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4 The Timescoop

Professor Whitaker peered at the massive control console of the Timescoop, and smiled inwardly at his achievement.

In the entire history of Humankind, he was the only person ever to have changed Time. Others had climbed Everest and launched people into space—but only Professor Whitaker had moved things, people, and prehistoric monsters through Time!

Many problems, however, remained to be solved. The Timescoop had twice gone out of control—once removing a startled Roman soldier from the midst of a battle into Trafalgar Square, and once scooping up a medieval peasant... But these were small errors compared with the technological magnificence of being able to focus the ‘scoop on to a particular dinosaur at a precise moment in pre-history and to bring it safely into the present.

It crossed his mind that if he had the time (he smiled at his own pun) he could hob-nob with any number of famous people from the past. He could, if he wished, summon up Henry VIII although the King’s Old English would be difficult to understand. Perhaps Oscar Wilde would be more fun to meet, or perhaps the late Noël Coward. Some of the great mysteries of the past, such as the disappearance of the two princes in the Tower, could be solved by the Timescoop.

Yet although he could manipulate Time, it was the one thing he was short of. The people he worked with were always pressing him to complete the Timescoop. If only they weren’t in such a hurry.

A technician called across the control room. ‘Power output holding steady at one million volts, Professor.’

‘Thank you,’ he called back.

Butler, a man he disliked, came over to him. ‘The next time-transference is due in one hour, Professor.’

Whitaker turned away and busied himself adjusting some controls. He’d never liked the look of the jagged scar that ran down Butler’s left cheek. ‘It may have to wait.’

‘We must maintain the time-transference schedule,’ said Butler. ‘The sequence has been carefully calculated.’

Whitaker swung round. ‘How can I work on the main project when I have these constant distractions?’

Butler put on his awful smile. ‘These distractions, Professor, have emptied London for us. We must keep the authorities off balance.’

Whitaker tried to avoid looking at the jagged scar. ‘What’s the weather like up above?’

Butler was surprised by the question. ‘Does it affect the programme in any way?’

‘You know very well it doesn’t. I just wondered if it was raining. I haven’t seen daylight for a month.’

‘If it really interests you, Professor, I shall try to find out. But may I first ask if we shall have the next transference on time?’

Whitaker turned back to his console. ‘I suppose so. But don’t blame me if the final countdown is delayed.’ He began making rapid calculations on a miniaturised computer, and paused when he realised that Butler was still standing behind him. Without turning, he said, ‘Well, what is it now?’

‘The final countdown mustn’t be delayed, Professor,’ said Butler’s voice. ‘You are aware of that. Everything depends on you.’

At last Butler was showing some sense. Of course everything depended on the brilliance and genius of Professor Whitaker. He liked it when other people acknowledged this fact.

‘I shall do my best,’ he said. ‘Now will you please stop standing behind me? It puts me off.’

‘Certainly,’ said Butler.

Whitaker’s well-manicured finger jabbed two more digits on the miniaturised computer, then he stole a glance over his shoulder. Butler had moved away and was reading power input dials. Whitaker thought it was such a pity about that awful scar.

At UNIT’s temporary Headquarters the Doctor had rigged up the headmaster’s office as a private workshop. Captain Yates watched as the Doctor wired the main circuit of the stun-gun he’d just completed—a long barrelled weapon with shoulder pad, sights, and a trigger.

‘You really think you can knock out a dinosaur with that thing?’ asked Yates.

‘Naturally,’ said the Doctor, continuing with his work, and wishing Yates would go away.