Doctor Who_ The Dying Days Part 5

'Teddy Greyhaven. You were the Minister of Science in the nineteen-seventies. You oversaw ma.s.sive government investment in science and technology.'

'I like to think that I kept the white hot heat of the technological revolution stoked up for a couple of years,' he said with mock-modesty. 'I'm Lord Greyhaven, now, though. I have very little influence nowadays.'

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. 'No, no. You wouldn't have.' He continued on his way, nearly colliding with the Home Secretary as he strode up to Greyhaven and his group.

Benny al owed the waiter to refil her gla.s.s. The Doctor had still not reappeared.

There was a tap on her shoulder and she turned.

'h.e.l.lo stranger.' Eve Waugh was gorgeous in a halter-top dress that showed off her figure while keeping every inch of it swathed in powder-blue silk. The two women circled each other, looking each other up and down.

'I like your dress,' they said in unison, before laughing. Behind Eve, her cameraman was in his tuxedo, checking lighting levels.

'I can't interview you now,' Eve complained. 'That dress is strapless.'

'Is this some policy of the American networks that I should know about? Am I too rude for them?'

'In a way: when Alan does his standard head and shoulders shot, you'll look naked from the hat down.' Eve drew a line over her own chest with a finger by way of demonstration.

Benny glanced down at herself, a little self-consciously.

'Do you know anyone here?' Eve asked.

'I recognise just about everybody,' Benny said, looking back up, 'but I don't know any of them personally.'

'Do you know who that is? The black woman in the United Nations dress uniform?'

Benny peered across the room to the slight figure keeping close to the fire exit.

'Yes I do, as a matter of fact. That's whatsername ... Bambera.' Brigadier Winifred Bambera. Benny racked her brains, trying to remember when they had met - it had been outside Buckingham Palace, a couple of years in the future. 'She works for UNIT.'

At the mention of the name, Benny could have sworn that a couple of people around the room looked up.

'Really?' Waugh said seriously, 'Now, that particular organisation is one of my special hobbies. How much do you know about them?'

'Enough to know that we shouldn't discuss them too loudly in here. And enough to know that Bambera's here on business.'

'If she wasn't on business, she wouldn't be hiding that automatic pistol in her waistband. Maybe we'll carry on this conversation later? My hotel room?'

The Doctor materialised out of the crowd. 'I saw Ralph Cornish. He's over there, look, with his boyfriend.' A tall chap with peppery hair and a matching crisp suit was chatting to a young man.

'And who's Ralph Cornish?'

'He was the head of the British s.p.a.ce Programme at the time of the first Mars Missions,' Eve Waugh supplied.

'He didn't recognise me from back then,' the Doctor said sadly.

'We he wouldn't,' Benny reminded him gently. Eve was watching them carefully, presumably wondering what the Doctor had been doing at s.p.a.ce Centre in his mid-teens.

The countdown had reached ten minutes.

'If I could have your attention,' a young man was cal ing, 'the Mars Lander has finished its preparations and is nearly ready. If you could all take your seats.'

'See you later,' Eve called, hurrying away.

The pitch of the conversation became more excited, and the guests began shuffling into their designated places.

Benny hoped that there were more chairs than guests. She squeezed her way past the Spice Girls to take an empty chair. Somehow the Doctor was already in the next seat, sharing a joke with Jeremy Paxman.

26.'The Mars...o...b..ter,' a bearded scientist at the podium began explaining, 'has been orbiting Mars for the last two days. In that time, instruments have been mapping the surface and taking measurements of the thin Martian atmosphere. The crew have also deployed a couple of unmanned vehicles, released weather balloons and launched a couple of satellites that will stay in orbit long after this mission has come home. All that information is being collected and collated at the s.p.a.ce Centre at Devesham. Meanwhile, they have also been preparing the Mars Lander.'

The video screen flickered into life, showing a CGI representation of the Mars craft. As the scientist continued to explain, Benny quickly established that the new Mars Probe was the same sort of arrangement as the old Apollo missions: a command module would stay in orbit while a four-man Lander would detach itself and drop down to the surface. The Mars 97 was about the size of the old Apol o rocket, but nothing was jettisoned: instead of liquid fuel, the three hundred metre length of the s.p.a.cecraft was given over to the atomic engine. The eight-man crew huddled together in the compartment in the nosecone of the vessel during the four-month journey to Mars - the new atomic motors meant that the vessel was twice as fast as the old Mars Probes.

'They'l stay on the Martian surface for a month,' the scientist continued. 'The aim of the mission is to conduct a full geological survey of the Mare Sirenum.'

'Been there, done that,' Benny said softly to the Doctor. She expected him to beam back, but instead he scowled, and made a show of straining to hear the lecture.

'We have the aim of having a full, working colony on Mars in the next ten years. The Mars 97 Mission will conduct a full feasibility study into this. If the Mars colony is not possible, then all is not lost: IIF are planning to build a nuclear-waste storage facility on the Moon in the next two years, the first manned flight to Jupiter is planned for two years after that. To tel us all how this has been possible, we have an honoured guest here this morning: Mr David Staines, the Home Secretary.'

A thin, bespectacled man made his way forward. The applause rippled around him and the world's television cameras followed his progress. The autocue was waiting at the podium.

'Today, after over twenty years, the human race returns to Mars. This would be a cause for celebration regardless of which nation had got there. But it isn't, I am sure, jingoism to suggest that we are all particularly glad that it is the United Kingdom that got there first.' - applause - 'Twenty years ago, the British s.p.a.ce programme was a clear demonstration that our country still had the know-how to be a world-beater. I was a young man when Grosvenor and Guest planted the Union Flag at the foot of mighty Olympus Mons. Mons. My heart still swells to think of it: British astronauts staring up at the mightiest feature of the solar system, a mountain almost three times the size of Everest. And remember just who it was that reached the summit of that particular Himalaya before anyone else!' My heart still swells to think of it: British astronauts staring up at the mightiest feature of the solar system, a mountain almost three times the size of Everest. And remember just who it was that reached the summit of that particular Himalaya before anyone else!'

'Yes,' the Doctor whispered across to Benny above the applause, 'it was Sherpa Tensing. I should know, it was me that pulled him up. It was a good half-minute before Edmund joined us.'

Staines had continued. 'Like those early flights, the Mars 97 Mission has been a showcase for cutting-edge British technology, proof if it were needed that British is still best. An example to the world of what can be achieved when the worlds of big business and science co-operate with the government and the military. Unlike those first missions, Mars 97 hasn't cost the British taxpayer a single penny, thanks to Lottery grants and private funding.

That and the support of many of Britain's leading manufacturers: it is fair to say that without the revolutionary atomic motors built in Reigate by Donneby's the Mars rocket wouldn't have ever got ... off the ground - ' - laughter - 'Without the computers built by ACL and software designed by I2, without the al oys developed at Vickers and Rolls-Royce or the communications equipment custom-made by BT or a thousand smal er contributions from a thousand smaller companies this would never have been possible. The Mars 97 programme is a testament to British enterprise. But none of it would have been possible without a guiding intelligence. A man of vision. Ladies and gentlemen, as the Mars 97 prepares for its historic landing, please remember that we are all here today because of my friend and mentor, Lord Edward Greyhaven. Thank you.'

They were applauding the Home Secretary as he returned to his seat, but the warmest reception was for the old man sitting in the next seat. The Doctor was studying him keenly. After some coaxing, Greyhaven stood, and waved to the audience. The applause got a little louder.

High, high above Mars the final checks had just been completed.

Captain Richard Michaels looked back at the four men who had the worst job in the s.p.a.ce Service. Mars 97 had an eight-man crew, but only half of them would set foot on the Red Planet. The other four would stay up here, two hundred miles up. They were vital to the mission, they'd be relaying instructions, acting as back-up, monitoring the information from the unmanned probes. They'd never be able to tell their grandchildren that they'd walked on Mars as part of this mission. The crew had drawn lots a year ago to see who'd have which duty. Since then, the unlucky four had been resigned to this moment, when their col eagues would leave them to walk on an alien world. It hadn't made it any more palatable, and there had been the odd tense moment on the four month trip out.

27.Singh, Campbell, McGowan and Lewis would be staying. He, Andi McCray, Bob Haigh and Claudia would be going down to the surface.

That had been the plan right up until this morning, when Claudia had fallen ill. She'd eaten something that disagreed with her - quite an achievement in such a regulated environment. She'd been confined to quarters since then, with only Singh allowed to see her. Everything about the mission was carefully balanced: one crew member ill for a day wasn't too bad, but if she had a bug that another crewman caught then they might have to abort the mission.

Five hours to go, and Michaels had been forced to decide which of the other four was coming down.

Singh had been the calmest. He'd always been the most rational of the crew - agreeing to cut his hair and shave his beard to be an astronaut, despite his religious beliefs. He'd accepted the result of the bal ot without reservation, and was able to put the whole thing into perspective - he was still an astronaut, after al . But it couldn't be him - as the only one with full medical training he was needed up here to monitor Claudia. Campbell had been the worst: three months ago he'd been a serious cause for concern - his 'jokes' on the subject of the landing party had continued long after he'd been asked to stop, and he'd undermined morale.

But he was the one, his record more than made that clear. He'd confirmed the choice with London, and told the crew two hours ago, when everyone was too busy to get angry or disappointed.

The face of Richard Michaels filled the huge video screen. The crowd at the National s.p.a.ce Museum cheered.

He was playing to the television audience, which clearly made him a bit nervous. 'Hel o there, this is Mars 97. The pictures you are seeing now are coming from a long way away. Mars is nearly sixty million miles away from Earth.

Or, to put it another way, back on Earth Was.h.i.+ngton and Moscow are about seven thousand miles apart but my crew and I are eight thousand six hundred times as far away from you. That means that even at the speed of light, our radio signals take nearly five minutes to reach you. These pictures are five minutes old and by now, G.o.d willing, we're walking around on Mars. Hope that doesn't take the s.h.i.+ne off the live coverage!'

A round of applause and a little laughter, with al eyes fixed on the screen.

'OK, London Control. All systems ready. Lander is go. Andy, could you do the honours?'

A s.p.a.cesuited figure, Benny couldn't work out whether it was a man or a woman, pulled a control and a rumble sounded along the s.h.i.+p.

The picture cut to an exterior view. A camera mounted about halfway along the length of the Command Module.

Now, the Lander was emerging slowly from its compartment, edging out like a b.u.t.terfly from a chrysalis. It looked vaguely insect-like, with stubby landing gear, delicate solar panels and communications arrays. Beneath the craft, Benny recognised the southern hemisphere of Mars. She'd made the same trip, although by her native twenty-sixth century shuttlecraft were fitted with antigravs and the journey was as routine as InterCity train travel in the nineteen-nineties. That was only because of pioneers like these people, of course.

An engine on the underside of the Lander flared and it shot away.

'London, Lander is good. Entering radio blackou-.'

Behind them, a dozen reporters explained to their audience that this was perfectly normal as the craft entered an atmosphere.

After a couple of tense moments, a message crackled through the loudspeaker: 'London. This is Mars Lander.

We're down and safe.'

Everyone in the room was on their feet, cheering. Benny found to her surprise that so was she. After a couple of seconds, a picture of a barren landscape flashed up onto the screen. The rusty soil and pink sky were familiar to Benny, everyone else, the Doctor included, was fixed to the screen. The camera was mounted to the landing gear, metal struts were visible in the foreground, and the ladder that the astronauts would climb down was also in plain view. After a minute or so it was clear that no-one was going to be coming down that ladder for a while.

'What's the delay?' she asked the Doctor.

'The astronauts have to get used to the gravity, they check the conditions outside. They triple-check the airlock and the s.p.a.cesuits and they radio to London for the go-ahead.'

'That sounds a pretty lengthy procedure.'

'About quarter of an hour, perhaps less.'

Benny craned her neck. At the back of the room, the journalists were interviewing scientists and politicians. This event was going out live. She felt for the reporters forced to find something to say to fill the gap, the only picture from another world being a static image that could have been Arizona if it wasn't for the pink sky.

28.Benny recognised the twilight from her expedition: even at noon on the Mare Sirenum the brightest it got was a late-evening grey.

The guests were gradually realising that there was going to be a delay, and were breaking off to replenish their drinks or chat to their friends. The man the Home Secretary had mentioned in his speech, Lord Greyhaven, wasn't there, although the rest of his circle were.

Benny turned to the Doctor to see what he planned to do for the next ten minutes. A young man, Ralph Cornish's friend, was leaning over him, whispering something, pa.s.sing something to him. Then he had gone.

Benny bent across. 'What's up?'

'That young man just pa.s.sed me a note,' the Doctor explained. He unfolded it. ' "Chesterton Road, 12.00. Green Door. Bring violets." ' he read, bemused.

There was movement on the ladder.

'That was quick,' the Doctor said cheerfully.

A bulky s.p.a.cesuit hopped down the ladder. He wasn't as nimble as he would have been on the Moon, the gravity was about twice as strong, but he moved in wide, arcing leaps.

There wasn't a carefully-prepared soundbite, or indeed any ceremony. Just a simple 'I'm on the surface, chaps'.

Two other astronauts followed him out, and they spent some time bouncing around, getting used to the idea that they were on an alien planet. 'Keep that camera pointing that way, Bob. There's a beautiful violet sky,' Michaels said final y.

Whatever else was said was drowned out by the cheers from Mission Control and the party guests in the observation gallery. The cameramen were relaxing now, turning off their equipment. They'd got the interviews they'd wanted before the landing and while the astronauts were getting ready for their Marswalk. The guests were leaving their seats, stretching. They were being ushered out by the waiters, who really weren't tolerating any dawdlers. Benny looked around for Eve, who was by the door, trying to collar Lord Greyhaven for an interview.

'Is that it?' the Doctor said, still firmly in his seat.

'That's the end of the live coverage, yes, sir,' a waiter told him as he collected up the empty gla.s.ses. 'The museum restaurant, The Observatory, is still open - a lot of the guests will be eating lunch there. It's fully licensed.'

Bernice giggled. 'How about it, Doctor, fancy a trip to the Mars Bar? I think that they want us to leave.' The last few journalists and their teams were being ushered away, a curtain was being drawn over the observation window overlooking Mission Control.

'Something odd's going on ... ' the Doctor muttered.

Winifred Bambera was standing by the door, keeping an eye on the guests as they filed out.

'Isn't that - ?' the Doctor began, but he was cut off from a burst of static from the loudspeaker. Down in Mission Control, a couple of technicians scuttled back to their posts.

'London Control, this is Michaels. Condition violet should now be in place, you've had your ten minutes. Cut the live feed. I can't wait any longer.'

Bambera was scowling at one of the waiters who was moving to pull out the lead from the loudspeaker. The Doctor leapt over a row of seats, ran to the front of the room and yanked the curtain that had been blocking their view of Mission Control.

Captain Michaels' helmet filled the giant screen that dominated the room down there. 'We've found an archway,'

the loudspeaker crackled, 'Repeat, an archway, in the sand.'

The picture panned around away from the commander and settled on a circular shape cut into the side of a low rock formation. It was indeed a high archway, leading into a cave. It was too dark to see anything more than a few feet inside, but the archway was clearly not a natural feature - there was definitely a keystone there, and what looked like carved symbols.

'Please advise, London Control.'

29.

Chapter Four.

Gratuitous Violets