Doctor Who: The Green Death (3 page)

‘No, I didn’t,’ said the young man. ‘How should I know if you don’t tell me?’

‘Well, I’m telling you!’

He stopped his work and looked at her, weighing her up. ‘Know anything about entomology?’

‘Insects? Yes, a little.’

‘Then tell me,’ said the young man, ‘what’s got twenty legs, a yellow body about two inches long and big red pincers on the front end?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ Jo answered.

‘Pity,’ said the young man, ‘because there’s one crawling up your left leg.’

Jo gave a screech, and brushed at her leg. But there was no insect. The young man had been joking. ‘That wasn’t very funny,’ said Jo.

‘It was from where I’m standing,’ the man assured her. ‘Why do you want to help this Professor Jones fellow?’

‘I’d like to put a spanner in Panorama Chemicals’ works.’

‘I see,’ said the man. ‘Ever gone to bed hungry?’

‘Not that I can remember. Why, is there nothing to eat in this house?’

The young man didn’t answer the question, but continued with his own train of thought. ‘Every night millions of people in the world go to sleep hungry. And those of us who do have enough food are starved of everything else a man needs to live like a man—‘

Jo couldn’t resist butting in. ‘Do you always use the word “man” when you mean “human being”?’

The young man laughed. ‘Oh, very good! After that, you’ll never believe that I support women’s liberation, will you? But please try to pardon a slip of the tongue.’

‘Thank you,’ said Jo. ‘Now please continue.’

‘Here at Wholeweal we’re trying to find out how to live in a different way. We want to be human beings again—not slaves of machines and industry and finance.’

‘Do you want a world without any machines at all?’ asked Jo.

‘That would be stupid,’ said the young man. ‘What matters is the type of machines we use.’

‘What’s your solution?’

‘Solar energy,’ he said emphatically. ‘The sun is producing great quantities of energy, and we could use it. Instead, we burn oil one way and another, and pollute the air we breathe. And we could use the movement of the wind and the tides and the rivers. Are you warm enough?’

Jo was surprised at the question. ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Heat from the river,’ he explained. ‘We have a water-wheel in the river at the back of the house. That drives an electrical generator and the electricity keeps the house warm. Alternative technology, you see. No waste. No pollution. Now Panorama Chemicals hope to produce 25% more petrol and diesel fuel from a given quantity of crude oil. But do you realise how they’re going to do that?’

Jo shook her head. ‘Not properly.’

‘The process must be based on Bateson’s polymerisation. And that means thousands of gallons of waste. A thick sludge you can’t break down, like liquid plastic.’ He paused. ‘I think it’s connected with the death of Ted Hughes.’

‘The green man?’ asked Jo. ‘You mean they’ve been pumping this sludge down into the old mine here?’

He nodded. ‘Could be.’

‘That’s terrible,’ said Jo. She looked around the make-shift laboratory. ‘What exactly are you doing in here?’

‘Another side of our work,’ said the young man. ‘Very soon the world’s going to need something to replace meat. A high protein fungus could be the answer.’ He turned to her. ‘Wholeweal isn’t a place for drop-outs, you know.’

‘I didn’t imagine it was,’ she said quickly.

‘I agree that we’ve escaped from the rat race coming here,’ he went on, ‘the city pressures and the foul air. But we are trying to do things that may help the whole world.’

‘This fungus idea,’ said Jo, ‘did Professor Jones think of that?’

‘Professor Jones?’ For a moment the young man seemed puzzled, then he smiled. ‘Oh yes, one of his ideas. You’ve never met him I suppose?’

‘Remember, I’ve only just arrived.’

‘He can be pretty repulsive at times,’ said the young man. ‘Talks a lot about “love thy neighbour” then doesn’t notice the people under his feet. He bites his fingernails and sometimes he just forgets to bath.’

‘He is also a Nobel Prize winner,’ said Jo, defensively, ‘and a very brilliant man.’

‘But he’s only human—or do you regard him as a saint?’

Jo had read so much about the professor, she was affronted by this young man’s remarks. ‘Professor Clifford Jones is just about the most human human being alive today! And I think you’re being very nasty about him.’

The door flew open. A plump woman, aged about thirty, came in and quickly closed the door behind her. ‘Lunch is ready.’ She noticed Jo. ‘Oh, hello.’

‘I’m Jo Grant,’ said Jo.

‘And I’m the girl you spoke to on the phone,’ said the plump woman. She held out her hand. ‘Nancy Banks, but everyone calls me Mum. I hope Cliff hasn’t been talking too much nonsense to you.’

Jo turned in astonishment to the young man. ‘Your name’s Cliff?’

‘At your service,’ said the young man. ‘Professor Clifford Jones.’

Jo’s face filled with anger. ‘And you let me go on saying those things?’

‘They were very complimentary,’ said Jones. ‘It’s nice to be the most human human being.’

While Jo was getting to know Professor Clifford Jones, a half mile away Brigadier Lethbridge Stewart was meeting Dr Thomas Stevens, director of Panorama Chemicals, in his modern air-conditioned office suite. Also present was Mark Elgin, the company’s public relations officer.

‘Security is the main consideration,’ Dr Stevens was saying.

‘Yes, of course,’ agreed the Brigadier without thinking, because it seemed the right thing to say.

‘There are these cranks down the road,’ Dr Stevens went on, ‘Professor Jones and his mob of idiots. Mind you, I recognise that the professor is a very clever young man. He won a Nobel Prize, you know?’ He added this with some pride, as though it reflected on him personally to have such a celebrated enemy. ‘We don’t want him, or his kind, getting anything more about us in the newspapers.’

Mark Elgin spoke up, deferentially. ‘The Minister of Energy has already imposed a D notice, sir.’ D notices are sent to all newspapers, and to television and radio news services, when there is something the Government wants kept secret.

‘That’s come a bit late,’ said Dr Stevens. ‘Still, better late than never!

‘If I may ask,’ said the Brigadier, ‘had the death of the miner any connection with your company’s activities?’

‘I’ve absolutely no idea,’ said Dr Stevens quickly.

Elgin changed the subject, to get away from the death. ‘Brigadier, the Minister said you’d be bringing along some scientific chappie...?’

‘I hoped to,’ said the Brigadier. ‘He’s on leave at the moment. If I may return to the question of the miner, I understand he had turned green...’

Neither Dr Stevens nor Mark Elgin said anything.

‘Is that correct?’ asked the Brigadier.

‘My guess,’ said Elgin, ‘is that the poor man had a heart attack. He wasn’t young, you know.’

‘But why should he be green?’ the Brigadier persisted.

‘Look, Brigadier,’ said Dr Stevens, ‘your job here is to protect our establishment against hot-heads. Isn’t that right?’

The Brigadier did not like being told what his job was. ‘I feel it also my job, Dr Stevens, to find out about this man’s death.’

‘I see.’ Dr Stevens stared out of his plate glass windows at the Welsh mountains in the distance. ‘Then what do you propose to do?’

‘If I may use your phone,’ said the Brigadier, ‘I’d like to see if my “scientific chappie” is back from leave yet.’

‘By all means.’ Dr Stevens pushed a slimline phone across the desk towards the Brigadier. ‘But don’t you know when your own people are supposed to report back for duty?’

The Brigadier started to dial UNIT Headquarters in London. ‘Not with this particular man,’ he said. ‘He tends to take liberties with time.’

Two million light years away, the Doctor stood to catch his breath on a blue rock mountain. He was exhausted, having run to escape from the pecking blue birds and the blue unicorns.

‘Wait till I tell the Time Lords about this,’ he said to himself. ‘It’s the most unfriendly planet I’ve ever visited.’

Then he let out a cry as he felt something stick into his foot. Blue ants an inch long were swarming all over his left foot, digging through the shoe to get at the human flesh beneath. He brushed them off, and started climbing again.

Half an hour later he had reached the top of the little mountain. As far as the eye could see there were small mountain peaks. In some of the valleys were lakes of deep blue water. They looked inviting, but the Doctor by now suspected them all to be filled with flesh-eating blue fish. He turned his attention to a cluster of sapphires embedded in the rock. As he reached out to take one, a shadow fell across him. Looking up he saw the huge talons of a blue eagle descending on him, its great wings flapping. The Doctor grabbed the sapphire, thrust it into his pocket, and ran for his life. The eagle flapped after him, its talons trying to grab at his head or shoulders. The Doctor zig-zagged, out-manoeuvring the big ungainly bird. He saw ahead a forest of blue trees, where the eagle could not follow, and made for it.

In the forest, safe from the eagle, the Doctor leant against a tree to recover his breath. Then he noticed that one of the lower branches of the tree was moving. As he turned to run again, the branch whipped round like a snake, but the Doctor was able to jump free. Still afraid of the eagle hovering outside the forest, he raced through the trees, avoiding the whiplash of living branches. Eventually he was through the forest, and back in the valley where the TARDIS had materialised.

He raced past beds of beautiful blue flowers that turned their gorgeous heads and spat stinging venom. Once more he heard the pounding of hooves, and turned to see at least a hundred blue unicorns charging towards him down a hill. From above came the flapping of the blue eagle’s great wings—it had flown over the forest and was now swooping down with talons outstretched to tear at the Doctor’s head. A violent streak of blue lightning suddenly raced across the sky, followed instantly by torrential blue rain.

All at once the ground beneath the Doctor’s feet turned into wet blue slushy mud. Each step now was a great effort. However, the rain and mud did not slow down the blue unicorns. The leaders of the herd were racing against each other to be the first to drive their ugly twisted horns through the Doctor’s body. Above, the eagle made more determined efforts to grab the Doctor, and a sharp talon split open his soaking wet jacket at the shoulder.

As the Doctor approached the TARDIS he saw squirming blue snakes writhing in the mud around the entrance. Hoping for the best, he took out his key, held it firmly in his hand, and charged straight at the door, aiming the key so that it would go into the lock without fumbling. The key slid in, he turned it, pushed the door open, and fell into the safety of the TARDIS, slamming the door behind him.

‘So much for holidays on Metebelis Three,’ he groaned, panting for breath, his clothes wringing wet. ‘Next time I’ll try Blackpool.’

A few moments later the TARDIS re-materialised in the Doctor’s laboratory at UNIT Headquarters. The door opened and the Doctor tumbled out, his clothes still wet through. He sneezed violently. The telephone started to ring. He lifted the phone.

‘Hello?’

‘Ah, there you are, Doctor.’ It was the Brigadier’s voice. ‘I’m speaking from Llanfairfach. Miss Grant told me that you might be coming down here after all. I’d like you to use the UNIT chopper and get here as quickly as possible.’

‘Are there any unicorns there?’ said the Doctor. He sneezed again.

The Brigadier laughed. ‘I very much doubt it. Is that some little joke of yours, Doctor?’

‘I’m not joking,’ said the Doctor. ‘What about eagles?’

‘Not in Wales,’ replied the Brigadier.

‘What are the flowers like?’

There was a note of reprimand in the Brigadier’s voice. ‘Doctor, the business at hand here is serious. But if you
must
know about the local flora, I did notice a few wild daffodils.’

‘Good,’ said the Doctor. ‘Then I’ll be there straight away!’

The Brigadier replaced Dr Stevens’s slimline telephone. ‘Well, that’s a start. The Doctor is on his way.’

‘The Doctor?’ asked Mark Elgin.

‘My “scientific chappie”, as you call him,’ said the Brigadier.

‘What was all that about daffodils?’ asked Dr Stevens.

‘The Doctor’s a bit of a botanist,’ said the Brigadier, lying quickly to cover his embarrassment. ‘Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take a look at that mine.’

‘As I understand it, Brigadier,’ said Dr Stevens, rising from his chair, ‘your purpose here is to protect the interests of Panorama Chemicals?’

‘And so it is,’ agreed the Brigadier. ‘There’ll be no rabble breaking in to destroy your plant while UNIT’s here. But I think it is also important for me to know more about that mine. So, if you’ll excuse me... ‘ He smiled and made for the door.

‘Of course,’ said Dr Stevens. ‘Mark, show the Brigadier out.’

Elgin opened the door. ‘This way, sir.’

‘Thank you.’

Dr Stevens watched them leave his office. Then he pressed a button on the inter-communication unit on his desk. ‘Send in Hinks at once,’ he said towards the built-in microphone.

While he waited for Hinks to arrive he stood at the window and looked out towards the mountains. Years ago he had enjoyed climbing mountains. But now his family had all deserted him, leaving a gap in his life that could only be filled by work. He was delighted when he was invited to become Director of the main British plant of Panorama Chemicals because he realised this was a job of such size and complexity he would be able to devote night and day to it. What he did not realise was that the job would provide him with the best and most faithful friend he had ever had.

His intercom buzzed and the voice of his secretary, Stella, spoke through the built-in loudspeaker. ‘I’ve located Mr Hinks, sir. He’s on his way to your office.’

‘Thank you,’ Dr Stevens said to the intercom.

He went back to studying the mountains. Maybe, he thought, he should try a little climbing again one day. Unfortunately he would not be able to take his new friend with him. But the exercise might do him good, and he loved the sense of history that emanated from those mountains.