Doctor Who_ War Games - Malcolm Hulke [33]
Jamie became conscious to find himself strapped to a chair.
The Security Chief was lifting a metal cowl from his head.
‘Feeling all right now?’ asked the Security Chief.
‘Yes, fine.’ Jamie tried to move; it was then he realised he was bound to the chair. ‘Hey, what’s this?’
‘I am going to question you.’ The Security Chief snapped his fingers and a guard brought forward another metal cowl. ‘I have just un-stunned you. Now I am going to cause you intense pain.’ He paused. ‘Unless you answer my questions truthfully.’
Jamie looked at the cowl they were about to place over his head. ‘Let me hear the questions first.’
‘How did you arrive on this planet?’
‘In a thing called the TARDIS. It flies through time and space. Will you undo me now?’
The Security Chief gave his spine-chilling smile. ‘You Iike making jokes, do you?’
‘We Scots are very humorous.’
The Security Chief regarded his prisoner. His hand rested lightly on the cowl, one finger tapping its metal surface. ‘Who is the Doctor?’
Jamie didn’t answer.
‘Fix the cowl,’ said the Security Chief.
The guard moved forward to put the cowl directly over Jamie’s head.
‘I don’t know who he is,’ Jamie said quickly. ‘He almost told me, but then he didn’t. It’s no good hurting me with that thing. I can’t tell you anything else.’
‘Do you know, I think I believe you. Tell me, what sort of man is this Doctor?’
‘He’s a good man,’ Jamie said.
The Security Chief spoke his thoughts as he created a picture in his own mind. ‘A good man of mysterious origins who travels through time and space...’ He returned his attention to Jamie. ‘I want to show you to someone else.’ He moved to the door. ‘You won’t go away, will you?’
‘I’ll sit right here,’ said Jamie, unable to move.
‘Good,’ said the Security Chief. ‘I like a specimen with a sense of fun.’ Quietly he left the security room. Jamie looked at the guard. ‘Any chance you could unstrap one hand? I want to scratch my nose.’ The guard did not reply.
‘Just one hand,’ said Jamie. ‘I can’t do you any harm with only one hand.’
Instead of helping Jamie, the guard seemed intrigued by the pain helmet and the machine to which it was attached.
His fingers played across the controls.
‘You be careful,’ said Jamie. ‘Remember I’m under this thing...’
The guard’s finger hit the ‘on’ button. Instantly Jamie had a mild headache.
‘Hey, turn that thing off!’
The guard looked at Jamie’s pained expression and grinned. He searched for the control that would increase the pain—and found it. He edged the pointer round two calibrations.
Jamie closed his eyes in sudden agony. His brain was filled with stabbing pains and blinding explosions. ‘Please,’
he moaned, ‘I told the truth... You shouldn’t do that...
Please... Help me...’
The pain ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Hands were at Jamie’s wrists and ankles, releasing him. He opened his eyes to see the room filled with drab khaki uniforms, similar to those he had seen on the 1917 British Front Line.
‘It’s all right, Jamie,’ the Doctor was saying. ‘It’s me.’
The Doctor stood before him dressed in a voluminous general’s greatcoat.
Jamie tried to get the others into focus. ‘Lady Jennifer,’
he said, still confused.
‘It’s me,’ said Zoe. ‘They’ve got every type of uniform here. Do you think it suits me?’ She looked down at her khaki tunic and the long skirt of a Volunteer Ambulance Driver of the First World War.
The two Boer War soldiers, also dressed in British army uniform of eighteen years later than their time in history, were tying up the guard who had tortured Jamie. ‘Perhaps we should leave him under that gad-get,’ said the private.
‘And turn on the juice!’
‘I think we’d do better,’ suggested Lieutenant Carstairs,
‘to get out of here as quickly as possible.’
‘Get this stuff on, Jamie.’ The Doctor produced from under his greatcoat a khaki cap and another greatcoat.
‘And put this over your face.’ He held out a mask with two circular glass windows to see through and a snout.
‘What is it?’
‘A gas mask.’ The Doctor called to the others in the room, ‘Quickly! Gas