010 - Doctor Who and the Claws of Axos

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'Axos calling Earth, Axos calling Earth...'

The creatures stood before them, beautiful golden

humanoids, offering friendship and their priceless

Axonite, in return for—what?

Only Doctor Who remains suspicious. What is the real

reason for the Axons' sudden arrival on Earth? And why is

the evil Master a passenger on their spaceship? He very

soon finds out...

ISBN 0 426 11703 4

DOCTOR WHO

AND THE

CLAWS OF AXOS

Based on the BBC television serial by Bob Baker and Dave Martin

by arrangement with the British Broadcasting Corporation

TERRANCE DICKS

published by

The Paperback Division of

W. H. Allen & Co. Ltd

CONTENTS

1 Invader from Space

2 The Landing

3 The Voice of Axos

4 Enter the Master

5 The Doctor Makes a Plan

6 Escape from Axos

7 The Axons Attack

8 The Power Robbers

9 The Sacrifice

10 Brainstorm

11 The Feast of Axos

12 Trapped in Time

A Target Book

Published in 1977

by the Paperback Division of W. H. Allen &: Co. Ltd.

A Howard & Wyndham Company

44 Hill Street, London W1X 8LB

1971, 1977

Printed in Great Britain by

Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading

ISBN 0426 11703 4

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.

Invader from Space

It moved through the silent blackness of deep space like a giant

jellyfish through the depths of the sea. Its shape was constantly

changing, pulsating with energy and life, and a myriad of colours

flickered over its glistening surface. Unerringly it sped towards its

chosen target, the planet known as Earth. Soon the instruments of the

humans would detect its approach. It knew this, and was undisturbed.

Detection was the first stage in its plan...

The tracking station dozed peacefully in the early morning

silence. The huge radar aerials revolved in their constant searching,

silhouetted against the blue of the sky. In an instrument-packed

room, deep inside the building, the results of that search showed up

as a blip of light, tracing its curving course across a radar display

screen. A man was studying the blip, muttering to himself as he

checked the instruments all round him. 'About one million miles...

mass variable...' He looked again at the dials, shaking his head.

'Variable? What's the book say, Harry?'

Beside him, his assistant was immersed in a pile of star charts

and periodicity tables. 'Nothing here.'

'You sure? There's got to be!'

Harry was bored, irritable, and in no mood for mysteries at the

end of a long and tiring shift. 'Look, there's nothing here. No comets,

nothing! '

Pleased, his superior leaned back in his swivel chair. 'Then it

looks as if we've discovered a new one! Run another course check.'

While Harry busied himself with the instruments, the senior

technician watched the steady progress of the blip. Ransome's

Comet, he was thinking happily. Though probably the Director

would pinch all the credit, even if he was still home in bed. Suddenly

Ransome sat up. The blip on the screen had changed direction. 'You

get that?'

Harry nodded. 'Picked it up on the instruments. That thing's

just altered course.'

'But it can't have...'

With gloomy satisfaction Harry studied a computer print-out.

'You can say goodbye to your comet, mate. Whatever that thing is,

it's now on a collision course for Earth! '

Harry reached for a phone, but Ransome put out a hand to stop

him. 'What are you doing?'

'Just in case you've forgotten, there's a whole batch of people

we're supposed to tell about "Unidentified Flying Objects".' Harry

pointed to a list of names and telephone numbers on a nearby notice

board. 'The Director, the Ministry of Security... and something called

UNIT—the United Nations Intelligence Task-force.'

Ransome looked at the radar screen a moment longer, saying

goodbye to his dream of scientific immortality. Then he sighed and

picked up the telephone. 'Get me the Director, please. Red Alert. Yes

I know he's still home in bed. Wake him up. Tell him there's an

Unidentified Flying Object heading straight for Earth!'

In the military and scientific complex that formed UNIT

Headquarters, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart's day was getting off to a

very bad start. The cause of his present troubles was not alien

monsters but Earth-bound bureaucrats. Whitehall's latest brainchild

was the newly-created Ministry of Security, an organisation designed

to gather all Britain's various intelligence organisations under one

central umbrella. The Brigadier had refused to be gathered, taking

the position that UNIT was not a national but an international

organisation, and as such answerable only to UNIT H.Q. in Geneva.

The war of letters, memos and reports had continued for some time

now, with the Brigadier more than holding his own. But now the

Whitehall enemy had wearied of the paper bombardment and sent in

their shock troops—in the stocky and unattractive shape of Horatio

Chinn.

Like many small men in high positions, Chinn liked to think of

himself as Napoleonic. He saw himself as a hard-driving human

dynamo, cutting through the restraints of red tape. He was a vain and

rather stupid man, but he was also ruthlessly ambitious and tirelessly

energetic. Chinn eventually overcame most of his opponents by

wearing them down.

He had even worn down the Minister in charge of his own

Department, who couldn't stand the man but couldn't think how to

get rid of him. Wily old politician that he was, the Minister had been

struck by a sudden brainwave. He had two main problems at the

moment—Chinn and the Brigadier. Why not turn them loose on each

other? Whichever proved the winner, the Minister would have one

less problem to worry about.

The result of this brilliant strategy had been Chinn's

appointment as a one-man Committee of Enquiry. It was now

Chinn's second day with UNIT, and while the Minister back in

Whitehall basked in unaccustomed peace, the Brigadier was already

brooding on emergency court-martials and summary executions. If

only there was a war on, he thought wistfully, he could lock the

fellow up, or even shoot him. Deciding that Chinn was definitely one

of the horrors of peace, the Brigadier looked with disfavour at his

unwanted guest. Chinn stood by an open filing cabinet, leafing

through the files of UNIT personnel. He looked the picture of the

perfect bureaucrat. Expensive pin-stripe suit, pink face, grey hair,

heavy black horn-rimmed spectacles. Bowler hat, umbrella and

briefcase were at the ready on a nearby chair.

Chinn put Josephine Grant's file back into the cabinet, making

a mental note that the girl was clearly too young and too

inexperienced for security work. A nice little black mark to go into

his report on the Brigadier. He lifted out another file, read the name

on the cover and opened it. Then he looked up at the Brigadier, his

face outraged. 'Is this some kind of joke?'

The blindfold over his eyes, the last cigarette, thought the

Brigadier dreamily. Or maybe a last memo would be better for a civil

servant... Aware that Chinn was speaking, the Brigadier dismissed

his imaginary firing-squad. 'I'm sorry, Mr Chinn. You were saying?'

'I asked if this was some kind of joke. On the front of this file

there are just two words "The Doctor". And inside...' Chinn flapped

the file angrily. 'Nothing!'

A little guiltily, the Brigadier recollected that he'd intended to

create a full set of documents for the Doctor when he'd joined UNIT

at the time of the first Auton Invasion. Hence the file. But with one

crisis following another the matter had been over-looked. Although

the Doctor was now known to a select circle as UNIT's Scientific

Adviser, he still had no official existence—at least, not on paper.

The Brigadier smiled blandly, playing for time. 'Very astute of

you to notice, Mr Chinn. The Doctor's file, is, as you say, empty—for

security reasons.'

Chinn felt a glow of satisfaction. At last he had found an issue

on which he could join battle. More-over, it was a case where the

Brigadier was clearly in the wrong. 'May I remind you, Brigadier,' he

began pompously, 'that I am conducting an official enquiry on behalf

of the Minister for Security?'

'And may I remind you, Mr Chinn, that UNIT does not come

under the Minister's authority?'

Stalemate. Chinn tried again. 'Surely as a matter of elementary

organisation, all security personnel must be properly screened...'

The Brigadier smiled. 'And scrupulously filed. Quite so. But

the Doctor is a special case.'

'I insist on seeing a proper file for this Doctor—whoever he is!'

'I'm sorry, Mr Chinn. The Doctor is my personal

responsibility.'

Chinn slammed the filing cabinet drawer with a bang. 'You

seem to think UNIT is your own private army, Brigadier. Not so!

Emphatically not so. You are funded, in part, by the British

Government. As their representative, I demand your full co-

operation.'

Chinn had found these sudden calculated outbursts of rage an

effective means of getting his own way. Unfortunately the Brigadier

seemed quite unintimidated. Positively uninterested, in fact. Chinn

changed his approach. 'Surely, Brigadier, you can see that better

liaison with the Government is in your interests, as well as ours?

Now, who is this Doctor? Where does he come from? Is he a British

subject?'

Thoughtfully the Brigadier stroked his clipped moustache.

How did you explain to someone as mentally limited as Chinn that

the subject of his enquiry was not only not British, he wasn't even

human? That he had formerly been in the habit of travelling through

Space and Time in an old blue police box called the TARDIS? That

after a complete transformation in his appearance, he was now exiled

to Earth by his mysterious superiors, the Time Lords?

The answer was, thought the Brigadier, you did no such thing.

Not unless you wanted to be carted off in a strait-jacket.

The door was flung open and a tall white-haired man strode

into the room. He was wearing what appeared to be some form of

fancy dress. Chinn got a confused impression of velvet jacket, ruffled

shirt, even some kind of cloak... The deeply lined face was curiously

youthful, the bright blue eyes blazed with energy and intelligence.

The newcomer slipped the cloak from his shoulders and tossed it

carelessly onto a chair. 'Morning, Brigadier,' he said cheerily.

Leaning casually against the filing cabinet, he looked benignly down

at Chinn. 'And who might you be?'

The Brigadier rose from behind his desk. 'This is Mr Chinn

from the Ministry,' he said smoothly. 'Mr Chinn—allow me to

introduce the Doctor!'

Hurriedly assembling papers in her cubby-hole of an office, Jo

Grant realised that, not for the first time, she was going to be late for

the Brigadier's morning conference. She threw open the door, rushed

out and bounced straight off a man who was trying to come in. Jo

and the papers went flying in different directions. Calmly the

stranger picked up first Jo and then the papers. He handed them back

and waited patiently while Jo dusted herself down. He was

somewhere in his early thirties, not tall but with an air of compact

strength about him. He had closely trimmed brown hair and a

pleasantly ugly face. He wore a dark-grey lightweight suit, and

clutched a slim square briefcase. When he spoke his voice had a soft

American drawl. 'You all right now, young lady? I'm looking for a

fellow called Joe Grant.'

'I'm fine, thanks. What can I do for you?'

The American smiled down at her. She was a pretty little kid,

fair-haired, blue-eyed, trendily dressed. She looked far too young to

be working in Intelligence. Clearly she hadn't understood his

question. 'I'm looking for Joe Grant,' he repeated.

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摘要：

'AxoscallingEarth,AxoscallingEarth...'Thecreaturesstoodbeforethem,beautifulgoldenhumanoids,offeringfriendshipandtheirpricelessAxonite,inreturnfor—what?OnlyDoctorWhoremainssuspicious.WhatistherealreasonfortheAxons'suddenarrivalonEarth?AndwhyistheevilMasterapassengerontheirspaceship?Heverysoonfindsout...

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