Doctor Who and the Loch Ness Monster

by Terrance Dicks

  The two soldiers were naturally pretty baffled. They made a half-hearted attempt to stop Harry, who knocked them out of his way and broke into a run. He pelted down a side-street, Sarah and the two soldiers still after him.

  He led them through the back streets of the little village at an amazing pace. Sarah and the soldiers soon lost sight of him. They split up, trying to cover all possible escape routes. Tulloch was a small village, and there weren't many places to go.

  Almost out of breath now, Sarah found herself outside a barn on the edge of the village. There was no sign of Harry. In fact there was no sign of anyone. Still, the barn was a possible hiding place, and Sarah's decided to take a look.

  She crept cautiously into the shadowed gloom of the interior, squinting a little to adjust her eyes to the darkness. She could make out bales of hay, and some kind of agricultural machinery rusting away in the corner. There was a ladder which led up through a trap-door, obviously to a loft. She took a quick look round the barn and was relieved to find it empty. Then she started to climb the ladder. She was half-way up when she thought she heard a sound. She paused. 'Harry—Harry, is that you?'

  There was no reply, and Sarah climbed the rest of the way. She found herself in a big shadowy loft, half-filled with more bales of hay.

  Suddenly, terrifyingly, Harry charged at her from behind one of the stacks. He held a pitchfork before him like a spear, the sharp spikes aimed at her heart. Sarah screamed, turned to run, tripped and fell. Her attacker, unable to arrest his wild charge, tripped over her body and pitched head-first through the trap-door.

  Sarah got to her hands and knees, crawled to the edge of the trap-door, and looked down. Spread-eagled on the floor of the barn was the body of a Zygon, the shaft of the pitchfork projecting from its chest. The Zygon jerked spasmodically, then lay still.

  Harry Sullivan, the real Harry Sullivan, was still a helpless prisoner in his alcove on the Zygon ship. As his replica died, Harry screamed, straining frantically against his bonds. Then he fell back unconscious.

  In the Zygon control-room, Broton frowned at a wildly flickering gauge. 'The Response Monitor on the latest human captive indicates an autonomous reflex.'

  A Zygon came to look at the dial. Respectfully it said, 'That is impossible, Commander. Unless...'

  'Unless something has happened to Madra. Check the synchron response.'

  Obediently the Zygon examined its console.

  'There is no synchron response, Commander.'

  'Then Madra has been eliminated.' Brown's voice rose to an angry screech. 'Immediate molecular dispersal. The humans must not find his body. Immediate dispersal.'

  The Zygon touched more control nodules and there was a sudden hum of power.

  Sarah climbed slowly down the ladder, and stood looking at the dead Zygon. She heard the clattering of boots outside and yelled, 'This way. It's in here! Hurry!'

  The dead Zygon at her feet began to glow with a fierce light. It blurred, shimmered and faded to nothingness. The pitchfork, with nothing to support it, clattered to the floor of the barn. Beside it lay the alien signal device.

  UNIT soldiers rushed into the barn; rifles at the ready. They found Sarah staring at an empty patch of floor.

  'Er—what's in here, Miss?' asked one of them politely.

  Sarah looked at him. 'But it was there—' she protested.

  The soldiers looked at her blankly. Sarah sighed. 'Come on,' she said. 'We'd better get this back to H.Q.' She picked up the signalling device, and led the way out of the barn.

  Back at the inn she told her story to the Doctor and the Brigadier, who had just returned from their trip to the moor. The Brigadier looked as baffled as his soldiers, but the Doctor listened with absorbed attention. 'Molecular rearrangement too,' he said thoughtfully. 'We're dealing with a very advanced species. Still, thanks to you, Sarah, we've at least got their signalling device. And there's something else. If they can make a replica of Harry, there's a good chance the original's still alive!'

  'What worries me,' said Sarah pensively, 'is—how did they know we had that thing?'

  The Doctor looked at her. 'That's a very good point, Sarah. They knew exactly where to come for it, didn't they?'

  Hesitantly Sarah said, 'It probably sounds silly—but I keep getting a feeling we're being watched.'

  The Doctor rubbed his chin, and turned to the Brigadier. 'They do seem to know our moves in advance, don't they?'

  The Brigadier was outraged. 'You mean they're spying on us?'

  'Some form of electronic surveillance, perhaps. We know their technology is of a very high order.'

  'A bug, you mean?' The Brigadier pronounced the slang term with distaste.

  'Precisely, Brigadier. A bug!'

  Relieved to have a problem he knew how to deal with, the Brigadier snapped, 'Mr Benton, I want every part of this building checked for bugs, understand?'

  (In the Zygon control room, Broton switched off his spy screen with an angry hiss. 'This Doctor and his friends must be destroyed. Totally destroyed. Programme the Skarasen to attack.'

  His second-in-command hissed in alarm. 'Is that wise, Commander? You have always said that we must conceal our presence on this planet until—'

  Broton was too angry to listen. 'I will not tolerate argument from my subordinates,' he screamed. 'The Doctor suspects too much of the truth. He must be crushed before he can prove his theories and mobilise the planet against us. Prepare the attack programme!')

  The Doctor would have been flattered to know that the Zygons considered him such a menace. With the aid of some hastily rigged-up scanning equipment, he was studying the signal device and making very little progress. The Brigadier and Sarah looked on sympathetically, understanding his rage and frustration, but unable to help.

  The Doctor threw down the device and looked up. 'Not metallic, certainly. It must be a carbon structure. It's either that, or vareldemyte in organic suspension —don't you agree?'

  'I'm sure you're right, Doctor,' said Sarah soothingly.

  The Doctor grinned in spite of himself. 'Well, I wish I was.'

  Sarah stared at the device as it lay on the table. She gave a sudden squeak. 'It moved, Doctor! I saw it move.'

  They all looked at the device. It moved again, edging slowly across the table, as if trying to escape.

  The Doctor blocked its path with a telephone directory. 'Just as I thought. Part artifact, part organic!'

  As though frustrated by its imprisonment, the device began giving out a high-pitched electronic burbling sound.

  Cautiously, the Brigadier said, 'What's it doing, Doctor?'

  'Signalling!' announced the Doctor, with evident satisfaction.

  Sarah looked at him nervously. 'Does that mean the creature that smashed the rigs could be on its way here?'

  'That's right,' answered the Doctor happily. He seemed to be rather pleased at the idea.

  'I see,' said the Brigadier crisply. 'Well, we'd better prepare for it. I'll get the machine-guns issued.'

  The Doctor shook his head. 'Might as well hunt elephants with a pea-shooter.'

  'Then what do we do?'

  The Doctor picked up the device. 'Only one thing for it. I'll try to draw it off. I'll take the calling device out on to Tulloch Moor.' He nodded towards the tracking equipment in the corner. 'Meanwhile your chaps can use my equipment to try and trace the activating signal. If your men on Point McNab are on their toes, we'll be able to get a proper fix on these aliens and find their base.'

  The Brigadier assessed the plan and agreed. It was their only chance. 'Very well, Doctor. Corporal Palmer!' Palmer was already at the Doctor's tracking device, gently adjusting the controls, as the Doctor made for the door.

  Sarah said, 'Must you, Doctor? It's an awful risk.

  You don't know how fast that thing can move.'

  The Doctor chuckled. 'Don't worry, Sarah. It doesn't know how fast I can move. Besides, if we're going to rescue poor Harry, we must find that base.'


  The Doctor drove his borrowed land-rover out of the village, and headed for Tulloch Moor. His plan was very simple. He would make the monster chase him for as long as he could, to give the Brigadier and his men the best possible chance of tracing the transmitting signal. If the creature got too close, he'd simply have to throw away the calling device and run for it. The monster would probably be satisfied once it found the device. And even if it did come after him, the Doctor wasn't too worried. He didn't have a very high opinion of monsters, however large and powerful. The bigger the stupider, in his experience. With the whole of Tulloch Moor to play around in he was confident he could elude the thing almost indefinitely.

  The Doctor drove to the centre of the moor and waited. For a while nothing happened. Darkness began to gather round him as he sat there, increasing the effect of the mist that drifted over the moor. Suddenly, he heard a roar. Then another and another. They sounded steadily louder as the creature got nearer. The Doctor took the still bleeping calling-device from his pocket. He guessed it was leading the creature straight to him.

  He pressed the starter on the land-rover. It was here that his plan met with its first setback. The engine turned over once, coughed, and died. The Doctor checked the fuel tank. Empty! The land-rover had seen a lot of use that day, and there had been just enough fuel left to get the Doctor to the middle of Tulloch Moor.

  He climbed out of the land-rover, still not too dismayed. Maybe he'd do better on foot, since he'd make a smaller target.

  A shattering roar sounded almost in his ear. He looked up and saw the long waving neck of the monster above the trees, the fierce head casting about in search of him. The Doctor had a fleeting impression of its size and power. Then an angry roar reminded him that it was time to get moving.

  He ran from the land-rover as fast as he could, undeterred by the gathering darkness and the uneven ground. His long legs took him across the moor at a tremendous speed, tartan scarf flying out behind him. But fast as the Doctor was, the monster was even faster. The next roar was so loud that he felt it must be breathing down his neck. Reluctantly the Doctor decided it was already time to abandon the signalling device. And it was here that he suffered his second setback. He flung the thing away from him with all his strength, then realised to his horror that it was still in his hand. Worse than that, it was now fixed. It had extruded powerful little tentacles which wound tightly round his wrist.

  The Doctor tugged at the device frantically, perfectly willing to lose a little skin if it would save his life. But it was no use. IIe couldn't shift it. He heard another roar even closer, looked up and saw the huge bulk of the monster bearing down on him like an express train. Abandoning any attempt to lose the signalling device, the Doctor ran for his life.

  At UNIT H.Q. the Brigadier was poised over the map. 'The second bearing's coming through now, sir,' said Palmer. 'Bearing 201.'

  'Right!' the Brigadier was exultant. 'We've got their base. First bearing was 179, so that puts the transmitter—here!'

  He jabbed a finger at the map. Sarah looked over his shoulder.

  'Loch Ness!'

  'That's right,' said the Brigadier. 'Loch Ness!'

  'Well, we've got the information,' said Sarah. 'Now all we need is the Doctor.' From somewhere on the moor came a series of ferocious roars.

  The Doctor was tiring fast now. Already he seemed to have covered most of Tulloch Moor. He dodged and weaved, used every scrap of cover, but the huge creature behind him matched his every move.

  Finally, inevitably, the Doctor slipped. His foot turned in a patch of mud, and he crashed to the ground, half-stunned. It took him a moment to recover his breath, and as he started to scramble to his feet, he saw it was too late. The monster was almost upon him.

  In the Zygon ship, Harry Sullivan recovered consciousness. To his astonishment he found that the fibres which had held him were now dangling limply. He was free! He stepped from the alcove and began creeping steadily towards the control-room.

  Broton meanwhile was preparing to enjoy the death of the Doctor from a front row seat. A special monitor screen, linked to the optical system of the Skarasen, showed him the scene on the moor through the monster's eyes. Broton felt as if he was the Skarasen, looking down from his mighty height at the puny figure of the Doctor. 'Kill him,' hissed Broton. 'Kill him!'

  Through the cold, misty darkness of the moor, the Doctor saw the savage head of the monster lunge towards him...

  7 Hunt for a Zygon

  Harry Sullivan crept along the tangled corridors of the Zygon space ship. There was no clear plan in his mind, though he was desperately hoping to find a way out. He still wasn't over the shock of seeing a Zygon replica of himself. The thought that the false Harry Sullivan was somewhere outside, perhaps trying to harm his friends, made him frantic to escape. Failing that, he was determined to sabotage the ship, doing as much damage as he could before they recaptured him.

  He reached the entrance to the control-room as Broton was crouched over his monitor screen, determined to extract the last bit of enjoyment from the Doctor's death. Over Brown's shoulder Harry could see the Doctor, trying to escape from something that towered high above him.

  Instinctively, Harry dashed into the control-room and hurled himself at the console nearest the Skarasen screen. Before the astonished Zygons could stop him, he banged, thumped and twisted every control in sight, and finally gave the console a tremendous kick. There was an angry electronic screech as the sensitive Zygon control system was thrown into confusion. Angry Zygons closed in on Harry from all sides, and delivered a series of stinging shocks that dropped him to the floor. But the damage was done. Although Harry did not know it, his impulsive action had saved the Doctor's life.

  On the moor, the Skarasen gave a roar of distress as its guidance system was thrown completely out of gear. The long neck lashed about wildly, no longer seeking the Doctor, who took the opportunity to roll clear. At the same time, the tentacles that had clamped the signalling-device to the Doctor's wrist went limp. It fell to the ground and the massive foot of the monster crashed down upon it, shattering it to pieces. The Skarasen, roaring wildly, disappeared into the mist.

  The Doctor, lying face downward in a patch of mud, realised with some surprise that he was still alive. He looked at his now empty hand—the gripping tentacles had made weals in the flesh of his wrist. He began searching the immediate area, and with some difficulty collected the smashed fragments of the calling device. Putting them carefully in his pocket, he set off for the inn.

  While Harry lay unconscious on the floor of the control-room, the frantic Zygons worked to restore normal operation. Broton stood over them, hissing angrily, 'Hurry, you fools. Hurry!'

  The Zygon Chief Engineer looked up from his console. 'The target reciprocator is dead, Commander. We have lost visual contact.' The screen that 'saw' through the eyes of the monster showed only a confused pattern of disturbance signals.

  Brown said thoughtfully, 'The target reciprocator was attached to the Doctor. It can be destroyed only by the Skarasen. If the reciprocator is dead—then so is the Doctor!' He inspected the work of the Zygon engineer. Their frantic efforts had nearly completed the repairs. 'As soon as you arc finished, recall the Skarasen.' He kicked at the inert body of Harry. 'How did this creature escape?'

  'When the replica was killed, the body-print mechanism must have fused. Shall we kill him, Commander?'

  Broton considered. 'No. Not yet. He may still be of use to us. Put him in the cell.' The Zygons dragged Harry from the room.

  When the Doctor failed to return from the moor, Sarah and the Brigadier set off in a land-rover to find him. Warrant-Officer Benton stayed behind to supervise the final stages of what the men already called, 'the Brigadier's bug hunt'. They were checking over the parlour when Angus the landlord came in. He looked indignantly at the soldiers swarming everywhere, peering behind pictures, under carpets, tapping sections of wall, and glancing beneath ash-trays and lamp-stands. 'Hey—now—what do you th
ink you're doing?'

  Benton emerged from underneath the sofa. 'Brigadier's orders, Mr MacRanald. We're looking for bugs.'

  Angus was outraged. 'Bugs, is it? You can tell yon Brigadier that this is a clean house.'

  'Not that sort of bug,' explained Benton patiently. 'Microphones. Spying equipment.'

  'Och, you're all mad. Who'd be hiding microphones in here?'

  'Better ask the Brigadier.'

  Angus rounded on one of the searching soldiers. 'Just mind what you're doing with that bedwarmer. It was said to belong to the Duke of Cumberland.'

  'All right, we believe you!' Benton took the heavy copper warming pan from the soldier, looked it over, and hung it carefully back on the wall. 'O.K., Jackson, check the window area.'

  Angus shook his head in disgust. 'You're wasting your time. In Tulloch we don't need any clever contraptions to know what folks are up to. Everybody knows everybody's business as a matter of principle.'

  Benton turned his attention to the stag's head on the wall. As he reached up, Angus called, 'And keep your clumsy hands off that. It was a gift, from the Duke of Forgill himself.'

  'Keep your hair on,' said Benton soothingly. Since the Brigadier had told him to do his best to avoid upsetting Angus, he gave the stag's head no more than a cursory examination before carrying on with the search.

  (In the Zygon control-room, Broton switched off the spy screen. 'They are becoming suspicious. Tomorrow that monitor link must be removed.')

  It was almost dark now, and it was no easy task to find the Doctor in the gloom of the misty moor. The Brigadier, methodical as ever, searched section by section. Sarah checked the map beside him. She looked up impatiently as yet another area proved blank. 'Can't we hurry it up, Brigadier?'

  The Brigadier studied his compass. 'If we clash about all over the place, we're certain to lose him. System and method, Miss Smith. It's the only way.'