Doctor Who and the Auton Invasion (5 page)

‘I understand you may be able to cast some light on our mystery man, Brigadier?' said Henderson. The Brigadier nodded. ‘In that case,' Henderson went on, ‘I'd be very grateful for some explanation of his physical make-up.'

Liz looked puzzled. ‘How do you mean?'

‘His whole cardio-vascular system is different from anything I've ever encountered. He appears to have
two
hearts. Moreover, his blood belongs to no known human type.'

Lethbridge-Stewart nodded, obviously delighted by this news. ‘Splendid. That sounds exactly like the Doctor.' He peered at the little that could be seen of the patient. ‘Hair was black, though, as I remember. Could be shock, I suppose.'

Cautiously the Brigadier drew back the sheet from the face of the man on the bed. He peered for a moment, then straightened up, his face a study in disappointment.

Liz said, ‘Well?
Do
you know him?'

The Brigadier shook his head sadly. ‘The man's a complete stranger.'

‘You're sure?' asked Henderson.

‘Of course I'm sure.' Disappointment made the Brigadier speak sharply. He looked down again at the sleeper. ‘Never seen the feller before in my life.'

The eyes of the man on the bed opened wide, staring straight at the Brigadier. A sudden charming smile spread over his face.

‘Lethbridge-Stewart, my dear fellow. How nice to see you again!'

‘You may not know him, sir,' said Munro, ‘but he seems to know you all right.'

Baffled, the Brigadier stared at the patient, who seemed to be drifting off to sleep again.

‘But he can't do. It's impossible.' The Brigadier bent over the bed and prodded the sleeper awake.

‘Steady on, Brigadier,' protested Doctor Henderson. ‘He's still very weak, you know.'

But the Brigadier ignored him. ‘Look here, my man, can you hear me? Who are you?'

The man opened his eyes indignantly. ‘Don't be silly, my dear chap. You know who I am. I'm the Doctor.'

‘You most certainly are not!'

‘Come, come now, old chap. Remember the Yeti? And the Cybermen? You can't have forgotten already.' And struggling to a sitting position, the Doctor looked at his old friend in astonishment. ‘Don't you recognise me?' he asked plaintively.

‘I am quite positive that we have never met before.'

The Doctor passed his hand over his face in puzzlement. It didn't feel right. ‘Oh dear,' he said. ‘You really are sure? I can't have changed that much.' He seemed to brace himself, then asked, ‘I wonder if I might borrow a mirror?'

At a nod from the Brigadier, Henderson produced a mirror from the bedside locker and handed it over. The Doctor looked into it. The face of a stranger was looking back at him.

The Doctor's mind reeled under the sudden shock. Fragments of the recent past flashed disjointedly before his eyes. His capture by the Time Lords. The trial. The faces of Jamie and Zoe as they said goodbye. The Doctor looked round him wildly. He saw the young army officer, the girl, the doctor, Lethbridge-Stewart peering at him suspiciously. Suddenly their faces began to spin round him, like the faces they'd offered him to choose from at the trial. He made an unsuccessful attempt to stand up, then collapsed backwards upon the bed.

The Brigadier made an attempt to re-awaken him, but Henderson stepped firmly between them.

‘Whoever or whatever this man is, Brigadier, he's still my patient. He's tired and weak and he needs rest.'

The Brigadier rubbed his chin. ‘Extraordinary business. Quite extraordinary.' He came to a decision. ‘When will this man be well enough to travel?'

Henderson shrugged. ‘Hard to say at the moment.'

The Brigadier turned to Munro. ‘As soon as he's well enough, I want him transferred to the sick-bay at UNIT H.Q. Meanwhile, carry on with the search!'

‘Very good, sir,' said Munro. They moved away from the bed.

‘And keep that police box under guard. I'll send a lorry with some lifting tackle down to bring it back to H.Q.' The Brigadier looked again at the man on the bed and shook his head. ‘I don't know why this chap should choose to impersonate the Doctor. But I intend to find out.'

‘Er – yes, sir. Quite, sir,' said Munro, who was now completely baffled.

The Brigadier turned to the equally puzzled Liz. ‘My apologies, Miss Shaw, we seem to have had a wasted journey. Doctor Henderson, is there another way out of this building?'

Henderson looked up from his patient. ‘Turn left instead of right and you can get out through the kitchens.'

‘Thank you, Doctor Henderson. I'll be in touch. Miss Shaw, Captain Munro.' The Brigadier strode briskly from the room, Liz and Munro following. Liz didn't resent the brusqueness of his tone. She sensed just how disappointed the Brigadier had been by his failure to meet his old friend, the Doctor.

In the entrance hall of the hospital, things were very much calmer. Most of the pressmen had gone, accepting the Brigadier's statement and making the best of it. Mislaid Government space equipment wasn't as good a story as a monster from Mars, but it was better than nothing. Only Wagstaffe was still hanging about and he wasn't quite sure himself why he bothered.

Suddenly he heard the sound of a car. He reached the hospital steps just in time to see the UNIT car drawing away. If the Brigadier's got nothing to hide, why is he sneaking out the back way, thought Wagstaffe irritably. He wandered across to the door to Casualty, where Mullins was still on
guard. ‘Any chance of a word with Doctor Henderson?'

Mullins shook his head. ‘No use asking me. You can wait if you like.'

‘Never mind. I'll ring the office and then get back.' He was moving towards the 'phone when Mullins' voice stopped him.

‘Somebody's there. Been there ages, he has.'

Wagstaffe looked across to the booth. Beneath the hood he could see the figure of a man standing motionless.

‘Know who he is, do you?' asked Mullins. ‘Funny bloke. Eyes that go right through you.'

Wagstaffe shook his head. ‘Never seen him before. He's not one of the regular boys. You say he's been there quite a while?'

Mullins nodded. ‘Ever since that Brigadier came through.'

Wagstaffe moved towards the 'phone booth. ‘Better winkle him out, then, hadn't we?'

‘Rather you than me,' said Mullins.

Wagstaffe crossed to the booth and tapped his arm.

‘Think you could get a move on, old chap?' he said pleasantly. ‘You see I've got a rather urgent story to 'phone in and…'

His voice tailed away as the man in the booth swung round on him. Like Mullins before him, Wagstaffe recoiled from the fierce impact of those glaring eyes. He tried to go on.

‘I mean, you have been in there quite a while and…' The man in the booth brushed past him, walked across the entrance hall and disappeared through the exit doors.

Wagstaffe looked at the telephone. It was still on its rest. He hadn't been using the 'phone at all, he thought. All that time he had just been standing there. Like a waxwork.

‘Shoes,' said the Doctor feebly. ‘It's most important. Must have my shoes.'

The nurse smiled placidly as she took his pulse.

‘I've already told you,' she said, as if to a child, ‘you don't need your shoes because you're not going anywhere.'

That's all you know, thought the Doctor to himself. He slumped back on the pillows as Doctor Henderson entered.

‘How is he, nurse?'

‘He seems well enough, Doctor. But his pulse is pretty peculiar.' She handed Henderson the graph. He studied it gloomily.

‘Ten a minute! Still, for all we know that might be normal for him. Heartbeat?'

‘Strong and steady, sir. Both of them.'

Henderson sighed and bent over the Doctor. He spoke with professional cheerfulness. ‘Hullo, old chap. How are we feeling now?'

‘Shoes,' said the Doctor again.

Henderson turned to the nurse. ‘Poor chap's mind seems to be wandering.'

‘He seems to be worried about his shoes. I think he believes they've been stolen.'

‘Well, if he's worried about them, he'd better have 'em. Might as well humour the poor fellow.'

The nurse fished under the bed and produced a rather battered pair of elastic-sided boots. Immediately, the Doctor reached forward, snatched them from her and clasped them protectively to his chest. He sank back on the bed, a blissful smile on his face, and seemed to go to sleep.

Henderson gave him a worried look. ‘I wonder if there's any brain damage. I'll run some tests on him as soon as he comes out of it.'

The nurse looked at her peculiar patient. ‘He's certainly been acting very erratically.'

Henderson frowned. ‘Think I'll test his blood pressure while I'm here. Get the apparatus, will you please, nurse?'

As the nurse left the room Henderson checked the charts on the end of the Doctor's bed, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. How could you treat a patient whose anatomy seemed to contradict all the known laws of medicine? Those incredible X-rays!

On the bed, the Doctor opened his eyes cautiously. Henderson, brooding over the papers, was turned away from him. The Doctor up-ended his shoes, first one, then the other. From the second there dropped a key. With a sigh of relief, the Doctor closed his eyes, the key clasped tightly in his hand.

For a minute or two the little room was silent. The Doctor seemed to doze. Henderson was immersed in the charts. Neither of them seemed to notice when two men, one of them pushing a wheel-chair, slipped silently into the room.

Henderson, vaguely aware that someone was there, glanced up absently, expecting to see his returning nurse. He drew back in horror at the sight of a giant figure looming over him. He opened his mouth to shout, but an enormous hand swatted him to the floor as easily as if he had been a fly. A second before he sank into unconsciousness, Doctor Henderson noticed something peculiarly horrible about that hand. It was completely smooth and white, and
there were no fingernails
.

The two huge figures moved swiftly and efficiently. The Doctor was hoisted effortlessly into the wheel-chair. Surgical tape was slapped as a gag over his mouth. A blanket from the bed was bundled round his night-shirted form and he was wheeled from the room. The entire kidnapping had taken place in a matter of seconds. On the floor, Henderson groaned and stirred, struggling slowly to his feet. Feebly he shouted for help.

The two massive figures pushed the wheel-chair with its silent burden along the corridor. By a side door a man stood waiting. He was immaculately dressed, with handsome regular features. He stood completely still, like a waxwork. The only alive thing about him was his fiercely glowing, burning eyes.

As the two giants with the wheel-chair appeared, he opened a small side door leading to a yard. The two men wheeled the chair through the doorway and the third man hurried after them into the hospital yard.

The little party moved swiftly and silently round the corner. At the top of the steep hospital drive stood a small plain van, the back doors already open. The Doctor in his wheel-chair was pushed rapidly up to the van.

Suddenly the Doctor sprang into life. Gripping the sides of the wheel-chair, he gave a tremendous shove with both feet against the back of the van. The wheel-chair shot rapidly between the two kidnappers and landed backwards in a hedge. Adroitly the Doctor spun it round, and with another tremendous shove launched himself down the steep hospital drive. Gathering speed, he raced down the drive at a tremendous rate.

His kidnappers made as if to follow him, then at a sign from their leader leaped into the van. The leader took the
wheel and started turning the van in order to pursue the Doctor.