'I know that Hakolian technology is entirely reliant on the mental energy of the slave creatures,' said the Doctor, deep in thought. 'That much was obvious from Little Hodcombe. But if their slaves become sterile, then each conquered planet will in time die...'
'When the Malus malfunctioned - when normal linkage was impossible - my orders were revised.'
'You already had a cure for infertility, but it was localised,'
suggested the Doctor. 'Your ambitions were far wider. You wanted to use human technology to find a complete complete cure.' cure.'
'When the people of Hakol conquer the Earth, the humans will provide all the energy they will ever need. The Hakolians will remain here for ever. They have no need for other worlds.'
'Rubbish!' The Doctor turned to face Hatch, his eyes blazing. 'They only know how to invade, how to destroy. Even the Terileptils turned against the Hakolians, aghast at their continual butchery!'
The Doctor stared deep into the man's eyes, searching for traces of Hatch, but saw only the alien terror of Jack i' the Green.
Steven Chen put a comforting arm around Joanna Matson's shoulders. Joanna dropped her head on to his shoulder, as a baby sister might as a thunder storm passed by. The constant hammering of the scarecrows on the trapdoor overhead sounded like an industrial machine.
A small split appeared in the wood, sending a spear of light into the darkness. Mr Chen said something to comfort his wife, but the words were drowned by the beating fists.
'The hatch is very strong,' said Steven, in as upbeat a voice as he could muster. 'Has to be. We walk over it all the time.'
All the same, he gripped the cleaver in his hand more tightly.
Joanna mumbled something into his jumper.
'Sorry?'
Joanna looked up. 'How about cracking open a bottle of plonk? I'd prefer to face death drunk.'
Steven shook his head, a movement redundant in the gloom. 'Don't give up.' He hugged her tightly. 'How did you know that wasn't really Baber at the door?'
'Baber's an old stickler.' She paused, an eternity in the unquiet darkness. 'Or was, rather. Apparently it's incorrect to call someone the Reverend Something. He called it a "vulgar Americanism" once. He was either Mr Baber, or the Reverend Thomas Baber. Never just Reverend Baber.' She laughed, a fragile, liquid sound. 'That creature gave itself away. Or maybe it was what was left of Baber.' Steven was about to speak when Joanna's voice cut through him like a knife.
'Christ, Steven, do you think we'll end up like that?'
As she pulled herself through the window and started shinning down the drainpipe at the rear of the restaurant, Ace suddenly remembered a holiday to an Outdoor Pursuits centre in Dawlish. She had been thirteen, and was grateful to be away from school. Each night the girls would climb down from their first-floor dormitory, after lights-out, and go into town. There was one particular pub where the barman clearly didn't give a stuff about serving underage hooligans. Most of the other girls chickened out after the first night, but for Ace, and Gillian Sweeney and Julie Smart, it was a regular dare.
Ace dropped the last six feet to the ground, grateful to be away from the Baber creature, and turned to find herself facing three statuesque scarecrows.
'Oh great,' she muttered, flattening herself against the restaurant wall.
Ace looked left and right. The scarecrows stood between her and the road. 'Great,' she repeated, taking a step towards the nearest manikin and holding the kitchen carving knife in front of her. 'Come on, then,' she shouted. 'I haven't done in anyone's knees for months.'
The nearest scarecrow inclined its head slightly to one side.
Then a straw hand shot out, and grabbed Ace by the neck.
Its two companions moved closer.
Suddenly Rebecca Baber and a man Ace did not recognise ran from the trees behind the restaurant, waving their arms and brandishing home-made torches. As the pressure on Ace's throat decreased she could see the reflection of the flames in the eyes of the scarecrow. And something else.
Terror.
'Get them,' Ace managed to croak as the man closed in on the scarecrow holding her. He thrust the torch forward and, as the creature tried to back away, it released its grip. As she fell, Ace grabbed on to the scarecrow's stick legs, pulling with as much strength as she could.
The scarecrow crashed down on top of Ace, winding her.
'Get clear!' Rebecca shouted.
Ace rolled away, kicking at the scarecrow despite the pain and the shock. She glanced back and saw a torch being applied to the creature as it made a desperate attempt to stand. The fire bit into it immediately, and it collapsed backward, burning like a tinderbox. As the flames spiralled upward Ace looked for its two comrades, but they were nowhere to be seen.
Ace went to stand, wobbled, fell, then tried again. 'What kept you?' she asked no one in particular, then pointed a finger towards Rebecca. 'Whose side are you on?' she said menacingly.
'Not those things,' replied Rebecca, giving the still-burning scarecrow corpse a disgusted glance.
'Fine,' said Ace, her hands on her knees as she remained bent double, trying to forget the sickly pain at the pit of her stomach. 'Who's your friend?'
'This is Trevor,' said Rebecca.
The man was walking towards the hedgerow, torch held high above his head. 'Nothing here,' he called. 'I'll see if I can give Denman a hand out front. You sure you'll be OK?'
'I'll be fine,' said Rebecca. She gestured towards the restaurant. 'Who's in there?'
'The Chens and Joanna Matson,' replied Ace. 'They're in the cellar.'
'Then let's go and see if they need rescuing.'
The Doctor watched as the landscape around him blurred in a rush of images. He saw children at Hexen Bridge school, being taught harsh lessons in the way of life in the village. He saw the appointed elders, in masks and cloaks, dragging troublemakers away for conversion. Impassive scarecrows stood guard, and as the Doctor watched, decades wheeled past. He saw Jack itself, a bloated, shapeless creature of darkness, tunnelling through the very earth under Hexen Bridge, swelling and growing with every sacrifice, with every punished misdeed.
'Being a human is hard enough,' said the Doctor. 'The burdens you have pressed down on the shoulders of these people are unbearable!'
Hatch laughed - and this time the laugh was very like the politician's own. 'I sort the wheat from the chaff, if you'll pardon the pun.'
The Doctor watched the colour bleed from the shadows around them. 'Tell me,' he said, 'why do do you need Hatch's body? Aren't the tentacles good enough?' you need Hatch's body? Aren't the tentacles good enough?'
'Do not provoke me,' said Hatch, bunching his fists, as if to strike.
'Temper.' The Doctor tutted. 'I'd hate to see centuries of patient planning ruined in a day.'
Hatch paused. 'You need know only that I am the plague carrier. Where I go, madness will follow.'
'Ah, I see,' said the Doctor, leaning on his umbrella. He was sure he hadn't carried it into the mirror with him, but it seemed that Jack's splintered psyche had provided it anyway. 'You will carry the dark side of the taint: the instinct to murder, to brutalise, to destroy...'
'My mere touch will bring insanity and death.'
'Which Jerak will feed on?'
'Do I not deserve the richest pickings?' said Hatch. 'I can feast on anyone I wish. But countless humans, riddled by the taint - and yet not rendered sterile by it...? A mere meal becomes a banquet!'
'And you've "seeded" Liverpool in order to release psychic energy and destruction.'
Hatch nodded. 'We have liberated true humanity - the evil essence of the people of this planet.'
'Yes, you see, that's quite a problem, isn't it?' said the Doctor. 'The people of Hakol rely upon fear and terror - and these things are most naturally found in primitive, superstitious societies. They have always been limited as to what planets they can invade.'
'Now the people of Hakol can unleash primitive terror in any race, anywhere in the galaxy.'
'You've changed your tune,' observed the Doctor. 'Now, you've been very good, telling me what's going on like this.
But I suppose our cosy tete-a-tete must come to an end.'
'Indeed it must. I will consume you, Doctor. You have entered my domain of your own free will. No one ever leaves.'
'If you say so,' said the Doctor with a cautious smile.
Steven had become so used to the sound of the scarecrows pounding on the trapdoor that he did not immediately realise that the noise had stopped. He turned to Joanna, huddled at his side. 'Do you think...?' he began.
There were moans and cries from the kitchen above them, and then the sound of something heavy being overturned.
Steven's parents held each other in the semidarkness.
Someone hammered on the wooden hatch. 'Oi!' came a familiar voice. 'You lot OK down there?'
'Ace?' asked Steven.
'Yeah. Open up.'
'Prove it!' shouted Joanna, her voice ringing in the enclosed space of the cellar.
What?'
'Prove it,' she continued.
Steven got to his feet, staring upward at the trapdoor. 'It could be another trick.'
'Oh, don't be such a plonker.' The voice from the kitchen sounded genuinely exasperated. 'What do you want me to do? List Charlton's greatest triumphs, 1975 to date?' A pause. 'Well, that that shouldn't take very long...' shouldn't take very long...'
Steven climbed the stairs to the hatch, and pulled back the bolts.
Blinking in the bright light of the kitchen, he could just make out a hand reaching out for him.
And beyond that was Ace, smiling. 'Come on,' she said, helping him out.
Rebecca stood behind Ace, eyeing the room nervously.
'Don't mention Rebecca's father,' Ace whispered. Steven gave her an ominous look, then turned to help his parents and Joanna from the cellar.
'It was hell in there,' he said after a moment. 'We could hear banging and shouting...'
'Sounds like my local Chinese restaurant every Saturday night,' said Ace quickly. 'Let's have a look outside.'
They walked to the side door. The village was eerily quiet, the screaming from the green seeming to have stopped. 'Can't see any scarecrows,' said Ace.
Two men walked down the lane towards the restaurant, carrying sputtering torches despite the brightness of mid-morning. The larger, bearded figure Steven recognised as Chief Constable Ian Denman; from Rebecca's reaction, the other, younger man could only have been her infamous childhood sweetheart.
'We've seen them off,' said Denman briskly as he made his way into the kitchen.
Ace raised her eyes heavenward. 'And they won't be coming back, right?'
'Well...' began Denman.
'Cobblers, matey,' said Ace. 'They're evil, and they'll be back. Haven't you read any H.P. Lovecraft?'
'And you have?' asked Trevor.