Part 13 (1/2)

'And what might your business be, Mr Morton?' The Doctor dropped down on to his haunches, bringing his face level with Morton's. 'Allying yourself with the Cynrog? Filling the lighthouse with psychic transmitters? oh yes, I've been doing a little digging, turning up all sorts of interesting things, and I really don't like what I'm finding. Not one little bit.'

He leaned closer to Morton, staring him full in the face.

'But what's it all for, eh? You're not doing all this just to terrify a village full of children.'

'It is a. . . necessary evil, Doctor.'

'No, Nathaniel, it is not necessary.' The Doctor's voice was low and dangerous now, all sense of flippancy gone. 'It is very un un necessary. It is a sick, twisted game and it is going to stop.' necessary. It is a sick, twisted game and it is going to stop.'

'You think so, Doctor? You think you have all the answers?' A grim smile flickered over Morton's lined face. 'Well, come and see the prize in our. . . game, as you put it.'

Morton spun his wheelchair and rolled across the landing. Peyne pushed the barrel of her blaster into the back of the Doctor's neck, catching him by the collar and hauling him to his feet. She marched him along the corridor, following Morton and his creaking chair.

'I'm told that your people were well travelled, Doctor.' The old man's voice echoed down the dusty corridor. 'That they roamed the 132 reaches of time and s.p.a.ce, eternally youthful. My own short span has had precious little youth, and the breadth of my wandering has been confined to this one small planet, but look at what we have created.'

He threw open the doors of the library.

'Behold, the great Balor! Dark G.o.d of the Cynrog, Destroyer of Worlds!'133.

[image]

The Doctor stepped into the crackling, electrically charged air of the library and gave a whistle of admiration.

'Oh, now that's impressive. Really, really impressive. I'm gonna give you eleven out of ten for that. Building a big monster in the library. A really big big monster.' monster.'

He pulled out his gla.s.ses and perched them on the end of his nose, peering at the monstrosity that hung among the lightning flashes.

'Doesn't seem quite finished to me, though.

Lacking a few final touches, hm?'

He paced slowly around the creature, squinting through the flickering light, watching as waves of energy rolled across it, modifying its form with every pa.s.s.

'Can't quite make your mind up on the details by the look of it. I mean, I know what it's like choosing a body you're happy with!'

He dived over to a cl.u.s.ter of silver machinery on one of the tables, hefting a bunch of cables in his hands.

'Lot of power being channelled up here.' He sniffed at the cable, then ran his tongue along it. 'Mmm, psych.o.m.orphic radiation! Psych.o.m.orphic! Honestly! Anyone would think that you were trying to 135 manufacture a body.'

He dropped the cables with a bang.

'That's it, isn't it? You're building a body, but that's all it is at the moment a body, a sh.e.l.l, a vessel.' He snapped his fingers at the creature. 'Oil Big fella! Anyone home?'

The creature didn't stir. The Doctor turned back to Morton thoughtfully.

'A decidedly empty vessel.'

Morton clapped his hands slowly. 'Bravo, Doctor, bravo.'

'What's it for, Morton?'

'As you have correctly surmised, Doctor, it is or rather, it nearly is a body manufactured for inhabitation by a new soul.'

'But for whose soul?' The Doctor cast a wary look at Peyne. 'You mentioned the name Balor. I seem to remember a rather unpleasant figure from Cynrog mythology named Balor. Now, let me see if I've got this right. Balor, the general of the Cynrog hordes, left for dead after the battle of Grantran Prime, then revived through one of your questionable accelerated genetic-mutation experiments and revered as a G.o.d. Something like that anyway. I do hope you haven't been having RE lessons from Miss Peyne here?'

Peyne hissed unpleasantly. 'Be respectful in the way you refer to our G.o.d, Time Lord.'

'You have have been listening to Miss Peyne. That's a great shame. . . ' been listening to Miss Peyne. That's a great shame. . . '

'On the contrary, Doctor, Peyne has been a great comfort to me over the years.'

'Nathaniel, listen to me,' The Doctor's voice was urgent now. 'Whatever Peyne has told you, whatever she has promised you, the Cynrog are not to be trusted. They are vicious, brutal killers, they '

'They saved my life, Doctor! My life and the lives of all those in the ward!'

'What?' The Doctor eyed Peyne suspiciously. 'What possible reason could you have for getting involved in human affairs? What are you doing with those people downstairs?'

'You understand nothing, Doctor.' There was contempt in the Cynrog commander's voice. 'You are so typical of your race, blundering in 136 with your high moral stance, acting as judge and jury to the universe. We are well rid of your kind.'

'Doctor, listen to me!' Morton's voice was pleading now. 'Listen to the reasons for this. Perhaps then you will have some understanding of what we have had to endure. Of what I have had to endure.'

The Doctor fixed Morton with a piercing gaze. 'Tell me.'

Morton leaned back in his chair, his eyes misting with remembrance. 'I was ten years old. My cousin had come to Ynys Du with my aunt and uncle, a holiday by the sea.'

The Doctor did a quick calculation. 'The 1930s?'

'It was 1935. A glorious summer. We were full of the joys of youth, Doctor. Seven of us, good friends, happy children, not so different from those that play in the streets of Ynys Du today.'

'Except that you and your friends weren't tormented by creatures.'

'Oh, but we were, Doctor. Tormented by a creature more terrible than you can imagine.'

'What happened to you, Morton?' The Doctor's voice was gentler now. 'What did you see?'

'The seven of us had left our parents in the village. They were too busy with their gossip and their shopping. And my father and uncle were far too interested in the local beer to pay any attention to their errant offspring. We made our way up towards the cliff top Ynys Du was a good deal smaller then, the woods closer, a haven of cool shadows. My cousin was never a good influence. He had stolen half a dozen cigarettes from my uncle's jacket pocket. It had been our intention to hide in the woods and smoke them.' Morton gave a grim smile. 'They say that cigarettes are bad for your health. If I had known the consequences of that particular illicit cigarette. . . '

He closed his eyes, as if willing the past back to life. 'We sat on the edge of the wood, smoking our cigarettes, laughing at the younger ones coughing and spluttering, watching the sun on the waves. And then we saw it, low on the horizon, a blaze of light, pulsing, throbbing. At first we thought it was just light glinting on some great s.h.i.+p in the far distance, but the closer it came, the more we realised that this was no earthly s.h.i.+p.'137.

'A s.p.a.cecraft.'

Morton opened his eyes. 'It was just magnificent, Doctor, a vast disc of copper and bronze skimming over the sea. We sat watching it approach, mesmerised by its beauty, realising only far, far too late that the occupant of this magnificent machine had no control over his craft and what danger we were in.'

'It crashed?'

Morton nodded. 'We thought that it would smash into the cliff face, but at the last moment it lurched skyward, skimming the tree tops so close that I thought we would be able to reach out and touch it. We watched it arc overhead, and then it started to fall. We ran, terrified, as it smashed through the trees, the sound of tortured engines ringing in our ears. And then it exploded, throwing us all to the ground, splintering trees like toothpicks. We were lucky that day, or so we thought. We survived the explosion. If we had picked a slightly different spot for our nefarious activities. . . ' Morton shrugged. 'Then perhaps things would have ended then and there and none of this would be necessary.'

'But things didn't end then and there, did they, Nathaniel? This story doesn't end with the explosion of a s.p.a.cecraft on a remote stretch of Welsh coast, does it?'

'No, Doctor. As I said, we were young, inquisitive. We thought that the world was ours and that we were indestructible. We picked ourselves up and made our way carefully through that shattered, smouldering wood, determined to see where the saucer had crashed. You know the new estate on the hill overlooking the village?'