Part 23 (1/2)

Chapter Twelve.

The hangar had become a shooting gallery. All but one of the unfortunate soldiers now lay dead on the ground. They had been brave and had actually driven the attackers back on their first a.s.sault. The second time they hadn't been so lucky.

The sole survivor of their ranks was scrambling on his back up the side of the s.h.i.+p, alongside Collins and O'Brien. All three were dragging ammunition boxes and extra weapons with them, and all were firing repeatedly down at their pursuers.

The Doctor watched through a tear in the hull as they retreated.

'They've got some sort of bullet-proof clothing,' O'Brien shouted.

'They just don't go down!'

The three men tumbled through the hatch.

'Right,' said Collins, 'we re-arm properly and we break out.'

'Where to?' the young soldier from below howled. 'If we move from here, we're dead! You saw what they did down there. That was three of them.'

'At ease, Private Stubbs,' Collins growled. 'We're sitting ducks in here. They can pick us off when they like.'

'We're just about finished here,' said the Doctor, uncoupling the final connection. He mopped his brow with his handkerchief. 'It's safe now Thank you, Dr Drakefell.'

O'Brien was chain-feeding ammunition into the guns they'd managed to rescue from the chaos below.

'That thing had better be worth it,' he muttered to the Doctor.

'Oh, it is,' said the Doctor. 'Now, what can I do to help?'

'Too late!' Collins shouted. 'Here they come.'

The commandos were swarming up the sides of the s.h.i.+p like spiders.

They moved with shocking speed. The soldiers responded with clip after clip of ammo. Private Stubbs blasted one of them from the hull.

He fell to the concrete floor, got up and renewed the a.s.sault.

'I wish they wouldn't keep doing that,' said O'Brien. 'Heads up!'

The first of the commandos was coming through the hatch. Collins and O'Brien opened fire. They could see their bullets. .h.i.tting him. They drove him back like punches, but none of them broke through his 115 clothing. He unholstered his gun.

'Everybody down!' yelled Collins. He barrelled forward and careered into the intruder. Collins had a knife in his hand. He drove it at the commando's stomach. It slammed his tunic, but didn't penetrate.

The commando swung, tossing Collins effortlessly, and hard, into the s.h.i.+p's bulkhead. Collins sank, sack-like, to the deck.

Before the commando could raise his gun again O'Brien had opened fire. Stubbs followed suit.

'Try to drive him back out of the hatch!' shouted the Doctor over the gunfire.

He had an idea. He scrambled past the gunfight and tugged free a panel beneath the pilot's seat. Lights winked and terminals opened enticingly. He looked at the chaos of wires erupting from the bulkhead where the dimension stabiliser had resided and wondered how easy it actually was, even with his undisputed genius, to find a needle in a haystack.

In the event it was surprisingly simple. Some basic reprogramming, three relevant terminals, three (out of umpteen thousand) relevant wires, and that was that.

The commando was retreating up through the hatch. O'Brien was making to follow him.

'No!' the Doctor shouted. 'Everyone stay where they are!'

He plugged in the wires and pushed a b.u.t.ton.

There was an explosion from outside the s.h.i.+p. The commando was flying through the air. Smoke appeared to be wafting from his clothes.

He landed on the concrete with a dull crunch.

The commandos milled about, shouting to each other. The Doctor's brow creased in puzzlement.

'Russian,' said Collins. 'Happy now?'

The Doctor shook his head.

'I really can't explain that,' he said.

'What did you do to Flash Gordon out there?' asked O'Brien.

'Electrified the hull,' said the Doctor. 'I'm afraid we can't go out while it's on.'

'That's impossible,' said Drakefell. 'I read the reports. They tried all that current, magnetism, every chemical you can name nothing reacted to it. It was completely inert.'

'It's one of the intelligent metals,' said the Doctor.

'What do you mean?'

'It can adapt its physical and chemical properties to suit different situations.'

'You mean it became conductive...'

116.

'Because I told it to, yes.'

The Doctor smiled.

'I shouldn't worry, Dr Drakefell,' he said rea.s.suringly, 'intelligent metals won't be invented here for another two hundred years. Now I really think we should check on our friend.'

They'd almost forgotten Collins.

'I'm all right,' he grunted as they cl.u.s.tered around him.

He dragged himself to his feet, wincing.

'Bust a couple of ribs, I reckon,' he said. 'Still... how're we doing?'