BBC - Cult - Interviews - Chapter EightBBC Cult - Printer Friendly Version
Chapter Eight - Chapter The Killers
Page 1 
   

The Killers
MNN was now unable to keep up with reports of the riots around Metron. As dawn's 
early light broke over the city the Femdroid newscaster made a grave 
announcement. 'The shelling has now reached our very doorstep. Regretfully, MNN 
is going off-line. We hope to be back with you as soon as we can.' 
The com-screen went blank. K9 moved back and emitted a defeated noise. 'The 
unrest has escalated, despite my appeal. It is illogical and self-destructive.' 
Stokes had entered the guest suite from his room, tying up the belt around a 
dressing gown. He yawned affectedly. 'You're learning about life, son.' 
'I'm not your son,' K9 said emphatically. He turned on Stokes. 'Aggression among 
these humanoids is a direct result of economic mismanagement. Poverty increases 
feelings of social alienation.' 
'Thank you, Engels,' Stokes said through another yawn. 'Don't rant at me. I'm 
not registered to vote here anyway. Even if I was I wouldn't. Politics is merely 
a show made by those in power to con the proles into thinking they have some 
say.' He wandered over to the suite's mini-bar and poured himself a small 
measure. 
K9 followed him. 'You advocate the freedom of the individual but have no respect 
for the social strata needed to allow such freedom.' 
'You do go on, don't you?' Stokes knocked back his drink in two gulps. 'I 
couldn't sleep. You're solving the problem nicely.' 
'I am immune to insults,' said K9, in truth rather hurt. He looked through the 
window, at a lightening sky that was filled by billows of black smoke. The 
streets were now all but deserted. 'My supporters have betrayed my beliefs.' 
'I can see the scales falling from your one red eye,' said Stokes. 'You've been 
so naive.' 
'Pessimism is also a form of naivety,' K9 pointed out. 

Page 2 
   

'Oh, I'm not arguing with you.' Stokes gave another huge yawn and went back to 
his room. 'Going back to bed. Wake me when it's all over.'
K9 watched him go with a sense of puzzlement. In the past, the merest hint of 
danger had been enough to send Stokes scurrying to escape, or at least to take 
cover. Now, in the midst of a planetwide riot, with the threat of a bloody war, 
he was concerned only with sleep. 'This behaviour does not configure with Mr 
Stokes's personality as registered in my data banks,' he said to himself 'I 
shall investigate.' He motored towards Stokes's bedroom. 



Urgent impulses flowed between the amulets worn by Galatea and Liris. 
'There is no alternative,' said Galatea. 'Romana must be conditioned.' 
'But hers is an alien mind. We cannot know the outcome. 
There was a pause before Galatea's response came, crackling with authority. 'Why 
this persistent questioning of my decisions, Liris?' 
'It is my function to question. Were it not, the decisions you make now would be 
altogether less momentous.' 
'I do not revel in the import of my task. When the work is done I will be glad 
to return to more quotidian challenges. Bring Romana to the Conditioner.' 
'Can she not be told the truth?' 
'No, Liris. The organics must not know until it is done. They are nervous 
creatures by nature.' She said firmly, 'Decirculate her.' 





Page 3 
   

Fritchoff blinked, half expecting to see the cloud of flies disappear like stray 
thoughts in a dream. Crouched at the Doctor's side, his knees tucked under his 
chin, his mouth dry, he began to feel an unaccustomed sensation. This was not 
something he could argue away. It was something evil and unreasonable, not bound 
by any of the forces that shaped the world. The new sensation was a horrid, 
clammy fear.
The buzzing increased in intensity and he heard a ghastly clicking, like bone 
striking bone, coming from the middle of the cloud. This was followed by a 
gurgling voice which said, 'Doctor... you are the Doctor...' 
'Can you hear anything?' the Doctor whispered. 
'They're calling your name,' Fritchoff whispered back. 
'So it's not just in my head,' the Doctor said. 
'Eh?' 
'I had postulated a limited telepathic field. But if not, then how's it done?' 
As if the cloud had heard him, its centre parted a fraction and revealed a sight 
so disgusting Fritchoff had to fight to keep his bile down. Suspended in the 
cloud's centre were the rotted remains of a human's lower head and neck. The 
mouth was open, the tongue flopped out grotesquely. 

Page 4 
   

'Doctor' the voice said again, the Adam's apple on the dead neck pulsating, 'the 
Onememory knows you...'
'Good,' said the Doctor. He sounded genuinely relieved as he stepped from his 
hiding place. 'I know I'm a bit out of my way, but I was beginning to wonder if 
I'd been totally forgotten.' 
'The Onememory says... you set aflame... our feeding grounds in the Zirbollis 
sector...' 
'Really?' The Doctor scratched his temple. 'I don't recall that at all. My 
memory obviously isn't as good as yours.' 
The cloud buzzed more loudly. 'Many void-times ago... no creature lives so 
long...' 
'Well then, perhaps it was just somebody who looked a bit like me,' said the 
Doctor. 
'No,' said the cloud. 'You are one of the... chosen of Gallifrey... the 
self-appointed masters of time and space... a being of great power...' 
The Doctor looked bashful. 'I bet you say that to all the Time Lords.' 
'We have never... met one of your kind... before ... Not in person...' The 
tongue let fall a cascade of drool. 'Your people acted against us ... destroyed 
hundreds of the hives...' 
The Doctor spread his hands wide. 'I had nothing to do with that. Just look at 
my record. I don't hang about with the interventionists. They've always been 
rather too heavy-handed for my liking.' 

Page 5 
   

The voice ignored him. 'We are the last of the great hives... We fled the Time 
Fleets... drifting after millennia of hibernation... until we found this 
place... a place of much feeding...'
The Doctor took a step closer. Fritchoff was startled by his boldness, and the 
casual way in which he addressed this gruesome creature; he might have been 
chatting with a friend. He held up a finger. 'Let me see if l'm right. You 
agitate the natural conflicts of a population and cause carnage, then swoop down 
and feed on the carrion. Am I on the right lines?' 
'The feeding cycle... is necessary... for our survival...' 
'A natural symbiosis, you'd say? You exploit the aggressive nature of Homo 
sapiens.' 
'As they exploited us!' the voice said. 'The Earth was our world and they ruined 
it... We fled with them through space, pushing ever outward... expanding at 
their side... We learnt... Our intelligence grew... Our mind is strong now... We 
exist to feed and now nothing can stop us... There are billions waiting in the 
great hive...' 
'There are herd animals you could use as well. Creatures of lesser intelligence. 
Why humans?' 
'Their violence, their fruitfulness... They are ideal material...' 
The Doctor snorted. 'You mean they do nearly all your work for you. Offer 
themselves up on a plate, you might say.' 

Page 6 
   




Page 7 
   

The cloud came closer, hovering just before the Doctor's face. 'You escaped us 
once... but soon you will die ... and we shall be waiting... Your brain holds 
many secrets...' It started to split up and move away, individual flies passing 
through one of the small airholes of the cave roof 'The choice rests with you... 
Leave now or stay and... we will feast upon you...'
A few seconds later it was gone. 
Fritchoff emerged from hiding. 'There we are. It proves what I was saying.' 
The Doctor was staring grimly up at the roof. 'It does?' 
'The states of the major ancient space powers have brought this disaster on us 
by flagrantly ignoring the rights of other creatures and exploiting space for 
short-termist advantage and electorally related economic boom.' 
Fritchoff was rather proud of this summation, but the Doctor ignored it. 'But 
why let me, one of their ancient enemies, go?' he said, chewing on a thumbnail. 
'Did you feel the electrical aura, that tingle around them? When they're grouped 
together they must have enough of a kick to kill at least one person. It's how 
they must have got Seskwa. And I was just standing here, defenceless.' His good 
humour had evaporated. 'I have a horrible feeling I'm being manipulated.' 
'Ah,' said Fritchoff 'Excellent. Awareness of your own coercion in the ways of 
the system is the first step on the upward path of consentientization.' 
The Doctor seemed stirred by his words. 'You know an upward path? Yes?' 
Fritchoff nodded and the Doctor patted him heavily on the shoulder. 'Good man. 
We must get up to the surface. Talk to General Jafrid. Lead the way.' 
'Good thinking,' said Fritchoff as he led the way from the cave. 'We can join 
with him to throw off the shackles of our own people's crypto-imperialist 
discourse.' 

Page 8 
   

Again, the Doctor's reply was pitched on an entirely different political plane. 
'He's an intelligent fellow - he might just listen. We have to unite both sides 
against these creatures.'



Romana was gripped by a new fear as she walked hurriedly through the corridors 
of the dome. She paid little attention to the thundering of the riots, and even 
less to the occasional bickering of the orange lighting as another electrical 
connection was cut somewhere in the city. Her concern was with more abstract 
issues. If the people of Metralubit could not see their predicament because of 
some inbuilt programme, there was no reason for the Femdroids not to notice or 
take action. The reasoning's end was obvious. The Femdroids were part of it, 
deliberately standing back to let millions die. 
The route back to the guest suite was easily memorized, particularly for a 
person with Romana's alertness, and so she was surprised when she turned a comer 
and found herself at a dead end, a simple white wall. 'I must have taken a wrong 
turning,' she said, although she was positive she hadn't. 
She tried to move and found she couldn't. Her shoes, still grey and muddy from 
the war zone of Barclow, were gripped by the floor. At the same time an orange 
light began to flash from somewhere above her head, pulsing in a heartbeat 
rhythm and overlaid by an insistent, high-pitched electronic squeal. 
She put her hands to her head and tried to keep conscious as static shocks 
coursed through her legs. A red blur descended over her vision and the squeal 
turned painfully loud, making her eyes water and her ears sing. 

Page 9 
   

For a second she felt she was falling. She opened her mouth to call for help. 
Then came darkness.



In his dreams, Stokes was strolling along one of the causeways of Metron, 
looking out over a greenspace in which citizens were clustered around one of his 
sculptures. 'Oh dear,' he told his appreciative, understanding friends, 'I'm 
bound to be recognized, and they shall all press me for an explanation and 
autographs. How trying.' 
The crowd below raised their heads, saw him, cried his name, and came running 
across the grass shouting accolades. One of them carried a large red torch. Its 
light grew closer and closer, blotting out the world about it. 
And Stokes woke with a jolt to be confronted by K9's eyescreen. The dog was 
nudging him awake with its nose. 'A conference is needed,' he said. 
'Oh, what do you want?' said Stokes, turning over. 'I'm asleep. Shove off' 
K9 bleeped. 'Your actions do not concur with my extrapolation of your 
personality matrix.' 
Stokes sighed, his face pressed into his pillow. 'Isn't there some way I can 
switch you off?' 
'My batteries are self-recharging,' said K9. He nudged the bed again. 'Please 
wake, Mr Stokes. Your behaviour is characterized by extreme cowardice. Your 
desire to sleep in this situation is not congruous. Explain.' 

Page 10 
   

Stokes blinked and stirred slightly. 'I'm very tired,' he said. 'Look at me, I'm 
yawning.' He was nagged by unease as the words came out, as if he was only 
repeating lines in a play.
'Your actions are predictable within a four-per-cent error estimate,' said K9. 
'Your personality type is expressive, extrovert.' 
Stokes sat up and wagged a finger at him. 'You'd better watch what you're 
saying.' 
K9 edged closer to the bed and said, in a dramatic whisper, 'I postulate mind 
interference.' 
'Nobody's been at my mind,' said Stokes. Again, he felt he was reading from a 
script. The words felt very natural, but there was no substance beneath them. 
'My mental barriers and sense of self-will are resolute.' He reached for the 
switch at his bedside, automatically, and switched on the lamp built into the 
wall just above where his head rested. The lamp lit with a soft orange glow. 
K9's eyestalk slid out. 'I wish to examine this apparatus,' he said, angling the 
tiny dish at the end of the stalk towards the lamp. 
'It's only a reading light, for goodness' sake,' Stokes grumbled. 
K9 whirred. 'Negative. This fitting is extraneous to the lighting function. It 
is a reconditioning device.' 
Stokes hauled himself out of bed and smoothed his pyjamas down. 'Don't be 
ridiculous.' 
'Records confirm my visual analysis,' K9 twittered. 'It is a low-frequency, 
low-power, psychotronic wave transmitter. Remove the housing.' 
To Stokes, it was as if a strange bell was tolling at the very back of his mind. 
'Somebody's been fiddling about? With my head?' 
'Affirmative,' said K9. 

Page 11 
   

Stokes stood up, feeling suddenly refreshed, his tiredness dissipated in an 
instant. In fact, the beginnings of panic were churning at his stomach. There 
was a riot on, and a war imminent. Why on earth was he trying to sleep?



The first thing Romana saw when her eyes opened was a large, gun-shaped 
instrument, its nozzle pointed right at her forehead. The device was suspended 
on a bracket, which a lithe figure in the shadows was adjusting. 'A 
high-frequency psychotronic wave transmitter,' Romana said. She gulped to 
conceal her fear. A transmitter of that strength could wreak havoc even on a 
Gallifreyan mind. 'Centuries ahead of your technology. Where did you get it 
Liris?' 
'Please relax.' Liris stepped into the soft orange light and looked down on the 
folded-back chair to which Romana was strapped. 'The conditioning process is 
painless.' 
Romana hardened her voice. 'Whatever you're about to do, don't. I'm not human.' 
Another face appeared above her. But Galatea looked a lot more certain than her 
junior. 'Your mental processes will be unharmed. Only redirected.' She leant 
closer, reached out and drew back a strand of Romana's long blonde hair from her 
face. 'You have a powerful intelligence for an organic. You see further than 
most.' 
'I've seen through you,' said Romana. 'I'm not so susceptible to your charms.' 
Galatea stood. 'You will thank us for this, Romana.' She turned to Liris. 'Begin 
the conditioning. Level five.' 
A switch clicked over, and there came a steadily rising hum of power. The 
needle-thin tip of the transmitter glowed a fierce orange. Romana marshalled all 
her training, including the techniques of mediation she had learnt from the 
Doctor, and formed a barrier in her mind. 
The pain was immediate. She let out a strangulated cry and shook. 
'Do not resist,' she heard Galatea say. 
'Relax,' said Liris. 





Page 12 
   

The grey sky over Barclow was made vivid green by a rapid series of explosions, 
and Fritchoff ducked his head instinctively. He clutched his gurgling chest, 
stopped and said simply, 'Heck.'
The Doctor, who was leaping and bounding over the war zone's rugged terrain, 
laid a kindly hand on his shoulder. 'Don't let it get to you. They're only 
explosions.' 
'Only?' said Fritchoff, shivering. 'We could be blown to pieces.' 
'And then eaten by the flies.' The Doctor looked up at the dark clouds, now 
stained by trails of smoke. 'Did you hear what it said? Billions waiting in the 
Great Hive. I hope that's just boasting.' 
'If it isn't there's no hope.' Fritchoff let himself sink to the ground. 'The 
system will fall, a victim of the ruling classes' oppressive agenda.' 
The Doctor knelt at his side. 'There's no need to be so gloomy.' 
Fritchoff scoffed. 'How could we beat off a billion of them?' 
The Doctor shrugged. 'I don't know...' He smiled. 'A billion rolled-up 
newspapers?' 
'I don't think humour is relevant to this situation,' sighed Fritchoff 
The Doctor stood up and surveyed the area. They were moving in what Fritchoff 
thought was the direction of the Chelonian base. 'Humour serves a vital purpose. 
I often find that when I've just made a joke something extremely important that 
I've overlooked will suddenly pop into my.' He smote his forehead. 'Of course!' 
'I wish you'd stop doing that,' said Fritchoff who had no intention of getting 
up or getting excited. 
'He said the Great Hive. Waiting in the Great Hive.' He waited for Fritchoff to 
say something. 'What does that imply?' 
'We've been through all this.' 

Page 13 
   

The Doctor rattled on. 'That the flies here are a small advance party, clearing 
the way, stirring up trouble. They possess enough psionic power to keep a couple 
of dead bodies up and about and bent to their will, for a short period anyway. 
It must require a colossal effort. Ergo their resources are spread very thinly, 
ergo that's why they let me go.' He looked down at Fritchoff once again. 'You're 
supposed to be confused at this point and ask me why.'
'Why?' Fritchoff asked grudgingly. 
'Because they're almost defenceless, in themselves.' He made a broad gesture 
around the war zone. 'It's only the influence they wield with their agents 
that's caused all this brouhaha.' 
Fritchoff leapt up. He hated it when people misapplied' their language. 'It's a 
war,' he yelled. 'So call it a war. Don't hide the truth behind archaic jargon - 
it's a symptom of self-delusion.' 
The Doctor looked as if he was about to shout something back. Instead he said 
quietly, 'Listen. I'm trying very hard to save your entire civilization, and to 
be frank I think I'm the best chance it's got, so be a good chap and just shut 
up, will you?' 
'You keep talking to me,' Fritchoff protested. 'I'm entitled to reply, you know. 
I'm not a nodding peasant. My opinions are valid. Oh, what's the point?' He 
turned his back on the Doctor. 'This is an inherently counter-revolutionary 
conversation.' 
'Then why don't you just leave me to it?' 
Fritchoff winced as more explosions echoed distantly. 'Well. I'm frightened.' 
'So am I, Fritchoff. So am I.' The Doctor sauntered over and pressed a small 
golden disc into his hand. 'Here, have a chew of one of these. The sugar will 
settle your brain chemistry.' 
Fritchoff stared blankly at the gift. 'Is this confectionery?' The Doctor 
nodded. 'Then I'm afraid I can't accept it. The state uses sweet snack treats as 
a means to mollify the labourers.' 

Page 14 
   

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but the clattering drone of a land 
vehicle's engine interrupted him. Through the mists up ahead trundled a large 
black tank with thick treads and a sweeping laser attachment. There was a scrawl 
of yellow lettering on its side. 'Ah!' said the Doctor. He walked towards the 
approaching tank. 'Just what we were looking for. I should think they'll be 
pleased to see me.' He waved.
Two bright pink bolts of energy burst from the firing attachment. 
The Doctor threw himself to the ground. 'I sometimes think the universe is doing 
things just to spite me.' 
Fritchoff slithered over. He was already pulling a white cloth from a pocket. 
'Don't worry, Doctor. When they learn that we're opponents of the oppressive 
regime they'll welcome us as brothers.' 



The transmitter's glow faded, and Liris reached up and swung it away from 
Romana's supine form. 'The conditioning is complete.' 
'Life signs?' Galatea demanded. 
Liris consulted a monitor. 'The hearts are beating steadily at sixty a minute. 
Temperature stable.' She sniffed. 'But then, the body's autonomic functions can 
continue even in cases of extreme mental disruption.' 
Galatea's expression did not falter. 'And the alpha-wave pattern?' 
'Steady,' Liris said grudgingly. 
'Then there is no disruption.' She bent over the couch and touched Romana very 
gently on the cheek. Her eyes, thought Liris, burnt with intrigue. 'Romana?' 
Romana started and blinked up at her. 'Yes?' 
'You've been ill. Do you feel better?' 

Page 15 
   

'Fine.' She smiled. 'I must get back to K9, we need to coordinate the final 
stages of the campaign and put a stop to the rioting.' She seemed to notice the 
restraining straps for the first time. 'Why am I tied up?'
'You aren't.' Galatea nodded to Liris, who moved swiftly to remove the straps. 
'No,' said Romana. 'Of course I'm not.' She sat up and grinned again. 'Thank 
you. I'll see you later.' 
Galatea watched her departure with pleasure. 'Total success. Even on an alien 
mind.' 
'And if she examines the files again?' asked Liris. 
'She is conditioned and will not feel any impulse to. And I have restricted her 
access to them.' She moved towards the door leading from the annexe. 
'It is my function to administer the files,' Liris protested. She felt a hot 
stab of envy somewhere deep in her programming. 
Galatea rounded on her and said passionately, 'Liris, the days ahead will lead 
either to glory or disaster. Your bungles increase the chances of the latter.' 
'You talk like an organic, Galatea. Like Harmock does, with his fantasy of 
power. Who gave you such airs?' She touched her amulet in a respectful gesture. 
'Not the Creators, for sure.' 
'The Creators?' Galatea threw back her head and chuckled. 'Old men playing with 
technology.' She lifted up an arm. 'I am their greatest creation. A million 
different impulses are relayed through my nerve fibres every second. I reason 
faster and more efficiently than any of the Creators ever did or ever could have 
done.' She gestured to the annexe's open door. 'And there are even higher 
forces, believe me, and she and I are as insects to them.' She pulled herself 
upright. 'I have said too much. Come, we must check the scenario.' 





Page 16 
   

When prised from its housing above the bed with Stokes's Swiss Army knife the 
reading light had revealed a socket containing a feebly glowing orange bulb that 
trailed a thicket of circuitry unlike anything Stokes had seen before on 
Metralubit. It had a stringy, alien look to it. He sat on the edge of the bed, 
and weighed the device in his hand. 'This little thing can tamper with a 
person's thoughts?'
'Size is unimportant,' said K9. 'The experiential network of the human brain can 
be altered by a number of methods. Psychotronic conditioning, first hypothesized 
in Earth year 2045 by Professor Otterbland of the Dubrovnik Institute of New 
Sciences, combines mesmeric trance techniques with aggressive implantation of 
images and related experiences. Additionally, human subjects in large groups 
lack self-determination, a result of their ancestry as hunter-gatherers. Thus, 
mass conditioning is more effective.' 
Stokes felt his memory shifting uncomfortably inside his head, as if someone had 
a hand in there and was moving things about like furniture. 'I've been misled. 
Half of what I think could be lies.' A new terror struck him. 'Oh God. I might 
not even be who I think I am. It's terrifying.' 
'Negative.' K9 spoke with a hint of weariness. 'You are Menlove Ereward Stokes.' 

'Ah, but what if they've got at you, too? You could be lying.' 
'I cannot deceive, only circumvent.' 
Stokes let the device fall from his hand and started to walk around his room. 
'The question remains, who's behind this? I'd put money on Harmock.' 
'I have already applied myself to this question,' said K9. 
'It is most likely that the creators of the device are -' 
'The Femdroids,' said Romana from the doorway. 
'Please do not complete my sentences, Mistress,' said K9. 
Stokes crossed over to her, noting her stem expression. 'You're very sure.' 

Page 17 
   

She sat on the bed and examined the mini-transmitter. 'They put me under a deep 
conditioning device. A larger version of this. I resisted.'
'How?' 
'I recited my two thousand three hundred and thirty seven times table?' 
Stokes shook his head in bewilderment. 'The Femdroids? But they're just 
servants, like any other robots. They can't do things for themselves. And 
they're such sweet, helpful girls.' He caught himself, and felt again the odd 
sensation of words having been put into his mouth. 'Ah. They want me to think 
that.' He gulped. 'You mean they're running the show? Not Harmock at all?' 
Romana held up the transmitter. 'Think. There could be one of these in every 
room in the city, perhaps across the whole planet. They could manipulate 
millions. And the election, the war, the riots. It's all part of the cycle.' 
Stokes thought about this. 'That cull you were going on about? The Femdroids are 
behind it? Nonsense. They've only been operational for about a hundred and 
twenty years - ah. Another lie?' 
'It could be,' said Romana. 
'One thing rather leads to another, doesn't it? I mean, they might not even be 
robots.' He felt himself sway. 'I've got this horrible wrenching in my stomach. 
I must sit down.' He lowered himself and his imagination took another leap. 'Oh, 
no. I've just had a terrible thought. My journey here. My previous life. How 
much of that was true?' 
'We met you before, Stokes. On the Rock of Judgement.' She touched his arm 
reassuringly. 'You're very much the same person.' 

Page 18 
   

He sidled closer. 'Ooh, do that again.'
'Very much the same person.' She stood. 'Come on.' 
Stokes leapt up. 'Where are we going? Back to your TARDIS box, yes?' 
'No,' said Romana. 'To Harmock. We need an ally. He can spread the truth over 
the public broadcast network. We've got to save these people from the 
Femdroids.' She hurried out, K9 at her heels. 
Stokes trailed behind. 'Hang on. Why have we got to? It's not our problem. 
Altruism is overrated, and it tends to lead only one way. They wouldn't stick 
their necks out for us, would they?' But his companions had already left the 
suite. 



Fritchoff shuddered. The interior of the saucer was dark and low-ceilinged, and 
the walls seemed to throb with the rhythm of gastric rumblings. It was like 
being in the stomach of a giant beast. Anticipation further worsened the 
experience - he and the Doctor had been admitted to the saucer's undersection 
and left to wait in a small chamber. 
The Doctor broke a silence of some minutes. 'You're shaking again.' 
Fritchoff shrugged. 'I've never actually met a Chelonian. Or any sort of alien. 
I know that the apparently instinctual response I feel to cross-cultural contact 
is a product of the mythic structures of the hegemony, but that doesn't make it 
any the easier.' 
'Don't worry,' said the Doctor. 'We're all the same under the skin, you know. 
Some of my best friends are blobs of gas held together in exoskeletal shells. 
And I'm hardly human myself, you know.' 
'You're not a Chelonian.' 
'No, I'm something else entirely,' said the Doctor, suddenly serious. 'Although 
the Chelonians and I go back a long way. Perhaps too far back.' 

Page 19 
   

The chamber's interior door slid open and a Chelonian, wide-eyed and with a 
sprightly carriage, motored through. His mottled shell carried the three red 
stripes of high command. Fritchoff had seen many holovids of the creatures, and 
studied their oppressed culture, but nothing could have prepared him for their 
sheer size, their very improbability, or their leathery odour. 'You are the 
Doctor,' he said simply.
'That's correct, yes,' said the Doctor. 'Now, I'm known to your commanding 
officer, General Jafrid, and there's been a terrible misunderstanding -' His 
explanation was curtailed by the arrival of two more Chelonians, equally burly 
and with aggression in their eyes. The first, slightly larger, grabbed the 
Doctor by the hem of his coat, pulled him crashing to the floor, and started to 
drag him into the craft, knocking his knees against the metal flooring. 
The leader indicated Fritchoff and told the second of his juniors, 'This one is 
not important. Dispose of it.' 
Fritchoff had no time to draw breath before a massive pair of Chelonian claws 
were locked around his throat. Then he started to kick and struggle, to no 
avail. 
Dimly he heard the Doctor's voice. 'Wait a moment. I'll have you know that's a 
friend of mine you're strangling.' 
'We have been given special orders concerning you,' said the leader. 'Your life 
is to be spared...' 
'That's nice to know,' interrupted the Doctor. 'But would you mind putting him 
down?' 
'... until we reach the command base. Then you will be placed in the Web of 
Death.' He stomped out of the chamber and back into the main body of his craft. 
'Not that old thing again,' the Doctor muttered. 
Fritchoff felt himself blacking out. Then the Doctor said, 'Excuse me, I'm going 
to have to do something about that,' and suddenly the Chelonian's grip on his 
neck went limp and the creature crashed to the floor. 

Page 20 
   

The Doctor gripped his hand firmly and wrenched him up and on to his feet. His 
own captor was sitting dazed on the other side of the chamber. 'There we are,' 
said the Doctor. He handed Fritchoff another confectionery coin. 'Have another 
one of these.' He threw a couple more to the two Chelonians. 'And you.'
Fritchoff shook his head to clear it. 'But how?' he gasped. 
The Doctor tapped his forehead. 'The cybermechanical control plate. It's just a 
matter of finding the correct interconnection and pressing down.' He nodded to 
the saucer's interior and turned to proceed. 'Come on.' 
Fritchoff gripped his arm. 'We can't go through there!' 
The Doctor frowned. 'But it's what we came here to do.' 
'Oh dear,' said Fritchoff 



To the tune of explosions, violent and sudden death, and the collapse of his 
entire civilization, Harmock sat back in his antique chair and watched his poll 
rating rise and rise. He wasn't worried at all. The orange glow of the light 
suspended over his desk shone down benevolently, as steady. and strong as ever, 
blotting out all his doubts. 'Fourteen points ahead,' he said, drumming his fat 
fingers on his desk. 'Time to celebrate.' He looked around the study. There was 
a bottle of fine Bensonian wine somewhere about here. He could crack it open and 
raise a toast with - whoever. Not Galatea, obviously. Somebody else, then. One 
of his many friends. 
There was a frantic rapping on the door. He sighed and shouted, 'Come.' 

Page 21 
   

The door slid back and Romana, Stokes and his pathetic opponent bundled in, an 
unseemly urgency - the urgency, he thought, of defeat - in their eyes. 'Harmock, 
you've got to listen to us,' said Romana, striding forward. 'Is this a stunt of 
some kind?' Harmock reached under the desk and produced his wine bottle. As he 
fiddled with the self-popping cork mechanism he said smoothly, 'If it is, it's 
come rather late. Fourteen points, a clear lead. Nobody's ever come back like 
this before.'
'Negative images and warmongering have fuelled your success,' said K9. 
'Envious, envious,' Harmock said lightly. The cork popped. 
'This is all irrelevant,' said Stokes, who came bounding forward and pounded one 
of his big fists on the desk. 'Listen, you self-important prig. Go on, Romana, 
tell him.' 
Romana leant over the desk urgently. 'Harmock, don't know why, but the Femdroids 
are your enemies. They've manipulated us all.' 
Harmock threw back his head and cackled. 'I can't believe I'm hearing this. It's 
pathetic, so desperate. I can have you thrown out.' He reached for a button on 
his desk unit. 'I will have you thrown out.' 
Romana gripped his hand. 'Please. You must listen to us. They're plotting to 
kill us all.' 
'What nonsense. I'll call Galatea at once, we could all do with some light 
relief. And she can bring some glasses.' He stretched out his hand again. 
Stokes slapped it. 'You're a bit of a cretin on the quiet, aren't you, Harmock?' 
he bellowed. 





Page 22 
   

Liris turned from the screen with her smuggest smile. 'Galatea, witness the 
outcome of your conditioning.' Galatea's expression was unreadable. 'This cannot 
be allowed to continue. 'Shall I decirculate her, for the second time?'
'Unnecessary.' Galatea crossed to a panel in the wall and sent a coded 
instruction on her amulet. A hidden mechanism whirred and a large section of the 
wall swung open on a concealed hinge. Behind it were a row of identical 
Femdroids dressed in tight-fitting black suits. 'You two.' She passed the flat 
of her hand over the amulets worn by a pair in the centre of the group and they 
came jerkily to life. 
Liris gasped. The killer squad had lain dormant since the Creators had brought 
Galatea into existence. 'You can't mean to kill her?' 
'I shall kill them all if need be,' said Galatea. She sent another command and 
the two Killers rose from their berths. Their gun arms clicked upward with 
savage swiftness. Moulded into the grips of both women were slender, wand like 
crystal units that glowed and crackled with deadly power. 
'This was not the Creators' intention,' said Liris firmly as the creatures 
brushed past her unseeing. 'The Killers were devised to protect the dome.' 
'Exactly,' said Galatea. She waved the Killers towards the screen. 
'But it's at the core of our programming,' Liris protested. 'To serve the 
humans.' 
'And to preserve the maximum happiness of the maximum number,' Galatea 
completed. 'That, Liris, is what I'm doing.' She pointed to the image of 
Harmock's study. 'The female is an alien agitator. Kill her and disable the 
robotic creature.' 


