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Authors: Peter Grimwade
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unstable,' he explained. 'One moment it works for the Master, the next against.'
It was time for the Doctor to take up the work started by the Master, and force his way into the rotunda in the great hall. He rejected the assistance of the Concorde crew since he doubted whether they would be able to resist the hallucinogenic radiation so near the power source. Captain Stapley was a little put out, however, when the Doctor decided to ask Professor Hayter to accompany him.
'The Profesor has shown formidable resistance,' he explained. 'Are you game?' he asked the old man.
Hayter had said nothing since the Doctor had attacked his academic integrity. His mind was in a turmoil. If this amazing young man was not, after all, a charlatan, then a lifetime's research had just been stood on its head. But suppose there was an entirely unknown dimension? He would publish a paper. There would be honorary degrees, lecture tours
...
'Professor?'
They were all looking at him. He smiled. 'Certainly, Doctor. Glad to be of help.'
'By the way.' A thought occurred to the Doctor as they were leaving. 'If the Master turns up again, don't be surprised. It may take him a little time to discover I left the coordinate overdrive switched in.'
The Doctor and Professor Hayter hurried down the corridor towards the great hall. The Professor chuckled. He had been thinking of his fellow passengers, toiling at the wall like Egyptian slaves. 'I'll say one thing, Doctor. For some of them it'll be the first honest day's work they've done in their lives ... Even if they do think they're bent wood hatstands,' he added spitefully. The great hall, when the Doctor and the Professor
arrived, looked more like an airport during a strike of baggage handlers.
Confused and angry passengers wandered helplessly around, the more militant amongst them demanding to know what was going on from anyone in uniform.
'Doctor, they've stopped hallucinating!' cried Hayter.
'That's not necessarily a good thing,' muttered the Doctor, as they heard the angry buzz of protest from Concorde's first-class passengers.'Are you good at explanations, Professor?'
Angela Clifford, the young stewardess, saw the Professor arrive with the stranger. She extricated herself from an overweight Milwaukee computer salesman who was telling her what he thought of British Airways In-Transit arrangements, and hurried across.
'This is the Doctor,' said Professor Hayter, neatly passing the buck. 'He's come to help us.'
Quickly establishing that the passengers were in good shape, the Doctor moved on to address the motley assembly, now close to mutiny, that were gathered around the rotunda. Keeping his account of the unlikely situation as simple as possible, the Doctor did his best to convince the stranded travellers that their only hope of a return to civilisation lay in a determined assault on the already half-demolished wall of the inner room.
The ladies and gentlemen of flight 192 were not an easy lot to convince, but through Professor Hayter's authority - developed from years of bullying on departmental committees - and the Doctor's charismatic charm, they were finally persuaded that a desperate situation required a desperate remedy.
They started work.
'It's incredible,' said Angela to Professor Hayter, as she watched the passengers, who so recently had been enjoying the luxury of Concorde, labour at the stonework like navvies. 'How could we do all this without realising it!'
Hayter did his best to explain the hallucinatory power, the source of which they would soon discover on the other side of the wall.
'Won't that be dangerous? What if the force returns?' 'Fight it!'
'How?'
'Focus your mind on something you're very sure of. Your family. Fish and chips ...'
Professor Hayter was thoroughly enjoying himself as he explained his own techniques of contra-suggestive resistance. Never, in the laboratory at
It was time for the Doctor to take up the work started by the Master, and force his way into the rotunda in the great hall. He rejected the assistance of the Concorde crew since he doubted whether they would be able to resist the hallucinogenic radiation so near the power source. Captain Stapley was a little put out, however, when the Doctor decided to ask Professor Hayter to accompany him.
'The Profesor has shown formidable resistance,' he explained. 'Are you game?' he asked the old man.
Hayter had said nothing since the Doctor had attacked his academic integrity. His mind was in a turmoil. If this amazing young man was not, after all, a charlatan, then a lifetime's research had just been stood on its head. But suppose there was an entirely unknown dimension? He would publish a paper. There would be honorary degrees, lecture tours
...
'Professor?'
They were all looking at him. He smiled. 'Certainly, Doctor. Glad to be of help.'
'By the way.' A thought occurred to the Doctor as they were leaving. 'If the Master turns up again, don't be surprised. It may take him a little time to discover I left the coordinate overdrive switched in.'
The Doctor and Professor Hayter hurried down the corridor towards the great hall. The Professor chuckled. He had been thinking of his fellow passengers, toiling at the wall like Egyptian slaves. 'I'll say one thing, Doctor. For some of them it'll be the first honest day's work they've done in their lives ... Even if they do think they're bent wood hatstands,' he added spitefully. The great hall, when the Doctor and the Professor
arrived, looked more like an airport during a strike of baggage handlers.
Confused and angry passengers wandered helplessly around, the more militant amongst them demanding to know what was going on from anyone in uniform.
'Doctor, they've stopped hallucinating!' cried Hayter.
'That's not necessarily a good thing,' muttered the Doctor, as they heard the angry buzz of protest from Concorde's first-class passengers.'Are you good at explanations, Professor?'
Angela Clifford, the young stewardess, saw the Professor arrive with the stranger. She extricated herself from an overweight Milwaukee computer salesman who was telling her what he thought of British Airways In-Transit arrangements, and hurried across.
'This is the Doctor,' said Professor Hayter, neatly passing the buck. 'He's come to help us.'
Quickly establishing that the passengers were in good shape, the Doctor moved on to address the motley assembly, now close to mutiny, that were gathered around the rotunda. Keeping his account of the unlikely situation as simple as possible, the Doctor did his best to convince the stranded travellers that their only hope of a return to civilisation lay in a determined assault on the already half-demolished wall of the inner room.
The ladies and gentlemen of flight 192 were not an easy lot to convince, but through Professor Hayter's authority - developed from years of bullying on departmental committees - and the Doctor's charismatic charm, they were finally persuaded that a desperate situation required a desperate remedy.
They started work.
'It's incredible,' said Angela to Professor Hayter, as she watched the passengers, who so recently had been enjoying the luxury of Concorde, labour at the stonework like navvies. 'How could we do all this without realising it!'
Hayter did his best to explain the hallucinatory power, the source of which they would soon discover on the other side of the wall.
'Won't that be dangerous? What if the force returns?' 'Fight it!'
'How?'
'Focus your mind on something you're very sure of. Your family. Fish and chips ...'
Professor Hayter was thoroughly enjoying himself as he explained his own techniques of contra-suggestive resistance. Never, in the laboratory at
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