Doctor Who: War Machine (13 page)

All is ready,’ said Krimpton. ‘Standing by for the word of command.’

‘Last instructions are being fed into programmes,’ said Brett. They were both eager to go. Perhaps the anxiety to start the action revealed something of Wotan itself. But the Computer kept all the reins in its own hands, restraining any human enthusiam. This attack was to be handled with total rationality. There were no such things as prayers or hope. Everything boiled down to mathematics – to the logic of forces. And in those terms Wotan had already summed up the odds, and knew that complete victory already was in his grasp.

‘War Machines standing by,’ repeated Krimpton. Wotan was frustrated by only one thing... his inability to move. But that was a disability that would be attended to as soon as this attack was over.

As it was, he was forced for the time being to make use of these two creatures. They were a disadvantage Wotan would soon be quit of. But they would have served their purposes. And in addition they had failed him in one thing for which Wotan was not prepared to forgive. They had failed to co-opt the one brain he had desperately needed in order to achieve the final glory of the dream... They had failed to enlist, by fair means or foul, that strange, gifted character who had visited this office, the white-haired old man they called ‘the Doctor’. That was a failure that could have cost the Cause much. And both these human servants would have to pay the price.

But all Wotan said – the voice issuing forth, high-pitched, synthetic – was, ‘Orders for the attack will be given only by Wotan.’

The message was implanted into the very foundation of the War Machines, now poised at various points in their workshops round London, dove-tailed for the attack. ‘No attack without instructions from the central Machine, Wotan.’ Valk could never happen again.

As the Doctor had said, time was short, and he had much to do.

As before, he needed the unreserved help of the authorities. This time he got it, for they had already seen what the old man could do when everything else failed.

Sir Charles, the Commissioner, the Service Chiefs, and anyone else he had required, had obeyed his instructions without question. It was only now – when the Doctor appeared to have completed his task – and so much depended on it –that moments of doubt arose. What had he been doing? What exactly was this plan of his?

The Doctor had explained little... He had been too occupied to stop and discuss matters, and when he had, his ideas seemed so odd that no one was sure they understood them correctly.

‘What exactly is going to happen, Doctor?’

Sir Charles had acted as the Doctor’s liaison with the other authorities. He guessed that if things went wrong he’d get the wrath of many down on his head... Although the truth of the matter was that if things went wrong it would be of no importance what anyone said or did. They would all be in the soup. Nothing would survive, as Sir Charles saw it.

‘How will your scheme work?’ he whispered.

They were in his car, parked not far from the Post Office Tower. In fact, they could see it through the front windscreen. Why Sir Charles felt the need to whisper, he couldn’t say. But he dreaded the outcome of events, and didn’t dare put a foot wrong.

‘In a sense it will be rather like the clash of two fields of power. I can’t think of a handy example, but suppose two whirlwinds were to approach each other... or two magnetic fields... or electrical currents... ’ The Doctor groped for an explanation. ‘All poor similes,’ he said, for nothing quite like this has happened before. That’s what’s so interesting about it. One cannot be quite sure of the outcome.’

‘What?’ Sir Charles was appalled.

‘One can never be absolutely sure about anything in the world of appearances,’ said the Doctor. ‘There is more to things than the law of cause and effect. There is the "unpredictable". That, I think, may be our strong point. The computer, Wotan, is based purely and simply on the precepts of Logic. The "unpredictable" may not come into its calculations. What it may do in response to the unexpected is anybody’s guess.’

Sir Charles was uneasy. He didn’t like this uncertainty.

‘What "unexpected’?’ he asked.

‘Well, for one thing,’ mused the Doctor, ‘how will Wotan respond to the fact that I have armed Valk? Will he have an even stronger answer and blow him out of the ground?’

‘Is that possible?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘And if he does?’ asked Sir Charles.

‘Dear, dear,’ said the Doctor thoughtfully. ‘I didn’t really have time to consider that.’ Then he cheered up as he gazed out of the car. ‘Still, one can’t think of everything.’

Sir Charles slumped back.

A moment later he asked, ‘I understand you are arranging some sort of confrontation between the two War Machines?’

‘Precisely,’ agreed the Doctor.

‘And if all goes well... I mean, as planned?’

‘Then I imagine a number of people who have been suffering some form of hypnosis will suddenly snap out of it, so to speak, and become themselves again. Probably quite unable to account for anything that may have taken place over the last few days.’

It wasn’t exactly the answer that Sir Charles had expected, but he said no more.

Both men sat up sharply as a large truck passed them and pulled up close to the entrance of the Tower. ‘Nice timing,’ said the Doctor.

‘Are we expecting this?’ asked Sir Charles.

The Doctor nodded. ‘First step in the confrontation, one might say.’

Sir Charles peered ahead at the parked truck with some anxiety. He couldn’t see exactly what was happening, but a small army of men were at work operating a crane and unloading the one item they had aboard.

A moment later he saw the dreaded figure of Valk standing on the pavement. It seemed uncertain what to do as the truck drove off.

The Doctor spoke into a microphone in the car. ‘Instructions to be followed as planned, Valk. You are to proceed according to the first pattern. Now!’

The giant figure turned slowly as if to get its bearings. Sir Charles hoped it was not going to suffer another bout of lawlessness. Perhaps it still had that tendency to do its own thing. It might still have a mind of its own.

But it turned as docilely as a pet dog towards the entrance and lurched forward, one rigid step at a time, into the Tower.

‘What’s it carrying?’ whispered Sir Charles.

‘I told you,’ said the Doctor. ‘Valk is now armed.’

There were moments when Ben asked himself why he was doing this. Why go to so much trouble? After all, he didn’t know this girl all that well. He’d met Polly only a few days before. They’d had some pretty sharp exchanges that first evening in ‘The Inferno’ Club. Admittedly they’d got on very well after that. She was a nice kid for all her scatty ways, and he forgave her for her upper-class attitudes. She couldn’t help her background.

But to stick his neck out like this! Even the old Doctor had said it was dangerous, and he seemed to take danger in his stride!

Nevertheless, Ben knew he couldn’t back off. He guessed he owed his life to that girl. She had let him escape; she’d got him out of a tough spot. He owed her something in return. If she were in trouble – and he guessed she was – then he had to do what he could. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be enough... He was out of his depth in this struggle with these monsters – these War Machines. If it had been a matter of pitching into some punch-up he would have guaranteed the outcome.. But creeping through the empty and silent corridors of this huge Post Office Tower, looking for some clue as to her whereabouts – this was more than he had reckoned with.

Besides, where was he to start? And where was everybody? Why had the place been cleared? Or was this the place they had recruited the workforce from? That workforce he had seen brainwashed in the warehouse at Covent Garden? He had a feeling that must be the answer. If they had wanted skilled technicians... He stopped in his tracks!

Somewhere ahead he could hear the sound of voices... Well, not exactly voices, but one voice– a synthetic sound, high-pitched and metallic. It seemed to come from a corridor that branched off to one side.

He tip-toed down it softly and read the name of the door.,

‘Professor Brett,’ he said softly.

He remembered... That was where Polly worked! Very gently he pushed open the door.

He couldn’t believe his luck! There was Polly, by herself at a desk, in an outer office, thumbing through some papers as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened to her.

‘Polly!’ he called softly.

She looked up. She didn’t seem to be surprised or startled.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked flatly.

He could hear men’s voices in the next room. And the loud metallic voice dominating them with a volley of instructions.

‘Quickly,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve got to get out of here.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘You’re in danger. There’s going to be a big bust-up.’ ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He came into the room and crossed to her. ‘Come on, Duchess. We don’t have a lot of time.’

She looked at him blankly. Perhaps she didn’t really understand.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost five minutes to midday. She followed his glance.

‘At noon the struggle will be over,’ she said.

‘Well, at least it will have started,’ he said grimly, ‘and we want to be a long way from here.’

‘It is best to be here for our victory.’

‘Our victory?’ She still had that distant look in her eyes. If only he could shake her out of it! Make her realise what danger she was in, see the facts as they were! But she was still in this dream-world... this nightmare world... like the rest of that workforce had been.

‘It’s our last chance,’ he told her. He was conscious of every tick of the clock. ‘Mustn’t get jumpy,’ he told himself... But it was hard.

‘Let’s move, Duchess. While the going’s good.’

She shook her head. ‘I work for Wotan,’ she said simply.

He despaired.

‘Don’t be so stupid!’ He grabbed her ann. She tried to pull away, but Ben wasn’t taking any chances. He clapped a hand over her mouth and began to drag her towards the door.

He had the door open when he heard the lift in the corridor. It was on the move... and by the sound of it, on the way up.

He could be dragging the girl into more danger. He let her go and hurried to the end of the corridor, from where he could see the lift entrance. The lift was just coming to a stop.

Ben waited, holding his breath. This could be timely help, or it might be more of the brainwashed crowd to help Wotan.

He felt his jaw drop slightly as the great Machine stepped jerkily from the lift.

Valk!

He had reason to remember every feature of that monster. Maybe it was tamed now... but it certainly didn’t look much different. It still chilled his blood to look at it.

It turned towards him, and Ben quickly pulled back out of sight.

Valk!

What could it be doing here? Why was it on its own? What had happened to the Doctor?

He had a shattering thought! Yes, what had happened to the Doctor!

He was about to hurry back to the office, but something about Valk caught his attention. The Machine was different in one capacity... It now carried what appeared to be a sawn-off shotgun, or an automatic rifle..

He took one quick look down the corridor.

He was right.

Valk was armed, and was lurching towards him. Ben raced back to the office.

He couldn’t believe his eyes! Polly had returned to her desk, and was checking her work as before. He didn’t give her time to look up, but grabbed her again and pulled her, kicking and struggling, out of the office.

He made no attempt to silence her as she screamed, ‘Leave me! I want to stay! I must do what I can for Wotan!’

‘Don’t worry, Duchess,’ he said grimly. ‘We’ll find you another cushy job.’

She snatched at the door-handle and clung onto it. She made every step of the way as difficult as possible.

‘Wotan! Wotan!’ she shouted.

He jerked her away from the door. ‘If you ask me,’ said Ben, ‘old Wotan is on the way out. He’s running out of time... with a power leak.’ He was dragging her down the short corridor. He wanted to get her to the main corridor before Valk showed up... After that, he guessed anything might happen. He’d seen the weaponry and he didn’t want to be caught in that sort of crossfire.

But the odds were against him.

Valk appeared at the end of the corridor, his automatic raised as though about to fire.

It wasn’t a chance Ben was prepared to take. At least, not with Polly’s life.

He let her go and she ran back into the outer office. Valk didn’t fire... but came on relentlessly. Ben didn’t stay to risk the consequences. After all, Valk might have a good memory; he might remember that he didn’t owe Ben any favours!

Ben doubled back into the office as well.

He felt like a rat in a trap. It would only be a second or two before the Machine caught up with them. There was no way out. But at least they could play for time.

He took Polly’s hand. ‘Right. Let’s see how things are with Wotan.’

He led her into the inner office.

Brett and Krimpton looked at them in confusion. For the first time they seemed to indicate some alarm. Was that transmitted from Wotan?

‘Why are you here?’ demanded Brett.

‘You’ve got a visitor,’ Ben told him.

Neither of the two men spoke, but Wotan came to life with a vengeance. His whole framework shook. ‘Valk!’ There was no doubting the fury in that synthetic voice. ‘Valk!’ And perhaps, as well as fury, Ben thought he could detect something else... Fear! But surely such a machine had no emotion; he was probably imagining things.

He pulled Polly behind him, and stood facing the door.

The Doctor tried to fine-tune the receiver as he sat in the car.

‘There’s something wrong,’ he said. ‘He’s trying to transmit a message.’

‘That machine is trying to tell you something?’ Sir Charles didn’t believe it.

‘Exactly... Now what’s it saying? What?. What?’ The sound came through in erratic pulses which the Doctor was attempting to unscramble. ‘Others?... Others?... What can it mean "others"?’