Doctor Who and the Auton Invasion (13 page)

‘But if UNIT has taken it – and you don't want a pitched battle yet – how can we?' said Hibbert.

Channing said: ‘There are other methods.' Suddenly he noticed the monitor screen. Ransome's brain-print pattern had reappeared and was pulsing brightly. Channing said
with savage satisfaction: ‘Your friend Ransome has been unwise enough to return to the area. Him at least we can deal with now!'

Alone in the UNIT Command Tent, Ransome swigged the last of his mug of now-cold tea. He was feeling tired and depressed. The idea of re-visiting the plastics factory terrified him, even with the prospect of the Brigadier's protection. And now he'd just been dumped here and left while they all rushed off somewhere hunting meteorites. Still at least he was safe for the moment. Ransome could hear the soldiers moving about in the clearing outside, and the bark of the Sergeant's voice as he supervised the unloading of stores from an army truck. Ransome was bored. He wished that the Sergeant would come back, so he'd have someone to talk to.

Something bumped against the canvas at the back of the tent. Ransome looked up idly, assuming that one of the soldiers had brushed against it. Then to his amazement a long rip appeared in the canvas wall. A figure stepped through it. Ransome leaped to his feet in utter terror. Facing him was an Auton.

Before Ransome could even scream, the hand dropped back on its hinge and a searing bolt of energy smashed him to the ground. The Auton trained its gun on the body and a beam of bright light shot from the wrist-gun. Ransome's body glowed red then white, and then simply vanished. The Auton stepped through the rip in the canvas as silently as it had come.

Minutes later the Brigadier's car drew up at the Command Post. Munro gave orders for sending the trunk to UNIT
H.Q. The Doctor, Liz Shaw and the Brigadier entered the tent. They looked round in puzzlement.

The Brigadier yelled: ‘Sergeant! Where's Mr Ransome gone to?' The Sergeant appeared in the tent doorway.

‘Nowhere, sir, not as far as I know. I left him in here drinking tea. I had to go out and get the supply truck unloaded.'

The Doctor was looking swiftly round the tent. Almost at once he spotted the slash in the tent wall.

‘We can only presume he got out this way.'

‘But why?' asked the Brigadier aggrievedly. ‘Why should the chap just slope off like that?'

‘He was pretty scared about the idea of going back to that factory,' Liz said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe he decided he just couldn't face it.'

The Doctor moved away from the tent wall. ‘We're all assuming he got out. Maybe something else got in.'

‘Somebody kidnapped him – from my Command Post?' The Brigadier was appalled at the very thought.

The Doctor shrugged. ‘After all, Ransome's story was our only link with the factory. If Mr Ransome's anywhere, that's where he'll be.'

As the car sped towards the factory, the Doctor sat chin in his hands, brooding. Liz sensed that his mind was turning over all that had happened, trying to find a pattern, a reason. He was still silent as they drove through the open gates, with the sign ‘Auto Plastics' on them.

‘They don't seem to object to visitors,' said Liz as they got out of the car.

‘No, they wouldn't,' said the Doctor absently. ‘They'd want to keep everything looking fairly normal. Right up
till the last moment, that is.'

Liz looked at him curiously, but by now they were in the luxuriously furnished reception. The Brigadier explained his business to the pretty, rather doll-like girl receptionist. He was obviously prepared to over-ride all opposition. But there wasn't any.

‘Mr Hibbert will see you now,' said the receptionist in her clear emotionless voice. ‘Will you come this way please?' It was almost as if they'd had an appointment, thought Liz. As if they'd been expected.

She looked round curiously as they crossed the deserted factory floor. This was very advanced machinery, fully automated.

The Brigadier stopped for a moment, looking over his shoulder. Liz followed his gaze, and thought she saw someone moving behind one of the machines. Then the Brigadier murmured an apology, and they moved on. The girl took them up to the staircase that led to Hibbert's office, showed them inside, and silently withdrew.

Liz looked curiously at George Hibbert as he rose from behind his desk. He looked very like the average business executive anywhere. Dark striped suit, horn-rimmed glasses, greying hair. There were lines of strain and worry on the face, but no more than on the faces of many other businessmen.

Hibbert settled them all in chairs and then sat down behind his desk. He listened politely as the Brigadier introduced Liz and the Doctor, and explained the reason for their visit. The Brigadier gave a brief summary of the story Ransome had told them. His voice tailed away rather as he came to the end of it.

‘And – er – well, there you are. You will appreciate that
extraordinary as the story is, we have to check on it.'

Hibbert looked politely puzzled. ‘Well, if you say so, Brigadier. Though I would have thought that it was more a matter for a psychiatrist than a security man.'

‘You mean that Ransome was unbalanced?'

‘That, or simply malicious.'

Liz said: ‘So there was no truth in this story at all?'

‘Well, there was some. It's true that he used to work for me. It's also true that he designed a new type of electronic doll. It was a brilliant invention but far too complex and expensive for the mass-market. When I refused to produce it here, he went off to America in a huff to try and find backing.'

‘And succeeded apparently,' cut in the Brigadier.

‘So he told me. But the fact that others were prepared to risk their money didn't mean that I was prepared to risk mine. My attitude hadn't changed and I told him so. He seemed to feel I'd let him down. He became violently abusive and I had to ask him to leave.'

‘So you think he made up this whole story just to cause you trouble?'

‘I'm afraid so, Brigadier.'

‘But why should he tell such a fantastic story?'

Hibbert shrugged. ‘Why don't you ask him? I'd very much like to ask him that myself.'

‘We were going to bring him with us,' said Liz. ‘Unfortunately he disappeared before we set off.'

‘I'm not surprised! Didn't dare to repeat all this nonsense to my face.'

The Doctor spoke for the first time. ‘What exactly do you make in this factory, Mr Hibbert?'

‘I'd be delighted to show you. Perhaps you'd care to have
a look at our store-rooms?'

The first room Hibbert took them to was lined with shelf after shelf of plastic dolls. Dolls with hair of every colour, dolls of every shape and size. Row upon row of china-blue eyes gazed at them unwinkingly from shiny pink plastic faces. Liz shivered. Somehow there was something rather sinister about so many of the little creatures in one place.

Hibbert waved his arm in a sweeping gesture. ‘This was our original line, of course. However, since then we've broken into new territory. If you'd come through here.'

He took them into another, larger store-room. It seemed to be full of a huge crowd of silent figures, standing and waiting. Hibbert switched on a light.

‘This is our big success at the moment. Display mannequins for department stores and shop windows.'

Liz looked round. Row after row of impossibly handsome men and beautiful women. If possible, they were even more sinister than the dolls.

The Doctor said: ‘And do these, er… mannequins move?' Hibbert smiled. ‘Of course they do.' He went up to the nearest mannequin and shifted its position. Arms and legs and body moved easily, and stayed as they were put.

‘It's fortunate you came today. These will all be gone by tomorrow.' Hibbert put the mannequin back in its place. ‘As you can see,' he said proudly, ‘they're extremely supple and flexible. But I can assure you they don't move by themselves. We call them Autons, after the name of the factory – “Auto Plastics”.'

The Brigadier coughed. ‘Most impressive. Well, we mustn't take up any more of your time, Mr Hibbert.'

As Hibbert led them back across the factory floor towards the reception area, the Doctor asked: ‘These Autons
of yours – they're selling well?'

Hibbert nodded proudly. ‘You'll find our Autons in every big department store in every city in England.'

Suddenly the Doctor stopped. He pointed across the factory floor to the area marked ‘Restricted Zone'. ‘I don't believe you've shown us what goes on in there, Mr Hibbert?'

‘And I'm afraid I can't.' Hibbert turned to the Brigadier. ‘Confidentially, Brigadier, we do a certain amount of work for the Ministry of Technology. Research into heat-resistant plastic for the space programme. Unless you and your party have special Ministry passes…' Hibbert shrugged apologetically. ‘Well, I'm sure you, more than most people, will appreciate the necessity for good security.'

‘And if I should get hold of a Ministry pass and come back here?'

‘Then I'd be more than happy to show you the Research Laboratory. Though, mind you, I don't understand half of what's in there myself. My partner, Mr Channing, handles that side of our work.'

The Brigadier said: ‘It's a pity we didn't get a chance to meet him.'

‘Yes, indeed,' agreed Hibbert. ‘Unfortunately he's away on a buying trip at the moment.' By now they were back in the reception area. Hibbert said: ‘Well, if there's nothing more, gentlemen?'

The Brigadier glanced at the Doctor, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

‘No, I don't think so,' said the Brigadier. ‘Thank you for all your help. I hope we won't have to trouble you again.'

Hibbert said: ‘Goodbye, Brigadier, Miss Shaw, Doctor. Let me know if I can be of any further assistance.' He
watched as the three visitors got into the car and were driven away.

Hibbert turned and walked back into the factory area. Suddenly he seemed to sag, as if exhausted after some mighty effort. Channing appeared from behind the machinery and stood beside him.

‘One of the visitors puzzled me. His brain was more powerful than most humans.'

Hibbert said: ‘You mean the Scientific Adviser? Probably an exceptionally intelligent chap.'

‘You did well, Hibbert. You did very well.'

‘Do you think they were satisfied?'

‘They are still suspicious. But they have no proof. It will take them time to move against us.'

‘If they're not satisfied, they'll come back with more soldiers. They'll search in there.' Hibbert glanced towards the restricted zone.

‘We have a way to stop them,' Channing reminded him. ‘All we need is a short delay. When the time comes, no amount of soldiers will help them.'

The two of them began to walk towards the Replica Room.

As the staff car sped back towards London the Brigadier was saying: ‘Well, that's the place all right. I caught a glimpse of someone skulking about on the factory floor. It was the chap who tried to kidnap you, Doctor.'

The Doctor nodded. ‘Caught a glimpse of him myself. The elusive Mr Channing, no doubt. Yes, I think that creature at the cottage was one of their Autons.'

Liz asked: ‘What are you going to do now?'

The Brigadier was decisive. ‘Move in in force. Put a
cordon of troops round the factory, then search the place from top to bottom.'

‘Suppose it's full of Autons – like the one that attacked us at the cottage?'

The Brigadier snorted. ‘Well, revolver bullets didn't bother that thing much. But we'll see if they can laugh off bazookas or light artillery. Dammit, I'll bomb the place if I have to!'

The Brigadier's moustache positively bristled with military fervour. ‘Old Scobie promised me full co-operation,' he went on, ‘and I'm going to take him up on it.'

‘Why do you have to go to him?' asked Liz.

‘UNIT itself only maintains a small token force,' the Brigadier explained. ‘For any really big operation we have to ask the Regulars for help.'

Liz turned to the Doctor who was slumped deep in his corner, chin in hands. ‘You're very quiet, Doctor. Do you think the Brigadier should invade in force?'

The Doctor looked up. ‘Wheel in your big guns by all means, Brigadier. We must close that factory just as soon as we can.'

‘Then what are you looking so worried about?' asked Liz.

The Doctor sighed. ‘I think we may be underestimating our enemy,' he said. ‘Something tells me it isn't going to be so simple.' And he relapsed into silence.

As soon as they were back at UNIT H.Q., the Doctor seemed to revive. The tin trunk was waiting for them at the laboratory, and the Doctor immediately set about rigging up a complicated set of aerials and dials around it.

‘To jam its signals,' he explained. Then he carefully took the globe and unwrapped it, fixing it on a specially rigged-up
stand. At once the globe began to pulse angrily.

‘No good having a tantrum, old chap,' the Doctor told it reprovingly. ‘You'll just have to talk to us.'

‘What do we do with it now?' asked Liz. ‘Sit and admire it?'

‘Didn't you hear what I said?' asked the Doctor. ‘We're going to try and communicate with it. And test its strength.'

The Brigadier meanwhile was talking to General Scobie on the telephone. He told him all that had happened: the attack at the cottage, Ransome's disappearance, the visit to the plastics factory. Scobie was baffled, but co-operative.

‘Auto Plastics,' he said incredulously. ‘I was down there myself earlier today,' and rather diffidently he explained about the replica of him that was being made. ‘Still,' he went on, ‘that's neither here nor there. You can bank on me for all the co-operation you need.' The General glanced at his watch. ‘It'll take a bit of time to set up, though. Tell you what, Lethbridge-Stewart, I'll get cracking right away. I can set up the mobilisation overnight, and we'll move in first thing tomorrow.'