10.
The Doctor looked around his prison, concluding it had once been intended as a bomb shelter, such as were popular during the Cold War. There were no windows, but he could see where various lights, ventilating filters and climate controls had once been. A single wire-enclosed bulb, a hand-cranked fan, empty shelves and a small privy closet were the only functioning items left. And the door, which was quite solid. It had no window either, only two louvered vents near the bottom for air.
He methodically worked his way around on the off-chance there were any hidden assets, or monitoring devices. There appeared to be none. A hand applied to the fan crank made it squeal in protest, blowing a meager breeze of dusty air.
He was still giving it some due consideration, wondering if the fan blades themselves could be extracted to form some kind of weapon, when the door swung back open.
A Radiped entered the room, weapon in hand. Behind him, another one swung the door shut again.
"Who are you?" it asked. The voice again was raspy and slightly slurred in tone, but undeniably in English.
"I presume you can understand me?" the Doctor asked.
"Yes."
"I am the Doctor. May I ask whom I have the honour of addressing?"
"I am the… Blue. You were among the machines."
"Quite a nice collection of War Machines you've put together there, Mr. Blue. Very specialized. Yes, well, I'm something of an experienced mechanic for that model. Perhaps I could help you with them?"
"No. There will be no treaties with the humans. We need no treaties."
"Did I say I was negotiating any kind of treaty?"
There was a pause. "No. There will be no treaties with the humans."
"Yes, so you said. But I didn't come with the intention of representing human governments. I'm merely offering you my services as an experienced mechanic. I will help you build your machines. Why are you so keen on building so many of them, anyway? It'll take a King's ransom of fuel, with a fleet like that. Very expensive."
"They will fight for us," the Radiped replied with surprising candor. "Soon, we will begin the settling of our new home."
"Well, I hate to break it to you, Blue, old chap, but that home out there is already occupied. The humans aren't likely to just give it up without a fight."
"We have been assured they are easily frightened and often subjugated," it said dismissively. "The machines will defeat them."
The Doctor leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms thoughtfully. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. You know, you might consider at least talking to them first, seeing as you've gone to the bother of learning their language and all."
"No. There will be no treaties with the humans."
"Yes. You are rather emphatic on that point, aren't you? Well, all right. No treaties then." He rubbed his hands together. "So, when do I start work? I can improve those machines of yours ten-fold if you'll let me."
The Radiped seemed unsure how to proceed with this declaration. "You are a machine builder."
"Yes. Machines are simply lovely things, don't you think?"
"Are there more of you? Are you alone?"
"Ah, now that's a complex question. Are any of us ever truly alone? Really, it depends on your philosophical outlook, doesn't it? And now that I think about it, a proper answer to your other question also depends on what you mean by more of me….do you mean me in particular, how others view me, my own self-concept or the general outlook of my people?"
--
Jo climbed into the seat of the little yellow roadster thinking she'd never seen anything more friendly and homelike than Bessie just then. The overcast sky seemed bright after so many hours underground. Gasping, she waited a moment to catch her breath then reached for the radio switch.
"Track 2 to Greyhound," she said. "Greyhound, this is Track 2. Please come in. Over."
The radio static crackled to life. "Track 2! About time! Where are you?" the Brigadier's voice demanded bluntly.
"We're at the quarry, by the base in Corsham. The Doctor's in trouble! We need help!"
"Are you under attack?"
"No, I mean… well, I'm not. But I have no idea what they might've done with him."
"They? They who?"
"Those alien things, down in the tunnels with the robots. They took him!"
"Demmit. Alien things, tunnels, robots, quarry. Check. Firepower?"
"They've only small handheld guns, I think, but the robots, I mean, machines are much worse if they get them running. They're building a whole army of them."
"Are these machines alive?"
"If you mean like the Daleks, no. I wondered that too. They're just machines, but each one is as big as a Beetle!"
"A beetle?" the Brigadier sounded bewildered by this addition.
"Oh, like a Beetle car, I mean. A Volkswagen. Sorry."
"Well enough, Miss Grant. Are you safe where you are?" the Brigadier asked.
"Yes, I suppose. I'm calling from the Doctor's car, it's in the quarry on the East side."
"Then stay where you are. We're sending reinforcements your way immediately. Greyhound out."
"But… the Doctor's down there!" Jo protested to the now-silent radio. "I've got to go back and help him!"
--
The Doctor leaned back on the small bench and considered his options; unsure what to do about him, they'd finally left him alone. The one who called himself 'Blue' had brought in 'Grey' and 'White' when it's own attempts at questioning were ineffective, though why they had adopted simplistic Earth colours for their names they'd never explained. Hoping to give Jo all the time he could he'd simply run them in verbal circles until they wearied of it. They were essentially a timid race that wasn't given to torturing, thankfully - at least not directly.
He wasn't sure he would have fared so gently if they'd a machine to make it less personal. They obviously had no compunctions about setting their machines against the entire human population of Britain.
It was a good half-hour since they'd left him and closed the door; all was quiet. Out of boredom, he'd slipped his sonic screwdriver from its hiding place in his sleeve and gone around loosening things just for something to do, but now he quietly approached the door and lay down to peer out through the small louvered vents at the bottom.
Only seeing one guard, the one they'd called Grey, he dusted himself off and quietly manipulated the lock with his screwdriver. There was a tiny click. He pushed the door, and it swung open, cool and heavy beneath his hand.
--
The Radiped never even knew what hit him. There was a small "Hai!" and the creature fell, reflexively folding up inside of its protective pod.
"My apologies, Mr. Grey," the Doctor said with a small bow to the quiescent oversized Rugby ball before him. He looked out over the old subterranean factory floor, considering how to best slip past the War Machines.
--
At the entrance to the factory area, Jo bludgeoned the guard on the back of its head with all her strength. The guard - a 'Mr. White,' if she had known it - folded up into a large, rubbery Rugby ball and stayed that way.
She'd initially been very proud of herself for managing to sneak up on the Radiped and to even get her hands on one of their weapons, but the multiple buttons needed to make it work proved impossible for her, even with both hands.
Frustrated, she pitched it to the side as the alien turned. She gripped the weapon she'd brought along from Bessie, a thick spanner. It was heavy, if nothing else.
And as the old saying went: when in need, anything can become a hammer.
Now to cross a veritable arena of War Machines…
--
The Doctor was nearing the halfway point, and there'd been no alarms but he could hear something moving up ahead of him. He patted his pocket for his screwdriver and shook out his hands, ready to use them again if need be.
--
Jo was nearly halfway across, dodging from pillar to pillar as she'd seen the Doctor do earlier. So far she hadn't seen anything, though the quiet War Machines were giving her the shivers.
Something flickered on the edge of her vision, and heart-pounding, she whirled with the spanner in hand. An iron grip came down on her wrist, immobilizing it mid-swing.
"Jo!"
"Doctor! Oh my goodness," she gasped. "You nearly gave me a heart-attack, sneaking up on me like that."
He eyed the heavy spanner in her hand. "I'd say I was the one in danger."
"Sorry. Couldn't find anything else in the car but an umbrella."
He quirked his eyebrows at this. "Death by bumbershoot. Fearsome thing."
"How did you escape?" She gave him a quick embrace out of sheer relief. "Are you all right?"
"I let myself out, and yes. Once the paralysis wore off, I was well enough."
She took breath again but he cut her off. "Come on, this isn't exactly the place to catch up."
--
She followed him back the way she'd come. Or rather, she meant to.
She hadn't gone but a few yards when one the War Machines suddenly lit up, it's headlamp blinding her eyes. Something hard struck her shoulders, knocking her off her feet. She heard the Doctor's voice calling her name as she tried to scramble across the cold stone floor. The War Machine rolled quicker than counted on; she gave a little cry, part pain, part surprise as it pinned one of her legs between it and its neighboring Machine.
Something clattered to the ground. The sonic screwdriver, just out of her reach. She looked up, her frightened gaze meeting the Doctor's frustrated one where he was pinned against a pillar, the wide metal basher against his shoulder and arm having forced him to release his precious tool, one of his feet immobilized against the wall. He eyed the Machine's gassing apparatus with caution as it waved vaguely in his direction.
Some Radipeds approached, though Jo noted the one she'd bludgeoned was not among them.
"Mr. Blue," the Doctor said formally, with a nod. "Forgive me, but I am unable to offer you a handshake under the circumstances."
"We did not wish our machines to kill you."
"We're most grateful for your thoughtfulness."
"It is not time yet."
"Perhaps you would be so kind as to explain that remark?"
The creature merely tipped its pancake head at him in response. In its multi-digit hand they could see a remote device, most likely for the Machines that held them.
But then another person stepped out from behind the Machines, holding the another directive device. A tall red-haired man, dressed in a dark blue military coverall. He had dark black eyes. Jo gasped as she recognized one of her assailants from Chippenham.
"It's them, Doctor!"
--