Doctor Who: The Devil Goblins From Neptune (5 page)

as the Brigadier clambered into the cockpit.

'I think we saw history last night,' said Billy Fleming. 'A vision of what's to come.' He gestured in the direction the lane was taking them. Susannah smiled the same spaced-out smile she'd had since

about 7.30 that morning. 'The Great Gig in the Sky.

That's what

they'll call it.'

'And, man, we were there,' said Billy. 'Right in the centre of it'

Chuck nodded, deep in thought. 'I wonder what that sky thing was - literally, I mean, because I don't want to deny the validity of the subjective experience...'

Billy and Susannah glanced at each other and smiled.

Both thought Chuck odd, but over the last couple of days they'd grown

to like him. He was an American, slightly older than their nineteen or so years, and had claimed to be into the music more

than the drugs. His detachment - his desperate attempts to force his 'square-peg' character into the round hole of the festival scene - was charming rather than embarrassing.

'It was, like, the ancient gods coming out of the stone circles and having a party' Billy started coughing, which at least interrupted his free-form interpretation of the message of the lights in the sky.

Susannah giggled. 'No, I thought it was like the Earth Mother lying back and -'

'I don't think I really want to know this, said Chuck. He stopped and looked around. It was now getting dark, and, he had

to admit, one country lane looked much the same as any other.

'You sure we're going the right way?'

'Geographically or spiritually, do you mean?' asked Billy with a knowing smile.

'Geographically,' said Chuck, rising to the bait as usual.

'Yeah, of course we are.' Billy nodded confidently. 'I think.'

'Spiritually, we are definitely going the right way. No one's going to control the kids any longer,' said Susannah. 'We'll do what we want. It's like Glandring the Forehammer said -'

'It's from The Lord of the Rings, maaaaan,' said Billy, giggling.

'You've got to break down the barricades of your own soul before you can even think about -'

'We're lost,' announced Chuck finally. 'I hope your friends in the caravan will wait for us'

"Course they will,' replied Billy. 'Faz and Justin are, like, totally together. Still, we ought to stop soon. We could walk for miles in the dark and end up off Rose's land. I don't wanna get hassled by the locals'

Took,' said Susannah helpfully, pointing a purple-nailed finger through the gloom. 'There's a barn. We could get some sleep there, wait for morning'

It was the first sensible thing Susannah had said all day, and it took Billy by surprise. 'What, you mean, like, go for a roll in the hay?' Susannah gave him a withering look.

'Well, we'll just have to hang loose, see how the evening progresses,' he mumbled, ever the optimist.

Chuck was the first to the barn. It was an old building right on the edge of a field, the holes in the ancient timbered roof having been hastily made secure with corrugated iron.

The door was padlocked, but there was a large window around one side, the panes of glass long gone. With barely a pause Billy pulled at the rotten wooden frame until the whole unit came away in his hands. He laughed like a school kid as he tumbled backward.

'Well, I'm sure Mr Rose won't mind,' said Chuck. 'We'll try to put the frame back in place tomorrow morning.'

Susannah sighed, flashed Chuck a brief you-haven't-got-a-clue-have-you? look, and pulled her long tie-died skirt up around her waist. Chuck found himself staring at her shapely legs as she disappeared into the barn, then realised what he had been doing, and was grateful that no one could see his red-faced embarrassment in the dark.

Billy had no qualms about staring at the girl. 'I think I'm bloody in here, mate,' he said.

Hours later, Billy woke from a crazed sexual fantasy with an unbearable pressure on his bladder.

He groped around in the dark, knocking into Chuck, who was snoring loudly. Susannah was right at the far end of the barn, having found some straw to sleep on. He vaguely remembered her making some heavy threat along the lines of

'Either of you comes near me in the night and I'll have your goolies for breakfast', and decided against trying his luck.

He walked towards the window, the grey hedges and dark sky glimmering against the pitch-black interior of the barn. He pulled himself through without injury - no mean feat

- and walked a few paces around the side of the barn.

Unzipped his flies. Felt waves of relief. Man, something he'd drunk over the last few hours had gone straight through him.

He made the usual patterns against the stones and then, bored, stared upward at the sky, watching the clouds passing over the pinpoint brightness of the stars. Being a lad from the city, he'd never seen the stars as bright and as close as this.

He was doing up his flies when he heard something land on top of the barn. He glimpsed inky-black, flapping wings.

There was a guttural noise not unlike a cough, sounding like a gunshot

in the still darkness. Probably just a crow.

Billy walked back towards the empty window frame.

There was a scrabbling sound from the roof, as if the crow was keeping pace with him. He glanced up, but could see nothing. For some reason his heart was pounding. Perhaps it was just the thought of going back inside, close to where the gorgeous Susannah slept.

He placed one foot on the windowsill, about to push himself through.

Without warning something smashed into his back. He lost his balance, swayed forward - then felt what seemed like a claw on his arm, pulling him backward.

He tumbled on to the grass, face up. Night sky.

Comforting clouds. Just a bad trip. Perhaps -

With an otherworldly screech a creature, dark and flapping, arced down towards him from the sky talons outstretched.

One of the disadvantages of having to change UNIT HQ with the regularity that befitted a secret organisation was that you were never truly at home anywhere. At least, that's the way it seemed to Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. No sooner had the dust settled from one move than they would be off again. It made continuity a big problem.

And few things irritated the Brigadier more than discontinuity.

The daily file of normal UNIT business, brought to him by his adjutant Corporal Bell, was the usual mixture of interesting oddities, absurd speculation, and sensationalist rubbish. He glanced at the reports with disinterest. The first was from a police chief superintendent concerning several strange crop circles found over the last few months around Polesworth in Warwickshire. Could they, the policeman wondered, be connected with recent alien threats to Britain?

The Brigadier scribbled a quick note to the effect that the chief superintendent would be better employed checking out the activities of young farmers after closing time at the local.

A similar query from a constable in Wiltshire was also dismissed. A much more interesting report came from an RAF base in Leicestershire. Two pilots flying back from a night exercise near the town of Coalville had a close encounter with a bright, glowing object. Radio communication between the Harriers and the ground was lost for over a minute, and both RAF men reported that after having encountered a blinding light they had no memory of the ensuing period.

Lethbridge-Stewart noted the file for further investigation.

The reports were remarkably similar to those UNIT had received at the time of the Cyber invasion. 'Get the Doctor to have a look at that one, I think,' he said, and moved on to a report on increased radiation levels in the Solent just as his intercom buzzed.

'I have Professor Trainor on line three for you, sir,' said Carol Bell.

'Put him through,' said the Brigadier. Another distraction.

As a favour to Ralph Cornish, who had recently been appointed to overall command of the British space programme, UNIT were to provide security for a press luncheon which was to announce the results of British Rocket Group's latest unmanned mission to Uranus and Neptune.

Professor Bernard Trainor was the man under whose direction the mission had provided much valuable information about these two mysterious planets. The Brigadier had met Trainor once, at the launch of the spacecraft the previous year, and had found him to be a charming if somewhat absentminded man.

'Good morning, Professor,' he said brightly. 'What can I do for you?'

'Brigadier?' replied Trainor, as though expecting someone else. 'How are you?'

'I'm well,' said the Brigadier, casting his eyes towards the ceiling. 'Is there something you need?' He didn't really have the time for pleasantries. At this moment, Captain Mike Yates entered the office and the Brigadier threw him an exasperated glance.

'I was just... That is... The press luncheon...' said the professor.

'Of course, Professor,' soothed the Brigadier. The arrangements are in hand. My liaison officer should be with you shortly to deal with any last-minute problems that you, or we, may have.' He covered the telephone mouthpiece with his hand and growled at Yates to have a seat.

'Professor Trainor, sir?' asked Yates with a mischievous grin.

'Third call in the last two days,' said Lethbridge-Stewart before returning his attention to the professor. He was asking, in his own unique way, whether an old student of his who was, he understood, currently working for UNIT, could be spared for the luncheon. 'You must appreciate, Professor, that UNIT'S work has security implications, and that I'm not able to give specific details about any of our staff. That information is classified.' He was about to begin quoting the Official Secrets Act when he detected disappointment in the professor's voice and asked who the person in question was.

'Dr Elizabeth Shaw,' said the professor. It was the straightest answer that Lethbridge-Stewart had ever heard the professor give. 'That's a coincidence.' he said. 'Dr Shaw is my liaison officer. I imagine she'll be with you quite soon.

Good day, Professor.' And with that he put the phone down before the old man could add anything further 'No wonder she was so keen to do this,' said the Brigadier, half to himself.

'I expected a lecture on how it was demeaning for someone of her abilities to have to trail up to Cambridge like an errand girl...'

The Brigadier stared at Yates with a suspicious look on his face. 'Did you know anything about this, Captain?'

'No, sir,' said Yates. 'I wasn't even aware that Liz was working this weekend.'

'Well, anyway, I have a small job for you, too,'

'If you want me to go back to my old school, sir, I'm afraid the answer's no.' I don't think they'd be too thrilled to see me!'

Ice formed on the upper reaches of the Brigadier.

'Sorry, sir, just a joke'

'No one enjoys a good joke more than I do, Captain,' said the Brigadier. 'But...' He paused. Was there a specific reason why you came to see me?'

'Two reasons, sir,' said Yates, clearly relieved to have escaped the wrath of Lethbridge-Stewart with his rank intact.

'Firstly, I've just received this memo from the Home Office. I'm afraid they've turned down your request to D-notice that pop record you were concerned about. The one about Mars, sir.'

Lethbridge-Stewart tapped the desktop angrily.

'Bureaucratic oafs. That song's obviously based on leaked information concerning the Carrington fiasco. The Brigadier took the memo from Yates and scanned it for a moment, searching for loopholes 'Yates, I want this Bowery chap placed under twenty-four-hour surveillance. If he so much as sneezes I want to know about it.'

'Understood, sir,' said Yates, saluting. 'And sir, I have Bruce Davis outside.'

'Who?'

'The new crash retrieval officer from New York.'

Lethbridge-Stewart nodded. 'Well, you'd better show him in, Captain. We don't want the Americans to think we're all bungling incompetents, do we?'

The morning after the attempted kidnap, the Doctor was again travelling down the country lanes between UNIT HQ

and the tracking station. On this occasion the journey was uneventful, if less comfortable.' the rigid metal seating of an armoured personnel carrier was no match for Bessie's forgiving, leather-clad seats. The conversation, too, had taken a turn for the worse, Benton joining in the ribald banter of the accompanying UNIT troops and seeming to have little time for the introspection of the previous day. When they finally reached the radar station, the Doctor was both relieved and delighted to find that one of the technicians working at the station was Sam, a young American whom he had personally recruited to UNIT's research-and-development wing during a lecture tour of the United States the previous year. 'I see they've given you the most boring job imaginable,'

said the Doctor.

'It could be worse, Dr Smith,' said the young man. 'I could be making the tea!'

The Doctor immediately set about examining the equipment, Benton looking over his shoulder. 'This machinery is working perfectly,' the Doctor concluded triumphantly after several minutes.

'Never doubted it,' replied Benton with a hint of sarcasm.

'Ah, but the Brigadier did. I really wish that man would listen to what I say once in a while' He turned to face Sam.

'Were you here when the large mass was picked up?' he asked.

'Yes. It frightened me to death. At first I thought it was just a meteor, but it was about the size of Rhode Island. If that had hit I lie Earth ... '

'I know,' said the Doctor sympathetically. 'What happened next?'

'Well, this is the really interesting thing. The mass began to disintegrate, just as you would expect with a meteor. But the fragmentation seemed too uniform - as if it was choreographed. I remember what you said at MIT about looking for anomalies when watching the skies, so I logged it immediately?

But the Doctor wasn't listening. His attention had been drawn to the copy of the Sun that Benton and Private Harrison were busy reading. 'Give me that.' said the Doctor, snatching the newspaper from the hands of the startled soldiers.