Doctor Who and the Auton Invasion Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  About the Authors

  Also available from BBC Books

  Title Page

  Introduction by Russell T Davies

  The Changing Face of Doctor Who

  1. Prologue: Exiled to Earth

  2. The Mystery of the Meteorites

  3. The Man from Space

  4. The Faceless Kidnappers

  5. The Hunting Auton

  6. The Doctor Disappears

  7. The Horror in the Factory

  8. The Auton Attacks

  9. The Creatures in the Waxworks

  10. The Final Battle

  Between the Lines

  Copyright

  About the Book

  ‘Here at UNIT we deal with the odd – the unexplained. We’re prepared to tackle anything on Earth. Or even from beyond the Earth, if necessary.’

  Put on trial by the Time Lords, and found guilty of interfering in the affairs of other worlds, the Doctor is exiled to Earth in the 20th century, his appearance once again changed. His arrival coincides with a meteorite shower. But these are no ordinary meteorites.

  The Nestene Consciousness has begun its first attempt to invade Earth using killer Autons and deadly shop window dummies. Only the Doctor and UNIT can stop the attack. But the Doctor is recovering in hospital, and his old friend the Brigadier doesn’t even recognise him. Can the Doctor recover and win UNIT’s trust before the invasion begins?

  This novel is based on ‘Spearhead from Space’, a Doctor Who story which was originally broadcast from 3–24 January 1970.

  Featuring the Third Doctor as played by Jon Pertwee, his companion Liz Shaw and the UNIT organisation commanded by Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart.

  About the Authors

  Terrance Dicks

  Born in East Ham in London in 1935, Terrance Dicks worked in the advertising industry after leaving university before moving into television as a writer. He worked together with Malcolm Hulke on scripts for The Avengers as well as other series before becoming Assistant and later full Script Editor of Doctor Who from 1968.

  Working closely with friend and series Producer Barry Letts, Dicks worked on the entirety of the Third Doctor Jon Pertwee’s era of the programme, and returned as a writer – scripting Tom Baker’s first story as the Fourth Doctor: ‘Robot’. He left Doctor Who to work as first Script Editor and then Producer on the BBC’s prestigious Classic Serials, and to pursue his writing career on screen and in print. His later scriptwriting credits on Doctor Who included the twentieth-anniversary story ‘The Five Doctors’.

  Terrance Dicks novelised many of the original Doctor Who stories for Target, and discovered a liking and talent for prose fiction. He has written extensively for children, creating such memorable series and characters as T.R. Bear and the Baker Street Irregulars, as well as continuing to write original Doctor Who novels for BBC Books.

  Robert Holmes

  Robert Holmes served with distinction in the army and also in the police before becoming a journalist. He also started to write for television series, including Emergency Ward 10.

  After rewriting his proposed Doctor Who story ‘The Space Trap’ as ‘The Krotons’ in 1969, Holmes went on to become one of the programme’s most prolific writers. He took over from Terrance Dicks as Script Editor of Doctor Who in 1974, working mainly with producer Philip Hinchcliffe during one of the programme’s most successful periods at the start of the Fourth Doctor’s era. During this time he extensively revised or reworked many of the scripts for the programme and wrote ‘Pyramids of Mars’ under the pseudonym Stephen Harris.

  Holmes wrote the introductory stories for both the Third Doctor (‘Spearhead from Space’) and the Master (‘Terror of the Autons’). Several of his scripts are considered amongst the absolute best ever in Doctor Who – including ‘The Talons of Weng-Chiang’ and the Fifth Doctor’s final story, ‘The Caves of Androzani’. In ‘The Deadly Assassin’, Holmes established a background and society for the Time Lords that has endured to this day.

  Robert Holmes wrote for many other series including Doomwatch, Spy Trap, Dixon of Dock Green, Blake’s 7, and was Story Editor on Armchair Theatre. He also adapted David Wiltshire’s book Child of the Vodyanoi for television, retitling it The Nightmare Man.

  Robert Holmes died in 1986, while working on the final episodes of the Doctor Who story ‘The Trial of a Time Lord’.

  Also available from BBC Books:

  DOCTOR WHO AND THE DALEKS

  David Whitaker

  DOCTOR WHO AND THE CRUSADERS

  David Whitaker

  DOCTOR WHO AND THE CYBERMEN

  Gerry Davis

  DOCTOR WHO AND THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMEN

  Terrance Dicks

  DOCTOR WHO AND THE CAVE MONSTERS

  Malcolm Hulke

  DOCTOR WHO

  AND THE

  AUTON INVASION

  * * *

  Based on the BBC television serial Spearhead from Space by Robert Holmes by arrangement with the BBC

  * * *

  TERRANCE DICKS

  Introduction by

  RUSSELL T DAVIES

  Illustrated by

  Chris Achilleos

  INTRODUCTION

  BY

  Russell T Davies

  I met my first fellow fan through these Target books.

  Of course, everyone watched Doctor Who in the old days, just as they do now. But as a Swansea kid in the ’60s and ’70s, I didn’t really have a concept of fandom. Doctor Who was just a permanent and lovely thing, and no one could possibly be watching ITV on a Saturday night, could they? Simple as that.

  But slowly, I became aware of a bigger world. Other forms of Doctor Who. Comic strips, the word ‘Rolykin’, the TV21 Daleks, and best of all, prose versions of old stories, in which things were slightly different from the programme I knew; differences that were thrilling, and mind-expanding. I’d never have called this stuff ‘merchandise’. It was so much more than that! Looking back, it’s easy to focus on the things we didn’t have in those days – no DVD, no streaming, no Watch+1 – but maybe that vacuum made the things we did have more potent. Could a novelisation ever be so mysterious, these days? Tempting us in, with a permanent and yet askew version of the Doctor’s adventures…?

  It all began with Doctor Who and the Daleks. My neighbour, Ceri, had a copy of the paperback. Looking back, it must have been one of the first editions – the ‘Armada paperback for boys and girls’, before the Target range existed. Its dramatic cover haunted me. And I mean properly; I’d stare at it for ages, quite literally mesmerised. I’d ask to borrow the book and then keep it for weeks, hoping that Ceri would forget and not ask for it back. He always remembered, damn it. And so my life of crime began. One day, I just took it. Stuffed it in my pocket, smuggled it home, kept it hidden behind some other books, so only I would know it was there. And then it haunted me in a different, darker way, wedged in its shadowy hiding place; glowering and growing, like the cat in Vernon Scannell’s poem, ‘A Case of Murder’.

  Why was it so important, to own it? I’m still not sure, though I’ve wondered about this for decades. But later, when I came to actually work on Doctor Who (you may remember me from such classics as Children In Need Cutaway and Tonight’s the Night’s Alien Talent Search with John Barrowman), I’d always get annoyed when cynics would dismiss merchandise as money-making. We have teams of people who fight to raise standards on the books and toys, because these things are important. For children in particular, I think, it’s part of owning the show, of participating; it brings that world of imagination into your hand, into your home, into your life of b
reakfast, school and bed. Maybe it closes the gap between Swansea and Skaro, just a little.

  So, anyway, I had my guilty paperback festering away. But then, as though the world was growing up in sync with my little self, the book range became bigger. Target came along! Doctor Who and the Daleks was reprinted, with a better cover! Then more books. Monthly! Books promising books-to-come in the flyleaf!

  And that’s when I met her. That other fan. I was in WH Smith. Checking the Doctor Who shelf, as I did every week, just in case. And joy of joys, this turned out to be an incredible day – two new novelisations released at the same time! The Daemons and The Sea Devils, together!

  So I reached for those two books. Just as another hand reached for those two books. And we looked at each other and laughed. Two schoolkids. She was a bit older than me, I think, standing there with her mum. We said something like, ‘Me too!’ ‘That’s funny!’ Pause. ‘I love these books!’ ‘And me!’ And that was that. We went our separate ways.

  There’s no great punchline to that tale. Sadly, I was doomed to never marry, so it’s not the romcom ending you’re hoping for. But that’s the point: nothing happened except something truly massive – I met someone who loved Doctor Who as much as I did, someone whose love went beyond a Saturday night and into that greater world of artifacts, jewels and myths. I realised I wasn’t alone. And as a result, although I’ve forgotten terrifying amounts of my ordinary days, I have remembered that simple moment for almost 40 years.

  I wonder. Who was she? Did she stay in love with Doctor Who? Might she even buy this edition? Oh, I wonder.

  But the world moves on. The Doctor disappeared, and then came back. Idiot parents now try to take Vernon Scannell’s poem off the school syllabus, in case it makes children think too hard. And Ceri asked me to autograph a Doctor Who Annual for his lovely daughters, last Christmas (they remembered me from such classics as Who Peter and Russell’s Comic Maker Hints & Tips. Or maybe Ceri just used the girls to distract me while he searched my bedroom). But the world keeps turning round to meet itself, and now these lovely books are back.

  This one’s a wonder. A stone-cold classic, frankly. Written by Terrance Dicks – who should surely be Sir Terrance, for enthralling a whole generation of kids – it contains a sentence that chilled me, thirty-seven years ago, and chills me now. As the villain reveals the true extent of his plan, we are told, ‘And Channing smiled a terrible smile.’ I’m not kidding – it genuinely thrills me, just to type those words out, after all this time!

  But that’s how vital a book can be, how powerful, how forever. This is so much more than merchandise. I knew that, as a kid, and so did Ceri, and so did that unknown girl. We’re a disparate little bunch of schoolkids, strangers, neighbours. But these novels are connecting us together, even now.

  All the way across time and space.

  The Changing Face of Doctor Who

  The Third Doctor

  This Doctor Who novel features the third incarnation of the Doctor, whose appearance was altered by his own people, the Time Lords, when they exiled him to Earth. This was his punishment for daring to steal a TARDIS, leave his homeworld and interfere in the affairs of other life forms. The Time Lords sentenced the Doctor to exile on twentieth-century Earth. The secrets of the TARDIS were taken from him and his appearance was changed.

  While on Earth the Doctor formed an alliance and friendship with Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, head of the British branch of UNIT. Working as UNIT’s Scientific Adviser, the Doctor helped the organisation to deal with all manner of threats to humanity in return for facilities to try to repair the TARDIS and a sporty, yellow Edwardian-style car he calls Bessie.

  UNIT

  UNIT in the United Kingdom is under the command of the ever-practical and down-to-earth Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. He first met the Second Doctor, and fought with him against the Yeti and the Cybermen. UNIT is a military organisation, with its headquarters in Geneva but with personnel seconded from the armed forces of each host nation. The remit of UNIT is rather vague, but according to the Brigadier, it deals with ‘the odd, the unexplained. Anything on Earth, or even beyond…’

  From mad scientists to alien invasions, from revived prehistoric civilisations to dinosaurs rampaging through London, UNIT has its work cut out.

  Doctor Elizabeth Shaw

  Doctor Elizabeth Shaw has an important research programme going ahead at Cambridge when she is invited to join UNIT. Before he encounters the Doctor again, the Brigadier has decided he needs a scientific adviser and Liz Shaw is an expert in meteorites, with degrees in ‘medicine, physics, and a dozen other subjects’.

  Liz is initially sceptical of the Brigadier’s stories about ‘little blue men with three heads…’ telling him that she deals with facts, not science fiction ideas. But after meeting the Doctor – and experiencing an attempted alien invasion at first hand, she is more willing to accept the unexpected.

  1

  Prologue: Exiled to Earth

  In the High Court of the Time Lords a trial was coming to its end. The accused, a renegade Time Lord known as the Doctor, had already been found guilty. Now it was time for the sentence.

  The Doctor looked very out of place standing amongst the dignified Time Lords in their long white robes. To begin with, he was quite a small man. He wore an ancient black coat and a pair of check trousers. He had a gentle, rather comical face and a shock of untidy black hair. But there was strength in that face, too, and keen intelligence in the blue eyes.

  A hush fell as the President of the Court rose, and began to speak. ‘Doctor, you have been found guilty of two serious offences against our laws. First, you stole a TARDIS and used it to roam through Time and Space as you pleased.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said the Doctor indignantly. ‘I didn’t steal it. Just borrowed it for a while.’

  The President ignored the interruption. ‘More important, you have repeatedly broken our most important law: interference in the affairs of other planets is a serious crime.’

  Again the Doctor interrupted: ‘I not only admit my interference, I am proud of it! You just observe the evil in the galaxies. I fight against it.’

  ‘We have accepted your plea, Doctor, that there is evil in the Universe which must be fought. You still have a part to play in that great struggle.’

  At once the Doctor began to look hopeful. ‘You mean you’re going to let me go?’

  ‘Not entirely. We have noted your interest in the planet Earth. You have visited it many times. You must have special knowledge of that world and its problems.’

  ‘I suppose I have,’ agreed the Doctor.

  ‘You will be sent to Earth in the Twentieth Century Time Zone. You will remain there for as long as we think proper. And for that time the secret of the TARDIS will be taken from you.’

  The Doctor was indignant. ‘You can’t condemn me to exile on one primitive planet, in one particular time.’

  The President’s voice was cold. ‘We can, and we do. That is the verdict of this Court.’

  A new thought struck the Doctor. ‘Besides, I’m known on Earth already. It could be most embarrassing for me.’

  ‘Your appearance has changed before. It will change again. That is part of your sentence.’

  The Doctor continued to protest. ‘You can’t just change what I look like without asking me!’

  ‘You will have an opportunity to choose your new appearance,’ said the President patiently. ‘Look!’

  As if by magic, a huge screen appeared on one wall of the Court. Upon it the Doctor saw a wide variety of faces and forms. At once the Doctor started to make trouble. He rejected each one with the utmost scorn. ‘Too thin. Too fat. Too young. Too old. No, I certainly don’t want to look like that, I can tell you.’

  The President of the Court sighed. They were letting the fellow off lightly. He ought to be humble and grateful, not kick up all this fuss. ‘You are wasting time, Doctor,’ said the President. ‘Since you refuse to take the decision, we shall
take it for you.’

  The Doctor made no secret of his indignation.

  ‘Well, I’ve got a right to decide what I’m going to look like,’ he grumbled. ‘They attach a great deal of importance to these things on Earth. I mean, it’s not my fault if this is the best you can do, is it? I’ve never seen such a terrible looking bunch!’

  Ignoring the Doctor’s protests and complaints, the President sent a thought-impulse to a fellow Time Lord who sat at a nearby control panel. The Time Lord’s fingers moved swiftly over the rows of buttons.

  Immediately the Doctor was held in the grip of a force-field. Unable to move, he felt the entire courtroom dissolve round him into a sort of spinning blackness.

  Sam Seeley moved through Oxley Woods like a rather tubby ghost. Sam was the most expert poacher for miles around, and proud of it. Many a time he’d slipped by within inches of a watching gamekeeper. Soundlessly he moved through the woods, stopping from time to time to check his rabbit traps.

  He mopped the sweat from his brow as he moved along. No business to be as hot as this, not in October. Worse than a midsummer night it was. Seeley blamed it on those atom bombs. Suddenly a fierce whizzing and hissing filled the air around him. Terrified, Seeley dropped to the ground, muffling his head in his poacher’s sack. The terrifying noise continued. He heard soft thumping sounds, as if heavy objects were burying themselves in the forest earth around him. At last there came silence.

  Sam looked up cautiously. Within a few feet of his head the ground was smoking gently. Cautiously Sam reached for a stick and started to scrape away the earth. Within minutes he uncovered the top half of a buried sphere, roughly the size of a football. The sphere was smooth, almost transparent. It pulsed and glowed with an angry green light. It seemed somehow alive. Sam reached out to touch it, then pulled back his hand. The thing was red hot.