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

an anthill. No one deviated from his function. The individual was a means to an end.
    He stopped by a group around a mechanical structure. The leading scientist joined him.
    Brett indicated the prints. ‘Follow in exact detail. The outer sections are being prepared elsewhere. Welding of the casing has begun.’
    On the other side of the room a vast welding machine was belching forth a blaze of sparks. Team after team of welders took over the work.
    The scientist inspected the prints carefully. It was not work in which he had specialised before, but somehow he understood.
    Brett moved on. It was his concern to keep the pressure going.
    He stopped by the next group. ‘Electronic sections are to be assembled in this order,’ he instructed. The group examined the new instructions, and returned silently to work.
    It was some time later that night when the tramp returned to Covent Garden as he had told Ben he would do. He’d managed to eat well that evening, and he had drunk even better. He was a little unsteady as he made his way under the arcades and stopped to get his bearings. Nothing looked quite the same as it had done a few hours earlier.
    But he was almost sure where he was. This was indeed the warehouse in which he had spent the previous night. But there was something different.
    ‘They’ve painted out the number,’ he muttered, screwing up his eyes to concentrate.
    With his usual caution when taking up residence, he moved towards the door at the side of the building, passing a parked truck at the kerbside.
    He had edged the door open before he heard anything, then–what was it? A faint noise like machinery? A distant humming – the sense of hushed, intense activity? He was incredulous, and gently eased his way into the darkened corridor. The noise persisted; he was drawn towards it. The place had been empty the night before. What was happening?
    The welders wore protective masks as they worked through a shower of sparks. Shadows danced on the walls around them. From time to time a man would collapse under the strain of continuous activity, but another would take his place. They were all expendable.
    The ant-heap around them never relaxed. The concentration was awesome. And from where he stood – just outside the inconspicuous door at the back of the store room–the tramp was indeed overcome with awe.
    He didn’t know what to make of it. The transformation was so complete that he wondered whether he had come to a different place. Perhaps he had drunk even more than he had thought.
    But no... he recognised the high rafters that crossed the roof. He saw stacked against the wall the crates and boxes he had seen the night before. He even recognised the piles of sacking in a corner he had used to keep warm.
    This was his warehouse, all right. But what was this bizarre vision – this crackling of electronics, this hum of computers, dynamos, the shower of sparks in the corner, dancing shadows on the walls? It was a picture out of hell, and he froze on the spot. There were a couple of hundred devils at work here. But what were they doing?
    A man moved through the crowd. He called out, ‘Hurry! Time is short. Take over when necessary. This prototype must be completed by dawn. It is to be programmed by Wotan... Nothing must be allowed to –’
    He broke off as an oscillation echoed through the room. The sound rose and fell, grating on the ears. There was an urgency about it. The meaning was undoubted.
    ‘Close all doors!’ shouted Brett. ‘Electronic locks to be activated.’
    A tremor went through the work force. The rhythm was shaken – then the moment passed and work was in full flow again.
    ‘Security on duty,’ called Brett.
    A number of men seemed to appear from nowhere. They looked, to the tramp, to be identical. The man called out again, ‘There is an intruder amongst us.’
    It was impossible for anyone to have seen him – the tramp knew that. But he was sobered with fear. He wanted to turn and run,