Doctor Who_ Last of the Gaderene - Mark Gatiss [85]
Chapter Thirty-Two
Desperate Measures
The Brigadier and Yates sat in the cabin of the leading UNIT
truck. The remaining two were directly behind, having driven some five hundred yards or so back down the Culverton road, away from the aerodrome.
‘Right,’ said the Brigadier. ‘Get this transport turned round. We’ll give it a couple if minutes and then we’ll storm the place.’
Yates looked worried. And if we hit the civilians, sir?’
The Brigadier’s mouth set into a thin line. ‘Then we hit the civilians, Captain. The Doctor’s explained just how dangerous these creatures are. We have to do whatever it takes to get in there and stop them.’
Yates nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
He reached down and put the truck into reverse. Within moments it was facing back towards the aerodrome.
The Brigadier nodded his approval. ‘Now they’ve seen us retreat in force. The last thing they’ll expect is one of our trucks to come back. We have to drive through them, if necessary.’
Yates gave a solemn nod and reached for the gear lever.
To his surprise, the Brigadier leant over and stopped him.
‘Move over, Captain,’ he said quietly.
‘Sir?’
Lethbridge-Stewart didn’t look him in the eye. ‘I wouldn’t ask you to do anything I wouldn’t do myself. Move over.’
Yates shuffled over, allowing him to take up his position in front of the steering wheel.
Clenching his teeth until the muscles on his jaw stood out, the Brigadier pressed his foot down on the accelerator and the truck roared forward. The other two, packed with troops followed.
‘Operation Trojan Horse, eh Captain Yates?’ said the Brigadier.
Yates nodded. ‘Yes, sir. Operation Trojan Horse.’
He looked down at his knees.
And now all nine keys are in place.
There is so little time. The ground beneath the steel palace groans and rocks. For the first time, a crack has developed in the thick plate glass of the observation window.
The Apothecaries look round in fear, the warm blue atmosphere is altered by the thin hiss of the filthy air from outside. The wind screams and scrabbles at the breach, like a living thing, jealously trying to gain entry.
Efforts are made to seal the gap but to no avail. They cannot be diverted from the great purpose. A translucent column of blue light has begun to shoot upwards from the dais, bathing the twelve elders in its glorious effulgence.
The Apothecaries stand back now. Their work is almost done. Soon, when the elders have passed through, it will be the turn of the embryos. And then the Gaderene race will have been saved. They will have survived.
And the Apothecaries will remain, as they volunteered to remain, to watch the dying hours of their home world...
The column of blue light pulses regularly. Waiting...
Waiting...
The old airstrip, plunged into darkness, stretched out like a bolt of black silk.
The Master jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the hangar. ‘They’re secure?’
Bliss nodded impatiently at the question. ‘Of course. The gas will keep them unconscious until their new occupants arrive.’
A stiff breeze had blown up, flapping Bliss’s lank hair into her large eyes. Noah cowered at the Master’s feet, the barrel of the pistol dangerously close to his temple.
A circular area about a hundred feet across had been marked out in the parched ground next to the airstrip, like some kind of black-magic pentagram. At equidistant points, narrow depressions were sunk into it. Bliss let her gaze flick over them and then turned to the Master.
‘It is time.’
The Master nodded. Bliss moved away and one by one began to insert the crystalline keys into hollow metallic sockets inset into the ground.
The wind suddenly increased in strength and, as each key was put in place, it began to hum with power.
‘Will... will my dad be all right?’ asked Noah in a small voice. The Master and Bliss ignored him completely.
Noah watched, awestruck, as what appeared to be blue fire crackled between the keys, forming a glowing halo just above the ground. Bliss