CHAPTER 13

The Big Problem

‘So, Agent Lineker, what does this thing really do?’

Amy was examining the peculiar coral-like filament that the Doctor had just extracted from the base of the Jules Rimet Trophy. The two of them were alone in the press room.

‘It’s a displacement anchor,’ replied the Doctor. ‘Acts as both a beacon and a fixing point for the Vispic larvae. It’s what’s calling them all here to Wembley. And it serves as a secure anchorage once they get here.’

‘You make it sound like they’re having to cling on.’

‘They are, in a way. Displacing yourself isn’t easy. There are strong forces acting to keep you at your point of origin. The Vispics can override those forces if they have a sufficiently secure displacement anchor to fix on to in their target location – and that’s exactly what you’re holding.’

‘But where did it come from?’

‘The first Vispic to burrow a wormhole into Earth space must have managed to do so unassisted. Probably the one that turned into the larger adult we saw. It must have set up that anchor so that others could follow.’

‘But it was inside the World Cup,’ said Amy. ‘I mean, that’s a bit weird, isn’t it? Why there?’

‘Think about it, Amy,’ said the Doctor. ‘What better place could there be? By its very nature, the trophy is always a focus for celebration and joy. Winning the World Cup creates mass euphoria among the fans of the winning nation. And the trophy is at the heart of that upsurge of good feeling – exactly where a hungry, luck-sucking larva would choose to be.’ The Doctor settled on the edge of the table. ‘Rory’s whole trophy-theft story struck me as odd right away. Why did the cup turn up again? Any thief capable of stealing it in the first place would hardly have been so inept as to leave it lying in a hedge. Unless of course they intended it to be recovered …’

Amy didn’t look like she was keeping up.

The Doctor went on. ‘The police never did manage to track down the culprit. But then they were looking for a human …’

The penny dropped. ‘You mean – that adult Vispic took it?’ Amy looked at the filament. ‘To put this inside?’

The Doctor nodded. ‘I don’t wish to take any credit away from our canine hero Pickles, but it was part of the Vispic plan that the trophy should be found. It was a simple way to ensure the trophy returned to the centre of World Cup activity with the displacement anchor concealed inside.’

The Doctor put out a hand for the anchor. Amy passed it to him. He took out his sonic screwdriver and gave the filament a quick once-over.

‘Their plan’s worked a treat, too, hasn’t it?’ said Amy grimly. ‘All those larvae under the stands, ready and waiting for the fans to go crazy so they can suck all the happiness out of them.’

‘Don’t throw in the towel just yet, Pond!’ The Doctor tucked his sonic away and slid off the tabletop. He began pacing the floor, twirling the strange frilled strand like a majorette’s baton. ‘This thing may be the reason so many Vispics have found their way here, but it might also offer us a way of sending them packing.’

‘How?’

‘As I said, there are forces that act to resist an organism displacing itself. A strong pull back towards the point of origin – a bit like being attached to where you set off from by a piece of elastic. While the Vispics have a secure anchor point –’ he waggled the filament at her – ‘they can withstand that pull. But if we were to destroy it …’

‘Twang!’ cried Amy excitedly.

‘Exactly. No more Vispics. The whole host of larvae and adults would be instantly drawn back to their original location.’

The Doctor stopped pacing, held up the filament, and stared at it searchingly. ‘This is the key to the Vispics’ scheme, but also its weakness. Another reason, I imagine, why they hid it so well.’

‘So what are we waiting for?’ asked Amy. ‘Let’s smash it up!’

‘Be my guest.’

The Doctor tossed the filament back to Amy. She took hold of it by its ends, and attempted to snap it in two. She gritted her teeth and tried harder. But, despite its fragile appearance, the slim strand wouldn’t break.

Amy decided to get serious. She dragged a table across from against the press-room wall and positioned it next to the one in the centre of the room, leaving a narrow gap between them. Then she laid the filament across the gap. She picked up a sturdy wooden chair, lifted it over her head, and brought it crashing down.

The chair disintegrated, splintering into a twisted mess. Amy yelled as the jolt jarred her upper body. She dropped what was left of the chair. The filament lay on the floor, entirely undamaged.

Amy glared at the Doctor, red-faced. ‘I’m not going to be able to break it, am I?’

The Doctor shook his head.

‘You knew that already, didn’t you?’ said Amy.

The Doctor nodded. He reached down to pick up the displacement anchor. He closed one eye and squinted along its length, first from one end, then the other.

‘That, Pond, is our big problem. How to unmake it. It appears to be built around a molecular core of Paratraxium. Almost indestructible.’

‘Almost?’

The Doctor hesitated.

‘I can think of two ways in which it might be destroyed,’ he told Amy.

‘Go on.’

‘The first would involve subjecting it to a very high temperature. The sort generated near the Earth’s core, or at the heart of an erupting volcano.’

‘Not a great option, that one, is it?’ said Amy drily. ‘I’m guessing there’s not a lot of volcanic activity in north-west London right now. What’s Plan B?’

‘To run a powerful electric pulse through it,’ said the Doctor. ‘Paratraxium has an extremely high electrical resistance. If the voltage was sufficient, it should cause the core to heat up beyond its tolerance.’

‘Now you’re talking. Electricity we have – even in the sixties.’

‘Not at the sort of voltage we’d need. It would take over a hundred thousand volts. No part of London’s city grid carries that sort of flow.’

‘Isn’t there any other way?’

The Doctor shook his head.

Amy wasn’t having it. ‘There must be something we can do!’ she insisted. ‘We can’t just sit around and wait for half the population of London to go down the tube …’

The Doctor’s face lit up. He seized Amy by the shoulders.

‘Pond, you’re a genius! You’ve done it again!’

‘What?’ Amy looked confused.

‘That’s the answer! The Tube!’ cried the Doctor. ‘The London Underground! The whole track is electrified!’

‘You think we might be able to fry this thing by hooking it up to a Tube line?’

‘Not directly, no. The electrified track probably carries about a thousand volts of direct current, at most. One kilovolt isn’t enough. But there must be some way to amplify it …’

The Doctor began pacing back and forth once more, running his hands through his hair as he tried to think.

‘Wembley’s entire roof is supported on an aluminium framework. I might be able to multi-loop the electric flow through that. Create a makeshift step-up transformer. Boost the voltage. We’d need to run it through an inverter first, to get an alternating current …’

The Doctor was taking shorter and shorter circuits.

‘It could work! If I get the roof-loop right, we should be able to create a powerful enough electric pulse to disintegrate the Paratraxium core!’

‘Then bye-bye, Luck-suckers!’ said Amy. ‘Brilliant!’

‘I’d have to isolate the stands themselves, of course …’

‘Or?’

‘Or ninety-three thousand football fans will get a nasty shock,’ said the Doctor. ‘Literally.’

Amy looked concerned. ‘Okay … feeling slightly less enthusiastic now.’

‘And it’ll take me a little while to set up.’ He stopped pacing and looked at Amy, his eyes alive. ‘I’ll need you to make the connection to the Underground system.’

‘Course you will. And that’ll involve more running, presumably?’

‘Possibly a little, Pond,’ admitted the Doctor. He flashed her a grin. ‘But probably a lot.’