by Gerry Davis
Ben groaned. ‘I’ll be after a job as a copper when I get back to the 1970s. Come on, Jamie.’
The Doctor bent down and pulled off Evans’ acoustic helmet and headpiece. Jamie and Ben carried out Evans while the Doctor looked thoughtfully at the helmet, pulled out his notebook and studied it.
Hobson and Benoit, after making sure that the Gravitron was back in operation again, had climbed the stairs to the first platform and were examining the hole in the plastic. The Doctor climbed the ladder and stood beside them.
‘Doctor,’ Hobson turned to him. The Doctor was gratified to notice a new tone of respect. ‘What do you make of this?’
The Doctor gave the hole a quick glance. ‘Made by a laser beam, I should say.’
‘Is there anything known to science the Cybermen haven’t got?’ Hobson said tiredly.
‘They haven’t got a Gravitron, have they? Or they wouldn’t be after yours!’
‘We’ll have to stand guard up here with their Cyber-guns.’
‘Not much use, I’m afraid,’ said Benoit. ‘They’re getting reinforcements.’
‘What!’ Hobson exclaimed.
Benoit took out a small pair of binoculars from his pocket, opened them up and passed them to Hobson. He pointed to a long, black, torpedo-shaped object which was landing to the left of the cluster of rocks near the aerial. ‘They’re bringing up their space ships.’
‘And over there.’ The Doctor pointed to the other side of the base where the ground sloped down towards one of the big lunar plains. Another black, torpedo-shaped object was coming in to land, its red light flashing.
Hobson turned back towards the ladder. ‘I imagine we’ll soon be hearing the latest bulletin from our Cybermen friends.’ He started to climb down.
Below them, Polly, standing by Nils at the R/T controls, started as the voice of the Cyberleader broke in on the loudspeaker system.
‘We have brought up reinforcements with other weapons. You have one chance. You must open the entry port. You cannot stop us now. You will all be completely destroyed.’
Polly turned to Nils. ‘What does he mean, other weapons?’
‘We’ll soon find out.’ Nils rose. ‘You stay here. I must report this to Mr Hobson.’ He walked over to the ladder just as Benoit reached the bottom rung. ‘We’ve had a message,’ he began, but Benoit stopped him. ‘I heard as I was coming down.’
‘What can we do?’ Nils’ composure was beginning to crack.
‘For the moment,’ said Benoit, ‘we must simply keep the base operational.’ He put his hand on the Dane’s shoulder and walked over with him back to the control console.
Standing on the catwalk, the Doctor and Hobson watched as the Cybermen group with the long bazooka-like weapon, brought it forward and started assembling it.
Beside them on the catwalk, on one of the supporting girders of the dome, was a small R/T set with a ’phone. Hobson leant over and turned the volume up on a small volume control.
Again, the voice of the Cyberleader rasped through with its mechanical halting delivery. ‘I shall count up to ten. We do not wish to destroy the base. But if you force us, we shall blow a hole in the plastic dome that all your ingenuity will not be able to make good. I shall start counting up to ten,’ continued the Cyberman. ‘Unless you open the door by the time I have finished counting, we shall fire.’
There was a long pause. The Doctor was looking through the binoculars. ‘They’re aiming their weapon right at us.’ He suddenly realised something and turned round a little panicky. ‘We’ll be visible to them here.’
‘I realise that,’ Hobson snapped. ‘We’d better take cover. We’ll have to lie down, make less of a target.’ Hobson awkwardly knelt down and then lay prone on the catwalk. ‘Hurry up, Doctor,’ he said testily.
The Doctor appeared to dither for a moment. ‘Is the Gravitron still switched on?’
‘Yes,’ Hobson replied.
‘Good,’ continued the Doctor, ‘then I shall certainly remain where I am.’ He raised the binoculars again and stared at the weapon.
Over the tannoy system the Cyberman’s count had now reached eight… nine… ten… ‘Fire!’
As the Doctor watched fascinated through the binoculars, his hands shaking so that the picture in the lens joggled up and down, he saw one of the Cybermen sweep his arm down for the weapon to fire.
A bolt of flame leapt from the nozzle. As the Doctor had anticipated, before it reached the plastic dome, it deflected upwards and away into the black canopy of space.
The Cyberman’s harsh voice blasted through the tannoy system again. ‘Again, fire!’
Once more the Cyberman on the moon surface swept his arm down and the weapon belched forth a long ball of fire. For the second time, it deflected upwards, harmlessly away from the dome, and disappeared in a tiny pinpoint of light heading towards the stars.
Hobson looked up at the Doctor. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked.
The Doctor was still on his feet, rocking a little from the strain. ‘It just,’ he made a gesture with his hands, ‘deflected over the dome.’ His knees gave way and he sank down to a kneeling position.
Benoit, who had just climbed the ladder, hurried over to them. ‘Doctor, are you all right?’
The Doctor shook his head. He had a relieved, almost silly, grin on his face. ‘Of course I am.’
Hobson slowly got to his feet. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘the Gravitron. It deflected it. It puts forth a strong force-field all the way round the base.’ He turned to the Doctor. ‘You worked that out, didn’t you?’
The Doctor nodded and slowly got to his feet. ‘I never take needless risks,’ he said. ‘And that gives me an idea.’ He looked around him, back at the probe. Benoit took the binoculars from the Doctor and stared out over the lunar landscape.
‘What are they doing now?’ Hobson queried.
Benoit put the binoculars down and looked back at Hobson in wonderment. ‘They’re going away. I wonder what they’ll cook up next?’
The Doctor turned to them and shook his head. ‘No, now it’s our turn to cook up something.’ The two men looked at him. Normally dreamy and a little absent from the proceedings, in a gentle, charming sort of way, the Doctor occasionally showed a different nature underneath the easy-going pose. Now his green eyes became steely, his face hardened. He walked over to the edge of the catwalk and pointed at the probe.
‘How far down can this be aimed?’ Even his voice had a new ring to it and the other men hurried to his side, impressed by the change.
‘Down?’ said Hobson.
The Doctor nodded. ‘Can it be brought to bear on the surface of the moon?’
Hobson and Benoit looked at each other. ‘I see,’ said Benoit slowly. ‘Well,’ Hobson sounded a bit dubious, ‘I don’t know.’
‘Has it ever been tried?’ asked the Doctor.
‘No,’ said Benoit. Then, with sudden conviction, ‘but we shall try now.’
‘Evans is out of it,’ said the Doctor. ‘The Gravitron is now all yours.’
‘Good.’ Benoit suddenly seemed galvanised with a new excitement. He hurried over to the ladder and slid down it quickly, followed by Hobson and the Doctor. They each donned an acoustic helmet and entered the Gravitron room.
Hobson climbed over the narrow catwalk of the doughnut-like torus and studied the probe itself. ‘It will only go down to here,’ said Hobson pointing to a forty degree angle. ‘This is a safety measure.’ He pointed to an iron retaining bar that stopped further movement of the probe. ‘Any further and the field may affect the base itself.’
‘Does it matter now, in this situation?’ queried the Doctor.
‘No,’ said Hobson with sudden decision. ‘I suppose it doesn’t, not now.’
The Doctor turned to Benoit. ‘Then I suggest you operate the probe right now.’
Benoit glanced at Hobson, who nodded, and then sat down at the control desk.
The Doctor turned to Hobson. ‘I’ll go up in the dome an
d relay down instructions on the R/T telephone.’ He had to shout above the rumble of the Gravitron, but Hobson understood and nodded his head affirmatively.
The Doctor left the Gravitron room, took his helmet off and went over to Nils. ‘Can you open a direct channel between the R/T set on the catwalk of the dome and the Gravitron room?’
Nils nodded. ‘Yes, right away.’ He flung a switch but the Doctor was already on his way over to the ladder.
In the Gravitron control room Benoit had set up the fail-safe system that had to be cleared whenever the probe was to be moved, and nodded to Hobson who swung the huge wheel controlling the angle of the long cylinder. The cannon-like probe started its descent from its nearly vertical position.
Upstairs on the catwalk, the Doctor looked back apprehensively as the large probe seemed to be dropping in his direction. He shifted his position slightly, then noticed that the probe was coming down some thirty feet away. It was shielded against affecting anything in the base, but the Doctor was taking no chances. He pulled the belt of his trousers off and looped it around his arm and then to the rail. If there was any local loss of gravity, he didn’t want to be floating up to the top of the dome in the middle of all the action!
In the Gravitron room, the rumble of the machine had risen again as the huge arm clanked slowly down. Hobson and Benoit were watching the probe angle recorder. The line moved down from eighty degrees, to sixty, to fifty, to forty. Then it stopped.
Benoit jabbed at the button and nodded to Hobson. Hobson shook his head despairingly. The control wheel was turned full over. The arm would not deflect any more. It was jammed by the safety bar.
There was an urgent bleep on the phone and Hobson picked it up and listened as well as he could over the rumble of the Gravitron. The Doctor’s voice came through urgently. ‘It’s still over their heads.’
Shouting into the phone, Hobson could just make himself heard by the listening Doctor. ‘That’s as far as it will go.’
‘One chance,’ the Doctor shouted. ‘Get all the men into the Gravitron room and force it down. Bring it down by hand.’
Nils, at the R/T desk, had been listening as had the other men in the room. He rose and beckoned them and they all rushed forward, put on the acoustic headgear and crowded into the Gravitron room. Only Polly was left behind in the Control Room looking through the glass partition.
The men climbed on to the narrow walkway over the Gravitron and lined up on either side of the probe.
‘One, two, three, pull!’ Urged by Hobson, the men bore down with all their weight. But the probe would not deflect any further.
‘Once more,’ Hobson called. The men again flung themselves on the long probe cylinder, stretching their muscles and expending all their remaining energy in one last desperate effort.
Still the probe wouldn’t shift.
Suddenly, Benoit stood up from the controls and gave a cry audible even over the rumble of the Gravitron. ‘Of course,’ he said. He beckoned the men down and shouted to Hobson. ‘The angular cut-out.’
Hobson looked back at him, light dawning.
‘Don’t you see,’ Benoit shouted, ‘there’s got to be a safety cut-out on the angle of the probe, or it would wreck the base.’
He turned and, followed by two of the strongest technicians, crawled under the side of the Gravitron. The heat was intense. The danger from radiation was great and each man knew it.
Suddenly, the Doctor’s voice came down to Hobson through the R/T system, calling urgently. ‘They have brought out laser beam torches,’ he cried.
‘What?’ Hobson yelled over the din of the Gravitron.
‘Laser torches.’ The Doctor’s voice came through the small loudspeaker in the earpiece. ‘There are about a dozen of them. They’re going to attack the base from each side at once. Hurry, for heaven’s sake.’
From his vantage point the Doctor could see the ring of Cybermen, each with laser torch ignited, waiting for the final signal to advance from the black-helmeted Cyberleader on the moon’s surface.
Benoit, followed by the other two men, wormed his way along to the underside of the probe. There was the angled cut-out! It was a triangular plate set to stop the Gravitron deflecting further than forty degrees and was secured at either end by two heavy split pins.
Benoit stretched his hand back for the hammer the third man, Sam, was carrying. The technician passed it to the Frenchman and Benoit, taking it, started knocking out the pins. It was difficult, strenuous work, crouching under the probe mechanism and striking upwards. The pins had not been removed since the Gravitron was installed several years ago and were difficult to force out.
Sam, nearest to Benoit, overcome by the heat, soundlessly fell forward and passed out. Benoit motioned to the other man to drag him clear of the insufferable heat of the Gravitron. As he did so, Benoit knocked out the final two inches of the pin and rolled clear as the heavy triangle swung forward.
He quickly wriggled back under and out, and gave the thumbs-up signal to Hobson.
Hobson swung the control wheel again and, creaking slightly, the huge arm deflected down… thirty degrees… twenty degrees. At five degrees it would be pointing straight out of the clear plastic dome at the surface of the moon.
Up on the catwalk, the Doctor suddenly became aware of somebody standing beside him. He turned and saw Polly. For a moment he frowned at her. Then he grabbed her arm and held her tightly as the huge probe began to slice downwards. The whole iron catwalk was vibrating as the probe exerted its influence on the metal.
Suddenly, Polly pointed outside. The Cybermen were now standing on the far side of the moat only five yards away from the base. Their laser beams were held straight out before them. Another few feet and the beams would slice through the plastic of the dome, in a dozen places.
From their vantage point, the Doctor and Polly could now look down upon the long arm of the cylinder as it reached its lowest level… ten degrees… five degrees.
Inside the Gravitron room, Benoit was sitting at the controls of the gravity torus. He pushed the two levers up to full. The Gravitron noise rose to a high-pitched whine. The room vibrated with the sheer energy emanating from the machine.
As the Doctor and Polly watched, they saw the Cybermen stop in their tracks on the edge of the narrow moat.
The lowered probe was now blasting out its maximum power. The movements of the Cybermen started to become jerky. Their feet left the ground. Their laser guns left their hands and rose with them.
One by one, as their gravity was neutralised, they rose slowly into the air, frantically gesticulating. Their weapons, their laser beams, the Cyber-cannon and other items of their equipment, swirling around them, were also raised by the force of the Gravitron.
Like dangling puppets, they accelerated rapidly into the black of space. Finally, dwindling, gleaming spots of light, they diminished into the stars…
The rumbling below them increased. The whole dome seemed to be shaking as the long, gun-like probe started swinging in a wide arc, like a scythe through a field of corn. As the probe swung round, the second line of Cybermen turned and started running back along the lunar soil, heading for their space ships. But the power of the Gravitron was too great for them. Still running, they were lifted into the air in a grotesque space ballet and released completely from the moon’s slight gravity field, like rockets into space.
Behind them, the space ships themselves started trembling on their moorings, shifting slightly on the crater floor. Then rising slowly and massively into the air in the wake of the Cybermen, accelerated more and more rapidly into space as their gravity was neutralised…
As they rose, they spun round and round, the red light in the centre forming a pin-head like the centre of a giant Catherine wheel. Finally, as the Doctor and Polly watched, they too disappeared into the immensity of space.
The Doctor crawled back to the ’phone, lifted it and spoke over the R/T system. ‘Stop,’ he called, ‘stop!’
Down
below, Hobson, his face drenched with sweat, motioned to Benoit, who eased back the levers. The rumble subsided sufficiently to allow Hobson to hear the Doctor.
‘They’ve gone,’ said the Doctor. ‘They’ve been shot off into space.’
‘All of them?’ Hobson’s voice sounded cracked, his throat parched with the heat of the Gravitron room.
‘Every last one of them,’ said the Doctor. ‘You can shut down the power now.’
Hobson replaced the ’phone, turned round to the weary, sweating men inside the Gravitron room and waved his arms. Benoit pushed the levers back into position and started winding down the huge machine. The high-pitched whine dropped again, the roar died down to the normal rumble and the men, thankfully, staggered out of the Gravitron room, and ripped off their helmets.
Inside the Weather Control Room they found Ben and Jamie. Ben, ever thoughtful, had brought up a large tray of cold drinks from the galley refrigerator. The men gratefully ripped the tops off the bottles and drank, collapsing into the various seats around the console.
Polly, followed by the Doctor, clambered down the long ladder.
Hobson, becoming aware of his responsibilities now the danger was past, looked at Jamie and asked, ‘What of the men down in the Medical Unit?’
‘Still shut in,’ said Jamie. ‘I think the Cybermen just forgot all about ’em,’ Ben added. ‘They were not necessary any more.’
Hobson nodded slowly. ‘We’ll take care of them later.’ He turned to the Doctor. ‘Do you think there’s any hope for them?’
The Doctor nodded. ‘Every hope, I imagine. I don’t think they were ever really dead, in the true medical sense. It may take them a while, but they’ll recover.’
The Director nodded. Now that the danger was over the muscles on his face seemed to have sagged, making him look nearer sixty-five than forty-five. He took a long pull at one of the bottles, put it down and looked around at the remainder of his crew. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘what are you waiting for?’
The crew, still half dead with fatigue, looked up wonderingly.
