Chapter Twelve
Knock Knock
Tim ran through the orchard, cursing himself, the Pod, everything.
It was all falling apart. That stupid man Smith had wanted to give their enemies the Pod. That couldn't be allowed to happen. He didn't know why, it just couldn't. The timing wasn't right.
So he was running pointlessly again.
Or so he thought.
Ahead, some of the apple trees which had been felled by the blast had fallen across the top of some large object.
Some large blue object.
Timothy cautiously walked around the obstruction, until he could see what it was.
A police box.
Not much like the ordinary kind, but recognizable none the less. He rubbed the grey dust away from the notice on the front: Call here for help.
'What's a police box doing in the forest?' he asked the Pod. The thing felt... special. Full of possibilities. It reminded Timothy of October teatimes, while his mother had still been alive, eager walks through leafy fields, back for tea and bread with condensed milk. It reminded him of being read to, of being safe.
Gingerly, he touched the surface of the box. It was vibrating gently, humming even.
He knew what the box was, then. It was somewhere to run to, somewhere that would always be there, no matter what else was spoilt.
It was magic in a corner of a cold world. It was home.
Timothy put his arms around the box and hugged it.
And then a telephone began to ring.
Timothy looked around incredulously, trying to find the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from the box, from behind the sign.
He fumbled with the edge of the plaque and it swung open on a very rusty hinge. Inside was a blue telephone, and that was what was ringing. The Pod was vibrating in time with the sound.
Timothy had never answered a telephone before. He picked up the receiver. 'Hello?' Then, a moment later: 'If that's where I have to go. Why do you want me to show him that? All right. Who is this?'
He shook the telephone, and found that it was dead.
Bernice, Alexander, Rocastle and the boys were taking a careful route back towards the pub, walking slowly down the forest slope rather than risk the school road.
Rocastle was dawdling in the middle of the group, smiling at the boys sadly and walking with his hands in his pockets. That was a posture Bernice had never seen the Head use before. He was certainly in some sort of shock.
'What are you going to do when we get back?' she asked him.
'Oh, I don't know. I can't think of anything further than-'
'Oh my God, look out!' Alexander shouted.
August and Hoff were approaching through the forest, Joan walking stiffly ahead of them.
The party scattered, diving behind the fallen trees. The two Aubertides wandered by, Hoff checking a dial on his wrist to adjust Joan's direction of movement slightly. 'Serif and Greeneye will still be sealing off the orchard,' August was saying. 'Think we should leave them to it?'
'They'll eventually get bored,' Hoff muttered. And they moved on, still talking.
After they'd passed, Bernice's party broke cover.
'Mrs Redfern,' Merryweather gasped. 'What are they going to do to her?'
'She's a hostage.' Alton rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'Or they'd have already harmed her.'
'Well, if the other two are down there in the orchard,'Alexander said, 'I don't fancy running into them.'
'We could go round the line of the hill,' Benny began.
'Excuse me,' Rocastle said. The others looked at him automatically, surprised by his quiet tone of voice. 'Joan - Mrs Redfern - she's also my responsibility, and somebody who might have been a friend. I'm going to rescue her.' He looked slowly around the group. 'Would anybody be willing to help?'
Smith knelt on the ground, staring at his fists.
He was only human. He could walk through the forest shouting, but Tim could hide from him. The boy didn't know the stakes now, didn't know that the most precious thing in Smith's life was now at risk.
What were his principles beside that?
Now that both the sphere and Joan were gone, he felt impotent and lost once more. He was only a small Scottish schoolteacher. He didn't have any heroics to save Joan. All he could do was what any human could: bargain. Bargain ethics against everyday life, the image of how life should be against how it really was.
He closed his eyes, and put his hands together. 'Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we' - he clenched his teeth, and realized that he was crying - 'forgive those that trespass against us. Give us this day our daily bread and deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory. For ever and ever. Amen.'
He curled his knees up to his chin and hugged them.
Gradually, the tension ebbed from him and his body began to realize how late at night it was. The light of the moon overhead reflected off the silver dust all around and made the orchard shine.
He couldn't sleep now. He had to save her. He promised that he'd save everybody.
But on the edge of his mind, he could see her, that other, older her, now, standing with him on those silver rocks in the light of the moon. She put her lips to his ear and whispered something, but still he couldn't quite hear it.
On the branches of the trees around the glade, a circle of owls had landed, standing guard at all points of the compass.
Or perhaps that was in the dream, too.
She was beautiful. 'Verity...' His lips formed the word.
'I say, are you all right?' A voice interrupted him.
He sat bolt upright. 'No!' he yelled at the newcomer. He scrambled to his feet and stared manically at a young man with a centre-parting, who backed away from the madman that he'd woken up. 'She would have told me! She would have told me what I need to know. If I'm a bully or a victim or a coward or a hero. She would have said.'
The man raised his hands in pacification. 'All right, old chap. All right. I'll leave you to sleep.'
Smith rubbed a hand through his hair, realising how wild it had become. 'No. Stay. Bad dreams. What are you doing here?'
'I'm looking for a chum of mine. I met a young lad and-'
'You did? Where?'
'Down by this barrier thing. He let me through. Sent me this way, but it doesn't seem - '
'He can do that?' The question was almost to himself.
'Apparently, yes. What's happened to the school? Do you know what's going on?'
'Less than you do. Can you take me there? To the barrier?'
'Why, yes, of course. Look, who are you?'
'Doctor.'
'Doctor who?'
'We'll see. Who are you?'
'Richard. Richard Hadleman. Soon to be this constituency's MP, hopefully.'
Hadleman extended his hand to the ragged figure, who shook it distractedly and grabbed his umbrella from the ground. 'Well,' Smith muttered, 'you won't need much of a majority. This constituency's getting smaller all the time.'
They walked through the forest, Hadleman staring at the silver dust around them. 'It's like A Midsummer Night's Dream,' he whispered.
'More like Hamlet. Tell me, do you believe in God?'
Hadleman, looking around him, was caught off guard by the question. 'Eh? Oh, no, not at all, actually. I believe in dialectical materialism, the force of history and the revolution. Two ideas collide, form a new idea, a synthesis, and that new idea is naturally revolutionary. History's like a big hill, and we're all rolling down it towards the inevitable. Towards the revolution.' He stopped. 'Of course, that needn't necessarily be a violent revolution. What, ah, are your politics, Doctor?'
Smith considered. 'I don't know if I have any. Not yet. I'll let you know when my own synthesis happens.'
They came to the other edge of the forest, where a tiny stream flowed along, a wooden bridge over it. The bridge was connected to a stile, and the odd haze of the barrier shimmered halfway across the water. The moonlight gave the scene an eerie quality, like it was just a film set.
Smith hopped over the stile and wandered up to the barrier. 'Yes, I've seen this before. It's... dangerous. You say Tim brought you through?'
'Yes, I was standing there on the opposite bank, just out of sight of a soldier who's on guard a few hundred yards down there. They'd told me that there was something dangerous going on. Thing is, I heard an explosion, and then, not very long ago, the big one that was probably the school. I was afraid for my friend. I had to get inside. The barrier feels disturbing. I don't know why, but I had a feeling of dread as I approached it, a terrible fear of dying. I was just plucking up the courage to take a run at it when I saw this youngster wandering down the path. He seemed quite surprised to see me, but when I called out to him, he walked up to this... barrier, well, whatever it is, took my hands, and pulled me through. It was like ducking through something very hot and there was a muddy taste. But here I am.'
'Yes...' Smith stretched out his umbrella until it connected with the barrier and then stepped back, as if he'd got an electric shock. 'Very nasty.' He turned back to Hadleman. 'I need to find the boy. We have to talk.'
'We certainly do.' Timothy stepped from behind a tree on the other side of the river. He walked on to the bridge and halted halfway, one hand holding the Pod, the other playing with the air of the barrier like he was idly plucking a harp. 'I had to do this, to put this between us. This way you can't grab the Pod from me and give it to them.'
'I wouldn't just grab it,' Smith said. 'You know I wouldn't.'
'Do I? They have the person you hold most precious in the world.'
'You know about that?'
'I was told.'
'Then why won't you give me the Pod, let me give it to them in exchange for her?'
'Because it doesn't stop there. There's more to it than that one deal. That's why I brought you here. I sent him to find you.' Tim indicated Hadleman.
'Did you?' Hadleman frowned.
'Hmm. Rather manipulative of you,' Smith muttered.
'Perhaps. Come and join me, Dr Smith.'
Hadleman glanced between the two participants, feeling even more that he was in a play. 'We can't cross like you can. He'll be - '
'No.' Smith handed Hadleman his umbrella. 'Take this. If it kills me, give it to Bernice, tell her to carry on.'
'But who's she?'
Smith didn't answer. He stepped on to the bridge and walked forward, his hands reaching out to grasp Timothy's.
Through the barrier.
The fires stretched all the way to the horizon. The ground was blackened and steaming. In the distance stood a vast statue, a little girl with a balloon, made of crystal. Its head stood amongst the slight grey clouds.
Smith looked up at the burnt orange of the sky. 'I know this place,' he said.
'While you're with me, you do,' Timothy told him. They were standing amongst the flames. 'The barrier is two perceived frames of time, different ones, put next to each other. I'm not sure what that means, I was just told it. But a sort of... rubbing between them, that's what hurts people who go through it. Unless they're something called a Time Lord. They can just walk straight through. That rubbing is also what lets us do this.'
'What is this place? Is it hell?'
'It's one possible future. This is the Doctor's home. This is Gallifrey.' A great singing was echoing across the landscape. Smith watched as a parade passed by down a narrow valley, a series of robed individuals hanging from poles, strung between a row of marching figures. The captors were all different, of many races, some humanoid and some not, of many sexes and sometimes both. They were all clad in fine costumes, with exotic weapons hanging from their belts. They sang a gorgeous, complex song as they hauled their captives between the burnt canyons, towards the foot of the statue. 'Who are they?' asked Smith.
'The children of the Aubertides, the ones who took on the biology of the Gallifreyans. Every regeneration buds, every new individual can regenerate twelve times. They're a vast army now, united and loyal to their family. They used the Doctor's TARDIS to land on the planet, and did what nobody else had managed to do took the Citadel by force. The Time Lords on the poles are the High Council, the ones in charge of the place. Does this make sense to you?'
'No. Yes. I don't know.' Smith shook his head furiously, as if to clear it. 'They can do this because they got the Pod?'
'Yes.'
'But this is a distant world, nothing to do with me, or Earth, or anything I know. And you said this was one possible future. These Time Lords might fight them off, or perhaps we could warn them, or perhaps - '
'Look closer.' Timothy gave the Pod a squeeze, and they were suddenly at the foot of the statue. An old woman in the robes of a Time Lord was looking imperiously up at August, who held in his hands a wire crown. A much younger Time Lady stood beside them, her straight blonde hair incongruous against her high collar. Behind the two Gallifreyans stood Greeneye, a long curved sword in his hands.
'We found this,' said August. 'It's one of the links to the Matrix, isn't it? How do I access it?'
The old woman pursed her lips. 'You will find no Time Lord willing to give you that information.'
'No, Lady Flavia, I'm sure you're right. I'm sure that this is the impulse that comes over most invading races. The locals won't show them how to preserve certain aspects of their culture, so they destroy everything and, as they rebuild the place in their own image, have to face the indignity of being called barbarians. Flavia, you know how petty and amoral this whole process is. In a century, if that, we will be the Gallifreyans and you will be history. Our descendants may regret this carnage, but they will be secure and happy and here. Don't you wish to preserve some slight details of your civilisation by telling us about them? It is, as you must know, the only possible morality on the grandest scale of things. To have a few pieces on the right side. To win a little. What do you say?'
Flavia thought for a moment and then smiled. 'I like the thought of you being called barbarians for a century or two. Let that be my little victory.'
Oh.' August nodded to Greeneye imperceptibly. The Aubertide swung the sword back and swept it through Flavia's collar. He halted the swing precisely as the elderly Time Lady fell forward, her neck half severed. Blood poured from the wound and she weakly tried to put her hands to her neck, writhing on the ground. 'Well, I'm sorry, Flavia, but this is for history too. We'll let you regenerate each time and then keep on chopping. It could be worse, believe me.' August turned to the other Time Lady. 'Now, you're the one called Romana, aren't you? Will you tell me how to use this crown?'
Smith flexed his hands into fists. 'Can't we stop them? Can't we interfere?'
'No,' Tim replied. 'We mustn't be seen to be here.'
'I want to go home. I want to go back to Earth, I don't want to see this.'
'Fine, we'll go back to Earth. If you don't care about this-'
'It's too big for me to care about. I can't care about everything. What he said was true, nothing lasts, everything changes. Why should I worry about anything but what I can see, what I can touch?' Smith raised his hands, agonised.
'Why indeed?'
Romana had evidently said something insulting. Greeneye had forced her to her knees in front of him.
'Why won't she just tell them what they want to hear?' Smith demanded. 'It can't be more important than her life, can it?'
Timothy was silent.
'All that they said about history, it's true,' said Smith, his eyes on the twitching Flavia. 'Time doesn't care. But I keep thinking about a school playground. They must have been hurt by somebody. As a family. Hurt as a species. So they hurt back. So they don't change. So nothing changes. Do I really have to hurt them again to stop them? And if I wanted to, could I? All I want is for me and Joan to be left alone.'
The blade scythed up into the air and the young woman looked at it, a slight curl of contempt on her lip.
Smith thought about a dying flutterwing. He could think about it. That was another piece of him that was about to die down in the valley. 'Take me home,' he told Timothy. 'I won't give them the Pod. I'll think of another way. Even if it kills me.'
The man and the boy were standing across the bridge again.
Smith let his hands drop to his sides. Timothy walked forward, the barrier shimmering around him, and joined Smith on his side of it. Hadleman was still watching, entranced.
'Here.' Timothy held up the Pod to Smith. 'Take it. It belongs to you. I know you'll do the right thing with it now. Just as I was told you would.'
Smith held out his hand and took the sphere with a sigh. 'Damn it. Why is everything always so complicated?'
Timothy thought for a moment, his posture slumping back into that of a frightened youth. 'That's life?'
Joan was manacled to an upright post in the family's dome. Hoff had sunk a deep bore into the soil and secured it with magnetic pegs before pulling the dart from her skin. The Aubertides had reassembled at the dome a few minutes earlier.
'So it's unlikely she'll get away?' Greeneye murmured. 'Unlike the other two?'
Hoff only grunted in reply.
'I do not see why we didn't just pursue the boy,' Serif hissed. 'He may be fast, but we would have caught him eventually.'
'Oh yes,' August agreed. 'But consider, if he's starting to be able to leap and hop like a young Time Lord, then the Pod's started to communicate with him. We've seen the information transfer on our scanners. If it's doing that, then it might be - '
'Trying to persuade him to put it to his forehead?!' Greeneye shook his head in frustration. 'Crukking cruk.'
'Exactly. We don't want a little Time Lord on our hands. That would be going back to square one. Therefore, I don't want the boy to feel that he's in danger. Smith will get the Pod from him and bring it to us. Simple.'
'He was quite prepared to, you know.' Joan spoke up. 'Until you captured me. Now I hope that you don't get what you want.'
'Very noble. Any idea what you're being noble about? What this object we're after is?' August plucked a hair from her head and chewed on it thoughtfully.
'I've experienced it. It felt rather terrible and rather wonderful at the same time, like a bottle with a demon in it. It's very powerful.'
'Indeed it is. With it, we could multiply endlessly, conquer half the galaxy, start venturing through time, turn almost everything in the cosmos to our advantage.'
'Why? Aren't you happy with what you've got?'
'No,' Greeneye sighed. 'As I've often said, our whole motive in life is to find something to do. And once you've done that, you have to find something better to do next.'
Joan managed to smile at him. 'I felt like that after Arthur died. But then I found myself involved in teaching. And then I fell in love again. Love really does make you feel satisfied. Have you never known that emotion?'
'I suppose... I keep trying.' Greeneye looked at her seriously. 'Though the others laugh at me for it. I reach out to people, want to touch them, get involved in their reproductive processes. But they always see that as something negative.'
'If you mean what I think you do,' said Joan, 'then I am not surprised. Is that your only definition of love?'
Greeneye shrugged. 'We love each other, us six, us five. Now. That ought to be enough, oughtn't it?'
'If it is, why do you want to multiply so much?'
Greeneye thought for a moment, then shook his head slowly, pulling a sword from his harness. 'If you say anything else to me, anything at all, I'll cut your head off.'
Joan pursed her lips and smiled sadly again, looking almost sorry for the alien.
'We are unused to such discussions,' Serif hissed. 'If Aphasia still lived, then I might.'
'Look! Greeneye shouted.
Outside the dome, between two trees, stood Bernice Summerfield, a pistol in her hand. The gun was pointed at the dome, but her eyes had just fixed on Greeneye staring at her and her mouth had formed a single dismayed syllable.
She turned and ran.
Greeneye grabbed the nearest member of his family, which happened to be Serif, by the sleeve. 'It's her!' he yelled. 'The one who got away! Come on!'
And he pulled Serif out of the door with him.
'Now, wait -' August found that he was talking to nobody. He sighed and turned to Hoff. 'Do you think that Greeneye would care that that was obviously a trap?'
'No.' Hoff produced his pistol and stuck it under Joan's chin. 'But it's best to be ready. Just in case he can't chop his way out of it.'
Benny ran frantically through the forest, uphill along the track that led up on to the downs. She had intended to fire off a couple of rounds against the dome's surface, but the intended effect had been achieved, they were chasing her anyway.
Great. The good bit was that the shattered forest was full of cover. The bad bit was that it was correspondingly hard to run through, even though Benny had carefully selected her path beforehand.
Behind her, Greeneye and Serif were crashing through the undergrowth, trying to bring their weapons to bear on her. If they stopped for a minute and thought about why they were pursuing her, then this was all going to fall apart. She glanced back and saw the look on Greeneye's face. No, actually, he seemed to know exactly why he was doing this.
She hurdled the stile that led up on to the hills, the chalky path shining slightly in the moonlight, and, struggling for breath, sprinted uphill. She had to be over the ridge in, oh, two minutes, otherwise they'd get a clear shot.
Laying this out had seemed so simple compared to actually doing it. At least Rocastle seemed to have lost a lot of his bullishness. Alton had come into his own, too, working out the timings. It had come down to which one of them could best achieve them. Rocastle had wanted to, but that was ridiculous, and in all conscience, Bernice couldn't send one of the boys to do this, not even Hutchinson. Even with her beer belly, which she was personally rather fond of and of which Guy had been terribly enamoured, she was going to be faster than any of the other adults.
She made it over the ridge in one minute fifty, and no energy bolts whizzed past her. She was under cover for the next five minutes.
Then it was a sprint up to the monument.
'Why,' hissed Serif, 'are we doing this?'
'Because of her, because of Aphasia, just because!' Greeneye growled. The two Aubertides were pounding their way uphill, burdened by their heavy weapons.
'Having sexual congress with one more human will not bring Aphasia back!'
'Maybe not, but it will make me feel better!' The aliens skidded down the chalk slopes into the long ridge that led around the lip of the downs, and saw Bernice vanishing around the curve ahead of them in the darkness.
'These are ancient fortifications,' Serif reported. 'I saw in the notes that this area was the scene of a dramatic slaughter. These are earthen walls built by the Iceni against the Romans.'
'Who?' Greeneye had nothing but red rage in his face. Serif took a deep breath and kept running. 'If you don't learn the lessons of history...' he whispered.
Bernice saw the stone features of Old Meg looming up on the hillock above her and doubled her speed. Her two pursuers would round the end of the channel down below in a minute or so, maybe more if they thought they were about to be fired upon.
Alexander popped up from behind the monument and called to her. 'Turn to your right, don't run ahead!'
She swerved and took a curving route round to the monument. She dived behind it, panting. 'Wonderful diet. The Pursued By Aliens Plan. I can recommend it.'
'How many did you get?' asked Rocastle. There was no sign of the boys.
'Two.'
'One would have been better for a hostage.'
'I'm terribly sorry. Did you manage to do anything with-'
'Too dangerous. I think we managed to put those wonderful tools of yours to good use, though. Now, off to the flint pit with you two. I'll wait here.' He took his pistol back from Bernice with a wry little smile.
Alexander and Benny dashed down the hillside behind the monument. Ancient flint diggings provided useful cover there. The two of them leapt in, to find the boys lying there, an assortment of rocks and rough wooden stakes in their hands.
'Oh, Bernice!' said Anand. 'Merryweather here has been fretting terribly about you.'
Merryweather glared at him.
'Maybe we could have dinner when this is all over?' Bernice winked at the embarrassed boy.
'I, ah, beg your pardon?' Merryweather squeaked. Alexander patted him on the head. 'I do believe she's teasing you.'
Greeneye and Serif ran out on to the light slope where the monument stood and looked around. 'Where is she?' Greeneye muttered, pulling both his swords from his harness.
They split up, fanning out in different directions. Rocastle peered out from behind Old Meg and winced. They were supposed to assume that the statue was the obvious cover and run straight for it.
Greeneye indeed was wandering towards him, but Serif was some distance away, slowly turning as if smelling the air.
Rocastle took a deep breath, poked his head out again and shouted. 'Oh my God, they're here!'
Greeneye spun. He ran at the monument.
And fell straight through the ground.
Before she'd left, Bernice had shown the boys how to use her excavation probe, a gravitic device that could, at its highest setting, create a large pit. Over that pit, they'd put a film of resin created by her ion bonder. Then they'd just thrown a light covering of the soil and grass from the pit back over it.
Greeneye dropped straight through the resin, bellowing as he went. His swords had gone flying as he tripped over the edge.
But Serif stopped just short of the pit's edge, his arms spiralling. He balanced himself and stepped back. 'You did this?' he hissed at Rocastle, who stepped out from behind the monument.
'I did,' Rocastle said. 'And my lads killed your girl.' He jumped back behind the monument as an energy bolt hissed past his head.
Serif glanced down at the pit beneath his feet. Greeneye was staring up at him angrily from about twenty feet below, his face a mass of blood, one eye caked shut. 'Throw both of them down here,' he bellowed, 'and I'll toss you the scraps!'
Serif nodded and stalked towards the monument, firing energy bolts at intervals into the ground in front of him.
Hutchinson scrambled to climb over the edge of the flint workings, but Alexander grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back.
'Not yet!' Benny whispered. 'If I let any of you get into danger, Rocastle will kill me.'
'But he's -
'He's armed. We're not.'
Serif had reached Old Meg. He stepped slowly around it, anticipating an attack at any second.
Rocastle stepped out behind him and raised his gun. 'Now-'
Serif spun and knocked the gun from his hand. 'You should not have warned me.' He swung his own pistol up.
Rocastle lunged forward and slammed the alien against the stone. 'You destroyed all my dreams, you know,' he told him as they struggled, almost conversationally. 'But, strangely, I feel almost as if I ought to say - '
Serif spun him round, smashing the human against the base of the statue. Rocastle fell, winded, and looked up as Serif aimed his pistol at his head.
'Thank you.'
The force of the explosion threw Hutchinson and Alexander back off the edge of the flint diggings. The others threw their hands over their heads as debris rained down, small lumps of the stone that had made up Old Meg.
Benny peered up over the edge. The monument was a crater in the ground, at its centre a mass of flaming debris that was sparking up into the sky, small detonations still going off.
She climbed out and walked over to the flaming pyre, Alexander and the boys following her.
'He knew that it would explode,' Hutchinson said. 'It was the only way.'
'No it bloody wasn't,' Benny whispered.
There might have been an argument then, but Merryweather had turned to look in the direction of the pit. 'Look!' he yelled.
A hand had gripped the rim of the pit, and was scrambling against the crumbling earth, trying for a solid hold. As they watched, Greeneye slapped another hand after the first and began to haul himself over the edge, his face a mask of rage and sorrow. 'Serif!' he was bellowing. 'You animals! I'll cover this hill with your blood!'
Hutchinson started to say something, but it came out as a roar. He sprinted towards the pit and the other boys followed, yelling shrill cries.
Hutchinson grabbed one of Greeneye's swords from the ground where it lay and Merryweather grabbed another. The rest of the boys formed a rough circle around the pit as the alien climbed out of it, clutching their rocks and clubs.
Only Anand stayed back, beside Alexander. 'Are you going to help them?' he asked Bernice.
Benny realized that she'd just been staring at the scene, absolutely useless to everybody. She was feeling sick inside. It took her a moment to realise why.
She'd seen this before.
She started forward. 'Wait - '
Greeneye was now fully emerged from the pit. 'Well then?' he shouted. 'Who's first!' He grabbed for his gun.
Hutchinson lashed out and Greeneye clutched at his upper arm, the gun tumbling from his numbed fingers.
Merryweather ran in and struck him across the leg, the ultrasharp blade bursting a line of blood from Greeneye's thigh. He roared and lashed out, knocking Merryweather to the ground. He stumbled forward, felling boys to the left and right with his fists. Hutchinson went flying too, dropping his sword.
But the boys still closed in, swinging their rocks and clubs.
Benny shoved her way through the crowd, pushing them aside to get to the man.
Lashing out all around him, he was blindly groping to get a hand into his boot.
He pulled out a small black capsule.
Benny leapt through the boys, straight at him. She knocked him over, landing on his chest, blows still falling randomly around her.
'You can't stop us!' Greeneye was roaring. 'I - will - see you all die...'
His fingers squeezed the end of the capsule. It was about to burst.
Benny felt something give inside her, an internal explosion of some vast rage she'd never known. 'Nobody else dies!' she shouted.
And she punched him.
Very hard.
The body slumped back on to the ground, unconscious.
The capsule fell from his hand. The boys fell back.
Hutchinson swayed into view amongst them, having recovered the sword. He swung it up overhead, about to behead the alien.
But Benny threw herself on to the body, clutching him tightly to her, slamming her head against his. 'Nobody else dies! Do you hear me?' She glared up at Hutchinson. 'Do you understand?'
'She's hysterical.' Alton stepped forward. 'Let's get you-'
'I am not bloody hysterical, I'm not the one trying to kill the hostage!'
There was a general mumble of agreement. The boys started to drop their improvised weapons.
Hutchinson placed the sword on the ground, visibly controlling his anger.
Alexander helped Benny to her feet. She was shivering. 'Busy day.' She flapped her hand, wincing. 'Ow, I think I've broken my knuckle.'
Alton spoke up. He was crouching by Greeneye's neck, his hand on the alien's pulse. 'This man's going to come round soon. Can't we secure him somehow?'
'Schoolboys who don't have any string?' a familiar voice called from behind them. Smith was standing against the burning crater on the skyline, leaning on his umbrella. 'That's unusual.'
