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All was quiet in the factory. The moonlight
shone through a narrow slit on one wall, casting mysterious shadows
across the room. A black, opaque coffin stood silent and patient, its
lid open. Across from it was another prototype - a crumpled leather
armchair. The test products waited in solitude, ready to play their part
in the upcoming war.
Suddenly, something moved as the door to the room swung open and a man stepped through. He closed the door
silently and crossed to a computer, a circular screen taking up most of
the space at eye-level. Below that was a dashboard of buttons and
controls. A black leather chair lay at rest in front of the computer.
The man crossed to the chair and swivelled it around. Sitting in the
chair was another man, wearing a blue suit and glasses. He wasn’t moving
at all – not even blinking – as if in some kind of trance. The first man
nodded, obviously happy with what he had found and crossed to the
window.
The midnight half-light exposed his strange facial features. They were
recognisably human, but there was something…artificial about them. He
had an inquisitive nose and a large forehead. Small, keen eyes squinted
out into the night. There was a mechanical beeping, like a telephone
dialling over a long distance, and the man closed his eyes.
“Channing…” came a deep booming voice inside the man’s
head.
“I’m here.” Channing replied, neither nervous nor confidently. He
had a slightly dreamy and unconnected tone about his voice, as if
speaking didn’t come naturally to him.
“Report on progress,” instructed the deep tones, which Channing
recognised as the sound of the Nestene Consciousness.
“I have established a base here, and have acquired all the necessary
resources. The plan is ready to initiate.”
“And the casket? Is the casket prepared?”
“Yes, everything is ready. The Nestene colonisation of Earth can begin.”
“The energy units have already been dispatched. The Consciousness will
be received in six hours. Are the Autons prepared?”
“They are in production now. We have already created twenty, and have
initiated the side-projects of duplication and mannequin supply.”
“Very good, Channing,” the Consciousness began, almost sounding pleased,
“but there is still much to be done. You, as leader of this colonisation
are responsible for the success of this mission. You know the
consequence of failure.”
Channing nodded, his left eye twitching. “I understand.”
The exchange was clearly at an end. Channing stepped away from the
window and crossed to the computer. He switched it on and an orange
scanning arm began to rotate. It was picking up nothing yet, but it was
only a matter of time… Channing exited the room and closed the door
solidly behind him, hearing the click of the lock as he did so.
He descended the staircase to the factory floor. Here, everything was in
progress. The production lines were busy and a large group of Autons -
all immobile - were gathering in one corner. The automated machinery did
not have any concept of rest, and this pleased Channing. At this rate,
the Earth would be theirs within forty-eight hours…
He watched as the
cogs turned, churning out miniature dolls and full-size mannequins. His
thought process was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder, something
Channing had definitely not anticipated.
He wheeled round to see Hibbert – the man in the blue suit and glasses –
standing dazedly before him.
“What’s going… on?” Hibbert spluttered, words failing him. “Don’t you
know it’s the middle of the night?”
“Production must be completed as soon as possible, Hibbert. You
understand that.”
Hibbert, not wanting to disagree with Channing stood silently for a
second, confusion etched across his weary face. “Yes, but through the
night?”
“Whatever it takes, Hibbert.”
Hibbert nodded, a hand clasped to the back of his ear. He stumbled over
his words, as if there was someone else making him say them. “Yes, yes…
Whatever it takes…”
“Exactly. Now go back to the laboratory.”
Hibbert nodded and went back up the stairs. Channing waited a moment,
scanned the room and then followed him, satisfied. More mannequins had
been produced in the short time he had been on the factory floor. They
stood, waiting to be dressed, at the end of the production line next to
a large sliding door, ready to be sent out across the nation.
Channing entered the laboratory – now with the lights on – and crossed
to the computer at which Hibbert was duly sitting, now back in his
trance-like state. He twisted a dial on the machine and the scanning arm
began to swing faster. He leant forward, studying the screen.
“Faster.” He demanded calmly. “Maximum speed.”
His eye throbbed again but he remained unblinking. There was a sudden
bleep and thirty or forty small white dots appeared on the screen,
moving in from the north-west towards the centre.
“Excellent,” Channing declared, “The colonisation can commence.”
© Copyright Dave Spilsbury, Niki
Hunter & Doctor Who Online, 2013.
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Written by:
Dave Spilsbury
Artwork by:
Niki Hunter
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