Dead Roboman's Folly
Prologue
THE VICTIM
First came the cosmic storm of
meteorites – the ones that turned out to be plague bombs. Whole continents of people were wiped out,
with only tiny communities remaining.
Then the saucers landed – and the Daleks. But there weren’t many of them: they needed
helpers to subdue the humans. So they
operated on human prisoners and turned them into robot slaves called Robomen,
through an operation known as the transfer.
Our own people made to work against us….robotised….their minds, their
humanity, gone for ever…
When we rid ourselves of the
Daleks, we thought the Robomen had gone too…
At least, that’s what we thought….
* * * * * *
“You’re mad!”
“Am I? I see things quite differently, I can assure
you. Your conversion is part of a beautiful campaign.”
“But this’ll kill me!”
“Oh you’ll be alright, for
several weeks - doing my bidding. Of
course, it won’t end well for you. Never
does. But your sacrifice will be…appreciated.”
The man was strapped down. The transfer machine whirred. Lights flashed.
“Transfer commencing in 3 rels,”
announced the machine in tinny, Dalek tones…
Chapter One
THE BIG FIVE
The diminutive Welshman slid his
arm around David Campbell’s waist.
“Och, I’m a happily married man –
and heterosexual!” said David.
“It’s not your body I’m after,
David,” protested Sion, “I just want a piggy-back to the meeting.”
Queer kinks people get! For some reason Sion was fixated on reliving
the larks of schooldays. Perhaps, with
the Dalek invasion, he had grown up too soon and missed out too much on
playground escapades.
“Aye, very dignified for
Ministers of the Crown!” replied David sarcastically, “I think our constituents
would have something to say about that!
But David’s censoriousness melted
in the face of Sion’s smile and infectious sense of fun. Sion’s eyes had a pleasant and zany twinkle
and his grin was one of the most engaging that David had encountered. Nor was David immune to the joys of horseplay
and pranks; his mind flashed back to the incident of Susan and that dead fish…
Susan pinning him to the ground afterwards…
Moments later, Sion and his
trusty steed where charging down the corridor of Nasse House when Susan Foreman
opened a door and burst out laughing.
“Nice to see some people
justifying their ministerial salaries,” smiled Susan, “Mind if we interrupt
playtime to plan the British economy?”
Recriminations followed.
“It’s that underling of yours,
darling,” blamed David, “junior minister
being the operative wirrrd!”
“It’s the Minister of Agriculture,
leading me astray,” fibbed Sion good-humouredly, as Susan led the playmates
into the Grand Committee.
On occasion the Prime Minister
herself, Amina Patel, would parade along the main road of Britain ’s new political capital, Stoke-on-Trent,
in order to attend, along with the Chancellor of the Exchequer, a gruff man named
Tyler . Today however it was just the Big Five: an
ordinary Grand Committee, quite grand enough.
The subject under discussion was
kale. How the British loved their kale! The Sunday roast was passé, chicken tikka
masala yesterday’s fad. Forget the
delicacies of the past: the British wanted kale - and plenty of it. Kale and crumbled tempeh falafel, kale and
wholemeal quinoa stir fry, sugar-free kale and granola flapjacks, you name it: the government couldn’t keep up with the
demand for kale!
But kale does not grow on trees,
nor does it fall from heaven. It has to
be grown, here on Earth. How to do so
was today’s main business. David hailed
from a farming family on the north coast of Scotland . He was eager that northern Scotland should
get a fair crack of the whip. Not for
the first time, Time Lord technology turned up trumps. Susan had unearthed a Gallifreyan design for
greenhouses which harness the energy of snow in order to get kale seedlings off
to a flying start. You just reverse the
snow’s polarity. This was music to the
ears of northern Scots, who were not short of snow. From Cape Wrath
to Rattray Head, there would be nothing but greenhouses.
David’s junior minister, Aidan
McSmartt, a rangy blond Geordie with pleasant boyish features, insisted on
entering fully. Susan, chairing the
meeting, sighed. Of course Aidan talked radical, thought Susan. He talked the talk but he didn’t walk the
walk. Yes, he was terribly
“right-on”. But on the really important
issues he was Mister Wobbly! He’d take one position on one day and change
that position the next day! Online, he
maintained a smug presence as part of Nirvana Media, so called because the
ultimate state of spiritual and political bliss was, of course, to be attained
by imbibing Aidan’s wise words. Aidan
would witter on about some flash new theory of his – luxurious hyper-communism,
post-Dalek post-capitalism blah blah blah.
Usually tosh. The have-nots could
not rely on him, and his fakery made him a deeply irritating individual.
“I am literally a revolutionary,” boasted Aidan, as one does when
discussing kale.
Susan had got the better bargain
with Sion as her junior minister. Sion was solid, a serious radical. “Nye Bevan but better looking,” he’d boast,
“the hottie from Haverfordwest”. Sion
would always try to push Aidan in the direction of genuine reform. Imbued with the spirit of wartime, Sion’s
belief was that if government could make life better for the population then it
jolly well should – and would.
After Aidan’s contribution it was
time for the civil service perspective.
Every government department has a
departmental bore. In the Department of
Planning this vital role was filled by Sir-Dame Acton Currer-Bell. Acton
was tedious about being non-binary, long-winded about the Department and
mind-numbing about everything else. Hir
contributions inspired fidgeting, doodling and clock-watching. Susan was going to give zur another thirty
seconds and no more.
Some twenty seconds later Acton was still droning
on when…a drone appeared. Yes, a
drone!
It descended from the ceiling
where no-one had noticed it. Its form
smacked of Dalek technology, a small globe but with lines of round
swellings. A small megaphone appeared
from the top of the globe, and the drone began to sing a sinister rhyme:
Five public servants planning public works
galore
A Roboman throttled one and then there were
four.
Four public servants setting the people free
One got gunned down, and then there were
three;
Three public servants telling workers what to do
A Roboman went on strike and then there were two;
Two public servants harness power from the sun
A Roboman overloaded it and there was one;
One lonely minister whose politics aren’t fun
Send a Roboman to finish her and then there’ll be none!
Having delivered its ditty, the drone rose in the air, smashed
through the closed window and disappeared into the distance.
“What in hell’s name was that?” exclaimed Aidan.
“This is entirely contrary to established guidelines!”
fussed Acton .
“Don’t you see?” said Susan, looking frantically from face
to face, “We’ve all just been threatened with murder!”
Chapter Two
THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS
Aidan was burning midnight
oil. David had long quit Dortmun
Mansions, the Ministry of Agriculture building, and returned home with Susan;
but those kale greenhouses weren’t going to administer themselves! He was working really well tonight, really
getting through those red boxes…
Despite the hour, the Ministry
remained abuzz. Jenny Davies, the
brusque junior minister for BHS (the Bedfordshire Hydroponics Service) was there. Jenny, a severe-looking blonde, was a veteran
of the human resistance against the Daleks.
Acton was
there too, faffing around elegantly in hir skirt-and-trouser combo and citing numerous
statutory instruments at Jenny. Jenny
was hardly one for the bon mot and Acton needed all hir
civil-service tact to mollify Jenny’s sharp tongue. Aidan, working with his office door atypically
wide open, noticed their constant to-ing and fro-ing in the corridor.
Jenny’s work was vital. The Daleks had triggered a volcanic explosion
in Bedfordshire as part of their plan to replace the Earth’s molten core and
pilot the planet around the galaxy. Out
of the Daleks’ great evil, great good had come.
The heat from the eruption meant that there was nothing that Britain could
not grow! The country was awash with
home-grown guava and mango smoothies – made in Bedfordshire! You couldn’t move for the quantity of
Flitwick Flat Whites and Cockernhoe Cappuccinos being consumed every day, each
made with Britain ’s
own lovingly-grown, locally-produced coffee beans! But of course, the whole set-up had to be
properly administered and so Jenny and Acton had settled in Jenny’s office,
humming and hawing over endless Emergency Regulations and myriad Delegated
Legislation.
All of a sudden the pair heard a
muffled, stifled cry! This was followed
by a mighty commotion as files and office equipment flew about. The noise came from Aidan’s room. Simultaneously Jenny and Acton rose from their
seats and rushed in.
Imagine their horror as they
beheld a Roboman strangling Aidan! The same helmet, the same dirty clothes: the
robotised slave so familiar during the Daleks’ attempted extermination of the
human race! A Roboman - with his hands
around Aidan’s neck!
Despite the shock, Jenny’s
resourcefulness, honed in the days of the Dalek occupation, was not found
wanting. Quick as a flash she threw a
fax machine at the Roboman, then a typewriter.
For hir part Acton
tried to grab the Roboman’s helmet and prise it off his head. The Roboman knew that the loss of his helmet
would mean certain death and relinquishing his grip on Aidan’s throat he
retreated at speed through a window onto the fire escape and thence on to the
roof, effecting a hasty escape.
Aidan gasped, his pleasant face
bright red at the Roboman’s efforts at strangulation.
“Oh you poor boy!” said Acton as Jenny phoned for
an ambulance.
* * * * * *
“Oh you poor boy!” said Susan an
hour later on visiting Aidan in hospital.
Aidan was looking thoroughly
sorry for himself, a bandage around his reddened neck.
“Aye, looks like you had a wee
bit of a close shave!” added David.
The words echoed in Susan’s
memory:
Five public servants planning public works
galore
A Roboman throttled one and then there were
four.
“You know what, David? We’re going to need outside help.”
She reached in her handbag for
the mobile phone that Romana had given her…the one which could transcend time
and space…
Chapter Three
LIONESSES’ LIB!
“What if the Doctor and I went different ways?”
There’s no greater pleasure than meeting
for a catch-up! But when your friend is
late, you start daydreaming. Romana was
thinking of how she and the Doctor had indeed gone their different ways. They’d done so with a vengeance - different
universes no less! Not that she had
regrets. Milling around the cosmos having
adventures with the Doctor was thrilling.
One could never complain of a lack of variety. But nothing was ever seen through. After an escapade the Doctor was always quick
to leave – Vwooorp! Vwooorp! - and goodness
knew what chaos ensued! At least with
the Tharils – the lion-like, time-sensitive humanoids with whom she’d got
involved - she could be thorough…
Before long, her friend arrived. This was Shondax, a female Tharil. Mwah, mwah! The
pair settled down at a table with their beverages.
“Long time, no see!” smiled
Romana.
“Sorry: so much to do at home!”
“Not skivvying for Lazlo, I hope!”
Lazlo, Shondax’s husband, was the
first Tharil that Romana had set eyes upon
In fact the sight of Lazlo had given Romana forty fits: his slim,
intelligent face had been horribly bloodied and wounded! Yet he’d healed within minutes. That
was her first encounter with the Tharils’ remarkable powers. The two had become firm friends. Yet this could not blind Romana to Lazlo’s
lady getting a raw deal…
“Well, the cubs…it’s a lot of work…”
“Fetching and carrying for
Lazlo! While he’s gallivanting, having
the time of his life! That won’t do! You should jolly well have some adventures
of your own!” said Romana.
“Well, that would be nice,” said
Shondax shyly, “Nothing remarkable happens to me, apart from meeting that
friend of yours, the Doctor?
“You met the Doctor?”
“I showed him through the state
rooms at the Warriors’ Gate,” explained Shondax, “On the other side of the
three physical gateways. He seemed
puzzled, almost in a trance...”
“It was a puzzling
adventure! But, really, if the high point of your life
was giving a guided tour to old scarfy-drawers you really do need to get out
more!”
Then Romana smiled broadly as she
suddenly got an idea.
“Hey, why not have an adventure with me! We could go anywhere in time
and space – we could rescue more Tharils, gatecrash Princess Astra’s wedding, impersonate
Astra at said wedding, cause terrible Shakespearian mix-up at said wedding; help
Adric with his homework…anything! Now
don’t go worrying about the cubs, it’s a time machine: I can get you back for
five minutes ago. Oh do say you’ll come!”
“I think I’d love to!” said
Shondax.
Smilingly Romana removed a tiny
gadget from her scarlet hunting jacket and pressed a button. Vwooorp! Vwooorp!
Behind their table the TARDIS
materialised in the form of a giant stainless steel coffee machine.
“Honestly, I do think my
chameleon circuit is straining credulity these days. One can easily froth a cappuccino with a much
smaller machine than that!”
(Should I lay on special fare for Shondax, wondered Romana? The food pill machine might not appeal to
felines…there’s always the cat mint tea in the cupboard…)
Romana rose and unlocked the
TARDIS.
“Here kitty, kitty!” she said,
chivvying on her companion as she opened the door. Shondax stuck out her tongue and followed.
* * * * * *
Vwoorp! Vwoooorp!
“Where shall I take you first? Perhaps the Medusa Cascade for something
pretty!” suggested Romana, adjusting the levers on the console.
Just then, a line of five male
Tharils semi-materialised into the console room! They seemed clapped in chains. They
were rather a blur: they vaguely faded into the console room, then faded out
again.
“Oh bother, I forgot how stuff
happens in a TARDIS when you travel with a Time Sensitive! I mean that in a nice way,” Romana added.
“Shouldn’t we rescue them?”
“Of course we should – and that’s
what we’re going to do! I just need to
locate them…”
Vwoorp! Vwoooorp!
“Oh, I say, that’s a bit off!”
complained Romana. “The TARDIS appears
to have landed of its own accord. Looks
like your chaps are controlling it!”
She switched on the scanner.
They had materialised on a
planet. In front of them were the five
Tharils again, magnificent in their flowing manes, but chained together at
wrists and ankles. A slave dealer
touted his wares before a small crowd:
“Who’ll buy my fine Tharils? Each one of them a flawless navigator of the
time lines! Say goodbye to those striation worries! Perfect navigation for your spacecraft every
time!”
“That’s just one continuous
chain,” pondered Romana; “If we attach a lead to that chain, I’m sure I could link
it up to my atom defibrillator. That
would force the atoms to separate, just for a few moments, weakening the
bonds…”
“I could sneak out and join any
wires you want,” volunteered Shondax, “We Tharils are good at stalking
prey. Shouldn’t be difficult. ”
“Magnificent, Shondax!”
Romana opened a rondel in the
console room wall and extracted a large cube.
“Sorry to have cannibalised your
parts, K9, but it’s only temporary.”
To Shondax’s consternation the cube
affected a reply.
“No assurance is necessary,
mistress. You misunderstand the nature
of this unit. I am not capable of being
offended: my object is purely to serve.”
“Thank you, K9. Good dog.
Now if I just reverse your polarity…” said Romana extracting a
screwdriver from her pocket and applying it to her contraption. Working fast,
she then attached a long lead to it.
“Okay…right. Now I need you to go
out there and attach the other end of this lead to the chain.”
The TARDIS doors swung open. With feline cunning Shondax silently crept outside. The slave dealer was still singing the
praises of his merchandise. The nearest
Tharil spotted her but pretended that he hadn’t. With
the dealer distracted, it was easy for Shondax to attach the lead, then retreat
back inside the TARDIS.
Just then, however, the slave
dealer noticed the TARDIS as its door started to swing closed, despite its disguise
as an ancient stone pillar. He marched
up to the door, through which Romana and her contraption were clearly visible.
“What is the meaning of this?” he
asked with indignation, pointing to the lead.
“We’re investigating an interesting
philosophical question”, smiled Romana, “Is a slave still a slave when you
weaken his chains?”
“Philosophical question? How
dare you meddle with those chains! I’ll have you know these Tharils are MY officially-registered
property!” boomed the slave dealer.
“All the same, you’d surely not
want to stand in the way of a serious truth-seeking enquiry!” asserted Romana,
pulling the lever of her invention.
The slave dealer was distracted
as the chain glowed and faded. The TARDIS door closed shut. The chain started to look fuzzy.
“Should we rescue them?” asked
Shondax.
“Not sure we have to
bother.”
With their chains falling off,
the five Tharils – in something of a blur – started to march away. Was time running slower, or was it running
faster within that blur? Even for Romana
it was difficult to discern. In an
almost ghostly parade they headed for a nearby space rocket, presumably that of
the slave dealer.
“My Tharils, my precious
Tharils! And my rocket! I hold you to
blame for this!” he shouted through the TARDIS door.
“Oh I know: aren’t we awful?”
lamented Romana.
Inside the console room Shondax
and Romana watched the rocket take off.
“Back home to freedom!” commented
Romana, “you should be proud of yourself, Shondax. I never could have pulled it off without your
stealth.” Shondax smiled.
Rat-tat-tat on the TARDIS door.
“I demand compensation!” said a
cross voice, “Full, fair and prompt!”
“I don’t think so”, said Romana,
pulling down the dematerialisation lever.
As the TARDIS re-entered the time
vortex a telephone rang on the console.
“Excuse me,” said Romana, “Hope
it’s not a business. Hate cold calls,
especially from Ice Warriors. Hello?”
“Romana: it’s Susan. We need your help. We’re in terrible
trouble.”
Chapter Four
REHEARSAL OF DOOM
Sion had not yet heard of the
attack on Aidan. He was in the main hall
of Nasse House. Susan had asked him to
stand in for her at the opening of the Flying Saucer Café in Darlington . He had to go and cut a ribbon. What better way to stick two fingers up at
the Daleks than to convert one of their ships into a café! In place of conquest and destruction there’d be
almond croissants and café lattes. And
now that Britain
had its very own almond harvest the almond croissants would be locally sourced to
boot!
Shame David wasn’t there to hear
him practise his little speech. They
could have had a playful tussle afterwards, then go off and buy sweets. Or shame Susan wasn’t there, with her lovely
smiles and helpful advice.
The hall was excessively dingy.
“…I therefore have great pleasure
in declaring this café open…”
He could vaguely make out some
entity at the back of the hall. It was
so dark…
“Hello, who is it there? May I help you?”
Suddenly he discerned a Roboman
running towards him! It was brandishing
a machine gun.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Riddled with bullets, Sion’s body
keeled over and hit the floor. Sion had
died almost instantaneously.
The Roboman put down the machine
gun and lifted Sion’s small body.
Nasse House looked out onto Port
Vale, an elegant new river-port built under Susan’s supervision. The Roboman dumped Sion’s body out of the
open window and it splashed into the River Trent below.
Sion’s corpse was washed up some
hours later on a river shoreline a few hundred metres away, just below an old
sign which read:
EMERGENCY REGULATION
IT IS FORBIDDEN
TO DUMP
BODIES
INTO THE
RIVER
When Susan and David arrived the
police were already in attendance, directed by Metropolitan Police Commissioner
Taseem Khan. The couple were allowed through in order to identify Sion.
“Och, I thought there’d always be
a Folliat at Nasse, lass,” said David to Susan as he stared down at the
lifeless body. Susan could see tears
falling freely down David’s cheek. She
shared his grief and put her arms around him.
Just then a wheezing sound became
audible. Susan had such a strong sense
of déjà vu that she could feel shivers going down her spine….a TARDIS, a
riverside, a sign forbidding the dumping of bodies…
Vwoorp! Vwoooorp!
The TARDIS materialised in the
form of a concrete World War Two pillbox.
Romana stuck her head out of the
TARDIS door. She started to smile in
recognition of her friend but immediately realised the misery of the
situation. An appalling, callous crime
had clearly been committed: it would be for Susan and her to solve it.
Chapter Five
TEA AND SYMPATHY AT NUMBER TEN
“Of course, the attacks on Sion
and Aidan happened in quick succession.
We’ve no sure idea which came first,” said Susan as she poured from the
pot.
When we British have our backs
against the wall, no matter from which corner of the tiny damp little island we
hail, or even if we’re from the planet Gallifrey, there’s nothing like a nice
cup of tea. And now that, courtesy of
the Dalek volcano, there were tea plantations in place of a disused airport, what
could be more refreshing than a nice pot of Luton Breakfast!
“But if Aidan were attacked
first, that would fit with the rhyme,” observed Romana.
Romana, Susan, David and Shondax
were sitting round the table in what was known as the Kitchen Cabinet. This
was a kitchen-diner within the Prime Ministerial residence in which ministers
would congregate to discuss affairs of state over tea and cake, since the
entire government firmly believed that tricky problems were best confronted
over teatime delicacies. To this end David
had swiftly made a cake in memory of Sion, and he and Shondax were now
decorating it with Smarties, thereby doffing a cap to Sion’s love of sweeties.
“And what are these Robomen?” asked Romana.
“They were a nightmare!”
explained Susan, “The Daleks converted humans, took over their minds! The
Robomen would do the Daleks’ bidding no matter what. David and I met them in the London sewers: they tried to kill us.”
“And this conversion, it can’t be
reversed?”
“It can’t. The human mind is obliterated. Sometimes their nearest and dearest would try
to reason with them, only to get killed for their pains.”
“Aye,” butted in David, “Perhaps
it’s not safe for us here darling. Mebbee we should go up to Mum and Dad’s for a
wee while.”
“Oh I can’t do that, David, I
simply can’t,” implored Susan with an air of desperation, “Don’t you see? Romana and I just have to solve these crimes. You go, certainly. I’ll be glad to see you out of danger. But I need to stay and uncover the murderer.”
“Och, stay in mortal peril more
like!” retorted her spouse, “How you get off on your ‘super heroine from another
planet’ persona!”
“But David, I am a super-heroine from another planet!”
pointed out Susan, “I did mention,
before the wedding.”
David grinned.
“Don’t worry, David,” chipped in
Romana, “I’ll take care of her.”
“So will I,” said Shondax,
bearing lionish fangs in a fashion which ill matched the gentility of her cake-decorating.
“Aye well, it’s very nice of you
ladies to offer to protect my wife while I creep away north, but I don’t quite
feel the lure of John O’Groats without Susan coming too.”
“Oh David,” said Susan, “It’s not
that I want to send you away, it’s
not that at all. It’s simply that I’m
worried for you. According to that rhyme
I am intended as the final victim. That
means the next one could be you.
“Or Acton .
Zee must be very worried, we ought to help hir,” said David with
kindness, “Anyway, I’d rather stay here.
Hey! Perhaps we could form a team to find the murderer!”
“That’s a possibility, yes,” said
Susan guardedly.
“So someone’s created this
Roboman as a weapon of murder,” said Romana, “Whatever could be the
motivation?”
At that moment the door swung
open and the British Prime Minister, Amina Patel, made her regal entrance. She had evidently heard Romana’s words.
“An attack on the government?”
Amina suggested.
“It’s possible I suppose,” said
Susan, “But then why not just get the drone to massacre us all?”
Susan poured Amina some tea as
the Prime Minister magisterially cut the cake with poise and aplomb.
“I cut this cake in honour and memory
of our fallen comrade Sion Folliat, an inspiration to us all, and so full of promise;
cruelly taken from our government and party, and from the people of Great Britain .”
Amina possessed an aura of grand
dame. But for all her political
adroitness, her sadness for Sion was sincere. She had been impressed with his radicalism and
lack of phoniness and had held out great hopes of him.
During the Dalek occupation Amina
had been holed up in Gravesend . Literally.
She had inhabited a hole on the Thames shoreline near her native town, spending
her time funnelling food supplies to the Resistance in London whilst dodging Roboman patrols. She knew an army marches on its stomach! If bags of apples or other Kentish goodies arrived
to feed the Resistance fighters, they had Amina to thank for them. With the Daleks gone, her career advanced
rapidly. Presently, for many of the
electorate, she was the Jewel in the
Crown, the greatest reforming Prime Minister for generations! Part of her genius was to give free rein to
far-sighted ministers such as Susan and David.
“Mmm, this cake is quite
delicious David, did you put kale in it?” quizzed the Premier.
“Just a wee bit. Wouldn’t want to miss those health benefits.”
“If you ask my advice,”
pronounced Amina, “you’ll team up together, all of you, and help investigate
this vile business. Of course there’s always
the police: I’ve assigned Taseem Khan, our Metropolitan Police
Commissioner. She’s good – from a
policing family, you know. Grandmother
was Chief Constable of South Yorkshire and whatever. But our police are so stretched, and I want this investigation to be Big-Big!”
“Aye that’s a grand idea, Prime
Minister” beamed David.
Happy David! Unhappy Susan! He could
now stay at home by prime ministerial request and join the adventure. She saw
her chances of ushering her husband onto the John O’Groats Express and towards
safety being dealt a mortal blow.
“Perhaps for speed we should
divide ourselves,” suggested Romana, “David with me, Susan with Shondax. That way, we can cover twice the ground. First thing, we need to do some questioning.”
Chapter Six
GIVING EVERYONE THE THIRD DEGREE
“If you ask me, Minister, what’s
needed to solve these dreadful crimes is feminine
intuition!” trilled Acton
to Susan and Shondax. “That’s what we need at New-New Scotland
Yard, and I hope that’s what we get with Miss Khan. Get a woman
in charge, that’s what I say. She’ll
soon sniff out your murderer. I’m partly female and I know.”
“Well, we’re female too,” smiled
Susan, “so we hope we can help move things forward. Is there anything you can tell us about the
murder of Sion Folliat?”
“Nothing at all – alas! I was in a different building when it happened. Lending a hand at the Ministry of
Agriculture.”
“Well, then, if you could just
tell us everything about the attempt on Aidan McSmartt?” asked a well-briefed
Shondax.
“Oh yes, horrid for the dear young man, I fell quite maternal/paternal
towards him.” replied Acton . “His door was ajar, which is unusual. Well, it was late at night and it can get eerie on your own. No doubt he could hear our fuss from his
office. I was there with Jenny
Davies. Such a sharp tongue!”
“And from where you were sitting
in Jenny’s office, did you see the Roboman approaching Aidan’s room?” quizzed
Shondax.
“Indeed not, and I was sitting
facing the corridor, with Jenny’s door open.
The Roboman would have needed to go past her office. Odd.”
“Mightn’t he have sneaked past
whilst you were distracted?” asked Susan.
“I can assure you, being
partly-female I am very good at multi-tasking.
I can explain Statutory Instruments and
notice zombies in helmets passing down the corridor at one and the same
time.”
“And then you were roused by the
noise?” encouraged Shondax.
“Yes. Lots of clattering. Then a horrible gasping. Jenny and I rushed to Aidan’s office and saw
the Roboman throttling him!”
“Jenny threw office equipment at
him. I rather think my efforts trumped
hers: being partly-male I used my masculine strength to try to take off his
helmet. He didn’t like that, and made
off through a window, over the rooftops.”
“Do you get on with Jenny?”
“I’m a civil servant: I get on
with everyone. Jenny has a distinguished
record from the Dalek occupation, you know.
A Resistance fighter in London . Apparently she teamed up with some other lady
- Barbara someone, who promptly vanished off the face of the Earth - and they inveigled
their way into Dalek headquarters in Bedfordshire. Almost destroyed it; very brave. But of course
those war efforts were traumatic: they may have unhinged her,” mused Acton with uncharacteristic
indiscretion: “She might be nuts.”
*
* * * * *
“Acton drives me nuts!” said Jenny. Like Acton before her, Jenny
disclaimed any knowledge of Sion’s murder.
She did however have plenty of aspersions to cast against Acton, whom
she was convinced was somehow behind the killings.
“This is an interventionist
government – fact! The civil service is
part of a politically biased establishment – fact! They’ll do anything to stop us – fact!” she snapped.
“But what about the Roboman?”
asked Romana.
“A fraud!” snarled Jenny. “Put a helmet on – look suitably vacant –
you’re a Roboman!”
Just then, all of a sudden, David
seemed to double up in his chair. Romana
wondered if he were about to vomit. Too much cake?
“Are you alright, David?” she
asked.
“Oh aye,” he replied, correcting
himself.
When they had said their goodbyes
and quit Jenny’s office, David flourished a document as they walked down the
corridor.
“Oh, you were stealing something,” said Romana.
“Well, it was lying on the
floor. Finder’s keepers!” They read the sheet of paper. The message was handwritten.
I know what you’re up to. You have until next Monday to break all links. If not, I tell the PM.
“A threat to expose someone?”
suggested Romana.
“It’s fishy, whatever it is,”
said David.
“And if Jenny were the recipient,
this makes her a pretty sloppy operator, leaving this lying around. Anyway, well done you: very cunning”
“Aye, we humans can be pretty
wily, you know,” smiled David.
“A worthy consort to a Time
Lady!”
“I’ll say! I didnae quite realise what I was letting
myself in for with Susan, not that I regret it for one moment, mind.”
“Oh,” said Romana affecting
light-hearted indignation, “Whatever’s wrong with marrying a Gallifreyan?”
“Well, there’s the lifespan for
starters! Talk about May to September:
I’m twenty-eight and she’s 166!”
“But she doesn’t look a day over
150,” defended Romana.
“All the same, it’s quite an age
difference.”
“Poor David!” soothed Romana
teasingly, “Susan’s a cradle-snatcher!”
“On top of that there’s the
telepathy lark. She’s really into it:
I’ve told her not to try it out on me. Then there’s regeneration: I live in
dread of that. Physical appearances are very
important on this planet. I might end
up with a quite different-looking wife.”
“Oh I know: I remember my last regeneration; the possibilities
were endless,” Romana reminisced, before drawing close to David in
mock-confidence and whispering, “Let’s hope at least her gender stays the same!”
“What?!”
* *
* * * *
Over a stylish footbridge Susan
and Shondax made the short journey across Port Vale from the Ministry of
Planning to the Ministry of Agriculture.
Aidan had been released from hospital.
“Are you sure you’re okay to
answer questions?” asked Susan.
“Why-aye man!” exclaimed the
junior minister with Geordie enthusiasm.
“Did you notice whether the
Roboman came through the door or window?” asked Shondax.
“Didn’t notice! I was too busy with me red boxes. All of a sudden he was there, like; in front
of me - trying to strangle me!
“And was he a real Roboman, do you think?” asked
Shondax.
“He could have been a fraud I
suppose, but he looked pretty vacuous to me.
And the way his speech was slurred, it was diabolical!”
“Speech?” asked Susan, “You mean
he said something?”
“Yes! He said: ‘You must die, you are an enemy of
my master; you must die!’ Then, thank
God, Acton and Jenny heard the rumpus and came in and rescued me. The Roboman realised the tables had turned
and he fled through the window.”
“Thanks, that’s helpful,” said
Susan.
“Don’t go telling the media what
the Roboman said, mind. I’ll get wrong
off the Prime Minister!”
After the interview, on the way
out of the building, Shondax touched Susan on the shoulder.
“I sense something alien within this building…” Shondax
said, “We need to come back here…at night…”
Chapter Seven
NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE
Susan and Romana were reclining
in armchairs in Susan’s office, voicing their suspicions.
“I think you let Acton off too lightly!”
pronounced Romana, “Oh, I suppose zee’s a colleague so you want to believe the
best of hir. But public officials are so
conservative! Think back on Gallifrey –
the Chancellor, the Castellan. Old
fogies of the first order! Stodgy, smug
and prosperous – without an ounce of imagination or vision! People
who’d do anything to protect the status quo.”
“Well, say what you like about Acton ,” replied Susan, “I’m more suspicious of Jenny.
Perhaps her wits turned. You and
I, we’re used to danger. We’ve been
everywhere with grandfather, risked
our lives all the time. But perhaps for Jenny
the adventure with Barbara and the Daleks was too much. The trauma…maybe it unhinged her.”
“Well, we need more
spadework. How are you finding Shondax,
by the way?”
“Impressive!” smiled Susan.
“Yes, it didn’t take long to show
her there’s more to life than being a mumsy.
I’ve high hopes for her back in E-Space.”
“And how do you find David?”
“Lovely!”
“Isn’t he? And very practical too, he can dismantle
Dalek bombs and all sorts.”
“Invaluable for such everyday
tasks around the house!” said Romana.
“Anyway, Shondax said she sensed
something alien in Dortmun Mansions. Why
don’t we sneak back there, late tonight?
“Good idea. We could take Shondax and David with us.”
“David knows the layout well, but
it might be handy to have the plans.”
Susan picked up the phone.
“Hello, Sebastian? Could you fetch me the plans of Dortmun
Mansions please?”
“Certainly, Minister.”
*
* * * * *
Just outside Susan’s office was
an elegant lobby-lounge designed by world-famous Vanessa of Widnes. One wall consisted entirely of glass: huge
sliding windows gave onto a large balcony with Port Vale beyond. After the rigours of the interviews, David
and Shondax were reclining on sofas.
David was intrigued by other worlds.
(Poor thing, he’d never been to another planet! Indeed, until the present adventure, the only
extra-terrestrials he’d met had been the Daleks, Susan and her grandfather.) He
therefore enjoyed Shondax regaling him, in her unassuming way, with faraway tales
of the Tharils and E-Space.
Suddenly Shondax broke off. She pointed out of the window in
terror. David looked behind him. There was the Roboman, wielding a huge mallet!
The words of the ditty flashed
through David’s mind…“a Roboman went on
strike”… it wasn’t about
industrial action…it was just a crude pun…he’s going to strike me down with that mallet!
Smashing through the glass with
the mallet, the Roboman entered the lounge.
Quick as lightning, Shondax flew
towards the Roboman, claws outstretched.
Time seemed to stand still as she
did so. The Roboman was devoid of fear,
but the physical force of Shondax’s body colliding with his made him lose his
grip on the mallet and it tumbled to the floor.
Alarmed at the noise from the
fracas, Susan and Romana ran out of Susan’s office to see the Roboman
retreating across the balcony.
“Not made of stern stuff, these
Robomen,” said Romana.
“Not sure about that,” replied
David, “If it wasnae for Shondax I’d be splattered over your award-winning
sofa!”
*
* * * * *
It was full moon on a sultry
night in Stoke-on-Trent . The silvery moonlight glittered on the River
Trent as it flowed relentlessly through Port Vale. Romana, Susan, David and Shondax stole
silently across the port and over the footbridge towards the Ministry of
Agriculture. Dortmun Mansions loomed
ahead, grey and forbidding.
Once they reached the Ministry,
David applied the front door key with as much pride as if Dortmun Mansions had
been his TARDIS.
“I must warn you, it’s bigger on
the outside than it is on the inside,” he smiled.
He led Susan, Romana and Shondax
into the building then punched in a number to disable the security system. Within, the endless corridors were dark and
forbidding.
“This alien presence, Shondax,
can you sense where in the building it is?” asked Romana.
Shondax nodded.
“Underground”.
“Underground?” queried Susan,
shuffling large sheets of paper, “According to these plans, there’s just one huge
open-plan basement. That’s in case the
river floods.”
They ambled on through the
building until Shondax piped up again.
“It’s directly under here.”
“But there’s nothing under here,”
said Susan, consulting her plans again, “Unless, I suppose, there were some
sort of secret room down there. But how
would we access that?”
“Air duct!” replied Romana,
knocking her hand against a grille on the wall.
“Best means of getting anywhere in the universe! Why else do you suppose companions of the
Doctor have to keep so trim?”
“But that air duct would surely
have to be vertical,” pointed out Susan, “it would go straight down.”
“No problem for a nimble
lioness!” said Romana, volunteering Shondax.
Within a few moments the grille
was removed and a willing Shondax, armed with walkie-talkie and torch,
descended the narrow duct.
“Oh Romana, you are shameless,
making her go down there,” said Susan.
“No point having a cat and mewing
yourself,” said Romana.
Within a couple of minutes
Shondax had penetrated the secret room and was able to find the light switch
and open a door which gave onto the main basement. (On
the basement side, the door was so skilfully concealed as to be
invisible.) When some minutes later Susan,
Romana and David entered the room they saw that it was dominated by a Dalek
transfer machine. It was here, then,
that the perpetrator had turned an innocent human into a Roboman.
Against the wall was a microphone
unit, presumably for keeping in touch with the Roboman and issuing commands.
Romana tapped the microphone.
“Seems a bit dead.”
“Not once I’ve reversed the
polarity!” smiled David, taking a screwdriver from his pocket.
“Are humans even allowed to reverse the polarity?” Romana
asked Susan, as David buckled down with his screwdriver and had the unit
working again within moments.
“When grandfather and Barbara got
into Dalek High Command they ordered the Robomen to turn on the Daleks,” said
Susan tapping the microphone, “Well, it’s just a suggestion, but why don’t we
do something similar?”
“Good idea,” said Romana. “How about telling him to identify his
master?”
Acting was not Susan’s strong
suit, but she essayed something of a Dalek impersonation.
“Roboman, this is your final
instruction! Present yourself outside
the Cabinet Room, Number Ten, at noon sharp tomorrow. There you must identify your master. Do not fail to obey. This
order cannot be countermanded!”
Chapter Eight
SUSAN AND ROMANA LET THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG
Say what you like about the
British, they at least have enough decorum to arrange themselves neatly for
post-murder elucidations. In this
instance, the following had seated themselves tidily around the Cabinet table
to hear Susan and Romana explain everything: David, Aidan, Acton, Jenny, Amina,
Shondax and Metropolitan Police Commissioner Taseem Khan.
“One murder, two attempted
murders, and the threat of murders yet to come,” declared Romana, “At least,
that’s what we were meant to think.”
“Except these crimes weren’t an act of insanity,” explained Susan. “They
weren’t the deranged work of a serial killer.
And they weren’t a programme of political assassinations either. In fact, we think it wasn’t intended as a
series of murders at all. It was just meant
to look that way.”
“When the Roboman dropped his
mallet and abandoned his attempt on David’s life, I quipped that he was not
made of stern stuff,” said Romana. “On
this I was entirely wrong. The Roboman,
we now believe, was under orders to retreat if he encountered any significant
resistance. No offence David, but
murdering you wasn’t important; the vital thing was to perpetuate the illusion of a killing-spree,” said
Romana.
“Thankfully for us, the
perpetrator made a clumsy blunder,” said Susan, “In a moment of folly, he
abandoned his strategy in favour of a scattergun approach. He planted an incriminating note under
Jenny’s desk. It was in Sion Folliat’s
handwriting – the Metropolitan Police checked.
It said: “I know what you’re up
to. You have until next Monday to break
all links. If not, I tell the PM.”
“The killer hadn’t thought things
through. The note undermined the idea that
the murders were the work of a serial killer.
Instead it pointed to a motive for a single murder: the murder of Sion
Folliat.
“What were the ‘links’ which Sion
insisted his murderer ‘break’?” speculated Susan, “We don’t know. It could have been an embezzlement racket. Or perhaps some corrupt relationship with a
private company. Or maybe a shady group wishing
to destroy the government. But we didn’t
need to uncover the links in order to identify the murderer. That can
be left to the police.
“The killer had created the
Roboman in a secret room at the Ministry of Agriculture. That would
have been awkward for Acton, who works at my Ministry, the Ministry of
Planning. As a top civil servant hir
to-ing and fro-ing would be noticed.
Could it have been Jenny?
Perhaps, but then why plant an incriminating note in your own office?”
Romana continued the explanation.
“Then we thought of Aidan
McSmartt. He had been the first victim. But what if his victimhood were merely a
performance? What if it were all
staged? Aidan kept his door ajar that
evening. Acton noticed that, and said it was
unusual. But Aidan needed his colleagues
to hear the fracas, witness the attack and rescue him. We believe the Roboman was under orders not to kill him. Then there were the words of the Roboman. According to Aidan he said: ‘You must die,
you are an enemy of my master; you must die!’
But we only have Aidan’s word for that.
A rather crude attempt to assert that the Roboman’s master was anyone but
him.
“Aidan had by then ordered the
Roboman to kill Sion. For Sion’s murder,
Aidan took no chances. He instructed the
Roboman to use a machine gun. So the fake
attack on Aidan and the attack on David were just there to distract us. So were the drone and the rhyme. Sion Folliat knew too much, and he had to die to protect Aidan’s
secret. And that wretched fellow who
became the Roboman, your murder weapon, you effectively murdered him too!”
“This is all an outrageous
slander,” said Aidan, looking hurt, “And you haven’t a shred of proof!”
“I think we have,” said Susan,
“You were safe in one respect: a Roboman can’t grass you up. Their humanity is completely destroyed. We know that from the Dalek occupation. A Roboman can’t betray his master: he lacks
that human instinct for self-preservation.
But what he does have in
spades is the compulsion to obey – to obey without question…”
Big Brenda was chiming twelve on
the Parliament Building
He entered. He pointed to Aidan. The monotonous slur of his voice was
unwavering:
“You are my master, you are my master, you are my master.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
snarled Aidan, “Go throw yourself into the river!”
Before anyone could intervene, the
Roboman rushed to the window, unfastened it, removed his helmet and without
hesitation leapt into the Trent
– far below.
“Another murder!” said Romana.
“Really, he was murdered the
moment he became a Roboman,” corrected Susan.
Commissioner Khan rose from her
seat and did what was necessary.
“Aidan McSmartt, I arrest you for
the murders of Sion Folliat and a person unknown contrary to common law, and
for the attempted murder of David Campbell contrary to the Criminal Attempts
Act 2051. You have the right to remain
silent, but it may harm your defence if you do not answer when questioned…”
Chapter Nine
“GRANDMOTHER, GRANDMOTHER!”
Bidding farewell to Romana and
Shondax on the banks of the Trent
before Romana’s TARDIS dematerialised had been both a happy and sad
affair. The investigation had been a
job well done, but Susan would miss them, as would David. Now, back home, Susan was in bed but wide
awake. She could hear David taking his
shower.
For all the sadness of Sion’s
death Susan felt elated by the success of the case. Perhaps the time had come to do that thing
she’d wanted to do for ages…that ultimate act of telepathy…
It seemed so long since she was
with the Sensorites, reading their thoughts, communicating with them. This would
be far more exacting...
She closed her eyes…
She concentrated, concentrated,
concentrated…
The bedroom faded from view…
She could see a bizarre console
room, all crystal pillars and blue and orange lights. What had happened to the bright whiteness,
the Ormolu clock, the Chesterfield
chair, the hatstand…?
Ah: but there was a man, no
spring chicken, sitting in a chair of sorts, eating a cheese and pickle
sandwich. He looked kind. What a nice regeneration, thought Susan.
“Grandfather, grandfather!”
Graham O’Brien looked up and almost
dropped his sandwich. He saw a large
apparition on the TARDIS wall. It was
the huge face of a young woman, in black and white, smiling at him.
“Blimey, well, er, I’m Ryan’s grandfather,” he said; then he
shouted: “’Ere, Doc, there’s something funny appeared on your wall!”
The Doctor marched in.
“Grand…mother!” said Susan, startled.
The Doctor was not only female but looked practically the same age as
herself!
“Bloomin’ ‘eck: Susan!” exclaimed the Doctor, her face
transformed by excitement and happiness.
“You said one day you’d come
back!”
“Yes, very sorry: I will. Wrong of me.
Left it too long. Been travelling. The long way around. How are you?”
“Oh I’m fine. I’m Minister of Planning in the British
government, David’s in charge of agriculture.”
“Wow, that is so amazing! In fact, it’s brilliant. You’re brilliant. You’re both
brilliant. Erm, do they know you’re an alien?”
“Not really. But I’m changing the whole United Kingdom
– for the better, I hope!”
“I bet you are! That’s fantastic!
“Oh, and I’ve been solving
murders with a friend of yours, Romana?”
“Solving murders with Romana, that’s incredible!” She turned to Graham to make an aside: “Romana
- said she’d be superb!” Graham looked duly mystified.
“The ship has certainly changed,”
said Susan, her eyes journeying round the console room.
“Yes, the, er, ship – it does
that from time to time. Still goes
anywhere in time and space though!”
“I hope you didn’t totally forget
me,” said Susan.
“Forget you?” The Doctor paused. “How could I ever possibly
do that? I haven’t forgotten a single moment
of being with you, Susan. I’ve travelled
with a lot of people since you left. Big lot.
Sometimes, when I get a new one, they ask ‘why me?’ Then I see you in my mind’s eye, and
I wonder: do they really have to ask?
Susan smiled broadly.
“But won’t you join us?” asked
the Doctor. “You can bring David. There’s Yaz and Ryan here too. They’re just fiddling with the food dispenser. Trying to extract vegan bacon butties.”
“Sounds like a rather crowded
ship!” laughed Susan, “But seriously, I belong somewhere now. I’ve a country to run.”
“’Course you have. I’m so proud of you, Susan,” said the Doctor.
“Oh, I think this telepathic link
is breaking up, it’s awfully difficult to sustain; I may have to go.”
“Keep in touch, Susan. And I will
come back. Promise.” The face, still smiling, faded from the
TARDIS wall into invisibility.
There were tears running down the
Doctor’s cheek.
“Sad, Susan’s nan?” asked Graham.
“Tears of joy, Ryan’s gramps,”
replied the Doctor.
Epilogue
PERFECT HAPPINESS
Ever felt happier than you know
you ought to be? Such was the sensation felt by my Susan, my
Romana and my David! All three, I have
the immense comfort of knowing, must have been happy in spite of
everything. They must have been happy
creatures, in spite of all the murder, violence, cruelty and misery in which they’d
been mired. Despite all that wretchedness, there were
pleasures which must force their
way.
Romana, for one, I know for
certain, was excessively pleased with herself.
She was pleased with her perspicacity in the case of the Roboman; she
was pleased with the warm welcome she had received from Susan and David; she
was pleased to have shown Shondax that there could, if she so desired, be more
to life than domestic cares. Once home, Romana
was pleased too: pleased to be back in E-Space and to have returned with head
held high. How she had missed those negative coordinates!
David was happy as well. His pleasures
must be the equal of Romana’s. He was
alive! He had cheated the Roboman’s
mallet! True, he had lost a steadfast friend
in Sion, a loss which must temper his elation; yet Sion had been avenged, and would
live on within him, in his heart and mind.
He had acquitted himself admirably in the adventure. He had shown his merits and his mettle.
But happiest of all must be
Susan. Her delights knew no rival; her bliss was unsurpassed; her joy peerless. She had truly gone forward in all her
beliefs, and had not been found wanting.
I ask the Reader: what greater contentment can there be than in an
economy marvellously planned, a murder brilliantly solved and a grandparent
excessively impressed?
SUSAN AND ROMANA WILL RETURN IN
AT
BENTON'S
HOTEL
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