Doctor Who and the Auton Invasion

by Terrance Dicks

  The Doctor moved away from the tent wall. ‘We’re all assuming he got out. Maybe something else got in.’

  ‘Somebody kidnapped him – from my Command Post?’ The Brigadier was appalled at the very thought.

  The Doctor shrugged. ‘After all, Ransome’s story was our only link with the factory. If Mr Ransome’s anywhere, that’s where he’ll be.’

  As the car sped towards the factory, the Doctor sat chin in his hands, brooding. Liz sensed that his mind was turning over all that had happened, trying to find a pattern, a reason. He was still silent as they drove through the open gates, with the sign ‘Auto Plastics’ on them.

  ‘They don’t seem to object to visitors,’ said Liz as they got out of the car.

  ‘No, they wouldn’t,’ said the Doctor absently. ‘They’d want to keep everything looking fairly normal. Right up till the last moment, that is.’

  Liz looked at him curiously, but by now they were in the luxuriously furnished reception. The Brigadier explained his business to the pretty, rather doll-like girl receptionist. He was obviously prepared to over-ride all opposition. But there wasn’t any.

  ‘Mr Hibbert will see you now,’ said the receptionist in her clear emotionless voice. ‘Will you come this way please?’ It was almost as if they’d had an appointment, thought Liz. As if they’d been expected.

  She looked round curiously as they crossed the deserted factory floor. This was very advanced machinery, fully automated.

  The Brigadier stopped for a moment, looking over his shoulder. Liz followed his gaze, and thought she saw someone moving behind one of the machines. Then the Brigadier murmured an apology, and they moved on. The girl took them up to the staircase that led to Hibbert’s office, showed them inside, and silently withdrew.

  Liz looked curiously at George Hibbert as he rose from behind his desk. He looked very like the average business executive anywhere. Dark striped suit, horn-rimmed glasses, greying hair. There were lines of strain and worry on the face, but no more than on the faces of many other businessmen.

  Hibbert settled them all in chairs and then sat down behind his desk. He listened politely as the Brigadier introduced Liz and the Doctor, and explained the reason for their visit. The Brigadier gave a brief summary of the story Ransome had told them. His voice tailed away rather as he came to the end of it.

  ‘And – er – well, there you are. You will appreciate that extraordinary as the story is, we have to check on it.’

  Hibbert looked politely puzzled. ‘Well, if you say so, Brigadier. Though I would have thought that it was more a matter for a psychiatrist than a security man.’

  ‘You mean that Ransome was unbalanced?’

  ‘That, or simply malicious.’

  Liz said: ‘So there was no truth in this story at all?’

  ‘Well, there was some. It’s true that he used to work for me. It’s also true that he designed a new type of electronic doll. It was a brilliant invention but far too complex and expensive for the mass-market. When I refused to produce it here, he went off to America in a huff to try and find backing.’

  ‘And succeeded apparently,’ cut in the Brigadier.

  ‘So he told me. But the fact that others were prepared to risk their money didn’t mean that I was prepared to risk mine. My attitude hadn’t changed and I told him so. He seemed to feel I’d let him down. He became violently abusive and I had to ask him to leave.’

  ‘So you think he made up this whole story just to cause you trouble?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, Brigadier.’

  ‘But why should he tell such a fantastic story?’

  Hibbert shrugged. ‘Why don’t you ask him? I’d very much like to ask him that myself.’

  ‘We were going to bring him with us,’ said Liz. ‘Unfortunately he disappeared before we set off.’

  ‘I’m not surprised! Didn’t dare to repeat all this nonsense to my face.’

  The Doctor spoke for the first time. ‘What exactly do you make in this factory, Mr Hibbert?’

  ‘I’d be delighted to show you. Perhaps you’d care to have a look at our store-rooms?’

  The first room Hibbert took them to was lined with shelf after shelf of plastic dolls. Dolls with hair of every colour, dolls of every shape and size. Row upon row of china-blue eyes gazed at them unwinkingly from shiny pink plastic faces. Liz shivered. Somehow there was something rather sinister about so many of the little creatures in one place.

  Hibbert waved his arm in a sweeping gesture. ‘This was our original line, of course. However, since then we’ve broken into new territory. If you’d come through here.’

  He took them into another, larger store-room. It seemed to be full of a huge crowd of silent figures, standing and waiting. Hibbert switched on a light.

  ‘This is our big success at the moment. Display mannequins for department stores and shop windows.’

  Liz looked round. Row after row of impossibly handsome men and beautiful women. If possible, they were even more sinister than the dolls.

  The Doctor said: ‘And do these, er… mannequins move?’ Hibbert smiled. ‘Of course they do.’ He went up to the nearest mannequin and shifted its position. Arms and legs and body moved easily, and stayed as they were put.

  ‘It’s fortunate you came today. These will all be gone by tomorrow.’ Hibbert put the mannequin back in its place. ‘As you can see,’ he said proudly, ‘they’re extremely supple and flexible. But I can assure you they don’t move by themselves. We call them Autons, after the name of the factory – “Auto Plastics”.’

  The Brigadier coughed. ‘Most impressive. Well, we mustn’t take up any more of your time, Mr Hibbert.’

  As Hibbert led them back across the factory floor towards the reception area, the Doctor asked: ‘These Autons of yours – they’re selling well?’

  Hibbert nodded proudly. ‘You’ll find our Autons in every big department store in every city in England.’

  Suddenly the Doctor stopped. He pointed across the factory floor to the area marked ‘Restricted Zone’. ‘I don’t believe you’ve shown us what goes on in there, Mr Hibbert?’

  ‘And I’m afraid I can’t.’ Hibbert turned to the Brigadier. ‘Confidentially, Brigadier, we do a certain amount of work for the Ministry of Technology. Research into heat-resistant plastic for the space programme. Unless you and your party have special Ministry passes…’ Hibbert shrugged apologetically. ‘Well, I’m sure you, more than most people, will appreciate the necessity for good security.’

  ‘And if I should get hold of a Ministry pass and come back here?’

  ‘Then I’d be more than happy to show you the Research Laboratory. Though, mind you, I don’t understand half of what’s in there myself. My partner, Mr Channing, handles that side of our work.’

  The Brigadier said: ‘It’s a pity we didn’t get a chance to meet him.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ agreed Hibbert. ‘Unfortunately he’s away on a buying trip at the moment.’ By now they were back in the reception area. Hibbert said: ‘Well, if there’s nothing more, gentlemen?’

  The Brigadier glanced at the Doctor, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ said the Brigadier. ‘Thank you for all your help. I hope we won’t have to trouble you again.’

  Hibbert said: ‘Goodbye, Brigadier, Miss Shaw, Doctor. Let me know if I can be of any further assistance.’ He watched as the three visitors got into the car and were driven away.

  Hibbert turned and walked back into the factory area. Suddenly he seemed to sag, as if exhausted after some mighty effort. Channing appeared from behind the machinery and stood beside him.

  ‘One of the visitors puzzled me. His brain was more powerful than most humans.’

  Hibbert said: ‘You mean the Scientific Adviser? Probably an exceptionally intelligent chap.’

  ‘You did well, Hibbert. You did very well.’

  ‘Do you think they were satisfied?’

  ‘They are still s
uspicious. But they have no proof. It will take them time to move against us.’

  ‘If they’re not satisfied, they’ll come back with more soldiers. They’ll search in there.’ Hibbert glanced towards the restricted zone.

  ‘We have a way to stop them,’ Channing reminded him. ‘All we need is a short delay. When the time comes, no amount of soldiers will help them.’

  The two of them began to walk towards the Replica Room.

  As the staff car sped back towards London the Brigadier was saying: ‘Well, that’s the place all right. I caught a glimpse of someone skulking about on the factory floor. It was the chap who tried to kidnap you, Doctor.’

  The Doctor nodded. ‘Caught a glimpse of him myself. The elusive Mr Channing, no doubt. Yes, I think that creature at the cottage was one of their Autons.’

  Liz asked: ‘What are you going to do now?’

  The Brigadier was decisive. ‘Move in in force. Put a cordon of troops round the factory, then search the place from top to bottom.’

  ‘Suppose it’s full of Autons – like the one that attacked us at the cottage?’

  The Brigadier snorted. ‘Well, revolver bullets didn’t bother that thing much. But we’ll see if they can laugh off bazookas or light artillery. Dammit, I’ll bomb the place if I have to!’

  The Brigadier’s moustache positively bristled with military fervour. ‘Old Scobie promised me full co-operation,’ he went on, ‘and I’m going to take him up on it.’

  ‘Why do you have to go to him?’ asked Liz.

  ‘UNIT itself only maintains a small token force,’ the Brigadier explained. ‘For any really big operation we have to ask the Regulars for help.’

  Liz turned to the Doctor who was slumped deep in his corner, chin in hands. ‘You’re very quiet, Doctor. Do you think the Brigadier should invade in force?’

  The Doctor looked up. ‘Wheel in your big guns by all means, Brigadier. We must close that factory just as soon as we can.’

  ‘Then what are you looking so worried about?’ asked Liz.

  The Doctor sighed. ‘I think we may be underestimating our enemy,’ he said. ‘Something tells me it isn’t going to be so simple.’ And he relapsed into silence.

  As soon as they were back at UNIT H.Q., the Doctor seemed to revive. The tin trunk was waiting for them at the laboratory, and the Doctor immediately set about rigging up a complicated set of aerials and dials around it.

  ‘To jam its signals,’ he explained. Then he carefully took the globe and unwrapped it, fixing it on a specially rigged-up stand. At once the globe began to pulse angrily.

  ‘No good having a tantrum, old chap,’ the Doctor told it reprovingly. ‘You’ll just have to talk to us.’

  ‘What do we do with it now?’ asked Liz. ‘Sit and admire it?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ asked the Doctor. ‘We’re going to try and communicate with it. And test its strength.’

  The Brigadier meanwhile was talking to General Scobie on the telephone. He told him all that had happened: the attack at the cottage, Ransome’s disappearance, the visit to the plastics factory. Scobie was baffled, but co-operative.

  ‘Auto Plastics,’ he said incredulously. ‘I was down there myself earlier today,’ and rather diffidently he explained about the replica of him that was being made. ‘Still,’ he went on, ‘that’s neither here nor there. You can bank on me for all the co-operation you need.’ The General glanced at his watch. ‘It’ll take a bit of time to set up, though. Tell you what, Lethbridge-Stewart, I’ll get cracking right away. I can set up the mobilisation overnight, and we’ll move in first thing tomorrow.’

  ‘Couldn’t be better, sir. Thank you again,’ said the Brigadier.

  ‘Right,’ said Scobie, ‘I’ll be in touch with you about liaison. Good night, Brigadier.’

  Scobie put down the ’phone and sighed. Extraordinary business. Still that’s what the Brigadier and his chaps were for, to deal with things like this. Scobie had a flash of regret for the days when soldiering was simpler. A nice straightforward cavalry charge, now! Nothing to beat it. He was just about to pick up the ’phone and call his H.Q., when the doorbell rang.

  General Scobie heaved an exasperated sigh. He’d been looking forward to a quiet evening with his collection of regimental memoirs. Who the devil could this be?

  Scobie went to the door of the little mews flat and opened it. At the sight of the figure facing him, he fell back in horrified disbelief. Another General Scobie stood there looking at him impassively. As his other self bore down on him, he took a faltering step backward. The other General Scobie stepped after him. Channing appeared behind the second Scobie. ‘Good evening, General,’ he said. ‘As I promised, I have brought your replica to see you.’

  Channing and the second Scobie stepped into the flat, pushing the General before them. The door closed. There was a muffled, gurgling scream, and then silence.

  9

  The Creatures in the Waxworks

  Full of his plans for the coming attack, the Brigadier burst into the laboratory.

  ‘Well, I’ve fixed it all up,’ he began cheerfully. ‘We’re moving in—’

  ‘Ssh!’ said Liz, waving him into silence.

  Rather hurt, the Brigadier subsided. He stood watching as Liz and the Doctor surrounded the meteorite, or whatever the thing was, with a variety of complicated looking apparatus.

  ‘All right, my dear, is the oscillator connected?’ said the Doctor.

  Liz was fitting two complex pieces of circuitry together.

  ‘Hang on… yes, okay now.’

  ‘Right. Switch on. I’ll watch the graph.’

  Liz flicked a switch and then turned a control knob. The apparatus began to give out a low hum.

  The Brigadier looked at Liz and the Doctor as they bent over their instruments. He sighed, recognising that he hadn’t a hope of understanding what they were up to. No doubt they’d tell him when it suited them. And he was supposed to be the one in command! Not for the first time the Brigadier considered applying for a transfer back to normal regimental duties. Life had been so simple then. Parades, inspections, manoeuvres, more parades… He’d been offered the UNIT job not long after that Yeti business in the Underground. Presumably because he was the only senior British officer with experience in dealing with alien life forms. At the time it had seemed like a rather cushy number, carrying as it did the welcome promotion from Colonel to Brigadier. If only he’d known! First that nasty affair with the Cybermen, and now this. The trouble with the scientific approach, thought the Brigadier, was that it left you at the mercy of your scientists.

  Then he brightened. For all their scientific mumbo-jumbo it was direct military action that was going to solve the problem. The Brigadier’s eyes sparkled with anticipation at the thought of tomorrow’s attack on the plastics factory.

  Encouraged by this thought, he cleared his throat loudly and said: ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me what you’re actually trying to do, Doctor?’

  The Doctor looked up. He gestured towards the green globe on its stand. The thing was now beginning to pulse angrily. ‘Well, it appears that in there we have what one might loosely call a brain…’ The Doctor took a quick look at the quivering needle that was drawing spidery lines on a recording graph. Fifty megacycles.’

  Liz repeated: ‘Fifty megacycles.’ She turned the control knob a little further. ‘Anything?’ she asked.

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘No. Up another fifty, Liz.’ As Liz adjusted her controls again, the Doctor resumed his explanation.

  ‘You see, Brigadier, we know it’s emitting a signal of some kind. So if we can establish the frequency on which it operates we may be able to counteract its – oh dear!’

  While the Doctor had been speaking, the hum of the apparatus had been rising steadily higher. There was a puff of smoke, and a shower of sparks shot from the apparatus. Hurriedly Liz switched off and stood back.

  ‘I rather think we overloaded the circuit,’ she sai
d ruefully. She began to inspect the apparatus. ‘Yes, look! The thermionic valve’s blown.’ Liz began to disconnect part of the apparatus.

  ‘Now that really is interesting,’ said the Doctor in a rather pleased tone. ‘It means that there must be an extremely high resistance on the…’

  The Brigadier interrupted hastily: ‘Doctor, you say that thing is some kind of a brain?’

  ‘Well, part of a brain. Or call it an intelligent entity. That’s probably nearer the mark.’

  ‘And it’s signalling somewhere? Where to?’

  The Doctor gave him that patient look again. ‘To the rest of itself. Surely that’s obvious?’

  Liz looked up from her work on the apparatus. ‘So the other globes that came down – they’re all part of one entity? Some kind of collective intelligence?’

  The Doctor nodded. The Brigadier peered at the globe with a kind of revulsion. He couldn’t help feeling that it was peering back at him. ‘Can it see us, or hear us?’ he asked, instinctively dropping his voice to a whisper.

  The Doctor chuckled. ‘My dear chap, it isn’t sentient.’

  ‘Our measurements show that there’s no physical substance inside it,’ said Liz.

  ‘Probably gaseous ions held in a hetero-polar bond. Or something like that,’ said the Doctor, as if that made everything perfectly clear.

  The Brigadier persisted. ‘But it is alien – and dangerous?’

  The Doctor looked at the globe thoughtfully. ‘Well, it’s an intelligent life form, and it isn’t here by accident. I’m afraid we must assume that its intentions are hostile.’

  ‘But if it has no physical form, how can it harm us?’

  The Doctor said impatiently: ‘Once here, it can presumably create for itself a physical form, or even a number of them. Otherwise there would have been no point in its coming.’

  Liz said: ‘A form like the thing at the cottage?’

  ‘That’s right. There may be other forms of it, too. Creatures we haven’t even seen yet.’

  Liz shuddered. ‘I’m not sure that I want to.’

  The wall ’phone buzzed and the Brigadier picked it up. He said: ‘Yes? Ah, General Scobie… good, put him on.’ He listened for a moment and then the familiar voice of Scobie came on the line.