The Missing Adventures - Evolution Part 21

I was torn by indecision. This hideous creature was obviously asking me to risk my life to get it something from the craft. I saw no need to endanger myself to do anything for a being so repulsive. Then again, had the creature been the archangel Michael himself and asking the same thing, I'd have been as little inclined to aid him. The only thing that prevented me from leaving the thing to die was a single thought: if, in its dying moments, the being desired something brought to it from its s.h.i.+p, it must be something of immense value.

In which case, I could use it better.

Protecting myself as best I could from the flames, I plunged into the wreckage. The vile creature had indicated some kind of a cupboard inside its conveyance. I wouldn't have known how to open it, so I was fortunate that it had sprung apart in the crash. Inside the compartments was a single container. This was obviously what the being desired, so I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up and fled the star cab. Behind me, as I ran, the flames engulfed the craft, and explosions began to rack the area.

The foul creature attempted to make me stop as I rushed past it. Somehow it extruded a tentacle in my direction. I succeeded in evading its foul grip and made my way out of the blazing warehouse. Behind me the shattered roof collapsed and the horrendous screams of the dying creature were cut off at last. I brushed past the spectators and hurried back to my laboratory with my treasure, still uncertain of what I had found. Yet it had come from a craft that had never been constructed by human hands. Whatever I had salvaged, I reasoned, must be worth a fortune if I could only deduce its purpose.

In the safety and peace of my laboratory I opened the container, to discover it filled with a gooey semi-liquid. At first I couldn't comprehend what it was, and then it finally came to me in a moment of inspiration: this was some kind of healing gel for the dying creature. It had wished to cover the burnt sections of its skin with this material. I had suffered a number of small burns in the fire, and so I hesitantly applied a small amount of the gel to my skin. I knew that I could be making a ter - rible mistake: the creature had not been human by any stretch of the imagination, and perhaps its metabolism was vastly different from my own. What might cure the shapeless creature might serve only to kill me. But I had to know the answer.

It came within seconds, as the burns healed over, leaving pinkish, fresh skin in their wake. I could hardly believe my luck! This was some kind of miracle cure-all, it seemed. But I needed to do further experimentation to see what its limits were.

As I mentioned, I was working in the area under the guise of a Mercy Hospital. One of the patients that had been brought to me was a young boy who had been bitten by a hydrophobic dog. There had never been any chance that he would recover, but I was fascinated to study the effects that rabies had on his body as he slowly died. Now a thought came to me: no matter what effect the cream I now possessed had, it could hardly do more than kill the boy, which the rabies was already well in the course of achieving. So I applied some of the salve to the bitten areas, and waited to see what would occur.

Within hours I was witness to the most astounding of changes. The symptoms of the disease had vanished almost entirely, and he appeared to be recovering well. I had visions of being the first man to announce a cure for rabies which would surely have brought me fame and fortune, towards neither of which am I averse. However, as I watched, something even more astounding began to take place. The boy, I realized, was growing hair on his exposed skin. Now this was a boy of perhaps ten years of age, no more. How could this be happening? As I watched, his body became more and more distorted, and I realized that he was gradually taking on the characteristics of a dog, which were becoming admixed with his human characteristics.

This was utterly unforeseen and unheard of. I knew that I was on the verge of the major discovery of my life here. The gelatinous mess was somehow fusing the boy's human characteristics to those of a canine!

You can imagine how excited this made me. I stayed up three days in a row, watching and waiting to see and record every small change, to note every detail. It was fascinating, watching this gel change the boy into a viable hybrid. It had somehow picked up on the canine elements present in the boy's wounds and fused them into his own structure. As I watched, I puzzled over how this could have come about. Then, finally, I realized that the gel was more than simply some kind of healing cream for that unearthly creature that had perished in the blaze. I had noted that the being had possessed a kind of amorphous structure. Presumably on the cellular level, the creature had been similarly uncertain. The salve, in order to heal, must have therefore needed to somehow a.n.a.lyse what was to be repaired and then accomplish the deed.

Naturally, when I had applied it to myself, it had healed me with no strange effects. But when the boy's bodily structure had been invaded by the cells of the rabid dog, the salve had then latched onto both patterns and somehow fused them into a single viable ent.i.ty. It was staggering the mechanism I had sought had been literally delivered into my hands from the sky!

As I watched, I worked feverishly. I had a good supply of the salve, but it would hardly last forever. I experimented in various ways, and finally came up with a method that enabled me to reproduce the gel if I supplied it with the raw elements it needed to reproduce itself. This left me with a self-regenerating supply of the gel, which now rests in the large vat within my current laboratory.

I was forced to flee London in somewhat hurried circ.u.mstances before my researches were quite concluded. I did bring with me the vat of gel and my hound-boy. On the way here, however, the hybrid managed to escape the carriage bearing it, and roamed free on the moors until it was slain a few nights ago. I didn't really care whether it lived or died, for my studies of the beast had enabled me to formulate my plans, and to work on achieving my goal.

Financed by Breckinridge, this laboratory area was hollowed out of old caves in the rocky cliffs and connected to his factory above. Here I was able to plan my next step: the creation not of an individual but an entire race! Breckinridge was fired with a similar vision to mine, and the concept of the human/dolphin hybrid was one that seemed natural to us both. I managed to get samples of the marine creatures I needed, and Raintree and Brogan supplied me with a prime subject, a young street urchin.

Breckinridge wanted a species that could live and work underwater, which was a ticklish proposition. Dolphins, as you know, possess lungs and breathe air. I didn't feel that the merfolk could be kept secret if they constantly had to surface to breathe, nor could their work levels be terribly high. In the end, I managed to create a dolphin-like creature that possessed gills. This I then grafted into my test subject. To my delight the grafting took instantly, and I was able to monitor her changes. She came through it perfectly, and is the proud leader of my new superhuman race.

Changing the children was one thing, but training them quite another. Like so many children, they did not wish to work to repay us for our efforts. We were therefore left with no option but to compel them by force to do as we wished. For that, we needed guards. I took several immature harbour seals and grafted human elements into them. These elements are taken from the fluids extracted from recently deceased humans. This increased both their intelligence and their aggression level. It rendered them perfect for their tasks. They guard the merfolk and ensure that they work as required. They also patrol the area to keep out intruders and spies.

I have achieved my dream, and even as we speak the new race that I envisioned and formed is working on the sea bed. I have achieved the greatest possible triumph for a man of science I have turned my dreams into reality!

9.

Survival of the Fittest arah stared at Ross in anger and pity. The guy was a total nut-case, apparently oblivious to the incredible pain and suf-Sfering he had caused in the pursuit of this insane dream of his. He had detailed without any shame or remorse crime after crime against human and non-human species. And he seemed to think that she should be pleased to die so he could use her for spare parts! 'You're mad, you know that?' she asked him. She tried to sound cheerful and brave, but she was terrified of him.

He didn't seem at all bothered by her comment. 'Sadly,' he informed her, 'one of the guards was slain last night, and I need to produce a replacement. This is where you will provide me with the help I need, Sarah. Your fluids will enable me to mutate a new guard and allow my work to continue. You should be very proud of your contribution to science.'

'Thanks a lot, but I could skip the honour,' she answered. 'Couldn't I just leave you my body in my will?'

'Come now,' he admonished her. 'Don't be so reactionary. You have to die anyway, since you persisted in investigating matters that were none of your concern. Raintree and Brogan would happily murder you for an evening's entertainment if I allowed it, but they would be unlikely to return your corpse to me in a state I could use. This way, I promise you a painless death and some achievement once you have expired. Wouldn't you prefer that?'

'Can I sleep on it and let you know in the morning?' she asked.

Ross laughed, genuinely amused. It was scary how he could divorce his conscience and his mind like that. 'Oh, I'm rather sorry to lose you, Sarah. You do provide me with such amus.e.m.e.nt.'

'Court jester extraordinaire, that's me,' Sarah said. 'Look, why don't you just buy me a nice fool's costume, and I'll be happy to hang around and entertain you.'

'I'm sorry,' he replied, and he did sound genuinely sad. 'But that's not a viable option.' He picked up a scalpel from the table beside him. 'Goodbye, Sarah. It's been a pleasure chatting with you, but I'm afraid that it has to end now. I'm on a rather tight schedule, you know, and business is business.'

Sarah's eyes focused in horror on the sharp tip of the instrument as he moved towards her. Her heart was pounding, and she wanted to scream. Terror welled up within her as he moved slowly and relentlessly across the room to murder her.

As the small party reached the locked gates to the factory, Ross turned to Abercrombie. 'Time for you to earn your pay,' he said.

Abercrombie sighed, and moved to the padlock. 'I've been meaning to speak to you about that,' he said. 'I think I deserve danger money for these here jobs. I'm in grave danger of being murdered once we get inside here.'

'You'll need it even more if you don't hurry,' Ross informed him. 'I'm likely to murder you here and now.'

'Is that what you call an incentive?' grumbled Abercrombie. As he complained, he worked on the lock using a piece of bent wire and a nail-file. After a second there was a soft snick and the padlock sprang open. 'You may applaud if you wish.'

'We don't,' Ross answered, helping to remove the chain that held the two gates together. One by one they filed through the gate, leaving it slightly ajar as they pa.s.sed on towards the main building.

'I believe the route we have to take is through the main working area,' the Doctor informed Ross. The colonel nodded, leading the way to the side entrance. There was a large oaken door here, st.u.r.dy and padlocked. During the day it would be opened to allow the delivery of supplies to the work floor. In the corner of the larger door was a smaller one, also equipped with a strong-looking lock.

'Can you open that up quickly?' Ross asked Abercrombie.

His a.s.sistant examined the lock carefully under a tight beam from his dark lantern, then shook his head. 'No way,' he replied. 'It's too modern for that. I could be here all night fiddling with that.'

'What do we do now?' asked Doyle, frustration tingeing his voice.

'Use the other option,' replied the little thief. 'Here, hold this.' He gave Doyle the lantern, and then removed a small hammer and spike from his pocket. Using the spike, he gestured at the hinges. 'Typical dumb mistake,' he pointed out. 'Put on a big lock and think the door's imprega-blooming-ble.' He grinned, and then used the spike to tap out the rod from the hinges. Ross and the Doctor then pulled the door apart. 'Easy when you know how,' Abercrombie said, grinning.

'We'll send you a thank-you later,' the Doctor informed him. He peered cautiously inside the factory floor. 'It appears deserted. Come on.'

The small group hurried after him to the lathe he'd spotted earlier. Now that Doyle looked closely, he could see that there were indeed scratch marks in the floor in a quarter-circle, starting at the lathe's left corner.

'Now ain't that corny,' sighed Abercrombie. 'You think they'd be more bleeding inventive, wouldn't you?'

'It appears to work,' the Doctor answered. 'There's probably a release catch somewhere on the base that prevents it from moving accidentally.'

Ross nodded, and bent to examine the bottom rim of the heavy base with his own lantern. After a second, they all heard a click. 'I think that's it,' Ross announced, straightening up. 'Shall we?'

The four of them pushed on the right-hand side of the lathe. Silently it swung about on a pivot, revealing a dark pit below. The top five or six steps of a flight of stairs leading down into the ground were visible in the dim light cast by their lanterns.

'Will you step into my parlour?' intoned the Doctor.

'What other choice do we have?' asked Ross. 'I'll go first.' Using his walking stick to probe the darkness ahead of him, he led the way down. The Doctor and then Doyle followed.

'I'll just wait for you here,' suggested Abercrombie. 'A rear guard, if you like.'

'You'd better guard your rear if you don't come on,' growled Ross. 'Else I'll deliver a swift kick up it.'

Abercrombie sighed and started down the steps after them.

Ross and Doyle had their dark lanterns opened partway, allowing only trickles of light out. As a result, their descent of the stairs was carried on in a small, dull circle of illumination. Ten steps down and it was as if they were in another world entirely. There was the soft sound of dripping water from ahead of them. In silence, they slowly descended the stairs.

After about a hundred steps, the stairs ended in a short pa.s.sage that sloped gently forward. Ross risked opening the aper-ture of his lantern slightly so that they could see down the pa.s.sageway. It culminated in a large iron doorway about twenty feet ahead of them. Turning down the light, he led the way to the bulkhead door. In the centre of this was a wheel.

'In case of trouble,' the Doctor murmured. 'We must be below sea-level now. This can be locked in case of leaks.'

'Yeah,' muttered Abercrombie. 'Plumbers must be hard to come by down here.'

Ross gestured for the others to stand back, and then gripped the wheel. Slowly he turned it anti-clockwise. Soundlessly, it moved, and then the door swung open. Beyond it lay another dark area. Silent again, they filed forward, while Ross started to close the door behind them.

Doyle used his lantern to examine the room that they were in. It was hewn from the rough bedrock, and only about six feet across. It was completely empty, but an identical door to the one they had just pa.s.sed through stood slightly ajar opposite them. The Doctor nodded to indicate their way forward. Doyle started to push the door open when it was suddenly yanked from his grasp and swung wide.

Two almost intolerably bright lights snapped on, dazzling the four adventurers. Doyle cried out in pain and surprise.

'Good evening, gentlemen,' Breckinridge said amiably from beyond the glare. 'I fear you're a trifle late for the daily guided tour, but please do come inside.'

s.h.i.+elding his eyes from the brightness, Doyle staggered forward as the Doctor shoved him from behind. He stumbled across the threshold and past the two glowing lights. Beyond them he saw the factory owner and two nasty-looking customers carrying side-arms that were pointed in the direction of the four of them.

Breckinridge pulled a pocket watch from his waistcoat and glanced at it. 'Almost midnight already. Dear me, if you'd simply made an appointment earlier with my secretary, all of this tedious waiting could have been avoided.'

'I shall remember that,' the Doctor promised, 'the next time I plan a secret mission to stop the grandiose schemes of a deluded megalomaniac.' He grinned at Breckinridge. 'No offence meant.'

'And none taken, Doctor Smith.' Breckinridge's smile seemed quite genuine and unforced.

'Doctor who?' asked Abercrombie of his master. Ross stomped on his foot, making the tubby thief wince.

'If you've all quite finished?' asked Breckinridge. 'I think you've kept me up quite late enough as it is. Shall we get this over with so that I can get a little rest? I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow, you know. You really can't imagine how hard it is to run a factory.'

'You scoundrel!' exclaimed Doyle. 'Do you expect us to sympathize with you?'

'No, Doctor,' Breckinridge answered. 'I expect you to die. Then I expect the little fis.h.i.+es outside will have a feast.

Beyond that, I couldn't care less what you do.' He gestured with one hand, and the two men with him raised their guns.

'Excuse me,' said the Doctor, politely raising his hand. 'Could I ask for a teensy little favour first?'

Breckinridge sighed. 'Really, Doctor, you do try my patience, you know. I do so hate late nights. Early to bed, early to rise and all that.'

'I always preferred Thurber myself,' the Doctor replied. ' " Early to rise and early to bed, makes a man healthy, wealthy and dead." '

'Well,' Breckinridge told him, 'you're about to prove the truth of that saying. Now, what is this favour of yours?'

The Doctor glanced at the floor. 'It's a failing of mine,' he confessed, 'but I'd really hate to be killed without knowing exactly why I'm being murdered. I mean, I can see that you're a busy man, things to do, worlds to conquer, infinitives to split and all that. But could you spare just a little time to enlighten me on a few points?'

The businessman smiled. 'I suppose I do owe you that, at the very least.' He considered the matter for a moment. 'Very well,' he agreed. 'I'll illuminate you concerning my plans. Then Raintree and Brogan will kill you. Happier now?'

'Absolutely ecstatic,' the Doctor a.s.sured him. 'So, what's it all about, Alfie?'

'I'm sorry?'

'Ah, this whole scheme,' the Doctor said, gesturing about. 'Hiding in slimy little tunnels, killing poor innocent fishermen, s.n.a.t.c.hing bodies, breeding dogs that Crufts wouldn't even think of giving a blue ribbon to. That sort of thing.'

Breckinridge nodded. 'You're wondering what the point of all this activity is, I take it?'

'Exactly!' The Doctor beamed. 'How succinct. So tell me: what's the point of all this activity?'

'Progress, Doctor, progress!' Breckinridge smiled happily, and waved his hands around. 'This is the wave of the future, Doctor.'

'Really?' asked Ross, mildly amused. 'Humanity is going to start living in leaky subterranean tunnels? Doesn't sound like much of a future to me.'

Breckinridge glared at him. 'Mock me if you choose,' he said coldly, 'but remember who holds the power here.' He turned to the Doctor. 'Really, how could you ally yourself with such a cra.s.s individual?'

The Doctor shrugged. 'Necessity makes for strange bedfellows,' he suggested. 'Now, what was that you said about progress?'

Breckinridge nodded. 'Come with me, Doctor, and I will show you more wonders than any man has ever imagined.' He glared at Raintree. 'Watch them all. If any of them makes a false move, shoot him. Otherwise, don't harm them until I'm finished.' With a charming smile, he said, 'Gentlemen, if you'd care to follow me?'

'I think I speak for us all,' the Doctor murmured, 'when I say that we're a captive audience. Lead on, Macduff.'

Holding the scalpel in front of him, Ross moved slowly across the laboratory towards Sarah. 'I promise you,' he said, 'this will be as swift and painless as I can manage. I have no desire to hurt you.'

'Well, I've plenty of desire to hurt you,' snapped Sarah. Her pain and fear had built within her to almost fever pitch, but she wasn't about to let him get away with his insane plans. She gripped the pipe over her head with her hands, and waited for him to move closer. As he stepped within four feet of her, she exploded into action.

She whipped up her right foot with as much force as she could muster. Her toe slammed into his wrist with bone-shat-tering impact. The scalpel flew from his nerveless fingers, clattering to the ground in the distance. Ross screamed and used his good hand to grip his smashed right wrist. Suspending herself from her hands, Sarah whipped up her legs, hooking her right foot behind his neck and pulling him toward her. Then she slammed down her left foot on his back. She felt the heel of her shoe crunch down hard on his ribs, and heard the distinct sound of a bone breaking.

Ross screamed wordlessly as he fell to the cold floor.

Panting, Sarah twisted about to try and use her feet on him again. But though Ross was wounded and in pain, he wasn't stupid enough to stay still. Crab-like, he scuttled out of her reach, then tried to straighten up. He winced, and his skin turned a sickly shade of white as he succeeded in regaining his feet.

'My hand!' he screamed. 'You've broken my hand!'

Sarah glared at him through her fringe. 'What a wimp,' she mocked him. 'You don't care how much pain and misery you've inflicted on others, do you? But break one little bone in your hand and you start blubbering like a baby.'

'You'll pay for that,' he hissed, glaring in anger and agony at her. He was still nursing his broken wrist, and was slightly hunched over as a result of the blow from her heel. 'Oh, you'll pay for that.'

'It'll be worth it,' she told him. She wanted him mad enough to attack her again. Despite appearances, she was actually at an advantage here. Ross had been expecting some meek Victorian maid who'd faint at the thought of what he'd do to her.