M1 - The Nightmare Fair

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On Wednesday 27 February 1985 the BBC announced that

their longest running sci-fi series, Doctor Who, was to be

suspended. Anxious fans worldwide, worried that this

might mean an end to the Time Lord's travels, flooded the

BBC with letters of protest. Eighteen months later the

show returned to the TV screens.

But missing from the Doctor's adventures was the series

that would have been made and shown during those lost

eighteen months. Now, available for the first time as a

book, is one of those stories:

THE NIGHTMARE FAIR

Drawn into 'the nexus of the primeval cauldron of Space-

Time itself', the Doctor and Peri are somewhat surprised to

find themselves at Blackpool Pleasure Beach.

Is it really just chance that has brought them to the

funfair? Or is their arrival somehow connected with the

sinister presence of a rather familiar Chinese Mandarin?

ISBN 0 426 20334 8

The Missing Episodes

DOCTOR WHO

THE NIGHTMARE FAIR

Based on the BBC television series from the untelevised script by

Graham Williams by arrangement with BBC Books, a division of

BBC Enterprises Ltd

GRAHAM WILLIAMS

A TARGET BOOK

published by

The Paperback Division of

W. H. Allen & Co. PLC

A Target Book

Published in 1989

by the Paperback Division of W. H. Allen & Co. PLC

Sekforde House, 175/9 St. John Street, London EC1V 4LL

1985, 1989

Printed and bound in Great Britain by

Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading

ISBN 0426 20334 8

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.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter One

The scream was choked off halfway through, to be followed by

hoarse, panting gasps. A dull crash and a scuffle came one after the

other and then there was silence.

Nothing moved. Nothing visible. The shadow of a cloud

passing the moon dulled the scene for a moment, but when the

shadow had gone, nothing had changed. The tarmac stretched,

glistening in the recent rain, the wooden walls of the building loomed

up into the black night sky and the dull, dirty windows grinned down

like empty eye sockets...

The scream started again, then changed abruptly to a grunting

sound, panting, rasping with exertion. The wooden door smashed

back on its hinges as a man crashed out and fell to the ground. He lay

for a moment, stunned or exhausted, then half-shook his head and

turned to look back into the building. Through the open door could be

seen a glow—a softly, gently pulsating glow, the red colour burning

and tearing at the edges as though testifying to the tremendous power

of whatever was the source of the light, a dull, aching red light...

The man's face contorted in terror as the glow deepened,

brightened, deepened, brightened... He made as though to rise and he

started to scream again, a low, broken wail as he realised his leg was

trapped by whatever was inside the building. The wail took on a

desperate, despairing edge as he felt himself being dragged back,

back, until, as his last broken attempts to hang on to the door frame

proved useless, the cry rose to a pitch of absolute terror and he

disappeared from view. The red light rose to a new intensity and

locked, the pulsing frozen as the scream was cut off as though by a

knife. The silence was complete and the red light faded slowly,

gently, away, returning the scene to the black of the night and the

empty, scudding clouds across the moon...

'Perfect!' cried the Doctor, in the voice he normally reserved

for a superbly delivered inside seamer or a Gamellean sunset. 'There's

nowhere else like it in the Universe. Not this Universe, anyway...' He

held a brass telescope to his eye, and moved it slowly across the

horizon. The breeze ruffled his hair and beside him Peri shivered and

pushed her hands further into her anorak pockets.

'They're trying to build one on the rim of the Crab Nebula,' he

continued, 'but the design concept's all wrong. They're trying to build

it for a purpose...'

'What's wrong with that?' asked Peri.

'Everything! You can't build a place like this for a mere

purpose!' He snapped the telescope shut and spun to face her. 'And

don't talk to me of "fluid lines provoked by the ergonomic

imperatives..."'

'All right then, I won't,' murmured Peri, as though the comment

had been on the tip of her tongue.

'Or the strict adherence to the symbolic form, the classical use

of conceptual space...' He flung his arm dramatically to one side, as if

he thought he was back in the Roman Forum and poor old Julius was

waiting for a decent send-off. 'Designers' gobbledeygook,' he

denounced, gravely. 'Architects' flim-flam,' he added, in agreement

with himself. 'The tired consensus of a jaded age,' he concluded,

finally burying the conversation.

'I entirely agree,' said Peri, trying to be helpful without the

faintest idea as to what particular bee was buzzing around in the

Doctor's bonnet just now.

'No, you'll never win that argument here,' added the Doctor,

both smugly and unnecessarily. 'This is absolute, perfect, classic

frivolity.'

Peri followed his gaze three hundred feet down to the sight of

Blackpool, spread before them like a toy town, the trams clattering

along the promenade towards the funfair in the middle distance.

'It's OK, I suppose,' she shrugged. 'If you like that sort of

thing..

'OK?' the Doctor whirled to face her, his face a mask of fury.

'OK?' Words, unlikely though it seems, failed him. 'I'11 show you

OK,' he muttered through clenched teeth as he grabbed her hand and

pulled her, protesting, across the observation platform of Blackpool

Tower towards the waiting lifts.

'Where are we going?' wailed Peri, fearful that at last she'd

pushed the Time Lord over the edge and he was dragging her towards

some dreadful punishment known only to the near-eternal. He

stopped so hard she bumped into him. He pushed his face to within

millimetres of hers and snarled gratingly, 'You're going to enjoy

yourself if it kills you!' And with that he carried on to the lifts, with

Peri forced to go with him or part company with an arm she was

quite attached to...

The young man, for the hundredth time, let his gaze wander up

from the bare table where he was seated to the simple clock on the

wall. Two whole minutes since the last time he'd looked. His gaze

carried on, over the grey plain walls, the neon striplight, the plain

chair in the corner. He'd been in Police interview rooms before,

several of them, and he couldn't tell one from the other. Perhaps that

was the idea. He didn't have much time for your average criminal,

and, truth to tell, didn't have much time for your average copper

either. And as for your average Police Station... He'd never had much

to do with any of them, not until the last few months anyway, and he

was too young and too bright to try and unravel the thinking that

went behind the design of anything to do with authority.

At last he was distracted by heavy footsteps outside in the

corridor, footsteps which came to a shuffling halt outside his door.

The door opened to reveal the moon-faced but not unkind constable

who had been humouring him for the best part of the morning. The

constable held the door open for a thick-set man in his late forties,

dressed in what seemed to be a perfectly cut three-piece suit, a man

whom the constable treated as though he were second cousin to the

Lord High Executioner.

'Mr Kevin Stoney?' asked the suited man, politely. Kevin

nodded without replying. The man hefted the thick file in his hand as

he sat in the chair opposite.

'Didn't take much finding, did this, lad. Right on top of the pile.

You're quite a regular visitor to our humble abode, aren't you?'

'Not by choice,' muttered Kevin.

'Well they all say that, lad,' observed the man with a small

chuckle. 'I'm surprised we haven't met before.'

'I've asked often enough,' observed Kevin.

'Aye. "Someone in authority", I believe you stipulated,' added

the man, referring to the top page of the file.

'That's right,' affirmed Kevin stoutly.

'Well, will I do? I mean, I'm only a lowly Inspector, but we

could try the Chief Inspector, or Superintendent, or the Chief

Superintendent—'

'You'll do,' nodded Kevin.

'You sure? Chief Constable's not got much on today, shall I —'

'No that's all right,' replied Kevin, not wanting to rise to the

bait. The Inspector looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, lips

pursed, then, with a small nod, he decided to get down to business.

'This statement of yours, referring to the events of last night...'

He tapped the statement in the file with a solid-looking forefinger.

'Truthful statement, is it?'

'Yes.'

'Just a simple statement of the facts...'

'That's right.' The reply sounded more defensive than he had

intended. The Inspector took the statement and held it carefully, as

though it was fragile—or dangerous—and read slowly and carefully

from it.

'"The figure was glowing red, with some green or blue at the

edges... about seven feet tall and heavily built... the red colour

seemed to pulsate, giving the impression that the figure was

increasing then decreasing in size. It had no eyes, no ears, nothing I

could describe as a face..." Incredible —'

'I saw it —' started Kevin, gritting his teeth.

'No, no,' protested the Inspector. 'What's incredible is that at

this point the sergeant who took your statement failed to determine

whether there were any distinguishing marks on this... person...'

The moon-faced constable attempted, without success, to stifle

a chuckle at this. The Inspector turned slowly towards him.

'This is no laughing matter, lad. One more outburst like that

and I'll have you out in that amusement park every night till dawn

from now until your retirement party.'

The constable, for a split second, didn't know if this was

another example of the Inspector's wit. Wisely, he decided it wasn't,

and straightened to attention. The Inspector turned back to Kevin.

'As I was saying, it was a definite oversight on our part, but I'm

sure you'll agree we shouldn't have much trouble picking chummy

out in the shopping centre, should we?'

'Not even your lot, no,' agreed Kevin. 'But it was the

amusement park, not the shopping centre.'

'Even there, lad,' continued the Inspector, nodding confidently,

'reckon we'd spot him, in time. Mind you, some of the types who

hang round those pinball machines—we might have to form a line-up

at that...'

Kevin decided to let it ride. The Inspector continued leafing

through the file, going a little further back.

'"The figure of a Chinese Mandarin, appearing and

disappearing into thin air..."' He turned more pages. '"Strange lights

appeared about twenty feet off the ground..."' Yet more pages.

'"Strange lights appeared at ground level..."' He closed the file and

placed it carefully on the table. 'So there was nothing unusual about

last night then?'

Kevin returned the calm, level stare, still refusing to rise to the

jibe. 'I mean, it seems to me it were just like any other night you—

er—"find yourself" in the park, eh?'

'Last night the Mandarin wasn't there.'

'No Mandarin,' repeated the Inspector, heavily. He leant

forward, elbows on the table. 'Right, lad. You tell me all about this

Mandarin...'

The Mandarin swept in through the door almost regally, the tall

figure erect, walking in long, gracious strides. The door closed

obediently behind him with the softest of clicks. He crossed

immediately to sit behind the huge carved desk in a huge carved

chair. He paused for a moment, still but intensely alert.

The room seemed to fit around him like a glove—high ceilings

and walls, panelled in English wood though decorated in the Oriental

style of the nineteenth century: heavy brocaded drapes, rich,

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摘要：

OnWednesday27February1985theBBCannouncedthattheirlongestrunningsci-fiseries,DoctorWho,wastobesuspended.Anxiousfansworldwide,worriedthatthismightmeananendtotheTimeLord'stravels,floodedtheBBCwithlettersofprotest.EighteenmonthslatertheshowreturnedtotheTVscreens.ButmissingfromtheDoctor'sadventureswasthe...

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M1 - The Nightmare Fair

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