DOCTOR WHO AND AN UNEARTHLY CHILD by Terrance Dicks [1st Doctor Who Story]

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Marcus Antonius

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Introduction by Marcus Antonius

I have been meaning to post some more Doctor who in our library for some time now. I was thinking about where to start, so I thought, how about 'from the beginning'.
An Unearthly Child is the first serial of the British science fiction television series Doctor Who. It was first broadcast on BBC TV in four weekly parts from 23 November to 14 December 1963.
I cannot say I remember much about these episodes, I celebrated my second birthday on the 10th of December, which coincidentally is the same birthday as Anthony Coburn.
Who realised then that this programme would be one that I would follow all my life.
The original script was by Anthony Coburn from whom Terrance Dicks has created this novelisation.
So with no further ado I give you Doctor Who and Unearthly Child

 
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Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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Synopsis

A strange girl who knows far more than she should about the past - and the future...
Two worried teachers whose curiosity leads them to a deserted junk yard,
an extraodinary police box and a mysterious traveller known only as the Doctor...
A fantastic journey through Space and Time ending in a terrifying adventure at the dawn of history...
 
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Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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Original Story Writer


James Anthony Coburn (10 December 1927 – 28 April 1977)

James Coburn was an Australian television writer and producer, who was born in Melbourne, Victoria,


He moved to the UK around 1950, where he joined the staff of BBC Television. While working as a staff writer for the BBC in 1963 and living in Herne Bay, Kent, he became involved in the early development of the science-fiction series Doctor Who.

He liaised closely with the series' first story editor, David Whitaker, on establishing the format and characters of the show, which had been initiated by various BBC drama executives before being handed on to the new production team. It is believed to have been Coburn's idea for the Doctor's travelling companion, Susan, to be his granddaughter, as he was disturbed by the possible sexual connotations of an old man travelling with an unrelated teenager.

Coburn wrote four full serials for the programme, An Unearthly Child, The Robots (also known as The Masters of Luxor) and two other unnamed scripts. Only An Unearthly Child was produced and it was the first ever Doctor Who serial to be made, despite both Coburn and the production team's misgivings about its prehistoric settings. The Robots was continually delayed and put back in production order, and then finally rejected – following this, Coburn severed his links with the show.
 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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Novelisation Writer


Terrance William Dicks (14 April 1935 – 29 August 2019)

Terrance Dicks was born in East Ham, Essex, England. He became an English author and television screenwriter, script editor and producer. In television, he had a long association with the BBC science-fiction series Doctor Who, working as a writer and also serving as the programme's script editor from 1968 to 1974. He also wrote many children's books during the 1970s and 1980s. He also maintained his association with Doctor Who by adapting televised stories into novelisations for Target Books and in later years contributing to many documentaries and DVD commentaries for the series.
 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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A foggy winter's night, in a London back street: the little road was empty and silent. A tall figure loomed up out of the fog - the helmeted, caped figure of a policeman patrolling his beat.
He moved along the little street, trying shop doors, walked on past the shops to where the street ended in a high blank wall. There were high wooden gates in the wall, with a smaller, entry-gate set into one of them.
The policeman shone his torch onto the gates, holding the beam for a moment on a faded notice:
I. M. Foreman
Scrap Merchant.
There was another sign below the first, its lettering bright and fresh:
Private - Keep Out!
The policeman tried the entry-gate and it creaked open beneath his hand. He looked through, shining his torch around the little yard. There were no intruders. Just an incredible mixture of broken-down objects, old cupboards, bits of furniture, dismantled car engines, chipped marble statues with arms and legs and heads missing.
He turned the torch beam on a square blue shape in the far corner and saw with some astonishment the familiar shape of a police box. At that time police boxes were a common enough sight on the streets of London. Inside was a special telephone that police, or even members of the public, could use to summon help in an emergency.
An odd thing to find in a junk yard, thought the policeman. Maybe this particular one had become worn out and been sold off for scrap. There were rumours that all police boxes would eventually be phased out, that one day every constable would carry his own personal walkie-talkie radio. 'That'll be the day,' thought the policeman. Still, the junk-man must have bought the thing from somewhere; it was scarcely likely that he'd stolen it and lugged it off to his yard.
The policeman grinned, imagining the desk-sergeant's expression if he went back and asked if anyone had reported a missing police box. He paused for a moment listening - there seemed to be some kind of electronic hum. Probably some nearby generator - it was very faint.
Closing the little gate behind him, he went on his way, thinking of the mug of hot sweet tea and sausage sandwiches waiting at the end of his patrol.
The catch on the little gate must have been faulty. As the policeman moved away, it creaked slowly open again.

Next night, the policeman checked the yard again, but the police box had vanished. Later he learned that the strange old man who was the junk yard's new proprietor had vanished too, together with his grand-daughter, a pupil at the local school. Two teachers from the same school were missing as well.
In all the resultant fuss the policeman forgot all about the oddly sited police box. In time he came to think he must have imagined it. Even if he hadn't, it couldn't possibly have had anything to do with the disappearances. After all, you couldn't get four people into a police box - could you?

 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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On the afternoon following the policeman's first visit to the junk yard, everything was normal at Coal Hill School. The long school day dragged to an end at last, and the long-awaited clangour of the school bell echoed through the stone-floored corridors.
As her history class hurried chattering towards the door, Barbara Wright came to a sudden decision.
'Susan!' she called.
A girl paused on her way to the door. She was tall for her age, with short dark hair framing a rather elfin face.
'Yes, Miss Wright?' 'Just wait here for a moment, and I'll go and get that book I promised you. I won't be long.'
'Yes, Miss Wright,' said Susan Foreman obediently. She went back to her desk and sat down. 'Can I play my radio while I'm waiting?'
'If it's not too loud.'


Susan Foreman
Played by Carole Ann Ford (16 June 1940 - )​

Barbara Wright went out of the classroom and strode along the corridor. At the sight of her, a group of scuffling, laughing children instinctively quietened down and began walking at a more sedate pace. Everyone knew Miss Wright didn't stand for any nonsense.
Someone had once said, rather unkindly, that Barbara Wright was a typical schoolmistress. She was dark-haired and slim, always neatly dressed, with a face that would have been even prettier without its habitual expression of rather mild disapproval.
There was undeniably some truth in the unkind remark. Barbara Wright had many good qualities, but she also had a strong conviction that she knew what was best, not only for herself but for everyone else. It suited her temperament to be in charge.


Barbara Wright
Played by Jacqueline Hill (17 December 1929 -18 February 1993)​

She went into the empty staff room - most of her colleagues were even quicker off the mark than the children - selected a thick volume from the shelves, and headed back towards the classroom. Half-way there she paused outside another door, marked 'Science Laboratory', hesitated for a moment, and then went inside.
As she'd hoped, Ian Chesterton was still there, pottering about his lab bench, apparently clearing up after some experiment. He was a cheerful, open-faced young man in the traditional sports jacket and flannels of the schoolmaster, about as different in temperament from Barbara Wright as could be imagined. Ian Chesterton took life as it came, going about his duties with casual efficiency and refusing to let anything worry him too much. Despite their differences, the two were very good friends, perhaps because Ian Chesterton was one of the few people in the school who saw the kindness beneath Barbara Wright's rather severe exterior. He was certainly the only one who ever dared to tease her.
He looked up as she came in. 'Oh, hello, Barbara. Not gone yet?'
'Obviously not.'
Ian groaned. 'Oh well, ask a silly question!'


Ian Chesterton
Played by William Russell (19 November 1924 - )​

Barbara was frequently sharp-tongued, especially when tired or worried.
'I'm sorry,' said Barbara quickly.
'It's all right, I'll forgive you - this time.' She perched wearily on a laboratory stool. 'It's just that something's worrying me rather. I don't know what to make of it.'
It was unlike her to confess helplessness, and Ian was immediately concerned.
'What is it? Can I help?' 'Oh, it's one of the girls. Susan Foreman.' Ian's eyes widened.
'Susan Foreman! You find her a problem too, do you?'
'I most certainly do!'
'And you don't know what to make of her?'
Barbara shook her head. 'Me neither,' said Ian ungrammatically. He looked thoughtful for a moment. 'How old is she, Barbara?'
'About fifteen.'
'Fifteen!' Ian ran his fingers through his already untidy hair. 'Do you know what she does? In my science classes, I mean?'
'No, what?'
'She lets out her knowledge a little bit at a time!' he said explosively. 'I think she doesn't want to embarrass me. That girl knows more science than I'll ever know. Is she doing the same thing in your history lessons?'
'Something very like it.'
'Your problem's the same as mine then? Whether we stay in business, or hand the class over to her...'
'No, not quite.'
'What then?'
Barbara Wright leaned forward on her stool. 'I'm sorry to unload all this on you, Ian, but I've got to talk to someone about it. I don't want to go to anyone official in case I get the girl into trouble. I suppose you're going to tell me I'm imagining things?'
'No, I'm not.' Ian turned down a Bunsen burner and began washing test tubes and glass Petri dishes in the laboratory sink, stacking them neatly in racks to dry. 'Go on.'
'Well, I told you how good she was at history? I had a talk with her, told her she ought to specialise. She'd be a natural for a university scholarship in a year or two, Oxford or Cambridge if she wanted.' 'How did she take it?'
'She was cautious about it, but she seemed quite interested...' Barbara paused. 'I told her it would mean a good deal of extra study, offered to work with her at home. The whole idea seemed to throw her into a kind of panic. She said it would be absolutely impossible because her grandfather didn't like strangers.'
'Bit of a lame excuse, isn't it?' said Ian thoughtfully. 'Who is her grandfather anyway? Isn't he supposed to be a doctor of some kind?'
Barbara nodded. 'Anyway, I didn't pursue the point, but the whole thing seemed to upset her somehow. Since then, her homework's been, I don't know, erratic - sometimes brilliant, sometimes terrible.'
'Yes, I know what you mean,' said Ian. 'She's been much the same with me.'
'Anyway, I finally got so worried and irritated with all this that I decided to have a talk to this grandfather of hers, and tell him he ought to take a bit more interest in her.'
Ian smiled to himself. It was very typical of Barbara to get herself worked up and go marching off to lecture some perfect stranger on his family responsibilities.
'Did you, indeed? What's the old boy like?'
'That's just it,' said Barbara worriedly. 'I got her address from the school secretary, 76 Totters Lane, and I went along there one evening.'
By now Ian was busily preparing a microscope slide from some mysterious solution in one of his test tubes, head bent absorbedly over his work.
'Oh Ian, do pay attention!' snapped Barbara.
'I am paying attention,' said Ian calmly. 'You went along there one evening. And?'
'There isn't anything there. It's just an old junk yard.'
'You must have got the wrong place.' '
It was the address the secretary gave me.'
'She must have got it wrong then,' said Ian infuriatingly.
'No, she didn't. I checked next day. Ian, there was a big wall on one side, a few houses and shops on the other, and nothing in between. And that nothing in the middle is the junk yard, 76 Totters Lane.'
 
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Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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Ian finished his slide and put it to one side. 'Bit of a mystery...? Still, there must be a simple answer somewhere. We'll just have to find out for ourselves, won't we?'
'Thanks for the we,' said Barbara gratefully. She looked at her watch. 'The poor girl's still waiting in my classroom. I'm lending her this book on the French Revolution.'
Ian looked at the bulky volume. 'What's she going to do - rewrite it? All right, what do we do? I doubt if it'll do any good to start firing questions at her.'
Barbara shook her head decisively. 'No, what I thought we'd do is drive to Totters Lane ahead of her, wait till she arrives, and see where she goes.'
'Got it all worked out, haven't you?' said Ian admiringly. 'All right!' Barbara looked hesitantly at him.
'That is - if you're not doing anything...'
'No, I'm not doing anything,' said Ian reassuringly. 'Come on, let's go and take a look at this mystery girl.'
They went out of the laboratory, along the corridor, and into the classroom, which was empty except for Susan Foreman and the sound of rock and roll blaring from her transistor radio.
Barbara raised her voice. 'Susan?' Susan looked up.
'Sorry, Miss Wright, I didn't hear you come in.'
'I'm not surprised.'
Susan's face was alight with interest. 'Aren't they fabulous?'
She looked every inch your average normal teenager, thought Barbara. But she wasn't. She wasn't...
'Aren't who fabulous?'
'John Smith and the Common Men. They've gone from number nineteen to number two in the charts, in just a week.'
'John Smith is the stage name of the Honourable Aubrey Waites,' said Ian solemnly. 'It's not so fashionable to be upper class these days. He started off as Chris Waites and the Carollers, didn't he?' Ian Chesterton wasn't exactly a pop fan, but he found it helped to keep in touch with the interests of his pupils, so he knew what they were talking about, at least some of the time.
Susan looked admiringly at him. 'You are surprising, Mr Chesterton. I wouldn't have expected you to know things like that.'
'I've an enquiring mind,' said Ian. 'And a sensitive ear,' he added drily.
'Sorry,' said Susan, and switched off the radio.
'Thanks!'


Susan looked at the bulky volume under Barbara Wright's arm. 'Is that the book you promised me?'
Barbara handed it over. 'Yes, here you are.'
'Thank you very much,' said Susan politely. 'I'm sure it will be very interesting. I'll return it tomorrow.'
'That's all right, you can keep it until you've finished it.'
'I'll have finished it by tomorrow,' said Susan calmly. 'Thank you, Miss Wright, goodnight. Goodnight, Mr Chesterton.'
Ian looked thoughtfully at her. There was something strange about Susan Foreman, despite all her apparent normality. Her speech was almost too pure, too precise, and she had a way of observing you cautiously all the time, as if you were a member of some interesting but potentially dangerous alien species. There was a distant, almost unearthly quality about her...
'Where do you live, Susan? I'm giving Miss Wright a lift home, and there's room for one more in the car. Since we've kept you late, it seems only fair you should get a lift as well. It'll soon be dark.'
'No thank you, Mr Chesterton. I like walking home in the dark. It's mysterious.' Susan put the radio and the book in her bag and turned towards the door.
'Be careful, Susan,' said Barbara. 'It looks as though there'll be fog again tonight. See you in the morning.'
'I expect so. Goodnight.'
The two teachers waited till her footsteps died away and then Ian took Barbara's arm. 'Right - car park, quick! We are about to solve the mystery of Susan Foreman!'
 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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As Ian's car turned slowly into Totters Lane, Barbara said, 'Park just over there, Ian. We'll have a good view of the gates, without being too close. We don't want her to see us.'
Ian couldn't help smiling at her unthinking bossiness. Obediently, he parked the car on the spot she'd indicated, put on the handbrake, and switched off lights and engine. 'You'd better hope she doesn't! Sitting in a parked car like this might be a little hard to explain.'
Barbara gave him a disapproving look. 'She doesn't seem to have arrived yet.'
'Luckily, the fog wasn't too bad, or I'd never have found the place myself.'
Barbara pulled her coat collar higher around her neck, and said hesitantly, 'I suppose we are doing the right thing - aren't we?'
'You mean it's a bit hard to justify - indulging our idle curiosity?'
'But her homework...?'
'Bit of an excuse really, isn't it? The truth is, Barbara, we're both curious about Susan Foreman, and we won't be happy until we know some of the answers.'
'You can't just pass it off like that! If I thought I was just being a busybody, I'd go straight home. I thought you agreed there was something mysterious about her?'
Ian yawned. He'd shared Barbara's concern earlier, but now he was feeling increasingly doubtful about the whole thing. 'I suppose I did... Still, there's probably some perfectly simple explanation for it all.'
'Like what?'
'Well...' said Ian rather feebly. 'To begin with, the kid's obviously got a fantastically high IQ, near genius, I imagine.'
'And the gaps? The things she doesn't know?'
'Maybe she only concentrates on what interests her, ignores the rest.'
'It just isn't good enough, Ian. How do you explain an exceptionally intelligent teenage girl who doesn't know how many shillings there are in a pound?'
(At this time, the early 1960s, Britain was still sticking to her uniquely complicated monetary system - four farthings, or two halfpennies to the penny, twelve pence to the shilling, and twenty shillings to the pound.)
Ian stared at her. 'Really?'
Barbara nodded, remembering. Susan hadn't even seemed particularly put out by her ridiculous mistake.


'I'm sorry, Miss Wright, I thought you were on the decimal system by now.'
'Don't be silly, Susan. The United States and most European countries have a decimal system, but you know perfectly well we do not.'
Susan frowned for a moment then said, 'Of course, the decimal system hasn't started yet. You'll change over in a few years' time!'
Ian looked at Barbara in astonishment. 'Decimal system, in England? That'll be the day! I suppose she could be a foreigner. There's something about the way she talks...'
'Oh, come on, Ian, admit it. It just doesn't make sense.'
'No, it doesn't,' Ian agreed. 'Nothing about that girl makes sense. You know, the other day I was talking about chemical changes. I'd given out litmus paper to show cause and effect.'
'I suppose she knew the answer before you'd even started?'
'Yes, but it was more than that. The answer simply didn't interest her.'
Ian could see Susan now, looking impatiently up at him. 'Yes, I can see red turns to blue, Mr Chesterton, but that's because we're dealing with two inactive chemicals. They only act in relation to each other.'
'That's the whole point of the experiment, Susan.'
'Yes, I know, Mr Chesterton. But... well, it's a bit obvious, isn't it? I mean, I'm not trying to be rude, but couldn't we deal with two active chemicals. Then red could turn to blue all by itself, while we all got on with something more interesting.' She sighed. 'I'm sorry, it was just an idea.'
Returning to the present, Ian said. 'She meant it, too, Barbara. These simple experiments are just child's play to her. It's maddening.'
'I know how you feel. It's got to the point where I want to trip her up deliberately!'
'Something else happened in maths the other day,' said Ian suddenly. 'I'd set the class a problem, an equation using A, B, and C as the three dimensions...'
Ian's mind went back to the scene in the classroom. Susan had been standing at the blackboard, studying the equation. 'It's impossible to do it using just A, B and C,' she'd protested. 'You have to use D and E as well.'
'D and E? Whatever for? Do the problem that's set, Susan.'
There had been something like desperation in Susan's voice. 'I can't, Mr Chesterton. You simply can't work using only three of the dimensions.'
'Three dimensions? Oh, the fourth being Time, I suppose. What do you need your E for? What do you make the fifth dimension?'
'Space,' said Susan simply.
When he'd finished telling her of the incident, Ian looked despairingly at Barbara. 'Somehow I got the impression that she thinks of Time and Space as being much the same kind of thing - as if you could travel in one just as well as in the other!'
'Too many questions, Ian, and not enough answers.'
'So,' said Ian summing up. 'We have a fifteen-year-old girl who's absolutely brilliant at some things and excruciatingly bad at others...'
Barbara touched his arm. 'And here she is!'
 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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Outside the junk yard, Susan came hurrying along the street. She paused for a moment, looked round, pushed open the small entry-gate and disappeared inside.
'Hadn't we better go in, Ian? I hate to think of her in that place alone.'
'If she is alone!'
'What do you mean?'
'Look, she's fifteen, remember. She might be meeting a boyfriend. Didn't that occur to you?'
Barbara laughed. 'I almost hope she is, it would be so wonderfully normal.' She looked uneasily across at the junk yard. 'I know it's silly, but I feel almost frightened. As if we're about to interfere in something that's best left alone.'
Ian Chesterton fished a torch out of the glove compartment and opened the car door. 'Come on, Barbara, let's get it over with!'
They got out of the car and crossed the road to the junk yard gates.
Barbara hesitated for a moment. 'Don't you feel something?'
'I take things as they come,' said Ian cheerfully. 'Come on.'
He pushed open the little gate and they went inside.
Even in the semi-darkness, they could see that the tiny yard was so cluttered there was scarcely room to move.
Ian shone his torch around them. He jumped as the torch beam picked out what seemed to be a human body, but it was only an old shop-window dummy with a shattered head.
'What a mess!' muttered Ian. 'I'm not turning over this lot to find her!'


He took a few paces forward and stepped on a piece of loose rubble. His foot twisted under him, he staggered to keep his balance, and the torch shot from his hand. It went out as it hit the ground and rolled away somewhere out of sight.
'Blast!' said Ian savagely, 'I've dropped the wretched torch!'
'Use a match then.'
'Haven't got any matches. Oh well, never mind.'
Slowly their eyes adjusted to the darkness, and they began moving cautiously around the little yard.
'Susan?' called Barbara. 'Susan, are you there?'
No answer.
'Susan, it's Mr Chesterton and Miss Wright,' shouted Ian. 'Susan!' There was still no reply. Ian peered round in the gloom. 'She can't have gone far, the place is too small. And she hasn't left the yard or we'd have seen her.'
Barbara moved forward, and something square and solid loomed up out of the darkness in front of her. 'Ian, look at this.'


'It's a police box! What's it doing here? They usually stand on street corners.' He reached out and patted the police box. 'Seems solid enough.' He tried to push the door open and snatched his hand away.
'What's the matter, Ian?'
'Feel it.'
Hesitantly, Barbara put her hand to the police box door. She, too, pulled it hurriedly back. 'There's a kind of faint vibration.'
Ian nodded. 'It feels - alive...'


He walked all the way round the police box, reappearing at the front. 'Well, it's not connected to anything - unless it's through the floor.'
Barbara backed away. For some reason the police box made her feel uneasy. 'Look, I've had enough of this. Let's go and find a policeman, tell him we think Susan's missing. They can organise a proper search.'
'All right.' Ian paused as he heard the gate creak open. There was the sound of coughing. 'Someone's there!'
'Is it Susan?'
Ian could just make out a cloaked figure advancing through the gloom. 'No, it isn't. Quick, behind here.' He dragged her behind a pile of old furniture, and they ducked down out of sight.
 
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Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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The dark shape came nearer, and revealed itself as a white-haired old man wrapped in some kind of cloak. He wore an oddly shaped fur hat, and a long striped scarf was wound around his neck. The old man paused for a moment, coughing as old people do, and patted himself on the chest. He seemed to be muttering... He went up to the police box, fished a key from out of his pocket and opened the door.


To the astonishment of the two watchers, a girl's voice came from inside the police box. 'There you are, grandfather!'
'It's Susan!'
'Ssh!' said Ian warningly, but it was too late. The old man had heard them. He slammed the door of the police box and whirled around.


Deciding he might as well make the best of it, Ian rose to his feet. 'Excuse me.'
The old man looked at him in mild surprise. 'What are you doing here?'
'We're looking for a girl...'
'We?'
Barbara, too, emerged from her hiding place. 'Good evening.'
The old man studied them for a moment. His face was old and lined, yet somehow alert and vital at the same time. His eyes seemed to blaze with a fierce intelligence, and a commanding beak of a nose gave his features an arrogant, aristocratic air. 'What do you want?'


The Doctor
Played by William Hartnell (8 January 1908 – 23 April 1975)​

'We're looking for one of our pupils,' said Ian rather lamely. 'A girl called Susan Foreman. She came into this yard.'
'Really? In here? Are you sure?' There was a sort of condescending scepticism in the old man's voice, like that of someone talking to an imaginative child.
'Yes, we're sure,' said Barbara firmly. 'We saw her - from across the street.'
'One of their pupils,' muttered the old man to himself. 'Not the police, then.'
Ian was alarmed by the half-heard words. Why was the old man worried about the police? 'I beg your pardon?'
'Why were you spying on her? Who are you?'
Ian realised he was being put on the defensive. Somehow it was as if he was the one who had to explain his actions.
'We heard a young girl's voice call out to you -'
'Your hearing must be very acute. I didn't hear anything.'
Barbara pointed to the police box. 'Well, we did. And it came from in there.'
'You imagined it.'
Barbara could feel herself getting angry. 'I most certainly did not imagine it!'
As if deciding Barbara was beyond reason, the old man turned to Ian. 'Now I ask you, young man,' he said smoothly, 'is it reasonable to suppose that anyone would be inside a cupboard like that?'
Ian's tone was equally calm. 'Would it therefore be unreasonable to ask you to let us have a look inside?'
The old man seemed astonished at the suggestion. He picked up an old painting, and studied it absorbedly. 'I wonder why I've never seen that before. Now, isn't that strange? It's very damp and dirty.' 'Won't you help us?' pleaded Barbara. 'We're two of her teachers - she's at Coal Hill School. We saw her come in and we haven't seen her leave. Naturally, we're very worried.'
The old man was still peering at the painting. 'It really ought to be cleaned...' He looked up at Barbara. 'Oh, I'm afraid all this is none of my business. I suggest you leave.'
'Not until we're satisfied that Susan isn't here,' said Ian angrily. 'Frankly, I just don't understand your attitude.'
'Indeed? Well, your own leaves a lot to be desired, young man.'
'Will you open that door?'
The old man turned away dismissively. 'There's nothing in there.'
'Then why are you afraid to show us?'
'Afraid!' said the old man scornfully. 'Oh - go away!' He spoke like someone dismissing a child whose antics have finally become tiresome.
'Come on, Barbara, I think we'd better go and fetch a policeman.'
Barbara nodded, watching the old man to see the effect of the threat.
He shrugged. 'Very well. Do as you please.'
'And you're coming with us,' said Ian in exasperation.
The old man smiled. 'Oh, am I? I don't think so, young man. Oh no, I don't think so.' He sat down on a broken-backed chair and picked up the painting again, studying it thoughtfully.
Stalemate.
Barbara looked helplessly at Ian. 'We can't force him.'
'We can't leave him here, either. Isn't it obvious? He's got her locked up in there.'
They moved closer to the police box. 'Try the door,' suggested Barbara. 'Maybe you can force it.'
Ian examined the lock. He thumped the door, but it was solidly locked. 'There's no proper handle - must be some kind of secret lock.'
'But that was Susan's voice - wasn't it?'
'Of course, it was.' Ian rapped hard on the door with his knuckles. 'Susan! Susan, are you in there? It's Mr Chester-ton and Miss Wright.'
Ian's banging on the police box seemed to annoy the strange old man. Abandoning his attempt to appear uninterested, he rose and came towards them. 'Aren't you being rather high-handed, young man? You thought you saw a young girl enter the yard. You imagine you heard her voice. You believe she might be hidden inside there? It's not very substantial, is it?'
His words seemed to drain away Ian's confidence, leaving him wondering if he hadn't imagined the whole thing.
Barbara was not to be put off. 'But why won't you help us?'
'I'm not hindering you. If you're both determined to make fools of yourselves, I suggest you carry out your threat. Go and find a policeman.'


Ian said sceptically, 'While you nip off quietly in the other direction, I suppose?'
'There's no need to be insulting, young man,' said the old man loftily. 'There's only one way in and out of this yard. One of you can wait outside and watch the gates. I shall be here when you get back. I want to see your faces when you try to explain your behaviour to a policeman.'
'All right, that is what we'll do,' said Ian defiantly. 'Come on, Barbara, you can watch from the car, while I go and find a policeman.'
They were about to move away when the door to the police box was opened from the inside.
Susan's voice called, 'What are you doing out there, grandfather?'
The old man sprang towards the police box with tigerish speed. 'Close the door!' he shouted. He grabbed the door, obviously intending to slam it again, but Ian was too quick for him, and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away. Despite his age, the old man was amazingly strong, and he almost succeeded in throwing Ian off. Barbara came and joined in, and somehow, struggling wildly, Ian and Barbara stumbled into the police box - and straight into sheer impossibility.

 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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Barbara Wright and Ian Chesterton stood gazing around them in disbelief, their brains refusing to take in the evidence of their eyes and ears.
They should have been inside an enclosed cupboard-sized space - but they were not. Instead, they stood inside a large, brightly lit control room. It was dominated by a many-sided central structure which seemed to consist of a number of instrument banks arranged round a transparent central column packed with complex machinery. Strangest of all were the incongruous objects dotted about here and there. They included a number of old-fashioned chairs and the statue of some kind of bird on top of a tall column. Beside it stood Susan, looking at them in utter amazement.


Ian blinked incredulously, his mind filled with a wrenching sense of unreality. He heard the old man say calmly, 'Close the door, Susan.'
Susan touched a control on the central console, and the door closed with an eerie electronic hum. The old man took off his cloak and hat, and tossed them onto a chair. The clothes beneath were even more eccentric (check trousers with old-fashioned boots, and a kind of frock-coat worn with a cravat and a high-wing collar). The general effect was that of a family solicitor from some nineteenth-century novel. Like the statue and the padded chairs, the old man looked strangely out of place in this ultra-technological setting.
But he was obviously quite at home here. Rubbing his bony hands together, he looked disapprovingly at the two intruders. 'I believe these people are known to you, Susan?'
'They're two of my school teachers.' Susan seemed almost as astonished as Barbara and Ian. 'What are you doing here?'
'Presumably they followed you,' said the Doctor acidly. 'That ridiculous school! I knew something like this would happen if we stayed in one place too long.'
'But why should they follow me?'
'Ask them,' said the old man. He turned away to study a row of instruments on the central console.
Barbara looked around the astounding room, and then back at Susan. 'Is this place really your home, Susan?'
'Yes... well, at least, it's the only home I have now.'
The old man looked up. 'And what's wrong with it?'
Ian rubbed his eyes and blinked - but nothing changed. 'But it was just a police box.'


The old man smiled. 'To you, perhaps,' he said condescendingly.
Barbara said, 'And this is your grandfather?'
'Yes.'
Barbara turned to the old man. 'So you must be Doctor Foreman?'
The old man smiled. 'Not really. The name was on the noticeboard, and I borrowed it. It might be best if you were to address me simply as Doctor.'
'Very well, then - Doctor. Why didn't you tell us who you were?'
'I don't discuss my private life with strangers,' said the Doctor haughtily.
Ian was still struggling to understand the central mystery. 'But it was just a police box! I walked all round it. Barbara, you saw me. How come it's bigger on the inside than on the outside?'
'You don't deserve any explanations,' said the Doctor pettishly. 'You pushed your way in here, uninvited and unwelcome...'
'Now, just a minute,' said Ian doggedly. 'I know this is absurd. It was just a police box, I walked all round it. I just don't understand...'
The Doctor was fiddling with one of the controls. 'Look at this, Susan,' he said querulously. 'It's stopped again. I've tried to repair it, but...' He broke off, shooting a malicious glance at Ian. 'No, of course, you don't understand. How could you?'
'But I want to understand,' shouted Ian.
The Doctor waved him away. 'Yes, yes... By the way, Susan, I managed to find a replacement for that portofilio. It was quite a job, but I think it'll serve...'
Ian pounded his fists against the walls of the room. 'It's an illusion, it must be.'
The Doctor sighed. 'What is he talking about now?'
'Ian, what are you doing?' whispered Barbara.
'I don't know,' said Ian helplessly.


The Doctor smiled maliciously at Ian's confusion. 'You don't understand, so you find excuses for yourself. Illusion, indeed! See here, young man. You say you can't fit a large space inside a small one? So you couldn't fit an enormous building into a little room?'
'No,' said Ian. 'No, you couldn't.'
'But you've invented television by now, haven't you?' said the Doctor.
'Yes.'
'So - by showing an enormous building on your television screen, you can do something you said was humanly impossible, can't you?'
'Well, yes, in a sense,' said Ian doubtfully. 'But all the same...'
The old man cackled triumphantly. 'Not quite clear, is it? I can see by your face that you're not certain, you don't understand. I knew you wouldn't. Never mind!' The Doctor seemed positively delighted by Ian's lack of comprehension. He fiddled with the control console, muttering to himself. 'Now, which switch was it? This one - no, this one.' He looked up at Ian and Barbara. 'The point is not so much whether you understand what has already happened to you, it's what's going to happen to you. You could tell everyone about the ship - and we can't have that.


'Ship?' asked Ian, more confused than ever.
'Yes, ship,' said the Doctor sharply. 'This thing doesn't roll along on wheels, you know.'
'You mean it moves?' asked Barbara.
Susan nodded proudly. 'The TARDIS can go anywhere in Time and Space.'

 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
-
'TARDIS? I don't understand you, Susan.'
'Well, I made the name up, actually. TARDIS, from the initials. Time and Relative Dimension in Space. Don't you understand? The dimensions inside are different from those outside.'
Ian drew a deep breath. 'Just let me get this straight. A thing that looks like a police box standing in a junk yard... and it can travel in Time and Space?'
'Yes,' said Susan.


'Quite so,' confirmed the Doctor briskly.
'But that's ridiculous!'
Susan looked in anguish at the old man. 'Why won't they believe us?'
'Well, how can we?' said Barbara patiently. 'It's so obviously impossible.'
Susan stamped her foot in frustration, and the Doctor chuckled.
'Now, don't get exasperated, Susan. Remember the Red Indian when he saw his first steam train - his savage mind probably thought it was an illusion too!'
'You're treating us like savages,' said Ian bitterly. 'Savages or children!'
The Doctor gave his infuriatingly superior smile. 'Am I? The children of my civilisation would be insulted!'
'Your civilisation?'
'Yes, my civilisation. I tolerate this century, but I don't enjoy it. Have you ever thought what it's like to be wanderers in the fourth dimension, young man? Have you? To be exiles! Susan and I are cut off from our own civilisation, without friends or protection, but one day we shall go back.' He stared into the distance. 'Yes, one day... one day...'
Perhaps the human mind can only take in so many surprises at a time. At this new revelation, Barbara and Ian exchanged looks of sheer disbelief.
'It's true,' cried Susan desperately. 'It's all true! You don't know what you've done, coming here.' She turned to the Doctor. 'Grandfather, let them go now, please, they can't harm us. I know these people, their minds reject things they don't understand. They won't tell anyone and even if they did, they wouldn't be believed.'
The Doctor's face was suddenly cold and hard. 'No.'
'You can't keep us here!' said Ian defiantly.
'Can't I?' said the Doctor. Something about his confident smile made Ian feel very uneasy.


Barbara went over to Susan and put an arm around her shoulders. 'Susan, listen to me. Can't you see that all this is an illusion, a fantasy? If you like, it's a game that you and your grandfather are playing. You can't expect us to believe it as well.'
'But it's not a game,' said Susan desperately. 'It's not! I love England in the twentieth century. I love your school. The last five months have been the happiest of my life.'
'You talk as if you weren't one of us,' said Barbara. 'But you are! You look like us, you sound like us...'
Susan's face was solemn. 'I was born in another time, another world.'
'Now look here, Susan,' began Ian. He gave up in despair. 'Come on, Barbara, let's get out of here.'
'You can't get out,' cried Susan. 'He won't let you go!'
Ian pushed past her and strode up to the Doctor, who was still standing at the control panel. He gazed down at the maze of switches and dials.
'Susan closed the door from here, I saw her. Now, which is it, Doctor? Which control operates the door?'
'Still think it's all an illusion?' asked the Doctor mockingly.
Ian glared at him. 'I know that free movement in Time and Space is a scientific dream that isn't going to be solved in a junk yard!'
'Your arrogance is nearly as great as your ignorance, young man!'
'Will you open the door?'
The Doctor gave another of his mocking chuckles.
'Open that door!'
The Doctor didn't move. Ian looked appealingly at Susan. 'Won't you help us, Susan?'
She hesitated, then shook her head. 'I'm sorry, I mustn't.'
Ian reached out towards the console. 'Very well, then I'll have to risk it myself.'
The Doctor shrugged. 'I can hardly stop you.'
(Only Susan saw the Doctor's hand reach out to the console and flick the immobiliser switch.)


Ian reached out to the controls and hovered for a moment.
As his hand came down, Susan screamed, 'Not that one, it's live!'
It was too late. Ian touched the faulty switch, there was a crackle of power, and he was hurled clean across the control room.
He slumped dazed against the wall, and slid to the floor. Barbara ran to kneel beside him.
She looked angrily up at the Doctor. 'What on earth do you think you're doing? Ian, are you all right?'
'I think so. Just a bit shaken.'
Barbara helped him to his feet.
Susan was talking to the Doctor in a low urgent voice. 'Grandfather, let them go now, please.'
The old man shook his head in childish obstinacy. 'By tomorrow we should be a public spectacle, a subject for news and gossip!'
'They won't say anything.'
'My dear child, of course they will! Put yourself in their place. They're bound to make some sort of complaint to the authorities or, at the very least, talk to their friends.' He paused impressively. 'If I do let them go, Susan, we shall have to go as well.'
'No, grandfather.'
'My dear child, there's no alternative.'
'But I want to stay. Look, grandfather, they're both good people. Why won't you trust them? All you've got to do is make them promise to keep our secret.'
'It's out of the question.'


'I won't go, grandfather. I won't leave the twentieth century.' Susan drew a deep breath. 'I'd rather leave the TARDIS - and you.'
It was clear that the old man was badly shaken by Susan's threat. 'Now you're being sentimental and childish,' he snapped.
'I mean it, grandfather!'
'Very well. But remember, if they go, you must go with them. I'll open the door.' He went over to the console.
Relieved that the nightmare seemed to be ending at last, Barbara whispered, 'Are you coming, Susan?'
But Susan was watching the Doctor. His hands performed a complicated series of movements over the control console, and the central column began to rise and fall.
'No, grandfather,' screamed Susan. 'Mr Chesterton, stop him. He's starting the ship. We're going to take off!'
Instinctively, Ian leaped across the control room, and grappled with the Doctor. Once again he discovered that the old man was far stronger than he looked. With a mighty effort, Ian managed to drag the Doctor away from the console. But suddenly the old man twisted in his grasp, dashed to the console and pulled what was obviously some kind of master switch. The whole control room seemed to spin like a top. Ian and Barbara were both hurled from their feet, and everything went black...

It was just as well that there was no one in the junk yard. If the policeman on the beat had paid a return visit at this particular moment, he would have seen a most extraordinary sight. With a strange wheezing groaning sound the blue police box simply faded way. The TARDIS was in flight.

 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
-
It was a bleak and rocky plain, rimmed by distant jagged mountains. A broad sluggish river ran through the centre of the plain, fringed by dense, impenetrable forest. There were caves in the foothills of the mountains, and it was here that the Tribe made their home.
In many ways they were fortunate. Once the wild beasts who laired in them had been driven out, the caves were warm and dry. There was water from the river, fruits and berries in the forest. There was game in the forest too, savage beasts who provided meat for the stomachs of the Tribe, and skins for their clothing - if you could kill them, before they killed you.
The man called Kal was a newcomer to the Tribe, but he was by far the best of its hunters, skilled and patient and cunning. Kal never returned to the caves without the carcass of some kill, and it was this above all that had won him acceptance.


Kal
Played by Jeremy Young (1934- Present)​

One day Kal was following tracks at the edge of the forest when he saw a miracle. There was a wheezing groaning sound, quite unlike the roar of any beast. Peering cautiously from the edge of the forest, Kal saw a strange blue shape appear from nowhere.


Many of the Tribe would have fled in terror, but Kal was more intelligent than the rest, and with the intelligence came curiosity. Although his heart was pounding with terror, he stayed where he was, watching the blue shape to see what it would do. Kal wanted more than acceptance from his new Tribe. He wanted power - the power of the leader. He wanted Hur, the most beautiful maiden in the Tribe, to be his mate. And he wanted to kill Za, son of the old chief, his only serious rival.
Kal stared hungrily at the blue shape, tugging at his short jutting beard. Here was something new, something that so far only he had seen. His scheming mind considered the novelty, looking for ways to turn it to his own advantage... If there was magic here, he would find a way to make it work for him...
 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
-
In the great central cave of the Tribe, they were waiting for magic too. Za sat cross-legged before the ashes of a long-dead fire, the Tribe gathered around him in a circle. Men and boys, women and children, all watched intently as Za plunged his hands into the ashes, gripped the charred and blackened fragments of wood until they splintered in his grasp, his face twisted with concentration, his great muscles knotted with strain, as if determined to force the dead sticks to do his will.
But the ashes remained cold and dead.
The slender dark girl by his side produced a carved rattle of bone. It was an ancient and holy object, and there was a low gasp of awe. Za shook the rattle angrily at the ashes, then plunged his hands into them yet again. Nothing happened. Za's shoulders slumped despairingly.


A little apart from the rest of the Tribe, a skeletal, grey-haired old woman sat mumbling on a bone. This was Old Mother - Za's mother - the mate of his dead father, Gor. When Gor had been alive and chief, the best of the food and skins had come to Old Mother by right. Now she was nothing. According to the custom of the Tribe, she should have been cast out of the cave to die, but some streak of softness in Za made him keep her alive. Strangely enough, this only made her despise her son the more. Za would never make a chief like his father. 'Where is the fire that Za makes?' she cackled.


Old Mother
Played by Eileen Way (2 September 1911 – 16 June 1994)


Za and Hur
Played by Derek Newark (8 June 1933 – 11 August 1998) and Alethea Charlton (9 August 1931 – 6 May 1976)​

The girl at Za's side was called Hur. She was quick to come to his defence. 'The fire is in his hands, Old Mother. It will not go into the wood.'
Za scowled down at the ashes. 'My father made fire.'
Old Mother muttered, 'So he did - and he died for it.'
Za's father had gone hunting one day, and had never returned. Such incidents were common enough. Often the beast was quicker or more cunning than the hunter. It kept the numbers of the Tribe low, and meant more food for those who lived.
'My father died hunting,' rumbled Za angrily.
'Gor was a great hunter. I never saw the beast that could destroy him. He angered the gods by making fire.'
Za stared at her in angry confusion. 'He taught me how to make the sharp stones for spears and axes. He taught me how to make traps for the bear and the tiger. He would have taught me how to make fire, if the beast had not killed him.'
'So that everyone would bow to you as they bowed to him,' sneered Old Mother. But she knew Za spoke the truth. The secret of making fire was the most jealously guarded of all, handed down from chief to chief. Gor had hung on to the secret as long as he could - a full grown son can be a rival, too. He was always promising that one day soon he would teach Za how to make fire - but he died before the promise could be kept.
Now Za was chief, partly because he was Gor's son, more because he was the strongest warrior of the Tribe. But he still lacked the one magical attribute of a true chief - the ability to make the fire come from his hands into the wood. Suddenly, Za leapt to his feet, and loomed threateningly over Old Mother. 'Tell me what my father did to make fire!'


'He crouched over the wood, and moved his hands as you do. But always, he kept his back turned, hiding the wood with his body. I never saw the moment when the fire came. That is all I know.'
'Ah, get out of my sight, old woman. You should have died with him.'
Old Mother rose and hobbled away. 'Fire is evil,' she muttered. 'Gor died because his pride angered the gods. It is better to live without fire, as we did in the old times.' She laughed triumphantly. 'The fire is gone now. Za will never make fire.'
Za was crouched over the pile of sticks again. 'Throw on more of the ashes of the dead fire,' he ordered. 'Perhaps the spirit of the fire still lives in them.'
Hur threw on more ashes, and Za went on gripping the charred sticks, striking them together, willing the fire to come. The girl Hur crouched at his side, her lips close to his ear. 'The old men talk against you, Za. They say it would be better for the stranger Kal to lead us. They say you sit all day rubbing your hands together, while Kal brings us meat.'
'Without meat we go hungry,' said Za. 'But without fire we shall die when the cold time comes again. Without fire, the beasts of the forest will raid our caves when they are hungry, steal our women and children while we sleep.'
'Old men see no further than the meat that fills their bellies. They will make Kal the leader. And Horg, my father, will give me to him.'


Horg was one of the elders of the Tribe. He was old now, but he was still a man of great influence. Since he was no longer the strongest, he would support the strongest. It was the law of survival.
'Kal!' said Za moodily. 'Kal is no leader. It is not so easy to be leader.'
Kal had appeared from over the mountains one day, sole survivor of some distant tribe that had perished in the great cold. He had brought the body of a newly killed buck with him as a peace offering. Kal was a fine hunter, a quick thinker and a great talker. Instead of killing him, as was their custom with strangers, the Tribe had allowed him to join them. It had been, thought Za, a great mistake not killing Kal. By now, Kal had gathered a considerable following, and there were those who spoke of him for chief.
Za knew instinctively that Kal was no fit leader for the Tribe. He was greedy and ruthless, wanting everything for himself. Za took the biggest share of the kill, and the warmest skins, as was his right, but he cared for the Tribe as well, seeing that hunting parties were organised, and that even in times of hardship the women and children were given food. A leader must think of many things.
'Kal is no leader,' muttered Za again.
Hur said, 'The leader is the one who makes fire!'
Za sent the pile of sticks flying with one sweep of his powerful arm. 'Where has the fire gone? Where?'

 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
-

Ian Chesterton came back to consciousness with a bruised body and a throbbing head. Cautiously, he raised his hand and rubbed it over his scalp. There was a lump just above one ear. It was sore, but there didn't seem to be any blood.
A voice called, 'Ian? Ian are you all right?'
He opened his eyes and saw Barbara kneeling beside him. 'This is getting to be a habit,' he muttered. 'I'm all right, I think. Must have hit my head when...' He broke off as the memory of the evening's extraordinary events came flooding back. 'Well, at least we've stopped moving.' Ian got gingerly to his feet, looked round and saw Susan and the Doctor standing by the central console, studying one of the instrument banks.
'The base seems to be steady,' Susan was saying.
The Doctor nodded, checking another row of dials. 'Layer of sand, and thin topsoil - nearby rock formations... good... good...'
Susan turned, smiling at Ian and Barbara. 'Are you feeling better? We've left 1963, I'm afraid.'
The Doctor nodded in agreement. 'Oh yes, undoubtedly. I'll tell you where we are in a moment - and when!' The Doctor leaned over the console and rapped a dial sharply with his knuckles. 'Zero!' he said indignantly. 'Zero? That can't be right. This yearometer still isn't working properly, Susan.' He realised Susan hadn't been talking to him at all, followed the direction of her glance, and saw Ian and Barbara sitting on the floor. 'Oh, yes, you two!' he said airily, as if he'd just remembered their existence. 'What are you doing down there? You can get up now, our journey's finished.'


Barbara was staring at him in horror. 'What's happened?' she demanded. 'Where are we?' Ian struggled to his feet, groaning a little.
'Barbara, don't tell me they've got you believing all that nonsense.'
'It's true, Mr Chesterton,' said Susan, 'We've travelled a great distance in Space and in Time. Look at the scanner screen!'
The Doctor sniffed. 'That's right, look up there!' He pointed to a small square screen suspended above the console. It showed a bleak and rocky plain, the edge of what looked like a forest and a view of distant mountains.
As Ian stared at the screen in amazement, the Doctor said scornfully, 'They don't understand, and I suspect they don't want to!' He looked at Ian. 'Well, there you are young man, a new world for you.' 'It's just sand,' said Ian stupidly. 'Sand and rocks.'
'Exactly. That's the immediate view outside the ship.'
'Are you trying to tell me that's what we'll see when we go outside - not the junk yard in Totters Lane?'
'Oh yes,' said Susan brightly. 'You'll be able to see for yourself soon.'


'I don't believe it,' said Ian flatly.
The Doctor sighed. 'You really are very stubborn, aren't you, young man?'
'All right, just you show me some proof, some concrete evidence.' Ian looked sympathetically at Susan. 'I don't want to hurt you, Susan, but it's time you were brought back to reality.'
'You're wrong, Mr Chesterton,' said Susan sadly.
The Doctor sniffed indignantly. 'He's saying I'm a charlatan! Just what evidence would satisfy you, young man?'
'That's easy. Just open the doors, Doctor Foreman.'
'Foreman?' muttered the Doctor, as if he'd never heard the name before. 'Foreman? What's he talking about now?'
'They seem very sure, Ian,' whispered Barbara, 'And remember the police box, the difference between the inside and the outside.'
'I know...' Ian looked challengingly at the Doctor. 'Well, are you going to open those doors?'
'No.'


Ian looked at the two girls. 'You see. He's bluffing.'
'Not until I'm sure it's safe to open them,' said the Doctor patronisingly. He checked some more readings. 'The air seems very good. Yes, it is, it's good, quite remarkably unpolluted. Check the radiation counter, will you, Susan?'
'It's reading normal, grandfather.'
'Good, good. I'll take a portable Geiger counter, just in case. So, young man, you still challenge me do you?'
'Just open the doors and prove your point,' said Ian wearily.
'You really are too narrow-minded, my dear boy,' said the Doctor, with an air of insufferable superiority. 'You must learn not to be so insular!'
'Have you any idea where we are, grandfather?' asked Susan. She passed the Doctor something that looked like a small black box.
'Oh, we've certainly gone back in Time... a considerable amount, I think. When we get outside, I'll take a few samples... some rock pieces, a few plants... then I'll be able to make a proper estimate.' He looked reproachfully at the TARDIS console. 'I do wish these instruments wouldn't keep letting me down, though.'
'You really believe it all, don't you?' said Ian incredulously. 'You really believe we've gone back in Time.'
'Oh yes,' said the Doctor complacently. 'Without a doubt!'
'And when we open the doors, we won't be in a junk yard in London, England, in 1963?'
'That's quite correct. Your tone suggests ridicule, young man.'
'Well, of course, it's ridiculous! Time doesn't go round and round in a circle. You can't just step off wherever you like, in the past or in the future.'
'Oh? And what does happen to Time then? Instruct me!'


'It... well, it happens,' said Ian vaguely. 'And then it's finished!'
There was condescending amusement in the Doctor's manner. He looked at Barbara. 'And what about you? You're not as doubtful as your friend, are you?'
'No. No, I don't think I am.'
'Good! There's hope for you yet.'
Ian sighed. 'Oh, Barbara.'
'I can't help it, Ian. They're both so calm, so certain of themselves. I just believe them, that's all!'
The Doctor stared hypnotically at Ian. 'If you could touch the alien sand with your feet, hear the cries of strange birds, watch them wheel above you in another sky... would that satisfy you?'
'Yes,' said Ian simply.
The Doctor smiled, reached out and threw a switch. 'Then see for yourself.'
The TARDIS doors slid open.
Ian went to the open door and stared out. 'It's not true,' he said. 'It can't be!'
The Doctor smiled.

 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
-
Beyond the door was a bleak and sandy plain, scattered with enormous boulders. It stretched to the edge of a dense, impenetrable forest. To the left, low rocky foothills rose to merge with distant jagged mountains. Away on the right, beyond the forest, you could see the glint of a broad and sluggish stream.
The plain was scoured by winds which made a constant, low moaning sound, and the air was crisp and chill. It was a grim, forbidding scene.
The Doctor sniffed triumphantly and said, 'I've no more time to argue with you, young man. Susan, I'm going to collect some new samples.'
He strode out onto the plain as confidently as if it was the junk yard in Totters Lane, and vanished behind the TARDIS.
'Be careful, grandfather!' called Susan.
'Let's go outside and look,' said Barbara. She stepped outside.
Ian moved towards the door and winced. 'Ouch!'
Susan came back to him. 'What is it, Mr Chesterton?'
'Got a bit bruised in the fall. It's nothing much.'
'Come on, lean on me.'
Ian put his hand on her shoulder, and walked stiffly through the door. It closed behind him.
Coarse sand crunched beneath his feet, and he shivered in the wind. The air was cold, but incredibly clear, and in the distance, the forest, the river and the mountains stood out in sharp-edged detail. 'Well?' asked Barbara mischievously.
Ian shook his head. 'There must be some rational explanation - there must be!'
In his heart, Ian knew that only one explanation was possible. Everything the Doctor had told him was the truth. With those first steps outside the TARDIS, Ian began to accept the reality of the whole extraordinary situation.


The Doctor popped into sight from behind the TARDIS, looking distinctly peeved. 'It's still a police box. Why hasn't it changed? Dear me, how very disturbing!'


Shaking his head the Doctor marched off, disappearing behind an enormous boulder, leaving Ian gazing after him in astonishment.
 
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Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
-
The Doctor walked on for some way, threading a path between the great stones, brooding over the erratic functioning of the TARDIS.
Recollecting the purpose of his expedition, he came to a sudden halt, and found he was in a kind of sheltered enclosure between two great rocks.


Deciding that this spot would do as well as any other, the Doctor fished out his Geiger counter, a small leatherbound notebook and a pencil.
Picking up a fragment of rock, he began examining it with great care. Soon he was quite absorbed in his work - and quite unaware of the savage, skin-clad figure watching him from behind the rocks.

 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
-
The Doctor's companions meanwhile were making a cautious exploration of the area immediately around the TARDIS.


Barbara came across the skull of some large animal half-buried in the sand, and she and Susan began digging it free with their hands.
'What do you think it could be, Ian?'
Ian helped them to clear the sand from around the skull. 'I don't know. No horns or antlers. Could be a horse or a deer - could be anything.' Ian looked back at the TARDIS, standing blue and square and incongruous, but undeniably there in the middle of the sandy plain. 'Incredible. A police box in the middle of nowhere. It just doesn't make sense.'
Susan glanced back at the TARDIS. 'It's supposed to change shape,' she said matter-of-factly. 'I don't know why it hasn't done it this time.' '
It's supposed to what?'
'Change its shape,' repeated Susan. 'It's been an Ionic column, and a sedan chair... it ought to be a boulder or something now.'
'You mean the ship disguises itself wherever it goes?' said Barbara.
'Well, it's supposed to, but it just hasn't happened this time. The chameleon circuit must be faulty.' Susan stood up. 'I wonder if this skull would be any help to grandfather... Where's he gone?' She turned slowly in a circle, shading her eyes with her hand. 'Grandfather!' she called. 'Where are you, Grandfather?'
There was no reply.


Barbara looked at Ian. 'You're very quiet.'
'Humbled is the word. I was wrong, wasn't I?'
'I don't understand it any more than you do,' said Barbara. 'The inside of the ship, suddenly finding ourselves here... not to mention most of the things Doctor Foreman says.'
'That's not his name. Who is he? Doctor who? Perhaps if we could find out who he is, we'd have a clue to all this.'
'The point is - it's happened, Ian. We've just got to accept it.'
'It's almost impossible to accept. I mean, I can see we're here, but...' Ian shrugged helplessly.
Susan said, 'I can't see him! I can't see grandfather anywhere.'
'He can't be far away,' said Barbara reassuringly.
'I felt strange, just now... as if we were being... watched.' Susan raised her voice. 'Grandfather? Where are you?'

 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
-
The Doctor sat cross-legged on the ground, surrounded by a litter of his possessions, examining a moss-covered pebble with absorbed attention. Fishing in his pockets, he produced a curved Meerschaum pipe and a big box of old-fashioned matches.


From his hiding place in the rocks, Kal watched the activities of the stranger with fascination. He leaned forward curiously as the creature produced mysterious objects from beneath its skins. The creature fumbled with one of the objects - and Kal saw a miracle!
Grasping his stone-headed axe, he rose and padded silently towards his prey.

 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
-
'Grandfather!' called Susan again. 'Grandfather!'
From somewhere in the distance, there came a cry of pain, a yell of triumph - then silence.
'It came from over that way,' said Ian. 'Come on!'
They ran towards the sound. It didn't take them long to find the rocky enclosure. The Doctor's old fur hat lay on the ground. Beside it, was his pipe, and his notebook. Of the Doctor himself there was no sign.
'Grandfather!' screamed Susan. 'What's happened?'
'Don't panic, Susan,' said Ian sharply.
Susan began scrambling up the side of the nearest boulder 'I must find him. Maybe I can see from up here.'
'All right, but be careful.'
'Look, Ian,' whispered Barbara. She pointed.


The Geiger counter lay at their feet. Its glass was smashed.
Ian picked it up and examined it. 'That's no good any more!'
'Maybe he saw something interesting,' suggested Barbara uneasily. 'Perhaps he just rushed off to investigate?'
Ian picked up the Doctor's pipe. 'Dropping this?'
'What do you think happened, then?'
'Well, I suppose he could have seen something and got excited and gone after it,' said Ian slowly. 'On the other hand, he could have been - taken. That yell didn't just sound like excitement.'
Susan jumped down from her rock. 'I can't see anything. There's not a sign of him anywhere.' She looked in anguish at Ian and Barbara. 'Something's happened to him, I know it has. We've got to find him.'
Her tone was close to hysteria, and Barbara said, 'Calm down, Susan, it won't help to panic.'
Susan wasn't listening. She stooped down and picked up the notebook. 'He's left his notes!'
'He seems to have left quite a few things lying about,' said Ian. 'Hat, pipe, notebook, Geiger counter...'


'He may just have laid them all down and gone off somewhere,' suggested Barbara, more to console Susan than because she believed it herself.
Susan shook her head vigorously. 'No, no, no. Grandfather would never have left his notebook, it's vital to him. It's got the key codes to some of the machines in the ship, and notes about places we've visited. He simply wouldn't go off and leave it. Please, we must go and look for him. Something's happened, I know it has.'
'We'll find him,' said Barbara soothingly. 'He can't be far away.'
'What did you see on the other side of the rocks, Susan?' asked Ian.
'Just a line of trees. I think it was the beginning of the forest. There was a sort of gap between them, it looked like a path.'
'All right. We'll try there first.' Ian stowed the Doctor's possessions away in his pockets, putting the broken Geiger counter back on the sand. As he put it down, he paused for a moment, patting the sand with the flat of his hand.




Barbara looked on curiously. 'What is it?'
'This sand. It's cold. Almost freezing.'
Ian straightened up, and led the way round the boulder.
 
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Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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Inside the cave of the Tribe, Hur watched anxiously as Za laboured vainly with his little pile of charred sticks. Beside him the burly, grey-bearded figure of Horg, Hur's father, watched Za's efforts with a sceptical eye. 'Kal says that in the land he comes from, he was a chief, and often made fire.'
'Kal is a liar!'
'Kal says he has travelled far from his own lands and he has forgotten how fire is made. He says that soon Orb, the sun, will remind him how it is done, and he will make fire for all of us.'
'All of Kal's tribe perished in the last great cold,' said Za furiously. 'If he had not found us, he would have died too!'
'What else did Kal say?' asked Hur.


'He says Orb will only tell the secret of the fire to the leader.'
'I am the leader,' grunted Za. 'Orb will tell me.' He stared moodily at the grey ashes. 'I am the son of the chief, the great firemaker. Even though he did not show me how to put flame into the sticks, I shall soon discover the secret for myself.' Za smote himself on the chest with one huge fist. 'Kal came, and I did not kill him. I let him eat with us, and sleep in our caves.' Za's voice rose to an angry roar. 'Must I spill blood to make the people bow to me?'
Excited shouts came from outside the cave. 'It is Kal! Kal comes!'
'Kal brings us his kill!'
Za snatched up his stone-headed axe and ran from the cave, Horg and Hur close behind him.
Outside they saw Kal, surrounded by a crowd of excited Tribesmen. He bore some strange creature across his shoulders and, as they watched, he dumped it down on the flat-topped rock outside the cave.
Curiously the Tribe gathered round, jabbering with excitement. Za shoved his way through the crowd and looked down at the unconscious figure on the stone. 'This is a strange creature. Why do you bring it here, Kal? Is it good to eat?'


Kal glared challengingly at him, his bearded face alight with triumph. 'Is Za, son of the great firemaker, afraid of an old man?'
'No. Za fears nothing,' said Za, and prodded the old man's body with his foot.
'When will Za make fire come out of his hands?'
'When Orb decides it.'
Kal laughed. 'Orb is for strong men. Men who can make Orb obey their will.'
He pointed dramatically at the body on the rock. 'Orb has sent me this creature as a sign of his favour. This old one can make fire come out of his fingers!'
There was an awe-stricken murmur from the Tribe.
'I have seen it!' shouted Kal. 'He is full of fire inside. The smoke comes out of his mouth.'
'As lies come out of yours,' sneered Za. He leaned forward and poked the body with his finger. 'It is only an old man wearing strange skins.' The Doctor groaned suddenly, and Za leaped back.
Kal was quick to seize his advantage. 'Za is afraid of the creature. Kal was not afraid. A strange tree came, and the creature was in it. Za would have run away if he had seen it, but I watched and followed!'


With an angry roar Za leaped for Kal.
Kal dodged aside and leapt upon the rock. 'Hear me!'
'Let him speak!' shouted Horg, and Za drew back. 'I saw this creature make fire come out of his fingers,' shouted Kal. 'I remembered Za, son of the firemaker. When the great cold comes again, you will all die if you wait for Za to make fire for you, but I, Kal, am a true leader!' Kal pointed down at his captive. 'We fought together like the tiger and the bear. When he saw that my strength was too much for him, he lay down to sleep. I, Kal, carried him here to make fire for you!'
There was a roar of approval.
'Why do you listen to Kal's lies?' shouted Za.
Horg said, 'Za has many good skins. Perhaps he has forgotten what the cold is like.'
'Tomorrow I will kill many bears for the Tribe,' shouted Za. 'You shall all have warm skins!'
Horg said drily. 'I think tomorrow you will still be here, rubbing your hands together and holding them to the dry sticks and asking Orb to send you fire - and the bears will stay warm in their own skins!'


Horg
Played by Howard Lang (20 March 1911 – 11 December 1989)​

There was a shout of mocking laughter.
'What I say I will do, I will do!' said Za.
'Hear me!' screamed Kal again. 'I say that the firemaker is dead! You are no firemaker, Za. All you can do is break dry sticks with your hands. But I, Kal, will make them burn - and I shall be leader!'
There was a moment of tense silence.
Za saw the leadership slipping from his grasp. He could not use words cunningly as Kal did, clouding the minds of the Tribe. But he could kill...
Grasping his axe Za poised himself to spring. Suddenly Hur shouted, 'The creature has opened its eyes!'
The Doctor sat up, groaning, his hand to his head. 'Susan!' he shouted. 'Susan!'
 
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Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
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Susan, Barbara and Ian were hurrying down the forest path, when Susan suddenly stopped. 'Listen!'
'What is it?' asked Barbara. 'I heard grandfather's voice. It was very faint, but I heard it! You heard it, didn't you, Mr Chesterton?'
'I heard something... it might have been a bird or a wild animal.'
'It was grandfather,' said Sudan positively. 'Come on, we've got to find him!' She ran off down the path.
'Susan, wait for us,' shouted Ian. 'Come on, Barbara.'
By now Susan was almost out of sight. They hurried after her.
 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
-

As the Doctor came to his senses, his panic died down. He studied the savage skin-clad creatures crowding around him, saw the heavy, brutal features, the skin garments, the stone-headed axes and spears. He saw Kal and rubbed his head gingerly, remembering how his attacker had sprung out at him. 'Must have wanted to take me alive,' thought the Doctor. 'He could have shattered my skull like an egg-shell.' The Doctor looked at the burly figure nearest him. He was the biggest and strongest, so presumably he was the Ieader. 'Where's Susan - ' he began, and then broke off. There was no point in making these savages aware of the existence of his companions. The Doctor fell silent, glancing shrewdly around him, trying to work out what was going on. The bearded savage who had captured him seemed to be making some kind of speech. Even in the stone age, there were still politicians to deal with, thought the Doctor. He watched and waited.
 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
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'Do you want fire?' Kal shouted. 'Or do you want to die in the cold?'
'Fire!' shouted the men of the Tribe. 'Give us fire, Kal!'
Kal raised his hand for silence. 'Soon the cold comes again, and now you have lost the secret of fire, the tiger will come again to the caves at night. Za will give you to the tiger, and to the cold, while he rubs his hands and waits for Orb to remember him!' He pointed to the Doctor. 'This creature can make fire come out of his fingers. Kal brought him here. He is Kal's creature!'


Za shouldered his way forward. 'He is only an old man in strange skins. There is no fire in his body. The thing is not possible.' He brandished his axe. 'I say that Kal has been with us too long. It is time he died!'


As Za advanced on Kal, Horg stepped between them. 'I say there is truth in both of you. Za speaks truth that fire cannot live in men... and Kal speaks truth that we will all die without fire. If this creature can make fire, we must have it for the Tribe.'
Daringly, Hur thrust herself forward. 'Will my father listen to the words of a woman? It is easy to see where truth lies. If this old man can make fire come from his fingers, let him do it now, before all the Tribe!'


There was a shout of approval from the crowd.
Za glared angrily at Hur. He knew that she was trying to help him, that she believed Kal's claim was impossible. But Za knew, too, that Kal was cunning. Impossible as it seemed, he would not have risked making such a claim before all the Tribe unless he was confident that he could back it up. And if Kal's creature succeeded in making fire, Za's own claim to the leadership would be gone forever.
'I am the one who decides what is done here,' said Za. 'Not old men and women - or strangers.'
Kal was quick to seize his advantage. 'Perhaps Za does not wish to see fire made. Perhaps he is frightened. I, Kal, am not afraid to make fire. I will make my creature create fire for the Tribe. I will take this creature to the cave of skulls, and he will die unless he tells me the secret!'


Hurriedly, the Doctor jumped up. 'I can make fire for you,' he shouted. 'Let me go, and I'll make all the fire you want.'
Impressed the crowd drew back. 'You don't have to be afraid of me,' said the Doctor. 'See for yourselves. I'm an old man. How could I possibly harm you?'
'What does he say?' growled Za.


'Fire!' said Horg in awe-stricken tones. 'He says he can make fire for us!'
Suddenly, Kal saw his new advantage slipping away. 'For me!' he shouted. 'He will make fire for me, and I will give it to you. I will be firemaker!'
Just as suddenly, Za saw how he could turn Kal's discovery to his own advantage. 'If the creature makes fire, he will make it for me, and for all the Tribe.' The Doctor meanwhile was searching frantically through his pockets. 'Where are my matches? I must find my matches!' He knew that he'd had them earlier, because he could remember lighting his pipe with them. He realised his pipe was gone as well. Had he left them both behind when he was attacked? Or had the matches dropped from his pocket when he'd been unceremoniously carted here over that savage's shoulder. Whichever was the case, the matches were gone.


Za watched bemused, as the Doctor patted his pockets. What does he do now?'
'See, he is Kal's creature,' said Kal. 'He will make fire only for Kal.'
 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
-

The Doctor abandoned his search in despair. 'Take me back to my ship, and I'll make you all the fire you want,' he said hopefully.
Za swung round on Kal. 'This is more of your lies, Kal. The old man cannot make fire.'
'There was a tree,' said Kal desperately. 'It came from nowhere. The old man came out of it, and there was fire in his fingers. Smoke came out of his mouth.'
The men of the Tribe were muttering discontentedly. With the Doctor's failure to perform the promised miracle, opinion was beginning to swing against Kal.
Za seized his moment. Pushing Kal aside, he sprang onto the rock himself. 'Kal wants to be as strong as Za, son of the great firemaker. Yet all he can do is lie. You heard him say we would have fire - and still we have no fire. Za does not tell you lies. He does not say, "Tonight you will be warm," and then leave you to the cold. He does not say, "I will frighten the tiger away with fire," and then let the tiger come to you in the dark. Do you want a liar for your chief?'


There were shouts of 'No!' Men began to glare threateningly at Kal.
Kal brandished his axe above the Doctor's head. 'Make fire!'
The Doctor looked up helplessly. 'I cannot.'
'You are trapped in your own lies, Kal,' said Hur mockingly. She moved closer to Za.
Za gave a great roar of laughter. 'Look at the great chief Kal who is afraid of nothing! Oh great Kal, save us from the cold! Save us from the tiger!'
Kal saw his hopes of leadership dissolving in the laughter of the Tribe. He grabbed the Doctor by his shoulder, lifting him almost off his feet. 'Make fire, old man! Make fire come from your fingers, as I saw today!'
'I can't,' shouted the Doctor. 'I tell you I've lost my matches. I can't make fire - I can't!'
Za was almost helpless with laughter. 'Let the old man die. Let us all watch the great Kal as he fights this mighty enemy!'


Kal drew a stone knife from beneath his skins and held it to the Doctor's throat. 'Make fire! Make fire, or I will kill you now!'
'We will keep the great Kal to hunt for us,' bellowed Za. 'It is good to have someone to laugh at!'
Kal raised his knife.
 

Marcus Antonius

Per Ardua Ad Astra
-
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'No!' screamed a voice. Susan ran into the centre of the circle of astonished Tribesmen. She stumbled and fell at Kal's feet.
Close behind her came Ian and Barbara.
Ian leaped forward and grappled with Kal. For a moment they struggled furiously. Another Tribesman raised a stone axe above Ian's head. He was about to strike when the Doctor shouted commandingly, 'Stop! If he dies, there will be no fire!'


The Tribesman halted the downward movement of the club, and looked inquiringly at Za. 'Kill them,' shrieked Old Mother.


Za considered. 'No. We do not kill them.'
'They are enemies. They must die!'
Impressively, Za said, 'When Orb brings the fire to the sky, let him look down on them as his sacrifices. That is the time they shall die - and Orb will be pleased with us, and give us fire. Put them in the cave of skulls.'
The four strangers were dragged off struggling. Kal looked thoughtfully at Za, and slipped away.
Horg put his hand on Hur's shoulder to draw her away, but Za stepped down from the rock, and took Hur's arm. 'The woman is mine.'
'My daughter is for the leader of the Tribe.'
'Yes,' said Za. 'I am leader. The woman is mine.'
Horg sighed. 'I do not like what has happened. I do not understand.'
'Old men never like new things to happen.'
'In the time of your father, I was his chief warrior. He was a great leader of many men.'
'Yes, many men,' repeated Za bitterly. 'They all died when Orb left the skies and the great cold was on the ground. Now Orb will give me fire again. To me, not you. Just as you will give me Hur.' Consolingly, Hur said, 'Za, too, will be a great leader of many men. If you give me to him, Za will remember, and always give you meat.'


Accepting the inevitable, Horg bowed his head and moved away.
Old Mother stared broodingly at Za. 'There were leaders before there was fire,' she muttered. 'Fire angers the gods. Fire will kill us all in the end. You should have killed the four strangers. Kill them!'


Za shook his head, looking into the gathering darkness. 'It shall be as I have said. We wait until Orb shines again in the sky. Then they will die.'
 
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