The Reverend Timothy Wishaw pushed his bicycle along the row of the cottages facing the small village street towards his church, smiling happily. It was a lovely summer's day; the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and England were marching into an unassailable lead against the West Indians. That man Graveney really was a marvel... nearly two hundred runs!
He spotted some movement behind one of the open windows in the cottages and caught a faint burst of 'Housewive's Choice' on the breeze. He paused to call out.
"Good morning, Mrs Bayley."
Mrs Bayley popped her head out from the window and smiled. "Good morning, vicar. Lovely day, isn't it?"
"Absolutely splendid," he beamed. "Did you hear the news? Graveney 188 not out! Young Simon got an absolute corker for his first Test match!"
"Oh, he was delighted, vicar. Practically babbling into the phone with happiness, he was!"
"I bet he was," the Reverend chuckled. "Wish I were there too! Jolly decent of the Headmaster to give him time off to go, eh?"
"Oh yes, it was so good of him." A kettle started to sing somewhere behind her and she clicked her tongue good naturedly. "Playing my tune, vicar! Must dash!"
"Yes, see you anon!" He waved a hand in farewell and then suddenly paused. "Oh, and Mrs Bayley?"
The woman popped her head out again. "Yes?"
"You haven't forgotten about Saturday? If we can get the last of those boxes out of that old shelter, we can-"
The sudden rattle of running footsteps interrupted him, and a dishevelled middle-aged man appeared at the other end of the lane. He skidded to a halt on seeing the vicar, looked around him almost frantically, and then hurtled off in the other direction.
"How extraordinary!" exclaimed the Reverend. Mrs Bayley came out of her house to join him, wiping her hands on her apron and peering up the lane after the running figure.
"That was Dr Best, wasn't it?"
"I believe it was, yes," said the Reverend slowly. "He seemed to be in an awful hurry."
"Could be the Burgess twins. I heard they got spots."
"Oh dear," sighed the Reverend regretfully. "I must pop round and see how Mabel is bearing up, then."
They both gazed after the running figure thoughtfully.
Above their heads, carefully attached to the trunk of the big ash tree outside the lane, was a small brown box, a thick metal mesh grill set in its front. There was a sudden crackle and pop, which startled a sparrow perching on a nearby branch to flight. A low pulsing sound began to emanate from the box...
***
Dr Robert Best ran across the village green towards the phone box opposite the local pub. He tugged open the door and flung himself inside, leaning against the glass and panting heavily, struggling to get his breath back. He tugged his handkerchief from the top pocket of his jacket and mopped at his streaming brow, glancing fearfully around him. He knew he'd been seen, but only by a couple of the villagers. If Weatherby didn't realise he'd gone, he might get away with it...
He snatched up the receiver and rattled the rest. "Hello? Hello, operator? This is an emergency. I want you to put me through to the War Office in Whitehall, London, immediately. What? No, I don't have a tanner! Just put me through, at once. Yes, this is an emergency!" He sighed in exasperation. "All right then, get me the police. Though I don't think... hello? Hello?"
He rattled the rest again. The line had gone dead. Or had it? Distantly he heard a low, pulsating sound in the earpiece...
"Oh no," he breathed, a sudden chill overtaking him.
A sudden clatter outside made him jerk his head up. Through the dusty glass, he saw that the vicar had dropped his bicycle, and was walking with measured, purposeful tread towards the village green. The woman he was talking to fell into step beside him.
A door slammed shut behind him somewhere and he whipped round fearfully. He gasped.
From all the other houses, people were coming out, and walking towards the green. Best could see that their faces were horribly blank, their eyes fixed and dull, unseeing. Some of them weren't even properly dressed; a short old lady plodded slowly from her house in slippers and a tartan housecoat, hairnet and curlers in place. Behind her came a tall silver-haired man in a string vest and striped pyjama trousers, shaving soap covering three quarters of his face.
They were all making their way towards the phone box. Towards him...
"No!" Best yelled, and yanked open the door and began to run as fast as he could up the lane.
The villagers marched along steadily behind him, gradually quickening their pace.
All around the village, set on trees, mounted on telegraph poles, on walls, and in some of the buildings, small brown boxes issued the same low pulsing tone, gradually rising in pitch to almost inaudibility.
Best knew his only chance now was to make it to the main road, and flag down a motorist. He just prayed that Weatherby hadn't blocked the road off. He didn't fancy trekking over the fields or stumbling through the woods.
There was the rumble of a motor from up the road and Best's ears pricked up hopefully. Help, maybe! A battered old grey saloon careered around the corner and ground to a halt. Four men piled out of it, all dressed in farm labourer's overalls. All had the same terrifying blank expression as the other villagers.
One of them hefted a shotgun, and swung it round in Best's direction.
Best gave a hoarse yell and flung himself into the hedge that separated the road from the field, desperately struggling and kicking his way through the thick brambles. He managed to tear himself through but his clothes were tattered and ripped and his face and hands lacerated and bloody. But Best barely noticed; he was intent on only one thing.
Survival.
He thudded along the meadow, heart pounding in his chest. Too many sedentary years sitting behind a desk in surgery had taken its toil, but he pushed himself to his limit and beyond. He had to.
He was aiming for the woods on the right hand side of the meadow, knowing that beyond them was the main road - and safety. But as he got closer he saw a thin line of villagers strung out between him and the trees. Whimpering, he ran straight forward. He couldn't go back, and left only led to the village.
He didn't get very far. The meadow suddenly gave way to a steep drop into an old stone quarry. The edge seemed to stretch for miles before his terrified gaze.
He was leaning, exhausted, by the edge, when he heard footsteps behind him and he swung round. From all directions, the villagers came, and surrounded him in a semi-circle. Best cast a frightened look at them, and then backwards. He could retreat no further.
The villagers began to close in. Best raised his hands.
"No!" he cried. "No, please!"
A tall, straight figure, very military in bearing, dressed in a brown tweed jacket and plus-fours, pushed through the crowd and came forward. Smoke trailed lazily from the pipe clenched between his teeth.
"Weatherby!" gasped Best.
The man nodded in acknowledgement. There was a smile on his ruddy, almost kindly features, but his eyes were cold and grey and hard, like flint.
"I do regret this, doctor," he said smoothly. "But I simply cannot allow anyone to give my game away now. Least of all you."
"Weatherby, look...!"
But the man merely shook his head, and stepped back. He took his pipe from his mouth and rapped an order.
"Protect and survive."
"Protect and survive," murmured the villagers in unison, and began to repeat the phrase like a chant. They began to press forward, all staring vacantly at the perspiring figure cowering on the edge of the drop.
"No!" shrieked Best. "No! No, please! Weatherby! Weatherby!"
But Weatherby merely stood back and watched as the villagers closed around the man. There was a scuffling sound, then a long drawn out cry - and a horrible wet thump from somewhere below in the quarry. Weatherby clicked his tongue, and fiddled with his pipe bowl.
"Pity. Pity." He raised a hand and clicked his fingers. The villagers all turned and began to walk back towards their homes. Weatherby looked round at the Reverend Wishaw, who had halted beside him. "Terrible tragedy, vicar. Who'd have though have bird-watching could be so perilous, eh?"
"No, Colonel," replied the Reverend dully. "Very tragic."
Weatherby pulled a pair of binoculars from his jacket and tossed them over the edge. "I'll summon an ambulance... in due course." He smiled suddenly and patted the Reverend's arm. "But what about Graveney, eh? Marvellous score, what?"
The Reverend suddenly became animated again, and beamed at Weatherby. "Oh, rather! Splendid player! You know, I really fancy our chances this summer..."
Chatting amicably and seemingly totally oblivious of what had just occurred, the two men strolled away. Above them, crows wheeled and cawed, drawn by the smell of the blood that was splashed around the jagged floor of the quarry below...
***
Not long afterwards, and a little further up in the same meadow, a tall blue police box materialised noisily and sat baking in the hot sun for a moment, before its front door swung open and a tall fair haired man in an Edwardian cricketers' outfit strolled out. He gazed around the field, then looked up at the bright sun shining in the blue sky, shielding his eyes as he did so. He took a deep breath, smiled, and produced a rolled-up Panama hat from his coat pocket.
"Marvellous," he said. "Absolutely marvellous!"
Two other people crowded the doorway behind him. One was a red-haired, slightly sly looking young man in a dark school uniform and the other an attractive short haired young woman wearing a rainbow coloured dress.
"Oh no," groaned the young man. "Earth, again."
"Great!" chirped the woman. "And for a change, looks like you've brought us to a nice day, Doctor."
The Doctor turned and gave her a disparaging look, before unrolling his Panama and placing it on his head. "Now Tegan, that's a little unfair... the weather was perfectly nice where we were before."
Tegan stepped out of the doorway and came forward onto the grass, returning the Doctor's disapproving look. "A pity the same couldn't have been said for the inhabitants," she muttered.
"Why Earth again?" insisted the young man, still hovering in the doorway as if undecided as to whether to venture out or not.
"Why not?" shrugged the Doctor.
"What have you got against Earth, Turlough?" asked Tegan.
Turlough folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "You mean besides the fact I had to endure long years of toil and torment at one of your wretched public schools? To say nothing of the fact that, whenever we do land here, we invariably end up in trouble."
Tegan laughed shortly. "He's becoming a worse complainer than I am!"
The Doctor arched an eyebrow. "Oh no, I think he'll need a lot more practice before he reaches your standard," he replied wryly.
"Oi," protested Tegan. "You were supposed to say yes, he is!"
The Doctor winked mischievously.
Turlough sighed and stepped onto the grass as well, closing the door behind him almost reluctantly. "I'm simply saying, why can't we find somewhere else? There are, to my mind, at least a million more exciting and pleasurable places to visit..." and he wrinkled his nose at what he saw around him, "... than a field."
"Ah!" cried the Doctor, swinging his arms round as if he were limbering up to bowl. "But there are few places in the universe as fine as the English countryside on a glorious summers' day!"
"Florana? Unicepter?" Turlough suggested.
"Bondai Beach?" offered Tegan.
The Doctor touched a finger to his lips thoughtfully. "Possibly, just possibly, Lords at the height of an Ashes match!" He grinned. "I wonder if there's one on now?" He suddenly set off at a high rate of knots into the distance. "Come along," he called, waving them forward.
"Where?" shouted Tegan.
"There," the Doctor called, pointing into the distance. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Tegan saw a church steeple, and the roofs of several houses.
Turlough sighed, buttoning up his blazer despite the heat, and started reluctantly forward. "Hardly a sprawling metropolis..." he muttered sourly.
"Look on the bright side," grinned Tegan, "they might do cream teas!"
"Tea?" scowled Turlough, who'd never understood the human affection for that noxious brew of dead leaves. "More likely it'll be swarming with Cybermen... or worse."
Tegan shook her head. Why did he always have to look on the downside of things? There were times... "You take the fun out of everything, Turlough."
For the first time, a smile played across his lips, as if he realised he'd annoyed her. That simply irked her even more. "Don't I just!" He nodded after the Doctor. "Come on then - perhaps this time we can stop him before he gets us into trouble."
"Again!" Tegan muttered. She raised her eyes heavenwards and uttered a short prayer. For once, couldn't they just land somewhere and enjoy themselves? Especially on a day like this... "Makes you glad to be human," she thought aloud.
Turlough overheard her. "Now how would I know that?" he smirked, before strolling away. Tegan glowered at him.
"You said it," she muttered, and started after him.
***
The pair caught up with their friend just as they reached the outskirts of the village. The Doctor had paused to study a sign mounted on a low stone wall running adjacent to the road leading into the village. As the others approached he swung round and pointed to it.
"Steeple Norton," he declared. "Anyone heard of it before?"
"There was a boy in the year below me called Trumper Norton," said Turlough laconically. "Any relation?"
The Doctor gave him a measured look, then went back to looking around him. "Not a name I'm familiar with, but..." he sniffed the air. "Could be Suffolk... possibly Lincolnshire. Tegan?"
The Australian woman shrugged indifferently. "How should I know?"
The Doctor sighed. Sometimes he found his companions' laissez-faire attitude towards their travels a little trying. "Oh well... we'll soon find out when we meet someone." He set off down the lane again towards the centre of the village. Turlough paused beside Tegan.
"It's probably somewhere in Andromeda that looks exactly like Earth, knowing our luck."
"No," said Tegan. "This is Earth. Nowhere else smells like a summers' day in the English countryside." She pointed upwards at two small birds swooping and diving overhead, chattering and whistling excitedly. "And I'm sure nowhere in the galaxy has swallows!" she grinned, and started after the Doctor. Turlough stood still for a moment, looking around him with a frown.
"All the same..." he murmured. "There's something..."
He shook his head and carried on for a moment, then...
"Oww!"
Turlough yelped suddenly and came to a halt, clutching his hands over her ears. Concerned, the Doctor jogged back to him, Tegan close behind.
"Turlough? What is it?"
"There was a nose... like a high pitched whistle." He grimaced. "Went straight through me."
The Doctor frowned. "I didn't hear anything... Tegan?"
She shook her head. "I didn't hear anything, except the swallows."
Turlough rubbed his ears. "It wasn't them! I definitely heard it." he insisted.
"High frequency sound, maybe. A dog whistle, or something similar."
"Dog whistle!" sniggered Tegan. The Doctor gave her a look, and continued mildly: "I'm sure it's nothing serious. But if you hear it again, sing out."
"Oh, I'll definitely do that," snorted Turlough, still smarting.
"All right then," nodded the Doctor. "Now, let's see if we can find a local shop, or something, and find out exactly where we are."
They set off again. Tegan moved past Turlough to catch the Doctor up and paused. "Come on - Rin Tin Tin!" she grinned.
"Thank you, Lassie," he muttered darkly, and followed slowly after them, shaking his head.
Above them, fastened securely in a tree, one of the speaker boxes throbbed and hummed...
***
The Reverend Wishaw was just making some alterations to the notice board outside the church gate when he heard a voice cry out behind him.
"Hello there!"
The Reverend swung round and saw a strangely dressed young man hurrying towards him, hand raised, accompanied by dark haired girl in a rather short dress and a scowling schoolboy.
"Er, hello," he replied, returning the wave. The man came closer and smiled.
"Good afternoon," he said, then noticed the time on the church clock, grinned and corrected himself. "I mean, good morning!"
"Good morning to you," replied Wishaw. "Er... can I help you?"
"Indeed you can," said the man, and leaned forward urgently. "Tell me... the Test Match. What's the latest score?"
The Reverend chuckled. Behind them, the man's two friends groaned and raised their eyes skywards.
"Ah, we're going great guns!" he exclaimed. "Overnight, we're 360-2. Graveney 188 not out."
"Of course," beamed the man. "The Graveney test... I've always wanted to catch that one!"
"Eh?" blinked Wishaw.
The man held out his hand. "Do forgive my manners... I'm the Doctor, and these are my friends Tegan and Turlough..." the Doctor turned to properly introduce them, but the pair had wandered up the lane towards the village shop. The Doctor laughed, slightly embarrassed. "Yes... well... cricket isn't quite their thing."
The Reverend shook his hand. "Timothy Wishaw. A doctor, did you say?"
"That's right," said the Doctor warily.
"My, that was quick. And so soon after poor Dr Best's accident..." He folded his hands in front of his stomach and shook his head regretfully. "But I suppose the Colonel didn't want to be without specialist medical advice for too long."
"Er... yes," replied the Doctor slowly, ears pricking up suddenly. "I'm quite sure he doesn't... er, accident, did you say?"
"Yes," said Wishaw. "It was..." The Reverend hesitated, and blinked rapidly a few times. "It was... an accident. Bird watching. Slipped and fell." He looked at the Doctor, face curiously slack, eyes blank, almost unseeing. "Very tragic..."
"I can imagine," said the Doctor softly, gazing at the man, a frown forming on his face.
Then the Reverend blinked and gave a start, animation returning to his face. "Still, you're here now, eh?" He patted the Doctor on the arm and returned to pinning up details of the WI jumble sale on the notice board, just as if the conversation had never taken place.
"Indeed I am, Reverend," murmured the Doctor thoughtfully. "Indeed I am..."
***
"Bulls' eyes! I haven't seen bulls' eyes in yonks!"
Tegan and Turlough had their faces practically pressed to the glass front of the little shop, peering in at the jars of sweets behind the counter like a couple of errant school children. Turlough turned to look at Tegan with a frown.
"Bulls' eyes? You eat them as well?"
Tegan clicked her tongue. "Not those sorts of bulls' eyes, you ninny! They're round sweets, like gobstoppers."
"Really," said Turlough. Human names for things never ceased to amaze him. It was a wonder they ever ate at all, some of the revolting names they called things. Toad in the Hole always made him shiver... "I hope they've got Mars Bars," he said.
"Oh, so there is something about Earth you like!"
Turlough straightened up. "Well, I do have a... certain fondness for some of your confectionery," he replied stiffly.
"I never saw you as the Billy Bunter type," Tegan chuckled. "I bet you were always hanging round the tuck shop."
"I never hang round anything," muttered Turlough peevishly.
"Knowing you, I bet you used to sneak in at night and bash the door down!"
"Actually, I used to pick the lock," he declared airily. "And I was never caught."
"Huh!" snorted Tegan, making for the door. Turlough took her arm and pointed at the small rack of newspapers on display outside.
"Look... there's the date on that newspaper."
Tegan peered at the headline. "5th July... 1957." She looked round at Turlough. "1957... wow."
"What's so wow about 1957?"
Tegan considered for a moment, then realised she didn't know. "Well... all sorts."
Turlough folded his arms. "You don't know, do you?" he smiled.
"Heard anymore funny noises, lately?" she snapped, anger rising again.
"Only from the person standing next to me!" he grinned.
Tegan was about to retort, when the door swung open and a tall dark-haired man with brooding, vaguely sinister features scurried out, almost colliding with her. Rather than apologise, the man glared at Tegan as if she had no right to be standing in his path.
"Hey!" she snapped, further aggrieved at the hostility in the man's expression.
He simply stood and glowered at them suspiciously for a moment, then stalked away very purposefully up the lane without saying a word.
"Charming..." murmured Tegan, gazing after him.
"That must be a display of this olde worlde English charm I've heard the Doctor talk on at length from time to time," observed Turlough dryly.
"No, that was just an example of bad old fashioned ill manners." She nodded towards the church. "C'mon - let's go find the Doctor."
Tegan set off, and, after a brief but longing glance at the sweets through the shop window, Turlough followed. He felt another twinge in his head again and rubbed at an ear, looking around him with a frown.
"There it is again..." he murmured.
***
The brooding man practically sprinted up to the phone box outside the pub. He flung open the door and bolted inside, snatching up the receiver. He dialed '0' and waited a second. A voice murmured from the earpiece.
"Colonel, this is Sellars. We have visitors, repeat, visitors! No, I don't know how they got in. Suspend the test. Quickly!"
The line suddenly buzzed and crackled, and low pulsating whine began to beat the air. Sellars drew in a breath. "Shut down! Shut down!" he yelled.
The sound began to rise in pitch...
***
"This Dr Best... your local GP, was he?"
The Doctor had followed Wishaw into the cool silence of the church, where the Reverend was busying round tidying the pews. The Doctor sat in one near the back, leaning forward across the row in front and resting his chin on his arms, a faraway look on his face.
"Oh no, the village isn't really large enough for its own practice. Dr Carlisle has a surgery at the village hall once a week, otherwise you really have to go into town. No, Dr Best was working for the Ministry."
"Ministry of Health?"
Wishaw swung round in surprise. "No, the War Office." He studied the Doctor carefully. "Don't you, too?"
The Doctor cleared his throat. "Well, I have worked for the British government on many occasions, usually in an advisory capacity... but no, at the moment I'm, ah, acting totally independently," he smiled. "As it were."
"Ah," frowned Wishaw. "Ah. But you were, er, sent by the Ministry?"
"Ye-eess," said the Doctor slowly and a little uncomfortably, sitting up. "The trouble is, you see, I was dispatched in rather a hurry... so I'm a little vague on some things."
"Some things?"
"Well, ha ha, yes... more like everything, really..." The Doctor looked hopeful. "Perhaps you could fill me in...?"
Wishaw looked more than a little wary, the strange blank look returning to his face. "I don't know..."
The Doctor looked shrewdly at Wishaw for a moment. He knew something was going on here, something official by the sounds, but there was something about it he didn't like. He'd need more information.
"Of course you're very right to be cautious... and the security of the village is one of my, ah, interests. It'll all go in my report, of course. In triplicate," he added.
"Of course," said Wishaw slowly. "But, you see..."
"Yes, of course you do!" beamed the Doctor. "Which is why I'm delighted to accept your assistance!" He bounded forward and seized the Reverend's hand, pumping it enthusiastically. "Thank you very, very much. The Ministry, and, dare I say, the nation, will appreciate it!"
Now Wishaw looked thoroughly confused, which was just what the Doctor wanted. "Eh? Well, of course... happy to do my bit!" He frowned. "I think. But-"
The Doctor tapped his nose. "Need to know, Reverend," he whispered. "I'm sure you understand."
"Oh," said Wishaw. "Oh! Yes..." he nodded, and tapped his nose too. "I follow... but, er, what about the Colonel?"
"What about the Colonel?" asked the Doctor slowly.
"Well... is he aware of your presence?"
The Doctor smiled brightly. "Perhaps I ought to go and see. Can you tell me where I might... Reverend?"
Wishaw's face had suddenly become completely slack and blank again, eyes gazing dully into space. The hymn book he was holding slipped from his grasp and clattered the floor. Slowly, he turned and started walking towards the back of the church.
The Doctor stared, puzzled and concerned. "Reverend? Reverend Wishaw?" he called. But there was no response. The man just kept walking.
"I might not be the universe's greatest conversationalist, but I think this is going a little far!" the Doctor muttered, and made to follow. He then became aware of a strange high-pitched pulsing sound coming from somewhere outside. He halted and cocked his head. "What on earth..?"
With a last glance at Wishaw, who seemed oblivious to everything, the Doctor dashed to the door and looked out. The sound was a lot stronger out in the churchyard, and looking up, he identified the sound coming from a speaker hidden among the branches of one of the trees in the churchyard. The Doctor peered up at it.
"How very curious..." and his face hardened slightly, "and not in the least bit right!"
A door slammed somewhere and the Doctor looked away from the tree and into the village.
He froze.
From all over, people were marching out of their houses, the same vacant, blank expression on all their faces as Wishaw had.
And they were all marching towards him.
***
Turlough slipped to his knees in the lane, arms wrapped around his head, trying to blot out the noise. Tegan crouched beside him helplessly.
"Turlough, what is it? What's happening?"
"The sound," he managed to croak. "The sound! Can't you hear it?"
Tegan could hear the high-pitched pulsating sound, but to her it was merely irritating rather than painful. "I can, but I don't feel anything."
"Sonic... wave," he gasped. "Some... sort... of... sonic... wave."
"Here? But that's impossible! They didn't have sonic waves in the fifties."
"Tell... them... that!" he gasped.
"Where's the Doctor?" cried Tegan. She looked around helplessly, but could see no sign of him. "He's never around when you need him," she hissed in frustration.
Then, abruptly, the sound ceased. Tegan blinked. "Turlough... it's stopped. The sound stopped."
"Thank god," the boy groaned. "I thought... my head was... going to split."
"What caused it? And why did it stop?"
"You think I know?" he gasped, annoyed. "I'm just glad it's stopped."
Tegan helped him to his feet, and he stood trembling, bent over with hands on knees, getting his breath back. "Are you feeling better?"
He looked up at her curiously. "What's this? Concern?"
She blushed slightly, more embarrassed than angry. "No, I just don't fancy lugging you all the way back to the TARDIS!" she snapped. She changed the subject. "Why were you affected and not me?"
"I'm more susceptible, I suppose..." he straightened up and took a deep breath. "On my world, they used sound waves as a means of pacification." He shuddered. "Some, like me, don't react very well to it."
"Pacification?"
"That's law and order on my world, for you," he muttered darkly, then nodded towards the village centre. "Come on - let's find the Doctor and see if he can't make some sense out of things." He paused and smiled slightly. "I'm sure he won't mind helping me back to the TARDIS!"
Tegan scowled, but her blush remained.
They started forward, then Tegan seized his arm. "Turlough, look! Look at those people!"
Turlough took one look at the zombie-like villagers plodding in droves towards the church and pulled Tegan down beside him so they knelt low on the road. "I don't like the look of that," he muttered. "I knew there was more to this place than met the eye."
"You say that about everywhere."
Turlough looked at her. "And I'm usually right, too, aren't I?"
"Don't rub it in. Look, we can't crouch here all day."
"No." He nodded towards the wall running along the lane. "Come on - let's follow that round and see what's going on. The Doctor is bound to be involved somewhere."
"Bound to be," Tegan muttered, as they set off, keeping low, towards the wall. "I just hope they're not after him."
***
The Doctor retreated slowly back to the church doorway, watching the approaching crowd apprehensively. To his relief, though, they veered away from the churchyard and made their way past the building up the slight grassy bank at the rear of the church. The Doctor followed cautiously, face troubled.
As he got to the top of the bank, he saw where the people were heading for; a large opening dug into the other side of the rise. They all filed slowly inside, the Reverend Wishaw among them.
"Some sort of shelter," the Doctor murmured. "But why go to this length to drive them inside?"
"Good morning!"
A hearty voice behind him made the Doctor spin round. There stood a well-built ruddy-faced man in his late fifties, dressed in a brown tweed jacket and plus fours. He was leaning on a shooting stick and was puffing a pipe. He looked every inch the English country gentleman, but there was something hard and cold in his eyes that told the Doctor he was not quite as he seemed.
"Good morning," said the Doctor cautiously. "You must be the Colonel."
The man affected a look of innocence that didn't fool the Time Lord for an instant. "Oh, must I?"
The Doctor smiled in a friendly fashion and extended a hand. "I recognise an old soldier when I see one. India, was it?"
The man smiled back, but his expression was steely. "And the Far East, yes." He simply looked at the Doctor's hand, not taking it. "Colonel James Weatherby. And you are...?"
"I'm the Doctor, and I couldn't help but notice what's been going on here." He lowered his hand and turned and pointed towards the shelter. "Some sort of evacuation drill I thought, but why use ultra-sonic sound waves to marshal the people inside, hmmm?" The Doctor turned and looked at Weatherby questioningly.
"Why indeed," grunted the Colonel. "May I see some form of identification, Doctor? I presume you have some, or how else would you have got past the guard at the road block?"
"Oh, a road block too, eh? Quite an operation you have here, Colonel. I presume it's all legal and above board, rubber stamped by the Ministry and all that?"
The Colonel flashed his steely smile again. "Ah, yes... of course. This, operation, as you call it, has been authorised by the Ministry..." the smile broadened, but the action was more menacing than friendly. "But it is entirely under my jurisdiction."
"Martial law, eh?"
"Of a sort."
"Ah, well, had I known that, I might not have blundered in like this."
"Which implies you do not have proper authorisation. Am I correct?"
The Doctor put on his most dazzling smile. "Well, in my line of work, I seldom have time to look for proper authorisation. Nor indeed do I find much use for it."
The Colonel looked the Doctor up and down. "And what is your line of work, Doctor? Some sort of travelling player, are you?"
"Travel, yes. Play... rarely."
"Then what are you?"
"A journalist?" he said hopefully.
The Colonel shook his head slowly. "No, Doctor. I don't believe so. Though I have a feeling you are spinning me a yarn worthy of Fleet Street's finest."
A man suddenly approached them up the bank, the same man Tegan and Turlough had encountered earlier. He stopped and studied the Doctor warily.
"Another one?" he asked.
Weatherby grunted. "Apparently. It was too late to stop the test, Sellars. Once the power had built up, it couldn't be stopped. We must do something about that. It could be... inconvenient, in future."
"Yes, sir."
"Where are the other two, then?"
"Dunno," Sellars shook his head. "I think they hoofed it across the fields."
"Now," said the Doctor warningly, "if you're referring to a young chap in a school uniform and a young Australian lady, they are friends of mine and, I assure you, quite harmless."
"Harmless?" snorted Weatherby. "All right, Sellars. Go and reprogram the machine. Those two need to be found. See to it, will you? I think we can conclude that this test has been successful."
Sellars saluted. "Yessir. And him?"
"I shall look after our mysterious friend here," smiled the Colonel icily.
It was then the Doctor noticed the revolver pointing at his stomach.
***
But Tegan and Turlough were closer than the Colonel or his assistant imagined. They were hidden just out of sight behind some bushes to the right of the shelter, and they'd heard practically every word that had been spoken.
"Wonderful," sighed Turlough. "We've only been here five minutes and already someone is pointing guns at us!"
"I'm starting to get used to it," muttered Tegan, whose first reaction had been to rush out and jump the guy, until the revolver made an appearance. "What do you suppose they're up to?"
"It's all tied in with those sound waves. Subliminal mental domination, possibly."
Tegan frowned. "Mind control?"
"That's what I just said, yes," replied Turlough with irritating patience.
"Yeah, but why?"
"Let's just pop out and enquire, shall we?"
She twisted her head round to glare at him, anger rising at him again. "You're very sarcastic, do you know that Turlough?"
"You have moments yourself."
She slapped the ground with her palm and took a calming breath. Losing her temper with him now wasn't going to help. "Look, arguing is going to get us nowhere! We have to rescue the Doctor."
"I'm rather more concerned about that other chap. Look..."
Sellars turned away from the Colonel and was hurrying back towards the church. The Colonel was motioning the Doctor back towards the village at gunpoint.
"Supposing, just supposing, they are controlling the minds of these people... then that man could be going back to wherever they do the controlling from."
Tegan looked at him. "What, you mean follow him back and stop him?"
"I think that would be prudent. You heard what that other man said, 'those two must be found'. I don't like the sound of that."
"More like you don't want to hear that sound again!" She gazed at him levelly. "Thinking of yourself again?"
He sighed. "I'm thinking of us all. Who knows what a prolonged dose of that signal would do to us. We might even fall prey to its influence ourselves."
"And become a zombie..." Tegan shuddered, then nodded. This time, the boy was right. "You're right... look, I'll go after the Doc, and you get that other guy."
"What?" frowned Turlough. "I was thinking more along the lines of following at a discrete distance, not attempting single combat!"
"Well, get him when his backs' turned," she snapped, getting up. "You should be good at that."
Now it was his turn to blush. "And what do I use?"
"Try your biting wit," she muttered.
"Oh funny, I was thinking of asking for the lending of your biting tongue!"
Tegan's reply would have shocked a veteran Australian test cricketer.
***
"In here, Doctor."
Weatherby led the Doctor into a small office in what the Doctor surmised was the village school, judging from the glimpses of rough paintings and drawings he'd seen stuck on the walls through the windows they passed.
"Stand over there, in the corner."
"With my hands on my head, headmaster?" the Doctor replied scornfully. He'd seen the notice on the door - COLONEL JAMES WEATHERBY, M.C., D.S.O., (RTD), HEADMASTER.
Weatherby smiled mirthlessly. "Why not?" He gestured with his revolver.
The Doctor sighed, but complied anyway. "Headmaster too, eh?"
"I needed a proper function within the village, and there was a vacancy."
"A cover story?"
Weatherby blinked. "Not at all. I was a teacher, before the war, for several years. And everyone knows of my presence here, and of my duties."
"Ah, is that before or after you started beaming instructions into their brains?"
"You ask too many questions. Jennings!" he suddenly shouted, and a sour faced burly man appeared in the doorway.
"Sir?"
"Get on to Whitehall, find out if they've sent anyone recently. Go through Tompkins, he knows everything that goes on there. Then check in with Sellars. I don't want any more delays."
"Sir." The man disappeared.
"You're wasting your time, Colonel. Whitehall didn't send me."
"Then who do you work for? And don't say a paper, we both know that's patently untrue."
"At the moment, I'm very much a free agent..." he grinned. "But I'm usually very heavily in demand!"
"That might not be a problem, soon," murmured Weatherby.
The Doctor shook his head. "Colonel, Colonel, Colonel... I don't quite know what you're up to, but whatever it is, doesn't seem to be very appealing. Now I know the British government has it's faults even at the best of times, but I doubt even they would attempt an operation like this. If it is what I think it is."
"And what," smiled Weatherby frostily, "do you think it is?"
"Some form of primitive mind control, I think. Using a very basic form of ultra-sonic sound wave." The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Am I right?"
"Hardly primitive, Doctor," snorted Weatherby. "Some of the best scientific brains in the country have worked on this project..." he smirked slyly. "And a few besides from... abroad."
"China, perhaps?" The Doctor stretched on his toes slightly, limbering his muscles in readiness to make a quick move. "The communist Chinese used a similar form during the Korean conflict, I recall... and made subsequent attempts to master the process over the years."
The Colonel remained smiling coldly. "Did you fight in Korea, Doctor?"
"I was there, once or twice, I recall, but didn't do much fighting, I have to confess." He narrowed his eyes. "Violence isn't my way."
"I did. I was there." And his face said, violence is my way.
The Doctor nodded slowly. "Let me guess - psywar ops?"
Weatherby inclined his head. "Correct."
"And you were, of course, most fascinated to learn of the Chinese methods."
"Absolutely. To learn of - and bring back," he added.
"And subsequently given a mandate to test them out here."
"In a manner of speaking."
The Doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Though I rather suspect that Whitehall didn't quite have what you're doing in mind when they set you up here, did they?"
Weatherby smirked. "Perhaps not."
"And that's why you're keen to stop people from telling all about what's going on here. Like that chap Dr Best the vicar told me about." The Doctor's face grew hard. "And now, I suppose, Tegan, Turlough and myself."
"How right you are, Doctor," he purred, levelling the revolver at him.
The Doctor lowered a hand and held it up and spoke rapidly. "But first you need to make absolutely sure we're not from Whitehall, don't you? Otherwise we might be missed. And four accidents in one day would be rather suspicious!"
Weatherby's smile faded and he lowered the weapon. "Also quite correct." The smile returned slightly. "But it won't take long to find that out."
"I would be fascinated to know why you're doing this."
"And you think I'm just going to tell you?"
The Doctor grinned easily. "Well, why not? After all, you're about to dispose of me, and I would really hate to go with a mystery hanging over me. I simply wouldn't rest easy!"
"I don't care in the slightest. Put your hands back on your head."
The Doctor reluctantly complied. "Hmmm, I can tell that..." He cocked his head and studied Weatherby for a moment. "Something to do with the war, hmm? I mean, what you call the Third World War?"
"What about it?" replied the Colonel slowly.
"Well, that shelter... not just an old World War Two one, is it? That's an atomic shelter, isn't it?"
"It might be."
The Doctor dropped a hand from his head again and snapped his fingers. "That's it, isn't it? You're on some kind of feasibility mission for the Ministry, aren't you? Studying reactions and stresses, that sort of thing? I've seen it before, though not quite like this!"
"Oh, it's more than that, Doctor..." Weatherby took a step forward, his eyes glittering in the sunlight. "Yes, you're right, that is an atomic shelter, and yes, my original mission was to study and test the village's reactions towards the possibility of atomic Armageddon."
"But you've taken it a bit further than that, haven't you?"
"A bit?" Weatherby laughed. "You have a gift for understatement, Doctor!"
The Doctor smiled slightly. "Atomic war, hmm... frightening, isn't it?"
"Terrifying."
"A dreadful possibility. Quite something to have hanging over your head."
Weatherby shook his head. "Not a possibility, Doctor... a stone cold certainty."
"Ah... you believe it will happen?"
"Oh yes," Weatherby nodded. "I'm sure of it. The atomic nations are simply itching to do it. The Americans, the Russians, even us..."
"I don't think that's quite the case," said the Doctor softly.
"I believe it is. And you seem to forget, Doctor, that I have been around many of the men responsible for committing their - our - countries to that war." He nodded slowly. "I know they're going to do it, one day..." His voice lowered to a deathly whisper. "And I want to be ready."
***
Tegan ducked back behind a wall when she heard footsteps approaching, and peeked over to see the villagers filing back into their homes and workplaces. They still had the same zombie-like appearance and seemed oblivious to everything, but Tegan wasn't taking any chances.
She'd caught sight of the Doctor being directed into a low wooden-sided building that looked more recent than the rest of the village buildings. A sign outside read STEEPLE NORTON C OF E PRIMARY SCHOOL. Cautiously she made her way towards it, keeping low. She reached the side of building and cautiously looked in through the window into the classroom, which was empty.
But not for long. Tegan heard more footsteps behind her and scurried quickly round the other side of the building as a troop of children emerged from the lane and silently filed through the double doors in the side of the building. A moment later she heard the scrape and clatter of chairs being pulled back and then pushed forward. Peering back through the window again she saw all the children sitting down at their desks, staring silent and motionless at the blackboard in front of them.
"This is really creepy," she muttered, and started to creep round towards the other end of the school.
***
Turlough silently tracked Sellars round to the back of the church, where the man disappeared in through a rear door. Turlough was puzzled for a moment, then gazed up at the steeple and nodded to himself.
"Of course... where better to hide the transmitter? Blanket coverage from here..."
Turlough followed Sellars into the church, and into a small antechamber. A door inside revealed a narrow flight of stone steps that led up into some sort of storage area, in the centre of which was a ladder leading up to a trapdoor to some sort of attic space. From above he could hear footsteps, and the hum of machinery. There were voices, and suddenly the trapdoor was flung back. Turlough speedily ducked behind some boxes and crouched down. He heard Sellars speaking to someone.
"I'll take care of this... you report to the Colonel. He might need you to help round up that other pair."
"Yessir."
A man came quickly down the ladder, dressed in plain brown overalls, and hurried across to stairs and disappeared downwards. Turlough waited until he heard the outside door slam, then stood up and came cautiously over to the ladder, looking up through the open trapdoor. He could see very little, but could hear Sellars busying around, and the rattle and click of switches being thrown and equipment operated. Turlough paused at the foot of the ladder and considered. If the man was busy, and had his back to him, maybe he could surprise him... Turlough looked around and spied an old candlestick sitting on a dusty shelf. He picked it up and hefted it. That should suffice.
"I just hope he doesn't have a gun," he whispered bleakly.
Holding the candlestick firmly, Turlough started cautiously up the ladder.
***
"Ready? Ready for what?" The Doctor sighed and lowered his hands again, oblivious to Weatherby's menacing look. "Colonel, I can assure you, that were the world to become embroiled in an atomic conflict, any preparations you make would be almost entirely pointless. All life as you know it would cease to be!"
Weatherby shook his head. "Untrue. There would be survivors, especially in the rural areas. Just like this one. Life in the major cities would be extinguished, but in the country, Doctor, life would go on." The Colonel squared his shoulders. "And these communities will need strong leadership and expert guidance."
"And you propose to provide that, hmm?"
"Absolutely."
"By turning the survivors into sheep through your sound waves?"
Weatherby grinned nastily. "The British people are quite used to being led like cattle, Doctor. The present government is treating them as such, as did the one before. And before that, when they were led into that dreadful and pointless war."
"Now we agree on something, Colonel. The Second World War was dreadful, though I wouldn't exactly say pointless. Herr Hitler had to be stopped."
Weatherby pursed his lips. "Did he?"
The Doctor's face fell. "You agree with Hitler?"
Weatherby shook his head. "Not with his more extreme policies. Racial genocide is counterproductive."
"I'm glad you think so," replied the Doctor coldly.
"But I admire him for his strong leadership... he rebuilt Germany into a major power, and would have done the same for Europe, given the chance."
"Oh Colonel..." the Doctor sighed again. "He led his country to disaster and Europe into almost total ruin. Oh yes, he got the trains running on time, but after the A-bombs fall, I don't think you'll find much of a service left for you to play with, Colonel."
Weatherby stepped forward angrily. "Guard you tongue, Doctor. I despise flippancy. It indicates a weaker moral character. No self control, no discipline."
"And that's what you're hoping to return to the country, is it? Only in place of self control, it'll just be your control!"
"People shall adapt to my control," Weatherby hissed. "When I have finished with Steeple Norton, I shall move on to the next village. And then the next!"
"Today Steeple Norton, tomorrow the world?"
"To blazes with the world! I'm merely interested in ensuing the British Empire survives. And flourishes!"
"Britannia forever ruling the waves, even if they are choked with radioactive ash?"
Weatherby jerked his pistol arm up suddenly, as if to strike the Doctor, but stopped at the last instant and controlled himself. "Mock while you can, Doctor. Soon you'll find out for yourself how powerful my will is!"
There was a tap at the door, and Jennings poked his head round. "Sir, I've spoken to Mr Tompkins..."
"And?"
Jennings shook his head. "Knows nothing about anyone else being sent, sir. And Captain Sellars sends his compliments, sir, and says he's ready to start whenever you're ready."
A cruel smile spread slowly across Weatherby's face. He gestured the Doctor towards the door with his pistol. The Doctor complied slowly, frowning darkly. "Jennings, give Sellars my permission to carry on. Then collect Corporal Parkin and assist the villagers to... protect and survive."
"Yes, sir." Jennings vanished again. Weatherby motioned the Doctor forward again.
"Now you shall see, Doctor. Now you shall see!"
***
Tegan ducked back down as a man came hurrying through the main doors. He paused to check the magazine in the sten gun he had in his hands, before hurrying away towards the village. Tegan shivered. "Charming people this place has," she muttered.
She straightened up again so she could peer through the window again. The children continued to sit motionless at their desks, staring straight ahead. They didn't even react when the door opened and the Doctor walked in, ahead of the sinister tweedy man with the pistol. Tegan stiffened, unsure of how to react. Sneak in through the main door and get behind him? She chewed her lip. There might be someone else in there as well, and she didn't relish the idea of running into anyone else with a sten gun. No, her best bet was to try and distract the man with the gun, and hope the Doctor could tackle him and get away. They'd worry about the others afterwards.
Tegan selected a hefty looking stone from the ground nearby and poised to smash the glass with it, when the dreadful high-pitched whine started up again...
***
The sound of the machinery above masked the noise of Turlough's approach, for which he was profoundly grateful. He poked his head up through the trapdoor and saw Sellars sitting with his back to the opening at a wide bank of archaic looking, by Turlough's standards anyway, electronic equipment. He had headphones on, which helped further. Slowly, Turlough inched up the ladder and pulled himself through and crouched on the bare floorboards at the lip of the opening. He raised the candlestick in his right hand and shuffled quietly forward, eyes intent on the back of the man's neck.
Sellars leaned forward and pressed a switch. A high pitched whistle echoed through the attic and Turlough suddenly yelped, clutching at his head. Sellars swung round in surprise and leapt to his feet.
"What the bloody hell...?"
"Turn it off," yelled Turlough, one hand clutched to his head, the other waving the candlestick menacingly. "Turn it off, or I'll brain you!"
But Sellars merely grinned. "Oh yeah?" He picked up a bayonet from the desk beside him and tossed it lightly from hand to hand. "You and whose army?"
Still grinning, Sellars stepped forward, the light glinting on the smooth sharp blade of the knife. The sound increased in pitch and Turlough's face creased in pain...
***
"Children too?" muttered the Doctor, gazing across the classroom.
"But of course. Children are the future of this country, Doctor."
The Doctor merely looked at him. "This is obscene."
"This is survival, Doctor. One must do what one must in order to protract it."
"The ends do not justify the means, Colonel." The Doctor held his hands up imploringly. "I urge you, cease this. It's completely unnecessary."
"Oh, but it is!" Weatherby hissed, and shoved him forward in front of the blackboard. He glanced around the class. "Everyone here, I think..."
"There seem to be three gaps, Colonel. Perhaps your power is waning!"
Weatherby shot him a look. "Hardly... no, the Burgess twins have been excused because they have measles."
The Doctor smiled hopefully. "Perhaps I can help? I am a Doctor, after all..."
Weatherby smiled grimly. "I think not. And, let me see... ah yes, Bayley has been excused to visit the Test Match."
The Doctor folded his arms. "That was very good of you!" he said sarcastically.
Weatherby raised an eyebrow. "The boy's father had the opportunity to go, and asked permission for his son to go with him. As there is unlikely to be any more Test Matches in the near future, I felt the boy should be allowed to see one while he had the chance."
"You big softy," murmured the Doctor.
"Enough," Weatherby snapped.
"A good Test too... England pile on the runs. Graveney and May both get centuries... Trueman a hatful of wickets..." He nodded sagely. "Yes, I'd be inclined to pick that as my first Test too... though the England Sri Lanka series in 2001 takes some beating..."
A high pitched whine made the Doctor break off and look round. Above the blackboard was a wooden speaker, from which the same pulsating sound he'd heard before issued from. A worried look came across his face.
Weatherby grinned slowly, and raised a hand.
"Children... your attention please."
All the children looked round at the Colonel as one. He pointed at the Doctor.
"This man before you is a dangerous enemy spy. He wants to destroy the village. This cannot be allowed to happen." He stepped back, towards the door. "Protect and survive. Protect and survive!"
"Protect and survive... protect and survive..."
The children took up the chant and slowly began to stand up, before creeping slowly forward towards the front of the classroom, their eyes fixed upon the Doctor.
"Oh no," whispered the Doctor, horrified, backing away. But there was nowhere to back away to.
***
Sellars jumped forward and swiped the bayonet at Turlough, laughing. Turlough could only wave the candlestick feebly at the man, still effected by the dreadful sound filling the room.
"Come on, sonny," shouted Sellars gleefully. "Gonna brain me, are you? Come on then!"
Turlough took a clumsy swing and missed by miles. Sellars responded by thrusting the knife forward, missing Turlough's face by inches.
Turlough stumbled backwards, feet striking the protruding edge of the trapdoor and nearly tumbling backwards down it. An idea formed in his mind...
"Come and get me, you coward!" he yelled, and leapt forward, swiping at Sellars and just missing. Sellars ducked back in time then with a snarl hurled himself forward, bayonet lunging. Turlough side-stepped at the last moment and stuck out a foot. Sellars tripped over it and with a despairing howl pitched headfirst through the trapdoor. There was a bone-jarring thud, then silence. Turlough peered through the hatch and saw Sellars lying twisted and still on the floor below, completely unconscious.
"Oh dear..." muttered Turlough, not feeling at all sorry. He turned and hurried over to the equipment bank and glared at it. It was a mess of wires and valves, switches and dials. He didn't have the first idea how it worked.
"Now what do I do?" he scowled. Experimentally, he flicked a switch. The noise increased in volume, and Turlough yelled out in pain.
***
Tegan was wincing as well at the sound, but she struggled to keep her mind on the classroom, and on the Doctor's predicament. She didn't like the way those kids were creeping towards the Doctor.
"Now or never," she cried. She straightened up and hurled the stone through the glass.
***
One of the windows suddenly exploded inwards in a shower of glass, and Weatherby swung round in shock. The children didn't react at all.
But the Doctor did.
He dived forward across the front desk towards the Colonel, who'd recovered from the surprise and swung round again, pistol arm out straight. He fired, the report deafening even above the electronic whine in the classroom, but the bullet passed safely over the Doctor's head and tore a huge chuck out of the blackboard. The Doctor came in over the desk beneath the gun arm and before the Colonel could do anything the Time Lord straightened up and dealt the man a mighty uppercut with his right fist, slamming Weatherby back into the wall with enough impact to crack the plaster behind him. The Colonel slid down the wall, unconscious, blood trickling from his lip, revolver clattering to the floor. The Doctor scooped it up and sucked at his knuckles.
"I rather enjoyed doing that," he murmured, half-regretfully. Then he leapt for the door and rattled at the handle.
It was locked.
"Doctor," screamed Tegan through the broken window. "Get out of there."
"I'm trying!" he yelled, but the door wouldn't give.
The children came steadily forward, hands outstretched and clutching. They kept up the murmuring chant, "Protect and survive... protect and survive..."
Tegan gestured frantically. "This way Doctor. Through the window."
The Doctor turned, ran forward a couple of steps, leapt onto the nearest desk, and dived forward through the window, arms raised above his head for protection. The glass shattered and he struck the ground outside, rolling over and over. Tegan ran to his side and helped him up.
"I'm getting much too old for this sort of thing," he groaned, shaking broken glass out his jacket.
"We have to get out of here, Doctor. Those people are everywhere."
"The signal, Tegan... we have to stop the signal."
"Turlough is following that other guy... maybe he'll stop it."
"Maybe," said the Doctor uncertainly. He suddenly stiffened. "Uh-oh. Look!"
Villagers appeared from between the buildings and started to advance towards them. Accompanying them were Weatherby's other two assistants, Jennings and Parkin. Jennings hefted his sten gun.
"Get them," he ordered. "Protect and survive!"
The villagers took up the dreadful chant and began to advance...
***
Turlough was still wrestling with controls, but anything he did seemed to make things worse. The sound battered at him, and he was practically trembling with agony.
"Come on, come on!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "What would the Doctor do?"
A memory of the TARDIS console, a control jamming... the Doctor frowning, and raising his fist...
"Yes, of course!" Turlough yelled.
He raised the candlestick high, and brought it crashing down on the equipment, again, and again. Sparks flew and there was a horribly piercing whine of feedback. Then something blew within the steel frame and Turlough was flung backwards. Flames leapt up and the room filled with smoke...
***
Everyone, villagers, soldiers and time traveller's alike, clutched at their heads and fell to their knees as the feedback rose to almost unbearable pitch...
And then ceased.
***
"Silence is golden!" muttered Turlough, getting to his feet and shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears, staring in triumph at the twisted and blackened equipment bank. He tossed the candlestick aside and hurried to the ladder.
***
Jennings and Parkin were also shaking their heads and getting shakily to their feet. Jennings reached down for where his sten gun had fallen, only to discover it was missing.
"Looking for something?"
Jennings looked up to see the stern faced young woman in a multicoloured dress pointing the weapon at him. Beside her stood the man the Colonel had apprehended. He was grinning.
"I believe the expression is, stick 'em up!"
Jennings glanced at Parkin, who shrugged. Slowly, both men raised their hands.
Behind them, the villagers were coming to their senses, gazing round and muttering to one another. Behind them, the Doctor and Tegan could hear the children crowding round the windows, clamouring excitedly. The Doctor looked at Tegan and smiled.
"Normality has been restored, I think!"
The Reverend Wishaw stepped forward through the crowd, bewildered by the scene before him.
"Doctor! What on earth is going on here?"
The Doctor puffed out his cheeks and wiped a hand across his brow. "A long story, Mr Wishaw." He beamed suddenly. "But one that would be better explained over a cup of tea, I think!"
***
Later that afternoon...
"Everything okay now?"
Tegan and Turlough were sitting on a bench overlooking the village green, each finishing off an ice cream. They looked up as the Doctor approached, hands in pockets.
"Oh yes... the Colonel and his men have been locked away by the local bobby, and I've got onto the local authorities and Whitehall and, er, explained the situation. This place will be crawling with officialdom within an hour or so. They'll sort things out."
"Mmm," said Turlough, licking at his ice cream. "Our cue to leave, then."
"Hmmm, regretfully so," replied the Doctor, looking around him. "This really is a nice place, you know. Wouldn't have minded an extended stay, under different circumstances."
"Oh yeah, a nice place full of zombies!" muttered Tegan.
The Doctor shook his head. "Oh no, not any longer. I've made sure all the equipment has been destroyed, and Mr Wishaw is dealing with the speakers." He pointed across the green towards where Wishaw and some of the villagers were going around with wheelbarrows filled with the speakers. Wishaw waved, and the Doctor responded in kind.
"Won't it effect the people here any more?" asked Turlough.
"No, without the signal, they're completely normal. Totally unharmed. And the experience will never be repeated," he added firmly. "I'll make sure of that."
"Won't they remember any of it?" asked Tegan.
The Doctor shook his head. "No. The villagers don't know anything about what happened, fortunately. I simply told them that they were part of a government test that had gone horribly wrong, and that the Colonel was misusing his power and authority to further his own ambitions." He shrugged. "Which isn't far from the truth."
"He's barking mad, if you ask me," said Tegan.
"Yes," said the Doctor sadly. "He is now. But only over time, Tegan. He wasn't mad when he won his MC, or his DSO. Brave, but not insane." He sighed. "He's a sad victim of his era, I'm afraid. Living through two wars and under the shadow of atomic annihilation... not an easy thing, especially for someone in his position." He paused thoughtfully. "In his own twisted way, he thought he was doing what was best for his country."
"There are all sorts of types of brainwashing, Tegan," replied the Doctor. "Weatherby's method is just a more extreme variation of what goes on everywhere." He looked away across the green. "This period in Earth's history is awash with suspicion, and paranoia... much of it fuelled by so-called official propaganda. It was even worse in other countries, though. America had the McCarthy witch-hunts... the Soviet Union its purges..." the Doctor shook his head sadly. "Terrible, really..."
"Looking at all this though, it's hard to believe," murmured Turlough, gazing at the village around him. "I couldn't imagine a place further from the horrors of war."
"War gets everywhere, Turlough," said the Doctor regretfully. "It hung like a black shadow over this period. But life goes on... and things do get better." He frowned. "Eventually."
He shook himself from this gloomy reverie and turned beaming at his companions. "Now, those ice creams of yours look jolly tasty... did you get me one as well, like I asked?"
Tegan and Turlough exchanged a glance, and Turlough cleared his throat.
"Ah, well, these were the last two in the shop..." he explained apologetically.
The Doctor gazed at the pair, thunderclouds brewing on his brow.
"I see," he muttered darkly. "You use my money, and don't even save me a lick..."
"Sorry," said Tegan lamely, guiltily swallowing the last of her cone.
"Me too," mumbled Turlough, cheeks bulging as he stuffed the last of his into his mouth.
The Doctor glared at them. "Are you? Are you indeed!"
The Doctor suddenly slapped the side of his leg and jammed his hat low across his face, then started to march off down the lane. "Come along," he called petulantly. "Can't waste any more time here!"
Turlough winked at Tegan, dabbing at the ice cream smearing the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief, and stood up. "Where are we going now, then?" he called.
"I rather fancy seeing the end of that Test Match," the Doctor called back. "At least there I'll be guaranteed an ice cream!"
"Oh no," groaned Tegan. Turlough nudged her.
"Don't worry... you know we'll never get there."
"I heard that!" the Doctor yelled back, turning round and walking backwards so he could face them. He wagged a finger admonishingly. "Just you wait and see!"
"I've heard that before," muttered Tegan.
"I heard that too!" the Doctor shouted.
Tegan grinned despite herself, and started after him. She glanced back at Turlough. "Coming?"
"Of course... after you!" he smiled gallantly.
Tegan stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then shook her head and set off after the Doctor. Turlough watched her walking for a moment, then back at the village, still smiling quietly, almost wistfully, to himself as he took in the peace and quiet. He shook his head and sighed.
"Andromeda, here we come!"
Buttoning his blazer, he ambled after his friends, gazing up at the blue sky and savouring the sunshine as he strolled. The swallows wheeled and swooped above him again and a light breeze ruffled his hair. Behind him came the sound of church bells, marking the passage of time.
The smile on his face accompanied him all the way back to the TARDIS.
