Doctor Who and the Loch Ness Monster

by Terrance Dicks

  Eventually the Brigadier's patience was rewarded. They found the Doctor's abandoned land-rover. The Brigadier made a note of its position so that he could send a recovery team. A search of the surrounding area led them to the place where the Skarasen had almost pinned the Doctor down. Sarah shuddered as she looked at the churned-up ground. 'Something happened here all right—but what?'

  The Brigadier jumped from the land-rover and made a careful examination of the ground. 'Well, since there's no sign of a body, or of any blood, we can assume the Doctor managed to survive. Now, once he escaped the monster, what would be his next move?'

  'He'd go home?' suggested Sarah.

  'Precisely!' The Brigadier jumped back behind the wheel. 'And since we know the Doctor has an excellent sense of direction, we'll find him somewhere on the direct route between here and the inn.'

  Sure enough the headlights of the land-rover picked up the Doctor's tall form about ten minutes later. He was trudging rather wearily towards home. Even for the Doctor, it had been a long, hard day.

  The Brigadier pulled up beside him. The Doctor climbed into the land-rover and settled into the back seat with a grateful sigh.

  'Are you all right, Doctor?' Sarah asked anxiously. 'What happened?'

  The Doctor told them of his narrow escape. 'Luckily for me, the cyborg overstepped its mark,' he concluded. He did not know yet about Harry's handy intervention.

  'Cyborg, eh?' said the Brigadier. 'You were right about the creature then?'

  'Oh, I think so. Somebody was controlling it, with the help of this.' The Doctor showed them the shattered remains of the calling device.

  'What exactly is a cyborg?' asked Sarah.

  'A sort of hybrid creation, half animal, half machine. Oh, they must he a very interesting species.' 'Who must?' demanded the Brigadier.

  'Whoever's controlling this monster. Fascinating technology! Now then, was my little romp all in vain, or did you manage to locate their base?'

  Sarah produced a map. 'There, you see, Doctor? Under Loch Ness, fairly close to the shore.'

  The Doctor frowned. 'And very close to Forgill Castle.'

  They could see the lights of the village ahead of them now.

  The Brigadier said over his shoulder, 'Well, Doctor, what's your next move?'

  The Doctor yawned and stretched. 'A hot bath, I think. Then a very large meal, and a nice long sleep.'

  'That isn't exactly what I meant...'

  'And in the morning,' the Doctor went on, 'I think we'll pay a visit to Forgill Castle.'

  Angus MacRanald was up early next morning, checking that everything was running smoothly. He'd already served breakfast to three of his guests. Now he looked disgustedly round his best parlour, which was filled with trestle tables, filing cabinets, RT equipment and all the paraphernalia of UNIT's temporary H.Q. Still, he had to admit they paid well. And they did seem to be taking reasonable care of the place.

  Angus began emptying ash-trays, and generally tidying up. Proudly he reached up and dusted the heavy wooden plaque on which the stag's head was mounted. A fine man, the Duke, even if he had been a wee bit strange of late. It took a real aristocrat to be so generous—the stag's head was a splendid gift. Angus ran his duster lightly over the stag's face, flicking dust from the creature's prominently bulging eyes. Then he blinked. Had he imagined it—or had one of the eyes moved? Maybe it was loose—he didn't want it falling out.

  Standing on a chair, Angus peered more closely at the glassy eye. It seemed to swivel. He prodded it gently and it dropped into his hand. The socket of the eye was filled with miniaturised electronic equipment. Angus was so intent on his discovery that he didn't notice the door of the room opening. He heard a voice behind him. 'And what are you doing up there, Mr MacRanald?'

  Angus looked down. It was Sister Lamont, the nurse from the oil company's sick-bay. He was too wrapped-up in his discovery to wonder why she was at the inn so early. 'The soldier laddies reckoned they were being bugged,' he said excitedly. 'Sure enough, I think I've found it. Though how anybody could have fixed...'

  Angus's voice tailed away. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, and got down from the chair. Something seemed to be happening to Sister Lamont. She was shimmering, blurring somehow. She was changing her shape. As the Zygon advanced towards him, claw-like hand outstretched, Angus MacRanald backed away and screamed.

  Benton was crossing the yard of the inn when he heard the appalling sound. He ran towards the parlour at once, calling to a couple of his men to follow.

  They clattered into the room and halted. Angus lay sprawled on the floor under the stag's head. Benton checked his pulse, but Angus was quite dead, his heart stopped by the massive blast of the Zygon sting. The window was open wide.

  Benton snapped, 'Get your rifles and follow me. We'll search the area. It can't have gone far...'

  Benton was right. Disturbed by the immediate arrival of the soldiers, the Zygon had not had time to re-assume human shape. It had been forced to leave the form of Sister Lamont in order to attack Angus—a Zygon can use its power to 'sting' only when in its proper form. Now it was scuttling through the fields that bordered the inn, heading for the nearby woods. It hoped to find some hiding place in which to re-assume the shape of Sister Lamont and then return innocently to the sick-bay. Although it was easy enough to revert to Zygon form, taking the shape of a human required considerable effort, and the alien needed at least a few minutes of peace and quiet to achieve the necessary concentration.

  Unfortunately for the Zygon, it was spotted almost immediately. One of the soldiers saw the crouched-over, orange-green shape scuttling into the woods. He fired : the creature staggered, but ran on. 'There it goes!' he yelled. Like a fox detected, by hounds, the Zygon ran frantically through the woods, a squad of excited UNIT soldiers hallooing behind. The hunt was on!

  8 A Visit to the Duke

  Even earlier that same morning, the Doctor too had risen, making sure the Brigadier and Sarah were awake with hearty shouts and loud bangs on the doors of their respective rooms. Sarah groaned as she struggled into her clothes. She should have realised that, in the Doctor's terms, a nice long sleep meant something like three or four hours. Indeed, it was something of a novelty for the Doctor to bother with sleep at all.

  They made a hasty breakfast of Angus's porridge. Sarah and the Brigadier scandalised him by demanding milk and sugar. The Doctor, in true Highland fashion, ate his with just a sprinkle of salt, saying something about having acquired a taste for it during the Jacobite rebellion.

  Now, at a time that Sarah called crack of dawn, and even the Brigadier considered an ungodly hour, the Doctor, wide awake and appallingly cheerful, was driving them up to the doors of Forgill Castle.

  Even in the bright morning sunlight, Forgill Castle looked like that place in Transylvania where Frankenstein carried out his dreadful experiments, and Count Dracula flitted round the battlements at sunset. Sarah was glad they'd come in the morning. She'd have hated to visit the place after dark.

  The Doctor whizzed the land-rover across the drawbridge and pulled up in a flagged courtyard in front of the main entrance. He jumped out and, without bothering to knock, pushed the heavy door, which creaked open. The Doctor stepped inside, followed rather more hesitantly by Sarah and the Brigadier.

  They found themselves in an imposing baronial hall, stone-flagged, furnished with massive tables and chairs. The far wall was entirely covered by book-shelves, and a huge oak table was piled with dusty papers. The traditional suits of armour stood about like sinister guardians, and a great stone staircase led up into shadowy darkness. The whole place was deserted. Sarah and the Brigadier looked round in respectful silence.

  The Doctor, who sometimes seemed to have no proper feelings, made them jump by suddenly bellowing, 'Shop! ' His voice echoed hollowly round the great stone room.

  The Brigadier shot him a reproachful glance and called out, 'Your Grace? Is anyone there?'

  Silence. Sarah looked worried. 'I real
ly don't think we should have come in unannounced.'

  'Nobody around to announce us, was there?' said the Doctor unrepentantly. 'Apparently most of the staff have gone off to work for the oil company. Can't say I blame them, either.'

  The Doctor flung himself into one of the high-backed chairs, and managed to produce quite a credible imitation of the Duke's voice. 'My family has served this country for seven centuries,' he said haughtily. 'That seems not to count, these days!'

  He looked expectantly at the Brigadier and Sarah, waiting for applause. But no one was laughing. The Doctor turned. The Duke of Forgill was descending the staircase towards them.

  At the bottom of the steps the Duke paused and said coldly, 'Perhaps you would explain this intrusion? I'm afraid the Castle is not open to the public.'

  The Doctor was quite unabashed. 'Nobody answered the front door, so we just barged in.'

  'You have some reason for calling?'

  'Oh, yes,' answered the Doctor cheerfully.

  'Well?'

  'My friend the Brigadier will explain.'

  Hastily the Brigadier said, 'Ah, yes well, the fact is...' His voice tailed off.

  'The fact is what?'

  By now the Doctor was wandering round the hall peering at the shields and weapons which hung from the walls. Realising that he wasn't going to be any help, the Brigadier began again. 'Well, sir, we have reason to believe there is something peculiar in Loch Ness, quite close to this castle.'

  The Duke's voice was scornful. 'You don't mean to tell me you've found the monster?'

  Sarah said defiantly, 'As it happens, your Grace, that's exactly what we do mean.'

  'I do believe you're serious! '

  The Doctor raised the visor on a suit of armour and let it down with a clang. 'Oh we are,' he said. 'Very!'

  Pulling himself together, the Brigadier gave the Duke a potted history of recent events. He ended with their discovery that the alien base was somewhere under water in Loch Ness, just off-shore, and fairly close to the castle.

  He stumbled to the end of his explanation, not helped by the expression of disbelief plainly visible on the Duke's face. 'I see. And what do you intend to do about the aliens, Brigadier?'

  Here the Brigadier was on firmer ground. Direct military action was always his forte. 'I'm having some depth-charges flown up right away—they'll be here this morning... With your Grace's permission, since our target is so close to the castle, I propose to use them at once.'

  'Depth charges?' the Duke sounded horrified. 'You can't explode depth charges in Loch Ness.'

  'It's the only answer, your Grace. These creatures have given every proof that they're hostile. They, and the monster they control, must be destroyed.'

  The Doctor had drifted back towards them, and the Duke turned to him in appeal. 'And you, Doctor? Are you a party to this militaristic nonsense?'

  The Doctor smiled. 'The Brigadier does have a rather touching faith in high explosive as a universal solution,' he admitted. 'And at the moment, I simply can't think of an alternative.'

  Sarah looked at the Doctor curiously. It was very unlike him to go along so tamely with the Brigadier. He usually had some quite different, and of course far superior, plan of his own, since he was very much opposed to dealing with problems by blowing them up. She had often heard him expressing his scorn for the limitations of the military mind. Why was he being amenable? Sarah had a feeling that something was going on under the surface of the conversation between the Doctor and the Duke. It was as if they were fighting a kind of verbal duel.

  The Duke paused for a moment. He spoke slowly and carefully, marshalling his arguments. 'There is no proof—there never has been any proof—that the monster exists.'

  'It exists all right,' said Sarah indignantly. 'Last night it chased the Doctor half-way across Tulloch Moor.'

  'What's more,' added the Brigadier, 'we believe it has been attacking the oil-rigs.'

  'Loch Ness is seven miles from the coast. Are you suggesting the monster can cross that distance to the sea without being seen?'

  'Maybe there's an underground river,' suggested Sarah.

  'Hardly. Loch Ness is too high above sea level.'

  'But there is an underground channel, your Grace.' The Doctor spoke with calm assurance. 'It runs from Loch Ness to the Devil's Punchbowl, the small Loch near the village, and close to the sea. That's the monster's back door.'

  'I've never heard such nonsense. Are you seriously suggesting the monster commutes between here and the North Sea whenever it feels like it?'

  'Whenever it's ordered to,' corrected the Doctor. 'It obeys some kind of control system.'

  'Whose control system?'

  'The aliens.'

  'What aliens?'

  'I know how you feel, your Grace,' said the Brigadier sympathetically. 'Before I joined UNIT, I was pretty sceptical about such things myself.'

  'You're rnad, all of you,' exploded the Duke. 'Aliens working monsters by remote control!'

  Sarah felt the Doctor wasn't taking the Duke seriously. He was studying him, rather like someone watching a clever performance. He beamed amiably at the angry Duke. 'Well, it takes all sorts to make a galaxy—doesn't it, your Grace? No doubt the aliens have problems of their own.' Once again Sarah sensed a hidden meaning behind the apparently foolish remark.

  The Doctor wandered off, this time to look at the rows of bookshelves lining the far wall. The Duke followed him. 'As you can see, most of these books are devoted to the subject of the monster. Sightings have been reported ever since the Middle Ages. Your aliens must have lived under the loch for many centuries.'

  'Perhaps they have, your Grace. Many species have life-spans far longer than that of human beings.'

  'Then why should they suddenly become aggressive?'

  Sarah said, 'Surely it must be something to do with the oil?'

  The Doctor nodded. 'That could be part of the answer. For hundreds of years the monster was able to cross Tulloch Moor, on its way to the North Sea to feed. Then the oil company built their base right across its path. It was forced to detour, passing close to the village. That, Brigadier, is why its masters released nerve-gas—and why you and your men went to sleep.'

  'Are you suggesting the thing's attacking oil-rigs just because it had to go out of its way a bit?'

  'There must be more to it than that. I think its masters have recently changed their plans—some new development we don't know about yet. It's a pity they reacted with unintelligent violence—don't you agree, your Grace?'

  The ringing of the telephone sounded strangely out of place in the castle hall. The Duke crossed to an old-fashioned instrument fastened to a pillar and answered it. 'Yes? Yes, he's here.' He beckoned to the Brigadier, who took the receiver with a nod of thanks.

  'Yes? They have? Splendid. We'll come at once.' Exultantly he slammed down the receiver. 'We may be able to convince you about the aliens after all, your Grace. I'm not sure of the details yet, but my men seem to have cornered one on the moor. Coming, Doctor?' The Brigadier was already on his way.

  The Doctor reached for his hat. 'Sarah?'

  Sarah didn't move. 'Do you think I might stay here for a while, your Grace? I'd very much like to look through your library. I could do some research for a story on the monster.'

  The Doctor looked dubious. 'I'm really not sure that's wise, Sarah.'

  'Why not? I might even turn up a valuable lead. And if the Duke doesn't mind...'

  The Doctor looked questioningly at the Duke, who said, 'Why not? I assure you, the young lady will be quite safe.'

  'Well, at least we'll know where she is,' said the Doctor.

  Once again Sarah sensed a hidden meaning beneath the exchange. 'All right, Sarah. Look out for any references to MacRanald bay and the Devil's Punch-bowl. And stay here, won't you? Don't go wandering about all over the place.' With a hasty wave of farewell the Doctor followed the Brigadier out to the land-rover. The Duke went to see them off and Sarah was left staring thou
ghtfully at the rows of books. She took off her coat, chose a book at random and started to read.

  After a hair-raising drive across Tulloch Moor, the Doctor and the Brigadier found Benton at the edge of a heather-covered hill ringed with UNIT troops. Benton pointed. 'It's somewhere up there, sir. One of the men took a shot at it, thinks he winged it. It can't get away—the hill's completely surrounded. Shall I tell the lads to move in?'

  The Brigadier nodded. 'All right. I want it captured alive, if possible.'

  'And tell them to be careful,' added the Doctor. 'They mustn't get too close.'

  Benton nodded grimly. 'Don't worry, Doctor. We know what it can do.'

  Rifles at the ready, the troops began to move forward, combing through the heather like beaters at a shoot.

  Out of sight, on the other side of the hill, a UNIT Corporal was taking advantage of his isolated position to have a quiet smoke. But he was still on the alert, and he whirled round quickly when he heard a rustling behind him. He relaxed as a neat, plain woman in the uniform of a hospital sister came out of the heather, her hands held behind her. 'Sorry, Miss, nobody's allowed to pass.'

  'I'm from the oil company sick-bay. I was told someone was hurt.'

  'You'd better sec Mr Benton. I'll call him up.' He reached for his RT and then paused. There was a small, spreading patch of blood on the Sister's arm. 'Hey, you're hurt yourself.'

  The Sister's hands came from behind her back. In one of them was gripped a jagged chunk of rock. Before the sentry could react she swung it viciously to the side of his head. As he collapsed in the heather, the Zygon jumped into the UNIT land-rover and drove off at high speed.

  9 The Secret of Forgill Castle

  The Brigadier looked down sadly at the body of Angus MacRanald, then pulled the blanket back over the dead man's face. He nodded to the two UNIT soldiers, who picked up the stretcher and carried it away. The Brigadier felt responsible for Angus's death. 'If we hadn't commandeered this inn as our H.Q....'

  The Doctor nodded, his face equally grave. 'I know, old chap,' he said. 'It wasn't your fault.'