Doctor Who_ The Dying Days - Lance Parkin [101]
'If I might return to the subject of Martian culture. I couldn't help noting an Egyptian influence. That fascinates me.
It seems that your people and ours have encountered one another before.'
Xznaal shuffled around to face the Home Secretary. 'Egyptian?'
'An ancient Earth clan. But Egypt is a hot country, too hot for Martians, I would have thought. Luckily, we've got a lot of Egyptian pieces at the British Museum. I brought a catalogue.'
Xznaal took the document, tried to manipulate it in his claws. It slipped between his pincers and dropped to the floor. Xztaynz bent down to pick it up, holding open and in front of his eyes. Xznaal studied the pictures. Ancient human artefacts, all bearing crude, but recognisable images.
'You worsship thesse godss?' Xznaal hissed curiously.
'Heavens no, I'm Church of England,' Xztaynz gurgled. 'No-one has worshipped this lot for thousands of years.'
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Xznaal glared down at him. 'They will,' he ordered. 'You will insstruct your teacher casste to include religiouss insstruction in the curriculum.'
'Martian religion?'
'Reformed Martian, yess.'
Xztaynz gurgled again. 'I'm not sure the Archbishop of Canterbury would like that.' His face was contorted into a rictus.
Xznaal angled his head and exhaled. 'Then behead him and replace him with one loyal to uss. I thought you were a politician.'
***
Extract from the memoirs of Professor Bernice Summerfield:
I finished my ablutions and began to trudge back up to the officer's mess. My thoughts at the time were preoccupied with how I could escape. I’d decided that my best bet was to build myself an interstellar distress beacon and signal for help. That was the current plan, the only real flaw with it being I hadn't even the slightest idea how to build an interstellar distress beacon. I knew that I wanted to try and contact my father, but wasn’t sure where to start. He’d be lying low, too low for me to find on my own. Failing that, I told myself, I could stay in Windsor Forest. Why would anyone want to leave such a peaceful wood, with deer and squirrels, for motorways and town centres with a roadblock at every junction?
I slid the door of the mess open and stepped inside. Most of the soldiers were up now. One of them had made us all a mug of tea. I took mine grateful y. The two Brigadiers were checking their maps. Lethbridge-Stewart doing so while he shaved. The radio transceiver was stil on, but now it was playing the Radio Four Breakfast Programme.
The presenters' voices were unfamiliar. There had been purges at all the broadcasters and newspapers. For the most part, UNIT had used the radio only to listen to messages, they'd maintained their own radio silence for almost the whole week. We couldn't afford to draw attention to ourselves.
'Portsmouth has fallen,' Alistair announced grimly. 'In the last hour or so. The Martian ship attacked the docks, they sank every ship there. All the Royal Navy buildings were demolished with that ray thing of theirs.'
I sat down, unable to think of anything to say. There were many tiny resistance cells, but only a handful of real strongholds still stood in England: Bristol, York, Aldershot, Manchester and here in Windsor. Perhaps a couple of others. The one at Portsmouth was the best-defended. The coup leaders included senior officers of the Army and RAF, but the Royal Navy had been almost untainted. The ships around the British coast had moved in to defend Portsmouth, to maintain a foothold on British soil and to keep the supply lines open. Now Portsmouth had fal en.
'Scotland's our best hope now,' Captain Ford noted. The Provisional Government's tacticians had been most anxious to secure the capital and the further north you went, the less their grip on power. Unfortunately, that didn't rule out airstrikes and rapid deployment of men parachuting in. Or the ever-present threat that the Martian ship could up sticks and attack any city in the country within minutes.
'It's the first time they've used the Martian ship since Adisham,' I noted. 'It's been over London for the whole