Doctor Who: The Devil Goblins From Neptune (8 page)

The Doctor estimated that he had been in the van for ninety minutes when it finally stopped. As the doors were opened a variety of smells hit him all at once.' the vague salty tang of a none-too-distant coast, the much more pungent odour of manure and hay. 'Lovely day for a drive in the country,' he said brightly as he was half dragged and half pushed from the van.

Hitting the ground, his cramped legs gave away beneath him and he found himself lying on his side on a dampish patch of grass. Then he was abruptly pulled to his feet and, without warning, the blindfold was ripped from his face. The sunlight momentarily overwhelmed him and he sank to his knees even before the rifle butt slammed into his midriff.

'This is correct use of protocol, yes?' asked a male voice in halting English. The Doctor, winded and in terrible pain, couldn't answer, but thought he heard the man cry out during the pause for a reply. The next voice he heard was the woman's again, and it rang out as clear as a bell.

'You are my prisoner,' she stated, then adding, as much, the Doctor suspected, for the men's benefit as for his own,

'You are being treated with the dignity that befits a soldier of the United Nations Intelligence Task Force. If you are mistreated, I will have the man who abuses you shot. Am I understood?'

'I am...' the Doctor began, but he was unable to finish his sentence.

'I know your rank and designation, Doctor. Please do not insult my gathered information with lies.' She snapped her fingers just as the Doctor was recovering enough of his sight to stare at an attractive woman in camouflage fatigues. 'Take him inside'

The Doctor found himself being marched into what seemed to be a ramshackle abandoned cottage or farmhouse. He was taken into the kitchen, pushed into the corner of the room, and told to sit. With his hands still firmly bound behind his back, the Doctor complied and allowed himself to become accustomed to his surroundings. There were two doors of solid oak, the Doctor guessing that one must lead to a pantry. A guard was on permanent duty behind the other, through which he had been brought. Although shut, there was a window high up in the door which allowed the Doctor to observe events.

He counted some three or four soldiers in addition to the three men who had captured him at the club. All came along at varying intervals to check on him, although rarely did they bother to open the door. There was always at least one soldier stationed there, his head just visible through the pane of glass. The Doctor saw nothing further of the woman, although at one point he heard her raised voice, shouting instructions in some other part of the building.

The Doctor watched the shadows lengthening across the wooden floor, all the time turning over what little information he had on his captors and location.

He glanced up and listened intently as another soldier conversed with the guard at the doorway. He caught only six or seven words from a long back-and-forth discussion in hushed whispers, but it was enough to tell him that the Soviets were waiting for nightfall, and that a light aircraft was on its way. The last time the Doctor had visited Russia, he had been a hero of the October Revolution. Now, it seemed, he was to be flown in, secretly and in chains, to an uncertain fate.

The Doctor leant forward, relaxing the muscles in his arms, just as Erich Weiss had shown him all those years ago.

He felt the coarse rope shift slightly, but still wasn't sure he would be able to get free. He glanced around the room, taking in the bare walls, the low stainless-steel sink and broken pine dresser. Perhaps if he could get to the sink and soak the ropes... No, that was sure to attract the attention of the soldier behind the closed door.

The Doctor clambered to his feet. 'Just stretching my legs, old chap,' he announced loudly. 'Pins and needles, you know.'

The soldier grunted and turned his head away.

The Doctor had noticed a number of rough metal nails in the walls, bright patches of plaster indicating the former position of hanging pictures and ornaments. If there was one down at his level he could use it to saw through his bonds.

He walked carefully along the wall, feeling with his hands.

Eventually he found a nail, somewhere towards the centre of his back. He had to raise his hands uncomfortably, but this seemed to be his best hope of freedom. The nail was securely fixed, and within moments the individual strands of rope were becoming frayed.

The soldier looked in a few moments later; the Doctor immediately glanced away, lowering his arms and yawning extravagantly. The man turned around, and soon the Doctor was working at the rope once more. At times the iron nail seemed to be making a better job of cutting the Doctor's wrists than his bindings, but eventually one link of the rope gave way. The Doctor immediately returned to the corner where he had been bundled originally, and called out to his guard. 'I say, how about some food? I wasn't able to dine at the club. I'm feeling a trifle peckish. Some cheese, perhaps. A little Brie would do nicely.'

The soldier considered, and vanished from sight, but was back at his position moments after barking out some orders.

Eventually a second soldier came into view, and the door opened. He entered the room, carrying a tin plate. He watched the Doctor intently, placing the food on the floor.

Then he came over to the Doctor, bending down to untie his bonds.

The Doctor thrust his elbow into the man's face, catching him completely by surprise. As the soldier crumpled to the floor the Doctor flew across the room, kicking at the door. It smashed open, flinging the other guard to the ground.

The featureless hallway was deserted. It terminated in an open door, which led to a lean-to greenhouse. Shadows were lengthening in the garden beyond as twilight approached. He risked a glance behind, saw one of the guards simultaneously shouting a warning and preparing to the fire his rifle. The Doctor dived for the door, trying to close it as he passed, just as the first shot was fired. He felt a stinging pain in his side, which knocked him off balance, but his momentum carried him forward.

He threw himself at the panes of glass, rolling into a ball in midair. The greenhouse walls exploded around him, blotting out the percussive thuds of bullets behind him.

The Doctor hit the ground running despite the pain in his side, and found himself on a lawn of ragged grass, now illuminated as all the lights in the farmhouse came on. In front of him was a garden wall, with a lane just beyond.

The Doctor swerved as best he could to avoid the gunfire, then threw himself over the low stone wall. He risked a backward glance - saw the Soviet soldiers spilling out from the remains of the greenhouse - then sprinted across the lane, vaulting a gate into a field. He could hear the sounds of the soldiers coming after him.

'Please be seated, gentlemen,' said the Brigadier, striding into the vast conference room.

Captain Yates and Bruce Davis exchanged glances as they sat in two of the twenty-five available chairs.

'As you are no doubt aware, the Doctor is missing. We therefore must presume that he has been abducted. The question is, what are we going to do about it?'

Yates cleared his throat. 'I was hoping you were going to tell us that, sir.'

'I think, Captain, that we might start by considering the future of that nincompoop you suggested for the surveillance mission' 'Boggs was trying his best, sir.'

—Trying his best"?' exploded the Brigadier. 'Captain Yates, my grandmother could have done a better job. And she's been dead since 1955.'

'Sir,' said Bruce, 'I realise I'm only an observer at the moment...' His voice trailed away.

'That's quite all right,' said Lethbridge-Stewart. 'Your input would be appreciated'

'Well, sir,' continued Bruce, 'it seems to me that our options are limited. We have no information to go on, no reason to expect anything as mundane as a ransom note.

Can we not inform the airports and put up some road blocks?'

'My thoughts exactly,' said the Brigadier. 'Unfortunately, we don't have anything like enough information to warrant a Green Door alert.'

'Then it looks like we're just going to have to wait and see what happens,' said Bruce, a wry smile on his face.

The Doctor did not allow himself the luxury of slowing down until he knew he was clear of the farmhouse and the Soviet soldiers. Only then did the pain from his wound wash over him. He located the point where the bullet had clipped him, concluded that there was no real damage - but his hand came away stained with blood just the same.

The stars overhead were untouched by cloud, and the temperature had dropped alarmingly. The cold was keeping him clear-headed, for the moment, but he knew he must get back to civilisation soon. The Doctor paused again, listening intently. A fox yelped somewhere in a field, but beyond that it was completely silent. Except... Yes, just the merest hint of traffic, a swish of rubber on tarmac. Very distant, but still his best hope. Not a busy road by any stretch of the imagination

- especially not at this time of night - but the Doctor counted about a car every five minutes as he strode purposefully towards it.

He moved across the fields towards a lane, and then followed that to a junction with the main road. It was just as quiet and desolate as he'd feared. If he started walking - he glanced swiftly overhead, establishing which direction would be best - then he assumed that someone would eventually find him.

The first five cars to pass him didn't even slow down -

one gleaming Jaguar even seemed intent on running the Doctor off the road - but the sixth driver at least had the courtesy to slow a little before deciding against giving him a lift. Encouraged by this slight sign of interest, the Doctor gestured with his thumb enthusiastically when the next vehicle passed. It was a clapped-out old Volkswagen van, its pockmarked, rust-etched surface covered with poorly painted flowers against a purple starscape. It screeched to a halt, then backed up at such alarming speed that the Doctor began to fear for his life. The brakes slammed on again just in time. The passenger door flew open. 'Get in, man.' came the strangled-sounding voice from the front.

The Doctor hauled himself into position with his most winning smile fixed to his face, but found he had little need to impress.

'Wow, man,' said the hippie at the wheel, staring at the Doctor's clothing. 'Dig the groovy gear.'

The Doctor smiled and thanked the man profusely, pulling the door shut. Next to him, on the double-sized passenger seat, was a young pregnant woman who wore similar beads and loose clothes to those of the driver. Both seemed happy to see him - the woman immediately started talking, as if they were long-lost friends - and the Doctor's relief at getting out of the cold was genuine.

'So, you're coming back from the specially extended happening, too?' asked the woman, cranking up the van's heater another notch.

The Doctor smiled. 'Let me put it this way - I had quite an experience today'

'Far out sighed the girl. 'Good to see the breadheads didn't win out today. Why shouldn't Rose do what he wants on his land?' 'Absolutely.' The Doctor nodded. 'Decent enough chap, Rose.' 'That's what they reckon,' said the driver.

The young woman noticed the red patch on the Doctor's jacket for the first time. 'Hey, man, are you all right?'

'Oh, don't worry about that,' replied the Doctor. 'I just caught myself on some barbed wire, that's all.'

'Bad karma,' replied the driver. 'Man, me and my chick were at Tamworth for the Byrds. It was heavy.' wire everywhere. Too many day-trippers. We had to blow the scene, the vibes were wrong.

The girl rummaged in the pockets of her kaftan. 'Smoke?'

'No, thank you, my dear. I've had quite enough excitement for one day.' The Doctor held his hands in front of one of the warm air vents. 'Tell me, did you see the lights in the sky on Thursday night?'

The couple both grinned like children, nodding furiously.

'It was, like, so together,' said the driver, tapping with the wheel to a half-remembered beat. The lights were groovy stars, all dancing their thing.'

'Really. And did these "stars" fall to Earth?'

'Yeah,' said the woman. 'Right at the end. They came down in the sea.'

'They?'

'The dwellers in the celestial temple, man,' said the driver, smiling, as if stating the obvious. 'They wanted to communicate.'

'Talking of which,' said the Doctor brightly, 'I see from that sign there's a phone box coming up. I'd be most grateful if you could just pull up over there and allow me to contact my friends.'

'Sure,' said the man. 'Whatever you want.'

The Doctor waited by the phone box, somewhat anxiously eyeing his new friends. He still hadn't told them whom he'd phoned, or the nature of the help they were able to offer, and was unsure how they'd react when the Brigadier steamed into view. He'd suggested that they leave him, but some misguided loyalty ('Just to see you're OK, man') kept them with him.

A rusting old van, a phone box in some benighted lay-by, two charming but ultimately rather irritating hippies. The perfect tableau with which to end a frustrating couple of days, thought the Doctor rather sourly.

Sometime later a convoy of jeeps and APCs appeared.

The Brigadier stood in the front of the lead vehicle, swagger stick under his arm. Even from a distance the Doctor could see the man's moustache bristling.

The Doctor risked a sideways glance at the couple. They seemed frightened now, rabbits before headlights, considering a break for freedom but impotent before a greater power. 'There's nothing to worry about,' counselled the Doctor.

The man turned on the Doctor in a sudden rush of bravery. 'You never said you were with the pigs, man. We've only got our stash; you can't bust us for that.'

'They're soldiers,' muttered the girl in wide-eyed awe.

'Just pigs in different hats,' spat the man. He hadn't turned his gaze away from the Doctor; his anger was accusatory. 'And we tried to help you.'

'I'm really very grateful,' said the Doctor. 'All they'll be interested in is the "stars" that you saw at the concert.