Doctor Who_ The Dying Days - Lance Parkin [65]
'But ...'
'Be quiet, Staines. You want to know the truth, then here it is: For twenty years, elements of the British security services have been active throughout the rest of the world covering up one vital fact about Mars: you or I could walk on the Martian surface without the aid of a spacesuit. Yes, it's normal y as cold as a Scottish winter, and the air is thin, but any reasonably fit man with a pair of gloves and a wool y hat could live there. '
***
The crowd were beginning to disperse. Necks were getting cricked, it was getting late and the UFO was just hanging there doing nothing. The police had sealed off the area, so no-one else was getting in. There were still many hundreds of thousands of people in and around Trafalgar Square, but the crowd was appreciatively thinner than it had been. Those that remained where quiet again, expectant. Someone was proclaiming that Jesus was the one true saviour, another that the end of the world was nigh, another that he was selling soft drinks.
Everyone else stood or sat, listening to the radio, looking up at the spacecraft or down at the police and military presence. The Evening Standard had published a late edition, with ten pages of eye-witness reports and photographs. Virtually everyone in the crowd had bought a copy, hoping that it would explain what was going on.
It didn't, of course.
***
The Doctor was staring up, his eyes screwed up. He was holding the sonic screwdriver out in front of him.
'Now what are you doing?' Benny asked, tucking her newspaper underneath her arm. None of the policemen or soldiers had seen them yet, but surely it was only a matter of time.
'Knocking,' the Doctor said quietly.
***
A series of grunts and barks filled the reception chamber of the Martian ship, making Staines jump. Greyhaven's was a more measured response.
The voice swirled around them. It was the same 'holographic sound' technology that the Martians had used to communicate with Greyhaven for twenty years. Alexander Christian had brought trinkets back with him - a Martian walkie-talkie and a couple of electronic keys. These were based on a form of silicon unknown on Earth, but which could be crudely duplicated. Greyhaven had built the communicator in his office himself, and currently only that prototype existed.
The Martian leader turned to Greyhaven. 'A human in the crowd iss ussing a ssonic device. You informed uss that your race had no ssuch technology,' he spat.
'We haven't,' Greyhaven said cool y.
Xznaal hissed an order into the air.
A globe materialised in the space between them: a hologram. The image was a panning shot of the crowd, presumably from a camera mounted on the hull. Now the picture moved with more purpose, and began zooming in on a section directly below them.
62
Standing by a police box was a man and a woman. She was tall and leggy, and had adopted a tomboy look: short hair and a baggy, garish jumper. Her companion was just as striking: a man with shoulder-length hair in a full-length Victorian housecoat. They were both peering upwards at the ship. He was holding something aloft - a microphone, perhaps, or a measuring instrument of some kind.
'I know him,' Greyhaven said quietly.
'Who iss he?' Xznaal demanded.
'He was at Mission Control this morning. Do you remember, David?'
The Home Secretary shrugged. 'Yes, I think so. It was the chap that didn't know who you were.'
Greyhaven silenced him with a glare.
'I sshall desstroy them.'
'No!' Greyhaven shouted.
Xznaal hissed his displeasure.
'Xznaal, everyone on the planet is watching this spacecraft. There are a million people down there in that crowd. At the moment, they are nervous. They don't understand the benefits of co-operation with the Martians. Their reaction will be the same as Staines' - horror, terror.'
Xznaal stepped back. 'That iss how it sshould be,' he wheezed.
'If you open fire, all the human clans wil panic. My people will work with you willingly, given a little time. Better,