Doctor Who_ Island of Death - Barry Letts [92]
„Steady on course,‟ said the Cox‟n.
The engines were at minimum revs to allow the ship to creep along with just enough way for the rudder to take hold.
The slightest swing to port or starboard would radically affect the aiming of the missiles.
„Very good... In your own time, Number One,‟ said Andrews into the voice-pipe, and lifted his glasses once more.
In the intensity of the stillness that overcame the ship as Bob swung the mounting fractionally to the left and waited for the precise moment to fire the second missile, the Brigadier heard a whisper from the corner of the bridge. He dropped his binoculars and looked over to Sarah. But she wasn‟t talking to him. Her eyes were closed. She appeared to be praying.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The Doctor‟s first response to the explosion was a surge of triumph. Lethbridge-Stewart had come up trumps! Time after time, they had disagreed fundamentally about the use of force. The Brigadier‟s instinctive reaction seemed to be that there were very few problems that couldn‟t be solved by blowing something up. But this time, it really did seem to be the necessary last resort.
There was only one snag. If the Hallaton’s aim improved, and Alex and his comrades were terminated, Hilda and he would certainly be terminated too, a consummation he devoutly wished to avoid. He had to escape.
But though the Doctor‟s American friend, like Hilda, had thrown himself to the ground at the sound of the explosion, and was only now picking himself up, his colleague at the doorway had swung round, spear at the ready, as though the ear-splitting noise had been nothing more than a planned diversion.
Nothing had changed. Even the Skang chanting had continued, almost without a break. Indeed, the clamour from down below was almost reaching its climax.
He looked down and, in the sudden silence, again felt the shimmering in his brain that meant the Skang were about to turn. He brought the utmost concentration to his watching, trying to seize the moment of transmutation. But again he missed it. It felt as if they‟d always been there, these strangely attractive grotesques.
Standing proudly on the platform, where the photogenically well-favoured politician Alex Whitbread had been, there was the most impressive Skang yet: a bronze masterpiece almost as magnificent as the illusory painting; a figure to venerate, to worship.
Both the guards on the stage fell to their knees. Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw Hank do the same, staring with adoration at the embodiment of their devotion, wonderfully incarnate... and this time, three yards away, his fellow followed his example.
Now! Now was the time to escape!
But the ground shuddered, the sound of the blast filled the sky, and the world collapsed. The second missile landed above their heads, just the other side of the makeshift perimeter wall.
Hank and Helmut disappeared, buried, broken, laid low by the rolling boulders from above; and the Doctor‟s cave was buried.
It felt as if she were being torn apart. The near-miss meant only one thing. The next one would be smack on target - and even if it wasn‟t, there would still be one chance left.
One more chance to kill the Doctor.
Sarah found that she was clutching her upper arms, trying to stop the violent shuddering that had overtaken her. This was what he wanted, yes, but it was unthinkable, unbearable, to know that the world - no, she herself - was about to lose this extraordinary figure, whose cranky intellect concealed a depth of compassion, and a more-than-human warmth that she‟d never even glimpsed in anybody she‟d ever known.
„Number Three, armed and ready!‟
She shut her eyes. She couldn‟t bear to look.
„Very good. Okay, Bob, it‟s all yours.‟
Again that moment when the world held its breath.
„Good God!‟ said the Brigadier.
„Hold it, Bob!‟ called the CO at the same time.
What?
For a moment, even after she‟d opened her eyes, she had no idea why they‟d stopped.
And then she