Doctor Who_ The Ice Warriors - Brian Hayles [50]
‘You will regret this, Varga.’ Clent declared, strangely calm. ‘You cannot fight the whole world’
‘Your world is nothing’’ hissed Varga contemptuously.
‘We will live to regret only that my superiors on Mars cannot congratulate us.’ He gestured abruptly towards Jan. ‘Hurry!’
All eyes, Martian and human, were on the dying machine. No one noticed the ragged form that had hidden so skilfully in the shadows outside the doorway to the control room, and who watched with dismay the fateful situation in which Clent and Jan were trapped. Penley had woken from the effects of the tranquilliser gun to find himself strapped down to the trolley in the medicare laboratory. It had been minutes before he realised that whoever had fastened the restrainers had left them cunningly half-caught. It had been an easy task to unloose them and set himself free. Jame, cocooned within the healing confines of the diagnostic unit, was unconscious but seemed, Penley noted, to be improving rapidly.
But Clent was a different matter—somehow, he had to be made to see that what he was doing could only end in disaster. It wasn’t until Penley reached the vestibule outside the control room and realised just how desperate the situation was, that he felt a genuine respect for Clent’s courage. It would have broken a lesser man. Faced with not only death but the destruction of all he held to be of importance in his scientific career, the Leader remained quietly defiant... and utterly helpless.
But so am I, thought Penley to himself. These Martians seemed invincible! Silently, he drew back into the shadowed corner to think—and in doing so, jarred his shoulder against a control box. Irritated. he glared at the unit—then looked again, wild thoughts racing through his mind. It was an air-conditioning stabiliser. At present set on automatic, with preset limits, it could also be converted to manual. His mouth dry, Penley’s fingers fumbled rapidly to open up the casing; his mind swiftly assessed what he knew about the Martians. It was the boldly labelled status gauges that had triggered his thoughts: temperature, oxygen ratio, and humidity. These aliens were entirely at home in such Ice Age conditions as might exist on certain parts of their home planet, Afars. Well, thought Penley, we’ll soon put an end to that! Switching the controls to manual, he increased all three elements to maximum—and prayed.
The effect was almost instantaneous. Rintan, the warrior standing closest to an air-conditioning grille in the control room, started to reel. The floor was rising and falling beneath him like a sinking ship! His great fists clawed at his throat, and his usually softly wheezing breath changed to a series of great tearing sobs. Within seconds, the humans. too, felt the increased surge of toxic heat—but still threatened by the waariors’ weapons, they looked on helplessly as each of the Martians struggled to remain conscious. Only Varga kept any degree of keen awareness. He whirled to confront Clent furiously.
‘What have you done to us!’ he snarled, ‘You have tricked us! For that you will die!’
But even as he raised his gun, a new terror struck. An immense, pulsing throb of sound filled the room—and its effect on the Martians was even more astounding than that of the heat. The humans slumped lifeless to the floor, like stones.
The effect on the Martians was more terrifying. The sound flooded over them, through them—but, worst of all, it seemed to penetrate their great helmets. Crying out hoarsely, lurching in agony, there was no escape from the relentless sound that threatened to crush their very brains... Then, just as suddenly, the sonic terror ended.
But the combined effect of the sound and the atmospheric assault—which still hadn’t stopped—had left the warriors. Varga included, in a state of confusion and shock...
Then, even as they still recovered, the voice of the Doctor came through on Varga’s personal communicator.
‘Varga! This is the Doctor. Will you retreat—or shall I use frequency seven again?’
Nearly out of his mind with pain and anger, Varga