第 20 页

He swallowed his drink in one, letting the Scotch roll over his tongue and down his throat in one fluid movement. He pictured himself, as he had been five years previously. Sitting with his mates in the Bullfrog after work on Friday night. He had been drinking, as normal, watching those same mates playing billiards. Occasionally one or two of them had turned and looked at him in sympathy, their eyes automatically drawn to the stump which was all that remained of his right arm, or the livid scar down his cheek. And he'd hated them all for it. OK, so he could no longer join in. He could no longer play cards, read on the train comfortably or even toss a coin. But he could still work. And drink. His firm had been very good after the accident, all sorts of benefits and continued employment, although at a desk rather than on the shop floor. He couldn't handle all that complex electronics or even screw the back on a transistor radio with great precision, but he could take and place orders, work out schedules and timetables. Really, he had been very lucky.

He could also still taste Scotch. And steak. And roast potatoes, ice cream and cigarettes.

But all that had changed that Friday evening, five years ago. When the boss had unexpectedly wandered into the pub, with a couple of his middle management types.

The boss had sat beside him and asked him how he was getting along. Was the work fulfilling? Questions like that. And as his mates continued their game, he sat and listened while his boss outlined a new scheme, explaining that some foreign investors had placed a vast amount of money and research opportunities with the company. The boss suspected that this would go down as the silver age of prosperity for the firm, and there would be chances for all, especially those who were willing to take a few risks.

And he would get a new, fully operational arm out of it. Capable of doing everything his original arm could do and, as he discovered later, able to break a billiard table into fragments with just one finger.

Intrigued, he had agreed to join the Special Projects Team. In fact, he was to lead it.

There had been an operation, he remembered. He remembered feeling the strange detachment as the anaesthetic took effect. He remembered gowned and masked doctors and nurses and then... then...

Then he had awoken. Complete with a new right arm. And a left one. And two new legs and, he was told, an infallible new set of internal organs. His skin felt cold yet he was perfectly warm and comfortable. He had been given food and drink, but couldn't taste any of it. Initially, he assumed that was the result of the anaesthetic, but no, he was later told that it was a by-product of the complete body replacement he had undergone. The only reason he had to eat and drink was to keep his head and facial skin healthy looking. All the nutrients, vitamins and everything else he needed would be diverted to keeping everything from the neck up in prefect health. His new internal organs would sort out the residue.

From that day, he had never grown a minute older. Sometimes, such as when he and Bailey shared their Scotch, he felt a twinge of remorse at having lost the pleasure of taste, but his heightened strength, resilience and stamina more than compensated.

He had continued working for a few more years until the company was finally declared bankrupt after his boss, the man to whom he owed his new life, was apparently killed at an out-of-town warehouse.

But his boss hadn't really died and, before long, the pale young man found himself with a position in a Government paramilitary department, a move arranged by his boss. There, he was able to carry on his boss's wishes right under the Government's noses, without them suspecting a thing. He had redirected money and resources into setting up this whole sub-section of Department C19, deep beneath the Cheviot Hills, code-named the Vault.

His task was a simple one. Collect as much information, hardware and software as possible from UNIT operations around the globe (his boss was very interested in UNIT's work), store it, experiment with it and learn from it. Or use it.

The Vault was staffed by a lot of good, hard-working people, all of whom the pale young man could rely upon. Among them was Bailey, a Nigerian munitions expert who had been seconded from one of the boss's companies in Ottawa. Now he doubled as the pale young man's chauffeur. As he entered the office and took the proffered tumbler of Black and White, he passed over a sheaf of reports.

'I think you'll find everything we need for the current project is there. The room is set up, the conditions seem perfect. In fact, it's bloody hot in there. But it ought to make our guest feel right at home. Any ideas when it'll arrive?'

'None yet.' The pale young man swallowed another tumbler of Scotch in one go. 'But I don't think it'll be long. I've sent people in to fetch it.'

Bailey nodded and sat down underneath a portrait that showed the head and shoulders of a man in his late fifties. The combination of swept-back silver hair and thick black eyebrows gave him a rather disturbing appearance. His right eye was half closed but the left gazed straight forward, wide-open with a cold blue iris and huge black pupil. He was wearing a collarless black jacket over a high-necked Nehru-style white shirt, buttoned at the neck with a gold clasp. His gaze seemed to follow people around the room, no matter where they stood. The pale young man assumed that Bailey had noticed this a long time ago, because he always sat directly below it.

'And how,' Bailey continued, 'are the plans regarding the Glasshouse progressing? We're beginning to find a few projects here increasingly difficult because the Glasshouse are taking most of our - how can I put it? - raw materials.'

The pale young man smiled. 'It won't be long now. The assassination trail we laid to Harrington-Smythe and his lot ought to at least result in the Government suspending their licence. All we need to do is go down there and, using our tact and diplomacy, remove anything we need. In fact, I already have a man in mind for the job.'

Bailey drained his tumbler. 'Well, I'd better get back to work. The Russians have put in a bid for the Nestene energy weaponry, by the way, and it tops the Saudi one. Which do you want to go for?'

'Neither, at the moment. There are more pressing things to worry about. Play them off against each other for a few more days.'

Bailey nodded. 'You're the boss,' he said and walked out.

'Oh, if only you knew...'

The Doctor and Chukk were eating a porridge of what appeared to be crushed nuts and various fruits. It was very sweet, but the Doctor had not been ill-mannered enough to complain.

'This is very nice, Chukk, but I really do need to get back to the mainland. Could Sula or Tahni possibly give me a lift?' The Doctor put down his spoon. 'And then there's that young man I came here with.'

Chukk swallowed hard. 'If it were up to me we would return you, Doctor, but that decision is not mine to make.'

'No. It is mine. And everyone else's, Chukk.'

The Doctor turned as a newcomer strode into Chukk's office. 'How do you do? I am the Doctor and -,'

'I know who you are, Ape. I am Auggi, mother of the tortured ones. This,' she indicated a massive Reptile Person standing behind her, 'is my friend Krugga.'

Chukk seemed to frown. 'Krugga? Why aren't you at your station?'

Krugga walked forward and the Doctor almost did a double-take - Krugga was so heavily muscled that he was almost as broad as he was tall. The Reptile pointed at the Doctor. 'I believe that it is my duty as a citizen of the Shelter to guard this Ape. That responsibility is more important than the task to which I am normally appointed.'

Chukk stared at him. 'I see.' He then looked straight at Auggi. 'And how long did it take for you to write that little sermon?'

'I don't know what you mean.' Auggi walked towards the Doctor. 'But I'm sure the Triad would not approve of your showing the lowly Ape our Shelter. Our tools and equipment. Our defences.'

The Doctor mutely observed as Chukk crossed to a monitor screen and waved a clawed hand over it. Immediately, a flow of unreadable script darted across it, of a style the Doctor had glimpsed in Derbyshire. He was impressed by the level of technology the Reptiles had. One-touch, possibly even voice-activated, equipment littered Chukk's office. He would have enjoyed the chance to study it, but Auggi and Krugga seemed fairly determined not to let him do anything except be a 'lowly Ape'.

A few seconds later, three faces appeared on the screen, high-resolution, the Doctor noted. Almost holographic.

'Where is this Triad of yours based?' he asked.

'Silence.' Auggi pointed at him. 'You are to remain quiet, or Krugga will quieten you.'

'Oh, well. In that case, I'll keep quiet.' The Doctor smiled at Krugga, unsure whether Krugga was smiling back or not. 'Wouldn't want to upset you of all people, old chap.'

Chukk had greeted the Triad and was telling them about the Doctor. He heard one of them demand to speak to him, and Krugga pushed him into clear view of the screen. 'Greetings, noble Triad. I am the Doctor.'

One of the Reptiles on the screen, clearly the leader, was standing (or sitting, the Doctor could not be sure) slightly proud of the other two.

'I am Icthar, Leader of the Triad. This,' he pointed over his right shoulder, 'is my Second, Scibus and with him is Tarpok, my Science Advisor.'

'Then I am greatly honoured, noble Triad.' The Doctor bowed slightly. 'To speak with three such learned people is a great privilege.'

Tarpok leant forward slightly on the screen. 'So, you are the Doctor. You knew Okdel L'da. Were you responsible for his death?'

'No. I am truly sorry that Okdel died. I would not be arrogant enough to say we were friends, but we were associates. We worked together.'

Tarpok nodded. 'He supplied you with the antidote to cure the virus. We know this. We are not without sympathy for his actions.'

The Doctor took a step forward, and felt Krugga's hand grip his arm. Icthar also noticed this and waved Krugga back.

'Thank you.' He cleared his throat. 'What Okdel did certainly caused those in his Shelter who did not share his views to lead an attack on the research centre in an effort to stop me finding the cure. That led indirectly to some deaths and the eventual entombment of the others. However, had the virus run unchecked, mankind would have struck back in a far more violent way. That Shelter would never have been able to defend itself against their weapons of mass destruction.'

'You say they were entombed, not destroyed?'

'Indeed. The humans resealed the caves rather than commit mass murder.' It occurred to the Doctor that it might not be wise to go any further into that. The Brigadier had wanted to raise a full military expedition to slaughter the Reptiles but the Doctor had talked him out of it. Then, apparently on direct orders from C19, the Brigadier had resealed the caves, stopping the Doctor from going back down, and attempting to make peace.

'Why?' asked Tarpok.

'Because there were still a great many of your people in hibernation, including the scientist who developed the virus. A large number of the colony never awoke in the first place and, should they be revived, will not even be aware that Okdel, Morka and the others had ever fought mankind.' The Doctor let himself look proud. 'I was, indeed still am one day, hoping to revisit the Shelter, revive your people and talk to them. There are great areas of this planet mankind does not use. The deserts, the ice tundras. All places you can live and build and co-exist with each other.'

'Mankind, these Apes, they are a vermin. This is our planet,' spat Auggi. 'I will never co-exist with them. I should rather die.'

The Doctor turned to her. 'That, madam, if I may say so, is a totally irrational and inflammatory thing to say. Even if you fought mankind, even if you unleashed virus after virus, there are billions more "Apes" than there are of you. It would be a long and bloody war and one that you could not win. Once mankind at large begins to know of you, if they see you as hostile, your Shelters will be sought out. If you antagonize them, they will locate every sleeping Reptile Person on this planet and kill them.' The Doctor paused and stared at her unflinching eyes. Then he continued in less aggressive tones: 'Madam, if you want a war with mankind, you will certainly get one. And you will receive your wish. You will surely die.'

Auggi took a step towards him, Krugga also moving nearer. 'Are you threatening me, Ape?'

The Doctor stood his ground. 'No. No, I am simply stating a fact.' He turned back to the screen. 'Great Icthar, you have survived so many millions of years. Why throw all that away in a war? Seek peace, I beg you.'

Icthar spoke again. 'You speak well for an Ape. The Triad will consider your words carefully. Chukk, we shall communicate soon. Until our next conversation, take care, all of you.'

The screen went blank.

Auggi circled the Doctor a couple of times and then stopped in front of him. 'You can take off that smug look, Ape. The Triad might be swayed by rhetoric, but they are three old cowards. My prime concern is for my young, and their continued existence, no matter what the cost.' She turned away and, with Krugga, walked out of the office, throwing a parting remark over her shoulder. 'I, too, shall consider your words, Ape. Very carefully indeed.'

After she had left, the Doctor let out a deep breath. 'She is a very powerful woman, Chukk.'

Chukk nodded. 'She would be Shelter Leader, if I let her. I see it as my main job to be a counter balance to her extremist views. Nevertheless, Doctor, she has many followers here. Especially amongst the young ones. They see her as some kind of potential saviour. Her and Baal, her son. He is a science student. A very good one, but very determined.'

'How careful, though? I have known many scientists, all "very good ones", but they all lack one important thing necessary to be a really good scientist.'

'What is that, Doctor?'

'Morals, Chukk. The ability to judge right and wrong, and not to live by the old credo that the end justifies the means. Is Baal like that?'