Part 16 (2/2)

'Be quiet, Staines. You want to know the truth, then here it is: For twenty years, elements of the British security services have been active throughout the rest of the world covering up one vital fact about Mars: you or I could walk on the Martian surface without the aid of a s.p.a.cesuit. Yes, it's normal y as cold as a Scottish winter, and the air is thin, but any reasonably fit man with a pair of gloves and a wool y hat could live there. '

The crowd were beginning to disperse. Necks were getting cricked, it was getting late and the UFO was just hanging there doing nothing. The police had sealed off the area, so no-one else was getting in. There were still many hundreds of thousands of people in and around Trafalgar Square, but the crowd was appreciatively thinner than it had been. Those that remained where quiet again, expectant. Someone was proclaiming that Jesus was the one true saviour, another that the end of the world was nigh, another that he was selling soft drinks.

Everyone else stood or sat, listening to the radio, looking up at the s.p.a.cecraft or down at the police and military presence. The Evening Standard had published a late edition, with ten pages of eye-witness reports and photographs. Virtually everyone in the crowd had bought a copy, hoping that it would explain what was going on.

It didn't, of course.

The Doctor was staring up, his eyes screwed up. He was holding the sonic screwdriver out in front of him.

'Now what are you doing?' Benny asked, tucking her newspaper underneath her arm. None of the policemen or soldiers had seen them yet, but surely it was only a matter of time.

'Knocking,' the Doctor said quietly.

A series of grunts and barks filled the reception chamber of the Martian s.h.i.+p, making Staines jump. Greyhaven's was a more measured response.

The voice swirled around them. It was the same 'holographic sound' technology that the Martians had used to communicate with Greyhaven for twenty years. Alexander Christian had brought trinkets back with him - a Martian walkie-talkie and a couple of electronic keys. These were based on a form of silicon unknown on Earth, but which could be crudely duplicated. Greyhaven had built the communicator in his office himself, and currently only that prototype existed.

The Martian leader turned to Greyhaven. 'A human in the crowd iss ussing a ssonic device. You informed uss that your race had no ssuch technology,' he spat.

'We haven't,' Greyhaven said cool y.

Xznaal hissed an order into the air.

A globe materialised in the s.p.a.ce between them: a hologram. The image was a panning shot of the crowd, presumably from a camera mounted on the hull. Now the picture moved with more purpose, and began zooming in on a section directly below them.

62.Standing by a police box was a man and a woman. She was tall and leggy, and had adopted a tomboy look: short hair and a baggy, garish jumper. Her companion was just as striking: a man with shoulder-length hair in a full-length Victorian housecoat. They were both peering upwards at the s.h.i.+p. He was holding something aloft - a microphone, perhaps, or a measuring instrument of some kind.

'I know him,' Greyhaven said quietly.

'Who iss he?' Xznaal demanded.

'He was at Mission Control this morning. Do you remember, David?'

The Home Secretary shrugged. 'Yes, I think so. It was the chap that didn't know who you were.'

Greyhaven silenced him with a glare.

'I sshall desstroy them.'

'No!' Greyhaven shouted.

Xznaal hissed his displeasure.

'Xznaal, everyone on the planet is watching this s.p.a.cecraft. There are a million people down there in that crowd. At the moment, they are nervous. They don't understand the benefits of co-operation with the Martians. Their reaction will be the same as Staines' - horror, terror.'

Xznaal stepped back. 'That iss how it sshould be,' he wheezed.

'If you open fire, all the human clans wil panic. My people will work with you willingly, given a little time. Better, surely, that my soldiers capture the man. That way you could question him.'

'You are a wisse counssel, Gerayhavunn. We sshall bring those humans aboard.' He barked another order into the air.

'A hatch is opening,' Bernice informed him.

The Doctor adjusted the settings on the sonic screwdriver. 'Can you see if there's anyone on the platform?' he asked her.

She was rubbing her neck. 'Not yet - wait a second. No, it's empty. And it's heading towards us.

The crowd were getting boisterous again.

The disc was about eight feet across, about six inches thick. Rivets ran along the underside. As it dropped below head height, the Doctor could see that the upper surface was coated with a stippled material. There were no other features, such as a control box or a communications panel, The Doctor stepped up onto the deck, helping Bernice to do the same.

'It works on a very simple principle: there are magnetic ray projectors mounted along the hull of the s.h.i.+p.'

'There isn't even a handrail,' she moaned.

'More serious problems are at hand,' the Doctor informed her.

The disc began rising. Bernice was unsteady on her feet, trying to keep upright. The Doctor had no such difficulty.

'Try to stand stil ,' he advised her,'Admire the view.'

London glittered beneath them. The neo-cla.s.sicism of the National Portrait gal ery looked good picked out by spotlights and street lamps. Beyond it was the London Coliseum, behind them Admiralty Arch and the imposing buildings of Whitehal .

Bernice was on her knees, looking a little green around the gil s.

'I'm not very good with heights,' she explained.

'Neither am I,' the Doctor comforted her, gazing at the Houses of Parliament about half a mile away. Westminster Abbey was sitting next to them, as ever. There were military units there, presumably ready to defend the bastions of democracy and English life if the Martians attacked.

Bernice pulled herself back, trying to straighten up. 'It's not often you get the chance to throw up over a million people.'

'Throw up what?' the Doctor asked, distracted by Big Ben ringing half past eight. Traffic was flowing along Westminster Bridge and Piccadilly just as it would be on any other night at this time.

'Never mind. I think I'm all right, now. 'She glanced up at the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p. 'It looks even bigger now, doesn't it?'

'That's because it's closer,' the Doctor explained patiently.

'I know,' Bernice replied through clenched teeth. The hatchway opened above them, and the disc pa.s.sed through it.

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