Atas and Epax made noises of agreement.
Promynx began to nod, too. ‘What is our course of action, then?’
‘The victory is ours by right,’ Myre said as he walked around the table. ‘We know that Sten made an error taking the fleet so close to the planet. Any one of us could have seen that the dampening field was a ruse.’
Myre came to a halt behind Promynx’s chair.
‘You believe him unfit for command?’ Promynx asked, straining to look round at his commander.
‘I do,’ declared Myre.
‘You should replace him, Commander Myre,’ Atas said quietly.
‘I agree,’ Epax said. He tuned to Promynx. ‘We must be unanimous.’
‘It is clear you have been thinking about this in some depth,’ the lower-ranking commander said. ‘I have not. I would request a period of reflection to consider my response. Mutiny is not to be entered into lightly.’
‘Very well,’ Myre said. ‘Reflect. But we need to act quickly. Sten will know we have identified the Rutan Host breeding world soon. He may have made mistakes but he is not stupid.’
‘Commander Myre said all that, did he?’
Promynx was standing rigidly to attention in the Group Marshal’s personal quarters. Sten felt the junior officer must feel he was both betrayer and devotee in equal measure – unfaithful to his own unit but loyal to the Sontaran military in its widest context.
‘Yes, Group Marshal.’
Sten shook his head and made a clicking sound with his tongue. ‘Mutiny,’ he spat. ‘Do you know the last time there was a Sontaran mutiny?’
Promynx quickly scanned his memory for all the data that he had assimilated in the past months. He could not cite one example. ‘No, sir.’
‘No. And I will tell you why not. Because there has never been a mutiny in the Sontaran ranks! Ever!’
He erupted from his chair and slammed his fist on the control panel in front of his viewscreen. Immediately a junior officer appeared, his tongue slightly protruding from his frog-like mouth. When he saw the Group Marshal he gave a salute and asked how he could serve.
‘Commander Krent!’ bellowed Sten. ‘Take a detachment of your best troopers. Arrest the members of the G4 in their quarters. Escort them to the brig. Do it quietly. If they give you any cause, kill them.’
Promynx opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it.
‘Also, please instigate my earlier order.’ Sten stared at Krent until his eyes signified he recalled what the Group Marshal was talking about.
‘At once,’ Krent said and ended the communication.
Sten turned back to Promynx. ‘You have done well, Commander,’ he said. ‘I knew, when I selected you for this mission, I could rely on your loyalty and devotion to duty.’
Before Promynx could reply the door opened and a squad of troopers entered, battle helmets on, their tubular rheon carbine weapons pointed at the blue-clad Sontaran.
‘You understand, I hope, Commander. I cannot allow any of the G4 to remain uncontained while I carry out the last move in my plan.’ He came right up to the different Sontaran and smiled. ‘I just need one thing from you: the location of the Rutan Host breeding world.’
Promynx gave a curt nod. ‘I understand, Group Marshal,’ he said. ‘The planet you need is in the Oceanid system.’
‘Very good,’ Sten said. ‘Take him away!’
As the squad took Promynx to the cells, the Group Marshal gave orders for the fleet to get under way. They had a new destination now and a new mission.
Promynx sat in the brig and waited. He had no idea what Sten planned to do with him and his fellow G4 members. But that was unimportant. What was crucial was that the squad sent to arrest the other three had not found the weapons concealed in the modified body armour of the new Sontarans. The one that arrived in the Group Marshal’s quarters so abruptly had certainly not thought to search him.
As the ship passed from day watch to night watch status, Promynx watched as the locking mechanism on his cell door began to glow: dark orange at first, then light yellow, before becoming incandescent white and melting away to nothing. Powerful hands gripped the hole and wrenched the door open.
Atas stood there. He saluted Promynx and they moved together to the next cell. When all had been freed, they moved onto the detachment of Sontarans on brig guard duty, pummelling all five of the squad on their probic vents, thus rendering them unconscious.
‘I assume the plan worked well,’ Myre said.
‘He believed I was loyal to the last – even as he was having me arrested!’
The Sontarans laughed quietly.
‘Now, we must reach a capsule hangar before they find the brig breached,’ Promynx reminded them.
They waited a few minutes for the changeover of shift to take full effect. Squads would routinely patrol their designated routes the moment they came on duty and then take up standard guard positions at intersections and outside doors. The G4 would encounter least resistance if they moved after the patrol passed their position, trailing them until they reached the closest companionway to a hangar bay.
Being stealthier and more alert, the new Sontarans managed to stay out of sight until they reached the hangar. By now, the first night-watch patrols had been completed and Sontaran troopers had taken up their positions around the ship.
Across from their hiding place behind some missile loaders, the G4 could see the perfect escape vessel: a four-seat assault shuttle capable of hyper-light travel. Now they just needed to wait for the trap to be sprung, for maximum chaos and the perfect diversion that would facilitate their escape.
Several decks above them, the Group Marshal was on the bridge in full battle armour, his crested helmet under his arm and a long energy-tipped baton in his right hand. On the screens before him, Sten could see the Mothership, one War-Wheel and several assault spheres – the remnants of the 12th Sontaran Battle Group – each craft hidden by an asteroid or dust cloud. Seven million miles ahead of them were the three planets of the Oceanid system.
He sneered at the image of the three worlds on the main screen. They were watery, lush environments and hundreds of parsecs away from the front line. Each one was ideal for the Rutan Host’s need for binary fission, but together they represented a tantalising gift to the shape-shifting species.
It was typical of the Rutan to flee the battle; here the hated green race were cowering where they thought no one would find them. However, Group Marshal Sten had outwitted them. He was responsible for the creation of the G4 unit and therefore he had ultimately devised this perfect stratagem; the Rutans would never have guessed at its ingenuity, for not even the Sontaran High Command could have formulated such a plan.
With distinctive rings at an oblique angle, the three planets looked like some mischievous god had tilted them away from the norm, each one making the other seem more acute.
There seemed to be no Rutan shipping for light years around, but Sten had wanted to make sure. That was why the fleet had gone into stealth mode, masked by naturally occurring phenomena. The bridge crew had been monitoring the plants now for two watches and a third had just begun. Sten was convinced that if they were going to see any movement – any clue of a Rutan presence – they would have seen it by now.
‘Alert the fleet,’ Sten barked. ‘Close on targets at full speed and hold arrow formation at 600 kilometres.’ His orders were relayed and the Mothership led the charge, accelerating to full sub-light speed and firing retro-thrusters to bring it into perfect orbit around the largest of the three planets.
Almost immediately the Mothership was rocked by the first impact.
‘Report!’ Sten growled. ‘Nothing can prevent our victory!’
A second shockwave hit, causing the floor to vibrate slightly.
Commander Krent turned from his screen. ‘Sensors indicate a meteorite strike.’
‘An asteroid shower that can penetrate Sontaran shielding?’ Sten was livid. ‘Check your report, Comman
der! You’ll find it must be false.’
‘Other ships are reporting meteor collision.’
‘The readings check out, Group Marshal,’ Krent said nervously. ‘The impacts are natural in form. No energy weapons, no missiles.’
A third, more powerful collision made some of the Sontarans stumble across the bridge, grabbing at their colleagues or protruding sections of bulkhead to steady themselves.
‘Analysis indicates some form of rock projectiles camouflaged by the planets’ rings, Group Marshal,’ reported a trooper at weapons control.
‘What about life forms?’ Sten shouted over the din. ‘How many Rutan do we have?’
A double impact shook the Mothership and even Sten himself went sprawling now.
‘None!’ Krent sounded desperate now.
Sten propelled himself over the junior officer’s command station and shoved the Sontaran out of his way.
‘Again?’ Sten shrieked, quickly checking to see if there was a Rutan dampening field blocking their scans. His check came back negative.
‘How? How can this be?’ he asked, staring blindly around the bridge as it shook repeatedly from the damaging impacts. His eyes lit on the internal communication system and he stumbled over and tried to raise the brig. But he knew, even before his call went unanswered, who had betrayed him.
As the Mothership began to break up under the increasing number of anti-grav-propelled rock projectiles, Promynx led the G4 Sontarans across the hangar bay and into the assault shuttle. Not one of the pilots or troopers in the bay had stopped them. They had been too busy attempting to secure the ship and ask for orders.
The Assault Shuttle burst from its housing and launched out into space. This happened moments before the last remaining War-Wheel two hundred kilometres above them exploded as a meteor almost the same size hit it dead centre.
Myre was in the command seat; Epax was at the communications array. Promynx already had the ship’s meson cannon firing on the projectiles homing on the Assault Shuttle, and Atas was monitoring the shields, drawing power from the diode bypass transformer to enhance their performance.
‘Ready for light speed,’ Myre said as he readied the warp drive.
‘Listen!’ Epax fed the message he was receiving through the ship’s speaker system.
This is Group Marshal Sten of the 12th Sontaran Battle Group. This is an Empire-wide warning. Four rogue Sontarans have stolen an assault shuttle and are now at large. They have caused the death of many of their fellow troops and the destruction of this entire fleet. They must be apprehended as they pose a vile and very real threat to the Sontaran Empire. I repeat: this is Group Marshal Sten …
All four of the new Sontarans had to shield their eyes as the blast from the destruction of the Mothership blinded them.
‘We must proceed with the mission with all haste now,’ Myre said. ‘Light speed. Now!’
He operated the controls and the Assault Shuttle vanished from the debris field that had once been a Sontaran fleet.
On the Sontaran home world, the message from Group Marshal Sten had been received and processed before being relayed as an emergency alert bulletin to all fleets and outposts. Every ship, every last trooper would know to be on the lookout for a four-seat assault shuttle.
So that was why the G4 had identified a small repair shop and supply dump on a large asteroid that had been deserted in haste as the battlefront in the war with the Rutans had shifted. The war had moved far away, and the outpost had been forgotten.
The benefit of having every report the Empire had issued in recent times was that, if you were clever enough, you could see tiny tactical errors; breaches that could be leveraged to full advantage.
As per the last manifest schedule transmitted back to the home world, the auxiliary logistics station on asteroid H34 TH3r housed six Sontaran one-seat capsules – the backbone of the Empire. It also had a small amount of fuel, a small stockpile of weapons and a transformer the G4 could all feed on to sustain them for the next stage of their mission.
They each took a capsule and programmed the remaining pair as slaves to Myre’s ship. In this way they travelled from system to system in formation, dropping out of light speed in a secluded area to check the military situation before moving on again. Each jump they made took them closer to the home world.
As the Sontaran security systems had been programmed to be on the very highest alert for a four-seat shuttle or – as a rational tactical precaution – four one-man ships, six capsules did not fall within the list of shipping that needed extra checks when they passed through the system cordons that surrounded Sontar.
The G4 were able to pass through these cordons by using security codes from Sontaran Special Space Service missions logged in the database. Their capsules were not boarded once, and indeed they were given special military honours on three occasions.
Security on the home world itself would be much tighter. The group knew this and planned accordingly.
As they neared the planet, several fleets were in position, defending the home world from any attacker. But as Sten had said himself, no Sontaran had ever mutinied. So they did not expect a threat to come from Sontaran ships, piloted by individuals with identifiable Sontaran DNA.
To ensure their approach was not detected too early, the capsules split up into two groups of three, intermingling with the capsules from the protective fleets. When they were close enough to the other capsules, the G4 cloned the ident-tags of the legitimate ships and then rotated them, using five or six to throw any combat computer off the scent. All this had been planned and agreed in advance so they could maintain communications blackout at all times during the operation.
The final phase came as they had to penetrate the atmosphere of Sontar itself. This was difficult as almost no ships ever returned to the home world. Although a million embryos were hatched every four minutes, growing to adulthood in ten more, they were all flown off-world as soon as each warrior had been assigned his rank and posting. Only the highest-ranking of the Sontaran Military High Command ever left the planet and returned. And they tended not to fly in small capsules.
So the G4’s arrival on the home world had to appear like an accident.
As they skimmed the atmosphere, Commander Myre caused his two drone ships to collide with each other in close enough proximity to the other four that it might look like an impact wave had knocked out their main thrust engines temporarily, putting them in a ‘sphere spin’ in which the capsule was totally out of control.
So the planetary protection batteries on the surface and the satellite defence platform in orbit did not open fire. The four Sontarans simulated perfect re-ignition sequences and pulled their ships out of the seemingly fatal dive.
Myre immediately broke silence. ‘Sontar Prime Control! We need emergency landing coordinates. Please advise!’
The four pilots were duly assigned to a hangar more used to departures than arrivals. A team were on standby when they landed, a green flash on their sleeves marking them as the lowliest of ranks: Sontaran nurses.
Myre and the others kept their helmets on as they stepped from their capsules. While different uniform might be excused, a different face would certainly raise the alarm. All around them, huge troop carriers were being loaded with the hundreds of thousands of fresh recruits off to fight the Rutan Host. The hangar most closely resembled an insect nest – activity everywhere and countless bodies moving in a well-orchestrated ritual.
Rank upon rank of troopers in their black padded jumpsuits awaited embarkation while technicians saw to the ships themselves, their cargo and payload. Officers shouted instructions, and the speaker system overhead gave a constant commentary on which units should board what craft.
Promynx quickly dismissed the medics and turned his attention to the security in the situation. Members of the Home World Guard stood at every entrance. They were dressed almost identically to their fellow troopers, save for the gold stripe around their neck armour and a matching one o
n their helmets. They were armed with the standard rheon carbine weapons, held pointing down in their right hands.
Fortunately, the G4 were armed with much more advanced weaponry: blaster rifles that could target and kill multiple hostiles with one pull of the trigger. The four retrieved these much bulkier, longer weapons from their capsules. They then turned and marched to the exit that was farthest from any other so that reaction to their presence would take longer. As they neared the Home World Guards, Myre brought the blaster to his shoulder and opened fire, dropping them where they stood. With the thousands of troops standing between them and the other Guards, there was no line of sight, so no other Sontarans noticed for a few moments. This was enough time for the G4 to slip through the huge hangar door and out into the main cloning complex.
The Complex itself was the size of a huge city. The cloning vats themselves took up several square miles, producing the vast number of Sontarans necessary to sustain the burgeoning Empire. Clones grew in a matter of hours, already clothed in a simple one-piece suit and white collar that marked them as new-borns.
When they were mature, they were extracted from the tanks and taken to the Quartermasters. Here they were given the black padded jumpsuit, boots, belt and helmet. They then passed to the Armoury, where each was issued with his personal carbine, communicator and the silver utility device that hung from every trooper’s belt. Finally, they were processed by Logistics and assigned a unit, fleet or group before being despatched to the hangars.
The High Command was housed in a separate complex, but they were not the G4’s target. At the centre of the Cloning Complex stood the Core Clone Tank of Sontar. These contained the pure building blocks of every Sontaran. Thick pipes led from the large pool and snaked through the complex, feeding each and every individual clone vat – ensuring the purity of the race. The closer to the core a Sontaran hatchling was, the more senior his rank as he was assigned more intelligence or strength.
It was this purity that Science Squadron Leader Yarl had dared to tamper with to create the four individual Sontarans. It was the opinion of these new Sontarans that this purity was the cause of all Sontaran defeats: the entire race had become sterile, unchanging and too rigid to adapt to the more complex military situations they found themselves facing. Change was what was needed, and the G4 intended to deliver that on a species-wide scale.
Doctor Who: Myths and Legends Page 12