The Englishman turned to face him. His face was twisted with agony and fear.

'What else can we do? They'll kill us all.'

For a moment Barclay hovered uncertainly and then turned to the Cyberleader.

'What are you going to do?'

'You will see,' replied Krail.

The Cyberleader reached down and unclipped the long Cyberweapon that had killed the guard. He brought it up and took aim at the centre of the communications console.

'No! ' cried Barclay. He rushed forward and interposed his body between the Cyberleader's gun and the R/T set. 'If you destroy those, all contact with the s.p.a.ce capsule will be broken!'

Dyson turned to Barclay. 'For G.o.d's sake, man, do as he asks.' His voice quavered.

'Do you want the place destroyed?'

The tall Australian hesitated for a moment-and then nodded. 'All right.' He picked up the desk microphone.

'h.e.l.lo, Geneva. h.e.l.lo, Geneva.'

After a brief crackle of static, the waiting men heard the voice of Wigner over the R/T loudspeaker.

' Snowcap Snowcap-at last! What's going on? We received an emergency call from you on the micro-link.'

Barclay wiped his brow for a moment. 'Ah, yes-it was-an error, sir. We're working on it now. Sorry about the false alarm.'

'Where is this static coming from? We can hardly hear you-even on this band.'

Barclay looked round, desperately searching for an explanation. The Cyberleader, standing right in front of him, slowly raised the gun until it was on a level with his face.

'I-I-er-it's most likely to have been the reactor. We had the moderator rods out for a short while this afternoon.'

After a long pause, Wigner spoke again. 'I see. Contact us if you have ,any further reports on this new planet.'

'Yes, sir.' Barclay leant forward and switched off the R/T set with his trembling hand. Without looking further at the Cybermen and the other men, he staggered back to his console and collapsed into his seat. Dyson followed him over and put his hand on his shoulder.

'We'd have all done exactly the same, Dr Barclay. We had no option.'

Barclay looked up, pushed Dyson's hand off his shoulder and, with sudden resolve, stood up and walked across to the Cyberleader. His voice rang round the tracking room.

'Right. We've done what you asked. Now you must let us try to recover our astronauts.'

'I told you-it is impossible for them to get back now. The pull of Mondas is too strong.'

'You can at least let us try!'

'It is a foregone conclusion-you are wasting your time. However, if you wish to contact them, I have no objection.'

Krail turned to the other two Cybermen.

'He and his colleagues may use their equipment. Any attempt at deceit-kill them at once.' The Cyberleader pointed to the body of the dead soldier. 'Take that out of here.'

As the Cybermen dragged the body of the soldier from the room, Barclay desperately tried to make contact with the two stranded astronauts.

' Zeus Four Zeus Four, Zeus Four Zeus Four, come in please. Zeus Four Zeus Four, Zeus Four Zeus Four, come in.'

After what seemed an age, the voice of Colonel Williams came through.

'We have you. Over.'

'Prepare to check orbital vectors.'

Meanwhile, Ben had been edging closer to the Doctor. He now leant across and spoke in his ear.

'While they fight it out, Doctor, let's make a break for it.'

'Eh? Break for it?'

'Yes. We can get back to the TARDIS.'

'How, my boy?'

'We can run for it-down that corridor to the trap door, and bolt it behind us.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'They'd burn it down in a flash.'

Ben looked round desperately. 'There must be something we can do.' He spotted one of the carbines which had been dropped by the guard, and now stood propped against the wall. 'For a start, we can use that.'

Polly p.r.i.c.ked up her ears. 'Ben, don't be crazy. They'll see you.'

Ben shook his head. He started edging his way across the room towards the gun...

'Ground range computer.' All the men in the room were fully concentrating on the job in hand. They were relieved to be handling a familiar routine.

Williams' voice came over the loudspeaker. 'On target.'

'Steering jet fuel reserve?' queried Barclay. Schultz's voice answered. 'Adequate.'

Ben had almost reached the gun. He glanced around quickly. The three Cybermen were looking fixedly, immobile as statues, towards Barclay and the wavering television picture of Schultz and Williams.

'Suit temperature,' continued Barclay.

With a quick motion, Ben bent down, grabbed the barrel of the carbine, and swung it behind him. Quick as his action had been, it had not escaped the attention of the Cyberleader. He wheeled round and advanced on the three time travellers.

For a moment Ben considered swinging the gun round, and letting fly-but Polly and the Doctor, who were standing beside him, might get hurt in the fight. He decided to wait for another opening.

The Cyberleader, looking taller and even more terrifying at close range, halted in front of him.

'You do not seem to take us seriously.' He held out his hand. 'Give me that gun.'

Ben hesitated for a moment but, with the huge bulk of the Cyberman looming over him, he had no option. He meekly brought the gun round and handed it over. The Cyberman gazed at it for a second and, without any apparent effort, flexed both his arms.

The Doctor's companions watched in horrified amazement as he splintered and broke away the wooden stock, bending the barrel-as easily as if it had been wire-into a right angle.

'When will you humans learn? Your weapons are useless against us! ' The Cyberman flung the gun aside, then turned to the remaining Cybermen. 'Take him away.'

'Oh no ! ' Polly screamed, holding on to Ben's arm. But Ben shook her off. 'If he wanted to kill me, d.u.c.h.ess, he'd do so-just like that.'

'Yes.' The Cyberleader echoed his words. 'It is quite useless to resist us. We are stronger and more efficient than you earth people. We must be obeyed.'

Polly and the Doctor watched as the Cyberman lead Ben from the room.

7 Battle in the Projection Room

The Cyberman, holding Ben's wrists in a vice-like grip, half pulled and half dragged him along the corridors.

The Cyberman halted at a door at the end of the corridor. He checked that its lock contained a key, turned it, and flung the door open. With a swing of his arm, he threw Ben into the room, and slammed the door shut.

Rubbing his wrists, which were bruised and numb from the crushing grip of the silver giant, Ben rose from the floor and tried the door handle. Locked.

He flung his shoulder against it-and added another bruise to his collection.

Rubbing his shoulder, he looked around curiously. Where had they put him?

One glance identified his location. When he had been flung through the door, he had collided with a film projector mounted on a tall metal stand. To its left stood a bench; above it, a rack of film cans.

The camera projected through a gla.s.s panel at the end of the room. Ben rushed eagerly over and peered through-but the base cinema beyond was in darkness. There was no other way out.

The two astronauts, now haggard and sweating, strained to hear Barclay's voice through the heavy static. The beam of light from the windows now swung slowly across their chests. It had almost stabilised.

'You begin exactly eighty seconds from now. Are you ready to go?'

Williams glanced across at Schultz, who nodded.

'Yes, we're ready.' Williams spoke as loudly, and with as much strength as he could muster into the microphone.

'Our readings show that you need forward correction of seven degrees.'

Williams glanced down at an instrument. 'That checks. We will correct with alt.i.tude controls.' He nodded to Schultz : 'Go ahead, Dan.'

Schultz reached for the joystick controls, forcing his muscles to work with a great effort. He manoeuvred the controls carefully, checking the instrument panels as he did so.

Then he pressed the retro-rocket switch for a brief second.

Both men heard with relief the hissing roar of the rocket motors from outside the capsule. Schultz leaned forward excitedly, examined the dial reading, and gave the thumbs up sign to Williams.

'h.e.l.lo, Snowcap Snowcap,' Schultz cried. 'We have reorientated the capsule. Alt.i.tude now correct.'

Barclay's voice rasped over the loudspeaker. 'Retro rockets to go in twenty seconds. After I give you the word, you come in on your own. Right?'

Williams nodded. 'Will do.'

The decision had not been an easy one. It meant that the two astronauts would have to fly their capsule manually without any help from the base computer. The important thing now was to slow the capsule down from its...o...b..ting speed to re-entry velocity. A slow enough speed to enable them to land safely, drawn down by the Earth's gravity.

But was there enough power to 'brake' the capsule? Again, Schultz's hand moved towards the switch labelled RETRO.

Barclay was counting down. 'Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one-fire ! '

Schultz pressed the switch. There was an immediate low-pitched thundering as the powerful retro rockets fired.

The two astronauts were slammed back in their seats, their faces flattening in the characteristic stretching of a person subject to heavy negative G-forces. The whole capsule was being vibrated. The teeth of the two astronauts were chattering from the heavy shaking.

The roaring went on for seven long seconds, then, abruptly, shut off. The faces of the two men contracted back to normal and they shook their heads in relief.

'Check the velocity, Dan,' Williams said. 'I'll do the ground check.'

Schultz nodded, rubbed his brow slightly as if to clear his vision, and peered forward at the instruments. His expression suddenly changed as he read the speed indicator dials. 'We're not down to re-entry velocity!'

'What!' Williams leant over to check Schultz's reading.

'No doubt about it. We're still at fourteen five. We should be down to eleven two!'

'Quick,' said Williams. 'We'll have to use the retros again.'

'Right.' Schultz reached for the switch, studying the instruments. He glanced over at Williams. 'How long for, Glyn?'

Williams, who was manipulating one of the small on-board computers, pointed his finger as the answer clicked up on a dial: '4.2 seconds.'

Schultz adjusted a control in front of him.