by John Peel
Stricken, Lowery looked up at Cory, who had merely jumped lightly down to the ground. He stood there, impassive, as though killing a man was merely all in a day’s work. ‘You... you’ve killed him. Killed Garvey!’
Cory replaced his pistol in its holster with apparent uninterest. ‘It was him or you.’
The lack of remorse from Cory was too much for Lowery. He launched himself at the other. ‘You sadistic swine!’ he screamed. ‘You didn’t give him a chance! You just shot him dawn like an animal. You just murdered him! ’ Had Lowery been a trifle wiser, he would have known better than to attack Cory. Instead of his hands connecting with Cory’s neck, his face connected with Cory’s swinging fist.
Lowery was thrown back, and hit the ground with considerable force.
The breath was knocked out of him, and both his back and chin ached horribly. He could do nothing but watch as Cory moved lithely to Garvey’s body. The man pulled open one of the fallen eyelids, nodded, and then started to examine Garvey’s skin. Finally, just below and behind the right ear he found what he was looking for. Carefully, he removed the object from the skin, and held it out towards Lowery. ‘Varga thorn,’ he explained.
It meant nothing to Lowery, who was beginning to get mobile again. ‘Varga thorn?’ he echoed. Carefully, he clambered to his feet and crossed to Cory, moving slowly. He had no desire to run into another of those punches. He reached out to take the thorn.
‘Careful,’ Cory warned him. ‘Don’t prick yourself with it, or you’ll end up the way that Garvey did – I’d have to kill you, too.’
The pilot whipped back his hand. ‘What do you mean?’
Before Cory could reply, there came another long, mournful howl from the jungle. Cory glanced about, then gestured upwards. ‘Let’s go into the ship. I’d better explain.’
Lowery paused for just a moment to look down at his dead friend. Shaking his head, he reflected that Cory had better have a very good explanation for what he had done – or, somehow, he’d find a way to kill the man. He followed Cory up into the ship, and shut the hatch behind him, closing off the nightmares of Kembel for a short while.
A very short while.
Garvey’s body lay by the ship, still and stark against the dark earth. A slight twitch shook the hand, then another. The fingers began to flex slowly, and then clenched. Finally, the hand moved to help support what had once been Garvey. Over the back of the hand was a covering of long, white hairs. Interspersed among the hairs were the slim, deadly varga thorns only these were not stuck into the skin. They were growing out of it...
* * *
The inside of the control room was cluttered, since space was at a premium. Three acceleration couches lined one wall. The airlock by which Cory and Lowery had entered filled a second, and Lowery’s instrumentation took up most of the remaining room. For a moment, Cory stared at the dead panels, then turned to face Lowery. ‘There are some facts you’re entitled to know,’ he stated. ‘I hadn’t intended to tell you anything, but Garvey’s death has changed all of that.’
From the tone of Cory’s voice, Lowery could tell that the man as far more worried than he might appear. Curiosity dawned within him. ‘What sort of things?’
In reply, Cory fished out a small document from his breast pocket, and handed it over to Lowery. The pilot scanned the first page and blinked at what it said. Now he knew why Cory was so self-composed and efficient with his fists and gun. ‘Special Security Service,’ he muttered.
‘That’s right,’ Cory agreed. ‘The rest of the document gives me the authority to enlist the aid of any person, civilian or military.’ He paused to give an ironic half-smile. ‘You were just enlisted. From here on, you follow my orders to the letter.’
‘Cory... I don’t understand.’ All thoughts of revenge for Garvey’s death had fled now, replaced by a whole mountain of questions. ‘You’d better give some details.’
‘All right.’ Cory moved to sit on one of the couches, and gestured for Lowery to join him. Then he continued: ‘Did you ever hear of the Daleks?’
‘Daleks?’ Lowery looked puzzled. ‘Who hasn’t? They invaded the Earth a couple of times, and were beaten back. Every schoolkid knows about that. Haven’t heard much about them since the Movellan Wars – oh, a thousand years or more now, I should think.’
‘That’s right. Well, just because they haven’t been active in the Galaxy for a long time doesn’t mean that they’ve just been sitting around. In the last five hundred years, they’ve gained control of over seventy planets in the Andromeda Galaxy, and some forty more in Miros.’
Lowery shrugged. ‘I don’t see why that should concern us. They’re both millions of light years away from us.’
‘Yeah, that’s what we thought. Plenty of time to worry when they came closer. But about a week ago, we had a report from the captain of a freighter out in this region. His navigator had spotted a ship he couldn’t identify. He saw it very briefly, but gave us a very good description.’
‘And?’ prompted Lowery, afraid he knew what was coming.
‘What he described was a Dalek ship.’
Outside, Garvey had finally managed to get both hands under himself, and pushed down hard. As he rose, his legs came back to life, with the same spasmodic, jerky motions that his hands had shown. His trousers had ruptured, and through the tears, white hairs and thorns stuck out. His shoes split, and fell off. His tunic tore, and the cloth hung in clumps. His head was unrecognizable now. All over his body were the same thick white hairs and the varga thorns jutting out at all angles.
Garvey was no longer a human being.
His hands had vanished, instead having become wood-like branches, sticking out from the main stem. His feet had become roots, thick, and gnarled and long. Instead of sinking into the ground, though, they supported the varga plant that had once been a laughing, cheerful person named Garvey. Unsteadily, the plant lurched, attempting to find its balance. One woody ‘leg’ at a time, it moved slowly towards the scout ship, a single thought fixed in what passed for its brain:
Kill ...
Throwing down the microphone in disgust, Cory shook his head. ‘Dead!’ he grunted. ‘You sure we can’t repair the ship?’
‘Not a chance,’ Lowery replied, bitterly. ‘There was too much damage from the molten metal in the circuits. If I had a full repair bay, maybe... and if I had wings, I could fly. Listen, do you think that the Daleks have set up some kind of a base on Kembel, then?’
‘Could be. This is the most hostile planet in the Galaxy. Virtually everybody avoids it, and it seemed to me that if you added this fact to the sighting of the Dalek ship, this place could make an ideal base for any kind of secret preparations that the Daleks might want to make. That’s why we came here.’
Lowery rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Did you tell anyone else about this hunch of yours?’
‘No one,’ Cory answered, disgusted with himself. ‘Not even your commander. I just asked for a couple of men and small ship, without telling him why. He couldn’t turn me down.’ He waved the documents that Lowery had handed back over, then put them away. ‘Even SSS don’t know why I’m here. I tend to have a reputation for taking long shots.’
‘Then why are you now telling me?’
‘Because of this.’ Cory held out the thorn again. ‘A thorn from a varga plant. It’s a strange creature that’s part animal, part vegetable. Looks a bit like a cactus, with poisoned spines. The toxin attacks the brain, overwhelming all rational thoughts and replacing them with an unreasoning desire to kill. Eventually, the poison seeps through the victim’s body, and it starts to metabolize them. The person is gradually changed into a varga plant.’
Thinking about this, Lowery shuddered in disgust. He imagined his own body being infected, then being stolen from him as the varga started to grow within... ‘Yeah, but... what’s that got to do with the Daleks?’
‘The only place that vargas grow naturally is on the Dalek home world of Skaro. If the vargas are here, then
it makes sense that the Daleks are here, too.’
Deeper in the jungle, a small city occupied a clearing. Half-hidden by the trees, the small scout had missed seeing it by only a couple of miles as it came down. The buildings were all made from metal and glass, and were clustered around approximately half of a circular landing field. The field held berths for about twenty ships, though only two of these were currently occupied, both by Dalek saucers.
Within the base and overlooking this landing strip, the main control room was a hive of activity. Low-level lighting was quite sufficient for the Daleks, whose visual equipment, enhanced by computers, was far more acute than that of other species. Dozens of the gun-metal blue and silver Daleks busied themselves at their tasks – monitoring equipment, tracking stations, life-support, and a number of further computer screens. Around the room, below the large window that opened on to the field and the jungle beyond, a narrow platform circled the room.
A low, pulsing tone, like a vast electronic heart-beat, pervaded the whole city. For a brief moment, a higher-pitched, two-tone signal filled the control room. The Daleks on duty there turned their eye-sticks expectantly towards the main entrance. After a pause, the door hissed open, and the Black Dalek glided into the room.
The Black Dalek’s eye-stick swivelled about, taking in all of the details. It had recently arived on Kembel, sent by the Dalek Prime from Skaro to oversee the operation in person. With satisfaction, it noted that everything appeared to be progressing well. ‘I will receive your reports,’ it grated. ‘Space monitor control.’
The monitor Dalek moved slightly forwards to identify itself. ‘The emissaries from the seven planets are all on their way, and will arrive on schedule.’
‘Then the conference will begin at first sun,’ the Black Dalek replied. ‘Security report.’
A second Dalek edged forwards. ‘Security patrols have located the alien spacecraft monitored landing on Kembel. Our patrol will reach it shortly.’
‘The ship and its occupants must be totally destroyed!’ the Black Dalek ordered. ‘There must be no report on our work here. Destroy them!’
‘It will be done.’ The security leader glanced down at the panels. The patrol was almost in position now...
Chapter 3
Extermination!
The night was drawing in about them both. The air was cold, and even in his thermal uniform, Cory felt cold. He suspected that the chill was internal, and held his pistol at the ready. The sounds from the jungle were wearing at his nerves, but what bothered him the most was the fact that they hadn’t been able to find Garvey’s body outside the ship. Had some animal, emboldened by hunger, snatched it? Or had something worse happened?
Movement in the bushes caught his attention, and he glided out to investigate. In the dim starlight, he could make out three white shapes standing by the edge of the trees. Vargas! They stood together, swaying slightly, though there was no breeze. Grimly, Cory turned back towards the ship. He steeled himself, and heard what he had expected.
One of the vargas lurched, and moved a pace closer. Lowery was bent over the small framework near the scout ship that he was creating. A signal rocket, about six feet long, lay beside him as he worked to assemble a short launch ramp for it. The cone of the rocket was open and empty. Hearing Cory returning, Lowery called over his shoulder: ‘Anything out there?’
‘Vargas,’ Cory answered, coldly. ‘They’re closing in.’
‘Closing in?’ Lowery echoed in alarm, looking up at the impassive agent. ‘You mean they can move?’
‘Very slowly. They use their roots to drag themselves forwards. One way of getting at their food supplies. How long will you be with that rescue beacon?’
‘It’s almost finished.’
‘Good.’ Cory glanced about. ‘I don’t know how long we’ve got. The Daleks must know we’re here by now. They’ll be coming to look for us.’
‘I still think you’re jumping to conclusions,’ Lowery protested, clutching at straws. ‘Just because these... varga things grow here doesn’t prove that the Daleks are here also.’
‘Take my word for it. They’re here.’
‘Couldn’t the vargas have grown here naturally?’ At Cory’s glance of withering scorn, Lowery said frantically: ‘Well, it’s possible, isn’t it? Parallel evolution, that sort of thing? Maybe even transplanted somehow?’
‘No. They were developed in Dalek laboratories. Daleks use them because they grow great natural protection. They feed on rotting flesh, and kill to get that flesh. With the vargas about, the Daleks don’t have to be quite so careful themselves. Now stop asking silly questions and get on with that rescue beacon.’
‘All right, all right!’ Lowery snapped, returning to work with redoubled haste. He had learned all about the Daleks in history classes at school, and their malevolence towards all other life-forms was well ingrained in him. Varga plants were bad enough to face, but if the Daleks were really also here..
The four Daleks of the patrol halted in unison. One of them had a small device built into its arm-stick that looked like a compass. It moved about slightly, to verify the readings, then turned to its companions. ‘Perceptor readings indicate alien spacecraft close by. We will move in on it from two directions.’
Two of the Daleks moved off to the east, chorusing: ‘We obey.’ The leader and the final Dalek circled to the west. Their objective was now almost within striking distance.
Unaware how close their enemies were, Lowery and Cory still worked with feverish haste. Actually, it was Lowery who was working, and Cory was getting nervous now, unable to help in matters of rocketry. ‘You’re sure this thing will work?’ he asked, again.
‘Sure. It’s standard safety equipment on all scouts. You just record your message on the cassette, and insert it into the capsule. I’ll make sure that it gets launched safely into a high orbit. The transmitters cut in as soon as the capsule is in stable orbit. Simple.’
Cory wished it were that simple. ‘With what we now know about the Daleks, we’ve got to be picked up.’
‘Well, its tuned to the SSS special frequency you told me about. If they’re monitoring for a call, then they’ll get it loud and strong.’
‘All we have to do is to stay alive till they get here,’ Cory muttered, half to himself. Kembel was not an easy planet to stay alive on at the best of times; with the vargas and the Daleks here as well, it might just turn out to be impossible...
Both men became aware of a growing noise in the night sky. The looked upwards, only to see something huge moving across the sky. Lights on the craft flickered and pulsed; bathing the two men in coloured shadows. The ship passed overhead at a slow speed, rumbling, spinning, and then vanishing over the forest.
Lowery let out his breath, hardly even aware that he had been holding it. ‘That’s the biggest spaceship I’ve ever seen,’ he said, stunned. ‘It’s like nothing we’ve got.’
‘It’s from an outer galaxy,’ Cory informed him.
‘Then what the devil is it doing here on a God-forsaken planet like this?’
‘I don’t know.’ Cory would dearly have loved to follow the ship, which was obviously heading for the Dalek base on Kembel, but he didn’t dare. The Dalek patrols in that direction were certain to intercept them if they tried. ‘But I’ll tell you one thing. Something very big is happening here. You can bet your life that the Daleks are up to something that might even place our entire Galaxy in danger...’
Two of the patrol Daleks paused as the ship hurtled over their heads, aiming for a touchdown at the base in the jungle.
‘The ship from the planet Gearon,’ the first observed.
‘The beginning of the alliance,’ the second added. Together, they then continued their approach to the alien intruders’ ship.
With a sigh of satisfaction, Lowery laid down his tools. The framework about the message rocket was now completed, and all that was missing was the warning itself. ‘All done,’ he announced. ‘Give me the recorder and I’ll
tape the message.’ When Cory didn’t answer, Lowery nudged him. ‘Ssh!’ the agent said, urgently. Lowery jumped to his feet, and followed Cory’s gaze into the jungle. ‘There’s something moving out there.’
Lowery’s throat went dry. ‘Vargas?’ he asked, hopefully. ‘No. Moving too quickly for them. Come on, we’ve got to get away from here.’
‘What about the distress signal?’
Cory thought for a moment. ‘We’ll take it with us. It doesn’t weigh much. We’ll launch it as soon as we get a chance.’
‘Right.’ Lowery hefted the cage. It wasn’t light, but they could take turns in carrying it until they felt safe enough to launch it. ‘Which way?’
Cory gestured to the north, then held up a warning hand. ‘Watch out for vargas,’ he warned, and then led the way across the clearing and into the jungle. They had barely slipped into the trees when Cory gestured for his companion to halt again. They stood for a second in the darkness and shadows and stared back.
From the far side of the clearing, two Daleks emerged, and moved gracefully towards the abandoned scout ship. ‘Get down and don’t make a sound!’ Cory whispered urgently. Lowery didn’t need a second warning.
Two further Daleks moved from the trees, and the four of them closed in on the ship. One of them moved close, and examined the open hatchway. ‘The ship is empty,’ it announced. ‘The crew have gone.’
The patrol leader dismissed this. ‘We will search for them. Destroy the ship.’
The four Daleks moved back slightly, and four guns came up. The Daleks switched to their most powerful settings for the weapons, and all cut loose at the same second. Briefly, night was turned to day as a fierce white light bathed the jungle. As Cory and Lowery shielded their eyes from the glare, they could see the ship starting to melt and dissolve. Designed to stand the terrific heat of re-entry, the ship still was unable to survive the tremendous energy outpouring from the Dalek guns.