DOCTOR WHO AND THE CAVE-MONSTERS Page 6

  9

  The Search

  Dr. Quinn stopped his car and hurried into his cottage. As soon as he was in the living-room he pulled from his pocket the extraordinary object given to him by Okdel. He touched the controls just as Okdel had shown him, and the device gave off this strange fluting sound. He almost hugged the thing to himself—it was the most important artifact Man had ever known, and it belonged to him, Dr. Matthew Quinn. Then he started to hunt through his bookshelves for maps of Wenley Moor. He knew that he had to keep his head and carry out the rescue mission with a methodical search of the countryside. Just in time, he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall and was able to pocket the signalling device. Miss Dawson entered.

  'I hope you don't mind,' she said. 'Your front door wasn't locked.'

  'Do come in, Phyllis,' he said, relieved it was no one else. 'Would you like some sherry or something?'

  'You know I don't drink,' she said. 'I wondered if you were all right?'

  'Yes,' he said. 'Fine. Why?'

  She looked around noticing the maps. 'Planning a hike over the moors?'

  'Possibly,' he said, wishing she would go away. 'Won't you sit down?'

  'I was wondering when you'd ask me to,' she said, and sat in her favourite chair. 'Dr. Lawrence has been asking where you are.'

  Dr. Quinn thought for some moments before replying. Then he realised he just had to tell someone his news. 'I've been visiting my friends,' he said, and noticed how Miss Dawson frowned when he said it. 'Look, they gave me this.' He pulled the flat object from his coat pocket, and offered it to Miss Dawson. She only stared at it, and didn't take it.

  'What is it?'

  'The product of another civilisation,' said Dr. Quinn. 'It's a communication device. That fool Major Barker wounded one of them, and they think it ran away from the caves. They want me to help to find it.'

  'You won't be the only one looking,' she said very seriously. 'There are soldiers out on the moors now, and they've got a helicopter up. If you go out to find this creature, the soldiers are likely to find you, too.'

  Dr. Quinn did his best to smile, although inside he was quaking. 'I have every right to go walking on the moors if I want to. We could go together. It would look more innocent.'

  Miss Dawson rose. 'I don't think that what you are doing is innocent, Matthew,' she said, 'but let's not discuss that. I just wanted to know that you were all right, and to warn you that Dr. Lawrence is on the warpath.'

  'To hell with Dr. Lawrence!' he said, immediately regretting it.

  Miss Dawson touched his arm. 'I know how you must feel, Matthew,' and there was some tenderness in her voice. 'Your father was a world-famous scientist and over-shadowed you. Now you are once again playing second fiddle, as assistant to Dr. Lawrence.'

  'I am not an ambitious man,' he said, knowing it was a lie. 'I only want to push forward the frontiers of science, to do something in my life so that people might remember me.'

  'I understand,' she said. 'I must get back to the Centre. By the way, there's been some trouble over at Squire's Farm.'

  'What kind of trouble?'

  'Everybody's being very secretive about it,' she said. 'So perhaps that is where you ought to start looking for your scaly friend. 'Bye.' She left.

  Dr. Quinn quickly looked at his maps and found one of sufficiently large scale to include Squire's Farm. He hurried out of the house, got in his car, and drove as fast as he dared towards the farm. Even from a mile off he could see that something had happened. Parked by the farmstead was an ambulance, two or three police-cars with blue lights flashing, and a couple of UNIT Jeeps. Still, all this gave him a good excuse to stop by. He drove up the farm lane from the road, and parked on the grass verge. Then he wandered in among the public service vehicles. There were police officers and UNIT soldiers standing around, but the situation was still so new and so confused that no one stopped to ask his business. They probably thought he was a senior police detective who had just arrived on the scene. He went up to a soldier and said, 'Where is it?' He had no idea what 'it' referred to, but it seemed the right thing to say. The soldier pointed towards one of the barns at the back and said, 'Over there, sir. In the barn.' Dr. Quinn thanked the soldier, and strode across the muddy farmyard to a large barn with open doors. Inside the Doctor was kneeling over an unconscious Liz Shaw, while the Brigadier and some UNIT soldiers were pointing guns down into an open hatch in the barn's floor. After a moment Sergeant Hawkins came up through the hatch with a big torch.

  'Nothing down there, sir,' said Sergeant Hawkins, 'except a lot of apple cores.'

  Dr. Quinn now moved forward, and addressed the Brigadier. 'I was just passing and saw all the vehicles outside. What's going on?'

  'There's been one of the cave creatures here,' said the Brigadier, showing little interest in Dr. Quinn but in-stead crossing over to where the Doctor was knelt by the prostrate Liz Shaw. 'How is she?' he asked.

  'Coming round,' said the Doctor. 'But she's had a nasty blow across the back of her head.'

  'I still don't understand what happened?' said Dr. Quinn.

  The Doctor turned and looked up at him. 'Some creature killed the farmer, hid in the cellar, and then knocked out Miss Shaw.'

  'Good gracious,' said Dr. Quinn, doing his best to be surprised. He turned to the Brigadier. 'You've killed it, of course?'

  'Unfortunately, no,' said the Brigadier. 'We thought it might be Iurking in the cellar, but it's gone.' The Brigadier, again uninterested in Dr. Quinn, turned to his soldiers and gave orders. 'I want the whole area searched—outbuildings, the fields, everywhere.'

  Sergeant Hawkins sprang to attention. 'Yes, sir!'

  Hawkins and the other soldiers hurried out of the barn.

  'Anything I can do?' asked Quinn, wishing now to get away but having to pretend to show interest.

  'Not really,' said the Brigadier, 'but jolly good of you to offer.'

  The Doctor raised a hand for silence. 'Shhhh!'

  They all looked down at Liz. Slowly she opened her eyes, looked at the Doctor and smiled. 'Am I still alive?'

  'Very much so,' said the Doctor. 'Pulse and heartbeat normal. Can you remember anything?'

  'It was a sort of lizard,' she said uncertainly. 'Three eyes. Standing upright. Something wrong with its leg.'

  'We'd better get her back to base,' said the Brigadier. 'We've got an ambulance and everything laid on outside.'

  'No, it's all right,' said Liz, trying to get up. 'I'll be all right in a Jeep.'

  'Hardly comfortable enough for your condition,' said the Brigadier. He turned to Dr. Quinn. 'Got your car here?'

  'Yes,' said Dr. Quinn, trying to think as quickly as possible. 'But I was just going into the town to do some shopping.'

  'Really?' said the Brigadier. 'It's half-closing day.'

  Dr. Quinn again thought as quickly as he could. 'There's one little shop that always stays open. But if you want to use my car...' He trailed off, hoping they wouldn't want to use his car.

  'This isn't a matter for discussion,' said the Doctor. 'Miss Shaw thinks she feels all right, but she needs rest. Dr. Quinn, could you ask the ambulance men to come along here with a stretcher?'

  'Really,' said Liz, protesting, 'I don't need that!'

  But Dr. Quinn didn't wait to hear the rest of the argument. He hurried out as fast as he decently could, told the ambulance men to take a stretcher into the main barn, got into his car and drove away.

  Five minutes later Dr. Quinn was at least four miles away, his car parked on high ground. In the distance he could see the UNIT helicopter. He took from his pocket the calling device and worked its controls so that it played its fluting tune. Almost at once he saw a movement in the long windswept grass a hundred yards away. Then the drone of the helicopter changed. He turned, and saw that the helicopter was flying towards him. Naturally the pilot was curious to know why a man had parked his car in this remote spot. Dr. Quinn waved cheerfully to the helicopter, then held up the calling device to one
eye as though it were a camera. He pretended to be taking a panoramic view of the moorlands. The helicopter swept low overhead, and continued on its way. Dr. Quinn again worked the calling device to produce its fluting sound, and looked towards where he had seen the tall grass move. Morka rose up from the grass, and raised a hand in greeting. Dr. Quinn made the same gesture in return, then quickly opened the capacious boot of his car and gave an indication for Morka to get in. Morka slid into the boot and curled up in the traditional sleeping position. Dr. Quinn got behind his driving wheel, started the engine, and slowly drove away. At last he had one of the cave creatures at his mercy.

  10

  Man Trap

  Major Barker lay back in his bed in the sick-bay, listening to military music specially piped to him through the bed-head earphones. If he closed his eyes he could see soldiers in brilliant red tunics marching about, saluting their commanding-officer as they went by. He was enjoying just such a daydream when there was a tap on the door and Liz Shaw entered. She had a plaster on her forehead.

  'Can I visit?' she asked.

  Major Barker immediately removed his earphones, and sat up to attention in his bed. 'Delighted,' he said. 'Do sit down.'

  Liz found the only chair available, and sat. 'I'm a patient now,' she said, and told him what had happened. 'How are you getting on?'

  'Making fine progress,' he said, although one arm was still in a sling and his head was swathed in bandages. 'You say a lizard hit you?'

  'I only caught a glimpse of it,' she said. 'But yes, it was some kind of lizard.'

  Major Barker didn't want to disillusion the young lady. There had been talk of these lizards before, and clearly the talk had gone to her head. Young women could be like that—very fanciful. 'I'm sure you thought it was a lizard,' he said. 'Care for a grape?' He indicated the huge bowl of grapes by his bed. Liz helped herself to one.

  'What do you really remember of the caves?' she asked.

  'There must have been two of them,' he said. 'The one I shot, and the one that got me. Has that Brigadier mounted a general flush-out of the caves, yet?'

  'Not at the moment,' Liz said. 'The last I saw of the Brigadier he was still at the farm.'

  'But in the name of St. George,' said Major Barker, 'the obvious thing to do is to go into those caves in force and give them hell!'

  'Give whom hell?' she asked.

  'The spies.' He paused, and smiled, to make it absolutely clear to Liz that he knew what he was talking about. 'You see, this research centre can really put Britain on the map again. That's why they want to destroy it. It's as plain as a pikestaff.'

  'I think you mentioned that before,' she said.

  'Because I firmly believe it,' he said. 'Have another grape.'

  'They're yours.'

  'Then be my guest.' He continued with his argument. 'That was a man I shot in the caves, and make no mistake about it. I called on him to surrender and he ignored me. Anyway, you say there is no armed force down there to defend us?'

  'Not at the moment,' she said.

  'That seems a jolly strange way to run a war to me,' he said. 'Jolly peculiar.'

  The door opened and Dr. Meredith entered carrying an official-looking envelope. 'Miss Shaw, I think you ought to be in your own room,' he said. 'And you ought be lying down until you really feel better.'

  'But I feel fine,' she answered.

  Dr Meredith smiled, but his voice was firm. 'That's an order. Now please, away you go.'

  Liz rose. 'Thanks for the grapes,' she said. 'I'll come and see you again.' She went away, and Dr. Meredith waited until she was out of earshot. Then he turned to Major Barker with the envelope.

  'This just arrived for you, Major. You really shouldn't be upset by anything, so if you'd rather me keep it until you feel better, I will.'

  Major Barker reached out with his good hand. 'I'm quite capable of handling my own correspondence,' he said, 'but thank you for being so thoughtful.'

  'If you need me for any reason,' said Dr. Meredith, 'just ring.' Dr. Meredith went away, dosing the door.

  Major Barker looked at the envelope. On the front it said, 'If undelivered please return to the Chief Con-stable of the Derbyshire Constabulary.' He opened the enevelope and read the letter. It said:

  Dear Sir,

  The recent death of Mr. George Roberts, employed as a technician at the Research Centre, Wenley Moor, has been brought to our attention by your director, Dr. Lawrence, in the normal course of events. We understand that he was struck a blow on the back of the head, when suffering from a fit. We understand that you are unwell at the moment. However, when you are fit we should be pleased if you will get in touch with us in order to assist us with our enquiries.

  We are,

  Your Obedient servant,

  Chief Constable.

  Major Barker held the letter first one way then another to try to read the signature. But it was just a set of three squiggles and could have meant anything. Then he put the letter to one side and started to think what it really meant.

  Of all ridiculous things, he was going to be blamed for killing that idiot technician, Roberts. After all, the man had clearly gone mad and was attacking Miss Shaw. Instead of clubbing the man, he should have shot him outright. Now there was going to be an enquiry, and he would be blamed for hitting the man too hard.

  He sat back in his bed and closed his eyes again. This time instead of seeing soldiers in brilliant red tunics he saw himself one rainy day in Londonderry, Northern Ireland, leading a group of soldiers who were trying to pin down an IRA sniper. The sniper had already shot two of his men dead, and wounded a third. The Major carefully worked his men into a position so that the sniper was completely surrounded. Then he called upon the sniper to surrender. A rifle was thrown down from a window, and a man appeared with his arms raised. As Major Barker called on his men to break cover and arrest the sniper, shots rang out from a sniper in another building, instantly killing the young soldier next to Major Barker. Without a second's thought, Barker aimed his revolver at the sniper standing with his hands up in surrender, and shot him dead. For that moment of anger, Major Barker had been asked to resign from the British Army and to find another job.

  Now he could see that it was all going to happen again. For doing his job, for protecting Miss Shaw from the lunatic Roberts, he would be dismissed from the research centre, perhaps even sent to prison this time. Meanwhile, the spies were gathering their numbers in the caves, people out to do harm to England.

  All at once he pulled away the bandages from his head, ripped off the sling holding his battered arm, and got out of bed. They hadn't taken his clothes away, thank goodness. He found them in a cupboard, and quickly put them on. In fear they had taken his keys, he felt the right-hand pocket of his jacket. But he was in luck: his precious keys were still there. He quietly slipped out of the room, down the sick-bay corridor into one of the main parts of the research centre. A UNIT soldier passed him, but they both nodded to each other, the soldier not realising that this was Major Barker.

  Fortunately, there was no guard on the gun cupboard. Barker undid the lock, opened the cupboard and selected an FN.303 and cartridges to match. Then he went along to the lift. This would be the tricky bit. But again he was in luck. The lift was in the 'down' position, its doors wide open. He walked in, pressed the button marked 'surface', and within a few seconds stepped out into the clean Derbyshire air above. Here there was a guard, one of the UNIT men. The soldier stepped forward.

  'Beg your pardon, sir,' the soldier said, 'but where are you taking that rifle?'

  Major Barker didn't hesitate. 'I'm chief security officer here,' he said, telling the absolute truth, then following it with a terrible lie. 'Your Brigadier has got trouble on his hands at a nearby farmstead. He radio'd in for me to go and help him, and said I should be armed.'

  The soldier looked uncertain. 'Well, sir, he should have let me know. I'm only new here. Have you got an identity card?'

  'Of course I have,'
said Barker, 'and very correct of you to ask for it. Hold my rifle a moment.' Barker thrust the rifle into the surprised soldier's hands, as though he needed both hands free to find his identity card. He patted his pockets, then gave the soldier a big smile. 'How silly of me. I've got it in the pocket of another jacket.' The soldier smiled back, and offered Barker his rifle. Barker seemed about to take it, then quickly hit the soldier on the chin. The soldier fell first to his knees, then collapsed completely. Barker took back his rifle, hurried over to his car, got into it, and drove at break-neck speed down the twisting rough lane to the main road. Once on the main road he swerved off towards the main opening of the cave. He grabbed a torch from the car's glove pocket, loaded his rifle, and hurried into the cave.

  Once inside the cave he started to call his challenge to the enemy. 'If you are real men, come out shooting!' He stopped, and listened. The only sound was the persistent drip-drip of water. Barker plunged on further into the caves, flashing his torch, his rifle always at the ready. He stopped again. 'I know you hate England. But there are some true patriots around, people who love their country. Surrender now and you will all get a just trial!' He listened. Again nothing but the drip-drip of distant water.

  'I know you're here!' he shouted. 'I got one of you yesterday! He was foolish, didn't do what I told him. But I'll give you all a chance if you'll reveal yourselves!' Silence.

  Major Barker took another step forward. 'All right, then I shall kill every one of you...' His words ended in a terrible scream. A metal trellis had sprung up from the soft sand, trapping both his ankles. He looked down almost in tears, afraid that his feet would be cut off. Then he heard them coming to get him. He flashed his torch wildly, and saw lizard-like faces advancing towards him.

  'It's no good dressing up in those funny clothes,' he screamed. 'Fancy-dress isn't going to save you.'

  Fumbling with the bolt of the rifle, he raised it and took aim at a lizard face. The third eye of the lizard face suddenly glowed a brilliant red, and Major Barker felt his rifle knocked from his hands.