Killing Ground Part 20

'I won't do it! It would break every Law of Time, cause chaos in -'

The Doctor wasn't allowed to complete the sentence. Henneker swung a metal hand to deliver a blow which sent him reeling. Somebody caught him and he was helped to regain his balance, a hand pressed to his forehead. Grant started forward but thought better of the action.

'What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?' shouted Max, only to find herself ignored. The Doctor had recovered his wits and seemed about to speak again, but Henneker plunged a fist into his stomach and the Time Lord went down with a gasp.

'You have the means to save our world,' said Henneker. 'If you will not do so, you must be considered hostile. You will be imprisoned, like the Overseers, to be dealt with when the war is over.'

The Doctor dragged himself up onto his knees and made one last attempt to force Henneker to see sense. 'I can't take you to the past.

You think it would save lives, but you don't know the carnage it would cause. You can't just alter history and expect the timestream to stand up to such abuse. Your world would collapse and take a good portion of the universe with it!'

Henneker considered. Then, to the Doctor's evident relief, he said: 'I accept your explanation. However, you can use your s.h.i.+p to transport us undetected to the Cybermen's warcraft, where we can engage them in combat.'

That seemed quite reasonable to Grant - but the Doctor didn't give his answer immediately. He looked at Henneker in silence for an interminable moment, then a profoundly sad expression darkened his face and he shook his head. 'I'm sorry. I don't trust you.'

Henneker's patience was exhausted. He turned and beckoned to two Knights. They lumbered forward, took positions beside the kneeling Time Lord and hefted an arm each. 'Imprison him,' their leader rapped.

'Tie him securely.' The Doctor was dragged to his feet and guided, unprotestingly, into Population Control. He didn't look back.

In the aftermath of his departure, a frightened hush fell over the spectators. Then Henneker addressed them, repeating his instruction that they should return to the complex and continue their preparations.

This time, there was no argument. The colonists began to file back into the building, watched over by the cyborg saviours who had suddenly become their subjugators.

Grant picked out a path towards Max, who was standing and hugging herself, eyes big with misery and shock. 'What have we created?' she whispered as he drew level with her.

'Things will get better once the Cybermen have gone,' he said. 'The Bronze Knights' motives are good. They're trying to save lives, not take them.' He forced himself not to look at the grisly corpse of the man slain by Henneker's gun. 'Perhaps they just think more clearly than we do. That's what they're supposed to do, isn't it? They're trying to win, the only way they can. They can't let emotions get in the way of that.

They can't afford to feel compa.s.sion - or hurt, or emptiness. At least they're doing something.'

Max looked at him as if she knew what was coming and didn't like it.

'What are you trying to talk yourself into?' she asked.

'I want to help,' said Grant. 'I want to know what to do. I want to be protected.' He took a deep breath and released the words which demanded to be freed.

'I'm volunteering to become a Bronze Knight.'

12.

You've Got to Have Soul

egelia knew that conversion had begun when she felt an intense, H numbing coldness creeping across her. It reached her brain and threatened to shut down her mind, coaxing her into an ethereal world of hallucinatory comfort. She fought it, concentrating on the micro-recorder, solid in her hand. She forced coherence into her thoughts and directed it towards her vocal chords. 'I am being anaesthetized,' she dictated, aware that the words were sluggish and distant. 'I doubt that is because the Cybermen feel compa.s.sion for their subjects. Rather, I suspect they recognize the possibility of the brain's expiring if the body's pain becomes too great. I will attempt to retain lucidity and continue this record for as long as I am able.'

There was nothing more to say for the moment. Despite herself, Hegelia felt her thoughts drifting off at a tangent. She thought about the Cyber army that she was unleas.h.i.+ng and she felt a pang of guilt. She denied it. The people and the places around her might seem real, but they were no more than pages in an ancient history text. By her time, the situation on Agora would be utterly insignificant but for what researchers could learn of the Cyber legend from it. In any case, she had changed the outcome already, by being here and by killing a Cyberman herself. She was only correcting things.

She couldn't let such doubts sway her. Hegelia had travelled to Agora for just one reason, and this was it. She should feel only pride at her significant accomplishment. She had reached the long-awaited zenith of a lifetime's toil and was doc.u.menting, for the first time, an experience which few people could even hope to know.

If this was history, then ArcHivist Hegelia's name was about to go down in it.

'It's no use arguing with me,' said Max. 'I'm in charge of this surgery and I'm not going to operate on you!' She pushed past Grant and settled at the computer terminal, checking the heating system which kept her customized plastic-metal compound in its semi-liquid state.

Grant followed and protested to her stubbornly turned back.

'Why not? What's wrong with me?'

'You've made the wrong choice, that's what. You're upset about Taggart and the Doctor and everything else, you've been reminded of your mortality and you think you've found a quick fix - for both body and emotions. Well, tough!'

'I'll go to Henneker,' threatened Grant. 'He won't let you turn me down.'

'No, I don't suppose he will. After all, if I stand up to him, he can just blow my head off, can't he?' Grant winced and Max rammed home her point. 'Not that you'd care. No, you're taking the easy way out. You want to be like that yourself.'

'No, I don't - that's the point! I'd have some power. I could stop the things they're doing, make sure they act for the good of everyone. They wouldn't ignore me if I was one of them.'

Max gave up trying to work - and trying to ignore him. She turned to face Grant and, seeing that she was calming herself down, about to try reasonable discussion, he sat and waited to hear her out.

'Remember what we talked about,' said Max. 'We don't know what happens to the human mind once the brain has been altered. It's all very well to decide now what you'd do as a Bronze Knight - but afterwards, you'd think differently.'

Grant knew that she was making sense, but he desperately wanted her not to. He had taken long enough to come to a decision. He couldn't bear the thought of its logic crumbling, leaving him unsupported and uncertain all over again. 'I'd think more clearly, that's all,' he protested. 'I wouldn't be hampered by... regrets and sorrow.' He thought of Taggart and blinked back tears.

'No, Grant, that's just what we'd like to think. We all want to feel there's something inside of us, some indefinable, una.s.sailable core containing the essence of our beings. A soul, if you like. We hope that, whatever is done to our bodies, up to and including death, that core will remain intact - because we can't imagine what it would feel like if it didn't. But look at Henneker. Is he the same person who gathered us together and set us to work on the Project? He's changed - and, yes, perhaps his soul, his ident.i.ty, is intact somewhere, but can you really believe it's in the head of that creature which committed murder outside?'

The only answer Grant could give was a mute shake of the head.

'Worse still,' said Max, more gently now, 'what if we've destroyed the person that Henneker was? What if, by tampering with his brain, we've caused more damage than death could ever have done? What then?'

At first, Madrox watched the process in fascination.

A hundred surgical implements seemed to grow from the walls of Hegelia's compartment, poking, prodding and inserting themselves into her body. It looked as if a silver web was being spun about her, obscured by the wispy vapours of whatever was making the room feel so cold. But Hegelia was obviously not in pain; at least, not so much that she couldn't keep up her record. 'I am now clamped into position,'

she reported. 'I cannot see what is happening, as I am unable to turn or lower my head. My vision is also blurred, a side-effect no doubt of the cold which numbs my neural pathways. I do feel, however, that the Cybermen's instruments are moving into place and are almost poised to begin conversion proper.'

The spectacle was gruesomely compulsive. Madrox waited for the web's mechanical elements to mesh, to resolve themselves into familiar Cyber armour which would clamp itself about its subject. In fact, the next stage was far more horrible than his naive expectations had led him to prepare for. He felt bile rising in his throat as the compartment's instruments jerked into action and Hegelia's torso was savagely ripped open. He tore his gaze from the ragged flaps of skin, the exposed tissue, the welling blood which a vacuum pump removed before it could cause inconvenience. He doubled up, his empty stomach heaving, thinking of the hundreds of other people, their similar fates hidden behind frosted gla.s.s.

For the first time, Madrox began to wish that he had never been persuaded to start this.

The atmosphere in Max's surgery was subdued. For a long time, the only sounds came from the bubbling contents of the vats and the odd minor stirring of the latest six would-be Knights in their mouldings.

'How can you do it?' asked Grant finally. 'If that's the way you feel about the Bronze Knights, how can you keep building them? How can you accept more volunteers?'

'With difficulty,' Max said drily, 'but what choice do we have? The Cybermen must be beaten. We can worry about the consequences later.'

'Why them and not me?' The question came automatically. Grant wasn't sure what he would say if Max couldn't answer. He no longer knew his own mind as he thought he had done.

'You never really spoke to Arthur Lakesmith, did you?'

Grant shrugged. 'A few times, before the operation.'

'I was eighteen when he led the first rebellion,' said Max, with the distance of faded recollection. 'Everyone said this was it; that the Cybermen were going to be overthrown. When it didn't happen, things felt even worse than before. The world was depressed. A lot of people committed suicide. That's one reason for not converting you. You haven't lived through it like the rest of us. You don't have the same reasons for making the sacrifice.'

'And Mr Lakesmith?' Grant prompted.

'You don't want to know what the Cybermen did to him.'

'Did they take his arm?'

'They took his spirit. They allowed him to live, but crippled and obsessed by his defeat. It was four years before he would even come outside again. Once he did, he just used to shamble about the marketplace, looking sorry for himself and jumping out of his skin if anyone spoke. He was the best advertis.e.m.e.nt for obedience that the Cybermen could have had.'

'He didn't seem so bad when I met him,' said Grant. 'A bit withdrawn, perhaps.'

'Henneker gave him something to look forward to. As a Bronze Knight, he thought he could be whole again and strong enough to make up for his failure. That's why I let him be the first one, the guinea-pig. He didn't have much to lose.' Max's eyes misted over.

'Whatever he did have, he lost it. I hope he's happier now.'

'And the others?'

'They're harder to justify, but they don't really have a life to go back to when this is over. You do. Apart from which, I know you better than most of them. I don't want to see you harmed. I know that's not a very logical reason, but I don't want it to be. I'd rather it was human.'

Grant nodded, feeling as if he had just been allowed to put down a crippling weight. His mind was clear again - at least, relatively so.

'I think I'd rather be human too,' he confessed.

Hegelia collected her thoughts and began to speak, although she felt as if a lump of ice had formed in her throat. 'The numbness has spread, so I can no longer be sure if I am even holding my recorder. If it has fallen, I hope it can still pick up my voice.'

An image of childhood was conjured up unbidden: Hegelia, sitting in bed, peering over the tops of sheets drawn up to protect her. Her father was reading from the book of tales. A special one tonight. A real one.

No fictional monsters impressed young Hegelia, nor worried her. From an early age, she had learned to distinguish between fantasy and reality, to dismiss crazy notions of dragons and bogeymen. But the Cybermen were different. Confined to mythical status though they had been, they were undeniably real. It wasn't beyond possibility that one might have survived; might have travelled to her homeworld and secreted itself beneath her bed. Hegelia had had bad dreams that night, but had found them strangely stimulating too.

She struggled to return herself to the present, dully alarmed at the effort it took. She had been trying to describe something.

Something...

She remembered.

'I can no longer measure time. Hours might have pa.s.sed, or minutes.

I once felt something tearing and believed my robes to have been stripped from me. I now recognize that, in fact, my skin was ripped apart.' Dimly, it registered that she should be more distressed about such an occurrence. 'I have been split open like a rotten fruit,' she said in a vain attempt to provoke an emotional response. 'I know this is true as I can feel the stirrings of instruments within me. No doubt, redundant organs are being removed.'

Hegelia held on to that notion for a moment and tried to deduce more precisely what was being done. It dismayed her that, having reached this moment, she could not be fully cognizant of all that was happening to her. Still, her responsibility was to record the experience from the inside. Others could study the mechanics from without.

Then, suddenly, she felt as if a cloud had parted, allowing her to receive sensory information which previously had been obscured. She became aware of a hollow sensation, as if a cavity had been drilled out of her chest, and she was certain that she no longer had a pulse. 'My heart has been taken,' she said, her voice lowered until it was almost reverential in tone. 'I am existing on a life support system. I have pa.s.sed the point of no return.'

Then Peter was very frightened, because the lever he had pulled had opened the Cyberman's frozen tomb. He had woken the sleeping beast and it was coming out to Cyberman's frozen tomb. He had woken the sleeping beast and it was coming out to get him. get him.

'My head is supporting additional weight. Something hard and flat is being pressed against each ear. I can, however, still feel cold air. The faceplate has not been attached.'

'Are you going to keep me a prisoner?' asked Peter.

'No,' said the Cyberman.

'Are you going to turn me to stone? Will you eat me up?'

'None of those things,' said the Cyberman. 'You have set a monster free. Your punishment is to be turned into a monster yourself.' punishment is to be turned into a monster yourself.'

'The helmet seems to be feeding information to me. I was already aware of Cyber history, of course, but I am relearning it from a fresh perspective. I view each incident as an entirely necessary task, performed with tactical genius. I take no discomfort in failure, but see instead how remaining resources can be redirected into future efforts.

Regrettably, I cannot grasp every fact which enters my mind. It feels as if... yes, as if the data is merely pa.s.sing through to a computer storage and retrieval system. Or to... or to... another mind? another mind? The idea was appalling. For the first time, Hegelia was scared. Then a calming presence insinuated itself upon her thoughts and, although the situation was still as terrifying, the fear was lessened. 'Could this be it?' she asked herself wonderingly. 'Could my self be destroyed and replaced by a manufactured personality? I am aware of it now: a heavy presence in my mind, crowding out my ident.i.ty. Could this be another aspect Of me? A part of my brain unlocked by conversion? I do not know.' The idea was appalling. For the first time, Hegelia was scared. Then a calming presence insinuated itself upon her thoughts and, although the situation was still as terrifying, the fear was lessened. 'Could this be it?' she asked herself wonderingly. 'Could my self be destroyed and replaced by a manufactured personality? I am aware of it now: a heavy presence in my mind, crowding out my ident.i.ty. Could this be another aspect Of me? A part of my brain unlocked by conversion? I do not know.'

It occurred to her to question the reason for her monologue. By accessing her memories, she was able to learn that she was attempting to make a spoken record of her apotheosis. Hegelia couldn't see any logical reason for continuing to do so. She fell silent.

She was starting to hurt. It didn't matter. In moments, the pains of the flesh would be gone for ever. Her legs had been removed. Superior, prosthetic limbs were being attached to the stumps. Her hands would be next. Her brain sent signals to the muscles in her fingers, telling them to relax, to drop the recorder before it was destroyed. She wasn't sure if the message got through. She couldn't explain why it was important that it should. Why did she want to keep talking?

'My brain is fully connected to the Cyber computer,' she said in a voice which seemed indefinably different. 'My eyes have been scooped out and the sockets filled with ruby ocular crystals, the inputs from which are to be routed to my cognitive processors. I will be fitted with a chest unit, after which final cranial operations will take place. I have been born into the Cyber race and my duty is clear.'

'We will conquer. We will proliferate. We will be supreme.'