Doctor Who: Transit (27 page)

The Doctor picked up the fallen coffee jug and set it carefully back on the counter.

Kadiatu zipped the major's jacket up to her neck.

The Doctor pointed down the corridor and opened his mouth to say something.

The jacket saved Kadiatu's life.

The kinetic energy of the soft-nosed slug was dissipated by the flexible sheet of kevlar sewn into the lining of the jacket. Enough to stop the projectile from blowing out her chest but not enough to stop her from being smashed forward into the Doctor's arms.

The Doctor grabbed the collar of her jacket in his left hand and pulled her further off balance. Kadiatu instinctively realized what he was doing and let herself be spun round as her forward momentum was translated around the pivot of his arm.

As she turned she saw the coffee jug leave his right hand and fly across the room. He must have picked it up in the same moment as their attacker fired the first shot.

The jug bounced off the attacker's face with a hollow bong sound and a spurt of blood. Her hand came up to cover her nose.

'Not again,' said Benny.

Kadiatu shot her, three bursts, vaporized flesh blooming like pink carnations on Benny's chest. The Doctor was by her side before she hit the ground.

'Where's the real Benny?' he asked.

The woman made a weak gurgling sound, laughing. There were three icecream-scoop-sized craters in her upper ribcage. Kadiatu couldn't believe she was still alive.

'Actually, I thought I was the real Benny,' whispered the ersatz Benny. The eyes flickered in Kadiatu's direction. 'This one's good, isn't she? Doesn't hesitate.'

'Very good,' said the Doctor.

'Too good for you,' said the ersatz Benny.

'She's not mine,' said the Doctor. 'She belongs to herself.'

The woman made that sick gurgling laugh again. 'A time-travelling archaeologist,' she said. 'I must have been out of my mind.'

They waited but there was nothing else.

'I'm fine, just some major bruising on my back,' said Kadiatu as the Doctor stalked off towards the control room. 'Don't worry about me.'

The ersatz Benny twitched and made coughing noises. Kadiatu turned back, her pistol held ready.

'Listen,' it said, 'a word from the freshly dead.'

'Go on,' said Kadiatu.

'Evolution,' it said, 'is the response by living organisms to their environment.'

'In one respect,' said Kadiatu.

'Don't argue with the dead, girl,' it said.
'He's
become a major factor in that environment. You are the human response to
him.'

Kadiatu realized that the ersatz Benny's lips weren't moving when she spoke, hadn't moved since the Doctor had left.

'Which is the more dangerous, girl,' it asked, 'the male or female leopard?'

'The female,' said Kadiatu.

'Why?'

'Her children,' said Kadiatu. 'Her children make her dangerous.'

'What will you sacrifice for the children?'

Kadiatu scrambled backwards. For a moment she thought she saw tears of fire well up around the ersatz Benny's left eye, an eye that had become alien in colour and full of secrets. Then eye, face and neck were obliterated by the bursts of coherent light from her gun.

'Stop wasting ammunition,' said the Doctor.

'Did you hear that?' asked Kadiatu.

'Hear what?'

'Nothing,' said Kadiatu.

'Then I couldn't have heard it,' said the Doctor, 'could I?'

Kadiatu followed him out.

'What's the best route from here to the Stunnel terminus?' he asked.

'The Central Line extension runs straight to it,' said Kadiatu. 'There's a station four levels up from here. Did she sabotage the power plant.'

'Worse than that,' said the Doctor.

Acturus Station (Stunnel Terminus)

Lambada dropped her Big Chicken Bit on to the floor when she saw it.

'Shit,' she said.

'It's not that bad,' said Old Sam, 'a bit overseasoned though.'

'The power feed,' she said.

On the monitor the line marking the power feeding into the Stunnel gateway from their side had suddenly started climbing. It now matched the power input from the
other side.

'Tell Ming,' said Lambada. 'She's got to shut it down.'

'We lost the link with Ming,' said Credit Card. 'About fifteen minutes ago.'

'They still have to come down here and switch the thing on,' said Old Sam.

'Yeah,' said Lambada, 'but now that's
all
they have to do.'

'Whoever they are,' said Credit Card.

'We know who they are,' said Blondie. 'Cake-eating freesurfers from hell.'

'That's a great comfort,' said Lambada.

'You want that Big Chicken Bit or not?' asked Old Sam.

Olympus Mons (Central Line)

There were two cake monsters waiting on the platform. They stood chatting to each other just like normal people. One of them was holding a freesurfing board. Kadiatu ducked back into the entranceway and told the Doctor.

'Reinforcements,' said the Doctor. 'Just in case the fake Benny didn't make it.'

'When you plan,' said Kadiatu, 'plan in depth.

'Get rid of them,' said the Doctor.

'What, just shoot them?' asked Kadiatu.

'Yes,' said the Doctor, 'shoot them.'

'What happened to the sanctity of life?'

'It just got filed under D for desperate expediency.'

'Just checking.'

Kadiatu stepped round the comer and opened fire. She kept firing until both cake monsters stopped moving. By the time she'd finished the pistol's charge LED was flashing.

'I need a bigger gun,' said Kadiatu.

'What for?' asked the Doctor. 'Dead is dead.'

'But not fast enough.'

'We need a train,' said the Doctor.

The destination indicator was blank.

'Typical,' said the Doctor. 'You wait ages for a train and then three come at once.'

'I doubt that,' said Kadiatu. The STS map was showing a large swath of black lines in the northern Mars area. Black for
no service.
'Someone doesn't want us to get there.'

'I'll use the board,' said the Doctor, running down the platform.

'No,' shouted Kadiatu. 'You'll kill yourself

The Doctor scooped up the board in one fluid motion and ran faster. 'A coward dies many times before his death,' said the Doctor.

'This is no time for Shakespeare,' said Kadiatu, starting after him. 'It takes two to freesurf.'

'No, it doesn't,' said the Doctor and threw the board on to the friction field. 'You just think it does.' He jumped on to the board.

Kadiatu ran parallel to him as the board coasted towards the tunnel gateway. 'We can get a train.'

'Too late,' said the Doctor. 'We're in the end game now, the queen has defected, the knights are in trouble and the king's out of position.'

'What are you going to do?'

'Do?' said the Doctor. 'I'm going to improvise.'

8: Improvisations

STS Central - Olympus Mons

The pain was his friend, keeping him alert in the face of the drugs. Dogface had overridden the medical expert system that stood by the all-body brace, to reduce the doses, but he was frightened of going too far. He could feel his central nervous system wavering back and forth between agony and euphoria. As he tried to concentrate on monitoring the network, his thoughts would veer away in unexpected directions. Accelerating into bands of bright primary colour or crashing through walls of glass into diamond studded darkness once the network had shrunk down to a spider's web of glittering lines that he felt he could hold in the palm of his hand. It was a tremendous high but he doubted that it would catch on.

The equipment was too expensive, for one thing. When the systems crash blacked out the control room he managed to get some data by bypassing the main signalling subsystem and routing through one of the TV channels. He chose Welsh 12 because he figured no one watched it, not even the Welsh. He'd tried shunting the feed up to the control room but he kept running into blocks. Someone had deliberately isolated STS Central's command network.

Jacked in through the plug in his index finger Dogface could feel the whole network running down. Trains were halting by platforms as onboard emergency systems shut down in response to the loss of power. Back-up power generators at isolated stations came online like little novas. The daily commuter scramble that usually ran ahead of the dateline on Terra toppled over like a breaking wave and became a wash of stranded individuals.

He wondered if he was watching the end of civilization.

There were things moving about in the system. Dogface could track them by the spikes in the power lines. Some he thought must be the virus program, others various subsets of the network intelligence. Most were converging on Acturus Terminal and the Stunnel gateway.

There was activity at the other end of the system too, at Lowell Depot. His own drones were involved in it somehow. He felt he might have authorized their use to Yak Harris but he couldn't remember.

A voice called his name in perfect Mandarin.

A Chinese princess stood by his brace, beautiful in a silk shamfoo embroidered with twisting dragons in silver thread.

Yang Chou,
she called him, using his given name, one he hadn't heard since the war. When he looked closely there was a nimbus of light around her perfect face.

'Have you come to take me to heaven?' asked Dogface.

'Fuck no,' said Ming. 'But I wouldn't mind some of whatever it is you're on.'

Ming traced her hand along the top of the expert system; there was a panic button there, a switch to override his override If she pressed that the expert system would shut him down until he felt better. About a week. Dogface estimated, at least.

'I've got this problem, Yang Chou,' said Ming. 'All the other floozies are over at Acturus Station with half an arsenal, waiting for God knows what to turn up. Now I'm not saying they won't make it, but if they don't I won't have no one to do what I tell them and fix the network. The Sol transit system will collapse, billions will starve and the bottom will fall out of the stock market. Taking my investments with it.'

Ming smiled down at him and Dogface saw for the first time ever that Ming really was a princess.

'Somebody has to live,' said Ming. 'And that somebody is you.' She pressed the panic button.

Dogface felt himself sink into the waters of oblivion.

Lowell Depot

Achmed had just managed to sit down when Deirdre called him. He'd propped himself against a wall in the freight depot and watched the military load up their hardware on to the flatbeds. The military, the NGOs and the police were pulling out of the Stop. A captain from the project police had briefed him on contingency plans in case of stragglers. The captain had scraped-back hair and tired eyes. Achmed's foreman brought them glasses of sweet tea and they'd gone over the whiteprints together. Achmed was a great believer in gathering local knowledge before he started a job.

The captain left along with the last contingent of police leaving Achmed and his team alone in the deserted projects. At least Achmed hoped they were alone. Just in case he made sure that his people worked in pairs, fanning out into the projects with the survey-drones. Their job was to take precise structural measurements and compare them to the whiteprints stored in Achmed's portable console.

He usually used this lull to collect his thoughts before tackling any problems. A couple of moments now could save him hours even days later. And as his wife Ming always said, 'time is money and sleep an investment.'

The communicator pinned into the lapel of his kaftan beeped. It was Deirdre his shift supervisor.

'Yes?'

'Boss,'
said Deirdre, '
I think you'd better come and have a look at something.'

'What is it?'

'
I don't know,'
said Deirdre.

That worried Achmed. Deirdre considered herself the real driving force within the company and affected to regard Achmed as an overpaid supernumerary who was only kept on because he was co-married to the chairman's wife. If Deirdre was passing the buck upwards then it had to be serious.

'Where are you?' asked Achmed.

'The main passenger platform.'

'I'm on my way.'

Achmed got to his feet and walked up the narrow connecting corridor to the passenger platforms. One of his crew had wedged the security door open with a block of wood.

Deirdre met him on the other side, a small bulky woman wearing baggy rhino-hide dungarees and a New Jamaica T-shirt that was pulled tight around her heavy breasts. She pointed down the platform.

'Who authorized that?' asked Achmed.

The ugliest tank engine he'd ever seen was standing at the platform.

'Not me. Boss,' said Deirdre. 'I tried contacting STS Central but the link's dead.'

A freshly welded patch covered most of the nose, including the forward windscreen. It gave the engine a blind stupid look.

'Anyone get out?'

'Not yet,' said Deirdre.

'Did you look inside?'

'I thought I'd call you first.'

'There might be people inside,' said Achmed. 'They could be hurt.'

'After you. Boss,' said Deirdre.

The tank engine had another fresh patch where the emergency cabin door should have been. Achmed peered into the cabin through the one unbroken window.

'What can you see?' called Deirdre, who'd stayed at the end of the platform. 'Is there anyone in there?'

'I can't see anyone, but it's pretty messed up in there,' said Achmed. Most of the cabin instrumentation was dead, there was what might have been evidence of small arms damage.

'What are you waiting for?' he called to Deirdre.

'No way I'm going anywhere near that thing,' Deirdre shouted back. 'I've heard stories.'

'What kind of stories?'

'Ghost stories,' said Deirdre, 'about the black train.'

'Since when?'

'Since yesterday,' said Deirdre.

That's always been the problem with information technology, thought Achmed, instant myths.

There was a hiss from the rear section of the tank engine and its big cargo doors swung outwards. Achmed took a couple of steps backwards, just in case.

A drone came through the open doors at chest height, with a thousand-metre drum of electrical cable suspended from its belly mandibles. Three more drones followed, each carrying crates of heavy equipment. Deirdre jumped quickly out of the way as they whirred up the platform towards her.

The cargo doors swung shut and the tank engine's turbine coughed into life. Achmed heard it cycle up to half power and watched as the tank engine reversed out of the station. He turned and ran after the drones.

'Come on,' he told Deirdre as he passed her.

The first drone stopped at the crash barrier, it was unpacking its crates with its forward arms. The front end of a hologram projector was beginning to emerge from one of the crates. It was a big one, the kind used for stadiums.

'Hey, drone,' said Achmed, 'what are you doing?'

The drone ignored him and extended manipulators with waldos as fine as human hair. Achmed looked for identification flashes and saw a row of pictograms spaced along its access panel.

'Korean,' said Deirdre.

'What do they say?'

'It's the gardener, from Pei Hai park,' said Deirdre.

'It's a long way from the Forbidden City,' said Achmed. 'Where did the others go?'

'Into the hole at the end of the station.'

Achmed walked over and looked into the hole. The electrical cable had been laid along the left wall, held against the rock with hooped steel staples at three-metre intervals.

'What's the loading on a cable like that?' asked Achmed.

'About a gigawatt,' said Deirdre, 'at least.'

'I knew that,' said Achmed. 'I just wanted to be sure that you knew that.'

They followed the cable into the hole. Deirdre pulled a billy lamp and gave the passage a professional once-over. 'This should have collapsed,' she said. 'I wonder what's holding it up.'

There were duckboard ramps laid over the vertical maintenance shafts that bisected the hole. Deirdre let Achmed cross them first, to test the weight she said.

'I knew this was going to be a bad week,' said Achmed, 'when I heard the President was dead.'

'The President's dead?' asked Deirdre.

'You didn't know?'

'I don't keep track of politics,' said Deirdre.

'Don't you watch TV, read a fax?'

'What for?' asked Deirdre. 'I've got better things to do with my spare time than read fax.'

'To learn important things,' said Achmed, 'like the President being killed.'

'I didn't vote for him,' said Deirdre.

The power cable came to an end in a mess of equipment that stood in the centre of a natural cavern. The three remaining drones were clustered around the mess, manipulators working fast enough to blur. An assembly was taking shape between them; at first Achmed thought it was a data-gathering probe but the feed cables were too robust for data transmission. They looked more like the cables you'd use to hook up a big drilling laser.

Beyond the assembly was something like a blue door set into the cavern wall. There was white lettering above the door which said 'POLICE BOX' in English. The business end of the assembly was definitely aimed directly at the door.

The important question, Achmed realized, was which way would the power go? Would the assembly collect power from the doorway or would it be pumped at it? Whichever way it went, judging from the insulation, it was going to be in the megawatt range.

'What the hell is this supposed to be?' asked Deirdre.

'Bad news,' said Achmed. 'Really bad news.'

Acturus Terminal (Stunnel Terminus)

They were watching the sensors go dead along the Central Line one by one.

'Christ in a bucket,' said Lambada in admiration, 'that sucker is fast.'

'When they get here,' said Dogface, 'you can ask them how it works.'

'They ain't going to get here,' said Old Sam, 'because I'm going to close down the extension gateway before they do.'

'Can you do that?' asked Blondie.

'I built that gateway, boy,' said Old Sam, 'and I always put in a backdoor override.'

'You shut it down when they're in the tunnel, Sam, and they'll disassociate,' said Credit Card.

'That's what I'm counting on,' said Old Sam.

'There'll be an energy plume,' said Lambada.

'Good,' said Old Sam. 'Then we'll know we got them.'

'Yeah,' said Credit Card, 'We'll be right in front of it.'

'I'm too young to glow in the dark,' said Lambada.

'So we stand either side,' said Old Sam.

'Sounds reasonable,' said Credit Card.

'Only because we've all gone mad,' said Lambada.

'How long have we got?' asked Blondie.

'Ninety seconds,' said Credit Card.

'Everybody take cover,' said Old Sam.

They turned their back on the Central Line gateway and went back to the barricades, each of them walking in as casual manner as possible.

'My contract never said anything about alien monsters,' said Credit Card. 'Standard general maintenance contract, that's what I signed.'

'Mine did,' said Old Sam.

'No shit?'

'Mine had a clause about pest control,' said Lambada. 'What about yours Blondie?'

'I couldn't read mine,' said Blondie, 'the small print was all in Chinese.'

'How long?' asked Lambada.

'Forty-five seconds,' said Credit Card. 'If I'd known this was going to happen I'd have asked for a bonus clause.'

The barricades formed a metre-high semicircle ten metres out from the Stunnel gateway. There were no gaps so they had to climb over. Old Sam vaulted over in a single fluid movement, body metabolism already accelerating under the influence of a shot of doberman. Lambada hadn't objected this time.

'If I'd known,' said Old Sam, 'I'd have been a watchmaker.'

'A profound statement, Sam,' said Lambada, 'but intrinsically meaningless.'

'Thirty-five,' said Credit Card.

Blondie hunkered down in his assigned place. Old Sam had left a pulse rifle for him, propped up against the barricade. Blondie took the rifle and laid it across his knees.

'Twenty seconds,' said Credit Card.

'I suppose it's too late to put in for some sick leave?' asked Lambada.

'Much too late,' said Old Sam.

Olympus Mons (Central Line)

'KADIATU', the train indicator had said, her name flashing up in half-metre holographic letters thirty seconds after the Doctor had gone.

'What?' she'd screamed down the platform.

'WAIT' said the indicator and she'd waited.

If it mentions making a sacrifice for the children, thought Kadiatu, I'm going to shoot it.

'FAT MAMA 1 min'.

Now it's getting personal, thought Kadiatu.