Doctor Who_ Silver Nemesis - Kevin Clarke [0]
Evil powers await the statue's return: the neo-Nazi de Flores and his stormtroopers; Lady Peinforte, who saw Nemesis exiled in 1638 and has propelled herself forward in time; and the advance party of a Cyberman invasion force.
And in the garden of a Windsor pub, the Doctor and Ace are enjoying the timeless sounds of a jazz quartet . . .
This story celebrates 25 years of Doctor Who on television.
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Science Fiction/TV Tie-in
DOCTOR WHO
SILVER NEMESIS
Based on the BBC television programme by Kevin Clarke by arrangement with BBC Books, a division of BBC
Enterprises Ltd
Kevin Clarke
Number 143 in the
Target Doctor Who Library
published by
The Paperback Division of
W. H. Allen & Co. Plc
A Target Book
Published in 1989
By the Paperback Division of
W. H. Allen & Co. Plc
Sekforde House, 175/9 St John Street,
London EC1V 4LL
Novelization copyright © Kevin Clarke 1989
Original script copyright © Kevin Clarke 1988
‘Doctor Who’ series copyright © British Broadcasting Corporation 1988, 1989
The BBC producer was John Nathan-Turner The director was Chris Clough
The role of the Doctor was played by Sylvester McCoy Printed and bound in Great Britain by
Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading
ISBN 0 426 20340 2
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 upon the subsequent purchaser.
For
D H F Somerset
with all my gratitude
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
1
The closer one travels towards it from the cold silent darkness of infinite space, the more the planet Earth appears as a backcloth to some small theatrical performance taking place on a limited budget. From the tiny distance of only a few million miles, approached directly, the little production looms confusedly, the seas and land masses cheap dye, dampened and imperceptibly merging one into the other.
Towards this tiny but slowly growing scene, what appears at first to be a ball of rock shoots through the darkness. It might be taken for a comet, one of the endless number of pebbles or worlds passing eternally through space, until viewed from a few hundred miles. When seen from perhaps the distance which separates London and Berlin, a small tail of flame becomes visible, spraying from behind the rock. It might simply be a natural discharge of gases self-igniting, yet there is a quality of precision about the flame which invites further examination. It proves from a closer viewpoint to be not one, but four small jets of fire.
The Earth looms steadily larger with a slow inevitability as the rock flies towards it, apparently propelled by four small rockets fixed to a kind of sled at its base. The comet might thus appear to be the creation of some enthusiastic amateur with an interest in space travel. It is certainly a ramshackle enough device.
As it passes on, inexorably towards the looming Earth, something else about it momentarily catches the attention.
Despite the speed at which the comet – if that is what it is