Doctor Who_ Bunker Soldiers - Martin Day [91]
Before I could say a word I was transported – there is no other word for it – to a different place and time entirely. There was a knot in my stomach, and wind whipped my eyes. It was as if I was on some awful fairground ride – or, worse, one of those dreams where you fall from a great height, only to awake as you hit the ground.
But this was far worse – more real, it seemed in a moment, than reality itself. I tried to scream, but the sound was ripped away by my rushing descent.
I fell past moons and planets and suns, then dark skies, then clouds. The air around me began to burn, but before I could see what – if anything – I was travelling in, I landed. There was no thud of impact, no awful rending of bone and muscle: one moment I was falling like a missile, the next I was on my feet, walking about as if I had casually stepped off a footstool.
My vision settled and I saw a planet of red and brown rock, dominated by a circle of distant volcanoes that poured a constant stream of ash and flame into the air. Worse still, a battle was being played out in front of me. Great tanks that walked on insect legs over the uncertain terrain loosed off laser weapons; human-sized creatures in glorified spacesuits buzzed around them like insects. Another group of armour-clad humanoids were marching towards a dome-like structure only a mile or so from where I stood; without warning, the ground beneath them shattered, revealing a vast craft like a battle-green trapdoor spider. The entire platoon was wiped out in a moment, and the
‘spider’ settled back beneath the ground.
An aircraft flew low overhead, strafing the area with some sort of cluster bomb. I realised, then, that I was borrowing someone’s eyes, someone’s perceptions – I could no more control my body (whatever it was!) than I could run in one of those awful, powerless nightmares. I knew only that I was moving – at speed – and that my destination seemed to be the dome.
Above me, I realised, were more of the creatures in their pale spacesuits, and they were protecting me (us?) from attack. I soon came to the outside of the dome – all the while protected by the covering fire of the flying humanoids – and a blue-brown, three-digited hand extended towards some sort of control panel. I realised with a shock that this was ‘my’ hand, or the hand of whatever creature’s experiences I seemed to be sharing. It flickered over the controls, and the door opened.
I/we stepped inside, into the darkness, to find the Doctor staring at me in concern. I was back in the governor’s residence, and less than a moment had passed.
‘Doctor, I... ‘ I paused, not knowing what to say. ‘I’ve seen something. An alien war.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘Perhaps I should have warned you. It seems likely that the creature can communicate with its capsule on some sort of mental plane. The control device was clearly seeking to establish a psychic communications protocol with you!’ ‘But the images...’
‘Random bits and pieces, as interpreted by your mind. Still, they may be useful.’ The Doctor looked closely at me, and for a moment I almost expected him to pull a great watch from the pocket of his frock coat and swing it before my eyes. ‘Tell me everything you saw,’ he said earnestly.
The words came out in a tumble – I was still struggling to make sense of what I had seen. ‘It was so real,’ I concluded. ‘Just as real as what I see now.’
‘Fascinating, quite fascinating!’ said the Doctor with a chuckle. ‘It confirms some details of my hypothesis, but we need more information. Come along, my boy. We must find the TARDIS!’
And, in case of another ‘attack’, he took the control panel from me, then set off through the seemingly deserted corridors of the residence. I glanced at the two corpses as we left the room, but even I could sense that the city was overflowing with the dead.
‘What is this hypothesis of yours?’ I called, struggling to keep up with the Doctor’s unexpected burst of speed.
‘Oh, that’s not important,’ he said. ‘I have an idea of what drives this creature. But the important thing is to find a way of destroying