The Ice Warriors (15 page)

‘But why?’ asked Victoria bravely. ‘You’ve already got us as hostages!’

‘Yes,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘What else do you want?’

‘Information,’ said Varga. ‘You have asked enough questions. Now you will provide answers…’

‘I’ve already told you all I know about the Ioniser,’ replied the Doctor. ‘You don’t need to worry—’

‘What is its power source then? Tell me that!’

Suddenly the Doctor saw the situation in all its clarity. While he had been desperate to know what sort of reactor the Martians had on their spacecraft, they had realised that the Base might be the source of vital fuel for their reactor! The truth was, they were as helpless as Clent and the scientists – the perfect stalemate. But a distant groaning from the glacier outside reminded him of that one random factor. The moving river of ice was dependent on no one; unless it was stopped soon, the Ioniser Base would be swept away like every other man-made object in the glacier’s path.

‘So that’s what you need…’ he said shrewdly, looking past Varga into the engine complex. ‘Fuel – for your reactor. Without it, you’ll never be able to break free!’

‘Answer my question!’ commanded the warlord, holding his sonic destructor close to Victoria’s head, ‘or the girl dies! Quickly!’

‘And if I tell you?’

‘We will take what we need, and use it to blast our way out of the glacier!’ came the fierce reply. ‘Speak!’

The Doctor looked suitably dejected. He turned from the engine complex to face Varga. ‘Mercury isotopes – is that it?’

‘You have them?’ demanded the warlord eagerly.

Victoria’s face filled with dismay at the Doctor’s surrender to the Martian demands. ‘Doctor, you shouldn’t have told him!’

‘You’re more important, Victoria,’ murmured the Doctor, then spoke to Varga defiantly. ‘You won’t find Leader Clent so easy to persuade! He’s got a will as hard as granite!’

‘The sonic cannon,’ whispered Varga, ‘can be programmed to disintegrate the hardest rock. This man will do as we ask – or we will smash his installation to pieces!’ He pointed through the open doorway of the airlock.

There, at the entrance to the ice cave, pointing out over the hillside towards the Base, stood the sonic cannon. At Varga’s gesture, Zondal stepped forward to the control panel inside the main complex of the spaceship. A video-radar screen, with a fire-path already plotted, was suspended over the gun controls.

‘The weapon has only to be primed, and fired at my command,’ hissed the warlord. ‘Zondal is an expert bombardier. Let us hope he does not have to demonstrate his skills more than once!’

When Clent and Miss Garrett arrived in the medicare centre, Jamie was already encased in the computerised diagnostic chamber. Penley, who was overseeing its purring function, didn’t seem to hear Clent enter. But when he did turn round to acknowledge the Leader’s sour greeting, his expression was one of deep relief.

‘So you’ve come back!’ commented Clent.

‘Of my own free will,’ replied the renegade scientist. ‘Largely because I was talked into it by that chap the
Doctor
– and this young friend of his.’

‘Is that all you expect?’ jibed Clent. ‘Free medical treatment? Don’t think you’ll be reinstated! You’re an outsider – self-declared!’

Jan was examining Jamie. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ she asked Penley anxiously. He smiled in reply, appreciating that she didn’t share Clent’s anger.

‘He was shot by the warriors’ guns,’ Penley answered soberly, ‘when they killed Arden. I was afraid there’d be some neural damage, but the diagnosis says it’ll only be temporary – given the right treatment,’ he added challengingly. ‘Or will you try and put a stop to that, too?’

Walters, hovering in the background, looked uneasy. All the signs pointed to yet another row between the two scientists. Clent gestured Walters to remain.

‘Stay here, Walters,’ he ordered, ‘you may be needed.’

‘I’m not liable to be violent!’ snapped Penley. ‘I’m here to make sure that this lad gets the attention he needs – that’s all. Besides which, there’s this chap the Doctor—’

‘Where is he?’ asked Jan quickly. ‘We lost contact with him over an hour ago. Have you seen him?’

Penley nodded, then threw an acid glance at Clent, who glowered back at him fiercely. ‘He’s up to something inside the alien spaceship. Trying to save your skin, I suppose!’ Clent stiffened, but Penley continued. ‘What are you going to do about him then?’

‘There is nothing we can do,’ announced Clent. ‘The computer has given its instructions.’

Instantly, Penley flared into anger. ‘You haven’t changed have you? Can’t you ever think for yourself? It won’t fall
apart
because you tell it to mark time for a couple of hours!’

Clent’s reply was cool and smug. ‘We
are
marking time – at the request of the computer itself. For once,’ smirked Clent, pleased to score over Penley’s incessant jibing at the computer’s authority, ‘you and the computer are in agreement!’

‘In that case, something’s badly wrong. Has it got indigestion – or mumps even?’ he asked hopefully.

Jan replied, trying desperately to keep the peace. If only these two would sink their petty differences and co-operate, she thought, their problems would be solved in no time!

‘The spaceship may contain a reactor system that could explode under the effect of the full Ioniser impact,’ she said simply. ‘We daren’t use it. But World Control have ordered us—’

‘I know about the spaceship’s reactor,’ Penley replied. ‘Didn’t anybody have the sense to work out the time needed for isotope degeneration? For all we know, it may be perfectly harmless…’ He turned to Clent, no longer joking. ‘Now there’s a sensible job for your computer, Clent.’

Clent almost snarled with rage. ‘I have no intention of diverting the Base computer from its official programme!’ he shouted. ‘Least of all for something so trivial and irrelevant! The computer’s judgement is quite clear—’

Penley started shouting back. ‘Clent – you’re a fool! Not even a man – just a slave to that stupid machine!’

‘We all know your sort of freedom, Penley!’ replied Clent savagely. ‘Freedom to run away: from responsibility, from loyalty, from service to the community.’

‘At least I have a mind of my own! I dare to act – but you dare
not
!’ He grasped hold of Clent’s arm. The gesture wasn’t in any way violent, but Clent tore himself free and shouted at the security sergeant:

‘Walters! Use your tranquilliser gun! Shoot!’

Instinctively and swiftly, Walters obeyed. The numbing drug took effect almost immediately. Penley slumped, unconscious, to the floor. As Walters holstered his gun and lifted the limp body on to a nearby bed-trolley, Clent caught Jan’s look of disgust.

‘I had no choice!’ the Leader protested. ‘You saw him grab me!’ Jan said nothing. Everyone present knew the truth – including Clent. He turned to Walters, defensively. ‘Strap him down,’ he ordered. Clent ushered Jan towards the door. ‘We have work to do…’ he declared. But Jan stood fast, her face cold and determined. She pointed towards Jamie, still unconscious and cocooned inside the diagnostic unit.

‘What about the boy?’ she demanded, her tone daring Clent to ignore his condition. Clent glanced towards Jamie’s helpless form; his face softened slightly. He stepped to the control panel of the machine, and pressed a brief sequence of coloured, illuminated tabs. The machine took on a new hum of increased activity, and a status panel now read
TREATMENT IN PROGRESS
.

‘The machine will do the rest,’ said Clent calmly. ‘We must go back to the Ioniser Room and wait.’ As she and the others left the laboratory, Jan threw one last glance back at Penley, drugged and pinioned. She couldn’t help feeling that with he and the Doctor out of action, all hope had faded…
Varga’s
voice rasped harshly from the spaceship’s loudspeaker system, bringing Zondal and his prisoners sharply to alert.

‘I am at the perimeter of the Earthling Base! Prepare the sonic cannon for firing!’

Zondal’s mighty fist touched the response switch. ‘Pulse amplifier in operation now,’ he replied to his unseen master.

Unseen by Zondal, the Doctor mimed a tearful face to Victoria. She responded by bursting into tears. As the Doctor drew the sobbing girl to his shoulder in gentle sympathy, Zondal turned briefly to them, and sneered.

‘It’s all right, Victoria,’ murmured the Doctor comfortingly, ‘you mustn’t be afraid…’

‘When Varga, our warlord, returns in victory,’ declared the Ice Warrior proudly, ‘then you will have cause for weeping!’ He turned back to the complex process under his control, having no inkling of the furtive conversation which was being carried on behind his back. The Doctor handed a large handkerchief to Victoria. In its folds nestled one of the phials he had dialled from the Base dispenser. She looked surprised, but continued to sob aloud.

‘Come along, my dear, have a good blow,’ said the Doctor, then continued in a whisper, ‘When I give the word, throw this stuff into Zondal’s face!’

‘What is it?’ Victoria asked between sobs.

‘Ammonium sulphide.’

Ammonium sulphide?’ Victoria blinked. ‘But that’s what they use for making stink bombs, isn’t it?’

‘I can see you’ve had a sound English education,’ the Doctor commented. ‘You’re quite right – in fact, it’s a minor
poisonous
gas. Unpleasant, but harmless to humans.’ He threw a quick glance at the hulking Martian. ‘But to aliens – quite possibly deadly.’

The shrill whine of power had reached such a pitch that it was now virtually inaudible to human ears. Zondal activated his radio-link, and reported. ‘Pulse amplified and held,’ he hissed. ‘Ready to fire.’

‘Good, Zondal,’ replied Varga. ‘I will now contact the scientists. On my command, you will fire – once. Do you understand?’

‘Understood, Commander.’

Suddenly, Victoria cried out in alarm.

‘Doctor! Look! There’s water coming into the spaceship!’

‘Great heavens!’ exclaimed the Doctor, beckoning the Ice Warrior across. ‘Do you realise what this means, Zondal? The ship is breaking up under the ice!’

Caught between staying at his firing post, and investigating a possible disaster, Zondal hesitated – and was lost.

‘What is it?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘Do not try to trick me!’ Then, as he peered to see what the Doctor was indicating, Victoria threw the contents of the phial straight into his face. For a second, the liquid had no effect at all. Victoria glanced at the Doctor in horrified dismay. Then, just as Zondal seemed to be recovering from the puny attack, his sonic pistol poised for action, the toxic fumes began to grip the creature’s throat. He lurched and fell, choking, to his knees. The Doctor poured the contents of his own phial on to Zondal’s bowed and retching head,
and
then, like Victoria, skipped nimbly out of range. But even as they watched, the Martian’s body convulsed into a helpless wreck. Varga’s harsh voice rang out again.

‘Zondal! Fire – now!’

The stern command had the momentary effect of pulling the desperately weakened warrior back from the edge of oblivion. Zondal lunged weakly towards the control panel, reaching for the firing button. The Doctor dashed forward – but he was too late. Zondal’s fist struck home, and the cannon fired!

9

Counter-Attack

THE BLAST STRUCK
the control room without warning. Clent and Miss Garrett were hurled to the floor. Clent’s first thought was that there had been a localised earthquake – but a quick glance at the seismic chart gave no indication of a natural disaster. He and Jan had barely risen to their feet, half-stunned, when Walters burst into the control room, dusty and battered.

‘Sir—’ he gasped. He paused to steady himself.

‘For heaven’s sake, Walters,’ demanded Clent, ‘what’s happening?’

‘The documentation wing, sir’ – explained the security sergeant breathlessly – ‘it’s gone – blown apart!’

They stared at him in disbelief. Then a glimmer of understanding crept into Clent’s brain. ‘We’re under attack!’ he whispered wildly. ‘But who on earth…’

Suddenly, the videoscreen flicked into life. Partially distorted by interference, but hideously recognisable, was the grim face of the Ice Warrior.

‘Leader Clent,’ came the terrifying hiss, ‘you are at my mercy. Obey me, or you will be destroyed!’

Clent snapped back, hysterically defiant. ‘I refuse! You cannot destroy us!’

‘You do not believe me? Must I fire again?’

Clent turned towards the others, but hardly seemed to see them. His eyes looked glazed; he rubbed his hands together in nervous desperation. Jan suddenly felt an enormous surge of pity – he was on the verge of losing his nerve completely.

‘What can we do?’ he croaked, looking about him aimlessly. Suddenly, his eyes brightened. ‘We must play for time!’ Walters was more realistic.

‘The building won’t take any more like that, sir! There’s men killed already.’

‘Then we’ll talk to them,’ snapped Clent, and, acting with a little of his old authority, he addressed the image on the videoscreen. ‘Exactly who am I speaking to?’ Jan moved forward and stood by his shoulder.

‘My name is Varga, warlord of Mars. I order you to surrender – or you will die!’

‘You will gain nothing by destroying us,’ replied Clent. ‘We both have urgent needs. But I will agree to talk – nothing more.’ At first, the Martian didn’t reply. The tension became almost unbearable.

‘If I come in peace,’ the voice replied at last, ‘there must be trust between us. No treachery!’

‘There will be no traps – or conditions,’ declared Clent.

‘See that you keep to that,’ rasped Varga, and his image faded from the screen.

It took several minutes for the scientists to regain their normal composure.

‘What does he want…’ whispered Jan.

‘My men don’t stand a chance against weapons like that, sir,’ insisted the security sergeant. ‘It’d be murder!’

‘That wasn’t in my mind, Walters,’ retorted Clent. ‘You heard what he said – no treachery!’

‘But can we trust him?’ asked Jan.

‘We have to, don’t we?’ replied Clent. ‘He has… certain advantages – like the ability to blast us and this whole building apart!’