Materialising in outer space, the TARDIS is attacked by a
missile fired from the dark side of the moon.
Back on Earth, the newly-formed United Nations
Intelligence Taskforce, led by Brigadier Lethbridge-
Stewart, is disturbed by a series of UFO sightings over
Southern England.
Meanwhile, a large consignment of mysterious crates is
delivered   to    the   headquarters   of    International
Electromatix, the largest computer and electronics firm in
the world.
Three seemingly unconnected events—but in reality the
preparations for a massive Cyberman invasion of Earth
with one aim—the total annihilation of the human race.

ISBN 0 426 20169 8
               DOCTOR WHO
               THE INVASION
Based on the BBC television serial by Derrick Sherwin from a story
outline by Kit Pedler by arrangement with the British Broadcasting
                            Corporation




                     IAN MARTER




                         published by
                   The Paperback Division of
                    W. H. Allen & Co. PLC
CONTENTS

Prologue
1 Home Sweet Home?
2 Old Friends
3 Cat and Mouse
4 Hitching Lifts
5 Skeletons and Cupboards
6 Secret Weapons
7 Underground Operations
8 Invasion
9 Counter Measures
10 The Nick of Time
A Target Book
Published in 1985
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 and Co. PLC in 1985

Novelisation copyright © Ian Marter 1985
Original script copyright © Kit Pedler and Derrick Sherwin 1968
'Doctor Who' series copyright © British Broadcasting Corporation
1968, 1985

Printed and bound in Great Britain by
Anchor Brendon Ltd, Tiptree, Essex

The BBC producer of The Invasion was Peter Bryant
the director was Douglas Camfield

ISBN 0 426 20169 8

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.
                            Prologue
       The Doctor sat hunched in his rickety chair, biting his nails
anxiously and staring grimly around him in the crackling air as
everything swam sickeningly back into focus. He uttered a whoop of
relief as his two young friends reappeared, clinging on for dear life to
the wobbling and sparking navigation console in the middle of the
TARDIS control chamber. With a few spasmodic shudders the
ancient machine finally shook itself together and settled, its harsh
groans and staccato wheezes dying gradually away into eerie silence.
       Jamie, a robust young Highlander clad in faded kilt and
sporran, tattered sleeveless sheepskin waistcoat and sturdy boots,
turned thankfully to Zoe and grinned shakily. 'We're all right, ma
wee lassie. It worked!' he exclaimed, his voice cracking with nervous
tension.
       Zoe attempted a pale smile. She was a bright-eyed teenager
with a large face, wide mouth and short black hair and she was
wearing a tomboyish trouser-suit. She swallowed hard and glanced
inquiringly at the thoughtful Doctor. 'Are we on our way at last?' she
asked hopefully.
       The Doctor still sat staring suspiciously at the motionless
control column, his mouth drawn sharply down, his black eyebrows
ruckled and his small hands knotted uncertainly together. 'I suppose
I'd better have a look,' he murmured hesitantly. He looked rather like
an old-fashioned fairground showman as he shuffled over to the
console and fussed with the switches and indicators in his
concertinad check trousers, worn boots and shabby knee-length coat,
tucking the frayed cuffs of his grubby shirt out of the way. He licked
a finger as if for luck and pressed a button, glancing apprehensively
across at a video screen set into the chamber wall.
       A large dark globe took shape against a breathtaking
background of brilliant stars. The globe was pitted and scarred and
ringed with a bright iridescent halo.
       'The Moon!' cried Zoe in surprise.
       Slowly the Doctor leaned forward, as though he suspected
some kind of trick. 'The Solar Corona,' he whispered, adjusting the
focus and throwing the lunar craters into sharp relief round the
Moon's rim. 'We appear to be stranded on the dark side, I'm afraid.'
       The Doctor's ominous words caused Zoe and Jamie to
exchange uneasy glances in the tense silence. The disintegration of
the TARDIS in their previous adventure had been a horrifying
experience and now it seemed that the ramshackle police box had
managed to reassemble itself only to end up marooned behind the
Moon.
       'What d'ye mean, Doctor... Stuck?' Jamie inquired nervously.
       The Doctor was poking about among the racks of printed
circuits inside the hexagonal column. 'I mean stuck,' he replied,
sniffing with embarrassment as he pulled out a suspect panel and
studied it guiltily.
       Suddenly Zoe's eyes opened wide. 'What's that?' she cried,
pointing to the screen. A small speck of light had appeared on the
Moon's pockmarked surface. As they watched, it seemed to grow
rapidly larger and brighter.
       'Looks like a volcano or something,' Jamie murmured
excitedly.
       The Doctor ruffled his mop of thick black hair and blinked
unhappily at the strange phenomenon. 'Not on the Moon, Jamie.'
       All of a sudden Zoe grabbed the Doctor's threadbare sleeve.
It's coming towards us!' she gasped.
       There was a violent clatter as the delicate circuit panel slipped
out of the Doctor's fingers. 'Don't fluster me, Zoe,' he chided her,
picking it up carefully. 'The orientation circuits are jammed. It may
take a while to fix.'
       'But Doctor, we must move out of the way!' Zoe insisted.
'We've only got a few seconds!'
       On the screen, the mysterious gleaming object seemed to be
almost upon them.
       'It looks like a missile,' Jamie said, gaping in fascination.
'Someone's fired a missile at us!'
       'Someone? From the Moon?' snorted the Doctor, peering
intently at the faulty circuits. He flexed the small panel a few times,
traced his finger round its intricate connections and then popped it
back into its slot in the column.
       'Please hurry up, Doctor,' pleaded Zoe, hypnotised like Jamie
by the weird glinting craft growing in the centre of the screen.
       'Oh, do be quiet,' snapped the Doctor, flicking a series of
switches and glaring irritably at the inert instruments. Once again he
removed the panel and this time held it up to examine its complex
structure against the increasingly brilliant glow from the video
screen. Suddenly he emitted a squawk of terror. Zoe just managed to
catch the panel before it hit the floor a second time.
       'What the dickens is that?' croaked the Doctor, gazing open-
mouthed at the looming alien image. The next moment he snatched
the circuit panel from be. 'Don't just stand there gawping, child!' he
shouted, struggling to insert it back into its slot. He kicked the
control column a few times and rummaged his fingers feverishly
among the switches.
       Ashen-faced, Jamie clutched Zoe's shoulder convulsively.
'We're too late, lassie, we'll never make it...' he gulped.
       The Doctor thumped the console and unleashed a tirade of
insults against his juddering machine as it growled reluctantly back
into operation. Then, like a crazed concert pianist he madly
manipulated the switches and savagely kicked the column while
staring defiantly up at the gigantic threat blotting out the Moon and
the galaxies beyond.
       Seconds later there was a colossal explosion. The TARDIS and
its precious contents burst asunder into an infinity of separate
fragments. In the place where it had been, a vast silver craft passed
silently through space, as if it had never existed.
                          1
                   Home Sweet Home?
       Only the sound of leisurely munching disturbed the sunlit air
as the herd of Friesian cows cropped the lush grass, occasionally
raising their heads to gaze placidly around as they chewed
contentedly. Suddenly they paused and turned in unison towards the
centre of their meadow where a small area of buttercups had become
mysteriously flattened. A chorus of mooing erupted from the
motionless herd, but a moment later it was silenced by a raucous
trumpeting which quickly became a banshee wailing. A hazy blue
outline topped by a fitfully flashing amber beacon gradually
materialised on the flattened grass. Silently the cows watched as the
chipped, lopsided police box settled and solidified and the beacon
stopped flashing. Then, with one voice, the herd broke into a furious
lowing in protest at the alien intruder.
       Inside the TARDIS the three companions hauled themselves
groggily to their feet.
       'Well done, old girl,' giggled the Doctor nervously. 'Just in the
nick of time.' He patted the console affectionately. 'Another
nanosecond and we'd have been nullified!'
       Zoe and Jamie looked daggers at the dapper Time Lord.
       'Well, who'd fire a missile at us?' Zoe demanded after an
awkward silence.
       The Doctor smiled sheepishly and shrugged. 'Better find out
where we are,' he suggested, fiddling with the scanner switches.
       They froze as a strange rnoaning sound suddenly rose in the
distance and then gradually died away.
       Jamie frowned. 'Whatever's wrong wi' the TARDIS, Doctor? It
seems to go wrong all the time now,' he protested.
       The Doctor tried to focus the blurred images on the screen. 'It
just needs a bit of an overhaul, Jamie, like any other machine,' he
replied defensively.
       Zoe glared at the scanner. 'Not much good if you haven't got
any spare parts is it?' she retorted huffily.
       All at once she jumped, stifling a scream. The video screen
was almost filled by a vast cavernous mouth yawning at them.
       We are obviously not on the Moon anyway,' the Doctor
chuckled, as the weird moaning sounded again and several more
cows nosed curiously into the picture.
       'Earth again,' Jamie groaned gloomily.
       The Doctor nodded eagerly. 'It looks like England. If it's the
twentieth century I could look up an old friend - Professor Travers -
I'm sure he'd let me use his laboratory to knock up a few replacement
components for the old girl...' The Doctor hesitated. 'Unless, of
course, he's still a babe in arms!' he grinned, deftly removing two
circuit panels from the control console and stuffing them in his
pocket. 'Let's go and see,' he urged them, making for the door.
       Zoe was still staring at the mooing herd on the screen. 'I
wonder whether that thing we saw behind the Moon is in this time
zone or not?' she murmured uneasily.
       'You mean whoever took a pot at us could still be lurking
aboot?' Jamie said quietly.
       'Do come along, you two!' complained the Doctor, grabbing
them each by the hand and dragging them after him.
       As they emerged into the sunshine, the cows lumbered away
still mooing with disapproval. The Doctor turned to lock the door,
but the TARDIS was nowhere to be seen. Zoe and Jamie cast their
eyes to the clear blue sky in despair.
       The Doctor took the two panels out of his pocket, frowned at
them and then tapped his nose knowingly. 'No danger of getting a
parking ticket!' he mused with a grin. Then he set off towards a gate
in the distant hedge with Zoe and Jamie trailing unenthusiastically in
his wake.
       They trudged along the narrow country lane while the Doctor
hopped optimistically about, seeking a clue as to the century in
which they had fortunately materialised. All at once a whining drone
made them pause and listen. They scanned the empty skies.
       'Helicopter?' Zoe suggested.
       The Doctor shrugged. 'Post Industrial Revolution anyway, my
dear,' he cried and breezily set off again.
       The noise grew louder and suddenly a small covered truck
swung recklessly round a bend and sped up behind them. The Doctor
grabbed his friends and scampered into the hedge, urgently signalling
with his cocked thumb. The truck braked fiercely and lurched to a
halt some distance further on, its diesel racing impatiently.
       Straightening his rumpled collar and sagging cravat, the
Doctor scuttled round to the driver's door. 'Good day, sir, I wonder if
you could help us...?' he began.
       The young ginger-haired driver wearing sweat-stained teeshirt
and oily jeans shot him a frightened glance. 'Are you trying to get
out?' he shouted.
       'Actually we wish to go in... to London,' smiled the Doctor.
       'Get in quick.'
       'Oh, that's most civil of you...' bowed the Doctor.
       'Shut up and get in,' yelled the driver, revving the hot smoking
engine.
       Seconds later the bewildered trio were jammed into the noisy
cab and being flung violently around as the truck roared through the
twisting lanes. After a few kilometres the driver swung the truck
abruptly onto a deeply-rutted cart track which bounced them
sickeningly into a small shady wood.
       Killing the engine, he jumped out. 'Get away from the truck!'
he shouted, diving into the tangled undergrowth.
       Totally mystified, the Doctor led his young companions in
pursuit. They soon found the driver crouching in the bushes, wiping
his freckled lace with a rag.
       'Is something wrong?' asked the Doctor gently, crouching
beside him.
       'Company Security are on my tail,' he gasped.
       'What company?' Zoe demanded.
       The driver gave her a sarcastic grin. 'There's only one
Company isn't there, miss?'
       The Doctor motioned the others to keep quiet. 'I'm sorry, but
we're strangers here,' he explained.
       The young man looked incredulous. 'Strangers? You mean
you're not from the Community?' he muttered after a pause.
       They all shook their heads.
       'Then how the hell did you get into the compound?'
       The Doctor smiled enigmatically. 'That's a long story, I'm
afraid.'
       Zoe glanced around uneasily. 'What's this compound? Are we
prisoners here or something?'
       The driver leaned closer. 'Those who haven't gone over to the
Company are. Course, not officially. They just make it rather
difficult if you don't have a pass,' he confided.
       Jamie's clear blue eyes narrowed. 'What about yerself?'
       The fugitive listened a moment and then grinned bleakly. 'I
managed to get in all right. Getting out again's the problem now.'
       The Doctor frowned suspiciously. 'This company you
mentioned... What does it do exactly?' he inquired.
       The young man stared at the strangers in disbelief.
'International Electromatix, of course. You must know about them.
They've got a world monopoly in electronic equipment. They...'
       The approaching howl of powerful motorcycle engines
suddenly silenced him. Turning pale, he dragged the odd trio deeper
into the thicket. They waited, scarcely breathing. Then all at once
they glimpsed a flash of gleaming metal and bright black leather as
two motor-bikes zipped past the end of the cart track.
       When all was quiet again, their rescuer continued. 'They've set
up a whole Community of their own... research facilities, factories...
housing complexes... inside a network of compounds. Most of the
locals joined the Company.'
       'What about the ones who didn't?' murmured Zoe.
       'My people haven't been able to trace them.'
       'Your people...?' the Doctor cut in sharply, eyes widening.
       The driver bit his dry lips, regretting his careless remark.
Cautiously he stood up. 'Should be safe now,' he told them. 'You
three'd better keep out of sight in the back. I'll try and bluff our way
out.'
      A short drive through peacefully deserted countryside brought
them to a high chainlink fence, slung between steel posts and topped
with several strands of wicked-looking barbed wire, stretching into
the distance in both directions. Electric gates barred the road. A
heavily armed security guard strode out from the squat concrete
blockhouse. He was dressed in a black uniform of thick glossy
material with gauntlets, high boots and a ridged steel helmet
incorporating a dark visor beneath which only his thin-lipped mouth
was visible. On the front of his helmet was a silver insignia
representing a zig-zag of lightning in the grip of a clenched glove.
      The guard's faceless mask bulbously reflected the driver's pale
smile as he showed his pass. The guard stared into the cab and then
marched round to look in the back. He glanced at the stacks of
papier-mâché trays and slammed the doors. The gates whirred open
and the truck drove through.
      It was barely out of sight before two similar guards riding huge
motorcycles skidded to a stop just as the gates were closing. Jumping
off they ran towards the block-house, leaving the massive engines
throbbing in anticipation.

       Huddled among the trays of eggs the three friends heaved a
sigh of relief at their narrow escape, but their euphoria was short-
lived. After a few minutes the truck shuddered to a halt again and the
driver's frightened grey eyes peered through the shutter from the cab.
       'They're right behind us. Get out here and you'll find the
London road about five kilometres due east,' he shouted above the
clattering diesel.
       Muttering their gratitude the trio jumped out of the back and
fought their way painfully through the tall prickly hedge just as the
two motorbikes roared round a bend and coasted up behind the truck.
Led by the Doctor, they set off for dear life across the fields in search
of the main road.
       'What's that?' Zoe gasped, as a dull thundering sound suddenly
started up behind them.
       'Don't even ask,' panted the Doctor without glancing round. 'I
think it's a bull.'
      One security guard searched the truck while the other glanced
cursorily at the driver's pass.
      'You come back with us,' he ordered.
      'What for? The pass is okay,' protested the driver. The other
guard strode up shaking his head. 'Nothing,' he snapped.
      'Turn round!' rapped the first guard.
      The driver refused. You can't force me back into the
compound.'
      The next moment he flinched as a cold pistol barrel was
shoved against his temple. 'We're not on International Electromatix
property now,' he persisted, defiantly slipping the truck into gear.
'You've got no authority out here.'
      The safety catch clicked off.
      'You want me, arrested, you get the police!' he shouted,
revving the engine.
      The next moment half the driver's head had been blown off all
over the inside of the cab. The truck lurched forward and then
toppled sideways into the ditch. A stack of papier-mache trays
crashed through the open back doors and hundreds of vivid yellow
egg yolks started merging and congealing on the hot black tar.

      Intermittent spots of rain were falling from the overcast
London sky as the Doctor led Zoe and Jamie up the steps of a tall
terraced house with flaking pillared porch in Bayswater. Tired and
hungry, they stared gloomily at the nameplate above the bell-push.
      'That's odd,' frowned the Doctor. It says "Professor Watkins".'
He shrugged and pressed the button. 'Still, the telephone directory
said number thirteen...'
      'It would!' Zoe grumbled, scowling up at the tarnished chrome
13 on the door.
      They waited. The Doctor rang again and peered through the
frosted glass panes.
      'Och, dinna tell me we've come all this way for nothing,' Jamie
mumbled dejectedly.
      Just then a distorted white shape appeared behind the glass and
the door was flung open.
       'I happen to be trying to work.' The tall girl turned on her heel
and stalked off down the bare shabby hall, leaving them stranded on
the doorstep.
       The Doctor cleared his throat politely. 'I'm so sorry, miss...
We're looking for Professor Travers...' He motioned the others to
follow him and ventured after her.
       They found the girl in a large high-ceilinged room which was
virtually empty except for several powerful lamps on stands scattered
about and an expensive camera mounted on a tripod. Huge blown-up
photographs, mostly of the girl herself, were pinned haphazardly
around the white walls.
       'And now the beastly thing's jammed!' snapped the girl,
fiddling angrily with the camera shutter. She was taller than Zoe,
with long fair hair, wide mouth and high cheekbones. Her dazzling
dress was cut well above the knee and her shapely legs were clad in
stylish knee-length boots.
       'Perhaps I can mend it for you?' the Doctor suggested, wincing
at the colourful geometrical pattern on her dress.
       'It was on automatic shutter.'
       'I see,' smiled the Doctor. 'Taking pictures of yourself?'
       'Until you interrupted me. Then it stuck.'
       The Doctor examined the camera while Zoe glanced at the
photographs admiringly and Jamie gaped open-mouthed at the
flamboyant figure as she re-arranged her hair in a huge mirror
propped against the ornate mantelpiece.
       'By the way, if you've come to see my uncle he's not here,' the
girl informed them abruptly. 'I presume you're another nut, a fellow
boffin,' she said disapprovingly, glancing at the Doctor's dishevelled
reflection.
       'I'm seeking Professor Travers's help,' murmured the Doctor,
poking thoughtfully at the camera's mechanism with his penknife.
       'Travers has gone to the States for a year with his daughter,'
shrugged the girl.
       Jamie nudged Zoe irritably. 'Och, another wild-goose chase,'
he muttered bitterly.
       The girl glared at the wild-looking young Highlander and then
went on. 'My uncle - Professor Watkins - wanted to do some secret
work and Professor Travers said he could use the lab in the basement
here.' The girl elbowed Jamie out of the way and adjusted one of the
lamps. 'I moved in because I was kicked out of my studio last week.'
        'A'm no surprised,' Jamie mumbled darkly to himself.
        The Doctor tested the shutter a few times. 'What field of
science does your uncle work in?' he asked.
        The girl grimaced and shook her head. 'He messes about with
computers all the time. Complete nutter.'
        'How very fortunate,' smiled the Doctor, handing her the
camera. 'Professor Watkins may be able to help us. Is he at home?'
        The girl shook her head. 'Fixed it? Great. Thanks.'
        'Where is your uncle?' demanded Zoe impatiently.
        The girl rounded on her irritably. 'How should I know? I'm not
his keeper.' Suddenly her expression changed and she peered at Zoe
through the viewfinder. 'Hey... Dolly gear!' she exclaimed
delightedly.
        The Doctor ruffled his hair in confusion. 'Who's Dolly Gear?'
he inquired.
        'Want to pose for me?' the girl chattered on, pushing Zoe in
front of the lamps. 'Now throw your arms up and bend at the knees...
Head back a bit...'
        Rather resentfully Zoe tried to do as she was bidden, while
Jamie watched with a satirical grin.
        'Well, miss...' the Doctor persevered.
        'Isobel,' the girl replied, her motorised shutter whizzing off
shots of Zoe in quick succession.
        'Isobel. Do you know when your uncle will return?'
        'Nope. He left about a week ago. Haven't seen him since...'
Isobel replied vaguely, manoeuvering Zoe into a different pose as if
she were a mannequin. 'He was raving on about some new process
these people wanted him to develop.'
        The Doctor was restlessly tapping the two faulty circuits in his
coat pocket 'Can't we get in touch with him, my dear?' he pleaded. 'It
is rather urgent.'
        'I tried the other day. They said he couldn't take any phone
calls.'
        'Who did?'
      'Oh... International something,' muttered Isobel, clicking away
again, as Zoe began to enjoy her new role as model.
      'International Electromatix?' Jamie suggested.
      Isobel ignored him. 'The number's scribbled on the wall above
the phone. By the stairs.'
      The Doctor heaved an enormous sigh of relief, thankful to
have got sornewhere at last. With Jamie close on his heels, he hurried
out.
      Zoe made as if to follow them.
      'Don't move,' cried Isobel, still snapping away. 'You're a
natural. I don't often get the chance to photograph a real model. Too
expensive.'
      Flattered, Zoe lingered on. Then Isobel paused and led her
over to a battered old wicker skip.
      'Let's find you some different gear,' she laughed.

       Jamie stared at the hieroglyphic maze of names and numbers
scrawled on the wall behind the telephone while the Doctor dialled.
       'Suppose this is the same organisation the truck driver was
telling us about,' he whispered. 'Perhaps the Professor's been...'
       The Doctor nodded grimly. Then he suddenly flinched as a
harsh metallic female voice rasped in the earpiece.
       'International Electromatix. State your business.'
       'I wish to speak to Professor Watkins please,' requested the
Doctor.
       There was a brief pause.
       'Party not available,' grated the voice.
       'It is rather important,' continued the Doctor courteously.
'Perhaps I could leave a...'
       'Party not available... Party not available...'
       'Oh, fiddlesticks!' hissed the Doctor, slamming down the
receiver. 'It's the curse of the Technological Age, Jamie. A robot
answering machine.'
       'I don't think you'll get any joy!' Isobel yelled from the other
room.
       Jamie sent a murderous look down the hall. 'What now,
Doctor?' he asked dejectedly.
       The Doctor rubbed his hands together expectantly. 'Nothing for
it, Jamie. We'll have to pay International Electromatix a little visit.'
       Returning to the makeshift studio, they found Zoe decked out
in long curving eyelashes and a fluffy feather boa posing
extravagantly in the glaring lights.
       Jamie burst out laughing. 'Och, lassie, ye look like a wee
chicken wi' all those feathers,' he roared.
       Zoe took no notice. 'Any luck, Doctor?' she asked hopefully.
       The Doctor shook his head. 'We shall have to go there in
person I'm afraid, my dear.'
       Zoe wrinkled her nose uninterestedly. 'I think I'll stay here,' she
said, twirling the boa seductively in the Doctor's face. 'This is jolly
good fun.'
       The Doctor nodded in reluctant agreement and asked Isobel if
she knew the address of International Electromatix.
       'Oh, that's scribbled up on the wall somewhere too,' she
giggled.
       'Och, don't ye ever write anything down on paper?' Jamie
exclaimed as the Doctor shuffled out.
       'I'd only lose it if I did. The wall's safer,' Isobel explained.
'Can't lose a wall, can you!'
       The two girls howled in mutual appreciation of the joke.
Glowering humourlessly, Jamie trudged out after the Doctor.

        The headquarters of International Electromatix turned out to be
a tall slim tower of steel and glass surrounded by lower buildings, all
faced with identical rows of reflective coppertint windows, situated
in the City. Jamie and the Doctor paused to examine the huge bronze
plaque above the entrance, with its symbolic zig-zag spark gripped in
a giant fist, before marching resolutely through the automatic glass
doors and into the deserted circular foyer.
        Unknown to them, two men crouched on the flat roof of an
anonymous office block opposite were observing them intently - one
through powerful binoculars, the other through the viewfinder of a
polaroid camera. They wore drab suits with narrow dark ties and
both had short military haircuts. The larger man with the binoculars
spoke tersely into a compact walkie-talkie.
       'They're just going inside now... Tracey's getting them on film.'
       The smaller man ripped the film out of the camera and hugged
it under his arm to speed up the developing process.
       The big man listened to his radio. 'Roger, sir. Benton out,' he
said, switching off. Ducking below the parapet he crawled across to
Tracey and examined the photograph. 'HQ want those two Top
Priority,' he said. 'We pick them up as soon as they come out.'
       Tracey uttered a curt laugh. 'If they come out,' he grunted.

        The Doctor glanced contemptuously at the plastic chairs
arranged facing a semicircle of small computer terminals in the
middle of the glass foyer. 'I suppose this is Reception,' he muttered
distastefully, sitting in front of a terminal which had lit up
expectantly as they entered.
        'International Electromatix. State your business,' rapped the
machine.
        'I wish to see Professor Watkins,' stated the Doctor.
        'One moment...'
        Behind a perspex screen above the terminals, tape spools
jerked spasmodically back and forth.
        'Party not available. Good day,' the machine announced at last.
        The Doctor squirmed with suppressed indignation. 'Then I
wish to see someone in authority,' he retorted.
        'Key in identity. Request will be considered and appointment
arranged.'
        'That's no good,' insisted the Doctor, 'I wish to see someone
now.'
        'All personnel engaged.'
        The Doctor's normally sallow features flushed with outrage. 'I
insist,' he shouted. 'This is an emergency.'
        'Inform exact nature of emergency,' instructed the mechanical
receptionist, its spools spinning busily.
        'It is a personal matter.'
        There was a brief pause. 'Personal matters merit no emergency
status,' the grating voice announced. 'Key in identity and...'
        The Doctor's nimble fingers played a frenzied sequence of
random keys on the keyboard. 'There. Work that out!' he snapped,
leaping out of the chair. He strode over to the gleaming chromium-
plated doors leading into the building itself and Jamie scampered
nervously after him.

       High above them in the penthouse suite of offices at the top of
the tower, two men stood in a spacious clinical room watching the
two intruders on a bank of circular closed-circuit video monitors. The
combination of swept-back silver hair and thick black eyebrows gave
the older man a disturbing appearance. His right eye was
permanently half-closed, but his left gazed wide open with chilling
pale blue iris and huge black pupil. His clothes were coldly elegant: a
plain suit with collarless jacket, round-necked shirt and gleaming
black shoes with chrome buckles. Head tilted slightly back, he
watched the multiple images of the Doctor and Jamie as if they were
specimens under a microscope.
       'Do you recognise them, Packer?' he murmured in a leisurely
cultured voice.
       Packer, dressed in black security personnel outfit minus the
helmet and visor, shook his head. 'No, Mr Vaughn.' His small black
eyes gleamed with sadistic alertness, but his pale waxy face tapered
to a weak receding jaw. His voice was thin and devious.
       Vaughn sat down in a large padded swivel chair facing the vast
semicircular chrome desk. Behind him the grey panorama of London
stretched beyond the wide curving window through half-open
vertical louvres. Reaching forward, he selected new pictures as Jamie
and the Doctor walked down a long starkly-lit corridor, peering
suspiciously around them. 'Most intriguing,' Vaughn murmured
calmly, reclining his chair and staring impassively at the bank of
monitors on the wall opposite. 'Deal with them, Packer.'

      The Doctor was cautiously leading the way along the silent
deserted corridor when, all at once, a glass wall slid across their path.
Before they could even turn round a second panel glided across
behind them, trapping them like fish in an aquarium. A sinister
hissing issued from narrow vents near the ceiling and within a few
seconds the Doctor and Jamie were overcome by a soporific gas.
They sank to the floor, their fingers squeaking eerily against the glass
barrier.
       A few minutes later, Packer arrived accompanied by two
armed subordinates. He inserted a special key into the wall and the
glass shutters silently withdrew. With cold detachment Packer turned
Jamie's motionless body over with his steel toecapped boot.
Suddenly Jamie grabbed Packer's foot and twisted it viciously
sideways. Yelping with pain and shock, Packer pitched spreadeagled
on the floor. But before the dazed young Scot could follow up his
attack, the two guards each grabbed an ear and yanked Jamie to his
knees.
       Packer struggled to his feet and gazed down at Jamie, beads of
sweat breaking out all over his waxy white face. 'Wait!' he whined,
balancing himself to kick his assailant in the face. 'This is going to be
a pleasure...'
       At that moment, Vaughn's velvet tones filled the corridor from
concealed speakers. 'Packer, where are your manners? Escort our
visitors to my office immediately.'
       Packer froze, like a child caught stealing sweets. 'But I haven't
interrogated them yet,' he pleaded, as the Doctor stirred and sat up
groggily.
       At once, Packer,' Vaughn purred insistently.
       Jamie helped the Doctor up, staring at Packer with defiant
contempt as he dutifully motioned to the guards to take them up to
his master.
                             2
                        Old Friends
       Vaughn rose to greet the Doctor and Jamie as they were shown
into his penthouse office. 'Please be seated, gentlemen,' he beamed
courteously. 'Thank you, Packer,' he added coldly. His deputy
lingered on the threshold until a dismissive gesture finally sent him
resentfully outside.
       The Doctor's keen eye quickly took in the artificial potted
plants, the self-adjusting suspended light fittings and the
comprehensive array of facilities ranged at Vaughn's fingertips. 'I
knew there must be a human being in here somewhere,' he grinned,
sitting down.
       Vaughn bowed. 'I apologise for my staff's over-zealous
behaviour but your arrival was a trifle unconventional.'
       Jamie's hackles rose. 'Maybe, but there was no need to...'
       The Doctor interrupted tactfully. 'I think perhaps we are the
ones who should apologise, Mister...'
       'Vaughn... Tobias Vaughn... Director of International
Electromatix. I must say your business with Professor Watkins must
be very urgent to force you to such extremes.'
       Jamie sat up in astonishment. 'Hey, how did ye ken we were
wanting the Professor?'
       Vaughn gestured with well manicured hands towards his
enormous desk. 'My computer reports everything directly to me,' he
smiled.
       'Everything?' the Doctor echoed innocently.
       Vaughn nodded. 'But I regret that your visit has been wasted.
Professor Watkins is engaged on a new project and he refuses to see
anyone,' he said sadly.
       The Doctor looked crestfallen.
       'Perhaps I can help?' Vaughn suggested brightly.
        Jamie nudged his silent friend. 'Och, it's only a couple of dud
circuits, Doctor, surely a place like this could...' He trailed into
silence as the Doctor glanced at him warningly.
        Vaughn leaned forward eagerly. 'Circuits? Electronics?' he
purred. 'My technicians are the best in the world. I am sure they
could assist you, gentlemen.'
        The Doctor shook his head. 'Thank you, Mr Vaughn, but the
circuits are... are most complex.'
        Vaughn gestured expansively. 'Complexity is our speciality,'
he insisted, holding out his hands. 'At least let us try.'
        The Doctor hesitated, glancing reproachfully at Jamie.
Eventually he reluctantly handed over the two small panels he had
removed from the TARDIS earlier. Vaughn seized them eagerly and
examined them, his left eye narrowing to match the right. The Doctor
noted the momentary shadow of astonishment that passed over his
face.
        But Vaughn swiftly recovered his composure. 'As you say, a
trifle complex. But I am convinced we can help. I'll have them sent to
our Diagnostic Unit at once,' he proposed generously.
        The Doctor smiled weakly. 'You're extremely kind,' he
muttered.
        'Not at all. Any friend of Professor Watkins...' Vaughn paused,
as though he were disturbed by the two silicon panels in front of him.
Quickly he opened a drawer, took out a tiny miniaturised radio and
offered it to Jamie. 'Do you have one of these, young man?' he asked.
        Jamie looked blank. 'Och no, sir. What is it?'
        Vaughn looked surprised. 'Disposable transistor radios. A
market leader. Surely you've seen them? We've sold ten million in
the UK alone. Modest compensation for Packer's excesses, I trust?'
        'Most generous,' said the Doctor, prompting Jamie to accept.
        Jamie took the radio and fiddled with it. Suddenly a raucous
pop tune blared forth. 'So that's how it goes!' he grinned.
        Wincing at the din, the Doctor leaned across and switched it
off. 'And that's how it stops, Jamie,' he advised firmly.
        Vaughn rose regretfully. 'If you'll excuse me I have an urgent
meeting,' he declared. 'Mr Packer will show you out.'
       The Doctor jabbed his elbow in Jamie's ribs and they stood up.
'Thank you so much, Mr Vaughn,' he burbled.
       'Telephone in a day or two. We should have some news then,'
Vaughn proposed as they shook hands cordially at the door. 'And
may I ask whom I have had the pleasure...?'
       'Not Whom... Who...' the Doctor quipped slyly.
       Packer took them down in the express lift and showed them
out through a side entrance off a quiet cul de sac. 'Next time read the
instructions at Reception,' he snarled.
       'Och, so ye can read, can ye?' Jamie exclaimed in mock
surprise. 'And what other tricks can ye do?'

       The Doctor firmly steered his rash young friend into the
narrow street as Packer slammed the steel emergency door behind
them.
       'Friendly sort of chap, Mr Vaughn,' Jamie remarked,
flourishing the miniature radio.
       'Not what he seems,' the Doctor snapped unhappily. 'The
normal human blinks naturally about once every fifteen seconds.
Vaughn averaged less than one a minute.'
       'Aye, and he's got horns and a forked tail too.'
       'No, I'm serious, Jamie,' the Doctor warned as they walked
towards the main street. 'Vaughn didn't even ask me what was wrong
with those circuits or what they do. Beneath all that charm there's
something... something not quite human.'
       The next moment a large Jaguar saloon raced down the side
street behind them and skidded up onto the pavement, trapping them
against the wall of the IE Building. While Tracey remained at the
wheel gunning the engine, Benton and another man leaped out and
manhandled them into the back before they could even protest. Then
Tracey accelerated away with spinning wheels and smoking tyres.
Jammed between the two bulky figures, the shocked and bewildered
captives exchanged frightened glances.
       Eventually the Doctor turned to Benton. 'And I suppose this is
Mr Vaughn's courtesy car service?' he commented, with an acid
smile.
       As soon as his unexpected visitors had departed, Vaughn
picked up the two silicon panels the Doctor had left on his desk and
studied them carefully, a deep furrow forming between his eyebrows
as he tried to unravel the curious structure of the circuitry. Eventually
he looked up at the blank wall facing the panoramic window and a
strange smile spread gradually across his lopsided features. He put
down the panels and took an elaborate fountain pen from his breast
pocket. Slowly he rose to his feet. He twisted the gold-plated cap of
the pen and with a series of soft clicks and a subdued whirring sound
the blank wall parted and slid aside.
       Vaughn waited, gazing into the darkness beyond. Soon an
oscillating hum began to rise and a fluorescent light started to pulsate
in sequence with it. The air started to crackle with a dry electric
charge as a fantastic structure appeared in the dark alcove. Standing
about two metres high, it resembled a gigantic radio valve. Bristling
electrodes sprouted from a revolving central crystal suspended within
a delicate cage of sparking, fizzing filaments. Cathode tubes were
arranged like a belt of glass ammunition around the base of the cage
and the whole sparkling mechanism was supported in a lattice of
shimmering wires and tubes. The planes of the crystal flickered with
millions of tiny points of intense blue light and the apparatus
possessed a sinister beauty as it hovered in the darkness.
       Vaughn touched some buttons on his desk and the bank of nine
circular screens flashed into life showing video replays of the Doctor
and Jamie at their recent gate-crashing exploits. Immediately the
machine in the alcove began to whirr and spark with increased
excitement. Vaughn watched and waited, smiling expectantly.

       Meanwhile, back at Professor Travers's house The was still
striking exotic poses with strange hats and the feather boa while
Isobel shot roll after roll of 35mm film. At long last Isobel
announced a tea break and produced coffee and a mountain of
sandwiches.
       Zoe collapsed gratefully onto a large psychedelic beanbag.
'Never imagined keeping still could be so exhausting,' she laughed,
biting into a doorstep of crusty bread and mashed sardine.
        'It's been a real treat for me,' Isobel complimented her. 'I get
sick of photographing myself, but I can't afford proper models yet.'
        'But you're very good,' Zoe said with her mouth full, gesturing
at the large portraits around the walls.
        'Oh, I didn't take those,' Isobel admitted with a wry grin. 'I
have to model to earn the loot to pay for all this junk. I hope you'll be
around for a while, Zoe,' she added, offering her another sandwich.
        Zoe shook her head sadly. 'I expect we'll be off again as soon
as the Doctor gets the circuits repaired.'
        'Yes. Why are they so important?' Isobel asked, puzzled.
        Zoe did her best to explain about the TARDIS.
        'Sounds just like one of Uncle's lash-ups,' Isobel giggled
dismissively. 'Daft as a brush.'
        Zoe suddenly looked very concerned.
        'What's up? Don't you like sardines?' Isobel asked brightly.
        Zoe nodded and attempted a smile. 'It's just that the Doctor and
Jamie have been gone ages,' she murmured. 'I've got the feeling
something's happened to them.'
        Isobel shrugged. 'Uncle's probably pressganged them into
helping with his latest brainwave.'
        Zoe stood up decisively. 'Sorry,' she mumbled, 'it's just that
whenever there's any trouble around those two always jump right
into it.'
        Isobel drained her coffee and sprang up. 'Okay, Zoe. If you're
really worried let's go and look for them.'
        Zoe smiled appreciatively at her new friend. But inside she
suddenly felt cold and hollow.

       Several times during the hair-raising high speed journey
through the North-Eastern suburbs and out into the country the
Doctor had tried to extract some snippet of information from the
three silent kidnappers, but all Benton would say was 'All in good
time, sir, all in good time.' Puzzled by this politeness, Jamie kept
mouthing queries at the Doctor, but he simply grimaced back at him
to keep quiet. Occasionally a burst of rock music would issue from
Jamie's transistor and then the Doctor would nudge him viciously in
the ribs to turn it off.
       Eventually the Jaguar bounced off the highway and sped
through several kilometres of woodland until it suddenly emerged
onto a vast airfield. The airfield was almost deserted except for a
group of rundown Nissen huts, a few jeeps and helicopters, and a
massive Hercules Transport plane in camouflage paint, with service
trucks clustered under its huge wings. The ramp at the rear of its
fuselage was open and to the Doctor's and Jamie's astonishment the
Jaguar hurtled straight towards it, shot up the gentle slope and
slithered to a stop centimetres from the inside bulkhead. Even before
they had time to clamber out of the car the ramp had started to close
behind them like a gigantic mouth.
       An armed soldier with special shoulder flashes opened an oval
door in the bulkhead and Jamie and the Doctor were ushered through
into a long, dimly lit Operations Room. Along each side, rows of
uniformed personnel sat at radar screens, computer terminals and
communications units, totally absorbed in their various duties. Down
the middle of the room, several officers sat at small desks on either
side of an enormous Situation Map mounted on a perspex frame
running down the centre. All personnel wore khaki berets and on
their battledress pullovers a circular white badge indentifying them
as UNIT 2 Personnel.
       At the far end of the Operations Room, a tall officer with
Brigadier's insignia rose from his sizeable command desk and strode
to greet them. 'Nice to see you again, Doctor!' he boomed, his strong
square-jawed face and neatly clipped moustache suggesting calm and
confident authority.
       The Doctor's eyes lit up with delighted relief. 'Colonel
Lethbridge-Stewart!' he cried, scuttling forward to shake hands
warmly. 'What a lovely surprise.'
       Lethbridge-Stewart smiled modestly. 'Well, Brigadier actually,
Doctor. I've gone up in the world since we last met.'
       Jamie thumped the Brigadier heartily on the shoulder. 'Aye, the
Yeti!' he exclaimed in recognition.
       The Brigadier nodded politely. 'McCrimmon isn't it? Yes, we
met in the Underground. Must be four years ago now, all that Yeti
business.'
       'Och, it seems like a couple of weeks.'
       'Jamie, time is relative...' the Doctor reminded the lad.
       'Are you still rushing around the Universe making nonsense of
it in your machine... your TARDIS?' inquired the Brigadier heartily.
       'Still travelling, Col... Brigadier,' smiled the Doctor modestly.
'But what's all this?' he demanded, spreading his arms. 'I'm beginning
to feel like Jonah inside the whale.'
       'Ought to explain,' Lethbridge-Stewart boomed breezily,
motioning to his guests to sit down at his desk. He had a brief word
with Benton and Tracey and they immediately departed. Then he
ordered a Sergeant to bring some tea. 'Sorry about all the cloak and
dagger routine,' he went on brightly, 'but sometimes my chaps are a
bit melodramatic. Fact is that since all that Yeti caper I've been in
charge of a new independent security force. Call ourselves UNIT or
United Nations Intelligence Taskforce.'
       'A world police force?' mused the Doctor.
       The Brigadier laughed. 'Not quite, Doctor. We don't actually
arrest people.'
       'You arrested us right enough,' Jamie retorted indignantly.
       'Not quite, McCrimmon. We've got International Electromatix
under constant surveillance and we're keeping tabs on everyone
going in and out. Your pictures were transmitted here and I
recognised you.'
       'Most efficient,' the Doctor congratulated him.
       The Brigadier turned to him confidentially. 'Fact is, Doctor,
you two were lucky. A lot of people have gone in there but they
haven't come out again.'
       The Doctor's eyes widened with fascination. He rubbed his
nose attentively and sniffed suspiciously. 'Curiouser and curiouser,'
he muttered.

      Zoe and Isobel stood in the empty foyer of the International
Electromatix Building frowning warily at the silent computer
terminals.
      'Golly, it's creepy,' Isobel murmured with a shiver. 'I suppose
everyone's gone early as it's Friday and Monday's a Bank Holiday.'
      Zoe sat down at a terminal that had suddenly lit up as she
approached it.
        'It's probably the same idiot machine that answers when you
ring up,' Isobel warned her.
        'International Electromatix. State your business.'
        Zoe spoke loudly and clearly at the blank screen. 'Inquiry
reference two persons seeking information regarding Professor
Watkins.'
        'One moment...' blurted the artificial voice.
        The two girls waited impatiently while the tape spools spun
behind the armoured screen.
        'No information. Good day,' the robot eventually announced.
        Zoe flushed with irritation. 'Now listen to me, you boneheaded
fruit machine, I asked a simple question and I want a simple answer.'
        The terminal repeated its terse message and fell silent. Isobel
shrugged. 'You see, Zoe, it's hopeless.'
        Zoe's jaw set with determination. 'It may be, but I'm not,' she
declared and started tapping away at the keyboard in front of her.
        Isobel looked scared and baffled. 'What are you up to, Zoe?'
        'Just setting it a little conundrum in Algol.'
        'What's Algol?' Isobel whispered, goggling at the complicated
mass of symbols appearing on the screen above Zoe's flying fingers.
        'A sort of language for talking to computers, only this is a
pidgin version,' Zoe giggled.
        Isobel noticed the tape spools whizzing back and forth with
increasingly frantic speed as a cacophony of furious buzzing noises
erupted from the terminal itself. 'It does seem to be getting a bit
agitated,' she murmured.
        'You bet it is,' Zoe chuckled, typing madly away. 'This
problem happens to be insoluble! Delete square... Print out Y to the
minus X variable one... Integrate on inversine...'
        An unpleasant and sinister odour like melting plastic began to
fill the foyer.
        'Continuous        integration...  There...'   Zoe   concluded
triumphantly, sitting back with folded arms to observe the outcome
of her attack. 'That should give it quite a headache!'
       Dozens of floors above them, Tobias Vaughn stood by the dark
alcove listening to a harsh semi-human voice issuing from the
glowing apparatus within.
       'The images of the two humans have been analysed,' it
informed him. 'They are known to he hostile. They must be
destroyed.'
       Startled, Vaughn glanced across at the figures of the Doctor
and Jamie frozen on the video screens. 'Known to be hostile? But
how can that be?' he whispered hoarsely.
       'They are recognised from Planet Sigma Gamma 14.'
       'Recognised from Planet...' Vaughn tailed into dumb
astonishment.
       The weird machine buzzed impatiently. 'They must be
eliminated,' it screeched.
       Vaughn pulled himself together and smiled cravenly at the
eerily sparking structure. 'I shall deal with them,' he promised
soothingly.
       The machine seemed to glare at him for several seconds. 'Our
plans approach completion,' it grated menacingly. 'Nothing must he
permitted to obstruct them.'
       'Nothing will,' Vaughn purred.
       At that moment a buzzer sounded on the desk. Vaughn quickly
twisted the top of the fountain pen in his elegant fingers and the wall
quietly glided hack into place across the alcove. Mopping his
glistening brow with a silk handkerchief, Vaughn sank into his chair
and composed himself.
       'Enter,' he called calmly.
       The door slid open to admit a tall, seedy individual dressed in a
stained white laboratory coat. His greasy black hair was flecked with
dandruff and he constantly chewed the ends of a bedraggled
moustache.
       Vaughn gazed at him with profound distaste. 'What do you
make of these, Gregory?' he snapped, pushing the Doctor's circuit
panels across the desk at him.
       Gregory turned them over and over with his thin grimy fingers,
peering through thick horn-rimmed glasses. Eventually he shook his
large head and shrugged.
       Vaughn's good eye narrowed. 'From my Chief Researcher I
expect a more intelligent response than that,' he said acidly.
       'I'm sorry Mr Vaughn but I've never seen anything.like them
before. Given time I'm sure I could...' he babbled wretchedly.
       'Then take time, my dear fellow,' Vaughn interrupted kindly.
       Gregory nodded, evidently relieved to be let off the hook.
       'Take one hour,' Vaughn muttered threateningly with a
contrastingly benign smile on his face.
       Gregory stared back at his Director like a frightened prey. 'One
hour. Yes, Mr Vaughn, thank you,' he croaked, turning and slinking
out of the office.
       As the door slid shut, a series of warning buzzers sounded and
the stills of Jamie and the Doctor vanished from the screens. Vaughn
glanced up in alarm to see Zoe and Isobel at the reception console.
Smoke was belching from one of the terminals and snapping tapes
were tangling themselves into a froth of brown spaghetti.
       '... Take more than a soldering-iron to sort that out...' Zoe was
saying.
       'Great,' cried Isobel admiringly. 'Wish I had my camera with
me.'
       Vaughn's face relaxed into a half-smile of ironic amusement.
He flicked a switch and leaned towards a slim microphone. 'Packer,
saboteurs in Reception...' he reported with icy contempt. 'Or are you
taking your Bank Holiday already?'
       There was a mush of static and Packer's frantic voice
squawked in reply. 'I'm on to them, sir... I'll bring them up to you.'
       Vaughn reclined in his comfortable chair and shook with silent
laughter as he watched the tell-tale screens.

      Clutching steaming mugs of strong NAAFI tea, the Doctor and
Jamie were studying a large selection of photographs on the
Brigadier's desk.
      'That one's Gordon McLeod, Lecturer in Physics at
Cambridge,' the Brigadier noted, identifying one of the figures frozen
in midstride on the steps of the International Electromatix Building.
'And this is Billy Routledge, chap I knew at Sandhurst. Landed
himself a cushy little job at the Ministry of Defence.'
        The Doctor peered at the blurred hurrying figure. 'All these
people went into the IE Building and never came out again?' he
exclaimed sceptically.
        'No, Doctor. Most of them did emerge eventually,' Lethbridge-
Stewart corrected him, 'but there was something jolly odd about them
afterwards.'
        'Odd?'
        'Yes, Doctor. Take Billy for instance. He'd been extremely
helpful with our investigations into Vaughn's activities, but once he'd
actually been inside the building he started being difficult...
obstructive.'
        Suddenly Jamie seized a photo from the pile. 'Look, Doctor,
this is the man who gave us a lift in his van this morning.'
        The Brigadier looked disconcerted. 'You know this man?'
        The Doctor nodded.
        'His report is twenty-four hours overdue,' muttered the
Brigadier anxiously. 'Whereabouts were you?'
        The Doctor shrugged. 'Somewhere out in the countryside.'
        'Some of Packer's gorillas were on his tail,' added Jamie.
        'Good man, 013. One of our agents,' confided the Brigadier. 'I
expect he's onto something.'
        The Doctor blew on his tea. 'Tell me more about this
International Electromatix set-up, Brigadier.'
        'They control most of the worldwide computer production,
Doctor. They made their breakthrough a few years ago with
something called Monolithic Circuit design and stole a march on the
entire industry.'
        Jamie flourished his transistor radio. 'Vaughn gave me this.'
        'That's just a commercial sideline, McCrimmon. They've made
a fortune out of teenyboppers.'
        The Doctor coughed and nudged Jamie to restrain his temper.
'What's your interest in Vaughn and Company?' he asked the
Brigadier.
        'Well, they got so big I decided to run a routine check. It threw
up some odd things.'
       'Like the disappearance of Professor Watkins,' remarked the
Doctor, sipping the treacly tea and grimacing with watering eyes. 'I
don't suppose you have the authority to search Vaughn's premises?'
       'I'm afraid not, Doctor. The man's got too many friends in high
places. My hands are tied.'
       The Doctor stared at the varnish-like deposit round the rim of
his mug. Then he turned resolutely to Jamie. 'Well, my boy, if we
want to find Professor Watkins we'll have to do it on our own,' he
concluded.
       Jamie nodded eagerly and gulped his sugary tea with relish.
       Lethbridge-Stewart smiled apologetically. 'I am sorry, Doctor,
but I can at least offer you a little back-up support.' He turned to his
Sergeant. 'Walters, bring me a polyvox unit if there's one handy.'
       As Walters went forward towards the cockpit section of the
Hercules the Brigadier reassured his visitors as best he could. 'We're
on constant alert here, Doctor. The polyvox will put you in direct
contact with us at any time'
       'Jolly good,' grinned the Doctor, shutting his eyes and sipping
bravely at his tea.
       A few minutes later Walters returned with a compact object
resembling a small pocket torch.
       'Here you are,' boomed the Brigadier cheerfully, pressing a
button to spring a short aerial out of the end of the device. 'It's on a
fixed frequency. Range about a hundred kilometres. Just press the
button and ask for me.'
       'Splendid!' cried the Doctor appreciatively, draining his mug
with a last heroic gulp. 'As long as it doesn't play rock and roll it will
come in very handy,' he added glancing severely at Jamie who was
already on his feet and raring to go.
       Lethbridge-Stewart stood up briskly. 'Well, Doctor, if you're
determined to conduct your own investigation I'd better organise a
chopper to take you back to London. Some more tea before you go?'
       The Doctor leaped out of his chair as if he'd been stung. 'No,
thank you,' he replied in a strangled voice, snatching up the polyvox
unit. 'Perhaps some other time, Brigadier...'
       Zoe and Isobel stood nervously between two armed security
officers in front of Vaughn's desk, while Packer hovered shiftily in
the background.
       'You and your friend the Doctor have put me to considerable
inconvenience today,' Vaughn purred. 'First he breaks into the
building and now you ruin a rather expensive installation.'
       'Only because it refused to answer our inquiry,' Isobel retorted.
       Vaughn smiled. 'You are naturally concerned about your uncle,
Miss Watkins, but I can assure you that he is perfectly well, if a trifle
uncooperative at the moment. Indeed, your visit is most opportune.'
       'Why?' Zoe demanded warily.
       'The Professor needs to be encouraged to continue his
invaluable work for us,' explained Vaughn blandly.
       Isobel shrugged. 'I can't persuade him to do anything.'
       Vaughn leaned forward. 'No, but I can. Now!' he murmured
icily.
       The girls shivered slightly as they heard Packer sucking air
through his crooked teeth in eager anticipation.
       'Mr Packet will take care of you while you're here,' Vaughn
told them, nodding to his Deputy. 'He enjoys showing visitors round
our facilities.'
       Packer grinned hideously. 'It will be a pleasure,' he promised,
as the guards seized their captives by the arms and propelled them
out of the office.
       'Oh, Packer.'
       Packer turned round to find his master gazing at him with
amused concern. 'Yes, Mr.Vaughn?'
       'Don't work too hard, will you?'

       Once again the Doctor and Jamie found themselves staring
with sinking hearts at the number 13 on Professor Travers's front
door, while the bell rang monotonously inside.
       'Och, they must've gone out,' Jamie sighed despondently.
       Delving into his pocket the Doctor unearthed a small penknife
bristling with different sized blades and all manner of attachments.
Selecting one, he deftly poked it around in the lock and a few
seconds later the door clicked open. They went in, calling and
whistling, but the house was silent.
       In the studio they came across the remains of the sardine
sandwiches. 'I don't know what they are but I'm ravenous!' cried the
Doctor, biting greedily into two thick portions at once.
       'Sardines!' Jamie cheered. 'Delicious, I'm fair starved.'
       They finished the leftovers in silence. Then Jamie took out his
transistor and a deafening rock number suddenly blared out, causing
the Doctor to choke on his last mouthful. Snatching it away from
Jamie, he was about to fling the offending device into the grate when
he changed his mind, switched it off and opened the back instead.
       'Och, dinna wreck ma wee gift,' Jamie pleaded indignantly.
       Ignoring him, the Doctor took out a watchmaker's eyeglass and
carefully scrutinised the inner surface of the plastic lid. 'Most
ingenious...' he muttered after a while. but I wonder what it's for?'
       'What what's for?'
       'There's a micromonolithic circuit etched into the back of this
casing, Jarnie.'
       'Aye, and what's that when it's at home?'
       'A hyper complex miniature array,' replied the Doctor, taking
out the eyeglass and staring at Jamie with troubled eyes. 'But it has
nothing whatever to do with simple radio technology.'
       While the Doctor fiddled about inside the radio, muttering to
himself and taking absent-minded swigs of cold coffee from Zoe's
abandoned cup, Jamie wandered aimlessly around the room scowling
at the zany blow-ups of Isobel adorning the walls. Suddenly he
stopped in his tracks. 'Surely they'd leave us a wee note, Doctor,' he
suggested.
       'On the wall!' shouted the Doctor, jumping up and tossing him
the pieces of the radio.
       Jamie gaped at him in astonishment.
       'You can't lose a wall can you!' the Doctor quipped, echoing
Isobel's words as he hurried into the hall.
       Jamie trailed after him, gloomily contemplating the remains of
his radio.
       'Here we are,' the Doctor confirmed, twisting himself almost
horizontal to decipher a patch of barely legible scrawl beside the
telephone. 'Oh my goodness me,' he whispered. 'Gone to IE office to
look for you. Z and I.'
       The Doctor bounded to the front door and wrenched it open.
'Come on, Jamie, we must get after them!'
       Jamie frowned wearily. 'Och, it's miles, Doctor. Could we no
get a lift this time?'
       The Doctor shook his head vehemently. 'No, we most certainly
could not, Jamie. We shall hail a taxi!' he insisted.
                             3
                       Cat and Mouse
       Crouching beside the Doctor between two huge rubbish skips
in the cul-de-sac alongside the International Electrornatix Building,
Jamie ground his teeth in frustration.
       'I thought we were going in there to find the lassies,' he
complained.
       The Doctor shook his head determinedly. 'We'd never get past
that stupid computer, Jamie. Besides, the girls might not be in there.
We don't want to aggravate Vaughn unnecessarily.'
       'Then what the divil are we going to do?'
       The Doctor took out the polyvox unit given him by the
Brigadier, deployed the aerial and pressed the call button. 'If the
Brigadier's men are watching the building they'll know whether the
girls are inside or not,' he explained.
       Eventually the Brigadier's voice crackled through a haze of
interference. 'Sorry about reception, Doctor, but we're airborne at the
moment. Routine change of location for security cover.'
       The Doctor asked whether Zoe and Isobel had been sighted.
       'Affirmative, Doctor. We have a report of two teenage females,
one dark and one fair, clad in strange attire. Went in about an hour
ago.'
       The Doctor grabbed Jamie's belt with his free hand to prevent
the headstrong Highlander from dashing to the rescue there and then.
He informed the Brigadier that they were going to try and enter the
building from the rear.
       'Take care, Doctor,' crackled Lethbridge-Stewart. 'You may not
be quite so lucky this time. Give me a shout if you hit any snags.'
       'Yes. Thank you, Brigadier. Under and off...'
       'Over and out,' came the crisp response.
       Jamie contemplated the Doctor with less than whole-hearted
confidence as he struggled to stow the aerial. 'Pity it doesn't play
guid tunes like ma radio used to,' he scoffed.
        They stared across at the vast expanse of coppery glass
towering above them.
        'And how are we going to get in this time?' Jamie demanded
sceptically.
        The Doctor grinned mischievously. 'By train, of course. But
we must hurry, or we'll miss it...'
        Far above the City streets, Vaughn reclined in his chair
listening to Gregory's bewildered report on the Doctor's two circuit
panels.
        'They just make no sense,' whined the wretched technician
helplessly. 'The connections seem completely illogical and the
conductor material is no known alloy, though it resembles Helenium.'
        Vaughn took the panels and studied them, smiling
mysteriously. 'Fascinating. The Doctor intrigues me more and more,'
he murmured languidly.
        'I can do more tests, Mr Vaughn...' Gregory offered anxiously.
        Vaughn waved him away. 'I think I know the solution to this
little mystery,' he said quietly.
        As soon as Gregory had gone, Vaughn took out his fountain
pen and twisted the cap. As the wall parted, revealing the secret
apparatus, Vaughn rose and wandered over to the alcove. 'I require
more data concerning the individual known as the Doctor,' he
announced in a cold precise voice.
        The machine fizzed and flickered before croaking its reply.
'You have sufficient information. The Doctor is an enemy and must
be destroyed.'
        'You state that you recognise the Doctor from Planet Sigma
Gamma 14. How is that possible?' Vaughn persisted calmly.
        'Your inquiry is redundant,' rasped the disembodied voice.
        Vaughn's pale eyes gleamed. 'That is for me to decide.'
        'You will obey.'
        Vaughn stood his ground unflinchingly. 'Negative. I control
the operation here on Earth. Unless that is agreed our cooperation is
at an end,' he declared in a voice like cut glass.
        The crystal at the heart of the machine revolved rapidly,
emitting myriad points of intense light. Eventually it stopped. 'It has
been agreed,' it rasped.
       Vaughn smiled bleakly. 'I felt sure that your masters would be
reasonable,' he purred. 'Now, how did this Doctor reach Planet Sigma
Gamma 14?'
       'He possesses a device.'
       Vaughn's body tensed expectantly. 'What kind of device?' he
demanded with suppressed excitement.
       The apparatus whirred and revolved. 'No further information
available. The Doctor will be eliminated. The invasion must
proceed,' it decreed harshly, needles of light shooting from the
crystal.
       Vaughn nodded decisively. 'Oh, it will. The Doctor will be
taken care of. I shall attend to it personally...'
       With a vicious twist of the pen top, Vaughn banished the thing
to the darkness again behind the wall.

       Totally mystified, Jamie had followed the Doctor through a
maze of alleys and back streets and finally up onto a railway
embankment which snaked between warehouses and office blocks.
The Doctor had skipped nimbly along the sleepers and led Jamie off
on a single track branch line which curved sharply round and finally
brought them into a marshalling yard enclosed by high walls at the
rear of the International Electromatix Building.
       'This is a private branch line off the main line into Liverpool
Street...' the Doctor explained, darting across the rusting rails towards
a line of freight wagons bearing the familiar fist and lightning flash
symbol of Inter-national Electromatix.
       'But how did ye ken it was here?' Jamie panted.
       'I consulted the Brigadier's excellent map,' smirked the Doctor,
using the wagons as cover to approach the extensive warehouse
buildings at the back of the tower. 'I memorised it to distract myself
from the taste of his execrable tea.'
       Following the line of wagons in the siding they soon reached a
vast covered loading bay adjoining the warehouse. It was filled with
stacks of cylindrical metal containers each about two and a half
metres long by about a metre in diameter. Each one had a short blunt
projection at both ends and a specially shaped base to facilitate
vertical stacking.
       Huddled against the coupling between two wagons, Jamie and
the Doctor watched in amazement as a man with crew-cut hair
wearing a blue boiler suit emerged from the warehouse carrying one
of the containers as if it were a baby. He placed it carefully on one of
the stacks and then returned to the warehouse.
       'Extraordinary!' marvelled the Doctor.
       'Probably empty,' Jamie whispered.
       'Let's find out,' the Doctor suggested eagerly.
       Leaving their hiding place, they ran over to the stack and
attempted to lift the container. They failed even to budge it.
       'Yon fellow must be a superman,' Jamie gasped.
       The Doctor tried to raise the hinged lid, but it was securely
fastened. 'I wonder what's inside?' he mused. The sound of heavy
footsteps sent them scurrying behind a neighbouring stack, where
they watched the same man bring an identical container and add it to
the pile.
       Jamie's eyes were popping with astonishment. 'Let's find the
lassies and get oot,' he urged. 'That chap gives me the heebie-jeebies.'
       When the man had gone, they crept between the endless stacks
of crates desperately seeking a likely route into the main building.
       Unknown to them, robot cameras in the roof were tracking
their every movement and at the top of the tower block Tobias
Vaughn was observing their progress on his nine monitors, chuckling
with urbane amusement.
       All at once Packer's reedy voice whined out of the intercom on
Vaughn's desk. 'Mr Vaughn, the Doctor and the boy are back again...
Surveillance spotted them in the warehouse.'
       Vaughn laughed sarcastically. 'I wondered how long it would
take your experts to notice our intruders, Packer. They've been
entertaining me for at least ten minutes.'
       'I'll issue an alert, sir.'
       Vaughn sighed despairingly. 'Packer, do try to aspire to a
modicum of subtlety,' he pleaded, wincing fastidiously. 'We need a
sprat to catch our mackerel. Take the young ladies down to the
warehouse and pop them in their coffins.'
       Smoothing back his sleek silver hair and adjusting the silk
handkerchief in his breast pocket, Vaughn strode across to his private
elevator and selected Ground Floor - Express. His keen mind
considered the problem of the meddlesome Doctor and his
mysterious circuits as he glided earthwards.
      When the elevator stopped, Vaughn had made his decision.

       'This place is like a maze,' Jamie complained as he and the
Doctor threaded their way cautiously among the identical stacks,
keeping their eyes skinned for any more boiler-suited Hercules.
       Suddenly they froze as two piercing screams echoed around
the vast warehouse.
       'Zoe and Isobel!' Jamie hissed, pointing back towards the
loading bay.
       Turning, they ran on tip-toe in the direction of the marshalling
yard. Crouching in the shadows between the stacks, they watched as
Packer supervised two men loading two containers into the last
wagon of the train. Jamie gasped as he caught a glimpse of a
fluttering string of feathers trapped between the lid and the rim of
one of the metal cases.
       'Doctor... Zoe's in that crate!' he exclaimed, standing upright
with fists clenched and pulse racing madly. 'Jamie, wait!' growled the
Doctor, grabbing his arm.
       But the impulsive boy shook himself free and sprinted towards
the wagons yelling at the top of his voice 'What have ye done with
Zoe...!'
       The Doctor chewed the frayed edge of his cravat in anguish as
he saw Packer whip round and snatch out a pistol as Jamie bore
down on him. Springing into view, he scampered in pursuit, shouting
to Jamie to stop behaving like an idiot.
       Two steel-helmeted guards armed with sten guns suddenly
appeared between the wagons and Jamie stumbled to a halt. Turning,
he saw two more guards appear behind the Doctor. It was hopeless.
The two friends stood side by side panting for breath as the four
guards closed in on them, slipping their safety catches. Packer's weak
face lit up in cowardly triumph. 'Rats,' he hissed, strutting
malevolently towards them. 'Rats in a trap.'
       As the guards forced their captives back towards the
warehouse, Packer exulted in his victory. 'Don't you understand - this
is private property, a restricted area,' he whined.
       'What have you done with Zoe and Isobel?' Jamie demanded
savagely. 'We heard them screaming.'
       'Silence!' Packer snapped.
       'We saw the box with...'
       Packer lashed Jamie brutally across the face with his leather
glove. 'I told you to be quiet.'
       The Doctor gasped with shock as Jamie staggered against him
clutching his ear, with blood seeping from his nose.
       Before Packer could repeat the vicious blow, Vaughn's
measured tones rang out. 'Packer, you really must try to curb this
violent streak in your nature, though I admit the situation is a trifle
provoking.'
       Flanked by two armed guards, the Director of International
Electromatix strode towards them, wagging his finger at the Doctor.
'You really are beginning to try our patience,' he chided menacingly.
       The Doctor cleared his throat with undisguised distaste. 'We
came to look for two young friends of ours, Mr Vaughn.'
       Vaughn nodded. 'Two young ladies.'
       'You see,' Jamie exploded. 'He admits they're here.'
       Vaughn shook his head regretfully. 'Correction. They were
here. You appear to have been chasing one another's tails. They came
here in search of you.'
       'And where are they now?' the Doctor inquired calmly.
       'They departed.'
       'Aye. In one of your tin coffins!' Jamie shouted.
       Vaughn glanced scornfully at the Doctor. 'Really...' he
protested.
       'We did hear someone scream,' the Doctor quietly pointed out.
       'And Zoe's boa is sticking out of one of the boxes,' Jamie
persisted, wiping the blood from his nose.
       Vaughn threw hack his head and roared with laughter. 'What a
fertile imagination you have, young man,' he said tartly.
       The Doctor placed a restraining hand on Jamie's shoulder. 'Mr
Vaughn, it would set our minds at rest if you would permit us to
examine the boxes in the last wagon... in case there has been an
accident,' he ventured tactfully.
       Vaughn spread his arms generously. 'But of course,' he agreed
readily. He turned to Packer who was sulking at having the limelight
stolen from him. 'No doubt the Doctor is referring to the empty crates
in transit back to the factories,' he said, with a significant sideways
glance of his hooded eyes.
       'Yes, Mr Vaughn. The train's due out any minute.'
       'Then we must waste no more time,' Vaughn smiled. 'After
you, Doctor.'
       As Jamie and the Doctor eagerly set off back towards the
marshalling yard, Vaughn signalled secretly to Packer and then
caught up with them.
       Packer pulled back his left sleeve, exposing a miniaturised
two-way radio no bigger than a wristwatch. Pressing a tiny button, he
whispered urgently into it. 'Traffic? Top priority. Get the return
transit rolling at once. Do you hear me? Right now.'
       Just as the Doctor, Jamie and Vaughn reached the loading bay
there was a sudden clanking of couplings and the freight wagons
slowly began to pull out of the siding. Jamie started running after
them but he was far too late. He gave up and stood staring at the
rapidly accelerating train with a sinking heart.
       'What a pity,' Vaughn said consolingly. 'I am sorry.'
       The Doctor's brow was deeply furrowed with mounting
anxiety, but he attempted a wry smile.
       'However, all is not lost,' Vaughn went on brightly. 'I have to
visit the factory complex myself this afternoon. Would you two
gentlemen care to accompany me? We can meet the train there.'
       Jamie glanced apprehensively at Packer and his security
guards hovering at the entrance to the warehouse. The Doctor
squeezed his arm reassuringly and turned to Vaughn. 'Most kind.
We'd be delighted to come.'
       'Splendid,' Vaughn purred and led the way into the main
building.

      Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart was sitting at his
desk in the Hercules Operations Room, straining to hear Benton's
voice on the radiotelephone above the whine of the mighty
turboprops as the massive plane came in to land on a disused RAF
station.
       'How long ago did they go into the railway yard?' he repeated.
       'About an hour ago, sir. Tracey followed them to the... Just a
minute, sir...'
       The Brigadier pressed the handset firmly to his ear and waited
impatiently. 'Benton, what the devil's going on?' he demanded in
clipped urgent tones.
       'The Doctor and the boy have just come out of the main
entrance, sir. Vaughn's with them.'
       'Vaughn!' echoed the Brigadier in surprise.
       'And Packer, sir. They're getting into Vaughn's Rolls.'
       The Brigadier stroked his neat moustache thoughtfully. 'Are
they being harrassed, Benton?'
       'Doesn't look like it, sir...'
       The Brigadier was roughly jolted about as the Hercules
touched down and coasted along the uneven concrete runway.
'Benton...' he shouted irritably.
       'All looks quite friendly, sir. They're just being driven off now.
Shall we follow, sir?'
       'Negative, Benton. Continue surveillance at your location.
Out.' Unlatching his seat belt, the Brigadier leaped to his. feet.
'Sergeant Walters, alert aerial patrol Section Three,' he instructed.
Then he turned to a tall, dark-haired young officer at the Situation
Map. 'Captain Turner, as soon as we're on blocks get aboard a
chopper and rendezvous with Section Three tracking agents,' he
shouted above the engines as they revved at reverse pitch to slow the
heavy plane. 'We'll play it by ear for a bit so keep your nose out of
trouble.'
       'Yes, sir,' snapped Turner with a crisp salute. 'Should the
Doctor contact us for help I'll have him connected directly to you.'
       Turner strode away towards the huge cargo bay at the rear,
briskly snapping instructions right and left.
       The Brigadier studied the brightly coloured Situation Map for
a long time, occasionally breaking off to receive a report or to issue a
string of orders to the widely spread and versatile forces under his
overall command.
       At last Captain Turner came through, shouting above the din of
the helicopter engine on the radiotelephone. 'They've just gone
through the IE Compound gates, sir. They seem to be heading for the
Factory Complex.'
       The Brigadier's calm exterior betrayed a brief tremor of
excitement. 'Circle the area but keep out of sight, Jimmy,' he advised.
'If you're spotted it might make things worse for our two friends. We
can't do anything until we get a request for assistance.'
       He signed off and took a sip of cold tea from his chipped mug.
'After all, this is all rather unofficial...' he murmured wryly to
himself.
       The Doctor remained silent during the short high-speed drive
out of London, his eyes fixed steadfastly on the disturbing
International Electromatix symbol on the pennant flying from the
front wing of the enormous white Rolls Royce.
       'The train with the empty containers will not arrive for some
time,' Vaughn informed him as they drew up in front of what
appeared to be a smaller version of the Company's City headquarters.
'Meanwhile, I'd rather like to talk to you about those fascinating
circuits you left with me.'
       At the door of his private elevator in the foyer, Vaughn turned
to his Deputy. 'Packer, be so good as to see what progress Professor
Watkins is making,' he purred. 'You might even offer him a little
gentle encouragement.' Then he ushered his visitors up to the top
floor.
       As they walked into the spacious, functional office Jamie
whistled in astonishment. 'It's just like your London office,' he
exclaimed.
       Vaughn chuckled amiably. 'Confusing, isn't it?' He motioned
them to sit down in the stylish chairs facing his desk. 'It's the secret
of my success, Doctor - standardisation and uniformity.'
       'Mass production,' remarked the Doctor with obvious distaste.
       Jamie hovered by the huge window, staring down between the
vertical louvres at the complex of large factory buildings spread
below. Steam and smoke rose everywhere and a distant humming
sounded constantly.
        'The essence of efficiency, Doctor.' Vaughn said expansively.
        The Doctor smiled blandly back at him, giving nothing away.
        'I should be angry with you both,' Vaughn went on. 'You have
thwarted my security system twice. Why?'
        The Doctor shrugged casually. 'It's quite simple, Mr Vaughn. I
detest computers and I refuse to be controlled by them.'
        'Your young friend Zoe appears to feel the same. She
completely destroyed one of our reception installations.'
        Jamie spun round. 'So that's why your bully boys got hold of
her and Isobel,' he blurted out.
        Vaughn turned to him with an offended smile. 'My dear young
man, on the contrary I found the incident quite amusing. She's a
remarkable girl,' he turned back to the Doctor. 'And you, Doctor, are
a remarkable man.'
        The Doctor blushed. 'Why do you say that?' he inquired
modestly.
        Vaughn took the two circuit panels from the TARDIS from his
inner pocket and laid them on the desk. 'Our Research Department
found these baffling. Their structure seems totally illogical. Did you
invent them yourself?'
        The Doctor remained enigmatically silent.
        Vaughn stood up, cleverly concealing his frustration. 'So you
are determined to preserve your secrets, Doctor. I can hardly blame
you. We shall do all we can to help.'
        The Doctor inclined his head. 'You're very kind.'
        Vaughn walked over to his private elevator. 'Please make
yourselves at home,' he said graciously.'I will see if I can personally
persuade Professor Watkins to divert his talents to investigating your
little problem.'
        As soon as he had gone, Jamie rushed over to the Doctor.
'What aboot Zoe and Isobel?' he cried.
        'Don't worry. I haven't forgotten them,' the Doctor assured him.
        'Och, I know they were in those box things, Doctor.'
        The Doctor held up his hands patiently. 'Jamie, we won't help
the girls by annoying Mr Vaughn,' he warned him.
        'But he's being nice as pie to us.'
        'Too nice, Jamie.' The Doctor picked up the circuits. 'And he's
a little too interested in these for my liking.'
        Jamie's eyes widened. 'Do ye think he knows aboot the
TARDIS, Doctor?' he whispered.
        'I don't see how he could.'
        Jamie went back over to the panoramic window 'Och well,
perhaps the Professor will be able to tell us what's happening here.'
        The Doctor bit his lip and sighed. 'That's what puzzles me,
Jamie. If Vaughn has anything to hide, why is he going to allow us to
see Watkins?'

        In a cluttered room in the basement below the building, Packer
was lounging against the wall staring with sneering contempt at a
short stout balding man of about sixty clad in baggy trousers, rolled-
up shirtsleeves and an unbuttoned waistcoat. The bearded little man
gazed back at Packer with undisguised loathing through thick wire-
framed spectacles. Electronic circuitry and tangles of cable were
scattered over a large bench and even over the crude unmade bunk in
one corner.
        'She's a pretty girl, your niece,' Packer was saying casually.
'It'd be such a shame to spoil her.'
        'You're a pathetic little sadist, Packer,' Professor Watkins
retorted sadly. 'I don't believe you anyway.'
        Packer stepped towards him, eyes blazing. 'You know I don't
make idle threats. If you value the girl you'll do as Mr Vaughn
wishes.'
        Watkins snorted. 'Assuming you really have got Isobel, how do
I know you haven't harmed her already?'
        At that moment Vaughn appeared in the doorway. 'You can
take my word for that, Professor,' he announced soothingly.
        Watkins turned sharply, squinting through his pebble lenses.
'Your word!' he scoffed dismissively.
        Vaughn strolled across to the bench and frowned at a
complicated assemblage of partially connected cathode tubes,
transistors and coils almost buried within a web of tiny coloured
wires. 'So you still haven't completed the device...' he scolded
menacingly.
       'No. I don't intend to complete it,' snapped Watkins.
       Vaughn swung round on the trembling little figure. 'Oh, I think
you will, Professor,' he purred. 'Otherwise, much as I abhore
violence, I might not he able to restrain Packer's enthusiasm for
persuasive hospitality. The choice is yours.'
       Shaking with outrage, Watkins brazened it out for a few more
seconds. Finally he slumped meekly in defeat. 'You'll let the poor
child go if I cooperate?' he muttered faintly.
       'No, no, no... She is our guarantee,' Vaughn protested
indignantly. 'But she'll come to no harm.'
       Watkins blinked at his smiling tormentors in anguish. 'Very
well,' he conceded at last. But I want to see Isobel first.'
       'Of course you do,' Vaughn agreed. 'However, one more thing.'
       The Professor started suspiciously and retreated a few paces.
       'Some friends of yours are here and they're determined to see
you,' Vaughn informed his victim.
       Watkins frowned. 'Friends? I'm not allowed visitors,' he
retorted. 'I might tell them everything!'
       Vaughn threw hack his distinguished head and laughed. 'You
know nothing to compromise me. Besides, Professor, don't forget
Isobel.'
       Packer thrust his pale perspiring face at Watkins. 'Because I
certainly shan't forget Isobel,' he threatened, baring his discoloured
teeth.
       The Professor hesitated for a moment, then bowing to the
inevitable, he turned reluctantly to his half-assembled apparatus and
sighed, shaking his domed head in distress.
       Vaughn paused in the doorway. 'Conduct the Professor's
visitors down to him, Packer,' he ordered benignly and walked out.

      In Vaughn's office, Jamie and the Doctor were at the window
and Jamie was pointing out a strange building he had noticed in the
distance. The Doctor fished out a small brass telescope and extended
it. 'My goodness me!' he muttered, focussing on the three large
spheres mounted on the roof of a small windowless building on the
far side of the complex. 'It looks like a deep space communications
installation, Jamie.'
       'What's it doing here, Doctor?'
       The Doctor shrugged. 'The plot thickens...' he murmured,
studying the structure carefully.
       Suddenly Jamie pointed to a tiny black shape high above the
distant woodland. 'A helicopter! Perhaps it's the Brigadier's mob,' he
whispered.
       Before the Doctor could refocus the telescope the door slid
open and Packer swaggered in. 'Come with me,' he snapped
malevolently.
       The Doctor turned and stared at him with raised eyebrows.
       Packer stared back, thrilled at the prospect of trouble. But the
Doctor's steadfast gaze eventually disconcerted him and at last he got
the message. 'Please, gentlemen...' he added through clenched teeth.
       With a brilliant smile, the Doctor led Jamie to the door.

       As soon as he was alone with his visitors Professor Watkins
seemed to conquer his profound suspicion and to relax a little. 'Of
course... Anne Travers told me all about you, Doctor,' he beamed.
'She was a brilliant student.'
       'Indeed. They're in America now, I believe,' replied the Doctor,
his eyes shifting surreptitiously around the jumbled room while they
chatted.
       'But what are you doing here?' Watkins inquired brightly.
       The Doctor coughed and blew his nose loudly. 'That's rather a
long story.' he murmured confidentially. 'But the fact is, I need help
with some faulty circuits out of the TARDIS.'
       Watkins looked puzzled. Then he nodded and smiled.
       'Ah yes... your machine. I remember Anne's description was
most intriguing. I'd like to hear more...'
       Again the Doctor coughed and then blew his nose violently. 'I
fear Miss Travers may have allowed her imagination to run rather
wild,' he replied, weaving his way through the disorder towards the
Professor's bunk.
       Watkins's eager face clouded with disappointment. 'You mean
the travel machine doesn't exist?' he cried.
       'Och, of course it does,' Jamie burst out, 'we landed in it this
morning not far from...'
       His words were muffled by a prolonged fit of wheezing and
coughing from the Doctor who was now perched on the bunk facing
them and shooting significant glances towards a small ventilator
grille set into the wall.
       Then Jamie noticed something glinting in one corner of the
grille. 'Och... Aye...' he mumbled shamefacedly, turning to the
Professor and mouthing a frantic warning.
       Professor Watkins glanced from one to the other, utterly
confused by their extraordinary antics. 'Are you all right?' he
ventured kindly.
       'Never felt better!' the Doctor laughed, starting to rummage
feverishly in his many bulging pockets. 'Tell us something about
your important work here, Professor,' he suggested with exaggerated
enthusiasm.
       'My work?' Watkins echoed with flattered delight. 'Oh, it's
really just a new kind of teaching aid...'
       The Doctor nodded energetically, grimacing as if to encourage
Watkins to keep talking regardless.
       At last the Professor's feeble eyesight made out the miniature
television camera lens fitted inside the grille. 'It's... it's called a
Cerebration Mentor,' he burbled on. 'It is able to transmit encoded
thought patterns directly into the brain... However the device can also
induce emotional changes in the subject and therefore make it more
susceptible to rapid learning...'
       At that moment the Doctor found what he wanted. It was a
small but exceedingly powerful magnet. 'Most ingenious, Professor,'
he exclaimed, reaching up and attaching the magnet to the grille right
next to the lens. 'But not foolproof, I'm afraid!'

      Tobias Vaughn's faintly amused smile abruptly vanished as the
image on the monitor broke up, flashed violently and disappeared.
      'Check the system,' he snapped.
      Packer hastily pressed several buttons on the Director's desk.
At once the other eight video screens all showed clear, slowly
scanning views of various sections of the complex.
       Vaughn turned sharply away from the bank of screens,
flushing with pent up frustration. 'Our friend, the Doctor, is a
resourceful man. No wonder our allies fear him,' he grunted, staring
across at the blank wall.
       Packer's scalp crept visibly in surprise. 'They know him?'
       'They encountered him on another planet.'
       Packer's small but prominent eyeballs bulged. 'That's
impossible.'
       'No, Packer. The Doctor operates some kind of travel device.
The barbarian Scottish youth confirmed it a moment ago. Our allies
ordered me to destroy the Doctor, but first I must discover the secrets
of this extraordinary machine.'
       Packer's face suddenly betrayed a deeply rooted unease. He
licked his thin lips nervously. 'But if you were ordered to...
       Vaughn thumped the desk decisively. 'I don't take orders,
Packer, I give them,' he shouted, striding across to the elevator. 'The
time has come to stop playing cat and mouse with the Doctor and his
friends.'
                              4
                        Hitching Lifts
       Professor Watkins shuffled slowly round his basement prison
wringing his gnarled hands in desperation. 'If Vaughn has your
young friend Zoe as well as Isobel then we are completely at his
mercy,' he submitted.
       'Not entirely. There is still the Brigadier remember,' the Doctor
pointed out. 'But quickly, Professor, we have little time. What do you
know about Vaughn's activities? What's he up to here?'
       Watkins fluttered his hands helplessly. 'I know no more than
you do Doctor, except that he wants control of my invention to add
to his electronics empire.'
       The Doctor sighed. 'I've a nasty feeling he's aiming a lot higher
than that, my clear fellow.'
       'Someone's coming!' Jamie warned them, retreating from the
door where he'd been keeping watch.
       The Doctor hurried across to the ventilator and was just about
to remove his magnet from the grille when Vaughn strode in with
Packer sneering at his elbow.
       'Please don't trouble yourself, Doctor... allow me,' Vaughn
smiled, going over and removing the magnet. He held the tiny object
aloft like a trophy. 'Most ingenious... but alas not foolproof,' he
joked.
       The Doctor bowed, acknowledging the irony of the situation.
       Vaughn's bland manner abruptly changed, becoming cold and
undisguised. 'You must realise that you force me to consider other
methods of obtaining the information I want.'
       Inwardly boiling with resentment and rage, the Doctor
remained silent and impassive. Jamie's fists clenched and unclenched
behind his back.
       'Your friend Zoe will arrive here shortly...' Vaughn began.
       'So you have got the lassie,' Jamie shouted, barging forward. 'If
ye've harmed her...'
       Vaughn waved him away disdainfully. 'Doctor, I want your
travel machine,' he announced curtly. 'Either you hand it over to me
or Packer will be obliged to introduce Miss Zoe to his rather crude
form of hospitality. You have exactly sixty minutes to decide.
Packer!'
       The gleam of anticipation shone in Packer's beady eyes as he
drew his pistol and motioned the Doctor and Jamie towards the door.
The Doctor grasped Jamie firmly by the arm and guided him to obey.
       As Packer marched them outside, Vaughn wandered over to
the cowering figure by the bench. 'No more interruptions, Professor,'
he promised, with a bleak smile. 'And now I suggest that you
continue with your vital work.'
       Under Vaughn's pale gaze, Watkins picked up a soldering
probe and bowed half-heartedly over his apparatus to resume his
thankless task with trembling hands.

       Meanwhile, Packer escorted his prisoners to the main elevator
shaft and summoned the lift. As they waited, the Doctor stared up at
the indicator and suddenly shivered.
       'What's wrong?' asked Jamie.
       'Just my little phobia about lifts,' the Doctor shrugged, grinning
wanly at Packer. Then he turned to Jamie and swivelled his eyes and
contorted his eyebrows in a brief pantomime of signals.
       After a baffled pause Jamie nodded furiously. 'Och aye,
Doctor... Yer wee phobia?' he murmured sympathetically.
       As the lift arrived and the doors slid open the Doctor suddenly
turned to Packer and gave a hopeless shrug. 'It's no good Mr Packer,
I can't bear to let Zoe suffer,' he admitted. 'I'd better tell you what
you want to know.'
       Packer's bloodless mouth compressed with suspicion and he
raised his gun. 'You're willing to talk?' he demanded, sensing his
opportunity to redeem himself in Vaughn's estimation.
       The Doctor nodded, nudging Jamie to enter the lift. 'Actually
I'd rather tell you everything...' he continued, frantically gesturing to
Jamie behind his back. 'I find Mr Vaughn rather...' The Doctor stared
deliberately over Packer's shoulder. 'Too late. Here he comes now,'
he muttered, hacking into the lift as Packer turned to look down the
empty corridor.
       Meanwhile Jamie had pressed a button and the doors started to
close before Packer could turn hack to them. The Doctor just
managed to wriggle between the doors in time. They snapped
together and the lift began to ascend.
       'Quick, give me your dirk,' he cried.
       Jamie reached into his sock and drew out a short, wicked-
looking dagger. Snatching it eagerly the Doctor prised the faceplate
off the control panel and yanked out a handful of wires.
       'What are ye doing?' Jamie gasped in alarm.
       The Doctor gave the bundle of wires a sharp tug. 'We shall
either stop or crash back down the shaft,' he announced impassively.
       Jamie glanced at the floor indicator. 'But we're six floors up!'
he shrieked.
       'Then hold tight,' muttered the Doctor, tugging again.
       There was a short burst of sparks and a few wisps of black
smoke from the panel and the lift whined to a halt. They held their
breaths. Suddenly there was a scream of distant gears and the lift
dropped several metres before jerking to a stop again.
       White-faced and sweating they picked themselves up off the
floor. Jamie gazed in disbelief as the Doctor gingerly bounced up and
down a few times. To their relief the lift stayed put.
       The Doctor grinned. 'It was a fifty-fifty chance, Jamie, but
we're safe,' he said smugly.
       'We're not. We're stuck five floors up!' Jamie protested
heatedly, snatching back his dirk and shoving it down his sock.
       The Doctor smiled patiently. 'Jamie, the lift is stuck, not us,' he
retorted, pointing up at the small trapdoor in the ceiling above them.
'Come on, up you go.'
       The Doctor touched his toes and Jamie clambered reluctantly
onto his back. 'Och, ye're a clever wee chap,' he admitted grudgingly,
pushing open the trapdoor.
       'Thank you, Jamie,' came the Doctor's muffled response, 'and
you're a brave wee chap, so you can go first.'
       A few minutes later Jamie had heaved the Doctor up through
the hatchway and they crouched on the roof of the lift, gazing
apprehensively up the long shaft where the greasy cables disappeared
into the darkness.
       The Doctor tested the narrow steel ladder clamped to the wall
of the shaft. 'It's a long climb, Jamie, but with luck we'll reach the top
before they realise what's happened.'
       Something scribbled in the thick layer of dust on the lift roof
caught his eye. 'Who's Kilroy?' he wondered absently.
       Jamie grinned and wiped his finger. 'Och, nobody you'd know.
Come on, Doctor.'
       With Jamie leading the way they started to climb the vertical
ladder, their laboured efforts causing eerie echoes in the tall dark
shaft.
       'Doctor, what happens if... if they get the lift working again
before... we reach the top?' panted Jamie after a while.
       The Doctor grunted breathlessly. 'Quite simple, Jamie. We get
squashed...'
       Jamie smiled grimly to himself at the epitaph they had left
below them in the dust... KILROY WAS HERE.

      Vaughn stood by the elevator doors shaking his head
incredulously.
      'I'll kill them...' spluttered Packer, his hand over the
mouthpiece of the service telephone.
      'You'll do no such thing,' Vaughn snapped. 'I want them alive.'
      'What the hell happened?' Packer yelled down the phone.
'Well, use the emergency circuits, man,' he ordered, slamming the
receiver clown. 'The thing's stuck between the fourth and fifth floors.'
      'So I gathered, Packer,' murmured Vaughn ominously. 'Our
clever Doctor has outwitted you once again.'
      Packer's cruel mouth twitched and curled with hatred. 'Well,
now he's been a hit too clever. He's trapped,' he sneered.
      Vaughn's face darkened. 'I don't understand his motive,' he
pondered, 'Unless he's just playing for time.'
        Packer seized the receiver and punched a few digits with his
gloved knuckle. 'Packer. Cover all lift doors. Two men on each floor.
Now. Move,' he rapped.
        Vaughn shaded his eyes, his sensibilities offended by his
Deputy's hysterical behaviour. 'Calm clown, Packer, our birds can't
fly away,' he protested quietly.
        They waited, Vaughn expressionless and unblinking, Packer
tense and fidgetting. Eventually the service telephone buzzed. Packer
answered.
        'Right. Send it down to the basement,' he instructed.
        Two armed and visored security guards came clattering down
the concrete emergency stairs next to the elevator shaft just as the
indicator light lit up. They levelled their machine pistols as the lift
doors opened.
        Packer stared open-mouthed into the empty car. 'They've
vanished... just vanished!' he whined. 'Did it stop anywhere on the
way down?' he rapped into the telephone. 'No? You sure?' he
demanded shrilly.
        'Come here, Packer,' Vaughn called wearily from inside the
lift.
        Dry-throated and sweating, Packer obeyed. Vaughn was
pointing to the trapdoor. Packer's eyes narrowed to slits of glittering
malice.
        'I'll get them, sir... I'll get them,' Packer vowed, dabbing his
cheese-coloured forehead with his sleeve.
        'Call me when you do. I'll he in my office,' Vaughn ordered,
walking despairingly out of the lift. 'And try not to lose them...'
        Smarting from his master's sarcastic taunt in front of the two
guards, Packer pulled back his cuff and viciously spat orders into his
miniature radio. 'Packer. They're in the shaft. Get men onto the roof
immediately.' He hesitated a moment, his nose slowly puckering into
a sneer of malicious anticipation. 'And tell the engineer to take the
lift right to the top. Now!' he added, beckoning the two guards into
the car with him.
       Furiously clambering up through the dusty, greasy darkness,
Jamie and the Doctor desperately redoubled their efforts when they
heard the terrifying clanks and whirrings as the lift became
operational again and the cables started whipping and clattering only
a few centimetres away from them. Above them the electric motor
whined inexorably and below them the grinding of wheels and the
shrieking of bearings rose relentlessly towards them.
       'Quick, Jamie... Quick...' the Doctor gasped feebly from the
rickety ladder beneath him. 'It's catching us up.'
       At last Jamie reached the metal gantry supporting the winding
gear. 'McCrimmons for ever...' he whooped, wrenching open the steel
door in the concrete housing and bursting onto the flat roof. The
Doctor struggled out after him and they lay on their backs for a few
seconds, gratefully gulping the cool fresh air. Suddenly the harsh
whining ceased abruptly and there was a final numbing clang as the
lift hit its buffer-stops, sending a red-hot shiver through their
exhausted bodies.
       Then the Doctor jumped up. 'Come on, Jamie,' he panted,
stumbling across to the parapet and looking over the edge at the
dizzying drop below.
       'Och, just a wee minute...' Jamie pleaded, moaning with
fatigue.
       'No time to lose,' yelled the Doctor, climbing over the parapet
and disappearing.
       Jamie sat bolt upright, a stifled scream blocking his throat.
Dumb with horror, he limped across the roof, scarcely daring to look
down. To his relief he saw that the Doctor was running down a fire-
escape fitted in the angle of the L-shaped building.
       'Come on, Jamie, they'll be up there any minute.'
       Jamie shut his eyes and dragged himself over the parapet. As
he started slithering down the metal staircase a blood-curdling chorus
of howling sirens broke out all around the complex...

       Packer stood dejectedly in front of Vaughn's desk, his uniform
torn and his face streaked with dirt. 'They must have gone down the
fire escape, sir...' he mumbled, concluding his pathetic report.
        Vaughn shook his head very, very slowly, rising to his feet and
gazing out over his empire spread before him. Suddenly he punched
a fist into his open palm and rounded on his Deputy. 'I want the
Doctor and the boy,' he said in an awful, hushed voice.
        There was silence. Then Packer swallowed. 'The whole
compound's on alert, sir. It's only a matter of time.' Vaughn uttered a
short derisive laugh.
        Packer's bottled up frustration suddenly erupted. 'You should
have let me deal with them properly right at the start,' he snarled
accusingly. 'And if you'd only obey our allies' orders...'
        'Orders, Packer?' Vaughn echoed, moving up to him. 'I told
you before; I don't obey orders, I give them.'
        Packer stared at him like a mesmerised animal. 'But you can't
fight them!' he spluttered.
        Vaughn smiled blandly. 'The invasion will be under my control
and when it is successfully accomplished I shall remain supreme,' he
declared confidently. 'Why do you suppose I keep that senile old fool
Watkins alive?'
        'To work on his machine.'
        'Our allies are extremely disturbed by the Professor's machine,'
Vaughn revealed. 'They ordered me to destroy the prototype.'
        Packer gazed at his Director in astonishment. 'They are afraid
of it?'
        'Oh, its teaching function doesn't worry them, but when we
generated some emotion pulses...' Vaughn paused dramatically,
savouring Packer's bewilderment. 'I am convinced that the emotional
pulses could be used to destroy our allies,' he concluded.
        Packer looked thoroughly rattled. 'That's just a guess,' he
muttered.
        Vaughn shook his head slyly. 'No, it's a reasonable gamble,' he
argued, 'and we're playing for very high stakes, are we not?'
        Packer licked his tacky lips. 'You're taking too big a chance,'
he croaked.
        Vaughn moved even closer to him, his pale eyes boring like
lasers. 'Do you want to be totally converted, Packer?' he whispered
hoarsely. 'Do you want to become inhuman? One of them?'
        Packer tried to step back but his legs were like jelly.
       Vaughn pursued his fear relentlessly. 'That's what will happen
to us if they take over. We shall cease to be human. However, we can
make use of their force to conquer the world and then discard them at
our leisure,' he proposed, as casually as if he were describing a
parlour game.
       After a pause Packer grinned faintly. 'You're sure Watkins's
device can do it?'
       Vaughn shrugged indifferently. 'If we obtain the Doctor's
travel machine we can escape if necessary.'
       'Insurance?'
       'Precisely, Packer,' Vaughn grinned, patting his arm. 'And
speaking of insurance, have the two girls arrived?'
       Packer informed him that they should be on their way over to
the Administration Building.
       'Excellent,' Vaughn approved. 'When they are safely tucked
away we shall flush out our clever Doctor.'
       All at once a high-pitched bleeping sounded from Packer's
wrist. He held the minute radio to his ear. As he listened, his face
quickly twisted with apprehension and anger.
       'There's an unidentified helicopter in the area and Perimeter
Security report strangers sighted near the compound,' he informed his
master, shifting uneasily in anticipation of Vaughn's reaction. 'I think
the Doctor may be connected to the UNIT organisation. What are we
going to do, sir?'
       Vaughn went to the window and scanned the skies. 'Nothing,'
he snapped.
       Packer was astounded. 'Nothing at all, sir?'
       'They cannot hurt us, Packer,' Vaughn assured him in an
almost unnatural voice. 'Just leave this to me...'

       Thanks to their memory of the layout of the complex seen
from Vaughn's office window, Jamie and the Doctor managed to
reach the railway sidings very quickly without being spotted. They
shut themselves inside a freight wagon and flopped down between
the containers to recover their breath. All around them sirens droned
their eerie alert and they soon heard the tramping of boots outside as
Packet's men searched the yard.
        'D'ye think this could be the train Zoe and Isobel were on?'
Jamie whispered.
        The Doctor considered a moment. 'If it is then these crates
should be empty, Jamie.'
        Jamie knelt up. 'Soon see,' he grunted, heaving at the lid of the
nearest container. Slowly it swung open. He could just distinguish a
bulky outline in a kind of plastic material surrounded by dense
cobweb filaments, like a cocoon lying in the darkness. 'Och, these are
full,' he said, disappointed.
        The Doctor crawled over and peered into the crate. His face
went rigid and he bit his lip uncertainly. 'I wonder what it is...'
        Sudden voices outside silenced him. 'Search these wagons!'
someone shouted and they heard the ominous sound of wagon doors
opening.
        'Quick, Jamie, hide,' warned the Doctor, jamming himself into
a tiny niche between the stacks of containers. Jamie searched around
feverishly for somewhere for himself. All at once the handle of the
door was wrenched back and the heavy door started to slide open. In
sheer desperation Jamie clambered into the open container and pulled
down the lid in the nick of time. There was just room for him
squeezed betwen the lid and the strange object underneath. He lay
motionless, scracely breathing while the guards searched the wagon.
        Suddenly he felt a slight movement beneath him and heard a
faint brittle rustling, like dead leaves in a breeze. Instantly a clammy
cold sweat broke out all over his body and tiny hot needles seemed to
prick his neck and scalp. He fought to stifle a scream of terror and
the urge to jump out of the crate. In the end he hardly knew whether
it was his own quaking or something else that was really moving
underneath him. The nightmare seemed eternal, but eventually he
heard the wagon door slide shut and all was quiet again.
        The Doctor crept out and opened the lid.
        'Doctor..
        'Ssssh, Jamie, the guards are still outside.'
        Jamie climbed out, his teeth chattering with fright. 'That thing
in there... it moved!' he whispered.
        The Doctor stared at the cocoon thing and shook his head.
'Imagination. Jamie. Darkness plays strange tricks.'
         'But I felt it, Doctor.'
         The Doctor looked sceptical. 'Are you sure? Then we'd better
take a look.'
         At that moment there was a commotion outside. 'Sangster and
Graves, get those girls over to Administration pronto...' someone
shouted.
         'The lassies!' Jamie hissed, forgetting the horror of the last few
minutes and making for the door.
         The Doctor grabbed his sleeve. 'Wait. Jamie. Let things
quieten down out there, then we'll go and find them.'
         Reluctantly Jamie obeyed, but his blood was up and his blue
eyes sparkled with aggressive determination.
         As soon as the guards had gone, they emerged cautiously from
the freight wagon and then sprinted hell-for-leather along the narrow
alleyways between the huge factory buildings towards the
Administration Block. The sirens had stopped wailing, but they had
to dodge and dive for cover whenever patrols or personnel appeared.
Eventually they rounded a corner of the generating plant and
flattened themselves behind an empty skip to watch Packer
supervising the opening of two containers which had just been
deposited on the steps of the entrance to the Administration Building
by a small forklift truck.
         Zoe and Isobel were hauled roughly out of the crates and
bundled through the glass doors at the base of the tower. Jamie and
the Doctor just managed to overhear Packer order the girls to he
taken up to the tenth floor. While the Doctor twiddled his thumbs
with profound concentration, working out a way to get to the
prisoners, Jamie screwed up his eyes and watched a helicopter
chattering across the sky some distance away from the complex.
         'Must be some of the Brigadier's mob, Doctor. Let's call him
up,' he suggested impatiently.
         But the Doctor said that it was too soon for that. First they
must rescue Zoe and Isobel. And as soon as the coast was clear, he
led Jamie in a desperate sprint across the open concrete yard and
round to the back of the tower. 'Sorry, Jarnie, but I'm afraid I abhor
lifts...' he grinned, leading the way hack up the fire-escape in the
angle between the tower and the adjoining buildings.
      Gritting his teeth, Jarnie scowled and clambered reluctantly up
the metal spiral behind him.

      Inside the busy, cramped Operations Room, Lethbridge-
Stewart stirred a fresh mug of tea as he listened intently to Captain
Turner's muffled report from the helicopter.
      'Lot of unusual activity down in the compound, sir. Looks like
some kind of alert.'
      'Any sign of the Doctor and the boy?'
      'None, sir.'
      The Brigadier nibbled thoughtfully at a digestive biscuit.
'Right, Jimmy. Pull out and stand by,' he ordered crisply.
      He swung round in his chair and studied the Situation Map for
a few minutes, tugging the ends of his moustache. 'All units please,'
he requested.
      The Signals Sergeant flicked a bank of switches. 'Go ahead,
sir.'
      The Brigadier picked up his handset. 'Lethbridge-Stewart to all
Red units. Penetration of Red Sector imminent. Report readiness.'
      He dunked the remains of the biscuit impatiently while he
waited for the situation reports. It fell apart and floated on the top.
      'Red Victor One mustering to standby. Ten minutes, sir... Red
Victor Two standing by, sir... Red Victor Three...'
      As the brisk responses buzzed in his ear the Brigadier picked
up his beret, breathed on the UNIT badge and proudly polished it
against his chest. 'Right, Doctor. We're ready when you are,' he
murmured.

       At that moment, the Doctor was leading Jamie precariously
along a narrow ledge leading from one of the landings on the fire-
escape to a vertical maintenance ladder which ran up the side of the
connecting building, linking the step-like series of flat roofs at the
rear of the Administration Building. They shinned recklessly up the
shuddering rungs to the first roof and dropped down behind the
parapet to rest a moment.
       'That'll be the tenth floor up there,' gasped the Doctor, pointing
to the sheer wall of glass rising like a cliff above the next roof.
        Jamie craned upwards unenthusiastically. 'Aye, but how do we
ken which room they're in?' he objected. 'And how do we get them
out?'
        'Stop looking for problems,' the Doctor snapped. 'Let's just get
up there first, Jamie.' He scurried across the asphalt and started
scrambling up the vertical ladder to the next storey.
        Just as Jamie followed suit, Vaughn's eerily calm voice
suddenly blared out from huge tannoy speakers fixed to the corners
of the tower building above them:
        'Wherever you are, Doctor, listen carefully. You have just ten
minutes to relinquish your freedom. Ten minutes from now your
friend Zoe will pay for your foolish lack of cooperation..
        Clinging unsteadily to the creaking ladder, they listened to the
cold mechanical threat echoing around the complex.
        'Not much time,' muttered Jamie gloomily, staring up at the
inaccessible identical windows.
        'Oh, time enough to effect a simple rescue operation,' replied
the Doctor with airy confidence. 'Come on, Jamie.'
        Seconds later they reached the second roof and Jamie suddenly
grabbed the Doctor's arm and pointed upwards. 'Somebody's there.
It's Zoe!' he cried excitedly.
        While Jamie started waving frantically to attract the attention
of the vague figure behind the reflective glass ten or so metres above
them, the Doctor took out the polyvox unit the Brigadier had given
him, deployed the stubby aerial and pressed the call button. 'Jamie,
try to tell Zoe to keep away from the window, otherwise she'll give
the game away,' he muttered urgently. 'And keep down.'
        'Hallo Doctor, come in...' buzzed the Brigadier.
        'Brigadier, I think we shall require your assistance in a few
minutes. Do you have a helicopter in the vicinity?' said the Doctor
hurriedly.
        'We do indeed, Doctor.'
        'Equipped with a rope ladder of some kind?' 'Naturally, Doctor.
I'll order Captain Turner to find you immediately.'
        The Doctor glanced up at the roof of the Administration
Building a dozen storeys above them. 'We'll be on the roof of the
tower block, Brigadier. North East corner. That should give your
helicopter cover from any ground fire.'
        'Excellent,' crackled the Brigadier appreciatively. 'Over and
out.'
        'Oh yes... Out and... and about,' the Doctor signed off, trying to
hide his uneasy expression from Jamie as he stared at the thin metal
ladder running up the side of the tower. 'And all in one piece too, I
trust!'

       Zoe had been staring clown at the grey concrete and metal
buildings which formed the International Electromatix Factory
Complex with an expression of hopeless gloom. 'I'm sorry, Isobel,
this is all my fault,' she muttered. 'If I hadn't blown up that stupid
computer...'
       Isobel still looked shocked after the ordeal inside the
containers. 'Why didn't they just turn us over to the fuzz or
something, Zoe?' she wondered. 'It was horrible inside those crate
things. Why have they kidnapped us like this?'
       Zoe shrugged. 'I don't see any way out of here, Isobel. It's a
sheer drop,' she said, turning to look round the bare featureless office
where they were imprisoned. 'There's nothing to make any sort of
ladder with either.'
       'Or a set of wings,' Isobel joked with a brave smile, pressing
her pale face to the window. Suddenly she caught sight of Jamie
waving frantically directly below them. 'Zoe, look, it's Jamie and the
Doctor!' she cried, clapping her hands with delight.
       Zoe peered down, trying to interpret Jamie's wild gestures. 'I
think Jamie's telling us to keep away from the window, Isobel.'
       Jamie was pointing to his eyes and then to the window and
then doing an obscure little mime.
       The two girls glanced at each other in bewilderment. Then Zoe
noticed that what appeared to be a spotlight bulb suspended from the
ceiling was in fact a rotatable electronic eye.
       'Just act as if nothing was happening...' she murmured out of
the side of her mouth. 'I think Big Brother is watching us.'
       They moved away from the window with affected casualness
and sat down against the wall, as if giving up all thought of
resistance. But inside, they were tense with excitement and
expectation.

       Vaughn pressed a button on his desk and leaned towards the
slim microphone. 'Doctor, you have just five minutes left,' he
announced in an expressionless monotone. 'Do you hear me, Doctor?
Five minutes...'
       Packer stood at the window, listening to his miniature VHF
unit and scanning the sky over the complex. 'They won't give
themselves up, Mr Vaughn. They'd be mad to,' he whined.
       'Not mad, Packer. Merely human,' Vaughn retorted mildly,
selecting a different channel on one of the video screens in the wall
opposite him. 'They won't want their charming little friends to come
to any harm.'
       On the screen, Zoe and Isobel appeared sitting in disconsolate
silence on the floor of their room. Packer turned and gazed at them,
his lip curling in a cruel sadistic sneer.
       The sudden clattering whine of a helicopter made Packer spin
round to the window again. 'The helicopter, Mr Vaughn. It's right
overhead!' he warned.
       For a fleeting moment Vaughn looked slightly uneasy. He
came to the window and looked up at the helicopter as it passed out
of sight, hovering directly over the tower block. Then he looked back
at the girls slumped in their prison. 'Perhaps the Doctor and the boy
plan to save their own skins and to desert the young ladies,' he
speculated. 'How very ungallant of them. No doubt the helicopter is
manoeuvering to pick them up. Stop them, Packer. Shoot the
machine down if necessary.'
       Packer's eyes lit up. 'Yes, Mr Vaughn!' he rapped and he
hurried out of the office.
       Vaughn reclined in his chair, observing the girls on the screens
for a moment. Then he leaned forward and pressed the tannoy button.
'Two minutes, Doctor,' he murmured. 'Two minutes...'

      Jamie was tempted to wrench the cables out of the speakers as
he and the Doctor clambered over the parapet and onto the roof of
the tower block with Vaughn's deafening warning ringing in their
ears. He watched the Doctor signalling to Captain Turner to lower
the rope ladder from the hovering helicopter.
       'Surely you're not going to leave the lassies behind!' he shouted
above the din of the rotors, as the end of the ladder came snaking
down.
       'Don't be an imbecile, Jamie,' the Doctor yelled back irritably,
catching the swaying rungs and throwing them over the parapet on
the side of the tower where Zoe and Isobel were confined. He leaned
over to check the length as Turner paid out the ladder from the
helicopter. 'Good,' he muttered, signalling to Turner to stop lowering.
'Now Jamie, down you go.'
       The beefy young Scot stared at him and then shuddered dizzily
as he looked over the edge at the end of the ladder snapping to and
fro in the stiff breeze. 'What? Me? Climb down there...?' he
expostulated, backing away from the parapet.
       'Surely you're not going to leave the lassies here?' the Doctor
shouted sarcastically, punching Jamie's muscular arm.
       Glaring resentfully, Jamie set his jaw, took a deep breath and
hauled himself onto the violently swinging ladder and out over the
parapet. As he began the long, terrifying climb down the lurching
rungs, the banshee chorus of sirens struck up again, wailing the alert
all over the compound.
       Eventually Jamie reached the tenth floor and kicked himself
sideways to align with the window where he had spotted Zoe.
       The girls visibly jumped, screaming with fright as Jamie's
heavy boots crashed against the glass. Zoe leaped to her feet and
managed to force open one side of the window after a struggle.
       'Come on, lassie, hurry yerself!' Jamie cried, squeezing himself
through the gap and jumping into the room with the end of the
ladder.
       Isobel's delight at seeing him turned to queasy doubt. 'You...
you don't expect us to climb up that, do you?' she exclaimed.
       Jamie looked daggers at the pouting, countyish girl. 'Och, ye're
quite welcome to stay here wi' Mr Packer,' he retorted indignantly.
       Zoe gave Jamie a quick grateful hug. 'No, thanks,' she said
firmly. 'Come on, Isobel.'
       'Zoe first, then Isobel and me last,' Jamie commanded,
steadying the ladder as Zoe obediently clambered on and started to
climb confidently upwards. 'And dinna look down whatever ye do,'
he added, lifting the trembling Isobel onto the ladder with his free
hand.
       To Zoe and Isobel it seemed to take forever to reach the
parapet where the Doctor was anxiously waiting for them under the
threshing blades of the helicopter. Just as Zoe scrambled safely onto
the roof a fusillade of machine pistol fire zipped up the side of the
Administration Building from the main entrance far below, smashing
several windows around Isobel. Jamie struggled desperately up the
ladder behind her, shouting encouragement as bullets whizzed
against the concrete and glass all around him. On the steps at the
front of the building, Packer was screaming orders and gesticulating
like a maniac up at his escaping quarry.
       At last Isobel and Jamie were dragged unscathed over the
parapet by Zoe and the Doctor.
       'Thank goodness that's over...' gasped Isobel, ashen-faced.
       'I'm afraid it isn't quite yet,' the Doctor shouted, pointing at the
second length of ladder leading up at an angle to the helicopter
hovering over the opposite corner of the rooftop.
       Isobel shook her head in despair. 'I'm sorry. I don't think I can,'
she panted.
       Jamie put a comforting arm round her and squeezed. 'Course
ye can, lassie.'
       At that moment, a shower of lethal concrete splinters suddenly
exploded out of the edge of the parapet, sending them all diving flat
on their faces as Packer's men fired a last futile salvo at the roof.
       Then Packer ordered his men onto the roof and stormed after
them, seething with rage and frustration at his continuing failures.
       With urgent persuasiveness, the Doctor, Zoc and Jamie finally
got Isobel back onto the ladder. Zoe followed her, then the Doctor
and finally Jamie. The ladder creaked and stretched under their
combined weight and the rocking of the helicopter sent the fugitives
gyrating in all directions.
       Below them, Packer and his men were racing up the fire
escape and as soon as they came within sight of the UNIT helicopter,
they spread out over the flat roof immediately below the tower and
concentrated their fire.
      Safe in the helicopter, the Doctor, Zoe and Isobel yelled
encouragement to Jamie as he forced himself up the last few rungs of
the crazily whipping ladder with bullets sizzling past him. Four pairs
of hands hauled him into the cabin and the pilot banked steeply and
climbed rapidly away westwards and out of range.
                           5
                Skeletons in Cupboards

       Packer stood bowed and defeated in Vaughn's office, his lank
hair sticking in long black strands across his sweating forehead.
       'I told you so. That chopper was from the UNIT outfit. I told
you...' he persisted accusingly.
       His master was moving briskly around his desk, checking
printouts and consulting telex messages.
       'Oh, do stop panicking, Packer,' Vaughn purred wearily. 'Your
incompetence defies description, but fortunately it no longer matters.'
       Packer thumped the desk with both clenched fists. 'But there'll
be an official reaction now that lot are involved,' he whined
anxiously.
       Vaughn clicked his tongue and shook his head. 'There will be
no official reaction, Packer. I am fully in control of the situation,
which is more than I can say for you.'
       Packer muttered darkly to himself like a chided schoolboy.
       'Don't argue:' Vaughn rapped. 'I want Watkins's Cerebration
Machine loaded into the car immediately. We're going back to
London.'
       Packer stared at him aghast and started to object ineffectually.
       Vaughn leaned forward on the desk and thrust his impassive
face a few centimetres from his Deputy's pallid mask. 'Thanks to
your bungling I shall be obliged to bring the invasion forward,' he
murmured menacingly. 'We have just twenty-four hours to prepare.'
       Packer looked appalled. Then he laughed derisively.
       'Twenty-four hours? They'll never agree to that. The invasion
forces are nowhere near complete...'
       Vaughn silenced him with a curt nod. 'The forces are sufficient
for our immediate purpose,' he hissed. 'You will attend to the
machine and then bring Watkins up here to me. Meanwhile I shall
attend to our UNIT friends.'
      Packer opened his weak mouth to object, but the diamond glint
in Vaughn's pale eye silenced him. Cowed, he turned on his heel and
strode out with as much dignity as he could muster.
      As soon as he was alone, Vaughn punched a private code into
the keyboard of the small videophone in front of him. Seconds later,
a smart young woman appeared on the screen.
      'Good afternoon, Ministry of Defence.'
      'Good afternoon, my dear. Major-General Routledge, please,'
Vaughn requested pleasantly. 'My name is Tobias Vaughn.'

       In the bowels of the vast Ministry of Defence building in
Whitehall, Major-General Routledge sat in his cheerless, darkened
office in front of an ornate marble fireplace with sporting trophies
lining the mantelpiece. He was a thickset, square-faced man of about
forty-five, with grey hair and moustache and a florid complexion. He
was wearing a drab suit and a rugger club tie.
       '... fine, Minister, I'll see you at eight at the Club. Goodbye,' he
said into a green telephone receiver, laughing nervously as he rang
off.
       At once a light started flashing on the videophone unit
mounted on the huge, cluttered mahogany desk. He pressed a switch
and the smart young lady appeared.
       'Outside call for you, General.'
       Routledge cleared his throat and grinned roguishly at the
screen. 'Male or female?' he inquired in a public school voice.
       'Mr Tobias Vaughn, sir.'
       Instantly Routledge's face set in an odd, uneasy half-smile and
his eyes dulled imperceptibly. 'Vaughn? Ah yes... Mr Vaughn...' he
stammered uncomfortably. 'Put him through on priority scramble.'
       The screen fuzzed and then Vaughn's smiling face took shape.
'Good afternoon, Routledge. Is this channel secure?' he asked
casually.
       The Major-General nodded, croaking an indistinct
confirmation.
       'Excellent,' Vaughn replied, suddenly hardening his tone. 'Now
listen to me. Your UNIT friends have been causing me considerable
aggravation. They must be stopped at once. Do you understand?'
       Routledge licked his pale lips and twisted his trembling hands
together. 'I... I understand,' he mumbled after a pause. 'They must be
stopped.'
       Vaughn's eyes stared unblinkingly into his. 'There must be no
more interference.'
       'No more interference,' Routledge echoed meekly in a dreamy,
mechanical voice. 'I shall deal with it at once.'
       Vaughn smiled bleakly. 'Good fellow. I know I can rely on
you,' he said with measured significance.
       The screen went black and Routledge sat quite still staring at it
for several minutes:Then he winced and sank his head into his hands
and shuddered, slowly massaging his temples as if to rid himself of a
violent headache. Eventually he gazed back at the screen again, his
eyes glazed and lifeless. 'Yes. I understand,' he repeated, wiping his
cold clammy forehead with his sleeve. 'UNIT must be stopped.'

       The Brigadier was just cancelling the alert when Captain
Turner ushered the exhausted Doctor and Jamie and their two
rescued friends into the Hercules Operations Room.
       'All Red Sector groups stand down and stand by,' he ordered
briskly.
       Then he jumped up to greet them heartily.
       'Mission accomplished, sir,' Turner reported laconically.
       'No casualities, jimmy?'
       'None, sir. Fortunately Vaughn's jackboot brigade can't shoot
for toffee.'
       'Splendid!' breezed Lethbridge-Stewart, gesturing towards the
welcoming tray of mugs of steaming tea and generously-filled
sandwiches which an orderly was just bringing in.
       Jamie grabbed a doorstep sandwich and started munching
avidly. 'Aye, splendid. A simple rescue operation!' he muttered
through his mouthful, glancing ironically at the Doctor who was
nibbling thoughtfully on a more modest portion.
       'But what about my uncle? He's still a prisoner,' Isobel pointed
out anxiously, accepting a brimming mug of tea from Captain
Turner.
       'Don't worry, miss, I'm going to raise hell about this business
and get some prompt action, I can tell you,' the Brigadier promised.
       'If you'd had your camera with you, Isobel, you could have
made a fortune with the pictures,' Zoe mused, sipping her tea
gratefully.
       'Yes. Pity, that would've clinched things as far as the Ministry
is concerned,' agreed Turner.
       The Brigadier frowned. 'Billy Routledge will have to take
some action now. Not even Tobias Vaughn can get away with
shooting at UNIT personnel,' he declared, indignantly stirring a heap
of sugar into his tea.
       The Doctor had not said a word. They all turned to him as he
sat hunched over his untasted tea, chewing absently and staring into
thin air.
       Eventually Zoe broke the silence. 'What's the matter, Doctor?'
       'Mmmm?' mumbled the Doctor distantly, still staring into
space. 'Oh, I was just wondering, Zoe... That object we saw on the
other side of the Moon this morning...'
       Isobel exchanged looks of astonishment with the Captain and
the Brigadier.
       'Other side of the Moon?' spluttered the Brigadier, wiping his
moustache.
       'The TARDIS went wrong and we got stuck,' Jamie explained.
       'And they fired a missile of some kind at us,' Zoe added.
       'Who did?' demanded Captain Turner incredulously. 'Whoever
it was in that spacecraft behind the Moon,' Zoe told him with patient
emphasis.
       'Spaceships behind the Moon?' exploded the Brigadier,
blowing crumbs in all directions.
       The Doctor gazed around the assembled throng of sceptical
faces. 'There appears to be some kind of deep-space communications
installation at Vaughn's factory complex...' he revealed quietly. 'And
I am beginning to wonder...'
       The Brigadier looked extremely disturbed at this revelation
and he waited impatiently for the Doctor to continue.
        Then Turner suddenly leaned over to his commanding officer.
'Sir, I know it sounds silly, but could those recent UFO reports have
anything to do with all this?'
        'Flying saucers?' Isobel exclaimed excitedly, nudging Zoe.
'Golly, what a scoop!'
        The Doctor held up his hand for silence. 'Are there by any
chance any photographs of the UFO sightings, Brigadier?' he asked
eagerly.
        'We've got quite a few in the files,' Lethbridge-Stewart replied,
more worried than ever. 'Jimmy, would you fetch them?'
        As the Captain hurried out, the Doctor dipped the remains of
his sandwich into his neglected tea. 'Unidentified Flying Objects...'
he ruminated, biting into the soggy mess, his eyes widening and his
nostrils flaring with anticipation. 'Why didn't I think of that before...?'

      Professor Watkins was in a state of nervous anxiety when
Packer thrust him into Vaughn's office.
      'What was all that shooting? Where is my niece? If you've hurt
one hair of her head, Vaughn...' he babbled shrilly, blinking
myopically at his tormentors.
      'I assure you that Isobel is perfectly safe,' Vaughn purred
blandly. 'At the moment anyway.'
      Watkins struggled feebly in Packer's restraining grasp. 'I
demand to see her!' he shouted.
      Vaughn nodded and smiled. 'And so you shall, Professor. Just
as soon as your machine is completed to my satisfaction.'
      Watkins peered at him suspiciously. 'Why am I being taken
back to London?'
      Vaughn patted his arm affably. 'I am assigning Mr Gregory to
work with you, Professor. You deserve some assistance with such an
important assignment.'
      'I don't need any assistance,' Watkins panted breathlessly.
      'On the contrary,' Vaughn retorted calmly, 'you will have only
twenty-four hours in which to complete the device to my
specifications.'
      The Professor shook his head violently. 'Never! Never!' he
vowed defiantly.
       Packer bent the Professor's podgy arm up behind his back and
Watkins's plump body contorted with pain.
       'If you cooperate, your niece will go free,' Vaughn promised.
'Otherwise...' He gestured ominously.
       'You expect me to believe that?' Watkins scoffed.
       Vaughn pointed to the bank of monitor screens behind his
victim. Watkins turned and saw several still images of Isobel's
frightened face staring out at him. Then Packer twisted his arm still
further and shoved him brutally to his knees. Watkins knelt between
them, moaning and whimpering helplessly.
       Vaughn shrugged complacently. 'My dear Professor, you have
no choice but to believe it,' he murmured silkily, his teeth flashing in
the darkening room. He glanced distastefully at Packer but did not
reprimand him for his excesses. Then he helped Watkins to his feet
and smiled sympathetically. 'Now Professor, do please try and be
sensible and do as I ask.'

       In the UNIT Operations Room, the Doctor was poring intently
over a microfilm viewer, studying a selection of remarkably clear
pictures of various strange elongated hexagonal objects arranged in
different formations.
       The Brigadier peered hopefully over his shoulder.'Mean
anything to you, Doctor?' he asked after a prolonged silence.
       The Doctor ran the film back and forth several times. 'Possibly,
Brigadier. How long ago were these objects first sighted?' he
murmured.
       'Odd reports have trickled in for over a year, Doctor. We send
fighters up to investigate, but no luck. Nothing.'
       Captain Turner craned over the Doctor's other shoulder. 'The
strange thing is they always seem to disappear somewhere over
Northern Essex,' he remarked.
       'That's where the International Electromatix rnanufacturing
complex is!' Isobel exclaimed.
       'Exactly,' said Turner, smiling at her.
       The Doctor sat back, rubbing the side of his nose
speculatively. 'Jamie, when you were hiding in the crate you said that
whatever it was in there moved...'
        Jamie shuddered at the vivid memory. 'Aye, Doctor. There's
something wrapped up in all that plastic web stuff right enough.'
        The Doctor meditated for a moment. 'Did you recognise
anything about it, Jamie?'
        'Och no, Doctor. It was far too dark and I was too scared,'
Jamie admitted candidly.
        The Doctor remained silent for a while, trying to visualise the
vague shape they had seen in the crate inside the railway wagon.
        'What do you think it was, Doctor?' asked Zoe in a hushed
voice, remembering only too well her and Isobel's ordeal in the
cramped, stuffy containers.
        All at once the Doctor stood up abruptly, startling them. 'I'm
not sure, Zoe, but I think we'd better find out as soon as possible.'
        Jamie frowned. 'You mean, go back to Vaughn's place?' he
cried in disbelief.
        'Vaughn's obviously transporting the things from Essex to his
London premises. That's where we'll find our answers,' the Doctor
declared decisively. He asked the Brigadier if he had a map of the
London set-up.
        Lethbridge-Stewart looked disapprovingly at the bright-eyed
little Time Lord. 'I don't think this is wise, Doctor. You've just been
very lucky so far.'
        Jamie shoved his thumbs firmly in his belt. 'If you think I'm
going back in there...' he snorted.
        'We must find out what is in those containers,' the Doctor
interrupted brusquely.
        In the ensuing silence, Captain Turner pretended not to notice
the Brigadier's critical gaze and he went over and selected a plastic
map sheet from a rack beside the Situation Map. 'Here you are,
Doctor, this shows the entire area in detail,' he said, handing it to the
Doctor.
        The Doctor beamed. 'Thank you, Captain.' He grinned at the
Brigadier. 'Your staff are invaluable. Most efficient.' Then he began
to examine the map carefully.
        Slowly Jamie drew his thumbs out of his belt. Then he got up
and went over to the Doctor. 'Och, we canna get in the same way
again. They're sure to be on the lookout,' he muttered, becoming
absorbed in the map.
       The Doctor smiled secretively to himself, picked up a pen and
started drawing on the back of his hand, consulting the map from
time to time.
       The Brigadier cleared his throat guiltily. 'Well, Doctor,
anything I can do to help?' he inquired heartily.
       The Doctor traced his finger along a thin wavering line on the
plastic sheet. 'Yes, Brigadier, there is. Do you think you could
possibly obtain a canoe for me?' he requested mysteriously.

       An hour later, Jamie was sweating profusely and puffing away
as he paddled the small canoe along a bleak stretch of stagnant canal
running between tall derelict warehouses. In the stern the Doctor sat
steering effortlessly with his paddle. Occasionally Jamie cast a
resentful glance over his shoulder, but the Doctor always managed to
appear to be doing his fair share of the work at the vital moment,
grinning encouragingly at the toiling Scot. Frequently the Doctor
studied the rough sketch he had drawn on the back of his hand and he
hummed scraps of sea shanties to himself in a tone-deaf groan.
       Suddenly they found themselves in pitch darkness as the canal
turned sharply and entered a long tunnel.
       'Och, are ye sure ye ken where we are?' Jamie demanded
doubtfully.
       The Doctor hummed a few more bars, enjoying the added
resonance the tunnel gave to his voice. 'Of course I do, Jamie. I know
these waters like the back of my hand...' he giggled. 'We should be
passing underneath Mr Vaughn's railway yards at this very moment.'
       Cold, fetid water dripped on them and invisible fronds of
clammy weed flapped in their faces from the tunnel roof. Jamie
began to regret his decision to accompany the Doctor after all.
       When they eventually emerged into the daylight again the
Doctor steered towards a worn flight of slimy stone steps. 'These
should lead into the back of the warehouse,' he whispered. 'Don't
make a sound, Jamie.'
       They tethered the canoe and cautiously climbed the
treacherously slippery steps. Sure enough, they soon found
themselves in a rubble-strewn yard behind the warehouse buildings.
Two security guards with gauntlets and visors were visible in the
distance where the railway lines entered the loading bay. Pressing
themselves against the corrugated steel wall Jamie and the Doctor
crouched down and made their way warily along the back of the
huge warehouse, hoping that nobody would spot them before they
managed to find a way inside.
       They were lucky. Not far from the corner, they came upon an
emergency exit. One of the doors was slightly ajar and by contorting
his arm, Jamie was able to reach through the gap and jiggle the
jammed releasing bar until it eventually freed itself. Cautiously he
opened the door and they crept stealthily into the warehouse,
dragging the door shut behind them.
       As they slipped between the stacks of containers, they heard
sounds of activity nearby. Creeping noiselessly from stack to stack
they took care to avoid the prying electronic scanners ceaselessly
panning to.and fro from the roof girders. They soon reached a central
area which was relatively clear except for a row of containers
standing vertically on end, their lids open to reveal silvery cocoons
like the one they had seen in the freight wagon earlier. Two men
dressed in heavy protective suits with gloves and darkened visors
were manoeuering a bulky apparatus mounted on wheels over to one
of the open containers.
       The Doctor stared keenly at the machine, the two lines running
from his nose to the corners of his mouth deepening with grim
concern. The apparatus consisted of a large central assemblage of
tubes and wires topped by a curious corkscrew antenna; two thick
umbilical cables led from the heart of the machine, ending in large
crocodile clip connectors.
       'Oh my goodness me,' the Doctor murmured, 'I was right.'
       'What is it?' Jamie whispered.
       'It looks like a multiphase bioprojector to me, Jamie.'
       Jamie nodded, as if he were perfectly familiar with such
things.
       The two operatives had finished attaching the ends of the
cables to the centre of the cocoon and they retreated behind a glass
screen fitted to the apparatus and busied themselves with the
complex array of controls and instruments. The antenna started
rotating faster and faster, like a gigantic drill-bit. A low-pitched hum
gradually filled the vast echoing building and rose relentlessly in
pitch and intensity. A faint glow appeared inside the cocoon,
growing stronger as the hum increased.
       The Doctor drew Jamie further back behind the stacks of crates
as the glow became a strobing glare which was almost intolerable to
look at. A vaguely humanoid outline stirred inside the cocoon and a
silver form began to flash with stronger and stronger pulses. Jamie
and the Doctor covered their ears as the pulsating hum became an
unbearable staccato shriek. In a sudden burst of thousands of silver
fibres the cocoon exploded and a huge gleaming figure jerked
spasmodically out of the crate, flashing and sparking.
       Jamie went cold all over and his spine was tickled by a million
icy needles. He gasped as the glittering giant strode forward trailing
shreds of its chrysalis and breathing with a nightmarish mechanical
rasp. He turned to the Doctor as the overwhelming noise quickly died
away and only the monster's heavy rhythmic breath disturbed the
awed silence.
       'Cybermen...!' he whispered, a tremor of disgust rippling
through him as he recalled his brief encounter in the freight wagon.

       With the Brigadier absent on an emergency visit to the
Ministry of Defence, Zoe and Isobel were left in the Operations
Room chatting to Captain Turner, while the other personnel absorbed
themselves in their Taskforce duties.
       'So what do you think will happen now?' asked Zoe.
       'Well, it's not really a UNIT matter now,' Turner explained, 'so
we'll probably hand it all over to the police.'
       Isobel looked disappointed. 'Pity, I could've got some great
pictures and made a bomb selling them to Fleet Street,' she brooded.
       Turner shot her a flirtatious glance. 'Perhaps you'd allow me to
make up for it by buying you dinner,' he suggested gallantly, eyeing
Isobel's long shapely legs appreciatively.
       Isobel looked delighted. 'Why not? Are you stinking rich or
something?' she teased.
         Turner laughed. 'Not on a Captain's pay, I'm not, but money
isn't everything you know.'
         Isobel considered his dark, handsome features. 'No, perhaps it
isn't,' she agreed.
         At that moment the door opened and Sergeant Walters brought
in Jamie and the Doctor. They looked tired and drawn.
         'What happened?' asked Zoe, eagerly running to meet them.
         Jamie put his arm round her shoulder. 'Some auld friends of
ours are back,' he murmured.
         Slightly miffed by Turner's attentions to Isobel, Zoe put her
arm affectionately round Jamie's waist. 'Oh, really?' she grinned.
'Who?'
         'The Cybermen.'
         Zoe looked appalled.
         'I'm afraid there's no doubt about it,' the Doctor confirmed
gloomily. 'I suspected as much some time ago, but I didn't want to
cause unnecessary alarm, my dear.'
         'What on earth are Cybermen?' demanded Isobel.
         'Cybermen are inhuman killers from another galaxy,' the
Doctor informed her gravely, sipping some leftover cold tea with a
preoccupied air.
         Captain Turner floundered out of his depth. 'You mean
they're... well, they're from another world, Doctor?'
         'That must have been their spacecraft on the other side of the
Moon,' Zoe confided to Jamie.
         Isobel giggled nervously. 'What exactly are they? Little green
men?'
         Only Turner smiled with her.
         'I'm serious,' Zoe protested. 'We've met them before. They're
fiendish, sadistic monsters.'
         'Well... where exactly are they now?' Turner demanded,
realising that the three intrepid strangers were in deadly earnest.
         'They are being stockpiled at Vaughn's London headquarters,'
replied the Doctor. 'There could be thousands of them.' He sat down,
shaking his head.
         'So Vaughn must be working with the Cyber Leaders...' Zoe
concluded almost inaudibly.
       The Doctor sighed and nibbled at a curled up sandwich. 'That
deep-space communications installation Jamie and I spotted is no
doubt being used to guide and communicate with a Cyber Fleet,' he
told them.
       Turner whistled. 'So that's what all those UFO things were...
But there's been hundreds of sightings!' he breathed.
       Isobel looked shocked. She turned to the Doctor anxiously.
'How do you think my uncle is involved in all this?' she asked.
       'I don't know yet, my dear,' said the Doctor gently. He turned
sharply to the Captain and asked him where the Brigadier was.
       Turner told him. 'I'd better get onto him immediately at the
MOD and give him your news,' he added breathlessly.
       The Doctor held up a restraining hand. 'Wait a moment,
Captain. I believe that your people discovered that visitors to
Vaughn's headquarters seemed somehow different afterwards?'
       'You think the Cybermen are controlling them?' suggested Zoe.
       'Controlling them?' Turned echoed uneasily.
       Zoe explained that the Cybermen were able to exert control
over human minds but that the victims could appear to be almost
normal.
       'Who is the Brigadier immediately responsible to?' the Doctor
inquired urgently.
       'To Major-General Routledge, Doctor. He's with him now.'
       The Doctor sprang to his feet as if galvanised into activity.
'Contact the Brigadier at once!' he cried. 'We must warn him!'

       The Brigadier was pacing angrily round and round Routledge's
dark and musty office, slapping his brown leather gloves against his
leg, his eyes flashing with indignation.
       'No cause for alarm!' he shouted scornfully. 'Billy, do you
realise that they actually took potshots at a UNIT helicopter?'
       Routledge leaned on his desk, smiling wryly. 'Alistair, your
chaps were trespassing over their restricted area. What do you
expect?'
       'Oh, for heaven's sake, Billy, if Vaughn can't trust my mob
then he must have a skeleton in the cupboard.'
       The Major-General looked up sharply at this, his green eyes
showing a momentary fear. 'I'm sorry. There is no action I can
authorise,' he declared in an official tone.
       Lethbridge-Stewart forced himself to calm down. 'Look, I
know Vaughn's a powerful chap but there should at least be a
discreet inquiry into his organisation,' he proposed reasonably.
       Routledge started to blink rapidly. He mopped his forehead
with a spotted handkerchief and cleared his throat awkwardly. 'It isn't
our province,' he stalled, loosening his club tie and undoing his top
shirt button.
       'Then whose damned province is it?'
       Routledge waved his hands about ineffectually. 'All you've
given me is vague reports, Alistair. No conclusive evidence.'
       This was too much for Lethbridge-Stewart. 'No evidence?' he
shouted incredulously. 'What do you need, Billy? Corpses?
Wreckage?' He stopped, noticing that a sickly pallor had crept over
Routledge's face. 'What's the matter, Billy? Are you all right, old
chap?' he asked with sincere concern.
       Routledge dabbed at his glistening brow again. 'Course I am...
It's nothing...' he mumbled. 'Probably all a terrible misunderstanding.
Leave it with me, Alistair. I'll talk to the Home Office.'
       The Brigadier waved his gloves dismissively. 'Talk's no good.
I want immediate action, Billy.'
       Routledge clutched at his temples and shook visibly.
'Impossible!' he shouted adamantly.
       The Brigadier leaned across the desk, his eyes narrowing
suspiciously. 'What sort of a hold has Vaughn got over you?' he
murmured ominously.
       For a few minutes Routledge remained silent, slumped
awkwardly in his chair. Then he suddenly sprang up. 'Brigadier
Lethbridge-Stewart, your forces will take no action whatsoever
without my personal authorisation!' he hissed dangerously. 'That is
an order.'
       Taken aback by this abrupt transformation, the Brigadier stood
to attention. 'General Routledge, you can override my authority but
not that of UNIT Central Command, sir,' he declared through
clenched teeth. 'I shall telex a full report to Field-Marshal Thatcher in
Geneva and act according to his instructions. Good day, sir.'
       With that, he turned smartly on his heel and strode out,
jamming his cap firmly on his head.
       Routledge sank shakily into his chair. After a while he touched
a button on the videophone and the neat secretary appeared on the
screen.
       'Yes, General?'
       With a supreme effort, Routledge pulled himself together. 'Get
me International Electromatix Head-quarters. Mr Vaughn. Top
priority scramble...' he snapped, struggling to preserve his
composure.

       As Tobias Vaughn, closely followed by Packer, strode
purposefully out of the private elevator into his London office, the
videophone was bleeping urgently on the desk. At Vaughn's touch
the screen flickered and the pale tense features of William Routledge
appeared.
       'This is priority scramble, Vaughn.'
       'Yes, Routledge, what is it?' Vaughn demanded impatiently.
'I'm busy.'
       'Listen, Vaughn, Lethbridge-Stewart's started stirring things up
and I can't prevent him,' Routledge blurted out.
       Vaughn snorted contemptuously. 'Nonsense, pull yourself
together. You have the authority to...'
       'I have no jurisdiction outside this country,' the General
interrupted. 'He's sending a report to UNIT Command in Geneva.
They're bound to investigate. I must say your staff were a bit heavy-
handed.'
       Vaughn threw a furious glance at Packer who was hovering at
the window. 'Listen, Routledge, when will Geneva make a move
against us?'
       The General closed his eyes and pressed his fists against his
temples. 'I think they... I think... they...' he stuttered feebly.
       'What the hell's the matter with the man?' Packer snarled.
       Vaughn ignored him, staring impassively at the videophone
unit. 'Listen to me, Routledge...' he enunciated slowly. 'You will obey
my instructions.'
       Routledge shuddered and opened his eyes. 'Obey your
instructions...' he repeated dutifully.
       'You will leave your office immediately and come here to me.'
       'Come to you...'The tortured face seemed to relax a little, but
the eyes were pitifully confused.
       'Do you understand, Routledge? You will tell no-one.'
       'I understand. No-one. I obey. Now.'
       The screen dazzled into static and went black.
       Packer looked severely shaken. 'What's wrong with him?' he
repeated nervously.
       Vaughn frowned, clearly somewhat disturbed. 'Our control
over him seems to be weakening,' he admitted.
       'But that could be fatal,' Packer protested. 'If he doesn't obey
you then we...'
       Vaughn stood up, quickly regaining his customary bland
manner. 'Oh, he will, Packer, he will,' he murmured confidently.
Then he rounded sharply on his Deputy. 'What concerns me far more,
Packer, is your bungling ineptitude. That is what has precipitated this
whole crisis!'
       Packer opened his mouth to object, but then closed it again and
his resentment seeped away to collect like poisonous pus in a
festering boil.
                            6
                     Secret Weapons
       There was a tense hush in the Operations Room inside the
Hercules while Captain Turner and Sergeant Walters tried to contact
the Brigadier at the Ministry. To their dismay they learned that he
had already left some time ago and that Major-General Routledge
himself was no longer in the building.
       'We're too late, Doctor, the Brig's already seen Routledge,'
Turner reported despondently.
       The Doctor shrugged. 'If I'm right and Routledge is under
Vaughn's control the Brigadier will have had a wasted journey, I'm
afraid.'
       At that moment, Lethbridge-Stewart's voice surprised them. 'I
loathe helicopters,' he boomed from the doorway. 'Utter waste of
time, Doctor,' he announced, striding in and throwing his cap, baton
and gloves onto his desk. 'The man's totally incompetent.'
       The Doctor poured him a mug of strong tea from the vast pot,
sat him down and quickly told him of his suspicions concerning
Vaughn's real activities.
       When he had finished, the Brigadier drank the sugarless tea in
one prodigious gulp. 'This is incredible, Doctor,' he cried.
'Cybermen? Are you quite sure?'
       'No more incredible than the Yeti,' srniled the Doctor.
       'They seem to control some pretty important people,' Zoe
remarked.
       The Brigadier nodded. 'I wonder who else they have besides
poor Billy Routledge. Doesn't give us much of a chance does it,
Doctor?'
       'Unless we can upset their plans before they invade,' the
Doctor speculated. 'But there are so many unknown factors..
       'Like where they're hiding all the Cybermen,' Jamie butted in.
       'That's obvious,' Zoe told him. 'In Vaughn's London
headquarters.'
       'Not enough room,' Jamie objected. 'He's probably got an
underground store or something.'
       Zoe laughed mockingly. 'Oh, really, Jamie...'
       The Doctor had been pouring himself some fresh tea. Suddenly
he banged the heavy pot down. 'Jamie's quite right,' he exclaimed to
everyone's surprise. 'Brigadier, would you by any chance have a map
of the London sewerage system?'
       At a resigned nod from his commander, Turner jumped up and
soon returned with a large plastic sheet.
       The Doctor eagerly swept aside the cluttered tray and
examined the map. 'Ahal' he cried triumphantly. 'You see? There's a
main flood relief channel running right underneath Vaughn's
warehouse. Now, isn't that a coincidence!'
       The Brigadier looked doubtful. 'What about the ah... the water
down there: wouldn't that affect them?'
       The Doctor shook his head. 'Anyway, such a tunnel would
probably be mostly dry except after heavy rainfall,' he declared.
       Isobel giggled. 'So what do we do? Pray for a cloudburst?'
       The Brigadier glanced at her witheringly. 'Please, Miss
Watkins, the future of the world may be at stake,' he scolded.
       'I'm sorry, but it's just such a crazy idea to swallow,' she
chuckled, nudging Zoe.
       'So was the attack by the Yeti, miss. Nevertheless it happened.'
       Captain Turner intervened tactfully. 'With respect, sir, she's
right. If you go to Geneva with this story they'll think you've gone
bananas.'
       Lethbridge-Stewart sighed. 'Yes, Jimmy. We need some
concrete evidence.'
       The Doctor looked up from the map. 'What we need is some
idea of the plan of attack,' he decided. 'Jamie, have you still got that
ghastly little toy Mr Vaughn gave you?'
       Jamie took the miniature radio from his waistcoat pocket and
handed it over reluctantly. The Doctor opened the back and studied
the monolithic circuitry again, muttering to himself in a strange
technical jargon as he fiddled about. Eventually he turned to the
Brigadier, his nostrils dilating as if he was beginning to pick up the
scent of a fruitful investigation.
       'Do you have any equipment here manufactured by
International Electromatix?' he inquried eagerly.
       'Indeed we do, Doctor. Mainframe computers, various radar
and communications components...' _
       'Could I see them at once, please?'
       The Brigadier nodded to Turner.
       'This way, Doctor,' said the Captain, as the Doctor bounded out
of his seat like a terrier. 'What exactly are you looking for?'
       The Doctor grinned enigmatically. 'I don't know until I find it.
A needle in a haystack perhaps!'

       Major-General William Routledge sat hunched in the chair
facing Tobias Vaughn across the gleaming curve of the desk, his
expressionless eyes peering out from his bowed, lolling head. Packer
hovered restlessly behind him.
       'You must tell me,' Vaughn purred. 'How long before UNIT
forces could act against me? How long?'
       There was a brief silence. 'One... maybe two days...' Routledge
said in a ghostly whisper.
       Vaughn sat back with a smile of satisfaction. 'Time enough.'
       Packer stepped forward. 'I don't like this. Suppose they move
faster than that?'
       'Let me do the supposing, Packer!' Vaughn snapped
dangerously.
       His Deputy stared down at their miserable, slumped victim
whom his fingers were itching to torture and subdue. 'Yes, Mr
Vaughn,' he whined submissively.
       'There's a good fellow,' Vaughn smiled. 'Now, just to be on the
safe side we'll conduct a little experiment. Have the Professor's
Cerebration apparatus taken down to the warehouse. I'll join you
there shortly.'
       'What are you going to do?'
       'Wait and see, Packer, wait and see.'
       Packer poked Routledge as though he were a sack of potatoes.
'What about this?'
       'Leave that to me. Now run along, Packer.'
       Smarting under Vaughn's patronising treatment and frustrated
in his desire to deal with Routledge, Packer slowly walked out.
       Vaughn locked all the doors by remote control from his desk.
Then he took out his fountain pen and twisted the top. The wall
opposite the windows parted to reveal the glittering secret machine.
As Vaughn walked over to the alcove, Routledge followed with his
clouded eyes.
       Vaughn gazed unblinking at the buzzing apparatus. 'There are
some unexpected difficulties. We must therefore adjust the plan,' he
informed it.
       'Report the details. We will assess them,' rasped the metallic
voice.
       'We must bring the invasion forward.'
       The machine crackled angrily. 'Our invasion force is not
complete.'
       'Nevertheless, the invasion must begin in thirteen terrestrial
hours time,' Vaughn insisted unflinchingly. 'Otherwise we may face
the combined forces of the entire world.'
       Behind Vaughn, Routledge was now sitting upright, alert and
listening.
       'Your report is being assessed...' the machine announced, its
central crystal revolving busily to and fro.
       'You must accept my judgement or our partnership will
terminate,' Vaughn threatened. 'The invasion will commence at dawn
tomorrow.'
       As Routledge stared at the bizarre and sinister apparatus in the
alcove, his mind rapidly began to clear and a renewed glint of
purpose gleamed in his eyes.
       Vaughn stood his ground fearlessly while the Cyber Unit
consulted with its masters. Eventually it replied in a dry brittle tone.
       'It is agreed. Data will be revised and new schedules
transmitted to you. Discussion terminated.'
       With a victorious, preening toss of the head, Vaughn closed
the shutters and turned round. He found himself staring down the
barrel of a compact revolver.
       'Dear me, Routledge...' he laughed after a momentary
hesitation. 'Are you going to kill me?'
       Routledge steadied himself on his feet and nodded. 'I must,' he
croaked.
       Slowly Vaughn walked towards him. 'But you can't kill me. I
control you.'
       Routledge backed away from him, holding the gun with both
hands. 'I know what you've done to me,' he muttered, 'but I can fight
it now.'
       Vaughn continued his slow advance. 'No, you can't. And even
if you could squeeze that trigger, you wouldn't be able to kill me,' he
murmured almost hypnotically. 'Now turn the gun round and point it
at your chest.'
       Routledge uttered plaintive little whimpering noises as he
watched his trembling hands turning the weapon round towards his
own body. Tears of frustration ran down his cheeks as he fought to
resist Vaughn's implacable will.
       'Now, fire!'
       Routledge's whole body shook with violent tremors, as if it
were acting totally independently of his mind. Vaughn winced as a
deafening crack split the air. Routledge remained standing like a
waxen dummy for several seconds. Then he vomited a stream of
blood and pitched forward onto his face at Vaughn's feet.
       Shaking his head at the mess on the carpet, Vaughn strolled
over to his desk and unlocked the doors.

       Down in the warehouse, teams of technicians in protective
suits were busy activating the lines of cocoons in their open
containers, using portable machines identical to the one which the
Doctor and Jamie had watched at work earlier.
       Packer swaggered in and observed the process critically.
'Come on, get a move on!' he whined. 'Mr Vaughn's ordered a
general shake-up down here.'
       He watched the newest Cyberman glowing and bursting into
life, a gasp of awe escaping from his bloodless lips as the monster
emerged. It stood about two metres high, with a square head from
which rightangled loops of hydraulic tubing protruded on either side.
Its rudimentary face comprised two blank viewing lenses for eyes
and a rectangular slit for a mouth. The broad chest contained a grilled
ventilator unit which hissed nightmarishly. Thick flexible tubing ran
along the arms and down each leg and was connected into a flattened
humplike unit on the creature's back. Faint gasping and whirring
noises inside the silvery body accompanied every movement. The
movements were spasmodic and jerky at first, but gradually they
grew suppler and more human as the creature strode across to take its
place among the assembled ranks of activated Cybermen standing
motionless and silent in row upon row in the centre of the warehouse.
       With a shiver of excitement, Packer marched across to a large
steel panel in the brick end-wall of the building. Opening it with a
special key, he threw several switches in the control box behind the
panel. A section of the warehouse wall began to rotate, slowly
revealing a bare brick chamber about a metre above the floor level of
the warehouse. In the centre of the chamber was a circular well about
two metres in diameter, covered by a domed steel lid hinged at one
side. A short flight of steps led up to the chamber level and a steel
railing ran round the well at hip-height.
       Packer threw more switches and with a grinding hum the
massive lid gradually opened up into the vertical position, locking
itself with a series of echoing clunks. Packer closed the panel and
locked it. Then he walked over and climbed onto the raised platform,
staring down into the fetid darkness. Stout steel ladders clamped to
the mouldering brickwork led down from the rim of the well into a
huge shaft. Eerie sounds echoed up from the darkness and a cold,
dank breeze wafted fitfully into his face. Like an admiral on his poop
deck, Packer grasped the handrail and turned to the ranks of
motionless Cybermen.
       'First Legion,' he snapped. A dozen Cybermen hissed into life
and lumbered heavily forward. 'You have your instructions?' Packer
demanded.
       'Affirmative,' chorused the creatures with an exhalation of
rubbery breath.
       'Phase one. Proceed through tunnels to your allotted sector and
stand by for Phase Two,' Packer ordered, thoroughly enjoying his
newfound powers.
       The Cybermen jerked forward and marched with creaking,
hissing determination up the steps and onto the platform. Then, one
by one, they swung themselves onto the ladders and down into the
shaft. Steadying himself on the handrail, Packer grinned with delight
as he watched the disciplined, obedient monsters disappearing
underground, trying not to retch at the sickly, oily exhalations they
released as they passed him.
        'Second Legion. Proceed,' he commanded, swelling with self-
importance.
        At that moment, Vaughn hurried out of the nearby elevator
followed by Mr Gregory who was struggling with the delicate but
heavy mechanism of the Cerebration Mentor in his scrawny arms.
Vaughn paused for a moment out of sight, watching Packer's antics
with scornful amusement. Then he strode forward.
        'There you are, Packer. Everything going according to plan?'
        'Yes Mr Vaughn,' Packer preened himself.
        'Excellent. Time for our little experiment.'
        Gregory set down the Professor's machine on the steps. 'Mr
Vaughn; sir, I don't think this is wise,' he ventured timidly.
        Vaughn rounded on him. 'It would be even more unwise not to
test,' he hissed under his breath. 'We must be sure that we have an
effective weapon against the Cybermen.'
        Packer looked alarmed. 'You actually intend to use that thing?'
        Ignoring him, Vaughn strode across to the nearest cocoon
awaiting regeneration. 'I am a man of science, Packer, not a cowardly
sadist,' he snapped, motioning to two technicians to connect the
portable bioprojector to the cocoon. 'Now, partially activate. Just
sufficiently to enable it to emerge,' he instructed.
        The technicians started up the process. Within a few seconds
the Cyberman came to life amid a shower of sparks and fibres and
the piercing undulating whine. As soon as' it had broken free they
switched off and the monster froze, halfway out of its container.
Vaughn nodded his approval and gestured to Gregory to prepare the
Cerebration device.
        'Connect up Watkins's little box of tricks,' he said impatiently.
        Reluctantly Gregory plugged two leads into the machine and
then fitted the pads, to which they were connected, on either side of
the creature's head.
       Vaughn took a step or two back as a precaution. 'I'm waiting,'
he prompted.
       Gregory's hands hovered hesitantly over the controls. 'Please,
Mr Vaughn, we don't know what effect this is going to have...' he
pleaded.
       Vaughn cast his eyes to the roof in despair. 'Exactly. That is
precisely why we are conducting this experiment,' he explained
painstakingly. 'Now get on with it, Gregory.'
       'What er... what emotion shall I attempt to induce?' Gregory
mumbled.
       Vaughn considered for a moment. 'Fear, I think. Let's see how
our mighty ally reacts to fear,' he suggested eagerly.
       Gregory selected settings and pressed buttons and then
retreated like a child lighting a firework.
       There was a faint clicking sound and the Cyberman twitched
slightly.
       'Increase power,' Vaughn shouted, his good eye narrowing like
the other as he observed the effect intently.
       The clicks increased in frequency. The Cyberman started to
writhe and clutched at the pads convulsively.
       'More power!' Vaughn yelled.
       'Now it's at maximum...' Gregory shouted, adjusting the
settings and taking refuge behind the nearest stack of containers.
       The clicks ran together into a strident pinging sound. Uttering
grating, guttural cries of distress the Cyberman tore off the pads and
wheeled about, flailing the air with its powerful arms. Packer
whipped out his pistol and emptied the magazine into the Cyberman's
chest, but the shots had no effect and he was sent reeling across the
warehouse by a vicious blow from the monster's fist.
       'I warned you. The device isn't tuned yet...' Gregory screamed.
       The crazed Cyberman suddenly turned and staggered up the
steps into the chamber over the sewer shaft, shrieking like knife
blades scraping against each other.
       'It's following the others into the sewers!' Packer gasped,
hauling himself to his feet in a daze.
       'Let it go,' Vaughn ordered impassively, still standing his
ground as the Cyberman disappeared into the echoing shaft.
       'The thing's gone berserk. It could've killed me!' Packer
blustered, reloading his pistol as he walked unsteadily over to
Vaughn.
       The Director smiled sourly. 'Yes, I think we have established
that Watkins's device can be effective. Get him back to work on it
immediately, Gregory. I want more power and remote directional
control,' he declared.
       The cringing Research Director nodded meekly and set about
disconnecting the lethal machine.
       'But what about that Cyberman? We can't leave it rampaging
about down there,' Packer protested. 'It'll destroy everything in its
path.'
       'Excellent,' Vaughn purred. 'Anyone foolish enough to be
down there deserves to die.'
       With a nod to the awed technicians, Vaughn turned and strode
back to his elevator.

       The Brigadier was getting rather irritated with the incessant
chatter between Zoe, Isobel and Jamie which was disturbing his
concentration while he tried to draft his report for Central Command
in Geneva.
       'If you believe those Cyber things are in the sewers why not go
down and get some proof?' Isobel suggested for the umpteenth time.
       The Brigadier threw down his pen in exasperation. 'And how
do I prove that in the London sewers there lurks an army of robots
from outer space poised to invade us?' he scoffed. 'Go and capture
one?'
       'No need,' Isobel retorted cheerfully. 'Just get some
photographs.'
       The Brigadier considered her for a moment, his annoyance
changing to mild interest. 'Not a bad idea, miss,' he admitted, 'but it's
pitch dark down there.'
       Isobel shrugged this off casually. 'Okay, so you use an infra-
red film with a number 25 filter and telephoto lens. It'd be a cinch.'
       The Brigadier frowned. 'Is that gibberish, or do you know what
you're talking about, miss?'
        'Course I do!' said Isobel indignantly. 'All I need is my camera
from Uncle's friend's house.'
        The Brigadier grunted. 'Oh no, my dear, this would be a job for
our lads.'
        'Of all the cretinous bigoted chauvinists...' spluttered Isobel,
turning to Zoe for support.
        'I'll get in touch with our photoreconnaissance unit...' declared
the Brigadier, marching briskly away.
        Isobel grimaced after him. 'Oh you... you man!' she shouted.
        'Och, he's right,' Jamie muttered.
        Zoe stared at the grinning young Scot in sheer disgust. 'Jamie
McCrimmon, just because you're a man... well, a boy anyway, you
think you're superior.'
        Jamie raised his eyebrows innocently. 'I didn'a say that... but
it's true!'
        Zoe nudged Isobel in sisterly solidarity. 'Righto. Come on,' she
cried.
        Isobel looked nonplussed for a moment, then the penny
dropped. She linked arms with Zoe. 'What a splendid idea,' she
agreed and they moved towards the door at the rear of the Operations
Room.
        Jamie barred their way. 'Hey, now where do ye wee lassies
think ye're going?' he demanded.
        'Should we let him come?' Zoe consulted her new ally. Isobel
grinned. 'Well, men aren't usually much good in such dangerous
situations,' she objected.
        Jamie persisted. 'What are ye up to?'
        'We're off to London to take some photographs,' said Zoe.
'Coming?'
        Jamie looked shocked. 'London? Listen lassie, ye shouldn't go
anywhere without telling the Doctor.'
        Zoe stuck out her chin with characteristic defiance. 'Okay,
Goody Goody. You tell him.'
        She and Isobel pushed Jamie aside and marched out to find the
friendly Transport Corporal and persuade him to arrange a secret lift
for them.
       Jamie hesitated, unsure whether to say anything to the Doctor.
'Och, here we go again...' he muttered at last, trailing uncertainly
after the rebellious females, deter-mined not to be left out...

      Captain Turner crept back into the Operations Computer Room
to find the Doctor still engrossed in a piece of circuitry he had
removed from the mainframe cabinet of the Hercules's central
processor. With a non-committal sigh the Doctor let the
watchmaker's eyeglass drop into his lap.
      'Found something?' Turner asked quietly.
      'Yes!' cried the Doctor confidently. 'And no,' he added, holding
up the circuit from the International Electromatix computer and the
small back panel from Jamie's transistor. 'These two micromonolithic
systems seem to match...'
      'What do they do?'
      The Doctor shook his head with a baffled frown. 'I don't know,
young man, but I do know that they have no useful function in either
your central processor or in Jamie's wireless.'
      Turner waited, hoping for some enlightenment, but the Doctor
brooded silently over the mysterious panels.
      'Why put in a circuit that has no function?' Turner muttered.
      The Doctor stood up, weighing the components thoughtfully in
his hands. 'Oh, they serve a function all right, Captain. I'm convinced
that these monolithic systems have something to do with the
Cybermen. But I need to conduct certain tests...'
      'I'm sure we can arrange whatever facilities you require,'
Turner offered promptly.
      The Doctor thanked him politely. 'However I think I'll find
what I need among Professor Watkins's equipment in Professor
Travers's basement in London if you don't mind,' he said.
      They went through into the Operations Room, where the
Brigadier had just finished briefing his photoreconnaissance unit
over the radiotelephone.
      The Doctor looked around for his three young associates.
'Where are Jamie and Zoe and Isobel...?' he asked in some alarm.
      'No idea,' shrugged the Brigadier, busy at his desk.
       'Excuse me sir,' piped up Sergeant Walters, 'but Corporal
Benton's driven them into London.'
       'Benton's what!' exploded Lethbridge-Stewart.
       'Said they had to get some vital evidence for you, sir.'
       The Brigadier looked appalled. 'Evidence for me? Get Benton
on the R/T immediately,' he shouted.
       The Doctor looked up from the circuits, utterly bewildered.
'What on earth is going on?' he asked plaintively.
       The Brigadier took the Doctor aside. 'I'm sorry, Doctor, but
while my back was turned those crazy kids got it into their heads to
slip back to London to try to obtain photographs of Cybermen... no
doubt from the sewers.'
       The Doctor flapped his arms aimlessly. 'Oh, my goodness me!'
he gasped, completely at a loss.
       The Brigadier fumed silently while he waited for Benton to
make contact. 'Benton? At last. What the devil's going on?' he yelled
into the radiotelephone.
       'Sorry, sir, I thought it was official. The young ladies told me
you'd authorised them to fetch some important photographs from
town so I...'
       'So you succumbed to the charms of the fair sex... as usual,' the
Brigadier shouted acidly. 'Where are they now?'
       'I've just dropped them in the vicinity of Blue Sector One, sir...
corner of Chaplin Street.'
       'That's close to Vaughn's headquarters, sir,' Walters put in
smartly, listening on the extension.
       'Get them back at once!' ordered Lethbridge-Stewart.
       'I'll try, sir, but I'm not sure which way they've gone...' crackled
Benton sheepishly.
       'Then find out, Benton, find out. Otherwise you're in deep
trouble,' the Brigadier threatened, purple cheeked with rage. He
slammed the receiver down and seized Turner's arm. 'You'd better
take a small force to the area, Jimmy, just in case.'
       Turner saluted and hurried out.
       The Doctor pulled himself together. 'I'd better go back to
London with him. I want to do some tests on these circuits,' he
informed the Brigadier. 'They may be connected with the Cybermen.
I'll leave my three young friends in your capable hands, Brigadier...'
And he shuffled out after the Captain.
        'Don't worry, Doctor, we'll find them,' Lethbridge-Stewart
promised. But his face was furrowed with anxious foreboding as he
watched the Doctor depart.
                        7
              Underground Operations
       The eerily flickering pinpoints of light in the crystal cast a
macabre pattern over Vaughn's and Packer's faces as they listened to
the Cyber Unit rasping in its alcove.
       'One hour before Invasion the Cyber transmitter units will be
launched into Earth orbit. Transmission will penetrate to all areas
with immediate effect...' it croaked with sinister detachment.
       'And if it doesn't work?' Vaughn inquired calmly.
       The Cyber Unit sparked menacingly. 'Humans cannot resist
Cyber control. Cyber forces will select suitable humans for
conversion. Unsuitable humans will be eliminated,' it announced.
       Packer glanced anxiously at Vaughn. 'Conversion into
Cybermen?' he breathed.
       'Affirmative.'
       Vaughn's face betrayed a hint of vulnerability. 'This is not as
we agreed,' he murmured.
       'It has been decided,' rasped the machine.
       'No!' rapped Vaughn. 'We agreed that I should remain in
control of the Earth and supply the minerals you require. You will
honour our agreement, otherwise there will be no invasion.' His pale
eyes were filled with a wild fire.
       The Cyber Unit oscillated with ominous precision. 'To retain
such control you must complete your conversion, Vaughn. You must
become one of us.'
       Vaughn shook his head vehemently. 'No. My body may be
cybernetic but my mind will remain human,' he vowed.
       Packer trembled in the shadows as the machine stopped
flickering and there was a long, tense silence. Vaughn waited,
outwardly calm but inwardly strung like a piano wire.
       Eventually the Cyber Unit sparked into life again. 'It has been
agreed. Discussion terminated,' it croaked, falling silent and still.
       Vaughn twisted the pen cap in his pocket and the alcove closed
up again.
       'You're taking a terrible, terrible risk opposing them,' Packer
whispered shakily.
       Vaughn chuckled drily. 'My dear Packer, they need me. I know
they'll try to take control away from me once the invasion is
completed, but they don't know about the Cerebration Machine, do
they? That's our trump card.'
       Packer looked scared and sceptical. 'How do we know the
Cyber transmissions won't affect us as well?' he challenged.
       Vaughn smiled complacently, his silver hair shining in the
fading light. 'We shall be protected by the implanted shielding
capsules,' he reminded him, tapping the back of his neck. 'You see
I've thought of everything, Packer. Everything.'

      In the deserted back street, Jamie heaved at the heavy manhole
cover while Zoe and Isobel, with her photographic gear slung around
her neck, looked on admiringly. At last the iron cover shifted and
swung open with a tremendous clang. Mopping his glistening face,
Jamie knelt and peered into the gloom.
      'Third time lucky,' he gasped thankfully.
      'Okay, down you go,' Zoe prompted.
      Jamie hesitated. 'Och, at least let's contact the Doctor first,' he
pleaded.
      'Scared, Jamie?' Zoe twinkled.
      He glared at her. 'All right, lassie, just you wait,' he muttered,
lowering himself into the manhole and clambering down the rusty
metal ladder set into the shaft.
      Zoe winked at Isobel and followed him down.
      Just as Isobel followed suit, she heard a shout in the distance.
A young policeman was striding rapidly along the street towards
them.
      'It's the fuzz!' she warned, scrambling onto the ladder and
disappearing into the sewer.
      The constable broke into a run, shouting to her to stop.
Reaching the manhole he called into the dank darkness after them:
'What are you doing down there, you young idiots? Come on out or
I'll be down there after you!'
        At the bottom of the deep shaft the intrepid trio huddled
together listening helplessly as the policeman's threats echoed down
the tunnels.
        'If he goes on like this we'll have every Cyberman in the area
on top of us...' moaned Jamie.
        'If there are any,' Isobel giggled nervously.
        Zoe grasped each of them by the arm. 'I think there's
something along that tunnel,' she warned.
        Isobel opened her camera case and fiddled with the telephoto
lens attachment. 'I can't see anything... but just in case...' she
murmured bravely.
        Jamie peered in the direction Zoe had indicated. 'I think
perhaps we should get out of here,' he advised in a quavering voice.
        But Zoe led them both determinedly forward into the damp
darkness. 'This is what we came for,' she reminded them.
        They soon reached a junction. Zoe chose a branch of the fork
and cautiously crept forward with the other two trailing timidly
behind her. Suddenly Zoe stopped. 'Yes, I was right,' she whispered.
'Look there.'
        They strained to see along the oval, brick-lined sewer with just
a trickle of water in the bottom. A vague shape was just discernible
by another junction.
        'You kids come on out,' called the constable from the shaft.
'Stop mucking around.'
        'Och, ah wish he'd shut up,' Jamie grunted, clenching his teeth
to stop them chattering.
        There was a chilling silence. The dim shape stirred. Hissing
and high-pitched bubbling sounds echoed along the tunnel as the
Cyberman turned and started lumbering towards them.
        'Fantastic!' gasped Isobel, adjusting the settings and hastily
clicking the shutter button.
        Jamie clutched Zoe's cold hand. 'Come on, let's get out.'
        But Zoe seemed rooted to the spot, staring at the lurching
silver figure as its warm, acrid breath wafted past them.
       'Wait,' Isobel begged. 'I must get a close up... This is absolutely
marvellous.'
       'Where are you?' yelled the policeman from somewhere behind
them.
       Isobel's shutter whirred incessantly. She seemed fearless and
utterly fascinated by the advancing apparition.
       Jarnie could stand it no longer. He grabbed the girls by the
hand and started dragging them back to the shaft. 'Will ye come
away? Ye don't know what yon things can do to a body,' he muttered
at Isobel.
       Every few steps, Isobel turned and shot a few more frames of
the huge creature creaking and hissing behind them.
       'What's that...Who... who are you...?' they heard the policeman
yelling ahead of them.
       Next moment two vivid flashes of light sizzled in the distance.
A dreadful scream tore into their ears and froze them to the spot.
       'The... policeman...' gasped Isobel in the awful silence.
       'Cybermen must have killed him,' Zoe muttered.
       'Killed him?' Isobel quavered, as if suddenly it was no longer
all a kind of game.
       The grating and rasping sounds were coming at them from
both directions now. Jamie whipped round. The pursuing Cyberman
was staggering drunkenly towards them.
       'We're trapped,' he gasped. 'They've got us.'
       'What can we do?' Isobel screamed, breaking into a hysterical
shaking.
       Jamie pushed the girls into the other arm of the junction they
had reached and shielded them with his body as the Cyberman began
screeching and wildly flailing as if striking at an invisible foe: He
closed his eyes and waited for the searing blast from the monster's
laser units. But the maddened Cyberman lurched past them as if they
were not there and disappeared in the direction of the shaft.
       They gazed after it in amazement.
       'It ignored us...' murmured Zoe, trembling with relief. 'Aye,'
Jamie gulped. 'It looked almost mad.'
       'It was frightened,' said Isobel, calming down, 'just like us...'
       Corporal Benton stood indecisively beside his jeep staring into
the open manhole, his stomach turning at the smell of burnt human
flesh rising from the shaft and his ears ringing with the policeman's
dying screams. A second jeep carrying Captain Turner, a sergeant
and two privates rounded the corner and squealed to a halt next to
him. Benton gave Turner a brief report and Turner immediately led
his squad cautiously down the rickety metal rungs into the shaft.
       They averted their faces as Turner's flashlight picked out the
young constable's scorched remains a few metres along the tunnel.
The gaping terror-stricken face was puckered like shrivelled
polythene.
       Turner called out softly at first, then more loudly:
'McCrimmon... Zoe... Miss Watkins... Can you hear me? This is
Captain Turner.'
       The flashlight beam showed the empty tunnel curving
gradually into the distance. There was no response.
       'Reckon they've copped it as well, sir?' asked the sergeant
quietly.
       Turner began to advance slowly. 'These tunnels are a maze.
They could be anywhere...' he whispered. Then he stopped abruptly.
'I think there's someone up ahead.'
       Next moment the five men uttered a chorus of astonished
gasps as two silver figures stalked into view round the curve.
       'Blimey... what the 'ell are they?' exclaimed the sergeant as five
safety catches snapped off in unison. 'Hold your fire!' Turner ordered
calmly. 'Move back slowly. I think we've found our evidence.'

       Isobel tried to wrench free from Jamie's restraining grasp. 'But
it's my dolly soldier,' she insisted. 'At least let's tell him we're here.'
       Jamie was adamant. 'Wait, there are Cybermen between us.
We daren't give ourselves away.'
       'The next lot might not be so shortsighted,' Zoe pointed out
wryly.
       They listened. The Cybermen's terrible tramping seemed to
recede in the direction of Turner's voice.
       'I do hope James is not alone...' Isobel murmured with a shiver.
       The squad backed away from the looming aliens as they
advanced, hissing and whirring menacingly.
       'Grenades, Sergeant...' Turner whispered.
       The sergeant unhitched three grenades from his belt and
carefully handed them round.
       'Do not resist!' one of the Cybermen suddenly warned in a
grating voice. 'You will obey instructions.'
       'What must we do?' Turner answered steadily, gesticulating
behind his back.
       'Pins out,' whispered the sergeant. 'Ready, sir.'
       'You will come with us. Obey or we shall destroy you.'
       All at once the two Cybermen swung round as the guttural
cries of the berserk third Cyberman suddenly erupted behind them.
       'Now!' Turner breathed.
       The sergeant and the privates hurled the primed grenades down
the tunnel and the squad threw themselves face down on the slimy
brick floor. The grenades rolled among the feet of the Cybermen as
two of them grappled with the crazed newcomer. Three explosions
followed in rapid succession and the sewer filled with smoke and
flying fragments.
       As the smoke cleared, the incredulous soldiers saw the crazed
alien lurching to its feet. It seemed indestructible as it jerked
inexorably towards them, screeching metallically. 'Get it, Perkins!'
yelled the sergeant.
       Private Perkins fumbled desperately with the pin of a fourth
grenade. Just as he yanked it out, the Cyberman's laser unit strobed
with a blinding blue light. Perkins threw up his arms and staggered
backwards, his uniform ablaze and his frozen face a treacly mask.
The primed grenade clattered along the tunnel towards the crouching
squad. Diving forward, Turner seized it and flung it back at the
advancing Cyberman. The grenade exploded in the monster's chest
unit and thick black fluid pumped copiously out of the severed tubes
as part of the tunnel roof collapsed onto its head.
       While the sergeant attended to Perkins, Captain Turner
cautiously approached the three prone aliens half-buried under the
smoking rubble. He could still hear the faint sound of strangled
mechanical breathing. He shouted urgently into the darkness.
       'Jamie... Zoe... Isobel... If you can hear me come out quickly...'
       To his relief he heard a faint cry of acknowledgement from
Isobel. 'There's not much time,' he yelled. 'Quick as you can this
way!'
       'Perkins is dead, sir,' reported the sergeant. 'Harris copped a
shrapnel splinter in the shoulder.'
       'Right, get him out of here,' Turner ordered, covering the still
breathing Cybermen with his machine pistol while Benton and the
sergeant manhandled Harris to the manhole shaft.
       'Get a move on, you idiots...' Turner shouted, peering into the
tunnel as one of the Cybermen's hands started twitching
spasmodically.
       Eventually he heard running footsteps and the three fugitives
suddenly appeared round the curve shouting excitedly.
       ' James... thank goodness you're...'
       'Shut up and get out of here,' Turner snapped, jerking his head
towards the shaft.
       Isobel scowled. 'Well, there's no need to be so rude!' she
retorted.
       'I've already lost one good man because of you lot and I don't
want to lose any more,' Turner said, bundling them roughly past the
gasping Cybermen and the hideous corpse of Private Perkins.
       'See any more behind you?' he asked Jamie as the girls
clambered up the ladder.
       'No,' Jamie mumbled shamefacedly.
       'Well, give me a hand with Perkins's body,' Turner snapped,
'And watch out. Those Cyber things are still breathing.'
       Jamie helped sling the corpse over Turner's shoulder and
started to follow him painfully slowly up the ladder to the street.
       Suddenly there was a croaking roar from below. Jamie looked
down and saw the glinting figure of one of the Cybermen shaking
itself free from the rubble and lumbering towards the shaft. Above
him, Turner was just struggling out of the manhole helped by Benton
and the sergeant. Jamie scrambled up the ladder for dear life, but just
as he reached the surface his ankle was seized in a crushing grip.
Screaming with pain and panic, he fought to free his foot. Benton
and Turner each took an arm and tried to drag him clear, while the
sergeant knelt down and smashed the Cyberman again and again on
the head with a rifle butt.
       At last the weakened Cyberman released its grip and Jamie
was hauled out. Then the sergeant dropped a grenade into the
Cyberman's arms and he and Benton heaved the heavy iron manhole
cover back into place. The thick plate shook as a muffled explosion
spurted smoke round its edges. They all watched the manhole cover
in the ensuing silence. It did not stir.
       'I don't believe it,' gasped the sergeant. 'Them things are almost
indestructible.'
       Turner glanced over at the jeep where Zoe and Isobel were
making Private Harris comfortable. 'Maybe, but we're not,' he
snapped, helping Jamie to hobble. 'Let's get out of here.'

       As the Doctor poked among the monolithic circuitry with two
probes, frowning unhappily at the wavering traces on the
oscilloscope beside him, he didn't notice the Brigadier quietly enter
the makeshift laboratory in the basement of Professor Travers's
London house.
       'Any success, Doctor?'
       'Ah, Brigadier. Not yet I fear. There's an alien logic in these
circuits, but I haven't managed to work it out yet,' smiled the Doctor,
rubbing his tired eyes.
       Lethbridge-Stewart yawned. 'The Watkins girl's just
developing her snapshots upstairs. I'm taking a full report to Geneva
in the morning.'
       'How long will that take?'
       'Depends. Should get some action in a day or two.'
       The Doctor stared dubiously at the oscilloscope screen. 'That
could be too late,' he warned glumly.
       Just then Isobel burst in waving some large photo-graphic
prints still dripping wet. Zoe and Jamie followed.
       'There you are, Brig! Aren't they beauties?' Isobel cried, laying
the black and white prints out on the bench.
       The Brigadier glanced at the greyish, blurred shapes
unenthusiastically. 'Er... Well done, Miss Watkins...' he muttered,
turning back to the Doctor.
        'What's wrong with them?' Isobel demanded in a wounded
tone.
       The Brigadier attempted a conciliatory smile. 'I don't want to
hurt your professional pride, Miss Watkins, but to be honest they
look a little like... well, fakes.'
       'But they're Cybermen,' Jamie protested. 'Anyone can see that,
ye Sassenachl'
       The Brigadier smiled condescendingly. 'You can because
you've seen them before. But I have to convince a bunch of sceptical
international defence experts.'
       All at once the Doctor leaped up like a Jack-in-the-box. 'Yes,
of course...' he cried.
       'What?' Zoe asked eagerly.
       But the Doctor sat down again just as abruptly, resuming his
tinkering without another word.

       Vaughn and Packer stood in the subdued light of the
suspended spherical lamps, looking out at the lights of the city under
the darkening sky.
       'It was definitely a UNIT force. They destroyed two
Cybermen,' reported Packer despondently.
       'How clever of them,' purred Vaughn.
       'But they got out alive, sir. The authorities will know by now,'
Packer whined.
       Vaughn shrugged disinterestedly. 'They are powerless to stop
us. In a few hours the invasion will be completed. We shall control
all that...' he murmured, gesturing expansively through the window.
       A buzzer sounded.
       'That will be Gregory. The Professor's machine must be ready,
sir.'
       'Excellent. Let them in, Packer.'
       Gregory entered, followed by Professor Watkins carrying his
Cerebration Mentor like a precious baby. It looked lighter and more
compact and the earphone pads had been replaced by a long,
narrowly tapering horn.
       'We've added narrow bandwidth transducers to focus the
output directionally,' Gregory announced, as the Professor placed the
device on Vaughn's desk and turned his back on it.
       'This is sheer madness,' Watkins shouted. 'That machine is now
a deadly weapon.'
       'I compliment your efficiency,' Vaughn murmured, examining
the device approvingly.
       'Those modifications were totally unnecessary,' Watkins
protested, blinking unhappily behind his thick glasses.
       'For your purposes perhaps, Professor. But I have a somewhat
different use for your little gadget.'
       Watkins rounded on his tormentor. 'Do what you will. It's
yours. Now just give me my niece and let us go free.'
       Vaughn laughed urbanely. 'My dear fellow, your niece is
already at liberty and no doubt sitting comfortably at home.' He
turned to his Chief Researcher. 'Now Gregory, how does one operate
this thing?'
       'Isobel free? I don't believe you!' Watkins whimpered, realising
his utter helplessness now.
       'Careful, Mr Vaughn,' Gregory, warned, as Vaughn picked up
the device and pointed it at Watkins. 'Dangerous is it?' Vaughn
sneered, pressing a sequence of switches.
       Watkins backed away, wide-eyed with terror. 'Don't... don't
point it...' he beseeched him.
       'Do you know what fear is?' Vaughn taunted as the machine
began emitting its evil clicking sounds, rising rapidly to a piercing
whistle.
       Watkins shut his eyes and pressed his hands over his ears,
moaning pitifully.
       'Mr Vaughn, you could kill him!' Gregory warned, trying to
intervene. Packer held him back, watching the torture with excited
eyes.
       'We must make sure he's done his work thoroughly,' Vaughn
laughed, increasing the power so that the whistling rose even higher.
       Watkins's glasses fell off his nose as he writhed and cowered
against the wall, his kindly eyes popping widely open as he focussed
on some imaginary horror. He started punching wildly at the air as if
warding off some loathsome attacker and then uttered strangled
squeaks of submission. Impassively Vaughn watched the cringing
old man slide down the wall to his knees, sobbing with fear. Then he
switched off the machine and put it back on the desk.
       'Most effective,' he beamed. 'I congratulate you, Professor.
Such a pity we cannot test it at full strength. However, we have
further need of your expertise.'
       Watkins peered blindly up at him, foaming at the lips and
trembling with shock.
       Vaughn turned to Gregory. 'You will take the Professor back to
the complex immediately. I want these devices on the production
lines at once.'
       Packer yanked the old man to his feet and shoved his glasses
back onto his nose.
       'You force me to work for you, Vaughn,' Watkins suddenly
burst out in a hoarse whisper. 'You are an evil man. I pity you, but
given the chance I shall kill you.'
       Vaughn gazed at the hunched figure, momentarily
disconcerted by his victim's impassioned threat. 'Kill me, Professor?'
he mocked. 'Would you really?'
       Watkins nodded vigorously.
       Vaughn walked over and took Packer's machine pistol out of
its holster. He thrust it into Watkins's hand. 'What are you waiting
for?' he laughed, slapping the old man's tear-stained cheek. 'Shoot
me!'
       Watkins stared at the gun, then at Vaughn in bewilderment.
       'Shoot me!' Vaughn shouted, sending Watkins reeling with
another vicious slap before walking away a few paces and turning.
       Recovering his balance, the Professor fired a burst. Shots
smashed into lamps and a video screen.
       Vaughn shook his head derisively. 'Surely you can do better
than that?' he taunted. 'Try again.'
       Racked with conflicting emotions, Watkins hesitated. Then he
took careful aim and fired again. Several holes appeared in Vaughn's
jacket and shirt as bullets ricochetted round the office. Vaughn threw
back his head and laughed at Watkins's incredulous stare.
      'Take him away and get the device into production!' he cried,
casually flicking the torn shreds of cloth off his jacket.

       In Travers's basement the Doctor was still struggling to solve
the riddle of the monolithic circuitry. Jamie was fast asleep in an old
armchair with his injured foot propped on a cushion, while Jimmy
Turner sat sleepily by his portable radiotelephone unit on the
workbench.
       Isobel brought in some tea and shortcake biscuits and sat down
beside him. 'Am I forgiven?' she asked.
       Turner grinned. 'Not really your fault, I suppose,' he
murmured, patting her hand.
       'I just didn't realise about the Cybermen...' Isobel explained.
'I've been listening to Zoe telling the Brigadier all about them for his
report.'
       Turner shook his head in amazement. 'We hit 'em with four or
five grenades and one still survived! I'd hate to have to tackle a
whole army of the things.'
       Suddenly the Doctor threw down the circuits in despair. 'No,
no, no,' he muttered, rubbing his bleary eyes irritably as he rose and
walked about restlessly.
       'What's the matter?' Jamie gasped, waking with a start and
wincing at the pain in his ankle.
       The Doctor ignored him, absently picking up Turner's tea and
sipping it deep in thought again.
       At that moment the radiotelephone bleeped. Turner answered
it, asking Isobel to fetch the Brigadier.
       'What's the flap?' asked Lethbridge-Stewart, taking the
receiver.
       'Benton reported from Blue Sector One, sir,' Sergeant Walters's
voice informed him mushily. At 2130 hours he saw two security
guards and another man leaving the IE Headquarters with Professor
Watkins. He's on their tail now.'
       'We could intercept and release the Professor, sir,' suggested
Turner listening on the extension.
       Isobel looked anxiously at the Brigadier.
       He frowned. 'I don't like the idea, Jimmy,' he said after a pause.
      'Oh come on! Please!' Isobel begged him, clutching his sleeve.
      The Doctor cleared his throat noisily. 'Brigadier, the Professor
might be able to help me solve this problem,' he said, waving the two
monolithic circuits.
      The Brigadier looked unhappy at the risk of further trouble
before his mission to UNIT Command in Geneva.
      'It could be a vital chance for a breakthrough,' the Doctor urged
him.
      Lethbridge-Stewart considered the two earnest faces. Finally
he relented. 'All right. It's your show, Jimmy, but be careful,' he said
reluctantly.
      Isobel hugged him and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek.
      'Tell Benton to stay with them. I'll contact him en route. I'm on
my way, Sergeant,' rapped Turner into the receiver.
      'Vaughn's lot know we mean business now,' the Brigadier
warned him. 'They won't be playing games.'
      'Neither will I, sir!' Turner promised and he dashed out with
Isobel staring admiringly after him.
      The Brigadier, still blushing from the kiss, reached across and
handed the plate to Isobel. 'Care for a biscuit?' he asked gallantly.

       An owl hooted somewhere in the nearby trees. Turner and
three UNIT soldiers sat tensely in their jeep at the deserted
crossroads, listening to Benton's regular reports on the radio giving
the position of the International Electromatix company car carrying
Gregory and Professor Watkins back to the factory complex. Thin
trails of cloud scudded across the Moon, giving it a covert, lurking
appearance high above them.
       'About a kilometre from your position now, sir,' Benton
suddenly blurted.
       'Go!' snapped Turner to his driver. The jeep swept out of the
side lane and drew across the narrow road, completely blocking it.
The driver cut the engine and the lights and the four men whipped
out their pistols and jumped into the surrounding hedgerows.
       Twenty seconds later, a set of powerful headlights sliced the
darkness, followed by another, some distance behind but gaining
rapidly. The International Electromatix car screamed to a halt a few
metres from the jeep. As one of Vaughn's men got out to investigate,
the UNIT force emerged with levelled pistols and challenged him.
The man yelled something and the limousine started reversing, but
Benton's Jaguar roared up behindand cut off its retreat. Another man
jumped out and they both opened fire on Turner's squad. While the
UNIT squad fired back, Professor Watkins opened the rear door of
the limousine and scuttled towards the undergrowth along the lane.
Gregory leaped out after him and raised a revolver at his back.
Before he could shoot the Professor, Benton fired from his car and
Gregory fell dead on the grass verge. At the same instant, Turner's
advancing force killed one of the Professor's escort and the other one
fled into the woods and got away.
       Turner ushered the shocked and dazed Professor gently into
the Jaguar and he and Benton drove him swiftly back to London with
the rest of the squad escorting them in the jeep.

        In Vaughn's darkened office Packer was smacking his bony
fists together with impotent rage.
        'It was a UNIT group again,' he fumed, his mean eyes
glittering malevolently at his master. 'I warned you, but you ignored
me.'
        'Still sceptical, Packer?' Vaughn inquired calmly, reclining in
his chair with his eyes closed.
        'Well, what can we do now?' Packer whined. 'We've only got
one machine. Now they've got Watkins back and Gregory's dead we
can't manufacture any more, can we?'
        If Tobias Vaughn was at all worried by the recent kidnapping
he betrayed no sign of disquiet. 'Once Cyber Control is transmitting
the coercion signal the Doctor and his friends will be utterly
helpless,' he reminded Packer. 'You'll be able to pick them up and
enjoy your revenge. Can I trust you to accomplish that?'
        Packer stared at Vaughn's shadowy figure with gnawing
hatred. 'Of course!' he snapped petulantly.
        'Good.' Vaughn glanced at his luminous digital watch. 'Now, I
suggest that you get some rest,' he murmured. 'There remain just five
and one half hours until the invasion begins...'
                               8
                            Invasion
       Professor Watkins gratefully drank several cups of tea,
clutching his niece's hand with affectionate relief. Then he nibbled at
a biscuit and gazed in bewilderment at the ringof faces around him.
       'I know nothing,' he admitted regretfully, 'nothing at all.'
       The Doctor sighed dejectedly. 'You've no idea what these
micromonolithic circuits are for, Professor?' he asked for the third or
fourth time.
       'I'm sorry, Doctor,' Watkins smiled feebly. 'I don't even know
why Vaughn wanted me to adapt my machine.'
       'You say he intends to mass produce them?' mused the Doctor.
       Watkins nodded wearily and hugged Isobel again.
       The Brigadier was baffled. 'Why should Vaughn need such a
weapon if he's already got the Cybermen?'
       The Doctor suddenly perked up. 'Professor, you say you
adapted your device to induce excessive emotional responses...?'
       Watkins nodded and hung his head in shame.
       The Doctor stood up and walked round and round the cluttered
bench. 'Emotion is alien to Cyber neurosystems,' he reflected.
'Perhaps it could be used to incapacitate or even destroy them... Yes,
Vaughn obviously plans to use the machine against the Cybermen
once he has no further use for them.' He gazed at his silent audience
excitedly, then he hurried to the bench and picked up the circuits
from the Hercules computer and from Jamie's radio. 'Of course.
Emotional Induction. How could I have been so stupid? No wonder
the circuits aren't logical!'
       Professor Watkins jumped up as if infused with new life and
joined the Doctor at the bench. The two of them started muttering
together and examining the circuits through magnifying glasses,
totally oblivious of everyone else.
       The Brigadier consulted his watch. 'Heavens, I must get back
to the Hercules,' he exclaimed. 'I'm leaving at dawn for Geneva.
Contact me at once it the Doctor comes up with anything, Jimmy,' he
ordered and strode briskly out.
      Zoe and Jamie glanced across at the bench. The Doctor and
Watkins were deep in animated discussion over the oscilloscope.
Jamie yawned cavernously and settled himself back in the armchair.
'Wake me if anything happens, Zoe,' he mumbled and closed his
eyes.
      Zoe gaped at him in disgust. 'You're incredible,' she exclaimed.
'You'd sleep through anything. For all we know, the Cybermen might
be lurking beneath us at this very moment!'

       Frantically Jamie struggled to shake himself free as the
repulsive creature began to devour his foot. He woke with a start to
find that Zoe was tugging his arm.
       'Quick, Jamie, the Doctor's discovered something!' she cried.
       On the wall the Doctor had sketched a large diagram showing
the Earth ringed by a number of satellites and the Moon with the
Cyber mother-craft on its hidden side. Professor Watkins, Isobel,
Zoe, Jamie and Captain Turner gathered round as he explained his
theory with mounting excitement. He drew a dotted line from the
Cyber craft round the Moon to the side facing the Earth.
       'Now, they'll move round and their transmitters will hunt for
the frequencies used by these satellites,' the Doctor told them. 'The
satellites will then boost their signals and relay them to Earth...'
       'And the signals will activate these micromonolithic circuits,'
put in the Professor, holding one up.
       'Exactly,' resumed the Doctor. 'These circuits are artificial
nerve networks and once activated by the Cyber signals they will no
doubt induce the hypnotic force being used to control the humans
already in their power.' The Doctor held up the back of Jamie's radio.
'There must be hundreds of thousands of these circuits in
International Electromatix components all over the world,' he
concluded gravely.
       'So everyone will come under their control,' Zoe murmured.
       There was a shocked silence.
       'Is there nothing we can do?' Turner asked earnestly. Zoe
clicked her fingers. 'The depolariser, Doctor!' she cried.
      The Doctor beamed at her. 'Exactly, Zoe. What a good
memory you've got.' He turned to the others. 'Fixed to the back of the
neck, the depolariser can jam the control signals,' he explained.
      'Neuristors!' cried Professor Watkins, turning to a large
cardboard box filled with oddments. 'I think I've got a few here
somewhere..
      'Splendid!' cried the Doctor, rubbing his hands together and
springing to life again. 'Zoe, you help the Professor to make us some
depolarisers. We'd better arm ourselves with immunity immediately.'
He turned to the Captain. 'What time is it?' he demanded.
      'Four in the morning, sir.'
      'Please call the Brigadier on the radio. I'd better talk to him at
once. The invasion could begin at any time!'
      Within a few seconds the basement had been transformed into
a hive of activity as the Doctor and his friends began the race to stop
Vaughn and his alien allies from conquering the Earth.

       The only sound in Vaughn's dimly-lit office was his calm
rhythmic breathing as he lay tilted hack in his chair, his lazy eye half
open in macabre vigilance, the other peacefully shut. Suddenly a
strident bleeping brought him instantly awake. He took up his
fountain pen and twisted the cap. The wall obediently parted,
exposing the wide-awake Cyber Module whirring and prickling with
intense light in the alcove.
       'All is prepared?' it demanded.
       'Of course,' answered Vaughn from the shadows.
       'Invasion Zero will be one Earth hour from now. Countdown
will commence now.'
       'How melodramatic...' Vaughn smiled to himself as a regular
electronic pulse started marking the seconds off one by one.
       'We are moving into position to transmit the coercion signal.
Transmission will commence in thirty minutes.'
       'Yes, yes, yes, I'm well aware of the schedule,' Vaughn
muttered sarcastically to himself, closing his eyes again.
       Just then, Packer slipped noiselessly into the room from the
private elevator. Vaughn swivelled in his chair. 'A few minutes,
Packer... A few minutes and I shall control the entire planet,' he
whispered, gazing out over the lights of the capital.
      Packer glanced at the pulsing luminescent machine. 'You?' he
murmured doubtfully. 'Are you sure of that?'
      Vaughn's chair spun round to face him. 'Quite certain, Packer,'
he snapped. 'Quite certain.'

       The Doctor had done his best to explain to the Brigadier on the
radiotelephone the exact procedure for constructing the vital
depolariser jamming device.
       'You must get them fitted immediately,' he repeated. 'If your
technicians need any more advice just contact us here.'
       'I'll get all my boffins on to it at once,' Lethbridge-Stewart
assured him. 'Over and out.'
       'Over and... and all that,' the Doctor muttered. He hurried back
to the bench where Zoe and the Professor were hard at work making
masses of fiddly connections. 'How many have you managed to
knock together?' he inquried anxiously.
       'Only five so far,' Zoe admitted. 'We can't find enough of those
neuristor things.'
       The Doctor looked worried. 'There must be some more among
all this junk... er, this equipment,' he said, starting to rummage
frantically in the boxes littering the bench and piled underneath it.
'We've got to make enough for everyone here at least.'
       Upstairs in the makeshift studio, Isobel had opened the blinds
and was looking at the pale rose sky heralding the sunrise over the
city.
       'Penny for them,' whispered Jimmy Turner, appearing at her
side.
       She smiled wistfully. 'It's great. It all looks so peaceful.'
       Turner agreed. 'Perhaps the Doctor's wrong about the invasion
after all,' he suggested unconvincingly.
       Isobel looked doubtful as she fingered the small cluster of
transistors and wires taped to the back of her neck. 'He's been dead
right so far,' she reminded him.
       They watched a milkman making his deliveries to the houses
opposite and a paperboy whistling as he cycled along the street. Then
all at once they glanced uneasily at one another and Turner
instinctively put his arm round Isobel's shoulder. The air seemed
suddenly dry and brittle. A feeling of nausea swept over them and
they felt a dull pain behind the eyes. A sudden crash outside made
them look out again. Several milkbottles had shattered on the
pavement and the roundsman was clutching his head and staring up
into the sky. The paperboy took his hands off the handlebars and
clapped them to his ears. Wobbling drunkenly, he careered across the
street and crashed into the milk float. They heard a cry and heavy
thump from the basement and then Zoe screamed.
       They dashed out and down the steps under the stairs.

       The Doctor was staggering round and round the basement in
smaller and smaller circles with Jamie clinging to his arms in an
attempt to prevent him injuring himself. At the bench, Professor
Watkins was feverishly connecting some tiny wires with a soldering-
iron.
       Zoe glanced up as Isobel and the Captain rushed in. 'The
Doctor hasn't been fitted with his depolariser yet,' she cried
anxiously.
       The Doctor groaned with pain and collapsed in Jamie and the
Captain's arms. They lowered him gently to the floor where he lay
deathly still, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling.
       'Hurry up, Professor... please hurry...' Zoe pleaded.
       Watkins bustled over to them with the depolariser. They turned
the Doctor over and Zoe carefully taped the lash-up to the back of his
neck. Abruptly the Doctor went rigid with a spasmodic shudder.
       'Doctor... Doctor, are you all right...?' Zoe cried, loosening his
collar.
       The Doctor lay prostrate, his breathing snatched and rapid and
his eyes glazed over. They watched anxiously for some sign of
revival. A tremendous crash from the street sent Isobel running back
up to the studio.
       A bus with a few writhing, goggle-eyed early morning
passengers aboard had crashed into the milk float and steam was
hissing from its ruptured radiator in a white jet. Then Isobel saw
something that chilled her to the marrow. A heavy manhole cover in
the middle of the street was suddenly flung into the air and it rolled
clanging into the gutter. A gleaming silver figure clambered out of
the sewer and stood with legs apart, swinging its masklike face to
and fro in search of victims. It was followed by several more
Cybermen and the group of malevolent giants strode off like figures
in a nightmare, their blank eyes gaping and their slit mouths giving
their faces a sinister, frozen smile as their thick, stubby fingers
grabbed viciously at the air.
       Isobel was transfixed for a few seconds by the awesome
spectacle. Then she ran back down the steps into the basement.
       The Doctor was sitting up and groggily massaging his temples.
-
       'The Cybermen...' Isobel gasped. 'They're coming up out of the
sewers... the invasion's begun!'
       The Doctor blinked several times and then jumped to his feet,
scattering his startled helpmates. 'Don't stand around like zombies!'
he shouted. 'Don't you know the invasion's already begun?'
       Zoe and Jamie tried to calm him, but he resolutely ignored
them.
       'Is everyone else all right?' he demanded, bustling round the
basement as if nothing had happened to him. 'What about the
Brigadier and the rest of UNIT?'
       Captain Turner hurried to the radiotelephone. At last
Lethbridge-Stewart came through faint and distorted.
       'Chaos here, Jimmy. Only half the crew have recovered so far..
       The Doctor grabbed the receiver. 'What about the other UNIT
forces, Brigadier?'
       'No hard news yet, Doctor. I'm sending Walters over there to
pick you up. You'll be a lot safer here.'
       The Doctor agreed. 'But be careful, Brigadier, the streets will
soon be full of Cybermen.'
       'Roger, Doctor. Just stay put,' the Brigadier ordered and
clicked off.
       Turner looked deeply disappointed. 'Sounds like a walkover
for Vaughn and the Cybermen,' he muttered.
       The Doctor nodded ruefully. 'And we're sitting right in the
middle of the hornet's nest!' he sighed, trying to get rid of the
irritating itch that was developing under the depolariser taped to his
neck.

       The sunrise flooded dramatically into Vaughn's office, lighting
up his face with a dull red glow as he lay back in his chair listening
to the incessant grating chatter of the Cyber Module.
       'All areas are now covered by our transmissions. The full
invasion force is mustering for despatch. Initiate ion beam for
navigation.'
       'All is ready,' Vaughn responded calmly.
       'Prepare communication network for Cyberforce Control.'
       Vaughn suddenly stood up. 'Wait. The Cyberforce must remain
under my control,' he insisted.
       The machine glowed brilliantly and the crystal whizzed back
and forth agitatedly. 'Why do you oppose us?' it challenged him.
       'I do not oppose you. We are allies,' replied Vaughn
soothingly. 'But you do not understand the world as I do.'
       The machine glowed even brighter. 'Humans are now under
Cyber Control.'
       Vaughn strode fearlessly across to the alcove. 'You will not
achieve your objective unless I too get what I want,' he persisted. 'Is
this agreed?'
       The Cyber Module fell silent for a long time. Then it buzzed
alarmingly and a smell of hot plastic filled the room. 'It is agreed,' it
acknowledged eventually.
       Vaughn smiled. 'Excellent. The invasion will proceed under
my direction. Discussion terminated.' He twisted the pen cap sharply
and the wall slid back into place.
       As Vaughn subsided thankfully into his chair wiping the
nervous sweat out of his eyes, the videophone bleeped and Packer
appeared on the screen, his mean face pale and taut. 'Mr Vaughn,
we've located the Professor...' he reported breathlessly.
       'Excellent, Packer. Pick him up immediately,' Vaughn purred,
hurriedly composing himself.
       'But the UNIT mob, sir...'
       'They will not offer any resistance. They are all under our
control.'
     'That's just what I'm afraid of,' muttered Packer inaudibly.
     Vaughn leaned forward ominously. 'Packer, this is your last
chance. Get Watkins and put him to work on the Cerebration
machines at once,' he shouted.

       After a terrifying drive through the chaos of disorientated
humanity, Sergeant Walters skidded his jeep to a stop outside
Professor Travers's house and ran up the steps. Captain Turner let
him in just as the Doctor and the others came up the stairs from the
basement.
       'Thousands of them silver gnomes everywhere, sir,' Walters
reported sturdily.
       There was a scream of brakes outside. Turner slammed the
door and shot the bolts home. 'It's Packer's mob,' he shouted over his
shoulder. 'Out the back way quickly.'
       As everybody turned and fled down the hall, a gun barrel
crashed through the glass in the front door. Backing away, Turner
fired his machine-pistol at the shadowy figures outside. The gun
barrel fired a five second burst just as Jamie was ushering the
Professor back down the cellar steps. The Professor cried out and
staggered. Turner fired another burst then caught Watkins as he fell
and slung him over his shoulder.
       'Get out, Jamie!' he shouted, hauling the wounded Professor
down into the cellar.
       Jamie had paused to retrieve the radiotelephone unit which
Turner had just dropped. As he started down the stairs after the
others, another salvo from the front door caught him in the leg. He
collapsed and started crawling to safety, dragging the radio behind
him. The next moment, Sergeant Walters came running back up the
stairs. He fired a long burst at the door and then carried Jamie out
into the overgrown garden at the back of the house.
       The others were waiting anxiously. Turner contacted the
Brigadier on the Doctor's polyvox unit while Walters covered the
rear of the house with his pistol. The girls tended the injured
Professor and Jamie.
       'We're in a bit of a spot, sir. Could you send us a chopper?'
asked Turner.
      'Wilco,' replied the Brigadier promptly. 'Can you reach Blue
Sector Five?'
      'We'll do our damnedest, sir, but we've got two wounded.'
      'Right. Chopper on its way. Good luck, Jimmy. Out.'
      Out in the street, Packer's jeep was speeding back to Vaughn's
headquarters, leaving three security guards dead on Travers's
doorstep.

       Soon afterwards, Packer stood in silent humiliation in front of
his master's desk.
       'How?' Vaughn muttered, grinding his teeth in exasperation as
he gazed out over the paralysed city. 'How can they be immune to the
Cyber coercion signal...?'
       Packer shot him a crafty look. 'It must be that Doctor
character's expertise. You should have eliminated him when you had
the chance. Now he's out-manoeuvering you,' he whined accusingly.
       Vaughn swung round from the window, his face a mask of
contempt. 'I am still in control of the invasion, Packer,' he whispered
hoarsely. 'Without me you would be wriggling like a worm in a
puddle of acid.'
       But Packer's defiance grew stronger and he faced Vaughn
unflinchingly. 'We don't have the Professor, so we can't produce any
more machines, so we can't control the Cybermen,' he rapped out
harshly.
       Vaughn stared at him with undisguised smouldering loathing.
       'Do you still believe everything's going according to plan?'
Packer went on recklessly. 'Do you still think you can win?'
       'Contact the Antenna Unit. It is time to project the ion beam,'
Vaughn suddenly snarled. 'The invasion force must be sent in at
once!'
       Packer's hand was resting on the handle of his pistol. He
lingered for a moment as if undecided. Then he obediently picked up
a telephone and rapped out an order.

      The mighty Hercules whined reassuringly through the thin
clouds. On the ground far below, all normal life had ceased within a
matter of minutes as the millions of monolithic circuits scattered all
over the world amplified and focussed the Cyber coercion beam
being transmitted via the satellites from the neighbourhood of the
Moon.
       In the Operations Room, the Signals Officer was reporting the
general situation. 'Washington's off the air, sir... Moscow and Peking
dead as doornails... Nothing at all, sir.'
       'Keep trying, Sergeant, all frequencies.' The Brigadier turned
gravely to the Doctor. 'Seems to be a total radio blackout,' he
murmured.
       'Couldn't we make masses of these depolariser things and
distribute them to key personnel?' suggested Captain Turner.
       The Doctor shook his head emphatically. 'No time, I'm afraid,
even if we could obtain the components. The Cybermen will attack
us in force soon. There must be an entire fleet out there, waiting
behind the Moon.'
       The Brigadier thumped his desk in frustration. 'We're utterly
helpless...' he groaned.
       'Unless we can stop the Cyber transmissions,' the Doctor
mused quietly.
       The Brigadier glanced hopefully at him. Then his face fell
again. 'We'd need an orbital launch vehicle... We don't have anything
of that size available.'
       'Only the Americans and the Russians...' Turner sighed.
       Suddenly the Brigadier stood up. 'Wait a sec!' he cried, going
over to a security cabinet and dialling a sequence of combination
codes. A drawer clicked open and he took out a thick file marked
MOST SECRET and leafed quickly through it.
       'I was right!' he announced delightedly. 'The Russians had a
countdown in progress at dawn... unmanned orbital lunar survey.
They must have a rocket almost ready to go.'
       'So we could fit a warhead in place of their survey module,'
Turner proposed brightly.
       'Possibly, Jimmy.'
       They turned to the Doctor inquiringly. He looked doubtful.
'How long would all that take?' he asked.
       'We should be able to get a medical and technical unit there in
a couple of hours, Doctor. Once we'd fitted the Russians with your
depolariser things... well, it would be up to them,' replied the
Brigadier. 'How long do you think we've got, Doctor?'
       The Doctor shrugged. 'I confess I'm rather surprised they're not
here already,' he said with a preoccupied air.
       'Well, I think it's worth a try,' said the Brigadier, handing some
papers from the file to Captain Turner. 'Here's the gen on the Russian
launch, Jimmy. You deal with that top priority,' he ordered
decisively. 'And get your skates on.'
       Turner saluted and eagerly departed to prepare for his vital
mission.
       Just then the Hercules banked steeply and started to descend
rapidly.
       The Brigadier went over to the Doctor who was sitting
withdrawn and thoughtful. 'Could we intercept the Cyber fleet with
anti-missile missiles, Doctor?' he asked.
       The Doctor cocked his head non-committally. 'Possibly.
They'll be homing in on Vaughn's ion beacon out at the compound, I
imagine.'
       Lethbridge-Stewart consulted his Situation Map. 'Right.
There's an RAF base at Henlow Flats equipped with Taktik
missiles...' he muttered, striding down the busy Ops Room to brief
his staff.
       Zoe wandered in from up front and went over to the brooding
Doctor. 'I think we're landing...' she murmured.
       The Doctor stirred. 'Ah... how's Jamie's leg, my dear?'
       'Just a flesh wound, but he's furious because the doctor won't
let him walk on it. The Professor's okay too. Isobel's looking after
him.'
       'Jolly good,' muttered the Doctor vaguely. 'Zoe, I suggest you
give the Brig a hand... much as I detest computers I suspect your
remarkable little brain could be very useful to him in the next couple
of hours.'
       Zoe sniffed eagerly. 'All right, Doctor. What's cooking?'
       The crumpled little figure seemed miles away. 'I think it's high
time I had another little talk with Mr Vaughn...' he muttered absently.
       Zoe gaped at him in disbelief. 'You're joking, of course,' she
cried. 'Go back to Vaughn? He'll kill you as soon as look at you.'
       The Doctor grinned bleakly. 'Quite possibly, Zoe, but we
desperately need more time and I'm sure I can buy us that time.'
       The Brigadier had overheard the little Time Lord's insane
proposal. 'This is madness. I can't afford to allow you to try it,' he
snapped.
       The Doctor rose. 'You can't afford not to, Brigadier,' he
retorted. 'Once you attack the Cybermen they'll retaliate. We must
know how and with what.'
       Zoe looked sceptical and anxious for the Doctor's safety. 'How
can you find that out?' she demanded.
       With a mischievous twinkle in his eye the Doctor took out the
polyvox unit. 'I'll leave this little toy switched on. You'll be able to
hear everything that passes between me and Tobias Vaughn,' he
explained.
       The Brigadier snorted dismissively. 'But you'll never get near
the place, Doctor. The city's crawling with Cybermen.'
       'There's one place where there won't be any Cybermen now...'
confided the Doctor, tapping his nose '.... In the sewers!'
       At that moment the FASTEN SEAT BELTS sign lit up and a
few minutes later the Hercules touched down on a remote disused
airfield.

      Zoe and Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart stood at the bottom of
the ramp waving goodbye and good luck as the Doctor drove the
landrover out of the cargo bay. Tooting a jaunty farewell on the horn
he sped off across the windswept grass-clogged concrete and
disappeared.
      'Take care, Doctor,' Zoe whispered, biting her lip. Then a
second jeep emerged down the ramp and stopped.
      'The Tornadoes are due here in fifteen minutes,' the Brigadier
informed Captain Turner. 'You should reach the Nykortny Space
Centre in about two hours. Got enough depolarisers?'
      'Yes, sir. The Professor's done us proud in spite of his wound.'
      'Good luck, Jimmy.'
      The jeep drove off towards some Nissen huts and the Brigadier
led Zoe back up into the plane and the ramp closed behind them. In
the Operations Room the Brigadier issued a string of curt orders right
and left.
       'Sergeant, ask Wing-Commander Robbins to take us to Henlow
Flats Missile Base immediately and send a chopper to Blue Sector
One in case the Doctor needs it. All UNIT operational groups Red
Alert Status.'
       They were soon airborne again and it was not long before the
Doctor's cheery voice came crackling over the polyvox receiver,
echoing eerily.
       'I've just entered the sewers and I'm making my way towards
Vaughn's headquarters.'
       'For God's sake, be careful, Doctor,' snapped the Brigadier.
       'Oh, don't worry about me, the air's surprisingly fresh down
here,' replied the Doctor earnestly. 'I'll call you when I reach
Vaughn's. Down and out.'
       'Over and out,' sighed the Brigadier anxiously.
       'Your helicopter isn't going to be much good if the Doctor does
meet any Cybermen down there,' Zoe remarked with a frown.
       Lethbridge-Stewart flashed her an irritated glance. 'Perhaps I
should send a submarine, miss,' he retorted defensively.
                            9
                    Counter Measures

        Vaughn and Packer were poring over a vast map of the world.
Outside the wide windows behind them everything was unnaturally
quiet and still, except for the pigeons flapping over the rooftops and
the odd car horn sounding under the slumped body of the driver.
        'All main communication centres are now in the hands of our
people,' Vaughn announced with smug satisfaction.
        Packer looked unconvinced. 'But we can't do any more without
the rest of the Cyber force,' he objected obstinately.
        'They'll arrive, Packer, never fear. And when they do, there
won't be a city in the entire world that we don't control,' Vaughn
assured him in a strange singsong voice. 'Think of it, Packer... the
entire world!'
        A whooping alarm sounded from the video bank and the
screens flickered automatically into life.
        'Security alert,' Packer whined with a haunted look. 'The UNIT
mob must have got through somehow.'
        Vaughn glared at his Deputy and then punched a hold button
as the screens flashed up a continuously changing sequence of views
of the headquarters buildings. On one of the screens the Doctor's
bulbous features loomed like a mischievous gargoyle.
        'Good morning, Mr Vaughn, can you hear me?'
        'Yes,' Vaughn hissed into the desk microphone, his eyes
burning with hatred.
        The gargoyle grinned. 'Oh, jolly good. Hope I haven't dropped
in... or rather popped up at an awkward moment, but I'd rather like a
word with you,' the Doctor said breezily, straightening his rumpled
collar and brushing his lapels.
        Vaughn smiled acidly at the microphone. 'Clever of you to
outwit the coercion beam, Doctor.'
      The Doctor shrugged modestly. 'Well, to tell you the truth it's
been a bit of a pain in the neck,' he quipped cheekily. 'Shall I come
up? I do know the way.'
      The mocking face vanished from the screen.
      'He must be out of his mind,' Packer exploded.
      'Far from it, Packer. Make a security check in case he's brought
any friends with him again,' Vaughn ordered calmly.
      Packer spoke tersely into his wrist radio.
      'We'll kill the bastard this time,' Packer resolved, his beady
eyes glinting.
      Vaughn sighed with infinite patience. 'No, Packer, we will do
no such thing. You forget the Doctor's travel machine. He's our
insurance.'

       The whine of the Hercules's turboprops faded as the UNIT
Airborne Operations Unit touched down at Henlow Flats Missile
Base north-east of London.
       'Stand by, raiding party. Defensive stance. Attack only if
necessary,' snapped the Brigadier, buckling on his pistol.
       At that moment, the Doctor's voice came through again on the
polyvox receiver. 'Just about to enter the lion's den,' he reported. 'I'll
leave this thing switched on now...'
       The Brigadier wished him luck. Then he ordered the Signals
Desk to keep the channel open. 'Get the whole lot on tape. If he
needs help throw in everything we've got in Blue Sector.'
       Zoe hurried in carrying a box of depolarisers which she and the
Professor had managed to cobble together. 'Hope there'll be enough
to go round,' she said.
       The Brigadier complimented her warmly.
       They froze as a cultured voice purred silkily from the polyvox
speaker. 'Ah... Doctor... What an unexpected pleasure... Come in and
sit down...'
       Zoe wanted to stay and listen, but the Brigadier took her firmly
by the arm. 'Come along, Miss Zoe, and keep close to me. We've got
work to do,' he ordered.
       Seated in a comfortable chair, the Doctor had listened to
Vaughan's arrogant story with inward contempt but with a smile of
respectful admiration playing on his mild features. As his host fell
silent, the Doctor studied him with thinly veiled incredulity.
       'And you trust these Cybermen?' he exclaimed.
       'I know them' Vaughn boasted, dramatically silhouetted against
the panoramic windows. 'I know the way they think... their single-
minded purpose...'
       'Then you must realise that they are ruthless inhuman
destroyers.'
       'Naturally, Doctor. I have worked with them for five years on
this project. They are my allies, not my enemies,' Vaughn purred.
       The Doctor raised his dark eyebrows. 'You actually believe
they'll honour the bargain you have made with them?'
       Vaughn squinted imperiously down at the small, hunched
figure sitting opposite. 'I planned this whole operation, Doctor,' he
claimed with smouldering passion. 'It was I who contacted them far
out in the Solar System. They are merely providing their strength and
technological skill to fulfil my vision.'
       The Doctor leaned forward, his eyes like gimlets as they
searched into Vaughn's. 'In return for what? What do the Cybermen
gain from it all?' he demanded.
       Vaughn chuckled throatily. 'What they want and what they get
are two very different things, Doctor.'
       The Doctor was not impressed. 'Two can play at that game.
Once the invasion is completed they'll just toss you aside like a spent
cartridge.'
       Vaughn leaned forward in turn. 'All Cybermen are
programmed to obey my orders, Doctor,' he smirked.
       'Oh, your bunch of silver sewage workers might be. But what
about the ones sitting out there around the Moon?' challenged the
Doctor. 'Will they do as they're told, Vaughn?'
       Vaughn hesitated. For the first time his eyes betrayed a shifty
uncertainty. There was a tense pause. 'If they do not, I shall destroy
them with the Professor's machine,' Vaughn retorted.
       The Doctor snorted. 'With one single solitary device?'
       'More will be made.'
       'Not without the Professor's help. And we have the Professor.'
       Again Vaughn hesitated, deeply troubled but still smiling
smugly. 'I have no reason to doubt my allies,' he murmured.
       The Doctor stood up. 'You can't possibly take such a gamble!'
he cried earnestly. 'If the Cybermen do take control of the Earth, they
will destroy all life as we know it.'
       Vaughn walked round the desk, smiling malevolently. 'You're
just playing for time,' he sneered. 'You presumably managed to
protect your UNIT cronies from the coercion signals. What exactly
are they up to now?'
       'You are living in a fantasy world,' the Doctor shrugged
calmly.
       Vaughn flicked a switch on the desk. Packer appeared on a
monitor screen. 'Are the ion beam transmitters aligned?' he
demanded.
       'Affirmative. The fault's just been rectified,' Packer replied.
       Vaughn switched Packer off and took out his fountain pen.
       'Your friends are too late, whatever they're trying to do,' he
crowed triumphantly, twisting the pen top.
       The astonished Doctor watched in horrified fascination as the
wall opened to reveal the Cyber Module spitting and sparking in its
lair.
       'Your delays must cease forthwith,' rasped the machine.
'Transporters are prepared to launch.'
       'We are locking on now,' Vaughn confirmed.
       'Confirmation Invasion Fleet First Stage completed,' the
machine croaked. 'Second Stage initiating now...'
       The Doctor shielded his eyes as he tried to study the sinister
alien apparatus from the other side of the office. 'This is madness,
Vaughn. You must stop now!' he burst out, gazing momentarily at
the brilliant, flashing crystal and covering his seared eyes again.
       But Tobias Vaughn was trembling with fanatical
determination. 'You don't understand...' he whispered. 'I can't see all
those years of work wasted. I must go on!'

      In the small concrete control block set within a massive bunker
buried in the middle of the Henlow Flats Missile Base, teleprinters
clicked quietly and radar sweeps silently tracked round and round
and back and forth. A dozen Air Force personnel lay slumped over
the computer guidance and radar terminals, apparently dead. At the
Controller's desk mounted on a raised central dais, a young Squadron
Leader was hanging over the arm of his revolving chair, a red
telephone receiver still tightly gripped in his nerveless hand.
       Suddenly the door flew open. Lethbridge-Stewart quickly
appraised the situation and strode in followed by Zoe and four
troopers.
       'Get these chaps fitted up with depolarisers,' he ordered, after
checking one or two pulses.
       While Zoe and the troopers set about taping the neuristor
assemblies to the backs of the airmen's necks, the Brigadier called
the Operations Room on his polyvox unit.
       'What's the state of play, Walters?'
       'Captain Turner reports that he's just crossed the Russian
border, sir.'
       'What about the Doctor?'
       'So far, so good. We're getting it all on tape, sir.'
       The Squadron Leader moaned and stirred into consciousness.
       'Excellent, Sergeant. Stand by...'
       The Squadron Leader stared up at the hazy figure and blinked
dizzily. 'I'm... I'm Bradwell, sir...' he stammered, trying to get to his
feet and collapsing back into the chair. '... Were we attacked...?' he
mumbled, attempting a salute.
       The Brigadier waved away formality. 'Just you relax and try to
clear your head, Squadron Leader,' he ordered gently. "Then I'll fill
you in.'

       Twenty minutes later most of the bunker personnel had revived
and Bradwell was gazing incredulously at the Brigadier.
       'But it's utterly fantastic...' he gasped as Lethbridge-Stewart
finished the hurried briefing.
       'But true I'm afraid, Bradwell. We're expecting the invasion
fleet at any moment. If they get here intact we've all had it.'
       The Squadron Leader stumbled groggily over to the radar
screens. 'See anything, Peters?'
      'Not a glimmer so far, sir,' responded the Flight Lieutenant
manning the main scanner, rubbing his temples tenderly.
      'We could be too late,' murmured the Brigadier.
      Zoe joined them. 'What's the maximum radar range?' she
asked.
      'Pretty accurate to about ten thousand miles, miss. Dodgy
outside that,' Peters replied.
      'Then we won't see them until they're almost on top of us,' she
sighed downheartedly.
      'All the same, we can certainly arrange a little reception
committee for them,' Bradwell muttered, turning briskly to his team.
'Begin fuel priming and countdown prelims...' he ordered.
      While the pre-launch procedures were smoothly completed,
the Brigadier called the Ops Room on the polyvox again.
      'Has Turner reached Nykortny Base yet?' he demanded
impatiently.
      'No word yet, sir.' Walters smartly replied. 'Something now!'
shouted Flight Lieutenant Peters.
      'Just on range limit, sir. Faint but closing very fast.' The
Brigadier rushed over to the radar display. 'This it?' he asked curtly.
      'Looks like it, sir...' said Bradwell, pointing out a dim group of
white dots near the edge of the main screen.
      Peters keyed in a command and a complex of symbols was
superimposed on the display. 'They're on a ballistic trajectory, sir... in
range approximately five minutes from now.'
      'Where are we on prelims?' snapped Bradwell.
      'T minus forty five seconds, sir,' called a voice from the
launching section.
      'Hold!' rapped Bradwell.
      There was a rapid succession of shouts and
acknowledgements.
      'Holding at T minus forty-five, sir.'
      'Prepare fuse locks and run arming code...' Bradwell ordered,
going to his desk on the dais.
      Zoe peered at the radar. 'Look! There are more of the things
now.'
      'Arming codes running..
        There's hundreds of them now!' shouted Peters.
        Squadron Leader Bradwell turned to the Brigadier. 'We can't
possibly take out all of them, sir.'
        Lethbridge-Stewart nodded stoically. 'Just get as many as you
can...' he said quietly.
        Behind Bradwell the computer discs and spools whirred busily.
        'Link programme to telemetry guidance,' he commanded.
        Zoe had been carefully studying the host of invasion craft on
the screen. 'I think you could knock out a good ninety percent of
these things,' she announced un-expectedly.
        'Nowhere near enough Taktiks,' snapped Bradwell, absorbed in
his checking schedule.
        Zoe bridled at his dismissive manner. 'It's no use just blowing
up half a dozen or so,' she persisted. 'Those things are in tight
formation patterns. If you guide each missile carefully I'm sure you
could set up a chain reaction.'
        Bradwell considered for a moment, and then shook his head.
'There isn't time to compute all the variables, miss. The things will be
on us any minute now.'
        Zoe grabbed the Brigadier by the arm. 'I know I can do it. Just
give me thirty seconds,' she begged.
        Bradwell looked at her as if she were mad. He glanced at the
Brigadier who looked unhappy and undecided.
        Then Lethbridge-Stewart remembered the Doctor's words
about the girl's extraordinary capabilities with computers. 'All right,'
he sighed. 'Give her thirty seconds.'
        Flight Lieutenant Peters swung round in alarm. 'Sir, doesn't
give us much time to...'
        'Revised countdown to begin at T minus forty five in thirty
seconds from... now!' Bradwell interrupted.
        Zoe was already at the Guidance Programme VDU, calling up
data and scribbling feverishly on a notepad. Bradwell tapped his
fingers impatiently on his console and the Brigadier fiddled
anxiously with the polyvox unit while they waited for the outcome of
Zoe's calculations. At last she ripped a sheet off the pad and thrust it
at Bradwell.
       'Enter this into the guidance programme!' she urged him
confidently.
       Bradwell glanced at the list of numbers The had scribbled and
then handed it to the Guidance Programmer. 'You'd better be right,
miss.... he frowned, as the man began furiously typing at the
keyboard.
       'T minus forty five seconds from...Now!' Bradwell ordered,
returning to his console.
       Once again the systems buzzed into life and the discs and tapes
spun madly back and forth. The Squadron Leader inserted a key into
his console. 'T minus thirty seconds... No hold-ups now, please,' he
prayed, his eyes flicking over the check panels. 'T minus ten.... He
turned the key decisively.
       'Data accepted, sir!' someone reported.
       Zoe folded her arms and crossed her fingers. The Brigadier
stared at the vast invasion fleet spread across the radar scanners.
       'Three... two... one... Fire!' Bradwell pressed a button.
       Out on the airfield, the small compact missiles streaked out of
their silos in groups of ten and vanished immediately into the haze.
       Inside the bunker, everyone crowded round the radar screens
and held their breath. There was a long, agonising pause while
teleprinters chattered out ballistic data and guidance details, but all
eyes were on the multitude of white blobs on the radar.
       Suddenly, one by one, and then in gradually increasing
numbers, the blobs began to vanish from the screens as the Cyber
fleet was blown to smithereens just above the Earth's atmosphere...

       The Doctor had been keeping as quiet and unobtrusive as
possible while he watched the titanic struggle of wills between
Vaughn and the Cyber Module.
       'You have betrayed us, Vaughn,' shrieked the machine. 'The
Transporter Fleet has been attacked and virtually destroyed.'
       'That is not possible,' Vaughn protested vehemently. 'You are
trying to blackmail me.'
       'You have failed, Vaughn. We shall take control now.'
       Desperately Vaughn sought for some delaying tactic. 'Give me
time. I can deal with the saboteurs,' he pleaded.
        The Module sparked angily. 'There is no more time.'
        Vaughn's eyes betrayed his bluff. 'I will not allow the invasion
to proceed unless I control it,' he boasted.
        The machine paused as if listening, its crystal bristling with
millions of brilliant pinpoints of light. 'We no longer require your
services, Vaughn,' it screeched. 'We shall dispatch a Megatron
Bomb. We shall destroy every living thing...'
        The Doctor went ashen. 'A Megatron Bomb!' he gasped. 'So
this is your great vision, Vaughn... to be master of a dead world.'
        All remnants of Vaughan's confident and complacent charm
finally dissolved under the Doctor's scornful gaze. In an instant he
shrank into a spiteful, whining dwarf. 'You can't destroy the world,'
he screamed at the Cyber Module. 'What about me?'
        The Module crackled menacingly. 'You are superfluous,
Vaughn. The invasion will succeed. The bomb will be dispatched
forthwith.'
        Vaughan laughed manically. 'You'll destroy your own
Cybermen here.'
        'The sacrifice will be small,' rasped the machine. Vaughn
kicked the desk like a petulant child. 'I won't allow it!' he shrieked,
red-faced and trembling.
        'You cannot stop us, Vaughn.'
        The Doctor went over to the almost hysterical figure. 'Now
perhaps you'll believe the truth. You cannot make bargains with
Cybermen,' he muttered grimly.
        Vaughn shoved him aside. Seizing the Cerebration Machine
from the desk he advanced on the alcove. 'You think you're
indestructible...' he sneered. 'But I can destroy you... all of you.' He
touched some switches and trained the projection horn of the device
directly at the glittering crystal.
        The Professor's machine emitted its clicking and then its
piercing whistling noise and the Cyber Module immediately began to
vibrate and strobe crazily.
        'Opposition is futile...' it croaked, as smoke began to belch
from its melting connections. Trickles of liquified metal ran in
rivulets down the vacuum tubes and they started imploding, with
sharp glass splinters flying everywhere.
        Vaughn gloated over the disintegrating apparatus like some
insane magician. Boosting the output of the quivering device in his
hands, he laughed in a crazed, hollow voice.
        The Doctor did his best to wrest the machine out of his grasp,
but Vaughn simply nudged him aside, yelling at the top of his voice:
'I'll destroy them all... I'll destroy them all...'
        'Turn it off, man!' the Doctor shouted. 'You're going to blow us
all sky high.'
        Suddenly there was a gigantic ripping sound and the crystal
broke into millions of tiny fragments. Vaughn and the Doctor were
hurled back against the desk and the Doctor managed to wrench the
Cerebration Machine awayfrom Vaughn and turn it off. A flurry of
smaller explosions burst out like firecrackers, scattering debris all
over the office.
        When the smoke finally cleared, all that remained of the Cyber
Module was a shapeless mess of twisted silicon and glass and a
tangle of swollen and slit-open wires smouldering poisonously in the
gloom.

        Zoe was lifted shoulder-high and cheered by the enthusiastic
bunker personnel.
        'Knocked every single one for six!' exclaimed Squadron
Leader Bradwell. 'Quite fantastic. How did you do it, miss?'
        Zoe shrugged coolly. 'All quite logical really. Just a question
of speed, mass, angle of descent, angular density... Stuff like that,'
she smiled.
        'Can we keep her, sir? She's much prettier than a computer,'
Bradwell laughed.
        The Brigadier shook Zoe's hand. 'Well done. Jolly good show,'
he said with a sombre smile.
        All at once Benton's distorted voice buzzed from the polyvox
in the Brigadier's pocket.
        Lethbridge-Stewart whipped it out. 'What's the flap?' he
demanded.
        'We overheard something on the polyvox from Vaughn's place,
sir... Apparently the Cyberforce is going to fire some sort of bomb at
the Earth. It's called a Megatron or something. Could wipe us all
out...'
        The Brigadier cast his eyes wearily up to the ceiling. 'So all our
efforts here mean nothing...' he muttered through clenched teeth.
        A dismal silence fell over the blockhouse.
        The Brigadier rallied himself with an attempt at morale
boosting. 'Where there's a will...' he muttered. 'Right, Benton, tell the
Wing Commander to prepare for take-off. We're coming back over at
once. Out.'
        'We'll keep in touch on this open line,' he told Bradwell,
handing him the polyvox unit, 'then you'll know what's going on.
You might try and get a fix on that bomb...' he added doubtfully.
        Bradwell grinned. 'Don't worry, Brigadier. If we do, we'll try
and set it off on its way in!'
        With a nod of thanks to the bunker crew, the Brigadier led Zoe
and his UNIT squad back to the Hercules out on the runway.

       Gradually Vaughn's manic laughter died away and he leaned
on the desk muttering agitatedly. 'It's dead, Doctor... It's dead... I
killed it...'
       'But you haven't destroyed the Cyberforce,' the Doctor
earnestly reminded him. 'They are still out there, preparing to
obliterate your planet.'
       'Five years work, Doctor, and all gone in less than five
seconds.'
       The Doctor seized Vaughn by the shoulders and shook him
vigorously. 'Listen to me,' he persisted. 'You must switch off the ion
beam. No doubt the Cyberforce will try to use it to trigger the
Megatron Bomb!'
       Vaughn stared blankly back at him, his mouth forming
inaudible words.
       'We are both allies now,' the Doctor argued forcefully. 'Both
fighting for our lives. You must stop the beam.'
       Hazily Vaughn focussed on the Doctor's wildly persuasive
eyes. 'The ion beam... yes... Packer must switch...' He moved slowly
round the desk like a sleepwalker and touched a button.
       The monitor screens lit up. On several of them loomed the
stark silver images of Cybermen.
       'Packer... Packer... where are you...?' Vaughn cried in a
strangled voice into the microphone.
       At that moment the door slid aside and Packer burst into the
office. 'Vaughn... what have you done?' he screamed. 'They... the
Cybermen have taken over... They won't obey... They've killed
several...' he whipped round gaping in terror at the open door.
'They're coming after us...'
       Then Packer took in the devastation still smouldering in the
alcove. He flew at Vaughn screaming uncontrollably: 'What have
you done to us...?'
       Before Vaughn could react, a Cyberman appeared in the
doorway. Packer snatched out his pistol and emptied the magazine
into the monster's rasping chest grille. Then Vaughn dived behind the
desk and the Doctor seized the Cerebration Machine and scampered
into the smoking alcove. The Cyberman's laser unit emitted a series
of blinding flashes and Packer's body seemed to alternate from
positive to negative in the blistering discharge. His uniform erupted
into flames and his exposed skin crinkled and fused like melted
toffee papers.
       From the alcove, the Doctor aimed the projection horn and
switched to full power, shutting his eyes and mentally muffling his
ears against the intolerable whistling from Watkins's sinister
apparatus. The Cyberman took a few lurching strides towards him
and then slowly folded over like a broken doll with viscous smoke
spurting from its joints and shrill metallic screams from its slit
mouth.
       With a grunt of congratulation to the absent Professor for the
efficiency of his device, the Doctor switched it off and put in on the
desk. Then he pulled the trembling Vaughn to his feet.
       'Where is the ion beam control?' he demanded.
       'We can't fight them...' Vaughn whimpered, gazing down at
Packer's hideously incinerated body.
       'Where? Where do we switch off the beam?' the Doctor
repeated, shaking Vaughn.
       'At the compound. But they'll be there too...' Vaughn
murmured.
       The Doctor took out the polyvox unit. 'Brigadier, can you hear
me?'
       'Affirmative, Doctor. We heard everything. What do you want
us to do?' rapped Lethbridge-Stewart
       'There are two possibilities,' the Doctor hurriedly explained.
'Either we switch off the ion beam or we destroy the Cyber Mother
Craft...'
       'Well, Doctor, Captain Turner reports that the Russians are
cooperating magnificently, but it'll take at least ten hours for their
rocket to reach the Cyber ship.'
       The Doctor drummed his fingers, anxiously along the casing of
the polyvox unit as if it were a penny whistle. 'But their bomb could
be sent at any moment, Brigadier. The ion beam's our only hope.'
       He turned to Vaughn. 'Will you help us to cut off the beam?' he
pleaded. 'We'll never do it in time unless you help us.'
       Vaughn gazed at him cynically. 'Why should I help you?'
       'To save the world, Vaughn.'
       Vaughn laughed. 'And if I survive, Doctor... What future have
I? What will the world do with me now?' he scoffed wearily.
       The Doctor glared fiercely up at him. 'For goodness sake, stop
thinking about yourself,' he shouted. 'Think of all those millions out
there...'
       Vaughn regained a trace of his old bland composure.
'Appealing to my better nature, Doctor?' he smiled. Then his face
hardened. 'No. If I help you it will be because I hate the Cybermen.'
He turned and gazed out over the sunlit city. 'I know you think I'm
insane, that I want power for its own sake. But you're wrong. The
world is weak, a chaos of conflicting ideals. It needs a strong, single-
minded leader. I was to be that leader...' His voice broke with
emotion.
       'Vaughn!' the Doctor begged him.
       Vaughn turned round. 'I'll help you,' he agreed in a dead voice.
'But only because they destroyed my vision, my dream.'
      Vaughn walked like an automaton over to the Cerebration
Machine, stepping unseeingly over Packer's corpse. 'We must get to
the compound at once,' he said mechanically.
      The Brigadier's voice buzzed out again. 'Doctor, we have a
chopper in the area. Can you get onto the roof?'
      'Yes, Brigadier. We're on our way now. Up and away...'
      'Out, Doctor.'
      Vaughn picked up the Professor's device. 'Your UNIT friends
are most efficient, Doctor, but we shall need this. The Cybermen will
be guarding the ion transmitter.'
      Eyeing the apparatus warily, the Doctor cautiously followed
his unexpected ally to the elevator.
                            10
                     The Nick of Time
        As the Hercules lumbered into the sky and turned slowly
north-east, the Brigadier marshalled his scanty forces for a desperate
last stand against the Cyberforce and their Armageddon device - the
Megatron Bomb.
        'Where are we off to now?' marvelled Isobel, joining Zoe in the
Operations Room.
        'Reinforcing the Doctor. He's going to fight his way through a
couple of hundred Cybermen.'
        'Golly,' cried Isobel, her eyes shining with admiration.
        'I've only got a platoon,' Lethbridge-Stewart reminded them.
'No time to find more neuristors and revive more of my men.'
        Just then Captain Turner came through on the radio. 'The
Russians have just launched their rocket,' he reported faintly from the
Nykortny Base. 'Supercooled Hydrogen Warhead. Should do the
trick, sir.'
        'If it gets there in time,' murmured the Brigadier
pessimistically. Keep me posted, Jimmy.' The Brigadier shook his
head and laughed drily. 'An American warhead stuck onto a Russian
missile... There's hope for the world if only we can save it now...' he
mused.
        Immediately afterwards, the Doctor was heard on the polyvox
unit shouting above the roar of the helicopter which had picked him
and Vaughn off the roof of the International Electromatix
Headquarters.
        'Brigadier! We're about to land in the compound. We I must go
straight in, I'm afraid.'
        'That's madness, Doctor. We're right behind you. Wait for us.'
        'Don't worry, Brig, we've got Watkins's machine,' retorted the
Doctor. 'It's proved most effective against Cybermen so far.'
        Lethbridge-Stewart realised it was useless to object. 'If you
insist, Doctor.'
       'Vaughn says the ion beam is transmitted from the blockhouse
under the three spherical antennae shrouds.'
       'They look like three giant golf balls,' added Zoe helpfully.
       'Roger, Doctor.'
       'Down and out,' cried the Doctor as the helicopter began its
descent.
       'Infuriating man!' muttered the Brigadier to himself, glaring at
the polyvox unit.
       The cockpit intercom clicked on. 'Ten minutes to touchdown in
Red Sector One,' announced the Wing Commander.
       The Brigadier turned to Corporal Benton. 'Alert assault platoon
for immediate disembarkation!' he snapped.
       Zoe and Isobel edged forward. 'Can we come with you?' asked
Zoe.
       'Please. It'll be my last chance to photograph Cybermen,' Isobel
added. 'Golly, what a scoop!'
       The Brigadier shook his head resolutely. Then he looked them
up and down. 'I don't know about a scoop...' he muttered, relenting.
'But I suppose the archives in Geneva will be glad of...' He paused
and grinned. 'Just keep out of my way, that's all.'

       Vaughn clasped the Cerebration Mentor to his chest as he and
the Doctor ran through the maze of buildings forming the factory
complex, making their way towards the distant blockhouse under the
three spherical antennae shrouds. They had successfully dodged
patrolling Cybermen, but suddenly one of them appeared abruptly
round a corner, striding inexorably towards them. Vaughn stopped
and carefully aimed the apparatus at it. At once the Doctor grabbed
his arm and dragged him into a doorway out of sight.
       'What do you think you're doing?' Vaughn muttered
distrustfully. 'We must destroy them...'
       The Doctor peered warily round the corner. 'They don't know
we're here yet. Let's keep the element of surprise.' He looked again.
'All clear now.'
       Reluctantly Vaughn agreed and they crept along the side of the
enormous building and started to run down a narrow alleyway. Just
ahead of them a door opened and they were confronted by two silver
giants completely blocking their escape. Vaughn aimed and triggered
the machine. A shrill whistling bored into their heads and the two
Cybermen performed a hideously comic semaphore of jerking limbs,
with smoke and black fluid-like pus oozing from their joints and
grilles.
       'Now they'll know we're here,' lamented the Doctor as they
clambered over the hot, smoking carcasses and rushed on down the
alley.
       Reaching the end, Vaughn indicated the roofs of a group of
derelict buildings opposite. 'We can go up that way...' he panted,
racing across a yard to a rusted fire escape.
       The corroded structure creaked and wobbled as they stumbled
round and round the spiral staircase and onto the roof twenty metres
above the concrete. Dodging between the shattered skylights, rusted
ventilator cowls and sagging beams, they made for the other end of
the vast ruin. Vaughn paused to look over the edge and then opened a
steel door in the head of a shaft.
       The Doctor peered into the unwelcoming darkness. 'Is this the
only way?' he asked unenthusiastically.
       'It is now,' Vaughn told him. 'The Cybermen are all around us
already.'
       Before following Vaughn down into the gloom, the Doctor
scanned the sky hopefully. But there was no sign of the Brigadier's
forces. He glanced over the parapet. Cybermen were striding across
the small yard and along the alleyways far below. With a brave shrug
he started down the echoing concrete steps.

      The UNIT taskforce screeched to a halt in the compound and
leaped from their jeeps.
      'There are the golf ball things,' shouted the Brigadier, 'over that
way through the old buildings..
      Zoe and Isobel ran along behind him. Isobel was laden with
camera, lenses and rolls of film.
      They made their way through a deserted old factory building
and were about to cross the yard beyond it when the Brigadier
ordered the force to take cover behind the inert and decaying
machinery.
       Silhouetted against the sunlit open doorway stood four
Cybermen, their huge shadows stretching across the floor. The UNIT
platoon concentrated its machine-gun fire on the advancing enemy,
but it had no effect whatsoever. Then the Cybermen's laser units
flashed with intense blue light and two troopers were flung against
the corrugated steel wall of the factory amid splinters of wooden
crate.
       'Bazookas! Where the hell are you?' yelled the Brigadier,
glancing over his shoulder at two groups of soldiers frantically
setting up a pair of anti-tank launchers behind a massive lathe.
       'Fire at will!' he ordered, grabbing Isobel as she tried to take a
telephoto shot of their assailants and dragging her back beside Zoe
behind a huge steel pipe.
       All at once there was a roar and a searing whoosh as the
bazookas fired. The Cybermen were hurled cartwheeling and
disintegrating out of the building by two devastating explosions.
       'Advance!' ordered Lethbridge-Stewart, leading the way.
       Isobel could not resist stopping for a moment to photograph
the tangled remnants of the Cybermen. 'Great!' she murmured, her
motorised shutter zipping madly away.
       'Come on!' Zoe urged her. 'That's only four of the monsters.'
       They followed the troopers across the yard and into the
alleyway opposite.

       Vaughn and the Doctor froze momentarily as the sound of
muffled explosions rumbled through the semi-darkness inside the old
powerhouse.
       'That'll be the Brig,' the Doctor murmured with satisfaction as
he followed Vaughn among the eerie ghosts of the heavy machinery.
       Eventually Vaughn forced open a small door and they emerged
into a narrow road running alongside the windowless blockhouse
containing the ion beam generator. Vaughn pointed up at the flat roof
under the three shrouded antennae.
       'That's the best way into the building,' he advised. 'Take them
by surprise.'
       The Doctor glanced cautiously round the edge of the door. 'It's
very odd, Vaughn. There don't seem to be any Cybermen here at all.'
       Vaughn indicated the corpses of several security guards lying
near the entrance to the blockhouse. 'No doubt they are all inside,
Doctor,' he murmured. 'I'll go up there first and cover you.'
       The Doctor waited while Vaughn clambered up the fire escape
at the corner of the transmitter building. When he reached the top,
the Doctor edged out into the road and scuttled across to the foot of
the stairs. As he reached the corner, three Cybermen suddenly
emerged from the open door of the powerhouse where he had been
crouching seconds earlier.
       'Behind you, Vaughn!' he yelled, dodging round the corner out
of sight under the metal stairs.
       Above him, Vaughn spun round aiming the Professor's
machine awkwardly over the handrail. As the intense whistling
ripped the air, one of the Cybermen collapsed in a heap of wobbling
limbs and tubes. Before Vaughn could adjust the direction of the
horn, the other two Cybermen discharged their laser units
simultaneously. Vaughn was instantly transformed into a pillar of
fire, flickering rapidly from positive to negative. He flung the
Cerebration Machine high into the air and it smashed asunder at the
Doctor's feet in a cascade of delicate components. Vaughn's terrible
death took several-seconds as he flailed about in a vortex of strobing
white flames.
       Crouching beneath the fire escape, the Doctor's blood ran cold
as he listened to Vaughn's final agonised screams... They were the
sounds not of a human but of a Cyberman. When he looked up
eventually, the Doctor felt a rain of fine black ash on his face.
       Rubbing his watering eyes, the Doctor peered round the
corner. The second Cyberman had now collapsed on top of the first,
but the third monster was advancing across the road towards him.
Glancing behind him, the Doctor saw that the alley formed a dead
end. The hissing rubbery breaths were only metres away. Swallowing
hard, the Doctor waited at the corner. As soon as the creature
appeared, he dived forward between its legs and raced towards the
powerhouse door.

      At the far end of the road, the Brigadier and his troops saw the
disorientated Cyberman trying to disentangle itself from the railing
of the fire escape. Behind it, a tiny figure scurried into the
powerhouse.
       'There's the Doctor!' cried Zoe.
       'Bazookas!' snapped Lethbridge-Stewart.
       Seconds later a roar burst from the launcher and the Cyberman
was blown to pieces in the middle of the roadway.
       After a pause the Doctor crept out from the doorway. 'Where
on earth have you been?' he yelled. Then he pointed to the
blockhouse. '"I'he ion beam transmitter's in there... Do get a move
on...'
       Led by the Brigadier, the platoon and the girls tore down the
road to the blockhouse. After a brief consultation with the Doctor,
the Brigadier ran up the fire escape, clambered over Vaughn's welded
corpse and onto the roof. Armed with her camera, Isobel tried to
follow him, but the Doctor caught her and dragged her under the fire
escape. Several troopers clattered after the Brigadier and the others
surrounded the blockhouse with levelled machine-guns.
       After a long silence they heard a tinkle of glass followed by
several grenade explosions. The door of the blockhouse was blown
off and a number of Cybermen staggered out to be greeted by a hail
of machine-gun fire.
       Isobel wriggled out of the Doctor's grasp and took a series of
hurried pictures of the heap of wriggling, gasping aliens scattered
over the roadway. More massive explosions followed and more
Cybermen tottered into the dense barrage of bullets and collapsed
twitching and smouldering on top of the others.
       There was a long silence. At last the Brigadier staggered out,
coughing and wiping his blackened face to hearty cheers from his
men. He found the Doctor posing heroically on the fire escape,
flourishing bits of dismembered Cyberman while Isobel snapped
cheerfully away.
       'When you're quite ready, Doctor...' he gasped resentfully, 'we
have an invasion on our hands.'
       The Doctor grinned cheekily at him. 'Oh really, Brig? It looks
like soot to me!'
       In the Henlow Flats bunker, Squadron Leader Bradwell and his
team listened to the Brigadier's Situation Bulletin on the polyvox unit
while keeping their eyes fixed on the radar scanners for any sign of
the Cyber Mother Ship or of the Megatron Bomb.
       '... By destroying the ion beam transmitter we have stopped the
enemy triggering their bomb. However, their Cybership continues to
transmit its hypnotic signal and therefore the world remains
paralysed,' explained Lethbridge-Stewart. 'To stop this signal we
must eliminate the Cybership. The Russian rocket should reach it
in... in approximately six hours. If the warhead succeeds then
humanity will be released from Cyber coercion and we shall be able
to mobilise International Defences against the Cybermen already on
the Earth...'
       'Something on the screen, sir!' called out Flight Lieutenant
Peters. 'It's coming in very fast.'
       Bradwell hurried over. On the edge of the long-range sky radar
was a large white blob. 'Sure it's not noise, Peters?'
       'No, sir, it's there all right. True orbital path. Must be gigantic.'
       Bradwell snatched up the polyvox. 'It must be the Cyber craft,'
he murmured.
       'It's in a holding orbit, sir. Approximately five thousand miles.'
       The Squadron Leader apologised for interrupting the
Brigadier. 'We've picked up an enormous UFO, sir. It's orbiting about
five thousand miles out.'
       'Outside your range I suppose?' asked the Brigadier
despondently.
       'Oh yes, sir. Anyway we've only got some odds and ends left.
We chucked all our best stuff at the earlier lot.'
       Lethbridge-Stewart grunted. 'Very well. Thank you, Bradwell.
Inform me of any change. Out.'

      In the Operations Room inside the Hercules the atmosphere
was fraught with anxiety. The Brigadier told Benton to contact
Captain Turner at the Nykortny Base in Russia. Then he turned to the
Doctor, who was silently brooding by himself.
      'Why the devil would they move their Mother Ship in to a
closer orbit?' he asked, completely mystified.
        The Doctor roused himself. 'No doubt to deliver their bomb,'
he mused.
        'But Doctor, we've destroyed the ion beam transmitter... so
how...?'
        The Doctor sighed. 'I must have been mistaken,' he confessed.
'Evidently the device does not require an ion field. However, if as I
suspect it is highly unstable, then it must be confined within a giant
magnetic field until shortly before detonation. Therefore it could
hardly be fired by missile from the neighbourhood of the Moon some
230,000 miles away..
        'You mean the magnetic field has to be generated inside the
Mother Ship?' Zoe blurted out.
        The Doctor nodded gloomily. 'Precisely, Zoe. So they have
come in closer to Earth and are presumably about to launch the
Megatron Bomb.'
        'So they must have come in range of the Russian missile!'
exclaimed Zoe excitedly.
        'Indeed, Zoe, but unfortunately travelling in the wrong
direction.'
        The Brigadier put up his hand for silence as Captain Turner's
voice at last came through. 'Sorry about the delay, sir, but we've had
an almighty flap on here...'
        'Can the Russians re-direct their rocket, Jimmy?' demanded the
Brigadier urgently, his eyes fixed on the Doctor's.
        'Yes, they already have, sir. Estimate contact with Cyber craft
in fifteen minutes.'
        The Brigadier glanced at his watch. 'Could the Cybermen
deliver their bomb in that time?' he asked the Doctor.
        The Doctor nodded, gripping Zoe's hand protectively. 'Easily,
I'm afraid.'
        The Brigadier thanked Turner and sank into a chair. 'This is
going to be a long fifteen minutes...' he sighed.

      They sat in agonised silence, waiting. Once Benton knocked a
tin mug flying and it clattered under the radio console, making
everyone jump. The hapless Corporal mumbled his apologies
sheepishly.
       After a seemingly eternal vigil Squadron Leader Bradwell's
excited voice burst from the polyvox receiver. 'We have the Russian
rocket on radar, heading right on target, sir.'
       Then a chorus of urgent voices was heard in the background.
'Now we've got a third echo sir, heading away from the Cyber ship!'
Bradwell shouted above the hubbub in the bunker.
       The Doctor stood up, frantically ruffling his mop of hair as he
glanced at Zoe in despair. 'The Megatron Bomb...' he whispered. 'It's
on its way after all...'

       In the bunker at Henlow Flats Squadron Leader Bradwell
stared at the three traces on the radar screen. The small trace of the
Russian rocket was fast approaching the large blob of the Cyber
Mother Craft. A third echo, the Megatron Bomb, was moving rapidly
away from the Mother Ship and towards the centre of the screen.
       'Prime all remaining Taktiks,' he suddenly rapped out.
'Override checks programme and link into skyprobe radar guidance.'
       'Target trajectory linked...' reported Peters. 'In range thirty
seconds. You think this will work, sir?'
       'No idea, but we've got nothing to lose,' Bradwell cried
cheerfully, the light of battle shining in his eyes. 'Guidance locked on
yet?'
       'Best we can, sir, on all three missiles.'
       Bradwell turned the key in his command console. 'Right. One
at a time... Three... two... one... Fire!' He stabbed the launch button
with crossed fingers.
       The bunker crew waited tensely.
       'One's going wide, sir...' Peters called out.
       'Prepare Two and standby Three, just in case.'

       On the other side of the airfield the two remaining missiles had
swung their slim black noses up at the sky. Seconds later one of them
streaked away into the blue.
       'Two looks good, sir,' Peters reported.
       On the radar scanner the Taktik missile was soon seen homing
in directly on the Megatron Bomb missile, while far beyond them the
Russian rocket was now almost touching the Cyber Mother Ship.
       'Bradwell, what the devil's going on over there?' the Brigadier
suddenly boomed from the polyvox unit.
       At that moment a frenzied cheer erupted in the bunker.
       'Bradwell...? This is Lethbridge-Stewart. I demand to know
what's happening...'
       Another even bigger cheer and whoops of delight filled the
bunker as the airmen hugged one another and shookhands.
       Bradwell picked up the polyvox. 'Two bullseyes, sir!' he
reported, laughing with relief as he gazed at the tracer sweeping back
and forth across the blank radar screen.
       'Not a trace of 'em left.'
       While the Brigadier's and the Doctor's hearty congratulations
buzzed out of the polyvox unit, Bradwell reached under his collar
and gingerly removed the depolariser taped to his neck. It had begun
to itch...

        Two days later, Zoe was once again posing under the hot lights
in Isobel's improvised studio. This time she was wearing a black
catsuit and her hair was covered in silver glitter, while Isobel looked
cool and relaxed in orange hotpants and silver boots.
        'What exactly is this new job you've landed?' Zoe asked, taking
a well deserved breather.
        'It's super,' Isobel grinned. 'Because of all my action photos of
the Cybermen I've got an exclusive contract with a magazine to do a
worldwide exclusive on the invasion! What about you, Zoe?'
        Zoe screwed up her face. 'Oh, I suppose when the Doctor's
finished repairing the TARDIS circuits we'll be off again,' she replied
regretfully.
        Isobel looked sad. 'Where to?'
        Zoe shrugged. 'We never know where to... or when to, come to
that,' she replied mysteriously.
        The door burst open and Captain Turner popped in.
        'Here's my dolly soldier at last,' cried Isobel.
        'Cheeky!' grinned Turner. 'Zoe, the Doctor's ready to leave.
I've got the jeep outside.'
        Zoe looked a little downcast. 'Oh, any news of Jamie?' she
asked.
        'He's fine, Zoe. We'll pick him up from the hospital on the
way.'
      Isobel nudged Turner mischievously. 'Could I come too?'
      Turner hesitated. 'Okay, as long as you promise not to call me
your "dolly soldier" in front of the Brig,' he warned her sternly.
      They all laughed and he led the way outside.

       An hour later, the Doctor, Zoe, Jamie, Isobel, Captain Turner
and the Brigadier all climbed out of a UNIT jeep parked beside a
gate leading into a field.
       'Here, Doctor?' exclaimed Lethbridge-Stewart, surveying the
leisurely cows with some misgiving.
       'Yes, thank you, Brigadier, this is fine,' smiled the Doctor,
opening the gate. He turned and shook hands warmly.
       Jamie limped up and frowned. 'Och, are ye sure this is the
place, Doctor?'
       The Doctor shielded his eyes with the two repaired circuit
panels and surveyed the placid rural scene. 'Yes, Jamie. Don't you
recognise that cow over there?'
       They followed his arm and gaped in astonishment. Half the
cow seemed to be missing - only its head and forelegs were visible.
       The Doctor chuckled. 'The TARDIS must be just over there.
Come on you two, all aboard.'
       He marched across the lush grass and went up to the half-
invisible cow. He patted its head tenderly and then took a few steps
towards where its tail should have been and promptly disappeared.
Immediately his head re-appeared just above the cow's head.
       'I've found the TARDIS!' he cried. 'Hang on a minute while I
put the circuits back.' Again the Doctor disappeared.
       'What the devil's the fellow up to?' muttered the Brigadier
scratching his head, while Zoe and Jamie exchanged a grin.
       A few minutes later, the TARDIS materialised with fitful
flashes of its yellow beacon and shrill grindings from its innermost
mechanism.
       'A disappearing police box!' gasped Isobel, opening her camera
case. 'I don't believe this...'
       The door opened and the Doctor emerged. 'Come along, you
two!' he shouted. 'We're five hundred years late already.'
       Zoe and Jamie bade farewell to the amazed and bewildered
group at the gate and walked off arm in arm towards the shabby
police box. Isobel clicked eagerly away as the intrepid trio stood
waving in the doorway of the TARDIS, with the Doctor posing
dramatically for the telephoto lens. At last the door squeaked shut.
       Isobel, Captain Turner and the Brigadier leaned on the gate
and laughed as the cows suddenly looked up and scattered in all
directions mooing loudly. With a hoarse trumpeting and groaning
sound the battered police box faded and finally vanished completely.
       'Where do you think they've gone, sir?' asked Turner, shaking
his head in puzzled disbelief.
       The Brigadier watched the cows as they gradually resumed
their quiet grazing. Then he shrugged. 'It's a moot point, Jimmy,' he
said and marched briskly back to the jeep.
