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Broadcast 3rd September 1993 and 19th April 1994
Running time 28 minutes 20 seconds
Contains previously unbroadcast material


FX: (crowd talking, ambulance sirens approaching)

BRIGADIER: Stand back! Stand back! No, no! Don't move him, don't move either of them.

SARAH: Is he, is he...?

BRIGADIER: Grebber's broken his neck.

SARAH: But the Doctor?

BRIGADIER: It'd be a miracle for anybody to survive a fall from that height.

AMBULANCE MAN: Make way please, mind your backs. What happened?

BRIGADIER: Well, they both fell from the top of the lift scaffolding, must be 200 feet. The roof of the entry port broke their fall but this fellow's a gonner, no doubt of that.

AMBULANCE MAN: Yeah, we got a call that some guy was threatening to jump. I'm afraid the other one's gone too.

SARAH: Oh, no!

AMBULANCE MAN: Sorry love, that's the way it is. The doc'll have to confirm it but I'm afraid there's no doubt. OK, Trev.


SARAH: But the Doctor, he...

BRIGADIER: I'm sorry, Miss Smith, Sarah Jane. We just have to face it. The Doctor is dead.


FREETH: And you're quite sure?

KITSON: (over telephone) They've both been taken to the mortuary.

FREETH: A dreadful tragedy. Exactly what we wanted.

KITSON: (over telephone) It was on the news. There's a crowd outside like Trafalgar Square on New Year's Eve. They'll have the gate down if I don't let them in soon.

FREETH: Are your people ready?

KITSON: (over telephone) As ready as they'll ever be.

FREETH: Then let them in, dear boy, let them in.

FX: (reciever being dropped)


FX: (crowd)

FREETH: My dear Brigadier, I cannot begin to tell you how devastated we are. Aren't we, Tragen?

TRAGEN: (clearly not meaning it) Devastated.

FREETH: How can we express the way we...?

BRIGADIER: Yes. Very kind of you but, um, be that as it may I'm here on official business. I have to ask you to cancel the opening of Space World this afternoon.

FREETH: Do you indeed? And I have to tell you that I have no intention of complying. Your too late anyway.

FX: (gates opening, shouts get louder)


FREETH: If you listen, you'll no doubt be able to hear the baying of the Great British public bent on bent on pleasuring itself. Or is that the phrase I'm after?

BRIGADIER: Well we shall have to clear them all out, then. As officer commander of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce in the UK, I'm enpowered under the treaty...



FREETH: But there are so many forms of power, aren't there? Before you get stuck in the political mire of exactly who has the power to do what, and to whom, I would strongly advise you to read this letter.

FX: (paper creasing)

FREETH: It hurts the pride, doesn't it, falling flat on one's face? Never mind, I'm sure Mummy will kiss it better.


FX: (crowd, someone screaming)

BRIGADIER: But General, it was a letter from the Prime Minister! Not just from his office. A personal letter guaranteeing him and his precious corporation...

FX: (scream)

BRIGADIER: ...freedom from any interference of any kind whatsoever!

GENERAL: (over telephone) Mmm, very frustrating but what do you expect me to do about it?

BRIGADIER: Well surely, sir, the commanding officer of the whole of UNIT can override...

GENERAL: (over telephone) You flatter me, Brigadier. We are bound by the United Nations treaty. Remember the host country clause? Here in Geneva we get this sort of thing coming in every day.

BRIGADIER: I see. Would you have any objection if I went over your head to New York?

GENERAL: (over telephone) To the Secretary-General? Well you could try, I suppose. I don't hold out much hope.


FX: (crowd)

JEREMY: Did you know him well?

SARAH: Not all that well. But he was a good man. And a brave one. It's silly, I know, but I feel as if I'd lost my best friend.

JEREMY: I don't think it's silly at all.

SARAH: Oh, you're very sweet Jeremy. Oh, this is no good. Life must go on, he'd want it to. We'd better go back to the office and get these pics developed.

JEREMY: Oh look, there's that Brigadier chap.

SARAH: Where?

JEREMY: There, sitting in that little old car, the yellow one, talking on the phone.

SARAH: Oh, that's the Doctor's car. He calls... he used to call her... Bessie.


BRIGADIER: (shouting) But Secretary General!

SECRETARY GENERAL: (over telephone) To the contrary, you would be well advised to bottle out Mr Freeth's premises, as the saying goes. It is of the utmost imperitive that he is not to be made upset.

BRIGADIER: But if the Parakon Corporation is an...

SECRETARY GENERAL: (over telephone) Understand me clear, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. You will be held personally responsible if, through any action of yours, there are any hitches in these delicate negotiations.

BRIGADIER: (confused) But what negotiations?

SECRETARY GENERAL: (over telephone) I have said far too much already. Goodbye.



CLORINDA: No Sarah, it's all rubbish! I mean, Atlantis, alien monsters? I'm not the editor of a Sunday tabloid.

SARAH: Of course you're not. You're the dearest, cleverest, sweetest, loveliest editor of the best glossy on the market!

CLORINDA: (drily) You noticed.

SARAH: It'd be a sort of tribute to the unknown genius in our midst. Who was this man? All that stuff, and shots of the crab-clawed Chamelias to sauce it up a bit.

JEREMY: But there aren't any.

SARAH: What?

JEREMY: There aren't any shots of the crab-clawed whatsits. I just got them back from Anthony. Here, waste of a film, he says.

CLORINDA: Let me have a look.

SARAH: Well there's nothing to look at, just shots of an empty space. You can see the wooden walls and that's the lot. The Brigadier needs to know about this. He should be back at UNIT HQ by now. May I use your phone, Clorinda?

FX: (phone ringing)

CLORINDA: Be my guest.


FX: (door closing heavily)

WILLOW: Well, not much doubt how Mr Grebber brought his exit past. Next gentleman, please, Mr Wilkins.

BRIGADIER: They tell me that you, oh, are you Dr Willow?

WILKINS: It's Professor Willow.

BRIGADIER: Oh, I'm sorry. My name's Lethbridge-Stewart, professor.

WILLOW: Oh yes, you're in charge of the, er... How do you do?

BRIGADIER: How do you do?

WILLOW: Well, I was just about to have a look at the...

BRIGADIER: The Doctor, yes, that's why I've come. It suddenly crossed my mind that, erm...

WILLOW: That's odd.

BRIGADIER: Er, what is it?

WILLOW: Wilkins, you must have made a mistake. This man hasn't fallen from 200 feet.

BRIGADIER: Well, he certainly did, I saw him fall.

WILLOW: But there doesn't seem to be a single bone broken.

BRIGADIER: Ah, well that's just it, you see...

WILLOW: ...joint, though. Better take a look at his innards.


WILLOW: Not squeamish, are you Brigadier?

BRIGADIER: Er no, no, of course not. It's just that I happen to know the Doctor and, well, it's just possible that... well, there was at least one other occasion when, um...

WILLOW: If you are suggesting that there is the remotest chance of reviving this man, spontaneous revision of death is somewhat rare in my, er, ah! Good grief!

WILKINS: (shocked) Oh my God!

BRIGADIER: There you are, you see?

DOCTOR: Look, would you mind taking that scalpel a little further away from my abdomen? You'll do me a mischief, you will. Thank you.

WILLOW: But wou're, I mean you were...

DOCTOR: Dead? Oh was I? Well clearly I'm not now. Lethbridge-Stewart, would you be so good as to find my clothes, old chap? It's a trifle parky without them.


SARAH: Oh well, thank you for trying. Do you think you could give me that other number? The phone in Bessie? I'm sorry, in the Doctor's car. Yes? Yes. Thank you very much.

FX: (phone reciever being placed down.)

SARAH: See you later.

CLORINDA: Where are you going?

SARAH: Back to Space World, of course, I'm going to find out what, what exactly is going on!

JEREMY: Can I come too?

SARAH: Oh, Jeremy!

JEREMY: I'm awfully good at keeping watch!


DOCTOR: My dear Brigadier, it's a simple matter of bone relaxation. If you find yourself falling from a great height, bone relaxation can help you...

WILLOW: But that's physiological rubbish!

DOCTOR: Yes, well of course it is. I was using shorthand. More strictly speaking it is analgust of the breakdown of regeneration of liable tissue in the formation of a pupae.

WILLOW: I'd still say... I'm sorry...

BRIGADIER: Oh, this is Professor Willow. The Doctor

DOCTOR: Professor Mortimer Willow, who wrote that paper on the post-mortem of lutination of red blood cells in victims of carbon monoxide asphixiation?

WILLOW: The same.

DOCTOR: Oh, I'm very pleased to meet you, sir.An excellent piece of work.

WILLOW: Thank you. I quite agree.

BRIGADIER: What's more to the point, Doctor, is that it was Professor Willow who wrote the post-mortem report of the victim of the attack on Hampstead Heath.

DOCTOR: Of course! And you have the body here?

WILKINS: Yeah. You were in the fridge with him.

DOCTOR: Er, any chance of a quick glance?

WILLOW: With the greatest of pleasure! Well don't just stand there, Wilkins.


WILLOW: Now, as I said the case presents some very strange features. You can see for yourself. The marks of the teeth and the tearing of the flesh are extremely atypical.

DOCTOR: To say the least.

WILLOW: And what's more, since the initial report I've found even more reason for puzzlement. I have analysed the traces the saliva that was found on the deceased's clothes, what was left of them, and of all things it turns out to be acidic!

DOCTOR: Acidic? Then that settles it! The creature who perpetrated this horror is not of this planet! Thank you, Mr Wilkins, I think we've seen plenty. Er, wait! Wait! Wait wait wait. Look!


DOCTOR: There's a hair!

WILLOW: Where?

DOCTOR: Well there, man, there, as plain as the nose on your face! Under the nail of the first digit of the left hand.

WILLOW: I examined the nails!

DOCTOR: It's nearly a milimetre in length, I can't think how you came to miss it. Well don't just stand there, get me a microscope slide! Got it. Now then, microscope. Microscope!

WILLOW: Wilkins!

DOCTOR: Yes, Yes. Aha!

WILLOW: What is it?

DOCTOR: Take a look for yourself.

WILLOW: Thank you. Mmm, well well well!

DOCTOR: What can you see?

WILLOW: This did not come from a mammal. And if he wasn't attacked by a mammal what in heaven's name did attack him?


FX: (crowd in distance)

FREETH: You are wrong, Tragen.

TRAGEN: I think not, chairman.

FREETH: It's far better if you return to Parakon forthwith and take Fido and Fifi with you. The sooner you go, the sooner, we're safe.

TRAGEN: I'd should still feel happier...

FREETH: The only person who might have posed a threat has been dealt with. The Doctor is dead!

FX: (door opening)

DOCTOR: Forgive us for barging in unanounced...

TRAGEN: (in surprise) Doctor!

DOCTOR: ...But your secretary seems to have gone home for the evening.

FREETH: Doctor! But we were told...

DOCTOR: Yes, well you shouldn't believe everything that you hear, Mr Freeth. Now we'd like to have a little chat.

FREETH: Nothing would give me greater pleasure. Mr Tragen, it might be as well if you put those arrangements we were discussing in hand straight away.

TRAGEN: Yes, of course, Mr Freeth.

BRIGADIER: You're not going far I hope?

TRAGEN: Relatively speaking, no. If you will excuse me, gentlemen.

FX: (door closing)

FREETH: I gather you've been having a little chat with an old friend of mine, in New York.

BRIGADIER: Er, yes that's right.

FREETH: You'll no doubt be gratified to hear that your attempt to go to the top of the tree has borne fruit. I am, so to speak, a peach ripe for the plucking.


FREETH: We have agreed that I should keep no more secrets from you. In her words, that I should "come clean as the driven snow". I'm sure you recognise the style. So, what do you want to know?


FX: (crowd)

KITSON: Space World will be closing in five minutes time. Thank you for visiting us. Space World will be closing in five minutes time.

FX: (Chamelias growling)


SARAH: Jeremy, get your head down, they'll see you!

JEREMY: I've got pins and needles. Oh, it's alright, there's no one in here, they've all gone. I say, that old Chamelia thing is lying down sort of chewing like a cow.

MAN: Anybody here? OK Del, Chamelias is clear.

FX: (lever being pulled)

JEREMY: He's gone. (in amazement) Good lord!

SARAH: What is it? (notices it) Well, well, well. It's all gone. Desert and all. Switched off! They just switched him off. No wonder he didn't come out on the film.


FREETH: A non-mammalian hair? So, are you suggesting that one of our little monsters from outer space escaped from Space World last night and did the naughties? Well since we're playing the truth game let me tell you something...

DOCTOR: Yes, well I'll save you the trouble. The creatures in your exhibits are mere hallucinations. A more complex version of Experienced Reality induced in the audiences' brains by a radiated matrix and modulated psychomagnetic beams.

FREETH: My, my, aren't we the clever clogs? I hate to admit it but you have it exactly right. It's all an illusion.

BRIGADIER: Good heavens above, I'd've sworn that...

FREETH: If you'd tried to touch one of our little family, your hand would go right through it. So how could one of them have harmed that poor fellow?

DOCTOR: Yes, well you're missing the point, Mr Freeth. If those animals are a form of E.R. then the experience of them has been recorded. They're all images of real creatures. I recognised your so called crab-clawed Chamelia as soon as I saw it.

FREETH: You recognised it? Who are you, Doctor?

DOCTOR: Somebody who spent a long weekend on Aldeveron II a few years ago. Too long a weekend, the food was disgusting.

FREETH: (ckuckles) Yes it is, isn't it? How many recipies are there for cactus pulp?

DOCTOR: You're not from Earth at all, are you? You come from the other side of the galaxy.

FREETH: It's a fair cop, I'll go quietly.

BRIGADIER: You mean that you admit...?

FREETH: Oh, no, no, no. I was speaking metaphorically. A bad habit of mine. I have no idea how that poor young man died. I was merely agreeing that I and my friends are, so to speak, and ethnic minority on this planet. Let me bare my breast and tell you all as I promised, then you'll be in a better position to make a judgement.


JEREMY: But why are we checking them all? If one monster's a fake they all will be.

SARAH: Second rule of investigative journalism, Jeremy, never take anything for granted. Mm-hm, the flesh-eating Griffin seems to have gone home for his tea as well.

JEREMY: What's the first rule?


JEREMY: Of investigative journalism?

SARAH: Oh. (chuckles) Get your expenses sorted out. Oh, come on, let's go and have a look at the spaceship.


FREETH: So you see, there's nothing more sinister going on than an ordinary commercial venture. We have been secretly negotiating with your leaders for some time.

BRIGADIER: Secret negotiations? About a, a funfair?

DOCTOR: Is that good scotch, Lethbridge-Stewart?

BRIGADIER: What? Yes. Best lot of malt I've tasted since my grandfather died.

DOCTOR: Well this sherry can only be described as noble. Mr Freeth wants to get us on his side.

FREETH: I said you were a clever clogs, Doctor.

DOCTOR: He knows how wary the human tribe is of foreigners. What sort of a welcome do you think a gang of alien carpet-baggers from outer space get?

FREETH: Not quite the expression I might have used myself, but fundamentally, Doctor, you've hit it on the button, or even the nose! (laughs) Our proposals can only be of benfit to the economy of your world. A valuable new export market for a new product, cheap imports of every kind, the benefit of advanced technologies which can offer a life of ease and luxury to the vast majority of your people. We have a paradise of our own on Parakon. We want to you share it.

BRIGADIER: So, you plan to get the public on your side before it's revealed that you come from outside the solar system? Give them a spoonful of honey to help the pill go down?

DOCTOR: (chucles) Well done, Brigadier!

FREETH: Exactly right. (distantly) Except that in this case it'll turn out to be honey, honey, honey...

FX: (drink being poured)


JEREMY: (whispering) Sarah.

SARAH: (whispering) What?

JEREMY: I still don't understand why we're looking inside all these spaceship ride thingies. They never pretended that they were anything but simulations all the time.

SARAH: That's right. But we didn't see inside all of them, did we? Perhaps they're using one of them as a kennel.

JEREMY: (quickly) Shh, there's someone coming.

TRAGEN: ...And return at once to be able to pick up chairman Freeth. He may need to leave in a hurry.

CRESTIN: Yes, vice-chairman Tragen.

SARAH: It's that one who took Mr Grebber away! I'm going to follow him.

JEREMY: They're stopping!

TRAGEN: And do we have to feed the guards before we go? You know what they can be like if they're hungry.

FX: (automatic door opening, growls)

CRESTIN: Couldn't find much but they've had two cats apiece, a labrador and a cockel spaniel. They're quite satisfied.

TRAGEN: They don't sound very satisfied to me.

JEREMY: Oh I say! The rotten lot!

SARAH: What did I tell you? Here, take this.

JEREMY: What is it?

SARAH: I wrote down the Brig's phone number. Go and ring him. Get him here. I'm going in to have a look.


DOCTOR: Ordinary commercial verture, my eye! There's a great deal more to it than that, Brigadier, you may be sure.

FX: (Bessie's engine)

BRIGADIER: What, you mean this P.R. idea? Softening up the public, and all that?

DOCTOR: Yes, exactly. It's the same as throwing maggots into the river to attract the poor fish you hope to have for dinner.

BRIGADIER: Your choice of metaphor is hardly flattering.

DOCTOR: (chuckles) It wasn't intended to be.

BRIGADIER: Lethbridge-Stewart.

JEREMY: (over phone) Ah hello, it's Jeremy Fitzoliver. Sarah Jane Smith asked me to ring. It's sort of urgent really, well I mean a bit.

BRIGADIER: Well, what's up?

JEREMY: (over phone) We've found those dog thingies that killed that man, at least we think we have. Sarah's gone into their kennel, I mean...

BRIGADIER: Where are you?

JEREMY: (over phone) Oh er, just across the road from it. I can see it from here. (surprised) I say, the doors are closing!

BRIGADIER: Yes but where are you man?

JEREMY: (over phone) I said, in the phone box opposite the... (laughs) Oh, I see what you mean. In that road where all the space rides are. That's it you see, Sarah's gone into one of them. I can hardly see it now, they've closed the door. It's so dark but...

FX: (rushing of wind)

JEREMY: (gasps)

BRIGADIER: What is it?

JEREMY: (over phone) It's going up in the air! It's taking off and, I mean, it's a real... Oh lord, they've gone! They've gone off with Sarah Jane!


FX: (humming)

TRAGEN: Crestin.

CRESTIN: (over radio) Yes, vice-chairman Tragen?

TRAGEN: Warn me when you're about to make the jump into hyper.

CRESTIN: (over radio) Will do. You've quite a while yet, we have to clear the solar system first.

TRAGEN: Very good.

FX: (door opening, growling)

TRAGEN: (shouting) Get down!

FX: (panting)

TRAGEN: I think you'd better come out now. Yes you, trying to hide behind the spacesuit rack.

FX: (growl)

TRAGEN: Stay! Well, well, it's the journalist girl.

SARAH: I warn you, the Brigadier knows that I'm here.

TRAGEN: Oh, is that so? And where's the Brigadier? Exactly.

FX: (growl)

SARAH: Would you please put those creatures away?

TRAGEN: By all means. Come on now, come on. (shouts) In! In!

CRESTIN: (over radio) Vice-chairman Tragen, the weight ratio has changed. We're carrying more than we should. I think we should check before we make the jump.

TRAGEN: Yes Crestin, we have a stowaway.

CRESTIN: (over radio) Is everything alright?

TRAGEN: Thank you, yes, everything's under control.

SARAH: Where are we going.

TRAGEN: To my home planet, Parakon, and frankly, my dear, to arrive with you as a... passenger might prove something of an embarrasment. On the other hand...

SARAH: What are you going to do with me?

TRAGEN: Oh, a good question to which I'm sure I shall find an answer. But in the meantime we must try to make you comfortable...

SARAH: (cautiously) Oh, thank you.

TRAGEN: ...Or would it be more fun to make you uncomfortable?


TRAGEN: You see, although by definition the journey through hyperspace takes no time at all, subjectively it's tediously long.


TRAGEN: I shall be glad to have something to distract me. We must think up some little games. I'm very good at thinking up little games.


FX: (Bessie's engine)

DOCTOR: And did you recognise this man she was following?

JEREMY: Well yes, it was the one that Mr Grebber went with.

FX: (skidding of tyres, horns beeping)

BRIGADIER: Careful Doctor, you nearly clipped that one!

DOCTOR: Have you heard what Jeremy said? Sarah's been abducted by Tragen. It's quite clear to me...

FX: (skidding tyres)

MAN: (shouting) Moron!

DOCTOR: (shouting) If you don't know the width of your car, you shouldn't be driving it!

BRIGADIER: For Pete's sake, Doctor, slow down!

DOCTOR: She's in the hands of a ruthless sadist who'll stop at nothing. We have to get after her.

BRIGADIER: What? Well how?

DOCTOR: In the TARDIS, of course.


SARAH: But why do you want to tie me up? I can't do you any harm and I certainly can't escape.

TRAGEN: Indeed. But that wouldn't be half the fun.


TRAGEN: We'll you see - ah, that's not too tight...

SARAH: (groans)

TRAGEN:'s all part of the game we're going to play.

SARAH: What game?

TRAGEN: It's called, "How far do I have to go before she..."

SARAH: "Before she..." what?

TRAGEN: Well, that's just it, there are so many variations. "How far do I have to go before she... begs me for a kiss"? "Starts screaming"? "Dies"? There that's it, quite comfortable. It won't be long now before the hyperjump.


FX: (whirring)

BRIGADIER: What are you doing, Doctor?

DOCTOR: Well, the psychotelmetric circuit. Unless I repair it we'll never get to Parakon. I mean, we know where the planet is. Well, within a few thousand light years.

BRIGADIER: Oh, do we?

DOCTOR: Yes, well I do. Er, sonic screwdriver, please Jeremy.

JEREMY: Er, do you mean this?

DOCTOR: Yes, yes, that's the one, thanks. Here, plug in the soldering iron will you, old chap? We could spend an eternity searching and the TARDIS'll take us to the right neck of the woods and then home in on Parakon using this in her psychotelemeter.

BRIGADIER: And what's that.

DOCTOR: That, it's the hair of a dog, to coin a phrase. Or rather, the non-dog. I extracted it when the professor wasn't looking. Give me the soldering iron, will you please Jeremy? Good chap. Look, Brigadier, if you can't find anything useful to do, may I suggest you go and ring Freeth and try putting the fear of God, or alternatively United Nations into him?


FX: (humming of spaceship)

SARAH: I don't think you've thought this through, Mr Tragen.

TRAGEN: Really? Do tell me.

SARAH: Well you said I'd be an embarrasment to you on Parakon. Well wouldn't a... a corpse, or, (panicked) or a, a...

TRAGEN: A mouthing, white-faced creature scared literally out of her wits?

SARAH: Yes! Wouldn't one of those be even more embarrasing for you?

TRAGEN: This is your first time in space, Miss Smith?

SARAH: N... Yes.

TRAGEN: It's very big, you know. And our garbage disposal system is very efficient, but I do appreciate your concern, believe me.

SARAH: How can you be so inhuman?

TRAGEN: Oh, but that's exactly what I am. I'm not remotely human. To be precise I'm barely humanoid, unlike my friend Chairman Freeth and his compatriots. Would you like to see what my face really looks like underneath this?

FX: (mask being pulled off)

SARAH: (gasps)

CRESTIN: (over radio) Vice-chairman Tragen?

TRAGEN: Ready when you are, Crestin. I'm more than ready. Eager.

CRESTIN: (over radio) No it's... I've got chairman Freeth for you.

TRAGEN: Oh, well you'd better put him through. Oh and Crestin?

CRESTIN: (over radio) Yes sir?

TRAGEN: Don't tell him about our guest.

CRESTIN: (apologetically) I already have, sorry sir.

TRAGEN: Never mind, put him on. No wait. Ask him to hold on. I shalln't keep him a moment.

SARAH: What are you...?

TRAGEN: I must apologise for cutting you short so impolitely. I'm sure you understand the necessity. Right, Crestin.

FREETH: (distorted) What's going on, Tragen? Who've you got there?

TRAGEN: Nobody of consequence, chairman. A journalist, a professional busybody, better out of everybody's way.

FREETH: (distorted) Is her name Smith? Sarah Jane Smith?

TRAGEN: Why yes, I believe it is. How did you know that?

FREETH: (distorted) Let me speak to her.

TRAGEN: I'm afraid she's a little tied up at the moment.

FREETH: (distorted) Up to your old tricks, are you? Well I'm sorry to spoil your fun but I've just had a call from the Brigadier. He claims to know that you have Miss Smith on board. I denied all knowledge of you and your deliciously disgusting doings, of course, but since we are the goodies at the moment, it might be as well if she were to remain... intact, so to speak.

TRAGEN: She's seen the guards.

FREETH: (distorted) Pity. Very well, keep her in communicado but safe she's more useful to us alive and well. The situation has changed now that we know the Doctor isn't dead.

TRAGEN: But chairman, I...

FREETH: (distorted) You're greedy Tragen, do you know that?

TRAGEN: I do... I am.

FREETH: (distorted) Don't worry. Once the human cry has died down you can have her back.


BRIGADIER: Well can't you get a move on, Doctor?


BRIGADIER: I did my my best with Freeth but even if I was lying it seems that he has no way of getting in touch with Tragen.

DOCTOR: If they're into hyperspace or out the other side, that's perfectly true of course.

JEREMY: Er, does that mean we can't catch them after all? I mean, what about Sarah?

DOCTOR: Oh, don't worry. The TARDIS has a trick worth two of that up her sleeve. By doubling back in the time-vortex she can effectively start before Tragen. We can be on Parakon waiting for him to arrive.

BRIGADIER: But what about the limitation thingimy. I thought you told me...

DOCTOR: What, the Blinovitch Limitation Effect?


DOCTOR: That only prevents us from going back into our own past. Really Brigadier, I sometimes think you have a very shaky grasp of the special theory of relativity. Right. That should do it. Jeremy, bring the tools, will you?

JEREMY: But I thought you were going in a rocket thingy? I mean, that's only an old police phone box!

BRIGADIER: Wait till you get inside!


FX: (humming of TARDIS interior)

DOCTOR: Right, that's the way, quickly now. I'm going to close the doors.

JEREMY: I say! I mean, it's bigger on the inside than it is on the...

DOCTOR: (surprised) Look, what are you doing in here, boy?

JEREMY: Er, you asked me to bring in the tools.

DOCTOR: Tes. Yes, well it's too late now, I've activated the coordinates. You'll have to come to.

FX: (TARDIS dematerialisation)


FX: (humming of spaceship)

SARAH: Is there any reason why you should keep me tied up?

TRAGEN: We shall soon be through the hyperspace and touching down on Parakon. Of course, if you were to give me your word...

SARAH: I presume we aren't going to be landing at your equivalent to Heathrow?

TRAGEN: I have my own... facilities in my own, erm, backyard as I think you would call it.

SARAH: Fortress Tragen with a nice selection of hungry beasties roaming around?

TRAGEN: One might almost think you'd been there.

SARAH: I'll give you my word, alright. I don't know what you're game is, but you're evil through and through, and I give you my word that I'll go on fighting you to the end, whatever that might be!

TRAGEN: (gleefully) Aah. The brave ones are always so much more rewarding. When at last they break, the extremity of their fear resonates like the shriek of a thousand out of tune violins. How can I bear to wait?


FX: (TARDIS materialisation)

JEREMY: Are we there?

DOCTOR: We are. On the other side of that door, according to Mr Freeth, we shall find a paradise. A paradise called Parakon. Of course, it rather depends upon your definition of paradise. Are you ready, Brigadier?

BRIGADIER: Ready Doctor.

DOCTOR: Then here goes.

FX: (TARDIS doors opening)


FX: (thunder)

JEREMY: I can't see much.

DOCTOR: Get down!


FX: (loud explosion)

DOCTOR: Everybody alright?

FX: (explosion)

JEREMY: I'm not alright, I'm full of mud!

BRIGADIER: Paradise, Doctor?

SOLDIER: (in throaty, growling voice) Keep your heads down! You will get killed! Who are you? What are you doing here?

DOCTOR: Is this Parakon?


DOCTOR: This planet? What's its name?

SOLDIER: Just landed, have you? No this isn't Parakon, may the Great Spirit cast it into the everlasting pit of serpents! This is Blestinu!

BRIGADIER: What did he say?

DOCTOR: This isn't paradise, Brigadier. It isn't even Parakon. The TARDIS has brought us to the wrong place!

FX: (explosion)

The Doctor

Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart

Sarah Jane Smith



Jeremy Fitzoliver

Crestin / Ambulance Man / Man

Kitson / Wilkins / Soldier

Clorinda / Sec. Gen of the U.N.

Professor Mortimer Willow / General Commanding UNIT

Written by

Title Music Composed by

Additonal Music and Title Music Arranged by

Directed by

Transcribed by

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