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.
Hibbert snatched at one central thought. ‘Then if you exist as one, you can die as one!’
He leaped towards the tank, crowbar raised. But before he could reach it an Auton stepped from the shadows and blasted him from existence. At a sign from Channing the Auton blasted at Hibbert’s body with its energy-gun until, like Ransome before him, he had totally disappeared.
Channing suddenly stiffened. Through the eyes of an Auton posted in the woods near the factory, he saw the UNIT jeeps flashing by. Channing wondered again at this stupid insistence of the humans on fighting to the very last minute. He left the Restricted Area to prepare to meet them.
Jolting across the woodlands between the trees, the Brigadier’s little force had driven the jeeps to the very edge of the wire fence surrounding the factory. Swiftly and efficiently two soldiers cut a gap in the fencing. The Brigadier went through first, followed by the Doctor and Liz, carrying the two linked packs. The handful of soldiers followed after them. They moved swiftly and silently to the factory buildings, and up to a small back door. It was locked. At a nod from the Brigadier one of his men blew it open. The little group moved through the shattered door and into the factory itself.
They looked round in amazement. The place was totally deserted now, and the strange alien machines were silent, their work for the moment over.
‘Where’s everybody gone?’ said Liz uneasily.
‘They’re here – somewhere,’ said the Doctor. ‘That’s the place we want.’ He pointed towards the Restricted Area. But before they could take another step, armed men appeared from hiding and sprang up all round them. Liz was delighted to see they wore the uniform of the Regular Army.
‘You’ve got some reinforcements after all, Brigadier,’ she said.
The Doctor glanced around. ‘I don’t think so, Liz,’ he said gently. ‘Those guns are pointed at us.’
To her utter amazement Liz saw that he was right. The young Captain in charge of the soldiers had drawn his revolver and was covering the Brigadier.
‘Brigadier, you and your men are under arrest. Please lay down your arms immediately.’
From the door of the Restricted Area, Channing watched. It had amused him to have his factory guarded with human soldiers.
The Brigadier could scarcely believe his ears. ‘What the blazes do you think you’re up to, man?’ he snapped. ‘Don’t you realise that we’re being invaded, and this place is the centre of it all? Put down that gun and give me some help.’
Confidently the Brigadier strode towards the young officer. The Captain raised his revolver. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I have my orders. I’ll shoot if you force me to. Now order your men to lay down their arms, or my men will fire.’
‘Then they’ll have to shoot, Captain.’ The Brigadier’s voice was calm. ‘We came here to do a job and we’re going to do it. Now are you really going to open fire on a fellow officer? Or are you going to be sensible and place yourself under my command?’
Liz glanced at the Doctor. She nodded towards the weapon they carried, but the Doctor shook his head. It might or might not work against the Autons, but against human soldiers it was useless.
Liz looked at the young Captain, wondering what he would do. It was obvious that he had not expected things to go this far.
The Brigadier said: ‘Well? Make your mind up. Because I assure you I’m going in there.’ He nodded towards the Restricted Area. Concealed behind the doorway, Channing watched impatiently. By now the Brigadier should have surrendered, since he was so hopelessly outnumbered. Again this tiresome human insistence on continued resistance. Were they too stupid to give up? Channing wondered.
There was an edge of panic in the Captain’s voice. He stubbornly repeated: ‘I have my orders.’ The Brigadier took another step forward.
Suddenly the Doctor’s voice broke the tense silence. ‘I’m no expert in military matters, but surely the Brigadier outranks you. Shouldn’t you obey his orders now?’ For a moment it looked as if the Captain would give way. He lowered his revolver. Then someone stepped from the shadows. It was, or rather it seemed to be, General Scobie. Liz felt the Doctor tense with excitement beside her. He gave her a warning tap on the elbow and began to edge towards the General. Liz followed with the power-pack.
The Captain turned thankfully to the figure of General Scobie, relieved to be free of his terrible responsibility.
‘For the last time, Brigadier, will you surrender, or shall I order my men to shoot you down?’ The General’s voice was harsh and threatening. Not a bit like the real Scobie, thought Liz. But real enough to convince those soldiers.
By now Liz and the Doctor had edged their way round the group and were standing close to Scobie.
The Brigadier said: ‘Now, listen to me, Captain, this is not the real General Scobie.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but it certainly is,’ said the Captain. ‘I’ve served on the General’s staff. I know him well.’
‘Perhaps I can settle the argument,’ said the Doctor. ‘Would you care to say a few words into this?’ He held the microphone-like object close to Scobie’s face and snapped: ‘Switch on, Liz!’
Liz reached inside the power-pack and turned on the controls.
Scobie said: ‘What is this nonsense…?’ He clasped his hands to his face and fell writhing to the ground. His body became
still.
The Captain turned on the Doctor. ‘You’ve killed him!’
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ said the Doctor. ‘You see, he was never really alive.’ He knelt by Scobie’s body and turned it over. The face had become blank, lumpy, featureless. Like that of an Auton.
(Far away in London the real General Scobie suddenly awoke, and was astonished to find himself alone in the Replica Room of the waxworks.)
The Captain gazed at Scobie’s face in horrified unbelief.
‘Well,’ snapped the Brigadier, ‘now will you place your men under my orders?’
The last vestige of doubt disappeared from the Captain’s mind. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.
Then from inside the Restricted Area marched a line of Autons.
‘Take cover!’ yelled the Brigadier. UNIT men and Regulars found what cover they could behind the factory machinery. The Auton hands dropped down on their hinges, and energy-bolts blazed from their guns. The Brigadier and his soldiers did their best to hold the advancing Autons. The bullets from the Regulars’ rifles had little or no effect. But the Brigadier had equipped his men with sub-machine-guns and grenades, and the UNIT armoury had even managed to produce one anti-tank rifle. The heavier weapons did have some effect. As the soldiers returned the Autons’ fire, the din in the little factory was deafening. Liz watched horrified as several soldiers, struck by sizzling energy-bolts, were hurled clear across the room to collapse like empty sacks against the walls. From the corner where she and the Doctor were hiding, she saw Autons cut to pieces by machine-gun bullets, and blown to pieces by grenades. An Auton arm blown clear from the body continued to lash wildly round the room, spitting energy-bolts like a demented snake.
Liz became aware that the Autons were gaining. Their line was moving ever closer to the spot where she and the Doctor were hiding. She tugged at the Doctor’s sleeve. Surely they ought to fall back too? The Doctor shook his head. He gestured to Liz to be ready with the power-pack. Then, quite deliberately, the Doctor rose to his feet. He stepped full in the path of an advancing Auton and thrust the transmitter near its face. Without waiting to be told, Liz switched on the power-pack. The Auton suddenly slumped, collapsing almost on top of them.
Doctor Who and the Auton Invasion Page 13