Doctor Who and the Auton Invasion (17 page)

The astonished policeman heard the crash of glass and spun round. His first thought was that there must have
been some sort of accident. He stopped in utter amazement at the sight of the tall figure of the Auton stalking towards him along the pavement. Other figures followed the first Auton through the gap, stepping onto the pavement. From up and down the street came the crash of glass as other Autons came to life. The policeman's next thought was of some kind of enormous hoax. Students, he thought vaguely. They'd gone too far this time. That thought was also his last. As he ran towards the group of Autons, their leader raised its wrist-gun and blasted him to the ground.

By now other groups of Autons were appearing on the pavement. Ruthlessly they blasted down everyone they met. People ran screaming, trying to escape. In streets nearby, in streets all over London, and in the streets of every major city in Britain, it was the same story. People screamed and
panicked and ran, and the Autons blasted them down.

The police received thousands upon thousands of calls. But there was little they could do. Arms were issued, but the few rifles and revolvers available were powerless against the Autons. BBC and ITV issued urgent warnings. ‘Don't go to work. Don't go out shopping. Stay indoors and barricade yourselves in your homes. Admit no one you do not know.'

Many people were saved by warnings like these, but many others, already out on the streets, were unable to escape. The Autons seemed to be everywhere.

The Government declared martial law and called out the Army. But most of the available troops were mysteriously absent on manoeuvres far away from the big towns. They were recalled at once, but things seemed to go wrong continually. Orders failed to arrive, or were misinterpreted. Troops were told to stay put, or sent to the wrong place. In the other services the story was the same. The Navy and the Air Force armed what men they could, but the men never seemed to get clear orders, or to arrive where they were wanted. It was as though in every position of authority traitors were working against the Government, deliberately confusing the situation.

In an office in Whitehall a young civil servant listened appalled as he heard his Minister on the telephone, deliberately giving orders that would worsen the situation. He rushed into the office to demand an explanation. The Minister stretched out his hand in a curious pointing gesture – and the hand dropped away to reveal a gun.

There were many other similar scenes. Many more of the Replicas were detected, but not before they had done enormous damage, spreading chaos and confusion everywhere.

Commando squads of killer Autons in their dark overalls began to attack communications centres. Telephone exchanges, radio and TV transmitters, underground power cables, all exploded in flames under repeated blasts from the Auton weapons. Radios, TV screens and telephones went silent.

Completely cut off from each other, little groups of soldiers, policemen, Government officials, desperately tried to make sense of the situation, tried to find some way of combating the enemy. And all the while they eyed one another uneasily. No one knew when a familiar hand would drop away to reveal the wrist-gun of an Auton.

There were, of course, one or two successes. A group of quarrymen broke open their explosives hut and blew several Autons to pieces with blasting charges. Here and there tanks prowled the streets, shooting down or crushing the Autons in their path. Little groups of soldiers became tired of waiting for orders and for reinforcements that never came. Acting on their own initiative they raided their own armouries for what weapons they could find and fought desperate little street battles, turning bazookas, trench-mortars and anti-tank guns against the enemy.

UNIT H.Q. was under siege. The sleepy duty soldier who had opened the main doors that morning had been greeted by an energy-blast from a waiting Auton that missed him by inches. He had promptly slammed the doors shut again, and pressed the button that activated a second pair of reinforcing doors in heavy armour-plate. All over UNIT H.Q., emergency doors and shutters slammed down.

In his office the Brigadier had sent out desperate calls for help. Everywhere it was the same story. Chaos…
panic… confusion… Then, one by one, the outside 'phones went dead.

The Brigadier had told the Doctor of the situation as far as he knew it. The Doctor nodded gravely. ‘Much as I feared,' he said. ‘I'd hoped for a little more time…' And even as he listened, he had gone on working on the complicated electronic device. Now, waiting in his office, the Brigadier wondered if the thing would ever be ready. Not that it mattered, he thought gloomily. There was little they could do now. Maybe take a few of the enemy with them before the inevitable end. The internal 'phone, still powered by the emergency generator, suddenly buzzed. The Brigadier snatched it up. ‘We're ready now,' said the Doctor's voice. The Brigadier slammed down the 'phone and ran to the laboratory.

He found Liz and the Doctor contemplating the completed device. Two army knapsacks rested on the bench. The first contained a jumble of electronic equipment, the second a portable power-pack. A long flex connected the first knapsack to the second. The Doctor was busily plugging what looked like a microphone, also on a long flex, into the pack containing the equipment.

The Brigadier looked at the contraption dubiously. ‘Is that
it?
'

‘Of course that's it,' said the Doctor. ‘This first knapsack carries the device itself. The second, which will be carried by Miss Shaw, holds the power source.' He beamed proudly at his brain-child.

‘And what's this?' said the Brigadier, indicating the microphone-like object. ‘I thought we wanted to destroy them, not interview them.'

‘This,' said the Doctor, ‘is the… er, business end. A UHF
transmitter. The device is effective only at very short range, I'm afraid.'

‘He means you practically have to shove it down their throats,' explained Liz.

The Brigadier looked unimpressed. ‘Will it work?'

‘We shan't know that till we try. Are you ready for the attack?'

‘As ready as we'll ever be. I never thought I'd lead a force consisting of headquarters clerical staff, a female scientist and…' At a loss for words he waved his hand towards the Doctor.

‘Cheer up, Brigadier,' said the Doctor. ‘It's quality that counts, you know, not quantity. Shall we go?' He passed Liz the power-pack and shouldered the other himself.

A few moments later the Brigadier and his little force, loaded into two jeeps, were waiting in the UNIT garage. The Doctor was at the wheel of one jeep, accompanied by Liz and two soldiers. The Brigadier and the remaining soldiers were crammed into the other. The soldiers were heavily armed with a variety of curious weapons. The engines were already revving up. The Brigadier gave a signal and a soldier pressed the button to open the steel garage doors, and jumped in the back of the jeep. As soon as the doors began to open the Doctor gunned his jeep into a racing start and shot up the ramp. The Brigadier's jeep followed close behind. Energy bolts from waiting Autons whizzed round their heads, but the little jeeps weaved in and out of the attackers and disappeared out of sight.

Afterwards Liz could only remember that journey out of London as a kind of nightmare. By now the streets were empty, so there was no traffic to delay them. There was wreckage and devastation all around. Many buildings were
now ablaze but there was no sound of fire engines speeding to the rescue. Fire stations had been one of the Auton's first targets, and by now most fire engines were destroyed.

They passed little groups of fleeing, terrified people. One or two of them shouted out warnings. The route they took went through side streets and back alleys, away from the shopping centres, away from the Autons. Occasionally Autons did appear and fired after them, often missing by inches. Once an Auton stepped directly in front of their jeep, wrist-gun raised. The Doctor put his foot down and smashed straight into it, sending it flying against the side of a building. Liz looked over her shoulder and saw to her horror that the Auton had lurched to its feet and was firing after them.

Soon, to her heartfelt relief, they were leaving the suburbs behind them, speeding down country lanes to the plastics factory where everything had begun, and where everything must be ended if there was to be any hope for mankind.

In the woods just outside the factory a solitary figure had been curled hidden in a ditch for hours. Unaware of all that had been happening in the cities, George Hibbert had been taking the advice given by the Doctor in the waxworks – to get away from Channing so that he could think. Gradually, in the peace and quiet of the forest, Hibbert's brain had cleared at last. The full horror of what he had become flooded over him. But at last he was himself again. At last he could think his own thoughts. And he knew what he must do. Stiffly he rose to his feet and began to walk back towards the factory.

Inside the factory itself Channing stood in silent
communion with the creature in the tank. Through the shared Nestene mind he was aware of all the destruction he had caused. Channing was pleased. Everything was going as it should. He was aware, too, that the Doctor and the Brigadier with their tiny force were on the way to attack him. He wondered idly what made these humans struggle so desperately to the last.

The factory was now almost empty of the killer Autons. They had been sent to do their deadly work around the country. Only a small group remained, to guard the creature in the tank. The creature that would soon emerge and take its rightful place as ruler. But Channing was not disturbed by the fact that there were so few Autons. He had made his arrangements. The factory was still well guarded.

A voice behind him said: ‘Channing.' He turned. Hibbert was walking towards him, an iron crowbar in his hand. He said: ‘Hibbert. There you are. I have been worried about you.'

A wave of hatred flooded over Hibbert at the sound of that familiar voice. He heard Channing say: ‘You should not have gone away, Hibbert. It is safer for you to stay with me.'

Hibbert's voice was harsh. ‘So that you can go on controlling my mind. Oh no, Channing. The Doctor was right. I can think, away from you.'

‘You have spoken again to the Doctor?'

‘He was at the waxworks. He knows what you're up to. He'll stop you.'

Channing was amused. ‘He may know, Hibbert. But there is nothing he can do. Our invasion of your planet has already begun.'

Hibbert looked at him in loathing. ‘Who are you? What
are you?'

Channing said: ‘We are the Nestenes. We have been colonising other planets for a thousand million years. Now we have come to take Earth.'

‘But what's going to happen to us – to
Man?
' The full horror of it suddenly came over Hibbert. ‘You'll destroy us.'

Channing's voice was soothing. ‘Not you, Hibbert. You are our ally. You have helped us.'

Hibbert said dully: ‘And you… you're not human.'

‘I am part of the whole, Hibbert. Nestenes have no individual existence. This body is merely a container, Hibbert. You should know that. You made me.'

And Channing smiled a terrible smile.

All the things which had been blocked from Hibbert's mind now came back to him. He remembered finding the green pulsating globe in the woods, the night of the first meteor shower. He remembered taking the globe back to the factory. He remembered staring as if hypnotised into its flashing green depths.

It had seemed as if the globe was talking, deep within his mind. It had told him of the other globes, and where to find them. It had told him how to design the new machinery, to order the parts, to assemble them himself. It had told him of the special plastics mix that had to be fed into the tanks, and how to attach the electrodes to the globe to transfer its energy.

Night after night Hibbert had worked, secretly in the deserted factory. Luckily, Ransome was on that trip to America. Then finally Hibbert had stood beside a bubbling tank of plastics mix, and connected the electrodes and thrown the switch. The globes had flashed and then died.
The tank of bubbling plastic seethed with life. A shape within it began to solidify, and dripping from its depths rose something in the shape of a man. The something that was now called Channing.

After that things became hazy in Hibbert's mind. He and Channing had made the Autons, and the Autons had made other Autons. All the time Channing's grip on his mind had grown stronger and stronger. Finally, he had had no thoughts of his own at all. He had become merely an extension of Channing's will. But all that was over now. He had broken free.

Suddenly Hibbert gestured to the giant plastic coffin with his crowbar. ‘And that thing in there?'

‘That is our real form, Hibbert. The form we once had on our own planet, before we shook off the body and became pure mind. We created human forms for ourselves to help begin our invasion. But once the planet is ours, we shall re-create the form that was once our own.' Channing laughed, looking proudly at the tank. ‘In there is the repository of all the Nestene consciousness. Would you like to see it, Hibbert?' Again Channing laughed, and the thing within the plastic tank bubbled and seethed as though sharing in his mirth.