Simmons skidded to an immediate halt, spotting one of the Arachnids perched on the ceiling. Anita almost ran into the back of her.
"There's another one," she whimpered.
"The med-bay's just through there," Anita urged her, pointing towards the door along the corridor.
Simmons shook her head, transfixed by the stationary spider.
"I'm not walking underneath it."
"There's no time to go around," Anita hissed. "We'll have to go this way."
"Why is it just sitting there?" questioned Simmons.
"I don't know," Anita sighed. "The quicker we move, the sooner it'll be over. Just go!"
"Aren't you scared of it?" Simmons asked her dubiously.
"Of course I am. Look at the size of it!" Anita moaned.
Simmons uttered a strangled sound.
"Sorry," Anita mumbled.
Simmons shook her head, and clamped her eyes shut, muttering to herself.
"Okay… it's not there… it's not there…"
One eye opened, and she stared at it again.
"Okay… it's only a little spider… it's only small…"
Anita glanced hurriedly around her.
"Come on!" she insisted, grabbing Simmons' arm, and wrenching her forwards.
Simmons shuddered, refusing to open her eyes, until she felt the familiar cool air conditioning of a lab.
The nurse fixed them with a steely gaze when they entered, and Anita hurriedly scrambled for the access panel, and the med-bay door hissed shut.
Simmons' knees felt as though they were no longer attached to her legs, so she fumbled for the nearest stool, and collapsed into it.
"Those things are everywhere," Anita explained.
The nurse scowled at her for a second. "Let's just make sure none of them get in here."
Anita nodded, giving Simmons a gentle pat on the shoulder. Simmons took a few deep breaths, trying to control her breathing.
"Oh my god…" she groaned. "I can't let the Doctor see me like this."
Simmons silently cursed herself. She needed to get a grip.
"Have you – have you still got the antitoxin samples?" she asked suddenly.
"Yes," Anita assured her. As proof, she placed the test tubes on the workbench in front of her.
"We still have no idea if it'll work," Anita muttered.
"No, but the least we can do is manufacture more of it, on the – admittedly unlikely – chance that it will," Simmons reasoned.
Anita found a medical synthesiser, which seemed to resemble a sterilised cash machine, and switched it on. The system booted up incredibly quickly, and Anita inserted one of the samples, and began a replication cycle.
It was basically a chemical photocopier, she mused. One of the advantages of working for a well-funded military organisation: state-of-the-art futuristic bits of kit.
One of the patients, watching her, caught her eye.
"Oh. Hey," said Anita, recognising Private Lazarov, who was perched up on his elbows on one of the examination tables.
"Hey." He waved back, cheerfully.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"In the sickbay?" he asked, fixing her with a serious stare. "I'm sick."
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"I mean, what happened?"
"One of those creatures ambushed me in my sleeping quarters."
"What?" Anita exclaimed. "And you're okay?"
"Well, I hope so."
"I mean…"
"Yeah, I saw what happened to the others," Lazarov guessed her train of thought – the image of the liquidated bodies he and the Doctor had stumbled across was still vivid in his memory.
"The thing didn't bite you?"
"No. Maybe it liked my charming personality?" He winked at her.
The nurse sighed, drawing a sophisticated-looking gadget. "If you could stop flirting for a moment, I need to take your temperature again."
Lazarov offered her a broad grin, and threw Anita an apologetic raised eyebrow.
Simmons was watching them, when she noticed movement just out of the corner of her vision. All heads turned in her direction, transfixed by something just behind her. Very slowly, she turned around, and gasped.
The Arachnid that had almost chased them into the med-bay appeared through the frosted glass pane in the door. Its silhouette hovered menacingly, and she stared at it without breathing a word, her thoughts racing, wondering if it was searching for a way in.
The entire room was silent, until the creature's black shadow receded.
The nurse's device bleeped, and Simmons almost jumped out of her skin.
"Doctor Simmons?" asked Lazarov. "You okay?"
Simmons nodded, her lips pursed, almost turning white. "Mm-hmm! Yes! Why wouldn't I be!" she spouted.
"Simmons has a fear of spiders," Anita explained. "And the base is under attack from a horde of giant spiders."
Lazarov frowned, a little dismayed by Simmons' predicament.
"Hey, it's okay," Lazarov tried to comfort her. "It can't get in. Can it?"
He turned to the nurse.
"No," she said, peering at the readout on her device. "That door is made from a reinforced alloy. Even the glass is unbreakable, so I'm told. It wouldn't make a dent in it. And believe me, I've seen a few people have a go."
"See?" Lazarov insisted. "Nothing to worry about. We're safe in here. And hey, the Doctor's probably working on something right now."
Simmons nodded.
"But I think you have more pressing things to worry about, Private Lazarov," the nurse informed him.
Lazarov's smile faded. "What?"
"You're running a high fever. It's like your body's fighting off an infection, but you're perfectly healthy. And your earache…"
"What?" Lazarov urged, painfully aware of the noise in his left ear.
"There's something lodged in your ear canal. I think it's a living organism."
Lazarov and Anita looked at each other, jumping to horrific conclusions.
"Oh," Lazarov said quietly, staring at the frosted glass panel, where the gigantic Arachnid had been patiently skulking.
"Reminds me of when I was back home," Lazarov recalled. "My kid brother used to be terrified of spiders. Even the tiny ones. Probably still is. It always used to be my job to get rid of them."
He looked up at Anita, who was now very worried. He smiled at her, and she managed to smile back.
"I'm not scared of spiders," he reassured her.
The Communications Officer, a slim man who answered to the name O'Neill, had arrived, and was attempting to make contact with the giant spider.
He was rather timid, contrary to Charlie's expectations of a communications officer, and seemed very nervous to be in such close proximity to the Arachnid. Which was understandable.
He typed a string of commands into his laptop, and it issued a series of screeching sounds.
It set Charlie's teeth on edge, and left the Doctor looking a little disappointed. If those noises were supposed to be in some kind of spider dialect, it hadn't been particularly successful. The Arachnid hadn't so much as blinked.
"I'm sorry," O'Neill apologised profusely, "there's nothing else I can think of."
"It might not be able to communicate with us," the Doctor suggested. "It might not want to."
O'Neill took one last look at the Arachnid, and slammed his laptop shut.
"I'll just…" O'Neill pointed towards the door.
He tried to shuffle quietly out of the room, sidling past the Doctor, and accidentally bumping into Charlie.
Charlie stepped back, to move out of his way, when something caught the back of his heel, and he stumbled.
His head span as he hurtled backwards, his arms flailing to grab onto something.
He did manage to grab something, which halted his fall.
"Charlie…?" the Doctor called, darting over to him.
Charlie frowned. There was a tingling sensation in his fingers, like tiny, painless electric shocks. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Arachnid bounce gently up and down. It was a moment before he put two and two together, and looked down at what he'd grabbed on to. The web.
It was like a steel rope, plunging needles into his palm. The intensity of the prickling began to increase, and with a panic, Charlie realised something else was happening.
He stared at the Arachnid, aware that all eight of its glistening black eyes were locked on him. Staring at him. Staring into him. And he stared back.
He experienced a barrage of alien thoughts and emotions, and pulled himself away from the web.
The Doctor's hands were suddenly clasped around his shoulders.
"Charlie?" the Doctor's voice was somehow distant, dream-like. "What happened? What did you see?"
"I saw its thoughts." Charlie realised.
"Yes?" the Doctor encouraged him.
Lieutenant Shah asked him a question. He wasn't quite sure what he'd said.
"It's… shy?" Charlie muttered, gazing over at the Arachnid. It remained hunched at the centre of its web, studying him.
"Not like the others. Not like the soldiers," he continued, speaking a little dreamily.
The Doctor glanced up at Shah, his lips pursed in a disdainful glare.
"The soldiers are…" Charlie struggled to think of the best word. Something was lost in translation here. "Aggressive? That's what makes them good at what they do."
"And what are they doing?" the Doctor asked, with incredible patience. "What are the Arachnids doing? What do they want?"
Charlie shook his head. "They're just doing what they've been told. Their job."
He turned to the soldiers, and O'Neill. "Just like all of you. Soldiers, engineers, scientists… I don't know, cleaners?"
"Cleaners?" exclaimed Shah. "What are spiders gonna clean up?"
Charlie looked up at him, confused. Why didn't they understand? The spiders. UNIT. They were the same. Individuals, assigned to their duties, working under a hierarchy of leaders.
"Us."
The soldiers shuffled, and shared concerned glances.
"Ah. That's just nasty," muttered Shah.
"Charlie?" the Doctor began.
Charlie could tell a request was coming, and he wasn't sure if he would like it.
"Do you think you could try and communicate with it?" the Doctor's eyes searched him expectantly.
"I don't know." Charlie felt extremely uncomfortable about seeing the Arachnid's thoughts again.
"If you saw into its mind, it's very likely it saw into you. These things are almost always a two-way process. It's possible you might have reached an understanding."
"I guess…"
"See if you can get Incy-Wincy to talk again-"
"Incy…?"
"If you could convince it that the humans aren't hostile, perhaps we have a chance of arriving at a peaceful resolution. No more deaths."
Shah's radio burst into noise again.
"Doctor. Something's happening in the med-bay. They need you there now."
"What is it?"
"No idea. It sounded urgent, though."
"All right, I'd better go." The Doctor turned back to Charlie. "See what you can do, Charlie Drake."
Charlie nodded. "I'll try my best."
The Doctor smiled.
The Doctor had an aura about him. Charlie had noticed it from the first moment they'd met. The Doctor was, quite simply, an inspiration. Whenever he asked something of you – no matter what it was – Charlie always felt compelled not to let him down.
The Doctor nodded at Lieutenant Shah, who appeared to have volunteered to accompany him to the med-bay.
"Private Chase, you're in charge 'til I get back," Shah informed one of the men.
The Doctor frowned, and added:
"Charlie, you're me until I get back. Don't let them do anything stupid."
Charlie nodded, trying to hide his smirk from the soldiers.
The Doctor immediately sped into a run, and Charlie was left alone with the remaining soldiers, Communications Officer O'Neill, and a large Arachnid engineer.