Doctor Who: War Machine by Ian Stuart Black Read Free Book Online Page A

that,’ said Polly drily.
    ‘Thanks. I’ll be there,’ Ben grinned. He called ‘Goodnight’ to the Doctor and Dodo as they drove off. The tramp was still standing at his elbow. ‘You got a bed for the night?’ Ben asked him.
    ‘You might not call it a bed,’ said the tramp cautiously, ‘but it’s a blooming sight better than what I’ve been used to in my time.’
    ‘Oh yes?’
    The tramp pointed across the wide expanse of Covent Garden, now silent and gloomy. ‘See that warehouse? Got a faulty lock on the side door. I’ll doss down there after I’ve had a spot of grub.’
    Ben watched him shuffle off into the shadows. He couldn’t help admiring the resilience and independence of the man, then he headed for the brighter streets of the city.
    The tramp didn’t notice the man in the phone box as he shambled past, nor did he hear anything that was said.
    ‘Reporting from outside the warehouse,’ said the man. He spoke in the same impersonal voice that Brett and Krimpton had used. ‘Dodo failed to deliver... Yes, she tried, but was prevented, and they’ve gone off in a taxi... Yes, I understand... We will do as you say.’
    The truck stood just outside the phone box. As the man came out he signalled to those waiting in the shadows. They joined him and began to unload the truck, carrying crate after crate into the building. The work was exhausting, but they neither hesitated nor flagged. It was as though something of a mechanical character had entered their beings.
     

6. Working for the Cause
    It was only in a vague, impersonal way that Brett realised the nonstop flow of energy that seemed to be at his command. He had worked continuously for hours, planning, designing, organising, according to the instructions – silent, unspoken, but absolutely detailed and meticulous – that he knew were being transmitted to him by Wotan.
    The same ceaseless activity could have been observed in those around him. They were at the top of their power –intellects functioning as never before; all senses on the alert, aware of dangers, dealing with them, somehow knowing what his companions were planning, and slotting in as required. They were a vast, powerful, dedicated mechanism, at work in the warehouse which Wotan had selected from a mass of data. Brett now took for granted the speed of Wotan’s decisions, but it had staggered him at first. Calculations were instantaneous; the preparation was formidable. Plans were executed at speed. The only delay was the human element. No matter how hard teams of workers laboured, they were limited by their potential. Progress would be better, Brett knew, when the machines were ready to take over, and human labour could be disposed of. Very soon, he guessed, his own usefulness would be finished. Far more effective machines would take over the planning and scientific contribution which he was doing his utmost to supply. Brett viewed the prospect without emotion. It was as things were devised. It would be proper for him to be discarded when the machines he was helping to create were ready to take control. The cause would be accomplished so much quicker, and with far more skill and intellect. He was content to serve his purpose in Wotan’s world.
    Brett stood in the huge warehouse and surveyed the state of things in that world. What had recently been a storage space for the market was now transformed into a highly technical workshop. All around, the contents of a nonstop supply of crates were being distributed and assembled. A collection of some of the most accomplished scientists had been assembled, and were now working with a dedication they had none of them experienced before.
    Brett had kept control on all progress up to this point. He wondered when the knowledge required would be beyond him. But at present he was able to examine the carefully prepared blue-prints, and delegate work to the teams on hand.
    He moved through the Store Room. It was like going through a hive of bees, or