Chapter Eleven

He held the screwdriver aloft.

'Halt!' he ordered the Ice Warrior. To the Brigadier's amazement it did. A moment later he realised why: there was a gun of some sort on its wrist and now, for the first time, it had a clear line of sight.

'Listen to me,' the Doctor insisted, squeezing the sonic screwdriver. An ultrasonic whine filled the air. 'Your weapon fires waves of sonic energy. This device works on the same principle. Not only will it counteract your shots, it will return them to their source. You.'

The Ice Warrior moved its arm a little, adjusting its aim.

'If you fire that weapon the only thing you'll destroy is yourself,' the Doctor warned.

The Martian must have heard him, but it gave no indication that it had done so. Instead the tube on the Martian's wrist lit up, and the air was filled with a hissing noise like air escaping from a burst tyre.

For a moment nothing happened.

Then the Martian contorted as if it was its own reflection in a fairground mirror. It tried to grab its head, but couldn't control its limbs. Finally there was a great crack, and the Martian's shell burst open in a single line from shoulder to pelvis. It fell to the floor, all the light gone from its eyes. Martian blood and tissue was gushing from the wound.

'Well done, Doctor!' the Brigadier congratulated him. 'Now we can rescue Bernice.'

The Doctor nodded, horrified by what he had done. 'I can't guarantee that the power supply will deflect another blast,' he said absent-mindedly.

'Still,' the Brigadier said, 'it will give the gunners up in that ship pause for thought before they loose off any shots.'

There was silence in the C Cube.

'What happened?' Greyhaven asked.