[Sarah Jane Adventures 07] - The Last Sontaran Read online

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA Penguin Group (Australia) Ltd, 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria, 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

  Canada, India, New Zealand, South Africa

  Published by BBC Children’s Character Books, 2008 Text and design © Children’s Character Books, 2008

  109876543 2 I

  Sarah Jane Adventures © BBC 2007 www.thesja.com

  BBC logo ™ & BBC 1996. Licensed by BBC Worldwide Limited All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978 I 40590509 I

  Printed in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives pic

  The Last Sontaran

  Written by Gary Russell

  Based, on the script by Phil Ford

  ‘I saw amazing things, out there

  in space. But there’s strangeness

  to be found wherever you turn.

  Life on Earth can be an

  adventure, too.

  You just have to know

  where to look.’

  SARAH JANE SMITH

  Table of Contents

  Face

  Copyright

  Title Page

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Mine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter One

  Space fall

  A few months back…

  Everyone was coughing. The air was filling up with exhaust fumes. Every car, every van, every truck all over Ealing, all over London, possibly all over the county, had suddenly started by itself and was pumping out grey, dirty smoke that hurt peoples’ eyes, throat and lungs.

  No one could turn the cars off. Indeed, Alan Jackson had tried valiantly to get to his car, attempting to find a way of stopping the engine, but his fifteen year old daughter Maria had, quite sensibly, dragged him back indoors. Not into their house, mind, but into the big house opposite.

  Sarah Jane Smiths house. Sarah Jane Smith who Maria helped deal with aliens that came to Earth. And although cars pumping out smelly gas weren’t aliens (maybe), Maria felt they’d be safer with Sarah Jane (probably) and her computer, Mr Smith, which would be able to identify the problem (definitely).

  So there they were up in Sarah Jane’s attic, Mr Smith’s geometric screen pulsating as he worked things out. In one corner, Sarah Jane was looking out of the stained glass window onto the smog- congested Bannerman Road below. In another corner, Luke, Sarah Jane’s adopted son was on his mobile. He was calling his best friend in the world, Clyde Langer, checking he and his mum, Carla, were safely locked up in their house, away from the pollution outside. They were. Luke gave his mate a reassuring ‘see you later’ and hung up.

  ‘Clyde’s fine,’ he reported.

  Maria smiled at him. Luke was an odd boy — he wasn’t entirely normal, for a start. Although one hundred percent human, he’d actually been grown, distilled from the genetic scans of hundreds of human children that had come into contact with an alien shape-shifting race called the Bane. The Bane made Luke to provide them with the perfect human, the Archetype as they referred to him, who could help them invade Earth. But Maria had found Luke moments after he was activated. And a bond had formed as a result. Although Luke looked fourteen, he was by now only about a year old, with the mind and intellect of a genius, but with an innocence that frequently betrayed his origins to those who really knew him.

  Sarah Jane had adopted Luke, given him a home, a life and a purpose. And in return, he gave her all the love and affection she needed in her life.

  And Maria knew that she and Clyde filled in some of the other gaps in Sarah Jane’s life — they were a family which had formed around Sarah Jane, something she’d not really ever had before. Sarah Jane’s parents had died when she was a baby and she’d been brought up by her scientist aunt, who had also passed away now. After some years of being alone, carving out a life as a successful journalist and top secret alien helper/hunter, Maria and the others gave Sarah Jane a purpose, a reason to do what she did.

  ‘The gas is partly Bosteen,’ Mr Smith suddenly announced from his mounted screen in the chimney breast. ‘But the majority of it is Probic Live, creating in total a concentrated form of Caesohne.’

  ‘Which means?’ asked Maria’s dad.

  ‘I’m not sure, Mr Jackson,’ the computer replied. ‘But it is definitely connected to the ATMOS devices in the vast majority of cars. That is what it is triggered by.’

  ‘I knew I didn’t trust those things,’ Sarah Jane said.

  ‘But my car has one,’ moaned Alan. ‘I bet Ivan’s does, too. Probably two, knowing him.’

  Ivan was Maria’s mum’s new boyfriend. He and her dad weren’t exactly mates. Truth be told, Maria wasn’t that keen either, but he did look after her mum, so she couldn’t dislike him. And he’d only come onto the scene after her parents had separated, so he wasn’t involved in that at all.

  ‘Look!’ It was Luke, suddenly pointing out of the window. ‘The sky’s on fire!’

  And indeed it was. The whole atmosphere flared a bright orange, just for a few seconds, like someone had lit a pool of oil, and they felt the rush of heat even through the attic windows.

  And then it was gone.

  And so was the polluted air outside. Not a trace — it was as if the flash of fire in the sky had sucked up all the Caesofine and burnt it away in seconds.

  ‘It’s all over,’ breathed Sarah Jane. ‘Whatever it was, we’re all safe.’

  Seconds later, in space, close to a massive alien spaceship orbiting Earth, three Sontaran scout pod-ships were leaving the Flagship. The Great Sontaran Tenth Battle Fleet had given them their orders. The pods were each piloted by a lone Sontaran, each heading down to commit espionage on planet Earth. They were Commanders in the Sontaran Special Assault Squad, specially grown in the Clonetanks to operate behind enemy lines, with their stealth armour and equipment, their advanced weaponry and their single-minded dedication to duty and honour.

  One of them, Kaagh the Slayer, was slightly ahead of the others. Over his helmet comms, he could hear the hundreds of commands being relayed throughout the Flagship, his devious brain equipped to filter out irrelevant background chatter and focus on the orders and information that mattered. He could hear the voice of his General giving the final command to destroy Earth. Then the SAS team would land, destroy any survivors, and utilise any technology that might be of use to the Empire in their war against the Rutan host.

  Not that Earth was likely to have anything to offer. It was a primitive, backward planet, slowly destroying itself with its nuclear power, and its gas emissions eradicating its protective shield that kept out the harmful radiation from its sun, wiping out a species of flora or fauna every ten minutes. What a ridiculous planet. What pathetic excuses for life these humans were!

  A message came over from Commander Tarx — he was heading to the northern hemisphere of Earth. Commander Lohr confirmed he was heading southwards — and Kaagh was about to confirm to them that he would head for the central median when General Staals’ voice broke through the comms. He was talking to a human… no he was talking to that other alien from Earth. The Time Lord! He was aboard the Flagship, making empty threats. Kaagh could hear the laughter in his General’s voice — the Doctor was too enfeebled, too co
wardly to do anything to the Glorious Tenth Battle Fleet and —

  Kaagh’s pod shook violently and he was aware of a confused cry from Tarx and then his compatriots pod vanished from the navicom read-outs. Lohr was cursing, and Kaagh punched up a viewscreen monitor and saw Lohr’s pod blossom suddenly into a cloud of flame that extinguished in the vacuum of space as rapidly as it had exploded.

  The Flagship was erupting in flame and debris, too. The Doctor had done it! He had somehow beaten the might of General Staal and as the concussive wave from the exploding Flagship smashed into Kaagh’s pod, he waited the split second for his own death.

  But it never came. Instead, like a small stone caught on the edge of a wave, his pod was flipped over and over, spun off course and sent tumbling through space until it connected with Earth’s atmosphere. Kaagh had only a moment to glance at his monitor screen and to see the utter destruction of every other Sontaran in the fleet before his equipment exploded around him. The screen shattered, and his controls sparked and erupted into plumes of savage flame.

  Kaagh was battered from side to side, his powerful muscular body protected by his battle armour, until a sudden jolt caused his limbs to thrash violently aside, hitting the arm controller pad which activated his stealth helmet. It armadilloed back on itself, leaving his face bare against the flames and debris. A huge slice of white hot metal scored a gash across his left hand, spraying green blood across the cabin. Then a sheet of jagged plastic ripped across Kaagh’s face, tearing a slash down from above his right eye all the way to his screaming mouth.

  But somehow Kaagh found he could bear the pain, could bear the torture, because it fuelled his overwhelming desire for revenge.

  This planet and its Doctor had given Sontar a terrible shaming defeat and as its last survivor, it was Kaagh’s duty to survive. To reclaim the honour of the Tenth Battle Fleets name. And to destroy this planet by himself.

  No more Kaagh the Slayer. Now he would have to become Kaagh the Avenger. And ultimately Kaagh the Destroyer! His name would be sung in battle chants across the Empire!

  He was still thinking about this as his pod crashed into planet Earth, bouncing and then rolling through trees and bracken, leaving a massive scorched trail in its wake.

  Screaming in rage and pain, Kaagh activated his door control and threw himself out into the cold air of Earth.

  Kaagh could taste black oily mucus in his mouth; the nutrients that fed his cloned body were in short supply, and his probic energy feeder aboard the pod was damaged.

  But that was salvageable. All things could be dealt with.

  Because he was a Sontaran Warrior, out for revenge.

  Sontar-ha!

  Chapter Two

  Pressure point

  As the months went by, the people started to forget those terrifying hours under the ATMOS gas. And although briefly, cycling and walking came right back into fashion, it wasn’t long before driving cars, albeit without ATMOS systems, became the norm again.

  One thing that was never really normal though was the sense of fun, adventure and excitement in Sarah Jane Smith’s attic.

  It was a Friday night, and the attic was full of hustle, bustle and quite a few balloons, party streamers and fairy lights. Clyde was draping the last of those around Mr Smith’s screen, while Luke was having a sneaky glass of lemonade, hoping no one would notice him starting early.

  Sarah Jane and Maria were, quite sensibly, leaving the boys to do the hard work and instead stood at the stained glass window, looking up at the stars.

  ‘I’ve always loved the night sky,’ Sarah Jane was saying, an arm round Maria’s shoulders. ‘As a child I would lie in bed gazing out of my window, and fall asleep counting the stars. And then I’d dream about what might be out there.’ She smiled at Maria. ‘But I never dreamed that one day I’d find out. I mean, how could I possibly imagine everything that I would see?’

  Maria knew Sarah Jane was referring to her journeys with the Doctor. She’d heard a lot about him from Sarah Jane, and from Luke who’d actually spoken to him recently during that awful Dalek incident.

  ‘Everything we would see,’ Sarah Jane corrected herself, and Maria was glad to be included.

  She thought of exactly what that had meant — Bane, Slitheen, Arcateenians, Gorgons, Verrons, the Graske… it was a long list. ‘When I moved into Bannerman Road, I thought creatures like that were just stories. But now I know differently. It’s amazing, Sarah Jane. Thank you.’

  Sarah Jane grinned at her. ‘Oh, there’s so much still to discover.’

  ‘Mum?’

  They turned to see Luke. He wore a party hat slightly skew-whiff on his mop of untidy brown hair, his blue eyes glittering with excitement, and was carrying a tray of glasses full of lemonade. Clyde also had a party hat on at an angle, but Maria suspected this was deliberate — Clyde was always good at irony.

  ‘I think we’re ready,’ Luke smiled.

  ‘What d’you reckon?’ Clyde waved a hand around. ‘Party time or what?’

  Over the top didn’t begin to describe the state of the attic — if there was an inch of space not covered with party paraphernalia, Maria couldn’t see it.

  Sarah Jane was laughing and hugging Luke as he passed Maria a drink.

  Mr Smith’s voice boomed out. ‘The Rylixian Festival is an ancient tradition, celebrated across the galaxies for millennia.’ Then there was a pause before he added: ‘But normally with rather fewer balloons.’

  There was a knock on the attic door and Alan Jackson walked in. He, too, had a hat on, but he also carried a massive chocolate cake. ‘If we’re having a party,’ he said, grinning at the assembled group, ‘we have to have a cake.’ He glanced at Sarah Jane. ‘They do that, don’t they? In outer space?’

  Sarah Jane nodded and laughed. ‘Oh, cake. It’s universal.’

  ‘And what is it we’re celebrating again?’ he asked, settling the cake down, and waving Clyde’s greedy fingers away.

  ‘Us,’ Sarah Jane said, putting an arm around Clyde as well as Luke. ‘Friends. The Rylixian Festival is the one day of the cosmic year — that’s about once every generation in our time — when planets across four hundred and eighty-two recognised galaxies celebrate life itself. The simple joy of living and love for your fellow beings — whatever planet they come from, however many heads.’

  ‘So,’ Luke asked, ‘does that mean we won’t get invaded today?’

  ‘Nope,’ Sarah Jane said. ‘Not today. Today, we eat cake with friends and thank them for everything they have brought into our lives.’ She was looking straight at Maria now. ‘And for always being there, no matter what.’ She looked back at her son. ‘And as for tomorrow, well, that’s another story.’

  The Tycho Project, named after the sixteenth century Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe, was housed in a small set of compact buildings, snuggled away from prying eyes in a small clearing surrounded by dense woodland. On top of the main building was a vast radio telescope, slowly rotating, its antenna always listening out for communications from beyond the stars.

  It was normally run by a small team of astronomers, technicians and cartographers, but in evenings and weekends, a skeleton staff of two tended to man the place.

  Tonight, it was the Project’s director, Professor Nicholas Skinner’s turn to watch the skies, aided and abetted by his sixteen year old daughter, Lucy.

  Lucy loved being there with her dad — although she wasn’t enormously interested in astronomy, much to her dad’s disappointment. Lucy was actually caught in a bit of a battle — between her divorced parents, who, she felt, rather used her as a chess piece in their own interminable arguments. But Lucy was wise for her years and knew better than to get involved. She loved both of them very much and while understanding that they needed to not be together, she was determined never to take sides. Tonight, it was her beloved father’s turn to be moaning. Something along the lines of why wouldn’t Lucy want to go into astronomy? And Lucy would point out she could be a chemist, like her
mum, to which he’d say something about microscopes, and chemists smelling of formaldehyde and that astronomy was the rock ‘n’ roll of science. Of course, when Lucy was with her mum, her mum would say that all astronomers did was play I-Spy with the night sky and that chemistry was where real science was practised.

  For herself, Lucy was quite interested in computer science, but in all honesty, she’d rather be an artist or a pop singer and to that end, right now, she was using the really rather sophisticated computer system at the Tycho Project to download swathes of music to transfer onto her MP3 player.

  ‘I know it’s a radio telescope,’ her dad said suddenly, tugging an earphone out of Lucy’s left ear, ‘but that’s not really the kind of thing we tune into here.’

  ‘Sorry dad,’ she smiled.

  He winked at her and gave her music a listen, then stepped back, shaking his head. ‘I remember when music was real music,’ he said, as he wandered back to his cold tea and computer monitors. ‘When people played instruments like guitars and drums.’

  Lucy mouthed the last phrase along in time with him, because it wasn’t the first time he said it.

  ‘And I can see you reflected in the computer screen, young lady,’ he laughed. Then he was serious. ‘Okay, we’ll be coming up on Rigel Beta-Five in thirty seconds.’

  Together they counted down the seconds, as the huge screen at the far end of the room, which took up the entire wall, filled with the colourful views of a star cluster, breath taking in its beauty.

  And as they reached ten seconds, the picture broke up into wavy lines and static. Professor Skinner started tapping away on a keyboard, then another, muttering that he hadn’t even seen anything like this before. He jabbed a finger at the screen. ‘That’s a cyclic wave pattern… not background cosmic radiation.’ He looked at Lucy, but she knew he wasn’t really addressing her. He was trying to work things out in his dad-way. ‘It’s got a regular signature so… it’s intelligent.’ Then he stood up. ‘Of course!’

  And before Lucy could say a word he was belting out of the room and down the corridor towards the doors to the outside world.