Part 18 (2/2)

'We didn't come all this way just to sit this out!' she protested.

'Tegan, the Doctor's right,' said Turlough placatingly, taking her arm. 'We'd only be in the way.'

Tegan shot him a look of contempt, and was about to respond when the Brigadier said firmly, 'Besides, Miss Jovanka, may I remind you that this is a military operation under my command, and as such I forbid the involvement of civilians.'

'But the Doctor's going in with you!' Tegan said stridently.

'The Doctor still holds the position of UNIT'S scientific adviser.' scientific adviser.'

'No he doesn't!'

The Brigadier closed his eyes briefly. Then he said, 'May I also remind you, Miss Jovanka, that it is within my jurisdiction to remove all civilians from the immediate area for their own safety.'

Tegan glared round at the trio of faces regarding her. 'Oh, you... you... you men men!' she shouted.

Less than a minute after the two groups had entered the Ghost Train a blue Ford Escort screeched to a halt behind the Brigadier's staff car and Mike Yates jumped out. Tegan, who had been sitting in tense silence with Turlough in the open-topped back of a UNIT jeep, glanced at him in disgust and muttered, 'Boy racer.'

Mike ran up to them. 'Turlough,' he cried. 'What's going on? Is the creature still in there?'

Turlough nodded. 'As far as we know. They're all inside.'

'How long since they went in?'

He shrugged. 'No more than a minute.'

Mike glanced at the entrance and exit. 'Pincer movement.

Am I right?'

'Right,' said Tegan before Turlough could answer. She jumped down and walked towards him, absently scratching at her arm. 'Are you going in?'

Mike reached under the suede jacket he was wearing despite the heat and drew out a handgun, the barrel of which he kept pointed up at the sky. 'Yes I am.'

'Then I'm coming with you.'

Mike looked at her almost with amus.e.m.e.nt. 'I don't think so, miss.'

'You haven't got time to stand here arguing about it,' said Tegan. 'And the only way you'll stop me following you is to shoot me.'

The amus.e.m.e.nt on Mike's face turned to exasperation.

'Come on then. But stay close behind me and don't do anything stupid.' Turning to Turlough he said, 'I suppose you want to come too?'

Turlough looked both alarmed at the prospect and a little shame-faced as he shook his head. 'No, thank you,' he said.

'I'm quite happy to wait here.'

'At least one of you's sensible,' Mike said to Tegan, leading the way.

'An abject coward, more like,' Tegan said, not bothering to lower her voice.

Something touched the Doctor's face, and he flinched before realising it was one of several threads of wool hanging from the ceiling. No doubt it was supposed to feel like cobwebs or a ghostly caress. He smiled sheepishly.

The Ghost Train was a man-sized rabbit warren, full of twists and turns, which made progress tortuously slow as they crept onwards. The pa.s.sageways were narrow and littered with corners around any of which the Xaranti could have been waiting to pounce. The men were already edgy and aggressive, because of the infection rampaging through their systems, and this situation did nothing but compound that.

The creature, it seemed, had chosen this hideout with cunning deliberation. Each time a torch-beam struck the luminous paint of a green zombie or a bright yellow ghost, it induced a scuffle of panic, a raising and aiming of rifles.

Beside the Doctor the Brigadier, handgun drawn, was struggling. He was doing his best to hide it from his men, but up close the Doctor could see the strain on his sweating face.

It was deeply worrying. The usually well-drilled UNIT soldiers were falling far short of the kind of discipline needed here. If the Doctor didn't judge this situation exactly right, then things quickly could turn very nasty indeed.

All at once the Brigadier stumbled, the beam of his torch zigzagging wildly. With lightning reflexes the Doctor turned and caught him before he hit the ground.

'Thank you, Doctor,' the Brigadier breathed.

The Doctor glanced back to see what effect the Brigadier's near-fall had had on the men. Each appeared to be fighting his own internal battle. In the reflected torchlight, their eyes looked gla.s.sy, their faces s.h.i.+ny with sweat. The Doctor sighed, and turning to his old friend, whispered 'How are you feeling, Brigadier? Truthfully.'

The Brigadier swallowed. 'I feel a sort of... tugging in my mind. As if... as if something is calling to me with a powerful voice. I can't... hear what it's saying, but... but I feel as though I should... go to it.' His eyelids fluttered and then his head snapped back and he muttered furiously, 'No. I am Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. I am a soldier in Her Majesty's... Her Majesty's... I will not...' His face twisted in anguish. 'There's something in my head, something... scrabbling in my memories. I can't stop it...' All at once his face slackened, his shoulders slumped and he stumbled to a halt.

'Come on, Brigadier,' urged the Doctor, glancing again at the men. 'Best foot forward.' Ahead of them was another twist in the route, a glowing orange skeleton pointing the way.

He placed a hand in the small of the Brigadier's back, and eased him forward a little. Suddenly, urgently the Brigadier rasped again, 'They know you're here. They know who you are.'

'Let's worry about that when we come to it, shall we?'

replied the Doctor, alert for any sound or movement from around the corner ahead. He slowed down, signalling the men to do the same, and reached down to take the Brigadier's torch from his limp hand.

In an uncharacteristic blurt of emotion, the Brigadier suddenly said, 'I'm so sorry, Doctor. This is all my fault.

Unforgiveable... Absolutely unforgiveable.'

The Doctor patted the Brigadier's arm affectionately. 'There, there, old chap. Don't concern yourself.'

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