Doctor Who: The Invasion (10 page)

The Major-General nodded, croaking an indistinct confirmation.

'Excellent,' Vaughn replied, suddenly hardening his tone. 'Now listen to me. Your UNIT friends have been causing me considerable aggravation. They must be stopped at once. Do you understand?'

Routledge licked his pale lips and twisted his trembling hands together. 'I... I understand,' he mumbled after a pause. 'They must be stopped.'

Vaughn's eyes stared unblinkingly into his. 'There must be no more interference.'

'No more interference,' Routledge echoed meekly in a dreamy, mechanical voice. 'I shall deal with it at once.'

Vaughn smiled bleakly. 'Good fellow. I know I can rely on you,' he said with measured significance.

The screen went black and Routledge sat quite still staring at it for several minutes:Then he winced and sank his head into his hands and shuddered, slowly massaging his temples as if to rid himself of a violent headache. Eventually he gazed back at the screen again, his eyes glazed and lifeless. 'Yes. I understand,' he repeated, wiping his cold clammy forehead with his sleeve. 'UNIT must be stopped.'

The Brigadier was just cancelling the alert when Captain Turner ushered the exhausted Doctor and Jamie and their two rescued friends into the Hercules Operations Room.

'All Red Sector groups stand down and stand by,' he ordered briskly.

Then he jumped up to greet them heartily.

'Mission accomplished, sir,' Turner reported laconically.

'No casualities, jimmy?'

'None, sir. Fortunately Vaughn's jackboot brigade can't shoot for toffee.'

'Splendid!' breezed Lethbridge-Stewart, gesturing towards the welcoming tray of mugs of steaming tea and generously-filled sandwiches which an orderly was just bringing in.

Jamie grabbed a doorstep sandwich and started munching avidly. 'Aye, splendid. A simple rescue operation!' he muttered through his mouthful, glancing ironically at the Doctor who was nibbling thoughtfully on a more modest portion.

'But what about my uncle? He's still a prisoner,' Isobel pointed out anxiously, accepting a brimming mug of tea from Captain Turner.

'Don't worry, miss, I'm going to raise hell about this business and get some prompt action, I can tell you,' the Brigadier promised.

'If you'd had your camera with you, Isobel, you could have made a fortune with the pictures,' Zoe mused, sipping her tea gratefully.

'Yes. Pity, that would've clinched things as far as the Ministry is concerned,' agreed Turner.

The Brigadier frowned. 'Billy Routledge will have to take some action now. Not even Tobias Vaughn can get away with shooting at UNIT personnel,' he declared, indignantly stirring a heap of sugar into his tea.

The Doctor had not said a word. They all turned to him as he sat hunched over his untasted tea, chewing absently and staring into thin air.

Eventually Zoe broke the silence. 'What's the matter, Doctor?'

'Mmmm?' mumbled the Doctor distantly, still staring into space. 'Oh, I was just wondering, Zoe... That object we saw on the other side of the Moon this morning...'

Isobel exchanged looks of astonishment with the Captain and the Brigadier.

'Other side of the Moon?' spluttered the Brigadier, wiping his moustache.

'The TARDIS went wrong and we got stuck,' Jamie explained.

'And they fired a missile of some kind at us,' Zoe added.

'Who did?' demanded Captain Turner incredulously. 'Whoever it was in that spacecraft behind the Moon,' Zoe told him with patient emphasis.

'Spaceships behind the Moon?' exploded the Brigadier, blowing crumbs in all directions.

The Doctor gazed around the assembled throng of sceptical faces. 'There appears to be some kind of deep-space communications installation at Vaughn's factory complex...' he revealed quietly. 'And I am beginning to wonder...'

The Brigadier looked extremely disturbed at this revelation and he waited impatiently for the Doctor to continue.

Then Turner suddenly leaned over to his commanding officer.

'Sir, I know it sounds silly, but could those recent UFO reports have anything to do with all this?'

'Flying saucers?' Isobel exclaimed excitedly, nudging Zoe.

'Golly, what a scoop!'

The Doctor held up his hand for silence. 'Are there by any chance any photographs of the UFO sightings, Brigadier?' he asked eagerly.

'We've got quite a few in the files,' Lethbridge-Stewart replied, more worried than ever. 'Jimmy, would you fetch them?'

As the Captain hurried out, the Doctor dipped the remains of his sandwich into his neglected tea. 'Unidentified Flying Objects...'

he ruminated, biting into the soggy mess, his eyes widening and his nostrils flaring with anticipation. 'Why didn't I think of that before...?'

Professor Watkins was in a state of nervous anxiety when Packer thrust him into Vaughn's office.

'What was all that shooting? Where is my niece? If you've hurt one hair of her head, Vaughn...' he babbled shrilly, blinking myopically at his tormentors.

'I assure you that Isobel is perfectly safe,' Vaughn purred blandly. 'At the moment anyway.'

Watkins struggled feebly in Packer's restraining grasp. 'I demand to see her!' he shouted.

Vaughn nodded and smiled. 'And so you shall, Professor. Just as soon as your machine is completed to my satisfaction.'

Watkins peered at him suspiciously. 'Why am I being taken back to London?'

Vaughn patted his arm affably. 'I am assigning Mr Gregory to work with you, Professor. You deserve some assistance with such an important assignment.'

'I don't need any assistance,' Watkins panted breathlessly.

'On the contrary,' Vaughn retorted calmly, 'you will have only twenty-four hours in which to complete the device to my specifications.'

The Professor shook his head violently. 'Never! Never!' he vowed defiantly.

Packer bent the Professor's podgy arm up behind his back and Watkins's plump body contorted with pain.

'If you cooperate, your niece will go free,' Vaughn promised.

'Otherwise...' He gestured ominously.

'You expect me to believe that?' Watkins scoffed.

Vaughn pointed to the bank of monitor screens behind his victim. Watkins turned and saw several still images of Isobel's frightened face staring out at him. Then Packer twisted his arm still further and shoved him brutally to his knees. Watkins knelt between them, moaning and whimpering helplessly.

Vaughn shrugged complacently. 'My dear Professor, you have no choice but to believe it,' he murmured silkily, his teeth flashing in the darkening room. He glanced distastefully at Packer but did not reprimand him for his excesses. Then he helped Watkins to his feet and smiled sympathetically. 'Now Professor, do please try and be sensible and do as I ask.'

In the UNIT Operations Room, the Doctor was poring intently over a microfilm viewer, studying a selection of remarkably clear pictures of various strange elongated hexagonal objects arranged in different formations.

The Brigadier peered hopefully over his shoulder.'Mean anything to you, Doctor?' he asked after a prolonged silence.

The Doctor ran the film back and forth several times. 'Possibly, Brigadier. How long ago were these objects first sighted?' he murmured.

'Odd reports have trickled in for over a year, Doctor. We send fighters up to investigate, but no luck. Nothing.'

Captain Turner craned over the Doctor's other shoulder. 'The strange thing is they always seem to disappear somewhere over Northern Essex,' he remarked.

'That's where the International Electromatix rnanufacturing complex is!' Isobel exclaimed.

'Exactly,' said Turner, smiling at her.

The Doctor sat back, rubbing the side of his nose speculatively. 'Jamie, when you were hiding in the crate you said that whatever it was in there moved...'

Jamie shuddered at the vivid memory. 'Aye, Doctor. There's something wrapped up in all that plastic web stuff right enough.'

The Doctor meditated for a moment. 'Did you recognise anything about it, Jamie?'

'Och no, Doctor. It was far too dark and I was too scared,'

Jamie admitted candidly.

The Doctor remained silent for a while, trying to visualise the vague shape they had seen in the crate inside the railway wagon.

'What do you think it was, Doctor?' asked Zoe in a hushed voice, remembering only too well her and Isobel's ordeal in the cramped, stuffy containers.

All at once the Doctor stood up abruptly, startling them. 'I'm not sure, Zoe, but I think we'd better find out as soon as possible.'

Jamie frowned. 'You mean, go back to Vaughn's place?' he cried in disbelief.

'Vaughn's obviously transporting the things from Essex to his London premises. That's where we'll find our answers,' the Doctor declared decisively. He asked the Brigadier if he had a map of the London set-up.

Lethbridge-Stewart looked disapprovingly at the bright-eyed little Time Lord. 'I don't think this is wise, Doctor. You've just been very lucky so far.'

Jamie shoved his thumbs firmly in his belt. 'If you think I'm going back in there...' he snorted.

'We must find out what is in those containers,' the Doctor interrupted brusquely.

In the ensuing silence, Captain Turner pretended not to notice the Brigadier's critical gaze and he went over and selected a plastic map sheet from a rack beside the Situation Map. 'Here you are, Doctor, this shows the entire area in detail,' he said, handing it to the Doctor.

The Doctor beamed. 'Thank you, Captain.' He grinned at the Brigadier. 'Your staff are invaluable. Most efficient.' Then he began to examine the map carefully.

Slowly Jamie drew his thumbs out of his belt. Then he got up and went over to the Doctor. 'Och, we canna get in the same way again. They're sure to be on the lookout,' he muttered, becoming absorbed in the map.

The Doctor smiled secretively to himself, picked up a pen and started drawing on the back of his hand, consulting the map from time to time.

The Brigadier cleared his throat guiltily. 'Well, Doctor, anything I can do to help?' he inquired heartily.

The Doctor traced his finger along a thin wavering line on the plastic sheet. 'Yes, Brigadier, there is. Do you think you could possibly obtain a canoe for me?' he requested mysteriously.

An hour later, Jamie was sweating profusely and puffing away as he paddled the small canoe along a bleak stretch of stagnant canal running between tall derelict warehouses. In the stern the Doctor sat steering effortlessly with his paddle. Occasionally Jamie cast a resentful glance over his shoulder, but the Doctor always managed to appear to be doing his fair share of the work at the vital moment, grinning encouragingly at the toiling Scot. Frequently the Doctor studied the rough sketch he had drawn on the back of his hand and he hummed scraps of sea shanties to himself in a tone-deaf groan.

Suddenly they found themselves in pitch darkness as the canal turned sharply and entered a long tunnel.

'Och, are ye sure ye ken where we are?' Jamie demanded doubtfully.

The Doctor hummed a few more bars, enjoying the added resonance the tunnel gave to his voice. 'Of course I do, Jamie. I know these waters like the back of my hand...' he giggled. 'We should be passing underneath Mr Vaughn's railway yards at this very moment.'

Cold, fetid water dripped on them and invisible fronds of clammy weed flapped in their faces from the tunnel roof. Jamie began to regret his decision to accompany the Doctor after all.

When they eventually emerged into the daylight again the Doctor steered towards a worn flight of slimy stone steps. 'These should lead into the back of the warehouse,' he whispered. 'Don't make a sound, Jamie.'

They tethered the canoe and cautiously climbed the treacherously slippery steps. Sure enough, they soon found themselves in a rubble-strewn yard behind the warehouse buildings.

Two security guards with gauntlets and visors were visible in the distance where the railway lines entered the loading bay. Pressing themselves against the corrugated steel wall Jamie and the Doctor crouched down and made their way warily along the back of the huge warehouse, hoping that nobody would spot them before they managed to find a way inside.

They were lucky. Not far from the corner, they came upon an emergency exit. One of the doors was slightly ajar and by contorting his arm, Jamie was able to reach through the gap and jiggle the jammed releasing bar until it eventually freed itself. Cautiously he opened the door and they crept stealthily into the warehouse, dragging the door shut behind them.

As they slipped between the stacks of containers, they heard sounds of activity nearby. Creeping noiselessly from stack to stack they took care to avoid the prying electronic scanners ceaselessly panning to.and fro from the roof girders. They soon reached a central area which was relatively clear except for a row of containers standing vertically on end, their lids open to reveal silvery cocoons like the one they had seen in the freight wagon earlier. Two men dressed in heavy protective suits with gloves and darkened visors were manoeuering a bulky apparatus mounted on wheels over to one of the open containers.

The Doctor stared keenly at the machine, the two lines running from his nose to the corners of his mouth deepening with grim concern. The apparatus consisted of a large central assemblage of tubes and wires topped by a curious corkscrew antenna; two thick umbilical cables led from the heart of the machine, ending in large crocodile clip connectors.

'Oh my goodness me,' the Doctor murmured, 'I was right.'

'What is it?' Jamie whispered.

'It looks like a multiphase bioprojector to me, Jamie.'

Jamie nodded, as if he were perfectly familiar with such things.

The two operatives had finished attaching the ends of the cables to the centre of the cocoon and they retreated behind a glass screen fitted to the apparatus and busied themselves with the complex array of controls and instruments. The antenna started rotating faster and faster, like a gigantic drill-bit. A low-pitched hum gradually filled the vast echoing building and rose relentlessly in pitch and intensity. A faint glow appeared inside the cocoon, growing stronger as the hum increased.