Doctor Who_ Daemons - Barry Letts [45]
Osgood gulped. 'Right, sir... I think.'
'Good grief, man,' exploded the Doctor, 'it's as simple as Einstein's Special Theory of Relativity!'
'We'll manage somehow,' said the Brigadier hastily.
'Good,' said the Doctor, 'and when you do get the thing finished, bring it through the barrier and down to the village at once,' and away he roared on the powerful bike.
The Brigadier sighed. 'You know, Sergeant,' he said, 'sometimes I wish I worked in a bank.' He turned away and caught sight of a group of soldiers laboriously unrolling a heavy cable. 'At the double there!' he shouted, moving towards them.
Osgood resentfully watched the Doctor vanishing across the downs. All very well for him to be as superior. It was his idea, of course he understood it. He wouldn't find it so flaming easy to understand Osgood's scheme for breeding racing pigeons using cross-linked characteristics like the shape of the flight feathers and the bird's speed. For a moment the Sergeant felt an overwhelming wave of nostalgia for the warm sweet smell of his pigeon-loft. Shaking himself crossly, he tried once more to concentrate on the faint scratchings ten feet away across the heat barrier. Now, then. What was it about the pulse-generator? Analogous to the principle of the laser, the Doctor had said. How could it be? The two things were entirely different. The man was just a... hang on... if you took the oscillator signal through a series of tuned circuits... Suddenly excited, the Sergeant pulled out his pad and started sketching possible ways of doing it. Of course, of course! Absurdly simple. Why hadn't he seen before? Almost running, he hurried to the Mobile H.Q., nearly knocking over the Brigadier. 'Sorry, sir,' he gasped, 'but I'm on the track of it at last. Just got to get a few more bits and pieces...'
'Well done, Sergeant,' beamed the Brigadier, 'knew I could rely on you. I'd better get on to the Electricity fellows, then. Put them on standby.'
It seemed no time at all before the Sergeant had fitted then new components. They just seemed to fall into place. Now for a first test! Not on the heat barrier, of course, too little power for that. But at least it would show if he was on the right lines...
'Sergeant!' bellowed the Brigadier from the doorway of the van.
'Sir?'
'Is it you making that horrible racket on the radio? Can't get a thing through. The air's thick with it.'
'Yes! Yes! I'm testing, you see, sir. This is fascinating!' Sergeant Osgood's happy face appeared over the top of his machine. 'It's not quite right yet, but even on the battery it's really pumping it out! It's a sort of controlled resonance principle, you see...'
'Never mind the mumbo-jumbo, Osgood. Keep the wretched thing switched off.'
'Sorry, sir, I can't,' replied the Sergeant. 'Must finish the tests!'
'How long are you going to be before you've got it ready?'
'Matter of minutes, sir,' said Osgood, cheerfully, 'I've really got the hang of it now!' His face disappeared behind the odd-looking contraption. Almost at once, there was a loud bang and a puff of smoke. The blackened and disappointed face of the Sergeant slowly reappeared.
'An hour, sir. At least!' he said ruefully.
Bert settled himself comfortably into the bracken and checked his gun. Full magazine, one up the spout, safety-catch on. Like being back in the army. Bert cocked his hat over his eyes to keep out the sun and peered along the winding road below him. Bound to come down it, wasn't he? Only way off the downs, like.
The smell of the warm earth took him back even further to soft Wiltshire nights, poaching or the Winstanley Estate when he was a young 'un. Many a pheasant he'd had off the old Squire, let alone rabbit and hare. Went down fine with a bit of red-currant jelly, hare did.
Jolted back to the present moment by the approaching sound of a motor-cycle, Bert stared at the rifle disbelievingly. Going to kill a man? Whatever had come over him that he should even think of such a thing?
Around the corner came the figure of the Doctor, cloak flying,