The Deviant Strain

by Justin Richards

  Levin and the soldiers reached the hatch just moments after Barinska. But it was moments too late. The heavy metal door had swung shut behind her. Now it was locked.

  ‘There must be a way to open it from in here,’ Levin said.

  Jack got to his feet and dusted himself down. He looked round at the rewired panels. Several of them were smoking from bullet impacts. ‘You want to guess which control to use?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Where does that tunnel lead?’ Levin snapped.

  ‘To Barinska’s house,’ Rose told him.

  ‘You know the way?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Show us.’ Levin pointed to two of the soldiers. ‘You two, medical detail. Do what you can for the wounded.’

  The Doctor’s plan, such as it was, was to escape from Barinska without being shot. If he could stay ahead he might get a chance to look at the equipment she had in her house – which, according to Rose’s story, was where this tunnel led. From that he might be able to come up with an idea of how to cut off her supply of energy. The problem with this was of course that he could hear her running after him, and every now and again a bullet whined past his head or smacked into the floor at his feet to remind him that Barinska had something of an advantage.

  Maybe he’d skip the tour of her house and just leg it. He could meet Rose and Jack back at the institute later and decide how to deal with the spaceship. And the remote probes. And Barinska. And he had noticed she said ‘we’ when describing her ambition to live for ever, so presumably she had friends with a similar investment in keeping the ship intact, though he had guessed that from the monkeys . . .

  ‘Who wants to live for ever?’ the Doctor muttered as he ran. ‘Just today would be a start.’ Another bullet flew past him, and he wondered how many there were in the clip. And how many she had used. And whether there was another clip attached to the gun. Not a very helpful line of enquiry, he decided.

  He could still hear Barinska behind him as he started up the steps. Her breath was ragged and hoarse, but she did not seem to have been slowed down by her wounds. Rapid repair, inherited from the ship’s systems maybe. Something else he could wonder about later.

  The Doctor slammed the door at the top of the steps behind him. There did not seem to be any way to lock it and he couldn’t see anything to use to jam it shut quickly enough. So he ran.

  Forget the equipment upstairs – come back for that later. The air was ice cold in the Doctor’s mouth, throat and lungs as he emerged from Barinska’s house and set off down the road. Anywhere to hide? Not really – she was too close. As in the house, she’d see if he tried to duck in anywhere. Just keep going, hope to extend his lead or that she would tire.

  Along the road. Towards the harbour – rusting cranes and abandoned loading gear thrusting up out of the snow – black against the grey night sky. Then mist – as he approached the sea, the mist was rolling in. That might help, might obscure him for long enough.

  A junction at the end of the quay – choices, decisions. He went left, and realised almost at once it was a mistake. He was on the quay now, a section jutting out into the bay. A jetty. No way off, except by diving into the water. And even that wouldn’t work, he saw, as he glanced over the side. The sea was frozen to ice. He would be exposed on a white carpet – a perfect target even in the mist.

  Bullets cracked across the roadway. He could almost hear her snarls of rage. His lungs were bursting, while the icy air was making his cheeks sting and his ears burn. ‘Next time,’ he gasped, ‘smaller ears. Definitely.’

  Dark shapes ahead of him as he neared the end of the jetty. A submarine, listing to one side. Not hopeful – his weight might sink it. Probably it was half flooded anyway. A death trap, he thought ruefully, as another volley of bullets kicked up puffs of snow around him.

  A stark silhouette beside the sub. Crates and metal drums. Somewhere to hide, or at least take cover. Maybe. More shots as the Doctor leaped, scrambled over a crate, dived behind the nearest of the drums. He could see now, he realised. Everything was lit in a dull blue glow. And with bullets ricocheting round him, the Doctor saw that he was crouching behind an oil drum.

  ‘Not good,’ he said aloud. But perhaps the drum was empty. He pushed at it experimentally. It didn’t budge. ‘Not good at all.’

  And stacked alongside were a dozen more drums. Diesel, probably. Waiting never to be used to refuel the submarine beside him. ‘Oil. Gunfire. Torpedoes and missiles . . . Definitely not good.’

  He looked round for something that might help. Anything. A cautious glance over the top of the drums revealed Sofia Barinska walking slowly down the jetty, gun levelled and ready. Her face was a mixture of blood red and pale blue. Where was that light coming from?

  In fact, it seemed to be getting brighter. Coming, it seemed, from the end of the jetty behind him.

  From the glutinous, hideous creature that was hauling itself up onto the end of the roadway and slithering slowly towards where the Doctor was crouching. A tentacle lashed out, slapping across the oil drum beside him. It pulled back, dragging the drum over onto its side. The drum scraped and boomed as it fell, started to roll.

  Alerted by the sound, Barinska opened fire.

  Another tentacle shot out, landing beside the Doctor. Then another. The creature was moving more quickly now, straight towards the Doctor, quivering, shimmering, glowing . . . More tentacles.

  Another burst of gunfire. A ragged line of holes punched into the rolling drum and liquid spilled darkly into the snow.

  A tentacle smacked into the Doctor’s side, curled, grabbed, wrapped itself round him and started to pull him back. He could feel himself weakening in its grasp.

  More shots.

  The roar of ignition as the fuel oil caught.

  Fire running from the rolling drum, back towards the Doctor and the other oil drums.

  A tentacle crashing into the middle of the stack, sending drums flying, tumbling, rolling into the flames.

  Then the explosions. Oil spilling, igniting, burning. Lighting up the misty night. A wave of fire crashing towards the Doctor as he struggled to break free.

  ELEVEN

  A DARK FIGURE emerged from the fiery mist: Sofia Barinska, looking from side to side, the gun ready. The Doctor was tearing desperately at the tentacle round his waist, trying to prise it away. Without success.

  But he was no longer weakening. As in the lab earlier, he could feel the strength coming back as the creature – or rather the ship’s systems – decided it wasn’t interested in his life force. And despite the situation, the Doctor could not help noticing that the creature had stopped its advance. Even before it assessed his life force it had slowed and stopped. He didn’t have time to wonder why – Barinska had seen him.

  She gave a shout of triumph that was almost lost in the roar of the flames around them. The gun swung up.

  The tentacles unwound rapidly from the Doctor, leaving him gasping in the hot smoky air. Then the creature lashed out sideways, sensing a better source of energy. Tentacles flew straight at Barinska.

  The gun was swept aside as she pulled the trigger, the shots firing into the air and lost in the black smoke that blotted out all light except for the fire. A second tentacle thrashed after the first. Barinska’s screams were gradually getting fainter. Her arms reached out towards the Doctor, her eyes were wide, begging for help.

  He could only watch as she was dragged along the quay, leaving a black trail in the snow behind her. The creature was backing away, keeping well clear of the fire. The Doctor stood watching – the flames behind him, the smoke swirling round him like fog. Watching as Sofia Barinska’s face cracked and crumpled and withered, and she disappeared into the darkness.

  Rose was outside the inn when the quay exploded, leading the soldiers from Barinska’s house back towards the docks. Even through the thickening sea mist she could see the ball of flame erupting into the air. She felt the heat on her face and skidded to a halt. Jack was beside her, Levin and thr
ee of the soldiers close behind.

  The door of the inn opened and several people ran out to see what was happening.

  ‘Down by the dry dock,’ one of them said. ‘Poor old Nikolai kept spare fuel oil down there. Didn’t want it too close to the Rykov.’

  ‘The Doctor?’ Levin said, waving his men forwards.

  ‘Who else would it be?’ Rose told him. ‘Come on.’

  It looked as if the whole of the roadway was on fire as they approached. The street lights were still on, struggling to make an impression through the smoke and fog. The end of the quay was burning. And out of it walked a lone figure – black against the red. The Doctor.

  ‘Singed my jumper,’ he complained as he reached them. ‘Look at that.’

  Rose pulled him into a hug.

  ‘And now it’s getting crumpled.’ He was grinning as he said it.

  ‘Where’s the woman?’ Levin asked. ‘Where’s Barinska?’

  The soldiers were taking up position along the quay, aiming their assault rifles into the ball of fire, waiting to see if anyone else emerged from the inferno.

  ‘She won’t be joining us,’ the Doctor said. He was already walking back along the quay, one arm round Rose.

  ‘You don’t believe in doing things quietly, do you, Doctor?’ Levin said. ‘Now perhaps you can tell us what the hell is going on here.’

  ‘Need to know, Colonel,’ Jack said.

  ‘He does need to know,’ Rose pointed out.

  ‘Does he? Oh, right.’ Jack nodded. ‘The inn?’

  ‘That’s hardly a secure environment,’ Levin said.

  ‘True,’ Jack told him. ‘But you’re going to need a drink.’

  ‘Probably several,’ the Doctor called back to them. ‘Let’s hope the company’s . . . safe.’

  Levin and his men listened intently to the Doctor’s story. There was silence when he finished. Most of the villagers who were still up drinking had gathered round to listen as well. They looked more sober now than they had ten minutes before, Rose thought.

  ‘D’you believe me?’ the Doctor asked.

  ‘I don’t have a better explanation,’ Levin conceded. ‘Call it a working hypothesis until I do.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Rose said.

  ‘So what do you propose we do? We could mine this spaceship – blow it to bits.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘You’d be releasing a pent-up store of colossal energy that could do untold damage.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Says that in the handbook.’

  ‘Yeah,’ the Doctor agreed, ‘and it wouldn’t stop the remotes. They’d just keep gathering energy to try to provide sufficient power for the ship to rebuild itself.’

  Any further discussion on the subject was cut abruptly short by a commotion on the other side of the inn. Someone was shouting and people were rushing towards the door.

  Rose looked across in time to see old Georgi stumble in. He was holding a white stick – waving it in front of him as he staggered across to the bar. Several of the locals ran to help him.

  ‘They’re coming!’ Georgi was shouting. ‘I can see them. See them in my mind. Glowing, hunting, killing . . . Coming for us.’ His sightless eyes were wide and blank, staring up at the men helping him to a seat.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Jack asked.

  ‘It’s Georgi,’ Rose told him. ‘He saw that bloke’s death – the one who kept the generator running. Georgi saw it happen. Like, in his mind’s eye.’

  ‘Oh, sure,’ Jack said.

  ‘He did!’

  ‘It’s possible,’ the Doctor said quietly.

  ‘You’re not serious?’ Levin countered.

  ‘The ship communicates somehow with the remotes. That might be on a psychic wavelength. If this guy’s alpha waves are operating on a similar frequency he might pick up on the link to the ship. He might actually see what the remotes are sending back.’

  ‘So can we tell what they’re up to?’ Rose wondered, watching as someone handed Georgi a drink and the old man swigged it back in one.

  ‘They’re on their way,’ he gasped. ‘We have to get away from here – now!’

  ‘Early warning system,’ Jack said quietly. ‘I guess it’s possible.’

  The Doctor was nodding enthusiastically. ‘And if he can tap into the wavelength he might even be able to send the remotes different instructions. He might be able to block the ship’s orders, maybe even control the remotes himself.’

  ‘He doesn’t look as if he’s really up for it,’ Rose told them. ‘He’s old, he’s frightened, and if he drinks much more he won’t be able to stand up.’

  The Doctor considered. ‘I’ll need some time.’

  Levin had been listening with interest. ‘You really think this might work?’ he asked.

  ‘If he’s already attuned,’ the Doctor said slowly, ‘we’re halfway there. I can help him focus his thoughts, but we’ll need somewhere quiet where he can concentrate.’

  ‘But how much time do we have?’ Jack asked.

  A window close to the door exploded in a shower of glass. A glowing blue tentacle whipped across the room, sending a table crashing sideways and knocking chairs over. A second tentacle smashed through another window. Then a third.

  ‘Not much,’ the Doctor said.

  The door burst open. A wall of throbbing blue pulsed in the opening. The wooden frame was splintering as the creature forced its way inside. Tentacles slashed across the room – glasses, tables, people went flying.

  One of the men helping Georgi was side-swiped by a thrashing tentacle. It curled and clutched, grabbing him, rolling round him. The man’s face crumbled as he screamed and fell.

  ‘Back – everyone away from the door,’ Levin was shouting.

  His men had instinctively taken up defensive positions, their weapons aimed at the blue mass in the doorway. One of them opened fire, and then another. Soon they were all shooting. Small black holes scattered across the blue flesh, like grains of coarse pepper. But as quickly as they appeared they closed up again.

  A line of bullet holes sliced downwards across the end of a tentacle. The tip was cut from the main limb, flopping to the floor. But it was a hollow victory – the end of the tentacle throbbed and jumped, almost hitting a soldier, who stumbled back from it, face drained of colour.

  ‘Back door!’ Jack was yelling. ‘Everyone out the back.’

  ‘So long as there aren’t more of them waiting there,’ Rose shouted.

  Jack grabbed her arm. ‘You’re no fun,’ he complained as they ran for the counter.

  They dived over, to find the Doctor sitting on the floor the other side. He was holding a bottle of the colourless spirit that everyone seemed addicted to. He bit the cork and wrenched it out with his teeth.

  ‘It’s not that bad yet,’ she told him.

  ‘We need to slow them down a bit,’ the Doctor said.

  There was a splintering explosion from the other side of the inn. Rose risked a look, ducking away as a tentacle smacked past. But she had seen enough – the creature was inside now, and others were clustered outside the windows, pressing heavily against what was left of the glass.

  ‘You’re telling me,’ Rose said.

  Jack was on his feet again, encouraging everyone out through the back of the inn and shouting at the remaining soldiers to leave.

  ‘Those other bottles,’ the Doctor said to Rose, nodding up at the shelves behind the bar.

  ‘You want ’em?’

  ‘Nah – give them to Mr Blob out there.’

  She didn’t need telling twice. Rose grabbed bottle after bottle off the shelf and hurled them at the approaching creature. Most bounced off the gelatinous flesh, but smashed as they hit the floor. A mass of writhing tentacles slapped past Rose, fumbling towards her.

  ‘Time we were going,’ she warned the Doctor.

  Jack was standing in the doorway beside the bar, shouting at them to hurry.

  The Doctor pulled himself to his feet and made his way over in a leisurely fashion
to join Jack and Rose. ‘Anyone got a lighter?’ he asked.

  Jack slapped a silver cigarette lighter into his palm.

  ‘Might have known it would be you.’ The Doctor examined it appreciatively, angling it so he could read the inscription engraved on the side. ‘To Squiffy from Smudger. Thanks for everything.’ He raised an eyebrow.

  Jack shrugged. ‘Just something I picked up. Present.’ He stepped smartly aside to allow a blue tentacle to flop past. ‘Soon would be good, you know.’

  The Doctor flicked the lighter. ‘Right part of the world for a Molotov Cocktail, I s’pose.’ He held up the bottle and watched the flames as they sputtered and grew, traces of black smoke curling up from them.

  Then he hurled the bottle at the creature that was now hauling itself over the counter to get at them.

  ‘Run!’

  The room exploded into flames. The creature was shrieking, wailing, thrashing. Rose thought she could see it melting – glutinous blue liquid rolling viscous down its sides. But she didn’t wait to be sure.

  The land behind the inn was raised up above most of the village and the harbour, midway between floodplain and cliffs. The soldiers stood in a circle protecting the few villagers, and the Doctor, Rose and Jack were with Levin at the edge of the circle.

  Below them, through the thin veil of mist, Rose could see the creatures moving slowly through the village – there seemed to be dozens of them. Large, glowing bodies slithered along, tentacles reaching in front of them as they felt their way forwards.

  ‘Door to door,’ Levin snapped to his men. ‘Get the villagers out.’

  ‘Take them to the base,’ the Doctor said.

  ‘Won’t the things go there?’ Rose said. ‘I mean, there’s power and light – everything they’re hunting for.’

  ‘People too,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘But we won’t survive out in this cold for long.’

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Get everyone to the base. See if we can get Georgi to keep the monsters at bay.’