051 - Doctor Who and the Revenge of the Cybermen

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A mysterious plague strikes Space Beacon Nerva, killing

its victims within minutes. When DOCTOR WHO lands,

only four humans remain alive. One of these seems to be

in league with the nearby planet of gold, Voga... Or is he in

fact working for the dreaded CYBERMEN, who are now

determined to finally destroy their old enemies, the

VOGANS?

The Doctor, Sarah and Harry find themselves caught in

the midst of a terrifying struggle to death - between the

ruthless, power-hungry Cybermen and the desperate

determined Vogans.

ISBN 0 426 10997 X

DOCTOR WHO AND

THE REVENGE OF

THE CYBERMEN

Based on the BBC television serial Doctor Who and the Revenge of

the Cybermenby Gerry Davis by arrangement with the British

Broadcasting Corporation

TERRANCE DICKS

published by

The Paperback Division of

W. H. Allen & Co. Ltd

CONTENTS

The Creation of the Cybermen

1 Return to Peril

2 The Cybermat Strikes

3 A Hot Spot for the Doctor

4 A Visit to Voga

5 Rebellion!

6 Attack of the Cybermen

7 The Living Bombs

8 Journey into Peril

9 Countdown on Voga

10 Explosion!

11 Skystriker!

12 'The Biggest Bang in History'

First published simultaneously in Great Britain by Tandem

Publishing Ltd, and Allan Wingate (Publishers) Ltd, 1976

1976

Target books are published by Tandem Publishing Ltd.

14 Gloucester Road, London SW7 4RD

A Howard and Wyndham Company

Printed and bound in Great Britain

by Richard Clay (The Chaucer Press) Ltd, Bungay, Suffolk

ISBN 0 426 10997 X

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of

trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated

without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or

cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar

condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent

purchaser.

The Creation of the Cybermen

Centuries ago by our Earth time, a race of men on the far-

distant Planet of Telos sought immortality. They perfected the art of

cybernetics—the reproduction of machine functions in human

beings. As bodies became old and diseased, they were replaced limb

by limb, with plastic and steel.

Finally, even the human circulation and nervous system were

re-created, and brains replaced by computers. The first Cybermen

were born.

Their metal limbs gave them the strength of ten men, and their

in-built respiratory system allowed them to live in the airless vacuum

of Space. They were immune to cold and heat, and immensely

intelligent and resourceful. Their large, silver bodies became

practically indestructible.

Their main impediment was one that only flesh and blood men

would have recognized: they had no heart, no emotions, no feelings.

They lived by the inexorable laws of pure logic. Love, hate, anger,

even fear, were eliminated from their lives when the last flesh was

replaced by plastic.

They achieved their immortality at a terrible price. They

became dehumanized monsters. And, like human monsters down

through all the ages of Earth, they became aware of the lack of love

and feeling in their lives and substituted another goal—power!

Return to Peril

In the silent blackness of deep space, the gleaming metal shape

of Space Beacon Nerva hung like a giant gyroscope. There was no

indication of life—it looked silent, somehow dead. Inside the huge

space station, too, all seemed silent and empty. Control rooms,

corridors, living quarters, everywhere was deserted.

In an empty control room, the air seemed to shimmer and blur.

Three people appeared out of nowhere; a slim, dark, pretty girl, a

broad-shouldered, square-jawed young man and a very tall, thin man

whose motley collection of vaguely Bohemian garments included an

incredibly long scarf and a battered soft hat jammed on top of a mop

of wildly curling brown hair. The girl was called Sarah Jane Smith,

the young man Harry Sullivan. Both were companions of the third

arrival, that mysterious traveler in Time and Space known only as the

Doctor.

Sarah shivered and looked around, glad to recognize familiar

surroundings. 'Thank Heavens for that, we've made it.' But something

seemed to puzzle her. The place was the same, yet subtly different.

She looked hopefully at the Doctor. 'We have made it—haven't we?'

The Doctor could never understand that Sarah sometimes

found it hard to share his habitual cheery optimism. 'Of course we've

made it, Sarah. Did you think we wouldn't?'

Sarah nodded decisively. 'In these past few weeks, yes. Quite

frequently.'

Harry Sullivan grinned, thinking to himself that Sarah had

excellent reasons for her recent doubts. He'd doubted his own chance

of survival quite a few times since first meeting the Doctor.

It had all started with that terrifying business of the Giant

Robot. Harry Sullivan, newly appointed medical officer to the United

Nations Intelligence Taskforce—UNIT for short—had been given

the job of looking after that organization's Scientific Adviser, who

was in fact the Doctor, recently recovered from some mysterious

illness which had left him, it appeared, a changed man. The robot

business had been bad enough, but at least it had all happened on

Earth—an Earth which Harry sometimes wondered if he'd ever see

again. Rashly following the Doctor and Sarah into what looked like

an old-fashioned police call box, Harry had found himself whipped

away from Earth and thrown into a series of horrifying adventures in

Time and Space.

They had just escaped, barely, from the most recent, an attempt

by the Doctor to go back in Time and prevent the growing menace of

the Daleks.* On this occasion they had traveled not in the police box,

the Doctor's TARDIS, but by means of a Time bracelet provided by

the Doctor's mysterious superiors, the Time Lords. Now that same

bracelet had brought them back to the space station, scene of an

earlier adventure, where they were supposed to pick up the TARDIS

and go home. Harry looked around the empty control room. 'I say,

Doctor, the TARDIS isn't here.'

The Doctor sighed. 'I was wondering when you'd notice that.'

Sarah stared at him accusingly. 'Something's gone wrong,

hasn't it?'

The Doctor held up his wrist, adorned with a heavy,

elaboratedy decorated bracelet. 'There's really nothing that can go

wrong with a Time bracelet...' He shook the bracelet, holding it close

to his ear. 'Apart from a molecular short circuit,' he added sadly.

'All right, Doctor,' said Sarah. 'Tell us the worst. Where is the

TARDIS?'

The Doctor rubbed his fingers through his tangled curls. 'Well,'

he began hopefully, 'I think there's been a little temporal

displacement, you see. We've arrived too early and the TARDIS just

hasn't got here yet.' The Doctor beamed, as if this solved everything.

Sarah wasn't satisfied. 'How early are we?'

'Oh, about a thousand years or so.' The Doctor looked carefully

at the equipment in the control room. 'In this era, the space station's

doing the kind of job it was originally meant for—a beacon to guide

and service space freighters.'

* See Doctor Who and the Genesis of the Daleks.

'So we've got to hang about here for a thousand years or so,

waiting for the TARDIS to turn up?'

'No, of course not, Sarah. The TARDIS will be drifting toward

us through Time—and as soon as the Time Lords realize what's

happened, they'll hurry it up for us.' The Doctor slipped the Time

bracelet from his wrist, shook it again and tossed it casually onto a

nearby control console.

Harry looked at him in astonishment. 'Don't you want it any

more?'

'No. It's no more use to us now.'

'Can I have it then—as a souvenir?'

The Doctor chuckled. 'Certainly, Harry. But you'd better look

after it very carefully.'

'Oh, I shall. Thanks awfully!' Harry reached eagerly for the

Time bracelet—just as it shimmered and vanished. He turned

indignantly to the Doctor. 'You knew that was going to happen!'

'Who, me?' asked the Doctor innocently. Before Harry could

protest further, the Doctor went on, 'Let's take a look around to pass

the time, shall we? Now, as I remember, this door leads to the

perimeter corridor...' The Doctor slid open the connecting door. A

stiff corpse fell out, landing almost on top of him.

Instinctively the Doctor jumped back, and the falling body

crashed to the floor. All three stared horrified at the corpse for a

moment. It was the body of a man in his thirties, wearing the simple

coverall-type uniform of a Space Technician. Harry knelt by the

body and made a swift examination. 'He's dead all right, poor guy.

Dead some time...'

'How long?' snapped the Doctor.

Harry shrugged. 'Hard to say. A week or two, could be longer.

There's very little putrefaction, though.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Sterile environment, you see. Cause of

death?'

'No sign of injury... I'd have to do a proper autopsy.'

Sarah recovered from her horror-stricken silence. 'He must

have been leaning against the other side of that door when he died.

But they wouldn't have just left him there, not for two weeks, would

they, Doctor?'

'Not unless there was something very badly wrong here.' The

Doctor stepped past the body and went through the door. Then he

stopped, as if frozen in horror. Harry and Sarah came up behind,

looking past him into the corridor. They too stopped, frozen in the

same horrified disbelief.

The long perimeter corridor stretched ahead, curving out of

sight in the distance as it followed the outer contours of the space

station. The corridor was full of dead bodies. Corpse after corpse, a

long line of them stretching ahead, twisted and contorted in the stiff,

ungainly attitudes of sudden death. Sarah buried her face in the

Doctor's shoulder. 'They're all dead. Everyone on this space station

must be dead...'

But Sarah was wrong. Not everyone on Nerva Beacon was

dead. Not yet. In a small control room on the far side of the base, a

Communications Technician named Warner was slumped over his

control panel, face gray with fatigue. He jerked into life as a sharp,

pinging signal sound filled the room. Rubbing his eyes, he checked

his space-radar screen, and flipped a switch. 'This is Nerva Beacon

calling Pluto—Earth flight one-five. Are you reading me?'

A voice crackled out of the speaker. 'We read you clear, Nerva

Beacon. Our dropover time estimated at thirteen-twenty.'

'Your dropover is canceled, repeat, canceled. This beacon is

now a quarantined zone, due to an outbreak of space-plague. Your

dropover is transferred to Ganymede Beacon, one-nine-six-zero-

seven-zero-two. Shall I repeat?'

'Thank you, Nerva Beacon, we have co-ordinates.' There was a

moment's pause, then the voice from the speaker said awkwardly,

'How bad is it? If there's anything we can do...'

Warner grinned wryly, and tried to force some cheerfulness

into his voice. 'Thanks for the offer, but our medical team is getting

things under control.'

There was another pause and then the voice said, 'We have a

query, Nerva Beacon. Our First Officer has a brother doing a tour

with you—Crewmaster Colville. He'd like to know if he's O.K., or...'

Warner gave a wince of pain, but he carefully kept his voice

matter-of-fact. 'Hold contact, I'll check for you.' He flipped his

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AmysteriousplaguestrikesSpaceBeaconNerva,killingitsvictimswithinminutes.WhenDOCTORWHOlands,onlyfourhumansremainalive.Oneoftheseseemstobeinleaguewiththenearbyplanetofgold,Voga...OrisheinfactworkingforthedreadedCYBERMEN,whoarenowdeterminedtofinallydestroytheiroldenemies,theVOGANS?TheDoctor,SarahandHar...

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