Killing Ground Part 8

'I got the impression that the woman wanted to be captured. I'm not sure she'd co-operate.'

'The boy will be enough,' said Henneker. He smiled victoriously and crossed the room to a corner in which cardboard boxes and paper bags held a plethora of disa.s.sembled machinery, mostly junk. He delved into a yellowing bag and pulled out an ageing, weathered Overseer tech-unit.

He proffered it to Taggart. 'Here, you can give him this. Get him out of the building, show him the best route to avoid the guards and he'll be able to use it to get the rest of the way to the fence.'

Max s.n.a.t.c.hed the unit from him. 'Where did you get this?'

Henneker seemed inordinately proud of the acquisition. 'Remember when an Overseer patrol disappeared four years ago?'

She did. 'And a dozen young men from Sector Five were tortured and marched off to Population Control in revenge. That's typical of you - it doesn't matter who gets hurt, so long as you get what you want!'

'The Overseers would have filled the complex anyway,' Henneker argued, 'just a little later, that's all. And we can save many more lives by stopping the Cybermen!'

They glared at each other for a long moment. Max was fuming with resentment. So long as he survived, anyone else was expendable, that was the deal. Reluctantly, she had to admit there was some logic to it.

Henneker had put a lot of effort into becoming a new figurehead around whom the shattered Agorans could rally. It had taken over a decade to replace Arthur Lakesmith; how much longer to find someone else if Henneker was defeated too? But Max still hated his att.i.tude.

Taggart broke the deadlock. 'I think I'd better go,' he mumbled. 'I don't want Madrox realizing how long I've been gone.'

Henneker nodded. 'Send the boy as soon as you can. We've only got a few hours.'

Taggart hurried out and, for a minute, a tense silence filled the bunker. Then Grant retrieved his spectacles, with a rueful nod towards Max, and headed towards his makes.h.i.+ft bed with a yawn.

'Wait a minute,' said Henneker. He smiled. 'Max made something of a breakthrough whilst you were gone.'

The reminder of success lifted Max's spirits. She stepped over to the curtain and called, 'Grant's here. Ready to be shown off?'

The boy tensed visibly in antic.i.p.ation of the unveiling. Max knew why, although she couldn't understand his apprehension. If it hadn't been for him, after all, they might not have reached this stage. He possessed something most Agorans lacked: experience of using technology on a daily basis. He was also well read. The New Earthers had taken all the scientific texts in the colony s.h.i.+p with them, and Grant had pored over a good proportion of them in his time. His knowledge was extensive, if not overly practical, and he had been able to greatly speed up the realization of Henneker's dream.

Once, they had believed it would be another three years before they could think of challenging the Cybermen. Now, they were antic.i.p.ating immediate action. Of course, there were still problems, and the time factor figured most prominently amongst them. But, for a few seconds, looking at her achievement as it emerged from the work area, none of those things mattered. Max saw the wonder and terror in Grant's eyes and she swore to herself that today would be the day of reckoning.

The invaders would not dare to blight her life again.

The viewing hatch was pulled open to reveal the top half of Madrox's face. 'I thought you might like to know, Doctor,' he sneered, 'we have your other companion; the pale-skinned one. As punishment for your insolence, I have decided to give him to the Cybermen.' He slammed the panel shut with a satisfied clunk.

'Jolarr!' Hegelia whispered in horror, unfolding from the squatting position she had grudgingly taken.

'If conversion is such a life-enhancing process, why the upset?'

'Jolarr is special.'

'All life is special to someone.'

Hegelia refused to rise to the bait. She looked at the Doctor, who had managed to gain access to the controls of his restraints and was prodding about with her hairpin, working by touch. 'He saw you doing that, you know.'

'I know.'

'The fact that he did not say anything proves that he is planning a trap.'

'Not necessarily.' The Doctor sighed. 'The only way to trigger the release mechanism is to input a six-figure combination which changes to a different, random one each second. The Cybermen could do it by communing with the device's AI circuits, but my only hope is to keep guessing.'

Hegelia pursed her lips. 'So what you are saying is that you have an ongoing series of non-c.u.mulative one in a million chances to escape?'

'Exactly.'

'Then it is little wonder that the Chief Overseer did not bother to stop you.'

Rain spotted Taggart's face as he returned to the surface. He hardly noticed. He wanted to turn straight back around and tell Henneker that he'd changed his mind, that he wasn't prepared to throw his life away.

Such an action, he knew, would for ever confirm the label of 'coward'

with which he had been branded for fifteen years. He would be known as the man who had stolen two chances of freedom.

It was with both irritation and a measure of relief, then, that he realized he had forgotten to arrange Grant's home; It needn't be a problem: Henneker would know of a sympathizer who could provide a bed for the boy without curtailing his illegitimate activities. All Taggart had to do was to get the address and tap it into his unit. Madrox would never suspect foul play. Furthermore, it gave him an excuse to return to the bunker, where something more might be said. Perhaps Max would stand up for him again, relieving him of his unpleasant burden. This time, he wouldn't be stupid enough to argue. He hurried back to the entrance and, casting a glance around, pulled it open and scrambled through.

As he dropped to the floor, he opened his mouth to apologize for this second intrusion. He choked back the words. His eyes, readjusting to the gloom, took in the sight of Henneker, Max and Grant, al standing in a row, their expressions startled, their mouths hanging open. Next, he focused on the unfamiliar figure which lurked in the shadows behind them.

His first impression was of a grotesque statue, composed of a tan metal which was freckled with red as if partially rusted. It was almost six feet tall and humanoid, but it possessed a considerable bulk. Its limbs gave the impression of powerful pistons and, running along each forearm, was a tubular excrescence which could only have been a gun.

Its head was fat and angular, its mouth a letter-box slit and its eyes were black slivers beneath a ridged and slightly arched protruding forehead.

Its dispa.s.sionate expression reminded Taggart of the Cybermen, calling to mind his encounter with those monsters long ago. For a second, he thought this monstrosity must be connected with them. But logic told him that it had to have been in the bunker all along, concealed behind the red curtain. He realized that, finally, he had stumbled upon the truth of Henneker's Project.

'You might as well say h.e.l.lo to your old partner-in-crime,' Max Carter said. 'Meet Arthur Lakesmith, former rebel leader and now the first of our Bronze Knights.'

The figure moved. It seemed to be an effort for it to s.h.i.+ft its legs and it jerked, off-balance, as its leading foot crashed into the floor. It lurched towards him ponderously and Taggart backed away until he felt the wooden rungs of the ladder pressing into his back. The creature closed in and he wanted to appeal to Max or Henneker to call it off. He couldn't speak. A hand swung upwards with unexpected speed and took his throat between a pair of cold, rough fingers. Taggart didn't doubt that, just by making a fist, it could snap his bones and crumble them to powder.

'This one knows too much. He has betrayed us before.' The voice was routed through a mechanical filter but, in contrast to the Cybermen's synthesized tones, it retained a trace of humanity. Taggart recognized the inflections of an old friend.

'He cannot be allowed to betray us again,' the Bronze Knight said with chilling certainty. 'I will kill him,'

Ben Taggart found his voice and screamed as the cyborg monster tightened its grip.

5.

Return of the Cybermen

he storm broke at midday. The crash of rain on the tin roof drove its T elf into Madrox's brain like a never-ending static burst. He patrolled the corridors at random, not caring where he was and wis.h.i.+ng fervently that the day was over. He was tired and his head throbbed. He hadn't slept properly for two days. One reason for attaching himself to Patrol Four had been that he would otherwise have spent the night awake, tormented by antic.i.p.ation. The Cybermen were due in a few hours' time and, contrary to opinion, Madrox hated their visits as much as anyone.

He looked in on the alien boy, but couldn't even work up the enthusiasm to taunt him. Jolarr sat against the far wall of his cell. As the viewing hatch opened, his black eyes turned upwards and he begged, 'Please set me free. I'm from the future, I can't die here.'

Madrox walked away, his footsteps lost to the sounds of the weather.

It had been raining that time too, he recalled: 2176, when Vincent Madrox had been sixteen and worried by his status as prime conversion material. Everyone had heard talk of Lakesmith's rebellion and most Agorans were getting their hopes up, looking forward to freedom.

Madrox knew more about it than most, but he had a different goal in mind.

His father had gone out to fight for the rebels at dawn. Within six hours, news of their defeat had filtered back to his village. Madrox had slipped out into the downpour and headed in the direction of the loudest screams. The Cybermen were taking b.l.o.o.d.y vengeance for the uprising, sweeping through the streets and gunning down all who got in their way. Madrox had gaped in awe at the giants, framed by lightning forks which split the sky.

He remembered the fear he had felt as he stepped out boldly in front of one. It had instantly raised its gun to kill him, but he had told it that he wanted to serve. He had knelt respectfully in the squelching mud and awaited its answer. Life or death.

Fifteen years on, Madrox had risen through the ranks of the new Overseers until he had the power he had always yearned for. His secret was blind, unquestioning obedience. There was no way of defeating the Cybermen, so he reasoned that he may as well get something from them. But, along with the position they had given him, came the danger inherent in failing to please them. Madrox was the longest serving Chief Overseer. He had been given the job nine years ago and he had survived two visits; two debasing and terrifying demonstrations of how little influence he really had.

For thirty-five Earth months out of each thirty-six, he knew it was worth it. Whilst he was ruling uncontested, life was good.

But then they came back. They always came back.

Grant's nerves had wound too tight for him to move. One part of him wanted to leap forward and stop the armoured juggernaut which had been Arthur Lakesmith from committing murder. Other, larger, parts were telling him that the others wouldn't welcome his intervention.

Above all, Grant felt the quickened pulse and the petrifying attraction/repulsion of a familiar phobia. Lakesmith was a cyborg rather than a robot - but then, so were the Cybermen, from whom his fear was apparently born.

Max was under no such inhibitions. 'Henneker, stop this!' she ordered fiercely. The Bronze Knight hesitated and looked to the rebel leader, who - with, Grant thought, a little reluctance - nodded his a.s.sent. Lakesmith released his grip and his former friend stumbled against the wall, breath coming out in ragged wheezes.

Lakesmith lumbered back to his corner, unconcerned by Taggart's condition.

'What - what is that thing?' the Overseer croaked.

'She already told you,' said Henneker, nodding towards Max.

'You might as well know,' said Max. Her sigh broke the tension and made Grant, at least, feel more comfortable. She picked her way through the bunker's clutter and located a splintered wooden chair, from which she had to sweep a pile of papers before she could sit. 'We - or rather, our predecessors - decided that the only way to defeat the Cybermen was to play them at their own game. In other words, to abandon Agora's principles and to use technology against them.'

Taggart was not quite able to support his own weight yet and he propped himself up with one hand against the wall. His eyes were drawn towards Lakesmith. 'I know. I was there, remember? We smuggled items out of Population Control - small things - and started to make bombs. We got guns from the Overseers.'

'Of course,' said Max, 'but what you won't know is what happened after the rebellion.' Taggart bowed his head guiltily. Grant edged around the bunker until he reached the furthest corner from the Bronze Knight, where he lowered himself on to a stool to listen. 'Population Control was looted during the fighting,' Max continued. 'Schematics and components were more readily available in its aftermath. Henneker here began to work on a way of using them. What we didn't have, we arranged to be brought to us - by people like you, Taggart. The problem was, all we could get our hands on was Cyber technology. We wanted to make more guns and more powerful bombs, but our resources were geared towards the cybernetic sciences. We accepted that and we drew up a plan to create an army of creatures to rival the Cybermen. We performed implants, grafts and brain alterations, and now at last Our fighting force is taking shape.'

Max would have gone on, happily relating the details of her achievement. Henneker, however, was more concerned with the present. 'We hope to have thirteen Bronze Knights converted before the Cybermen leave. They never send more than eight troops themselves. We should have the advantage of numbers.' His voice took on a hard edge. 'The problem is, as Lakesmith says, - what do we do with you?'

Taggart was visibly worried. He steadied himself and answered in a tone of strained confidence. 'Nothing's changed. Madrox thinks I've told him all I know. He'll be occupied, anyway. He gets more worried than anyone when the Cybermen are due.'

Grant found himself looking at Lakesmith again. The first Bronze Knight was facing Taggart with what he fancied was a threatening expression. It wasn't, of course. The sculpted face was incapable of showing emotion. Grant tried to remember that, within the casing, stood a human being, albeit transformed. It would have helped if the Knight had moved at all. Its foot could have s.h.i.+fted, its eyes could have scanned the room, its chest could have pumped with the rhythms of breathing. The absence of such signs of humanity made Grant feel an insane urge to flee. He ignored it, but not without effort.

'I still have the alien boy to free,' said Taggart. 'If you keep me here, o r . . . or do anything to me, I won't be able to help you.'

'That's true,' mused Henneker. He turned to Lakesmith. 'What do you think?'

The Bronze Knight answered immediately. Grant didn't know whether its eerie, part-human voice was better or worse than a completely artificial one would have been. 'His mind is inefficient and ruled by fear. He cannot be trusted.'

'I think he can,' Max put in firmly. 'Look at him, he's more scared of you than of the Cybermen!'

'He has reason to be,' the Bronze Knight said.

Grant felt a numbing coldness and shrank back into his seat. He closed his eyes and wondered how he had come to help create his own worst nightmare.

Madrox had decided to interrogate the Doctor's female companion; not because he needed to learn anything, but rather because he wanted to pa.s.s some time in enjoyable activity. Things weren't going as well as he had planned.

'All I am asking,' said Hegelia, 'is that you release my a.s.sistant and put me through the conversion process in his place.'

Madrox looked at her incredulously. 'A female of your age?'

'I would still be suitable,' she said primly.

'You're too great a risk. The Cybermen expect prime candidates.

Now, I'm sure your friend appreciates your intentions, but let me remind you that you're not exactly free yourself! I'm leaving it to the Cybermen to decide what should be done to you.'

Hegelia rolled her eyes and looked at him as if he was a dim child.

'As I have already explained, Jolarr and I are not in any way a.s.sociated with the Doctor. You have arrested the wrong people.'

'I don't want to hear that!'

'Then you are deafening yourself to the truth.' She towered above him, having refused to be seated. Madrox had perched himself on his desk, to at least gain some height whilst appearing relaxed. Even so, he was losing control of the interview.

'We are researchers,' Hegelia said again. 'We have come here from the future because we are interested in the Cyber race.'