Killing Ground Part 3

In the Making

he time s.h.i.+p perched on Arc University's landing pad, resembling nothing T more than a giant insect head. Black eye windows reflected the sun's glare and a semi-organic membrane rippled in the breeze. The students had turned out to cheer on the expedition, but Jolarr couldn't understand why they had bothered. They hardly knew him, any of them. For most of the life segment he had spent here, he had studied alone in the library or at home, making use of remote communication facilities to increase the efficiency of his learning experience. He had become the inst.i.tution's youngest ever graduand and one of a few to be granted access to the knowledge of the Arc Hives themselves. He still hadn't expected this.

He remembered how the Chancellor had broken the news. 'This is a great honour for the university,' he had said, all smiles and excitement.

Jolarr had gazed back coolly, thinking: A great honour for me, you mean. He had already learned, from rumours on the WebNet, that the Chancellor had met with Hegelia herself and that the possibility of a time trip had been mooted. Jolarr knew what he had been summoned for before he was told. He only had to make himself believe it.

The Chancellor was waiting now, an inane grin on his face, as Jolarr was escorted to the pad to the accompaniment of whistles and applause. ArcHivist Hegelia stood by his side, even more grand than Jolarr had antic.i.p.ated. He hardly listened as they were introduced. She was taller than he and her face was hard, severe and alert for all its ninety-plus years. Her cheekbones were high and prominent, her unblemished skin stretched tight across them. Green fire lit Hegelia's eyes and her glare made Jolarr feel that she regarded him with disdain.

That couldn't be the case. She had asked for him to accompany her. He didn't know why, but he couldn't refuse her. Time journeys were rarely sanctioned and he might not get another chance of one.

Jolarr summoned his courage and reached out a hand. 'It's a great pleasure to meet you, ma'am,' he said.

Hegelia ignored it and gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement instead. 'Graduand.' Then she turned and swept towards the s.h.i.+p, regal in crimson robes and a silver headband which supported a bouffant of dyed red hair. The canopy was flung back to allow her access and Jolarr was ushered to the far side where he was hoisted into the seat beside her. It s.h.i.+fted to make him comfortable.

The rest of the ceremony pa.s.sed in a blur. Jolarr had no interest in the Chancellor's speech. He sat in the c.o.c.kpit and tried not to worry that soon he would be sealed in with the most respected of all ArcHivists. What would he say to her during their long journey?

He held his breath involuntarily as the canopy was pulled over to obscure his world. Hegelia ran through pre-ignition checks, not sparing him so much as a glance, and the s.h.i.+p vibrated slightly as the engines began to cycle. Jolarr tried to settle back, to prepare for the inevitable pressure of gravity. But then, the vessel rose a little and - with incredible, unexpected speed - surged forward.

For a fraction of a second, he thought they must have ploughed into the onlookers. His heart leapt and he almost yelped - but he managed to quell his groundless panic. Hegelia seemed content enough with their motion. They must have slipped out of real s.p.a.ce already. They were spiralling backwards through the centuries, yet it now felt like they were hardly moving at all.

'You can relax.' Hegelia's features didn't soften despite her kind words. 'We have made it safely into the time-s.p.a.ce vortex and our bearing and heading are perfectly correct. Estimated Time of Arrival is in one hour and fifty-five minutes. I trust that you are well prepared for this mission?'

Jolarr nodded dumbly. He didn't know which he feared most - the ArcHivist or the monsters which she had made it her life's work to study.

'So tell me, Graduand: what do you know of the Cybermen?'

The sun was struggling to mount the horizon and to make its presence felt through the clouds. Refracted rays washed Population Control in scarlet, doing little to shake Grant's mind from images of blood and wire. Bad memories, from a distant lifetime.

He hadn't wanted to come back here.

He remembered how he had felt, stepping out of the Doctor's police-box-c.u.m-s.p.a.ce-and-time-vessel: the gut-clawing sense of deja vu deja vu at the sights and sounds of a world he had forgotten. Population Control, especially, had had his nerves screaming at him to run and hide. Even as he looked at it now, Grant's mind attached strong negative feelings to the complex, but failed to provide memories to explain them. at the sights and sounds of a world he had forgotten. Population Control, especially, had had his nerves screaming at him to run and hide. Even as he looked at it now, Grant's mind attached strong negative feelings to the complex, but failed to provide memories to explain them.

'Has anything else come back to you?' The query came from Max, who sat beside him on the brittle gra.s.s. They had been together all night, united by their woes.

'Only fragments,' he said, 'and none of them mean much. It was so long ago.' Something large and silver flashed across his mind's eye and he suppressed a shudder. 'I've always told people I left Agora by choice, to travel to New Earth where the technology was. I believed it myself.

But now, it's making less and less sense. How could I have just gone? It was thirteen years ago - I was six years old, the Cybermen had taken over and you don't even have s.p.a.ce travel!'

'Don't worry, it'll come.' To Grant's surprise, Max squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture. He had worked with her for weeks now, but this was the first time he had seen her expressing affection for anyone.

The determined set of her angular face had sagged and her normally sc.r.a.ped-back black hair was bedraggled, wisps felling over puffed-up eyes. Grant was privileged to witness a rare moment of vulnerability in Max Carter's life. He knew about her loss - the fate of her brother had been relayed in a strained, controlled voice, not revealing too much emotion - but he didn't know what to say that could ease her pain. She was holding it in and clinging to the idea that the Project might be successful. For that matter, he was too.

'They used to tell awful stories about technology, didn't they?' Max's tone was deliberately lighter and Grant discovered that a smile had crept onto his face.

'They still do. I heard one in the marketplace yesterday.'

'Not the robot which grew bigger than the world and crushed it in one fist?'

He laughed this time. 'I think it was the Eternal Night Tale - you know, the engine blotting out the sun with its fumes?'

Max laughed as well, but their cheer subsided as they looked away from each other and the complex re-insinuated itself upon their senses.

Grant's mind, at least, had turned to less pleasant things. 'You know,'

he said, 'I've been frightened of robots for as long as I can remember.'

'I had noticed.'

'It's stupid. I've always been fascinated by technology; I just feel an unreasoning terror at the sight of...of lumps of metal, pretending to be alive. That's why I remembered the old stories. I always thought that somehow, subliminally, they were the cause.'

'But now you think it must be the Cybermen?'

'It wouldn't stretch the imagination much, would it? I must have seen one, back when I was young and living here. I just wish I could remember more.'

Max had drifted into a hollow-eyed melancholia. 'Perhaps the old stories were right. Technology hasn't done much for this planet.'

Grant shook his head vehemently. 'It didn't cause a problem on New Earth. It's down to the people who use it whether it does good or not. I mean, think about what we're achieving with the Project. Think what our ancestors could have done if they'd had some sort of defensive system when the Cybermen first came here.'

'Maybe,' said Max, but she didn't sound convinced.

The sun continued to climb until the whole of its swollen red bulk was visible and making its way across the sky. Max shook herself and stood, ma.s.saging cramped limbs. 'Well, look at me. I'm operating today and I can hardly keep my eyes open.' She tried to smile, but only managed a sort of wistful expression. 'We'd best go. The patrols will be out soon.'

Grant nodded without enthusiasm and got to his feet. They began the long trudge back to the bunker. 'And by the way...' Max reached across and removed his spectacles, pressing them into his hand. 'If you must come outside, keep these off. The Overseers only have to notice one anachronism.' She forced a smile. 'Let's just hope Arthur Lakesmith's well this morning.'

'Then we can get on to the next stage, can't we?'

'We can hope.' Max took one last, sad look back at the prison which held so many friends - and, almost to herself, she added: 'If we couldn't do that, we'd go slowly mad.'

Jolarr focused his eyes upon a distant point and used well-practised memory techniques to bring the relevant data to the fore. Hegelia was testing him and he was determined to pa.s.s. 'The Cybermen,' he recited, 'originally came from Mondas, Earth's twin planet in the ancient cosmology. They evolved along similar lines to the Tellurians, until a freak accident dislodged their world from its...o...b..t and, eventually, from its solar system. They had to adapt to survive this catastrophe. They turned to cybernetics, replacing body parts as they became unreliable or superfluous. Eventually, they pursued such processes to their conclusion.'

'Their logical logical conclusion,' the ArcHivist interrupted. She seemed in awe of the idea. 'Just as they upgraded those parts of the body which were ineffective, so too they altered their very brains. They wiped out unnecessary feelings: love, compa.s.sion, hatred, fear. They fas.h.i.+oned themselves into a new race. Efficient, indomitable... near perfect.' She looked at him and her eyes were alight with zeal. 'How do you think it feels, Graduand Jolarr? To be invincible, to be unfettered by emotions? conclusion,' the ArcHivist interrupted. She seemed in awe of the idea. 'Just as they upgraded those parts of the body which were ineffective, so too they altered their very brains. They wiped out unnecessary feelings: love, compa.s.sion, hatred, fear. They fas.h.i.+oned themselves into a new race. Efficient, indomitable... near perfect.' She looked at him and her eyes were alight with zeal. 'How do you think it feels, Graduand Jolarr? To be invincible, to be unfettered by emotions?

To devote your life to one cause - the continuance of your own race at any cost?'

'I don't know.'

'No, of course you don't.' Hegelia seemed to have brought her enthusiasm under control. She sat back and said no more.

Jolarr didn't know whether to continue his resume or not. He was feeling ever more uncomfortable with his travelling companion. As interminable seconds ticked by, he started to fidget and he longed for the s.h.i.+p to reach its destination. No matter how his seat remoulded itself to suit him, he felt the overpowering need to stretch his legs. He wished he could at least see out of the closed-in cabin, but the portals had been made opaque to foil exactly that urge. The Time Winds would be too much for his limited mind to handle.

He found his thoughts drifting towards the Cybermen. In his time, they had become little more than shadowy creatures of legend; the subjects of fairy-tale and nightmare. n.o.body had seen one for centuries - but neither was anyone sure that their threat was truly over. They had returned from apparent extinction before.

'Would you like to meet a Cyberman?' Hegelia asked, as if she had read his mind.

The question took Jolarr by surprise. 'That isn't possible, is it?' The Hive Custodians had strict rules about such things. 'I thought we weren't supposed to visit the actual time of occupation. I thought we were going to Earth year 2210.'

' To gather archaeological and anecdotal evidence of the still recent events without fear of affecting an important temporal nexus, '

Hegalia said, directly quoting from the Hives' own guidelines. Jolarr thought he could detect a subtle mocking quality to her tone. 'And why,' she asked him before he could press the point, 'should the invasion of the colony world Agora be considered of historical import?'

Another test. An easy one: Jolarr had spent most of the past week studying text files, most of which had been written by Hegelia herself.

'The timing,' he answered confidently. 'You've found evidence of Cyber activity on Agora in 2191 - but, at that time, their race was believed extinct.' Jolarr was mentally sifting through a ma.s.s of memorized information. He recalled how Mondas had been destroyed and how the Cybermen's subsequent attempts to invade Earth, using Planet Fourteen as a base, had failed, with ma.s.sive Cyber casualties.

'Most were actually hibernating in frozen tombs on Telos - but you yourself postulated the existence of a further group, ArcHivist. You called them cyberNomads.'

Hegelia nodded graciously and indicated that he should continue.

'The Nomads had travelled out into the galaxy from Planet Fourteen, but they found themselves in a vicious and protracted war with Voga, the famed planet of gold. They lost and were presumed wiped out - until, three centuries later, a small, isolated group reappeared and tried to take their revenge on the Vogans. You also put forward a hypothesis that another such group might have reopened the Telosian tombs and helped to forge the new race - the Neomorphs - which proliferated during the twenty-sixth century.'

'So, in the year 2191...?' Hegelia prompted.

'They would have recently fought the Vogan War,' said Jolarr. 'If we can find out what happened at that time, we might have another important piece of the jigsaw.' A thought occurred to him and he added, 'We might even come closer to knowing whether or not any Cybermen could have survived to our time.'

She smiled and Jolarr felt a warm glow of satisfaction at having pleased her. 'You are as bright and conscientious a student as your records indicate,' she said. 'I am glad to have you along on this expedition.'

'Thank you, ArcHivist.'

'However, you did not answer my original question. Would you like to meet a Cyberman?'

Jolarr considered that carefully, thinking over all the things he had learned about the monsters: their power and strength; their disregard for other lifeforms; their ruthlessness. Of course he didn't want to meet one! Such desire would be tantamount to an intention to commit suicide. But the ArcHivist, Jolarr suspected, was looking for a rather different response - so, obligingly, he gave one. 'It would be...

interesting,' he said.

Hegelia smiled and turned her attention to the controls, checking the status monitors. 'Magnificent creatures!' she whispered - and her reverential tone filled Jolarr with foreboding.

The rebels' bunker had once been part of a cotton refinery which had been destroyed in the first invasion. This rough-hewn sub-level on the edge of Sector Two was all that remained and, in Max's eyes, it was too close to Population Control to be safe. It was protected, though, by a thin scrub covering and a primitive video-monitoring system, and Max had seen the logic in Henneker's view that 'right under their tin noises'

was the least likely place to be searched. In any case, the rebel leader had a habit of getting his own way. Not that that had ever stopped Max from trying.

'I'm telling you,' she yelled at him now, 'it isn't safe! Lakesmith's implant didn't take.'

'He's all right, isn't he?'

'For the moment, yes. But if we're going to try again, I need to carry out fresh tests. I have to be sure he won't reject a second time - for his health as much as for the sake of the Project.'

'We can't afford to do that,' Henneker insisted. 'If we don't get more subjects started, we'll miss the arrival!'

'Then we'll miss it! Go ahead with a back-up plan!'

'We haven't got one!' Henneker pulled at his sandy hair in frustration.

'You can't lay this at my door,' stormed Max. 'You knew we weren't likely to finish on time - you should have made preparations. Get some men together, attack the complex, something. If you can stall them for a while...'

'I can't! You know what happened last time there was an uprising.

It's difficult to recruit people as it is. I've made them believe in the Project. If they see nothing happening, they won't risk acting!'

Max dropped into a seat and sighed in resignation. She rubbed her fingers across tired eyes. 'Okay,' she said. 'If you find two people willing to undergo Stage One, I'll do them today - if Lakesmith's operation goes well. That's ah.'

'But -'

'I'm not risking the Project, and their lives, for expediency's sake!'

That was the last word. Max had already conceded too much. She wondered if she would have given in so easily had it not been for Martin. She hadn't told Henneker about that. It had already become just one more hurt to add to her silent burden. She hoped she would be able to remain detached and logical despite the situation. If circ.u.mstances demanded, she would need the strength to delay the Project rather than to risk failure. They could bring down the Cybermen next time. It would only cost five hundred more lives.

'I'll go and fetch our volunteers then,' said Henneker peevishly. He crossed the cluttered bunker, casting an ink-jet shadow in the dim light provided by a low-voltage generator. He checked the rolling, monochrome picture on the security monitor - then, satisfied that it was safe, he climbed the short wooden ladder to the surface, pushed open the entrance hatch and heaved himself out.

Max watched him go and shook her head wearily. She aimed to Grant, who had observed the heated exchange, as usual, in silence.

'Looks like we've got another busy day.'

'Looks like,' he agreed gloomily.

Max regarded the teenager sympathetically. 'You've got as much to lose as any of us, haven't you? More, perhaps. If we can't free your Doctor friend...' She left the sentence unfinished. Each knew as well as the other that, without the Time Lord and his craft - both currently held by the Overseers - Grant was stranded on a world he had once escaped.

'I never wanted to come here. I wanted to land on Earth.'