‘I certainly have,’ said the Doctor. He stood tied to a post against a wall at the back of the château. ‘J demand the right of appeal. I demand to see a lawyer I demand the help of a defending officer—’ ‘If you have nothing to say by way of apology for your crime,’ Captain Ransom broke in, ‘we shall proceed.’ With no more ado he tied a blindfold across the Doctor’s eyes and marched away from his protesting prisoner. ‘You can’t do this!’ Zoe screamed from where she was held by a sentry. ‘This is murder!’ Captain Ransom turned to her. ‘War is murder.’ For a moment she felt he was speaking his own mind, was no longer a puppet of the strange General Smythe. ‘You know this is all wrong,’ she said, her voice as calm as she could make it. ‘You know this is wrong.’ ‘I know...’ The Captain faltered. He seemed about to say something else when a sergeant barked at him. ‘Firing party ready, sir.’ Twelve armed soldiers had lined up. Captain Ransom looked at them, confusion in his eyes.
