by Gerry Davis
The Doctor was already at the door and nobody made any move to stop him. He turned round. ‘You’d better come with me,’ he said. ‘I’m going to show you exactly what this mysterious virus looks like.’
Down in the Medical Store Room the Doctor mixed a sample of the sugar with a drop of water and placed it on the slide. He slid it under the electron microscope and bent over to look.
‘Just as I thought,’ he said, ‘a large neurotropic virus.’ He stood up and allowed Hobson to sit down at the microscope. ‘See for yourself,’ he said. ‘The classic virus shape.’
Hobson saw a number of hexagonal objects like crystals made up of ping pong balls with flat sides. It meant nothing to him. He looked back at the Doctor and shrugged his shoulders.
‘It’s a large infective agent which specifically attacks the nerves,’ explained the Doctor. ‘That’s why the patients have got those lines on their faces. They follow the course of the nerves under the skin.’
Hobson leaned back and looked at him. ‘I’m not sure I follow all this,’ he said. ‘Anyway, how did it get in here?’
‘Quite obvious,’ said the Doctor. ‘The Cybermen are deliberately infecting the base.’
‘No.’ Hobson shook his head obstinately. ‘My men have searched every square inch of the base. There’s nobody unaccounted for, and there’s no space big enough to hide a cat, let alone a Cyberman.’
The Doctor, who had been pursuing his own thoughts, suddenly froze. ‘One moment,’ his voice carried a new urgency that made Hobson look at him. Polly felt a sudden prickling of fear at the base of her neck. The Doctor rarely spoke like this, and when he did it was usually with good cause.
The Doctor beckoned to Hobson and the others and led the way back into the Medical Unit. The lighting was still down to its reddish half-glow. Bob was in the bed nearest to them, flushed and unconscious. The Doctor motioned them to stop by his bed. His apprehension began to infect the others. He spoke in a whisper and Hobson, catching the Doctor’s mood, answered in the same way, scaling his big voice down to a mutter.
‘Did you say you had searched the base?’
Hobson nodded. ‘Yes. What of it?’
‘Everywhere?’
Hobson nodded.
‘But,’ the Doctor continued, ‘did you search in here?’
Hobson looked over at the other technician, Peter, and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I think so!’ Peter looked undecided, and Hobson turned back to the Doctor. ‘There have been people in here all the time so they probably…’
The Doctor was looking across at Peter. ‘I want a direct answer. Did they search in here?’
Peter shook his head. ‘No.’
‘But there’s nowhere in here where they could hide,’ said Polly.
The Doctor put a finger to his lips, motioning them to silence, and then warily moved along the beds, the others following close behind him. The third bed looked more bulky than the others. The feet, they noticed, stretched right up to its end.
With a sudden apprehension, Polly put her hand to her face. ‘Oh no, no, please!’
The Doctor stopped about two feet from the bed, turned round and waved the others back. He leant forward to pull off the blanket but, before he could do so, the bedclothes were flung off and a Cyberman, gleaming dully in the red glow, swung massively to his feet, holding a Cyber-weapon.
The weapon the Cyberman was holding fitted into two small clips under his chest unit to which it was connected by a thin cable. In appearance, it was a plain, foot-long metal rod about an inch in diameter with a white cylinder on the end which lit up when the weapon was fired.
The Doctor had seen these Cyber-guns before and he motioned Ben, who was edging back towards the door, to keep still.
‘Stand back from that door.’ The Cyberman’s voice vibrated harshly, as though computerised.
Hobson’s mouth fell open as he stared, thunderstruck, at the huge silver creature. Then he recovered and turned to the Doctor, speaking quite calmly. ‘It seems you were right, Doctor. I apologise. It is the Cybermen.’
Unseen by the Doctor and Hobson, Peter the last one to leave the Medical Store Room, had taken in the situation and was carefully edging round behind the others out of sight of the Cyberman. In his hand the man was carrying a large heavy metal handle which was used for jacking up the ends of the beds. Quickly slipping under the nearest bed, he managed to crawl to a position almost directly behind the big silver monster. Then, he slowly rose to his feet, motioning the men facing him not to react.
The Cyberman was unaware of the man behind him. The technician raised the handle to strike at the Cyberman’s head. The Doctor, the only one there who was familiar with the almost indestructible nature of the Cyberman’s armour, looked on in horror, but dared not react.
At the other end of the ward, a door was flung open breaking the suspense for a moment. The men turned round as a second Cyberman entered.
Peter sprang forward and swung down the heavy bed handle with all his might upon the back of the Cyberman’s neck. The handle connected and then glanced off, throwing the man back. To his amazement, he saw that there was not even a dent in the Cyberman’s tough outer shell. He raised the handle again as the Cyberman turned, his Cyber-weapon levelled. There was a loud metallic rattle. The tip of the weapon lit up and the technician froze in his tracks. As the others watched in horror, smoke began to pour from the openings in his clothes. His eyes went blank. His body seemed almost to shrivel up. His face twisted and contorted, and he crashed forward to the ground.
Polly, her face white, turned and leant against the Doctor, almost in a faint.
‘Remain still.’ The rasping voice of the first Cyberman echoed round the room.
‘You devil.’ Hobson stepped forward and knelt by the dead technician. The man looked as though he had received a colossal electric charge. His face was almost black, his close-cropped hair shrivelled as though badly burnt. Hobson looked up. ‘You’ve killed him, an unarmed man.’
‘He was attacking us. He had to be destroyed.’ The Cyberman’s English was perfect. But the flat delivery was much more like a robot or a computer than a man. He turned to the Cyberman who had just entered. ‘See that they remain here,’ he said.
The second Cyberman, distinguishable from the first by a red line across the front of his accordion-like chest unit, unclipped his Cyber-weapon and drove the assembled humans back against the wall.
‘What are you going to do?’ said Hobson. ‘Kill us all?’
‘That will not be necessary. You will keep quiet and wait.’ The first Cyberman operated a control on his chest unit and pulled out an aerial. He bent his head slightly and spoke into what appeared to be a small built-in mike in his chest unit.
‘Operational system two now complete, operational system two now complete. Ready to start operational system three.’
Another voice came from a small hidden loudspeaker on the chest unit itself. ‘Message understood. Operational system three will now begin.’
The first Cyberman switched off his receiver and returned the aerial to its place by the side of the unit. He walked along, surveying Hobson, Ben and Polly. He stopped opposite the Doctor.
‘You are known to us.’
The Doctor stared back at him. Polly noticed with pride that there was not a glimmer of fear in his face. In fact, he looked more relaxed than he had at the end of the search when it was apparent that he would have to report his failure to Hobson.
The first Cyberman looked around at the others. ‘Who is in command here?’
Hobson nodded resolutely. ‘I am.’
‘You will be needed.’
‘What have you done with my men?’ Hobson turned and indicated the empty beds in the Medical Unit.
The first Cyberman answered: ‘They will return.’
‘You mean they are not dead?’ said Hobson.
‘No,’ the Cyberman answered. ‘They are not dead. They are converted.’
‘Converted?’ excla
imed Hobson. ‘What have you done to them?’
‘They are now under our control.’
Polly noticed that, except when they were moving, the two Cybermen were as still as two suits of armour in a museum. The only thing that indicated life was a very slight whirring noise, which seemed to come from the chest unit every time they were about to speak.
‘Now look here…’ Hobson began to bluster again, ‘if you’ve done anything to my men…’
The Cyberman again turned its head slowly towards Hobson. ‘You will do nothing.’ The second Cyberman walked over to Bob, the latest patient, and examined him. On the side of his face the others could see the black lines spreading. The Cyberman then came up to Jamie and looked at him. ‘This one has not received the neurotrope X.’
Polly walked towards Jamie.
‘Stand back.’ The Cyberman voice, although still flat in expression, had risen in volume, and Polly froze in her tracks.
‘Please,’ she said, ‘leave him alone. He’s had an accident. His head is hurt.’
‘His head?’ The second Cyberman looked round at the first, as if for some signal of confirmation. ‘Then,’ he continued, ‘he will be of no value to us. The others are ready for conversion.’ He turned away from Jamie.
The first Cyberman spoke to Hobson again. ‘You will now take us to the control centre.’
Hobson seemed about to say something but the Cyberman slowly raised his Cyber-weapon and Hobson shrugged and led the way out of the Medical Unit. The Doctor followed him out, but when Ben and Polly made their way to the door the second Cyberman, who had remained behind, stopped them.
‘You will remain here. If you leave, you will be converted like the others.’ He looked at them for a moment and then exited, closing the door behind him firmly.
Ben scratched his head and heaved a long sigh of relief. ‘Phew, I’m not sorry. I don’t like that word “converted”.’
The Cyberman space ship nearest to the base somewhat resembled the interior of a submarine. No concessions were made for comfort, rest or food, as in a human space ship.
Every spare inch was covered with highly sophisticated apparatus. The Cybermen themselves did not rest. When necessary, they could fit themselves into giant clips connected to the powerful Cyberman batteries, and recharge themselves. Otherwise, they were operational twenty-four hours a day.
The rear section of this space ship, however, was exceptional in that it had been specially fitted out for the conversion of the Earth men. Lying from stem to stern were three long narrow tables; like operating-theatre tables. Several Cybermen were at present attaching metal clips to the heads of three of the men from the moon base. These were respectively Evans, Geoffrey and Ralph.
The clips consisted of long headpieces of highly polished metal. On the forehead end, there were several ridged extensions leading to the skin of the forehead. The tail end, running over the crown of the head, almost reached down to the nape of the neck.
When the clips were attached, a Cyberman who was standing by a large illuminated control unit pressed down a switch and signalled to the others. Another Cyberman, slightly larger than the others, stood by the table near Evans. In contrast to the others, his headpiece was a dull black. He was obviously a leader of some kind. He looked down at the unconscious men and spoke to them.
‘Raise your left arm.’
As if pulled by an invisible wire, the men’s left arms swung up to a vertical position.
‘Raise your right arm.’
The men swung their right arms into position opposite the left.
‘Now, get up.’
Smoothly and without jerking, with perfect muscular co-ordination, the Earth men rose to a sitting position, slid their feet off the tables, and, almost in unison, got to their feet. Each face stared expressionlessly ahead. The black lines down the sides of their faces were still visible, but the swelling had faded somewhat.
The Cyberman looked closely at each one in turn. ‘Control is excellent. Prepare to transfer them to the capsules.’
At the far end of the cabin, in a specially built rack, were a series of circular canisters. A Cyberman removed one from the rack and wheeled it along like a large rubber tyre. When it was opposite Evans the Cyberman bent down, turned a small lever, and pulled open the door which resembled the lid of a circular powder compact. Inside there was just enough space for a man to curl up. The Cyberman turned to Evans, lifted him bodily, and pushed him into a foetal position in the canister. He closed the door, turned the lever which locked it and adjusted a small control that released oxygen to the interior.
This procedure was followed for each man in turn. Finally, Tarn, the Cyberleader, motioned to one of his men.
‘They are now ready for transportation to the moon base. You have your orders.’
The Cyberman repeated after the Cyberleader, ‘I have my orders.’ He beckoned to two more Cybermen and together they started to wheel the canisters, with their human cargo, towards the exit port to the moon surface.
8
The Battle with the Cybermen
In the Weather Control Room, Benoit and Sam were anxiously conferring. ‘Still no word from the surface party,’ Sam anxiously remarked. ‘I think I’d better go out and have a look.’
‘Let’s try once more,’ said Benoit. He picked up the mike, pressed the switch and spoke again. ‘Surface party, surface party, come in. We are not receiving you. Over.’
All that could be heard from the loudspeaker, even when Benoit turned it up to full, was a loud jarring static. Benoit switched off the set and turned to Sam. ‘Can we see the control antenna from here?’
‘No, not fully, it’s away on the far side of the moat outside the main port.’
Benoit nodded. ‘Right. Then you’ll have to go out, Sam. Get ready to…’
At that moment, the door burst open and Hobson, the Doctor and a technician were thrust in by the two giant Cybermen. As the Cybermen appeared in the gloom of the door opening, everyone rose to their feet in complete amazement. Benoit moved forward. ‘Chief, what’s happened?’
Hobson made an urgent gesture. ‘Get back, get back – these things are lethal.’
The second Cyberman moved forward, raising his Cyber-weapon. ‘No one will move. You will remain still. If you move, you will be killed.’
Everyone remained still except Nils. ‘Who are they?’ he said to Benoit. ‘How did they get…’
The second Cyberman’s voice cut in again. ‘Silence, we are Cybermen. You will listen to us.’
Benoit sat down on the edge of the console, his cool self again. ‘But the history books say you were all killed when your planet, MONDAS, exploded in 1986.’
The first Cyberman had moved to a position where he could watch the activity in the Gravitron room. He now turned round to answer Benoit. ‘We were the first space travellers from MONDAS. We left before it was destroyed. We have come from the other Cyberman planet, TELOS.’
The Doctor broke in, ‘Then you know how MONDAS was destroyed?’
The first Cyberman looked at him. ‘Yes, and we know what part you played in that. We have returned to take the power you used to destroy MONDAS.’
Hobson looked from one to the other, confused. ‘But that was back in 1986,’ he said. He scratched his head. ‘I don’t understand all this. What are you doing on the moon?’
‘We are going to take over the Gravitron and use it to destroy the surface of the Earth by changing the weather,’ replied the first Cyberman.
‘But that will kill everyone on Earth!’ A shade of Hobson’s old aggressive self returned as he vainly tried to understand this sudden change in events.
‘That is possible.’ The first Cyberman turned back to the Gravitron, indifferent to the conversation. Benoit broke in again.
‘You people, who are supposed to be so advanced, here you are taking your revenge like children!’
The Cyberman turned and looked at the second Cyberman, then back to Benoit. ‘Revenge? Wha
t is that?’
‘It is a feeling people have when…’
The first Cyberman broke in, ‘Feeling? Yes, we know of this weakness of yours. We are fortunate. We do not possess feelings.’
‘Then why are you here?’ Hobson questioned.
‘To eliminate all dangers to the Cyberman empire.’
‘But you will kill every living thing on the Earth,’ Hobson replied.
‘Yes,’ said the first Cyberman, ‘all dangers will be eliminated.’
‘Have you no feelings of, well, mercy?’ questioned Benoit.
The first Cyberman was obviously bored with the conversation. No wonder humans were so retarded when they talked in this ridiculous way. ‘It is unnecessary,’ he said flatly. He turned to the second Cyberman. ‘Keep a close watch on them.’ The second Cyberman swung his weapon in a low arc. Nobody moved. The first Cyberman unfolded his chest aerial and spoke into the mike.
‘Operational system four.’
Again, the high-pitched filtered tone came from the Cyberman’s chest unit loudspeaker. ‘Operational system four complete. Entry to base now complete.’
‘Entry!’ Hobson looked up. ‘How did you get in?’
‘It was very simple,’ said the Cyberman. ‘Only rudimentary Earth brains like yours would have been fooled.’
Hobson folded his arms, a little more his old self. ‘Is that so? Well, go on.’
‘Since we couldn’t approach direct,’ said the Cyberman, ‘we came up under the surface and cut our way in through your store room. On the way we contaminated your food supplies. It was quite simple. You had provided no under-surface defence. All that was needed was one of our cutting tools.’
‘A hole.’ Hobson turned to Benoit. ‘They cut a hole. That explains those air pressure drops we’ve been recording.’
The Cyberman turned round and loomed over the base director. ‘You should have acted upon them. No Cyberman would have neglected such a vital fact.’
In the Medical Unit, the first relief at not having been taken away by the Cybermen had worn off. Ben was sitting gloomily eyeing Polly who, to calm her nerves, was redoing her fingernails.
