Doctor Who and the Cybermen

by Gerry Davis

‘I was helping him load some stores and he just vanished – like that!’

  ‘What? In this place?’ Hobson looked incredulous. ‘There are only fifteen of us in the base.’ Nils, standing beside him, broke in, ‘Did you try his quarters?’

  ‘Yeah, I did,’ replied Ben.

  Hobson’s irritable tone came back. ‘Why didn’t you report this to me?’ His tone annoyed Ben. He’d had just about enough of this base and its wacky crew. ‘I’m doing it, aren’t I?’

  For a moment, Hobson looked about to explode. The tension broke when the Doctor entered and came up to them. He was obviously the bearer of urgent news. ‘Now what is it?’ snapped Hobson.

  ‘It’s Dr Evans.’

  ‘Well?’ Hobson continued.

  ‘He’s dead, I’m afraid.’ The Doctor looked sympathetically at the overwrought base director.

  ‘Dead!’ Hobson’s voice was almost a shout. There was a sudden silence in the Weather Control Room as the operators turned round to look back at their chief and the Doctor. As the words sunk in, the men paled and looked at each other. The first death from this strange new virus. Who would be struck down next?

  Nils, the radio operator, spoke first. He had a job to do. ‘This must be reported at once.’

  Hobson was collecting his thoughts. He shook his head. ‘No, not yet. I’ll come down to the Medical Unit with you, Doctor. Come on.’ Hobson led the way to the door, followed by the Doctor and Nils.

  Down in the Medical Unit, Polly was giving the feverish and semi-conscious Jamie a drink of water. Her back was to the other end of the ward. She held the glass to Jamie’s lips. The Scot’s eyes were roving restlessly round the room as if he was unsure of his location.

  ‘Easy,’ said Polly. ‘Easy, Jamie, you’ll choke yourself.’ She eased back the glass slightly. Jamie suddenly spluttered, spitting the water out on to the sheet. ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ cried Polly. ‘I told you to be careful.’ But she saw Jamie’s eyes, looking past her, widen in horror.

  ‘Jamie,’ said Polly anxiously. But all he could do was to try and point. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. As Polly watched, his eyes rolled upwards and he fell back on the bed, unconscious.

  ‘Oh no!’ It was too like the death of Dr Evans, and Polly’s voice shrank to a whisper. ‘Jamie, please, no…’ The Scot opened his eyes again. ‘What is it, Jamie?’ asked Polly relieved, but the Scot seemed to be in a sort of coma, unable to speak.

  The door at the far end of the ward opened and Polly started and turned. But it was only Hobson followed by the Doctor, Nils and another scientist they had picked up en route.

  ‘How is he?’ Hobson strode over to the bed and stood beside Polly. There was something reassuring in the Yorkshireman’s big, solid presence, even his gruff manner.

  ‘He seemed to see something that frightened him.’ Polly explained.

  ‘He’s got a high fever,’ Hobson explained. ‘It’s probably delirium. Where’s Dr Evans’ body?’

  ‘Over there.’ The Doctor led the way across the room to Evans’ bed, followed closely by the others. Hobson was breathing heavily, obviously deeply distressed at the loss of one of his men. ‘Let’s get it over with then.’ Nils stepped forward and threw back the blanket.

  Underneath there was a pillow and a bolster in the shape of a man. Nils ripped off the rest of the blanket. Evans had disappeared.

  5

  The Space-plague

  Hobson looked up and down the bed incredulously and thumped the bolster angrily. ‘Is this someone’s idea of a particularly bad joke?’ The Doctor crouched down by the bed and examined it with his magnifying glass. He looked up and spoke. ‘This is no joke, believe me!’

  The telephone light on the opposite wall began flashing. Nils hurried over, picked up the phone and listened, then turned to Hobson. ‘We’re wanted. Another man’s collapsed at the controls. The Gravitron has swung off alignment again.’ Hobson’s reaction was immediate. This was something he could understand, unlike the missing bodies. He turned to the Doctor and pointed, emphasising his words: ‘You,’ he then pointed over to Polly, ‘and you had better find Evans’ body, quick, or out you all go, quarantine or no quarantine.’ He followed Nils to the door and hurried out.

  Polly was almost distraught. ‘Doctor, what can have happened? I must have dozed off without realising it. How could this have happened?’

  ‘What did Jamie see?’ asked the Doctor. ‘Did you turn round? To see what he was looking at?’

  Polly shook her head. ‘No, I thought,’ her voice broke slightly, ‘he was going to die. I couldn’t take my eyes off him for a second.’

  The Doctor turned away from her and looked around the room. ‘That body cannot have just vanished into thin air.’ He came to a sudden decision and strode towards the door, stopped, thought, and then turned back to Polly. ‘Can I leave you alone?’ He noticed the girl’s stricken expression. ‘It will only be for a moment this time, I promise you.’

  Polly nodded. ‘I’ll be all right, Doctor.’

  As the door swung to behind the Doctor, she turned back to the bed. Lying on the coverlet was the Doctor’s piece of silver cloth. He must have left it behind, she thought. Polly picked it up, turned and ran across the room and out into the corridor after the Doctor.

  As the door swung to behind her, Jamie, his face flushed and red, started calling out. ‘Water, water. I’m dying of thirst. Some water…’ He seemed almost conscious and struggled to a sitting position in the bed, looking round for Polly. At the far end of the ward he made out a tall figure. ‘Polly,’ he called, ‘is that you?’

  The shadow moved out of the darkness and into the lighted centre of the ward, walking along between the beds towards Jamie. The figure was silver, the walk stiff and slightly mechanical and the face, the terrible mask of the Cyberman.

  Jamie’s eyes widened in terror. He shrank back in his bed. The Cyberman continued its slow ponderous march towards the terrified Scot. Jamie had worked himself up into a sitting position in the bed, the sweat saturating his head bandage and pouring down the side of his neck. ‘Naw, naw, ye canna tak me now. I’m no ready tae gang wi’ ye yet!’

  The Cyberman paused for a moment, looking over Jamie’s bed. He looked over at the still figures of the other patients. He moved to the nearest man, and picked him up as easily as one would a doll. The man’s head lolled limply to one side. The black lines on his face stood out in the dim reddish lighting as the giant figure walked away from the bed. At the side of the room, a small door led to the surgical store room where the drugs, bandages and instruments were kept. The Cyberman paused at the door and stretched forward a hand to open it, still carrying the man effortlessly under his other arm.

  Polly entered. She looked round, saw the giant figure and screamed. The Cyberman hardly seemed to notice her presence. Opening the door, he pulled the man through, and closed it behind him.

  Polly rushed over to the button controlling the alarm system and pressed it with both hands. Immediately, outside the sick bay could be heard the faint sound of the alarm buzzer. She was still shaking, her hands pressed against the button, when Hobson entered, followed by the Doctor, Ben and another of the men, Sam.

  Hobson walked quickly over to the girl. ‘What is it?’ he said. He eased her away from the alarm control button with more gentleness than might have been expected from the irascible chief, and lowered her into a chair.

  Polly was practically rigid with fear. The words came tumbling out. ‘It was horrible. A giant creature like…’ she thought, then realised, ‘… like a Cyberman!’ She remembered, with a sudden thrill of horror, her previous encounter with the tall, silver monsters. ‘That’s what it was… a Cyberman… now I know!’

  The Doctor was standing over her, stroking her hair to calm her. ‘I thought as much. Don’t worry, it’s all right now.’

  ‘No,’ said Polly urgently, ‘it’s not all right, Doctor.’ She looked up at Hobson. ‘The Cyberman, he was carrying one
of your men!’

  Hobson turned and rushed over to the beds and looked. The bed next to Dr Evans’ was empty. ‘There’s another one gone.’ Hobson turned back to the Doctor and Polly. Ben had gone over to Jamie’s bed and was easing him back into a sleeping position. The Scot’s eyes were half-closed now and he was breathing a little easier.

  ‘Now, look.’ Hobson sat down in a chair, and faced the other three. ‘We’ve got to find these men. They can’t just disappear in a place this size. Sam…’ the man looked expectantly at Hobson, ‘organise a search. You’re bound to find them. Go through the place completely. Search every conceivable square inch. They cannot be outside, not without space suits. So they must be somewhere in the base. Now move!’ Sam walked quickly towards the door and exited. Hobson turned back to Polly and, dropping his voice to a more gentle tone, asked her to tell her story again.

  ‘What exactly do you reckon you saw?’

  Polly was calm again. ‘I told you. I saw this giant man, or creature, or something, going out of that door…’ She pointed across to the door leading to the medical store. ‘He was carrying the patient. Lifting him just like a mannequin… a doll! I’m sure it was a Cyberman.’

  Hobson looked across the room. ‘That doesn’t lead anywhere, just the Medical Store Room. Did this, this creature, come out again?’

  ‘No.’ Polly shook her head decisively. ‘I’m sure of it. There was no time. You came so quickly.’

  Hobson stood up and strode across to the door of the medical stores. He hesitated for a moment, then flung it open and walked inside, followed by the Doctor. Polly timidly got up from her chair and walked over behind them. Ben, having seen that Jamie was sleeping, followed her over.

  The room was little more than a large closet. At one end stood the refrigerator which contained the drugs, and along each side a series of glass cupboards mounted on the wall held a wide variety of surgical instruments, wound dressings and various medicines. At the other end of the refrigerator there was a small laboratory bench with microscopes, petri dishes, assorted scientific glassware, and staining bottles. On a shelf above stood a number of large bottles of chemicals, each labelled clearly. There was no sign of anybody in the room. It could scarcely have concealed a cat, let alone a Cyberman. Nor, Polly saw, looking over the Doctor’s shoulder, was there any sign that it had been disturbed.

  Hobson went over and glanced down behind the moveable refrigerator but all he could see was the plain wall. Ben experimentally opened a cupboard or two, while the Doctor sat down at the bench, his eyes glistening at the sight of the superb microscope and compact scientific equipment.

  Hobson’s voice rang out in the confined room. ‘There’s obviously nothing to be found in here.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’ The Doctor was looking into the microscope and adjusting it above one of the slides which had been positioned in the cradle underneath.

  ‘I am.’ Hobson’s voice was blunt and uncompromising. ‘Come out of here.’ He led them out and then walked over and sat in one of the chairs. ‘Here. All of you. Now, for once, I want the truth. What do you know about all this?’ He looked directly at the Doctor.

  The Doctor put on his blandest expression. ‘Nothing, I assure you, nothing whatsoever. No more than you do.’

  ‘We’ll see about that in a minute!’ He turned to Polly. ‘This thing you saw, describe it to me.’

  Polly nodded. ‘It was very tall. It was covered in some sort of silver material, had holes for eyes and a slit for a mouth – like a giant robot.’

  Hobson leaned back and snorted derisively. ‘A robot!’ Behind Polly, the Doctor was pacing up and down furiously.

  ‘Say,’ Ben interjected, ‘weren’t the Cybermen all killed when their planet MONDAS blew up?’ Hobson leaned forward.

  ‘Stop this Cyberman nonsense. There were Cybermen, every child knows that, but they were all destroyed long ago.’

  The Doctor stopped and brought out his well worn diary. ‘So we all thought!’

  Hobson thumped the arm of his chair. ‘Put that book away, Doctor. Now let’s have a little calm thinking, shall we?’ The others turned towards him, impressed by the change in his voice. Hobson was now quieter than usual, well controlled, a little menacing. The scientist in him had taken hold. He was setting out his thesis.

  ‘For the past few hours a completely unknown disease has appeared in the base. People drop in their tracks and develop this black pattern on their skin. Then some of the patients disappear, right? They cannot go outside the base without wearing space suits, and there are no space suits missing, so, where are they? Answer… nobody seems to know.’

  The Doctor made a futile gesture with his hands. ‘It does all sound a little odd, I suppose.’

  ‘A little odd!’ Hobson echoed. ‘Aye, more than a little. But one thing I do know. A new disease starts, people disappear, and then you turn up.’

  ‘You don’t actually think we did it?’ Polly asked hotly.

  ‘How could we have anything to do with it?’ chipped in Ben. ‘We’ve just got here.’

  ‘That I don’t know,’ said Hobson. ‘I’ve only your word for it. I don’t know who you are, what you are, or where you come from, and you don’t seem very anxious to tell me. All I do know is you must get off the moon, as soon as possible.’

  ‘What good will that do?’ asked Polly.

  ‘I’ve no idea, but I do know that it will eliminate one of our problems.’

  ‘That suits me fine,’ Ben broke in. ‘The sooner we get shot of this place, the better. Believe me, skipper, I’ve no wish to stay around here!’

  The Doctor interposed. ‘No, Ben, we cannot go yet.’

  ‘Why not?’ Ben was angrier than Polly had ever seen him before. ‘They don’t want us here. We’ll be a darn sight healthier away from their crummy base.’

  The Doctor’s voice was suddenly low, urgent. ‘There’s evil here. We must stay.’

  ‘Evil!’ Hobson raised his eyebrows. ‘In what way, Doctor?’

  The Doctor had, as Polly put it afterwards, a ‘far-horizons’ look in his blue-green eyes. ‘There are some corners of the universe,’ the Doctor went on, ‘which have bred the most terrible things. Things which are against everything we have ever believed in. They…’ he shivered in spite of himself, ‘… must be fought. To the death.’

  No one spoke. The Doctor visibly relaxed, the slight, teasing smile returned to his face, and he looked round at the others. ‘This disease, for example. It isn’t really a disease, but I think I can help you with it.’ He drew his stethoscope out of his pocket and put it round his neck, the bumbling, absent-minded professor again. ‘I’ll find the cause for you.’

  ‘I thought I’d just told you,’ said Hobson, ‘I want you out of here.’

  The Doctor looked back at him evenly. ‘That, if I may say so, will hardly solve any of your most urgent problems. I am a doctor, and a scientist. I have some experience of this type of disease. All I need to do is to examine the base. I think I can find the cause for you.’

  Hobson sat back in his chair, scratching his jaw and looking from one to the other. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You have just twenty-four hours. One Earth-day cycle to find the cause, and then – out!’

  ‘That’s hardly any time at all!’ Ben exclaimed.

  Hobson rose. ‘Time enough, then you all get off the moon, complete with this bloke here.’ He pointed to Jamie in bed.

  ‘No,’ said Polly, ‘he’s ill. You can’t move him.’

  The Doctor interposed between her and Hobson. ‘I accept. Tell me, have you any sort of pathological equipment here?’

  ‘Only what Evans had in there.’ Hobson pointed to the open door of the Medical Store Room. The Doctor nodded and rubbed his hands. ‘That will do splendidly.’

  Hobson walked over towards the door. ‘Right. I’ll leave you to it. But, mind, just twenty-four hours.’ Before he had closed the door behind him, the Doctor, running excitedly like a small boy to a new toy, was i
nside the Medical Store Room and seated at the research bench.

  Curiously, Polly and Ben came over and stood beside him. The Doctor picked up a tube of swabs and a glass petri dish. He then got up and walked back into the Medical Unit, followed by Ben and Polly.

  ‘What are you going to do, Doctor?’ questioned Ben.

  The Doctor looked round. ‘You’ll see. We’ll start with this chap.’ He strode over to one of the sick men.

  ‘Just a minute.’ Polly was beside him, her face looking a little anxious. ‘Are you really a medical doctor?’

  The Doctor stopped, thought for a moment, and then brought out his inevitable diary. ‘Yes, I think I did take a medical degree once.’ He opened an early page in the diary and looked. ‘There it is; Edinburgh, 1870! What’s this…’ He looked closely at the entry. ‘… Lister… Mmm…’ He closed the diary, thrust it back into his pocket and turned to the patient.

  As the Doctor uncovered the man’s hand and arm, they saw the filigree pattern of black lines they had already noticed on the faces of the other patients. The Doctor delicately rubbed a small metal scraper over the black lines on the hand. As he did so, the hand clutched convulsively twice. Polly gave a little gasp and started back in horror.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ the Doctor reassured her. ‘It’s quite all right. He’s unconscious.’

  The Doctor led the way back into the Medical Store Room. He sat down at the small laboratory bench and put the slide under the microscope. Then, watched by Ben and Polly, he opened a petri dish and gently rubbed at the inner surface with the swab from the bottle. The others watched with interest as he bent down and fixed his eye to the microscope lens. Their interest soon wandered, however, when the Doctor seemed to become fixed in that position, totally concentrating on the enlarged segment seen through the two eye-pieces.

  ‘Hey,’ Ben said, ‘can we have a look?’

  The Doctor hardly moved. ‘No,’ he said quietly.

  ‘What can we do to help you then?’ said Polly.

  The Doctor finally looked up from the microscope. ‘I’ll need to examine everything; clothing, boots, food, soap, towels, everything. Will you go and get them for me?’