Dr Who and the Tenth Planet

by Gerry Davis

  For a moment Ben considered swinging the gun round, and letting fly—but Polly and the Doctor, who were standing beside him, might get hurt in the fight. He decided to wait for another opening.

  The Cyberleader, looking taller and even more terrifying at close range, halted in front of him.

  'You do not seem to take us seriously.' He held out his hand. 'Give me that gun.'

  Ben hesitated for a moment but, with the huge bulk of the Cyberman looming over him, he had no option. He meekly brought the gun round and handed it over. The Cyberman gazed at it for a second and, without any apparent effort, flexed both his arms.

  The Doctor's companions watched in horrified amazement as he splintered and broke away the wooden stock, bending the barrel—as easily as if it had been wire—into a right angle.

  'When will you humans learn? Your weapons are useless against us! ' The Cyberman flung the gun aside, then turned to the remaining Cybermen. 'Take him away.'

  'Oh no ! ' Polly screamed, holding on to Ben's arm. But Ben shook her off. 'If he wanted to kill me, Duchess, he'd do so—just like that.'

  'Yes.' The Cyberleader echoed his words. 'It is quite useless to resist us. We are stronger and more efficient than you earth people. We must be obeyed.'

  Polly and the Doctor watched as the Cyberman lead Ben from the room.

  7 Battle in the Projection Room

  The Cyberman, holding Ben's wrists in a vice-like grip, half pulled and half dragged him along the corridors.

  The Cyberman halted at a door at the end of the corridor. He checked that its lock contained a key, turned it, and flung the door open. With a swing of his arm, he threw Ben into the room, and slammed the door shut.

  Rubbing his wrists, which were bruised and numb from the crushing grip of the silver giant, Ben rose from the floor and tried the door handle. Locked.

  He flung his shoulder against it—and added another bruise to his collection. Rubbing his shoulder, he looked around curiously. Where had they put him?

  One glance identified his location. When he had been flung through the door, he had collided with a film projector mounted on a tall metal stand. To its left stood a bench; above it, a rack of film cans.

  The camera projected through a glass panel at the end of the room. Ben rushed eagerly over and peered through—but the base cinema beyond was in darkness. There was no other way out.

  The two astronauts, now haggard and sweating, strained to hear Barclay's voice through the heavy static. The beam of light from the windows now swung slowly across their chests. It had almost stabilised.

  'You begin exactly eighty seconds from now. Are you ready to go?'

  Williams glanced across at Schultz, who nodded.

  'Yes, we're ready.' Williams spoke as loudly, and with as much strength as he could muster into the microphone.

  'Our readings show that you need forward correction of seven degrees.'

  Williams glanced down at an instrument. 'That checks. We will correct with altitude controls.' He nodded to Schultz : 'Go ahead, Dan.'

  Schultz reached for the joystick controls, forcing his muscles to work with a great effort. He manoeuvred the controls carefully, checking the instrument panels as he did so. Then he pressed the retro-rocket switch for a brief second.

  Both men heard with relief the hissing roar of the rocket motors from outside the capsule. Schultz leaned forward excitedly, examined the dial reading, and gave the thumbs up sign to Williams.

  'Hello, Snowcap,' Schultz cried. 'We have reorientated the capsule. Altitude now correct.'

  Barclay's voice rasped over the loudspeaker. 'Retro rockets to go in twenty seconds. After I give you the word, you come in on your own. Right?'

  Williams nodded. 'Will do.'

  The decision had not been an easy one. It meant that the two astronauts would have to fly their capsule manually without any help from the base computer. The important thing now was to slow the capsule down from its orbiting speed to re-entry velocity. A slow enough speed to enable them to land safely, drawn down by the Earth's gravity.

  But was there enough power to 'brake' the capsule? Again, Schultz's hand moved towards the switch labelled RETRO.

  Barclay was counting down. 'Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one—fire ! '

  Schultz pressed the switch. There was an immediate low-pitched thundering as the powerful retro rockets fired.

  The two astronauts were slammed back in their seats, their faces flattening in the characteristic stretching of a person subject to heavy negative G-forces. The whole capsule was being vibrated. The teeth of the two astronauts were chattering from the heavy shaking.

  The roaring went on for seven long seconds, then, abruptly, shut off. The faces of the two men contracted back to normal and they shook their heads in relief.

  'Check the velocity, Dan,' Williams said. 'I'll do the ground check.'

  Schultz nodded, rubbed his brow slightly as if to clear his vision, and peered forward at the instruments. His expression suddenly changed as he read the speed indicator dials. 'We're not down to re-entry velocity!'

  'What!' Williams leant over to check Schultz's reading.

  'No doubt about it. We're still at fourteen five. We should be down to eleven two!'

  'Quick,' said Williams. 'We'll have to use the retros again.'

  'Right.' Schultz reached for the switch, studying the instruments. He glanced over at Williams. 'How long for, Glyn?'

  Williams, who was manipulating one of the small on-board computers, pointed his finger as the answer clicked up on a dial: '4.2 seconds.'

  Schultz adjusted a control in front of him.

  'Are you ready?' asked Williams.

  They both braced themselves in their seats, their faces tense and set.

  'Fire! '

  Again, the capsule began to vibrate violently beneath their feet; the thunderous noise was almost deafening, their faces contorted with the pressure. This time it lasted for 4.2 seconds. Once again the two men relaxed back, shook themselves, and waited for the blood to return to their heads. Every movement now caused them acute pain; both felt weak and exhausted.

  'What's it now?'

  Schultz was peering at the instrument panel.

  'Hurry up ! ' shouted Williams impatiently. Then he saw that the older man looked stricken, almost paralysed, with fright.

  'It's fifteen one! We're not slowing... we're speeding up... uncontrollably!'

  Williams leant back incredulously, rubbing the sweat from his brow. 'O.K. Fire the retros again!'

  Exerting almost superhuman effort, Schultz managed to stretch his trembling fingers to make contact with the operating switch.

  Once more, the hissing roar of the rocket motors shook the space capsule. This time it cut off abruptly after only two seconds.

  Schultz looked at the fuel gauge, his face white with fear. 'The fuel's completely out—gone ! '

  Williams leant forward, shouting into the mike: 'Emergency! Emergency! Calling Snowcap. Emergency!'

  In spite of the heating, every limb in Polly's body was trembling—she might just as well have been outside in the snow! Half the personnel of the base were clustered around the monitor, their eyes anxiously riveted to the drama of the stranded astronauts.

  Behind them, impassive as statues, stood the Cybermen.

  'Look at that damn radar now,' exclaimed Dyson. 'They're accelerating!'

  Polly shuddered and wrung her hands. 'Can't you do anything to help them?'

  'Their retro fuel's gone,' Barclay answered.

  'I don't understand!' Polly was looking desperately from one man to the other.

  Before Barclay could answer, Dyson cut in. 'Their course is changing—yes. They're veering out now—accelerating at an enormous speed.'

  The television picture of the two men inside the capsule, although streaked with 'snow', was still clearly visible on the fixed screen. The two men had donned their space helmets. As the time travellers watched horrified, they saw the cabin start
to fill with smoke.

  The two beams of light from the windows were gyrating wildly, the capsule was speeding faster and faster away from the Earth!

  The astronauts were making grasping movements towards the joystick controls but, with the great energy loss and the G-forces produced by the intense acceleration, seemed completely unable to reach them.

  'They're beyond escape velocity now,' said Dyson. 'They can't...'

  There was a sudden rise in the intensity of the light from the telescope screen—as though an invisible hand had turned up the brilliance control. The interior of the capsule cabin whitened; Polly, and the others had to shield their eyes from the bright glare of the screen. Then it slowly faded away until the television monitor went blank.

  Polly took her hands from her eyes, and looked around uncomprehendingly. Dyson's head was bowed at the console; Barclay was holding on to the side of the desk, as though near to collapse.

  One of the radar technicians leant over and flicked a switch, cutting off the almost unbearable screech of static from the loudspeakers.

  In the sudden silence, Polly found her voice. 'What happened?'

  'I'm afraid the capsule exploded, my dear,' replied the Doctor.

  'You mean,' Polly stared helplessly at the screen, 'they're dead... just like that?'

  The Doctor put his arm round her shoulders and, at the same time, looked over at the Cybermen. As if in answer to the Doctor's glance, Cyberleader Krail stepped forward.

  'Now perhaps you can see that your planet is in great and imminent danger. In order to save you, we shall require information to be transmitted to Mondas.'

  'Save us?' queried the Doctor.

  'What about those poor men?' cried Polly.

  'Now you will realise that you must co-operate with us. Mondas drew the ship away with its gravity. It was unavoidable.'

  Dyson stood up. 'How? What's happening?'

  The Cyberleader turned to him. 'The energy of Mondas is nearly exhausted. It now returns to its twin planet for energy.'

  'It will take the energy away from Earth?' queried the Doctor.

  'For how long?' Barclay broke in.

  'Until it is completely exhausted,' replied the icy, monotonous voice of Krail.

  'But that means that nothing will work—light, power, engines, planes, ships!' exclaimed Dyson. 'The Earth will die!'

  'Yes, everything on Earth will stop.'

  Barclay strode forward. 'This is monstrous! You calmly tell us we're all going to die?'

  'You are not.'

  'Then how do you propose to stop the energy drain to Mondas?' asked the Doctor.

  'We cannot. It is beyond our powers.'

  'Then how can we expect to survive?' said the Doctor.

  'By coming with us.' The Cyberleader now had the full attention of every man in the room. 'We are going to take you all back to Mondas.'

  Ben had been hunting around the Projection Room in search of a weapon. Suddenly, his eyes fell upon a long screwdriver. He looked at it for a moment, balanced it in his hand—then drove it into the table. It fell out on to the floor—too blunt to stick in.

  'Imagine trying to tackle one of them geezers with a screwdriver!' Ben said to himself, in disgust.

  He leant back against the projection table—then nearly fell to the floor as it moved backwards on its trolley wheels. He turned round to examine it.

  'Here! Half a mo'!' An idea began to dawn. 'If I turn it on that door, the Cybermen won't be able to see!'

  Ben studied the projection table for a moment, then looked at the projector itself. A reel of film was ready loaded. After a moment the sailor found the right switch and pressed it.

  The film began to move through the projector gate; a flickering image appeared on the wall by the projection window. Ben recognised it immediately: Roger Moore as James Bond.

  'Cripes ! I saw that film just a few weeks ago!' He shook his head and thought again. 'Twenty years or so by their time!'

  He glanced back at the film rack. Round the side of each of the reels, the title of the film had been written in large black letters on white tape.

  'Ain't there nothing more recent than this?' But the other titles were unfamiliar to him. He piled the film cans on the edge of the bench, then turned to the projection table and swung it in a big arc. The coloured image of the film flittered over the bench and piled up films, ending on the white surface of the door.

  Ben walked over and switched off the light. In the darkness, the square image of the film was clearly visible. Bond was fighting a gang of black-clad Karate students!

  He watched it for a moment, then shrugged. 'Easy aint it, Commander! Like to see how you'd handle a Cyberman!' He smiled to himself. 'Wouldn't mind having you in here—just the same!' Picking up the screwdriver, he walked to the door, and started banging on it with the metal grip. Silence.

  'Hey, Silver ! ' Ben shouted. 'Where are you?'

  He continued banging with the screwdriver. Surely the noise would carry to almost every part of the base?

  Finally, Ben watched as the key began to turn in the lock. He shuddered with fear—too late to be scared now! Ben stood behind the door, waiting. Only the flickering beam of the projector illuminated the near-dark room.

  Clang! The Cyberman flung the door back and stepped in. For a moment, the silver giant, caught in the glare from the projector beam, was blinded. Only for a split second—but it gave Ben his chance! He flung the screwdriver at the cans of film. They collapsed with a deafening clatter. As the Cyberman wheeled round, Ben snatched the Cyberweapon from its retaining clips on the Cyberman's thigh.

  Leaping to avoid a deadly chop, Ben aimed the weapon at the Cyberman's chest. The edge of the Cyberman's hand caught the door, slamming it shut with a metallic clang.

  The Cyberrnan pressed a button on his chest unit. A dazzling beam of light from the Cyberman's helmet illuminated Ben, who was crouching behind the door.

  'Do not resist, give me that weapon.'

  Ben shook his head. 'Sorry, mate, I'm giving the orders now.'

  The Cyberman paused for a moment, looked at the weapon held in Ben's hand, then started to move towards him.

  As the Cyberman's arm slashed round in another terrible chop, Ben ducked and scurried behind the projector table. The Cyberman's hand shattered the bench and sent the remaining cans tumbling to the floor. They burst open, spilling out great loops of film.

  'Look! I'm warning yer,' screamed Ben. 'I'll fire!'

  The Cyberman moved forward inexorably, sweeping the projection table back against the wall with one flick of his arm. Ben looked around desperately. The tangled reels of film were blocking his escape route. He was trapped. The Cyberman raised his arm to deliver the death blow.

  Ben closed his eyes, pointed the Cyberweapon at the Cyberman's chest unit, and pressed the button.

  There was a loud, hard rattle. The Cyberman staggered back. The light abruptly went out on his helmet and smoke started curling from his neck and from the armour-like cracks between his arms and shoulder units. As Ben watched, horrified, the giant's body stiffened and crashed backwards to the floor.

  After several tense seconds of waiting, Ben plucked up courage to walk over to the dead Cyberman. Still aiming the Cyberweapon, Ben poked him gingerly with his toe.

  There was no sign of life. The Cyberman's plastic chest unit had melted—as though from a terrible heat. A wisp of smoke was still rising from the blackened edges of a jagged, circular hole.

  Ben shook his head ruefully. 'You didn't give me no alternative, did you?'

  Stepping over the body, he cautiously opened the door of the Projection Room...

  8 Two Hundred and Fifty Spaceships

  The Cyberleader had listened sternly to the protests of the assembled base scientists. Now he raised a hand for silence.

  'We will not argue. You must either come with us, or fade away on a dying planet.'

  Barclay shook his head. 'There is no scientific proof that this is a dying p
lanet.'

  'Anyway,' added Dyson, 'perhaps we'd prefer to take our chances here!'

  'That is not possible,' replied the Cyberleader. 'You must come and live with us.'

  'How can we live with you?' exploded Polly. 'You're so different. You have no feelings.'

  'Feelings?' asked the Cyberleader. 'I do not under-stand... feelings?'

  'Emotions. Love, pride, hate... fear.'

  'Come to Mondas and you will have no need of feelings. You will become like us.'

  Polly backed away, her eyes widening. 'Like you!'

  The Cyberleader pointed to his chest unit. 'Here we have freedom from disease, protection against heat and cold, and true mastery of the elements. Do you prefer to die in misery?'

  'Surely the Earth may not lose all its energy?' asked Polly.

  'It is inevitable.'

  'Then you don't mind if we all die?'

  'Mind? Why should we mind?'

  General Cutler, who was still lying stretched out on the console where the Cyberman had laid him, was slowly recovering consciousness. Grasping the situation immediately, he listened, eyes closed.

  'Millions and millions of people are going to suffer and die,' continued Polly. 'Just because of you ! '

  Cutler cautiously opened his eyes. With his head turned to one side, he was in full view of the door leading to the corridor. As he watched, it opened—unnoticed by the two Cybermen who had their backs to it. To the General's surprise, Ben came crawling through on all fours, and closed the door noiselessly behind him. In his right hand, he held the Cyberweapon.

  Ben quickly scuttled in his stockinged feet to the back of the console on which Cutler was lying.

  At the other end of the tracking room, Polly was still confronting the Cyberleader.

  'Don't you ever think of anything or anyone except yourselves?'

  'We are equipped to survive. We are only interested in survival.'

  'Give me that thing.' Cutler spoke in a whisper, but his voice, sounding close to Ben's ear, made the sailor start. He looked up quickly at the apparently unconscious man.