Suddenly the static-distorted voice of Mike Yates, crackled through the lab. 'This is Greyhound Three Over.'

The Brigadier's voice came in reply. 'This is Greyhound, Greyhound Three. And where have you been, Captain Yates? Over.'

'Won't be long now, sir. We're about ten miles away. Over.'

'Well, get your skates on will you? We need the Doctor's TARDIS here double quick.

Out.'

'Greyhound Three. Wilco. Out.'

The Master replaced the crystal and its TOMt.i.t mounting, and studied a watch-sized mini-screen strapped to his wrist. He had left the audio-scanner switched to the UNIT frequency and now the vision scanner had homed in on the signal. To Krasis's astonishment the little screen now showed the UNIT convoy going on its way.

He shook his head in wonderment. 'Images that move and speak, wagons with no oxen to draw them . . . this is indeed a time of wonders.'

'I will show you greater wonders than either,' said the Master savagely. Still studying the screen he began operating controls with his other hand.

Krasis looked on fearfully. 'Master . . . Lord . . . you are not bringing the Mighty One here once more?'

'Certainly not. Just a little demonstration of my power over time. Watch carefully.'

Mike Yates was at the wheel of the land rover, leading the little convoy. They were on a long straight stretch of road, completely empty.

Then, all at once, it wasn't empty any longer. A knight in full armour, lance levelled, was galloping towards them.

9.

Time Attack

'Look out,' yelled Mike and swerved off the road to his right, jamming on the brakes.

The two vehicles behind him swerved off to left and right in turn and the armoured knight clattered through the gap and galloped on down the road.

Mike jumped out of the land rover, now slewed off the road at an angle and s.n.a.t.c.hed up his RT. 'Greyhound? This is Greyhound Three. We're stuck in the mud. Forced off the road by some goon in fancy dress, I think. Over.'

On the other end of the radio link, the Brigadier stared disbelievingly at his RT. 'Are you suffering from hallucinations, Captain Yates? Or have you been drinking? Over.'

'No sir, but I could do with one, I don't mind telling you,' said Mike Yates frankly. 'This character in armour just galloped straight at us. You know sir, the King Arthur bit.

And then he vanished '

'In a puff of blue smoke, I suppose,' came the Brigadier's sarcastic voice. 'Really, Yates, you have been drinking!'

In the lab, the Master looked at the stranded convoy on his mini-screen and smiled evilly.

'And that, Captain Yates, was just a sample.'

He busied himself at the controls. Amongst its other functions, the TOMt.i.t apparatus recreated the powers of the legendary Timescoop of the Time Lords, forbidden by Ra.s.silon in the Dark Time. The Master was enjoying this opportunity to try it out...

Captain Yates raised his voice and bellowed, 'Righto, lads, out of the lorry and get these vehicles out of the mud. Get a move on, I want to get out of here.'

There was a flat crack, and something spanged off the side of the land rover.

Mike Yates whirled round, and opened his eyes in astonishment. On a little hill not far away a handful of men had appeared from nowhere, grouped around a cannon.

They wore old fashioned doublets and breastplates and round helmets, and they carried long muskets. Roundheads!

'Take cover!' yelled Yates - just in time, as a ragged volley of musket b.a.l.l.s hummed overhead like angry bees. 'Hey, what do you think you're up to?' he yelled indignantly.

The cannon boomed and a cannon ball whistled overhead.

'Keep down,' shouted Yates. 'They mean it!'

Yates and his men peered from behind the flimsy shelter of their vehicles, and the Captain reached his RT. Heaven knows what the Brigadier was going to make of this one . . .

'I'm listening, Captain Yates,' said the Brigadier impa.s.sively. 'Over.'

'Another hallucination, sir. Roundhead troops, attacking us with ball ammunition.

Cannon b.a.l.l.s, in fact. Over.'

'Captain Yates, if this is some sort of joke '

The Doctor interrupted him. 'Believe me Brigadier, this is no kind of a joke. This is deadly serious.'

'All right, Doctor, you tell me what's going on.'

'Don't you see? A horseman in armour - roundheads - the Master's using that crystal to bring them forward in time.'

'So why don't we get over there and stop him.'

'It would be suicide without the protection of the TARDIS.'

'Which is stuck in the mud being battered by roundheads,' said Sergeant Benton.

'We'd better go and fetch it then,' said the Doctor cheerfully. 'Come along, Jo.

Coming, Brigadier?'

'Benton, you stay here,' ordered the Brigadier. 'If the Master pokes his nose out you know what to do.'

'Yessir.' Benton was determined that the Master wouldn't escape him a second time.

'Can I come?' asked Ruth.

'And me?' said Stuart hopefully. 'I've always fancied myself as a cavalier.'

The Brigadier shook his head. 'Sorry, you'd better stay here with the Sergeant.

You're the only ones who can handle that infernal machine apart from the Doctor. I must ask you to place yourself under Sergeant Benton's command. Both of you, right?'

'Full of old world charm, isn't he?' said Ruth resignedly. She reached for her lukewarm tea.

The Doctor and Jo were already sitting in Bessie when the Brigadier hurried out of the building. Do buck up, Lethbridge-Stewart,' urged the Doctor. 'Get in!'

The Brigadier headed for his land rover, a powerful new model of which he was very proud. 'Sorry, Doctor, matter of some urgency, better go under my own steam.' He got behind the wheel. Try not to be too far behind!'

The Brigadier started the engine and roared away.

The Doctor grinned wickedly at Jo and started the engine, and flicked the Superdrive switch.

The Brigadier wasn't yet fully aware of the latest modifications to Bessie. He was considerably surprised when just as he was gathering speed on a straight stretch of road, Bessie flashed him effortlessly and vanished into the distance . . .

The Master and Krasis were watching the battle on the Master's mini-screen.

It was still inconclusive. The roundheads' weapons some time to reload, and their fire was far from accurate. The Master grimaced in frustration.

Krasis stared at him. 'But why? Why do you do all this? Do you fear this TARDIS so much?'

'I fear nothing,' snapped the Master. 'But I intend go to Atlantis and I don't want my enemy to follow me.' He glared at the screen. 'Get on with it, you useless seventeenth-century poltroons!' Shaking head, he reached for the controls.

So far Mike Yates had ordered his men to fire over attackers' heads. But the roundhead muskets, although primitive, were still deadly, and when another of his men fell wounded, Mike Yates decided that enough was enough. He took a grenade from the arms locker in his land rover, sprinted forwards to a point of vantage, pulled the pin and hurled the grenade in the cla.s.sic overarm throw, dropping to the ground as he did so. The grenade arced through the air and exploded . . . just after both roundheads and cannon disappeared Mike Yates raised his head and saw to his astonishment that his attackers had completely vanished...

The Master laughed. 'I could have told you that wouldn't work, Captain Yates.' He adjusted the controls yet again. 'Now, stand by to duck, here comes the grand finale.'

The picture on the Master's mini-screen changed. Now it showed a tiny stubby-winged plane droning across the sky ...

Ruth Ingram c.o.c.ked her head at the strange putt-putting noise. 'What's that?'

Stuart shrugged. 'Sounds like a motor-bike'

Sergeant Benton was peering out of the window, 'It seems to be coming from the sky...'

The Doctor and Jo were zooming towards the ambush site in Bessie.

'Something wrong with the engine, Doctor?' shouted Jo.

'Never! Why?'

'I can hear a funny noise.'

The Doctor made one of his astonishingly smooth stops. 'So can I. But it's not the engine.'

Jo listened. 'It's coming from over there. . .'

The Brigadier screeched to a halt beside them. ' 'What's up?'

'Listen!' ordered the Doctor.

The Brigadier listened to the strange putt-putting sound from overhead and looked unbelievingly at the Doctor. 'It can't be!'

'Oh yes it can,' said the Doctor. 'Displaced in time, but real enough. It's a V.1.'

'A what?' asked Jo.

'A buzz-bomb. A doodlebug. A kind of robot plane - a flying bomb! The Germans used them against England at the end of the Hitler war.'

'What did they do?'

'Blew up sizeable chunks of London,' said the Brigadier. 'If that engine sound cuts out, fall flat on your face. It means the bomb is on its way down!'

Jo pointed off into the distance. 'Look, there's the convoy!'

And there it was, just disappearing into a little wood that spanned the road some way ahead.

The Brigadier grabbed his RT. 'Greyhound Three, Greyhound Three, can you hear me Yates? Over.'

Yates's voice came back, badly distorted. 'Greyhound Three . . . only just . . . Over.'

'Yates, that thing is a flying bomb, and it's headed your way. Over!'

'Say . . . again . . . ' crackled the voice. 'Must be . . . trees . . . cannot read you . . .

Over.'

(The Master made a final adjustment and waited, smiling.) The puttering of the engine stopped, leaving a sinister silence. The Doctor grabbed Jo's arm. 'Out of the car. Get down!'

The Brigadier was still yelling into the RT. 'Yates, it's a bomb! It's a bomb! Get out of it, Yates!'

To his relief he heard Mike Yates's voice coming back over the air. 'All out, lads. It's a bomb. Dive for cover!'

There was an ear-splitting crash and a column of flame and smoke shot up from inside the wood.

As the echoes of the explosion died away, Brigadier tried the RT again. 'Yates?

Captain Yates? Can you hear me?'

There was no reply.