The Doctor stared sadly at the ravaged face that lay underneath the mask. There was virtually nothing left of the left side of Clearfield’s head, just bone and a fused mass of scar tissue. He held the gaze of Clearfield’s remaining eye. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘He’s sorry …’ Clearfield gave a barking, humourless laugh and pulled the plastic mask back into place. ‘Seventy years of seeing this face in the mirror every day, and he says he’s sorry.’
‘It was already a part of history. What happened that night …’
‘Let me tell you exactly what happened that night!’ spat Clearfield. ‘You were quite right: the combination of Wyrrester venom and the residual mutagenic field generated by the Bell did combine in an unusual way. It made me invulnerable, strong, boosted my capacity to learn, made me practically immortal!’ He took a deep breath. ‘It should have been my greatest moment, my apotheosis!’
He glared at the Doctor. ‘I had only managed to crawl a couple of yards from where you left me when the bombs began to fall. If you had helped me get clear then I would have survived unscathed, as it was …’ He closed his eyes, reliving the moment. ‘I took shelter underneath the control vehicle, unfortunately a bomb landed close alongside, rupturing the fuel tank. I was trapped when the flames took hold. I should have died, but the Wyrrester’s venom prevented that. When the flames subsided I crawled from the wreckage a … changed man. I have not aged a day since then.’
‘And this?’ The Doctor gestured to the machines, the circle.
‘This is the work of a lifetime …’
‘The mistake of a lifetime.’ The Doctor stepped forward, intending to reason with him. ‘The Wyrresters …’
‘The Wyrresters are the greatest boon that man could wish for. Their voices have been inside my head for most of my entire adult life.’ Clearfield pulled the pistol from inside his jacket. ‘I intend to help them in their desire to create a colony here on Earth and I am not going to let you stand in my way.’
He levelled the gun at the Doctor’s head.
Kevin Alperton was in the kitchen of Robin Sanford’s house, cleaning up the broken glass, and helping the old man nail a sheet of timber across the window, when he noticed the movement in the field outside.
His first thought was that yet another type of insect was going to attack, but as he looked closer he realised that the movement came from four soldiers making their way through the field behind the house.
‘Mr Sanford!’ he called out. ‘Look!’
Robin Sanford joined him at the window. ‘About bloomin’ time!’ He opened the back door, taking a large key from a hook and handing it to Kevin. ‘Go and unlock the gate at the end of the garden. They’ll make one devil of a racket if they try and climb over.’
Kevin took the key nervously. ‘Outside?’
‘Sure. I’ll cover you from the window.’ Robin hefted the shotgun. ‘Well, go on!’
Heart pounding, Kevin stepped out into well-kept patio garden. The gate at the far end was probably only about fifteen feet away, but it suddenly looked like a mile. Gripping the key tightly, he started to pick his way slowly down the garden, making sure that his shoes made as little sound as possible on the stone slabs.
The garden was a tangle of plants in pots, interspersed with plastic chairs and bird feeders. Kevin was just grateful that Mr Sanford liked patios instead of lawns. He was still struggling to forget the image of the fox struggling wildly on his own lawn the previous night. At least the insects couldn’t burrow through stone.
He was almost at the gate when a tall shape almost hidden by foliage caught his eye. There was something familiar about it …
Curiosity overcoming his fear he pulled aside the leaves. It was a stone, about four feet high, covered with moss and lichen. Kevin could see swirls and patterns carved in the rock.
There was a hiss from behind him that made Kevin jump. Mr Sanford was glaring at him from the window. ‘What are you dithering for? Get that gate open!’
Hurrying forward, Kevin fumbled with the big clunky padlock, painfully aware of the noise that he was making as he did so. The lock opened with a click and Kevin opened the wooden gate.
He found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.
‘Hold up,’ came a gruff voice. ‘It’s just a kid.’
Four heavily armed soldiers pushed past him into the garden, methodically checking each corner and patch of shadow until they were certain that the area was secure.
Kevin could see that two of the soldiers had their rifles aimed at the kitchen window where the barrel of Mr Sanford’s shotgun was clearly visible.
‘Lower the weapon please, sir,’ barked one of them.
There was a clink of broken glass as the gun barrel was withdrawn through the broken window, and a muffled voice came from inside the house. ‘I’m on your damn side, you know.’
The soldiers hustled Kevin towards the back door and they all bundled inside.
‘Arnopp, Palmer, check the front. Hawkins, upstairs.’ One of the soldiers, obviously the leader, removed his helmet. ‘I’m Captain Wilson. Is there anyone else in the house?’
Robin Sanford shook his head. ‘Just me and the boy.’
‘Sanford. Robin Sanford. This is Kevin.’
‘Alperton.’ Kevin added. ‘My last name’s Alperton.’
‘What about earlier? The two on the bike. Who are they?’
Robin raised an eyebrow. ‘You saw that, eh? Then I guess that it’s you that we have to thank for taking pot shots at that spider.’
Wilson nodded. ‘Always happy to help. Now, those other two …’
‘It was Constable Bevan,’ piped up Kevin. And the Doctor.’
‘The doctor? Who’s he? Local GP?’
‘Don’t really know,’ said Robin gruffly. ‘Scientist of some kind.’
Wilson exchanged a glance with one of his men. ‘Mr Sanford. I gather that you were stationed here during the war …’
‘That’s right. Home Guard. Would have signed up but I have problems with my chest, see …’
‘Sir, I need you to tell me everything that you can about “Project Big Ben”.’
Robin Sanford stiffened. ‘What do you know about that?’
‘We have reason to think that someone is trying to recreate those experiments.’
‘No!’ Robin shook his head angrily. ‘No, that’s impossible!’
‘Sir, our instruments are picking up a very distinctive energy signature from somewhere in this vicinity. Someone is operating a Bell device and I need to find it and destroy it!’ Wilson gestured to one of the chairs. ‘Sit down. Please.’
Robin hesitated, but Wilson’s expression made it quite clear that he was in no mood for games.
‘Please.’
Robin sat.
Placing his helmet on the kitchen table, Captain Wilson pulled over a chair and sat facing him. ‘Now, I need you to tell me everything that you know about this machine. And this mysterious Doctor.’
As Clearfield levelled the service revolver at the Doctor’s forehead, there was a sudden hissing scream, and the crash of metal as all the cages against the far wall of the building opened. At once an angry tide of snapping insects surged across the floor.
Moments later the lights went out, plunging the entire building into total darkness.
‘Doctor! Run!’ shouted Charlie Bevan.
The Doctor needed no encouragement. As he threw himself to one side there was a deafening explosion as Clearfield’s gun went off. In the brilliant glare of the muzzle flash, the Doctor could see Clara standing stock still in the centre of the techno-circle as huge insects swarmed round her.
The gun fired again, and the Doctor used the momentary illumination to orient himself. Charlie and Angela were pressed against the far wall, struggling to open one of the fire doors. Clara still hadn’t moved.
As one of the hybrid insects scuttled towards him, the Doctor darted forward, kicking it out of the way and cannoning into Clearfield, knocking him off balance. As the professor crashed to the floor, the gun went off for a third time, the bullet ricocheting wildly around the metal walkways in the ceiling. Practically on his hands and knees, the Doctor scampered across the floor to the dark, hulking shape of the Bell. He could feel the hair on his arms stand on end with the static that still clung to its surface. Working quickly, and in near darkness, he located an access panel set into the base of the machine and slid it open.
A pale violet glow washed across his hands. The space inside the base of the Bell was packed with glass tubes, each one holding a glowing, purple liquid. The Doctor hesitated. With no time to make a proper study of the workings of the Bell, he had no idea which components would disable it effectively. More worrying, he had no idea which components might still hold a charge.
With time rapidly running out, he used the technique that had served him well in so many of his previous incarnations.
‘Eeny, meeny, miny …’
He grasped hold of one of the glass tubes and pulled hard. Wires and pipes tore out of their sockets, and there was a shower of sparks as he wrenched it from its housing. ‘Mo.’
Stuffing the tube inside his jacket pocket, the Doctor scrambled to his feet. He could still make out the vague shape of Clara in the centre of the circle. He hurried over to her side. ‘Come on!’
Grabbing her by the hand, he raced across the darkened warehouse to where Charlie and Angela were waiting. As they ran, the double doors suddenly swung open and a shaft of light slashed across the floor. Skittering insects ran for cover as light flooded the room.
Barely slowing down, the Doctor hurtled out into the daylight, still half dragging Clara behind him. As Charlie and Angela both scrambled out after them, the Doctor released his grip on Clara’s hand, slamming the doors closed behind them and pressing the tip of his sonic screwdriver to the lock. There was a hiss of steam, and a drop of molten metal oozed from the keyhole as the lock was fused into a sold mass.
Angela shot him a stern look. ‘Locking fire doors is a breach of the Health and Safety at Work Act, you know.’
‘So is letting pets loose in the workplace.’ The Doctor grinned at her. ‘Thanks very much for that, by the way!’
‘What were those things?’ Charlie was struggling to find a portion of his handkerchief not covered in mud, grease or slime.
‘Vessels. Receptacles. Bodies for the Wyrresters.’ The Doctor glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve probably slowed them down, but not enough, not nearly enough …’ He ushered them away from the building. ‘We need to get back to the TARDIS. You three can use the bike to get back to Robin Sanford’s house.’
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Charlie.
‘I have to destroy that machine.’
Suddenly aware that Clara wasn’t with them, the Doctor stopped and looked around for her. She was still standing outside the building, hands pressed to either side of her face. The Doctor hurried back to her side. ‘Are you all right?’
Clara gave him a weak smile. ‘Just a bit disorientated, that’s all.’
The Doctor peered into her eyes worriedly. ‘I’m not surprised, the energies in that room would be enough to upset the most robust constitution.’ He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. ‘You’re fine.’
The two of them hurried around the building to where Charlie and Angela were waiting in the shadow of the TARDIS. The Doctor unlocked the door and between them they managed to haul the Norton and sidecar out through the double doors. As they did so Angela glanced in through the open doors, and then abruptly stepped back, giving the Doctor a look that was half amazement, half pure terror.
‘I’m sure that Constable Bevan will tell you everything that you need to know,’ said the Doctor. He turned to Clara. ‘You’d better drive. Charlie here has already caused enough damage as it is.’
‘Hey!’ Charlie looked at him indignantly.
Clara backed away, shaking her head. ‘I don’t think so …’
‘All right …’ The Doctor’s eye’s narrowed. ‘Looks like it’s you driving again after all, constable.’
Charlie clambered onto the bike, Angela swinging herself up onto the seat behind him.
The Doctor helped Clara into the sidecar. ‘Are you sure that you are all right?’
‘Honestly. I’ve just got a headache, that’s all.’
The Doctor stepped back as Charlie kicked the big Norton into life. ‘I’ll meet you at the farmhouse later. Just lock the doors and stay inside.’
Charlie nodded and the Norton roared off through the car park. The Doctor watched as it vanished along the road, then carefully removed the glass vial from his jacket.
He held it up to the light, watching the thick, purple liquid churn and swirl inside the glass. ‘Just a headache …’ he murmured, then turned and stepped inside the TARDIS.
Clara opened her eyes. Everything around her was dark. She tried to open her mouth, but her tongue felt thick and heavy. She tried to move, but her limbs seemed sluggish, unresponsive.
Abruptly a glaring light snapped on, dazzling her, and she became aware of two shapes moving cautiously towards her through the brightness, one of them larger than the other.
‘Remarkable. I had not expected consciousness to return so soon.’
‘We have underestimated the abilities of these primitives. Perhaps we should reconsider our plan.’
With a chill of recognition, Clara realised that the low, bubbling voices were the same as the one she had heard speaking earlier. They were the voices of the aliens.
As she tried to peer through the brilliant haze, one of the shapes came closer, and she recoiled in horror as the light illuminated every tiny detail of the thing in front of her.
The creature was like a huge scorpion, about four metres long. Its black, shiny carapace was covered in sharp bristles, and it moved skittishly on six spindly legs. Two huge claws, their surfaces covered with swirling arcane symbols, opened and closed slowly, and a curved tail, tipped with a wicked looking barb, coiled and uncoiled agitatedly.
The creature leaned in, and Clara started to panic as it loomed over her. She tried to back away, but an invisible force held her firmly in place. Black, piercing eyes blazed in the folds of skin that made up the monster’s face, and thick, fleshy mouthparts moved wetly as it examined her.
Clara raised her hands to ward it off, but as she did so she realised that it wasn’t hands that she was raising, it was two black, chitinous claws, the edges razor sharp, their surface covered in whorls and patterns.
She froze, desperate to refute the evidence of her own eyes.
Her own eyes …
As the horror of what had happened to her struck home she tried to scream, but the only sound that she could make was a vile, burbling cough.
The transference had been successful.
Her mind was in the body of a Wyrrester.