No Control
Chapter Five: Children Shouldn't Play With Cybermen
Antola's wiring up of the CyberLeader's brain to the flight computer had taken just long enough for her fellows to become impatient and then bored. "What are you doing?" Phen sneered, regarding the empty glass in his hand. "You're not going to activate it, are you?" he mocked.
His host was biting her bottom lip in concentration as she started tapping out furiously at a keyboard on the console just next to the connection. "Patience, children," she muttered. "Patience..."
Suddenly the CyberLeader spoke, cutting across the mutter of conversation and the background music. Despite the casual air aboard the ship, all bar Antola were startled as the voice boomed out from the zombie-like mask. The harsh electronic voice was suitably flat, monotonous and lacked expression. Each computerized syllable vibrated through the armored hide of the CyberLeader, giving a metallic echo to its words as faint mechanical and electronic sounds beginning to speed up inside the creature's hide.
"FIRST TASKFORCE ACTIVATED," it said thickly, staring at Phen, Tharby and Julreth with its blank eye holes. "CONDENSERS AT MAXIMUM CHARGE. STABILIZE AND ACTIVATE. ACCELERATE REACTIVATION TO OPTIMUM..."
"No, no, that's not right," tutted Antola, checking the wires connecting the Cyberman to the console. She adjusted the controls and a low, angry buzzing sound suddenly began to issue from the CyberLeader's enormous silver head.
"REACTIVATION LEVELS NORMAL," the CyberLeader continued. "AUTONOMOUS CONTROL MODE ENGAGING IN FIVE SECONDDDDDDDDDDDDDSSSS..."
With a laugh of triumph, Antola punched the key pads.
"HOOOOWWWW NOWWWWW BRROWWWN COWWWW," the metal voice slurred. "THE QUICK BROWWWWWWWWN FOX JUMPED OOOOOVVERR THE LAAAZY DOG. OUR HOMELAND IS THE WHOLE WORLD AND OUR LAW IS LIBERTY..."
Tharby clapped his hands in appreciation. "You've hacked into his speech centres! Brilliant!"
"Aren't I just?" Antola beamed.
Completely unaware that the planet around her was surging into life all around her, pouring energy into the hundreds of thousands of Cyber units stacked in their tombs, Hols finished her work and turned to leave the oppressively humid cavern. Her only thoughts were of the long trudge back to the surface, and she gave no heed to the steadily-increasing illumination or the fact the ice had melted. Had she considered it, she might have thought it was some life support system finally kicking in to make the place acceptable for visitors, but then Hols had not got to be a rich and famous fashion model on her intellect.
She lumbered out of the chamber in her hot and heavy suit, determined never to set foot on this planet again and idly wondering how anyone could be so scared of lifeless suits of silver armor wrapped in manifold layers of transparent plastic. They weren't living, so they must be dead, so how could they hurt anyone?
The only problem with Hols' irrefutable logic was that the Cybermen were not dead – rather, they were waiting to be born.
Once she was gone, silence fell over the defrosted chamber and the banked rows of cells. The figures within, now illuminated, were still and silent for a while, and then one of them began to move. Stiffly, jerkily, like a chick emerging from its egg. Another Cyberman began to visibly shift and flex. And then another. In moments, every Cyberman in the chamber was coming to life behind their membranes, their back-lit limbs forming a slow-motion shadow ballet.
The silence of the chamber was broken by a faint crackle as one membrane began to split open to release what was imprisoned within. A powerful, stubby finger tore through the plastic layers, then a ripping, shredding hand swept down with a vicious slicing movement through the shroud...
"Well, Cy old friend," Antola asked the CyberLeader, "after 253 on ice, I can only imagine the pearls of wisdom you must have to offer. Penny for your thoughts?" she laughed and began typing as Phen laughed at the ludicrousness of this ventriloquism act.
"HELLO," the CyberLeader grated suddenly. Its voice was still a low, vibrating chord, but with a polite, cultured inflection. The sound was so ridiculous, everyone present burst out laughing. When the group finally regained some semblance of control, Antola wiped a tear from her eye and made another few keystrokes. Immediately, the Cyberman spoke again in the same polite voice. "I'D LIKE TO HAVE A WORD WITH YOU ABOUT A PROBLEM THAT MANY PEOPLE, LIKE YOURSELF, ARE PROBABLY UNAWARE OF. I'M TALKING, OF COURSE, ABOUT THE WORKING CLASSES."
Phen doubled over, almost in physical pain from laughing so much. Tharby was letting out a strange hissing noise from the back of his throat, his mirth almost hysterical. Even Julreth couldn't help giggling as the CyberLeader's head stiffly swung back and forth, as if addressing them.
"THE LOWER ORDERS, AS EVERYONE KNOWS, ARE CUTE, CUDDLY, ENDEARING LITTLE CREATURES THAT MAKE AN IDEAL LABOR FORCE DOING THE GRUBBY JOBS AND TASKS THAT EVERYONE ELSE IS TOO GOOD FOR." A strange note of affection entered the rasping voice as the still-laughing Antola typed furiously. "WHAT A DELIGHT THEY ARE TO WATCH AS THEY SCAMPER ROUND AND ROUND IN THEIR LITTLE WIRE WHEELS, EXERCISING THEIR LITTLE MUSCLES."
As her audience laughed uproarishly, Antola adjusted the bass levels. The CyberLeader's blurred electric tones grew louder, the words faster as if it was succumbing to sudden fearful paranoia. "BUILDING THOSE MUSCLES INTO MASSIVE SPRUNG-STEEL PILE-DRIVERS THAT WILL ONE DAY BE WIELDED AGAINST THEIR BETTERS," it was now ranting, "WHO HAVE GENEROUSLY LAVISHED THEM WITH FOOD, HOUSING AND MEDICAL SUPPLIES!"
Antola's typing was now so fast and loud it was threatening to drown out her own shrieks of laughter. Once more the mechanical voice grew in volume and intensity, as if gripped by uncontrollable passion – all mockingly contrasted with the body the voice emerged from, which remained perfectly still. "YOU DON'T THINK FOR A MOMENT, DO YOU, THAT THIS SCUM ARE GOING TO GIVE ALL THAT KINDNESS A SECOND'S THOUGH WHEN THEIR TIME COMES?" the CyberLeader was now screaming in its hollow voice.
"OH NO, DOWN WILL COME THAT NOBLE AND WORTHY FAÇADE AND WE WILL FINALLY SEE THE VICIOUS BEASTS FOR WHAT THEY REALLY ARE AS THEY TERRORIZE ENTIRE NEIGHBORHOODS WITH THEIR NEUTRONIC BOMBS AND THEIR HYPOSPRAY INJECTORS..."
The voice box of the CyberLeader was starting to distort from the volume, so loud now that the screams of merriment from the teenagers were almost drowned out altogether. No one heard the airlock shudder open, or was even looking in the direction to see the Doctor standing in the doorway, framed against the darkness, a look of pure contempt on his face.
The CyberLeader continued to spew out the intolerant vitriol Antola had programmed into it. "THAT'S RIGHT! I'M TALKING ABOUT DRUGS! THE STUFF THAT'S SAPPED THE STRENGTH OF MANY A VAST EMPIRE; THAT'S FORCED ONCE PROUD EMPIRES TO THEIR KNEES! NO, MY FRIENDS, YOU DON'T STOP THAT SORT OF TERROR WITH KINDNESS AND EQUAL OPPORTUNITY WORK SCHEMES!"
A keystroke from Antola and the CyberLeader's furious screams became a rapid confused babble, like a paranoid schizophrenic mumbling to itself. "NO, WHAT YOU NEED IS A GOOD, HEAVY HAMMER – THE KIND WITH A NON-SLIP RUBBER HANDLE SO WHEN THE BLOOD REALLY STARTS POURING YOU WON'T SPOIL THINGS WITH A SLIPPERY GRIP!" it advised its laughing audience in a conspiratorial tone. "WITH ONE OF THESE HAMMERS, A BIT OF STRENGTH AND LOTS OF OLD-FASHIONED COURAGE YOU JUST MIGHT BE ABLE TO CATCH ONE OF THESE MURDERING TRAITORS OFF GUARD WHILE HE'S CURLED UP ASLEEP IN THE FILTHY, STINKING, VERMIN-INFESTED WOOD SHAVINGS AT THE BOTTOM OF HIS HOVEL..."
A hand slipped between the CyberLeader and Antola and stabbed a cancellation code. Instantly the booming voice became a flat, meaningless noise that droned away into silence – taking with it the backing music, leaving the only sound the weak, involuntary guffaws from the gathered teenagers.
The Doctor's glistening brown eyes shone with disappointment. "So this is how you spend your time. The crème de le crème of the theocracy," he uttered with distaste. "Free from all hardship and responsibility. But do you do anything to earn the good fortune you have? No. You come here and animate corpses for their humiliation and your hilarity. You're far worse than any working classes you so abhor."
Antola stared at him in outrage. He dipped his head so he could stare her right in the eyes.
"You are more disgusting than the Cybermen could ever be," he told her softly.
The others watched on, eyes wide with excitement as they waited for their comrade's reaction.
The Guardian had finished her drink and was now standing, leaning in the doorway of her living quarters, looking down into the tombs. It was brightly-lit for the first time ever, and without the frost she could see the hundreds of eyeless faces staring blankly at her from inside each unit. It was just another part of the strange dream she'd been living for so long now. She remembered the man in strange clothes who was nice to her. He's said something about this place not being safe. Or had she imagined him as well? No, he'd given her a glass of water. She hadn't got it herself. So he must he real.
She felt strangely warm. Inside the frozen heart of a planet? She had to be dreaming. She watched the nearest tomb unit as the figure inside slowly shifted and stretched, raising a steel fist and aiming it at the plastic membrane as though about to strike a drum. She could imagine the plastic splitting into shreds under the blow as the silver creature rose, arms held out before it, through cell...
But no. The creature was still inside the tomb, the terrible blank stare directed at her.
Was she dreaming this? Was it real? Were the silver giants about to break out of their centuries-old honeycomb? Was it just a nightmare?
Dully, she turned and stumbled towards the escape pod, then remembered that the man had sabotaged it. And that it wasn't safe anyway. Something about a box. A box was safe. She looked around the room. No boxes there. Had he said that? She was safe, wasn't she? The Cybermen were still in their tombs. And while they were in there, they couldn't get her.
She looked out the door at the twitching, flexing Cybermen and giggled.
"You can't get me," she breathed.
Antola's ship was warm, well-lit and comfortable – but there was no keeping out the dreadful sense of isolation that pressed with the darkness against the windows. The air in the ship was intense as Antola stood straight up, emphasizing her height. The Doctor stared her straight in the chin.
"Disgusting?" she echoed curiously, as if she'd never heard the word before. "Do I, er, 'disgust' you Doctor with no name or sense of humor or any power at all?" she sneered. "This is just good clean fun. And I don't think my friend Cy here likes being called 'disgusting' and I know that I don't like being called 'disgusting'. Perhaps," she continued reasonably, "you shouldn't be hanging around young people who are so disgusting!" The last word was a hate-filled scream.
The Time Lord didn't flinch, which just seemed to infuriate Antola even more. "Maybe you should go back to that stupid box you brought here, get inside it and disappear," she jeered, and then chuckled at the silly thought of a blue box that could appear and vanish. "There's no one on this planet who is even in the slightest way interested in you or anything and everything you have to say."
"How righteous of you," the Doctor mused.
Antola was breathing sharp and fast now. "No, Doctor," she said softly in a voice controlled and calm. "No, that won't do," she murmured softly. "That won't do at all."
The Doctor knew at that moment that she was insane.
Hols had been walking up the shaft for what seemed like hours, puffing and panting as her books clacked on the metal flooring. Every few metres she hoped to spy the living quarters and thus the surface and every few metres she was disappointed. She felt like weeping at the unfairness of it all. How dare Antola dump her behind like this! And how dare Tharby go along with it!
She paused to catch her breath and looked around the particular passage she was now standing in, in the vain hope there might be some clue as to how close she was to ground level. She peered at the nearest sepulchre, which seemed to be shuddering for some reason. She watched as the membrane throbbed, focussing her eyes at the flailing silver thing inside.
Hols realized giddily that the Cyber creatures had woken up, just the way Antola had said. It must have just taken some time for the systems to reboot after the antivirus. She stared, fascinated at the sepulchre as it bulged and shook like an enormous plastic egg about to hatch.
The membrane abruptly shredded, and a long wisp of plastic flew into her face as the Cyberman tore the cover apart into a twisted mass of fibres and trampled them flat climbing out of the tomb. Stunned, Hols turned and looked down the passage she'd come – and each wispy cocoon was being slashed apart from within, like a swarm of silver insects emerging into life.
Hols did the first sensible thing she'd done all day.
She ran for her life.
For a long time, Antola had said nothing.
Then, suddenly, she turned to the flight computer and began to reactivate it, her narrowed pale eyes fixed on the Time Lord as she did so. "You come here to spoil my fun before I've started, to lecture me that I should not defile those long gone. Well, Cy doesn't think you're worth his time, and I don't think you're worthy my time either," she continued reasonably.
"And you're not worth mine either," the Doctor snapped. "But you cannot be allowed to do this. If it's the one thing you're never allowed to do, then so be it. This time, Antola, you lose."
Antola's eyes flashed dangerously. "What?" she demanded, voice cracking.
The Doctor strode towards her. "I'm taking the CyberLeader and putting him back into his tomb. I've already sent the distress signal to the theocracy, and their forces will be here soon. I suggest you and your 'children' get out of here as fast as you can before you're caught."
"That thing is mine," Antola hissed.
The Doctor smiled and shook his head.
"Cy is my friend," she continued. "And I'll do with him as I choose! Like so!"
Her hand slammed down on the keyboard, and the Cyberman twitched and spasmed for a second as the circuits within tried to understand the command. For a moment the Doctor and the others assumed Antola's gesture was purely symbolic...
...and then the CyberLeader struck.
The CyberLeader spun a half turn, flinging out its arms. The nearest steel hand flung the Doctor back into the pilot's seat as the second lunged and clamped itself around his throat, the metal fingers cutting deep into his flesh. The Doctor began to gasp and choke.
Julreth stuffed her fist into her mouth so she wouldn't scream, and even Phen and Tharby were not sure how to react as the Doctor struggled in vain to remove the vice-like grip front his neck. The Time Lord's agony was plain to see as his pale face grew flushed and red.
Antola gave an almost lusty look at the stricken Doctor, thrilled to the core to know she had the power of life and death over him – the true authority she craved. Giving orders wasn't half as satisfying when you could force those against their will to obey them. As she watched the Doctor suffer in agony, and ideally contemplate his horrible behavior to her, she decided to speak again. She didn't want the CyberLeader getting all the fun and attention, after all.
"I'm going to take my Cyberon back home to my palace," she gloated as the CyberLeader's thumb was driven into the Doctor's windpipe, blocking his muffled gasps. "I will prop him up in my trophy room, or maybe slowly take him apart piece by piece, scoop out all the organic content and feed them to the poor in soup kitchens! And with his metal bones and guts I shall use as bookends, back-scratchers, maybe a ladle for those soup kitchens? Anything that comes to mind! And I'll laugh as I do it..."
Choking and coughing, the Doctor's mouth dropped open as his tongue jerked back and forth as he attempting to pump air down her restricted windpipe. His respiratory bypass meant he wasn't technically suffocating, but the pressure on his neck was threatening to snap it in two. The agony grew worse and the Doctor realized consciousness was starting to slip away. If he blacked out, would Antola release him so she could gloat further? Or just continue to crush the life out of him?
Antola gently slipped into the lap of the CyberLeader, and stroked the cold metal of the helmet, smiling adoringly at the rotting human remains deep within. "You're very strong, Cy," she praised, "and a wonderful friend. And I think, in time, we may become very close.." She broke up in laughter and turned her gaze to the man the CyberLeader was throttling to death.
"How about that, Doctor?" she jeered. "Am I showing enough respect to the Cyberons now?"
Before her, the Time Lord's limbs began to jerk in spasms as if he were waving himself goodbye...