Part 3 (2/2)

He pointed to one side of the screen. Cutler, caught by the urgent tone of the Doctor's voice, also turned round to examine the screen.

'Land ma.s.ses. I don't see any... Oh yeh, I see what you mean!'

The image of the strange planet was now fairly clear on the larger screen. Much of it was covered in white cloud ma.s.ses, but they could make out the outline of a long triangle with slightly curved edges.

'Does that remind you of anything?' asked the Doctor.

Cutler shrugged his shoulders. 'No, I don't reckon so.

Unnoticed by the others, the Sergeant, followed by Polly and Ben, had come up behind the Doctor.

It was Ben who spoke. 'Hey, it looks familiar, don't it?'

'Yes!' Polly moved a bit closer to the screen. 'Ben, look. That bit, surely that's...

South America!'

'Yeah! And look-the other side. Doesn't that look like... Africa!'

'There is a marked similarity,' said Barclay slowly.

'Nonsense!' exclaimed Cutler. 'How could it be?' For answer, Barclay pointed to the top of the map.

'Look. Surely that's Arabia, India...'

The General nodded reluctantly. 'Well, O.K. I must be some reflection of Earth.'

'No.' The scientist was thinking aloud. 'It can't be that. There's nothing to reflect on.'

Behind him, the Doctor, a slightly self-satisfied expression on his face, had drawn himself up to his full height. 'Now,' he said, 'my dear sir, I suggest you look at that piece of paper I gave you.'

'Paper? Oh yes!' Barclay fumbled in his pocket and brought it out. His eyes opened wide with amazement as he read it. 'You knew?'

The Doctor nodded a little smugly. 'Certainly.'

'What did he know?' rapped Cutler.

Barclay held out the paper to the General. 'He has correctly written down what we have just seen and...' He looked at the Doctor in amazement. '... he did it before we saw it!'

Cutler looked down suspiciously at the piece of paper in his hand. 'Some kind of con trick, that's all.'

But Ben noticed that from now on he seemed to treat the Doctor with a wary respect.

Barclay shook his head. 'No, no, I remember when he gave me the bit of paper.' He turned back to the Doctor. 'You really know a great deal about this situation. Can you be more explicit?'

The Doctor nodded and grasped the lapels of his cloak. He looked a little like a school teacher addressing a cla.s.s. 'Yes, I'm sorry to say that I can. Millions of years ago Earth had a twin planet called Mondas...'

'Get lost! We've no time to listen to this...' Cutler turned away in disgust and called to the technician manning the communications console. 'Get me Geneva on the radio link.'

He turned back to Barclay. 'We'll see what Secretary Wiener has to say about this.' He strode over to the communications console, Barclay following him.

Polly turned angrily to the Doctor. 'How can he be so rude to you? What's the matter, Doctor? You're looking terribly worried.'

'Really? Yes, I suppose you could say I'm a little worried.'

'Tell us then, Doctor. What's happening?' pleaded Ben.

'You see, Ben know what this planet is and what it means to Earth.'

'Means to Earth!' echoed Ben. 'How can it affect us?'

The Doctor gazed up at the ceiling. His companions noticed that his cheek was twitching in agitation. He spoke slowly and deliberately : 'Before very long, I'm afraid we must expect... visitors!'

'Visitors? Out here at the South Pole? Come off it, Doctor! Who do you think's going to bring them? Santa Claus on his sledge?'

But the Doctor didn't appear to have heard Ben. He was watching Cutler, who was speaking into the console. 'Quiet boy, quiet.'

Cutler's loud voice echoed through the tracking room. 'Is that I.S.C. Geneva? Put me through to the Secretary-General. Yes, that's right.'

The Doctor turned to the Sergeant who was standing behind them. 'May I ask who that is?'

'Gee!' The Sergeant seemed genuinely surprised. 'You really are out of touch, aren't you? That's Secretary-General of International s.p.a.ce Command: Robert Wigner!'

Secretary Wigner, supreme commander of the International s.p.a.ce Command, was seated at his desk in the Geneva headquarters. A compact, dark-haired man of about forty, his round, slightly pudgy face gave no indication of his formidable character. He was respected throughout the world as an extremely efficient-even ruthless-administrator, with an enormous intelligence.

The large, circular crest of International s.p.a.ce Command-a globe with an outstreched hand holding a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p pointing towards the stars-dominated the wall behind him.

Wigner spoke into one of his many radiophones. 'This is very hard to believe, General. Are you quite sure?'

Cutler's voice came through on the suspended loudspeaker system. 'There's no doubt at all.'

Wigner thought for a moment and then nodded. 'Very well. Just a moment please.'

He turned to one of his aides.

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