Part 1 (2/2)

Controller Nilson said, 'It's more than possible, Commander. We're close to the oceanic fault here.'

Vorshak touched a switch and the monitor screen punched up a view of the exterior of the Base. The sea-bed stretched into the distance, its monotony broken by occasional volcanic rock formations. Vorshak knew that Sea Base sensors were almost too too efficient. Warning signals could be triggered by a particularly dense shoal of fish, an outsize shark or by the missile that might one day blow them all to eternity. Vorshak wanted desperately to accept the rea.s.suring explanation, and this very fact made him somehow suspicious of it. The trace efficient. Warning signals could be triggered by a particularly dense shoal of fish, an outsize shark or by the missile that might one day blow them all to eternity. Vorshak wanted desperately to accept the rea.s.suring explanation, and this very fact made him somehow suspicious of it. The trace could could have been a fish, or volcanic debris or it could have been something else. have been a fish, or volcanic debris or it could have been something else.

This was a particularly dangerous time in Earth's long and stormy history. A period of maximum tension, between two colossal powers. The different warring groups and countries and philosophies had solidified into two ma.s.sive groupings, East Bloc and West Bloc. There was no communication, no trust between them. Each poured out a steady stream of propaganda, blackening the other side.

Worst of all, each side had come to believe in its own propaganda, to believe that the opposing BIoc was populated not by human beings much like themselves but by cold-hearted ruthless monsters.

Armed satellites filled the skies, each side observing the other with constant suspicion. There were human spies too espionage and sabotage flourished as never before. Each side had one overriding fear, that the other would come up with some advantage, some new weapon, that would make its aggressive use worthwhile.

Strangely enough, the invention of the proton missile had made matters worse. In the days of the atomic stalemate there had at least been the hope that no one would be fool enough to start a war that could only end in an uninhabitable planet. Now that check was removed.

The proton missiles destroyed life, not property, and they were radiation-free. Now perhaps it might be possible to win a global war if if you struck first, and struck hard enough. Dividing the Earth between them, East Bloc and West Bloc scrutinised each other with paranoid fear. you struck first, and struck hard enough. Dividing the Earth between them, East Bloc and West Bloc scrutinised each other with paranoid fear.

Suppose some new weapon had had been invented, thought Vorshak. Some super-missile, some invincible submarine with the power to knock out the Sea Bases. Perhaps the East Bloc been invented, thought Vorshak. Some super-missile, some invincible submarine with the power to knock out the Sea Bases. Perhaps the East Bloc was was preparing to strike first... preparing to strike first...

Vorshak became aware that his fears were running away with him. He would watch and wait, he decided. And at the first sign of hostile action, he would strike.

The Doctor looked complacently round the newly refurbished TARDIS control room. The time rotor was rising and falling smoothly, the instruments showed them to be on course. Could it be that for once something was going right?

The Doctor, in his fifth incarnation, was a slender, fair-haired young man with a pleasant, open face. He was dressed, somewhat incongruously, in the costume of an Edwardian cricketer striped trousers, fawn frock-coat wth red piping, white sweater and open-necked s.h.i.+rt.

He looked up as another, much younger man came in.

Turlough, one of the Doctor's current companions, wore the dark blazer and flannels, and straggly striped tie of the perpetual public schoolboy. There was something a little off-key about Turlough, a hint of the s.h.i.+fty and unreliable. Thin-faced and red-haired, he looked as if he might be the school bully or the school sneak.

He nodded towards the console. 'How are we doing?'

'On target, it seems.' Without looking up the Doctor went on casually, 'Why did you change your mind about going home?'

'I thought I would learn more if I stayed with you.'

The Doctor looked up, raising an eyebrow. There was something ambiguous about the answer he thought, just as there was about Turlough himself.

'It's true,' said Turlough defensively.

'Of course.'

'I mean it!'

Perhaps he did, thought the Doctor. You never knew with Turlough. 'All right, I believe you. But I'm a bit doubtful about how resolute you'll remain.'

'Time will tell.'

'Yes, indeed,' said the Doctor thoughtfully. 'Aboard the TARDIS it always does.'

The console buzzed and the Doctor flipped a switch.

'Where are we going?'

'Earth.'

'What for?'

'I promised to show Tegan a little of her planet's future.'

There was another beep. 'Almost there. Could you go and find Tegan, let her know?'

Commander Vorshak looked on as Bulic made a quick check of all the Sea Base warning systems. 'Nothing?'

'Nothing,' grunted Bulic. He scowled at the monitor screen.

'What's bothering you then?'

'I think we should launch a reconnaissance probe.'

'Forever cautious, Bulic!'

'I've served too long in Sea Bases not to be. Given how unstable the current political situation is... well, an unexpected attack would not be unexpected.'

'Very well, Bulic, have it your way. We'll launch an unmanned probe.'

Somewhere in the side of the Base, a hatch slid open and a slender swordfish-like missile sped away into the blackness of the sea.

It would patrol the area around the base in a random pattern, collecting and transmitting data and bringing it back for evaluation if it returned, that is.

Vorshak grinned ironically at his subordinate. 'Happy, Bulic?'

'Yes sir. Thank you, sir.'

Vorshak glanced across at Maddox. 'Better stay alert. If there is is activity outside the Base we could go to missile run. So stand by.' activity outside the Base we could go to missile run. So stand by.'

'Yes, sir,' said Maddox.

Vorshak glanced curiously at him, wondering if the boy was ill. He was pale and s.h.i.+vering, like someone fighting off a fever.

Suddenly Maddox jumped to his feet, and almost ran from the Bridge.

Maddox took refuge in the main computer bay, a peaceful area just off the main control room, where row upon row of computer banks hummed peacefully to themselves.

Maddox had never wanted to be a synch op. Unfortunately for him, he was one of the few people with the ability to mesh his mind with a computer. Once his talent had been discovered in one of the regular Government tests, he had little choice but to volunteer.

The position was well paid, it carried a great deal of prestige, but the strain and responsibility were enormous.

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