Inferno is the name of a top-secret project to penetrate the
Earth’s crust and release a major new energy source.
A crisis develops when a noxious liquid leaks out as
drilling progresses - the green poison has a grotesquely
debilitating effect on human beings.
As the Earth’s plight worsens, the Doctor is trapped in a
parallel world, unable to rescue the planet and its
inhabitants from the destructive force of Inferno...

ISBN 0 426 19617 1
          DOCTOR WHO
            INFERNO

Based on the BBC television serial by Don Houghton by
arrangement with the British Broadcasting Corporation




           TERRANCE DICKS


                    Number 89
                       in the
                Doctor Who Library




                 A TARGET BOOK
                    published by
              The Paperback Division of
               W. H. Allen & Co. PLC
                        A Target Book
                      Published in 1984
                by the Paperback Division of
                   W.H. Allen & Co. PLC
              44 Hill Street, London W1X 8LB

             First published in Great Britain by
                W.H. Allen & Co. PLC 1984

      Novelisation copyright © Terrance Dicks 1984
     Original script copyright © Don Houghton 1970
   ‘Doctor Who’ series copyright © British Broadcasting
                  Corporation 1970, 1984

         Printed and bound in Great Britain by
       Hunt Barnard Printing Ltd, Aylesbury, Bucks.

                     ISBN 0 426 19617 1

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by
   way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or
otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in
 any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is
  published and without a similar condition including this
   condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
CONTENTS

1 Project Inferno
2 The Beast
3 Mutant
4 The Slime
5 Dimension of Terror
6 The Nightmare
7 Death Sentence
8 Countdown to Doom
9 Penetration-Zero
10 The Monsters
11 Escape Plan
12 Doomsday
13 Return to Danger
14 The Last Mutation
15 The Doctor Takes a Trip
                           1
                    Project Inferno
      It was the greatest scientific project that England had
ever known. More technologically advanced than nuclear
power. Potentially, far more lucrative than North Sea Oil. The
Stahlman project. Or as those who worked on it called it - the
Inferno.
      An audacious scheme to drill through to the untapped
energy-sources at the Earth’s core. Unimaginable, unending
heat. A fuel gas that would power every home, every shop,
every factory in Britain. Limitless free energy for everyone.
      That was the promise, and the Government, hypnotised
by the force and conviction of Professor Stahlman’s
arguments, dazzled by the prospect of economic problems
solved forever, poured money and resources into the project.
There was a sort of unspoken agreement—the Stahlman
project had to succeed.
      Now the project was nearing completion.
      Hungry for the long-awaited success, the authorities
were deaf to the steadily increasing warnings about the
project’s dangers—dangers that might, just conceivably,
involve the end of the world.
      Some of these warnings came from the unpaid,
unofficial Scientific Adviser to the organisation responsible for
project security, an organisation called UNIT—the United
Nations Intelligence Taskforce.
      He was an odd-looking fellow, this Scientific Adviser, tall
and thin and beaky-nosed with a old/young face and a mane
of prematurely white hair. He dressed oddly too, in ruffled
shirt and elegant velvet smoking-jacket, the ensemble
completed by a long, flowing cape.
     The strangest thing of all was that he didn’t seem to
have a name. He was known only as the Doctor...

      Singing ‘La donna é mobile’ in a loud, cheerful and rather
tuneless voice, the Doctor drove Bessie, his converted,
souped-up Edwardian roadster, through the sprawling
complex of low buildings surrounded by storage towers,
gantries, access roads and railway-lines that made up the
Stahlman project.
      It was a messy, unattractive-looking area, the site of a
now-disused oil refinery. Some of the buildings and facilities
had been taken over by Stahlman and his team, others left
derelict. Dominating everything were two brand new
structures. One was the massive, metallically gleaming drill
tower, housing the drill which was now boring its way
relentlessly to the centre of the earth Its steady roar could be
heard all over the project area. Not far away was the low
concrete bunker containing the nuclear reactor. The drilling
needed colossal amounts of power.
      Considering the fact that he regarded the entire project
as a ridiculous and very dangerous waste of money, and that
he had a positive distaste for Professor Stahlman, its Director,
the Doctor was in a remarkably jovial mood. These were still
the early days of his exile to the planet Earth by the Time
Lords. He still had hopes of evading their sentenee and
getting his somewhat erratic space/rime craft, the TARDIS,
operational again. For that, he would need power—and the
Stahlman project had power to burn.
     ‘La donna é mobile,’ carolled the Doctor cheerfully.
‘Dee-dah-dah dum-dah-dah!’ Waving to a passing technician,
the Doctor drove on.

      The technician was a drill-head rigger called Harry
Slocum. Returning the Doctor’s wave, he got off his bike,
parked it and lugged his tool-box over to the main control
centre.
      In the doorway he ran into one of his mates, a
technician called Bromley.
      Slocum raised his voice above the sound of the drill.
‘Hullo, John, how’s it going in there?’
      Bromley shrugged. ‘Still drilling away!’
      ‘You make it sound like the dentists!’ said Slocum
cheerfully. He made his way in to main control and stood
looking around him.
      The huge control-room had its usual air of remorseless,
almost robotic efficiency. White-coated technicians moved
purposefully amongst the instrument banks that lined the
walls, constantly checking readings and adjusting power-
levels. The far end of the room was dominated by the giant
computer, which, in theory, guided and monitored every
stage of the drilling operation. Close by was the countdown
indicator, a digital clock indicating the time left before
estimated penetration. As Slocum entered the room, the
indicator read 72:18:35. Seventy two hours, eighteen minutes
and thirty-five seconds.
      Gazing worriedly up at the indicator was a plumpish
bespectacled man in a business suit and a mildly incongruos
bow-tie. This was Sir Keith Gold, Executive Director of the
project.
      Slocum made his way over to him. ‘Excuse me, Sir
Keith? You asked for someone from Maintenance?’
      ‘Yes, indeed. Thank you for coming so promptly. I want
you to have a look at number 2 output, if you would be so
good.’
      Slocum smiled, tickled a always by Sir Keith’s old-
fashioned politeness. ‘On the blink is she?’
      ‘I’ve had it taken out of service—we’ve switched over to
1 and 3.’
      ‘Right you are. Let’s take a look.’
      Sir Keith led the way to the tunnel that connected main
control to the separate drill-head section. This was a smaller
area, starkly metallic and functional, with a control console set
into one wall. In the centre, surrounded by a low metal
rampart, was colossal semi-transparent tube that ran from
floor to ceiling. It was surrounded by a complex of power
cables and metal pipes that ran from the base of the central
column and disappeared into the floor. The output pipes
sucked up and cleared away the debris thrown up by the
robot drill-head, now almost twenty miles beneath their feet.
      Slocum went over to number 2 output and knelt to
examine it. The massive metal pipe was made up of jointed
seasons and one of the sections had buckled slightly, causing a
tiny gap to appear.
      Slocum straightened up. ‘Okay, I’ll fix it.’
      ‘As quickly as possible, if you please. Professor Stahlman
doesn’t want any delay.’
      ‘Don’t worry about it, Sir Keith. Doesn’t look too
serious.’
      Sir Keith nodded his thanks and turned away - then
froze as he saw a burly figure glowering at him from the
entrance of the tunnel. Professor Stahlman wore a crisp white
lab coat over a dark suit not unlike Sir Keith’s own. Somehow,
with Stahlman the effect was stiffly formal, almost military.
Yet at the same time there was something almost primitive
about the man’s bulky broad-shouldered body and massive
close-cropped head, the neatly trimmed beard thrust
aggressively forwards. He looked like a gorilla in a lab coat,
reflected Sir Keith, immediately ashamed of the uncharitable
thought. He braced himself for the coming encounter.
Somehow a meeting with Stahlman always was an
encounter—a confrontation.
       Stahlman’s voice was unexpectedly mild. ‘Ah, Sir Keith.
Why has the drilling rate been slowed down?’
       ‘Number 2 output pipe is out of service,’ said Sir Keith
defensively. ‘Naturally we had to decelerate, since...’
       ‘I do understand the technical problems, Sir Keith,’
interrupted Stahlman silkily.
       ‘Naturally, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise...’
       ‘What I do not understand is why you took it upon
yourself to interfere.’ Stahlman’s voice suddenly lashed out,
like a whip.
       Sir Keith flushed. ‘I saw the report of the malfunction
some time ago. When I saw no report of its repair, I assumed
that you had overlooked...’
       ‘I overlook nothing, Sir Keith. The malfunction is not
sufficiently serious to warrant a deceleration of the drilling
rate-and you have no authority to order one.’
       ‘As Executive Director of this project—‘
       ‘As Executive Director of the project, Sir Keith, your
concern is with such vital matters as the facilities of the
canteen and the new duty-roster for the cleaners. Anything to
do with drilling is my concern, and mine alone. And that
includes minor maintenance problems.’
       ‘Surely, in a project such as this there can be no such
thing as a minor problem?’
       Professor Stahlman sighed. ‘I’ll make a bargain with
you, Sir Keith. You stay away from my drilling operation—
and I’ll let you run your canteen!’ Stahlman turned away
dismissivel.
       After a moment, the now thoroughly routed Sir Keith
hurried out of the drill area.
       Doing his best to ignore this embarrassing scene
between his superiors, Harry Slocum finished replacing and
re-bolting the warped pipe section. He noticed a smear of
some dark-green substance at the point whore the old section
joined the new. Curiously he touched it—and snatched his
hand away. A terrible burning sensation swept through his
entire body.
       He examined his fingers in horror, expecting to find
them badly burned. But there was only a tiny, dark-green
stain... Wiping his fingers on his overalls, Slocum began
packing away his tools. Suddenly he felt very strange. He was
almost unbearably hot, and nothing seemed quite real.
       Flu, thought Slocum, or some kind of fever. He had
better report sick.

      Back in the main control area, Sir Keith was talking to
an attractive white-coated young woman, with a pleasant open
face framed by long fair hair. Her name was Petra Williams.
She was Professor Stahlman’s personal assistant.
      ‘But why is he so unreasonable?’ asked Sir Keith
plaintively. ‘You would think I was some kind of rival, an
enemy even.’
       Petra did her best to defend her ‘chief’s’ behaviour.
‘He’s worked on this one project for many years. Naturally he
feels possessive about it.’
       Sir Keith nodded, trying to make allowances. Eric
Stahlman had grown up in the ruins of post-war Germany. To
have reached his present eminence must have taken years of
terrible struggle against unimaginable difficulties. Stahlman
was brilliant, no doubt of that. They would just have to bear
with him.
       But mild as he was, Sir Keith had a streak of obstinacy.
He had no intention of allowing Stahlman to endanger the
safety of others.
       ‘I’ve got another piece of news he won’t care for, Petra.
Maybe you’d better break it to him.’
       ‘Oh? What’s that?’
       ‘I’ve sent for a drilling consultant, a chap called Greg
Sutton. One of the most experienced oilmen in the world.’
‘But this isn’t an oil rig. The whole operation is run on
completely different lines.’
       ‘Nevertheless, I should feel happier if someone on this
project knew a little more about the purely practical aspects of
drilling—and its dangers.’
       Petra sighed. ‘So when does this expert arrive?’ ‘Any
minute now. He’s flying in from Kuwait.’ Engrossed in their
converffition, neither Petra nor Sir Keith noticed that Harry
Slocum, tool-kit abandoned, was walking slowly out of the
tunnel, a strange, dazed expression on his face. He had a
ghastly greenish pallor, and he clutched a massive pipe-
wrench in his right hand.
       Professor Stahlman had seen him go, but he had
scarcely registered Slocum’s appearance. To Stahlman the
technician’s departure meant only that the repair job was
finished.
      He turned to a nearby technician. ‘Put number 2 pipe
back into service. Accelerate drilling speed three and a half
per cent. We now have to make up for lost time!’

      Harry Slocum staggered out of the building and
stumbled aimlessly across a stretch of open ground. He
stopped, hands over his ears. A low, sinister screeching sound
was sounding inside his head.
      A technician turned the corner of the building, stopped
in astonishment, and then hurried towards him, assuming
that Slocum must be ill. He came up behind him and put a
hand on his shoulder. ‘Harry? What’s the matter?’
      Slocum swung around, and the other man stepped back
in horror. Slocum’s face was that of a wild beast, eyes glowing
red, lips drawn back in a savage snarl.
      The technician had only seconds to register the
terrifying sight. Then Slocum’s pipe-wrench came crashing
down on his head.

      The Brigadier’s new office might only be a converted
storeroom off main control, but it was the Brigadier’s office
for all that, and Sergeant Benton was determined that it
should do UNIT credit. The place was spotlessly clean. The
Brigadier’s files and papers were arranged in impeccable
order, and the newly installed telephone was working
perfectly.
      Benton was proudly arranging the finishing touch—one
of the Brigadier’s collection of regimental photographs—
when the door swung open and the Brigadier himself
marched into the room.
      Sergeant Benton put the photograph carefully down on
the desk and crashed to attention. ‘Sir!’
      The Brigadier touched the peak of his cap with his cane,
returning the salute. ‘Morning, Benton.’ He gazed around the
room.
      ‘Best they could do for us on such short notice,’ said
Sergeant Benton apologetically.
      The Brigadier nodded. ‘It’ll do. Have you contacted the
Doctor?’
      ‘On his way over, ‘Anything on this chap Slocum yet?’
      ‘Lads are still looking, sir.’
      ‘Still?’
      ‘It’s a big rambling place this, sir, and Slocum knows it a
lot better than we do. If we sent for more men, or sent out a
general alarm...’
      ‘No, not yet. We don’t want a panic.’
      The Doctor strolled casually into the room. ‘Hullo,
Brigadier, making yourself at home?’
      ‘How are you, Doctor?’
      ‘Just getting myself settled in—‘ The Doctor broke off
picking up the photograph from the desk. ‘Good heavens!
Which one’s you Brigadier? No, let me guess.’ He studied the
rows of faces, then looked up defeated. ‘None of them?’
      ‘Fifth from the left, third row said the Brigadier
impassively.
      The Doctor looked again at the photograph and shook
his head. ‘I don’t believe it. I can see why you grew that
moustache!’
      Sergeant Benton’s lips twitched—until a swift glance
from the Brigadier reduced him to frozen-faced immobility.
      The Brigadier said, ‘Trouble seems to follow you,
doesn’t it, Doctor?’
      ‘What do you mean?’
      ‘You persuade me to allow you and Miss Shaw to join
me on this project as observers—’
      ‘Allow?’ said the Doctor indignantly. ‘Allow? Miss Shaw
may have the misfortune to work for you, Brigadier, but I am
a free agent.’
      The Brigadier ignored this. ‘And then, within a few days
of your arrival, I have a motiveless murder on my hands.’ The
Brigadier looked at Benton. ‘Wrench?’
      ‘Here, sir.’ Benton took a tray from one of the shelves
and handed it to the Brigadier, who placed it on the desk in
front of the Doctor. ‘Yesterday afternoon one of the
maintenance technicians was beaten to death—with this.’
      The Doctor studied the wrench. ‘Do you know who did
the killing?’
      ‘This wrench was found next to the body. It belongs to a
drill-head rigger called Harry Slocum. We’re still looking for
him.’
      ‘Do you know anything about him?’
      The Brigadier looked at Benton, who said, ‘Seems to
have been one of the most popular men on the complex, sir.’
      ‘There’s something else,’ said the Brigadier slowly. ‘Try
touching it, Doctor.’
      The Doctor touchcd the wrench cautiously with one
finger. ‘It’s warm.’
      ‘When it was first found it was hot—red-hot, almost as
though it had been in a furnace.’ The Brigadier sat back.
‘Well, Doctor? Any theories?’
                            2
                        The Beast
       The Doctor stood very still for a moment, peering
thoughtfully down at the wrench. ‘If it had absorbed an
immense amount of energy...’ he muttered. ‘Perhaps that
could have disturbed the atomic make-up in some way...’ His
voice trailed off.
       The Brigadier turned to Benton. ‘Chase up those
patrols, Sergeant. I want this man Slocum found.’
       ‘Sir!’ Benton saluted and marched away.
       The Brigadier turned back to the Doctor, who seemed
lost in thought. ‘Doctor, why were you so keen to observe this
project?’
       The Doctor gave him a rather startled look. ‘Well, er, it’s
an event of great scientific interest, my dear feller. The first
penetration of the Earth’s crust! Naturally I’m interested.’
       ‘Yes, of course,’ said the Brigadier.
       ‘Well, I must be off,’ said the Doctor hurriedly. ‘I should
concentrate on finding that missing rigger if I were you.
You’ll have to excuse me now, Brigadier, Miss Shaw and I
have work to do.’
       ‘You’re actually taking part in the project?’
       ‘Well, in a sense... Some—related experiments. Goodbye
for now, Brigadier.’

     Greg Sutton had complained bitterly in Kuwait, he had
protested on the plane, and he was still grumbling as Sir Keith
Gold marched him into the drill-head area.
       ‘So, I get snatched off the rig in Kuwait just when I’m
sure we’ve made a strike, flown back so fast me stomach’s still
over the Med, and I still haven’t got the slightest idea what
I’m supposed to be doing here!’
       Sutton was a burly, broad-shouldered man in a linen
suit, with a pleasantly ugly face and a sun-baked, wind-
weathered complexion.
       Sir Keith said, ‘I’m afraid it’s all my fault, Mr Sutton. I
asked the Government for a top oil-rig man, and you’re the
man they sent me.’
       ‘Very flattering. This is a Government project, right? So
       now I’m some kind of Civil Servant?’
       ‘Well, broadly speaking. How do you like the idea?’
       ‘No comment,’ said Sutton dryly. He was surveying the
drill-head area astonishment. ‘And what’s this contraption
supposed to be?’
       ‘This, Mr Sutton is the drill-head.’
       ‘You’re joking.’
       ‘It is a drill-head, Mr Sutton, I assure you. The only one
of its kind in the world.’
       ‘How deep?’
       ‘Twenty miles.’
       ‘Twenty miles? You’d get such a whip in the drill-pipes
they’d fracture.’
       ‘No pipes, Mr Sutton. A robot drill with its own built-in
power source. Fed by those cables with power from our own
nuclear reactor.’
       Sutton shook his head wonderingly. ‘Twenty miles.
You’re liable to wake up old Nick himself going that deep.’
       Sir Keith said wryly, ‘Some of our technicians have
nicknamed this operation Project Inferno.’
       ‘So what’s it all in aid of?’
        ‘Soon we shall be able to penetrate the Earth’s crust and
tap the pockets of Stahlman’s Gas which lie beneath it.’
        ‘What do you do with it when you’ve got it?’
        ‘According to Professor Stahlman, the originator of the
project, it will be, quote, “a vast new storehouse of energy
which has lain dormant since the beginning of time”,
unquote.’
        ‘Well, you learn something new every day.’ Sutton
studied the tangle of different-sized pipes and cables around
the drill-head with a professional eye. ‘What do these big
pipes here do? And these smaller ones?’
        ‘The big output pipes carry the debris away from the
drill-head. These others carry a coolant chemical down to the
bore. You see the basic prinriple...’
        Greg Sutton listened patiently as Sir Keith explained the
purpose and the working methods of the project in greater
detail. Finally, he said, ‘Okay, Sir Keith. I get the picture. But
I still don’t see where I fit in.’
        ‘I felt we needed someone with practical knowledge of
drilling, someone with the experience to deal with any
emergencies.’
        ‘You having trouble here?’
        ‘Not yet, no... But it’s my job to cover every eventuality.
Now, let me introduce you to some of our senior staff.’
        Sutton followed him back into central control. He
brightened perceptibly when Sir Keith introduced him to
Petra Williams. ‘Say, maybe I could borrow you for a bit. You
could show we around, rattle off a few letters...’
        ‘I am Professor Stahlman’s personal assistant,’ said Petra
Williams frostily. ‘I am not a typist, and I am not available for
borrowing. If you’ll excuse me, Sir Keith?’ She moved
pointedly away.
      Sutton grinned. ‘I think I’ve just been snubbed!’
      ‘Come and meet Professor Stahlman himself,’ said Sir
Keith diplomatically.
      He led Sutton over to Stahlman, who accepted the
introduction without enthusiasm. ‘Another recruit to your
crusade, Sir Keith?’
      Sutton was puzzled, sensing the hostile undercurrent.
‘What crusade is that?’
      ‘The crusade to bring this project to a grinding halt. Sir
Keith is a dedicated man, you see. Dedicated to stifling me
with over-caution, and a swarm of experts and advisers. I’m
drowning in them, Mr Sutton.’
      Greg Sutton said hotly, ‘Now hang on a minute, I didn’t
ask for this job—’
      ‘How you came here is of no importance, Mr Sutton.
The fact is you are here. We see them everywhere: experts on
this, experts on that...’ He gestured as a tall cloaked figure
stalked into central control. ‘Here’s another of them!’
      The Doctor came to a halt and stood beaming cheerfully
at Stahlman’s glowering figure. ‘Our liver playing us up again
this morning, Professor?’ And he went on his way.
      Stahlman turned away with a snarl. He had already
learned that there was little use in trying to bully the Doctor.
      ‘Who’s the gentleman in fancy dress?’ whispered Sutton.
      ‘Oh, that’s the Doctor. A brilliant mind. We’re lucky to
have him as adviser. Let me introduce you.’
      Sir Keith made yet more introductions, and Sutton and
the Doctor shook hands. ‘Welcome to the Inferno, Mr Sutton.
What do you think of this project?’
      ‘A bit early to say, Doctor. What about you?’
      ‘For a start, I think certain people should pay a lot more
attention to the warnings of this computer. Not that I’m wild
about computers, mind you. But they are a tool, and it’s
stupid to have a tool and not use it.’
       The Doctor moved ever to one of the sub-consoles and
began flicking switches. ‘Power for my own little project,’ he
said mysteriously. ‘Nice to have met you Mr Sutton ‘
       A little bemused, Sutton nodded and moved away with
Sir Keith.
       The Doctor made a few more adjustments to the console
and then headed for the exit. On his may he passed close to
Stahlman, who was studying a console, surrounded by a little
group of technicians.
       ‘All these so called experts and advisers,’ Stahlman was
saying loudly. ‘A waste of valuable time and money!’
       The Doctor paused for a moment, studying the readings
on the console. He leaned over the shoulder of the technician
at Stahlman’s elbow and rapped a dial. ‘I’d give that a touch
more lateral compensation, old chap, or you’ll blow the main
condenser hanks. Costs thousands to put that right—waste of
valuable time and money.’
       Leaving Stahlman seething behind him, the Doctor
strolled happily away.
       ‘I am rapidly losing patience with that man’, muttered
Stahlman. But the Doctor was gone.

      The Doctor drove across the wasteland of scrubby grass,
dirt roads, puddles and rusting railway-lines that separated
the different buildings of the complex until he came to the
ramshackle hut that he had appropriated for his own. It was a
long one-storey building, some way from the centre of the
complex but conveniently close to the main power lines—
which suited the Doctor very well. A UNIT sentry, Private
Wyatt, wvas patrolling by the hut as the Doctor drove up.
      ’Morning,’ said the Doctor cheerfully. ‘Any sign of that
man Slocum yet?’
      ‘No, sir. We’re still looking.’
      ‘Nasty business.’
      ‘You’ll be safe enough in your little hut, sir. Slocum
hasn’t got one of your funny gadgets.’
      ‘Funny gadgets? Oh, I see...’ The Doctor produced his
sonic screwdriver and operated it. The double doors at the
end of the hut swung open. ‘It’s only a door handle,’ said the
Doctor mildly. He drove inside the hut, and the doors closed
behind him.
      Private Wyatt grinned, and resumed his patrol.

       The long hut served the Doctor as office, laboratory,
and also as a garage for Bessie.
       The central laboratory portion was almost completely
filled by a freestanding many-sided control console. This was
the console from the TARDIS control room which the Doctor
had disconnected, had transported down to the project, and
re-connected, quite illicitly, to the nuclear generator.
       Liz Shaw, the Doctor’s assistant, was checking over the
cables that connected the console to the power lines that ran
so conveniently close to the hut.
       She was a serious-looking girl with reddish-brown hair.
She wore a severely cut blue jacket, a rather incongruously
frivolous-looking mini-skirt, and a bright red blouse.
       Liz Shaw was a scientist of some distinction in her our
right. She had been conscripted from her post at Cambridge
into UNIT some time ago, at first very much against her will.
However, since then, the arrival of the Doctor had made the
job fascinating, baffling and infuriating, all at the same time.
      Liz looked up and smiled as the Doctor jumped out of
the car. ‘How are things at central control?’
      ‘Usual friction between Stahlman and Sir Keith.’
      ‘Did you see the Brigadier?’
      ‘Yes. There’s been a murder, Liz. Dreadful business. A
murder without a motive—on top of everything else. Still,
must get on with our work.’ The Doctor began checking over
the TARDIS console.
      ‘You’re determined to go ahead with this trial run?’
      ‘I must, Liz. You see, without the TARDIS, I’m lost. A
stranger in a foreign land, a shipwrecked mariner.’
      ‘When do you want to make the run?’
      ‘In just a few minutes’ time.’
      ‘Why the sudden rush?’
      ‘We’ve been over this routine often enough, Liz. You
know what to do?’
      ‘Yes.’
      ‘Take your position then, and switch the power through
when I give the word.’
      ‘I wish you’d think again, Doctor.’
      ‘Liz, please!’
      Reluctantly Liz took her position by the Doctor’s
improvised power-relay.
      ‘Right,’ said the Doctor. ‘When I signal give me first-
stage power, then the full burst just a fraction later.’
      ‘Suppose it doesn’t work?’
      ‘I’ll think of something—I hope!’
      Liz threw a switch, and the TARDIS console began
humming with power. There was a faint, wheezing groaning
sound...
      The main switch-room of the nuclear reactor was deep
inside the low concrete bunker. It contained the consule that
fed power from the reactor through into main control, where
it was monitored and passed on to the drill-head itself.
      Bromley, one of the power-technicians, was using a wall
telephone to report to main control. ‘All readings normal
here. No peaks at all.’ He didn’t see the strange twisted shape
looming up behind him.

      ‘Standing by, Doctor,’ reported Liz.
      The Doctor made a final check of the console. His plan
was simple. He hoped, by a sudden massive power surge, to
over-ride the cut-outs with which his Time Lord superiors
had restricted the movements of the TARDIS. ‘Right, Liz.
Give me first-stage power.’
      Liz fed more power through the console. The throbbing
increased and the console began to vibrate, lights flashing
furiously on the different control panels. The Doctor darted
from one to the other, adjusting and compensating. ‘Full
power, Liz!’
      The TARDIS console juddered furiously. The centre
column rose and fell.

     In the reactor switch-room, Bromley lay sprawled out
on the floor.
     A hunched, deformed figure was bent over the controls,
pushing up the power to maximum output...

     The TARDIS console was vibrating furiously now, as if it
would shake itself to pieces.
     The Doctor hung on frantically, shouting, ‘Too much
power, Liz. Too much power!’
     ‘I can’t cut buck. Doctor,’ shouted Liz. ‘The circuits are
overloading and locked!’
     Suddenly the Doctor and the TARDIS console
shuddered and disappeared before her eyes.

     The Doctor found himself clinging to the console
turning over and over, swept up in the blackness of limbo...

      Liz worked frantically to pull back the power switches,
but they were locked on maximum. She looked around
frantically, snatched up a heavy, metal, office chair and
slammed it into the Doctor’s power relay.
      It exploded in a shower of sparks, and the Doctor and
the TARDIS console reappeared. The Doctor was upside
down.
      Liz ran over to him. ‘Doctor, are you all right?’
      The Donor sorted himself out and patted and prodded
himself. Everything seemed to be there. ‘I’m still a bit dizzy,
but I seem to be in one piece.’
      ‘Where did you go?’
      ‘I seemed to be in some kind of limbo. There was a
barrier I couldn’t break through. I need another trial run,
Liz.’
      ‘After all that?’
      ‘Because of all that! I wonder where I was—and where I
was going?’

      Suddenly the electronic howl of an alarm rang through
the complex
      ‘The drill-head,’ said Liz. ‘Something’s happened!’
      The whole of central control was being shaken by the
terrible vibrating roar that was coming from the drill area.
      Petra was shouting into a wall phone. ‘Can you clear me
a line, please? I must get through to the main switch-room.
This is an emergency!’
      Stahlman came running into central control. He
stopped when he saw the heavy metal shield descending
across the mouth of the tunnel that led to the drill-head area.
      He turned on Sir Keith. ‘Did you order that shield to be
lowered? Why?’
      ‘This is a Red-One emergency, Professor,’ shouted Sir
Keith.
      ‘Is it? I haven’t said so yet,’ said Stahlman arrogantly.
He grabbed the nearest technician by the arm. ‘Get that fire
shield up again—now!’
      ‘But Professor—’ protested Sir Keith.
      ‘Anything that happens in this area is my responsibility,’
screamed Stahlman. ‘Anything! Is that dear?’
      ‘Aren’t you going to order the power shut off?’
      ‘And stop the drill?’ Stahlman saw Petra coming towards
him. ‘Have you contacted the reactor yet?’
      ‘I can’t get any answer, Professor.’
      ‘You must get an answer.’
      Sir Keith turned to Sutton. ‘The man is obsessed. Why
can’t he just stop the drill till the emergency is over?’
      Sutton shook his head. ‘Not at this depth. You’d never
get it going again, the drill bit would just seize up, lock into
the strata. You’ll have to abandon the burr.’
      Suddenly Sir Keith understood. Stahlman would risk
anything—anything—rather than do that.
      Stahlman snatched the phone from Petra’s hands. ‘I will
talk to them. You go and see if they have the coolant flowing.’
      Obediently Petra headed for the tunnel. Suddenly she
found Greg Sutton blocking her way. He took her arm. ‘I
wouldn’t go in there if I were you. The pressure could blow
the roof right off the building.’
      ‘I’m well aware what can happen, Mr Sutton, but I’ve
got a job to do.’
      She pulled free and ran down the tunnel.

       Liz Shaw and the Doctor arrived at central control at the
same time as the Brigadier and Sergeant Benton.
       The Brigadier looked round appalled. ‘What’s
happening?’
       ‘There’s been a sudden power surge, Brigadier. They
must have gone mad at the reactor...’
       Suddenly the Doctor broke off, remembering that there
indeed a madman on the loose. He looked at the Brigadier.
‘Have you found Slocum yet?’
       ‘No,’ said the Brigadier grimly. ‘But one of my men has
been found murdered.’
       ‘Where?’
       ‘On the waste ground behind the reactor.’
       The Doctor looked round and saw Stahlman at the
telephone. ‘Professor, we think we know what is happening
here...’
       ‘Stop wasting my time, Doctor,’ snarled Stahlman.
       ‘I was wrong about you, Professor,’ said the Doctor. ‘It
isn’t just your liver, it’s your general disposition! Come on,
Brigadier.’
       They hurried from the control room.
       Petra ran out of the tunnel and found Stahlman, still
shouting in vain into the telephone. ‘Professor, the coolant
controls are jammed with the head’
     Abandoning the phone, Stahlman headed for the
tunnel.
     Petra followed, passing Greg Sutton on the way. ‘Well,
Mr Sutton, the roof’s still on!’ She smiled sweetly at him.
‘Aren’t you rather nervous for an oil man?’
     ‘I’m not nervous,’ said Sutton bluntly. ‘I’m terrified. I
know what can happen in there, and you don’t. You’re not
brave, you’re just plain stupid.’
     Petra said defiantly. ‘Professor Stahlman knows what’s
happening. He’ll deal with it.’
     She hurried down the tunnel after Stahlman. For some
reason, Greg Sutton found himself following her.

      In the drill-head area, terrified technicians were
wrestling with heat-jammed coolant controls, while Stahlman
screamed frantically, ‘Come on! Come on!’
      Greg Sutton was no stranger to situations like this.
Looking round he spotted the main coolant valve. A
technician was wrestling in vain with the pressure wheel.
      Sutton went over and moved the man gently aside. ‘All
right, old son, let’s have a go at that. Soon have it under
control.’ He gripped the metal wheel and heaved steadily,
muscles bulging under the linen safari suit. Slowly, very
slowly, the wheel began to turn.

      The Doctor and the Brigadier hurried into the switch-
room, followed by Private Wyatt, who had been scooped up
on the way. The Doctor took in the situation at a glance.
While the Brigadier went to examine the crumpled body of
the technician, the Doctor grabbed the main power lever and
began pulling it back. He snatched his hand away—the lever
was hot. Suddenly an inner door was flung open and a ghastly
shape lurched towards them.
                            3
                          Mutant
      The shambling figure advanced towards them. It was
the hands that the Doctor noticed first—terrible misshapen,
twisted claws, covered with hair. The face was a ghastly livid
green, the eyes red and savage. If the feet were as distorted as
the hands, thought the Doctor, it would account for the
creature’s awkward shuffling gait.
      More curious than frightened, the Doctor took a step
towards Slocum, who snarled and lashed out at him with a
clawed hand. Hastily the Doctor jumped back. ‘Don’t move,
Brigadier. Don’t antagonise him.’
      The Doctor, the Brigadier and the soldier stood
motionless.
      Slocum confronted them, his head swinging to and fro.
Suddenly he screeched...

      Sutton stepped back, mopping his streaming forehead.
‘She ought to calm down now the coolant’s flowing.’
      ‘Thank you, Mr Sutton,’ said Stahlman grudgingly. He
checked an instrument panel. ‘There is still far too much
power coming from the reactor.’
      ‘I think the Doctor went over there to deal with it,’ said
Petra.

     The Doctor edged towards the controls.
     Slocum snarled...
     ‘Nothing to be frightened of, old chap,’ said the Doctor
soothingly.
      Seeing that Slocum’s attention seemed to be fixed on the
Doctor, Private Wyatt began edging round to one side, his
finger on the trigger of his rifle.
      The phone on the wall began ringing insistently.

     On the other end of the phone Petra said, ‘There’s still
no reply.’
     ‘What do those fools think they are doing?’ snarled
Stahlman. He snatched the phone. ‘Hello! Hello?’

      Private Wyatt snapped his fingers to attract the Doctor’s
attention. The Doctor glanced quickly at him, and Wyatt
signalled with his eyes that the Doctor should move aside. The
Doctor nodded almost imperceptibly, and began edging to
one side.
      Slocum screeched furiously, following him with his eyes.
      Slowly Wyatt raised his rifle...
      The Doctor jumped suddenly to one side, and Private
Wyatt took aim. Immediately Slocum sprang to the attack.
Private Wyatt fired as he had been trained to do, two shots
close together, two bullets in the heart. Slocum kept on
coming, grappling with Wyatt and hurling him to one side.
Then he staggered back, leaning against the wall, snarling
with rage and pain. He glared wildly at them for a moment,
and then slid slowly to the floor.
      The Brigadier advanced cautiously towards the body.
      ‘Don’t touch him,’ snapped the Doctor. ‘Look at the wall
where he slid down. It’s scorched!’
      The Brigadier examined the scorch-mark with
astonishment, while the Doctor picked up Wyatt’s rifle and
used it to thrust back the power lever. When the job was
completed, he became aware that the phone was still ringing.
He picked it up.
     He heard the tinny voice of Stahlman screeching at him
from the other end of the line.
     ‘Oh, it’s you,’ said she Doctor wearily. ‘It’s all right,
Professor, we’ve dealt with the matter ourselves.’
     Private Wyatt was sitting up, a strange, dazed expression
on his face...

      In the drill-head area things were calming down. The
alarm lights blinked off one by one and the howl of the siren
died away.
      Greg Sutton heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Well done,
everybody. I’ll have a new medal struck, Order of the Turkish
Bath.’
      Professor Stahlman made the same announcement in
more formal tones. ‘The emergency has been contained.
Return to normal duties.’
      ‘We contained it by the skin of our teeth,’ said Sutton
quietly. ‘Next time we may not be so lucky.’
      ‘The main operation was not at fault,’ snapped
Stahlman. ‘Those idiots at the reactor boosted the power too
high.’
      ‘So it was an accident. They happen, and you have to
allow for them, and take precautions...’
      ‘I refuse to make allowances for in incompetence, Mr
Sutton,’ said Stahlman loftily, and turned away.
      Sutton caught Petra’s eye. ‘Is that man completely nuts?’
      ‘No, I don’t think so. Thanks for all your help, Mr
Sutton.’
      He took her arm. ‘Listen, call we Greg. And if you really
are grateful, there’s something you can do for me.’
      Petra gave him a suspicious look. ‘Such as?’
      ‘I’ve got one or two ideas—about safety in the drill-head
area. Stahlman listens to you, and if you mould convince him
I’m talking sense...’

       The Doctor was examining Slocum’s body, though he
was careful not to touch it. He looked up. ‘Both bullets right
through the heart, Brigadier.’
       ‘And he was alive and moving, for several minutes.’
       ‘Abnormal resistance, abnormal strength,’ muttered the
Doctor. ‘And that’s not all...’
       Sergeant Benton came into the room. ‘Medics are on
their way, sir.’
       The Doctor said, ‘Tell them they’d better not touch the
body for a while—it’s radiating a good deal of heat.’
       ‘The man’s dead, Doctor,’ protested the Brigadier.
       ‘Heat, Brigadier. Like the wrench that killed the
technician. Like this control lever here.’
       The Brigadier shook his head disbelievingly. ‘What
about these two, Doctor?’
       Private Wyatt and the technician Bromley were both
sitting slumped against the wall. They were strangely quiet,
almost as if drugged, their eyes wide and staring.
       The Doctor looked curiously at them. ‘They don’t seem
to have any major injuries. Could be the effects of shock,
perhaps.’ He leaned forward. ‘Wyatt? Private Wyatt?’
       Wyatt stared blankly ahead of him, and made no reply.

     The Doctor and the Brigadier were on an iron platform,
part of one of the great metal cooling towers that dominated
the complex. Far below them, soldiers and technicians went
about their affairs like busy ants. Lorries drove to and fro like
toys, and on the edge of the complex a toy-like supply train
chugged into the distance.
       The Brigadier looked round, confident that from such a
vantage point they could not possibly be overheard. ‘Look,
Doctor I need some answers. Exactly what did happen to
Slocum?’
       ‘A retrogressive mutation of the body cells, I think.’
       ‘I don’t understand.’
       ‘Neither do I really, not yet.’
       ‘He seemed to be turning into some sort of animal.’
       ‘Yes. But the process was relatively slow, and it was by
no means complete.’
       The Brigadier said wearily, ‘I’m going to have the devil
of a job keeping this quiet.’
       The Doctor stared out over he landscape. ‘But why...
Why wasn’t he process completed?’
       ‘That screeching he was making. Have you ever heard
anything like it before, Doctor?’
       ‘Yes, I have as a matter of fact.’
       ‘Where?’
       ‘Krakatoa in the Sundra Straits—during the eruption of
1883.’
       ‘Doctor, are you telling me that there’s some link
between what happened to Slocum, and a volcanic eruption in
Krakatoa?’
       ‘There could be.’
       The Brigadier gave him a despairing look, and fell
silent.
       The Doctor was silent too, thinking about Krakatoa.
Some of the natives believed that the volcano had a kind of
evil spirit—that it was alive...
      Benton climbed the ladder tin to the platform. ‘Sir,
Private Wyatt and that technician, Bromley. They’ve
disappeared.’
      ‘They’ve what?’
      ‘They both cleared off, sir, before the medics could get a
look at them. We all thought they were too ill to move.’
      Almost relieved to be faced with a purely practical
problem, the Brigadier said briskly, ‘Come on, Sergeant,
we’ve got to find them.’
      The two soldiers clattered off down the ladder, and the
Doctor was left to himself. But not for long.
      He heard a scraping sound above his head, and glancing
upwards he saw a distorted figure shuffling along the catwalk
that formed a sort of bridge between this tower and the next.
The figure wore army uniform, but there was something very
odd about the face—and about the hands. It was Private
Wyatt...
      ‘Wyatt!’ shouted he Doctor. ‘Wyatt, come back!’ He ran
to the ladder and began climbing up towards the catwalk. By
the time he reached it, the shambling figure was nowhere in
sight. The Doctor moved cautiously along the catwalk. On the
other side he saw an access ladder, leading to a platform like
the one he had just left. He slid nimbly down it, looked
around... and then Wyatt lurched towards him from around
the side of the tower.
      The Doctor studied him cautiously. The terrible change
that had overtaken Slocum had affected Wyatt too, though it
was far more advanced. The eyes had the same savage red
glare and he face was a terrible livid green. The hands were
already crooked into claws, and the Doctor saw with
astonishment that the tattered battle-dress jacket was
beginning to smoulder.
      Heat, thought the Doctor. The mutation was somehow
connected with heat... it produced the most incredible
amount of heat.
      The Doctor backed away. ‘Listen to me, Wyatt, you’re
sick. You need help...’
      It was all over in seconds. Wyatt made a clumsy rush,
swinging his rifle like a club. The Doctor leaped aside and
Wyatt pitched over the rail, crashing to the ground far below.
      The Doctor went to the rail and looked down at the
sprawled body. Already UNIT soldiers were running towards
it. The Doctor leaned over the rail. ‘Don’t touch him,’ he
called. ‘Whatever you do, don’t touch him.’ He turned from
the rail and hurried towards the ladder that led to the
ground.
      After a few moments, another shambling figure shuffled
around the edge of the tower. It was Bromley. His skin had a
greenish pallor and his hands were crooked into claws...
                           4
                       The Slime
      Stahlman was checking instrument-readings in the drill-
head area. He looked up as Petra approached. ‘According to
my calculations, Petra, I can now increase the drilling rate by
twelve per cent without adverse effects. This will advance the
time of penetration of the Earth’s crust by nearly five hours.’
      Petra wasn’t really listening. ‘Can you come at once
please, Professor? There’s something you should see in
central control.’
      When they emerged from the tunnel they found Sir
Keith Gold, Greg Sutton and Liz Shaw gathered around a
laboratory trolley upon which rested a large metal box. Beside
the trolley there stood a masked and gauntleted laboratory
technician.
      Stahlman surveyed the little group without enthusiasm.
‘Well?’
      Sir Keith nodded to the technician, who opened the
metal box and took out a thick glass jar. It was filled with a
glutinous green slime, which seemed shot with little sparks of
white-hot energy. It seethed and bubbled as if alive.
      Sir Keith said quietly, ‘They’ve been getting traces of
this stuff in number 2 output pipe for some hours. Now it’s
beginning to come up in greater quantities.’
      The Doctor and the Brigadier came into central control
and joined the group.
      Stahlman studied the substance curiously. ‘Analysis
report?’
      ‘None. So far it defies analysis.’
      ‘Impossible. Since it exists, it can be analysed.’ Stahlman
touched the jar and snatched his finger away. ‘We’ll just have
to wait till it cools down.’
      ‘I doubt if it will cool down,’ said the Doctor
thoughtfully.
      Stahlman swung round on him. ‘Who the devil asked
you?’
      ‘Just venturing an opinion,’ said the Doctor blandly.
      ‘Based on what?’
      ‘Krakatoa, actually.’
      The Brigadier stepped forward. ‘Professor Stahlman, I
must talk to you on a matter of great urgency.’
      ‘Not now,’ said Stahlman, and turned away.
      I’m afraid I must insist, sir.’
      Stahlman whirled round. ‘Then talk to Sir Keith. He has
time for talking, I do not.’
      He turned to move off, but the Brigadier barred his
way. ‘In the last few hours, Professor, two men have died in
this establishment—died violently. I must talk to you both in
my office—now.’
      For once Stahlman recognised a will as strong as his
own. ‘Very well.’
      The Brigadier looked at Sir Keith, who said hurriedly,
‘Yes, of course. Lead the way, Brigadier.’
      The Brigadier led Stahlman and Sir Keith out of the
room.
      ‘I examined that stuff in the labs, Doctor,’ said Liz.
‘What do you make of it?’
      The Doctor peered thoughtfully at the jar. ‘I wish I
could hear it. I wonder if it screeches.’
      Liz gave him a puzzled look. ‘And there’s something
else, Doctor. I think you ought to come and have a look at the
data on the main computer.’
      ‘Something worrying, Liz?’
      ‘Something downright frightening.’

      The Brigadier was getting nowhere with his meeting.
      Stahlman listened impatiently to his account of the
recent mysterious events. ‘I’m sorry, Brigadier, but this
matter has nothing to do with the technical side of the
operation. It is not my responsibility.’
      ‘The Doctor thinks there is a direct connection—’
      ‘The Doctor has no authority here.’
      ‘Come now,’ protested Sir Keith. ‘His work on initial
stress was invaluable. You had a team of mathematicians
working on that particular problem for a month, and the
Doctor gave you the answer in ten minutes.’
      ‘That not the point—’
      The Brigadier raised his voice. ‘Professor Stahlman,
please! I am still waiting for answers to my particular
problems.’
      ‘As you say, Brigadier, they are your problems. Deal
with them you see fit!’
      The Doctor marched into the office. ‘A question! Isn’t
anyone going to take any notice of that computer?’
      ‘What are you jabbering about?’ asked Stahlman wearily.
‘That computer is over-sensitive.’
      ‘You talk about the thing as though it were your maiden
aunt!’
      ‘I do not need the computer, Doctor,’ said Stahlman
arrogantly. ‘It is of no interest to me. My own calculations are
more specific and more accurate.’
       ‘Professor Stahlman, allow me to tell you something that
should be of vital interest to you.’
       ‘Yes?’
       The Doctor drew himself up to his full height, glared
down at Stahlman and shouted, ‘You, sir, are a nitwit.’
       Stahlman rose and walked towards the door, almost
colliding with Petra as she ran in.
       ‘Professor, come quickly! Something’s happening to that
stuff in the jar.’

      The substance in the glass jar was seething and bubbling
and hissing. Petra said, ‘I think it’s going to shatter it!’
      Suddenly the green slime began forcing its way past the
seal of the glass jar’s stopper. A few drops trickled down the
side.
      Before anyone could stop him, Professor Stahlman
snatched up the jar, put it back inside the shielded box and
slammed the lid shut.
      The Doctor sighed. ‘I wouldn’t have touched that if I
were you!’
      Stahlman turned to the lab technician. ‘Have that stuff
frozen immediately!’ He glared round the group. ‘Now, can
we all get back to work? Theentertainment is over!’
      Suddenly Stahlman rubbed at his hand, which seemed
to have been burned by the drops of glowing slime.
      ‘Are you all right?’ asked the Brigadier.
      ‘Of course.’
      ‘Then perhaps we could continue our discussion.’
      ‘I don’t think there is any point, Brigadier. As far as I
am concerned, everything has already been said.’
      The Brigadier convolled himself with an effort. ‘Thank
you for your co-operation, Professor Stahlman.’
       ‘But what about the computer, Professor?’ persisted Sir
Keith. ‘You can’t just ignore it.’
       ‘I prefer to use my own judgement. I have spent eleven
years working on this project, and I know more about it than
any machine.’
       ‘I hope you do,’ said the Doctor grimly. ‘The message of
the computer is perfectly clear. It advises that drilling be
stopped immediately. It’s warning you of danger. Look at it,
man, are you blind?’
       Stahlman turned away. ‘The computer, as I have said, is
inaccurate.’
       ‘Oh, please yourself, sir!’ said the Doctor explosively.
‘I’ve done the best I can to convince you. I may as well get
back to my own work.’
       It was the moment Stahlman had been waiting for. ‘You
may find that rather difficult, Doctor. This project cannot
supply you with any more power.’
       ‘And why not?’
       ‘The entire output of the reactor is needed for the
project. I intend to accelerate the drilling rate by twelve per
cent.’
       Stahlman turned to a technician. ‘Shut off the power
supply to the Doctor’s hut immediately. It is not to be re-
connected in any circumstances
       As the technician moved to obey, the Doctor said
bitterly, ‘That, sir, is an incredibly childish and petty action.’
       Stahlman smiled. ‘Will you excuse me? Petra, come with
me please.’
       They moved away.
       Sir Keith looked helplessly at the Doctor. ‘I’m sorry,
Doctor.’
       ‘So am I, Sir Keith. So am I.’
      In the drilling area, Stahlman stood surveying the
central drill-head with evident satisfaction. ‘We shall start the
acceleration in exactly twenty-five minutes’ time. That will
make the time of penetration-zero exactly—forty-nine hours
from now.’
      Petra made a note on her clipboard. ‘Forgive me,
Professor Stahlman, but shouldn’t you at least consider what
the others are saying?’
      ‘If I had listened to others, Petra, this project would
never have got started. If I listen now, it will never be
completed. Have all systems modified to the new
programming immediately.’

      The Doctor was about to return to his hut when he saw
Petra Williams move over to the main power relay console.
‘Mr Phillips, Professor Stahlman has decided to make some
modifications to the drilling schedule. Will you join us please?’
      As Petra and Phillips moved into the tunnel, the Doctor
saw his chance and seized it.
      ‘Liz, I want you to go back to the hut for me, there’s a
good girl. Just check those trigamma circuits on the console,
will you?’
      ‘Very well.’ Puzzled, Liz moved away.
      The Doctor drifted casually over to the main power
relay, glanced round, and set work. A minute or two later, he
straightened up, and moved away.
      He was about to leave central control when he saw
Stahlman come out of the tunnel and wander across to the
computer with a deliberate vagueness curiously like the
Doctor’s own. Then he moved towards the computer console.
The Doctor had a sudden powerful suspicion that Professor
Stahlman was up to no good.
      His suspicions were confirmed when Stahlman opened a
panel in the console, swiftly removed a circuit, slipped it into
his pocket and strode away.
      ‘Jumping Jehosophat,’ thought the Doctor. ‘The man’s
sabotaging his own computer!’
      Professor Stahlman hurried for the nearest door, which
as it happened led to the Brigadier’s empty office. He took
the circuit from his pocket, laid it on the desk, and looked
round for something heavy. Snatching up an ebony ruler he
raised it high. He was about to smash it down on the circuit
when a voice said, ‘I wouldn’t do that, Professor.’ The Doctor
was watching him from the doorway.
      ‘You would be well advised to mind your own business,
Doctor.’ Stahlman grabbed the circuit with his other hand.
      ‘That computer is a threat to you, isn’t it? It could prove
you wrong. Now—give me that circuit.’
      Stahlman took a step forward as if to obey. Then raising
the heavy ebony ruler, he brought it slashing down towards
the Doctor’s head.
      The Doctor shot out a long arm and jabbed two bony
fingers into a point just below Stahlman’s collarbone.
Stahlman froze, the ruler suspended in mid-air. He was a
powerfully built man, in a tremendous rage, but somehow he
was quite unable to move a muscle. He just stood there, his
face gradually turning purple with anger.
      The Brigadier appeared in the doorway to his office and
halted, appalled. ‘May I ask what you’re doing, Doctor?’
      ‘Venusian aikido, Brigadier. Very effective. Of course if
you hold it too long, the subject remains permanently
paralysed.’
      ‘Then I suggest you let Professor Stahlman go.’
      ‘Certainly!’ The Doctor removed his fingers, and
Stahlman slumped forwards onto the desk.
      ‘Thank you,’ said the Brigadier. ‘Now perhaps someone
will explain what’s going on here?’
      The Doctor said, ‘Well, Professor—shall I tell him or will
you?’
      Stahlman straightened up. ‘Brigadier, I want this man
expelled from the complex immediately. That is an order.’ He
turned and left the office.
      The Doctor hurried after him.
      ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ called the Brigadier.
      ‘Don’t start asking silly questions, Brigadier. Just follow
me!’
      They followed Stahlman out into central control. ‘Just a
moment, Professor,’ called the Doctor. We need some answers
from you.’
      Stahlman swung round. ‘This man is trying to sabotage
my project, Brigadier.’
      ‘Oh am I?’ said the Doctor indignantly. ‘Just be good
enough to show me what you’ve got in your left-hand pocket.’
      Stahlman glared indignantly at him.
      The Brigadier said apologetically, ‘Profesor—if you
wouldn’t mind?’
      Stahlman snatched out the contents of his left-hand
jacket pocket and slammed them on top of the console, and
turned the pocket inside out. He did the same with the right-
hand pocket.
      The Doctor and the Brigadier looked at the collection of
objects. Keys, a handkerchief, a notebook, small change, a
penknife nothing but the usual everyday things that anyone
might carry.
      ‘Satisfied?’ snarled Stahlman. ‘Now get that man out of
sight!’ He crammed his possessions back into his pockets and
walked away.
      The Brigadier looked at the Doctor. ‘Well?’
      ‘I tell you he had a micro-circuit in that pocket,
Brigadier.’
      ‘It isn’t them now, is it?’
      Suddenly the busy whirring and chattering of the
computer banks faltered. Slowly they came to a halt.
      The Doctor nodded towards the computer. ‘You see?
It’s packing up already.’
      Before the Brigadier could reply, the Doctor stalked off.
      An agitated group of technicians had gathered around
the computer, and the Brigadier moved to join them. Taking
advantage of the confusion, Stahlman slipped back towards
the Brigadier’s office. Just under the desk lay a tiny gleaming
object—the missing micro-circuit, still lying where Stahlman
had dropped it. Viciously Stahlman ground it to powder with
the heel of his shoe.

      Liz Shaw was still working on the TARDIS console when
the Doctor marched into the hot, his face grim and
determined. ‘Find any damage to the circuits, Liz?’
      ‘A couple of by-pass circuits had burned out, but I
replaced them.’
      ‘Good, good.’
      ‘Still, with the power cut off we’re just waisting our time,
aren’t we? I mean, you won’t be able to make any more trial
runs—I’m glad to say!
      ‘It wasn’t the console that was to blame, Liz. If it hadn’t
been for that sudden unexpected surge of power...’
      Liz smiled. ‘Well, maybe. But I’m afraid we’ll never
know for sure.’
      ‘Liz, do you think you could do me a favour? Just slip
back to central control and feed this into the spare computer
bank.’ He handed her a sheaf of notes.
      Liz glanced at them. ‘Epsilon co-ordinates? You usually
work those out in your head.’
      ‘Yes, but you see—well, to be honest I’m a little tired.’
      ‘All right, Doctor,’ said Liz sympathetically. She took the
co-ordinates and headed for the door.
      ‘Allow me,’ said the Doctor. He produced his sonic
screwdriver and operated the remote control on the door. It
rose, and Liz went outside.
      As soon as she was gone, the Doctor sprang to life,
making a number of complex adjustments on his power
transformer. It seemed almost as if he was working against
time.

       Liz came into central control. A great commotion was
going came and the computer. She went over to the
Brigadier, who was standing on the edge of the group looking
baffled. ‘What’s happening?’
       ‘The computer appears to have broken down.’
       Liz waved her sheaf of notes. ‘The Doctor will have to do
his calculations in his head alter all.’
       The Brigadier said slowly, ‘The Doctor sent you? But—
he was here when the computer first broke down. He sent you
on a wild goose chase, Miss Shaw.’
       They looked at each other for a moment and her Liz
said, ‘Come on, Brigadier!’
       The Doctor stepped back and examined his work. It was
more difficult to make the test run without Liz to help—but
wasn’t impossible. All he needed was the incorporation of a
simple remote-control device to feed the power through in
stages.
       He switched on and dashed back to the TARDIS
console. There was a steadily rising hum of power and the
console began to shudder and vibrate. There was a wheezing,
groaning sound. The Doctor gripped the edge of the console
with all his might. Suddenly console and Doctor began
flicking in and out of reality.

      In central control the lights suddenly began dimming
and brightening again.
      Petra hurried up to Stahlman, who was studying the
power readings in astonishment. ‘What’s happening,
Professor?’
      ‘Someone’s using extra power.’ Stahlman smashed a fist
down onto the nearest console. ‘It’s him! It’s that Doctor!’ He
rushed to the power console, and saw, as he had expected,
that the power to the Doctor’s hut had been re-connected.
Stahlman grabbed for a cut-out switch and pulled it back.

      The Brigadier and Liz ran up to the open door of the
hut, which was filled with the roar of power. They saw the
shuddering console, the Doctor hanging on desperately...
      Suddenly the Doctor, the console and even the little
yellow car shimmered and faded out of existence. The roar of
the power cut out. The hut was silent—and empty. The
Doctor, the TARDIS console and Bessie had all three
disappeared.
                       5
               Dimension of Terror
      Liz ran to the power transformer and flicked
desperately at the controls. ‘Nothing—it’s dead. Stahlman
must have cut off the power again. Wherever the Doctor is,
he’s trapped!’
      The Brigadier said, ‘I think you’d better let me know
what’s been going on, Miss Shaw.’
      ‘I’ll tell you on the way over to central control.’

       By the time they reached the main control room, the
Brigadier knew all about the Doctor’s experiments with the
Stahlman project’s power, and his previous temporary
disappearance. He would have a number of extremely cutting
things to say to the Doctor when he returned—if he returned.
       The roar of the drill seemed louder and more frantic in
the control centre now. It was obvious that Stahlman had
resumed the accelerated drilling.
       He was studying the power readings with evident
satisfaction, when the Brigadier and Liz approached.
       ‘Professor Stahlman!’
       ‘Not now, Brigadier.’
       ‘I want you to re-connect the power to the Doctor’s hut.’
       ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
       ‘Professor Stahlman, the Doctor has disappeared!’
       ‘Excellent! For once he’s done as he was told.’
       ‘You don’t understand,’ said Liz desperately. He was
engaged in an experiment, and you switched off the power at
a crucial moment. You’ve got to restore it.’
       ‘My dear young woman, I denied the Doctor a power
source when he was here—I’m scarcely likely to restore it now
that he’s gone.’
       Sir Keith tried to help. ‘Professor Stahlman, be
reasonable.’
       ‘I have been more than reasonable, ever since this
project began. I’ve tolerated your experts and advisers. But
now we have accelerated the drilling programme, and I will
not be disturbed further.’
       ‘You had no right to accelerate the programme without
proper consultation with the Ministry.’
       ‘I have every right.’
       ‘Then I’m sorry, but I shall have to appeal to the
Minister.’
       ‘Please do. I can tell you exactly what he’ll say. “This
project vital to the country’s industrial future. We must have a
new power source—and Stahlman is the only one who can get
it for us!” ’
       Liz could see that the fate of the Doctor had been
forgotten. ‘Please, we must have the power supply
reconnected.’
       ‘The matter is closed,’ said Stahlman coldly. ‘Under no
circumstances will any power be reconnected to the Doctor’s
hut.’ He walked away.
       ‘What exactly has happened to the Doctor?’ asked Sir
Keith.
       The Brigadier hesitated. ‘He’s vanished.’
       ‘We’re afraid he may be in danger,’ said Liz.
       Sir Keith said worriedly, ‘I’m afraid we may all be in
danger—unless we can get the drilling rate slowed dawn.’
       ‘Will you go to London, sir?’ asked the Brigadier.
      ‘There’s no alternative. Someone’s got to control
Stahlman.’
      ‘Do you think they’ll listen to you?’
      ‘I very much doubt it. Stahlman was right. They believe
he’s the only one who can make this project succeed. I’m just
a figurehead. But I shall go and try, just as soon as I’ve
cleared my work.’
      Liz.frowned. ‘Surely you ought to go now—at once?’
      ‘My dear Miss Shaw, the project is reaching a crucial
stage. If Stahlman can find any chance to accuse me of
negligence, he will—and who will believe we then?’

      Stahlman stood staring at the drill-head mechanism, his
eyes blazing. He glanced down at his left hand, and saw a
great stain spreading across the skin. He took a pair of white
gloves from his pocket and put them on.
      Petra came up to him in time to see what was
happening. ‘Are you all right, Professor?’
      ‘Perfectly.’
      ‘Hadn’t you better get a doctor to take a look at that
hand?’
      ‘I am perfectly all right!’ He became calmer. ‘Now, may I
suggest that we continue with our work?’

     In central control the Brigadier was saying, ‘I’m sorry,
Miss Shaw, there’s nothing more we can do.’
     ‘What about the Doctor? You don’t seem very worried.’
     ‘Professor Stahlman seems determined to blow us all to
kingdom come, the Doctor has vanished, and I have a
number of unsolved murders on my hands. I promise you,
Miss Shaw, I’m extremely worried!’
      For what seemed a very long time the Doctor had been
whirling helplessly in some kind of limbo, a place where not
only time and space but the fabric of reality itself seemed to be
distorted. He felt as if he was being split off, so that there were
not one but ten, a hundred, a thousand, a million Doctors—
with a million TARDIS consoles and a million Bessics to go
with them.
      Suddenly he hit the ground with a jolt, and opened his
eyes. He was back in his hut. The place was the same, and
yet—it was different. Wonderingly, the Doctor looked around
him. To begin with it was neat—an unlikely state of affairs
where the Doctor was concerned. He liked a bit of clutter.
      The hut—this hut—was fanatically, meticulously tidy,
like an army barrack room on the eve of an inspection. In fact
the whole place had a distinctly military air. The wall shelves,
that had formerly been piled high with the Doctor’s books
and papers and journals and scientific instruments, now held
nothing but rows of metal boxes, labelled according to some
kind of code. Walls and floor were spotless. There was a large
poster fixed to the wall beside the door. It showed a thin-
faced rather cruel-looking man with a neatly trimmed
moustache. Beneath the picture there was a slogan—‘Unity is
Strength’. Beneath it was a symbol—three arrows radiating
from a common hub.
      ‘Who’s been messing about with my workshop?’
muttered the Doctor indignantly. ‘ “Unity is Strength”
indeed!’ He fished out his sonic screwdriver, and tried to
operate the remote control on the door. Nothing happened.
Puzzled, the Doctor pushed the door open and went outside.
      He stood looking around him, even more puzzled than
before. Like the inside of the hut, the whole landscape had
been—tidied up. There was none of the sprawl and clutter of
the old refinery, no rackety lorries and scruffy old goods
trains. Instead, there was a neat complex of tidily arranged
buildings, with here and there a few military-looking vehicles,
marked with the three-arrow symbol. The cooling towers and
steel gantries were still there, but they had been cleaned and
painted and polished until they shone.
      The Doctor scratched his head, and went back inside the
hut, noticing as he did so that there was a three-arrow symbol
on the door.
      Then he climbed into Bessie, started her up and drove
away.
      Before he had gone very far, a shot spanged off Bessie’s
bonnet. The Doctor turned and saw that a strangely
uniformed soldier in a black forage cap had appeared from
behind some buildings.
      ‘Hey!’ yelled the Doctor indignantly, ‘What do you think
you’re doing?’
      The manraised his rifle and fired again.
      The Doctor put his foot down and sped away.
      It was the beginning of a kind of nightmare. As he drove
along the now neatly concreted access roads, more and more
soldiers appeared. They all wore black forage caps and
shoulder-flashes with the three-arrow symbol. More
important still, they were all armed, and they were all
shooting at him.
      The Doctor sped along between the buildings, spinning
and skidding round corners, trying in vain to avoid or
outpace his attackers. He drove out of the paved area and
onto a kind of wasteland at the edge of the compound.
Suddenly there was a massive wall topped with barbed wire
looming up in front of him. No escape that way.
      The Doctor slowed Bessie and made a quick U-turn—
and as he did so a soldier came bounding towards him, fired
and missed, and leaped onto the bonnet of the car. By now
the Doctor was well under way. The soldier clung on
desperately, clawing his way along the side of the car in a
desperate attempt to reach the Doctor. As his hands reached
out, the Doctor swung up one of his long legs, and shot it out,
heaving the man from the car with a hearty kick. But there
were other soldiers, an unending number of them...
      Driving in a sort of fast zig-tag, the Doctor shot across
the wasteland and drove down a little street made up, he
guessed, of the administration buildings. Soldiers appeared at
the end of the street ahead of him. Looking around, the
Doctor saw that there were more behind. The circle of his
pursuers was closing in.
      Abruptly the Doctor swung Bessie down the gap
between two buildings, into a back alley lined with litter bins.
When the soldiers came running up they saw the little car
parked at an angle, with the Doctor nowhere in sight. They
spread out and began to search.
      When the search party had moved on, the lid of one of
the huge litter bins slowly rose, revealing the head of the
Doctor underneath. It wasn’t the most dignified of hiding-
places, thought the Doctor as he climbed out of the bin, but it
was better than being shot.
      But why was he being shot at? What on earth was going
on here? If the TARDIS had taken him to some other time, or
some other world, the Doctor would have understood. But to
find himself in the same place—the same and yet so very
different...
      The Doctor looked round to get his bearings and saw
that he wasn’t very far from the metal cooling towers. Perhaps
they would offer a better hiding-place. For the moment at
least the way seemed clear, so the Doctor sprinted towards the
nearest tower, swung himself up onto a metal ladder and
began to climb.
       He reached the platform that led to the catwalk that
made a bridge to the next tower, and paused to look down.
He was very high up by now. He could see the soldiers
running between the buildings like disturbed ants, and jeep-
like military vehicles speeding to and fro with more armed
men, and he could hear the wail of the alarm sirens. Whatever
this place was, thought the Doctor, it had a very sensitive
secuity system...
       Suddenly the Doctor heard a low, primitive growl. He
turned and saw a hideous figure shuffling across the platform
towards him. It was Bromley, the man he had encountered
once before; Bromley transformed into a ferocious beast by
that strange recessive mutation. The eyes glowed a fiery red,
the hands were crooked savage claws, and the face was
beginning to sprout coarse black hair. Bromley opened his
mouth, and made an unearthly screeching sound.
       With the strangest feeling that his life was somehow
repeating itself, the Doctor backed away...
       He looked round desperately for a weapon—and saw a
fire-extinguisher clipped to the rail. It would probably hold
CO2 gas under pressure. The gas, when it emerged, would be
intensely cold, and the mutants seemed to crave heat.
Levelling the extinguisher, the Doctor pulled back the lever.
A cloud of icy white vapour shot out, enveloping Bromley,
who screeched and fell writhing to the ground.
       Suddenly the Doctor heard a shout of ‘There he is!’ A
bullet whistled close to his head.
       The Doctor ran along the catwalk to the next tower and
began to climb. Gasping, he pulled himself up onto the dome
roof, and ran across to the other side. The ladder on the far
side would take him back to the ground—and for the moment
at least, he would be out of sight of the soldiers. But before he
could reach it a shambling figure swarmed up the ladder and
advanced towards him. It was another of the mutants—the
Doctor recognised the distorted features of Private Wyatt,
though the mutation was so far advanced that it as hard to
tell.
       The Doctor looked round—no handy fire-extinguisher
this time. There was a section of metal piping by his feet. The
Doctor snatched it up, and hurled it at the creature.
       The mutant swept it aside with an angry snarl and
advanced on the Doctor, driving him back across the roof of
the tower. The creature charged.
       The Doctor leaped aside and monster rushed past,
cannoning into the guard rail at the edge of the tower.
       Far below a soldier looked up, and spotted a silhouetted
figure at the top of the tower. ‘There he is, sir. He’s on the
tower!’
       ‘Fire!’ ordered the squad commander. ‘Fire at will!’
       The soldier raised his rifle.
       The mutant swung round to confront the Doctor. It
gave an unearthly screech and crouched as if to spring.
       The Doctor prepared to dodge. But he knew he
couldn’t avoid the creature indefinitely. Not in this bare open
space so high above the ground. Sooner or later those clawed
hands would seize hold of him, and it would all be over.
       The mutant screeched again, and a shot rang out. Teh
creature staggered, spun round, and pitched headlong over
the guard rail.
      The Doctor ran to the rail and saw its body hurtling
downwards, saw it thud into the ground, scattering the little
knot of soldiers below. He turned and sprinted across the top
of the tower to the ladder on the far side. Swinging himself
over the side, he slid down the outer edges of the ladder like a
fireman’s pole, not bothering with the rungs. In a
astonishingly short time he had reached the ground and was
running for the shelter of a pile of scattered storage crates on
the other side of the road.
      As the Doctor crouched in hiding, considering his next
move, he heard footsteps coming along the road. He peeped
cautiously out of his hiding-place and saw a young woman
marching towards him. She was strangely dressed and her
hair was different, but the face was quite unmistakable.
      ‘I,iz!’ called the Doctor delightedly. ‘Liz!’ He sprang out
of hiding, just as she walked by. Slowly the young woman
turned to face him. It was Liz Shaw all right, there was no
doubt of that. But this Liz had hair that was black rather than
reddish-brown. She wore a brown uniform, a severely tailored
skirt and blouse.. A leather belt around her waist held a
holstered revolver.
      The Doctor stared at her in astonishment. ‘Liz—it’s me!
Don’t you recognise me? What’s happened round here, have
you all gone mad? And what are you doing in that ridiculous
uniform?’
      Cold eyes stared at him, with no sign of recognition. The
girl drew her revolver and levelled it. ‘Put your hands up!’
      ‘Come on, Liz, a joke’s a joke,’ said the Doctor. He
moved towards her.
      She levelled the revolver at his head. ‘Keep back!’
Without taking her eyes from the Doctor’s face, she drew a
whistle from the top pocket of her uniform and blew it hard.
The whistle blast rang out shrilly, and within seconds there
was the clatter of booted feet, as a squad of soldiers came
running up.
     She nodded towards the Doctor. ‘Take him away!’
     To his astonishment, the Doctor recognised the burly,
strangely uniformed figure in charge of the squad. It was
Sergeant Benton.
                         6
                   The Nightmare
      Ben and the soldiers marched the Doctor to a military
vehicle, its sides painted with the three-arrow symbol. He was
thrust inside. Benton and the girl got in with him, and a
soldier drove them the short distance across the compound to
a neater, more military version of the drill tower and other
buildings he had known on the Stahlman project.
      The Doctor was pulled out of the vehicle and dragged
through a more orderly central control, where white-
uniformed technicians moved silently about their duties.
Then he was shoved unceremoniously into an office.
      The room was in darkness, except for the pool of light
that came from a powerful desk lamp. A man was sitting in
the chair behind the desk. He had swivelled the chair round
so that he could consult a chart on the wall behind him. As the
Doctor and the others entered he turned, and the light fell
full on his face.
      Thc Doctor found himself looking at his old friend
Brigadier Alastair Lethbridge-Stewart. But it was a very
different Brigadier. For a start the moustache was gone.
Without it the Brigadier’s mouth was thin-lipped and cruel.
This Brigadier had a black patch over his left eye, a scar ran
from the patch down to his jaw line. Yet somehow these
changes were only superficial. The real change was in the
spirit of the man. The lines of the face were harsh, and the
eyes cold. It was as if all the Brigadier’s essential humanity
had been suppressed. Only the harsher military qualities
remained.
      ‘Is this the man?’ said the uniformed figure.
      The Doctor stared at him in amazement. ‘Brigadier!
What are you doing in that get-up?’
      Benton gave him a savage jab with his rifle butt ‘Keep
quiet!’
      ‘You wll find it unwise to be insolent,’ said the man
behind the desk. ‘How did you gain entry to this
establishment?’
      ‘Look,’ said the Doctor desperately. ‘I know you... and
you know me. Your name is LethbridgeStewart?’
      The man seemed surprised. ‘Yes.’
      ‘Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart.’
      ‘Brigade-Leader Lethbridge-Stewart.’
      ‘All right, Brigade-Leader, have it your own way.’ The
Doctor turned to the girl. ‘And you’re Liz Shaw?’
      ‘I am Section-Leader Elizabeth Shaw.’
      ‘And you’re Sergeant Benton?’
      ‘Ploatoon Under-Leader Benton.’
      The Doctor sighed.
      ‘How do you know our names?’ demanded Section-
Leader Shaw.
      ‘You have been spying on this establishment,’ accused
the Brigade-Leader. ‘What is your name?’
      ‘My name? You want to know my name after all the
years we’ve—’
      The Doctor broke off, a terrible realisation sweeping
otter him. ‘I’m beginning to understand what’s happened...
May I suggest that you just call me the Doctor?’
      ‘Doctor? Doctor what?’
      ‘John Smith?’ said the Doctor hopefully.
      ‘Smith. Yes, of course. And where do you come from
Doctor Smith?’
      The Doctor sighed. ‘I’m afraid this is going to be the
difficult bit.’ He paused, wondering how to express his new
understanding.
      ‘Well?’ snapped the Brigade-Leader impatiently.
      ‘I come from a parallel space/time continuum.’
      Section-Leader Shaw said, ‘Obviously he is trying to
confuse us, Leader.’
      ‘Let me put it another way,’ said the Doctor helpfully.
‘I’ve been transported here from another universe which is
running almost parallel to this one—with a few very
important differences it seems.’
      Section-Leader Shaw looked at her superior. ‘He’s mad.’
      ‘No. I see what he’s up to: he’s trying to make us think
he’s mad.’ He glared at the Doctor. ‘Well, it won’t work my
friend.’
      The Doctor turned to the woman. ‘Even in this world,
you’re still Liz Shaw.’
      ‘I am Section-Leader Elizabeth Shaw, yes.’
      ‘Are you a scientist?’
      ‘No. I am security officer.’
      ‘Fascinating. So many similarities, yet so many
differences.’
      ‘Enough of this!’ shouted the Brigade-Leader. ‘I want
the truth.’
      ‘Tell me, how far down is the shaft you’re drilling here?’
      ‘You see, Leader?’ said Elizabeth Shaw. ‘He is a spy!’
      ‘And how’s Professor Stahlman?’ asked the Doctor
cheerfully. ‘Still having trouble with his liver? And what about
Sir Keith? Now, there’s a man who might understand.’
      ‘What do you know about Sir Keith?’
      ‘I know he’s the Executive Director of this project. Yes, I
should like to speak to Sir Keith very much.’
     ‘Would you indeed?’
     ‘Indeed I would! Or failing that, Professor Stahlman.
He’s an opinionated oaf, I but at least he’s a scientist.’
     ‘Very well,’ said the Brigade-Leader unexpectedly.
     Section-Leader Shaw was horrified. ‘Are you really
taking this man to see the Director, Leader?’
     ‘Why not? I’ll be interested to see what he’s up to—and
whoever he is, he’ll never leave here alive.’

      The Doctor was marched into central control. It seemed
very much the same, though the technicians now wore high-
collared military-style white uniforms instead of lab coats, and
moved about their duties in a disciplined silence.
      The Doctor paused by the digital clock. ‘Three hours,
twenty-two minutes. You’re a lot more advanced here.’
      ‘Come on,’ growled Benton, and shoved him along.
      The Doctor saw Professor Stahlman and Petra Williams
approaching. They wore the same white uniforms as all the
others, though theirs were better cut and made of finer
material. Otherwise Petra Williams looked much the same,
though instead of hanging loose, her long blonde hair was
drawn back in severe bun. This world’s Professor Stahlman
had no beard. He was wearing dark-tinted glasses—and white
gloves.
      The Brigade-Leader saluted as Stahlman approached.
‘An intruder has been caught inside the complex, Director
Stahlman. I thought you might like to question him?’
      Stahlman looked incuriously at the Doctor. ‘Not really.
You know what to do with spies, I take it, Brigade-Leader?’
      He asked to speak to Sir Keith Gold, Director.’
      ‘Indeed? Did you explain to him that this would present
certain difficulties?’
      The Doctor was getting tired of being discussed as if he’
wasn’t there. ‘Difficulties? What difficulties?’
      There as faint amusement in Director Stahlman’s voice.
‘Sir Keith was killed in a motor accident, twenty-four hours
ago. Rather unfortunate.’
      The Doctor said slowly, ‘Sir Keith - dead?’
      ‘I’m afraid so. He was on his way to the Ministry in
London.’
      ‘To complain about you, no doubt - about your decision
to accelerate the rate of drilling?’
      Stahlman said coldly, ‘Who is this man, Brigade-
Leader?’
      ‘We have not yet discovered his identity, Director. The
name he gave us is obviously false.’
      ‘Have you any idea where he comes from?’
      ‘He spoke of coming from some other dimension.’
      ‘I have no time to waste on maniacs, Brigade-Leader.’
      ‘Quite so. My apologies.’
      ‘What about that computer?’ said the Doctor suddenly.
‘It doesn’t appear to be working.’ He waved towards the silent
computer banks.
      ‘It was sabotaged,’ said the Brigade-Leader.
      ‘I’m sure it was. No doubt Director Stahlman could
name the culprit. A missing micro-circuit, no doubt?’
      Stahlman said, ‘Congratulations, Brigade Leader, you
have found your saboteur. It is obvious that this man was
responsible for the damage. Take him away.’
      ‘Benton!’ snapped the Brigade-Leader.
      Benton seized the Doctor’s arm in a painful grip and
marched him off.
      Stahlman watched him go thoughtfully. ‘Carry on,
Doctor Williams,’ he said and hurried away.
       Greg Sutton appeared, his manner stiff and formal. ‘Will
you tell the Director that I have no pressure in the coolant
pipes?’
       ‘He is aware of that. He ordered the power by-passed to
accelerate the drilling.’
       ‘If an emergency develops there will be no safeguards at
the drill-head.’
       ‘There will be no emergency.’
       Sutton’s self-control suddenly gave way. ‘Now listen,
Petra.’
       Petra Williams said icily. ‘I am forced to remind you that
I am Assistant Director of this project. You will address me in
the correct manner.’
       Immediately Sutton was humbled. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor
Williams.’
       ‘Unless you grant me the respect due to my position I
shall be forced to report you,’ said Petra Williams impassively.
She moved away. Yet despite her loyalty to Stahlman, Petra
Williams shared some of Sutton’s doubts. She passed through
the tunnel and went up to Stahlman. As usual he was staring
raptly at the drill-head.
       Petra consulted the notes on her clip-board. ‘All safety
factors have now been exceeded, Director’
       Stahlman did not take his eyes from the drill-head. ‘We
are now very close to penetration. I will not decelerate the
drilling at this crucial stage.’
       ‘As you wish, Director.’ She moved away.
       Once she was out of sight, Stahlman peeled back the
glove from the back of his left hand. The knuckles were
almost covered in coarse black hair.
      The Doctor was standing in front of the Brigade-
Leader’s desk, Benton at his elbow. There was an armed
sentry at the door. The Brigade-Leader was sorting through
his papers, pretending that the Doctor wasn’t there. It was,
thought the Doctor, one of the oldest interrogation techniques
to the book.
      The Doctor however was getting bored. ‘May I ask what
is going to happen to me?’
      The Brigade-Leader didn’t look up. ‘You’ll be shot—
eventually.’
      ‘Without a trial?’
      ‘This is your trial.’
      ‘Nonsense. You can’t possibly have the authority.’
      ‘I have full authority, Doctor—under the Defence of the
Republic Act of 1943.’
      ‘Republic? What happened to the Royal—’
      ‘Executed—all of them.’
      The Doctor sighed. ‘Pity. Such a charming family. I
knew her great-grandfather in Paris. You know, I remember
one evening he said to me, “Doctor,” he said, why don’t we go
to Maxims and—” ’. As he spoke, the Doctor sank into the
chair before the desk.
      Immediately Benton hauled him to his feet by the scruff
of the neck. ‘On your feet!’
      ‘I’ve been standing here for a very long time,’ said the
Doctor reproachfully.
      ‘You’ll be standing a lot longer yet!’
      The Doctor fell silent, wondering just what had
happened to alter the history of England to drastically.
Perhaps the English had lost the Second World War. Or
perhaps there had never been a Second World War—not for
England, that is. Plenty of people had wanted to make peace
with Hitler in 1939, and again in 1940, after Dunkirk.
Perhaps in this world they had succeeded. England had kept
out of the war, the Americans had stayed neutral. and Hitler
was left to rule the Europe he had conquered. Then sooner or
later the Fascists in England would have staged a coup, and
set up a Fascist state in the style of their Nazi friends. That
was it, decided the Doctor. Not foreign invaders, but Fascism
of the home-grown variety.
      He shifted his position.
      The Brigade-Leader looked up at last, and the Doctor
said, ‘Tell me, why is this place swarming with your
uniformed thugs?’
      Benton gave the Doctor a routine thump with his rifle
butt.
      The Brigade-Leader said, ‘You are speaking
disrespectfully of the Republican Security Forces—the RSF.
We are here because this is a Scientific Labour Camp.’
      ‘Staffed by slave labour, I take it? Well, I warn you,
you’re all in very grave danger.’
      ‘We are in danger?’ The Brigade-Leader smiled.
      ‘Before that computer broke down it was transmitting a
warning, wasn’t it.’
      ‘You are very well informed Doctor.’
      ‘And what about Harry Slocum?’
      ‘How do you know about him?’
      ‘He—changed, didn’t he? Went berserk and started
killing people?’
      The Brigade-Leader paled. News of all these mysterious
events had been strictly suppressed. ‘You are condemning
yourself, Doctor. Only a spy could know so much.’
      ‘Look, I am not a spy, I’ve seen it all before.’
      ‘Where?’ shouted the Brigade-Leader in exasperation.
      ‘In another world,’ said the Doctor quietly.
      ‘Very well. I can watt. You will tell me the truth—
eventually’
      ‘You’re just wasting time,’ said the Doctor wearily.
      ‘We work to an orderly system. Your identity is being
checked with Central Records. Once we know who you are
the real interrogation can begin.’
      ‘I don’t exist in your world!’
      ‘Then you won’t feel the bullets when we shoot you,’
said the Brigade-Leader calmly.
      A buzzer sounded on the desk. He picked up the phone.
‘Very well. I’ll see you there.’
      The Brigade-Leader rose. ‘Platoon Under-Leader
Benton. The prisoner will remain here.’
      The Brigade-Leader hurried away.

       He found Section-Leader Shaw waiting for him in
central control. She looked badly shaken. ‘I’ve just been on to
Central Records, about our prisoner.’
       ‘Well, who is he?’
       ‘There is absolutely no one of his description on their
files. The man does not exist.’
       ‘Impossible!’
       ‘They’ll keep checking, but they’re certain that this man
is neither a British National, nor a known agent of any foreign
government,’
       The Brigade-Leader said slowly, ‘Central Records have
never been wrong before. Never.’
       ‘Yet the man knows as much about this operation as if
he had been here for weeks. It just doesn’t make sense.’

     They went back to the office.
      The Brigade-Leader stared almost indignantly at his
prisoner. ‘You are giving us a great deal oftrouble, Doctor.’
      ‘I’m very glad to hear it!’
      ‘You would make things much easier for yourself if you
would tell me the truth.’
      The Doctor chuckled. ‘Proper little bureaucrat, aren’t
you? Can’t shoot me till you’ve filled in all the forms, is that
it?’
      Elizabeth Shaw said, ‘Unless you co-operate you will
soon be in front of a firing squad. You have very little time.’
      ‘My dear young lady, if that computer out there was still
functioning, it would tell us that we all have very little time.’

      Petra Williams was talking into an internal phone.
‘Number 2 output pipe again? Is the leak bad? I see. Carry
on, until further instructions.’
      She put down the phone and found Greg Sutton at her
elbow.
      ‘Trouble?’ he asked.
      ‘Yes.’
      ‘At the drill-head?’
      Petra nodded. ‘A minor detail.’
      ‘There is no such thing as a minor detail at the drill-
head!’
      Petra Williams gave him a look. She raised her voice.
‘Director?’
      Stahlman turned. ‘What is it?’
      ‘There’s a minor leak in number 2 output pipe.’
      ‘So?’
      ‘So we ought to do something about it,’ said Sutton.
‘We’re approaching penetration-zero.’
      ‘Let one of the duty-riggers attend to it.’
      ‘I think you should see for yourself, sir it could be
important.’
      ‘Don’t presume to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do,
Sutton,’ snarled Stahlman. He turned away.
      ‘No, Director,’ said Sutton woodenly. As Stahlman
moved away he muttered, ‘Sorry, Director! Three bags full,
Director...’ Greg Sutton had always had a mutinous streak.
      Suddenly a alarm screamed out from the drill-head.
Instinctively Sutton ran for the tunnel.

       In his office the Brigade-Leader reacted too. ‘Watch the
prisoner,’ he ordered and ran from the room. Elizabeth Shaw
hurried after him.
       Instinctively Benton glanced towards the departing
figures. The Doctor’s long arm snaked out. Two fingers
jabbed Benton under the collar bone, and he crumpled and
fell. Stepping over his body, the Doctor ran from the office.
       A terrifying shrieking sound was coming from the drill-
head.

       The Brigade-Leader was speaking into a public address
mike set into the wall. His voice boomed out over the wail of
the siren. ‘Security units alert. All Security units take up
positions immediately. No technician will be allowed to leave
his post. I say again, no technician will leave his post. All
security units alert...’
       Sutton was herding a group of terrified technicians
towards the drill-head. ‘Come on, come on, get those heat-
suits on.’
       The men were climbing into heavy protective disaster-
suits.
       ‘Doctor Williams, check the coolant pipes - get me some
extra power laid on for the reserve supply.’
       As Petra hurried to obey, Sutton drove his emergency
team into the tunnel.
       Meanwhile, more terrified technicians were running out
from the drill-head area. But the Brigade-Leader was ready
for them, armed guards behind him. ‘Back to your posts!’ he
shouted. ‘Get back or we fire!’
       Stahlman’s voice bellowed through control. ‘We can
contain the emergency. All of you, back to your posts!’ He
glanced round the control area and saw to his astonished rage
that the Doctor was working busily at the compur.
       Looking round for help, Stahlman saw Benton
staggering from the office. ‘Benton!’ he shouted, and pointed
to the Doctor.
       Benton nodded, and moved purposefully towards the
computer.
       The Doctor meanwhile was rooting through a spare-
parts locker. ‘There must be a spare micro-circuit here
somewhere—or even something I could adapt...’ Something
cold and hard touched his head just above the ear. The
Doctor turned and found himself gazing straight down the
muzzle of a rifle.
       On the other end of the rifle was a very angry Benton.
‘And what do you think you’re doing?’
       ‘Trying to repair your computer for you.’
       ‘Outside,’ said Benton curtly. ‘I’ll have a firing squad
ready for you in no time.’
       ‘Don’t be an idiot, man. Can’t you see how important
this is?’
       Benton jabbed him hard in the ribs with the rifle barrel.
‘On your feet, Doctor.’
      Slowly the Doctor rose.
      ‘Now then,’ said Benton menacingly. ‘Are you coming
quietly—or do I shoot you, here and now?’
                          7
                   Death Sentence
      The Doctor was contemplating these unattractive
alternatives when Section-Leader Shaw appeared.
      ‘Just a moment Under-Leader. What’s going on here?’
      ‘Prisoner tried to escape, Leader,’ said Benton,
woodenly. ‘I was about to take him out and shoot him.’
      ‘Not yet, I’ll take charge of him.’
      Disappointed, Benton stepped back, still keeping the
Doctor covered with his rifle.
      ‘Thank you—Section-Leader,’ said the Doctor.
      ‘I’m not particularly concerned with saving your skin—
only with carrying out the correct procedure.’
      The Doctor smiled. ‘Well, thank you anyway.
Incidentally, I think I may be able to get this computer
working again.’
      ‘Leave it alone, Doctor. It’s none of your concern.’
      ‘I’d say it was everyone’s concern.’
      She nodded to Benton. ‘Better take him back to the
office.’
      Benton waved his rifle at the Doctor. ‘Come on, you!’
      ‘Just a minute, just a minute,’ said the Doctor, and
resumed his search through the spare-parts locker.
      ‘I said come on!’
      ‘All right, all right, I’m coming,’ said the Doctor, still
making no move to obey.
      Benton gabbed his arm.
      ‘You might at least let me try. All I have to do is—’
      ‘Come on,’ repeated Benton. He tried to drag the
Doctor away, but he was astonishingly hard to move.
      Suddenly Elizabeth Shaw changed her mind. ‘No—wait.
Let him try. We’ve got nothing to lose.’
      They watched as the Doctor took a couple of micro
circuits, linked them together, removed an access panel and
inserted them into the computer. ‘There, that ought to hold
for a while...’
      Suddenly the computer came to life. Data began
flooding across its screens and the print-out began spewing
out incredibly long rolls of paper.
      The Doctor gave a sigh of relief. ‘I should say the
computer is already aware of the danger and is assessing the
immediate problem.’ He grabbed the computer printout
strips and began scanning them at amazing speed.
      Stahlman came hurrying up. ‘What is this man doing
here, Section-Leader Shaw.’
      ‘He has repaired the computer, Director.’
      ‘He should not have been allowed near it. He’s a
dangerous spy. He sabotaged the computer in the first place.
Now he’s doing it again.’
      ‘I was not sabotaging it,’ said the Doctor indignantly. ‘I
was repairing it, as you can see.’
      ‘The computer is working again, Director,’ Elizabeth
Shaw pointed out.
      That’s right,’ said Sutton. ‘Shouldn’t we see what it’s got
to say?’
      ‘We are working to my calculations,’ said Stahlman.
      By now Sutton was openly rebellious. ‘Your
calculations? And do your calculations tell you how to deal
with this emergency?’
      ‘Yes!’
      ‘Well, it doesn’t look that way to to me.’
      ‘Watch your tongue, Sutton.’
      Ignoring him, Sutton turned to the Doctor. ‘Can you
interpret what the computer is saying?’
      ‘Yes. It’s telling us that the combination of pressure and
heat is over-powering the velocity of the drill bit.’
      ‘What can we do about it?’ asked Petra Williams.
      ‘Disperse the pressure and the heat by creating a reverse
vortex at the bottom of the drill shaft.’
      Stahlman sneered. ‘And how do we do that?’
      ‘Reverse all systems.’
      ‘And bring the project to a standstill?’ screamed
Stahlman. ‘No!’
      ‘It isn’t as crazy as it seems,’ insisted Sutton. ‘It’s been
done before, on an oil shaft.’
      Stahlman shook his head. ‘Out of the question. It could
smash the whole system.’
      Sutton nodded towards the tunnel to the drill shaft. The
screeching was much louder now. ‘Sounds to me as if it’s
smashing itself!’
      ‘That’s right,’ said the Doctor urgently. ‘And what’s
more, you’re wasting time.’ He took Sutton’s arm. ‘Now I
suggest you pump the coolant down the output pipes and
drag up the debris through the input pipes.’
      Sutton looked appealingly at Stahlman. ‘Well, Director?’
      Stahlman hesitated a moment longer. The hideous
sounds from the drill shaft made up his mind for him. He
raised his voice. ‘Reverse all systems. Bypass number 2 output
pipe.’
      Under the watchful eyes of the Brigade-Leader’s men,
the technicians hurried to their tasks.
      Stahlman turned to the Brigade-Leader. ‘Now, will you
get that man out of my control room!’
      ‘Take him away, Benton.’
      ‘You might let me see if the idea works. Of all the
ungrateful nitwits!’ Still protesting, the Doctor was bustled
away.

       Back in the Brigade-Leader’s office, the Doctor stood
listening for any change in the shrieking sound coming from
the drill-head.
       Elizabeth Shaw looked curiously at him. ‘You seem to
know a great deal about this project.’
       ‘Enough.’
       ‘You really are a srientist.’
       ‘Of sorts.’
       ‘Where did you come from, Doctor?’
       ‘I’ve already told you that. I come from a parallel
space/time continuum—a sort of twin world to this.’
       ‘If you’d only tell us the truth, Doctor, there might be
some hope for you.’
       ‘Your counterpart in that other world knows I am not in
the habit of telling lies.’
       ‘This other woman—the one that looks like me—‘
       ‘It isn’t that she looks like you,’ interrupted the Doctor,
‘she is you. I wish I could make you understand that.’
       ‘What does she do?’
       ‘She’s scientist.’
       ‘And I’m a security officer.’
       ‘Yes,’ said the Doctor thoughtfully. ‘But tell me, did you
ever want to be a scientist?’ He studied her face. ‘Yes, I can
see you did.’
      ‘I took a doctorate in science,’ she said slowly. ‘What has
that got to do with this ridiculous story of yours?’
      ‘Just that your mind-processes run on similar lines to
hers—the other Liz. Don’t you find that significant?’
      ‘Not particularly.’
      ‘Please, Liz, try to think,’ urged the Doctor. ‘Whatever
they’ve taught you in this twisted world, you’ve still got a
mind of your own. Use it—while you’ve still got time!’

      The shrieking from the drill-head was beginning to
fade. Greg Sutton looked at Petra Williams. ‘It’s working.
Who was that funny-looking bloke anyway?’
      She shrugged. ‘They say he’s a saboteur.’
      ‘So how come he saves all our necks?’
      ‘He was probably just trying to save his own. Hadn’t you
better get number 2 output pipe fixed?’
      ‘It’ll mean cutting down the drill to minimum revs.’
      ‘The Director won’t like that.’
      ‘He’ll have to lump it,’ said Sutton bluntly. ‘There’s no
alternative.’
      Petra Williams looked sadly at him. ‘If only you could
curb this rebellious streak, Sutton, you might have a great
future as a servant of the State.’
      ‘Thanks a lot,’ said Sutton ironically. ‘And be a nice well-
behaved little zombie like the rest of you? No thanks.’
      ‘You survive only because your technical skills have a
certain value, Sutton. Once this project is over—’
      ‘Greg Sutton is for the high jump? A little accident in the
cells—shot while trying to escape?
      ‘These things happen.’
      He looked hard at her. ‘And would you care?’
     Petra Williams hesitated, then turned away. ‘I should
regret the waste, that’s all.’

       Elizabeth Shaw said, ‘Yes, I see. Thank you.’ She put
down the phone. ‘The emergency is over.’
       ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said the Doctor cheerfully.
       ‘It seems your idea worked.’
       ‘Maybe you could give me a medal—posthumously of
course.’
       ‘You find the idea of death amusing, Doctor?’
       ‘Not particularly. Do you?’
       Her voice was almost pleading. ‘If you told me the true
facts about yourself I might be able to help you.’
       ‘My dear Liz, I am trying to help you. You just said the
emergency was over. Well, it isn’t. As long as you people go
on drilling, you’re all rushing into terrible danger.’

      In the drill-head area Greg Sutton stood supervising a
gang of riggers as they repaired the broken output pipe.
Stahlman stood by impatiently. ‘How long, Sutton? How
long?’
      ‘Almost finished.’
      ‘Good. Then we shall continue with the drilling.’
      ‘At reduced revs?’
      Stahlman shook his head. ‘It is my intention to
accelerate again as soon as possible.’
      ‘I don’t advise it, Director.’
      ‘I don’t need anyone’s advice.’
      ‘Not even that prisoner’s?’
      ‘I would have reached the same conclusions.’
      ‘You might have reached them a bit too late.’
     ‘You know, Sutton, I sometimes wonder why I tolerate
your insolence.’
     Greg Sutton smiled. ‘Because on a project like this, you
need more than a good party member—you need a good
engineer.’
     Stahlman said grimly, ‘Perhaps. But remember, Sutton,
although you are useful, you are not indispensable.’
     ‘This seems to be my day for getting warnings.’
     ‘You have a bad record, Sutton,’ warned Stahlman. ‘A
long historyof insubordination. It would be very easy to have
you disposed of. Remember that.’ Stahlman turned abruptly
away and headed off down the tunnel.
     Half-way down he paused, hands over his ears. For a
moment it seemed as if the terrible screeching that had been
coming from the drill-shaft was sounding inside his head.

      The Doctor was sitting in the chair before the Brigade-
Leader’s desk. Benton stood behind him, pulling his head
back at a painful angle. The powerful lamp on the desk had
been swivelled round so that it shone directly into the
Doctor’s face. His interrogation had begun.
      They hadn’t got to the real rough stuff, not yet. One or
two thumps from Benton, just to soften him up a little. Now
they were relying on the tried and true methods—the
cramped, uncomfortable position, the light blazing into the
face so that he could see nothing of the Brigade-Leader and
Section-Leader Shaw standing behind it; and above all, the
questions, endlessly repeated, hammering into the brain.
      ‘Name?’ shouted Section-Leader Shaw.
      ‘Who sent you?’ demanded the Brigade-Leader.
      One after the other they rapped out their questions.
      ‘Did you come to commit sabotage?
       ‘Name?’
       ‘What organisation do you belong to?’
       ‘When did you first become a traitor?’
       ‘How did you get into the complex?’
       ‘Who helped you?’ demanded the Brigade-Leader. ‘Was
it Sutton?
       ‘Name?’ insisted Liz. ‘Tell us your name!’
       ‘Answer!’
       ‘You’re wasting your time, you know,’ said the Doctor. ‘I
can stand a great deal of this childishness.’
       ‘This is only the beginning,’ warned the Brigade-
Leader.
       ‘There are other methods,’ threatened Section-Leader
Shaw.
       ‘I’m sure there are,’ said the Doctor wearily. ‘They won’t
do you any good.’
       ‘You’ll talk eventually,’ said the Brigade-Leader
confidently. ‘Everybody talks.’
       ‘You can’t make me give you information that doesn’t
exist.’
       ‘The information does exist, Doctor—and you will give it
to ,’ bellowed the Brigade-Leader,
       ‘Name?’ demanded Section-Leader Shaw remorselessly.
       ‘Who sent you here?’ repeated the Brigade-Leader.
       The unending round of questions began again.
       ‘Which enemy power do you work for?’
       ‘Who are your associates?’
       ‘How did you get here?’
       ‘I came alone, and by accident.’ The Doctor’s voice was a
little weaker now. ‘The TARDIS slipped me sideways...’
      Elizabeth Shaw looked at the Brigade-Leader. ‘Perhaps
we should proceed to stage two interrogation? He’s just
babbling.’
      The Brigade-Leader considered. ‘No. He’s a tough one.
He might die before he talked.’
      ‘Perhaps we’d better let him get his strength back ,
Suddenly the room began to vibrate. The noise of the drill
had been almost inaudible at minimum revs, but now it had
started up again louder and shriller than before.
      The Doctor leaped to his feet. ‘It’s Stahlman—he’s
accelerated the drilling!’
      At a nod from the Brigade-Leader, Benton grabbed the
Doctor’s shoulders and slammed him back into the chair. His
head was pulled back, the light trained on his face
      ‘All right,’ said the Brigade-Leader. ‘We’ll begin again,
shall we?’
      ‘Name?’
      ‘Who sent you here?’
      ‘Why did you come here?’
      The door was flung open, and Stahlman came into the
room. ‘What progress have you made?’
      The Brigade-Leader said stiffly. ‘As you can see,
Director, the prisoner is being interrogated. We are
proceeding according to plan.’
      Wrenching his head away from Benton’s hands, the
Doctor struggled to sit upright. ‘I see you are wearing gloves,
Director. May we know why’
      ‘Brigade-Leader—you are allowing the prisoner to be
impertinent.’
      ‘Go on,’ said the Doctor. ‘Ask him to take them off. I
think you’ll find it very interesting.’
        Suddenly Stahlman laughed. ‘Why not? They say
madmen should be humoured.’ He peeled off his left glove to
reveal a neatly bandaged hand.
        ‘Why the bandages?’ challenged the Doctor.
        Stahlman shrugged. ‘I scorched my hand on a section of
the drill-head.’
        ‘Oh no,’ said the Doctor softly. ‘A drop of that green
substance from the output pipe touched you, didn’t it? Just a
little, but enough to infect you—like all those others.’ There
was something very convincing in the Doctor’s voice.
        The Brigade-Leader looked at the Director’s face,
twisted with rage, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
        ‘All right, we’ve wasted enough time,’ he said abruptly.
‘take him away, Benton, down to the security cells.’
        The Doctor was heaved to his feet.
        ‘Stahlman, you’ve got to listen. You’re very ill. You’ve
been infected. I think this terrible compulsion to reach
penetration-zero is part of that sickness.’
        ‘Take him away,’ screamed Stahlman.
        The Doctor was dragged out.
        The Brigade-Leader snapped, ‘Section-Leader Shaw,
you will supervise the transfer of the prisoner to the security
block.’
        ‘At once, Brigade-Leader,’ She followed the Doctor and
Benton from the room.
        The Brigade-Leader studied Stahlman thoughtfully.
‘You take a great interest in this prisoner, Director?’
        ‘The security of this project—’
        ‘—is my responsibility,’ completed the Brigadier.
        ‘Yet you have allowed this man to enter the complex
and roam about apparently at will.’
      ‘The man was caught, Director. And caught quickly. He
is no longer a danger to us. But the information he can give
us, about the people who sent him, how and why he came
here—that information is vital.’
      ‘Then I suggest you make the Doctor talk. But do it
quickly. Before this day is over, I want him liquidated—and
that, Brigade-Leader, is an order!’
                       8
               Countdown to Doom
      Raising their voices to counter the increased sound from
the drill-head, Petra Williams and Greg Sutton were arguing
as usual.
      ‘We should have checked out the whole system from top
to bottom while we will had the drill at minimum revs,’ Greg
Sutton was saying.
      Petra shook her head. ‘The Director wouldn’t permit
the delay. He knows what he’s doing.’
      ‘You make a little tin god of Stahlman, don’t you? I
think he’s nut.’
      ‘That kind of talk is very dangerous.’
      ‘He’s a nut I tell you. He’s obsessed.’ Sutton looked hard
at her. ‘Well, are you going to report me? Get me a week in
the punishment cells?’
      Petra was silent.
      Greg Sutton smiled. ‘Hey, things are looking up,’ he
said teasingly. ‘A few days ago you’d have turned me in
without a second thought!’

      It was the Doctor who was in the cells, a row of cages
along a narrow passage, separated only by their bars. It was
like being in a zoo.
      The cage next to the Doctor’s was occupied by a still
form under a rough blanket. Whoever he was, the man was
apparently fast asleep.
       As Benton unlocked the door of his future cell, the
Doctor was saying, ‘I’ll have you know your counterpart on
the other Earth is a nice sociable sort of fellow, Sergeant.’
       ‘My rank is Platoon Under-Leader,’ said Benton stolidly.
       ‘Bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?’
       ‘Your trouble is, you talk too much.’
       The Doctor nodded towards the prisoner in the next
cell. ‘What did he do? Park in a restricted zone?’
       ‘Stop asking stupid questions.’
       The Doctor glanced at the motionless huddled shape.
‘Well, at least he seems to be sleeping peacefully.’
       ‘Tranquilliser dart,’ said Benton curtly. ‘They don’t give
us much trouble after that. We should have done the same to
you. Now, get in.’ He thrust the Doctor inside the cell,
slammed and locked the door, and turned and went away.
       ‘Any chance of some food?’ called the Doctor plaintively.
‘Cup of tea? Glass of water, then?’
       To his surprise Benton reappeared, this time with
Section-Leader Shaw and another sentry.
       ‘Visaing time already, is it?’ said the Doctor cheerfully.
       ‘Your interrogation isn’t over yet.’
       ‘Oh, yes it is,’ said the Doctor, and stretched out on the
bunk.
       ‘Get on your feet when the Section-Leader’s talking to
you!’ shouted Benton.
       ‘Oh, go away and give me some peace.’
       ‘When I say get on your feet, prisoner, I mean get on
your feet!’
       ‘All right,’ grumbled the Doctor. ‘Anything for a quiet
life!’ He got up and leaned against the bars.
       ‘Now,’ said Section-Leader Shaw relentlessly. ‘We’ll start
again. Who sent you? How did you get into the complex?’
      ‘I am sick and tired of being badgered with all these
questions!’
      ‘The questions will go on until you answer them!’
      ‘I have answered them—more times than I care to think
about!’
      ‘You have told us nothing.’
      ‘I have told you the truth—it’s not my fault if your
minds are to narrow to accept it.’
      Benton looked longingly at the Doctor. ‘Just let me have
a few minutes with him, leader.’
      ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘Wait outside—both of you.’
      Benton and the sentry moved away.
      Shc turned to the Doctor. ‘Now perhaps we can talk
sensibly.’
      ‘Trying a change of tactics?’
      ‘If you like.’
      ‘First the bullying, then the charm,’ said the Doctor
cynically. ‘Secret police tactic number two!’
      ‘Believe me, Doctor, I really am trying o help you.’
      ‘Even though you think I’m a spy?’
      She shook her head. ‘No. You’re far too conspicuous to
be spy. I think you come from one of those crackpot free
speech groups. You’re making some sort of demonstration.’
      ‘Oh no!’ groaned the Doctor.
      She leaned forward. ‘If you’ll make a full confession, I
may be able to convince them you’re just a harmless lunatic.
You’ll get of with a few years in a labour camp.’
      The Doctor gripped the bars of his cell. ‘I am not mad. I
am not a spy and I am certainly not a political demonstrator.
You just won’t listen, will you?’
      ‘I can see I’ve been wasting my time,’ said Elizabeth
Shaw coldly. ‘I’ll leave it to the Brigade-Leader. He’ll get the
truth out you.
      ‘Your counterpart had a great deal of intelligence, Liz,’
said the Doctor wearily. ‘I wish I could say the same for you.’
      She moved away.
      The Doctor sat down on his bunk. He glanced across at
the sleeping prisoner in the next cell. ‘ Hullo, old chap! How
are you doing? Been down here long?’ Silence. The Doctor
tried again. ‘Read any good police records lately?’
      There was no reply.
      The Doctor stretched out on his bunk. ‘The friendliness
of this establishment overwhelms me.’
      The prisoner opposite muttered and stirred.
      The Decor had his back turned. He didn’t see the hand
that emerged from beneath the blanket.
      It was n so much a hand as a claw, covered with thick,
coarse hair.

      Back in the world that the Doctor had so suddenly and
strangely left, the Brigadier and Liz Shaw—the familiar
friendly Brigadier and Liz—were gazing sadly around the
Doctor’s empty hut.
      ‘I’m sorry, Miss Shaw,’ said the Brigadier. ‘My men have
searched the entire complex—thoroughly. There’s just no
sign of the Doctor.’
      Liz nodded. ‘I didn’t really think there would be.’
      ‘Maybe that wretched machine of his just dumped him a
few miles away?’ suggested the Brigadier hopefully.
      ‘I don’t think it’s a simple as that, Brigadier. He’s
somewhere else. Lost somewhere in space and time.’
     ‘Well, wherever he is—or whenever he is, the Doctor
can look after himself,’ said the Brigadier with determined
cheerfulness.
     Liz gave him a reproachful look. ‘Even the Doctor’s not
indestructible, you know.’

      Looking somewhat incongruous in black jacket and
striped trousers, Homburg hat and rolled umbrella, Sir Keith
Gold made his way across the control room to Professor
Stahlman.
      ‘I wonder if you could spare me a moment, Professor?’
      Stahlman looked up from his clip-board. ‘Run out of
paperwork?’ he asked rudely. ‘Well?’
      ‘Are there any problems with the accelerated drilling?’
      ‘None at all. I didn’t expect any.’
      ‘But no doubt you will be taking extra precautions as we
approach penetration-zero?’
      ‘I shall do what I think best. Now, what is it you want?’
      ‘I have a car waiting to take me up to London for an
appointment with the Minister.’
      ‘Have a pleasant journey.’
      Sir Keith braced himself. ‘Unless you can give me
certain assurances, I shall have to inform the Minister of the
full extent of my anxieties regarding this project.’
      ‘Assurances? What assurances?’
      ‘We must slow down the drilling rate. We need
improved safety precautions. We need a fail-safe mechanism
so that we can close down completely if necessary.’
      Stahlman turned on him in rage. ‘If you’d had your
way, we would never have started this project. Now you want
me to proceed at snail’s pace, like a cautious old woman. Well,
I conceived this project. I fought for Government backing,
and I shall carry it through to success in spite of all you can do
to stop me. You have consistently obstructed my work and I
do not intend to tolerate your interference any longer. You
can tell the Minister what you like, Sir Keith. He, at least, is
aware of the importance of my work.’
       Liz and the Brigadier entered the control area in time to
hear the last of this diatribe.
       Sir Keith came over to them. He managed a rueful
smile.
       ‘He doesn’t get any better does he?’ said the Brigadier
sympathetically.
       ‘He’s impossible.’
       ‘Do you think the Minister will listen?’ asked Liz.
       ‘Well, he is an old friend of mine—but I’m afraid
Stahlman has dazzled him with promises of limitless free
power.’
       ‘Will you be back in time for penetration-zero?’
       ‘Yes, indeed, though I can’t say I’m looking forward to
it. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I feel there’s something
ominous about this entire project. I think your friend the
Doctor felt it too... By the way, where did he go to?’
       ‘We’re not quite sure,’ said the Brigadier diplomatically.
       Sir Keith sighed. ‘Well, he’s better off out of it, wherever
he is...’

     In the parallel world, the Doctor woke up. Something
had awakened him. Then he realised. An eerie screeching and
moaning was coming from the next cell. The Doctor sat up.
The figure under the blanket was twisting and thrashing
about as if in the throes of some kind of fit.
     The Doctor raised his voice. ‘Sentry! Sentry, where are
you? Sentry!’
      The door was flung open and a sleepy, bad-tempered
soldier clattered down the corridor. ‘What’s all the row
about?’
      The Doctor pointed to the next cell. ‘That man is sick.
He needs medical attention.’
      The sentry peered through the bars at the writhing
figure in the cell. ‘Hey, you. If you don’t shut up. I’ll shut you
up!’
      There was no reply. Only the hideous moaning and
snarling. The sentry produced a key, opened the cell door
and went inside. ‘All right, you,’ he snarled. He ripped the
blanket from the writhing form—and stepped back, gaping in
horror. The figure under the blanket was no longer human;
the face was sprouting patches of hair, and the teeth were
yellow fangs.
      It must be one of the infected technicians, the Doctor
realised. Bromley, was it? In this world he had been captured
and tranquillised in the early stages of the infection. But the
recessive mutation had continued while he was unconscious
and now it was almost complete.
      The Doctor looked on horrified and powerless as the
red-eyed terrifying figure leaped on the sentry. Roaring and
snarling, the creature hurled the sentry to the ground,
throttling the life out of him with powerful claws. Letting the
body fall, the mutant straightened up—and saw the Doctor. It
advanced towards him. The Doctor backed away, thankful for
the protection of the bars between the cells.
      The monster gripped two of the bars in its powerful
claws and began bending them apart as if they were made of
rubber. Horrified, the Doctor saw the gap grow larger,
larger... As soon as it was big enough the creature started to
squeeze through into the Doctor’s cell.
      There were only two pieces of furniture in the cell, the
stool and the bed, and the Doctor used them both. As the
monster sprang, he snatched up the wooden stool and
mashed it down over its head. The creature staggered back. It
was dazed and hurt, but by no means out of action. It stood
roaring, swinging its head to and fro. Then it charged again.
      The Doctor was ready. He heaved up the heavy wooden
bed, mattress and all, and smashed it down on the mutant,
bearing it to the ground. As the monster struggled wildly to
free itself, the Doctor leaped over the bed, slipped through
the gap into the next cell, jumped over the dead body of the
sentry and went through the now-open door of the cell and
out into the corridor.
      The key to the cell was still in the lock. The Doctor
locked the cell behind him and ran from the building.
      Throwing off mattress and bed, the monster staggered
to its feet. It looked around, roaring with rage. Then it
shambled to the door of the Doctor’s cell and began
wrenching it from its hinges. Minutes later it was lurching
dawn the corridor in pursuit of the Doctor.

       A few minutes later, Platoon Under-Leader Benton
came by the cells on a routine check—and discovered that
everything was very far from well.
       He took in the dead sentry, the wrecked cells, the
widened bars, the cell door hanging off its hinges, and above
all, the absence of the Doctor.
       With a shout of alarm, he turned and ran from the cell.

      The Doctor ran out of the cell-block and found himself
outside one of a number of low concrete buildings. There was
some kind of van standing outside the nearest, and he ran
towards it.
      He was heading for the driving seat when he heard
someone coming round the corner of the building.
Instinctively, the Doctor divedr for the only cover available—
the back of the van. He pulled open the rear doors and
jumped inside, closing the doors behind him.
      The approaching someone got into the front of the van
and drove away.
      As they jolted along, the Doctor realised he had landed
on something relatively soft. Investigating, he discovered that
it was a pile of disaster suits, heavy, all-concealing garments
made from some kind of heavy canvas impregnated with
flame-proof protective chemicals. The suits had built-in boots,
gauntlets, and a helmet with a smoked-glass visor. All in all,
the Doctor decided they formed as effective a disguise as he
was likely to find. Laboriously, he began struggling into one of
the suits. As he did so, he became aware that they were
driving towards some kind of activity. He heard hooting
sirens, marching feet, and shouted orders...
      It sounded as if something very significant was about to
happen.

      In central control, all was bustle and excitement. They
were within minutes of penetration-zero.
      The technicians were being herded to their positions by
the Brigade-Leader’s men.
      Greg Sutton and Assistant Director Petra Williams stood
watching these final preparations.
      Sutton was openly nervous. ‘Everything all right?’
      ‘All systems have been checked and are functional,’ said
Petra coolly.
         ‘We’d better keep our finger crossed.’
         ‘We depend on science, Mr Sutton, not superstition.’
         ‘We could do with some plain old-fashioned luck as
well!’
    Sutton looked around. ‘Where’s the Director?’
    ‘He’ll be here.’
    ‘I wish I wasn’t’ said Sutton fervently. ‘Something’s
wrong. Something’s just not adding up.’
    ‘What can go wrong?’
    He shrugged. ‘Perhaps we should try asking the
computer.’

      The truck jolted to a halt and the door was flung open.
The Doctor saw that he was surrounded by soldiers. For a
moment he thought everything was lost. Then he noticed the
foremost soldier looking expectantly at him. The Doctor
grabbed a disaster suit and handed it out. It was obviously the
right thing to do.
      The Doctor passed out disaster suits to the soldiers and
technicians milling around the truck until the truck was
empty. Then he jumped out and joined the line of already-
suited figures filing into central control.
      As he went inside e voice boomed, ‘Zero minus three
minutes zero seconds. Condition Red 2 now commencing.’
      The Doctor slipped away from the line, walked over to
the computer and studied the latest print-outs. It was even
worse than he had feared.
      The countdown continued. ‘Zero minus two minutes ten
seconds. Disaster crew to action stations.’
      He heard the Brigade-Leader’s voice close by. ‘You
there, get back to your post!’
       The countdown voice, said, ‘Zero minus one minute forty
seconds. Technical personnel to final stations.’
       The Doctor looked up and saw the Brigade-Leader
standing over him, revolver in hand. ‘You there! Didn’t you
hear what I said?’
       ‘Zero minus one minute ten seconds. All systems checked for
final countdown.’
       Horrified, the Doctor finished reading the last print-out.
       ‘Zero minus one minute zero seconds. Countdown commences
now!’
       ‘You there for the last time!’ shouted the Brigade-
Leader ‘Come here.’
       ‘Zero minus fifty seconds. Stand by.’
       The Doctor whipped off his helmet. ‘You must stop this
countdown before it’s too late. Do you hear me? You must
stop it!’
       Stahlman saw what was happening and came running
across. He was almost beserk with rage at the idea of any
interruption. ‘Brigade-Leader shoot this man immediately.’
       ‘You can’t do that,’ protested Sutton. ‘It’s just murder!’
       The Doctor shouted, ‘If you break through the Earth’s
crust now you’ll release forces you never dreamed could
exist!’
       ‘Zero minus twenty seconds. Countdown moves to final phase.’
       By now the roaring from the drill-head had reached a
higher, shattering level and once more it had a kind of
screeching quality.
       ‘Listen to that,’ shouted the Doctor. ‘It’s the sound of
this planet screaming out its rage. You must stop drilling.’
       The noise was deafening, and they were all shouting
now. Stahlman screamed, ‘Brigade-Leader, I ordered you to
shoot that man!’
      The Brigade-Leader levelled his revolver at the Doctor’s
head. It was quite obvious that he was going to obey
Stahlman’s order.
      Greg Sutton jumped him, bearing him to the ground.
‘Go on, Doctor,’ he yelled. ‘Run for it!’
      The revolver was jarred from the Brigade-Leader’s
hand and the two men rolled over, struggling furiously.
      ‘Zero minus twenty seconds—countdown will proceed by
seconds.’
      The Doctor turned to run and found Benton blocking
his escape.
      Stahlman snatched up the revolver, levelling it at the
Doctor’s head. He paused, almost as if prolonging the
pleasure of the moment.
      The countdown voice said, ‘Zero minus ten... nine... eight...
seven... six... five... four... three... two... one...’
                            9
                     Penetration-Zero
         ‘Zero!’ boomed the countdown voice. ‘We have penetration
zero.’
      Somewhere deep inside the drill-head there was a
colossal explosion. The control room shuddered so violently
that most of those inside were thrown off their feet, including
Stahlman himself. For a moment there was total confusion.
The air was filled with the screams of terrified technicians, the
wailing of alarm systems and, underneath everything, the
deep menacing roar that came from the drill-head.
      Stahlman had lost the revolver in his fall, but he made
no attempt to look for it. His desire to kill the Doctor was as
nothing beside his obsessive concern for his project. ‘Get
back!’ he screamed at the fleeing technicians. ‘Get back to
your posts!’
      It was the Brigade-Leader who recovered the revolver.
He advanced determinedly on Sutton as if determined to
avenge the assault on his dignity.
      Sutton himself just climbed to his feet and was
immediately grabbed by a couple of the Brigade-Leader’s
men. Angrily he shook them off. ‘Do you mind! I’ve got a job
to do here!’ He ran to a wall-locker, pulled out a spare
disaster-suit, and began climbing into it.
      ‘All right, never mind him for now,’ ordered the
Brigade-Leader. ‘Cover all the doors—and get those
technicians back to their posts!’
      Petra Williams hurried over to Stahlman, who was
studying one of the power consoles. ‘Are you all right,
Director?’
      ‘Yes, yes,’ he said impatiently. ‘Check the other control
stations.’
      After being very much the centre of attention, the
Doctor suddenly found himself ignored. He made his way
over to Sutton, who was zipping up his disaster-suit.
      The Doctor pointed towards the tunnel. ‘You’re not
thinking of going in there, are you?’ he shouted.
      ‘Don’t worry! I’ve never seen a drill bore I couldn’t cap.’
      ‘There’s never been a bore like this one!’
      ‘First thing to do is have a look in there and get the
coolant reserve flowing.’
      Stahlman moved past them, obviously heading for the
drill-head.
      Sutton reached out and grabbed his arm. ‘If you’re
going in there, Director, you’d better put one of these suits
on.’
      Stahlman glared wildly at him, snatched his arm free
and ran into the tunnel.
      ‘Somehow I don’t think he feels the heat as much as we
do,’ said the Doctor drily.
      They headed for the tunnel.
      Section-Leader Shaw saw them from the other side of
central control. She turned to Petra Williams, who was
checking readings on nearby console. ‘Can’t they control the
emergency from here?’
      Petra shook her head. ‘They’ll have to go into the actual
drill-head for that.’
      The Doctor and Sutton paused at the threshold of the
tunnel. There was a fiery glow at the far end. It felt rather like
jumping into a furnace.
      The Doctor adjusted his helmet. ‘Well, here goes!’
      They plunged into the tunnel, staggered along it
fighting the overpowering heat, and emerged into the drill-
head area. The Doctor’s first thought was that it really was an
inferno. The heat was so great that the air shimmered in front
of them. The drill-shaft tube was buckled and smoke was
pouring our - smoke and flame and an ooze of glowing green
slime. The bodies of collapsed technicians were everywhere,
some obviously dead, others overcome by the heat or knocked
out by the blast of the explosion.
      The Doctor began dragging a technician away from the
edge of the drill-head, while Sutton went to wrestle with the
massive wheel that controlled the reserve coolant supply. It
had jammed with the heat. He began heaving with all his
strength. It wouldn’t budge.
      The Doctor looked up to see how Sutton was getting
on—just in time to see Stahlman loom up behind him and
strike him down with a length of piping. Grabbing Sutton’s
unconscious body, Stahlman began dragging him towards the
drill-head. The Doctor ran up to them, seized Stahlman and
pulled him away. Dropping the semi-conscious Sutton,
Stahlman turned, and attacked the Doctor with savage
ferocity and inhuman strength.
      The strange force that had taken over Stahlman made
him immune to the Doctor’s Venusian aikido, and he even
withstood the fearsome Martian karate. Blows, kicks and
throws had no effect. Ignoring all the Doctor’s efforts to
defend himself, Stahlman grabbed him by the throat and
began to throttle him, forcing him to his knees.
      Suddenly, in a strange reversal of the incident of a few
moments ago, Greg Sutton appeared behind Stahlman, with
Stahlman’s abandoned length of piping in his hands, and
clubbed Stahlman down with all his strength. Letting go of the
Doctor, Stahlman fell groaning to his knees.
      The Doctor and Sutton, both equally groggy, helped
each other towards the relative safety of the tunnel. As they
emerged into central control, Sutton gasped. ‘What was all
that about? What the blazes hit me?’
      ‘A piece of piping,’ said the Doctor. ‘Held by Stahlman.’
      ‘Stahlman hit me?’
      Petra came running up. ‘Is the Director still in there?’
      ‘He is indeed,’ said the Doctor.
      ‘Why didn’t he come out with you?’
      ‘I think he likes it in there!’
      Sutton rubbed his aching head. ‘The main coolant
valve’s seized up. I can’t flood the drill-head area!’
      ‘We’ve got to get the Professor out of there,’ cried Petra.
      ‘Not to mention those technicians,’ said the Doctor. ‘Mr
Sutton?’
      A couple of technicians in disaster suits were waiting for
orders, and Sutton beckoned them over. ‘All right, you two,
with me. Come on, Doc, we’ll have another go.’
      Suddenly there was a grinding, metallic rumble as a
heavy metal shield descended, closing off the end of the
tunnel.
      ‘What the heck’s going on?’ shouted Sutton.
      Petra ran to a control panel. ‘They’ve closed off the heat
shield—from the inside, locked it down on manual!’
      Sutton shook his head. ‘But that’s crazy...’
     More glowing green slime was oozing from the edge of
the drill-head. Stahlman moved about the area, scooping up
handfuls of the slime and rubbing it into the face of the
unconscious technicians.
     He had torn off his gloves, and the claw-like hands were
covered with course black hair...

       The Doctor went over to the computer and studied the
latest print-out. The others joined him.
       ‘ What does it say?’ asked Petra.
       ‘Very little, I’m afraid. Tell me, Mr Sutton, how thick
are these walls?’
       ‘Thick enough. Ferrous concrete, steel plating, asbestos
panelling, the lot. They’d stand up to an atomic blast.’
       ‘Compared to the forces you people have unleashed,’
said the Doctor witheringly, ‘an atomic blast would be like a
summer breeze!’

      By now most of the surrounding countryside was aware
that some disaster had struck the project. A thick plume of
black smoke was pouring out of the centre of the complex,
and the sky around was beginning to take on a pinkish glow.
From all over the country, reports of earth-tremors were
flooding in. In some places strange cracks and fissures had
appeared in the earth—some of them were giving off thick
clouds of smoke...

     Brigade-Leader Lethbridge Stewart marched back in
central control looking both angry and flustered. Section-
Leader Shaw was with him.
     ‘Well, Brigade-Leader,’ said the Doctor ironically.
‘What’s happening in the outside world?’
       ‘The technicians and staff have already cleared out, and
most of my security guards seem to have gone with them.’
       Sutton said, ‘Maybe they’re the sensible ones.’
       ‘They’ll be no better off,’ said the Doctor sombrely.
‘Wherever they go.’
       The others looked at him, not taking in the full meaning
of his words.
       Petra came over from the computer. ‘Well, that’s it. The
computer has finally packed up.’
       The Doctor said, ‘The heat must have fused the main
circuits. I’ll go and have a look.’ He wandered off.
       ‘Any news from London, Brigade-Leader?’ asked Petra
Williams.
       ‘Massive seismic disturbances all over the country. Earth
tremors registered in the Midlands and as far north as Leeds.’
       ‘And what are the authorities doing?’ demanded Sutton.
       Section-Leader Shaw said, ‘They’ve ordered the
immediate evacuation of the entire area. The Brigade-Leader
is to assume executive control of this project.’
       ‘Any more good news?’
       ‘No. After that the line went dead.’
       Sutton said bitterly, ‘So, they’re abandoning us. They’re
not even going to try to seal that shaft.’
       ‘They believe that the emergency will eventually pass
over,’ said Elizabeth Shaw loyally.
       Sutton nodded towards the Doctor. ‘He doesn’t seem to
think so.’
       ‘Who cares what he thinks?’ snapped the Brigade-
Leader.
       ‘I do! He talks a lot of sense.’ Sutton crossed to the
Doctor. ‘Listen, there must be some way we can seal off that
shaft. Suppose they evacuated us, blew up the whole area?’
       The Doctor shook his head. ‘Too late, Mr Sutton. You
have released the energies at the Earth’s core.’ A menacing
rumble from the drill-head seemed to underline his words.
       ‘But we most cap the bore somehow.’
       ‘No substance on this Earth is strong enough to
withstand the pressure.’
       Sutton stared at him, still unable to take in the full
extent of the catastrophe. To him this was just another
drilling emergency, bigger than most, but still solvable -
somehow. ‘So, what’s going to happen?’
       ‘Yes, Doctor,’ said the Brigade-Leader. ‘What is going to
happen?’
       The Doctor hesitated, then decided to tell the truth.
‘The heat and the pressure will build up till the Earth
dissolves into a fury of expanding gases—just as it was millions
of years ago.’
       There was a stunned silence.
       Elizabeth Shaw said quietly. ‘How long have we got?’
       Maybe a few weeks. Maybe only a few days.’
       ‘Then—Doomsday?’ said Sutton bitterly. ‘And we just sit
back and wait for it —’
       A savage roar interrupted his words. Everyone turned.
A terrifying figure stood swaying in the doorway. It wore the
tattered remnants of a technician’s uniform, but the face and
the eyes were those of a savage beast. It was the Doctor’s
former cell-companion, though now the recessive mutation
had progressed a good deal further.
       ‘Don’t go near him,’ warned the Doctor. ‘He’s probably
more interested in reaching the heat from the drill-head than
he is in us.’
       The creature shambled towards the scaled tunnel, its
path bringing it close to the little group.
        For a moment it looked as if it would pass them by—but
as the creature shambled closer, the Brigade-Leader
panicked. Snatching out his revolver, he opened fire,
pumping all six bullets into the creature’s body. To his horror
it did not die. Instead it swung round roaring, and lurched
towards him.
        lronically, it was the Doctor who saved the Brigade-
Leader’s life. Snatching up a fire-extinguisher he enveloped
the monster in a freezing cloud of CO2 gas.
        It staggered and fell.
        The Doctor moved cautiously nearer, examining the
body. ‘It seems to be dead this time.’
        The Brigade-Leader was reloading his revolver.
‘Scarcely surprising.’
        ‘Not because of your bullets—or not entirely. The gas
from the fire-extinguisher. They can’t stand cold, you see.’
        Sutton looked down at the twisted body and shuddered.
‘Well, that’s enough for me. No sense in hanging on round
here.’
        The Brigadier turned threateningly on him. ‘I warn
you, Sutton, if you’re thinking of leaving— ‘
        ‘Evacuating is the word, Brigade-Leader. If I’ve got a
little time left I want to spend it well away from here.’
        ‘We were ordered to remain,’ said the Brigade-Leader
‘And that is exactly what we are going to do. You still have a
job to do here Sutton.’
        ‘You just don’t listen, do you? You heard what the
Doctor said. It’s all over. Nothing we can do, isn’t that right,
Doc?’
        ‘I’m afraid so.’
        ‘Exactly,’ said Sutton. ‘Well, I’m off. Coming Petra?’
        Petra Williams hesitated.
       The Brigade-Leader said, ‘You will both stay here and
do your duty.’
       Sutton laughed. ‘Still loyal to the glorious republic. I’d
like to know what your precious dictator can do for you now.’
       ‘I will not listen to treason!’ shouted the Brigade-Leader.
       ‘Gentlemen, please,’ said the Doctor wearily. ‘There’s no
sense arguing. Save your energy.’
       Platoon Under-Leader Benton appeared. ‘I’ve managed
to round up a few of the men, Leader.’
       ‘Excellent. Pot them outside, cover all exits. No one
leaves this building without my authority, Benton. No one.’
       ‘Understood, Leader.’ Benton saluted.
       The Brigade-Leader returned the salute, and Benton
marched away.
       Sutton laughed hollowly. ‘Marvellous, isn’t it? The
world’s going up in flames, and they’re still playing soldiers.’

      Platuon Under-Leader Benton posted his men at
strategic points about the building. They moved along
uneasily, disturbed by the uncanny heat, the reddish glow in
the sky, and the dull rumblings from the drill-head.
      Numbly they obeyed Benton’s commands, hoping
desperately that, somehow, obeying orders, not thinking,
would save them.

      Petra Williams was working on the computer, trying to
ignore Greg Sutton’s arguments that she was wasting her
time. In her heart she knew that he was probably ight, but it
was better to be doing something.
      Suddenly her defences seemed to crumble. ‘Greg, I’m
frightened,’ she sobbed. ‘What are we going to do?’
      Sutton put an arm round her shoulders. ‘I’m going to
get out of here and I could do with some help. Are you going
to go on being a good little zombie? Or are you going to join
the rebels?’

      In the Brigade-Leader’s office, an official voice was
blaring from the radio. ‘In London the Minister of Energy
and Resources has made a statement about the drilling project
in East Manchester. The entire operation has now been
cancelled, and the area is being evacuated...’
      There more, but static made it almost inaudible. Section-
Leader Shaw switched off the radio. ‘Perhaps we ought to
evacuate, Brigade-Leader?’
      ‘I shall decide that’
      ‘But if there’s nothing we can do...’
      ‘You could help to save a world,’ said the Doctor
unexpectedly.
      ‘You said we’d passed the point of no return.’
      ‘Not this world, Elizabeth. The other one. It exists, you
know. it’s as real as the one you know yourself.’
      ‘And we’re all somehow duplicated there?’
      ‘You, Lethbridge-Stewart here, Sutton, Miss Williams,
Stahlman, you Liz. You could save those other selves.’
      ‘How?’
      ‘With the help of the TARDIS.’
      ‘That odd-looking contraption we found in the hut?’
      ‘That’s right.’
      ‘Could it take you back?’
      ‘Perhaps. If I could get power from your nuclear
reactor.’
      But if this other world is parallel to us, surely they’ll be
in exactly the same situation?’
      ‘Not necessarily. Work on their project isn’t so
advanced. I might be able to stop them before they penetrate
the Earth’s crust.’
      The Brigade-Leader had been listening to this
conversation with surprising interest. Suddenly he got to his
feet. Come along, Doctor. I think we’ll take another look at
this wonderful machine of yours.’
                          10
                     The Monsters
       The Brigade-Leader stared at the TARDIS console in
deep disgust. ‘You expect me to believe you came here in
this? It isn’t a vehicle at all.’
       ‘It’s a very important part of one. In the world I come
from, I removed this console to make some trial runs.’ The
Doctor patted the console affectionately. He flicked a couple
of switches and the TARDIS began vibrating slightly, giving
off a faint hum of power.
       The Brigade-Leader jumped back. ‘What’s happening?
You said you needed a power source to make this thing
work!’
       ‘There’s a minimal amount of power left in the storage
unit,’ explained the Doctor. ‘Just enough for me to check the
circuits.’
       ‘Well, I think we’ve seen enough of this nonsense. We
shall return to central control.’
       The Doctor glared indignantly at him. ‘You said you
were going to help me!’
       ‘I said nothing of the kind. This contraption is obviously
incapable of taking anyone anywhere.’
       ‘If only you would try to use what little intelligence you
have, Brigade-Leader.’
       ‘I have no time for fairy stories, Doctor!’
       Elizabeth Shaw said, ‘If you could give us some proof,
Doctor? A demonstration...’
       ‘Demonstration?’ The Doctor was outraged. ‘What do
you think I am, a conjuror? How can I give you a
demonstration when I haven got—‘ The Doctor broke off.
‘Now, wait a moment. It would mean draining the storage
unit completely...’
      The Doctor came to a decision. ‘All right. You shall have
your demonstration. Stand well back, please.’
      The Doctor studied the console for a moment, and then
his hands moved rapidly over the controls. The power hum
began again, the central column rose and fell, very slowly, and
the Doctor and the TARDIS console disappeared.
      The Brigade-Leader was left staring at the empty air in
astonishment. ‘Doctor’, he called ‘Doctor, come back!’
      A second or two later the Doctor did just that,
reappearing as suddenly and mysteriously as he had
vanished.
      ‘Well, are you satisfied? Or do you think it was all done
with mirrors?’
      Shaw said wonderingly. ‘What happened? Where were
you?’
      ‘A pitiful few seconds into the future,’ said the Doctor
sadly. He began checking over the console.
      Up till now the Brigade-Leader had been too amazed to
speak, but as the Doctor reached for the console he shouted,
‘Stay away from that!’
      The Doctor ignored him. ‘Don’t be a fool, man, I can’t
go anywhere. The energy storage unit is completely drained.’
      ‘If the power was reconnected—could you make the
journey back?’
      ‘Very possibly. If I reverse the co-ordinates...’
      ‘And you could take others with you?’
      All at once the Doctor saw the reason for the Brigade-
I,eader’s interest in the TARDIS console. He wanted to use it
as a kind of transdimensional lifeboat.
      ‘Certainly not! I can’t possibly do that.’
      ‘And why not?’
      ‘It would create a dimensional paradox. There would be
a risk of shattering the entire space/time continuum.’
      ‘If you can save yourself, Doctor, you can save us,’ said
the Brigade-Leader. ‘We shell return to central control.’

       The voice from the loudspeaker was deep and throaty.
‘Doctor Williams,’ it said pointedly. ‘Doctor Williams...’
       Petra Williams stared disbelievingly at the speaker.
‘Greg!’ she called. ‘Greg, I heard a voice from the intercom—
it was coming from the drill-head!’
       Greg Sutton said uneasily, ‘Not a chance. They’re all
done for in there by now.’
       The Doctor, the Brigade-Leader and Section-Leader
Shaw came into central control, just as the voice spoke again.
       ‘Doctor Williams... did... you.. not... hear... me? Raise... the
shield... The... manual.. controls... have fused... with... the heat.
Can... you... let... us... through?’
       ‘It’s the Director,’ whispered Petra Williams. ‘We’ve got
to get him out of there.’ She moved to a console.
       The Doctor pulled her away. ‘No... no, you mustn’t.
Believe me, you mustn’t raise that heat-shield!’
       The Brigade-Leader drew his pistol. ‘On the contrary, if
the Director has survived he must have found a solution, and
we need him out here. Raise the shield, Doctor Williams.’
Helplessly the Doctor watched as Petra operated controls.
With a slow metallic grinding the heat-shield rose and a
disaster-suited figure moved out of the tunnel. It raised its
hands and pulled off its helmet to reveal, not Stahlman, but
the creature that had once been Stahlman, and was now
something far more beast than man. It was the most advanced
case of the mutation that the Doctor had yet seen. The face
and hands were entirely covered with hair. The whole shape
of the jaw had changed and the teeth were great yellow fangs.
The eyes glared redly, bestial and savage.
      Out of the tunnel behind Stahlman shambled the
monstrous creatures that had once been the technicians. With
them too the mutation had reached its final stage—
accelerated, the Doctor supposed, by the extreme heat. The
creatures grouped themselves in a semi circle, behind
Stahlman, clearly recognising him as their leader.
      ‘Why don’t they attack?’ whispered the Brigade-Leader.
      The Doctor studied the little group of mutants. ‘I think
they must be acclimatising themselves. It’s cooler out here.’
      Greg Sutton looked nervously around him. ‘Let’s get out
of here!’
      The Brigade-Leader looked round. ‘They’ve covered
both entrances!’
      ‘We’ve got to get to the Brigade-Leader’s office,’ said the
Doctor quietly. ‘It’s our only chance.’
      Platoon Under-Leader Benton came running in—and
stopped in astonishment at the sight of the ring of mutants.
      ‘Get back, Benton’ shouted the Brigade-Leader.
      It was too late. Instinctively Benson raised his automatic
rifle and opened fire. The nearest mutant staggered back
under the hail of bullets. The others closed in, and one of
them tore the rifle from Benton’s hands. They held him fast
as Stahlman approached, reached out and slowly dragged a
hand across Benton’s face, leaving a trail of green slime.
Benton collapsed, screaming and writhing. The mutants
moved almost indifferently away.
      While all this was happening the Doctor was far from
idle. He could do nothing to help Benton, but his fate made a
useful diversion. ‘Into the ollice, all of you,’ he shouted.
      The Doctor hurried to the console and operated the
shield controls. As the shield began to come down he opened
a panel and ripped out a handful of wiring, in an attempt to
make the process irreversible. Then the Doctor dashed for the
office, herding the others in front of him.
      Greg Sutton was the last to move. He was staring at
Benton’s body, and seemed almost inclined to go and help.
The Doctor pulled him away. ‘No, don’t touch him. Don’t
even go near him. There’s nothing you can do.’ And he
virtually dragged Sutton into the already crowded office, then
closed and locked the door behind them.
      ‘We shouldn’t have left the poor devil,’ protested Sutton.
‘Don’t mind sacrificing your men, do you , Brigade-Leader?’
      ‘Believe me, Mr Sutton,’ said the Doctor gently. ‘There’s
nothing we can do.’
      ‘Not now, we can’t. Those things have probably killed
him.’
      ‘Worse than that. They’ve made him one of them.’
      ‘Why did you shut them off from the drill-head?’ asked
Petra Williams.
      ‘To keep them from the heat. The hotter it is, the
stronger they grow.’
      Sutton mopped his forehead. ‘If it gets any hotter in
here they won’t have to attack. Well just shrivel up.’
      The Brigade-Leader too was sweating, more from
nerves than from heat. His voice when he spoke was tense,
almost hysterical. ‘Well, Doctor, I don’t think your precious
vehicle is going to be much use anyone
      Sutton stared at him. ‘Vehicle? What are you talking
about?’
      ‘The Doctor has a device,’ explained Elizabeth Shaw.
‘Something that could get him out of here.’
      The Brigade-Leader laughed almost hysterically. ‘Just
the Doctor, of course. No one else.’
      ‘Look’, said Sutton despairingly. ‘Will someone tell me
what’s going on?’
      He wasn’t really much the wiser when the explanations
were over.
      ‘So you see,’ concluded the Brigade-Leader, ‘We’re all
supposed to sacrifice our lives so the Doctor can get back to
his other world’
      ‘We haven’t got any lives to sacrifice,’ said Elizabeth
Shaw crisply. ‘It’s only a matter of time for us now.’
      Petra Williams looked at Sutton. ‘What do you think,
Greg?’
      ‘I think its the weirdest story I’ve ever heard,’ said
Sutton frankly. ‘But I’m on your side, Doc. Might as well try
to do something useful.’
      Elizabeth Shaw said, ‘I’m afraid you’re out-voted
Brigade-Leader.’
      ‘Really?’ The Brigade-Leader laughed. ‘It doesn’t
actually matter very much, does it? Since we’re all trapped in
here anyway.’
      The Doctor cleared his throat. ‘As a matter of fact, I do
have a plan for getting us out of here. It all depends on those
creatures out there...’
      The Doctor’s explanation was interrupted when one of
the creatures outside smashed its fist through the glass
window in the office door.
                           11
                       Escape Plan
      Immediately there was pandemonium. Everyone leaped
back. The Brigade-Leader drew his revolver and began firing
frantically through the window. Quite unaffected, the arm
failed about as if seeking a victim.
      ‘Don’t touch it anyone,’ yelled the Doctor. ‘And don’t let
it touch you!’
      The door began to shudder as heavy bodies hurled
themselves against it. Through the shattered window, the
Doctor could see the mutants milling round outside the door.
They would smash it down by their sheer weight very soon.
      Looking round, the Doctor was vastly relieved to see a
fire-extinguisher clipped to the wall. He grabbed it and sent a
stream of CO2, vapour through the broken window. The
effect was immediate. With angry screams and roars the
monsters began falling back. Soon all was silent—except for
the faint sounds of the creatures grunting and shuffling
outside.
      ‘We’ve got to keep them out,’ said the Brigade-Leader
worriedly.
      The Doctor put down his fire-extinguisher. ‘They won’t
attack again just yet. I think they’ll try again when it gets a bit
hotter.’
      ‘How long have we got?’ asked Elizabeth Shaw.
      ‘Oh, a good ten minutes!’ said the Doctor cheerfully.
      ‘Just now you were talking about a plan, Doctor,’ said
Sutton. ‘What plan?’
       ‘If we’re to get power to the TARDIS console, we’ve got
to connect it to the reactor.’
       ‘If there’s any power left, said Petra gloomily.
       The Doctor whipped a handkerchief from his pocket
and held it up to the air conditioning grille in the wall. The
handkerchief fluttered.’You see? The air-conditioning’s still
working so power is still being produced.’
       ‘Only the bare minimum,’ said Petra. ‘The reactor must
still be functioning on robot control.’
       ‘Can we boost the output?’
       Petra considered. ‘In an emergency like this, the master
switch shuts down the main reactor banks automatically.’
       ‘But it could be reconnected?’
       Sutton had been listening with keen interest. ‘Thing is,
Doctor, the master switch is in main control. How do we get
past that lot out there?’
       The Doctor tapped the fire-extinguisher. ‘Well, we do
have a weapon against them.’
       ‘Our extinguisher won’t last for ever,’ Petra said. ‘Re-
setting the master control could be a long job—especially if it’s
been damaged.’
       The Doctor looked nonplussed for a moment, then he
brightened. ‘There are lots more fire-extinguishers in central
control.’
       ‘If we can get to them,’ said Sutton. ‘Hey, wait a minute.
I’m a flaming idiot—I rigged up an emergency hose
connection to the coolant pipes. That stuff’s under pressure
too and it’s just as cold as CO2. Doctor, there’s a monster-size
fire-extinguisher just waiting for you out there.’
       ‘Right,’ said the Doctor briskly. ‘We’ll fight our way into
central control using this extinguisher here. While Mr Sutton
holds the creatures off with his coolant hose, I’ll operate the
master switch.’
      There wns a threatening roar. A savage hairy face
appeared in the shattered window. The mutants were massing
for a second attack. Sutton grabbed the extinguisher. The
weakened door collapsed inwards and mutants flooded into
the room, jamming the doorway in their eagerness to get
inside ,
      ‘Right, fire!’ shouted the Doctor.
      Sutton poured CO2 gas over the group of mutants.
Immediately they fell back, screeching and roaring in protest.
Sutton led the trapped party out into central control, clearing
the way with the extinguisher.
      The main control area was in semi-darkness now with
only the dim working lights still burning. The heat was stifling
and the air was full of smoke. The whole place was vibrating
with the deep dull roaring that came from the drill-head. In
the shadowy recesses of the huge control area, mutants lurked
—waiting, moving uneasily to and fro, and occasionally
screeching angrily.
      Handing the extinguisher to the Brigade-Leader, Sutton
led them over to a huge coolant pipe running down one of
the walls. Reaching behind it he pulled out a long coil of thick
metallic hose already connected to the pipe by a valve. He set
to work to open the valve. It was jammed by the heat, and he
began struggling to free it.
      Everyone was watching Sutton. Nobody saw one of the
mutants moving stealthily towards them.
      ‘Hurry up, Sutton,’ growled the Brigade-Leader.
      ‘I’m going as fast as I can. Everything’s red hot!’
      ‘I can‘t breathe in here!’
      ‘Then stop talking so much,’ advised the Doctor briskly.
       Suddenly Elizabeth Shaw spotted the approaching
monster. ‘Look out!’
       The Brigade-Leader swung round, and opened fire with
the extinguisher. The creature fell back screeching angrily.
       ‘That’s enough,’ ordered the Doctor. ‘Don’t waste it!’
       The Brigade-Leader ignored him, drenching the
mutant in a stream of CO2.
       The Doctor thumped him on the shoulder. ‘I said that’s
enough!’
       The monster had collapsed by now. It rolled over face.
upwards, twitched and then lay still.
       The Doctor peered down at it. ‘It’s Stahlman. Or it was.’
       ‘Is he dead?’ asked Petra Williams.
       ‘It maybe just paralysed. It might come to again as the
temperature rises.’
       ‘Come on, Sutton,’ said the Brigade-Leader. ‘Get that
coolant flowing.’
       Sutton looked up. ‘I can’t. It’s seized up.’
       The Doctor looked round and spotted a discarded tool-
kit. He made a quick dash, grabbed a crowbar more or less at
random and dashed back to Sutton. ‘Here, try this!’
       Sutton slipped the crowbar into the valve wheel and
heaved. It still refused to turn. The Doctor came and added
his strength to Sutton’s. With agonising slowness the wheel
began to yield.
       Anxiously watching their progress, the Brigade-Leader
failed to register that the mutants were edging closer.
       ‘Look out!’ shouted Elisabeth Shaw again.
       The Brigade-Leader opened fie, driving the mutants
back with the icy spray. The moment it touched their bodies
they screeched in agony and recoiled. Soon the area around
the little group was clear again, at least for the moment.
      ‘We’ve got it!’ shouted Sutton. A thin wisp of coolant
vapour was coming from the nozzle of the hose. Sutton
adjusted the nozzle control and the wisp became an icy
stream. Satisfied he turned it down again.
      As usual, the Doctor took command. ‘All right, Brigade-
Leader. You cover the ladies to the exit. I’ll be out as soon as
I’ve reconnected the master switch.’
      The Brigade-Leader took a firm grip on his
extinguisher. ‘Very well, ladies, let’s get moving.’
      They moved slowly towards the door. The Brigade-
Leader swung the extinguisher to and fro, sending out a blast
of CO2 whenever one of the mutants ventured too near.
      ‘Right, Doctor, let’s get on with it,’ said Sutton.
      The Doctor made his way over to the main power
console. Sutton followed, paying out the hose.

        Even outside the control building there was no relief
from the stifling heat. The whole sky was red now and
everything shimmered and danced in the heat haze. From the
distance came the rumble of volcanic eruptions.
        ‘It’s just as hot out here,’ grumbled the Brigade-Leader.
‘I still can’t breathe properly. Well, come on, no use hanging
about.’
        ‘We shall wait for the others,’ said Elizabeth Shaw.
        The Brigade-Leader looked round uneasily. ‘But we
ought to get right away from here.’
        ‘You go if you want to,’ said Petra Williams. ‘We’re
staying here.’

      The Doctor was working absorbedly on the master
switch. ‘The heat’s made bit of a mess of this.’
      ‘It’s making a mess of me,’ said Sutton.
      ‘You could always join the others outside.’
      ‘Oh, I’ll hang around a bit longer,’ said Sutton casually.
A mutant was sneaking closer and he sent it screeching back
with a quick blast of coolant vapour. ‘The natives are getting
restless again. How are you making out?’
      ‘Slow but sure.’
      ‘When you get back to the other place, Doc, how do you
reckon to stop them drilling?’
      ‘I don’t know... One or two people might listen—like Sir
Keith.’
      ‘He’s dead,’ said Sutton automatically.
      ‘In your world, yes Mr Sutton. But in that other world—
maybe not... In any case, time’s running out for them.’
      Sutton looked round uneasily. ‘I think time’s running
out here too, Doc.’ The encircling monsters were edging
closer.
      The Doctor straightened up. ‘There, that’s it. I just hope
it works. Trouble is, there’s no means of testing it, not until
power is channelled from the reactor.’ The Doctor looked
round, and saw that they were now surrounded by a ring of
mutants, steadily closing ir. ‘Yes,’ said the Doctor
thoughtfully. ‘I really think we ought to be getting out of
here. Shall we go, Mr Sutton?’
      ‘I thought you’d never ask!’
      The monsters attacked. Sutton swept the coolant round
in a great arc, driving them back. The Doctor snatched an
extinguisher from the wall and joined in the attack. As they
came near the door, the attack of the mutants was pressed
home more and more vigorously, as if they were determined
to prevent their escape. Inch by inch, the Doctor and Sutton
fought their way out. The most dangerous moment came
when Sutton’s coolant hose would stretch no further.
Protected only by the Doctor’s extinguisher, they made a last
desperate dash for the door, reaching it with only inches to
spore.
      As they ran down the front steps the mutants fell back,
not caring to leave the shelter of the building.
      The Brigade-Leader and the two girls ran forward to
meet them. ‘We’d better hurry, Doctor,’ said the Brigade-
Leader. ‘It’s quite a way to the reactor.’
      The Doctor looked round. ‘Yes, but it’s not all that far to
where I left Bessie. Come on!’ He led them off at a run.

       In the control centre the creature that had once been
Stahlman was recovering from the blast of CO2. Slowly it got
to its feet.

      Somewhat overloaded, Bessie screeched to a halt outside
the nuclear reactor. The Doctor and his party jumped out
and ran inside the building. They paused just inside the
doorway.
      ‘Section-Leader, cheek the inner corridors,’ said the
Brigade-Leader.
      She nodded and moved away.
      ‘Mr Sutton and I had better start work on the other end
of the power connections. How long will you need here,
Doctor Williams?’
      Petra shrugged. ‘It’s hard to say. I’ll have to re-route the
entire electrical system before I can boost the power.’
      ‘Well, just do the best you can.’
      Elizabeth Shaw returned from her reconnaissance.
‘Everything seems clear. What about the Brigade-Leader and
me? Can we do anything?’
      ‘I’m afraid not,’ said the Doctor gently. ‘You’d better
wait here.’ He turned to Sutton. ‘We’ll need tools and a lot of
heavy-duty cable.’
      ‘Riggers’ store,’ said Sutton. ‘We pass it on the way to
your hut
      ‘Let’s get with it then.’
      Suddenly there was a distant rumble and for a moment
the whole building seemed to shake.
      Elizabeth Shaw looked worriedly at the Doctor. ‘What’s
happening?’
      ‘It’s an earthquake—a whole chain of earthquakes.’
      ‘Getting nearer,’ said Petra.
      ‘Come on,’ shouted the Doctor, and he and Sutton ran
from the building. They jumped into Bessie, and the Doctor
drove away.

     The Stahlman mutant came to the doorway of central
control. It paused for moment, as if testing the temperature.
Then it moved outside. Others followed.

      In the main switch room Petra Williams worked
desperately on the controls. The Brigade-Leader and Section-
Leader Shaw stood looking on, all the more impatient because
there was nothing they could do to help.
      Elizabeth Shaw said thoughtfully, ‘I wonder if those
creatures are venturing out of the control area yet?’
      ‘Quite possible,’ said the Brigade-Leader gloomily. ‘It’s
getting hotter all the time.’ He looked irritably at Petra. ‘How
long is all that going to take you?’
      ‘I don’t know,’ said Petra calmly. She went on working.
      ‘Can’t you hurry it up?’
      ‘Not if I’m to do it properly.’
      ‘You must hurry! We are running very short of time.’
      Petra looked up. ‘Brigade-Leader, I am trying to carry
out complex scientific task under almost impossible
conditions. You will not help matters by bullying me.’
      ‘You are insolent, Doctor Williams!’
      ‘Am I, Brigade-Leader? Perhaps it’s time you learned
that some problems are not solvable by brute force and
terror.’
      Elizabeth Shaw drew the Brigade-Leader away. ‘Better
let her get on with it. We’re in her hands.’
      He nodded. ‘We’ve got to get the power through to that
hut. It’s our only chance to escape.’
      ‘But the Doctor said he couldn’t take anyone else.’
      ‘Naturally, Section-Leader. Do you think he wants to
help us? He’s only concerned with his own safety.’
      Elizabeth Shaw shook her head. ‘I think he was telling
the truth—just as he has been all along.’
      The Brigade-Leader rested a hand on his revolver.
‘When the time comes, he will take us, Section-Leader. He will
have no choice.’
                            12
                         Doomsday
      Greg Sutton opened the doors to the Doctor’s hut and
the Doctor drove Bessie inside, parking the little car in its
usual place before the console. He jumped out and began
examining the controls.
      Sutton staring at the console in amazement. ‘So this is
the contraption, is it? I thought it would be a be more
impressive than that.’
      ‘What did you expect? Some sort of space rocket with
Batman at the controls?’
      Sutton grinned.‘Maybe. And that thing brought you
here, did it?’
      ‘It wasn’t exactly a journey in your sense of the word. It
sort of slipped me sideways into your dimension.’
      ‘And now it’s going to take you back?’
      ‘Well, theoretically,’ said the Doctor. ‘Just fix the cable to
that connection down there for me would you?’
      Sutton examined the connection point and then looked
up. ‘I hate to tell you but we’re never going to get enough
juice through this. It’ll blow in the first few seconds.’ The
Doctor said gently. ‘A few seconds, Mr Sutton, is all I need.’

      The Brigade-Leader strode up and down the main
switch-room, occasionally glancing worriedly at Petra Williams
who seemed to have taken most of’ the power console to
pieces.
      ‘Are you making any progress, Doctor Williams?’
      ‘Some. But I’m worried about the relay circuits. They
don’t seem to be operating properly. I’m trying to rig up a by-
pass. The reactor is still functioning, but it could go at any
moment.’
      ‘I am well aware of that. You must hurry!’
      ‘I’ve already told you—I’m hurrying as much as I can.’
      There was another earthquake tremor, much nearer this
time. Once again the room shook. The Brigade-Leader
clutched at the door frame, visibly terrified.
      ‘It’s all right, Brigade-Leader,’ said Elizabeth Shaw
almost mockingly. ‘We’re still here.’
      ‘I don’t like your tone, Section-Leader. These
earthquakes are getting closer. I’m thinking of the safety of us
all.’
      ‘Yes, of course.’
      There was another rumble and the whole building
shuddered.
      The Brigade-Leader’s voice was panicky. ‘We’ve got to
get out of here.’
      ‘I shall leave when the work is finished,’ said Petra
calmly. ‘You may leave now if you wish.’
      He glared angrily at her. ‘Silence! Carry on with your
work.’
      Elizabeth Shaw said quietly, ‘Wouldn’t it be better for us
to leave now?’
      He shook his head. ‘That craft of the Doctor’s is our only
chance. It works—you saw for yourself’.’
      ‘Do you really think you can force him to take as with
him? He’s not the sort of man you can frighten.’
      ‘Once the thing’s working we’ll just take it over.’
      ‘We don’t know how to work it.’
      The Brigade-Leader was deaf to all objections. ‘Doctor
Williams operate it then, she’s a scientist.’
      ‘That device is beyond all our comprehension. No one
but the Doctor can operate it. I’m sure of that.’
      ‘Then we shall have to persuade him to operate it for
us.’
      ‘And if he refuses?’
      ‘If the Doctor tries to leave us here to die, Section-
Leader, I shall make sure that he dies first!’

      In the hut the Doctor and Sutton were working busily.
      ‘If we do get you back, Doctor,’ said Sutton grimly,
‘you’d better make darned sure your people do stop drilling.
I’d hate to think I was doing all this work for nothing.’
      ‘I shall do my best, I assure you! We can connect up the
cable now. ’
      ‘Then cross our fingers and trust to luck?’
      ‘We are relying on skill, Mr Sutton, not luck,’ said the
Doctor reproachfully. But he crossed his fingers all the same.

     Wearily Petra straightened up.
     ‘Finished?’ asked Elizabeth Shaw.
     ‘I think so. I just have to switch on and preset the power
controls.’
     ‘How do we know when the Doctor’s ready for the
power?’
     ‘It doesn’t matter. The power won’t flow until the
Doctor switches on.’
     ‘At which point we may all go up in smoke,’ said the
Brigade-Leader acidly.
      Petra Williams gave the console a final check. ‘I’ve done
all I can now. We’ll just have to see.’ She pulled the main
switch. Nothing happened.
      ‘What’s happened?’ demanded the Brigade-Leader.
      ‘Nothing. There must still be a fault.’
      ‘So, you’ve been wasting our time.’
      Petra ignored him. ‘I’ll just have to check all the wiring
again.’

     The Doctor and Sutton were waiting for the power that
did not come.
     ‘Maybe something’s happened to them?’ said Sutton
uneasily.
     ‘We must try to be patient, Mr Sutton.’
     ‘If those explosions reach the nuclear reactor...’
     ‘I know,’ said the Doctor gently. ‘I know.’

      There was another colossal explosion, different in
character, and nearer this time.
      ‘That’s coming from the drill shaft,’ gasped the Brigade-
Leader.
      Elizabeth Shaw said calmly. ‘The shaft must be splitting
open.’
      ‘Look out!’ shouted the Brigade-Leader suddenly.
      Both girls looked up. A mutant stood in the doorway —
the mutant that had once been Stahhnan.
      The Brigade-Leader snatched up a fire-extinguisher
and pulled the lever. The extinguisher was empty. He drew
his revolver and stepped in front of the mutant. It lashed out
at him screeching angrily.
      He backed away, luring it from the doorway. ‘Get out,
you two,’ he called. ‘Just get out!’
      The two girls ran to the door, the mutant swung
round—and the Brigade-Leader emptied the contents of his
revolver into it at point-blank range. Screeching, the mutant
fell to the ground. Leaping over the body, the Brigade-
Leader ran from the room.

     Sutton was peering into the explosion-wrecked
landscape outside the hut. ‘No sign of them—nothing.’
     The Doctor sighed. ‘Well, that would appear to be that.
I doubt if they would have listened to me anyway.’ Sadly he
patted the console.

      The Brigade-Leader, Petra and Elizabeth Shaw were
running for their lives, snarling mutants at their heels. The
creatures were pouring from the drill-head now. So great was
the heat that they could move freely in the open. The
fugitives had only one advantage: their superior speed—all
mutants seemed to or with that same awkward, stumbling
motion—and they soon began to leave their pursuers behind.
      Sutton saw them approaching from the doorway of the
has. ‘They’re coining! All three of them.’
      Seconds later, the Brigade-Leader and the two girls
dashed into the hut.
      ‘Well done, Petra,’ said Greg. Then he saw her face.
‘What’s the matter?’
      Petra turned to the Doctor. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t get the
power through. I did all I could.’
      ‘Yes, of course you did.’
      Sutton slumped wearily against the wall. ‘Well, we tried,
eh, Doc?’
      ‘No one can do more than that, Mr Sutton.’
      The Brigade-Leader said mockingly, ‘All very
philosophical, Doctor. “I know you tried, thank you very
much.” That’s very cosy.’
      ‘Hysteria won’t help us, Brigade-Leader.’
      ‘Nothing will help us now. Things will blow at any
moment—we’ll be roasted alive!’
      ‘Look what’s happening to our hard man,’ jeered
Sutton. ‘You were tough enough with a gang of thugs behind
you. How do you like it on your own? You’re finished,
Brigade-Leader.’
      ‘I can still deal with you, Sutton,’ snarled the Brigade-
Leader. He drew his revolver.
      ‘With that? Even if you had the guts, you’d be doing me
a favour.’
      The Brigade-Leader pulled the trigger again and
again—and every time the hammer clicked on an empty
chamber.
      ‘I don’t need a gun to settle with you, Sutton,’ he
grunted and hurled himself upon the engineer, knocking him
to the ground. They rolled over and over, fighting savagely,
clawing at each other like wild beasts.
      Then came other volcanic rumble, so intense that they
were literally thrown apart. The Doctor stepped between
them. ‘Listen to that! Do youwant to end your lives fighting
like animals?’
      Sutton jumped up and stared around him. ‘Where’s
Petra?’
      ‘She’s gone back to the switch room,’ said Elizabeth
Shaw. ‘She wanted us to have another go at getting the power
through.’
      ‘The idiot! I’d better go after her.’
      The Doctor said, ‘I’ll come with you.’
     ‘No, Doctor. She might Just make it—and if she does,
you’ve got to be here.’ He ran from the hut.

      Greg Sutton ran blindly through the red glare of the
nightmare landscape, the ground trembling beneath his feet.
Somehow he succeeded in avoiding the wandering mutants,
and arrived in the switch roam—to find Petra calmly working,
doing her best to ignore the mutant body on the floor.
      ‘Petra, what do you think you’re doing?’ he shouted.
      ‘I’ve nearly finished, Greg. I’d nearly finished when we
ran out of here. I only need a few more minutes.’
      ‘You were crazy to risk coming back!’ He looked down
at the mutant. ‘What about this thing?’
      ‘It’s all right. He’s dead.’
      ‘He might not have been! Those things are hard to kill.
All right, you get on, now you’re here. I’ll keep an eye out.’
Sutton went to the door and peered out through the hear-
hazed landscape. Suddenly he heard a scream from behind
him and whirled round.
      Seemingly indestructible, the Stahlman mutant had
staggered to its feet and was lurching towards Petra.
Snatching up a fire-extinguisher from a clip outside the door,
Sutton blasted the mutant at close range. Already weakened
by the Brigadier’s bullets it gave one last terrifying screech
and crashed to the ground.
      Sutton ran to Petra. ‘Art you all right?’
      ‘Yes, I think so,’ A little shakily, Petra went back to work.
Minutes later she looked up. ‘There, that should do it.’ She
threw the switch. There was a hum of power and needles on
the high-voltage dials flickered and started to climb.
      ‘It’s working!’ said Petra.
     Sutton hugged her. ‘Well done! We’d better get back to
the hut!’

       The Doctor was hunched over his console studying the
instruments. ‘I’m geting power through!’ he called excitedly.
       Elizabeth Shaw said, ‘That’s splendid, Doctor.’
       The Brigade-Leader was quietly re-loading his gun.
       Petra and Greg Sutton ran into the hut.
       ‘Well done, Doctor Williams,’ said the Doctor. ‘Well
done!’
       ‘You’d better hurry, Doctor,’ warned Petra. ‘The power
won’t hold out for long!’
       ‘Long enough, I hope,’ said the Brigade-Leader.
       Something in his tone made the Doctor look up. He saw
the revolver in the Brigade-Leader’s hand.
       ‘You are going to take me with you, Doctor.’
       ‘I can’t take you with me,’ said the Doctor desperately.
‘It’s impossible.’
       The Brigade-Leader raised his revolver. ‘I advise you to
try.’
       ‘Don’t you see, I can’t. I literally can’t. There would be a
cosmic disaster.’
       ‘Believe me, you are not going to leave us behind.’
       ‘Do you think I want to do it? I’d give anything to be
able to save you all - but I can’t!’
       ‘Never mind the gun,’ called Sutton. ‘It’s not loaded,
remember?’
       The Brigade-Leader fired a shot close to the Doctor’s
head. ‘We all helped you, Doctor. We’ve every right to go. I’ll
give you until a count of three. One...’
       ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to shoot me, Brigade-Leader!
Nothing will make me take you.’
       ‘Two... three.’
       A shot rang out—and the Brigade Leader fell. The
astonished Docror turned and saw Elizabeth Shaw, holstering
a revolver.
       ‘Go on, Doctor! Go now!’
       ‘Get on with it!’ shouted Sutton.
       The Doctor’s hands moved over the controls. There was
a wheezing, groaning sound, and the centre column rose and
fell. But the console and the Doctor didn’t disappear. There
was a final, shattering explosion from outside.

       The drill tower and the entire control centre erupted in
smoke and flames. A great crack appeared where it had once
stood, and red hot lava began flooding out. The air was filled
with the dying screams of the mutants who had been huddled
around the complex, and were now devoured, like fiery
sacrifices to their savage god.

      The Doctor was still working frantically.
      ‘Hurry, Doctor!’ shouted Elizabeth Shaw. ‘Hurry!’
Suddenly Petra gasped, ‘Look!’ She pointed through the open
door. An enormous wall of glowing lava was rolling like a tidal
wave towards the little hut.
      Suddenly the TARDIS noise grew louder. They all
turned and saw that the TARDIS console was vibrating. The
centre column rose and fell—and suddenly the console, the
Doctor, and even the little car, all disappeared. Before the sea
of red hot lava engulfed the hut, its victims had just a few
seconds to realise that their sacrifice might not have been in
vain.
                        13
                 Return to Danger
       On that Earth which the Doctor had left, and to which
he was now trying to return, the Earth that was endangered
but not yet destroyed, matters at the Stahlman project had
reached a very bad state indeed.
       Brigadier Alastair Lethbridge-Stewart was an angry,
frustrated, and extremely worried man.
       First there were the outbreaks of this regressive
mutation, which turned soldiers and scientists alike into
savage beasts. The Brigadier was uneasily aware that some of
its victims were still at liberty. If they infected others...
       Then there was the disappearance of the Doctor, a
typically inconsiderate piece of behaviour, at the time when
he was most needed.
       And now there was a second disappearance—that of Sir
Keith Gold. He had gone to London, kept his appointment
with the Minister, and according to one of the Minister’s
aides, had a very successful meeting. He had then set off on
the return journey to the complex—but had never arrived
back. The Brigadier had checked with the police and with
hospitals—there had been no accident involving Sir Keith on
any conceivable route between London and the complex.
       Finally, and indeed continually, there was the behaviour
of Professor Stahlman. The Brigadier had had one brief and
acrimonious interview with Stahlman, achieved only by
sending Benton to more or less drag him to his office. The
Brigadier had requested that in view of the Doctor’s and Sir
Keith’s anxieties, drilling should he suspended, or at least
slowed down until one or both of them returned. He had
been met with an angry and contemptuous refusal. Stahlman
was insistent that penetration-zero would be reached on
schedule—his schedule. With Sir Keith still away, there was
no one to stop him.
       Liz Shaw was equally worried. With the Doctor gone
there was little she could do—Stahlman certainly had no use
for her assistance or advice. She spent quite a lot of her time
pottering about in the Doctor’s hut, hoping that by some
miracle he would return. Sometimes Sergeant Benton or
Greg Sutton would pop in for a chat, but most of the time she
was on her own.
       Opening the hut door to begin one of these lonely vigils,
it took Liz a moment register that Bessie was back in her
place. Beyond Bessie was the TARDIS console, and lying at
the foot of the console was the Doctor.
       ‘Doctor!’ she called delightedly. She ran and knelt
beside him. The Doctor’s body was limp and motionless. He
was breathing, but that was about all.
       Suddenly Liz heard voices outside the hut. She jumped
to her feet and ran to the still-open door. Sergeant Benton
was passing, talking to one of his foot-patrols,
       ‘Sergeant Benton!’ she called. ‘Over here!’
       Benton came running into the hut. He stopped in the
doorway in delighted astonishment. ‘It’s the Doctor!’
       ‘I can see that,’ said Liz rather unkindly, ‘Go and tell the
Brigadier.’
       ‘Right away, miss!’ Benton set off at a run.
       Liz felt for the pulse in the Doctor’s neck. It was very
faint, but it was there...
       Central control was filled with the steady roar from the
drills head, operating at near-maximum revs.
       The digital dock read 03.22: three hours twenty-two
minutes to penetration-zero. Professor Stahlman was telling
Petra Williams how things could be speeded up even further.
‘It’s perfectly simple, Petra. We boost all the power circuits to
maximum load. That will give us a further acceleration of...
3.6 per cent.’
       Petra said nothing but her face showed her concern.
       Stahlman frowned. ‘Well? Perhaps you see some flaw in
my calculations?’
       ‘Of course not, Professor. But we’re already twelve per
cent over the planned acceleration rate. Another three will
take us over all the safety margins.’
       ‘Safety margins are for old women, Petra—like Sir
Keith. I know, what I’m doing. Pass on my instructions.’ He
moved away.
       Petra turned and found Greg Sutton at her elbow. ‘You
look worried,’ he said bluntly.
       ‘Professor Stahlman has ordered a further acceleration.
Three per cent.’
       Sutton was outraged. ‘He can’t do that! We’re pushing
the safety limits already. I’m going to have a word with him.’
       Petra shook her head. ‘Don’t. It won’t do any good. He
usually listens to me, but...’
       ‘But not any more, eh? Face it, Petra, he’s losing his
grip.’
       Petra’s instincts of loyalty were still strong. ‘Professor
Stahlman has been working on this project for years. He must
know what he’s doing.’
       ‘He can still make mistakes and if he makes one at this
stage it will be a lulu.’
     ‘Greg—let me talk to him first.’
     Sutton grinned and patted her on the shoulder. ‘Right!
You soften him up, and I’ll come in for the kill.’

      The Brigadier was just coming out of his office when he
was almost knocked flying by Sergeant Benton. Benton
skidded to a halt just in time and saluted. ‘Sir!’
      The Brigadier raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, Benton?’
      ‘It’s the Doctor, sir. He’s back.’
      ‘What? Where is he?’
      ‘In his hut, sir. Miss Shaw’s with him.’
      Greg Sutton who was standing nearby had been
listening with keen interest. ‘What was all that about,
Brigadier?’
      ‘Nothing of importance, Mr Sutton.’
      ‘Come off it. He said something about the Doc.’
      ‘The Doctor appears to have turned up again.’
      ‘Hey, that’s great. How did he get back in here?’
      ‘Probably the same way he got out, Mr Sutton. I’d be
obliged if you wouldn’t mention this to anyone just yet—and
particularly not to Professor Stahlman.’
      Sutton grinned. ‘Don’t worry. I want to get Stahlman in
a good mood!’

      At the drill-head Petra was having little success.
      ‘My dear Petra,’ said Stahlman impatiently. ‘Much as I
value your advice, I must remind you that you are not... that I
am... in control... in control...’ Stahlman broke off, staring
fixedly at the drill-shaft. He clamped his hands to his ears as if
to shut out some intolerable noise.
      Petra was alarmed. ‘Professor Stahlman, are you all
right?’
       He recovered himself. ‘It’s nothing... a slight
headache...’
       ‘You really ought to go to the sick-bay.’
       ‘I am perfectly all right, Petra.’
       It as this unfortunate moment that Greg Sutton
appeared to make his appeal. He began with his usual
bluntness. ‘This accelerated drilling just isn’t on, Professor.’
       ‘I see,’ said Stahlman icily. ‘Now someone else is about to
tell me how to run my project.’
       Sutton ploughed on. ‘We ought to be slowing down at
this stage, nor forcing the pace.’
       ‘The drilling will continue at the pace I decide!’
       Sutton tried to change his approach. ‘Listen, you’ve
spent years on this project, right? What’s all the rush during
these last few hours? Since you’ve waited so long...’
       Stahlman stared fixedly at him. ‘We must reach
penetration-zero the earliest possible moment. Every second
is vital.’ Once again he clamped his hands over his ears.
       Sutton looked hard at him. ‘I reckon you need a rest,
Professor.’
       Stahlman turned to Petra and said stiffly. ‘I do not
intend to discuss the matter further. See that my orders are
carried out.’ He turned and walked through the tunnel to
central control.
       Sutton gave Petra a rueful look. ‘I thought you were
going to soften him up!’
       ‘He just won’t listen,’ she said desperately. I think he’s
ill, Greg. He had some kind of attack.’
       ‘I know, I saw. This whole thing’s getting too much for
him, Petra. He’s cracking up!’
      A camp bed had been set up in a corner of the Doctor’s
hut, and his long thin body lay stretched out on it. Liz had
thought wiser not to move him to far. She was examining him
now, watched by the Brigadier. She looked up. ‘Hearts
beating steadily...’
      ‘Both of them?’
      ‘Yes.’
      The Brigadier looked down at the Doctor with a
mixture of exasperation and concern. ‘Then what’s the matter
with him?’
      Liz shrugged. ‘Some sort of coma.’
      ‘How long before he comes out of it?’
      ‘Impossible to say. A few hours... days... months.’
      ‘Months!’ The Brigadier was horrified.
      Liz said, ‘Some people never come out at all.’
      ‘I’ll send for a doctor.’
      ‘I happen to be a doctor, Brigadier, remember?’
      Liz Shaw had so many scientific qualifications that it was
easy to forget that there was a medical degree amongst them.
      The Brigadier slapped his leg with his cane, impatient to
be doing something. ‘Shouldn’t we at least get him to a
hospital?’
      ‘It would be dangerous to move him at all.’
      ‘We can’t just leave him here.’
      ‘Why not? It’s quiet.’ Liz nodded to some electric heaters
rigged up by Benton’s men. ‘We can keep him warm.’
      ‘I really think he needs proper medical attention, Miss
Shaw.’
      ‘I’ll look after him,’ said Liz fiercely.
      The Brigadier bowed to her determination. ‘Very well’
He looked down at the Doctor’s still form. ‘There’ll be a row if
Stahlman finds out he’s back.’
     ‘Stahlman doesn’t have to know, does he?’ Liz studied
the Doctor’s peaceful face. ‘He was like this when I first met
him, remember? I think it’s his way of protecting himself
against tremendous strain. He’ll wake up—when he’s ready.’

       Greg Sutton drew a deep breath, fixed an ingratiating
smile on his rugged features and went up to Professor
Stahlman, determined that this time he would handle the old
boy properly. ‘If you could spare me a moment, Professor?’
       Stahlman ignored him, and went on checking
instrument readings against the figures on his clip-board.
       Sutton forced himself to go on in the same humble
tones. ‘I’ve just been checking the emergency flange on
number 2 output pipe.’
       Stahlman spoke without looking up. ‘It was repaired
some ago.’
       ‘Well, they didn’t do a very good At the speed we’re
drilling, that flange could blow at any moment.’
       ‘And what do you suggest?’
       ‘If we slow down the drilling rate, I could get a proper
job done.’
       Stahlman looked up. ‘So! Another transparent excuse
for delay!’
       Sutton forgot all his good resolutions. ‘Excuse, nothing!
Carry on at this rate, and this place will go sky high before
you ever reach penetration-zero! Look, I’m trying to help
you. I’m supposed to be an adviser.’
       ‘Oh yes! One of Sir Keith’s little army of experts. Well, I
don’t need your advice, Mr Sutton. That ridiculous Doctor
has gone, Sir Keith himself has gone. Why don’t you follow
their example? Then, perhaps, we could make some
progress.’
      As Stahlman moved away Greg Suton shouted, ‘Don’t
worry, I’ll do just that. As far as I’m concerned you can blow
yourself to kingdom come.’ He stood there fuming,
recognising that his attempt at being diplomatic had been a
dismal failure.
      Petra Williams said, ‘Are you serious? You’re really
convinced there’ll be a blow-up?’
      ‘I’d lay odds on it. If I can’t do anything else, I can save
my own neck. Why don’t you come with me?’
      ‘I’ve got to stay, Greg, you know that.’
      He shook his head. ‘Loyal to the last, eh?’
      ‘Greg, I wish you’d change your mind about leaving.’
      ‘Why?’
      ‘If anything does go wrong, I’d like to think you were
here. I’ve got used to having you around.’
      Sutton ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair.
‘Well, what do you know? Maybe I haven’t been wasting my
time here after all...’
      There was the sudden clamour of an alarm from the
drill-head.

      Inside the drill-head, the flange on number 2 output
pipe had burst. Thick heavy vapours were drifting from it and
there was an oozing of green slime. Mixed with the hooting of
the alarm there was a curious screeching sound...

      The Brigadier was shouting into the internal telephone.
‘Control? This is Lethbridge-Stewart here. What’s
happening?’ He listened. ‘Yes, yes, go on... How serious?’
      While the Brigadier was talking, the Doctor began
twisting and muttering, as if roused from his coma by the
noise of the alarms.
       ‘Number 2 output pipe’s blown,’ he muttered. ‘Very
dangerous...’
       Liz leaned over him. ‘Doctor? Can you her me? What is
it?’
       ‘Number 2 output pipe,’ said the Doctor again. ‘Very
dangerous. Number 2 output pipe has blown...’
       Putting down the phone, the Brigadier turned round in
astonishment. ‘How on earth did he know that? The
emergency flange has just blown on number 2 output pipe—
it’s only just happened!’
       ‘Listen,’ said Liz.
       The Doctor was mustering again. ‘Only thing oto do...
reverse all systems. Reverse all systems iummediately...’
       The Brigadier shook his head. ‘Delirious, poor chap!’
       ‘Is he? He knew about the blowout—almost as if he was
expecting it’ She leaned over the Doctor. ‘Can you hear me?
Doctor!’
       The Doctor had sunk back into his coma.
       ‘Keep an eye on him, will you, Brigadier?’ said Liz. ‘I’m
going to central control!’

       By the time Liz reached central control everyone was
close to panic—everyone but Stahlman.
       ‘Keep calm,’ he bellowed, his voice rising above the howl
of alarm. ‘This is only a minor emergency. It can be
contained.’
       ‘Please, Professor,’ begged Petra. ‘Close down the
drilling.’
       ‘No. Positively not.’
       ‘You’d better do something quickly, Professor,’ warned
Sutton. ‘This place is about to bust wide open!’
       Stahlman glared round angrily. ‘Have those riggers
arrived yet?’
       ‘Look,’ said Sutton desperately. ‘An army of riggers isn’t
going to get you out of this one!’
       Already frightened technicians were pouring out of the
drill-head tunnel. Stahlman ran angrily towards them. ‘Get
back, all of you! Get back to your posts!’
       ‘Just look at him!’ yelled Sutton. ‘He isn’t even trying to
find a solution!’
       Petra looked at him in anguish. ‘Is there one?’
       Liz Shaw came running up. ‘What would happen if all
the systems were reversed?’
       Petra stared at her. ‘What?’
       ‘Reverse all the systems!’
       ‘Wait a minute,’ said Greg Sutton suddenly. ‘That’s not
such a crazy idea! I’ve seen it done before, with an oil shaft in
Arabia. Push the coolant down the output pipes, and drag up
the debris from the bottom of the shaft through the input
pipes...’
       ‘And reverse the vortex,’ said Liz. ‘It’s a possibility—
theoretically.’
       ‘Professor Stahlman would never allow it,’ said Petra
slowly.
       ‘Just do it,’ urged Liz.
       ‘That’s right,’ said Greg Sutton. ‘Well, how about it,
Petra?’
       Petra Williams looked from one to the other of them.
‘All right!’ She turned and ran towards the control consoles.
                        14
                 The Last Mutation
        A short time later, things were back to something like
normal in central control. Technicians were back at their
posts, the alarm siren had stopped its shrieking, and the
readings on the pressure gauges were falling back to
something nearer the acceptable limits—though they were
still far too high for Greg Sutton’s liking.
        He looked round the control room with cautious
satisfaction. ‘Well, it seems to be working. That was a pretty
good idea of yours, Miss Shaw.’
        ‘It wasn’t my idea.’
        Sutton looked at her. ‘Then whose—no, don’t tell me.
The Doctor! The Brigadier said he was back.’
        ‘That’s right. The Doctor,’ said Liz. She left the control
room.
        Professor Stahlman was less happy with the way the
emergency had been handled. ‘You reversed all systems? I
gave no such orders, Petra.’
        ‘No Professor,’ said Petra steadily. ‘I did.’
        ‘Even you, Petra,’ said Stahlman sadly. ‘Even you.’ He
turned away.

      ‘Doctor?’ called the voice. ‘Doctor, are you all right?’
      The Doctor opened his eyes and saw a face hovering
above him. It looked a little blurred at first, then his vision
cleared.
      ‘Liz.? It is Liz?’
      ‘That’s right.’
       And it was Liz, the Doctor saw with relief. The auburn-
haired, brightly dressed Liz he knew so well - not the black-
haired cold-faced uniformed Section-Leader Shaw, whose
mind had been formed by a Fascist state. Yet she had
sacrificed herself to save him, the Doctor remembered,
together with the other Sutton and the other Petra.
       The Doctor heard another, even more familiar voice.
‘How are you, Doctor?’
       He looked up. There was the Brigadier, immaculately
uniformed as usual, without eyepatch or scar, and with that
neatly clipped military moustache.
       ‘You know, Brigadier,’ said the Doctor thoughtfully,
‘you really do look better with your moustache.’
       The Brigadier looked at Liz. ‘Poor chap’s delirious.’
       The Doctor struggled to to up.
       ‘You really ought to lie down for a bit longer,’ said Liz
anxiously. ‘You’ve been unconscious for quite some time.’
       ‘I am well aware of that,’ said the Doctor crisply. He was
taking his own pulse. ‘Hmm, seventy—more or less normal.’
He put a hand first to one side of his chest and then the other.
‘Both hearts ticking away nicely. Right-hand one’s a fraction
fast, but then, that’s only to be expected, eh?’
       ‘Where did you go to?’ asked Liz. ‘Where did the
TARDIS console take you?’
       ‘Here!’ said the Doctor unexpectedly. ‘Same place, same
time, different dimensions. A parallel world, Liz. Terrible
things happened there. It was this Earth and yet it wasn’t. I
didn’t go back into the past or forwards into the future. I
slipped sideways!’
       Liz gave him a worried look. ‘Doctor, you really ought to
rest, you know.’
      The Doctor looked at the Brigadier. ‘That technician,
the one who changed, and went berserk. Has he been caught
yet?’
      ‘I’m afraid not, Doctor.’
      ‘What about Stahlman?’
      Liz shrugged. ‘As difficult as ever.’
      ‘But no worse?’ asked the Doctor urgently.
      ‘Not that I’ve noticed.’
      ‘And how’s the drilling progressing?’
      Before anyone could answer him, there came a tapping
on the hut door.
      Liz opened it and a somewhat battered figure marched
in. There were minor cuts and bruises on his face, his clothes
were torn and dusty and one arm was in a sling—but it was
undoubtedly Sir Keith Gold.
      The Doctor seemed overjoyed to see him. ‘Sir Keith!’
      Sir Keith beamed at him. ‘My dear fellow, you’ve come
back to as after all.’
      ‘You’re not dead!’ said the Doctor delightedly.
      ‘No. Though I came very close to it.’
      ‘What happened?’ asked the Brigadier.
      ‘Car crash.’
      ‘But you’re not dead!’ repeated the Doctor.
      ‘You can see he’s not dead, Doctor,’ said the Brigadier
soothingly. He glanced apologetically at Sir Keith. ‘The
Doctor’s been ill, sir.’
      ‘Not dead!’ said the Doctor again. ‘That’s excellent!’
      ‘Yes, I think so too,’ agreed Sir Keith politely. He
turned to the Brigadier. ‘I’m afraid I must lay some very
serious charges against Professor Stahlman.’
      ‘You mean he caused your car crash?’
       ‘Well, indirectly. By a mixture of threats and bribery he
persuaded my chauffeur to delay my return. The wretched
fellow took me miles out of my way. The car crash itself was a
genuine accident—the poor devil of a chauffeur was hurt
quite badly. I was unconscious for several hours myself.’
       The Brigadier nodded. ‘And you weren’t anywhere near
the route from London—which is why I couldn’t find you.’
       The Doctor was sitting bolt upright by now, looking
excitedly from one to the other. ‘Don’t you see what this
means? Not everything runs parallel!’
       Sir Keith looked at the Brigadier. ‘You did say he’d
been ill’?’
       The Brigadier nodded. ‘In a coma, poor chap,’ he
whispered confidentially.
       The Doctor was very much awake now, and in a state of
great excitement. ‘Yes, of course, of course! It has to be like
that. An infinity of universes, an infinite number of choices.
That’s why free will is not an illusion after all. The pattern can
be changed!’
       The Brigadier moved unobtrusively over to the wall
telephone. ‘Hello? Get me the medical section please.’
       The Doctor sprang to his feet, snatched the phone from
the Brigadier, and slammed it back on its rest. ‘Just you wait a
minute. I am not in need of a doctor and I’m not a raving
idiot!’
       The Brigadier backed away. ‘No, no, of course not,’ he
said soothingly. ‘Perhaps you just had a sort of nightmare?’
       ‘He did disappear, you know,’ said Liz. ‘We saw it.’
       The Doctor seized Sir Keith’s arm in a painful grip. ‘Sir
Keith, unless we act now, there’s going to be the most terrible
disaster imaginable.’
       ‘How can you be so sure, Doctor?’
       ‘Because I’ve seen it happen!’
       The Doctor ran from the hut, and they all hurried after
him.

      The Doctor could move with amazing speed when he
wanted and by the time the others caught up with him he was
confronting an astonished and angry Professor Stahlman in
the middle of central control. ‘Professor Stahlman! You must
stop this drilling immediately!’
      ‘Who let this maniac back in here?’ demanded
Stahlman.
      ‘I tell you you’ve got to close down this whole
operation—now!’
      ‘Brigadier! You will arrest this man immediately!’
      The Doctor raised his voice, addressing the astonished
technicians. ‘Listen to me, all of you! You must not attempt to
penetrate the Earth’s crust.’
      Stahlman was almost hysterical with rage. ‘Brigadier,
you heard what I said. Arrest him!’
      The Brigadier tried to take the Doctor aside. ‘Doctor,
please...’
      But the Doctor’s mind was filled with seas of glowing
lava, with the terrible spectacle of a world destroyed. He flung
the Brigadier aside. ‘Get out of my way!’ Looking round
wildly, the Doctor spotted a massive pipe-wrench projecting
from a rigger’s tool-bag by the wall. Before anyone could stop
him, he ran over to the bag, snatched up the wrench, and
began smashing up the nearest console.
      ‘Stop this drilling!’ he shouted as he hammered away.
‘You don’t understand! You’ve got to stop this drilling!’
       ‘Benton, get some help,’ snapped the Brigadier.
‘Quickly, man!’ Cautiously he approached the Doctor.
‘Doctor, for heaven’s sake calm down!’
       Stahlman looked on with an air almost of satisfaction.
‘You see? Completely demented!’
       Benton ran back into the control centre with a couple of
UNIT soldiers. Seconds later, the Doctor disappeared under
a pile of bodies.
       When he was more or less immobilised, the Brigadier
reached out and snatched the wrench from the Doctor’s hand.
‘Get him to the sick-bay. And be careful. I don’t want him
hurt.’
       Struggling furiously, the Doctor was half-dragged half-
carried out, a UNIT soldier gripping; each arm.
       As Liz Shaw looked on with a sort of embarrassed pity,
she became aware that the Doctor was calling to her. ‘Liz, the
computer,’ he shouted. ‘Missing microcircuit—Stahlman...
repair the computer.’ Still struggling and shouting, the Doctor
was carried away.
       Stahlman was taking full advantage of the situation.
‘Brigadier, I hold you responsible for this!’
      ‘You might at least have listened to him,’ said Liz firmly.
She edged away, moving towards the computer.
      Sir Keith stepped forward ‘I should like to speak to you,
Professor.’
      Stahlman looked disparagingly at him. ‘I thought you
were supposed to be in London? Been in an accident?’
      ‘That is correct—an accident that was an indirect result
of your orders to my chauffeur. You told him to delay my
return from London.’
      ‘A ridiculous accusation.’
       Sir Keith decided to defer that particular matter until
later. ‘The Minister requests that you report to him
immediately, Professor Stahlman.’
       ‘Does he indeed?’
       ‘There is to be an enquiry into the safety of this project
and, if I may say so, into your own conduct.’
       ‘You may hold all the enquiries you please, Sir Keith,
after we have penetrated the Earth’s crust!’ Stahlman turned
and marched through the drill-head tunnel.
       Petra followed, and found him staring absorbedly at the
drill-shaft. ‘The Doctor did only minor damage, Professor. It’s
being repaired now—it won’t cause any delay.’
       Stahlman didn’t reply.
       A little uneasily, Petra went on. ‘We shall be switching to
the robot cycle in forty-nine minutes.’
       ‘Thank you,’ he muttered.
       ‘Is anything wrong, Professor?’
       Stahlman swung round to face her. ‘It’s so cold in here,
Petra.’
       She looked at him in amazement. ‘Cold?’ The heat in
the drill-head area was almost unbearable.
       ‘Yes. Have the maintenance people raise the
temperature.’
       ‘But Professor...’
       ‘Do as I ask!’ screamed Stahlman.
       Petra backed away, and went back through the tunnel.
       When she was gone, Stahlman put his hands over his
ears to block out the intolerable screeching sound. But it
sounded just as loudly inside his head. He moved closer to the
drill-shaft. Suddenly Stahlman swung round, calling out to
the handful of technicians working in the drill-head area.
‘You will leave this area immediately—all of you. I shall
handle the final phase of this operation alone. You will stand
by in central control.’
      The technicians turned from their work, staring
disbelievingly at him.
      ‘Get out of here—all of you!’ shrieked Stahlman. ‘Go on,
do as you’re told. Get out!’
      The terrified technicians began hurrying through the
tunnel.

      Petra and Greg Sutton watched them file through into
central control.
      ‘He’s ordered them all out,’ said Sutton in disbelief.
‘Now do you believe he’s cracking up?’
      They heard a metallic grinding sound coming from the
tunnel.
      ‘The heat-shield,’ said Petra. ‘He’s closing the heat-
shield!’

      Once outside the control centre the Doctor had calmed
down. Now he was walking meekly towards the medical block
between two UNIT sentries. He was deep in thought, and he
was very worried indeed. Haunted by that nightmarish vision
of an exploding Earth, he had acted so violently that his
credibility was destroyed. Who would listen to his arguments
now? Still, what was done was done. He still had to try
everything and anything he could to prevent the coming
catastrophe.
      The Doctor came to a sudden halt and looked
regretfully at the UNIT soldiers. ‘I’m sorry about this
gentlemen—I really am!’ The Doctor’s arms shot out like
pistons, out-thrust fingers jabbing the two soldiers beneath
the collarbones. They dropped to the ground, and the Doctor
turned and ran. He had administered only the lightest of
blows and the sentries would soon recover.
      Minutes later they were struggling to their feet,
searching frantically for the Doctor.
      Behind him the Doctor heard an alarm-whistle. There
were shouts and the sound of running feet as more soldiers
were summoned to join in the hunt. By now the Doctor had
reached one of the coolant towers. There was ladder running
up one side. With a strange feeling of familiarity, the Doctor
began shinning up it. Only when he reached the catwalk that
led to the next tower did he realise why.
      Shuffling along the catwalk towards him was a grotesque
figure in the tattered remnants of e technician’s white
coveralls. The sleeves had been ripped away, revealing
muscular arms covered with coarse black hair ending in huge
clawed hands. Roaring and screeching, the creature shuffled
towards him.
      Apprehensively the Doctor looked around. Hadn’t there
been two of them last time this had happened—in that other
world? But here at least, there was only one. And there was,
thank heavens, still a fire-extinguisher attached to the rail.
The Doctor grabbed it and blasted the approaching mutant
with the cold CO2 gas. It really was unfair, thought the
Doctor, having to overcome the same enemies more than
once. Leaping over the writhing mutant, he ran along the
catwalk to the other tower, and slid down the ladder. He
could still hear the whistle-blasts and shouts of the pursuing
soldiers. At least this lot weren’t likely to shoot him.
      The Doctor began to run. Somehow he had to get back
to central control in time.
      Alone in the sealed-off drill-head area, Stahlman walked
slowly towards the shaft. Thick green slime was oozing from
the fractured output pipe. Stahlman ripped of his gloves,
revealing both hands covered with coarse hair. Moving with
almost ritualistic slowness, he scooped up a double handful of
the green slime and smeared it over his face.
      He began to change...
                      15
            The Doctor Takes a Trip
      In central control Petra, Greg Sutton and Sir Keith were
listening in horror to the strange sounds coming from the
speaker connected to the drill-head area. Moans and snarls
and growls, terrifying bestial sounds, were intermingled with
a hideous screeching.
      Petra was shouting into the mike. ‘Professor Stahlman,
please! What’s happening in there?’
      The only reply was a fresh outbreak of hideous snarling.
      ‘Can’t you raise the heat shield and get him out?’ asked
Sir Keith.
      Sutton shook his head. ‘He’s locked it on manual—from
the inside.’

      Inside the drill-head the creature that had once been
Stahlman was writhing in ecstacy at the base of the drill-shaft.
Helped by the intense heat, the recessive mutation was taking
place with incredible speed. the face twisted and sprouted
hair, the eyes flared red, the teeth became great yellowing
fangs. Rising to its feet, the mutant beast gave a screech of
exultant rage.

     The countdown had started.
     ‘Zero minus two minutes fifty seconds,’ boomed the
mechanical voice.
     ‘Over here, all of you,’ called Liz suddenly.
     The computer had come back to life again, and was
spewing out rolls of print-out.
      ‘I found out what was wrong with the computer, Sir
Keith,’ announced Liz. ‘A missing microcircuit, just as the
Doctor said. I rigged up a replacement—and there you are!’
      Sutton looked at the reels of paper. ‘Well? What does it
say?’
      ‘It advises us to stop the drilling—at once!’
      Sutton turned to be Keith. ‘Why don’t you give the
order?’
      ‘I can’t.’
      ‘I thought you’d convinced your pal the Minister.’
      ‘So I have. But the order to close down must come from
the Professor himself. I have no authority to intervene directly
in a technical matter.’
      Suddenly the Doctor hurried into the control room.
Seeing the computer working he made his way across to it.
‘Well done, Liz.’ He was snatched up a handful of print-out,
scanned it and then looked round the little group. ‘Where’s
Stahlman?’
      Liz nodded towards the drill-head. ‘He’s locked himself
in there.’
      ‘Good. Then stop this infernal drilling, Sir Keith. Right
now.’
      Sir Keith stared helplessly at him, torn by indecision.
      ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Close down the drilling
and start filling up that shaft!’
      ‘The data from the computer is not conclusive, Doctor.
Nor is Professor Stahlman’s behaviour, eccentric though it is.
We have no proof of an emergency situation...’
      Even as Sir Keith spoke, the heat-shield was beginning
to rise. His attention drawn by the noise, Sir Keith turned to
look—and saw before him all the proof that anyone could
ever need.
       Stahlman was coming out of the tunnel—or rather the
creature that had once been Stahlman. The recessive
mutation was in its final stage, and scarcely any trace of the
human remained. It was the face of a wild beast. The mutant
stood looking at them for a moment, swinging its head to and
fro, screeching with primitive rage.
       Instinctively the Brigadier drew his revolver.
       The Doctor put a hand on his arm. ‘That’s no use. Mr
Sutton—the fire extinguishers.’
       The Doctor and Sutton ran to the walls, snatched up
fire-extinguishers and advanced on the ravening beast that
had once been Eric Stahlman. Both opened fire a once,
drenching the monster with freezing CO2 gas. Caught
between the blasts of the two extinguishers, the creature’s end
was mercifully swift. For a moment it screeched and roared,
then suddenly it fell writhing to the ground.
       The Doctor and Sutton poured on the CO2 gas until the
extinguishers were exhausted and the creature lay still, killed
by the sudden massive temperature reduction. There was a
moment of appalled silence.
       The countdown voice boomed out. ‘Zero minus one minute
and fifty seconds.’
       ‘Petra, the drill,’ shouted the Doctor. ‘Close it down—
now!’
       ‘Howl? There’s no time!’
       ‘Just cut off the power, Petra,’ yelled Sutton.
       ‘But the drill will disintegrate!’
       ‘All the better!’ said the Doctor. ‘Just hurry!’
       Petra raised her voice. ‘All technical staff. Stand by for
emergency shutdown. Report readiness.’
       Seconds later the different power-sections began
reporting over the loudspeaker.
      ‘Number 1 section standing by.’
      ‘Section 2 standing by.’
      ‘Section 3 standing by.’
      Petra raised her voice in command. ‘Shutdown by
sections now!’
      Again the voices rang out. ‘Section 1 shut down!’
      ‘Section 2 shut down!’
      ‘Section 3 shut down!’
      The roar of the drill went on.
      ‘Zero minus one minute thirty seconds. Final countdown will
commence in thirty seconds. ‘
      ‘It isn’t stopping,’ said the Brigadier.
      ‘We’ve forgotten the buffer controls in the drill-head,’
shouted Sir Keith. ‘They slow the drill down by stages. It’ll
keep going for four or five minutes unless we use the servo
cut-out!’
      ‘Come on, Mr Sutton.’ said the Doctor.

       They raced for the tunnel. Inside the drill-head the heat
and the noise were almost intolerable, but the Doctor seemed
to ignore them.
       Sutton led the way to the buffer control console. ‘The
servo-switch cut-out has been wrecked!’
       ‘Stahlman!’ said the Doctor grimly.
       ‘Can you repair it?’
       ‘I can try.’
       ‘Zero minus one minute zero seconds and counting. Countdown
by seconds commences now! Sixty... fifty-nine...’

    For those left in central control there was nothing to do
but wait and listen as the countdown voice droned
remorselessly on, counting away, for all they knew, the
remaining seconds of their lives.
       ‘Forty-five. Forty-four. Forty-three. Forty-two. Forty-one. Forty.
Thirty-nine. Thirty-’ Suddenly the voice broke off.
       A few moments of tense silence. Then:
       ‘Attention! Attention! Countdown and drilling stopped at minus
thirty-five seconds.’
       They were all too exhausted for cheers but there was a
subdued babble of relief.
       The Doctor and Sutton staggered out of the tunnel,
both streaming with sweat.
       ‘Sir Keith,’ said the Doctor a little hoarsely, ‘I think
you’d better give orders for that shaft to be filled in straight
away!’
       ‘Indeed I will Doctor. Indeed I will!
       The Doctor moved over to Stahlman’s body and stared
down at it for a moment. Perhaps they owed him a debt in a
way, he thought. Thanks to Stahlman’s urgent need to
surrender to the ecstacy of the recessive mutation, Earth—this
Earth—had been saved.
       The Doctor looked a the little group of his friends,
laughing and talking on the other side of the control room.
Pain showed in his face for a moment, as he thought of their
other selves—those who had not survived. For a moment it
was like looking at ghosts.
       The Brigadier came over to him, noticing, but
misinterpreting, his expression. ‘It’s all over now, Doctor. I’ll
send for a stretcher party, get the poor devil out of there.’
       The Doctor nodded and walked out of central control.
       After all, he thought as he made his way back to his hut,
it wasn’t everybody who’d actually seen the end of the world.
      The Doctor was in better spirit next morning, as he and
Liz Shaw worked on the TARDIS console. ‘Shine on Martian
moons, up in the sky’, he carolled cheerfully. ‘Shine on...’
      There was a rapping on the door, Liz opened it, and the
Brigadier and Sir Keith Gold came in. Sir Keith was neat and
dapper as usual, though his arm was still in a sling.
      ‘Sorry to disturb you, Doctor. Just popped in to say
goodbye.’
      ‘You’re leaving then?’
      ‘Everyone is,’ said the Brigadier with some satisfaction.
      Sir Keith nodded. ‘Word came through this morning.
This project is officially abandoned.’
      ‘I’m not sorry to hear it. Er—what about the nuclear
reactor?’
      ‘They start dismantling it tomorrow.’
      ‘Ah,’ said the Doctor hopefully. ‘So, there’s still time for
me use the power just once more, eh?’
      ‘Of course, Doctor, of course. It’s the least we can do.’
      ‘That’s very kind, Sir Keith. Very kind indeed. By the
way, what’s happened to Sutton and Miss Williams?’
      ‘Oh they left early this morning. They asked me to say
goodbye.’
      ‘Did they leave together?’ asked Liz intrigued.
      Sir Keith coughed. ‘Well, I believe Mr Sutton is driving
Miss Williams back to London.’
      The Doctor smiled. ‘Nothing like a happy ending, eh
Liz?’
      Sir Keith said his goodbyes, shook hands all round and
departed.
      The Brigadier stood watching the Doctor and Liz as
they returned to work.
       The Doctor looked up and said pointedly. ‘Goodbye,
Brigadier.’
       ‘Quite a bit of mopping up to do yet, Doctor. I shall be
here for a while longer.’
       The Doctor muttered something that sounded
suspiciously like, ‘Pity,’ and turned to Liz. ‘Well, if they’re
closing down the reactor, we’d better get a move on.’
       ‘Now just a minute, Doctor,’ said Liz slowly.
       The Brigadier looked disdainfully at the TARDIS
console. ‘Can’t think why you still bother tinkering with that
thing, Doctor, after all the trouble it’s caused us.’
       Stung by the attack on his beloved TARDIS the Doctor
said, ‘The trouble it’s caused us? What trouble did it cause
you?’
       ‘If you hadn’t disappeared at such a crucial moment,
Doctor, this whole business might have been cleared up much
sooner.’
       Even Liz thought this was a bit unfair. ‘He did try to
warn everybody, Brigadier—long before he disappeared.’
       ‘Yes,’ said the Doctor indignantly. ‘And a fat lot of notice
you took!’
       The Brigadier said accusingly, ‘So you went gallivanting
of in a fit of pique!’
       The Doctor drew himself up. ‘There are times,
Brigadier, when you remind me very strongly of your other
self. I shall leave at once.’ He began adjusting the controls.
       Liz watched him in amazement. ‘Not in the TARDIS
console, Doctor?’
       The Doctor gave her a look of dignified reproach.
‘Naturally. With the work we did today, the TARDIS console
is now fully operational.’
      The Brigadier sniffed. ‘I seem to have heard that
before!’
      It was the last straw. The Doctor strode to his power
transformer and switched on the power. The console began to
hum, lights flashed and the centre column began to rise and
fall.
      Poised at the controls the Doctor turned to Liz.
‘Goodbye, Liz, I shall miss you. But I’ve had just about as
much as I can stand of this pompous, self-opinionated idiot
here.’ With that the Doctor flicked a couple of switches.
Doctor and console promptly disappeared, leaving Liz and
the Brigadier open-mouthed.
      On this occasion, Liz noticed, Bessie stayed where she
was.
      Liz looked reproachfully at the Brigadier. ‘See what
you’ve done!’
      ‘How was I to know he’d go off like that? The man’s so
infernally touchy!’
      ‘Well, I shall be very interested to see how you get on
without him, Brigadier.’
      The Brigadier said sharply. ‘May I remind you that you
are still a serving member of UNIT, Miss Shaw. I don’t
entirely care for your tone.’
      ‘I don’t much care for yours, either. No wonder the
Doctor cleared off.’
      A very promising row was interrupted by a cough from
behind there. They turned and saw the Doctor standing in
the doorway. He was looking for once, far from his usual
elegant self. There was mud on his face, in his hair and on his
smoking-jacket.
      ‘Welcome back, Doctor,’ said the Brigadier, sarcastically.
      Liz stared at him in astonishment. ‘Where did you go?’
      ‘A few seconds forward in time, a few hundred yards
due east in space!’
      Liz thought for a moment and then chuckled. ‘The
rubbish tip?’
      ‘The rubbish tip,’ agreed the Doctor ruefully.
      ‘Oh dear!’
      The Doctor gave the Brigadier his most ingratiating
smile. ‘Er—Brigadier, my dear feller! I wonder if I could
borrow Benton and a few of your stalwart chaps to give me a
hand in bringing the TARDIS console back? It’s landed in
rather an inaccessible position!’
      The Brigadier said thoughtfully, ‘Pompous, self-
opinionated, idiot I believe you said, Doctor?’
      ‘Well—er, yes. Still, we don’t want to bear a grudge for a
few hasty words, do we? No! Not after all the years that we’ve
worked together!’ The Doctor draped an arm around the
Brigadier’s shoulders and led him from the hut. ‘Now, come
along my dear feller—put on a smile...’
      But it was Liz who was smiling as she watched them go.
It was nice having the Doctor back.
