Doctor Who NSAQR02 Made of Steel

by Doctor Who

  A deadly night attack on an army base. Vehicles are destroyed, buildings burned, soldiers killed. The attackers vanish as swiftly as they came, taking highly advanced equipment with them.

  Metal figures attack a shopping mall. But why do they only want a new games console from an ordinary electronics shop? An obscure Government Ministry is blown up – but, in the wreckage, no trace is found of the secret state-of-the-art decoding equipment.

  When the TARDIS returns the Doctor and Martha to Earth from a distant galaxy, they try to piece together the mystery. But someone –or something – is waiting for them. An old enemy stalks the night, men no longer made of flesh. . .

  Featuring the Doctor and Martha as played by David Tennant and Freema Agyeman in the acclaimed hit series from BBC Television.

  Made of Steel

  Terrance Dicks

  2 4 6 8 10 9 75 3 1

  Published in 2007 by BBC Books, an imprint of Ebury Publishing.

  Ebury Publishing is a division of the Random House Group Ltd.

  c Terrance Dicks 2007

  Terrance Dicks has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

  Original series broadcast on BBC Television. Format c BBC 1963.

  ‘Doctor Who’, ‘TARDIS’, ‘Cybermen’ and the Doctor Who logo are trademarks of the British Broadcasting Corporation and are used under licence.

  Quick ReadsTM used under licence.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

  The Random House Group Ltd Reg. No. 954009.

  Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.co.uk.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978 1 846 07204 8

  The Random House Group Ltd makes every effort to ensure that the papers used in our books are made from trees that have been legally sourced from well-managed credibly certified forests.

  Our paper procurement policy can be found at www.randomhouse.co.uk.

  Mixed Sources

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  Creative Director: Justin Richards

  Project Editor: Steve Tribe

  Production Controller: Alenka Oblak

  Doctor Who is a BBC Wales production for BBC One Executive Producers: Russell T Davies and Julie Gardner Producer: Phil Collinson

  Cover design by Henry Steadman c BBC 2007

  Typeset in Stone Serif

  Printed and bound in Great Britain by Bookmarque, Surrey Contents

  Chapter One: The Raiders

  1

  Chapter Two: Field Trip

  5

  Chapter Three: Crisis Conference

  7

  Chapter Four: Homeward Bound

  11

  Chapter Five: Cybermen

  17

  Chapter Six: Reunion

  21

  Chapter Seven: Caught

  25

  Chapter Eight: Arrest

  31

  Chapter Nine: Interrogation

  35

  Chapter Ten: The Doctor Takes Charge

  39

  Chapter Eleven: Hostage

  45

  Chapter Twelve: Attack

  49

  Chapter Thirteen: Battleground

  53

  Chapter Fourteen: The Gateway

  57

  Chapter Fifteen: Arrival

  61

  Chapter Sixteen: The Gateway Opens

  65

  Chapter One

  The Raiders

  THE MEGATECH CENTRE WAS the first to be hit.

  It was the biggest and best computer and electronics store in Britain

  – possibly in the world. A big modern showroom in the heart of London’s West End. Inside, it was all glass and steel, packed with everything from bog-standard PCs to the latest MP3 player. MegaTech advertised everywhere: press, telly, Internet, mailings. . . Upgrade to-day! Limited offer! Lowest prices ever! Buy now!

  And buy they did. Monday to Saturday, 8am till 6pm, customers flooded in, prowling display stands and shelves, grabbing overworked assistants, spending all they could afford and more. Anything to keep their precious computers and electronic gadgets up to date – even though up to date would be out of date by next week.

  MegaTech reckoned to cope with any kind of customer. But not the ones who arrived at 3am one morning.

  The vast showroom and the storerooms behind were dark and silent by then. Only a few dim lights were working. Old Trevor, retired policeman and senior nightwatchman, sat in his chair by the main door, thermos and sandwiches by his side. Kevin, his assistant, was off somewhere checking the storeroom.

  Kevin was keen, so let him get on with it. Trevor knew that MegaTech was protected by the finest alarm system in the world. If anybody so much as breathed hard on any of the outer doors and windows, bells would ring, sirens would howl, lights would flash and linked alarms would go off in the local cop shop.

  Technology was there to make a man’s life easier. Let it do its job.

  Trevor poured strong sweet tea into the cup of his thermos, un-wrapped his sandwiches and took a bite of cheese and onion.

  Suddenly the air seemed to shimmer in front of him. He took off 1

  his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Maybe he’d put off that overdue eye test too long. He replaced his glasses and stared. A circle of light was forming in the centre of the showroom floor. . .

  At its centre appeared a shimmering, metallic figure. Slowly it became solid. The thing was terrifying. It was more or less man-shaped but much bigger than any man. The head carried a sort of crest with strange handle-like attachments, and the face was a terrifyingly blank steel mask. Trevor jumped to his feet, dropping his sandwich and spilling his tea. ‘Ere!’ he shouted feebly.

  The metallic figure raised an arm and a gun barrel clicked into place at its wrist. Energy pulses of scarlet light flashed out, and Trevor staggered back and crumpled to the floor.

  A second, identical figure shimmered into existence beside the first.

  Ignoring Trevor’s body, the steel figures moved out of the circle.

  They began moving among the display cases. Some they passed by.

  Others were shattered with a sweeping blow of a powerful metal fist.

  The contents of some of the cases were carried to the circle of light and stacked inside.

  In the storeroom, Kevin heard the sound of shattering glass. Drawing his only weapon, a truncheon, he ran towards the sound.

  He stopped in the doorway of the showroom, staring round in disbelief. Trevor’s sprawled body. Smashed display cases. Two huge silver shapes moving among them.

  The nearest of the giant figures turned and saw him. Kevin turned and ran, and the gleaming figure stretched out a metal arm. Scarlet light pulses flashed again. Kevin spun round and fell. The silver figure strode past him into the storeroom.

  Next day, the official police statement spoke of ‘a well-organised rob-bery by a well-equipped and highly professional gang’. Some things were not mentioned or explained. Both showroom and storeroom had been looted of the latest high-tech equipment. Yet the alarm system had failed to go off – even though it was found to be in perfect working order.

  The deaths of the two security guards were equally mysterious. No
2

  one seemed to know quite what had killed them. The post-mortem revealed only ‘a massive shock to the system, caused by a force of unknown origin’.

  The second guard, younger and stronger than the first, had still been alive, just, when found. He died in hospital a few hours later, muttering about ‘silver giants’. There was no reference to this in the official accounts.

  The second attack took place in the heart of Whitehall itself. The secret research lab behind the Ministry of Science, a building so secure that it was often described as a giant safe, was attacked and robbed.

  Most of the night staff were left dead.

  The only survivor, a research assistant, babbled about giant silver figures stalking among the ruins. He was immediately moved to a secure sanatorium.

  A search revealed that highly secret equipment was missing, including top-grade surveillance gear and a state-of-the-art decoding machine.

  The sign on the heavy metal gate read:

  CHADWICK GREEN

  HER MAJESTY’S GOVERNMENT

  RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT CENTRE

  Strictly No Admittance Without Pass

  It was the small hours of the morning, nearing the end of a cold and damp night. The rain had stopped, replaced by an icy wind. The harsh light of the arc lamps surrounding the camp shone down on the wet parade ground and the huddle of barracks, storerooms and labs on the other side.

  The sentry on duty at the main gates was Dexter Hanson. He was tired, bored and fed up. He wanted hot tea and a warm bed, and he wanted to see his girl, who worked in the pub in the village. He suspected she was also seeing Corporal Harris. When he got off duty, Hanson was going to have it out with her.

  3

  He glanced at his watch. Only half an hour till he’d be relieved. He decided on a bit of a stamp to warm himself up and vent his frustration and anger.

  As he swung round to begin his march, Hanson saw a giant silver figure, already inside the gates. It was stalking towards the row of lab buildings on the other side of the parade ground.

  For a moment, Hanson stared in disbelief. Then he yelled, ‘You there! Halt or I fire!’

  The figure whirled round, raising an arm in a pointing gesture.

  Hanson was a combat veteran – he’d seen action in both Iraq and Afghanistan. He reacted instinctively, hurling himself aside to the ground. The energy blast missed.

  Springing to one knee, Hanson raised his automatic rifle and fired shot after shot into the silver figure.

  It ignored the attack and fired again. Dexter Hanson screamed, twisted in agony and fell lifeless to the ground.

  The shots had alerted the camp, and a shirt-sleeved corporal ran out of the guardhouse, blazing away with an automatic pistol. The silver giant fired at once, blasting him down.

  A second silver figure appeared beside the first, and the two began to march towards the rows of buildings.

  A general alarm blared out, and armed men began to emerge from all sides. The silver giants were hit by a hail of bullets, but the weapons had no effect. One by one, the soldiers were ruthlessly shot down.

  An armoured car sped towards the intruders.

  It had a heavy

  mounted machine gun, which was pumping out bullets. Both metal figures fired at once, and the vehicle exploded in flames. They re-sumed their march.

  They reached the door of the nearest lab building and effortlessly smashed it open. . .

  4

  Chapter Two

  Field Trip

  ‘STEADY NOW,’ SAID THE Doctor. ‘Take it slowly. It’s a timid creature.

  It’s probably more frightened of you than you are of it. Really.’ He grinned. ‘No offence.’

  ‘None taken. And who’s frightened?’ said Martha defiantly. ‘I mean, it’s only a flipping great prehistoric monster the size of a house!’

  She nervously held up the bunch of juicy green palm fronds to the giant creature towering above her.

  Martha Jones was the Doctor’s current companion. A medical student, she had met the Doctor when terrifying alien forces had invaded the hospital where she was training. When it was all over, she had accepted his offer of ‘just one trip’. Somehow that one trip had become the first of many.

  Now they were standing outside the TARDIS at the edge of a clearing in the middle of a lush prehistoric jungle. The air was hot and steamy, filled with the cries of strange, and no doubt savage, creatures.

  The Doctor had fished out a battered bugle-like object and had used it to produce a weird high-pitched sound.

  ‘Works like a duck-call,’ he explained. ‘Though on a slightly larger scale, obviously. Appeals to animals slightly larger than ducks too.

  Which is useful – because there aren’t any ducks yet. Here we go!’

  And, sure enough, an enormous creature had lumbered out of the jungle towards them. It had stumpy legs, a vast bulky body and a tiny head on the end of an incredibly long neck.

  Suddenly the tiny head snaked down and snatched the palm fronds from Martha’s hand.

  Martha looked up the dinosaur as it munched away high above her.

  ‘You’re sure it won’t want me for afters?’

  5

  ‘Oh, you’ll be all right,’ the Doctor assured her. ‘It’s an Apatosaurus

  – strictly vegetarian. Well, almost strictly.’ He paused to consider. ‘Or nearly almost. Perhaps it’s vegetarians it eats. Now if I’d called up a Pterodactyl, or even better a T-Rex. . . ’

  As he spoke, Martha felt the ground shake beneath her feet. A huge shadow fell over them. The Apatosaurus gave a shrill scream of terror, wheeled round and lumbered away with surprising speed.

  But Martha wasn’t watching. She and the Doctor both turned to see the enormous creature behind them. It was so tall that its head was blotting out the sun. A massive, brutal shape, silhouetted against the sky.

  ‘Did I say “even better”?’ the Doctor wondered out loud. ‘Might not have meant that exactly.’ As the monstrous head dipped rapidly towards them, the Doctor grabbed Martha’s hand and dragged her inside the TARDIS. The creature’s sharp, jagged teeth clashed on the empty space where Martha had been standing a moment before. Seconds later, the TARDIS faded away. The Tyrannosaurus’s mighty jaws again snapped shut on empty space.

  Or almost empty.

  On the spot where the TARDIS had vanished, the air shimmered. A square shape began to form. . .

  Safely back inside the TARDIS, the Doctor said, ‘Sorry about that.

  Maybe we’d better stick to watching David Attenborough in future.

  Though I don’t think he did dinosaurs. Not that close up anyway. So,’

  he went on brightly, ‘where to now?’

  ‘I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day,’ Martha told him.

  ‘Somewhere peaceful. Home. No, not home, that’s never peaceful.’

  She thought again. ‘How about work? Hospital,’ Martha went on.

  ‘The good old Royal Hope. I’d like to see how everyone’s doing. Last time I was there the place got kidnapped.’

  ‘Been there, done that,’ the Doctor said. ‘Kidnapped hospital? No problem. Soon sorted. Hold on tight then – here we go!’

  6

  Chapter Three

  Crisis Conference

  THE RESEARCH CENTRE AT Chadwick Green seemed to be back to normal. The Army copes well with emergencies. Wrecked huts and buildings had been removed and rebuilt, and smashed or stolen equipment had been replaced.

  A huge team of Army engineers, working day and night, had dug a new security vault. A vast underground chamber with steel and concrete walls, it was designed to protect top-secret equipment from any future attack.

  Human problems had been tackled with equal speed and efficiency.

  Dead soldiers, scientists and research assistants had all been replaced.

  The families of those killed in the raid were given the Army’s deep-est sympathy, and fictional reports of training accidents a
nd scientific disasters hid the truth. There were few details – for security reasons, of course. Relatives of all casualties were offered generous compen-sation, in return for silence and no fuss.

  Near the entrance to the vault was the Security Section.

  This

  housed a communications centre – air-conditioned, brightly lit and packed with all the latest equipment.

  Major Tom Burton, chief security officer, and his number two, Captain Sheila Sarandon, sat before a giant screen, gloomily watching, for what seemed like the hundredth time, grainy black and white CCTV

  footage of giant silver figures stalking among shattered display cases

  – the attack on the MegaTech Centre.

  They made an oddly contrasting pair. Burton was a massive figure with strong, rather brutal features. His looks weren’t improved by a squashed ear and a flattened nose. In his younger days, he’d both boxed and played rugby for the Army. He looked heavy, dull and rather stupid. But, in Tom Burton’s case, looks were misleading. ‘A 7

  rugby thug with a brain like Einstein,’ his commanding general had once called him.

  Sheila Saran don was younger and slimmer, a severely beautiful blonde. She was equally bright and fiercely ambitious. The Army was still largely a man’s world. She knew that, to succeed, she had to be not just as good as, but better than, her fellow officers.

  Tom Burton was well aware that she was after his job. Not that it worried him. The way he felt at the moment, she was welcome to it.

  He switched off the projector, stood up, and stretched. ‘Doesn’t tell us much, does it?’

  ‘It tells us the same as the Ministry footage and our own stuff, sir,’

  said Sheila. ‘The Cybermen are back.’

  ‘I thought they were all wiped out.’

  ‘To be honest, our record isn’t too brilliant when it comes to Cybermen,’ said Sheila Sarandon scathingly. ‘The Cybermen actually had a hidden base inside the old Torchwood Tower on Canary Wharf before the big invasion. And there was a breakout sometime after the battle

  – vital alien equipment was stolen –’

  ‘Including advanced spying equipment and something believed to be an alien teleportation device,’ said Burton irritably. ‘And now all this. More advanced equipment stolen – from MegaTech, the Science Ministry and here. What we don’t know is why. What are they up to?’