Dr Who and the Tenth Planet

by Gerry Davis

  'The CO?' queried the Doctor.

  'Commanding Officer—Boss!' Ben whispered in the Doctor's ear.

  Tito picked up the phone by the door and dialled the number. 'Hello, sir. Duty Guard Private Tito here. Could you give a message to the General, please?'

  Ben noticed that the men around the table stiffened to attention at the mention of the name. Cutler was obviously a man to be reckoned with. Ben began to feel a twinge of nervousness.

  'Sir. I know that,' Tito explained into the telephone. 'But this is an emergency. Oh, I see. The General's not there. Can you tell me where he is then, sir?'

  'I'm right here, Private.' Tito had not noticed the door behind him open, and the General enter.

  The men in the room immediately snapped to attention. Cutler, his face impassive as always, took in the scene. The long black cigar was still clenched firmly between his even white teeth.

  'What's it all about, Sergeant?'

  The Sergeant saluted and hesitated for a moment. 'Well, sir...'

  'Who are these people?' Cutler snapped.

  'They just appeared... outside in the snow.' Cutler nodded. 'They came out of a...' The American Sergeant looked embarrassed, 'a hut!'

  Cutler slowly turned his gaze away from the three time travellers to look at the Sergeant. 'A hut?'

  'Yes, sir. It just appeared. We haven't seen it there before, that is...'

  Tito nodded in excited agreement. 'That's right, General. That's just the way it happened.'

  Still with the same impassive, almost threatening look, Cutler moved towards the three companions, and walked around them as if inspecting troops.

  He stopped in front of Ben and took in the sailor's uniform. 'Who are you?'

  Ben snapped to attention, saluted: 'Able Seaman... Ben Jackson... sir. Royal Navy.'

  'Then why aren't you with your ship?'

  'Well, sir,... it's difficult to explain.'

  Cutler's face was two inches away. 'You bet your life it is!'

  The Doctor stepped forward: 'I can assure you we mean you no harm, my dear General.'

  'You can assure me what you like. Whether I'll believe you or not is another matter. You people land at a military installation without authorisation or even proper identification, in the middle of a complex space shot...'

  'A space shot!' exclaimed Polly excitedly.

  Cutler took the cigar out of his mouth. 'I've no time to deal with this now.' He pointed the cigar almost threateningly at the three travellers. 'But by thunder, you'd better have a good explanation ready later.'

  'I don't like your tone, sir,' the Doctor began.

  A faint smile appeared on the General's craggy features.

  'And I don't like your face, Grandad.'

  Turning from the speechless Doctor, he beckoned to the Sergeant. 'Sergeant, bring them into the tracking room and keep them under guard in the observation chamber. I'll question them as soon as I have time.'

  The sight of the Doctor and his two companions entering the space tracking room created a minor sensation. The technicians just stood and gaped—especially at the pretty girl with the long blonde hair, blue eyes, and tall, shapely figure. Barclay strode across to meet the General: 'What on earth...?' he began.

  'Never mind now,' said Cutler brusquely. He motioned the Sergeant to take the three time travellers into the observation chamber at the side of the main tracking room. As soon as the three had filed into the narrow room, the General turned around and motioned the men back to their places: 'O.K., let's get back with it, we've a job to do.'

  Cutler strolled past the seated men like a school teacher with a class of unruly boys, eyeing them carefully before taking his usual place on the dais.

  'What are they doing here, Doctor?' Polly whispered excitedly. 'Is it some kind of space shot?'

  Ben nodded and turned to the Doctor. 'Yeah, a smaller version of Houston Space Control. Mind you, not quite what you see on TV, is it?'

  The deep voice of the Sergeant, who had taken his place behind them in the viewing room, cut in: 'Don't know what you've seen on your TV, son, but this is General Cutler's outfit. He don't like a lot of personnel. Cuts them down to the bare minimum and works 'em into the ground. We only do a couple of months stretch on this station.'

  The Doctor, who had been studying the wall behind them, suddenly cleared his throat with a little clicking noise he sometimes made to attract their attention.

  'I don't want to depress you, but we... er... are not quite where you think we are.'

  'What do you mean, Doctor?' asked Ben.

  The Doctor pointed to the calendar.

  'I don't see anything...' began Polly—and then her voice died away as she caught sight of the date: 2000! The year was 2000!

  'Oh, not again,' she moaned. 'I really thought we were on our way home this time.'

  Ben glumly nodded his agreement. 'Still adrift! That explains why there are so few people. Computers do all the work now.' He turned round to look at the Sergeant. 'Have they reached Mars yet?'

  The Sergeant, more relaxed now, leant back against the wall and grinned. 'I thought you watched TV, sailor?'

  'You mean you have sent people to Mars?'

  'An expedition came back five months ago.'

  'Has this flight anything to do with it?' Polly asked, pointing towards the astronauts on the screen which they could dearly see through the glass front of the observation booth.

  'No. Just the normal atmosphere testing probe. Purely routine. Nothing ever happens...'

  Suddenly, the attention of the three became engaged by a flurry of activity inside the tracking room. The men were craning towards the main console. Barclay was gabbling into the communication phone: 'An error? Where?'

  The voice of Williams boomed out over the loudspeakers:

  'Looks bad. We are now over South Island, New Zealand. We're reading a height of eleven hundred miles.'

  'Eleven hundred! That's impossible! ' He glanced sideways. 'Dyson, check what it should be, will you?'

  Dyson checked one of the illuminated dials. 'It should be nine hundred and eighty.'

  The Australian jumped up and, leaning across his smaller English colleague, tapped the computer read-out key.

  Again, the figure of nine hundred and eighty miles appeared on the dial.

  'Cripes!' exclaimed Barclay. 'You're right! Nine hundred and eighty miles. Out of position by over one hundred miles.'

  He spoke into the mike again: 'Snowcap to Zeus Four. Do you read me?'

  The voice of the astronaut, crackling with static, came through on the loudspeaker.

  'Zeus Four to Snowcap. Strength eight. Over.'

  'Take visual checks on Mars to establish position, please. Repeat back.'

  On the screen, they watched the coloured astronaut nod his head in agreement: 'Will do. Out.'

  In the space capsule, Colonel Williams turned to Schultz. 'Did you get that, Dan?'

  Schultz nodded grimly. The easy, relaxed atmosphere inside the small capsule had disappeared. Both men now spoke with a quiet deliberation and a charged awareness of their predicament.

  'Go ahead then,' said Williams.

  Schultz swung a small telescope viewer into position. He looked at the vernier on the telescope support. Beside him, William consulted a small chart fixed to the back of the instruments.

  'Should be about four, two, zero.'

  Schultz checked the verniers again. 'Nope. It's four, three, two.'

  For a moment, the other astronaut's composure broke. 'Ah, come on man, it can't be. Try again.'

  'O.K.' He manipulated the small telescope again.

  'And get a move on. We'll be back in the sunrise shortly.'

  Schultz glanced out of the corner of his eye at the younger man. 'Take it easy, Glyn. We've time.'

  For a moment Williams struggled with his feelings and then, leaning forward slightly to speak into the mike to Snowcap base, he became the impersonal, all-systems-go astronaut.

  'Did you
hear that conversation?'

  Dyson's voice came through on the loudspeaker. 'Yes, Colonel. We're getting a Mars fix, too. We'll call back.'

  'O.K.' Williams nodded and tried relaxing back; into his scat. 'I guess it's just...' he began, turning his, head to Schultz. But his eye suddenly caught something rigid and fixed in the older man's stance as he twisted round to look through the telescope.

  'Glyn?'

  'Yes?' Williams felt a sudden prickle of fear. A new, grim note had crept into the astronaut's voice. If there was one man in the whole space establishment who never allowed the slightest emotion to show, it was the veteran Schultz.

  'Now take it easy, but...'

  'For Christ's sake what is it?' Williams flared.

  The older man turned round, eyes wide, face tautened. 'That wasn't Mars I had...'

  'Is that all?' Williams forced himself to relax. 'Well that explains it, doesn't it? C'mon, try again.'

  Without turning, the other man slowly shook his head. 'No, listen, Glyn—there's something else out there.'

  'Something else? What?'

  'Another planet.'

  'Another... That's crazy! How can there be?'

  For answer, Dan Schultz swung the telescope over to Williams' side on its hinged arm.

  The younger man grabbed it and studied the object Schultz indicated through the capsule window. After a long minute, he slowly pushed the telescope aside, and turned to the veteran astronaut. 'You're right, Dan. There is something there. I can't see it properly, but it reads as if it were in orbit between Mars and Venus.'

  Schultz nodded. 'That's it. You know, somehow—I just can't put my finger on it—but it looks kinda familiar.'

  Their conversation was interrupted by the harsh sunlight of space entering through the windows. They squinted and turned their eyes away from the bright light. 'Came the dawn!' Schultz frowned.

  'Yeah,' Williams nodded. 'We've had any further observations for a bit.' He turned back to the mike. 'Hello Snowcap. Hello Snowcap. We are now in dawn. Over San Francisco. Can you get this object from where you are?'

  'You are very faint. Put up the power output, please,' replied Barclay.

  Williams leant forward and spoke almost directly into the mike. 'Can you get this object on your retinascope?'

  'Can do,' replied Barclay's voice.

  Williams' eyes suddenly became fixed on another dial close to the mike. 'Hey, Dan, look at this, will ya? That's odd ! '

  'Yeah.' Schultz turned round and followed the line of Williams' pointing finger.

  'Our fuel cells are showing a power loss. A pretty sharp drop.'

  The two men looked at each other anxiously.

  'What the hell's happening here?'

  3 The New Planet

  The tracking station room was buzzing with anxious conversation. Some of the men were glued to the TV screen; others feverishly monitored the signals sent back to Earth.

  Barclay and Cutler abruptly left the dias and strode over to the operator of the base telescope.

  'Have you got it yet?' questioned Barclay.

  The technician shook his head.

  The telescope screen was clearly visible to the Doctor, Ben and Polly from the observation room.

  Cutler nudged the technician: 'Hurry it up, fella.'

  Ben suddenly became aware that the Doctor was indulging in another favourite habit. His head was tilted back, his eagle eyes were staring at the television screen, his right hand was nervously stroking his cheek. It meant only one thing: the Doctor had an idea.

  Snatching out a little notebook and pencil, the Doctor hastily scribbled something. He finished and turned to the Sergeant standing beside him:

  'Sergeant, give this to your General, will you?'

  'Me?' The Sergeant looked startled. 'If you think I'd interrupt him at this time—you're crazy!'

  'It may be vital. If you'll take me to the General, I'm sure I'll be able to help him.'

  Recognising the note of command in the Doctor's voice, the Sergeant nodded and led them out of the observation room, and across to General Cutler, who was gazing at the television screen.

  The round outline of the planet which had been picked up by the base telescope, although badly out of focus, was clearly visible.

  Without taking his eyes off the screen, Cutler spoke through his clenched teeth, the cigar still sticking from the corner of his mouth:

  'What is it?'

  'The old guy would like a word with you, sir. Claims it's urgent.'

  'O.K.' He beckoned the Doctor over. 'Make it fast.'

  The Doctor stared at the white pulsating circle of light on the screen. 'I think I know what you're going to see.'

  'Eh? How can you.' he snapped. The Doctor ripped a page out of his notebook.

  'It's all down here.' He flourished the paper, but the General took no notice. Instead, Barclay took the paper from his hand. Suddenly, Dyson, who had been standing on the other side of the telescope, called out: 'Quick, we've got it!'

  Several technicians scrambled over to look at the screen. The circular blob of light had cleared; its out-lines were sharp; they could make out an object somewhat like a golf ball in size, with light and shaded areas.

  It's a planet all right,' said Dyson.

  'How can it be?' Cutler cut in. 'Planets can't just appear from nowhere. Mars is the nearest planet and it's way beyond this one.'

  'It must be on an oblique orbit,' Barclay seemed to be almost speaking to himself.

  'And approaching quite fast.' Dyson turned to the Australian. 'Of course, that's what's drawing off the capsule!'

  Barclay nodded grimly. 'That's it all right. Zeus Four is out of orbit, and the new planet is influencing it.' 'That's about it.' Dyson nodded. 'It has to be.' 'We must get them down—quick.'

  'An emergency splash down?' Cutler, who had felt at a loss during the preceeding conversation between the more knowledgeable scientists, warmed to the prospect of action.

  'Yes.' Barclay moved back to his console, and flicked the mike switch. 'Snowcap to Zeus Four, come in please. Do you read me?'

  After the initial crackle of static from the speaker, Williams' voice came over faint but clear: 'Yes, we read you loud and clear now.'

  'You are strength two only. Please speak up.' 'Our fuel cells show a power loss.'

  'Power loss? How much?'

  'The main banks are down approximately twenty per cent.'

  Barclay now spoke loudly and deliberately into the mike. 'We are going to bring you down now.'

  'We need co-ordinates to correct orbit.'

  `Stand by.'

  'What the hell's going on anyway?'

  'I don't know,' replied Barclay. 'Let's get you down here and find out later. O.K.?'

  'Suits us,' answered the voice from space.

  The two astronauts in the capsule were sweating visibly from the strain. Barclay's voice came over the loudspeaker.

  'Corrected co-ordinates are: zero, zero, four, eight two zero and eight two three...'

  Williams began punching up the information. Leaning forward again, he shouted into the mounted microphone: 'Right. Now correct. Out.' He turned to his companion. 'Are you ready on altitude jets, Dan?'

  Schultz twisted slightly and grasped two joystick controls. 'Ready.'

  'Go.'

  Schultz pressed the buttons on the top of the joysticks; a metallic hissing roar came from outside the capsule—but the long bar of sunlight across their chests failed to shift its position.

  Williams studied the instruments. 'Again.'

  Once more Schultz stabbed the controls. The two men heard the same hissing roar from outside the capsule as the retro jets fired. Then, abruptly, the long bar of sunlight flashed into their eyes, almost blinding them.

  'Look!' exclaimed Schultz. Outside the windows, in the full glare of the sun, the blue and white earth seemed to be spinning round the capsule in a dizzying kaleidoscope of colour.

  'We're tumbling!' shouted Schultz.


  'Use the manual controls.'

  For the first time in his career experience, Major Schultz seemed almost paralysed, unable to act. His hands shook uncontrollably as the capsule swung round and round, wildly tumbling through space.

  Williams put his broad hand on the other man's shoulder and gripped it. 'Come on, man, get with it.'

  With an effort, Schultz shook his head, and snapped out of his momentary shock. He gripped the two joysticks, and heaved hard on the controls. 'I can't. It's too much for me!'

  Williams quickly freed himself from the retaining safety belt, leant over and, putting his hands beneath the other man's, added his greater strength to the effort. Gritting their teeth, they inched the controls back until, gradually, the lighthouse-like beam of the sun—which had all this time been revolving wildly across their faces—slowed down and finally stabilised.

  Williams eased back into his seat, leaving Schultz holding the controls. Their faces were wet with sweat; their breath laboured almost to the limits of their endurance.

  'What's going on?' Williams grunted, painfully forcing his lungs to draw in air. 'I feel absolutely clapped out.'

  Schultz nodded, his face grey. 'Something's taking all the power out of my body. What the heck's the matter now?'

  Cutler was in full command of the splash-down operation. He barked into the mike in front of him: 'Hello Hawaii. Zeus Four will splash down at 1445 your time. All helicopters to area six immediately.'

  The loudspeaker bleeped. 'Check. Full deployment at 1400. Out.'

  Dyson was also playing his part in the splash-down operation. 'Hello Rome computer base. Final descent path. Please compute and repeat.'

  A voice with a foreign accent spoke in reply. 'All re-entry vectors are programmed. Read out at 1350.'

  Barclay glanced around the large tracking room. Each of the men was now totally intent upon his part in the complex splash-down procedure. He pulled the mike closer, and spoke loudly. 'Hello Zeus Four. Your flight path is now correcting.'

  Schultz's voice surfaced over the angry flood of static. 'The power loss is now increasing. Something has happened to our limbs. We can hardly move.'

  Barclay glanced anxiously at the screen. The picture of the two men was now flecked with little dots of white—as though the picture had encountered bad interference at some point in its transmission from space.