Doctor Who and the Cybermen

by Gerry Davis

  Sam looked at the dials. ‘Pressure is up again now, sir.’

  ‘Thank heavens for that!’ Hobson muttered. ‘I’ll check over the control loop monitor now.’ He rose from his seat.

  ‘I think you’ll be wasting your time, chief…’ Benoit began but Hobson cut him off angrily. ‘Nothing is a waste of time until we trace this fault, and don’t you forget it. You saw what’s happening on Earth. We can’t afford to miss anything. Now get on with it.’ The other two men returned to their work while Hobson started the laborious business of checking the monitor which governed the uniform air pressure throughout the base.

  ‘Chief,’ Sam shouted excitedly, ‘I think I’ve found something.’ The Director and his assistant moved over to him. Sam was looking at a computer read-out sheet used for checking the Gravitron and its probe. ‘It’s one of the probe control antennae,’ he said.

  ‘What’s the matter with it?’ said Benoit.

  ‘According to these readings,’ Sam went on, ‘there are at least two pieces of it missing – not responding.’

  ‘Missing?’ Hobson questioned.

  ‘Probably meteorites,’ Benoit chipped in.

  Hobson looked back at him, a new thought beginning to dawn. ‘That could be. But I think there may be a simple explanation. Jules, when did these people arrive?’

  Benoit looked at his watch, set to a completely different timescale from Earth time. ‘Let’s see, it would be period eleven in this present lunar day.’

  ‘Right,’ said Hobson. ‘When did the Gravitron start playing up?’

  ‘About…’ Benoit thought carefully, ‘why, about the beginning of period twelve.’

  Hobson turned to Sam. Now he had something to get his teeth into and he felt and looked much more cheerful than he had done for the last few hours. ‘And when was the last time we had anyone outside?’

  ‘During period thirteen,’ Sam reported. ‘Two men went out to re-align one of the solar mirrors.’

  ‘That’s it then! That’s quite enough for me!’ Hobson snapped his fingers excitedly.

  ‘I don’t follow you,’ said Benoit.

  ‘Simple. Strangers arrive during period eleven, the Gravitron goes up the spout during period twelve. One of our vital outside antennae is damaged shortly before they arrive at the base. None of our people has been outside in the same period, and there’s no one else, that we know of, on the moon.’

  ‘What about the Cybermen?’ Jules queried.

  ‘A put up story,’ said Hobson. ‘Who else has seen them except for the Doctor and his two companions? All we know is that since they arrived, there has been this terrible space virus sweeping the base, people have disappeared, and, to cap it all, the outside of our Gravitron probe has been sabotaged. That’s quite good enough for me. It’s time we put the Doctor and his friends into cold storage.’

  They made for the door. At the door Hobson turned back to Sam. ‘While we’re taking care of the Doctor and his chums, get two men outside to look at the antenna, will you, Sam?’

  Sam nodded. ‘Yes, chief.’ He put down his check board and left the Weather Control Room.

  Hobson turned to Benoit. ‘Now for the Doctor.’ They turned to go just as Ben burst through the door. He was out of breath from running and leant back against the door for a second to catch his breath. Hobson looked at him sceptically. ‘Well, what’s the story this time?’

  ‘Another patient’s gone,’ said Ben.

  Hobson stared at him for a moment and then, without a word, brushed past him and hurried on down the corridor.

  Meanwhile, Sam had got on to the emergency control crew. Two men were kept on permanent stand-by, ready to go out on the moon surface to effect any instant repairs to the dome or the exterior aerials. Alerted by Sam, the two men had been donning their space suits. Sam assisted them with their transparent head globes which were screwed on into place, rather like the helmet of a deep sea diver. When these were in place, the men flexed their shoulders and paced up and down the narrow decompression chamber to get used to the feel of the suits.

  One of the men gave the thumbs up sign and Sam, after a quick look to make sure that their suits were adjusted correctly, the air dials up to full, etc., nodded to them and went out through the pressure door into the base itself.

  He then swung the heavy door shut and clamped it from the inside.

  Left inside the circular decompression chamber, one of the two men pressed a button on the wall. There was a loud, hollow, hissing, roaring sound as the atmospheric pressure of the base exhausted to the lunar vacuum. While they waited for the pressure to equalise, they each, in turn, checked the valves of the cylinders on each other’s back.

  The hissing died away. The second man pressed another button. Slowly, the exit port rose upwards. As it did so, the totally different, hard, brilliant light of the lunar day streamed in. They pulled down their tinted sun visors and carefully moved out on to the moon surface.

  The Doctor was sitting at his microscope in the Medical Store Room. He was looking more pessimistic than Polly had seen him for some time. Around him were piles of clothing, baked bean tins, boots, saucepans, space-suit globes, and all the other paraphernalia he had collected throughout the base.

  Polly was standing looking down at him. She was still feeling a bit groggy, but determined to stay on her feet and, most important, not to be left alone in the future.

  The Doctor threw an instrument down on the desk. ‘Nothing, absolutely nothing.’

  ‘Isn’t there any clue?’ asked Polly.

  ‘Complete blank.’ The Doctor shook his head. ‘All the tests are negative. As far as I can see, this whole ridiculous place is completely sterile.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to tell Mr Hobson, I suppose.’

  The Doctor rose and, kicking aside some of his collected specimens, strode to the other end of the Medical Store Room and back. ‘I don’t think he’s going to like it very much, do you? He seems to be relying on me to discover the cause of this disease.’

  Polly looked a little embarrassed. She stared at her painted fingernails, which, to the amusement of Ben and Jamie, she kept up in the midst of their most hazardous adventures. ‘Could it,’ she said haltingly, ‘could it possibly have anything to do with Lister?’

  The Doctor stopped pacing and turned to her. ‘Lister?’

  ‘You did say that you took your degree in Edinburgh in 1870.’ Polly looked enquiringly over at him. ‘That seems an awful long time ago from now, 2070, or whatever it is!’

  The Doctor came up to her, a slight smile on his face. ‘Polly, are you suggesting I may not be competent to undertake these tests?’

  ‘Oh no, no, I was just wondering if there was something Joseph Lister hadn’t known about in 1870 which might have helped now?’ The Doctor looked searchingly at her, but Polly was still examining her fingernails. He was about to reply when his very acute hearing picked up something outside the door. ‘Shh… Someone’s coming. Hobson is probably out for blood… Ours!’

  Polly closed the door of the medical store unit. The Doctor rushed over to the pile of clothing, boots, etc., and started piling them up on the bench by his microscope. He turned to Polly impatiently. ‘Quick, the rest of that stuff… Look busy…’

  Polly started carrying the rest of the bottles, clothes, instruments, etc., over to the bench. The Doctor sat down and immediately became very absorbed in his lens. Hobson, Benoit, Ben and two other men entered from the Medical Unit.

  ‘That’s about the limit!’ Hobson glared over at the Doctor.

  ‘Mmmm!’ The Doctor didn’t look up from his microscope.

  ‘That’s the third person to disappear in a few hours. It’s completely illogical. A field base. No one coming in and out. People just vanish. They cannot be found inside…’

  ‘Would you…’ the Doctor suddenly broke in.

  ‘Eh…’ Hobson was stopped in full spate. ‘What?’

  ‘Please close that door,’ said the Doctor. ‘My slides, yo
u know. Dust and all that.’

  Benoit closed the door. The Doctor reached out for a boot and started scraping a bit of the sole off with a knife.

  ‘I’ve come to the conclusion,’ said Hobson ponderously, ‘that it must be you people. No other explanation. We’ve got some straight talking to do, you and I.’

  ‘Polly,’ the Doctor looked over at her.

  ‘Yes, Doctor?’ said Polly.

  ‘Another boot.’ Polly smiled nervously at Hobson and passed another boot to the Doctor, walking past Hobson as she did so, who had to step back out of the way. The Doctor, she thought, was being his most irritatingly mysterious. She rather wished she was out of the room.

  ‘Did you hear me?’ Hobson insisted.

  ‘Oh yes,’ the Doctor nodded. ‘All very strange.’ He bent down to look in the microscope. Hobson came over and loomed over the seated man. ‘Now look here…’

  The Doctor gently pushed him back. ‘Do you mind?’ He picked up a slide. ‘I’m trying to help.’

  Hobson exploded. ‘Help! Is that what you call it? Well, your time is up.’

  ‘Oh please, not yet,’ said Polly, ‘you said…’

  ‘I don’t care what I said.’ Hobson pulled back as the Doctor turned and whipped out a magnifying glass and started examining the front of his jacket. ‘Have you found anything yet?’

  The Doctor suddenly raised his finger to his mouth. ‘Shh…’ he said with great confidential excitement, ‘I believe I have.’

  Hobson was impressed in spite of himself by the Doctor’s manner. ‘Really?’ The Doctor nodded. ‘I’m certainly on to something.’ He suddenly rose from his chair up to his full height and turned round. ‘But…’ he thundered, ‘I must have peace and quiet. How can I work under these conditions? Out now. Out all of you.’

  His sudden onslaught took them all by surprise and even Hobson found himself moving towards the door. As he turned to go out, however, he turned back to the Doctor. ‘We’ll give you just ten minutes and that’s final.’ Hobson exited.

  Polly had also been carried away by the Doctor’s ploy. ‘Did you mean that, Doctor?’

  The Doctor’s manner changed again. He seemed to relax, subside.

  ‘You’ve found something?’ Polly questioned.

  He gently led her over to the door. ‘Why don’t you go and make some coffee? Keep the others happy, while I try and think of something.’

  Polly’s face fell. ‘So it was just a trick?’ The Doctor merely looked at her and repeated, ‘Coffee.’ Polly nodded dispiritedly, her hopes dashed again. She left the Medical Stores Room and the Doctor walked over to the microscope, his eyes restlessly looking around for a clue…

  Outside, on the lunar surface, the two men from the base were slowly making their way towards the damaged antenna. As they walked towards the aerial they were unaware of being closely watched.

  Close by the site of the probe aerial, there was a large collection of boulders. These had rolled down the slope from the high crags beyond the landing place of the TARDIS. The boulders were some twelve to fifteen feet high and the dark shadows they threw sharply contrasted with the harsh brilliance of the lunar surface. In the shadow, had the two Earth men been less preoccupied by the damaged aerial, they might just have made out a large outline in the shape of a man. They would have had to have had exceptional eyes, however, to have seen the watching eyes of a Cyberman in the deeper shadows. Behind him another Cyberman stood in the shelter of the boulder…

  The two men examined the broken, tubular pieces of aerial. The aerial had obviously been shattered by the force of some object striking it. Had Hobson kept all his men fully informed of the possibility of attack from an alien race, the men might have been alerted to the real cause of the damage. As it was, they wrote it off as the result of one of the periodic meteorite showers that swept the moon surface.

  The plastic dome itself had been damaged on various occasions by large meteorites, some weighing up to several kilogrammes.

  The men dismantled what was left of the aerial and started laying it out on the grey lunar sand. They had brought various joints with them. Their task was to fit the tubular segments together in the joints and rig it up again, until such time as a new, stronger aerial could be brought up from Earth.

  So totally engrossed in their work were the two men, that the first intimation the men had of any danger was a large shadow that fell across the pieces of broken aerial.

  The two men whipped around alarmed, but it was too late. Behind them the two huge silver figures had their arms upraised and before the men could defend themselves, the arms swept down, almost in unison, with a massive chopping blow to the necks of the men, just below their face globes…

  The force of the blows was such that the bodies of the two men rolled over and over in the reduced lunar gravity, finally coming to rest like grotesque dolls, sprawled face upwards in the soft lunar sand.

  7

  The Cybermen’s Plot

  The Weather Control Room now held almost the entire able-bodied population of the base. Hobson was sitting back in his chair looking at the Doctor, who had left his microscope unwillingly to accompany Benoit. He was standing uneasily in front of Hobson, a hang-dog expression on his face. He was well aware that nothing would bluff the base director any further.

  Hobson, searching the Doctor’s face, put the inevitable question. ‘Have you completed your examinations, Doctor?’

  ‘Er…’ the Doctor mumbled, ‘just about.’

  Hobson crossed his fingers and tilted his head back slightly, playing a cat and mouse game with the Doctor. ‘You’ve turned the base upside down, I see.’

  The small boy inside the Doctor broke through for a moment and he nodded happily. ‘Oh yes. Everything, I assure you. Clothing, machinery, boots.’

  ‘And you’ve found…?’

  ‘Found?’ the Doctor looked away. ‘Nothing, I’m afraid.’

  As if this was what he’d been waiting for, Hobson leaned forward in his chair, his jaw out-thrust aggressively. ‘Yes. Somehow I didn’t think you would. So what I told you still stands.’

  At that moment the door opened and Polly, followed by Ben, entered with a piled tray of coffee, cups, biscuits and sandwiches. Behind her Ben was carrying a large jug of cream and a sugar bowl.

  ‘Here,’ she said brightly, ‘this will make you all feel better.’

  The men gladly diverted their attention from their work for a moment and started taking sandwiches, coffee and biscuits from the tray. Hobson was temporarily at a loss. He took a sandwich from the tray and a cup of coffee and placed them beside him.

  Again he cleared his throat, ready to make his pronouncement to the Doctor and his companions. Just then Sam entered and walked over to him. He seemed worried about something.

  ‘Chief… I think I’d better go outside and take a look around.’

  Benoit raised his eyebrows and the man went on, ‘Those two, Frank and Luigi, haven’t reported back. Their oxygen must have practically run out by now. There’s been no word from them since they started reassembling the aerial.’

  Hobson seemed unwilling to acknowledge a further cause for worry. ‘I expect they are having trouble reassembling the aerial. They’ll have taken the spare oxygen tanks with them. That will give them at least another two hours. No need to panic as yet.’

  Sam nodded, relieved, and walked back to his console. As he left, Polly had just finished handing out all the coffee. ‘That’s everyone, I think,’ she said looking around. She looked over to where Ben, his attention distracted by something on the large world map, had put down the cream and sugar. ‘Ben,’ she called. As Ben appeared not to hear her, she strode over and picked up the cream and sugar herself. She brought it over to Hobson, who declined the cream and took two large spoonfuls of the sugar. He raised the coffee to his mouth.

  ‘Careful,’ said Polly, ‘it’s hot.’ Hobson lowered the cup again. Beside him another of his men, Bob, the youngest member of the base crew, a
bespectacled youth of nineteen, sipped his coffee and smiled at her. ‘Not too hot for me,’ he said.

  She turned to the Doctor. ‘Doctor, don’t you want your coffee?’ She passed him the cup that she had put down on the console for him. The Doctor nodded gloomily, lost in thought. ‘No thanks, Polly.’

  Hobson returned to the attack. ‘As I was saying, you’ve had your chance, Doctor. What have you found? Nothing!’

  Bob, the young technician, suddenly stiffened. His hand started shaking.

  ‘Careful,’ Polly shouted. But it was too late. The cup tipped forward from his hand and fell on to the floor. His entire body began to shudder. He stiffened and slowly collapsed into a heap on the floor. Everybody rose to their feet.

  ‘Stand back,’ the Doctor shouted, ‘Let me look.’ As they backed away he bent over the man and examined his hand. On the back of the technician’s hand the black lines were slowly creeping, swelling up like veins and reaching along the fingers… the men reacted in silence to the plight of yet another victim of the black plague. The Doctor slowly rose to his feet. He looked over to where Nils was raising his coffee cup to his mouth and yelled out, ‘Don’t drink that!’ Nils lowered the cup again. ‘Everybody, listen!’ said the Doctor. ‘Don’t touch that coffee, whatever you do.’

  ‘What on earth,’ began Hobson.

  ‘It’s the sugar,’ said the Doctor. ‘That’s why the disease doesn’t affect everybody. The virus is in the sugar. Not everybody takes it.’

  Hobson, still with his coffee cup in his hand, looked at it with distaste and slowly put it down on the side of the console. Ben reached over to pick up the sugar bowl, but the Doctor motioned him not to touch it. He came forward, brought out a pair of forceps from his capacious pockets, and gingerly picked up the bowl and its contents.

  He turned back to Ben. ‘Ben, you and one of the others bring this fellow down to the Medical Unit. I’ve got to analyse this.’

  Hobson lumbered forward. ‘Not so fast,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure that I’m going to allow you to go down there again, out of my sight.’