Doctor Who: MacRa Terror

The Doctor had complete and utter faith in the TARDIS, accepting it as almost an extension of his own nervous system. His continued existence in time and Space – and indeed the existence of his small crew – depended on its mechanics, its electronics, and on the very fabric of its structure.

But in the galaxies through which his Ship voyaged there was no way of forecasting the unpredictable. External events could hit the TARDIS, and there would be a split second – a fragment of this ‘time’ in which they travelled – before the Ship’s computers made adjustments. And in that split second they were all vulnerable. That was the moment in which might be glimpsed the unexpected the unexplained – and sometimes it was truly terrifying.

The Doctor himself seemed very little put out. He had seen the vision that had appeared on the screen of the time scanner, filling the entire vision-plate, indistinct and abrupt, before it disappeared, hardly giving one a chance to record the picture, and making memory doubt itself.

In fact, the Doctor continued to play a tuneless jig on his recorder. When Jamie turned to look at him, hoping for some reassurance, the Doctor appeared more interested in his music, as he moved away thoughtfully to check the instruments that now began to indicate the moment of arrival.

None of the others spoke, but Jamie was sure they had all seen that ‘something’ on the screen, for both Ben and Polly looked shaken.

‘What was that?’ asked Ben. His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. The strength seemed to have gone out of him.

But the Doctor heard him from across the deck, for he cheerfully called back in reply: ‘Atmospherics.’

The others looked at him blankly. It didn’t seem to be any sort of an explanation.

The Doctor smiled and busied himself with the indicators. ‘Yes,’ he added. ‘Simple, you know. Atmospherics cause interference. A build-up of forces. Electrical discharges. A thunderstorm. A number of things can cause the normal pattern to be broken, and then a radio signal or a television picture suddenly is broken into, and you get an alien signal. We have checks and balances on board the TARDIS to counter-act such interference, but every now and again a message or picture breaks through from another point in space and we pick it up.’

He went on fussing over the gears, and finely tuned the materialisation. Had the Doctor not seen what they had seen?

‘That was horrible,’ said Polly. She shivered.

Neither of the young men blamed her; her fear was obvious in her eyes.

‘I didn’t see exactly what it was,’ said Jamie.

‘Nor did I.’ Ben nodded. ‘It filled the screen but I couldn’t see its shape.’

‘It was like a... like a huge claw!’ Jamie tried to recall the picture they had seen. ‘But not exactly
real
, not animal. Just a great claw – with nerve ends – like feelers.’

‘There was something about it. It made my skin go cold,’ said Ben.

‘Don’t talk about it,’ Polly whispered. ‘You heard what the Doctor said. It’s probably something that flashed across our screen from millions of miles away. From another time, perhaps.’

The others fell silent. Each in his own way wanted to believe Polly’s explanation, but it was hard, and jamie felt they had better be ready for anything.

The sound of the Ship’s engines took on a new quality, as though they were driving into increased pressure.

‘Here we go!’ sang out the Doctor. ‘Stand by, et cetera, et cetera. Prepare to land, or go ashore.’ He glanced up at the scanner. The outline of a green and wooded landscape loomed up.

The Doctor snapped off the controls before him. He gave an encouraging grin, and waved his recorder towards the screen. ‘We’re there!’

Vision control was automatically programmed to pinpoint items of importance, according to the Doctor’s pre-setting, and the screen revealed a countryside of hills, woods and streams. It reminded them very much of Earth, though it was perhaps a little more primitive. Over the sound system they were surprised to hear music, applause and laughter. The picture on the screen came to a halt, resting on what looked a familiar sight to Ben.

‘What’s that?’ asked Jamie.

‘It’s a holiday camp,’ said Ben. ‘I’ve been to one.’

‘What do you do there?’ asked jamie.

‘Just what it says,’ Ben told him. ‘It’s all fun and games. We went once when I was a kid. I thought it was a lot of fun at the time. There was a band.’

‘Look!’ Polly pointed. ‘There
is
a band!’

It had just come into view on screen. The camera panned upwards from the Drum Majorette’s wellshaped legs to the girl banging the big drum.

She was standing outside an enclosed compound. The gates beside her were wide open. Beyond lay gardens, chalets, swimming pools, sports grounds, with one or two larger buildings in the background.

‘It’s a holiday camp, all right,’ said Ben with growing enthusiasm. ‘We’ve come to the right place.’ Whatever the horror was which they had seen on the TARDIS scanner, Ben had forgotten. ‘Cor!’ he grinned. ‘Takes me back.’

The picture on the scanner changed as vision control panned from the Drum Majorette and her fellow musicians, and focused on the crowd who were looking on with pleasure. Some had begun dancing.

Watching from a short distance away were two men. Unlike the rest of the crowd, they were not dressed in holiday style, but wore a subdued dress that could have been a uniform. One was clearly of importance – a dark, powerful fellow, watching everything. Ben immediately recognised him for what he was.

‘There you are! See them? They always have them in these camps. That’ll be the Commandant. He has to keep the fun going, or the customers will want their money back.’

The Doctor stood silently at their backs. When he spoke it was as though to himself. ‘I shouldn’t wonder if he isn’t called the Pilot of this Colony,’ he said.

‘Colony?’ Ben questioned.

‘Colony, camp, call it what you will,’ said the Doctor. Doubt had vanished from his face, and he was grinning cheerfully again.

‘Okay,’ said Ben. ‘Commandant, Pilot. Anything you like.’

‘They can’t be far away,’ said Polly.

The Doctor made a calculation. ‘Less than a mile.’

‘Let’s see if we can find them,’ she suggested. ‘That looks like fun.’

They turned off the screen and headed for the door. Had they stayed watching for a few moments more they might not have been quite so sure of the welcome they would get.

The Doctor was right. The dark, powerful man was indeed called the Pilot, and by his side was a man, clearly an assistant, whom he addressed as ‘Barney’. They had an amused, almost proprietary look as they watched the band play and the crowd begin to dance.

A carefree holiday air was all around. Dancers, players, officials, all were in a relaxed mood, as though they were enjoying a special occasion – a holiday after a long hard stint of work, the Doctor guessed.

As the band marched to its own music and headed towards the building inside the gates, the Pilot turned to the man beside him and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘A first-rate band you’ve put together there, Barney. Nice rhythm, well rehearsed. Splendid.’

The other man flushed with pleasure. ‘Thank you, Pilot.’

‘I won’t say you’ll come out first at the Festival,’ added the Pilot cautiously. ‘You’ll have pretty good competition. But you’ll do well.’ He lapsed into a number of clichés. ‘Never say die. Nothing succeeds like success. If at first you don’t succeed...’

They were heading back with the crowd towards a tent with a sign saying
Refreshing Department
swinging above the door. The crowd broke into applause as the band swung past, then suddenly, above the music and laughter they could hear a man shouting: ‘Stop him! Don’t let him get out. Stop Medok!’

The Pilot was suddenly concerned. ‘It’s Ola’s voice,’ said Barney.

‘What’s the matter with him?’

‘It sounds like Medok’s giving trouble,’ said Barney. They couldn’t see for the crowd round them.

‘Medok?’

‘Yes. Ola is in charge of him.’

‘Shut the gates! For his own sake, shut the gates!’ someone shouted.

‘That’s Ola, all right,’ said Barney. He ran to the mechanism that controlled the big gates.

At that moment a man burst from the tent ahead of them and raced for the opening.

‘Medok!’ shouted Barney.

The man barged his way through the crowd. Some made a half-hearted attempt to stop him, but he pushed past. Most of the band and dancers got out of his way, and watched him with a mixture of pity and alarm.

‘This is very stupid, Medok,’ called out the Pilot. ‘Whatever is being done is for your own good. You know that!’

He tried to bar the man’s path.

‘Get out of the way!’ There was no doubting Medok’s determination. There was a fanatical look in his eyes. He was running from something he feared. He knocked the Pilot aside and ran for the gates as they were beginning to close.

‘Medok!’ It was a last plea, but the frightened man ignored it. He was out before the gates shut, and headed for the tree-covered slopes.

They watched from the look-out posts as he vanished into the woods. It was dark in the undergrowth ahead, but there was no stopping him.

An alarm bell began ringing, and an alert sounded in the camp. A moment later a squad of men raced to the gate.

The Pilot greeted them sharply. Turning to the officer in charge, he said, ‘Why were you not in readiness, Ola?’

‘We tried to stop him.’ Ola was clearly alarmed by his own failure.

‘You’re Security in this Camp area. You’ll have to go after him,’ the Pilot said grimly. There was a movement of unease. ‘I don’t care where he’s gone. Get going. Bring him back. Medok is too dangerous to be on the loose.’

The Security guards went ahead cautiously. Ola was about to follow.

‘What happened?’ the Pilot asked hirn.

‘It was time for his medication,’ explained Ola. ‘But Medok said he would have no treatment as long as my guards were there. So I dismissed them, and he made a dash for it.’

The Pilot frowned. ‘Get after him. You know the situation. Don’t come back without Medok, or you will be answerable for his escape.’

Ola was white-faced as he hurried after the rest of his guard.

‘This could be bad for all of us,’ said the Pilot as he watched them go.

Medok knew he would be only a few minutes ahead of his hunters, and they would be many. He had to make as much use as possible out of his start. He was a strong man: years of hard work had made him tough, and he went up the slope at speed, through bracken and bushes, crossing boggy ground, leaping dead wood and fallen branches. These were forests no one carne to, and for very good reason, Medok thought grimly to himself. Even now he feared what he might see through the trees. But he told himself he would be in no danger here – at least not until night – and a pale sun still glinted through leaves.

But he knew the guards – those blind, stupid Security guards who didn’t believe a word he had told them – they would soon be after him. And the appalling thing was they thought he was mad, that they were protecting him from himself. He cursed them under his breath as he heard them shouting to one another, hacking their way through the undergrowth. He would not be hard to follow: his tracks would be there for all to see. He could hear a stream ahead, and when he carne to it, he went downstream for a a hundred yards before he crossed over. They might lose him there for a bit. But he knew in his heart that it was only a matter of time. The best he could hope was to delay capture.

At the foot of the hill he could see open country, and decided to make for it. There would be less chance of leaving tracks out there.

He went down the slope. Not far behind the guards were now coming on at a run. From time to time they shouted out his name. What the devil did they expect? He would give himself up? Go back into that treatment room? Have the truth slowly destroyed in his mind? However horrible it was, Medok was determined to keep that truth alive. Perhaps he was the only man in this world who knew the truth – though he didn’t fully understand it. But he was sure that what he had told the Pilot – told the Security guards, told everyone who would listen, in fact – he was sure that
was
the truth. And unless he could get his fellows to listen and understand, then they would be doomed as he would be doomed to a terrible life forever, and for some horrible, unknown purpose.

He scrambled over rocks to the edge of the trees, and was about to burst from cover when he halted in his tracks.

Ahead of him was an extraordinary-looking construction, a sort of small, upright hut. He’d never seen anything like it before. He couldn’t think what it meant. Was it a trap? He didn’t have long to make up his mind. The guards would be all round him in a couple of minutes.