(DOCTOR WHO THEME)
- Doctor! - Careful.
Where are they taking us?
- Well, it certainly isn't Tarminster. - It's some sort of a quarry.
Excuse me, officer, could I see your warrant card?
(JO GASPS)
Wait!
(JO GROANS)
Spread out. They can't be far!
Doctor? Miss Grant?
Get down, man! Get down!
YATES: Look out!
They're Autons! Bullets can't stop them!
(CAR APPROACHING)
Right, now!
REX: Colonel?
Colonel, the Autons that were sent to recover the bodies
of the Doctor and the girl...
- Have returned without them. I know. - And you're not angry?
Because the Doctor's escaped again? No. He's an interesting adversary.
- I admire him in many ways. - But you still intend to destroy him?
Of course.
And the more he struggles to postpone the moment,
the greater the ultimate satisfaction.
Six, the Nestenes have landed a small bridgehead force.
Seven, they're operating from somewhere from within this area.
Eight, they're being led by an intelligent alien
known as the Master.
Nine, all their operations have, so far,
been primarily directed at us here at UNIT.
Ten... What are you doing, Doctor?
Oh, I'm terribly sorry. Did you want me?
I should like your attention, Doctor,
until we've settled on a course of action.
That is, of course, unless you have something
of greater importance to attend to?
No, no, of course not. No, do carry on, it's most interesting.
- Thank you. Where was I? - Ten, sir.
Ten. The enemy intention.
The enemy intention is to occupy your planet.
I should have thought that was quite obvious.
Do you agree, Doctor?
I should have thought that was pretty obvious too, isn't it?
We have, as you know, raided the circus and arrested Rossini and his thugs.
- And what have we learned from them? - Nothing.
Rossini is just a tool. The Master used him and then discarded him.
There was no sign of alien activity at the circus.
This mysterious horsebox had vanished. So had the Autons.
Naturally.
Oh, you have finished with me now, I hope?
- Not quite. - Oh.
I therefore propose that we redouble our security here
and concentrate on finding the Master's headquarters.
Oh, well, having reached that brilliant conclusion,
how about getting on with it?
Captain Yates, is my car back yet?
- Safe and sound, Doctor. - Oh, good, that's something, anyway.
BRIGADIER: Any further comments, Doctor?
DOCTOR: I'll let you know as soon as I think of any.
Captain Yates, we will continue with this conference in my office.
Do you know, Jo, I sometimes think that military intelligence
is a contradiction in terms.
You're not very grateful, are you?
What, for having my time wasted?
He did save our lives, you know.
Well, didn't he?
You're quite right, Jo. I'll apologise,
if I have the time.
What are those things?
Well, that is the discarded circuit from my Tardis,
and this is an identical circuit that I borrowed from the Master's horsebox.
- What does it do? - You wait there and I'll show you.
- Bye-bye, Jo. - Doctor, where are you going?
DOCTOR: Just a proving flight.
(WHOOSHING)
Doctor! What's happening?
(TARDIS POWERING DOWN)
(COUGHS)
- Of all the stupid, useless... - Doctor, stop being childish.
What's wrong with being childish? I like being childish.
What were you trying to do, anyway?
Well, my Tardis uses a Mark One dematerialisation circuit
and I tried to replace it with a Mark Two.
(LAUGHING)
- What's the joke? - Well, I've just thought of something.
My Tardis might not work,
but neither will his now.
Wherever he is, he's trapped on Earth.
Farrel, be careful. Careful. I don't want an accident.
I was admiring the workmanship.
Do you think people will be impressed?
They're the finest plastic flowers I've ever seen.
Yes, well, that's our object.
To show the world the skill of the modern plastics industry.
AUTON: We're ready, Farrel.
We must drive to the next distribution centre.
No! The Master must be obeyed!
Must be obeyed.
We will wait a little longer.
If he's not then returned, we shall drive on.
MASTER: You will obey me, Farrel. I am your Master.
"From field section one. Continuous watch maintained.
"Nothing to report.
"Business appears to be proceeding normally.
"No unusual activity.
"Everything checked and found in order. Report completely negative.
"Nothing to report so far. Will continue to search."
- It's worthless! Absolutely worthless! - Now, Doctor.
Days of exhaustive investigation by the Brigadier's band of bloodhounds
and what have they discovered? Nothing, absolutely nothing.
The incompetent imbeciles.
We're doing everything possible, Doctor.
No news from any of those plastic factories?
Well, there were those reports of a promotional tour.
My dear girl, the Master is scarcely likely to advertise what he's doing.
- I suppose not. - I will not give up.
He's lying low somewhere and we've got to find him.
Maybe he's given up.
The Master? Never! He's too conceited.
Doctor, this is Mr Brownrose from the Ministry.
He's come to us with a rather alarming story.
Yes, well, I'm not in the mood for stories.
Is this man a member of your staff?
The Doctor acts as our scientific consultant, yes.
- His assistant, Miss Grant. - How do you do?
I hope he's qualified to deal with a matter of this complexity.
I think you'll find, sir, that I'm qualified to deal
with practically everything, if I choose.
I must say, Brigadier, I'm far from satisfied that you've grasped
- the urgency of this matter. - BRIGADIER: I assure you, I have.
It's not something to be shuffled off onto some stray boffin, you know.
Now, just a moment, my good man.
We at UNIT are very busy with a number of extremely urgent matters.
Doctor, please.
The Brigadier has a great deal on his plate.
You cannot expect his exclusive attention
for your petty concerns.
Oh, can't I, sir? Now, I'll have you know that my...
Who's in charge of you pen-pushers these days?
Old Tubby Rowlands, isn't it?
Lord Rowlands is head of our department, yes.
Yes, I was saying to him in the club only the other day,
"Wrong sort of chap is creeping into your lot, Tubby," I said.
Well, of course, I didn't mean to imply anything offensive.
No.
No, of course not.
Say no more about it.
Right, now, Brigadier, what's your problem?
Pretty serious, Doctor.
A wave of sudden deaths all over the Home Counties.
- Cause? - Asphyxiation, heart failure, shock.
BRIGADIER: In other words, no satisfactory explanation at all.
- I'm afraid not. - Some kind of virus?
BROWNROSE: There's no evidence of infection.
Any connection between the victims?
None whatsoever. Different ages, sexes and occupations.
Apart from the first two deaths, there's no connection at all.
What about the first two?
BROWNROSE: Well, the first was a man called McDermott, the second, Farrel.
Farrel?
BROWNROSE: Production Manager and retired owner
of the same plastics factory.
Mrs Farrel, I do realise how distressing this must be for you.
I've already been over it with the police.
Yes, I know but believe me, it is terribly important, you know.
You could help us save hundreds of lives.
Would you like us to come back another time?
No, dear, I'll be all right.
Well, I'd gone to make the coffee after lunch, but I heard a noise.
I came in and found him.
Your husband seemed quite normal when you left him?
I mean, not ill or anything?
Well, he was a little worried and depressed, I think,
but he certainly wasn't ill.
Did he say why he was depressed?
Oh, the death of Mr McDermott upset him, of course.
And I do know he was very disturbed about developments within the firm.
What sort of developments?
Well, he seemed to think that Rex, our son,
he seemed to think that he'd fallen too much
under the influence of a new customer.
My husband didn't like him at all.
- DOCTOR: What was his name? - Colonel Masters.
I knew it.
YATES: Doctor, did you... Who are you?
Telephone engineer, sir. Just finishing.
Got your pass?
Blimey, not again. I've been checked more times than...
Pass.
Thank you. Okay, fine.
- Why such a long flex? - Specially ordered, sir.
Perhaps the gent likes to walk up and down while he's talking.
- Sounds very like him. - There.
Well, that's it, then.
DOCTOR: Is there anything else you can tell us
about this Colonel Masters?
Well, I believe he's still working with Rex.
I've been too upset to think about the business.
Yes, of course. But can you remember anything
that your husband said about him? Anything at all?
(SIGHS) I don't think so.
Oh, John did bring one of the new dolls home to examine.
What sort of dolls?
Well, wasn't my idea of a doll at all.
- DOCTOR: Could we see it, Mrs Farrel? - Yes, of course.
DOCTOR: Thank you.
Yes, I see what you mean.
It wasn't intended for children, naturally.
Some sort of a novelty for grownups, I suppose.
- It's odd, you know. - What is?
Well, when I went out of the room,
that thing was on the radiator by the door.
- Yes? - But after they'd taken John away,
I found it under the curtains. It was...
(CHUCKLES)
It was as if it was trying to get out.
Right. Now, let's take a look at this thing.
Charming little chap, isn't he? Where did you get it?
Scalpel.
Forceps.
JO: What are you doing?
I'm just poking about.
Oh, it appears to be made of solid plastic.
Why would they make a thing like that solid?
DOCTOR: Why indeed?
Let's try the head.
Oh. That appears to be solid plastic, too.
It's no good. I'll have to make a full analysis.
- Where'd you pick it up? - From the house of a man called Farrel.
Well, why bring it here?
Well, the Doctor seems to think it might have killed him.
DOCTOR: Jo.
Get in touch with Scientific Supplies, will you?
Tell them I need these things straight away.
Yes, Doctor.
Doctor, how on earth could a thing like that kill anybody?
DOCTOR: That, Brigadier, is what I'm trying to find out.
Hello, Scientific Supplies Section?
BRIGADIER: Do you have the result of the postmortem?
I have a requisition, top priority.
- Asphyxiation, cause unknown. - It might have frightened him to death.
But asphyxiation? Well, it's not alive.
The Nestenes change the molecular structure of plastic, Captain Yates.
They energise it in some way and turn it into quasi-organic matter,
almost like flesh and blood.
Well, it's inert at the moment. Something must have activated it.
That's it. Thank you. The equipment's on its way, Doctor.
- Good. How long will it be? - Quite a while, I'm afraid.
- They've had to send out for most of it. - What?
Do you mean to say
that they haven't got a scanning molecular structure analyser in stock?
Oh, really, Brigadier.
You should keep this place better supplied, you know.
I cannot work without proper equipment!
I am very sorry, Doctor.
Yes, well, just as well.
It'll give me more time to take a look at Mr Farrel's plastic factory.
Now, just a moment, Doctor.
I'm aware of your preference for acting as a one-man band,
but this does happen to be a UNIT operation.
Lethbridge Stewart, I can assure you...
He's right, you know, Doctor. I'd better come with you.
No, I shall accompany the Doctor myself.
I'm not entirely deskbound yet, you know.
- Sir, but... - That will do, Captain Yates!
May I remind you that you're duty officer today?
If you're ready, Doctor.
Jo, nobody is to touch that thing until I've had a chance
of examining it properly, all right?
Don't worry, I won't go anywhere near it. Ugh!
AUTON: We will leave now. REX: No, not until the Master returns.
We shall leave without him.
-We're behind schedule. - For the last time, no!
Who are you?
YATES: Until you've had a mug of army cocoa,
you just haven't lived.
You know, I don't think the Doctor would approve of that.
- What? - Making free with his Bunsen burner.
Hello? Scientific Supplies Section?
I'd like to speak to Mr Campbell, please.
Then he shouldn't go gallivanting off, leaving me stuck here.
What about me? I'm stuck here too, you know.
Oh, well, that's different, isn't it? I'll just go and fetch the gubbins.
Thank you and good night, Captain Yates.
Hello? Mr Campbell?
Oh, I see. No, no, I'll hang on. Will he be long?
BRIGADIER: Is anybody there?
Yes, well, the Doctor does need it rather urgently, so I thought...
Yes, that's quite true, but if anybody could, you could.
You're dead right, we'd be in terrible trouble.
Could you? Could you really?
You're a dolly Scotsman, Mr Campbell. Yes, of course.
It's open.
- Mike! Mike, come quickly! - Jo! What's the matter?
BRIGADIER: Seems as though they've moved camp.
DOCTOR: Yes.
- DOCTOR: Today. - Oh, how do you know that?
DOCTOR: Desk calendar.
DOCTOR: Hello.
- What have you got there? - A daffodil.
A plastic daffodil. Hang onto it for me, will you?
What do you want it for? They give these things away with soap.
It's plastic, Brigadier, and any plastic artefact, anything at all,
can, in the Nestene sense of the word, be alive.
First a doll, then a flower.
- What are you getting at, Doctor? - I wish I knew.
Oh, have a look at that desk, old chap, will you?
Yes.
DOCTOR: You never know, there might be something there
to give us a lead.
Oh, nothing much here.
- Unless this might be something. - Mmm?
Farrel's ordered a coach this week. A 15-seater.
Well, maybe he's going on a works outing.
Yeah.
Look out! Auton!
Remarkably persistent, aren't they?
This thing actually attacked you?
It was going to if Mike hadn't shot it. It was horrible.
Seems as though you may be right, Doctor.
I usually am.
Well, it's dead enough now.
Jo, where were you when this thing started moving?
- I was on the telephone. - And what about you, Captain Yates?
I wasn't here. I'd just gone out to, er, fetch a tin of cocoa.
Yes, well, something must have...
- Fetch a tin of what? - Cocoa.
Are you trying to tell me that you were going to make cocoa in my lab?
That was the general idea.
- I'm sorry, Doctor. - Yes, well, Sergeant.
Well, now, wait a minute.
You didn't by any chance use my Bunsen burner, did you?
- Well, yes. - Well, that's it then. Heat!
This thing was lying alongside my Bunsen.
It must be triggered off by a pre-determined temperature.
BRIGADIER: Yes, that may account for Farrel's death, Doctor.
What about all the others?
If this thing is what I think it is, we may have the answer right here.
Right, off you go, the whole lot of you.
- Me, too? - Yes, you too. No.
No, you go down to the stores and see if you can chase up
- that Mr Campbell, all right? - Okay.
(PHONE RINGING)
Hello, yes? What is it?
Hello, Doctor. Is that you?
Who is this? What do you want?
Simply to say goodbye, Doctor.
(ELECTRONIC WHIRRING)
(GRUNTING)