Doctor Who_ The Paradise of Death - Barry Letts [91]
She had at once sought out Rance, as leader of the newcomers, and found him with the Doctor and Brigadier, dissecting the latest Security weapon they had ‘acquired’, a maser-powered gun which would ground a flycar as swiftly as a stungun would paralyse its occupant.
‘So we can expect an attack at any time?’ said Rance bitterly. ‘All our plans go for nothing? We just give up?’
‘How advanced are your plans for the coup?’ said the Doctor.
‘Just about complete.’
‘Then why wait?’ said the Brigadier. ‘Attack is the best form of defence and all that; why not go ahead at once?’
If only we could, thought Onya.
‘It’s not so easy,’ she said. ‘Yes, we have completed our plans for the takeover at the Palace and the Corporation –
all the strategic points in fact. But the difficulty is that – ’
‘We’re here and they are there,’ interrupted Rance, with even more bitterness in his voice. ‘We have to make a preliminary foray to capture enough transport. Or are you suggesting that we should ferry three hundred and seventy-two people in Onya’s flycar?’
‘See what you mean,’ said the Brigadier.
‘Yes. A seemingly insuperable problem,’ said the Doctor, slowly. ‘There might be an answer though. If our new friend Kaido can be persuaded to play ball. Do you agree, Brigadier?’
What was he talking about? thought Onya. The Brigadier also seemed to be nonplussed, but only for a moment.
His face brightened. ‘I’m with you,’ he said. ‘Airborne troops. Splendid notion.’
Rance was looking suspiciously from one to the other.
Onya said, ‘Would you care to share it with us, Doctor?’
‘How many passengers could one of the Kimonyan bats be persuaded to carry?’
Of course!
‘And what’s their maximum range?’ added the Brigadier. ‘Given auxiliary fuel, of course. Nose bags or whatever.’
Now why didn’t they think of that?
Chapter Thirty
The next morning, Kaido, more out of love for Onya and respect for the Doctor than a true apprehension of the situation, agreed to the use of the bats as troop carriers.
Unfortunately, since they had only sixty-eight fully-grown animals and since the maximum practical load would be four apiece (the Kimonyan rider plus three), the attack force would have to be scaled down to some two hundred troops.
Luckily, Haban Rance was an example of that rarity among leaders, one willing to relinquish his position to a better qualified candidate. In the discussions that followed, it soon became apparent that the Brigadier’s professional expertise far outweighed the amateur tactics of an electronics engineer.
Jeremy had been detailed off to run the Brigadier’s messages, much to his disgust. (‘Poor old Jeremy,’ he’d overheard Sarah saying, ‘one of life’s dogsbodies.’) He came back from the bat stables, with their rows of hanging giants, after a futile attempt to ‘liaise with the bat handlers’
to find the Brigadier with Haban Rance, poring over a map of Parakon City, putting the final touches to the revised plan.
‘... and by the time I and Mr Ungar have secured our position at the Security HQ,’ he was saying, ‘your squadron should have effective control of the ER transmission station. Who will you have as your two I/C?’
His what? thought Jeremy, as bemused as always; he was fed up with not knowing what people were talking about. But satisfactorily, Rance was just as foxed.
‘Your second in command. I beg your pardon, Mr Rance.’
‘I’ll take Medan. He’s a good man in a fight.’
‘Well, the important thing to get across to him is that when you join me for the final takeover at the stadium, he must keep the transmissions of the Games going.’
Eh? What did the silly old Games matter?
‘Why?’ said Jeremy.
‘The whole essence of the strategy,’ the Brigadier said emphatically, ‘is to effect a swift transfer of power while everybody is distracted by the finals of the Games’ He became aware that he was talking to Jeremy. ‘What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be liaising with – ’
‘They won’t take any notice