Doctor Who and the Dinosaur Invasion

by Malcolm Hulke

  Sarah came forward to take a closer look at the Doctor’s work. ‘What did you say that thing is, Doctor?’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Can I help at all?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If I’m supposed to be your assistant, there must be something I can do.’

  ‘There is,’ said the Doctor. ‘Go away.’

  ‘You’d really sooner be left alone, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘How ever did you guess, my dear?’

  Sarah said, ‘I can take a hint.’ She tip-toed out of the temporary workshop.

  The Doctor sighed with relief, bolted the door, and tried to get on with his work. As he returned to his work bench there was a tap on the door.

  ‘Go away,’ he called. ‘There’s no one in here.’

  The Brigadier spoke through the bolted door. ‘May I see you, please? We have a very important visitor.’

  ‘I am a very important visitor,’ the Doctor called back through the door.

  ‘Very funny,’ said the Brigadier. ‘But standing outside here with me is a member of the Government.’

  Reluctantly the Doctor put down the stun-gun and unbolted the door. Standing outside with the Brigadier was a short intelligent-looking man in his fifties wearing an expensively cut lounge suit. His politician’s smile turned on the Doctor.

  ‘This is the Doctor, sir,’ the Brigadier told the visitor. ‘Doctor, let me introduce Sir Charles Grover, Minister with Special Powers.’

  Grover’s smile, seen frequently on millions of television sets, continued. ‘I do apologise for the interruption, Doctor. I realise how busy you are.’

  ‘I’m glad somebody does,’ replied the Doctor without trying to conceal the grumpiness in his voice. ‘Anyway, come in.’

  Grover stepped into the headmaster’s office. ‘The Brigadier tells me that you may find the solution to this appalling crisis.’

  ‘I hope so.’ The Doctor took a closer look at Grover. ‘Aren’t you the chap who started the Save Planet Earth Society?’

  ‘I had a little to do with its founding,’ said Grover, modestly.

  The Doctor continued, ‘And you wrote that book, Last Chance for Man, didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s right, ably assisted by my colleagues, of course, who did so much of the research.’

  The Doctor extended his hand. ‘My dear chap, I’m very pleased to meet you. This planet needs people like you.’

  To the Brigadier’s relief, the Doctor and the Cabinet Minister shook hands warmly. He recalled that the Save Planet Earth Society, who sought to predict what life on Earth would be like in the future, had once been regarded as a bunch of cranks; they were now taken very seriously indeed.

  ‘You two have a great deal in common, if I may say so. The Doctor’s very keen on this anti-pollution business,’ said the Brigadier.

  ‘And so should you be, Brigadier,’ replied Grover. ‘It affects all our lives.’ He turned back to the Doctor. ‘Tell me, Doctor, do you have any theories on why all this is happening?’

  ‘I believe the dinosaurs are being used purely as a weapon of terror, to clear Central London.’

  Grover looked astounded. ‘You mean people are doing this?’

  ‘Although the speed of Time may vary in different parts of the Universe as a whole,’ continued the Doctor, ‘the chances of a localised time-slip occurring as a result through natural causes are extremely rare. Yes, Sir Charles, people are doing it.’

  ‘But why?’

  The Doctor paused. ‘I take it that everything I say to you is in strict confidence?’

  The Brigadier spoke up. ‘Doctor, Sir Charles represents the Government. We have no secrets from our superiors.’ It was a gentle reminder to the Doctor that he nowadays worked for UNIT.

  ‘Of course not,’ said the Doctor blandly. ‘My belief is that the people responsible for bringing these creatures into the present want to clear London of its population. They have some vast project that can only be carried out in a deserted London.’

  Charles Grover looked puzzled. ‘But why London? If they wanted wide open depopulated areas, why not choose the Yorkshire Moors or the Highlands of Scotland?’

  ‘Why indeed,’ said the Doctor. ‘Obviously there must be some overriding reason, something they need that is only available to them here.’

  Sergeant Benton rushed into the office. He ignored Sir Charles Grover, briefly acknowledged the Brigadier, and went straight up to the Doctor. ‘They’ve just spotted one, Doctor. Section Twelve.’

  ‘Do you know what kind it is?’

  Benton looked at a chit of paper in his hand. ‘Apato something.’

  ‘Apatosaurus,’ said the Doctor, ‘more commonly known as the brontosaurus. Large, placid, and stupid. Exactly what we need.’

  ‘May I ask what’s going on?’ asked Sir Charles.

  ‘This is a stun-gun.’ The Doctor indicated the weapon on the make-do work bench. ‘It is imperative that we catch one of these creatures, and I may be able to do it with this.’ He swung round to the Brigadier. ‘Can I have transport laid on straight away?’

  ‘Of course,’ replied the Brigadier. ‘Benton, see to it.’

  ‘Already done, sir.’

  ‘Then let’s go,’ said the Doctor. ‘There’s no time to lose.’ He paused at the door. ‘Excuse our sudden departure, Sir Charles, we’ll keep you informed.’

  The Doctor, the Brigadier and Sergeant Benton hurried out, leaving Sir Charles Grover on his own. He looked round the headmaster’s office. He remembered when he was master in a grammar school, long before he went into politics. They were happy days when the future seemed full of hope. He wished he could have that time over again.

  In the control centre, deep below London, Butler saw a light flashing. It meant someone was using the lift. He found this curious since they did not expect visitors at this time. He hurried out of the control room, down the corridor to the lifts. The indicator confirmed that someone was descending. He waited for the doors to open. It was young Captain Yates.

  Butler said, ‘You’re never supposed to come here.’

  ‘It’s urgent,’ said Yates. ‘Where’s Professor Whitaker?’

  ‘Playing with his Timescoop,’ said Butler. ‘This way.’

  Butler led the young Captain along the corridor to the control room. On entering, Yates looked about himself, very impressed by all the gleaming scientific equipment.

  ‘Over here,’ Butler called.

  Yates crossed to where Professor Whitaker was adjusting controls on the Timescoop. The Professor looked up. His sickly smile always turned Yates’s stomach.

  ‘Dear boy,’ said Whitaker, ‘how lovely to see you—’

  ‘The Doctor’s back,’ Yates blurted out, interrupting him.

  ‘Really? And who, may I ask, is the Doctor?’

  ‘UNIT’s scientific adviser,’ replied Yates, his face grim. ‘The one person who could catch us.’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t use words like that. You make us sound like common criminals.’

  Butler cut in. ‘I think you should listen to Captain Yates, Professor. This may be important.’

  The Professor turned on his swivel chair to face Yates. ‘Do carry on, Captain.’

  ‘The Doctor is making a stun-gun to catch one of the monsters,’ Yates continued. ‘Once he’s got one he intends to surround it with an electrical field and then wait for it to disappear. In some way, I don’t understand how, that will give away the location of the Timescoop.’

  Whitaker laced his fingers and looked down at the well-polished nails. ‘Most ingenious. And most improbable.’

  ‘If the Doctor says he can do it,’ said Yates, ‘I believe him. He’s probably the most brilliant scientist on this planet.’

  ‘That,’ said Whitaker, looking up sharply, ‘is a matter of opinion.’

  ‘But don’t you realise what will happen if he’s right? It’ll be the end of Operation Golden Age. Everything we’ve planned will be ruined.’

>   ‘Well,’ said Whitaker after a few moments’ thought, ‘you’re the soldier. You’d better do something about this Doctor of yours.’

  ‘I’ll do nothing to harm him, nor will I allow him to be harmed by anyone else. If we descend to that sort of thing we’re no better than the society we’re trying to get away from.’

  ‘How very touching,’ said the Professor. ‘Then what do you propose we do?’

  Yates hesitated. ‘I’m afraid I have no idea.’

  ‘Naturally,’ scoffed Professor Whitaker. ‘I’m the one who has to come up with all the ideas. So now I shall contribute yet another brilliant inspiration—for the good of the cause. We must sabotage this so-called stun-gun.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It won’t be difficult.’ The Professor rose from his swivel chair. ‘Give me a few minutes at the work bench and I shall produce the very thing for you.’

  ‘For me?’ queried Yates.

  ‘Of course, dear boy. You’ll have to deliver the goods. But don’t worry, it’ll only affect the stun-gun. I shall see that not a hair of your precious Doctor’s head is harmed.’

  The Brigadier’s jeep screamed to a stop. He gazed in awe at the monster which the soldiers were holding at bay. Long as a railway coach and thirty tons in bulk, the giant, fully-grown brontosaurus filled the little street next to a factory.

  ‘What a remarkable specimen,’ said the Doctor as he climbed out of the jeep. He carefully laid the cumbersome stun-gun on the back seat. ‘Let’s take a closer look.’

  Cautiously, the Brigadier and the Doctor walked towards the towering monster. Its head, high as a three-storey house, swung to and fro on the end of its long neck: it was trying to get the humans into focus.

  ‘How convenient,’ remarked the Doctor, ‘to have it turn up in a cul-de-sac. It can’t escape.’

  ‘Is this the kind you wanted, Doctor?’ the Brigadier asked with a shiver.

  ‘The bigger the better,’ replied the Doctor, rubbing his hands together. ‘The larger the mass, the greater the temporal displacement.’

  ‘What’s the firing range of that stun-gun of yours?’ asked the Brigadier.

  ‘I shall have to get up quite close,’ said the Doctor. ‘But not to worry. These fellows aren’t partial to flesh.’ He gazed at the monster’s head towering above him. ‘He got that big by munching soft plants.’

  Another jeep screeched to a halt. Captain Yates stepped out. ‘Anything I can do, Doctor?’

  ‘You could get my stun-gun,’ the Doctor called back.

  The Captain ran to the Brigadier’s parked jeep. As he picked up the weapon, he took a small metallic disc from the palm of his hand and pushed it into position under the barrel. It would, Professor Whitaker had assured him, neutralise the stun-gun without endangering the Doctor.

  ‘You carry the gun,’ Yates told a soldier. ‘I’ll take the power pack.’ Yates picked up the rucksack which contained nothing more than high-voltage batteries attached to the stun-gun. Together they carried the apparatus to where the Doctor was standing.

  ‘Thank you,’ said the Doctor. ‘Now, someone help me on with the power pack.’

  With Captain Yates’s help the Doctor struggled into the rucksack, and then took the gun from the soldier.

  The Brigadier called to his soldiers, ‘Stand by with covering fire if necessary!’

  ‘It won’t be necessary,’ smiled the Doctor. ‘These things don’t bite. Five minutes from now we shall have a very unconscious brontosaurus on our hands.’

  The Doctor walked forward into the cul-de-sac. The reptile turned its head again, focusing on the midget now approaching. It backed away, its vast whiplash tail pushing down a high brick wall at the end of the street. The Doctor stopped when he was directly under the monster’s head. Satisfying himself that the stun-gun had been correctly adjusted, he took careful aim and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The Doctor examined the controls, made a finer adjustment, took aim, and fired again. Still no response from the stun-gun. Suddenly, the Doctor heard a great roar of anger from behind him. He spun round. Blocking the exit from the narrow street towered a thirty-foot-high tyrannosaurus rex, its savage jaws dripping with the blood of some prey it had just killed, before being hurtled through a hundred and fifty million years of Time.

  The Brigadier blinked. ‘What happened?’ For a fraction of a second, Time had stood still for him.

  ‘That monster,’ shouted Captain Yates, ‘it must have suddenly appeared. I must save the Doctor. It’s a killer!’

  Yates drew his service revolver and ran towards the tyrannosaurus rex.

  ‘Yates,’ called the Brigadier, ‘come back. We can’t fire on it with you there!’

  But Captain Yates ignored the Brigadier. He worked his way round the giant’s foot, hoping to get a shot at its head. Rounding the base of the monster, he saw that the brontosaurus had vanished. The Doctor had tripped, and lay stunned on the ground. The tyrannosaurus rex was lowering its blooded jaws to eat the Doctor. Captain Yates fired twice at the monster’s head, hitting the huge jaw with the second bullet. The reptile raised its head, as though angered by the bite of a fly. In that moment Captain Yates threw himself across the narrow street, landing beside the discarded stun-gun. He ripped off the concealed metallic disc, grabbed the stun-gun, and rolled over on to his back. Aiming the sights at the monster’s towering head, he pulled the trigger. The stun-gun sizzled with the power flowing through it. Instantly the monster staggered. Yates blasted it again. The tyrannosaurus rex, the most feared animal which had ever lived, leaned drunkenly against the wall of the factory, its little two-fingered hands flaying the air hopelessly. Captain Yates scrambled to his feet, grabbed the Doctor under his arms and pulled him to safety, just as the reptile crumpled forward in a dead faint.

  5

  Monster in Chains

  ‘You tried to murder the Doctor!’

  Captain Yates was standing over Professor Whitaker, shaking with anger. ‘You deliberately materialised a savage monster knowing full well it would attack the Doctor!’

  Butler, his scar more livid than usual, spoke up. ‘An unavoidable mistake, Captain Yates.’

  ‘It was deliberate,’ Yates stormed. ‘And you know it!’

  ‘If I may be allowed to speak,’ said Professor Whitaker, ‘it was you, Captain Yates, who sabotaged the stun-gun.’

  ‘Only to stop the Doctor catching a monster, and certainly not so that you could turn a flesh-eater on to him!’ He tried to speak more calmly. ‘Look, let me tell the Doctor what we’re doing. I’m sure he’d be sympathetic. He might even try to help us.’

  Professor Whitaker’s face hardened. ‘That’s quite out of the question. What if he didn’t agree with our aims?’

  ‘But I’m sure he would,’ Yates pleaded. ‘Everything we are doing is for the good of Mankind.’ He paused. ‘It is, isn’t it?’

  Butler smiled. ‘Captain Yates, would you be involved if it were not? In the end we shall be judged the saviours of the human race. One cannot have ideals higher than that.’

  Yates felt reassured. ‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘But there’s no need to harm the Doctor.’

  Professor Whitaker smiled. ‘It’s nice to see you care. I wouldn’t mind meeting this Doctor myself sometime.’ Then he added quickly, ‘But not just now. Tell me, what stage has he reached?’

  ‘They’ve taken the creature to an aircraft hangar on the fringe of the evacuated area. The Doctor’s surrounding it with an electrical field. As I told you before, he intends to record when the monster vanishes in order to track down the location of this control centre.’

  ‘Then more sabotage will be necessary,’ said Butler. ‘More work for you, Captain Yates.’

  ‘Sorry. Count me out.’

  Butler and Whitaker exchanged a quick glance. Butler continued, ‘We can’t count you out, Captain Yates. Who else can do the sabotage except you?’

  Yates thought about that. ‘All right. What do you want me to do?’

>   ‘Ensure that the Doctor’s instruments don’t work,’ said the Professor. ‘In due course, the creature will return to its own time. When that happens, the Doctor must not be able to locate the source of its temporal displacement.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ promised Yates, preparing to leave.

  ‘Don’t forget,’ added Butler, ‘that if the Doctor finds this place, it will mean the end of Operation Golden Age. The entire future of Man depends on you, Captain Yates.’

  Yates nodded, and hurried out.

  Whitaker turned to Butler. ‘You forgot to mention the past of Man.’

  Butler, his back to the Professor, was studying a set of instruments. ‘There are some things it’s better for Captain Yates not to know.’

  The Brigadier and Sarah were standing in the hangar office gazing through an internal window at the Doctor as he walked the length of the tyrannosaurus. The giant reptile, still unconscious, and lying on its side, filled the aircraft hangar. Thick chains, attached to heavy spikes driven into the concrete floor, were padlocked round the creature’s hind legs, tail and neck. A series of electrical antennae, rather like indoor television aerials, surrounded the monster. These antennae were linked by cables to an apparatus that the Doctor had hastily rigged up in the office.

  ‘I hope it doesn’t wake up,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ replied the Brigadier. ‘Those chains could hold a herd of wild elephants.’

  The Doctor, seeming satisfied with the arrangements in the hangar, returned to the office.

  ‘Sleeping peacefully?’ asked the Brigadier.

  ‘Not exactly sleeping,’ said the Doctor, as he checked the dials and gauges of the directional detector, ‘but still in a faint. I wonder if those creatures ever dreamed?’

  ‘What a curious fellow you are,’ laughed the Brigadier, ‘to think of something like that at a time like this.’

  ‘There’s not much else to think about until the animal dematerialises.’ The Doctor adjusted some of the controls.

  Sarah seized her opportunity. ‘Then perhaps I could tell you something, Doctor?’

  ‘But of course,’ he murmured, his attention entirely focused on a small black knob that he kept twiddling. ‘I’m all ears.’