Doctor Who_ Warmonger Part 25

said Ratisbon brutally. 'These things must be done thoroughly or not at all.'

'Have you further such schemes in hand?'

'If necessary,' said Ratisbon calmly.

'We must hope they will not be,' said Borusa. 'The more repet.i.tion, the greater the risk of discovery. We have, so to speak, primed the pump. From now on, with any luck, the Doctor will succeed by his own efforts.'

' Vrag Vrag, Amba.s.sador?' asked Battle-Marshal Skrug. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the worn plastisteel cabinet behind him and produced a stone flagon and two stone goblets.

He filled the goblets and pa.s.sed one to the Doctor.

'Don't spill any,' he said with a guttural chuckle. 'They say that stuff can eat through armour plate. Don't want a hole in my battlecruiser.'

With an inward groan, the Doctor surveyed the vile-looking potion in his goblet. Was it really smoking?

' Issalon kwai Issalon kwai!' roared Skrug, and tossed down the contents of his goblet.

' Issalon kwai Issalon kwai!' repeated the Doctor, and did the same. With a mighty effort he managed not to shudder or choke as the burning liquid seemed to set his blood on fire. Instead he held out his goblet for more. With a look of new respect, Skrug refilled the Doctor's goblet and his own.

They were in the state room of Battle-Marshal Skrug's flags.h.i.+p, a bare metal chamber furnished with a map table, a few plastisteel chairs and very little more. Sontarans aren't much concerned with decor.

In keeping with his surroundings, the Doctor wore a plain black uniform without insignia. He'd decided that the Sontarans wouldn't be impressed by white plumes and gold regalia.

Thoughtfully he studied the squat, bulky figure before him.

Skrug had the round head, the narrow lipless mouth and the sunken red eyes shared by all Sontarans. But when a Sontaran grows old the skin becomes more corrugated than ever, and the vestigial bristles of eyebrows, moustache and beard turn pure white.

Skrug was very old, decided the Doctor. Very old and very, very tough. He had survived to attain the highest Sontaran military rank against, no doubt, the repression of his superiors and the backstabbing and intrigue of his fellow officers.

Moreover, since the Sontaran administration was purely military, he had also reached the highest political rank as well.

Skrug's position was a.n.a.logous to that of president or prime minister.

As soon as the Doctor had mentioned Morbius, Skrug had poured out the tale of the insolent demand for surrender and the missing transport s.h.i.+p. He had also poured scorn on the Doctor's suggestion of an affiance with the Draconians.

'I a.s.sure you, Amba.s.sador, this Morbius will be punished.

And for that we Sontarans need n.o.body's help.'

It was extraordinary, thought the Doctor, that Morbius had chosen to challenge the Draconians and Sontarans at one and the same time. So extraordinary as to be almost incredible.

Certain suspicions began to arise in his mind.

Crus.h.i.+ng them, he said diplomatically, 'Everyone knows of the might of the Sontarans, Battle-Marshal.'

The Doctor was thinking furiously. For the Sontarans to attack the forces of Morbius was all well and good. But chances were that they would simply inflict enough punitive damage to satisfy their thirst for revenge and then withdraw. Which wouldn't do at all.

What was needed was a prolonged campaign by an intergalactic alliance. This would ensure that the Morbius rebellion would be thoroughly crushed. It would also demonstrate that the civilised races of the galaxy would not tolerate this kind of thing and that they were prepared to ally themselves to prove it.

'You are familiar with the Draconian Empire, Battle-Marshal?' he enquired.

Skrug took another swig of vrag vrag, his little red eyes peering at the Doctor over the edge of his goblet.

'Not familiar, Amba.s.sador,' he grunted. 'We are aware of them. So far our spheres of influence have not clashed.'

'The Draconians are an aggressively military species, and their empire, like yours, is expanding rapidly. Is it not possible...'

'Very possible,' said Skrug cheerfully, the light of battle in his eye. 'If that happens, we will know how to deal with it.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Knowledge of your enemy is important in battle, is it not?'

'Vital,' agreed Skrug. He looked at the Doctor curiously.

'Your point, Amba.s.sador?'

The Doctor took a cautious sip of vrag vrag. 'One might learn much of a potential enemy by fighting beside beside him. His weapons, his tactics, his behaviour in battle...' him. His weapons, his tactics, his behaviour in battle...'

Battle-Marshal Skrug sat very still for a moment, red eyes gazing into the distance. He reached for the flask and poured more vrag vrag into the Doctor's goblet and his own. into the Doctor's goblet and his own.

'I like your thinking, Amba.s.sador. Tell me more. But first another toast.'

He raised his goblet and drained the fiery contents. ' Issalon Issalon kwai kwai!'

The Doctor did the same, echoing the toast. 'Issalon kwai!'

'A traditional Sontaran toast, Battle-Marshal?' asked the Doctor politely.

Skrug looked surprised. 'No, it is a war toast from old Earth.

I thought you would know it.' He raised his voice and croaked: ' Issalon Kwai to Tipperary... Issalon Kwai to Tipperary...

Issalon Kwai to go...'

Chapter Twenty.

Battle Plan The Doctor landed Lord Delmar's s.p.a.ce yacht on the rocky plain and descended the exit ramp into baking heat. He looked around, but there was little to see. Acres and acres of hard, rocky desert stretching to a hazy horizon. A herd of blue kangaroo-like creatures disappearing into the heat haze. A few scattered rocks of varying shapes and sizes.

'Doctor!' called a voice.

The Doctor turned and wasn't in the least surprised to see Ratisbon emerge from behind a column of rock and come towards him.

The Doctor felt a brief pang of envy, wondering what it would be like to have an up-to-date, fully working TARDIS. He really must get that chameleon circuit fixed some day. .

'Greetings, Doctor,' said Ratisbon. He wore his usual grey robes and looked as cold and wintry as ever, despite the desert heat.

'Well, I'm here,' said the Doctor. 'Now perhaps you'll tell me why.'

'We thought Aridus might be a suitable a.s.sembly point for your battle fleet, Doctor. No intelligent life forms, isolated and strategically insignificant. Dry, healthy climate...' Ratisbon swept his hand round the horizon in an expansive gesture. 'And, as you see, no shortage of parking s.p.a.ce.'

The Doctor nodded. 'It'll do.'

A shadow fell over the desert as an enormous s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p blinked out of hypers.p.a.ce. With a ground-shaking thunder of retro-rockets, it landed close to them.

The Doctor studied it. Twice the size of most battlecruisers and bristling with sophisticated weaponry, it was an intimidating vessel. A huge golden letter 'A' was emblazoned on its side.

The Doctor turned to Ratisbon, who seemed pleased rather than alarmed.

'Whose s.h.i.+p is that?'

'Yours, Doctor. The Alliance Alliance, flags.h.i.+p of your fleet, and the finest battlecruiser in existence. Neither your friends or your enemies have anything half so powerful.'

'Why do I need a monstrous great thing like that?'

Ratisbon looked hurt. 'Prestige, Doctor. You can't lead a mighty battle fleet from a s.p.a.ce yacht. The Alliance Alliance is fresh from the s.p.a.ceyards on Copernicus Three. Fully staffed with Denali crewmen, the finest s.p.a.cefarers in the galaxy. Fully supplied as well water, provisions, wardrobe, everything you need.' is fresh from the s.p.a.ceyards on Copernicus Three. Fully staffed with Denali crewmen, the finest s.p.a.cefarers in the galaxy. Fully supplied as well water, provisions, wardrobe, everything you need.'

'How did you get it built so quickly?'

'It was ordered some years ago, against our present need,'

said Ratisbon.

The Doctor nodded, impressed. The Time Lords had sent an agent back in time so that the s.h.i.+p would be ready today. The fact that they had sanctioned even this limited temporal interference showed how much the crisis had shaken them.

'Very clever,' said the Doctor. 'Speaking of clever plans, those conveniently timed attacks on the Draconians and the Sontarans '

Ratisbon held up his hand. 'Please, Doctor, not now. Your new crew is waiting to welcome you aboard. I have attached Ensign Vidal of the Capitol Guard to serve as your personal aide.' He pointed to the giant s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p, where a landing ramp was slowly coming down. 'Messages have been sent to your new allies, asking them to rendezvous with you here. I have been negotiating with them on your behalf.' He produced a scroll from under his robes. 'Here is your official appointment as Supreme Coordinator of the Alliance Battle Fleet.'

'And what's that supposed to mean?'

'Whatever you make it mean. I'll bid you good day, Doctor and good luck!'

'One moment,' said the Doctor. 'This campaign must be enormously expensive. Where's the money coming from?'

'Agency secret funds, not subject to review.'

'If he's hiring huge armies of mercenaries, Morbius must have enormous resources as well. Where are they they coming from?' coming from?'

Ratisbon hesitated for a moment. Then he said, 'The same source. Certain members of the Agency were involved in Morbius's original conspiracy. With their help he took a large chunk of our exchequer with him into exile.'

'So you're financing both sides in this war?'

'Not voluntarily, Doctor. And don't worry. Morbius left much more behind than he took. If necessary, we can outspend him!' Ratisbon turned and walked away, disappearing behind the column of rock. Seconds later there was a sighing, humming sound as the rock column faded away.

The Doctor turned to face the giant s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p. The ramp was fully down now and it was lined with white-uniformed figures. As he walked towards the ramp, he heard the shrilling of bagpipes.

'It is perfectly simple,' growled Battle-Major Streg. He jabbed a stubby Sontaran finger at the holographic star map floating in the air before them. Planets already occupied by Morbius glowed a sinister red. 'We attack here the planet which Morbius currently occupies. We re-take the planet and kill him!'

'Nonsense!' said High Commander Aril. 'Your plan lacks all finesse.' His long, thin Draconian fingers weaved in and out of the myriad twinkling stars. 'We feign an attack here and again here. Then we convince the enemy we mean to attack here and here, while the main attack is pressed home here supported by diversionary attacks here, here and here...'

He went on for some time.

The Doctor sighed. They were holding their first planning conference in the hi-tech war room of his new battlecruiser. It was not going well.

Outside on the rocky plain, two battle fleets were grouped around the flags.h.i.+p. The Draconian Emperor and Battle-Marshal Skrug had been generous with s.h.i.+ps and men. The Alliance now had a formidable force though one less formidable by far than the ever-growing armies of Morbius. The Doctor knew that the Time Lords were sending amba.s.sadors to all the galactic powers, asking them to join the Alliance. So far no others had responded.

Now the Doctor and his two Fleet Captains were trying to decide on their vital first move. They desperately needed a victory to draw others to their cause.

The Doctor became aware that the two Fleet Captains were still wrangling. 'Silence,' he snapped.

Streg and Aril fell silent while the Doctor stared broodingly at the star map.

After a moment Aril said, 'It seems we shall never agree.

You must decide, Supreme Coordinator.'

Taken aback, the Doctor went on staring at the star map, realising unhappily that he had no idea which plan to choose.

Both plans had merit, both were typical of the minds that had produced them.

The Sontaran plan was that of a bull charging a gate, staking everything on one smas.h.i.+ng blow.

The Draconian scheme was as complicated as a game of three dimensional chess, a flurry of brilliantly deceitful moves to confuse and baffle the enemy.

Only neither plan would work, thought the Doctor with a sudden sinking feeling. They simply hadn't enough soldiers and s.h.i.+ps to carry them out. Not yet. .

Streg's grating voice broke in on his thoughts.