Doctor Who_ Warmonger Part 38

'I suppose so. Only...'

'Only what?'

'The bodies were still fresh and they'd been completely drained of blood.'

Using his Time Lord memory a path once trodden is never forgotten the Doctor retraced his steps to his old cell. He turned a corner and there it was. It even had his old guard sitting outside it.

The Doctor was considering his next move when someone made it for him.

A black shape rushed like a whirlwind from the other direction and bore the guard to the ground. The guard's body jerked and was still.

The dark figure it was wearing a black cloak bent over the unconscious guard and arose with a bunch of keys. It opened the cell door and went inside.

Flattening himself against the wall, the Doctor edged closer to the open cell door. He heard a low sibilant voice.

'You are a servant of Morbius? You tried to rescue him?'

Then Solon's frantic tones. 'Yes, yes. I tried but I failed.

Who are you?'

'I too serve Morbius.'

'You must help me. I have a better plan now, one that cannot fail.'

A pause, then the sibilant voice said, 'I will help you.'

'First we must go to my laboratory: there are things I need for my plan. Then take me to Morbius.'

The Doctor ducked back as the two figures emerged.

The black-cloaked figure was saying, 'He is in a cell next to the execution chamber. We must hurry, there is little time. He dies at midnight.'

'Morbius will never die,' said Solon. 'Come.'

They hurried away down the corridor. The Doctor considered following them but he already knew their final destination. He examined the unconscious guard, who was stunned not dead, and hurried back the way he had come.

In the execution chamber he found the technicians making final adjustments to their apparatus. It was simple enough, considering its sinister purpose. Just a transparent coffin-shaped container on a low table, connected to a bank of complex apparatus.

'Is everything ready?'

The two technicians weren't too sure who the Doctor was.

But they had seen him on terms of intimacy with the Lord President and with Borusa, and they recognised the voice of authority. 'Yes, sir, just finished final checks.'

'And Morbius?'

'Next door, just round the corner under guard.'

'There's a connecting door, see,' said the second technician.

'Bring him through, put him inside, press that red b.u.t.ton there...'

He pointed. '... And it's done.' He lowered his voice. 'If he kicks up a fuss we give him this.' He produced a disposable syringe in a gla.s.s case. 'Instant knockout.'

'I see,' said the Doctor. 'Show me.'

The technician handed him the syringe.

The Doctor put it in his pocket.

'Here, you can't do that.'

A deep voice growled, 'Supremo do what he wishes.'

The Doctor turned and saw his two Ogron bodyguards looming over him.

'Not good to come here without us, Supremo,' said one of them reproachfully.

'Commander say corridors not safe,' said the other. 'Blood-drinking creature hiding here.'

The Doctor felt as if he was in the charge of two giant, hairy nannies.

'I'm very glad to see you,' he said. 'Now, I want you to do something for me.'

'We die for Supremo,' said the first Ogron.

'No need for that,' said the Doctor. He indicated the two terrified technicians. 'Just take these two gentlemen away with you and entertain them for a couple of hours.'

The Ogron looked puzzled. 'Kill them?'

'No, don't hurt them. Just keep them with you. Oh, and there's a sentry just round the corner. Take him as well and bring me his keys.'

Dragging their terrified captives, the Ogrons disappeared around the corner.

There was a yelp and a thump and one of them returned with a bunch of keys.

'Supremo pleased?'

'Supremo delighted. Now, go.'

The Ogron disappeared. The Doctor waited for a moment, then went around the corner to the condemned cell. He took the syringe from its gla.s.s case, prepared it for use, and then unlocked the door and went inside.

Morbius was sitting on a bunk, head bowed. At the sight of the Doctor he snarled, 'You!' and bounded from the bunk, clamping his hands around the Doctor's throat. He was appallingly strong, and the Doctor felt consciousness slipping away. He thrust the hypodermic under Morbius's chin and heard the faint pop as it discharged. The grip around his throat slackened and Morbius slumped.

Catching the body before it fell, the Doctor stretched it out on the bunk. He slipped out into the corridor, leaving the door unlocked.

He looked up and down the corridor. 'Come on Solon, you've got a job to do and time's running out!'

He saw two figures hurrying along the corridor and slipped back out of sight.

Solon, who was clutching a large medical bag, hurried to the door of the condemned cell and opened it. The black-cloaked figure followed him inside.

Solon looked down at the unconscious figure of Morbius.

'They have given him a sedative, so much the better.' He opened the medical bag and groped inside.

'How do we get him out?' asked the black-clad figure. 'You said you had a plan.'

'We can't get his body body out,' explained Solon impatiently. 'All the exits are guarded. But I can smuggle out his brain, and preserve it until I can provide a new body.' out,' explained Solon impatiently. 'All the exits are guarded. But I can smuggle out his brain, and preserve it until I can provide a new body.'

'Preserve his brain?'

'Yes, in this mini-cryogenic chamber.' Solon held out a silver case shaped like a giant oyster. Lights flashed in a control panel set into the lid.

'You'll kill him!'

' They They want to kill him. I shall save him.' want to kill him. I shall save him.'

'You're mad,' said the black-cloaked figure. 'Do you think this is what Morbius would want? He would prefer execution! If the Time Lords kill him, he will become a martyr, an eternal symbol of his own great cause. If he dies in an escape attempt, the effect will be even greater. But this!'

'It's his only chance,' hissed Solon, hands busy inside his bag.

'Chance of what? How will he react when he finds himself a brain without a body. He'll go mad!'

'He will have a body! I, Mehendri Solon, greatest surgeon in the galaxy, will make him a new one.'

'A body like those shambling monsters you tried to rescue him with?' said the cloaked figure mockingly. 'He would prefer death.'

' I must have the brain of Morbius I must have the brain of Morbius!'

'I won't permit it,' said the black-cloaked figure and reached for Solon's throat.

Solon took something metallic and whirring from the bag and slashed, and Grimoire's head leapt from his shoulders and rolled under the bunk. For a moment the headless figure stood upright, torso spouting blood, then it pitched to the ground.

Trying to make sense of what he was hearing, the Doctor peered through the half-open door. He saw a headless body in a pool of blood, and Solon bending over the unconscious Morbius, pulling on surgical gloves.

He heard the whirr of an electronic saw cutting through bone. He saw Solon produce an oyster-shaped silver case from his bag, and saw something slimy and gelatinous slip from the opened top of Morbius's head into Solon's gloved hand and then into the case.

He heard the click as the case closed, the 'clop' as the top of Morbius's skull was replaced.

Solon put the silver case into his bag, busied himself with the skull for a few minutes longer and then straightened up.

The Doctor jumped back into cover as Solon came out of the condemned cell clutching the medical bag to his chest and scuttled off down the corridor.

'So far, so good,' thought the Doctor. 'Now comes the tricky bit.'

He went into the cell, avoiding the spreading pool of blood, and examined Morbius's skull. Solon seemed to have glued the top back on, and he'd even tried to conceal the line of the join with some kind of make-up. The effect was reasonable at a casual glance, but it wouldn't stand close inspection.

The Doctor thought hard. He locked the door to the condemned cell, rolled the headless body under the bunk, opened the connecting door to the execution room and went inside. He opened the lid of the gla.s.s coffin, went back into the condemned cell, lifted Morbius's body and laid it carefully inside the vaporisation chamber.

He found a control, dimmed the lights and looked down at the body.

To his relief, the heat of Morbius's still warm body produced a slight misting of the transparent cover.

'It might pa.s.s,' he thought. 'It's got to pa.s.s.'

When President Saran, Borusa and Ratisbon arrived at the execution room with their escort of still-nervous Capitol Guards, they found the Doctor, head bowed, standing by the vaporisation chamber with the p.r.o.ne body of Morbius already inside.

Borusa looked round suspiciously. 'What is happening?

Where are the technicians?'

'I sent them away. Don't worry. The chamber is ready and so, as you can see, is Morbius.'

'Why is he already in the chamber? Why is he unconscious?

This is not proper procedure.'

The Doctor's voice was hard. 'This isn't a proper execution is it? It's a nasty little hole and corner affair, a rigged trial followed by a judicial killing. I thought the fewer people involved the better. I gave Morbius the injection and put him in the chamber myself. Let's get it over with, shall we?'

Borusa was still suspicious but fortunately there was a distraction.

Commander Hawken came along the corridor escorting two black-robed figures. One was old and wizened, the other placidly beautiful.

'What is the meaning of this?' snapped Borusa. 'This is not a public ceremony.'

'This is the Reverend Mother Maren and her a.s.sociate, Ohica. They wish to witness the death of Morbius.'

'They have the right,' said the Doctor in a tone that brooked no argument.

Maren came close to the gla.s.s coffin and looked down at Morbius. She looked hard at the Doctor, but said nothing.

The Doctor turned to Borusa, moving to obscure his view of the body. 'It's a few seconds to midnight,' he said, glancing at the wall chronometer. 'Shall we get this over with?'

'The Doctor is right,' said Ratisbon. 'There is no point in further delay.'

President Saran said, 'I concur. Let the thing be done.'

'It's the red b.u.t.ton, there,' said the Doctor, pointing. 'Will you do the honours, Borusa, or shall I?'

Suspicious or not, Borusa wasn't going to be ousted from the limelight. It would advance his prestige, his reputation for ruthlessness, to be known to have executed Morbius with his own hand.

'I will do it,' he said. 'And with the greatest of pleasure.'