do,’ said the Doctor, hoping he could remember. To his delight as they turned yet another corner the sidrat bay appeared before them. Not a sidrat was to be seen.
‘This is it,’ he said.
‘Left, right, left, right. Compan-ee-ee, halt! ‘
They all stopped. The black-overalled technician at the control console half turned.
‘Where-to?’ he asked.
‘1917,’ said the Doctor. ‘British sector.’
The technician looked at his check list. ‘Nothing about that here.’
‘The reason you have not been informed,’ said the Doctor, ‘is that our journey is unofficial.’
‘Eh?’ The technician was genuinely bewildered.
‘Take him,’ the Doctor snapped.
Three of the soldiers grabbed the startled man, bound and gagged him, and bundled him out of sight behind the console. Meanwhile the Doctor tugged off his gas mask and sat down to study the controls.
‘Now let me see... First we need to materialise a sidrat.’
The Doctor adjusted controls on the console. Instantly the chamber was filled with the strangely familiar materialisation sound.
The Boer War private watched as a sidrat took shape before his eyes. ‘I still don’t believe that’s possible.’
‘Now,’ said the Doctor, ‘I must pre-set its journey for 1917 and off we go.’ He made further adjustments to the controls.
Zoe eyed him curiously. ‘Doctor, how do you know what to do with those controls? You’ve never touched them before.’
‘I was wondering that,’ said Jamie. ‘You seem to know a lot about this place.’
‘Just a matter of logic.’ The Doctor touched another control. The sidrat’s door opened. ‘Everybody get in, and no more questions.’
They all rushed into the safety of the sidrat, the Doctor carrying a knapsack.
‘What have you got in there, Doctor?’ Jamie asked.
‘The solution to the problem,’ replied the Doctor. ‘All of you, prepare for take off!’
The door of the sidrat closed and the floor shuddered as they started their journey.
The Security Chief was walking along the corridor to his own security room accompanied by the War Chief. He was trying to make the War Chief hurry, but, in theory at least, the War Chief was his superior.
‘I really cannot understand why you wish me to see a prisoner,’ said the War Chief.
‘He has never been processed.’
‘Oh, you mean the young man who wears a skirt? Our scientist showed him to me.’
‘He did?’ This was news to the Security Chief. ‘I have questioned him since then. He claims he came here in a space-time machine.’
The War Chief did not reply.
‘Isn’t that very strange?’ said the Security Chief. ‘Only your species can travel through space and time. You had to teach us how to do it. Isn’t that why our War Lord made you the War Chief?’
‘What are you trying to say, Security Chief? That you do not trust me?’
Fortunately, the Security Chief did not have to answer this direct question. They had already reached the door to the security room.
‘The prisoner is in here,’ he said, flinging open the door.
‘I shall use the pain process to make him talk ‘ He found himself looking at his own guard, gagged and strapped in a chair.
The War Chief concealed a smile. ‘Another escape? I suggest that before you start doubting me, you might take a little more interest in security. If you will excuse me, I must return to the war room.’ He turned and left.
The Security Chief glared at the gagged man. ‘You idiot!’
The guard stared back in mute terror. He could read his chief’s mind.
‘You are strapped in tight,’ said the Security Chief. ‘The pain cowl is over your head. For what you’ve done I should turn on the power and leave you!’
The terrain was hilly and wooded. The cart track led between two sharp rises of the land.
‘There’s nothing to tell us which time zone we’re in,’
said Lieutenant Carstairs.
Zoe looked at the gentle green scenery. ‘You couldn’t even tell if there’s a war
‘This is it,’ he said.
‘Left, right, left, right. Compan-ee-ee, halt! ‘
They all stopped. The black-overalled technician at the control console half turned.
‘Where-to?’ he asked.
‘1917,’ said the Doctor. ‘British sector.’
The technician looked at his check list. ‘Nothing about that here.’
‘The reason you have not been informed,’ said the Doctor, ‘is that our journey is unofficial.’
‘Eh?’ The technician was genuinely bewildered.
‘Take him,’ the Doctor snapped.
Three of the soldiers grabbed the startled man, bound and gagged him, and bundled him out of sight behind the console. Meanwhile the Doctor tugged off his gas mask and sat down to study the controls.
‘Now let me see... First we need to materialise a sidrat.’
The Doctor adjusted controls on the console. Instantly the chamber was filled with the strangely familiar materialisation sound.
The Boer War private watched as a sidrat took shape before his eyes. ‘I still don’t believe that’s possible.’
‘Now,’ said the Doctor, ‘I must pre-set its journey for 1917 and off we go.’ He made further adjustments to the controls.
Zoe eyed him curiously. ‘Doctor, how do you know what to do with those controls? You’ve never touched them before.’
‘I was wondering that,’ said Jamie. ‘You seem to know a lot about this place.’
‘Just a matter of logic.’ The Doctor touched another control. The sidrat’s door opened. ‘Everybody get in, and no more questions.’
They all rushed into the safety of the sidrat, the Doctor carrying a knapsack.
‘What have you got in there, Doctor?’ Jamie asked.
‘The solution to the problem,’ replied the Doctor. ‘All of you, prepare for take off!’
The door of the sidrat closed and the floor shuddered as they started their journey.
The Security Chief was walking along the corridor to his own security room accompanied by the War Chief. He was trying to make the War Chief hurry, but, in theory at least, the War Chief was his superior.
‘I really cannot understand why you wish me to see a prisoner,’ said the War Chief.
‘He has never been processed.’
‘Oh, you mean the young man who wears a skirt? Our scientist showed him to me.’
‘He did?’ This was news to the Security Chief. ‘I have questioned him since then. He claims he came here in a space-time machine.’
The War Chief did not reply.
‘Isn’t that very strange?’ said the Security Chief. ‘Only your species can travel through space and time. You had to teach us how to do it. Isn’t that why our War Lord made you the War Chief?’
‘What are you trying to say, Security Chief? That you do not trust me?’
Fortunately, the Security Chief did not have to answer this direct question. They had already reached the door to the security room.
‘The prisoner is in here,’ he said, flinging open the door.
‘I shall use the pain process to make him talk ‘ He found himself looking at his own guard, gagged and strapped in a chair.
The War Chief concealed a smile. ‘Another escape? I suggest that before you start doubting me, you might take a little more interest in security. If you will excuse me, I must return to the war room.’ He turned and left.
The Security Chief glared at the gagged man. ‘You idiot!’
The guard stared back in mute terror. He could read his chief’s mind.
‘You are strapped in tight,’ said the Security Chief. ‘The pain cowl is over your head. For what you’ve done I should turn on the power and leave you!’
The terrain was hilly and wooded. The cart track led between two sharp rises of the land.
‘There’s nothing to tell us which time zone we’re in,’
said Lieutenant Carstairs.
Zoe looked at the gentle green scenery. ‘You couldn’t even tell if there’s a war
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