Doctor Who_ Bunker Soldiers Part 4

I lingered a while, sitting on the bed. As ever, I ran through my options. Frankly, they were limited, verging on the nonexistent. We couldn't escape; the Doctor refused to back down; and somewhere, distant but drawing close, the Mongol hordes were moving implacably towards us.

We had tried losing our guards, but they weren't stupid enough to fall for any of our ruses. I'd been taught a harsh lesson in patronising 'primitive' people. In any event, the walls and gates of the city were patrolled by soldiers at all times. A mouse could hardly escape Kiev without alerting them.

We had tried appealing to the governor, but he was resolute and, in any case, we didn't want to abuse his generosity. Better this life than an awful languis.h.i.+ng in some benighted prison cell or torture.

I'd even considered cracking the old boy over the head and making off with the TARDIS key but the point was, only the Doctor could operate the thing. I'm not even sure it would let us in without him.

The only hope I could give myself was that perhaps, just perhaps, the history books were wrong, and the Mongols spared the populace of Kiev or that we were in control not only of our own destinies, but those of the thousands of innocents around us.

The alternative was too awful to contemplate.

I arrived at the Church of the Virgin some time later. It was a smaller and less grand building than the central Cathedral of St Sophia, resembling a squat castle more than a place of wors.h.i.+p.

For this very reason, it had been chosen as the last refuge of the people of Kiev and, day and night, groups of men worked to fortify and strengthen it still further.

Around the base of the church teams of masons worked on huge stone blocks, cutting them to shape with chisels and much cursing. These were then lifted up to their final positions on hoists that were moved by men walking inside, and straining against, enormous wooden wheels. Workers on precarious-looking scaffolding s.h.i.+fted the blocks on to temporary frames of oak.

It was a surprisingly sophisticated operation and, from a distance, it was as if termites were building some great stone edifice. But conditions were poor, and accidents were frequent. I had seen one man slip on wooden scaffolding made wet by a sudden storm, and tumble down to his death. I rushed over to him, but it was too late. I averted my eyes from his face, which had shattered against the unforgiving ground. The body had been carried away with a stoic lack of fuss.

I tried to clear my mind of these awful memories, hoping that this day would be a safe one, a day of progress.

I asked for Taras, a builder of some repute who was overseeing many aspects of the fortification. It was clear no one had seen him all morning. I was instead directed towards an ever-growing pile of rubble. Lacking the skill to carve the blocks, and the agility to be of much use high up on the scaffolding, I was to sort through the debris for anything that could be reused.

The mound was comprised equally of stone from the original building that had been found wanting, and the 'off cuts'

of the contemporary masons. I wasn't quite sure what I was searching for but worked as diligently as I could, piling bits of stone and rock that seemed particularly substantial into an enormous leather bag.

I had been engrossed in my work for some time when I heard shuffled footfalls behind me.

'You don't have to do this, you know,' said the Doctor.

'What are you hoping to achieve?'

'I want to help,' I said. 'I can't just sit around and do nothing.'

Of course, of course,' nodded the Doctor. 'But how best to help these people, hmm? That is the question!'

'You're not about to change your mind?' I asked, hoping against hope that he would reply in the affirmative.

The Doctor shook his head slowly. 'The governor and I are matched in our obstinacy.' He paused, seating himself with some difficulty on a large block. 'I have great respect for the man, you know,' he said more quietly as he watched work continuing on the walls of the church. 'And for these people. Dmitri feels trapped by the situation he finds himself in. It's no wonder his n.o.ble fair-mindedness is tempered with such stubbornness.'

'But you're still not prepared to help?'

The Doctor paused, clasping his hands together in front of his face. His ring flashed in the cloud-filtered sunlight. 'I feel... I feel that something else is happening here, in this city. There is a deeper unease. Desperate men are being driven to desperate measures. Perhaps it involves the TARDIS. Perhaps it involves something far worse than the coming Mongol attack.'

'What could be worse than that?' I queried.

'What indeed?' The Doctor shook his head, as if to clear it of these thoughts, his white hair flowing about his shoulders. 'Do you know anything of the history of this city?' He stared at the church overhead with a steely fascination.

'You know I don't,' I said. I wondered if the irritation I felt was audible in my voice. I wasn't in the mood for a history lesson: if he had nothing more useful to say, then he might as well leave me to my work.

The Doctor continued, regardless of my annoyance.

'Vladimir the Great is venerated as a saint by the Orthodox Church,' he said, in a voice rich with sarcasm. 'He is seen as the ruler who brought a form of decency to a land riddled with pagan practices and belief. And yet records show that his "conversion", and the forced conversion of his people, was for entirely political ends, cementing an alliance with Constantinople. According to legend...' The Doctor paused as a couple of workmen pa.s.sed, wary perhaps of their reaction to his tale. 'According to legend, Vladimir considered Judaism first but then he decided he was too fond of pork. He settled on Islam, but discovered that they forbade alcohol, which he was rather partial to.' The Doctor chuckled wickedly. 'He finally settled on Christianity.'

'You don't have much time for religion, do you Doctor?'

'I have no time for hypocrisy,' said the Doctor coldly.

'Sometimes you have to turn the world upside down for it to make sense. And sometimes the least popular course of action is the right one.'

I didn't quite know what to say. It was as if the Doctor was trying to justify his obstinacy to me to say that moral right was on his side, no matter how petty or difficult it might seem. But I'd heard it all before.

I looked more closely at his angular features. His eyes, as ever, were alive with possibilities, with ideas, with nuances of much that I could not begin to read. But, as he watched the men toiling on the church walls, I did wonder whether he was having second thoughts, despite what he had said.

I decided to change the subject. 'Dodo went off with Yevhen's daughter again this morning.'

The Doctor nodded. 'They have a great deal in common.'

'And Yevhen?'

I must admit, I couldn't bear the thought of Dodo being on the receiving end of either his tongue or his temper.

'If Dodo were a young man, I would fear for her safety,' said the Doctor, with a sly smile. 'But, as it is.. Yevhen has a number of other problems to consider.' He got to his feet, leaning on his cane for support. 'The midday sun does not appeal to me. I should be getting back to the governor's residence.'

I nodded, and watched him stride off. I saw, with interest, that the guard who had been watching him from a discreet distance now walked some way behind him. Perhaps they were beginning to trust us. Perhaps they were beginning to believe that even if we escaped from the attentions of the watching soldiers we had nowhere to run to nowhere, that is, but the TARDIS.

I got to my feet, and looked around with interest. I'd become very used to the idea of one or more guards following me everywhere, but now I came to think of it, I couldn't remember when I'd last seen my own escort.

As far as I could make out, I was alone.

Ridiculous plans for escape ran through my mind. I barely considered each one, for I knew well enough that unless I could find my way past the soldiers a.s.signed to guard the Doctor's s.h.i.+p I might as well stay where I was. And, without the key, without the Doctor...

I was amazed how quickly I had started to forget about the TARDIS, its white walls and clinical beds, its incredible control room stuffed with antique furniture. Sometimes it seemed more alien to me than this world I now lived in for all Dodo's complaints, sometimes I felt it suited me. It was a simple life, with simple rules and customs, and a clear sense of priority even more so, perhaps, given the coming attack. People were more important than things, time more important than business, and everything that could not be entirely understood or explained was to be respected.

Compared to the life I had once had of training, of striving, of never standing still it had some advantages.

It was for all these reasons, and more, that I felt unable to do anything with even this whisper of liberty, of possible escape.

I sighed, and returned to work.

It was about ten minutes later that I found the body.

IV.

Eripe me de inimicus meis Downloading test signals...

Complete.

Downloading heuristic diagnostics...

Complete.

Downloading shared archive 76-FG-92-SD...

Complete.

Run archive 76-FG-92-SD...

Initial summary: Intelligence suggests that target BDR-997-XRF meets all requirements for complete infiltration and subversion of the northern bunker. However, this complete infiltration and subversion of the northern bunker. However, this target is well guarded, and rarely leaves the dome. Other potential targets target is well guarded, and rarely leaves the dome. Other potential targets have been isolated and subjected to rigorous probability a.n.a.lysis, but none have been isolated and subjected to rigorous probability a.n.a.lysis, but none can present a satisfactory index of mission success. BDR-997-XRF is can present a satisfactory index of mission success. BDR-997-XRF is confirmed as primary target. confirmed as primary target.

Intelligence further suggests that foodstuff staff may present the best hope for ingress into the northern dome (see supplemental material). A range of ingress into the northern dome (see supplemental material). A range of initial subjects have been suggested, dependent upon situation at arrival. initial subjects have been suggested, dependent upon situation at arrival.

The soldier looks around in curfew darkness, keenly observing the landscape of buildings and factories. For once, it is quiet, with only a skeleton staff working through the night. Most of the impure have been sent home, to conserve energy in readiness for the counteroffensive.

An inspection craft droning overhead causes the soldier to instinctively seek refuge in the shadows. It accesses its intelligence and topographical information, skewing the old maps to match the ever-expanding city. Nearby there is a worker who might prove... useful.

A few streets away, a patrol vehicle moves through the litter and the silence, barely disturbing either. The soldier pauses just long enough to confirm its position, and then heads for the edge of the living area. In stark defiance of wartime regulations, an inert-gas light blinks on and off outside a shop closed for business, but the light barely pools on to the street, still less pollutes the air over the city.

The soldier approaches the door, one of countless dormitory entrances in this place. But it is the right one chances of success will be optimised if this person is subverted.

The first and only problem is encountered when the door-breaking device refuses to come up with the correct access code.

The soldier finds a window that hints at curtained light beyond, and taps at it.

There's a voice from within, expressing irritation and surprise. The soldier accesses an official phraseology, dredged from an organic databank, and stands, wondering how best to deal with the coming confrontation.

The door opens a crack. The soldier is not recognised, but is deferred to. Although the words do not flow comfortably, his appearance speaks of authority and power.

The door opens still further. Biocomputers a.s.sess the situation, pause for a moment, then order a strike.

An arm snakes into the residence, snapping a neck and pus.h.i.+ng the body to the floor.

A weak link has been found and exposed.

The soldier steps over the corpse into the residential unit, and presses the control to close the door.

Result of action: GHR-678-AAD (provisional a.s.signment) has been attacked and compromised. Mission success index: 52.7%. compromised. Mission success index: 52.7%.

By the time Isaac arrived in the debating room, Yevhen was already there. He sat, hunched, at the table. Parchment maps of the city, and the countryside around Kiev, were laid out before him. He stared at them, unblinking as if all the metaphysical and alchemical secrets of the world were contained within the ink and information beneath his fingertips.

Isaac sat down facing Yevhen, saying nothing. He had long since accepted that there would never be any semblance of courtesy or comrades.h.i.+p between the two of them.

At length, Yevhen looked up from the maps. He had the drained expression of one who has not slept, or whose sleep had been haunted by nightmares. 'The governor?' he asked, his clipped tones sounding even more brutal than usual.

'I am sure he will be with us soon,' Isaac said. He leant forward a little to better examine the source of Yevhen's unwavering interest, and was surprised to see that the map was not of the Church of the Virgin, as he had expected, but of the cathedral.

Yevhen noticed Isaac's attention, and quickly s.h.i.+fted another map on top of the one he was studying. It showed the rivers, mountains and forests of Russia. From a point just south of the great wall of the Ural mountains, a line of black snaked across the landscape the path of the Mongol hordes. The line crossed the River Volga at the city of Bulgar, proceeded west towards Riazan and Kolumna, north to Kostroma and Torzhok, and then, mercifully, moved south past Moscow mercifully, for each city touched by the black line had been obliterated. It was as if a great creature was walking though the land, and wherever its feet touched there was nothing but death, destruction and the smoke of vain prayers.

The line arced westwards again, and pa.s.sed through Chernigov and Pereislav. Kiev was next, less than a hundred miles away.

Isaac stared at the awesome path carved by the Mongols through Europe. The princ.i.p.alities of Russia had already fallen, and beyond Kiev lay only the quaking states of Poland, Bohemia, Austria and Hungary. At no point had the progress of the hors.e.m.e.n been even halted; at no battle or capitulation had any knowledge been gained that might a.s.sist in future struggles against the horde. The situation was worse than hopeless, though Isaac knew it would be unwise to articulate such a conclusion.

'How goes work on the church?' he asked. Even Yevhen's gruff words were better than the awful silence.

'It goes well enough.' Yevhen did not even look up.

'And the Tartars? Where is their army located?'

Yevhen grunted. 'I have had no word from our scouts in recent days. But I believe the hors.e.m.e.n still to be heading towards the city. Doubtless they have permitted one to two souls from their previous conquests to live, in order to advise, to guide.' Yevhen pushed the map of the land away, turning now to a hasty plan schematic of the city walls. He glanced up, his eyes dark with venom. 'Perhaps they will let you live, Jew, if you have something to offer.'

All that I have, I offer to the prince and his governor,' said Isaac, well used to Yevhen's harsh slights. 'The storage of food continues apace, and will complement the valiant work of your men in making Kiev safe.' Isaac smiled, trying to be as genuine as possible. Men facing death together should at least recognise their common foe, and each other's attempts to save themselves.

'You believe we will be safe from these devils?'

Isaac nodded. 'Of course.'

'Good. I too believe our salvation is at hand.' Yehven paused. 'Your son will not be joining us today?'

'Nahum has other matters to attend to.'

Yevhen snorted, as if to imply that any matters requiring the attention of young men were surely matters of sin best left unspecified.

He was about to speak again when a ma.s.s of bodies clattered into the room, the door slamming against the wall. Both advisers looked up, and saw not Governor Dmitri, but the traveller Steven, forcefully held by three soldiers.

'Get your hands off me!' he shouted, struggling against the iron grip of the guards. One raised a mail-encrusted hand to bring it down against Steven's face.

'What is the meaning of this?' exclaimed Isaac. 'This is the residence of the governor, not a tavern for brawling!'

The guard lowered his fist, and behind him Steven and the others fell silent. 'My lords,' said the soldier, bowing with some difficulty. 'This man is a murderer. The governor will wish to sentence him.'

'Will I?' came a powerful voice to the rear of the group. The knot of guards parted to allow Dmitri to stride into the room.

Isaac and Yevhen immediately got to their feet, bowing their heads in respect.

Dmitri was a powerful man, whose athletic form complemented the grim authority of his office, but in situations such as this he seemed even more imposing. Isaac had more reason than most to have seen the governor's humour and warmth when the circ.u.mstances so demanded but he also remembered that Dmitri had never ceased to rigorously pursue what he felt was right, even if that brought him into conflict with Prince Michael. On more than one occasion, he had faced being stripped of office for seeming impertinence, only for the prince to eventually concede that Dmitri had been right all along.

The governor smiled at the courtesy shown by his advisers, then turned imperiously to the soldier who had spoken. 'I do not appreciate my dwelling being treated in this way. Nor do I relish being told what to do!'

The man bowed even lower this time, the others following suit. He mumbled an apology but it was drowned out as Dmitri seated himself at the head of the table, his chair sc.r.a.ping across the flagstones.