Doctor Who_ War Games - Malcolm Hulke [19]
‘Put your gun back on the table and I’ll do it again.’
Lücke had holstered his Luger. He looked from one to the other suspecting a trick.
‘Keep your hand on it if you wish,’ the Doctor said. He got out his screwdriver again.
Cautiously Lücke placed the gun back on the table, his hand firmly on the barrel. The Doctor repeated the demonstration. Memory returned to the German’s troubled face.
‘Yes, I remember. But how is it possible?’ In his confused state, Lücke lifted his hand from the gun.
‘We have more tricks than that,’ the Doctor said. ‘Let me show you.’ He picked up the gun and threw it to Jamie.
‘Catch!’
Jamie neatly caught the gun and pointed it at the Leutnant. ‘That’s our best trick of all.’
‘Now, Leutnant Lücke,’ the Doctor said, putting his arm around the officer’s shoulder, ‘perhaps you would be good enough to take us back to our ambulance.’
‘For losing my gun,’ said Lücke, his face sombre, ‘I shall be court-martialled.’
‘Then be glad you’re on the German side,’ said Zoe.
‘We’ve had a British court martial, and they’re awful!’
*
General Smythe and Count Vladimir Chainikof stood together by a huge illuminated map in the centre of the war room. Black uniformed technicians at the far side were dealing with calls from the many time zones, coming in on the telecommunications central control.
‘Well,’ said Chainikof, ‘and how is your war going?’
‘Enormous losses,’ said General Smythe. ‘That’s why I’m here again, to ask for new specimens. What about you?’
Chainikof wore the long grey topcoat and tall leather hat of a Russian officer in the Crimean War. ‘My soldiers are illiterate peasants. But the survivors are good fierce warriors. They will be useful when the time comes to fulfil our destiny.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘Incidentally, we are fighting the British!’
General Smythe laughed too. ‘Perhaps we should not be talking to each other!’ He saw that Chainikof wanted to go.
‘It was good seeing you again.’
Chainikof nodded farewell and strode towards the sidrat materialisation area.
Smythe called to a technician. ‘When is the War Chief due back?’
‘Now,’ the technician replied. ‘He’s just returned from our planet.’
At the far end of the room double doors opened. All the technicians turned to bow as the War Chief entered with his personal armed bodyguard.. He was a tall man, resplendent in his uniform of black with gold and red piping. He acknowledged the silent greeting, noticed General Smythe and walked towards him.
‘I hear you lost your three civilian prisoners. How was that?’
‘They have been recaptured, sir,’ said the general, ‘in the German sector. They will be shot immediately.’ He tried to make light of his mistake. ‘They keep telling a ridiculous story that they are time travellers!’
The War Chief did not share the general’s amusement.
‘Time travellers? And you ordered them to be killed?’
‘Whatever they are,’ the general blustered, ‘they are no use to our plans—’
‘Think,’ said the War Chief, cutting in. ‘If we did not bring them here, how have they arrived? I want them brought to me for interrogation.’
‘I shall arrange that immediately,’ said General Smythe.
He hurried to the telecommunications central control. To his surprise, a technician was beckoning to him and von Weich’s face was on one of the many screens.
‘Those prisoners,’ said von Weich, ‘they tricked my human subordinate. They are probably on their way back to your lines.’
The War Chief had joined General Smythe at the video screen. ‘Issue a general alert to all time zones,’ he announced. ‘I want these people captured alive. Officers are to describe this ambulance to their human troops as a hostile vehicle that must be stopped.’
General Smythe stood to attention. ‘I shall issue the alert personally, sir. Excuse me.’ He pushed a technician out of the way to get to one of the telecommunication video units.
The War Chief wandered back to the centre of the room and stood staring down at the war map. ‘Time travellers?’
he murmured to himself. ‘I wonder...’
‘That’s