Killing Ground Part 2

He whimpered and gave up resistance. The chain between them went slack and he stumbled along after Taggart, who kept his head down and left with all speed. The mother followed them into the hallway and grabbed the Patrol Leader's arm in desperation. He reminded her that that was an offence, but still she clung. He made to strike her and she blurted out, 'Don't take him, I can give you information!'

The Patrol Leader waited. She had her chance. Taggart hoped that she had nothing to say. It was unfair and he hated himself for it. But if she gained a reprieve for her son, he would only have to go through this again. Someone else's little boy would die.

'He's gone. He's planning another rebellion. I don't know where he is, but he's left the house. Check with the people there, you'll see.

They're pretending he's still in that room, but he hasn't been seen for weeks.'

That evidently exhausted her knowledge. She looked imploringly into the Patrol Leader's eyes and Taggart could almost hear her prayers. His stomach turned. If she was saying what he thought she was, his night was about to get far worse.

'For the avoidance of doubt,' said the Patrol Leader steadily, 'can you tell me please who we're talking about here?'

She swallowed. 'Lakesmith. Arthur Lakesmith.'

Taggart sweated as the Leader turned to stare at him.

Madrox's office was simple and bare. He had considered the opulent look - deep carpets, attractive wall hangings, expensive trinkets - but decided against it. He didn't need to present himself as one who lived luxuriously. Rather, his confining walls and stark lighting accentuated the sinister, hard-edged aspects of his persona - and he knew that it met with the Cybermen's approval. He sat deliberately so that shadows hid his face. Across a basic table, Overseer 4/3 squirmed on a metal chair.

'You don't like the Cybermen much, do you?' He let his voice come out as a drawl, retaining a relaxed posture. Taggart tried to shrug in a non-committal way, but didn't quite achieve the movement. Half-formed words came out as mewlings. 'It's all right,' said Madrox, 'you have that in common with most of the Overseers. And it's no secret that you fought them, back in the rebellion.'

'No, sir.'

'The failed rebellion.' He paused for effect. 'They maimed your best friend, didn't they?'

Taggart nodded cautiously.

'They horribly mutilated him,' expounded Madrox, enjoying the feel of the words on his tongue. 'How long ago was all that now?'

'2176. Fifteen years. Five visits.'

'That long, eh?' He stood and walked around the table, his hands clutching the studded glove behind his back, eyes inspecting the far end of the ceiling. Keeping him guessing. When he came to a halt, he was standing behind Taggart. The junior Overseer cringed, just noticeably, but didn't dare turn and look.

'So what do you think? Could he still hold influence? Could he provide a rallying point again?' He produced the glove and rubbed it gently against his subordinate's ear. 'Might there be a mutiny in the offing?'

'I don't know.'

The Chief Overseer pressed his fist, through the glove, against Taggart's cheek. Now his threat was explicit in every word. 'So tell me: when did you last see Arthur Lakesmith?'

'It was months ago.'

'Months?'

'We haven't spoken for a long time. Not since the Cybermen... did what they did to him. I let him down. I haven't seen him since Patrol Four was last sent to check on him.'

'And yet he's not where he should be now.'

'I know, sir. We brought in his housemate. Why don't you talk to him?'

'Oh, I will.' Madrox grabbed what remained of Taggart's hair and pulled his head back savagely, provoking a gasp. 'But first, I want to be sure that you know where your loyalties lie, Overseer 4/3.'

'With - with you, sir.'

'Is that so? That wasn't the case fifteen years ago, was it?' There came no reply, so he yanked again. 'Was it, 'Was it, Overseer?' Overseer?'

'No,' Taggart squeaked.

Madrox held tight for a moment longer, then let go and returned to his seat. He faced Taggart squarely, slipping back into his sincere act.

'We all want to see the Cybermen toppled.' That wasn't true. Hate them he might, but their defeat would rob him of his power. 'They like that.

They know where they stand. They motivate people by making them scared. That's why they spared you when you worked against them.

You saw what they did to Lakesmith; what they did to the colony. They know you wouldn't take the risk of betraying them.'

'I wouldn't.'

'Or would you? How long does it take to grow a spine, Overseer Taggart? Would fifteen years be long enough, do you think?' Taggart tried to speak, but Madrox waved him aside with a gesture. He placed both hands on the table and leaned forward so that his face was lit.

'Sometimes, it's tempting. We all hear rumours. Whispers of rebellion.

Names and places. It's easy to keep quiet; to hope that, this time, it will actually work. Then we can stand back, watch the Cybermen fall and join the parties later. The chance of freedom, without the risk.' His voice hardened. 'But think about what happens if it goes wrong. The Cybermen won't only blame the rebels, you know. Last time, they wiped out every last Overseer. And you, Taggart - you, they already know. They know you were Lakesmith's partner. When the dust has settled and they're after revenge, who do you think they'll come to first?'

'I know that, sir.'

'Then think on it. Is it worth keeping your silence for the sake of an old man - a crippled old man - who failed to win his last war and wants another chance? He'll drag us all down with him if he tries anything. You know that.'

Taggart found his tongue. 'I do. But I honestly don't know what he's up to. I don't know where Lakesmith is, I don't know what he's doing.

I swear, I haven't seen him in months!'

Madrox sat back in the shadows so that Taggart couldn't see how he had taken that. 'When do you come back on duty?'

'Tomorrow afternoon, sir.'

'Then I'm sending your patrol out tomorrow night - only this time I'll accompany you personally. We can search for Lakesmith and question known a.s.sociates. You can guide us to those?'

'Well, some of them,' said Taggart.

'Good. Because, if we can't produce your friend, I might be forced to reconsider your position with us.' He didn't have to say more. Taggart might be approaching his fortieth birthday, but he would still be suitable for conversion and he knew it. Madrox dismissed him and, as he scurried out gratefully, the Chief Overseer sat back and thought over what he had learned.

Taggart had not been lying about Lakesmith, but he was hiding something. Madrox could tell. He was sure, though, that after tomorrow night, he would learn all. Cowards like Taggart were easy to control. That was why he had let him live for so long.

And, if Madrox found the alleged rebellion, could the Doctor's companions be far away?

Max Carter wandered in a trance, baked mud hurting her bare feet, sweating in the oppressive atmosphere and feeling every one of her thirty-three years. She knew that she was breaking curfew, but didn't much care. They could do no more to her than they already had. They had taken Martin and they couldn't hurt her physically. Not with the child inside her. Not so close to the birth.

She had had no destination in mind, but she wasn't surprised to arrive at the hill. It rose, not very high, from the edge of the village, and it overlooked the carbuncle that was Population Control. She sat and looked across at the complex. Its dull metal walls were the ant.i.thesis of all that the original Tellurian settlers had wanted this colony to stand for. The ten villages of Agora radiated outwards from where it squatted in the settlement's dead centre; a permanent reminder that the Cybermen had razed that centre upon their first landing.

It was a large building, wings spread like legs on a giant spider, from a hollow, ring-shaped section. It was enclosed by a chain-link fence, surrounded and topped by barbed wire, and Max knew that mines and electronic deterrents lay within the perimeter. You needed an Overseer tech-unit to even get within reach of the heavily armed security watch.

She dreamt of having the firepower to charge in there; to blast open its guts and s.n.a.t.c.h the prisoners. To free her brother. She knew that was impractical. But soon, she would change that.

Violent thoughts gave Max catharsis. They were taken from her by a sudden sound. A snapping of twigs. She jumped into a crouch, alert for danger. How could she have been so stupid? Of course she couldn't let herself be captured. What would Henneker and the others do then?

It wasn't a patrol, she saw thankfully. They were never so cautious.

This was one person, as worried as she was. He had leapt for cover behind a black scrub bush. Max circled it, keeping down, then pounced with a speed made uncomfortable by her current bulk. She heard a squeak, in a male voice, and her foe thrashed as she pinned him with little effort. She saw his face: nineteen years old, he had tangled rust-brown hair, blue eyes and pale, slightly freckled skin. He wore a pair of corrective spectacles not made on this world. Max recognized him , and released her grip.

'It's you,' she said, her relief more apparent than she had intended.

'What the h.e.l.l are you doing out here?'

'I felt cooped up in the bunker. It was hot. Besides, I've got a friend in there. I just wanted to, I don't know...' He tailed off and looked across at the complex morosely. Max had to sympathize.

She had not known this young man for long, but she could trust him.

They had worked together since his arrival, when he had caused quite a stir amongst the rebels. An Agoran native, freshly returned from the stars.

Grant Markham had proved himself invaluable to the Project.

The route back to Taggart's quarters took him by the special cell. As he approached, he saw an Overseer peering through the viewing hatch in the door and leaving, apparently satisfied. That gave him a clear fifteen minutes before the next check. It still took a great deal of effort to persuade his arms to reach out and his trembling hands to undo the catch. He could almost hear Henneker's voice, deriding him for his lack of courage, telling him that he had to contribute to the effort. But he heard Madrox too, outlining the dangers of resistance and the fatal price of disobedience.

'h.e.l.lo again.' The Doctor was still clamped immobile in the stocks, but his green eyes sparkled and he gave Taggart a friendly smile. 'Are you going to talk to me this time?'

He didn't know. His diaphragm was attempting somersaults. He told himself that this man was an enemy of the Cybermen. He might be able to help them. But then, if he could, why was he still trapped? What could one man do against such creatures anyway?

The prisoner was giving him a quizzical look. 'I think you want to do something,' he said. 'I think you want me to defeat your oppressors for you. Why don't you come in? We can talk.'

'I'm sorry,' Taggart muttered. He slammed the hatch shut and locked it, heart beating out a percussion line. He couldn't do anything, he insisted to himself. The Doctor's restraints could not be opened, not even by Madrox. n.o.body could free him but the Cybermen themselves.

That didn't stop him from feeling guilty as he made the long journey to his bed. He had always considered himself to be a rebel. He hated the Cybermen and, when he could, he had used his position to help fight them. But he knew that such acts were too few and infrequent. He cloaked himself with all manner of excuses and hid behind the Overseers' black body armour.

Beneath that, Ben Taggart was simply a coward.

The Doctor sighed and began to settle back into his trance. The voice from the next cell interrupted. 'Who was that?'

'Someone who might help us - eventually.'

'Can he get me out of here?'

'I don't know.'

Plaintive, now: 'I'm scared. I don't want to be converted.'

The Doctor couldn't answer that. He had run out of promises.

'The Overseers say it isn't like death.' The boy was talking to convince himself. 'They say it makes you immortal; that once you're a Cyberman, you become invulnerable. Is that right?'

'In a way, perhaps.'

'I suppose I'll be changed though, won't I? I'll act like one of them, not like myself. Do you think I'll remember who I was?'

'I honestly couldn't tell you. Just keep on hoping.'

The boy remained quiet for almost a minute. Then he asked: 'Are you any closer to escaping yet?'

'Not that I know of,' said the Doctor despondently. 'As I told you, I'm waiting for someone else.' As Madrox well knows, he thought. At least they hadn't found Grant yet, that was something.

'Then where has he got to? You said it's been three weeks since you were captured.'

'I know.' He let a trace of bitterness enter his voice. 'It's a new chap - he's not very good.'

'Oh. I see.'

There was nothing left to be said then, so with silent resignation, they greeted the night together.

The penultimate night before the Cybermen returned.

2.