Part 23 (2/2)

'Hold the cuffs out behind you.'

'Did you square things with the soldiers? Have you got the key?'

'I've got a a key.' She produced her blaster and shot a bolt through the chain, allowing Chris to part his wrists. 'By the way, it's good to see you too. Come on.' key.' She produced her blaster and shot a bolt through the chain, allowing Chris to part his wrists. 'By the way, it's good to see you too. Come on.'

With the satisfaction of red tape thoroughly severed, Roz slid out of the vehicle and turned to see what was keeping her partner.

He was no longer there.

'Perhaps you should move behind the lines, miss,' suggested Captain Tavistock kindly. 'Things might get a bit dangerous here.'

Bernice folded her arms and glared at him. 'Oh, playing with bombs again, are we? Why don't you skip the egotistical military chest-beating and admit that you don't know what the h.e.l.l you're dealing with?'

'When I need advice from you, young lady -'

'It'll be too late!' Benny snapped. 'And if you call me ”young lady” once more, I'll boot your gonads so far up your internal tract you'll be able to taste them!' Tavistock winced. Benny, pressing her advantage, knelt down by the gate and extended a cautious arm. Her hand tingled as if she'd received a mild static shock. 'This isn't just a wall that you can throw grenades at. It's 185 a field of some kind. Chances are, if you use physical force against it, you'll make it stronger.'

'Where's the Doctor?' Tavistock asked. 'Could he penetrate it?'

'I'm sure he could,' said Benny scathingly. 'I'm only one of his bimbos, after all.'

She became aware of the whining of a jet engine and she looked upwards. The early evening sunlight glinted off a silver wing. Benny picked out the UNIT logo on the plane's underside and she groaned theatrically. 'More testosterone-charged apes!'

'Looks like the new CO's arrived,' said Tavistock.

They stood as the craft descended vertically at the near end of the Mall. The noise was deafening and, even sheltered by the Victoria Memorial, Benny felt a blast of air which swept her hair back and stung her eyes.

'Oh, honestly!' she muttered. 'How ostentatious can you be?'

The rebels' meeting had dissipated into a series of small, indecisive knots of people, spilling out of the confined but and into the desolate city. Rokk had tried shouting, hoping to drive some sense into the minds of those who were starting to accept Enros's lies. With some of them, he had been successful. But a unified fighting force this was certainly not. He was beginning to realize that an alternative plan was needed.

He swept his foot through a dust mound, watching as it billowed up into the rich black sky and drifted, obscuring the Miracle with a grey haze. Rokk was starting to resent the steadfast presence of the s.h.i.+ning crystal, which had given the cultists' leader such an undeserved boost in his popularity. He turned away from it and cast searching eyes over the closest of his disconsolate comrades, wondering which of them he could trust.

He smiled as Myrg sidled up to him furtively. He had sent his friend on a spying mission two segments ago, although no one but themselves knew about it. Rokk was even more pleased when Myrg reported the news that he had most wanted to hear: that the cultists' attack on the Ruling Family had commenced.

'How are things going?' he whispered, drawing Myrg to one 186 side.

'The cultists are winning. The security forces are better equipped, but Enros has more people and the element of surprise. And they're fighting for keeps too. They don't care whether they die or not, just so long as they do what their ”Great Lord” wants.' Myrg spoke those words with derision.

Rokk nodded thoughtfully. 'Enros won't have much protection then. He'll have sent as many people as possible out to fight. This is our best chance to get him.'

'And our last. If Enros does come to power . . .' The sentence didn't need to be completed. 'Do we have enough support?'

Rokk looked doubtful. Not for an all-out attack, no. But Sang'sta is behind us, and Harp'r and maybe Feeni. And we still have three robes from the church.'

'You're saying -'

'We send in a small commando force. We don't even tell the others in case they go all soft on the idea and try to stop us. In disguise, we have as much chance of penetrating the cultists'

lair as thirty of us with sticks and battle cries have. Once we're in there, we can prove once and for all that Enros's death won't have any effect on the rest of Detrios.'

Myrg grinned. 'I can only think of one way to do that. And it sounds good to me!'

The Merlin T-22 Vertical Take-Off and Landing aircraft was still experimental, but Brigadier Winifred Bambera had requisitioned the prototype on grounds of speed, comfort and, more importantly, making a d.a.m.n good entrance. She could almost hear bra.s.s fanfares in her head as she jumped out onto the tarmac, adjusted her beret and slapped her swagger stick into her armpit to show that she meant business.

Her personal staff fell into formation and step behind her as she marched towards Buckingham Palace, suppressing a smile at the sight of a TV crew beyond the evacuated area. Bambera enjoyed creating an impression, particularly one which was recorded for posterity. She also enjoyed looking over a sea of camouflage jackets and blue helmets, knowing that all this was hers to command. Now if only the top bra.s.s would heed her 187 complaints and remove those G.o.dd.a.m.ned wings from UNIT's polar projection logo, Brigadier Bambera would be truly happy with life!

'Who's in charge here?' she rapped as she arrived at the Palace and her entourage halted.

'I rather think I am,' replied a slender, dark-haired woman on the young side of middle age.

A pleasant-looking male officer wearing Captain's insignia pushed her aside and saluted Bambera, less precisely than she would have liked. 'Tavistock, ma'am.'

'I'd prefer ”sir” actually, Captain. Who's this?'

'She's one of the Doctor's girls, sir.'

'But surprisingly,' the woman said with heavy irony, 'I have a name of my own too.' Bambera ignored her.

'Have you contacted General Lethbridge-Stewart, sir?'

'It's Bernice, if you're interested.'

Bambera almost spat with anger. 'Lethbridge-Stewart's semi-retired, Captain! Why does everybody expect me to keep running to him?'

'Bernice Summerfield.'

'I've met the Doctor before, I can handle the squirt myself.'

'Yes, nice to meet you too.'

'What's the situation?'

Tavistock moved aside, allowing Bambera to approach the Palace more closely. The air around it s.h.i.+mmered like. a heat haze and she blinked, not sure whether to believe her own eyes.

'It appeared without warning, sir,' Tavistock said. 'It compelled everybody inside the grounds to leave, and no one has been able to return.'

'It's a physical barrier then?'

Tavistock shook his head. 'It's just a feeling you get when you try to pa.s.s through it.'

'Like the Ganymede Rhinoceros Stunt Olympic Team has decided to use your diaphragm as part of a novelty trampolining act,' Bernice Summerfield volunteered.

'How very poetic,' Bambera muttered. 'Don't mind if I try it myself, do you?' Without waiting for an answer, she lowered 188 her head, stuck her lip out in determination and barged forward.

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