As you can see it's got a large bomb outside it presumably just in case the same somebody wants to remove the evidence at a later date. Inside this station there are also computer-animated robots very much like the ones Neels Prander uses in his little films, except these are all identical and all called Baal. Baal, as you can see, is a standin Averonian. Through a vidi link he directs work on the moon of Averon where slaves a.s.semble the Union's versions of synthonic weapons. Listen to my friend who's been there.'

In his apartment Neels Prander stared at the screen in horror as Sarah's face appeared.

'My name is Sarah Jane Smith...'

Prander ran to a closet in his bedroom and from the bottom of it he s.n.a.t.c.hed up a locked case, then made for the front door. In the corridor outside he found several of his neighbours exchanging bewildered comments.

'Is it a joke?'

'That's the alien who killed the admiral.'

'But they said he was dead.'

Prander tried to push past them un.o.btrusively. 'Hey, Neels

what's going on?'

'It's all a hoax don't believe a word of it,' he said, and he forced himself to walk down to the end of the corridor.

Around the corner he broke into a run.

'For a while I was one of the slave workers,' Sarah's recorded image continued. 'But the actual parts we a.s.sembled weren't made on the moon itself or Averon. They came by freighter from Deepcity. Most of the other workers are Alliance diplomats and scientists, probably kidnapped to stop them from making peace or improving their own world's weapons systems and so make them independent of Deepcity. If you don't believe me check the real production records. We'll tell you where to find them in a minute...'

A straggling line of City guards were arrayed across the landing basin firing up at the port control room. Already all its windows had been blown out, and the rock around it scorched and pockmarked. The top of the internal stairway was barricaded, and its steps littered with the remains of a couple of synthoids, demolished by high energy grenades Orsang'tor had enhanced in the TARDIS's laboratory. Inside the control room, Callon'mal had leant a table across the exposed cables and the Doctor's transmitter to protect them from flying debris.

'More synths being deployed, sir,' a lookout reported to Ch.e.l.l, then ducked down as another fusillade ripped up the remains of the window frame and began to gouge out fresh chunks of the far wall and ceiling. It was only a matter of time before they forgot about saving the installation and started to use more powerful weapons. Ch.e.l.l spoke into his wrist communicator: 'Second unit: deploy and give support now.'

Lying almost forgotten behind the fresh line of synthoids, the TARDIS's door opened unnoticed and Tramour'des led the rest of the Jand force out into the fray.

Kambril and Andez burst through the door of central control.

Oban gratefully relinquished the command chair to her superior.

'Can't you turn that d.a.m.ned transmission off?' Andez snapped.

'La.s.siter's working on it, sir.'

Kambril scanned the monitors depicting the battle in the landing basin. 'A whole platoon of Jand. Where did they all come from?'

'That blue box thing, sir,' Oban said, with a hopeless shrug.

Kambril saw lights moving along the schematic of the Valley's travel tubes. 'What are all these capsules doing heading out from the factory?'

'I don't know, sir. The link with the supervisor's been cut.'

Kambril suddenly clutched his head. 'That program disk.

Shut the tubes down immediately use the overrides.'

'We can't, sir.'

'Why not?'

'The overrides have been, er, overridden.'

The screens now showed a bright star in s.p.a.ce, accompanied by a continuous hissing crackle.

'This is Landor's sun, and the sound is radio interference from the radiation fields that supposedly surround and permeate the entire system. Supposedly...' The scene changed to a peaceful park-like vista with tall clean buildings beyond.

'This is Central City, Landor,' said the narration. 'Some of you may recognize it, though there has been considerable rebuilding since the war ended. You see, although Landor was badly damaged it was not destroyed in the great Averon offensive. On the contrary, most of the people here think Deepcity was destroyed and the rest of the cl.u.s.ter has degenerated into civil wars and anarchy, and they have nothing to do with them. And so they are at peace, isolated behind their artificially maintained interference barriers. I know this will come as a terrible shock to you, but you don't have to accept our word for it; take that of a native Landoran, whose face will be familiar to Academ Cara Tarron.' Brin Vender appeared walking down his garden path towards a fan of light. 'This is Cara Tarron's brother. Some of her friends might also recognize him from the picture she carries. Ask her who he is. Come and meet him in person and hear the truth from his own lips. If your leaders or the City guards try to stop you, ask them why. What have they got to hide?'

Brin Vender's face appeared full screen now. 'My name is Brin Vender, I am Cara Tarron's brother and a citizen of Landor. We were told this complex was destroyed at the end of the war...'

In Cara's laboratory, her colleagues crowded incredulously about the main screen, shaking their heads in disbelief.

'Landor still there?'

'Turn it off. It's all alien lies.'

'I told you I can't turn it off.'

'Well, smash the screen.'

But one of them had been staring hard at Vender's face.

'But I have seen him before. In Cara's picture.'

'But it can't be. The whole thing's impossible.'

'We need Cara to say for sure.'

'Where is she anyway?'

Cara stopped to double over, clutch her knees and catch her breath. She was about halfway to the Valley wall, she estimated. Why wasn't there any transport around when you needed it? Even as the thought pa.s.sed through her mind a shadow flitted overhead. It was a skimmer manned by two synthoids. Then another flew over and another, all coming from the factory on the opposite side of the Valley and heading towards the main complex. And one was dropping down towards her. She looked about desperately, but there was nowhere to hide.

'Cara Tarron,' a booming amplified voice called out.

'What do you want?'

'The Doctor programmed us to protect you if we found you.'

'The Doctor? But he's dead.'

'Our instructions indicate otherwise.' The skimmer settled down beside her. For the first time she realized the two synthoid troopers were gleaming new, as though they'd come straight from the factory. Shrugging her shoulders, she climbed aboard and they took off again, following in the wake of the other skimmers.

'What's happening where are we going now?' she asked, clinging to the rail.

'Our instructions are to take you to the Doctor. There is somebody you must meet.'

A travel capsule glided to a halt in the s.p.a.ceport station. Its doors opened and six synthonic troopers got out. A second capsule drew up behind it and disgorged six more, and another...Quickly they formed into ranks and marched towards the sound of fighting.

'If you still don't believe any of this,' the Doctor's recorded voice continued, 'then examine the rear right-hand wall of the secure files room carefully. Behind it you will find a shaft leading to a half of the City you never knew existed. Down there you will find the files that tell the real story of Deepcity these last twenty years. You might also examine the laboratories and public rooms for concealed gas pipes. Your leaders have been using pentatholene to artificially reinforce your hatred of Averon and keep you working for their false war.'

In lab three the confused scientists and technicians gazed at each other, then uncertainly at the room around them. 'It's unbelievable.'

'It's got to be an alien trick.'

'I liked the Doctor,' one of them ventured. 'I never could quite believe he did what they said to Dorling.'

'But using pentatholene on us it can't be true.'

There was a moment's silence, then one said decisively, 'We'll check anyway. Martyn get along to the other labs and say we recognize Vender. And they'd better start looking for gas pipes as well.'

In the observation lounge the furniture barricade was riddled with holes and beginning to burn. Only Max's deadly accurate shooting had held the attackers back so far, but in another minute they would be forced to move.

Then the gunfire from the corridor grew sporadic, and it was intermingled with confused shouts. After a moment the firing resumed its former intensity, but it was no longer directed at them.

The Doctor grinned hugely. 'I think reinforcements have just arrived.'

Her synthonic escort led Cara into the City. Men, women and children were wandering about in confusion. Guards were being disarmed and marched away and the people responded either with disbelieving silence or looks of contempt and angry shouts. Order was apparently being kept by more gleaming new synthoid troopers like her own pair. As she pa.s.sed through the crowd she began to realize she was being stared at in an odd fashion.

'Will somebody please tell me what's been going on here?'

she demanded loudly, but n.o.body seemed certain enough to reply. Then she saw the unmistakable figure of the Doctor making his way towards her. He had a scarred synthoid and three people with him. One of them was a middle-aged man whose face seemed oddly familiar.

Their eyes met.

Her surroundings grew faint and sounds faded away.

She would have collapsed if one of the synthoids hadn't caught her. Then Brin Vender had reached her side and was holding on to her and they didn't have to any more.

Ch.e.l.l appeared with half a dozen Jand soldiers. He looked at Brin and Cara and smiled, then said to the Doctor, 'We thought you might need some help, but everything seems to be under control.'

'Is the port secured?' the Doctor asked.

'Yes, I've left Tramour in charge. Your reprogrammed synthoids arrived just in time. It was touch and go when that machine of yours suddenly reverted to its odd blue box shape.

We weren't able to place your transmitter as un.o.btrusively as we planned and had to improvise. But everything seems to have worked out in the end.'

'So that's what tipped our hand,' said Harry. 'You've got to get that TARDIS under proper control, Doctor.'

'Well, it's bound to have been a strain maintaining the Mogul's golden ship pattern,' said the Doctor mildly. 'Can't trust these new models with their fancy accessories.'

'Doctor,' Max said, 'I am informed that our forces now hold all the key positions in the complex, except what appears to be a command centre in the sub-levels. Director Kambril is inside it and is asking to speak to you.'

The heavy blast doors of central control were shut, and the ends of both corridors that led to them were closed by hastily erected barricades. Over the top of these could be seen half a dozen synthoids, including Scout, armed with a semi-portable cannon. The remains of two of the Doctor's reprogrammed synthoids lying before them testified to their willingness to use their weapons. The Doctor peered around the corner of the next junction to a.s.sess the situation, then returned to the nearest wall screen and switched it on. The image of Kambril stared back at him, looking calmly defiant. 'There you are, Doctor. I wanted one last word with you.'

'A last word? That sounds like one of us is planning to leave, but I don't think it's going to be you, Director. There's no more need for any confrontation. We can afford to wait.'

'Then you can also afford to listen,' Kambril said.

The Doctor sighed. 'Very well, what do you want to say?'

'I wanted to make sure you understood why I became involved in this operation. I don't want you to think I'm some sort of common criminal.'

'A very uncommon criminal, I'd have said, being part of a deception that's kept most of this star cl.u.s.ter engaged in b.l.o.o.d.y and pointless warfare for almost twenty years.'

Cara, red-eyed and still with an arm around her brother, said icily, 'I utterly despise you, Kambril. How could you be a party to all this? You've stolen half our lives!'

'My dear Cara, I truly regret any suffering I have caused you, but I was only doing my duty. That is what I want to explain. But first, Doctor, perhaps you'd satisfy my curiosity: how did you discover the Ultra secret?'

'Is that what you called it? Well, if you must know I was struck by an odd symmetry. There were two systems in this cl.u.s.ter that n.o.body entered because of psychological reasons as much as any physical barriers: Averon for fear of them doing what they did to Landor again, and Landor because of what Averon was supposed to have done to it. Vanquisher and victim, each reinforcing the myth about the other. It was reasonable, yet almost too finely balanced to be true. Then I wondered: what if reason were stood on its head?'

'I see. Well, what we did was also reasonable at the time,'

Kambril said. 'All those years ago, we in the outposts and fleet bases really did believe Landor had been totally destroyed by the Averon onslaught. By the time communications had been restored and we discovered most of the system had in fact survived, many encouraging technical advances had been made, especially here in Deepcity, driven by the natural desire for revenge. So it was decided that, temporarily, the news of Landor's survival be kept from all but a few key people to maintain this impetus which would help shorten the war. The best of motives, as I'm sure you'll agree.'

'It was the only way you could keep talented people of principle working on weapons projects,' the Doctor said darkly.

'Perhaps. Anyway the Landoran fleet did destroy Averon soon afterwards but with ninety per cent losses. Now we were victorious but crippled, with Alliance and Union ready to disintegrate as soon as the war was over. We would be swallowed up and that could not be allowed to happen.'

'And so you told the big lie,' the Doctor said. 'Peace for Landor, but ongoing war for everybody else with you holding both sets of strings. And as a relative handful of senior people on Landor controlled travel and communications in and out of the system, it worked.'

'Yes,' agreed Kambril. 'Interstellar distances made it all possible. We took over the Averonian command channels and their remote autocratic control methods, and other Union worlds were encouraged to continue fighting. This also allowed us to keep those of our own outposts and colonies in line which had been rebellious before the war. Profits from supplying arms to both sides and various other spoils of war '

'You mean piracy,' Sarah said.

'As you will,' Kambril allowed. 'Anyway, the profits all quite properly went to help rebuild Landor. Deepcity made all the parts for the a.s.sembly plant on Averon's moon, producing suitable variants for advanced "Union" model weapons and kept them dependent on us.'

'But why the slaves?' Sarah demanded. 'You could have run the plant just with synthoids.'

'You've already guessed part of it. It was a place to put those scientists and potential peacemakers from Alliance and Union worlds who would have upset the delicate balance. It was a humane solution after all, we could have killed them.'