Doctor Who_ War Games - Malcolm Hulke [50]
The Security Chief tried to unholster his own stun-gun, but the War Chief had already picked up the weapon dropped by the first guard to fall. With a single movement he adjusted the gun to ‘kill’, aimed at the Securitv Chief and fired. The zing on the stun-gun was immediately followed by the Security Chief’s death scream.
Throughout, a high-pitched blast had emitted from loudspeakers in all the walls. ‘Please turn that hideous thing off,’ shouted the Doctor. ‘I cannot think.’
The War Chief crossed to the communications console, stepping over the body of his rival, the Security Chief, and touched a control. The emergency alarm stopped.
‘We’ve won,’ said Sergeant Russell. ‘We’ve got control!’
A little jubilant cheer went up from the motley assortment of resistance leaders—French, German, American, Roman, from all periods in history. A Greek and a Turk linked arms and began to dance.
‘We haven’t won yet,’ said Zoe. ‘Doctor, how are you going to get all these people back to their own times?’
‘First things first, Zoe.’ The Doctor turned to the War Chief. ‘Stop the war games.’
All eyes were on the War Chief. ‘I am a man of my word,’ he said. He went to the microphone which the Security Chief had been using a few minutes earlier. ‘This is the War Chief speaking. All hostilities in all time zones are to cease immediately. Officers are to tell their human specimens that an armistice has been declared. Further orders will be issued to you shortly.’
‘That’s a good start,’ said Jamie. ‘Now, Doctor, about getting these people back where they came from?’
‘Can you return them the same way you brought them here?’ asked the Doctor.
The War Chief shook his head. ‘For journeys of such time and distance the life-spans of the sidrats are spent. I told you, Doctor, they are not like a real TARDIS.’
Sergeant Russell pushed forward in the crowd. ‘You can’t keep your promise, Doctor? We’re stuck here?’
‘There are people who can help us,’ said the Doctor.
‘The Time Lords.’ He turned to Jamie. ‘My own race. Now you know who I really am.’
‘No!’ said the War Chief. ‘You mustn’t call them! You know what will happen to us.’
‘There is no alternative,’ said the Doctor. ‘Who is more important? The two of us or those tens of thousands of poor soldiers stranded on this planet? Please, all of you, keep quiet.’
The Doctor sat down cross-legged on the floor, fished about in his capacious pockets and brought out six square metal plates. These he placed in a pattern on the floor before him.
‘Doctor, please, I implore you,’ said the War Chief.
‘He told us to keep quiet,’ said Jamie. ‘That includes you!’
As the Doctor passed into a deep trance, the on-lookers could hear a babble of whispering voices coming from the little squares of metal. Then, to their amazement, the squares began to move. They raised themselves from the floor and formed a perfect little box.
‘Doctor,’ said Zoe, ‘are you all right? What’s that thing?’
‘A very special box,’ said the Doctor. ‘From my mind I have passed into it information about what has been going on here, and an appeal for help.’
‘You’ve never asked for help before,’ Jamie reminded him.
‘The task of returning these men to their own time is too great for me.’ The Doctor looked up. ‘Believe me, War Chief, what we are doing is right—’
But there was only a gap where the War Chief had been standing, in the ring of people around the Doctor.
‘He must have slipped out,’ said Sergeant Russell, ‘while we were all watching your magic tricks.’
‘I don’t blame him,’ said the Doctor. ‘I suggest we do exactly the same thing.’ He got to his feet, picked, up the box and popped it into his pocket. ‘The sooner we get away from here the better.’
The War Chief approached the sidrat materialisation area cautiously. No one was about. He adjusted the controls of the console; instantly the area