068 - Doctor Who and An Unearthly Child

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A strange girl who knows far more than she should about

the past - and the future...

Two worried teachers whose curiosity leads them to a

deserted junk yard, an extraodinary police box and a

mysterious traveller known only as the Doctor...

A fantastic journey through Space and Time ending in a

terrifying adventure at the dawn of history...

ISBN 0 426 20144 2

DOCTOR WHO

AND AN

UNEARTHLY CHILD

Based on the BBC television serial by Anthony Coburn by

arrangement with the British Broadcasting Corporation

TERRANCE DICKS

published by

The Paperback Division of

W. H. Allen & Co. Ltd

CONTENTS

1 The Girl Who Was Different

2 Enter the Doctor

3 The TARDIS

4 The Dawn of Time

5 The Disappearance

6 The Cave of Skulls

7 The Knife

8 The Forest of Fear

9 Ambush

10 Captured

11 The Firemaker

12 Escape into Danger

A Target Book

Published in 1981

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

A Howard & Wyndham Company

44 Hill Street, London W1X 8LB

1981

Typeset by V & M Graphics Ltd, Aylesbury, Bucks.

Printed in Great Britain by

Hunt Barnard Printing Ltd, Aylesbury, Bucks.

ISBN 0 426 201442

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 Girl Who Was Different

A foggy winter's night, in a London back street: the little road

was empty and silent. A tall figure loomed up out of the fog - the

helmeted, caped figure of a policeman patrolling his beat.

He moved along the little street, trying shop doors, walked on

past the shops to where the street ended in a high blank wall. There

were high wooden gates in the wall, with a smaller, entry-gate set

into one of them.

The policeman shone his torch onto the gates, holding the

beam for a moment on a faded notice:

I. M. Foreman

Scrap Merchant.

There was another sign below the first, its lettering bright and

fresh: Private - Keep Out!

The policeman tried the entry-gate and it creaked open beneath

his hand. He looked through, shining his torch around the little yard.

There were no intruders. Just an incredible mixture of broken-down

objects, old cupboards, bits of furniture, dismantled car engines,

chipped marble statues with arms and legs and heads missing.

He turned the torch beam on a square blue shape in the far

corner and saw with some astonishment the familiar shape of a police

box. At that time police boxes were a common enough sight on the

streets of London. Inside was a special telephone that police, or even

members of the public, could use to summon help in an emergency.

An odd thing to find in a junk yard, thought the policeman.

Maybe this particular one had become worn out and been sold off for

scrap. There were rumours that all police boxes would eventually be

phased out, that one day every constable would carry his own

personal walkie-talkie radio. 'That'll be the day,' thought the

policeman. Still, the junk-man must have bought the thing from

somewhere; it was scarcely likely that he'd stolen it and lugged it off

to his yard.

The policeman grinned, imagining the desk-sergeant's

expression if he went back and asked if anyone had reported a

missing police box. He paused for a moment listening - there seemed

to be some kind of electronic hum. Probably some nearby generator -

it was very faint.

Closing the little gate behind him, he went on his way,

thinking of the mug of hot sweet tea and sausage sandwiches waiting

at the end of his patrol.

The catch on the little gate must have been faulty. As the

policeman moved away, it creaked slowly open again.

Next night, the policeman checked the yard again, but the

police box had vanished. Later he learned that the strange old man

who was the junk yard's new proprietor had vanished too, together

with his grand-daughter, a pupil at the local school. Two teachers

from the same school were missing as well.

In all the resultant fuss the policeman forgot all about the

oddly sited police box. In time he came to think he must have

imagined it. Even if he hadn't, it couldn't possibly have had anything

to do with the disappearances. After all, you couldn't get four people

into a police box - could you?

On the afternoon following the policeman's first visit to the

junk yard, everything was normal at Coal Hill School. The long

school day dragged to an end at last, and the long-awaited clangour

of the school bell echoed through the stone-floored corridors.

As her history class hurried chattering towards the door,

Barbara Wright came to a sudden decision.

'Susan!' she called.

A girl paused on her way to the door. She was tall for her age,

with short dark hair framing a rather elfin face.

'Yes, Miss Wright?'

'Just wait here for a moment, and I'll go and get that book I

promised you. I won't be long.'

'Yes, Miss Wright,' said Susan Foreman obediently. She went

back to her desk and sat down. 'Can I play my radio while I'm

waiting?'

'If it's not too loud.'

Barbara Wright went out of the classroom and strode along the

corridor. At the sight of her, a group of scuffling, laughing children

instinctively quietened down and began walking at a more sedate

pace. Everyone knew Miss Wright didn't stand for any nonsense.

Someone had once said, rather unkindly, that Barbara Wright

was a typical schoolmistress. She was dark-haired and slim, always

neatly dressed, with a face that would have been even prettier

without its habitual expression of rather mild disapproval.

There was undeniably some truth in the unkind remark.

Barbara Wright had many good qualities, but she also had a strong

conviction that she knew what was best, not only for herself but for

everyone else. It suited her temperament to be in charge.

She went into the empty staff room - most of her colleagues

were even quicker off the mark than the children - selected a thick

volume from the shelves, and headed back towards the classroom.

Half-way there she paused outside another door, marked 'Science

Laboratory', hesitated for a moment, and then went inside.

As she'd hoped, Ian Chesterton was still there, pottering about

his lab bench, apparently clearing up after some experiment. He was

a cheerful, open-faced young man in the traditional sports jacket and

flannels of the schoolmaster, about as different in temperament from

Barbara Wright as could be imagined. Ian Chesterton took life as it

came, going about his duties with casual efficiency and refusing to

let anything worry him too much. Despite their differences, the two

were very good friends, perhaps because Ian Chesterton was one of

the few people in the school who saw the kindness beneath Barbara

Wright's rather severe exterior. He was certainly the only one who

ever dared to tease her.

He looked up as she came in. 'Oh, hello, Barbara. Not gone

yet?' 'Obviously not.'

Ian groaned. 'Oh well, ask a silly question!' Barbara was

frequently sharp-tongued, especially when tired or worried.

'I'm sorry,' said Barbara quickly.

'It's all right, I'll forgive you - this time.'

She perched wearily on a laboratory stool. 'It's just that

something's worrying me rather. I don't know what to make of it.'

It was unlike her to confess helplessness, and Ian was

immediately concerned. 'What is it? Can I help?'

'Oh, it's one of the girls. Susan Foreman.'

Ian's eyes widened. 'Susan Foreman! You find her a problem

too, do you?'

'I most certainly do!'

'And you don't know what to make of her?'

Barbara shook her head.

'Me neither,' said Ian ungrammatically. He looked thoughtful

for a moment. 'How old is she, Barbara?'

'About fifteen.'

'Fifteen!' Ian ran his fingers through his already untidy hair.

'Do you know what she does? In my science classes, I mean?'

'No, what?'

'She lets out her knowledge a little bit at a time!' he said

explosively. 'I think she doesn't want to embarrass me. That girl

knows more science than I'll ever know. Is she doing the same thing

in your history lessons?'

'Something very like it.'

'Your problem's the same as mine then? Whether we stay in

business, or hand the class over to her...'

'No, not quite.'

'What then?'

Barbara Wright leaned forward on her stool. 'I'm sorry to

unload all this on you, Ian, but I've got to talk to someone about it. I

don't want to go to anyone official in case I get the girl into trouble. I

suppose you're going to tell me I'm imagining things?'

'No, I'm not.' Ian turned down a Bunsen burner and began

washing test tubes and glass Petri dishes in the laboratory sink,

stacking them neatly in racks to dry. 'Go on.'

'Well, I told you how good she was at history? I had a talk with

her, told her she ought to specialise. She'd be a natural for a

university scholarship in a year or two, Oxford or Cambridge if she

wanted.'

'How did she take it?'

'She was cautious about it, but she seemed quite interested...'

Barbara paused. 'I told her it would mean a good deal of extra study,

offered to work with her at home. The whole idea seemed to throw

her into a kind of panic. She said it would be absolutely impossible

because her grandfather didn't like strangers.'

'Bit of a lame excuse, isn't it?' said Ian thoughtfully. 'Who is

her grandfather anyway? Isn't he supposed to be a doctor of some

kind?' Barbara nodded. 'Anyway, I didn't pursue the point, but the

whole thing seemed to upset her somehow. Since then, her

homework's been, I don't know, erratic - sometimes brilliant,

sometimes terrible.'

'Yes, I know what you mean,' said Ian. 'She's been much the

same with me.'

'Anyway, I finally got so worried and irritated with all this that

I decided to have a talk to this grandfather of hers, and tell him he

ought to take a bit more interest in her.'

Ian smiled to himself. It was very typical of Barbara to get

herself worked up and go marching off to lecture some perfect

stranger on his family responsibilities.

'Did you, indeed? What's the old boy like?'

'That's just it,' said Barbara worriedly. 'I got her address from

the school secretary, 76 Totters Lane, and I went along there one

evening.'

By now Ian was busily preparing a microscope slide from

some mysterious solution in one of his test tubes, head bent

absorbedly over his work.

'Oh Ian, do pay attention!' snapped Barbara.

'I am paying attention,' said Ian calmly. 'You went along there

one evening. And?'

'There isn't anything there. It's just an old junk yard.'

'You must have got the wrong place.'

'It was the address the secretary gave me.'

'She must have got it wrong then,' said Ian infuriatingly.

'No, she didn't. I checked next day. Ian, there was a big wall on

one side, a few houses and shops on the other, and nothing in

between. And that nothing in the middle is the junk yard, 76 Totters

Lane.'

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摘要：

Astrangegirlwhoknowsfarmorethansheshouldaboutthepast-andthefuture...Twoworriedteacherswhosecuriosityleadsthemtoadesertedjunkyard,anextraodinarypoliceboxandamysterioustravellerknownonlyastheDoctor...AfantasticjourneythroughSpaceandTimeendinginaterrifyingadventureatthedawnofhistory...ISBN0426201442DOC...

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