penley to his feet, he indicated the reviving bodies of the scientists and technicians who were littered all over the control room floor.
‘We’ve no time to waste. Help some of the others, will you?’
‘That was rather a neat trick,’ commented Penley. ‘How did you do it?’
The Doctor smiled, mildly apologetic. ‘Made a mess of the Ice Warriors’ weapon system, I’m afraid. I’ll tell you about it another time.’
Jan, quickly recovering, turned to the Doctor in dismay.
‘The Ioniser – they made me disconnect it!’
‘Then link it up again – fast as you can!’
Jan looked to Clent for confirmation. ‘That’ll be perfectly in line with the computer’s directive, Miss Garrett. You may proceed.’ Jan hurried to put his order into action. Clent turned to the Doctor, his tired face filled with relief. ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ he said, and then, seeing Penley standing at the Doctor’s shoulder, frowned. ‘You played your part as well, I gather,’ he conceded. But his eyes still looked unfriendly.
‘Clent’ – the Doctor interjected urgently – ‘the spaceship’s reactor is ion-powered. Mercury isotopes—’
The Leader’s face fell. One of the main reasons why the Base reactor didn’t use mercury isotopes was that their critical fusion level had proved uncontrollable on a large scale. ‘Then we dare not use the Ioniser at full force,’ he said dejectedly. ‘It’s our last chance gone…’
‘You still haven’t taken the degeneration factor into account!’ exclaimed Penley.
‘But there could still be enough residual particles to form a prolonged chain reaction!’ barked Clent. ‘Don’t you understand the risk? We could all be wiped out in an instant!’
‘It’s a risk you have to take,’ insisted the Doctor. ‘If you don’t, the Base will go down under the glaciers anyway.’
‘Not forgetting the aliens,’ Penley reminded them. There was a moment’s pause as this threat sank in. Jan had brought the Ioniser into operation once more, and it hummed quietly in the background as she came to report.
‘It’s on minimal power, Leader Clent,’ she said. ‘We can use it at any time you want.’
Clent turned away, not wanting the others to see his fear. He knew the next step that must be taken – but he could only draw back.
‘The computer said wait!’ he stated vehemently.
Jan looked at him in surprise. ‘It said wait until we had more information. We’ve got it now!’
‘Can’t you see it won’t make any difference? It dare not act – we dare not act!’
‘And why’s that?’ asked Jamie, who had overheard Clent’s last outburst.
‘Because, Jamie, the computer is faced with an insoluble problem,’ explained the Doctor. ‘Either way, the computer risks destroying itself – and that it cannot do. It can only play safe.’
‘But if it does nothing…’ faltered Jamie, ‘… that’s just as bad!’
‘Exactly,’ came Penley’s quiet voice. ‘Which leaves us only one course of action.’
‘If you think I’m going to evacuate—’ Clent started to shout.
‘My dear chap, you haven’t got time for that,’ replied Penley. ‘It isn’t a question of logic any more. It’s a question of world survival. You must over-ride the computer.’
Clent looked at his former colleague, and shook his head. ‘You’re mad! You want to kill us all. There has to be another way!’
‘I want to survive,’ rapped Penley. ‘And I’m willing to take the risk that your pet machine daren’t! That’s what men are for, Clent! That’s what Leaders like you are for!’ He tried to appeal to the man who had once been his friend. ‘Be brave, Clent. Be yourself!’
‘But what about the World plan? If we act too soon, it’ll be as bad as being too late! We must act at the appointed hour, and not before!’
‘It’s our problem – not World Control’s!’ insisted Penley. ‘It’s us that’s out of step, not them – and they haven’t got aliens on their doorstep as well as the glacier! Unless we deal with them now, world civilisation is going to find itself involved in interplanetary war!’
‘Someone must decide – and quickly,’ agreed the Doctor. He looked into Clent’s face. The Leader seemed almost incapable of words – let alone action.
‘Such a decision…’ muttered the Leader, then bent his head, unable to look the others in the face. ‘I can’t,’ he said.
The Doctor glanced at Miss Garrett. She shook her head and nodded towards Penley – as the Doctor hoped she would.
‘It’s up to you, Penley,’ declared the Doctor, seriously.
The transference of authority stung Clent into one last typical act.
‘I demand the right to consult the computer!’ he cried, moving towards ECCO; without waiting for agreement or argument, he formally addressed the sleek head. ‘Problem – in addition to previous data, include the factor that the alien spaceship is powered by an ion reactor. Dare we use the Ioniser? What are the alternatives? Answer!’
The reply shocked everyone – but Clent most of all. Instead of its usual swift, objective appraisal and cold-blooded judgement, the tortured machine spluttered forth a stream of gibberish, half electronic, half verbal – and all totally incoherent. As its smooth head jerked from side to side in spasmodic twitches, a pungent whiff of overloaded circuits drifted from its control panel, and Clent, realising the impossible dilemma facing the machine, switched it off.
‘It’s gone out of its mind!’ exclaimed Jamie. ‘It can’t cope!’
As Clent slumped listlessly into a nearby chair, Penley took command, firmly but quietly. ‘Miss Garrett, inform World Control. We’re using the Ioniser now – and tell them precisely why. Full report to follow – we hope.’
Victoria suddenly remembered what the Martian warlord had said to the Doctor. A look of alarm crossed her face. ‘The Martian spaceship!’ she exclaimed. ‘If you free it from the ice!’
The possibility of the Martians freely roaming the sky gripped them all with a sense of doom. What other terrifying weapons did that vehicle possess? How could they combat such a threat? It was Clent’s tired voice that supplied the answer.
‘I told Varga that the Ioniser was a scientific instrument capable of melting rock,’ he said calmly. ‘But he saw it as a weapon.’ He paused, and studied Penley intently. ‘I suggest… that it should be used as such.’
For a moment, all eyes were on the two top scientists. Each weighed the bitter consequences of his calling, and pondered upon the grim decision that he must take. Then Penley nodded, and spoke with an air of quiet purpose.
‘It has to be done,’ he said and, moving to the Ioniser controls, began to raise its operating pitch to maximum power…
Zondal had expected the harshest of punishments for his dismal failure. With the sonic cannon wrecked and useless, and his prisoners escaped, he had knelt before Varga, only taking consolation from the fact that the finality of his punishment would at least remove the disgrace.
But defeat at the hands of the Earthlings had thrust all thoughts of a court martial out of the warlord’s mind. The most urgent need was to be ready to break free when the ice started to melt – for he was certain now that the Earthlings would use the Ioniser, whatever the risk. So Zondal had been spared, but for one purpose only.
‘We have to escape before the floods overcome us, Zondal!’ hissed the Martian leader. ‘It is your task to make our engines function – quickly!’
‘But the fuel cells are almost useless!’ replied his reprieved lieutenant. Then, aware that if he succeeded in raising the power they needed, his earlier mistake would be cancelled out, he declared vehemently, ‘But I will try everything possible!’
He had tried every technical trick he knew, and other desperate experiments as well. But the most he had managed was to raise the power gauges trembling barely above the zero mark. In the cave outside, the ice groaned and shuddered in con
stant movements.
Isbur returned from a final reconnaissance outside, and closing the airlock for the last time, reported briefly. ‘The ice is breaking up, Commander. The water is rising!’
Varga ordered his warriors to action stations, then moved to where Zondal was working frantically. ‘Do you hear, Zondal?’ he demanded harshly. ‘But what use is freedom if we are helpless! Is there no life in the fuel elements?’
‘I have not given up yet!’ replied the engineer, then turned, as did Varga, in response to Isbur’s sharp cry from the control room.
‘Commander! Power!’
The warlord moved quickly to the control panel, followed closely by Zondal. It was true! The flickering needles were slowly rising, building towards operational level! Zondal stepped forward and grasped the controls. ‘The ice is our friend.’ He spoke in excitement. ‘We still have power – and it is increasing!’
‘Careful, Zondal,’ hissed his commander. ‘We must time the take-off boost perfectly. There will not be a second chance!’
And as the soft hum of power began to throb through the spaceship, Varga let his mind go forward to that moment when they would be free, in flight, and able to take a terrible revenge…
In the Ioniser control room, all eyes bar Penley’s were glued to the electronic chart showing the glacier’s advance. His glance never left the monitor screens and power dials of the machine which his hands were controlling. Jan Garrett was feeding him the relevant information about the state of the ice.
‘Glacial front reduced by seven metres – par level of ten days ago now achieved!’
‘We’re winning!’ exclaimed Victoria, almost hopping with excitement. But the Doctor’s face was still grim.
‘Not yet, Victoria,’ he murmured. ‘Not by a long chalk, I’m afraid. It isn’t just the ice we’ve got to beat, remember.’
‘Instrument readings on the ice face show a continuous rise in temperature. Still short of maximum,’ continued Jan.
‘How will we know?’ asked Jamie. ‘Those figures can’t tell us what the Ice Warriors are up to, can they?’