DOCTOR WHO AND THE CLAWS OF AXOS Page 2

  'All right, Captain Yates, what is it?'

  Mike Yates was breathless with excitement. 'Unidentified Flying Object, sir. Fully confirmed sighting, coming in fast. They think it's going to attack! '

  2

  The Landing

  'UFO bearing two zero nine... five hundred miles and closing... velocity twenty m.p.s., decreasing... mass variable...'

  'Sightings confirmed... Houston, held and tracking... Hawaii held and tracking...' There was an atmosphere of tense excitement in the UNIT operations room, and the babble of the technicians' voices filled the air. The long room was filled with ultra-modern communications equipment. In one corner a computer terminal chattered busily as it reeled out yards of print-out. Centre of everyone's attention was the big radar screen which showed the mysterious blip moving steadily closer to Earth...

  Captain Yates turned to the burly figure of Sergeant Benton, who was supervising the scene. 'What's the picture now, sergeant?'

  'Negative on asteroid, sir. They're running a missile check.'

  Chinn pushed his way to the front of the group. 'Missile? What's all this about a missile?'

  The Brigadier gave him an impatient glance. 'An Unidentified Flying Object appears to be heading for Earth. Shouldn't you be in touch with your Ministry, Mr Chinn?'

  Chinn nodded emphatically. 'A telephone at once, if you please, Brigadier.'

  Captain Yates was about to hand Chinn the nearest free telephone receiver when the Brigadier shook his head meaningfully.

  'Show Mr Chinn the direct line, Captain Yates—the one over there! '

  Suppressing a smile, Captain Yates said, 'This way please, Mr Chinn.' He led Chinn to a cubicle in the far corner of the room. The cubicle actually held a perfectly ordinary telephone—but it was far enough away to keep Chinn out of the Brigadier's hair.

  The Brigadier looked at the blip on the screen. 'Well, Doctor—what is it?'

  The Doctor shook his head, 'I haven't the slightest idea, old chap.'

  A radar technician snapped. 'Course changing now, sir. Bearing two zero seven.'

  The Doctor was studying a computer print-out. 'Variable mass, eh? Most interesting! '

  The technician's voice became more urgent. 'Orbital flight path... UFO entering Earth's atmosphere now!' There was a brief flare-up on the radar screen, then the blip continued its steady course.

  Jo tugged the Doctor's sleeve. 'Is it going to land?'

  The Doctor moved across to a large wall-map of the British Isles. 'Oh yes. Somewhere on the south-east coast I should imagine.'

  The technician said, 'UFO over South Atlantic, sir.'

  Chinn pushed his way to the front of the screen, glowing with self-satisfaction. 'The Minister has appointed me co-ordinator of this operation. He wants your communications facilities linked to strike command immediately. I have full authority.' Chinn was under no illusions as to the reasons for his sudden promotion. The Minister had decided that this was an extremely tricky situation, and had shuffled off responsibility as soon as possible. But Chinn didn't mind responsibility. He had the power now—and he was going to use it.

  The Brigadier Iooked thoughtfully at Chinn, realising he had underestimated the man. Now Chinn had gone over his head—and the crisis was too close to wrangle about chains of command. He nodded to Captain Yates who said quietly, 'All taken care of, sir. We're already linked-up to the missile base.'

  The Doctor rejoined the group. 'May we ask what you intend to do—Co-ordinator?'

  'I have been informed that several attempts have been made to communicate with this object. It does not respond. My orders are that unless it alters course, it is to be totally destroyed.'

  'The usual policy, I suppose,' snapped the Doctor. 'Shoot first, ask questions later! '

  For once the Brigadier was on Chinn's side. 'There's not much alternative, Doctor. In the absence of other evidence, we must presume that the object is hostile.'

  Chinn was talking into the red telephone. 'Station Commander? I want you ready to destroy this thing the moment I give the word. Stand by.'

  The technician's voice came again. 'Target area confirmed. England. South-east coast.' Everyone glanced at the Doctor, who looked aggravatingly smug but said nothing.

  The technician's voice broke the tense silence.

  'UFO course steady, velocity decreasing, decreasing, decreasing...' The blip on the screen slowed until it seemed almost motionless.

  Chinn shouted down the phone. 'Missile strike now, Commander. Now!'

  Seconds later a cluster of tiny dots appeared on the bottom of the radar screen, moving steadily towards the larger blip in the centre. Chinn rubbed his hands. 'Perfect! A sitting target!'

  The Doctor rubbed his chin. 'Hardly seems sporting, does it?'

  Chinn was just about to make an angry retort—when the blip in the centre of the screen suddenly disappeared.

  'Contact lost. Contact lost!' There was unbelieving panic in the technician's voice. 'The thing's—gone!'

  'Destroyed!' said Chinn in satisfied tones.

  Frantically the technician shook his head. 'You don't understand, sir. The missiles haven't even reached it yet. Look!' On the screen the cluster of missiles streaked steadily on into empty space.

  The Doctor tapped Chinn on the shoulder. 'Don't you think you'd better abort? What goes up must come down, you know!'

  Chinn stared dazedly at him.

  The Doctor said sharply, 'The missiles, man. For heaven's sake, abort!'

  Chinn stumbled to the phone. 'Station commander. Abort mission. I said abort!'

  The cluster of dots vanished from the screen, as the missiles exploded harmlessly in space.

  The Brigadier looked almost indignantly at the Doctor. 'It can't just have vanished, Doctor. Where's it gone?'

  The Doctor was back at the wall map. 'It hasn't gone anywhere—it's arrived. If my calculations are correct, we shall find it just about... here!'

  The Doctor's long finger touched a precise spot on the map. The Brigadier stared incredulously at him. Then he roared. 'Captain Yates! Sergeant Benton! Red Alert! I want a full task force on the move right away! '

  Yates and Benton sprinted from the room.

  Old Josh rode his ancient rusty bicycle down the rutted lane, muttering and grumbling to himself as he pedalled along. Old Josh always had something to grumble about. There had been a lot of changes in recent years, and he didn't much care for any of them. The biggest and worst change of all had been the building of some enormous new-fangled scientific complex, slap in the middle of the marshes, and right between Josh's tumbledown cottage and the nearest pub. Since the complex was completely fenced off, Josh had to ride an extra two miles to get to his beer. He cursed the scientists and their buildings every thirsty inch of the way.

  Josh was rounding the curve by Ducket's Pond when it happened. A sudden bright light, an ear-shattering whistle, a massive shape cutting off the sun. Josh gave a shout of rage and fear, and rode his bike straight into the pond.

  Luckily for Josh, the water, although murky, was fairly shallow. He surfaced in a shower of mud and duckweed. Disentangling himself from his bike, he staggered out of the pond, dragging the old machine after him. Once on the bank he shook himself like a dog after a swim and looked round for the cause of his accident. He felt pretty sure it was all the fault of 'them scientists', and enticing thoughts of financial compensation began to form in his mind. Blowing a man clear off his bike! That ought to be worth a few quid.

  Shading his eyes with his hand, Old Josh peered round. Just behind a clump of trees, a column of dust and smoke was drifting skywards. Guessing that this was the scene of the mysterious accident, Josh started wheeling his bike across country. As he came round the edge of the trees he stopped in astonishment. Just before him, in the centre of a patch of open marshland, was an irregular humped shape, as if a low hill had appeared from nowhere. At first Josh thought some giant meteorite had fallen from the skies and buried itself in the ground. But
as he came closer to the mound, he saw that it wasn't made of stone. It was hard to see what it was made of—the lumpy mottled surface seemed to reflect the light in several colours at once, and the thing looked grown rather than made. Josh touched it cautiously then snatched back his hand. Dratted thing was hot!

  Cautiously Josh began walking round his discovery. It took him several minutes to make the full circuit, and he ended up where he'd started, none the wiser. There were no openings, no markings, just the same mottled, lumpy surface all the way round.

  Water forming a puddle around his feet, Josh gazed thoughtfully at the mysterious object. Whatever it was, it was news. Josh had visions of free-spending journalists crowding into his favourite pub, buying pints all round—not to mention a handful of fivers for the lucky eyewitness...

  Josh was so intent on turning his experience to profit it didn't occur to him the object might have plans of its own. He didn't notice the thick, vine-like tentacle as it emerged from the base of the mound and crawled slowly towards him. Suddenly, the tentacle reared up, wrapped itself round his body and dragged him towards the mound... He struggled uselessly for a moment, then went limp, fainting from sheer terror. An opening appeared in the mound, like a gaping mouth, and Josh disappeared inside. The gap closed behind him, and all was quiet.

  When he came to, minutes later, he was in the heart of a nightmare. A network of tentacles held him flat on his back, powerless to move. A giant eye on a flexible stalk peered down at him. Multi-coloured lights played over his face, and an eerie throbbing filled the air. A cold, clear, sibilant voice filled the space all around him. 'Analysis pattern reveals... locomotor facility normal... sensory receptors acute... intelligence quotient atypically low.' There was a moment's pause, then the Voice of Axos delivered its final judgement. 'This specimen is valueless. Absorb, process and eject.'

  The tentacles tightened their grip and Josh went rigid as all life and energy were instantly drawn out of him. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound emerged. His face dried and cracked like a river bed in times of drought. A gap opened beneath him and Axos absorbed him once more...

  Chinn jabbed a finger at the map. By now he had recovered from his shock, and his Napoleonic streak was emerging once more. 'We can be certain that this thing is hostile. According to your own calculations, Doctor, it's landed right beside the national power complex. Britain's entire power supply is menaced. Such a choice of landing site cannot be accidental.'

  The Brigadier felt forced to admit that Chinn seemed to have a point. The Nuton Power Complex was the vital first step in Britain's use of atomic power for domestic and industrial supply. From one enormous nuclear reactor, power was chanelled to outlets all over the country. The fact that of all possible sites, the thing had plonked itself down beside the Nuton Reactor seemed suspicious in the extreme.

  Sergeant Benton clattered back into the room looking tough and efficient in his combat uniform. 'Task Force ready to move, sir. The men are waiting in the assembly area.'

  'We'll be right with you. Doctor, shall we go?'

  The Doctor nodded and followed the Brigadier to the door. Jo and Filer started to go with them, but Chinn suddenly raised his hand.

  'One moment, Mr Filer. This is a purely internal matter, and your presence is unnecessary. I suggest you report back to your own people.'

  Filer stood quite still. Encouraged by his quietness, Chinn went on, 'I must warn you that unless you leave immediately. I shall have you placed under arrest.'

  The Brigadier was outraged at this treatment of an ally. 'Now look here, Chinn,' he began.

  Filer interrupted. 'It's O.K., Brigadier,' he said soothingly. 'I wouldn't want to cause any friction.' He took a long hard look at the wall-map, then moved towards the door. 'Goodbye, Mr Chinn. Take care!' He slipped quietly from the room.

  Once he was out of the door, Bill Filer made for the car-park at a run. He knew exactly what the Brigadier's next move would be—he'd clear the entire area around the UFO landing site and seal it off with a cordon of troops. Once that cordon was in place it would be a major operation to get past it, especially with that guy Chinn gumming up the works. But if a man could get to the site before the cordon, he'd be right on the spot from the beginning. Filer reckoned that a UFO landing in England was something that concerned America too. When he reported back to Washington it was going to be with every possible scrap of information.

  As he jumped into his car Filer knew he had only a few minutes lead. Already the UNIT lorries were almost ready to move off, engines running as the last few armed men leaped on board. Filer swung his dark-green Ford ahead of the convoy, out of the car-park and roared down the road towards the coast.

  He pushed the powerful car to its limits, thankful it was winter rather than summer and traffic on the coastal road was light. He'd expected to find curious crowds in the Nuton area, but as he drove through the marshlands everything seemed quiet and deserted. Soon the Nuton buildings came in sight, gleaming like some science fiction city across the marshes, encircled by their high perimeter fence. Filer summoned up a mental picture of the UNIT map. If the Doctor's calculations were correct, the UFO had landed somewhere to the north-west of the main complex.

  Reducing speed to a crawl, Filer drove slowly around the complex, eyes searching the flat, desolate country about him. There was nothing to see, just deserted marshland with a few clumps of trees. Then suddenly he saw it, an irregularly shaped mound close by a clump of trees. It didn't look much like a spaceship—but if the UFO had buried itself in the soft ground...

  Filer swung his car off the road, jolted it across the marshes and parked in the middle of the clump of trees. Jumping out, he began walking cautiously towards the mound.

  Just beside it, he stumbled over a rusty old bike lying on its side. Filer scratched his head. Maybe the thing had been here all along... Or maybe he wasn't the first to examine the strange mound. And in that case, what had happened to the guy with the bike?

  Like Old Josh before him, Filer made a cautious examination of the mound. He touched the strange mottled surface, cooling rapidly now, but still warm to the touch. Filer thought he could detect a faint throbbing, as if the thing were alive.

  Again like Josh, Filer walked around the mound, returning eventually to his starting point. He stood looking at the mound, scratching his head. He had a swift mental picture of the way they'd react in Washington if he came back with a report that the British had been invaded by a giant pumpkin from outer space. The roar of vehicles interrupted his thoughts—UNIT was right on his tail. Instinctively he flung himself to the ground and wriggled into cover of the trees.

  Prone behind a tree-trunk, Filer watched the arrival of the UNIT convoy. No sooner had the lorries stopped moving than armed troops jumped down and began spreading out in a cordon, encircling the entire area. Filer saw Yates and Sergeant Benton directing the men into their positions.

  Two more vehicles drove up and parked near the convoy. The first was ultra-modern, a huge gleaming vehicle about the size and shape of an outsize furniture van, with a forest of aerials projecting from its roof. Some kind of Mobile H.Q., guessed Filer. Probably a portable laboratory packed with electronic scanning devices. By contrast, the second vehicle was small and very old fashioned. It was a vintage Edwardian roadster, and from it descended the Doctor and Jo Grant. They surveyed the busy scene around them for a moment, then made for the mobile H.Q.

  Last vehicle to arrive was a huge, gleaming staff car. The doors opened and Chinn, the Brigadier, a man in a dark suit and another in sports jacket and flannels jumped out, all arguing furiously. Chinn ushered them towards the Mobile H.Q. and they too disappeared inside.

  Filer lay flattened in his hiding place, wondering what to do next. There seemed little chance of learning very much more where he was now. And he'd feel distinctly foolish if one of the UNIT soldiers found him hiding behind a tree. But if he went to the Mobile H.Q. Chinn would have him arrested...

  Before Filer
could make up his mind, the decision was taken for him. The tentacle had been creeping nearer for some time. In a final lunge it wrapped itself round Filer's body and dragged him towards the mound...

  Seconds later, Filer, like Josh before him, lay pinioned and helpless in the heart of Axos. 'The single eye on its long stalk hovered horribly above him, and multi-coloured lights played over his face. But this time the cold whispering voice reached a different conclusion. 'Subject intelligent, aggressive, possibly dangerous. Hold for further analysis and investigation.'

  There was a crackle of energy and Filer felt consciousness slipping away...

  3

  The Voice of Axos

  Inside the Mobile H.Q., technicians were busily scanning the mysterious mound nearby. The Doctor, clipboard in hand, was studying instrument-readings, jotting down notes with a frown of concentration on his face. He didn't look up when the Brigadier and his party bustled in. Formal as ever, the Brigadier made introductions. 'Doctor, this is Sir George Hardiman, Administrative Head of the Nuton Power Complex. This is Doctor Winser, Head of Research.' The Doctor gave a brief nod, and went on working. The Brigadier coughed. 'The Doctor is our Scientific Adviser.' Hardiman and Winser looked politely baffled. They were two very different types, thought Jo. The first, immaculate in his dark suit, was very much the administrator, a man at home in board rooms and Government offices. Winser was more casually dressed. Tall and thin, he looked surprisingly young for his eminent position. He had a keen, beaky-nosed face, and untidy fair hair.

  As if continuing a previous argument, Winser spoke urgently to the Brigadier. 'You must see that any form of military attack so close to the labs could be extremely dangerous.'

  Hardiman joined in to support his colleague. 'And as well as the research laboratories, most of Britain's nuclear energy resources are concentrated less than half a mile from this spot! '

  The Brigadier snapped, 'At the moment we've no idea what we're up against. We are merely taking necessary precautions. I've been in touch with the Regular Army—they'll be bringing up some artillery support.'