Doctor Who and the Auton Invasion

by Terrance Dicks

  Another energy-bolt whizzed past Ransome’s head as he dodged between the machinery. There followed a terrifying game of hide-and-seek. Ransome ducked and dodged around the machinery, desperately avoiding the hunting Auton. He realised that the creature must have some kind of intelligence. It consistently managed to block his way to the exit. All the time it was edging closer and closer, confining him to one corner of the factory. With a feeling of terror Ransome realised that he was running out of hiding-places. He could see the Auton coming closer, wrist-gun raised.

  Suddenly he heard footsteps and voices. He peered cautiously from behind a machine casing. Coming towards him across the factory area was Hibbert, talking to a man in army officer’s uniform. Ransome was about to call for help, when he saw Channing following along behind. Ransome kept silent. Something told him that he would get no help from Channing. As he watched, Channing suddenly stopped walking. Those strange, burning eyes swept round the factory floor. Ransome shuddered and ducked out of sight.

  As soon as he made contact with the consciousness of the Auton, Channing knew everything that had happened. He knew of Ransome’s breaking in, the hunt across the factory, the fierce desire of the Auton to destroy the intruder. Swiftly Channing weighed up the factors. It was too soon to risk Scobie seeing anything that would disturb him. Channing flashed a mental command and the Auton stepped back in a shadowed corner and became motionless.

  Instantly, Ransome seized his chance, weaving between the machinery and dashing out through the doorway by which he had entered.

  Channing walked up to Scobie and Hibbert, who had been waiting for him in some puzzlement.

  ‘Everything all right?’ asked Hibbert.

  ‘Forgive me, gentlemen,’ said Channing, ‘just a sudden problem, something I must attend to later.’

  ‘Jolly quiet round here,’ said Scobie. ‘Doesn’t seem to be anyone in the place.’

  Hibbert said: ‘We’re turning over to full automation, General. The factory virtually runs itself.’

  Scobie chuckled. ‘Splendid. Don’t get any of this strike nonsense, eh? Didn’t I see a big chap in overalls just now, though?’

  Channing said: ‘We still have one or two men about the place, for the heavy work. Your car’s through this way, General Scobie.’

  They walked to where the General’s limousine stood waiting. Scobie held out his hand. ‘Well, goodbye, gentlemen. Been a most interesting afternoon.’ Channing hesitated, hands still clasped behind him. It was Hibbert who stepped forward and shook Scobie’s hand.

  ‘Goodbye, sir, and thank you once again for coming down here. We know how busy you must be.’

  ‘You’ll let me see the model of me when it’s really finished?’

  ‘You will certainly see it, General,’ said Channing, ‘…when the time comes.’

  Scobie got into his car, and was driven away. Channing and Hibbert looked after him a moment, and then walked back into the factory.

  Ransome meanwhile was struggling through the hole he had cut in the wire. He ran for his car, jumped in, and reversed as fast as he could up the forest track. Not until he was back on the road and driving very fast towards London did he even begin to feel safe. Suddenly, he saw a small group of soldiers emerge from the forest. He jammed on his brakes and wound down the car window.

  ‘Hey… hey you!’

  The NGO in charge of the patrol came up to the car.

  ‘Anything wrong, sir?’

  ‘There’s something terribly wrong. They just tried to murder me!’

  The Corporal looked at Ransome’s wild-eyed face with some caution.

  ‘Better tell the police then, sir. There’s a police station down in the village.’

  ‘It’s not a matter for the police. Look, let me talk to somebody senior. One of your officers.’

  The Corporal considered for a moment, then decided to play it safe. Probably the man was just a nut, but you never knew.

  ‘Captain Munro’s in the Command Tent. At the end of that lane, just down there. You could have a word with him.’

  Ransome’s car was already speeding down the road. The Corporal shook his head, and he and his men resumed their patrol.

  In the factory’s security area, Channing and Hibbert stood looking at a small screen. Hibbert said: ‘You’re sure it was Ransome? You didn’t actually see him.’

  Channing indicated the Auton, now once more standing in line with its fellows. ‘The Auton saw him. It comes to the same thing.’ Channing looked at Hibbert almost with pity. These humans with their limited, separate minds. How could they understand the essential unity of the Nestene consciousness? He touched a control and a bright cobwebby pattern appeared on the screen. ‘The detection scanner has registered his brain-print.’

  Hibbert looked frightened. ‘What will you do?’

  ‘Send the Autons to destroy him.’

  ‘No, Channing, no! You can’t just kill him! He was my friend.’

  Channing came close, his burning eyes boring into Hibbert’s very brain. He spoke soothingly: ‘It is necessary, Hibbert. He saw all this. He saw the Autons. No one can see those things and live. No one except you, Hibbert. Think, and you will see that it is necessary.’

  Hibbert’s mind became calm. Of course Ransome had to die. It was unfortunate, but logical. ‘How will the Autons find him?’

  Channing said: ‘They are programmed now to detect his brain-print and destroy him on sight.’ He looked at the pattern on the screen. ‘He is still in the area. Soon they will find him.’ As if at a silent command, the line of Autons jerked into life, and marched silently from the room.

  Hibbert said: ‘You are sending all of them to hunt for Ransome?’

  ‘If they find Ransome they will kill him. But that is not their primary purpose. All of the energy units have been recovered or accounted for. All except one. But that one is the most important of all.’ Channing swung round on Hibbert, his eyes burning with a fierce unearthly light. ‘Before the invasion can begin, we must find the swarm leader!’

  Sam Seeley took a noisy swig from his mug of tea, and looked up defiantly at his wife. ‘How do you know it weren’t an accident, then, eh? How do you know?’

  Meg’s voice was hushed with drama. ‘The soldiers found one of them things that came down in the woods. Poor lad was driving it back to London, on one of those little jeeps.’

  ‘So he had a crash,’ said Sam. ‘Nothing in that. Road accidents happening all the time.’

  Meg leaned forward. ‘His neck were broken, clean through. And his rifle were beside him, the barrel all twisted. They say there was a look of terrible fear on his face.’

  Sam shivered. ‘Lots of gossip,’ he said uneasily. ‘Old wives’ tales.’

  Meg took another sip of tea. ‘Maybe so. But I’m glad I never found one of those things.’

  ‘Lucky for anyone who did,’ said Sam defiantly. ‘You see, they’ll be offering a reward soon.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Meg. ‘And maybe you wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy it.’

  She finished her tea and stood up. ‘Well, I’m off down the shop.’ She gave Sam a peck on the cheek, and put on her coat. Sam was staring into his tea mug, obviously a very worried man. As she came out of the front door, Meg smiled to herself. She knew well enough that her Sam was up to something. He’d been acting funny and mysterious ever since that night in the woods. Well, maybe she’d managed to scare some sense into him. Barney, Sam’s old lurcher dog, was dozing in the front garden. He wagged his tail, but couldn’t be bothered to get up.

  Back in the cottage Sam stood up, undecided. Course, it was just a lot of silly gossip. Still, he couldn’t keep that thing in the shed forever. Maybe it was time for a little chat with those soldier boys. Couldn’t do any harm to sound them out. He might even drop one or two hints.

  In the UNIT Command Tent, Captain Munro looked with concern at the terrified figure on the other side of the trestle table. Ransome’s hands were shaking so much that he had to cl
asp the mug of strong army tea with both hands. His teeth chattered against the rim of the mug as he drank.

  Munro said gently: ‘I’m sorry, sir, but the story isn’t all that clear. You broke into the factory, and someone tried to kill you?’

  Ransome made a mighty effort. ‘Not someone. Something. A creature. There were lots of them. They must be making them in the factory. No proper eyes… no hair… a lumpy face… it came after me.’ Ransome began to shiver uncontrollably.

  ‘It’s all right, you’re safe now,’ said Munro soothingly. ‘Now then, you say it had a gun?’

  Ransome spluttered with the effort to explain the horror he had seen. ‘Not had a gun… the gun was part of it… its hand just fell away, hung there…’ He looked at Munro wildly, as if begging him to understand and believe him.

  Munro came to a decision. ‘Look, sir, all this is a bit above my head. I’d like you to tell this story to my Brigadier. He’ll know how to handle things.’

  Munro raised his voice. ‘Sergeant! I want this man taken to UNIT H.Q., right away.’

  Liz Shaw and the Doctor were bent over the tray of meteorite fragments. The Doctor moved the scanning equipment gently across the surface. Liz said, ‘Are you getting a reading?’

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Right, that’s it, then,’ said Liz in some disgust. ‘We’ve tried every test and, except that we think it’s some kind of totally unknown plastic, we’ve got nowhere.’

  The Doctor shrugged. ‘Well, we did our best. After all, with this primitive equipment they’ve given us…’

  Liz gestured round the laboratory. ‘Primitive? Come on now, Doctor, that’s not really fair. We’ve got lasers, spectographs, micron probes.’

  The Doctor sniffed disparagingly. ‘What we really need is a lateral molecular rectifier. That’d give us the answer in no time.’

  ‘And what on earth is a lateral molecular thingummy?’

  ‘Nothing on Earth, unfortunately. But I’ve got one in the TARDIS.’

  ‘You really do keep your scientific equipment in that old police box?’

  The Doctor looked at her solemnly. ‘My dear young lady, you simply wouldn’t believe what I keep in there.’

  ‘All right, then,’ said Liz, ‘get the thing out. We’ve tried everything else.’

  The Doctor looked crestfallen. ‘The trouble is the – er, box is still locked. And the Brigadier refuses to part with the key.’ He looked at Liz hopefully. ‘You might be able to persuade him.’

  In his office, the Brigadier was listening with mounting incredulity to Harry Ransome’s story. Ransome was calmer now, more coherent. He went over the whole story from his first visit to America, to his final escape from the Auton. When he was finished Ransome sat back and took a deep breath. He looked at the Brigadier ruefully. ‘Don’t believe a word of it, do you? Can’t say I blame you.’

  Embarrassed, the Brigadier fiddled with a little key on his desk blotter.

  ‘Now, I didn’t say that, Mr Ransome. As a matter of fact we, at UNIT, are particularly interested in that part of the world.’

  There was a tap on the door and the Brigadier looked up as Liz Shaw entered. ‘Excuse me,’ she said with a glance at the visitor.

  The Brigadier was irritated at the interruption. Time the girl learned some discipline. She was in UNIT now.

  ‘Not now, Miss Shaw.’

  ‘This is rather urgent. You see, the Doctor thinks—’

  The Brigadier was outraged. ‘Miss Shaw, your work in the laboratory is only a small part of a very complex operation. Mr Ransome has come to me with a very interesting story, and I want to hear it without interruptions.’

  Ignoring Liz, the Brigadier rose and pointed to a wall-map. ‘Now exactly where is this plastics factory of yours?’

  Ransome peered at the map, and then said: ‘Just there.’

  The Brigadier nodded. ‘Exactly. Close to the borders of Oxley Woods. Some very funny things have been happening there.’

  The two men had turned their backs on Liz to study the map. She was left standing in the doorway, furious at her abrupt dismissal. Suddenly she saw the little key on the desk. Without a word, she snatched it up and swept from the room, slamming the door behind her with a crash that shook the room.

  The Brigadier winced, then resumed his place behind the desk.

  ‘Now then, Mr Ransome, let’s just run through the main points of this story of yours again.’

  Liz stormed into the laboratory, and thrust the little key into the Doctor’s hand. ‘Of all the pompous, overbearing idiots,’ she said furiously, ‘that Brigadier takes the biscuit!’

  The Doctor looked at the key in amazement. ‘He gave it to you – just like that?’

  ‘Not exactly. I took it.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said the Doctor. ‘I’m afraid he’s going to be very cross with you.’

  Taking the key from her hand, he looked at her with a worried frown. He glanced from the tray of meteorite fragments to the TARDIS and then back at Liz. He seemed torn by indecision.

  ‘Hadn’t you better get on with it?’ said Liz.

  The Doctor sighed. ‘Yes, I’m afraid I had. Thank you, my dear. Goodbye.’

  The Doctor crossed to the TARDIS and slipped the key in the lock. The door opened and the Doctor stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  Liz looked at the closed door in amazement, waiting for the Doctor to emerge. Why had he said goodbye like that? Suddenly she heard a strange groaning and wheezing coming from the TARDIS. It was like the sound of some powerful but rather ancient engine creaking into life.

  That sound reached the Brigadier in his office. He looked down at his desk, registered the absence of the key. To Ransome’s astonishment he gave a bellow of rage and ran from the room.

  The groaning and roaring was still going on as the Brigadier dashed into the laboratory. The TARDIS was shuddering and vibrating now. Liz had backed away from it and was watching in astonishment.

  ‘The key,’ spluttered the Brigadier, raising his voice above the din. ‘You gave it to the Doctor?’

  Liz nodded. ‘He said he kept some vital equipment in there.’

  ‘Equipment?’ roared the Brigadier. ‘You little idiot! He’s escaped! We shan’t see him again.’

  The roar of the TARDIS rose to a shattering crescendo. ‘There you are,’ shouted the Brigadier. ‘He’s going!’

  Suddenly there was a loud bang from inside the TARDIS. The groaning noise subsided, the TARDIS door flew open, and a cloud of smoke billowed out. In the middle of the smoke appeared the Doctor, coughing and choking. He waved his handkerchief to clear the smoke and then spotted the Brigadier and Liz. He gave them a rather sheepish smile, and closed the TARDIS door.

  ‘I was just testing, you know. Just testing.’

  ‘Doctor, you tricked me,’ said Liz accusingly.

  The Doctor sighed. ‘I’m afraid I did, my dear. Please forgive me. The temptation was very strong. You see, I suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of being tied to one time-zone and one planet.’ He turned to the Brigadier. ‘Sorry, old chap. I won’t do it again.’

  ‘You certainly won’t,’ said the Brigadier grimly. ‘Give me that key, Doctor.’

  ‘Must I?’ said the Doctor plaintively. ‘As you saw, the TARDIS isn’t working any more.’

  He looked so unhappy that the Brigadier couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. He cleared his throat and said gruffly: ‘Well – if you give me your word not to try and escape again.’

  The Doctor sank despondently onto a stool. ‘I couldn’t escape now if I wanted to – not in the TARDIS. They’ve changed my dematerialisation code.’

  ‘Who’s changed what?’

  ‘The Time Lords. Oh, the despicable, underhanded lot!’ said the Doctor indignantly.

  ‘You can talk,’ said Liz. She hadn’t entirely forgiven the Doctor his trickery.

  Hastily, the Doctor turned to the Brigadier. ‘Well now, about this little problem of
yours. Miss Shaw and I have come to a dead end, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It’s because we haven’t got a lateral molecular rectifier, you see,’ said Liz, with a look at the Doctor.

  ‘A what?’ said the Brigadier. ‘I told you I can get you any equipment you need.’

  ‘Just a little joke,’ said the Doctor hastily. ‘The thing is, we need something more to work on.’

  ‘I think I may be able to provide it for you,’ said the Brigadier. ‘Will you both come to my office, please? There’s someone I’d like you to talk to. We’re all going to take a little trip down to Essex, to visit a plastics factory.’

  8

  The Auton Attacks

  Sam Seeley shuffled his feet uneasily, twisting his old cloth cap between his fingers. His gaze wandered all round the tent, trying to avoid the sceptical eyes of the young officer behind the table.

  Munro said sharply: ‘Come on now, Mr Seeley, you’re wasting my time. Have you got something to tell me, or haven’t you?’

  ‘I’m only trying to help, like,’ said Sam vaguely. ‘You see, I knows these woods, like, knows every rabbit-hole.’

  ‘Poacher, are you?’

  ‘Let’s just say I’m self-employed.’

  ‘I’m still trying to work out why you came to see me.’

  Sam groaned inwardly. This conversation wasn’t going at all the way he’d imagined it. No one seemed at all interested in his subtle hints. All he was getting was a lot of uncomfortably direct questions.

  He tried again. ‘See, if I knew a bit about what you was looking for…’ Munro’s voice was stern. ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Mr Seeley. But I can tell you this. The objects we’re searching for are extremely dangerous. One man has been killed already.’

  Sam made a final try. ‘I reckon it’d be worth a fair bit of money – if anyone did happen to know where he could put his hand on one?’

  Munro leaned forward. ‘It’d be worth quite a long spell in prison for someone withholding information, if someone did know where to find one, and didn’t inform us. Of course, if that someone came forward like a public-spirited citizen – well, there might possibly be some question of a small reward. Some kind of finder’s fee.’