The Doctor walked slowly forward into
the cul-de-sac. The giant dinosaur turned
its head to focus on the midget now
approaching . . . the Doctor aimed his
gun to fire . . . suddenly from behind
came a great roar of anger. He spun
round — blocking the exit from the
narrow street towered a tyrannosaurus
rex, its savage jaws dripping with
blood . . .
The Doctor and Sarah arrive back in the
TARDIS to find London completely
deserted — except for the dinosaurs. Has
the return of these prehistoric creatures
been deliberately planned and, if so, who
can be behind it all?




U.K. ............................................................ 40p
MALTA .................................................45c              ISBN 0 426 10874 4
     DOCTOR WHO
       AND THE
  DINOSAUR INVASION
 Based on the BBC television serial Doctor Who and the
     Invasion of the Dinosaurs by Malcolm Hulke by
arrangement with the British Broadcasting Corporation



            MALCOLM HULKE




                 published by
           The Paperback Division of
            W. H. Allen & Co. Ltd
A Target Book
Published in 1976
by the Paperback Division of W. H. Allen & Co. Ltd.
A Howard & Wyndham Company
44 Hill Street, London W1X 8LB

Novelisation copyright © 1976 by Malcolm Hulke
Original script copyright © 1974 by Malcolm Hulke
‘Doctor Who’ series copyright © 1974, 1976 by the
British Broadcasting Corporation

Printed in Great Britain by
The Anchor Press Ltd, Tiptree, Essex


ISBN 0426 10874 4

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall
not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired
out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior
consent in any form of binding or cover other than that
in which it is published and without a similar condition
including this condition being imposed on the
subsequent purchaser.
CONTENTS

Prologue
1 London Alert!
2 ‘Shoot to Kill!’
3 The Time Eddy
4 The Timescoop
5 Monster in Chains
6 The Spaceship
7 The Reminder Room
8 Escape!
9 Operation Golden Age
10 The Final Countdown
                     The Dinosaurs

Three hundred and fifty million years ago, reptiles
became the first animals to breed on land. Reptilian
land life developed into many forms, the first true
dinosaurs, not more than six inches long, appearing
during the Triassic* period. By one hundred and fifty
million years ago, some reptiles had developed into
giants. One, the Diplodocus, measured eighty-four feet
from head to tip of tail, and must have weighed thirty-
five tons. During the Age of the Reptiles, many varieties
of dinosaurs—all enormous in size—spread and
multiplied over the Earth’s surface.
      Then, over a very short period in geological terms,
the dinosaurs died out. Their remains have been found
in every continent. Was it a sudden change in the
Earth’s temperature that killed them off? Was it disease?
Or did the newer and more nimble life-forms, the
mammals, attack and kill them? Perhaps no one will
ever know.
      Certainly no one ever expected them to come back.




*
 Triassic—after the three-fold mountain system in Germany. The first
mammals, and also flies and termites, appeared at that time.
                        1
                   London Alert!

Shughie McPherson woke up that morning with a
pounding headache. For a full half hour he lay on his
untidy bed and stared at a crack in the ceiling. He was
thinking about the, muddle which was his life. In his
thirty-seven years he had had more jobs than he could
remember. He was married once, but that hadn’t lasted
long. One day his wife had said to him, ‘Shughie, you’re
a layabout!’ Then she’d packed a suitcase and gone back
home to her mother. He had never tried to find her.
      That was years ago. His mind turned to more
recent events. About a week ago some of his Glasgow
friends had said, ‘Shughie, we’re going to London for
the Cup Final. Why not come along?’
      ‘I’ve nae money,’ he explained. ‘You’ll ha’ to do
without me this time.’
      ‘We’re going in wee Jamie’s van,’ they replied. ‘It’ll
cost you nothing.’
      Eight of them got into the van, two in front and six
sitting on crates of beer in the back. By the time they
reached London nine hours later, Shughie had
forgotten where they were going or why. He was drunk.
      He remembered waking up in this house the next
morning. Donald Ewing, a ship’s riveter from Clyde-
side, was shaking his shoulders.
      ‘Shughie, rouse yoursel! We’re awa’ back to
Glasgee!’
      Shughie’s sleepy brain tried to make sense of the
situation. ‘But we’re in London, and we’re going to see
the Cup.’
      ‘Not now we’re not,’ said Donald. He was already
fully dressed. ‘Everyone’s got to leave London. It’s an
emergency.’
      Jamie, the owner of the van, came to the door of
the little bedroom and yelled, ‘Will you no come and get
in the van, Donald? I’m leaving in five seconds! ‘
      Donald protested. ‘There’s wee Shughie here, still
in bed.’
      Jamie looked down at Shughie. ‘If you don’t get
yoursel into my van double quick, you can stay here and
die! Come on, Donald, let’s be off.’
      The two men tumbled out of the room. Shughie
thought they’d both gone mad. He turned over and
went back to sleep.
      When he woke up later the house was completely
silent. Pangs of hunger drove him out of bed. Standing
on the landing, he called out: ‘Donald? Jamie? Ian?’
      No answer. He went down the stairs into the hall
and called again. Still no answer. He stumbled into a
back room, and through there into the kitchen. Here he
found a cupboard well stocked with tinned food. He
ripped open a tin of corned beef and gorged the
contents. Finding some matches, he turned one of the
knobs on the cooker to make himself a cup of tea.
Nothing happened. He tried another knob. No gas.
Nothing strange in that. Many times in his life the Gas
Board had disconnected his gas supply because he
hadn’t paid the bills. He went to the sink for a glass of
water. The tap spat out a few drops, and no more. Well,
maybe that bill hadn’t been paid either. He returned to
the back room where he’d noticed a television set: it
didn’t work. He tried the lights: no electricity. Daylight
was beginning to fail. He searched the cupboards for
candles: there was a bundle next to the dead electricity
meter. He lit one, stuck it to a saucer, and left it in the
back room; then lit another and carried it to see by as
he investigated the rest of the house. No one had told
him whose house it was, but in one room he found
children’s toys, so presumed a family lived there. In a
front room there was a double bed. All the drawers in
the room were open. Clothes were strewn about on the
floor as though people had packed hurriedly, leaving
behind what they didn’t want to carry.
     In the front bedroom, partly hidden at the back of
the wardrobe, Shughie found the six bottles of whisky
that were to be his only companions for the next four
days.

After half an hour staring at the crack in the ceiling and
thinking about his life, Shughie McPherson got up.
Now, after four days, he had become accustomed to
living in this house on his own. He kept hoping that his
friends would come back, and had completely forgotten
why or how they went away.
      He stretched and yawned, pulled on his trousers
and shirt and went down the stairs to open another tin
of food. Then he remembered that last night he’d eaten
the last tin of corned beef and drunk the last drop of
whisky. Standing in the hallway, he scratched his
throbbing head, and decided the time had come for
action.
      He went to the house next door and knocked. The
front door was unlocked. It swung open when he
pushed it.
      ‘Hello?’ he called out.
      No answer.
      He stepped into the hall. ‘Anyone at home?’ Still
no answer.
      ‘I’m from the house next door. There’s no food or
water or anything...’ He listened. Silence.
      He tried the next house. The door was locked. He
pressed the bell push, but it didn’t ring. ‘Probably didn’t
pay their electricity bill either,’ he said to himself, and
moved on again. No answer this time, either. Shughie
began to wish he was back in Glasgow, in the friendly
district where he had always lived.
      A sudden panic gripped him. Where were all the
people who lived in these strange houses? Were they all
dead?
      He started running and shouting. Street after
street was deserted, front doors of houses gaping open.
And then turning a corner, he sighed with relief: a
familiar sight. A friendly milk float was standing in the
middle of the road.
      Shughie ran forward. ‘Hey! Milkman! Where are
you?’
      He stopped dead. The milkman was lying on the
road on the other side of the float. He was a young man
with very fair hair. He lay on his back, mouth open, eyes
staring in death.
      Cautiously, very afraid, Shughie crept forward to
look at the dead young milkman. The fair hair at the
back of the young man’s head was a tangle of congealed
blood and gravel from the surface of the road.
      Shughie fell to his knees, clasped his hands
together, and started to say the Lord’s Prayer. ‘Our
Father who art in Heaven, hallow’d be thy name...’
      His words were drowned by a sudden roar from
the monster behind him. Shughie turned and looked
up. A massive claw hit him in the face. In his last
moment of life, Shughie McPherson resolved to give up
drinking whisky.
The TARDIS, looking as always like an old-fashioned
London police telephone box, materialised in a pleasant
suburban park. The Doctor and his young journalist
companion, Sarah Jane Smith, stepped out into bright
sunlight.
       Sarah looked about and sniffed a little dubiously.
‘It seems all right.’ She was hoping they hadn’t landed in
the poisonous atmosphere of some distant planet.
       ‘Of course it’s all right! I promised that I’d get you
back home safely,’ replied the Doctor indignantly.
       Sarah looked at some abandoned cricket stumps on
the grass near by. ‘We set off from the research centre,
not here.’
       ‘Don’t expect miracles,’ snapped the Doctor. ‘The
co-ordinates were a bit off beam. But we can’t be far
away from UNIT Headquarters.’
       ‘So where can we be?’
       ‘Somewhere in London,’ said the Doctor.
       ‘And what about the date?’ Sarah persisted. ‘Are we
in the future or the past?’
       ‘Time is relative.’ The Doctor locked the TARDIS,
and pocketed the key. ‘My guess is that we have
returned to Earth at much the time we left. Now let’s
find a public telephone and inform the Brigadier that
we’re back.’
       The Doctor strode away towards some distant
metal railings at the edge of the park. Sarah was about
to follow, but paused when she heard a sound coming
from the opposite direction. She turned and saw a
clump of trees half a mile away. One of the trees came
crashing to the ground. She caught up with the Doctor.
       ‘What made that happen?’
      He shrugged. ‘Some disease that trees get, I
imagine. Now come on.’
      Five minutes later they reached the road that ran
along the edge of the park.
      Sarah said, ‘There’s no traffic.’
      ‘Can’t you imagine life without smelly motor cars?’
The Doctor started to cross the road, Sarah following.
He was hurrying towards a public telephone kiosk.
      ‘It just seemed strange,’ she said.
      ‘Nothing seems strange,’ said the Doctor, opening
the door of the telephone kiosk, ‘when you’ve seen the
places I have been to...’ He stopped short. The
telephone had been ripped from the wall, the coin box
smashed open.
      Sarah said, ‘It’s been vandalised.’
      ‘I wish people wouldn’t use that term,’ said the
Doctor. ‘The Vandals were quite decent chaps.’
      ‘I suppose you’ve met them?’ Sarah asked, tongue-
in-cheek.
      ‘As a matter of fact, yes. We’ll have to find a taxi.’
The Doctor turned from the telephone kiosk and
regarded the deserted road.
      ‘How,’ asked Sarah, ‘do we find a taxi when there
is no traffic?’
      ‘Perhaps it’s a Sunday,’ said the Doctor. ‘Great
Britain always closes on Sundays. We’ll have to walk.’
      Twenty minutes later they reached a suburban
shopping centre. Sarah pointed across the street
excitedly.
      ‘Look,’ she said, keeping up with the Doctor,
‘Woolworths! ‘
      ‘What is so special about Woolworths?’
      ‘Nothing,’ said Sarah, ‘but it’s nice to see. It means
we’re back home.’
      The Doctor paused. ‘Really, Sarah! I take you in
the TARDIS to Outer Space, to another Time in the
history of the Universe, and what really excites you?—
Woolworths!’
      His words were drowned by the roar of a car
speeding along the high street. It was the first sign of
life they’d seen since their return to Earth. Sarah
stepped out into the road, waving her arms, smiling.
      ‘Hey! Stop!’
      The car kept going. Moving fast, the Doctor
grabbed Sarah back to safety.
      ‘He almost hit me!’ she gasped.
      ‘Perhaps he doesn’t like hitch-hikers.’
      They watched the car race down the street. At an
intersection with dead traffic lights the driver swung the
car to the crown of the road, then turned left with a
screech of brakes.
      ‘Have you noticed there aren’t even any parked
cars?’ Sarah said.
      ‘I agree,’ said the Doctor. ‘It is a bit odd. Let’s keep
walking. There must be someone somewhere.’
      They continued towards the traffic lights. Sarah
stopped and pointed. ‘Look! That car! It’s stopped.’
      The car was standing outside a jeweller’s shop.
Without a word, the Doctor and Sarah ran towards it.
The car’s engine was running, but there was no driver.
      ‘The driver must have gone inside,’ Sarah said,
entering the open shop door.
      ‘Don’t be hasty,’ called the Doctor. But it was
already too late. Sarah had gone into the shop. The
Doctor followed.
      Sarah was standing in the middle of the shop
looking in wonder at the cases of expensive rings,
necklaces, and the displays of wrist watches.
     ‘Look at all these lovely things,’ she gasped, ‘and
the door wide open.’
     ‘The door has been forced open,’ said the Doctor.
‘Now come on, let’s go.’
     The Doctor turned, and found himself looking into
the twin spouts of a sawn-off shotgun. Holding the gun
was the driver of the car, a young man with greasy black
hair and badly bitten fingernails.
     ‘I got here first,’ said the man. ‘Turn round, put
your hands against the wall.’
     Sarah protested, ‘You nearly ran me down! ‘
     The man waved the gun at her. ‘I said put your
hands against the wall!’
     The Doctor turned and spread out his hands on
the wall. ‘Do as he says, Sarah.’
     Sarah put her hands against the wall, her back to
the man. Looking under her arm, she could see him
scooping precious rings and necklaces into a leather
bag.
     ‘I appreciate that you’re very busy,’ said the Doctor
calmly, ‘but could you tell us what’s going on?’
     ‘You find your own places,’ said the man. ‘There’s
plenty to choose from.’
     ‘We don’t want to find any places,’ the Doctor
answered. ‘We just want to know why the streets are
deserted.’
     ‘Because they are,’ said the man. His bag was now
brimming with valuables. ‘If you both stay exactly where
you are, I won’t hurt you.’ He laughed. ‘In any case,
I’m leaving you plenty of stuff here!’
     He dashed out of the shop. Sarah immediately
made for the door. The Doctor checked her.
     ‘No, Sarah! He may shoot you in panic!’
       They listened as the car sped away. Sarah hurried
across the ransacked shop to a telephone on a ledge
behind the counter. She scooped it up and dialled 999.
       ‘There’s no ringing-tone. Nothing. It’s dead.’
       ‘The sooner we reach the Brigadier, the better,’ the
Doctor replied.
       ‘But do you realise we’ve got no idea where we
are?’
       ‘That’s easily fixed.’ The Doctor went behind one
of the counters and quickly found the shop’s account
books and stationery. He read from an invoice, ‘The
Little Shop, Acton. So we’re in West London. All we have
to do is strike east.’
       ‘It’ll be a long walk.’
       ‘Don’t forget you’re over 700 years younger than
me, so you should be able to manage it. Let’s make a
start.’
       They came out of the shop. Sarah looked up and
down the deserted street. ‘Which way is east?’
       The Doctor produced a small compass from the
capacious pockets of his frock coat, and held it steady
until the needle stopped rotating. ‘That way.’ He
pointed up the high street.
       After a few steps Sarah paused. ‘Doctor, I’m really
very hungry.’
       ‘If you’d mentioned that while we were still in the
TARDIS, I could have fixed you a meal in no time.’
       ‘Those pills from the machine?’ She pulled a face.
‘I’d like something real to eat.’
       ‘There’s plenty to choose from here.’ He pointed
out some of the signs in the street. ‘Chinese Take Away,
Wimpy’s, Bert’s Cafe. Take your pick.’
       The door to Bert’s Cafe was standing open. Sarah
crossed the empty street, followed by the Doctor.
       The little cafe had plastic-top tables, a counter on
one side by the door, and a sign that read ‘Thanks for
your custom. Please call again. Bert.’ Sarah saw a large ham
on the counter. Her mouth watered and she went
straight to the ham—then recoiled when she saw the
flies clustered on it. ‘The food’s gone rotten.’
       But the Doctor was concentrating on the partly-
eaten plates of food on some of the tables. ‘Just like the
Marie Celeste,’ he muttered.
       ‘The what?’
       ‘A very famous incident in the last century,’ he
explained. ‘A ship called the Marie Celeste was found on
the high seas, intact but totally abandoned. The crew
and all the passengers had vanished as though they
never existed. And, just as here, partly eaten meals were
left on plates in the dining-saloon. No one ever
discovered what happened to the people on that ship,
and they never will.’
       A cold shiver of fear ran down Sarah’s spine.
‘Suddenly I don’t feel hungry,’ she said.
       The Doctor smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Sarah. There
must be some logical explanation for all this. Take a
couple of bars of chocolate from that shelf. I’m sure
you’ll be able to eat them later. And, as you said, we’ve
got a long walk ahead of us.’
       Sarah picked up the chocolate, and placed a couple
of tenpenny pieces on top of the till. ‘The people eating
in here must have all left in a hurry. But why?’
       ‘Why indeed,’ replied the Doctor. ‘Now let’s
recommence our long walk.’

An hour later they had reached Shepherd’s Bush, an
older and less suburban area of West London. In all the
miles they had walked they hadn’t seen a sign of life
anywhere. Sarah stopped.
      ‘I’m whacked.’
      The Doctor looked about the street they were
walking down. ‘Let’s try the Times Furnishing
Company over there.’ He pointed and grinned. ‘The
shop door’s open. Surely we’ll find a seat in there.’
      ‘There’s no need to be funny,’ she said. ‘Come on,
we’ll press ahead.’
      As they started off again they both heard the sound
of the lorry. Without a word they stopped, listened
intently.
      Sarah said, ‘Where is it?’
      The Doctor put his finger to his lips. ‘Shhh!’
      The sound of the lorry altered as its driver
changed into reverse gear.
      ‘That street over there,’ said the Doctor, pointing
to a side street, ‘and it’s backing up for some reason.’
      They hurriedly crossed the main road to the
opening of the side street from where they could hear
the lorry. As they entered the side street, the sound of
the lorry’s engine stopped.
      ‘We’ve lost it,’ said Sarah.
      ‘I don’t think so,’ said the Doctor. ‘Look down
there.’
      Half way down the street of little houses a large
warehouse was set well back from the road. Big double
doors stood wide open and the nose of a lorry
protruded out on to a tarmac apron. The Doctor and
Sarah ran down the street towards the lorry. Sarah had
forgotten all about her tiredness. As they approached
the open double doors the Doctor started calling.
      ‘Hello? Anyone at home?’
      There was no response. The Doctor put his hand
on the bonnet of the lorry. ‘This must be the one we
heard,’ he said. ‘It’s warm. The engine has just been
running.’
      Cautiously they edged along the side of the lorry
into the warehouse. It was filled with racks of expensive
fur coats.
      ‘With London deserted, why should anyone want
to make a delivery of fur coats?’ Sarah sounded puzzled.
      The Doctor looked at an untidy heap of fur coats
in the open back of the lorry. ‘I don’t think they were
making a delivery,’ he said, ‘but more a collection. I
mean they were stealing these furs.’
      Suddenly two men, one gripping a vicious-looking
jemmy, leapt out from behind one of the fur racks.
Sarah screamed. The jemmy cracked down on the
Doctor’s mop of curly hair. Gripping his head in agony,
he fell to the ground. The two men ran down by the
side of the lorry and escaped into the street. As Sarah
knelt down by the Doctor, he opened his eyes and put
his hand to his head.
      ‘That’s going to be a nasty bump,’ he said. With
Sarah’s help he struggled to his feet, a little unsteadily.
‘At least they’ve provided us with some transport. Let’s
see if they left the ignition key.’
      The Doctor started to edge down the side of the
lorry towards the cabin. But Sarah was staring towards a
gloomy far corner of the warehouse. Something was
moving there.
      ‘Doctor,’ she said, quietly, ‘I think there’s someone
over there.’
      The Doctor turned. ‘Hello?’ he called. ‘If you’re
another fur thief, we really don’t mean you any harm.
All we want to take is the lorry. The furs you can keep.’
      With a shriek the thing in the far corner floated up
into the air. Sarah couldn’t believe what she was now
seeing—a pterodactyl, the flesh-eating flying reptile that
was once the master species on Earth. Its leathery wings,
eight feet wide, flapped and its toothed mouth was wide
open as it dived down towards the Doctor and Sarah.
      ‘Get in the cabin,’ shouted the Doctor.
      Sarah struggled into the lorry’s cabin and hastily
slammed the door behind her. Outside, the Doctor
grabbed one of the furs and flapped it at the attacking
pterodactyl. The flying reptile pulled back and hovered
for some moments before attacking again. But the pause
gave the Doctor the vital seconds he needed to get into
the cabin and behind the driving wheel. The ignition
key was in the fascia and he turned it. The self-starter
worked, but the engine didn’t fire. As the Doctor tried
again, the pterodactyl landed on the roof of the cabin
and leaned over to look at his prey through the
windscreen. On the third try, the engine sprang into
life. The Doctor slipped the lorry into gear and roared
out of the warehouse into the street. Through the rear
mirror he saw the pterodactyl turn and fly off in the
opposite direction.
      Sarah, petrified, stared straight ahead. ‘I can’t
believe it. I simply can’t believe it. Those things died out
millions of years ago.’
      ‘During the Earth’s Cretaceous period to be
correct,’ shouted the Doctor above the noise of the
lorry, as he turned it into the main road and again
headed east. ‘Next to the tyrannosaurus rex, they must
have been the most terrifying creatures this planet has
ever produced.’
      ‘Honestly,’ said Sarah, exasperated, ‘that’s just
typical! We’re attacked by a monster, and you talk about
it like a schoolmaster! That thing could have killed us.
And what’s it doing here in London in the Twentieth
Century?’
      ‘That,’ said the Doctor, ‘is something we may soon
find out. Look what’s ahead.’
      An Army jeep was blocking the road. Two soldiers
with guns, and a sergeant with a loudhailer, were
standing by it, facing the oncoming lorry. The Doctor
drew up close to the jeep, jumped out of the cabin and
walked towards the sergeant.
      ‘My dear fellow,’ said the Doctor, smiling, ‘I’m so
glad to meet you—’
      The sergeant raised the loudhailer to his lips and
spoke into its microphone. His voice was harsh. ‘Stay
where you are! If you advance any further you will be
shot!’
      The Doctor stopped dead in amazement. ‘But I
just wanted to ask you—’
      The voice from the loudhailer drowned the
Doctor’s words. ‘The person in the cabin of the lorry is
to dismount immediately, or we shall fire!’
      The Doctor turned to Sarah. ‘You’d better do as he
says.’
      Nervously, Sarah climbed down from the cabin.
‘Neither of you is to budge an inch,’ continued the
amplified voice of the sergeant. Dropping the loud-
hailer, he turned to the two soldiers. ‘Smith, keep them
covered—and shoot to maim if they move. Wilkins, hop
round the back and see what they’ve got.’ The soldier
called Wilkins ran to the back of the lorry while the
Doctor and Sarah waited.
      ‘If you will let me explain,’ said the Doctor, ‘I and
my young friend—’
     The loudhailer cut in. ‘Be quiet!’ The sergeant
turned to the soldier called Smith. ‘Hold that gun
steady.’
     Smith aimed his gun directly at the Doctor’s head,
finger on trigger. Wilkins returned from the back of the
lorry carrying one of the fur coats.
     ‘They’ve got a load of furs in the back like this one,
sarge. There must be thousands of quids’ worth! ‘
     The sergeant again raised the loudhailer to his lips.
Speaking through it gave him great authority. ‘I’m
placing both of you under arrest. You know what
happens to looters. Now it’s going to happen to you.’
                         2
                   ‘Shoot to kill!’
‘With great respect, sir,’ said Brigadier Lethbridge
Stewart, ‘I cannot and will not order troops under my
command to open fire on civilians! ‘
      ‘These civilians are looters,’ said General Finch,
‘the lowest form of life known to man. You will tell your
troops to shoot to kill! ‘
      The General and the Brigadier stood facing each
other in UNIT’s temporary Headquarters—a school
classroom in North London, on the edge of the area
that had been evacuated. A huge map of London, with
flags to indicate where pterodactyls and dinosaurs had
been sighted, had been pinned over the blackboard. A
military two-way radio, manned constantly by a UNIT
soldier, had been installed in a corner.
      The Brigadier tried to control the emotion in his
voice. ‘I cannot, sir, order the murder of people who
may be innocent.’
      The General’s face reddened. His closely cropped
moustache twitched. ‘Every man, woman and child in
the Central London area has been evacuated by order
of the Government. It has become a prohibited area. It
follows, therefore, that any civilian now found in
Central London is up to no good—and that means they
are using this opportunity to rob and steal. There is
only one thing to do—to shoot on sight!’
      ‘I agree that what is happening is deplorable, sir,’
said the Brigadier, ‘but may I remind you that looters
are not our main problem, and shortage of observation
patrols is. Can’t more troops be brought to London?’
      ‘Definitely not. They’re needed in the reception
areas. You’re forgetting that ten million people have to
be fed, sheltered, and cared for. That’s what the Army is
doing, Brigadier. Helping all those poor people who
have been driven from their city.’
      ‘I realise that,’ continued the Brigadier, ‘but the
front-line is here. I think it’s more important that we
find the cause of the crisis than try to deal with its
effects.’
      The General rocked on his heels, clutching his
swagger cane behind his back. ‘On that I agree with
you, Brigadier. May I ask what you’re doing about it?’
      The Brigadier explained that his UNIT troops
were fully occupied in plotting the sightings of
monsters.
      ‘And do you call that doing something?’ smirked
the General. ‘Where is this famous scientific adviser of
yours?’
      ‘Temporarily on leave, sir.’ It was a white lie. He
had no idea where the Doctor was at this moment.
      ‘Really?’ said the General. ‘How inconvenient.
Should he decide to return, do you think he may be
able to help us with our problem?’
      ‘In all honesty, sir, if anyone can find out why
dinosaurs keep appearing and disappearing all over
London, it’s the Doctor.’
      ‘Then the sooner you recall him from leave,
Brigadier, the better.’ The General turned to go, then
paused. ‘I shall let you have some extra men, seconded
to UNIT from the British Army. But their orders will be
to shoot to kill! I hope you understand that.’
      The General marched out of the classroom. The
Brigadier sighed with relief, and slumped into the chair
behind his make-shift desk. He turned to Sergeant
Benton, who had remained standing to attention
throughout the General’s visit.
     ‘Sergeant, you’ve no idea where the Doctor is, have
you?’
     ‘He could be anywhere, sir’, said Benton. ‘But I
wish he was here to help us.’

The Doctor and Sarah were standing between armed
soldiers in a draughty church hall. Ahead of them
another prisoner, a tough-looking young man in a dirty
raincoat, was being questioned by an Army sergeant
seated at a bench desk.
     ‘Name?’
     ‘Lodge.’
     The sergeant wrote down ‘Lodge’ on the top of a
blank sheet of typewriting paper. ‘Age?’
     ‘Twenty-two.’
     The sergeant noted the prisoner’s age, then turned
to the armed soldier standing beside Lodge. ‘What had
he got?’
     The soldier reeled off a list of goods found in the
possession of the prisoner. ‘Two tape recorders, one
radio, and a colour television set.’
     ‘Right, my lad,’ said the sergeant to Lodge, ‘you
know where you’re going. Take him away!’
     The soldier yanked on Lodge’s arm and steered
him to a far corner of the big hall. The soldiers
guarding the Doctor and Sarah pushed them roughly
towards the sergeant’s desk. The sergeant placed a fresh
sheet of paper before him.
     ‘Names?’ He didn’t look up when he asked the
question.
     ‘If I could have a word with someone in
authority—’ the Doctor blurted out.
     The soldier standing behind the Doctor shouted in
his ear, ‘Quiet! Answer the sergeant’s question!’
     ‘Names?’ The sergeant repeated his question, still
not looking up. He had been on duty for many hours
without sleep. He was tired. He hated looters.
     Sarah spoke up. ‘Sarah Jane Smith.’ Then she
added quickly, ‘But you’ve got to listen to us, please. I’m
a journalist. This is all a big mistake! ‘
     The sergeant wrote down Sarah’s name, and then
looked up at the Doctor, ignoring Sarah completely.
‘And your name?’
     ‘Dr John Smith,’ said the Doctor, realising that the
sergeant would never believe he hadn’t really got a
name. He remembered to add, ‘We’re not related.’
     The sergeant wrote ‘Dr John Smith’. Then he
asked, ‘Ages? The girl first.’
     Sarah said, ‘Twenty-three.’
     ‘You’d never believe me if I told you,’ the Doctor
replied.
     The sergeant shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter.
Age is no excuse for what you people have done.’ He
turned to the soldier standing behind the Doctor. ‘What
had they got?’
     ‘The patrol said they’d got furs in the back of a
lorry.’
     The sergeant wrote down ‘furs’. Then he looked
up. ‘Right. You’ll be held for military trial.’
     ‘Just one question,’ said Sarah. ‘Why are the
military running everything? Where are the police?’
     The sergeant, pushed his chair back, stretched his
arms and yawned. His eyes were bloodshot with
tiredness. ‘You were found in the Central Zone, which
you know is under martial law. Only the military are
allowed in the Central Zone.’
      ‘But why?’ asked the Doctor earnestly. ‘What’s
happening?’
      The sergeant looked at the soldiers guarding the
two prisoners. ‘You’ve got a right couple of nutters
here.’ He turned back to the Doctor. ‘Don’t you ever
read the newspapers, or listen to the news on the radio?’
      ‘We’ve been rather a long way away,’ explained the
Doctor.
      ‘Come off it! There’s nowhere in the world doesn’t
know about what’s happening here,’ said the sergeant,
clearly bored by the Doctor’s presence. ‘All right, lads,
take ’em away for their mug shots.’
      The soldier pushed the Doctor and Sarah to one
corner of the church hall where an Army photographer
was waiting. They were told to stand facing the camera
while a soldier held across their chests their prisoner
numbers. Then they were both photographed in
profile.
      Sarah asked the soldiers, ‘Do you get pleasure out
of treating us as common criminals?’
      ‘We’re treating you for what you are,’ said the
soldier photographer. ‘If you hadn’t broken martial law
you wouldn’t be here.’ He took the final photograph.
‘All right, I’ve finished with them.’
      The soldiers pushed the couple towards the corner
where Lodge was already sitting on the floor. One of the
soldiers ordered them to sit on the floor.
      ‘I’d rather stand, thank you,’ replied the Doctor.
The soldier levelled his gun at the Doctor. ‘I said sit
down! ‘
      The Doctor sat.
      ‘What do we do now?’ asked Sarah.
     ‘Wait till an officer turns up.’ The Doctor inched
over to where the young man Lodge was sitting,
hunched up, chin between his knees. ‘How do you do!’
     Lodge gave the Doctor a surly look. ‘You’ve got
nothing to be cheerful about, mate.’
     The Doctor smiled. ‘Surely, this is only a
misunderstanding.’
     ‘That’s one way to look at it,’ said Lodge. ‘There’s
no judge, no jury. It’s martial law.’
     Sarah shuffled over to Lodge. ‘But can you tell us
why?’
     ‘The monsters, of course. But you know about that
already.’
     Sarah and the Doctor exchanged glances. The
Doctor spoke to Lodge very patiently. ‘Let’s pretend
that my young companion and I have been for a trip
into Outer Space, that we’ve only just returned, and we
know nothing about these monsters. Now you tell us
what happened.’
     Lodge grinned. ‘Outer Space? You must be
joking.’
     ‘It’s only a game,’ said Sarah. ‘You see, I’m a
journalist. I want you to tell me what happened, from
your point of view.’
     This approach made more sense to Lodge. He
thought for a few seconds, then spoke. ‘It was about two
weeks ago that they saw the first one—’
     ‘Who?’ said the Doctor, interrupting. ‘Where?’
     ‘Some kids, I think, on Hampstead Heath. They
went home and told their mum they’d seen a dinosaur.
Naturally she didn’t believe them. They found some
friends of theirs, other kids, to go and have a look at it.
Their bodies were found a few hours later.’
     Sarah closed her eyes in horror. ‘How terrible.’
     ‘Do go on,’ said the Doctor quietly.
     ‘Later that day some sort of big bird was seen flying
over Hyde Park. A lot of people saw it. But it wasn’t a
bird—not really. It was a... a... I can’t remember the
name for it.’
     ‘Pterodactyl?’ said the Doctor.
     ‘That’s right! I’ve seen one of them—horrible-
looking things. They’ve got no feathers, sort of naked.
Anyway, that night a ruddy great big thing turned up in
the car park by the Festival Hall. It tramped about,
swinging its tail, and wrecked two hundred cars. The
next day they were turning up everywhere, killing,
crushing motor cars, even walking straight through
people’s houses. There was hundreds of people killed.’
     Sarah asked, ‘But where had they come from?’
     ‘Hold it a moment,’ the Doctor told her. ‘We’ll talk
about that later.’ He turned to Lodge. ‘What happened
then?’
     ‘It was panic, wasn’t it? Everyone with a car packed
everything they could get into it and drove out into the
country. The Government declared martial law in
London, and said everyone had to leave. They got
trains and buses for them, and sent them all over the
place.’
     ‘But where to?’ asked Sarah.
     Lodge shrugged. ‘They put ’em in peoples’ houses
in the country, I think. And they set up big camps for
them. There’s about ten million people gone, you
know.’
     ‘What about yourself?’ asked the Doctor.
     Lodge grinned mischievously. ‘I stayed back for
the pickings, didn’t I? Same as you two.’ He looked over
his shoulder at the soldier who was guarding them.
‘There’s only him,’ he whispered. ‘We could make a
break for it. Want to try?’
      ‘I don’t think so,’ said the Doctor. ‘We haven’t
done anything wrong. What I really want is to speak to
someone in authority—’
      A sergeant marched into the hall, banged his feet
on the bare floorboards as he stood to attention, and
shouted, ‘Right! On your feet!’
      The soldier guarding them came over. ‘You heard
the sergeant! Jump to it!’
      They stood up. A young Army lieutenant entered
the hall, looked at the prisoners, then sat down at the
desk. He took off his cap, placed it carefully on the desk,
and spoke to the sergeant. ‘Bring them over, please.’
      The prisoners were herded towards the desk. ‘I’m
terribly glad to meet you,’ said the Doctor, offering his
hand. ‘This is just the opportunity I’ve been looking for
to—’
      The sergeant barked, ‘The prisoners will remain
silent unless spoken to!’
      The lieutenant asked. ‘What are the charges?’
      The sergeant pointed to Lodge. ‘This one, sir, was
found illegally in the Central Zone, and illegally in the
possession of two tape recorders, one radio, and a
colour television set.’
      ‘Anything to say?’ The lieutenant seemed very
bored, and not at all interested in whatever the prisoner
might have to say.
      Lodge said, ‘I found the stuff, see. I was going to
hand it in.’
      ‘Yes, I see,’ said the lieutenant, as though he had
heard that story many times before. ‘You have been
found guilty of looting. Under the authority vested in
me by the Emergency Powers Act I am sending you to
be held in detention for an indefinite period. You will
be handed over to the civil authorities for trial and
sentence when time permits. Next prisoner step
forward.’
      The Doctor went up to the desk. ‘Lieutenant, I
really must protest. My young companion and I are
totally innocent of the charge—’
      ‘Be quiet,’ said the lieutenant. ‘What is the charge?’
‘Picked up with the girl,’ said the sergeant. ‘Found in
possession of furs and a stolen lorry.’
      ‘Anything to say?’ asked the lieutenant.
      ‘A great deal,’ said Sarah. ‘We found other people
stealing those furs—’
      ‘And you were going to hand them in?’ queried the
lieutenant, with an unconcealed sneer.
      The question threw Sarah off her guard. ‘Not
exactly,’ she admitted. ‘We were mainly concerned with
escaping from a pterodactyl.’
      ‘And I think you were mainly concerned with
getting away with those furs,’ said the lieutenant. He
cleared his throat before pronouncing verdict. ‘You are
both found guilty of looting. Under the authority vested
in me by the Emergency Powers Act I am empowered to
hold you in detention for an indefinite period. You will
be handed over to the civil authorities for trial and
sentenced when time permits.’ He stood up and clapped
on his cap. ‘Thank you, sergeant. Get them away from
here as soon as possible.’
      ‘Yes, sir! ‘ The sergeant stood to attention and
saluted as the lieutenant hurried out of the church hall.
The sergeant turned to the prisoners. ‘Back in your
corners, you lot.’
      ‘I’m hungry,’ said Sarah. ‘Is starvation part of the
punishment?’
      ‘If you behave yourself, I’ll get some food sent in to
you.’ The sergeant turned and left the hall.
      One soldier now remained to guard the prisoners.
He levelled his gun at them. ‘Back to the corner, and sit
down. You won’t have long to wait. Transport will be
arriving to take you to the detention centre any minute
now.’
      Seated on the floor once more, the Doctor turned
to Lodge, ‘Did you say something about making a break
for it, old man?’
      ‘Doctor,’ exclaimed Sarah, quite shocked, ‘we
mustn’t do anything of the sort! We’ll get ourselves into
even more trouble.’
      ‘I hardly think that’s possible,’ said the Doctor. ‘No
one will listen to us. Escape seems the only way out of
this mess.’ He turned back to Lodge. ‘How do you
propose we get away?’
      Lodge glanced round furtively at their guard. The
soldier had sat down, his back to them. ‘There’s three of
us. We could jump him.’
      ‘My dear chap,’ said the Doctor, ‘let us be a little
more subtle than that.’
      Lodge, whose friends didn’t normally use such
words as ‘subtle’, turned to Sarah in despair. ‘What’s the
old geezer talking about?’
      ‘The “old geezer”,’ she said, hotly, ‘is much
brighter than you are, so listen to him!’
      Lodge turned back to the Doctor. ‘All right. What’s
the plan?’
      ‘We have a fight,’ said the Doctor.
      Lodge didn’t understand. ‘Eh?’
      The Doctor put on a loud, Cockney accent. ‘It was
you what grassed on us!’
      Lodge understood now. In his world, ‘to grass’
meant to give information to the police—the worst
possible social behaviour. He immediately reacted: ‘I
never grassed in my life!’
      The Doctor stood up, towering over Lodge. ‘Get
on your feet, you low-down dirty stool pigeon!’
      ‘Stool pigeon’ was another term that meant an
informer.
      Lodge jumped up and faced him. ‘You don’t call
me names like that and get away with it!’
      ‘Don’t I?’ sneered the Doctor. ‘I know what they
say about you in these parts. You’ve always been a
copper’s nark. Your family are well known for it.’
      This stung Lodge. The only loyalty he knew was to
his immediate family. The insult deeply offended him.
‘All right, you great dressed-up twit,’ he bellowed. ‘You
asked for it!’ He swung his fist at the Doctor’s face. The
Doctor sidestepped, and landed a light blow to Lodge’s
chest.
      Sarah screamed at the soldier: ‘Stop them!’
      The soldier ran forward, waving his rifle as though
he was about to strike his two struggling prisoners.
Sarah stuck her foot out. The soldier tripped, tumbling
forward. Lodge grabbed and held on to the rifle. The
Doctor caught the soldier, applying a Venusian karate
hold to the man’s neck. The soldier passed out,
unconscious. The Doctor gently lowered him to the bare
floorboards. Lodge watched in amazement.
      ‘What did you do?’
      ‘Never mind,’ said the Doctor. He looked around
for means of escape. ‘We can get through that window.’
There was a brick wall opposite the window: clearly it let
on to an alleyway.
     Lodge aimed the gun at the Doctor. ‘You go
through the door, the way we came in! ‘
     ‘But we’ll all three go together,’ Sarah said.
     ‘Not while I’ve got the gun,’ said Lodge viciously.
‘You two—out through the door. While you’re being
overpowered by the soldiers, I’ll go through the
window.’
     Sarah stood up and faced Lodge. ‘You dirty cheat!
We shouldn’t have had anything to do with you.’
     Lodge grinned. ‘That’s right. But then I didn’t
have your nice education, did I? Where I was brought
up life was rough. You had to look after yourself or go
under...’ His attention focused on Sarah, he didn’t
notice the Doctor’s quick move to come behind him.
The Doctor’s hands slipped round Lodge’s neck, again
applying the Venusian karate hold. Lodge gurgled for a
moment, dropped the gun, then fell to the ground
unconscious.
     ‘What a boring fellow,’ said the Doctor. ‘Now let’s
get out of here.’
     They raced to the window, climbed out into the
alleyway. ‘This way,’ said the Doctor, grabbing Sarah’s
hand and dragging her towards the street that ran in
front of the drill hall. As they came out into the street,
the Doctor stopped. ‘Just what we need,’ he said, eyeing
a parked Army truck. It was a small vehicle with a
covered-in back. ‘In that we’re not so likely to be
stopped by military patrols.’
     The Doctor jumped into the driver’s seat; Sarah
got in beside him. He looked at the ignition switch.
     ‘We’re not in luck this time,’ Sarah said. ‘There’s
no key.’
     ‘But with a piece of wire I could jump the ignition.
     Let’s see what they’ve got in the back.’
      The Doctor turned and slid back the door that led
into the rear of the van, and looked straight into the
snout of a levelled rifle.
      ‘Ready to go to the detention centre now?’ asked
the soldier. ‘Because this is the van that’s going to take
you!’

The Doctor and Sarah sat side by side in the back of the
detention centre van as it sped through the deserted
streets of London. Their wrists were handcuffed
together.
     ‘Honestly, Doctor, that wasn’t very clever,’ said
Sarah reproachfully.
     ‘How was I to know it was the detention centre
van?’
     The van turned sharply, throwing them sideways.
Sarah regained her crouched position on the hard
wooden bench. ‘What do we do now?’
     ‘Someone at the centre will listen to us.’
     ‘No they won’t,’ she said. ‘No one’s listened to us
up to now. I can see us being prisoners for months,
probably sewing mail bags or whatever they have to do,
and mixing with criminals...’
     The van screamed to a stop, hurling them both
forward. Suddenly, a thunderous roar made the van
vibrate. The Doctor edged forward and slid open the
door behind the driver’s cabin. The soldier-driver and
his companion were scrambling out, guns in hand.
Through the windscreen the Doctor could see the
gigantic shape of a tyrannosaurus rex blocking the road.
     ‘What is it?’ Sarah shouted.
     ‘Come over here,’ said the Doctor, sliding the door
back a few more inches. ‘That’s one of the biggest and
deadliest land animals that has ever existed on your
planet.’
     Sarah looked and gasped. The tyrannosaurus rex
was standing upright on its two hind legs, balancing on
an enormous tail. Head raised, it was considerably taller
than a double-decker bus. Compared with its huge head
and six-inch-long teeth, its little two-fingered ‘hands’
looked weak and futile. The two soldiers were crouched
against the buildings on either side of the street, firing
their automatic guns into the reptile’s neck. The
monster roared with pain and anger as dribbles of
bright red blood flowed down its leathery green skin.
     ‘I’ve always wanted to study one of those,’ said the
Doctor, observing the scene in his typically scientific
manner.
     ‘Well I haven’t!’ screamed Sarah.
     ‘During their heyday,’ the Doctor went on, as
though oblivious to the danger they were in, ‘they
dominated all other living creatures except the
pterodactyls, which could fly away. Do you notice the
way the serrated teeth curve backwards?’
     ‘I’ve got my eyes closed,’ Sarah replied, honestly.
     ‘That was to tear at their victims. Another thing
about the tyrannosaurus rex,’ he continued, ‘was that
they were much more intelligent than all the other giant
reptiles. That still meant they were pretty stupid
compared with the smallest mammal. But it gave them a
great advantage.’
     ‘Doctor, do you think we could have the natural
history lesson some other time? I’m terrified!’
     ‘Of course, my dear,’ he said. ‘How inconsiderate
of me. With our soldier guards so preoccupied, this is
an excellent opportunity to escape. Come along.’
      He grabbed her by the hand so that the handcuffs
wouldn’t tug at their wrists, and went through the
doorway into the driver’s cabin. The soldier-driver had
cautiously removed the ignition key before jumping out
to fight the monster.
      ‘We’ll have to run for it,’ said the Doctor, helping
Sarah down on to the road. ‘I suggest we go away from
our reptile friend.’
      ‘What a brilliant idea, I’d never have thought of it.’
      The Doctor didn’t react to her sarcasm. He started
running, Sarah beside him. As they neared the end of
the street there was an explosion behind them. They
stopped and turned. A cloud of smoke filled the street
near the reptile’s tail. One of the soldiers threw another
hand-grenade at the reptile. It exploded with a brilliant
flash and a ‘boom’ that must have been heard miles
away.
      ‘That,’ said the Doctor, ‘should bring every soldier
in this part of London to this street. The sooner we find
somewhere to hide, the better.’
      They hurried on down the next street. Then the
Doctor stopped abruptly.
      ‘A mews,’ he said.
      ‘A what?’ asked Sarah.
      The Doctor pointed to a small opening off the
street they were now in. The opening led to a
cobblestone mews, a narrow street lined with garages.
      ‘In days gone by,’ said the Doctor, ‘London’s mews
were for the stables of the gentry. Now they have all
been turned into garages. Garages have work benches,
vices, and files. Let’s see what we can find.’
      As the Doctor had predicted, the entire mews was
lined with big garage doors, most of them carrying the
words ‘In Constant Use—No Parking’. There wasn’t a
car in sight.
      ‘Won’t they all be locked?’ Sarah asked.
      The Doctor moved from door to door, testing
them. ‘Under the circumstances,’ he said, ‘hardly likely.
Remember all the shop doors we found open? Ah! ‘ He
had found a little door let into the bigger doors of a
garage—and it was unlocked! ‘Mind the step,’ he
warned, and went through into the garage, tugging
      Sarah after him. Inside, a little daylight filtered
through a filthy window at the far end. The floor of the
garage was thick with black oil. There were various
machines for car repairs, and a well-equipped work
bench. Clamped to the work bench was a vice.
      ‘Exactly what we need,’ said the Doctor. ‘Now all
we want is a file.’ He looked along the tool shelf, found
a foot-long file. ‘Let’s get your cuff open first.’
      Sarah held her wrist so that part of the metal cuff
encircling it was between the plates of the vice. The
Doctor screwed up the vice, closing the plates in on to
the metal cuff. Then he started to file through it.
      ‘Where did that monster come from?’ Sarah asked.
      ‘The Upper Cretaceous Period.’
      ‘I mean how did it come to be here in London
today?’ she persisted.
      ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘a very good question.’
      ‘Don’t you know the answer?’
      ‘That isn’t such a good question,’ he said, working
hard with the file. ‘How could I possibly know?’ He
paused. ‘Am I hurting you?’
      ‘Not yet,’ she said. She could see that she might be
hurt once the file neared her flesh.
      He continued filing. ‘Since the only people we have
spoken to up to now have been either criminals or
rather stupid soldiers, I haven’t much to go on.’
      Sarah tried to work it out. ‘Suppose there was an
egg buried in the ground somewhere, and somehow or
other it hatched!’
      ‘Producing a sweet little baby monster?’ asked the
Doctor, smiling.
      ‘Yes,’ she said, enthusiastically. Then she realised
the fallacy in that idea. ‘But how did it grow to that size
without anyone noticing?’
      ‘Maybe someone kept it as a pet,’ said the Doctor,
‘and turned it out when it got too big to feed.’
      ‘You’re making fun of me.’
      ‘Because I think you’re forgetting the pterodactyl.
I’m almost through now. Grit your teeth in case I hurt
you.’
      Sarah closed her eyes and nerved herself to feel the
file run across the flesh of her wrist. But the Doctor took
great care. After a moment Sarah felt the cuff fall away
from her wrist. She opened her eyes.
      ‘Thanks.’ She rubbed her wrist.
      Wasting no time, the Doctor opened the vice a
fraction of an inch, let the remains of Sarah’s cuff fall to
the floor, then put his own cuff in the vice and set to
work again with the file.
      ‘You see,’ he said, ‘we are talking about many
reptiles, not just one. According to that unpleasant
young man we met in the drill hall, there have been a
large number of monsters popping up.’
      ‘Could it be something that we’re all imagining?’
asked Sarah hopefully. ‘A kind of mass hallucination?’
      ‘It’s possible—but unlikely. You can, if you know
how, hypnotise a whole crowd of people, and make
them believe they’re seeing all sorts of things. But I
don’t think you could do it to millions of people spread
all over a city the size of London.’
      ‘Then what is the explanation?’
      ‘I think it’s got something to do with Time,’
speculated the Doctor. ‘There! I’m through!’ He
opened the vice, and the cuff fell to the floor. ‘People
tend to think of Time as being inflexible, with a
beginning, a middle, and an end. But if you apply
Einstein’s Theory of Relativity to the question of time,
you find that it may move in great curves...’
      His voice trailed off. He was staring towards a
darkened corner of the garage.
      Sarah said, ‘What is it?’
      ‘I think we are not alone,’ he said. He raised his
voice. ‘Hello, old chap. What can we do for you?’
      Sarah watched, her heart beating fast, as a man
came forward from the corner. He was about forty with
long straggly hair and a faded blue smock that came
down to his knees. On his feet were crudely-made
leather shoes, encrusted with mud. His right hand
clutched a rusted knife.
      ‘Back, back, accursed wizard!’ He spoke with a
strong Midlands accent.
      ‘We’re not wizards,’ replied the Doctor quietly.
‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. Do you know where
you are?’
      The man’s frightened eyes darted from the Doctor
to Sarah.
      ‘The witch,’ he said. ‘She put a spell on me. I shall
tell the priest and he will burn her at the stake.’
      ‘Do you know what year it is?’ asked the Doctor.
      The man looked puzzled. ‘What strange tongue do
you people speak?’
     ‘Modern English,’ said Sarah. ‘Tell me, what is the
name of the king?’
     ‘’Tis a stupid thing to ask,’ said the man. ‘All
people know the name of the king.’
     ‘But we don’t,’ said the Doctor. ‘At least, not your
king. Think of us as strangers in your land. Who is your
king?’
     ‘Richard, but he’s in the Holy Land, fighting the
Infidel. John rules now.’
     ‘Good gracious,’ cried the Doctor. ‘We’re not only
dealing with reptiles that died out millions of years ago.
This man has just stepped right out of the Middle Ages!’
                        3
                  The Time Eddy
At UNIT’s temporary Headquarters in the classroom,
the Brigadier and Sergeant Benton stood watching the
radio operator as another report came in about the
sighting of a monster.
       ‘The signal’s very faint, sir.’ The radio operator
turned up the volume control on his console to ‘full’.
‘It’s no good, sir. They’ve faded out altogether.’
       The Brigadier had noticed that this always
happened. There must be some connection between the
appearance of the monsters and his radio operator’s
inability to pick up signals from the military mobile
patrols.
       ‘Did you hear anything?’ he asked.
       The radio operator turned to the Brigadier. ‘Only
that one of the big flesh-eaters had stopped a truck
taking two prisoners to one of the detention centres, sir.
I think they said the prisoners escaped.’
       ‘I can hardly blame them.’ The Brigadier turned
away.
       ‘But they are villains, sir,’ protested Sergeant
Benton. ‘I mean to say, any civilian in the Central Zone
must be there for the pickings. We have to stop the
looting.’
       ‘So I keep being told,’ snapped the Brigadier,
returning to his desk, ‘by General Finch, and now by
special despatches from the Government. What they all
forget is the main problem. We seem to be far more
interested in capturing petty crooks than slaughtering
monsters.’ He glanced across at Benton’s desk where
the ‘In’ tray was piled high with despatches recently
received. ‘You’d better get on with your filing,
sergeant.’
      ‘Yes, sir,’ Benton obediently returned to his desk.
      The Brigadier sat down at his own desk. As an
officer he was supposed to set a good example of
leadership and hard work. At this moment in his career
he had no idea where to lead anyone, and could think
of no work that he could usefully do. It had been so
much easier when he was fighting reptile men* in the
caves of Derbyshire, or even trying to exterminate giant
maggots† that came up from a disused mine in Wales. In
both instances, the enemy was tangible and permanent.
With these giant reptiles, he had no idea at all where
they came from; even worse, he didn’t know where they
went. In every instance when his troops had pursued a
monster it had gone behind buildings—and, by the time
his troops turned the corner, the monster had vanished
as though it never existed. He earnestly wished that the
Doctor had not gone off on one of his jaunts into Time
and Space.
      ‘Sir!’
      The excited voice of Sergeant Benton interrupted
the Brigadier’s thoughts. He looked up.
      ‘What is it, Sergeant?’
      ‘Look, sir.’ Benton was holding a photograph of
the Doctor before the Brigadier’s eyes.
      ‘Very good, Benton. Pin it on the wall as a
souvenir, and we can all wish he was here.’

     *
         See ‘Doctor Who and the Cave-Monsters’ in the same series.

     †
         See ‘Doctor Who and the Green Death’ in the same series.
      ‘But he is, sir,’ Benton persisted. ‘It’s a mug shot
from one of the Army posts. Listen to this.’ Benton read
from an official paper. ‘“Found accompanied by a
young woman in possession of stolen furs and a stolen
van.”’
      The Brigadier sprang to his feet. ‘The Doctor’s
been arrested as a looter?! ‘
      ‘That’s right, sir. And Sarah Jane Smith with him.
They’re being held, or were being held, at Number Five
reception area.’
      The Brigadier hurried across the classroom to the
radio operator. ‘Get Number Five reception area on the
R/T.’
      The radio operator shook his head. ‘Can’t do it, sir.
The interference is too bad. Must be more monsters
about, sir.’
      ‘All right, then,’ said the Brigadier. ‘I’ll go myself.
Sergeant Benton, I don’t know what the Doctor thinks
he’s playing at, but he’s going to have to answer to me!’
      The Brigadier marched out of the classroom.

The Doctor smiled at the peasant from the Middle Ages.
He was acutely aware of the man’s fear—and the knife
clutched in his hand.
      ‘Tell me, old chap, can you remember what
happened to you?’
      ‘’Tis a curse of the witches.’
      ‘Quite probably,’ replied the Doctor, wishing to
sound agreeable. ‘But what were you doing when. when
it happened?’
      ‘I were doing no harm to God nor Man,’ said the
peasant. ‘I were about to slaughter a pig with this knife.’
      Sarah recoiled. ‘Perhaps this is a vengeance on you
for killing a poor defenceless animal.’
      The peasant glared at her. ‘’Tis no crime to
slaughter swine,’ he roared. ‘I have always been a good
man, paying the tithes, tilling my master’s land three
days of the week, and my own for three days. I go to
church on Sundays and have my children christened.’
      ‘But you also believe in witches,’ said the Doctor.
      ‘They cast spells against good Christian folk,’
saidthe peasant. ‘Be a friend, wizard, and take the curse
off me.’
      ‘Unfortunately I can’t,’ confessed the Doctor. ‘You
see, I’m not a wizard—’
      The man, without listening to the rest of the
Doctor’s sentence, raised his knife high above his head.
‘Then I’ll slaughter you as I would that pig!’
      As the peasant lunged forward with the rusted
knife, the Doctor jumped back, tripping and falling.
Sarah flung herself at the peasant, trying to grapple
with him. All at once, as the knife was poised to slice into
the Doctor’s throat, Sarah felt a strange force pulling
her back to where she had been standing. At the same
time, the peasant went backwards until he also was
exactly where he had been standing. Then, as Sarah
watched, the peasant became transparent—and
disappeared.
      The Doctor staggered to his feet. ‘Are you all
right?’
      ‘Are you all right?’ she asked in return.
      The Doctor felt his throat, and grinned. ‘He never
touched me.’
      ‘I can’t understand what happened,’ she said, ‘I
went backwards—and so did he. Everything seemed to go
backwards.’
      ‘Fascinating,’ commented the Doctor, brushing
down his frock coat. ‘A time eddy. Just for a moment,
Time went into reverse.’
      ‘That’s impossible, Time can only go forward.’
      ‘Are you sure of that?’ queried the Doctor.
      ‘It’s the only way I can think,’ she said, lamely.
      ‘Then let me stretch your thinking a little,’ said the
Doctor. ‘Light travels at about 186,000 miles per
second. Right?’
      ‘Everyone knows that.’
      ‘I imagine our friend from the Middle Ages didn’t
know that,’ continued the Doctor with a smile, ‘but let
that pass. If you are looking at a distant star, you may be
looking at it as it was at the time of the birth of Jesus. If
that star, or sun, has a planet and there are people
living on it with a telescope strong enough to observe
events on Earth, what would they see?’
      Sarah got the point. ‘The Romans invading
Britain. But that doesn’t explain people and animals
appearing from the past.’
      ‘No,’ said the Doctor, ‘but it puts to question the
idea that Time is inflexible. On your planet, it was that
chap Einstein who began to realise what was happening.
Time, you see, moves at different speeds in different
parts of the Universe. If I can find something to write
on, let me show you some equations...’
      The Doctor looked about for something to write
with. But Sarah’s attention was focused on sounds
coming from the mews outside.
      ‘I think you’ll have to continue the lecture
tomorrow,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sure that’s soldiers
outside—probably looking for us.’
     The Doctor listened. Nailed boots were clattering
on the cobblestones beyond the big double doors. ‘I
think you’re right,’ he said. ‘I’ll try to bolt the door.’
     He hurried over to the big double doors and
looked desperately for some means to hold them fast.
The approaching footsteps had now reached
immediately outside, and someone was trying the
handle of the door through which the Doctor and Sarah
had entered.
     ‘Hide!’ The Doctor called across the garage to
Sarah in an urgent whisper. She quickly hid behind
some of the machinery.
     The Doctor poised himself by the door to attack
whoever might enter. Suddenly the door flung open
and a khaki-clad figure stepped into the garage. The
Doctor moved forward to apply Venusian karate to the
intruder’s neck.
     The Brigadier, aware someone was approaching
him from behind, turned to face the Doctor,
whosehands were poised ready for his neck.
     ‘Good grief, Doctor,’ he said calmly, ‘whatever do
you think you’re playing at?’
     ‘I was just about to render you unconscious,’
grinned the Doctor.
     ‘So I gathered. If you can resist the temptation,
perhaps you’d be good enough to accompany me back
to our temporary Headquarters. We’re having a bit of
bother with prehistoric monsters popping up. You
should be just the person we need to help sort out the
mess.’

The Doctor regarded the classroom which had been
taken over by UNIT. ‘Is this the best you could do,
Brigadier?’
      ‘We have everything we need. A school provides
plenty of rooms, toilet facilities, and a big kitchen. And
with all London’s children gone, no one was using it.
Would you care to take a seat?’
      But the Doctor had become too interested in the
map of London that covered the blackboard. ‘What do
all the flags mean?’
      Sergeant Benton stepped forward to explain. ‘It’s a
colour code, Doctor. Red flags for the sightings of a
tyrannosaurus, blue for a triceratops, green for your
stegosaurus, and pink for the pterodactyls.’
      ‘You’ve had all those different types of monsters?’
Sarah asked.
      ‘Those are the ones we know about,’ replied the
Brigadier. He turned to the Doctor. ‘We soon realised
that these giant reptiles only appeared in central
London. The Government therefore ordered the
evacuation of the entire area.’
      ‘Apart from evacuating millions of people,’ said the
Doctor, ‘and chasing after looters—’
      ‘And arresting innocent people,’ Sarah cut in.
      ‘—what,’ continued the Doctor, ‘have you actually
done?’
      ‘When these creatures appear,’ replied the
Brigadier, ‘we try to make sure that they keep within
the evacuated area and do not wander off into
populated areas beyond the boundary of this line.’ He
pointed to a heavy red line on the map that ringed
central London.
      ‘But having contained them in this way,’ continued
the Doctor, ‘what do you do?’
      The Brigadier smiled. ‘That’s where you come in,
Doctor. We’ve no idea where they come from, or where
they vanish to. In fact that really puzzles me—the way
they just seem to disappear.’
      ‘I should think the explanation is pretty simple,’
said the Doctor. ‘They return to where they came from.
The past.’
      General Finch marched into the classroom,
followed by Captain Yates. Sarah took an instant dislike
to the General, but warmed when she saw young
Captain Yates of UNIT. Sergeant Benton leapt to
attention. The Brigadier straightened his shoulders and
turned to greet his superior officer.
      ‘All right, Brigadier,’ the General’s voice boomed,
‘I’ve arranged for the extra patrols you want. But I
warn you, I shall expect results.’
      Ignoring the General, the Doctor went forward to
shake Captain Yates’s hand. ‘My dear Yates,’ he
grinned, ‘how nice to see you again. How are you?’
Only recently, when UNIT and the Doctor had been
battling against an artificially created outbreak of giant
maggots in Wales, Captain Yates had been captured by
a group of villains and mentally ‘readjusted’ so that he
would do their bidding. At their orders he had almost
murdered his good friend the Doctor, but his own
conscience had prevented him from carrying out the
order at the last moment. Although the Doctor had
eventually helped Yates recover control of his own
mind, it was generally believed that the young Captain
had undergone terrific mental strain. He was given a
very long leave in which to get better.
      ‘I’m fine now,’ said Captain Yates, ‘thanks to you.’
      General Finch, who did not like being ignored at
any time, turned and stared at the Doctor. ‘Who is this
man?’
      ‘This is the Doctor, sir,’ said the Brigadier, ‘our
scientific adviser.’
      ‘We’ve all been waiting for you to show up. May I
ask where you’ve been?’ said the General.
      ‘Certainly,’ replied the Doctor.
      There was an awkward silence. The General
realised the Doctor was making a fool of him. ‘Well?’ he
rapped.
      ‘You may ask,’ replied the Doctor, ‘but I don’t
intend to give an answer, not if you speak to me in that
tone of voice.’
      The Brigadier stepped in quickly. ‘Doctor, this is
General Finch. He has overall charge of this entire
operation.’
      ‘Really?’ said the Doctor. He smiled disarmingly
and extended his hand to the now red-faced General.
‘How do you do? I’m terribly pleased to meet you.’
      Before the General could utter a word, the
Brigadier spoke rapidly. ‘The Doctor’s already come up
with a most interesting theory, sir. He believes that
these creatures are coming to us from the past.’
      The General touched his closely cropped
moustache. ‘Very interesting. How?’
      The Brigadier turned back to the Doctor. ‘That’s a
good point, Doctor. How do they do it?’
      ‘Somebody or something,’ said the Doctor airily, ‘is
causing temporal displacement on a massive scale.’
      ‘Temporal displacement?’ queried the Brigadier,
not understanding the terminology.
      ‘Putting it another way,’ continued the Doctor,
‘someone is mucking about with Time.’37033036
      ‘Rubbish,’ said the General. ‘Absolute nonsense!’
      ‘I take it you have a better theory, General?’
     The General cleared his throat noisily. ‘Some mad
scientist fellow has been secretly breeding these things.
Now they’ve escaped.’
     Sarah piped up, ‘That wouldn’t account for the
man from the Middle Ages we met in the garage! ‘
     General Finch turned and stared at Sarah, as
though he hadn’t noticed her before. ‘Who is this
person?’
     ‘Sarah Jane Smith. I’m a journalist.’
     The General swung back to face the Brigadier. ‘No
journalists are allowed in this zone. Have her evacuated
immediately.’
     ‘Miss Smith is acting as my assistant, General,’ the
Doctor turned to her. ‘You were saying, my dear?’
     Sarah quickly told of their encounter with the
peasant from the time of King John. ‘Don’t you see,
General,’ she concluded, ‘it’s not only reptiles, it’s
people. Maybe anything will pop up from the past now.,
     The General rocked on his heels, his favourite
stance. He tapped his leg with his swagger cane. ‘Have
you never heard of mentally deranged people believing
they were Napoleon? I suggest your so-called peasant
was mad.’
     ‘He vanished before Miss Smith’s very eyes,’ said
the Doctor. ‘Madmen can’t do that.’
     From his radio console, the operator turned
excitedly to Sergeant Benton. ‘Another sighting, sarge.
Just come through.’
     In a flash Benton went to take the note the radio
operator had scribbled down while listening to reports
of the new sighting.
     ‘Where is it?’ asked the Brigadier.
     Benton helped himself to a green flag from a little
cardboard box on the desk top, and stuck it carefully on
the map. ‘There, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s a stegosaurus this
time.’
     ‘Get on to the artillery right away,’ the General
ordered the Brigadier. ‘We need field guns to blast it
into eternity.’
     The Doctor stepped forward. He was a good six
inches taller than the General. ‘You’ll do no such thing!
We must study that creature, not shoot at it. How much
do you think we’ll learn from a dead dinosaur?’ He took
the Brigadier’s arm. ‘Come on, Brigadier, I want you to
get me there as quickly as possible.’
     The Brigadier looked startled. ‘What do you
intend to do? Make friends with it?’
     ‘Possibly,’ said the Doctor. ‘But first we’ve got to
catch it.’

The stegosaurus, thirty feet long and weighing two tons,
stood bewildered in a narrow Hampstead side street. In
the distance it could see the green of Hampstead Heath,
and the prospect of so much lush foliage made its salivic
juices run. But immediately ahead was a little group of
mammalian midgets coloured brown, and they were
frightening because they carried sticks that made big
bangs. Each time one of the sticks banged, the
stegosaurus’s nerve centre set in its hip reacted to pin
pricks of pain. No doubt a tyrannosaurus or a
pterodactyl would have enjoyed the little mammals, as a
between-meals snack, but the stegosaurus longed only to
munch peacefully on big green leaves. It wished the
little mammals would all go away. In anguish at being
trapped in this uninviting valley, it swished its tail. The
fronts of three houses shattered and crumbled with a
roar of falling bricks and masonry. As the dust cleared,
the three houses looked like dolls’ houses with the front
taken away—each floor left intact with the furniture
now exposed to view.

The jeep which was carrying the Doctor and the
Brigadier screeched to a halt. A UNIT corporal ran
forward and saluted.
      ‘Corporal Norton, sir!’
      The Brigadier jumped down from the jeep.
‘What’s the situation, corporal?’
      ‘As you can see, sir, we’re containing the steggi in
this street.’
      The Doctor raised his eyebrows. ‘The steggi?’
      ‘We had to shorten their names,’ explained the
Brigadier. ‘This Latin scientific stuff got a bit beyond
some of my men.’
      ‘Whatever you call it,’ said the Doctor, ‘it’s a
remarkable specimen. I must get a better look.’ He
strode towards the great mound of armour-plated flesh
that blocked the little street.
      ‘Do be careful!’ called the Brigadier.
      ‘It’s all right. These things were vegetarians.’
      The stegosaurus was backing further and further
into the street. It swished its tail in fear, totally
destroying two more houses.
      ‘It’s causing terrible damage to private property,’
the Brigadier shouted. ‘We’ll have to lay charges under
it and try to kill it.’
      ‘Don’t be so bloodthirsty. What we need are ropes
and a strong net.’ The Doctor returned to the jeep.
      ‘If you insist,’ said the Brigadier reluctantly.
‘Corporal, what ropes have we got?’
      ‘There are towing ropes in all the vehicles, sir,’
replied the incredulous corporal. ‘If we catch it, how are
we going to move it, sir?’
      ‘Good point!’ The Brigadier turned to the Doctor.
‘How indeed, eh?’
      ‘One thing at a time,’ said the Doctor. ‘If we can
rope its legs together, that will stop it moving. Then we
could get one of those giant trucks they use for
transporting heavy equipment. I want to get it
somewhere quiet so that I can observe it under
laboratory conditions.’
      ‘And what if it struggles?’
      ‘That’s one of the many risks we shall have to take.
But it may be quite docile. Its brain is only the size of a
walnut.’
      ‘We’ll give it a try then,’ said the Brigadier.
‘Corporal, get all the towing ropes we have to hand—
and tell your men to be careful. One swish of that tail
and they’ll be squashed like jelly.’
      ‘Sir! ‘ said the corporal, saluting smartly. He
hurried away to the Army vehicles standing close by.
      ‘I don’t mind telling you,’ said the Brigadier, ‘that
in my opinion this is a lunatic scheme...’
      The Brigadier suddenly froze, as though Time was
standing still. The Doctor turned quickly to look at the
stegosaurus. The huge reptile was already transparent,
and in a moment had vanished. From the corner of his
eye, the Doctor saw the corporal running backwards
towards them. He looked now at the Brigadier. The
Brigadier blinked, and cleared his throat as the corporal
returned to stand in front of him.
      ‘Tell your men to be careful,’ said the Brigadier.
‘One swish of that tail and they’ll be squashed like
jelly—’ The Brigadier stopped mid-sentence. ‘It’s gone!
It’s disappeared!’
      The corporal turned to look. ‘Blimey, sir. How did
that happen?’
Sergeant Benton placed two mugs of tea on a desk top
next to Captain Yates and Sarah. ‘Thought I’d do a
brew up, sir, while the others are chasing after that
steggi.’
      ‘Very kind of you,’ said Yates.
      Benton smiled and left discreetly.
      ‘You were telling me about Wales.’ Sarah said.
      ‘After all that business with the giant maggots, I
had to have a spot of leave.’
      ‘Had to?’
      ‘The people who created the maggots put me
under some hypnotic spell.’ He smiled, very charmingly
Sarah thought. ‘Lot of nonsense, really. Anyway, I’m all
right now.’
      ‘I hope so.’ Sarah took her steaming mug of tea
over to one of the classroom windows and looked out.
‘It’s weird seeing London like this—all these deserted
streets.’
      ‘I rather like it,’ he said. ‘Have you noticed how
clean the air’s become? No cars, no people. Only
yesterday I saw a fox in Piccadilly.’
      She turned and laughed. ‘And nightingales singing
in Berkeley Square?’ She was referring to an old and
very sentimental song from the years of the Second
World War.
      Captain Yates did not laugh in return. He spoke
quite seriously. ‘It’s not impossible. Nature is always
ready and waiting to take back the places that humans
have despoiled.’
      ‘I like London the way it was,’ said Sarah. ‘Traffic
jams, pollution and all.’
      ‘I suppose you do.’ Yates picked up his own mug
of tea and stared into its steamy surface. ‘Perhaps I’m a
bit old-fashioned.’
      Sarah looked hard at him. What could be going on
in his mind?

General Finch, red-faced and angry, was facing the
Doctor across the classroom.
     ‘Disappeared?’ scoffed the General. ‘You must
mean you disappeared when it got too close!’
     ‘What reason had I to be frightened? It was a
herbivore.’
     ‘A what?’
     ‘A vegetarian, sir,’ explained the Brigadier. Sarah,
Captain Yates and Sergeant Benton were watching the
clash between the General and the Doctor with
mounting interest.
     The General swung round to face the Brigadier. ‘I
should like to know what role you played in this fiasco.
How did you lose it?’
     ‘I’ve no idea, sir. One moment we were getting
towing ropes to capture it, and the next it was gone.
Vanished into thin air.’
     The General’s eyes narrowed. ‘You saw it vanish?’
     The Brigadier, who couldn’t remember exactly
what he had seen, hesitated. The Doctor stepped
forward. ‘The Brigadier and his men didn’t see what
happened. They were temporarily affected by a time
eddy. You see, General, these creatures are being
moved back and forth through Time.’
     The General’s face grew redder. ‘Ridiculous!’
     The Doctor continued calmly. ‘Whenever a
creature appears or disappears, the temporal
displacement produces a localised distortion in Time. As
far as people immediately in the areas are concerned,
Time literally flows backwards. In fact, one of the UNIT
corporals started to run backwards. Naturally, they have
no memory of what has occurred.’
      The Brigadier smiled and tried to soothe the bad-
tempered General. ‘Suppose, sir, that we accept the
Doctor’s theory for the sake of discussion.’ He turned to
the Doctor. ‘What’s the next step?’
      ‘We must capture one of these creatures.’
      ‘What good will that do?’ asked the General.
      ‘I shall explain.’ The Doctor crossed to the map of
London on the blackboard. ‘Someone must be causing
these apparitions, General. I intend to track them
down.’ He pointed to the map. ‘Why are reptiles only
appearing in this one small area?’
      ‘I would hardly call the whole of Central London a
small area 1 ‘ retorted the General.
      ‘But the giant reptiles flourished everywhere on
this planet. So why aren’t they popping up everywhere?’
      ‘I say,’ said the Brigadier, ‘that’s a jolly good point!’
      ‘Could I ask something, Doctor?’ chipped in Sarah.
      ‘Yes, my dear. What is it?’
      ‘What about the man we saw in the garage?’
      ‘I think he was an accident—or an early
experiment.’ The Doctor pointed to the ringed area on
the map. He spoke with mounting conviction.
‘Somebody is deliberately causing these phenomena—
and they’re operating from the middle of London! ‘
      For a moment no one spoke. Captain Yates broke
the silence. ‘You’re overlooking one important point,
Doctor. The whole of Central London has been
evacuated. The military, and a few stray looters, are the
only people living in the entire area.’
     ‘The only ones we know about,’ replied the Doctor.
‘I can assure you that somebody is causing this to
happen, and if my theories are correct, they must be
using massive amounts of electricity.’
     The General smirked. ‘By that idiotic remark
alone, you defeat your own argument. All electricity
supplies have been cut off in Central London.’
     ‘Thank you, General. In that case, they must be
making their own! ‘
                        4
                  The Timescoop
Professor Whitaker peered at the massive control
console of the Timescoop, and smiled inwardly at his
achievement.
      In the entire history of Humankind, he was the
only person ever to have changed Time. Others had
climbed Everest and launched people into space—but
only Professor Whitaker had moved things, people, and
prehistoric monsters through Time!
      Many problems, however, remained to be solved.
The Timescoop had twice gone out of control—once
removing a startled Roman soldier from the midst of a
battle into Trafalgar Square, and once scooping up a
medieval peasant... But these were small errors
compared with the technological magnificence of being
able to focus the ‘scoop on to a particular dinosaur at a
precise moment in pre-history and to bring it safely into
the present.
      It crossed his mind that if he had the time (he
smiled at his own pun) he could hob-nob with any
number of famous people from the past. He could, if he
wished, summon up Henry VIII although the King’s
Old English would be difficult to understand. Perhaps
Oscar Wilde would be more fun to meet, or perhaps the
late Noël Coward. Some of the great mysteries of the
past, such as the disappearance of the two princes in the
Tower, could be solved by the Timescoop.
      Yet although he could manipulate Time, it was the
one thing he was short of. The people he worked with
were always pressing him to complete the Timescoop. If
only they weren’t in such a hurry.
      A technician called across the control room. ‘Power
output holding steady at one million volts, Professor.’
      ‘Thank you,’ he called back.
      Butler, a man he disliked, came over to him. ‘The
next time-transference is due in one hour, Professor.’
      Whitaker turned away and busied himself
adjusting some controls. He’d never liked the look of
the jagged scar that ran down Butler’s left cheek. ‘It
may have to wait.’
      ‘We must maintain the time-transference schedule,’
said Butler. ‘The sequence has been carefully
calculated.’
      Whitaker swung round. ‘How can I work on the
main project when I have these constant distractions?’
      Butler put on his awful smile. ‘These distractions,
Professor, have emptied London for us. We must keep
the authorities off balance.’
      Whitaker tried to avoid looking at the jagged scar.
‘What’s the weather like up above?’
      Butler was surprised by the question. ‘Does it affect
the programme in any way?’
      ‘You know very well it doesn’t. I just wondered if it
was raining. I haven’t seen daylight for a month.’
      ‘If it really interests you, Professor, I shall try to
find out. But may I first ask if we shall have the next
transference on time?’
      Whitaker turned back to his console. ‘I suppose so.
But don’t blame me if the final countdown is delayed.’
He began making rapid calculations on a miniaturised
computer, and paused when he realised that Butler was
still standing behind him. Without turning, he said,
‘Well, what is it now?’
      ‘The final countdown mustn’t be delayed,
Professor,’ said Butler’s voice. ‘You are aware of that.
Everything depends on you.’
      At last Butler was showing some sense. Of course
everything depended on the brilliance and genius of
Professor Whitaker. He liked it when other people
acknowledged this fact.
      ‘I shall do my best,’ he said. ‘Now will you please
stop standing behind me? It puts me off.’
      ‘Certainly,’ said Butler.
      Whitaker’s well-manicured finger jabbed two more
digits on the miniaturised computer, then he stole a
glance over his shoulder. Butler had moved away and
was reading power input dials. Whitaker thought it was
such a pity about that awful scar.

At UNIT’s temporary Headquarters the Doctor had
rigged up the headmaster’s office as a private workshop.
Captain Yates watched as the Doctor wired the main
circuit of the stun-gun he’d just completed—a long
barrelled weapon with shoulder pad, sights, and a
trigger.
      ‘You really think you can knock out a dinosaur
with that thing?’ asked Yates.
      ‘Naturally,’ said the Doctor, continuing with his
work, and wishing Yates would go away.
      ‘How?’
      ‘Relative velocity of molecular reaction,’ replied the
Doctor, knowing that Captain Yates would not
understand a word.
      ‘I see.’
      ‘No you don’t.’ The Doctor paused, looked up, and
grinned. ‘The principle hasn’t been developed on Earth
yet.’
       Captain Yates examined the weapon closely. ‘What
exactly will it do?’
       ‘It’ll temporarily neutralise the creature’s brain
cells,’ answered the Doctor patiently.
       Yates frowned. ‘I thought these creatures hadn’t
any brains.’
       ‘All animals have a brain of some sort. Dinosaurs’
brains are particularly small compared with their overall
size. In fact, the modern kitten has more brains than the
largest dinosaurs ever had.’
       ‘So what’ll happen to the dinosaur when you
switch that thing on?’
       ‘Its brain will be affected by a directional beam
carrying a small power charge.’
       ‘Then what?’
       ‘It’ll faint.’
       ‘What will you do with your monster once it’s
fainted?’
       The Doctor put down the gun. He realised he
wouldn’t be able to get on with any more work while
Captain Yates was there. ‘I’ll surround it with an
electrical field, and wait for it to disappear into the past.’
       ‘Is that going to tell us anything?’
       ‘With any luck I shall discover the source of the
power which is moving these creatures through Time.’
       ‘Will it be accurate enough?’
       ‘I hope so. It’ll be like the way in which
triangulation’s used to detect radio transmitters. I think
it’ll be accurate enough for the Brigadier to send a
squad of men to round up the guilty parties.’
       ‘Jolly good,’ said Captain Yates, putting on his cap.
‘Well, if you can spare me, I’ll let you get on with it,
Doctor.’
     ‘That would be most helpful,’ said the Doctor,
eager to continue his work.
     Yates opened the door to leave and Sarah rushed
through it.
     ‘Doctor,’ she gasped, ‘that General Finch is being
impossible—’ She stopped mid-sentence when she saw
the Doctor’s weapon. ‘What are you making?’
     The Doctor again tried to get on with his work.
‘Ask Captain Yates, my dear. Now will you please leave
me in peace!’
     Feeling rejected, Sarah turned to the handsome
young Captain. ‘That wretched General of yours is
trying to have me evacuated out of London.’
     ‘You’re a civilian, Sarah. You have no official
status.’
     ‘That’s stupid,’ she replied in annoyance. ‘Doctor,
I’m your assistant, aren’t I?’
     The Doctor was attaching the terminals of the main
electrical circuit of the stun-gun, a delicate operation.
‘Yes, yes, my dear,’ he called, without looking Sarah’s
way. ‘Anything you like.’
     ‘There you are,’ Sarah said to Captain Yates. ‘So I
have a right to be here.’
     Yates gave her a quizzical look. ‘Tell you what, I’ll
fix you up with a temporary pass. Just stay out of sight
of General Finch.’ He smiled, and hurried away.
     Sarah came forward to take a closer look at the
Doctor’s work. ‘What did you say that thing is, Doctor?’
     ‘I didn’t.’
     ‘Can I help at all?’
     ‘No.’
     ‘If I’m supposed to be your assistant, there must be
something I can do.’
     ‘There is,’ said the Doctor. ‘Go away.’
      ‘You’d really sooner be left alone, wouldn’t you?’
      ‘How ever did you guess, my dear?’
      Sarah said, ‘I can take a hint.’ She tip-toed out of
the temporary workshop.
      The Doctor sighed with relief, bolted the door, and
tried to get on with his work. As he returned to his work
bench there was a tap on the door.
      ‘Go away,’ he called. ‘There’s no one in here.’
      The Brigadier spoke through the bolted door.
‘May I see you, please? We have a very important
visitor.’
      ‘I am a very important visitor,’ the Doctor called
back through the door.
      ‘Very funny,’ said the Brigadier. But standing
outside here with me is a member of the Government.’
      Reluctantly the Doctor put down the stun-gun and
unbolted the door. Standing outside with the Brigadier
was a short intelligent-looking man in his fifties wearing
an expensively cut lounge suit. His politician’s smile
turned on the Doctor.
      ‘This is the Doctor, sir,’ the Brigadier told the
visitor. ‘Doctor, let me introduce Sir Charles Grover,
Minister with Special Powers.’
      Grover’s smile, seen frequently on millions of
television sets, continued. ‘I do apologise for the
interruption, Doctor. I realise how busy you are.’
      ‘I’m glad somebody does,’ replied the Doctor
without trying to conceal the grumpiness in his voice.
‘Anyway, come in.’
      Grover stepped into the headmaster’s office. ‘The
Brigadier tells me that you may find the solution to this
appalling crisis.’
      ‘I hope so.’ The Doctor took a closer look at
Grover. ‘Aren’t you the chap who started the Save
Planet Earth Society?’
      ‘I had a little to do with its founding,’ said Grover,
modestly.
      The Doctor continued, ‘And you wrote that book,
Last Chance for Man, didn’t you?’
      ‘That’s right, ably assisted by my colleagues, of
course, who did so much of the research.’
      The Doctor extended his hand. ‘My dear chap, I’m
very pleased to meet you. This planet needs people like
you.’
      To the Brigadier’s relief, the Doctor and the
Cabinet Minister shook hands warmly. He recalled that
the Save Planet Earth Society, who sought to predict
what life on Earth would be like in the future, had once
been regarded as a bunch of cranks; they were now
taken very seriously indeed.
      ‘You two have a great deal in common, if I may say
so. The Doctor’s very keen on this anti-pollution
business,’ said the Brigadier.
      ‘And so should you be, Brigadier,’ replied Grover.
‘It affects all our lives.’ He turned back to the Doctor.
‘Tell me, Doctor, do you have any theories on why all
this is happening?’
      ‘I believe the dinosaurs are being used purely as a
weapon of terror, to clear Central London.’
      Grover looked astounded. ‘You mean people are
doing this?’
      ‘Although the speed of Time may vary in different
parts of the Universe as a whole,’ continued the Doctor,
‘the chances of a localised time-slip occurring as a result
through natural causes are extremely rare. Yes, Sir
Charles, people are doing it.’
      ‘But why?’
      The Doctor paused. ‘I take it that everything I say
to you is in strict confidence?’
      The Brigadier spoke up. ‘Doctor, Sir Charles
represents the Government. We have no secrets from
our superiors.’ It was a gentle reminder to the Doctor
that he nowadays worked for UNIT.
      ‘Of course not,’ said the Doctor blandly. ‘My belief
is that the people responsible for bringing these
creatures into the present want to clear London of its
population. They have some vast project that can only
be carried out in a deserted London.’
      Charles Grover looked puzzled. ‘But why London?
If they wanted wide open depopulated areas, why not
choose the Yorkshire Moors or the Highlands of
Scotland?’
      ‘Why indeed,’ said the Doctor. ‘Obviously there
must be some overriding reason, something they need
that is only available to them here.’
      Sergeant Benton rushed into the office. He
ignored Sir Charles Grover, briefly acknowledged the
Brigadier, and went straight up to the Doctor. ‘They’ve
just spotted one, Doctor. Section Twelve.’
      ‘Do you know what kind it is?’
      Benton looked at a chit of paper in his hand.
‘Apato something.’
      ‘Apatosaurus,’ said the Doctor, ‘more commonly
known as the brontosaurus. Large, placid, and stupid.
Exactly what we need.’
      ‘May I ask what’s going on?’ asked Sir Charles.
      ‘This is a stun-gun.’ The Doctor indicated the
weapon on the make-do work bench. ‘It is imperative
that we catch one of these creatures, and I may be able
to do it with this.’ He swung round to the Brigadier.
‘Can I have transport laid on straight away?’
      ‘Of course,’ replied the Brigadier. ‘Benton, see to
it.’
      ‘Already done, sir.’
      ‘Then let’s go,’ said the Doctor. ‘There’s no time to
lose.’ He paused at the door. ‘Excuse our sudden
departure, Sir Charles, we’ll keep you informed.’
      The Doctor, the Brigadier and Sergeant Benton
hurried out, leaving Sir Charles Grover on his own. He
looked round the headmaster’s office. He remembered
when he was master in a grammar school, long before
he went into politics. They were happy days when the
future seemed full of hope. He wished he could have
that time over again.

In the control centre, deep below London, Butler saw a
light flashing. It meant someone was using the lift. He
found this curious since they did not expect visitors at
this time. He hurried out of the control room, down the
corridor to the lifts. The indicator confirmed that
someone was descending. He waited for the doors to
open. It was young Captain Yates.
      Butler said, ‘You’re never supposed to come here.’
      ‘It’s urgent,’ said Yates. ‘Where’s Professor
Whitaker?’
      ‘Playing with his Timescoop,’ said Butler. ‘This
way.’
      Butler led the young Captain along the corridor to
the control room. On entering, Yates looked about
himself, very impressed by all the gleaming scientific
equipment.
      ‘Over here,’ Butler called.
      Yates crossed to where Professor Whitaker was
adjusting controls on the Timescoop. The Professor
looked up. His sickly smile always turned Yates’s
stomach.
      ‘Dear boy,’ said Whitaker, ‘how lovely to see you—’
      ‘The Doctor’s back,’ Yates blurted out,
interrupting him.
      ‘Really? And who, may I ask, is the Doctor?’
      ‘UNIT’s scientific adviser,’ replied Yates, his face
grim. ‘The one person who could catch us.’
      ‘I wish you wouldn’t use words like that. You make
us sound like common criminals.’
      Butler cut in. ‘I think you should listen to Captain
Yates, Professor. This may be important.’
      The Professor turned on his swivel chair to face
Yates. ‘Do carry on, Captain.’
      ‘The Doctor is making a stun-gun to catch one of
the monsters,’ Yates continued. ‘Once he’s got one he
intends to surround it with an electrical field and then
wait for it to disappear. In some way, I don’t
understand how, that will give away the location of the
Timescoop.’
      Whitaker laced his fingers and looked down at the
well-polished nails. ‘Most ingenious. And most
improbable.’
      ‘If the Doctor says he can do it,’ said Yates, ‘I
believe him. He’s probably the most brilliant scientist on
this planet.’
      ‘That,’ said Whitaker, looking up sharply, ‘is a
matter of opinion.’
      ‘But don’t you realise what will happen if he’s
right? It’ll be the end of Operation Golden Age.
Everything we’ve planned will be ruined.’
      ‘Well,’ said Whitaker after a few moments’ thought,
‘you’re the soldier. You’d better do something about
this Doctor of yours.’
      ‘I’ll do nothing to harm him, nor will I allow him
to be harmed by anyone else. If we descend to that sort
of thing we’re no better than the society we’re trying to
get away from.’
      ‘How very touching,’ said the Professor. ‘Then
what do you propose we do?’
      Yates hesitated. ‘I’m afraid I have no idea.’
      ‘Naturally,’ scoffed Professor Whitaker. ‘I’m the
one who has to come up with all the ideas. So now I
shall contribute yet another brilliant inspiration—for the
good of the cause. We must sabotage this so-called stun-
gun.’
      ‘How?’
      ‘It won’t be difficult.’ The Professor rose from his
swivel chair. ‘Give me a few minutes at the work bench
and I shall produce the very thing for you.’
      ‘For me?’ queried Yates.
      ‘Of course, dear boy. You’ll have to deliver the
goods. But don’t worry, it’ll only affect the stun-gun. I
shall see that not a hair of your precious Doctor’s head
is harmed.’

The Brigadier’s jeep screamed to a stop. He gazed in
awe at the monster which the soldiers were holding at
bay. Long as a railway coach and thirty tons in bulk, the
giant, fully-grown brontosaurus filled the little street
next to a factory.
     ‘What a remarkable specimen,’ said the Doctor as
he climbed out of the jeep. He carefully laid the
cumbersome stun-gun on the back seat. ‘Let’s take a
closer look.’
     Cautiously, the Brigadier and the Doctor walked
towards the towering monster. Its head, high as a three-
storey house, swung to and fro on the end of its long
neck: it was trying to get the humans into focus.
     ‘How convenient,’ remarked the Doctor, ‘to have it
turn up in a cul-de-sac. It can’t escape.’
     ‘Is this the kind you wanted, Doctor?’ the Brigadier
asked with a shiver.
     ‘The bigger the better,’ replied the Doctor, rubbing
his hands together. ‘The larger the mass, the greater the
temporal displacement.’
     ‘What’s the firing range of that stun-gun of yours?’
asked the Brigadier.
     ‘I shall have to get up quite close,’ said the Doctor.
‘But not to worry. These fellows aren’t partial to flesh.’
He gazed at the monster’s head towering above him.
‘He got that big by munching soft plants.’
     Another jeep screeched to a halt. Captain Yates
stepped out. ‘Anything I can do, Doctor?’
     ‘You could get my stun-gun,’ the Doctor called
back.
     The Captain ran to the Brigadier’s parked jeep. As
he picked up the weapon, he took a small metallic disc
from the palm of his hand and pushed it into position
under the barrel. It would, Professor Whitaker had
assured him, neutralise the stun-gun without
endangering the Doctor.
     ‘You carry the gun,’ Yates told a soldier. ‘I’ll take
the power pack.’ Yates picked up the rucksack which
contained nothing more than high-voltage batteries
attached to the stun-gun. Together they carried the
apparatus to where the Doctor was standing.
     ‘Thank you,’ said the Doctor. ‘Now, someone help
me on with the power pack.’
      With Captain Yates’s help the Doctor struggled
into the rucksack, and then took the gun from the
soldier.
      The Brigadier called to his soldiers, ‘Stand by with
covering fire if necessary! ‘
      ‘It won’t be necessary,’ smiled the Doctor. ‘These
things don’t bite. Five minutes from now we shall have a
very unconscious brontosaurus on our hands.’
      The Doctor walked forward into the cul-de-sac.
The reptile turned its head again, focusing on the
midget now approaching. It backed away, its vast
whiplash tail pushing down a high brick wall at the end
of the street. The Doctor stopped when he was directly
under the monster’s head. Satisfying himself that the
stun-gun had been correctly adjusted, he took careful
aim and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The
Doctor examined the controls, made a finer adjustment,
took aim, and fired again. Still no response from the
stun-gun. Suddenly, the Doctor heard a great roar of
anger from behind him. He spun round. Blocking the
exit from the narrow street towered a thirty-feet-high
tyrannosaurus rex, its savage jaws dripping with the
blood of some prey it had just killed, before being
hurtled through a hundred and fifty million years of
Time.
      The Brigadier blinked. ‘What happened?’ For a
fraction of a second, Time had stood still for him.
      ‘That monster,’ shouted Captain Yates, ‘it must
have suddenly appeared. I must save the Doctor. It’s a
killer!’
      Yates drew his service revolver and ran towards
the tyrannosaurus rex.
      ‘Yates,’ called the Brigadier, ‘come back. We can’t
fire on it with you there! ‘
     But Captain Yates ignored the Brigadier. He
worked his way round the giant’s foot, hoping to get a
shot at its head. Rounding the base of the monster, he
saw that the brontosaurus had vanished. The Doctor
had tripped, and lay stunned on the ground. The
tyrannosaurus rex was lowering its blooded jaws to eat
the Doctor. Captain Yates fired twice at the monster’s
bead, hitting the huge jaw with the second bullet. The
reptile raised its head, as though angered by the bite of
a fly. In that moment Captain Yates threw himself
across the narrow street, landing beside the discarded
stun-gun. He ripped off the concealed metallic disc,
grabbed the stun-gun, and rolled over on to his back.
Aiming the sights at the monster’s towering head, he
pulled the trigger. The stun-gun sizzled with the power
flowing through it. Instantly the monster staggered.
Yates blasted it again. The tyrannosaurus rex, the most
feared animal which had ever lived, leaned drunkenly
against the wall of the factory, its little two-fingered
hands flaying the air hopelessly. Captain Yates
scrambled to his feet, grabbed the Doctor under his
arms and pulled him to safety, just as the reptile
crumpled forward in a dead faint.
                      5
               Monster in Chains
‘You tried to murder the Doctor!’
     Captain Yates was standing over Professor
Whitaker, shaking with anger. ‘You deliberately
materialised a savage monster knowing full well it would
attack the Doctor!’
     Butler, his scar more livid than usual, spoke up.
‘An unavoidable mistake, Captain Yates.’
     ‘It was deliberate,’ Yates stormed. ‘And you know
it!’
     ‘If I may be allowed to speak,’ said Professor
Whitaker, ‘it was you, Captain Yates, who sabotaged the
stun-gun.’
     ‘Only to stop the Doctor catching a monster, and
certainly not so that you could turn a flesh-eater on to
him!’ He tried to speak more calmly. ‘Look, let me tell
the Doctor what we’re doing. I’m sure he’d be
sympathetic. He might even try to help us.’
     Professor Whitaker’s face hardened. ‘That’s quite
out of the question. What if he didn’t agree with our
aims?’
     ‘But I’m sure he would,’ Yates pleaded.
‘Everything we are doing is for the good of Mankind.’
He paused. ‘It is, isn’t it?’
     Butler. smiled. ‘Captain Yates, would you be
involved if it were not? In the end we shall be judged
the saviours of the human race. One cannot have ideals
higher than that.’
     Yates felt reassured. ‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘But
there’s no need to harm the Doctor.’
     Professor Whitaker smiled. ‘It’s nice to see you
care. I wouldn’t mind meeting this Doctor myself
sometime.’ Then he added quickly, ‘But not just now.
Tell me, what stage has he reached?’
     ‘They’ve taken the creature to an aircraft hangar
on the fringe of the evacuated area. The Doctor’s
surrounding it with an electrical field. As I told you
before, he intends to record when the monster vanishes
in order to track down the location of this control
centre.’
     ‘Then more sabotage will be necessary,’ said
Butler. ‘More work for you, Captain Yates.’
     ‘Sorry. Count me out.’
     Butler and Whitaker exchanged a quick glance.
Butler continued, ‘We can’t count you out, Captain
Yates. Who else can do the sabotage except you?’
     Yates thought about that. ‘All right. What do you
want me to do?’
     ‘Ensure that the Doctor’s instruments don’t work,’
said the Professor. ‘In due course, the creature will
return to its own time. When that happens, the Doctor
must not be able to locate the source of its temporal
displacement.’
     ‘I’ll do what I can,’ promised Yates, preparing to
leave.
     ‘Don’t forget,’ added Butler, ‘that if the Doctor
finds this place, it will mean the end of Operation
Golden Age. The entire future of Man depends on you,
Captain Yates.’
     Yates nodded, and hurried out.
     Whitaker turned to Butler. ‘You forgot to mention
the past of Man.’
     Butler, his back to the Professor, was studying a set
of instruments. ‘There are some things it’s better for
Captain Yates not to know.’

The Brigadier and Sarah were standing in the hangar
office gazing through an internal window at the Doctor
as he walked the length of the tyrannosaurus. The giant
reptile, still unconscious, and lying on its side, filled the
aircraft hangar. Thick chains, attached to heavy spikes
driven into the concrete floor, were pad-locked round
the creature’s hind legs, tail and neck. A series of
electrical antennae, rather like indoor television aerials,
surrounded the monster. These antennae were linked
by cables to an apparatus that the Doctor had hastily
rigged up in the office.
       ‘I hope it doesn’t wake up,’ said Sarah.
       ‘Don’t worry,’ replied the Brigadier. ‘Those chains
could hold a herd of wild elephants.’
       The Doctor, seeming satisfied with the
arrangements in the hangar, returned to the office.
       ‘Sleeping peacefully?’ asked the Brigadier.
       ‘Not exactly sleeping,’ said the Doctor, as he
checked the dials and gauges of the directional detector,
‘but still in a faint. I wonder if those creatures ever
dreamed?’
       ‘What a curious fellow you are,’ laughed the
Brigadier, ‘to think of something like that at a time like
this.’
       ‘There’s not much else to think about until the
animal dematerialises.’ The Doctor adjusted some of the
controls.
       Sarah seized her opportunity. ‘Then perhaps I
could tell you something, Doctor?’
      ‘But of course,’ he murmured, his attention
entirely focused on a small black knob that he kept
twiddling. ‘I’m all ears.’
      Sarah glanced at the Brigadier. He shrugged and
smiled an encouragement to her to continue.
      ‘I’ve been investigating the whole question of Time
travel,’ she said, hoping to gain his undivided attention.
      ‘Have you?’ He continued to turn the black knob
to and fro. ‘You know, I think this could do with a spot
of oil. You wouldn’t have any handy, would you,
Brigadier?’
      ‘I don’t usually carry it on me.’
      ‘Oh well, I suppose we can manage.’ The Doctor
seemed to forget the troublesome black knob. He
started tapping one of the dials to see if the finger inside
would flicker. ‘You were talking about Time travel,
Sarah.’
      ‘I thought you hadn’t listened.’ Then she
continued quickly: ‘One or two people have dabbled.’
      ‘Fascinating,’ said the Doctor. ‘The main difficulty
is the Blinovitch Limitation Effect. Do you know about
Blinovitch? A great bear of a man from Russia. At least
he was until he dabbled. He put Time into reverse for
himself. The last I heard of him he was reaching
babyhood. Rather a waste, I think. He was a brilliant
man—when he was a man.’
      Sarah persisted. ‘I think someone may have
overcome that limitation.’
      The Doctor turned. ‘On this planet?’
      ‘It’s the only planet I’ve been able to check.’
      ‘Yes, of course. How foolish of me.’ The Doctor
rubbed his nose thoughtfully. ‘I remember there was a
Chinese scientist called Chun Sen... But he hasn’t been
born yet. And then there was a South American, but his
name escapes me.’
     ‘There’s a man called Whitaker,’ Sarah cut in. ‘He
claimed to have developed a workable theory on Time
travel.’
     The Brigadier snapped his fingers. ‘I remember!
He applied for a big Government grant. It was refused.’
     ‘Why?’ asked the Doctor. ‘Has the Government no
interest in science?’
     Sarah supplied the answer. ‘It was Whitaker
himself who put them off. He was always quarrelling
with other scientists—so no one thought his theory
would work.’
     ‘What a petty-minded lot! ‘ exclaimed the Doctor.
     ‘If I remember rightly,’ added the Brigadier, ‘the
Government took advice on the theory. But all their
scientific advisers said this fellow Whitaker was a crank.’
     ‘That is what people always say about anyone with a
new idea,’ complained the Doctor.
     ‘Quite so,’ agreed the Brigadier. He turned to
Sarah. ‘Anyway, what about him?’
     ‘He disappeared,’ she said flatly.
     The Doctor now scratched his nose. This was
becoming interesting. ‘Are you sure of that?’
     ‘About six months ago. Professor Whitaker
completely vanished. I’ve checked with everybody—the
newspapers, the police, his friends. He hasn’t been
heard of for six whole months.’
     The Brigadier cleared his throat. ‘Not that I doubt
a word a minute, Miss Smith, but since all the
newspapers, and the police and everyone else has fled
London, how did you make your enquiries?’
     She smiled disarmingly. ‘I spent rather a long time
using the telephone in your office. STD is still working.’
      ‘Sarah, do you seriously think this man Whitaker
could be behind it all?’ The Doctor looked thoughtful.
      ‘It’s something I once read on how the police
work,’ she explained. ‘If there’s a murder or a robbery,
they always look for any odd thing that happened at
around that time. The man, for example, who always
drives himself to work but on the day of the murder
travelled by bus. Now here we’ve got someone playing
around with Time, and six months ago the one man
who claimed he could control Time vanished. And it’s a
fact that never before in his life did he go off without
telling everyone of his whereabouts—you know,
holidays, attending international conferences, and so
on.’
      The Brigadier was clearly impressed. ‘This is a
most extraordinary coincidence, don’t you agree,
Doctor?’
      Before the Doctor could answer, Sarah concluded
her argument. ‘You see, Doctor, he must have been
bitterly disappointed when the Government refused to
help him develop his theories. So what if he found other
people who would put up the money and provide all
the facilities he’d need?’
      The Doctor was pensive for some moments. Then
he began to speak rapidly. ‘I’d like to see this chap’s
working papers, Brigadier. Is that possible?’
      ‘I suppose they must be somewhere, perhaps at his
home, or filed by the Government when he made his
application for help.’
      ‘Another thing,’ said the Doctor, ‘ask your UNIT
chaps to transport the TARDIS to your temporary
Headquarters. There are special instruments inside that
I shall need.’
     ‘The order was given some hours ago. The
TARDIS should be there by now.’
     ‘Good. Perhaps you could drive me over there.’
     ‘What about your little pet in the hangar?’ asked
Sarah.
     The Doctor looked through the internal window at
the enormous bulk of the green, leathery tyrannosaurus
rex. ‘He’ll be all right for a while.’ He turned to the
Brigadier. ‘You’ll post a guard?’
     The Brigadier nodded. ‘General Finch has lent me
a special squad.’
     ‘But what if it dematerialises while you’re back at
UNIT Headquarters?’ Sarah asked.
     ‘My instruments will still obtain the necessary
readings. Are you going to come with us?’
     ‘Yes,’ replied Sarah eagerly. ‘I must get my
camera.’
     ‘Whatever for?’ asked the Brigadier.
     ‘I’m a journalist, remember. When all this is over, I
want to write about it and have photographs to offer to
newspapers. It’ll be the scoop of a lifetime.’
     The Brigadier looked stern. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Smith,
but this whole affair is under a strict security blackout.
You can take your photographs once the crisis is over.’
     ‘But, Brigadier,’ she cried out, ‘when the crisis is
over there won’t be anything to photograph! ‘
     ‘I’m sorry, Miss Smith,’ the Brigadier repeated
firmly, ‘but those are my orders. Are you ready,
Doctor?’
     The Doctor and the Brigadier hurried out. Sarah,
pouting a little, took one last look at the monster, then
turned and followed.
     Had Sarah remained behind one second more she
might have seen the reptile’s right eyelid blink. It was
only a momentary flicker, as the reptile’s minute brain
was starting to regain consciousness. As often happens
with humans when they recover from a faint, the
tyrannosaurus rex had a very severe headache. It
breathed deeply, then fell into a peaceful sleep.
      Captain Yates quietly entered the office. For the
past half hour he had been concealed in one of the
corridors leading out of the hangar, waiting for the
office to become vacant. He looked at the Doctor’s
directional detector, contemplating how best to render
it useless.

The TARDIS was standing in a corner of the
headmaster’s office. Sarah, who had been making some
preliminary notes about the appearances of the
dinosaurs, looked up as the Brigadier entered with
General Finch and Sir Charles Grover.
      ‘Where’s the Doctor, Miss Smith?’
      She nodded towards the open door of the
TARDIS. ‘In there.’
      The Brigadier called into the police box. ‘Doctor,
could you spare us a moment?’ Then he introduced
Sarah to the Cabinet Minister.
      The Doctor’s head popped out of the TARDIS.
‘What is it now? I’m busy.’
      ‘The Minister has some information for you about
this fellow Whitaker,’ explained the Brigadier.
      The Doctor smiled. ‘Then you have my full
attention.’
      ‘It’s rather negative information,’ said Sir Charles.
‘I was chairman of the committee that considered
Whitaker’s application for a government grant. I
actually saw his working papers. Not that I understood
them, of course, but my scientific advisers assured me
they were utter nonsense. All I can say is that the man
is, or was, a harmless crank. He couldn’t possibly be
responsible for this dinosaur business.’
      Sarah spoke up, unable to contain herself. ‘That’s
not what I’ve heard, Sir Charles! I’ve spoken to his
colleagues who were at Oxford with him, to the science
correspondent of The Times, and to the editors of a
number of scientific journals. They all say he was
brilliant! ‘
      Sir Charles turned to her with a kindly smile. ‘His
work on the measurement of the internal weights of
atoms was brilliant, Miss Smith, and so was his
contribution to the analysis of magnetic infractions. But
his ideas about Time travel were completely worthless.’
He turned back to the Doctor. ‘I understand you have
set up an experiment that may give us a clue to the
appearance of the dinosaurs? I’d be interested to hear
more about it.’
      ‘I shall need the map of London to explain what I
have in mind. Brigadier, may we all go to your office?’
      The Brigadier opened the door and ushered out
the Doctor and Sir Charles. ‘General Finch, sir? Will
you accompany us?’
      ‘I have to get back to my own headquarters,’ said
the General. He gazed at the police box in silence until
the Brigadier and the others had left. Then he spoke to
Sarah. ‘You say this chap Whitaker disappeared, Miss
Smith?’
      ‘So far as I know. He vanished six months ago. Just
upped and left home.’
      ‘A lot of people do disappear. They leave home,
change their names, try to make new lives for
themselves.’
      ‘Not famous scientists.’
      The General laughed gruffly. ‘A famous Member
of Parliament once tried to do it. We never know what
pressures people are really undergoing.’
      ‘It seems to me,’ said Sarah, ‘that this is an
enormous coincidence.’
      ‘What do you intend to do?’
      ‘Keep looking for him,’ she replied with
determination. ‘I’ll make those pompous idiots believe
me. Even the Brigadier’s of no help. We’ve got that
monster chained down, and he wouldn’t let me take
photographs of it—wouldn’t even give me a pass to go
back to the hangar.’
      ‘That seems most unfriendly of him,’ said the
General, showing a softer side of his character. He took
out a little notebook, wrote a few lines, and handed a
slip of paper to her. ‘Take this to my Headquarters, see
my Adjutant. He’ll give you a pass.’
      Sarah was thrilled. ‘Thanks! Where is your HQ?’
      ‘Show the note to my driver. He’ll take you there.’
      Sarah was so pleased that she felt like giving the
General a kiss, but on second thoughts restrained
herself. ‘Thank you, General. Thank you very much
indeed.’ She rushed to the door, then paused. ‘What
about you? Won’t you need your car?’
      ‘I have things to attend to here. Have a good trip.’
      ‘I will!’ Sarah rushed out of the office, clutching the
tiny slip of paper.
      Alone, the General looked at the Doctor’s
workbench. After a few moments’ search among the
tools, he found the hacksaw that he was shortly going to
need.

Sarah was studying the inert tyrannosaurus rex from
the safety of the hangar office. She raised her miniature
camera to take the first shot then remembered that the
flashlight would probably reflect against the glass
window. She went through the door that led directly
into the hangar.
      Until now everything had happened so quickly she
had scarcely had time to react to the situation. As she
slowly circled the monster, she experienced a strange
feeling of wonder and awe. She was examining a real
living dinosaur, something that humans had never seen
before because they had not developed until millions of
years after the last of the giant dinosaurs had died. This
animal lived—in a sense was still living—in a time when
the world looked very different from today. Flowers did
not exist in that world because insects had not yet
evolved to carry pollen. To make life possible for so
many varieties of cold-blooded reptiles, the atmosphere
must have been warm and humid. The earliest
mammals were just beginning to evolve, life-forms that
carried their babies within themselves instead of laying
eggs.
      She raised the camera to take the first photograph.
The flash apparatus flared for a split second, and in that
split second the first photograph of a living dinosaur
was recorded for all time. She took a series of
photographs of the monster’s bulk, then moved up to
the enormous head. It was as she pressed the flash
button for the fourth time that the tyrannosaurus’s right
eye blinked again.
      The tyrannosaurus was suddenly, abruptly aware
of blinding light. Programmed into its minuscule mind
was intense fear of lightning storms. Being taller than
most other animals, taller than much of the primeval
foliage (there were very few trees then), the
tyrannosaurus rex was a frequent victim of lightning
strikes. And thunder-and-lightning were almost daily
weather conditions in the warm balmy atmosphere of
pre-history. Time and again the tyrannosaurus rex had
seen its own kind killed outright when the daggers of
electricity sliced down from the clouds.
      With an ear-splitting roar, the monster raised its
head, only to find its movements restricted by giant
chains. Sarah raced back into the little hangar office,
slamming the door. She went straight to the door that
led to the corridor outside—and found it locked. She
banged furiously on the door.
      ‘Let me out! Who’s locked this door?’
      The tyrannosaurus rex tried moving its legs and its
tail. All parts of itself were held down. Instinctively it
struggled to become free. With a new strength born of
fear and anger, it stretched out its legs until suddenly
the chains snapped.
      Sarah heard the crash of the giant chains as they
slid from the monster’s legs to the concrete floor.
Unable to stop herself, she turned and watched in
terror as the dinosaur now raised its neck, snapping the
chains that held down the upper part of its body.
      Temporarily exhausted by its efforts, the
tyrannosaurus rex remained lying on the floor. Then it
became aware of a noisy midget only a few yards away.
Through the window it could see the midget with its
mouth open, screaming. Most of the monster’s prey was
like this just before being eaten—mouth open in fear,
making a loud noise. The thought triggered the
sensation of hunger in the reptile’s brain. It hadn’t
eaten since morning when it caught two very small
dinosaurs. It moved its head forward to take a better
look at its next meal.
       Sarah beat her fists on the door to the corridor.
‘Help! Will someone open this door! ‘
       There was no response. She felt sick with fear.
       The tyrannosaurus rex moved its great snout
forward to take its prey, and found its nose pressed
against something that it couldn’t see. This was
bewildering. There was the prey, clearly visible, but
some plate of invisible substance stood between them. It
wriggled its great bulk round and started to bash at the
little wooden office with its tail.
       The first blow from the tail smashed the window.
The second blow smashed in the entire window frame
and fractured the wall. The third blow brought down
part of the roof. A rafter hit Sarah’s head, throwing her
to the ground. The fourth blow was about to strike as
the door to the corridor opened and the Doctor reached
in, pulling Sarah to safety.
       She was aware of being carried into the open air.
She clung to the Doctor, weeping.
       ‘It’s all right, my dear,’ he said soothingly, ‘you’re
safe now.’
       Hearing a terrific crash of falling masonry, they
looked up. The head of the giant tyrannosaurus rex was
sticking up through the vast roof of the aircraft hangar.
       ‘We must get away,’ shouted the Doctor. ‘If it does
give chase, I don’t imagine it can outrun the speed of a
jeep.’
       Sarah was bundled into the passenger seat. She
turned back to look, fascinated and horrified, at the
giant reptile.
       ‘Doctor! It’s vanishing!’
       As they watched the tyrannosaurus rex
dematerialised and was gone.
Sergeant Benton and two UNIT soldiers carefully laid
the directional detector apparatus on the Doctor’s work
bench. The Doctor was busy inspecting the bump on
Sarah’s head which had been made by the falling rafter.
      ‘The skin isn’t broken,’ he told her, ‘but it will
probably be a bit swollen for a day or two.’ He turned to
the Brigadier. ‘The creature was still in the force field
when it vanished, so perhaps the directional detector
will tell us something.’
      Sergeant Benton carried in a couple of heavy sacks.
‘I think, Doctor, that what’s in here might tell you
something.’ He pulled from a bag a length of heavy
chain. ‘Some of these links have been half sawn
through.’
      The Doctor took the chain from Benton. ‘By Jove,
you’re right!’ He turned quickly to inspect the
directional detector. ‘And this has been sabotaged. Not a
single reading.’
      For a moment there was complete silence. The
Brigadier dismissed the two UNIT privates, and turned
to the Doctor. ‘So we have someone inside our
organisation working against us.’
      ‘Obviously.’ The Doctor rubbed his chin, thinking.
‘I shall now have to try a completely different
approach.’
      ‘Are you going to catch another monster?’ asked
Sarah weakly.
      ‘No,’ replied the Doctor, much to the relief of the
Brigadier and Sergeant Benton. ‘We know these Time
transferences must require enormous amounts of
energy. I’m going to build a device that will detect that
energy at its source.’
      ‘Why didn’t you think of that in the first place?’
asked the Brigadier, a little piqued. ‘Moving thirty tons
of inert reptile from a cul-de-sac to that aircraft hangar
was not my idea of fun!’
      ‘Perhaps,’ said the Doctor disarmingly, ‘because
even I cannot think of everything at once.’
      ‘Exactly how much energy would be needed to
make those things appear, Doctor?’ asked Sarah.
      ‘Oh, you’d need something like a small nuclear
generator.’
      ‘Then why don’t we look for one?’
      The Brigadier smiled self-importantly. ‘You may
sometimes think we military chaps are stupid, Miss
Smith, but that was one of the first things that occurred
to me. I have made a thorough check and I can assure
you there are no nuclear generators which have not
been accounted for in the Central London area.’
      Sarah gave the Brigadier a savage look.
      ‘I’m afraid the Brigadier’s right,’ said the Doctor.
‘There can’t be any nuclear generators around that
nobody knows about. Why don’t you try and get some
rest? You had a nasty fright in that hangar.’
      ‘Thank you,’ said Sarah, apparently resigned. ‘I’ll
do that.’
      ‘Well,’ remarked the Doctor, ‘I’d better get started.
Most of what I need is in the TARDIS. If you’ll excuse
me...’ He produced his key, opened the door of the
TARDIS, and went inside.
      The Brigadier looked at his watch. ‘I’m due for yet
another planning meeting with General Finch. Now he
wants to hang looters in public! I sometimes think the
poor fellow lives in a bygone age.’ He turned smartly
and left the headmaster’s office.
      Sarah and Sergeant Benton were left facing each
other. ‘Isn’t it marvellous,’ she said scornfully. ‘I’ve just
been told to go out and play!’
      ‘The Doctor said you should get some rest.’
      ‘It comes to the same thing.’ She felt her temper
rise. ‘They don’t want to listen to me. Look, if there’s a
nuclear generator involved it must have been designed
and assembled, and all that could be traced. There’d be
records of it.’
      ‘The Brigadier’s checked all that, miss,’ said
Benton, loyally. ‘He found nothing.’
      ‘Maybe it was all secret,’ she said, thinking aloud.
The sergeant smiled. ‘Too secret for the Brigadier to
know about?’
      ‘Yes, why not?’ Sarah had a sudden flash of
inspiration. ‘Can you get me some transport?’
      ‘I could try, miss. But where do you want to go?’
      ‘Out to play,’ she replied pertly. ‘There can’t be
any harm in that, can there?’

‘What a pleasant surprise,’ said Sir Charles Grover as he
welcomed Sarah into his office. It was a small ministerial
study, beautifully furnished, with a fine view of Big Ben
and the Houses of Parliament. ‘I’m sorry you had to
find your own way in here, but we’re down to a skeleton
staff. What can I do for you?’
      ‘I’m very sorry to trouble you, Sir Charles.’ Sarah
accepted his offer to sit down. ‘But you seem to be the
only member of the Government still in London.’
      ‘Indeed I am.’ As he talked, he lit a little camping
gas ring that had been set up on a corner table next to
cups and saucers, a teapot, packet of tea, and a bottle of
milk, all of which looked somewhat incongruous in a
Cabinet Minister’s office. ‘We have no catering staff
now—nothing. But I can make you a cup of tea. Do you
take milk and sugar?’
      ‘Yes, please,’ she said. ‘One lump.’
      Sir Charles put a kettle on to the lit gas ring. ‘The
rest of the Government shot off to Harrogate. But I said
to the Prime Minister, “If I’m in charge of the situation
in London, I’m going to stay on the spot.” So here I am.
How can I help you?’
      Sarah quickly explained the Doctor’s theory that it
would require a nuclear generator to produce the vast
amounts of power necessary for the Time transferences.
She continued, ‘Wasn’t there a plan once,’ she then
asked, ‘to build underground quarters for the
Government in the event of an atomic war breaking
out?’
      ‘That’s true,’ said Sir Charles. ‘The Government of
the day saw itself retreating to a hole in the ground
where it would be safe.’ He laughed. ‘Goodness knows
why! Just ten hydrogen bombs would have destroyed
every city, every living person, every blade of grass in
the British Isles. So they’d have had nothing to govern
once the war was over!’ He poured boiling water from
the kettle into his teapot.
      ‘Do you know whether any of these special
underground shelters were ever built?’ asked Sarah. ‘I
remember reading about them. Weren’t they all to have
their own nuclear generators?’
      ‘Now I see what you’re getting at,’ Sir Charles said.
‘What a remarkable piece of thinking! But I don’t think
any of these places were ever built. I was only a junior
back bencher in the House of Commons in those days.
As far as I know, all the plans were shelved.’ He poured
tea into two cups. ‘Have you talked about this to the
Brigadier?’
      ‘I’m not talking to anyone about it until I can get
some evidence. I thought you might be able to help me.’
      Sir Charles stirred a cup of tea, lost in thought.
‘Maybe I can. There are ministerial files here going back
years, documents that I’ve never had time to study.
Let’s have a look.’ He crossed the study to a small door
and opened it. ‘This is my filing room. Do come in.’
      Sarah entered the little windowless room. It was
lined with grey metal filing cabinets. Sir Charles closed
the door and pressed a button on the wall, causing a
faint whirring sound.
      ‘What’s that?’ she asked.
      ‘The air conditioning.’ He opened one of the filing
cabinet drawers and peered inside at a row of file tags.
‘I hardly understand the filing system myself. I’ve only
been Minister six months, you know.’
      Sarah looked at a guide to the files on the wall.
One item read Top Secret Construction Projects. ‘Could it
be that one?’ she asked.
      ‘I wonder.’ He consulted the index. ‘That would be
File 9941. Let’s see if we can find it.’
      He walked along the row of filing cabinets. ‘We
need the drawer whose files start with the number 9.
Ah, here we are! ‘ He pulled open the drawer, and after
a moment’s search found a manilla file numbered 9941.
      Together they examined the contents of the file:
letters, rough working papers of figures and costs, and a
map. Sir Charles found a sealed envelope, quickly
opened it, and glanced at the Ministerial letter it
contained.
      ‘Do you know, Miss Smith, you were right! They
did build a fully-equipped shelter for the Government
to hide in. And—fancy that!—they never let the public
know. Quite disgraceful.’
      But Sarah was staring at the map. ‘That must be
Whitehall,’ she said, pointing. ‘And the exact position of
the shelter would be...’ She gasped.
      Sir Charles’s well-known politician’s smile faded.
His face set in stern lines. ‘That’s right, Miss Smith. It
was built, nuclear reactor and all, directly beneath this
building. Shall we take a look at it?’
      He gestured towards the door. Sarah turned, saw
that the ornate carved door by which she had entered
had been covered by a metal sliding door. The whirring
sound stopped, and she felt the floor give a very slight
bump. Sir Charles walked forward and pressed the
button on the wall. The metal door slid to one side.
      ‘This is my own very private lift,’ said Sir Charles.
‘After you, Miss Smith.’
      Sarah stepped out into a metallic-walled corridor.
A man wearing a white overall came towards them. A
livid scar ran down one side of his face.
      ‘We weren’t expecting you, Sir Charles,’ said the
man.
      ‘Indeed not. This young lady is coming to stay with
you for a while. Is everything going according to plan?’
      The man nodded. ‘She is to be processed?’
      ‘Immediately.’ Sir Charles turned to Sarah. ‘This
man’s name is Butler. He is a good man and will help
you out of your dilemma.’
      ‘I’m not in a dilemma,’ she protested. ‘I want to be
released immediately! ‘
      ‘That isn’t possible,’ said Sir Charles. ‘Come with
me.’
      He walked ahead of her down the corridor,
obviously very familiar with the place. Butler came up
behind Sarah and occasionally hastened her along with
a gentle shove. She followed Sir Charles.
      Sir Charles opened a metal door that led into a
small cell-like room. It contained one item of
furniture—a chair. ‘You will have to wait in here, Miss
Smith. But no harm will come to you.’
      Butler pushed Sarah into the room.
      ‘You’re both mad!’ she screamed.
      ‘On the contrary,’ said Sir Charles, his well-known
politician’s smile starting to return now. ‘My associates
and I are the only ones who are sane.’
      ‘Creating monsters in Central London is the work
of lunatics.’
      ‘That is how it may seem to you. But there are very
good reasons for it. When you understand everything
you will be eternally grateful. Believe me, my dear, and
try to trust me.’
      ‘They’ll find me,’ she shouted. ‘You’ll be sent to
prison. The Doctor and the Brigadier will be searching
for me! ‘
      ‘I very much doubt it,’ said Sir Charles. ‘And
certainly not where you’re going.’
      Sir Charles nodded curtly and Butler slammed the
door.
      Sarah paced angrily about the tiny room. How
stupid to have walked straight into the trap! It was the
same with that tyrannosaurus rex—she had brought it
all on herself. The bump on her head was throbbing
and she felt very fed up. She sat down on the chair and
tried to stop herself from crying.
      A light set in the metal wall opposite her started to
blink on and off, red and green and orange. She moved
the chair round to face a different wall. There another
light was blinking, pink and blue and mauve. She
moved the chair again, and found herself facing yet
another light. And this time the light began to fascinate
her. In a moment she was staring fixedly at the blinking
light, and all the anger and fear drained from her mind.
                        6
                  The Space Ship
Sarah opened her eyes. A very handsome young man
was smiling down at her. His glinting fair hair was cut
short; his cheeks glowed with good health.
      ‘Welcome to the people,’ he said gently.
      ‘Who are you?’
      ‘My name is Mark.’
      She turned her head to look about her. The walls
and ceiling made one huge curve—it was as though they
were inside a tube. She realised she was lying on her
back on a trolley.
      ‘Where is this?’
      ‘The space ship,’ replied Mark. ‘You see it’s all
come true.’
      Sarah struggled to sit upright. She looked down at
herself. She was wearing a very plain blue denim tunic.
Mark was similarly dressed.
      ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, trying to conceal the
panic in her voice. ‘Where am I?’
      Mark smiled again. ‘We left Earth three months
ago. Come and look.’
      With his help, Sarah got down from the trolley.
Her legs were unsteady, as though she had just awoken
from a very deep sleep. ‘This way,’ said Mark, leading
her to a porthole set in the curved wall. ‘Isn’t that
wonderful?’
      Sarah looked through the porthole on to the black
vastness of Space. Distant suns showed as pin-pricks of
light. ‘How did I get here?’
      ‘You must have forgotten. It’s understandable. But
the Elders will explain everything. Let’s go and meet
them. Come.’
      He held out his hand. Cautiously Sarah took it,
and allowed herself to be led through a curved metal
corridor. They entered a large communal area with
many portholes, tables, and chairs. A middle-aged man
with white hair and a white goatee beard was seated at a
table carving a wooden bowl. Close by, a tall, rather
beautiful grey-haired woman was making cloth on a
treadle weaving machine. Both wore blue denim tunics.
      ‘Here she is!’ Mark announced.
      The man and woman looked up and smiled. The
woman left her weaving and came over to embrace
Sarah.
      ‘You’re the first to recover,’ she said, kissing Sarah
lightly on the cheek. ‘Welcome back to the people.’
      Sarah pulled away from the woman. ‘Who are
you?’
      The white-haired man came over to her and
extended his hand. ‘My name is Adam. This is Ruth.’
      Sarah looked at them in astonishment. ‘Surely
those aren’t your real names!’ She turned to the woman.
‘I interviewed you about that Bill of yours in the House
of Lords against the pollution of rivers.’ She pointed to
the man. ‘And you’re Nigel Castle, the novelist.’
      ‘Not any more,’ said the man who liked to be called
Adam. ‘Now I work with my hands.’
      Sarah turned back to look more closely at the
young man called Mark. ‘And now I remember you,
too. You’re John Crichton. You ran the three minute
mile. What are you all doing here?’
      ‘The same as you, my dear,’ said Ruth. ‘We are on
our way to New Earth, a small planet similar to Earth
but at an earlier stage of development.’
      ‘You’ve been in suspended animation for three
months,’ Adam informed her. ‘But it will all come back
to you when you fully recover. New Earth is still pure,
undefiled by the evil of Man’s technology. There is air
that is still clean to breathe, and a simple pastoral
people, innocent and unspoiled. It will be our task to
guide them so that the evils developed on Earth shall
not be repeated.’
      Sarah was convinced these people were mad. She
decided to humour them. ‘Just the four of us have to do
all that?’
      Mark laughed. ‘You really are forgetting things.
There are over two hundred of us on this ship. Look.’
He crossed to a monitor screen set in the wall and
pressed a button. The screen lit up showing the interior
of another compartment in the space ship. Tiers of
bunks lined the walls, each carrying a sleeping person.
‘We have six slumber chambers,’ he said. ‘They’ll all be
recovering soon, just as you did.’
      ‘And this is only one of the ships in the fleet,’ said
Adam, beaming. ‘It’s a whole armada of people who
wish to take intelligence and right-thinking to New
Earth.’
      Sarah asked, ‘Why are all those people asleep?’
      ‘To save food and oxygen,’ Ruth explained. ‘It’s a
three month journey, remember. And now almost over.’
      ‘You mean to say I’ve been here three months?’
said Sarah. ‘I can’t believe it.’
      Bewildered, Sarah ran her fingers through her
hair. Her forefinger touched the bump on her head. It
was still very tender. At that moment she knew she
could only have been on the space ship for a few hours.
      Ruth said, ‘Is something wrong?’
      Sarah smiled. ‘No, of course not. It’s all very
exciting. And now I’m just starting to get my memory
back.’

The Doctor roared down Whitehall on a big Army
motorcycle which had been lent to him by the
Brigadier. A motorcycle, he explained to the Brigadier,
was the quickest way to get round London, and he had
to cover a large area in the shortest possible time.
Strapped to the handlebars was the energy detecting
device he had built, a compact black box with a simple
on-off control, and a dial that registered the presence of
high voltage electricity. He had already covered two
sections of London, duly marked off on the map in his
pocket. A few minutes ago, as he turned into Trafalgar
Square, the needle on the detector’s dial flickered for
the first time. As he drove round Trafalgar Square at
high speed, he found the needle flickered most actively
when he was close to the opening to Whitehall.
      He arrived in Parliament Square, deserted except
for a few pigeons. The needle registered to the number
4 on the detector dial. Slowly the Doctor drove round
the empty square. Going towards Victoria Street, the
reading dropped to 3; completing the circuit of the
square and heading back towards Westminster Bridge,
the needle jumped to 5. He stopped the motorcycle
outside Westminster Underground Station, unfastened
the detector from the handlebars, and carried it to the
metal gates that barred the entrance to the station. The
needle moved to 5.02. The Doctor found his set of
skeleton keys in his capacious pockets and opened the
gates. He went down the dirty, unswept steps of the
station.
      Inside, the station was in complete darkness. The
Doctor fished out his torch and continued down the
steps to one of the platforms. The dial now read 5.08.
Cautiously the Doctor moved along the railway
platform. He stopped to listen. There was a faint
humming sound. Swinging his torch round to the wall,
the Doctor saw a metal airvent grille. He went over,
bent down and listened. He could just hear the distant
hum of a machine, probably an air ventilation plant. He
plucked out his large silk handkerchief, and held it in
front of the vent between finger and thumb. The
handkerchief was sucked towards the vent by a slight air
flow. How very, very odd! The airvents in London
underground stations pump air in to the stations; this
one was sucking air away from the station. So someone,
somewhere must be needing a constant supply of air.
      Footsteps. Someone was coming down the stairs to
the platform. The Doctor slid full-length under one of
the bench-type seats that jutted from the wall, and
extinguished his torch. The footsteps came nearer, and
now the glare of a torch carried by someone in a hurry.
Looking up from his hiding place, the Doctor could just
discern the outline of a man in the spill of light from the
man’s torch. The man stopped by a louvred door set in
the wall. He did something to the door that the Doctor
couldn’t see; immediately there was the sound of a lift
ascending. Fifteen seconds later light glared through
the louvres of the door as the lift came up and stopped.
The Doctor risked his luck and craned his neck out
from under the bench. As the man opened the door the
Doctor caught a glimpse of a livid scar running down
his cheek. The man, dressed in a lounge suit and
carrying a large suitcase, entered the lift. A moment
later its glaring light sank down and out of sight.
      The Doctor crawled out from under the bench and
brushed down his clothes. He listened until the noise of
the lift machinery stopped. Then he shone his torch on
the louvred door and inspected it closely. There was no
key hole. He tried to guess what the man had done to
activate the lift, and ran his fingers down the slats. The
fifth slat turned on an axis. Instantly, the lift machinery
came to life. Fifteen seconds later, light glared through
the louvres. The lift door opened with ease, to reveal a
cleaners’ cupboard containing mops and pails. He
stepped inside, and pulled the door shut. Then he
searched for a control that would activate the lift from
inside. There was nothing to be seen except two hooks
in the wall. From one of them hung a cleaner’s overall.
The Doctor touched the empty hook, and found that it
could be manoeuvred like a little lever. He turned it
round on its in-built axis until it pointed straight down.
The lift started to descend.

Butler opened the suitcase to let Professor Whitaker
examine its contents. ‘Do you now have everything you
need, Professor?’
     Whitaker picked over the electronic equipment
that filled the suitcase. ‘I don’t know yet. If I need
anything more, you’ll have to provide it.’
     ‘It isn’t easy getting this stuff for you. Every time I
go out in the streets I risk being shot as a looter.’
     Professor Whitaker stepped back from the open
suitcase. ‘If you’re going to make a big thing of it, let’s
forget the entire project! ‘
     Butler would very much have liked to batter
Professor Whitaker’s head to pulp. He smiled and said,
‘You will have your little joke, Professor. Don’t take me
seriously.’
     But Whitaker was sulking. ‘I know when I’m not
welcome. If it’s such a problem to provide me with the
equipment that’s vital for Operation Golden Age, you
only have to say.’
     Twice when Butler was entering electronic shops
in the Tottenham Court Road and Lisle Street to take
these things for Whitaker, he had had to hide like a
thief from Army patrols. He hated these trips outside
because of their danger; even more, he hated being
cooped up with this peculiar professor day and night
under the ground. ‘I am very sorry for what I just said,
Professor. Will you be kind enough to accept my sincere
and most abject apologies?’
     Professor Whitaker regarded him for half a
minute. Then the flicker of a smile. ‘You really are
sorry?’
     ‘Yes,’ said Butler, wishing he could drive his fist
into Whitaker’s pale face and break all his teeth, ‘I really
am terribly sorry. Obviously you must have all the
equipment that you need for the great experiment
which only you can carry out.’
     ‘All right,’ said Whitaker, coming back to the
suitcase, ‘let’s have a proper look at what you’ve got for
me.’
     Butler lifted out a piece of electronic equipment.
‘You said you wanted one of these.’
     Whitaker clapped his hands with delight. ‘A
thermal dynometer 1 How terribly clever of you to get
one—’
     He stopped short. Something had caught his eye.
The lift indicator was flashing. ‘It seems we are going to
have company,’ he said.
     Butler rushed to one of the TV monitors and
pressed a button. On to the screen flashed a picture of
the corridor by the lifts. One of the lift doors opened
and the Doctor stepped out.
     ‘Who on earth is that?’ said Professor Whitaker.
Butler’s face looked grim. ‘The Doctor, UNIT’s
scientific adviser. I’ll kill him.’
     ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Whitaker protested. He
looked keenly at the Doctor, who was now peering up
and down the corridor wondering which way to go.
‘He’s terribly handsome.’
     ‘What do you want me to do?’
     ‘Oh, play games with him,’ said Whitaker. ‘You
know what to do. Just send him away.’
     Whitaker returned to the suitcase. Butler knew it
might only annoy Whitaker again if he didn’t carry out
the order, and his strict instructions were to keep the
Professor happy at all costs. He crossed to the panel of
controls that activated the control centre’s radiation-
proof internal doors.

The Doctor glanced up and down the corridor. He
caught sight of a large notice on the wall with daggers
pointing in different directions. It read:

    CABINET ROOM
    PRIME MINISTER’S DAY ROOM
    SECRETARIAT
    ROYAL SUITE
    KENNELS
    SLEEPING QUARTERS
    VICTUALS
    SICK BAY
    COMMUNICATIONS ROOM
     NUCLEAR REACTOR

The Doctor hurried off in the direction indicated for the
Nuclear Reactor. He found himself in a labyrinth of
corridors. At each intersection signs indicated the way to
different Government departments. He realised that
this place was to have been the British seat of
government had atomic war broken out. He turned into
yet another corridor; at the far end was a door bearing
the words NUCLEAR REACTORS—KEEP OUT. He
raced towards the door. A heavy metal shutter slammed
down in front of him, completely blocking his way. On it
were the words RADIATION SHUTTER. Now he knew
that his presence had been detected. He turned round
and raced back up the corridor and turned a corner.
Another shutter fell from its slot in the ceiling, barring
his way. He made off in another direction. More
shutters came down before him. He noticed that at
some points, where shutter slits were clearly visible in
the ceiling, the shutters did not come down. So they
were playing a game with him, guiding him, by closing
up some corridors, in the direction that they wanted
him to go.
      Finally he found himself back at the corridor
outside the lift. The lift door stood open invitingly. At
either end of the corridor shutters came down. He got
into the lift among the mops and pales and brooms, and
turned the clothes hook to point upwards. The door
closed and the lift started to ascend. He hadn’t found
everything he wanted, but he had seen enough. As the
lift neared the Underground Station, it crossed his mind
that they could have killed him but had let him escape
alive. He wondered why.
Butler turned to Professor Whitaker. ‘I’ve guided him
back to the lift. He’ll go and tell everyone what he’s
seen.’ He felt he was not getting the Professor’s full
attention. Whitaker was concentrating on something he
was doing at the Timescoop. ‘I said he’s escaping,’ said
Butler. ‘Remember, you didn’t want me to kill him. Do
you realise what will happen now?’
     Professor Whitaker replied, I’ve changed my mind.
Come and look.’
     Butler crossed to the Timescoop. Above the main
console of controls was a small television monitor
screen. On the screen a large pterodactyl in a sandy
barren landscape was sitting on a rock.
     ‘Just think,’ said Whitaker. ‘That ghastly looking
creature is actually sitting on that rock at this very
moment.’
     ‘But millions of years ago.’
     ‘Don’t be so argumentative. All right, it was sitting
exactly like that, and I’ve tuned in to it.’
     ‘Most impressive,’ replied Butler distractedly. He
was wondering how he could make his escape before
the Brigadier and goodness-knew-who-else descended
to arrest them all. ‘But the Doctor is still escaping. We
are in a very serious situation, Professor Whitaker.’
     ‘You don’t think I’ve summoned up that awful
looking pterodactyl just for fun, do you? Now watch.’
He adjusted two master controls. The pterodactyl
became transparent, then vanished.
     ‘Where have you sent it?’
     Professor Whitaker giggled. ‘Guess!’

The lift came to a stop. The Doctor pushed open the
louvred door, switched on his torch, and stepped on to
the platform of the Underground Station. He strode
purposefully off down the corridor, his head buzzing
with his discoveries, towards the steps that led up to
street level. He stopped. What was that noise? Swinging
up the torch he caught a swooping pterodactyl in the
beam. He flung himself to one side as it flapped by, the
tip of one leathery wing grazing his cheek. The Doctor
trained the torch on the flying reptile as it wheeled
round to attack again. He dived full-length on the
platform—but the bird anticipated its prey’s move by
back-flapping in full flight, and landed by the Doctor’s
head, huge jaws open to tear at the flesh of the Doctor’s
face! The Doctor swung the torch round and shone it
full into the monster’s eyes. Screeching loudly, the
pterodactyl flew up to the roof of the station. The
Doctor scrambled to his feet and raced down the station,
the flapping wings pursuing him. At the opening to the
stairs the pterodactyl found its wing span too great to go
through. The Doctor escaped up the stairs. Being now
in total darkness, the pterodactyl settled down to wait
for sunrise.
                      7
              The Reminder Room
Sarah looked through the glass door that led to the
flight deck. The one seat which faced the console of
instruments was empty. From time to time, the levers
on the console moved of their own accord.
      ‘Why is there no pilot?’
      ‘It’s not necessary,’ replied Mark, who was showing
Sarah around the space ship. ‘The controls are all on
automatic pilot, locked to the controls of the leading
ship.’
      ‘Extraordinary.’ She extended her hand to open
the glass door.
      Mark showed alarm. ‘You mustn’t go in there!’
      Sarah quickly withdrew her hand. ‘Why not?’
      ‘None of us can go in there. The controls are very
delicate. When we arrive, the ship will land
automatically.’ He smiled. ‘And our Golden Age will
begin.’
      Sarah screwed up her face, and pretended that she
couldn’t remember what he meant. ‘My memory still
isn’t very good, Mark. How will we live?’
      ‘We shall found a settlement. We have seed, tools,
and enough provisions to keep us going for a year.
We’ll be like the Pilgrim Fathers who went to America.’
      ‘What about the present inhabitants of the planet?
I don’t think the Red Indians liked the Pilgrim Fathers
very much. Maybe these people won’t like us.’
      ‘We shall treat them kindly and decently,’ Mark
insisted. ‘We’ll guide them, and make sure they don’t
make the same mistakes that were made on Earth.’
      ‘What mistakes?’
      ‘Surely you know. Factories and mines that destroy
the landscape. Explosives of all kinds that kill and maim.
Cars and aeroplanes that pollute the atmosphere.’
      Ruth and Adam appeared from the direction of the
main living quarters. ‘Finding it interesting?’ Adam
asked Sarah.
      ‘Very. Mark’s just reminding me about all the
awful things humans have done to ruin Earth.’ She
turned back to the young athlete. ‘But what about
medicine and education? Surely they were good things.’
      Ruth laughed. ‘Compared with its evils, the
benefits of technological civilisation are very few.’
      Adam took up the argument. ‘Supermarkets,
colour television, plastic cups. But what are they all
worth?’
      ‘They make life comfortable for a lot of people.’
      Adam, ignoring Sarah’s reply, continued: ‘We shall
take the good, but leave the evil behind.’
      ‘And who decides which is which?’
      ‘It’s all so obvious.’ Adam’s eyes began to look like
those of a prophet who was in personal communication
with God.
      ‘But don’t you think that people have a right to
choose the kind of life they want?’ Sarah blurted out.
      Ruth looked at her a little sternly. ‘People on Earth
were allowed to choose—and see what kind of a world
they made! Moral degradation, permissiveness,
cheating, lying, cruelty!’
      Ruth’s one-sided attitude angered Sarah. ‘There is
also a lot of love and kindness and honesty! Didn’t you
ever notice those things on Earth?’
      Ruth’s mouth set into hard lines. ‘You mustn’t say
such things!’
      Mark grinned. ‘I’m sure Sarah meant nothing—’
      ‘Oh yes I did!’ interrupted Sarah. ‘And I’ll say
whatever I like. I’ve met people like you lot before.
Everything you believe in must be absolutely right! If
anyone dares to disagree with you, you don’t even
listen!’
      Adam turned to Ruth. He spoke as though Sarah
wasn’t even present. ‘I was assured by the organisers
that everyone had been carefully selected and screened.’
      ‘You see! You even talk to each other as if I didn’t
exist!’
      ‘We have to consider the good of the majority,’
Adam snapped. ‘I don’t think you’re going to be very
happy with us. If you are not of a like mind, why did
you choose to join us?’
      ‘I didn’t! I was brought here against my wishes.’
      ‘Impossible. Quite impossible. The re-awakening
must have affected your mind.’
      ‘I quite agree,’ added Ruth. ‘She’ll have to go to
the Reminder Room.’
      Sarah backed away. ‘What’s that?’
      Adam gripped her arm firmly. ‘You are in
desperate need of re-education.’
      ‘Don’t worry, child,’ said Ruth, taking Sarah’s
other arm. ‘Very soon you will have returned to our
point of view—about everything.’

The Brigadier’s jeep stopped outside Westminster
Underground Station, followed by the two other UNIT
jeeps.
     ‘Two men stand guard by the vehicles,’ called the
Brigadier. ‘The rest of us will follow you, Doctor.’
      The UNIT soldiers opened the gates. The Doctor
ran down the steps into the underground station, the
boots of UNIT soldiers clattering behind him.
      ‘What I can’t understand,’ shouted the Brigadier,
running to keep up with the Doctor, ‘is why they let you
escape.’
      ‘They tried to kill me by materialising a
pterodactyl. I’m fortunate to be alive.’
      They had reached the platform now. The Doctor
raced towards the cubicle which had contained the
mops and pails, and wrenched open the door. ‘This is
the lift. And this is how you work it...’
      His voice trailed off. The hooks had disappeared.
‘Something wrong?’ asked the Brigadier.
      ‘There’s an airvent on the platform,’ said the
Doctor, stepping backwards out of the cubicle. ‘Let’s
check that.’
      The Doctor pulled out his large silk handkerchief
and hung it from finger and thumb in front of the
airvent. There was no movement of air at all.
      ‘It looks,’ said the Brigadier, ‘as though the birds
have flown.’ He thought of a feeble joke. ‘Along with
their pterodactyls.’
      The Doctor straightened up, pocketing his
handkerchief. ‘Don’t you believe me about this place?’
      ‘Of course I do,’ answered the Brigadier. ‘Have
you ever known me not to believe you, Doctor? But it
looks as though there is now no proof. And no way into
that control centre you told me about!’

Sir Charles Grover listened attentively to his visitor’s
report about the underground control centre. When
the Doctor had finished, Grover smiled. ‘You must have
been talking to Miss Smith, Doctor.’
      The Doctor was puzzled by the reply. ‘What do you
mean?’
      ‘She came here with a most marvellous theory that
such a place had once been built right under Central
London.’
      ‘She came to see you?’ queried the Brigadier.
      ‘She thought I might know about it,’ replied
Grover honestly. ‘We checked the files together. Why
look. I still have the file on my desk!’ Grover picked up
a manilla folder and opened it. ‘See for yourself, Doctor.
This explains the entire plan for an underground seat
of government in the event of atomic war.’ He handed
the file to the Doctor. ‘You will also see a memorandum
stating that the idea was later abandoned and the place
never constructed.’ Grover had typed the memo himself
fifteen minutes before the arrival of the Doctor and the
Brigadier.
      The Doctor glanced briefly at the contents of the
folder. ‘You will forgive me, Minister, but I prefer to
believe the evidence of my own eyes. Where did Miss
Smith go after she visited you?’
      ‘Back to UNIT.’
      ‘Are you sure of that, sir?’ asked the Brigadier. ‘We
haven’t seen her for some time.’
      Grover pretended to rack his brains. ‘She turned
up here in a UNIT car. I sent that straight back because
I didn’t want to keep your driver waiting. Then, after
we’d had our little chat, I sent her back to you in my
own ministerial car.’
      The Brigadier looked puzzled. ‘She didn’t arrive.
Perhaps she asked your driver to take her somewhere
else?’
      ‘I could check that for you.’ Grover lifted his
internal phone and spoke into it. ‘Will you send in my
chauffeur, please?’ He put down the phone, and turned
back to the Doctor and the Brigadier. ‘A cup of tea,
gentlemen? With no catering staff in London, I have
this little gadget over here for brewing up. Would you
care for some?’
      ‘It’s very kind,’ said the Doctor. ‘But not just now,
thank you.’ He paused. ‘Sir Charles, I have definitely
been into an underground place that was humming
with life, and it can’t be very far from here.’
      Grover smiled at the Doctor, as one might to a
madman. ‘I’m sure you believe you’ve been in such a
place, Doctor. But since you now admit that you can’t
find your way in again...’
      A tap on the door. A uniformed chauffeur entered
and stood to attention. Grover turned to the man.
      ‘Where did you take the young lady who was
visiting me?’
      The man in chauffeur’s uniform answered, ‘Back
to UNIT Headquarters, sir.’
      ‘You’re quite sure of that?’
      ‘Yes, sir. I saw her go inside.’
      ‘Right, that will be all, thank you.’
      As the chauffeur turned to go, the Doctor noticed a
livid scar that ran down the man’s left cheek.

The Reminder Room made Sarah think of the little cell
where she had been hypnotised by the flashing lights.
Small and windowless, it, too, contained a single chair,
but this one was bolted to the middle of the floor. The
chair faced a screen that filled the whole of one wall.
After she had been locked in the room for a few minutes
a film started to play on the screen, obviously specially
made to ‘remind’ any doubting members that they had
been right to join the group. All the shots were of bad
things on Earth: mounds of wrecked cars, factory
chimneys belching black smoke, oil on beaches, dead
fish in polluted rivers, traffic jams, jet planes roaring
over crowded cities. A commentator’s voice boomed
from loud-speakers set in the four corners of the little
room.
      ‘Ever since the Industrial Revolution, Man has polluted
his planet, until now his only home. Not only has Man ruined
his own environment, he has made life impossible for other
living creatures. Seventy-five species of animals were made
extinct in the first seventy-five years of this century. Others are
threatened. The Giant Lemurs of Madagascar may soon suffer
the same fate as the King Kangaroos of Australia—’
      The film and the commentary stopped abruptly.
The door opened and Mark came in. He was carrying a
tray containing a glass of water and a piece of brown
bread.
      ‘I’ve brought you something to eat.’
      Sarah looked at the bread and water. ‘No chance of
my getting overweight.’
      ‘The bread is pure. This diet will help cleanse your
body of toxic things; and that will help to clear your
mind.’
      ‘Very thoughtful of you. In olden times witches
were burnt to death to save their souls.’
      ‘We’re not like that,’ Mark smiled, not taking Sarah
seriously. ‘We only want to help you.’
      ‘That’s what they always said to the witches.’ She
started to eat the bread; it was awful. ‘Why won’t you
believe that I was kidnapped and put on this ship?’
      ‘Because that’s impossible. Now watch the film. It
will remind you of the truth.’
      Before Sarah could stop him, he left, locking the
door behind him. Immediately the film came back on
the screen. It showed a traffic policeman in Tokyo.
      ‘... after two hours controlling traffic, this policeman must
be given one full hour of oxygen treatment. So much for the
pleasure of motoring...’
      The film continued. Sarah munched her piece of
bread.

Sir Charles Grover was presiding over the planning
meeting in the Cabinet Room of the underground
control centre. Portraits of Disraeli, Gladstone,
Churchill, and President Kennedy hung from the oak
panelled walls of the windowless room. Seated round a
huge table covered in expensive red leather were
Professor Whitaker, General Finch and Captain Michael
Yates.
     Whitaker spoke up. ‘Final tests have all been
positive. When the power build-up from the reactor is
complete we shall be ready for the final countdown.’
     ‘How much longer to wait?’ growled General
Finch.
     Whitaker waved his hand. ‘Only a few hours,
General. You must learn patience.’
     Finch turned away. He couldn’t stand the sight of
Whitaker. ‘I hope you realise that they’re trying to trace
our learned Professor,’ he said to Grover.
     ‘Don’t forget, General, that they’ve also discovered
this place—thanks to you people!’ said Whitaker. ‘Why
could you not guarantee a little peace and security for
my work? It’s frightful having this Doctor person
prowling around.’
     ‘I told you not to underestimate the Doctor,’ said
Yates.
     ‘We ought to dispose of him,’ snapped General
Finch.
     ‘If we do that,’ replied the Captain, ‘we shall not be
worthy of our cause.’
     ‘Quite right,’ agreed Grover placatingly. ‘We must
maintain our high ideals. Under no circumstances shall
we descend to murder.’
     ‘Then what do we do about the Doctor?’ asked
General Finch.
     Grover smiled. ‘We shall discredit him.’

While the instigators of Operation Golden Age
conferred deep in the bowels of Central London, the
Brigadier and the Doctor were talking in the Doctor’s
workshop at UNIT Headquarters.
      ‘I always try to believe you, Doctor, but there isn’t a
scrap of evidence that this underground place exists. Sir
Charles Grover showed us the memo that confirmed it
had never been built.’
      ‘He’s implicated. Don’t you realise that?’
      The Brigadier laughed. ‘Why should the Minister
be involved in the apparition of monsters?’
      ‘The reptiles are a side issue. They are a device to
clear Central London, that’s all. Something much bigger
is under way. You must go back to that underground
station with explosives and blast your way in.’
      The Brigadier was taken aback. ‘That’s public
property! I’d need permission from General Finch
before I could start blowing up underground stations!’
      ‘Then get it!’
      ‘All right,’ said the Brigadier with a shrug, ‘I’ll try.’
      He hurried out. The Doctor began searching for
paper on which to write a full report of the dinosaur
apparitions for the government in Harrogate.
Suddenly, Sergeant Benton burst in.
     ‘Doctor, there’s a phone call for you. It came
through on the UNIT line, but you can take it in here.’
     ‘Thank you.’ The Doctor picked up the
headmaster’s phone. ‘Hello?’
     ‘My name is Whitaker. I understand that you’ve
been trying to trace me.’
     ‘I have indeed. Are you behind these dinosaur
appearances?’
     ‘In a way, but I was tricked. I’ve escaped and now
they’re after me.’
     ‘Who’s after you?’
     There was a pause. ‘I don’t want to talk over the
phone. Can we meet?’
     ‘Where are you?’
     ‘In the aircraft hangar where you were conducting
your experiments. I hoped you might still be there.’
     ‘I’ll get over there as quickly as possible.’ The
Doctor cradled the receiver, and bolted through the
door.

The Doctor dismounted from his Army motorcycle, and
ran into the vast building. All the soldiers had been
dismissed after the disappearance of the tyrannosaurus.
He walked through deserted corridors calling Professor
Whitaker’s name. No response. He continued towards
what remained of the little office inside the huge
hangar. It was just as he and Sarah had left it—the
window and its frame destroyed, the wall crumbling,
part of the ceiling fallen in. What he didn’t notice
among the wreckage was the miniature television eye
that was watching him. A stray cat mewed. The Doctor
turned. The cat was climbing up over the wreckage,
sniffing about for food. All at once the cat started to
walk backwards, exactly re-tracing its steps. The Doctor
realised he was in the centre of a localised time eddy.
He peered through the gaping hole that had been the
window into the hangar. A fully-grown stegosaurus was
beginning to appear and already he could hear its heavy
breathing.
      ‘Professor Whitaker,’ he shouted, ‘did you just
bring me here to show how clever you are? I already
know you can materialise things from the past. So come
out of hiding and let’s talk.’
      The door behind him burst open. General Finch
and a group of soldiers entered, the Brigadier
following.
      ‘There’s your monster-maker,’ barked the General.
‘Caught in the act! ‘
      The Brigadier stepped forward. ‘Doctor, you are
under arrest.’
                             8
                          Escape!
‘... Greed and aggression lead to the greatest crime of all—war.
With the hydrogen bomb Man now has the choice of destroying
his planet quickly through war or slowly through pollution...’
      In the Reminder Room, the voice of the film’s
commentator droned on. Sarah knew that everything
the voice said was true. What she didn’t agree with was
the way in which these people on the space ship were
trying to run away from the problem, and their
schoolmasterly attitude towards anyone who thought
differently. Suddenly the film and the voice stopped.
The door opened and Mark looked in.
      ‘How are you feeling now?’
      ‘Hungry, tired, and I’ve got a headache.’
      ‘Is the film helping you?’
      ‘Can’t you ever understand? You’re here because
you want to be. I’m a kidnapped prisoner.’
      He frowned. ‘You will have to drop this ridiculous
story, Sarah.’
      ‘Why? It’s the truth.’
      He looked round to make sure no one was
listening in the corridor, then quietly closed the door
behind him. ‘The elders, Adam and Ruth, are not going
to permit a disruptive influence among us.’
      ‘Do you mean they’re going to kill me?’ She tried
to hide the fear in her voice. ‘Is that what they’ll do?’
      He averted his eyes. ‘They are really sweet, gentle
people. They are both vegetarians because animals have
to die to provide humans with meat. But they are
determined that nothing shall go wrong with our great
mission.’
      Sarah thought about this. A veteran journalist once
told her, ‘Beware people who know they are right, like
Oliver Cromwell. For the good of Humanity, those
people sometimes do murder.’ She decided to act up to
Mark. ‘Perhaps the time in suspended-animation
affected my thinking. I don’t even remember how I
came to be here. Tell me about it.’
      He smiled, overjoyed that Sarah was no longer
persisting with her stupid kidnapping story. ‘There
were just a few of us at first,’ he said enthusiastically.
‘We all shared a disgust with the way life was going on
Earth. At first there seemed nothing we could do. Then
one of our members, an astronomer, told us of this
planet that we call New Earth. And another of us, a
scientist, invented the space-drive that would take us
there. We all contributed money to help build the fleet
of space ships.’
      ‘Did we see the space ships?’
      ‘Of course not. They were built secretly. Don’t you
remember how you were hypnotised before coming on
board?’
      ‘Yes,’ she replied with complete honesty. ‘I
remember that part very well.’
      ‘We had to report to that special place in the centre
of London, and then each in turn was hypnotised into
suspended-animation—so’s to save oxygen and food on
the three month journey.’
      ‘Of course,’ she pretended to remember. ‘It’s all
coming back now. But I can’t recall how I first heard
about the scheme?’
      ‘The organisers advertised in newspapers and
magazines.’ Mark grinned. ‘Naturally they didn’t
announce what it was really all about! They were small
advertisements, seeking people who might be interested
in setting up a commune and starting a new life.
Thousands and thousands of people replied.’
     ‘I bet they did. Mark, you’ve made it all clear to me
now. Will you take me to the elders so that I can tell
them that I now remember correctly?’
     ‘I’d be delighted.’
     He held the door open wide. Sarah dashed into
the corridor, pulled the door shut behind her, and
bolted it.
     ‘Sorry about that,’ she called through the closed
door. ‘Enjoy the movie.’
     As she hurried down the corridor she heard Mark
pounding on the closed door behind her.

The Doctor was led, handcuffed, into the classroom at
UNIT’s Headquarters. Two armed soldiers marched on
either side of him, followed by Captain Yates, General
Finch, and the Brigadier.
      ‘So that’s the end of that,’ barked General Finch.
‘Take those handcuffs off him, and put him into a cell.’
      ‘With respect, sir,’ said the Brigadier, as one of the
soldiers removed the Doctor’s handcuffs, ‘we have no
cells here.’
      ‘Then lock him up in one of the rooms. Make sure
he doesn’t escape. The man is dangerous and possibly
mad.’
      ‘Shouldn’t we question him?’ said the Brigadier.
      ‘There’s no need. I shall send a report to the
Government immediately to say that we have arrested
the monster-maker.’
      ‘Once I’m under lock and key,’ the Doctor chipped
in, ‘you can bring back those millions of Londoners.’
      ‘That’s a point, sir,’ said the Brigadier. ‘If the crisis
is over, shouldn’t we end the evacuation?’
      The General looked uncertain. ‘All in good time,
Brigadier. There are many complicated arrangements
to be made first. Until you receive further instructions,
keep this maniac under close arrest. He is not to make
contact with anyone. Captain Yates is to remain in
charge of the prisoner. The Brigadier is to come with
me. There is much to be done.’
      The General turned on his heel and marched out
of the classroom, the Brigadier following obediently.
The Doctor was delighted to find himself alone with
Captain Yates. The two UNIT soldiers remained well in
the background.
      ‘Listen, Mike,’ the Doctor whispered urgently,
‘there isn’t much time. I need all the men you can
muster and some high explosives to break into their
control centre before the final phase of their plan...’
      To the Doctor’s astonishment, Captain Yates wasn’t
paying any attention. Instead, he opened the door and
called, ‘Sergeant Benton, in here please!’
      The Doctor touched Yates’s arm. ‘Are you on their
side as well, Mike?’ For years the Doctor and Captain
Yates had been good friends.
      Yates would not turn to face the Doctor. ‘I’m
sorry,’ he muttered quietly. ‘What we are doing is for
the good of Humanity. I know that what we are doing is
right.’
      Sergeant Benton hurried into the classroom. ‘Sir?’
      ‘The Doctor is under arrest,’ said Captain Yates.
‘Keep him under constant guard. Find somewhere to
lock him up. I’ll leave you to it.’ Without looking at the
Doctor, Captain Yates quickly left the classroom.
     Benton couldn’t believe what he had just been told.
‘You are under arrest, Doctor?’
     ‘That’s right. Where are you going to keep me
prisoner?’
     Benton paused to think, and then he addressed
the two UNIT soldiers. ‘You two, go and fix up the text-
book store-room as a temporary cell.’ The two soldiers
looked apprehensive at leaving the Doctor, now
regarded as a dangerous criminal, alone with the un-
armed sergeant. He shouted at them, ‘Jump to it!’ The
soldiers hurried out of the classroom. Benton turned
back to the Doctor, lowering his voice, ‘Now tell me the
truth, Doctor, what’s going on?’ He had known the
Doctor some years and trusted him implicitly.
     ‘I’m still not entirely sure, but General Finch is
mixed up in it, and Captain Yates, too.’
     Benton’s eyes widened. ‘Captain Yates?! ‘
     ‘They’ve won him over somehow,’ said the Doctor.
‘He’s a good man, and believes what they are doing is
good in some way.’
     ‘Strewth! There’s only one thing for it—you’ll have
to knock me out! ‘ Benton stood to attention and closed
his eyes. ‘Use your Venusian karate to overpower me, so
that I’ll be lying here unconscious when the soldiers get
back.’
     ‘Thank you. I promise not to hurt you.’ He gently
applied the Venusian karate hold with two fingers to
Benton’s neck. Benton lost consciousness almost
immediately. The Doctor carefully lowered him to the
floor.
     ‘Thanks again,’ said the Doctor, looking down at
the prostrate form of Benton. He hurried out through
the door.
‘... Man is the only animal to prey on his own species. As society
breaks down, armed gangsters take over. In America, with fifty
murders a day, law-abiding citizens live behind electrified
fences to keep criminals out. In the City of London another type
of criminal exists. Property developers have destroyed—’
      The film and its commentary stopped
automatically as Sarah opened the door of the
Reminder Room. Mark, more concerned for Sarah’s
safety than angry, swung round to greet her.
      ‘Sarah, you could put yourself in great danger by
escaping like that. The elders would be furious! Where
have you been?’
      She stepped into the room and closed the door.
‘You’ve got to listen to me, Mark. I’ve been looking
round this space ship. There’s something you must see
with your own eyes. This isn’t a real space ship at all.’
      He took a step back from her, as one might retreat
from a raving lunatic. ‘You told me your memory was
returning...’
      ‘I was lying, to put you at ease, so that I could
escape from this stupid Reminder Room.’ She opened
the door. ‘Follow me. I’m going to show you
something.’
      ‘No, you must stay in here. The film will help you
get back your sanity.’
      Sarah realised she could not make Mark follow her
by force. She had to win him over through argument.
‘I’ll make a deal with you. I want you to see something
that will help your sanity, and you want me to see the
rest of this film. I’ve already seen part of it. Isn’t it my
turn to show you something? Then, if you’re not
convinced, I’ll come back here and see the rest of the
film.’
      He thought about that. ‘All right, but no tricks.
And don’t try to escape.’
      ‘If this is a real space ship, Mark, I can’t escape, can
I? Now come on.’
      He followed her down the corridor to the main
living area of the space ship. It was deserted. She
crossed to the glass door of the flight deck. The un-
manned controls were still moving in apparent response
to the automatic pilot apparatus.
      ‘Come in here.’ She opened the door to the flight
deck.
      Mark held back. ‘We are under express orders
never to enter the flight deck.’
      ‘Of course, because there’s something they don’t
want you to know. Forget your silly orders and follow
me.’
      He went inside with her. Through the for’ard
portholes they could see the infinite black vista of Space,
studded with distant suns. Sarah put her hands under
the outer edge of the control console and lifted it.
      ‘You’ll damage it! ‘ Mark yelled.
      ‘No I won’t. There isn’t anything to damage.
Look.’
      Mark looked into the cavity which Sarah had
revealed beneath the control console. There was
nothing there except a small electric motor that made
the levers on the control console move. ‘You see,’ she
said, ‘it’s all a fake.’
      ‘There must be some explanation,’ he said lamely.
      Sarah let the panel drop back into position. ‘Mark,
where exactly is this planet we’re heading for?’
      ‘The organisers said it was in another solar system,
close to Earth.’
      ‘The nearest possible solar system to Earth is four
light years away. If we travelled in the most advanced
space ships developed on Earth, it would take hundreds
of years to reach there.’
      ‘But one of our members invented a new space
drive.’
      ‘You’re not a scientist, Mark. You would have
believed anything.’ Sarah parted her hair to reveal the
bump on her head. ‘See that? I got it just before I was
kidnapped. If I’d been on this so-called space ship three
months, it would have gone down by now.’
      Mark looked confused. ‘I don’t know what to
think. If we aren’t on a space ship, where are we?’
      ‘I think this is a dummy. It’s the sort of thing big
stores build in their toy departments at Christmas for
the kiddies.’
      ‘That’s ridiculous! ‘
      ‘Then I’ll prove it to you.’ She walked towards the
door at the end of the flight deck. Across it ran the
words KEEP SHUT WHEN IN SPACE. She put her
hand on the lever. ‘I’m going out through this hatch.’
      ‘It opens directly into Space! You’ll be killed. All
the oxygen will rush out of the ship,’ cried Mark
desperately. ‘We’ll all be killed.’
      ‘The flight deck is supposedly airtight,’ she
explained. ‘So go back through that glass door, close it,
and watch me from a position of safety.’
      Mark moved forward to grab Sarah. ‘No! I won’t
let you!’
      She started to pull the lever. ‘You can’t stop me.
Once I pull this lever we’ll both be sucked out into a
vacuum, if we’re really in Space. Get back. I’m going to
pull the lever.’
      Mark backed away reluctantly, and passed the
open door to the main living quarters. Then he closed
the glass-panelled door and watched.
      Sarah turned her back on him. She didn’t want
him to see her close her eyes and pray as she yanked
back the lever. If they really were in space, the moment
the hatch opened all the air would leave her lungs. Her
lifeless young body would float away into a black
nothingness, lost for ever.

Corporal Bryson had the classroom to himself. He idly
glanced at the map of London which covered the
blackboard. Were people really seeing things? He
counted the flags. But how could so many people be
wrong? He sat down in the Brigadier’s comfortable
chair, put his booted feet on the desk, and opened the
comic that he always carried in his tunic pocket. Just as
he started reading, Sarah Jane Smith, the journalist girl,
walked in. Corporal Bryson leapt to his feet.
      ‘Where’s the Brigadier?’
      ‘Out on the manhunt, miss, looking for the
Doctor.’ She screwed up her face. ‘What on earth are
you talking about?’
      ‘Haven’t you heard? The Doctor was the monster-
maker. They caught him in the act but he escaped.
Want a cup of tea?’ The corporal had been feeling
lonely, and liked the look of Sarah.
      ‘That’s idiotic. What about Sergeant Benton and
Captain Yates?’
      ‘They’re all out, too,’ said the corporal, ‘chasing
after the Doctor.’
      ‘Then I’ll go to General Finch’s Headquarters. I’ll
leave a note for the Brigadier. Have you got anything I
can write with?’
      The corporal opened the Brigadier’s desk drawer,
and found some paper and a pencil. ‘Will this do?’
      ‘Thanks.’ She sat down, and started writing.
      ‘It wouldn’t take a moment to make us both a cup
of tea,’ said the corporal, hopefully.
      ‘You’re very kind,’ she said, still writing, ‘but there
isn’t a moment to spare—’
      She stopped speaking as General Finch entered
the classroom. If he was surprised to see Sarah he
concealed it very well. ‘Where’s the prisoner?’ he asked
Corporal Bryson.
      ‘The prisoner, sir?’ The corporal stood rigidly to
attention. ‘He escaped, sir.’
      ‘I know that, man. He’s since been recaptured. I
just heard it on the R/T in my car. I presumed he’d
been brought back here.’
      ‘No, sir. Not here, sir.’
      ‘In any case,’ interrupted Sarah, ‘the Doctor isn’t
behind it all. I know who is. I was captured and
escaped. I know everything.’
      The General stood with his feet apart, hands
behind his back, and tapped his left calf with his
swagger cane. ‘Do you, indeed?’ He turned sharply to
the corporal. ‘Dismissed!’
      ‘Sir?’
      ‘Get out!’
      ‘Yes, sir! ‘ Corporal Bryson saluted and hurried
out of the classroom.
      The General looked back towards Sarah. ‘You
were saying, Miss Smith?’
      Briefly, Sarah told General Finch what had
happened to her. ‘And you know what I found when I
opened that hatch? Steps leading down into a corridor
in that underground control centre!’
      ‘What an extraordinary experience. But how did
you get out of this place underground?’
      She eagerly told him everything. ‘I snooped about
for a while. Sir Charles Grover was down there having a
chat with Professor Whitaker—’
      The General cut in. ‘Is that the scientist you said
had disappeared?’
      She nodded. ‘I knew him from photographs I’d
seen in the newspaper files. Anyway, they didn’t see me.
Eventually I found the lift that Sir Charles Grover took
me down in.’
      ‘I think your story deserves my personal
investigation. Have you told it to anyone else?’
      ‘There was no one here to tell.’
      ‘We must go to Sir Charles’s office immediately. I
think he has a lot to answer for.’
      Fifteen minutes later, the General’s staff car drew
up outside the deserted ministry. He and Sarah raced
through the corridors then made their way upstairs to
the Minister’s private office. It was empty. Sarah opened
the door to the filing room which she knew to be a lift.
      ‘We go in here,’ she said. ‘And we press that button
on the wall.’
      The General placed his finger on the button.
Themetal door slid across the carved wooden door and
they heard the faint humming sound that Grover had
said was the air-conditioning.
      ‘We’re really in a lift,’ Sarah informed him. ‘It’s
very ingenious.’
      ‘Thank you,’ said General Finch. ‘You see, I
devised it.’ He drew his Service revolver from its holster
and aimed it at Sarah. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Smith, but you’re
a prisoner again.’
      She gasped. ‘I really do pick my friends.’
     ‘Perhaps we are more friendly than you imagine.’
He smiled, not unkindly she thought.
     Nothing more was said until the General and
Sarah had reached the main control room. Sir Charles
Grover and Professor Whitaker looked up in
astonishment.
     ‘One space traveller safely returned,’ said the
General, slipping his revolver back into its holster.
‘Fortunately she’s not spoken to anyone. Do, please, try
not to let her escape again.’ He turned on his heel and
went back down the corridor.
     Grover laughed. ‘You’re an intrepid young lady,
Miss Smith! Well, what are we going to do with you
now?’
     ‘Well you needn’t put me back on that stupid space
ship. It’s all a fake. What you’re doing to those people is
cruel. They all believe they’re travelling to a new world.’
     ‘And so they are,’ said Grover. ‘But their new
world —New Earth, as they call it—will be this one
swept clean and returned to its early innocence.’
     Sarah tried to understand. ‘You’re going to send
them back into the past?’
     ‘No, my dear. That, we have discovered, is
technically impossible. Instead, Professor Whitaker is
going to bring the past to them.’
     Professor Whitaker smiled. He always liked to hear
his name mentioned. ‘I shall roll back Time to the
Golden Age of youth, beauty, and innocence.’
     Sarah asked, ‘And what about all the people alive
on Earth now?’
     ‘They’ll know nothing about it,’ Grover answered
her.
      She tried to work it out. ‘Is that why you produced
the monsters—to get people out of the way so they
wouldn’t be affected?’
      ‘Why not tell her the truth,’ said Whitaker. ‘She’s
going to realise sooner or later.’
      ‘It may be difficult for you to understand,’ Grover
turned to Sarah. ‘When the Timescoop activates
Operation Golden Age, the only people to remain in
existence will be those in its immediate proximity. That
is to say, the people in the space ship and ourselves. The
others will vanish.’
      ‘That’s mass murder! ‘
      ‘As I said,’ Grover continued calmly, ‘they will
know nothing about it. We had to clear London so that
undesirable people, people not approved by us as right-
thinking, wouldn’t be taken back through Time with
us.’
      ‘What a disgusting idea,’ she blurted out, ‘to
destroy the whole world because it isn’t quite as you like
it! ‘
      ‘Eventually, you will see our point of view, Miss
Smith.’ Grover straightened up. ‘Now we have much
work to do. Operation Golden Age is close at hand.
Professor Whitaker is about to materialise dinosaurs
throughout London, finally to clear the streets of
soldiers, looters, and anyone else who may still be in the
area. Then you will accompany us back through Time
to the pure unpolluted world which we seek. The world
as you know it will no longer exist, and will never have
existed!’
                        9
              Operation Golden Age
‘... Patrol 29 to Base. Time 0925 hrs. Monster sighted in
Cornwall Gardens, Kensington. Believed to be tyrannosaurus
rex. Am engaging with mortars...’
      ‘... Time 0927. UNIT patrol 57 to UNIT Headquarters.
Pterodactyl at Tower of London is attacking the ravens. UNIT
personnel moving in to fight and destroy...’
      ‘... Command to all Army and UNIT personnel in the
Greater London Area. Tall fair-haired man—known as the
Doctor, and proved responsible for monster invasion—to be
taken dead or alive. Last seen near Marble Arch in stolen Army
jeep. Repeat: to be taken dead or alive. By order of General
Finch...’
      ‘... Finchley Road, North West London. Patrol 69 to
base. Large monster, believed to be diplodocus, trapped in Alyth
Gardens. Twitch of tail demolished synogogue and five houses.
We are attacking with CS gas. Time 0945 hours...’
      ‘... General Finch to all patrols. Do not waste time
seeking and attacking monsters during this new outbreak. Give
top priority to apprehending the Doctor, who must be taken
dead or alive. I repeat, concentrate on finding the Doctor. By
order of General Finch, Commander-in-Chief, Greater London
Emergency Area...’

The Doctor’s stolen jeep screamed to a stop as a
tyrannosaurus rex reared up in front of him. The
Doctor put the vehicle into reverse gear, did a smart
three-point turn, and drove off in the opposite
direction—to find himself facing another tyrannosaurus
rex. He swerved, crashing the jeep into the wall of a
factory. Steam billowed from under the bonnet. The
Doctor tried to start the engine again but even the self-
starter wouldn’t turn. Hearing the roars of the two
monsters close behind him, he turned, expecting to
have to duck from the open jaws. But the great reptiles
were fighting each other, one tearing savagely at the
other’s neck. The Doctor seized his opportunity. He
jumped out of the wrecked jeep and ran down the
street. A small two-legged dinosaur, no taller than a
dog, suddenly materialised beside him, snapping at his
trouser legs. The Doctor kicked it away. It sprawled in
the road, wimpering like a puppy.
      The Doctor turned a corner. He had to find
another vehicle. He must reach the control centre and
somehow destroy it. An army jeep was now
approaching. Hoping to win over the soldiers, the
Doctor raised his arms, motioning the jeep to stop. He
put his best smile on.
      The jeep stopped some yards away. A soldier
jumped up from the back seat and carefully aimed a
rifle at the Doctor’s head.
      ‘Don’t shoot,’ called the Doctor. ‘I’m the one
person who can help you! ‘
      General Finch rose up from the seat beside the
soldier. He pushed the soldier’s rifle away. ‘Leave him
to me!’ he barked. He drew his revolver from its holster,
released the safety catch, and took careful aim.
      A voice from behind the Doctor shouted, ‘My
prisoner, if you don’t mind, General.’
      The Doctor swung round. The Brigadier had
pulled up behind him in his UNIT jeep.
      ‘Get out of the way, Brigadier,’ roared the General.
      The Brigadier’s voice remained calm. ‘I’m sorry,
sir, but this man is a UNIT prisoner. I’m taking him
into custody.’
      ‘I told you to get out of my way, Brigadier!’
shouted the General.
      The Brigadier turned to Sergeant Benton who sat
in the jeep beside him. ‘Sergeant!’ he ordered. Benton
knew exactly what to do. Benton stood up and trained a
sub-machine gun on the General.
      The General’s face turned scarlet. ‘You realise this
is mutiny?’
      ‘There’s no question of mutiny,’ shouted the
Brigadier. ‘I’m only doing my job.’
      For seconds they remained stock still, the General
aiming his revolver at the Doctor, and Sergeant Benton
training his sub-machine gun on the General and his
soldiers. Then the General slipped back the safety catch,
and returned his revolver to its holster. With as much
dignity as he could muster he barked, ‘Brigadier, you
will place this man under close arrest. I am holding you
personally responsible for him.’ He sat down and
nodded to his driver. With a look of relief on his face,
the driver slipped the jeep into gear and drove away as
fast as possible.
      ‘Well, Doctor,’ said the Brigadier, ‘are you coming
with us?’
      ‘To be held in custody again, while these people
destroy everything?’
      ‘First let’s go back to my Headquarters,’ said the
Brigadier, ‘then we’ll talk about it.’

Professor Whitaker stepped back from the Timescoop.
‘That’s all I can do now until the power builds up
again,’ he informed Sir Charles Grover and Captain
Yates. ‘I’ve produced as many monsters as I can,
certainly enough to finally clear Central London.’
       Yates turned to Grover. ‘What do we intend to do
about Miss Smith, sir?’
       ‘She won’t be harmed in any way,’ smiled Grover.
‘I have great admiration for her spirit. That’s why I
tried to establish her on the space ship. Sheer bad luck
that she recovered consciousness too soon.’
       The military phone rang and Whitaker answered.
‘It’s for you,’ he told Grover. ‘The General.’
       Grover took the phone. ‘Hello?’
       ‘Finch here. The Brigadier’s recaptured the
Doctor. They held a gun on me, defied my orders.
There was nothing I could do.’
       Grover didn’t like that development, but was not a
man for recriminations. ‘It doesn’t matter now. We’re
into the final stage of Operation Golden Age.’
       ‘It jolly well does matter,’ replied the General
urgently. ‘The Doctor has too great an influence on the
Brigadier. What do you suggest we do?’
       ‘I think it’s best if you leave this to me now. You
order the final evacuation of London—we want all these
soldiers out of the way. I shall deal with the Doctor from
my end.’
       He put down the phone before Finch could reply,
and turned to Captain Yates. ‘Captain, there’s
something that only you can do. I hope that I can trust
you completely...’

Butler led Sarah down a corridor and unlocked the
door to a store room. It contained a number of empty
tea chests and packing cases.
     ‘Go in. You won’t be in here long.’
     She looked around the little room, then back at
Butler. ‘You’d be quite handsome without that scar, you
know.’
       Over the years Butler had learnt to live with his
disfigurement. He had got used to people looking away,
pretending not to see it. ‘I can’t help the way I look.’
       ‘Oh yes, you can. Plastic surgery would fix that.
But there won’t be any medicine or operating theatres
back in this stupid Golden Age you people dream about.
Still, maybe you like being ugly. It makes you look more
sinister and criminal. How did you get it—in a fight?’
       ‘Not exactly. I was a London fireman. I tried to
save a child that had crawled out of an open window
and was stranded on a high ledge. I managed to pass it
to safety all right—but I fell thirty feet through a glass
roof.’ He started to close the door.
       ‘Please don’t go,’ she called. ‘I said a terrible thing.
I’m sorry!’
       But the door closed and she heard the lock turn in
it. She tried rattling the door handle, but the door was
heavy and wouldn’t budge. Then she caught sight of a
small airvent high in the ceiling. She started to pile
packing cases, one on top of another.

Corporal Bryson was removing the rest of the flags from
the map of London. As he was taking down the map
itself, the Brigadier, the Doctor and Sergeant Benton
entered.
       ‘What the blazes are you doing?’ asked the
Brigadier.
       ‘Orders, sir,’ Bryson sprang to attention. ‘General
Finch has issued a general order for all Army and
UNIT personnel to leave London. I thought you’d
know about it, sir.’
       ‘This is ridiculous,’ said the Brigadier. ‘The whole
of London is crawling with monsters. What about the
spotting patrols?’
      ‘All gone, sir. Everybody is out of the zone.’
      The Doctor spoke up angrily. ‘Now do you see?
General Finch is just as involved as Sir Charles Grover.
I’m pretty sure Captain Yates is in it, too.’
      The Brigadier slumped down at his desk. ‘Now
that’s one thing I cannot believe, not Mike Yates...’ He
caught sight of Sarah’s note. He read it quickly and
handed it to the Doctor.
      ‘This confirms everything,’ said the Doctor. ‘The
existence of the underground control centre and
Grover’s involvement.’
      ‘But where the blazes is Sarah?’ The Brigadier
turned to Corporal Bryson. ‘When was this note left?’
      ‘Very early this morning, sir. She went off with
General Finch.’
      The Doctor and the Brigadier looked at each
other. ‘There’s no doubt about it,’ said the Doctor.
‘General Finch is in this up to the hilt of his ceremonial
sword.’
      ‘Benton,’ snapped the Brigadier, ‘get me UNIT
Headquarters in Geneva!’ Although UNIT was in part
under the jurisdiction of the British Army, the
Brigadier’s final authority was vested in the Supreme
Headquarters of the United Nations Intelligence
Taskforce at Geneva, Switzerland. The Brigadier turned
back to the Doctor. ‘I shall speak to Geneva, and they
can talk to the British Government in exile in
Harrogate. The Government here will listen to Geneva,
whereas I doubt if they’ll listen to me.’
      ‘There’s no time left for talking. We must attack
that underground control centre now,’ said the Doctor.
      ‘Permission to speak,’ said Corporal Bryson, who
was still standing to attention.
      ‘What is it?’ asked the Brigadier.
     ‘Well, sir, are we evacuating or not, sir? I mean,
should I remove all our things from this classroom?’
     ‘Definitely not!’
     ‘In that case, sir, what should I do?’
     The Doctor gave the willing corporal a friendly
smile. ‘Why not make us all a nice cup of tea?’
     ‘Yes, sir!’ The corporal grinned and hurried out of
the classroom, happy to feel useful.
     Sergeant Benton called to the Brigadier from his
position at the radio transmitter apparatus in the
corner. ‘I have Geneva on the line, sir.’
     The Brigadier reached for his desk phone. At the
same moment Captain Yates entered from the corridor
where he had been listening. ‘Cancel that call please,
Sergeant Benton. We won’t be needing it.’
     The Brigadier looked up. ‘Mike, what d’you think
you’re doing?’
     The Captain pulled his revolver from its holster.
‘I’m sorry, sir. Please don’t touch that phone. Doctor—
Sergeant Benton—come and stand over with the
Brigadier.’
     ‘Are you going to shoot us all, Mike?’ asked the
Doctor.
     ‘Not unless you force me to. Sergeant, I told you to
come and stand over here, otherwise I may have to kill
the Brigadier.’
     Sergeant Benton slowly rose from his seat at the
R/T apparatus and crossed the classroom.
     ‘Captain Yates,’ said the Brigadier, squaring his
shoulders, ‘I trust you realise how serious it is to hold a
gun on a superior officer?’
     Yates nodded. ‘I realise everything, sir. But our
plan must go ahead.’
       The Doctor’s voice was friendly ‘How did you get
involved in this, Mike?’
       ‘It was after that business with the giant maggots in
Wales. You remember I was sent on leave for quite a
time.’
       ‘You were very disturbed,’ said the Brigadier. ‘I
think you still are! ‘
       The Doctor frowned at the Brigadier, as though
asking him to keep his mouth shut. ‘Do go on, Mike.’
       ‘I had a lot of time on my hands, and I went along
to one of the Save Planet Earth meetings and heard Sir
Charles Grover speak. It convinced me.’
       ‘What do you hope to gain out of this?’ asked the
Brigadier. ‘To become Commander-in-Chief of their
army or something?’
       ‘I look for no personal gain, sir. All I want is a new
world. Earth used to be a simpler, cleaner place. It has
all become too complicated and corrupt. We intend to
roll back Time.’
       ‘Can Whitaker really do that?’ asked the Doctor.
       ‘I believe so. All the preliminary experiments have
been successful.’ Yates smiled. ‘We shall find ourselves
in the Golden Age.’
       ‘Mike, believe me,’ the Doctor implored, ‘there
never was a Golden Age. It’s a myth, an illusion.’
       ‘Not this time,’ replied Yates. ‘We’re going to make
it all come true.’
       The Brigadier tapped his forehead. ‘I think you’ve
gone potty, Captain. You’re out of your mind!’
       ‘I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Mike’s
mind, Brigadier,’ said the Doctor. ‘In fact, I sympathise
with him in many ways.’ He turned to Yates. ‘But this
isn’t the way to change things, Mike. You have no right
to obliterate the existence of generations of people.’
     ‘There’s no alternative,’ said the Captain.
     ‘Yes there is,’ replied the Doctor. ‘You can try to
make something better of the world you’ve got. You
humans can end the arms race, you can treat people
with different coloured skins as equals, you can stop
exploiting and cheating each other, and you can start
using Earth’s resources in a rational and sensible way!’
     Corporal Bryson entered the classroom carrying
atray of tea mugs. ‘I didn’t know you were back,
Captain Yates. Care for a cup of tea, sir?’
     Without thinking, the corporal had walked straight
in front of Captain Yates’s revolver. He stared at the
muzzle pointing at his stomach, and in fright dropped
the tea tray. Sergeant Benton leapt at the Captain,
knocking the gun from his hand, while the Doctor’s
fingers slipped round the Captain’s throat in a
Venusian karate hold. Captain Yates went unconscious
instantly and the Doctor gently lowered him to the
floor.
     ‘Sorry for interrupting, sir,’ said Corporal Bryson,
overcome with embarrassment at having just smashed
four Army mugs of tea. ‘I didn’t realise what I was
doing.’
     ‘You did very well,’ said the Brigadier. ‘You’ve
probably just saved the world from extinction.’
                       10
             The Final Count Down
Mark and Adam helped the young woman down from
the suspended-animation trolley. She was about twenty-
five and dressed in the same style of blue denim as
themselves. She swayed to and fro on unsteady legs
once her feet had reached the ground.
      ‘Welcome to the people,’ said Adam. ‘Who are
you?’
      The young woman blinked and looked about
herself. ‘We’re really on the space ship?’ She could
remember nothing since she had sat in a chair and
coloured lights had blinked on and off, hypnotising her.
      ‘Indeed we are,’ said Adam, ‘and about to arrive on
New Earth. Some of your friends have already
recovered from the long period of suspended
animation. Look.’ He indicated five other people, men
and women, all in blue tunics. They were sitting about
the main area of the space ship, recovering from their
long sleep. ‘What is your name?’
      ‘Polly,’ she said, ‘Polly Anderson. Can we see New
Earth yet?’
      ‘If you go to that port hole,’ Adam pointed to one
of the for’ard ports, ‘you can just see it as a disc in the
depths of Space. It gets larger every day.’
      The young woman staggered away from them
towards the port hole. Ruth entered from one of the
corridors, a worried look on her intelligent face. ‘That
girl’s got out of the Reminder Room,’ she said.
      ‘Really?’ said Adam. ‘Well, she can’t have gone far.
Would you like to welcome our friends who have just
revived?’
      Ruth shot a glance at the group. ‘I’ll speak to them
later. You and I must search the ship for that girl.
There’s no knowing what she’ll get up to. Come!’
      Ruth swept out of the living area followed by
Adam. Mark walked across to Polly Anderson who was
having difficulty standing, and caught her arm. ‘Sit
down and rest for a while. You’ll soon feel better.’
      Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sarah signalling
to him from the flight deck. Quickly glancing round to
make sure no one was watching, Mark hurried across to
the flight deck’s glass door and opened it.
      ‘1 just got back,’ panted Sarah. ‘That door’—she
indicated the hatch that supposedly opened into Space
—’it leads you straight into the corridor of a control
centre under London.’
      ‘I don’t believe it.’
      ‘Then how do you think I’m alive?’ She went to the
hatch and yanked back the lever. Mark peered out and
saw a flight of wooden steps leading down into a
corridor. ‘Do you believe me now?’
      He looked away. Sarah saw that his eyes were
glistening with tears. ‘I honestly believed we were
travelling to a new world,’ he said simply. ‘We’ve all
been tricked.’ He sniffed. ‘But why? What are the
organisers doing this for?’
      ‘It’s very complicated,’ she explained. ‘We’ve got to
explain to the others.’ She flung open the glass door,
and went into the main living area. ‘I want everyone to
listen to me,’ she announced, raising her voice. ‘This is
all a trick. You’re not on a space ship, and you’re not
going to another planet.’
      The people who had just revived from suspended
animation turned to look at Sarah in dazed disbelief.
The young woman whom Mark and Adam had just
revived didn’t understand at all. ‘I’m Polly Anderson,’
she smiled. ‘Who are you?’
      ‘It doesn’t matter who I am,’ said Sarah. ‘Please
will you all pay attention to me. It’s a big trick. We are
on Earth. This space ship is a fake.’
      A middle-aged balding man was the first to grasp
what she was saying. ‘I find that difficult to believe.
They made promises to us. I went into everything very
carefully. I resigned my position as bank manager and
even sold my house!’
      ‘I’m afraid she is telling the truth,’ said Mark.
      Ruth and Adam entered. They stopped in their
tracks when they saw Sarah. ‘How did you escape from
the Reminder Room?’ Ruth demanded.
      ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m trying to tell everyone
you’ve all been tricked. I’ve escaped from this so-called
space ship, and returned. We are deep under Central
London. It’s all fake. I’m going to prove it to you all by
opening the hatch inside the flight deck.’
      Sarah turned to go back into the flight deck. Ruth
grabbed her arm. ‘This poor girl is unbalanced. She
should never have been selected. She’s already
contaminated one of our number.’ She pointed an
accusing finger at Mark.
      ‘Let me go,’ shouted Sarah. ‘I want to prove that
you’re wrong!’
      ‘Never! Someone help me hold her. If she opens
that hatch we’ll all be killed. You, girl, give me a hand! ‘
      Polly Anderson obeyed the command by grabbing
Sarah’s other arm. ‘I thought everything was going to
be peaceful,’ she said, ‘not all this sort of thing.’
     ‘Two of you grab the boy,’ Ruth commanded.
‘They must be restrained until we have safely landed.’
     The ex-bank manager and another man pinioned
Mark’s arms behind his back. ‘Where to?’ asked the ex-
bank manager.
     ‘Follow me,’ said Ruth, and with Polly’s help
marched Sarah down the corridor leading to the
Reminder Room.
     Adam entered into the flight deck and studied the
communications system. He pressed a button marked
‘Transmit,’ and spoke into a microphone. Would
anyone hear him across the reaches of Space? ‘Hello?
Hello? Can anyone hear me?’

Adam’s voice came clearly through a loudspeaker set in
the wall close by the Timescoop. Sir Charles
immediately strode up to the communications console.
‘How do I make this thing give static?’
      Butler hastened to Grover’s side and adjusted
some knobs. ‘This will make it sound as though you are
talking by radio across Space.’
      Grover spoke into a microphone that had the
words SPACE SHIP written above it. ‘This is space ship
number one. We are receiving you loud and clear.’
      Adam’s voice came through the loudspeaker. ‘I
must speak to Charles Grover. Something very strange
has happened here. The girl Sarah claims we are not on
a space ship.’
      Grover shot a glance at Butler, then spoke into the
microphone again. ‘This is Charles Grover speaking.
Where is the girl?’
      ‘We have just locked her in the Reminder Room.’
      Butler listened for a moment, raced away towards
the storeroom in which he had locked Sarah. Grover
spoke authoritatively into the microphone. ‘Please take
no hasty action on your ship. As you know, I can reach
you by shuttle in a few minutes. Over and out.’
      Whitaker looked up from the Timescoop. ‘Well
that’s a fine kettle of fish, I must say! ‘
      ‘Where’s the space-walking gear?’ asked Grover.
Whitaker pointed to the cupboard. ‘All in there. It’s a
good thing we thought of that.’
      Grover opened the cupboard. Inside hung a
replica of an astronaut’s space-walk suit. He began to
put it on.
      Butler ran breathless into the room. ‘She’s gone!
Went through the airvent. She’ll tell them everything.’
      Grover was pulling on the heavy trousers over his
expensive suit. ‘Twenty years in politics has taught me
that people only believe what they want to believe.’ He
paused to think. ‘I suppose that goes for us all in a way.’

A giant stegosaurus was standing peacefully outside
Westminster Underground Station contemplating the
Houses of Parliament. It thought that the great grey
buildings were other monsters; if it stayed very still
perhaps they would leave it alone. Then a small and
very mobile monster came hurtling round the corner
making a lot of noise and smell. It stopped with a
screech. An even smaller creature jumped out of it and
threw something. There was a loud bang and a flash of
fire that disturbed the stegosaurus’s peace of mind.
      ‘It’s doing you no harm, Brigadier,’ shouted the
Doctor. ‘Leave the poor thing alone.’
      The Brigadier, about to hurl another hand
grenade, paused. ‘All right. Let’s go into the station.’
      They grabbed their supply of dynamite, and
hurried into the station and down the steps.
     ‘I never thought I’d find myself blowing up a
London underground station,’ said the Brigadier. ‘If
you’re wrong, Doctor, I’m going to have a difficult job
explaining all this to London Transport.’

‘... The conveyor-belt system of mass production brings
drudgery to the workers. Their natural creative drive is stifled.
They are slaves to the machines. Working in continuous noise,
unable to speak to their fellow workers, they are brutalised...’
       Sarah put her hands over her ears. ‘Can’t we turn
that film off?’
       Mark shouted above the sound of the running
commentary which filled the Reminder Room. ‘It comes
on automatically whenever the door is closed and
someone is in here.’
       Suddenly it stopped and the door opened. Sir
Charles Grover, dressed in his spaceman’s suit and
carrying a heavy helmet, stepped into the room. He left
the door slightly ajar for fear of restarting the film.
       ‘You really are a terrible problem to me, Miss
Smith,’ he said.
       She looked at him in astonishment. ‘Why are you
dressed up like that?’
       Grover lowered his voice confidentially. ‘You and I
know this is a fake space ship, but the people outside
still believe in it. So I had to pretend to arrive by shuttle
and come through the airlock. They think I’ve been
space-walking.’
       Mark’s anger burst. ‘You’ve cheated us! Why
didn’t you tell us all the truth in the first place?’
       ‘He didn’t dare tell you,’ said Sarah heatedly.
‘Don’t you understand, Mark? Millions of people are
going to be wiped out.’ She swung round to Grover.
‘That’s true, isn’t it?’
      He nodded slowly. ‘I’m afraid it is. But it will be
quite painless. They will never have existed. You see, I
had to tell a story that would be acceptable to good
people like Adam and Ruth and Mark, the kind of
people that I wanted to recruit.’
      Sarah said, ‘You mean decent people who might
object to the destruction of generations of other human
beings?’
      ‘I am only deceiving them about the means, not
the end. They will have their New Earth, but it will be
this Earth returned to an earlier, happier time.’
      ‘The end can never justify the means,’ protested
Mark. ‘You’ve implicated us all in a terrible crime
against humanity!’
      Grover appealed to Mark. ‘Will you, for the sake of
the others, accept the situation?’
      ‘No. Never!’
      ‘Then my only hope,’ confessed Grover, as he
moved back to the door, ‘is that once this great project
is complete, you will adjust to life in the Golden Age.
I’m deeply sorry about this. I hope that in time to come
we will be friends again.’ He closed the door. Almost at
once moving pictures of squalid over-crowded blocks of
flats appeared on the screen.
      ‘... the brutalisation of millions of people extends from the
factories to the buildings in which they live. To accommodate an
ever increasing population vast tenement blocks are thrown up
in our cities, providing no sense of community for the
unfortunates who dwell in them. Gone is the concept of the
village...’
      Sarah banged on the door. ‘Mark, we’ve got to get
out of here! ‘
      ‘I don’t think there’s an escape route.’
     Sarah looked around desperately: there was no air-
vent in here, nothing. ‘I think you’re right.’ She leant
against the wall in exhaustion. ‘Do you know, I think
I’m going to cry.’
     ‘If you do,’ he said, ‘try my shoulder. It’s broad
enough.’
     ‘Thanks. I may take you up on that—’
     The door opened and Adam slipped in quietly
from the corridor. ‘Are you two all right?’
     ‘We’re O.K.,’ said Mark, thankful that the film and
its running commentary had stopped when the door
opened. ‘But you’ve got to help us.’
     ‘I know. You see, I listened at the door when
Grover was talking to you. Do you realise the man is a
raving lunatic?’
     ‘I don’t think he is,’ said Sarah. ‘He knows exactly
what he’s doing.’
     ‘Maybe.’ Adam tugged thoughtfully at his beard.
‘The question is—what do we do?’
     ‘Stride into the flight deck,’ said Sarah, ‘open that
hatch and show everybody the truth.’
     Adam said, ‘Ruth won’t like that.’
     ‘People like Ruth never do like the truth, but this
time she’s got to face up to it. Now let’s go and open
that hatch.’
     Adam and Mark followed Sarah out of the
Reminder Room.

On the platform at Westminster Underground Station
the Doctor and the Brigadier were poised to blast their
way into the lift shaft that led to the control centre.
Using a battery-driven drill, the Doctor bored holes into
the floor of the broom cupboard.
      ‘You’re absolutely sure,’ asked the Brigadier, who
was preparing the sticks of dynamite to go into the
holes, ‘that this is the right broom cupboard?’
      ‘No doubt about it,’ said the Doctor. ‘They’ve
concreted the floor. Once we blast that away, we shall be
into the lift shaft.’
      A sudden roar abruptly stopped their conversation.
The Brigadier swung his torch round. Filling one end
of the tubular platform area was a triceratops—nine
tons of horned dinosaur with a mouth like a beak.
      ‘Good grief,’ exclaimed the Brigadier, ‘that must
be the ugliest one of the lot!’
      The Doctor turned round to look. ‘The neck-frilled
variety,’ he commented. ‘They used to roam in great
herds across North America, and could charge at up to
thirty miles an hour, impaling their prey on those
horns.’
      ‘Most interesting,’ said the Brigadier sarcastically.
‘But what’s it doing down here?’
      ‘They must know we’re trying to break in, so
they’ve materialised that to distract us.’ The Doctor
started drilling again and shouted over the noise. ‘It’s
stupid really, because charging animals are always at a
disadvantage in a confined place.’
      ‘Perhaps it doesn’t know it’s at a disadvantage,
Doctor,’ replied the Brigadier, ‘because it’s coming
towards us.’
      ‘Keep it away somehow,’ said the Doctor,
concentrating on his work.
      ‘Certainly,’ said the Brigadier. ‘I’ll go and say
“boo” to it.’ He desperately scrabbled in the bag of
equipment he had brought down from the jeep. To his
delight he found a set of flares for use as distress signals.
He picked one up, lit it, and walked a few feet towards
the triceratops. The monster opened its beaked mouth
in fury, roared, and backed up the platform.

‘I think you’ve all three gone mad,’ said Ruth, as she
faced Adam, Mark and Sarah in the main living area of
the space ship.
      ‘You could at least listen to us,’ Adam pleaded. The
ex-bank manager stepped forward. ‘That sounds
reasonable enough—to listen.’
      ‘All right,’ Ruth said, ‘what have you to tell me?’
She sounded just like a headmistress addressing
naughty children.
      ‘It’s perhaps best if you watch.’ Sarah crossed to
the flight deck and opened the glass door. ‘I’m going to
open that hatch.’
      ‘You’ll only kill yourself,’ said Ruth, ‘and kill us at
the same time.’
      ‘No, I’ll close this glass door first. Then I’ll only kill
myself. Now watch!’
      Sarah closed the glass door. The whole group,
including the reluctant Ruth, moved to the door to
watch. Sarah went up to the hatch and yanked the lever.
The door opened. Sarah stood at the open doorway and
breathed in and out, letting them see her chest rise and
fall.
      Adam turned to Ruth. ‘Are you convinced now?’
Ruth pulled open the glass door. ‘Where do you say
that door leads to, girl?’
      ‘To the people who have cheated you. I’ll show you
the way.’

‘All set,’ shouted the Doctor. He had just finished
attaching terminals to the sticks of dynamite set in the
floor of the broom cupboard.
      ‘Just as well,’ said the Brigadier. ‘I’m running out
of flares.’
      The Doctor ran along the platform towards the
steps, uncoiling wire all the way. The Brigadier threw
his final flare at the monster and then followed him.
Halfway up the steps the Doctor stopped. He attached
the wires to a detonator. ‘Here goes, Brigadier!’ He
rammed down the plunger. From the platform they
heard a huge explosion.
      ‘Where’s the rope ladder?’
      ‘Here.’ The Brigadier searched in his bag of
equipment again, and produced a very fine nylon rope
ladder. ‘I’ll go down there with you.’
      The Doctor shook his head. ‘Less chance of being
spotted if I’m alone. You go and summon up some
reinforcements. See you soon, I hope.’ He hurried away
into the cloud of black smoke which still billowed from
the centre of the explosion, while the Brigadier went up
the stairs to get to his jeep and radio in for troops to be
sent if any were still in the London area.

The Brigadier’s voice came over Sergeant Benton’s
earphones. ‘Brigadier Lethbridge Stewart to UNIT
Headquarters. We need troops urgently at Westminster
Underground Station.’
     ‘Yes, sir,’ Benton replied into the microphone. ‘I
can contact one mobile patrol. It’s all that’s left in
London.’
     ‘Good man. Send them here as fast as possible.
Over and out.’
     General Finch stood by Benton, his service
revolver pointed at the sergeant’s neck. ‘You will forget
that request for troops, sergeant.’
     ‘But sir, if the Brigadier’s in danger...’
      ‘The Brigadier is clearly aiding and assisting an
escaped detainee. He will be court martialled, and so
will you if you act on his instructions.’
      The sergeant hung his head, signifying compliance
with his superior officer’s orders. ‘Very good, sir. Just as
you say, sir.’
      The General smiled and lowered his gun. ‘I’m glad
you see it my way, sergeant—’
      Benton suddenly leapt to his feet. As his clenched
fist swung into the General’s jaw bone, he said, ‘Very
sorry to have to do this, sir.’
      The General saw the fist too late. It crashed into
his jaw bone, stunning him instantly. He fell heavily to
the floor, his revolver spinning away from his hand.
      Sergeant Benton grabbed his sub-machine gun
and helmet and hurried out of the classroom.

Professor Whitaker looked up from the controls of the
Timescoop. ‘Everything’s ready.’
      Grover looked worried. ‘General Finch should be
here.’
      ‘I hope you don’t propose to wait. The timing is
crucial.’
      ‘He must be in the area,’ said Butler. ‘As long as
he’s inside the protective field, he’ll be scooped up with
us.’
      ‘That’s true,’ agreed Grover, and turned to
Whitaker. ‘All right, Professor Whitaker. Let us now
return to the Golden Age.’
      Whitaker put his hand on the lever that would
activate the Timescoop and roll back Time. ‘Just think
of it, a moment from now I shall have achieved what
everyone believed to be impossible.’
     ‘Indeed so,’ said Grover, glancing at his watch.
‘Would you like to get on with it?’
     ‘You just don’t want me to have my moment of
glory, do you?’ Whitaker pouted. ‘All right, I’ll pull the
lever.’
     ‘Stop! We shall have no part of this!’
     The trio standing by the Timescoop swung round
to see Adam entering the control room. He was followed
by Ruth, Mark, Sarah, and a group of people dressed in
blue denim tunics. Grover was the first to recover from
the shock. He shouted at Whitaker. ‘Go ahead! Do it
now!’
     The bank manager and Mark pushed past Grover
and pulled Whitaker away from the controls.
     ‘You’ve cheated us,’ Ruth accused. ‘We know all
about you.’
     Grover looked at the people who were now
menacing him. ‘My dear friends, I haven’t cheated
anyone. Let me pull that lever and you will have the
Golden Age that I promised you.’
     ‘You’re going to destroy all the civilisations of
Humankind,’ said Adam. ‘All the great literature of the
ages, every work of art—everything will vanish. Leaving
Earth for another planet was one thing, but this is evil.’
     ‘Civilisation has already destroyed Humanity,’
Grover replied. ‘It’s time to make a fresh start. If we
take the Earth back in time, we can guide Humanity
along a better path. Just think of it—we can give it a
second chance!’
     The bank manager moved away from the
Timescoop. ‘That’s true, you know. Do we really want to
keep the world as it is?’
      Grover was grateful for an ally. ‘Now is our chance
to build the world anew. Are we to let that opportunity
slip through our fingers?’
      ‘He’s right,’ said Ruth. ‘And why should we lose
our chance of personal happiness? This is what we all
planned. I say that we complete the plan!’
      ‘No,’ protested Mark, ‘it’s criminal!’ He turned to
face Ruth. ‘The only reason you want to go ahead now
is because you can’t stand being made a fool of! You
must never be wrong!’ He turned to the remainder of
the group. ‘If we allow that lever to be pulled we shall
become as evil and self-seeking, as the things we hate in
this present world! ‘
      ‘Quite right,’ said the Doctor as he entered from
the corridor that led to the lift shaft. His clothes were
dusty after his climb down the rope ladder. ‘None of
you will be fit to enter your so-called Golden Age if this
is the means you intend to use to get there.’
      ‘Congratulations, Doctor,’ said Grover. ‘You are in
time to be present at the most important moment in the
world’s history.’
      ‘On the contrary,’ said the Doctor. ‘I am in time to
prevent a crime.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘And
fortunately I am not alone.’
      The Brigadier, Sergeant Benton, and half a dozen
UNIT soldiers entered from the corridor, all as dusty as
the Doctor from their climb down the lift shaft.
      ‘No one is to move,’ ordered the Brigadier. He
pointed across the control room at Professor Whitaker.
‘Kindly stand away from those controls.’
      Grover turned quickly to Whitaker. ‘Go ahead.
Now!’
      Whitaker pushed Mark aside, and leapt for the
lever that would activate Operation Golden Age. His
hands grasped it firmly, and he pulled downwards with
all his might.
      Slowly the Brigadier, Benton, and the UNIT
soldiers began to walk backwards into the corridor.
Adam, Ruth, Mark, Sarah, and the group from the
space ship went through all their most recent actions in
slow-motion reverse, and then started to move
backwards out of the control room.
      Being a Time Lord, the reversal of Time did not
completely affect the Doctor. As though swimming
through a sea of oil, the Doctor forced himself forward
towards the lever of the Timescoop. As his hand
reached out to touch it, he saw that Professor Whitaker
and Grover—who stood nearest to the Timescoop —
were already dematerialising. The Time eddy swirled all
around the Doctor, its great force seeking to drive him
back into the corridor from which he had come, but he
struggled forward. His fingers reached the lever,
touched it, curled round it. Exerting himself to the
utmost, he pushed the lever slowly back into position.
      Instantly Time moved forward again. The group
from the space ship trooped back into the control room,
followed by the Brigadier and Sergeant Benton and the
UNIT soldiers.
      ‘No one is to move,’ commanded the Brigadier. He
looked across to where Professor Whitaker had been
standing. ‘Kindly stand away from those controls...’ His
voice trailed off. He turned to the Doctor. ‘Where’s
Whitaker?’
      ‘I imagine he and Sir Charles Grover have
returned to their Golden Age,’ replied the Doctor.
‘Perhaps they will be happier there.’
The Doctor started up the jeep which he had borrowed
from the Brigadier, and drove Sarah away from
Westminster         Underground         Station.   Slowly,
thoughtfully, he turned it into a deserted Whitehall. It
was not until they neared Trafalgar Square that either
of them spoke.
      ‘If Sir Charles Grover and Professor Whitaker
really travelled back in Time,’ said Sarah, ‘it means they
were in our past. But that’s impossible.’
      ‘Is it? Why?’
      ‘Well, we’d have heard of them.’
      ‘Surely that depends at what point in the past they
arrived.’ The Doctor turned the jeep into Charing Cross
Road. A flock of pigeons, unaccustomed to traffic for the
past fortnight, flew up from the road as the vehicle
approached.
      ‘It would have changed our history,’ continued
Sarah.
      ‘Not if they were already there.’
      She ran her hands through her hair. The bump
was going down. ‘I find it very confusing.’
      ‘Only because you think of Time as one continuous
process. But what if Time goes backwards and forward,
or round in big circles?’
      ‘If people from the future turned up in the past,’
she said, emphatically, ‘we’d know about it!’
      ‘Perhaps we do.’ The Doctor drove the jeep slowly
round Cambridge Circus. ‘You know, there’s a book
you might try reading sometime.’
      ‘What’s that?’
      The Doctor stopped the jeep and looked up and
down Charing Cross Road, London’s centre of
bookshops. ‘Well, let’s see what we can find.’ He drove
on a little further and stopped the jeep outside Foyle’s.
The front doors had been battered in by the swish of a
monster’s tail. ‘We might find it in here.’
      He strode into the deserted bookshop. Sarah
followed him, calling, ‘We could be shot as looters!’
      ‘We’re not going to take anything,’ said the Doctor,
‘just browse a little. Ah!’ He saw a sign reading
RELIGIOUS DEPARTMENT and went towards it. By
the time Sarah caught up, the Doctor was looking into a
copy of The Holy Bible.
      ‘Read that,’ he said, pointing to a page. ‘It’s
Ezekiel, Chapter 1 verse 5-6.’
      Sarah read: ‘Also out of the midst thereof came the
likeness of four living creatures. And this was their
appearance; they had the likeness of a man. And every
one had four faces, and every one had four wings.’
      She looked up at the Doctor. ‘Who were these
creatures?’
      The Doctor shrugged. ‘Perhaps they were from
another planet, or from the future of this planet.’ He
replaced the book on its shelf.
      They got back into the jeep and turned north
towards UNIT’s temporary Headquarters. ‘There are so
many mysteries,’ said the Doctor as they headed up the
Tottenham Court Road. ‘Remember what I told you
about the Marie Celeste? The whole Universe is full of
mysteries. The important thing is to keep an open
mind.’