‘Asylum seekers?’ The Doctor’s eyes narrowed even further. ‘These are Wyrresters! Savage, brutal warmongers, without any moral compunction—’
‘And Gebbron has rejected that philosophy!’
The Doctor snorted. ‘A peace-loving Wyrrester! Planet after planet in the Furey-King Maelstrom has been laid waste by their military machine. Whole species decimated.’
‘And it has brought them to the edge of extinction. It is true that their attempt to invade seventy years ago was a military operation, but Gebbron has abandoned that strategy. He and his fellow scientists just wish to survive.’
‘Man and Wyrrester living side by side in harmony?’
Clearfield glared at him. ‘They are our superior in every way. They can guide man to achieve his full potential.’
‘And you are quite happy to help them achieve that?’
‘Once they are in power, man will begin a new golden age of scientific progress. They deserve to lead us!’
‘And if you believe that then I don’t need my sonic screwdriver to tell me that you’re an idiot.’ The Doctor shook his head. ‘It’s not your fault. The venom that’s in your system probably contains a suggestive agent; their version of the Scopolamine you’ve been using to control the villagers. You’ve been part of Gebbron’s back-up plan from the beginning.’ He sniffed. ‘I suppose that you’ve been promised a position of power in this new world order.’
Clearfield said nothing.
The Doctor just nodded. ‘I thought as much. Just another quisling.’
Clearfield stiffened. ‘Think what you like, Doctor, whether you like it or not, if you want to see your companion again, then you have no choice but to help me.’
‘Yes.’ The Doctor smiled grimly. ‘I know.’
‘Very well, Private Hawkins, situation understood. But I want regular updates. And I mean regular! Over and out.’
Gebbron watched the soldier carefully as he finished making his report to his superiors. Clearfield had been clumsy in his attempts at subterfuge. There was obviously a sizeable military force nearby. The first course of action would be to neutralise that force. He needed to get word to General Legriss.
There was a sudden tugging at the cloth Clara wore around her legs. Gebbron turned to see the young human child standing next to her. He recoiled in disgust at its touch.
‘Constable Bevan says that you’re a friend of the Doctor’s. That you’re his assistant or something?’
‘What of it?’
‘Do you know where he is?’ The child was obviously distressed about something. ‘I really need to speak to him. It’s important.’
Gebbron was about to dismiss the child, but then hesitated. If this creature had something important for the Doctor then it might be of relevance.
‘Is it something that you can tell me?’ He did his best to sound friendly and reassuring, trying to keep the revulsion from his voice.
‘I’ll show you. Come on.’
Gebbron rose and followed the child to the rear door of the building. As the child opened it and indicated to him that he should follow him, Gebbron allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. This could work out better than he had thought. A chance to dispose of this human in private.
Checking that none of the others had seen them leave, he followed the child into the enclosure at the rear of the property. Once again he found herself bemused by the humans insistence on surrounding themselves with trinkets. If they only knew how it was to share every inch of space with dozen upon dozen of your fellows …
The child was pulling at the foliage at the side of the path. Gebbron tensed. Once the child had told him what it was that he knew, his death needed to be swift, and done in such a way that it would cause maximum panic amongst the others.
He moved swiftly towards the child, then caught sight of the thing that he was struggling to uncover and stopped, barely able to believe his eyes.
The ancient symbols in the rock were unmistakable. The means of opening the portal to Gebbron’s own world had been here in this place all this time.
Gebbron threw back his head and roared with exultant laughter.
After seventy years of assuming it had been destroyed, here was the missing stone from the circle.
As the vintage motorcycle and sidecar roared along the country road towards the industrial estate, Corporal Palmer, sitting in the sidecar with the two anti-tank weapons resting in front of him, turned to Captain Wilson with a grin.
‘Just like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, eh, Captain?’ he yelled.
Wilson, clinging tightly to the back seat of the Norton, rolled his eyes. Dobby Palmer was a real film buff. ‘Personally, I always preferred The Great Escape!’ he shouted back.
‘Well, Arnopp had better not try and jump any fences in this old crate.’
Before Wilson even had a chance to reply, something huge erupted from the hedgerow alongside the road, slamming into the sidecar, and sending the bike careering off the road and crashing into the adjoining field. Thrown clear by the impact, Captain Wilson hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from him.
He staggered to his feet to see the huge, armoured shape of the beetle burst through the hedge, bearing down on where the bike lay on its side. Wilson could see Arnopp and Palmer struggling to pull themselves free.
Throwing his rifle to his shoulder, Wilson fired, the armour-piercing rounds tearing into the beetle’s carapace. Screeching in pain it scuttled around to face him, giving the two men by the bike the time they needed to scramble clear.
Aware that the huge insect was now bearing down on him, Wilson started to back away, still firing in short, controlled bursts. Despite the damage he was causing, he didn’t seem to be slowing the monster down. Concentrating on his target, and not on where he was putting his feet, Wilson felt his left leg give way beneath him as he stepped into a rabbit burrow.
He crashed to the ground, pain lancing up his leg as his ankle twisted awkwardly. As the creature seized its opportunity and rushed forward to strike, Captain Wilson thought about how ridiculous it was that a man was about to be squashed by a beetle.
The creature was almost on him when it stopped, screeching in alarm. As it began to back away, Wilson started to scramble to his feet. Then he became aware of a shadow falling over him, and long bristle-covered legs planting themselves on the grass either side of him.
He looked up in horror to see the vast abdomen of the spider looming over him, blotting out the sky. He froze, pressing his body flat onto the grass as the spider slunk forward, hissing angrily at the beetle that was attempting to steal its prey.
The two huge monsters circled each other warily for a moment, then, in a blur of movement, the spider struck. Wilson scrambled to get clear as the two insects smashed together, their screams echoing around the English countryside. Already weakened by the damage caused by the armour-piercing bullets, the beetle crashed to the ground, and the spider lunged forward to sink its fangs into the flesh of its head.
Gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg, Wilson hauled himself to his feet and ran. In the distance he could see Arnopp and Palmer kneeling by the wreckage of the bike and his eyes widened as he caught sight of a familiar shape being hoisted onto Arnopp’s shoulder. Moments later there was the dull ‘crump’ of a portable anti-tank missile being fired.
Wilson threw himself forward into the grass, hands covering his head as the missile struck its target and the beetle exploded in a cloud of shell and guts. As the volatile chemicals in its abdomen mixed there was yet another explosion, and boiling acid burst out with devastating effect.
Hit by the full force of the caustic spray, the spider reeled backwards, legs flailing wildly. Within seconds it was nothing but a misshapen lump of steaming flesh hissing quietly in the long grass.
Wilson hauled himself to his feet as Arnopp and Palmer hurried over to him. Arnopp’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he peered at the shattered remains of the two huge insects.
‘I never did like bugs.’
‘Private Hawkins, Miss Drabble, you’d better come and see this.’
Robin Sanford was peering worriedly through the curtains of his front room into the rapidly darkening afternoon light.
The others joined him, and Angela gave a gasp as she caught sight of what was approaching.
‘What the hell is this?’ murmured Hawkins.
It looked as though the entire village was walking towards them; men, women, children, all marching in unison down the narrow road, their faces drawn and heavy, their arms hanging limply by their sides.
Snatching up his rifle, Hawkins ran from the room. ‘Stay here!’
Angela raced after him. ‘Private Hawkins, wait!’
She caught up with the private outside the house. He had his rifle to his shoulder, covering the zombie-like villagers as they filed silently into the yard. Angela could see faces she recognised: Simon George, Emily Nichols, even Gabby, still clutching her son to her chest.
‘You can’t just open fire on these people! You can’t!’
‘Yeah, well you and I know that, but maybe they don’t.’
He lifted the barrel of the assault rifle and Angela covered her ears as he fired a quick burst over the heads of the oncoming crowd.
‘I want everyone to stop where they are! Right now!’
To Angela’s relief the crowd shambled to a halt.
‘All right.’ Hawkins was breathing hard. ‘That’s good. Now, which one of you is going to tell me what the hell this is all about?’
‘Private …’ Robin’s trembling voice rang out from the doorway. ‘I think that you might be looking in the wrong direction for that.’
Hawkins and Angela spun. Robin was standing in the doorway, but it was Clara that captured their attention. Eyes wild with an animal intensity, she was gripping Kevin Alperton by the nape of the neck, practically lifting the boy off his feet.
‘Clara?’ Angela started to move towards her. ‘What on earth …?’
‘Stand still!’ Clara spat the words. ‘Take another step and the human child will die.’
‘The human child?’ Hawkins swung his rifle around, uncertain whether to keep it trained on the eerily silent crowd or the situation unfolding behind him. ‘What the hell does she mean?’
Angela stared at her sadly, suddenly knowing what had happened to her friend in the circle. ‘But you’re not Clara, are you? Not on the inside. You’re one of them.’
‘Exactly!’ She squeezed Kevin’s neck, making him cry out in pain. ‘Now put the weapon down!’
With no other option open to him, Private Hawkins did as he was told. Immediately the crowd surged forward, grasping him and Angela by the arms.
‘Who are you?’ asked Angela, struggling to break free from the grip of people that she had once called her friends. ‘What is it that you want?’
‘I am Gebbron, Chief Scientist of the Wyrrester Scientific Corps.’ The thing controlling Clara’s body gave a horrible smile. ‘And you will soon learn to love me as your leader.’