Doctor Who_ War Games - Malcolm Hulke [39]
The War Chief smiled. ‘Thank you.’
‘But taking rather a long time,’ said the Security Chief.
‘Either our processed specimens aren’t trying or these bandits are putting up a good fight.’
‘They cannot win,’ said the War Chief, still glowing from the War Lord’s compliment. ‘They will be crushed.’
‘They’ve escaped before,’ snarled the Security Chief.
‘They could do it again. Do you intend the Doctor to die with the rest?’
‘Why not?’ asked the War Chief. ‘He is now the main cause of our troubles.’
The Security Chief did not answer.
‘Well?’ said the War Lord. ‘What did you mean by your question, Security Chief?’
The Security Chief could not evade answering the War Lord. ‘The Doctor seems to have a charmed life, that’s all I meant.’ He gave a respectful bow to the War Lord and moved away from the war map on the pretext of conferring with one of his security guards.
The War Lord waited until the Security Chief was out of earshot. ‘What was really behind his question about the fate of this Doctor?’
‘He doesn’t trust me,’ the War Chief replied honestly.
‘But I can assure you, War Lord, the Doctor will be killed.
You have my word on it.’ He glanced down at the war map where the illuminated colours had expanded. ‘Look, your pincer movement has the château in its jaws! Time is running out for all those who resist us.’
The battle was raging all around the château now. Under pressure from the British regiment at the front of the building, resistance fighters had pulled back and were defending from the windows. Jamie and Sergeant Russell were crouched at a window, each with a rifle, firing whenever they could see a British steel helmet in the flash of explosions in the grounds.
‘We should have done what that Yank said.’ The sergeant aimed his rifle and fired. ‘We should have pulled out of here and re-grouped somewhere else. Now it’s too late.’ He fired again.
From where Lieutenant Carstairs was firing his revolver he called, ‘Watch that french window!’
One of the attackers, a young British corporal, had come right up to the window. Using his teeth he pulled out the pin of a hand grenade. He threw the grenade into the room.
‘Why, you—’ Sergeant Russell dropped his rifle and sprang at the corporal, grappling with him in hand to hand fighting. As the sergeant knocked out the corporal, Jamie threw himself at the grenade. In one movement he picked it up and hurled it back through the windows. It exploded outside with a blinding flash and a roar.
Carstairs ran to the little bedroom where the Doctor and Zoe were working. ‘Doctor, they’re starting to break in. We must either surrender or try to make a run for it under cover of darkness.’
‘I don’t think there is any need for either of those courses of action,’ replied the Doctor. He made a finishing touch to his adjustments to the control console set in the wall. ‘Now let’s see if this thing can do what I want it to do.’ He turned one of the control knobs. The console hummed with power.
‘Doctor,’ Carstairs pleaded, ‘there’s no time now to be fiddling with gadgets.’
‘Isn’t there? Then listen.’
Lieutenant Carstairs was about to speak again when he realised that the sound of battle had ceased. An eerie silence hung over the chateau.
‘Doctor, what have you done?’
‘I’ve set up a time zone barrier all around this building.
That’s what this gadget was for—to create and control those mists.’
‘Don’t you see,’ said Zoe, enthusiastically, ‘none of the processed soldiers will be able to get at us. But all of us will be able to move about freely.’
‘By jingo,’ said Carstairs. ‘That’s devilish ingenious.’
‘Exactly what I thought,’ said the Doctor, rising. ‘The battle is now over.’ He moved past Carstairs into the main room. ‘Don’t worry,’ he announced to the astonished resistance fighters crouched at the windows. ‘There’ll be no more shooting tonight.’ He noticed the young British corporal whom Sergeant Russell had knocked out. Jamie and the sergeant had tied the man’s ankles and wrists.
‘Who’s he?’
‘A brave lad,’ said the sergeant.