Doctor Who: Delta and the Bannermen Read Online Free Page A

stream strewn with mossy rocks and shaded with trees. Perched on the edge of a large rock, Weismuller was trying to operate a heavy-valve radio set, which was connected to the Morris’s battery.
    Balancing it precariously on his knees, he clamped the Bakelite earphones to his head as he tried in vain to pick up a signal from the invisible satellite. Hawk was up a tree, trying to locate the aerial wire as high as possible. Three curious sheep watched these strange proceedings, their dull faces turned towards the odd couple.
    ‘That better? You hear anything yet?’ shouted Hawk irritably, his shins already skinned from the rough tree-trunk.
    All I get is ‘Housewives’ Choice’. I can’t even find any doo-wop,’ said Weismuller glumly. ‘Here, you try...’
    He took off the headphones and offered them up. Hawk slowly climbed out of the tree, awkwardly feeling every step of the way. Weismuller was irritated by Hawk’s painful progress, and snatching up the brass telescope he extended it skywards. ‘It’s hopeless, Hawk. It could be anywhere...’ said Weismuller gloomily.
    High above them on the fringes of the stratosphere, an American rocket boosted its crude artificial satellite into a higher orbit, while the glowing metal fuselage dropped back into the ocean.
    In another part of the galaxy, Murray was trying to get the bus passengers into a holiday mood. ‘Come on all of you.
    SING!’ he shouted.
    Mel, who was sitting beside Delta, joined in with the chorus, but out of the corner of her eye she was watching the beautiful, sad woman seated beside her. Someone else had noticed her too. Lurking behind wraparound black sunglasses was Keillor, a bounty hunter, his scarred cadaverous face revealing nothing as he stared at Delta.
    Keillor was a highly experienced professional and sensed immediately that Delta was no ordinary tourist.
    He had intended a week away from the stress of
    ‘freelance soldiering’ as he called it, but his mind was already working overtime on all the possibilities of the case. If something was going on he had no intention of missing out on it. He thought perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone, that is, earn some currency and have a holiday at the same time.
    Earth appeared through the panoramic windscreen. The satellite, accelerating at thousands of miles per hour, was rushing straight towards them.
    The singing had died down and Mel leant forward to have a chat with Murray. ‘Do you often do the 50s run?’
    she asked.
    Murray’s face lit up. ‘Uh-huh. I love that sort of thing –
    the music, the haircuts, the baggy suits.’
    Mel nodded in agreement. ‘The music’s the thing that attracts me,’ she said. She turned to Delta with a smile,
    ‘Where are you from?’ she asked.
    Murray watched them through the mirror, straining to hear their conversation. ‘You’re not a late arrival for the Navarino party, are you?’ he asked.
    Delta looked him straight in the eye. ‘No,’ she said, lifting her chin defiantly, ‘I am a Chimeron.’
    Keillor, a few seats away, made a note in a small black book. Just then there was a spine-jarring CRASH! as the satellite tore into the front of the bus, sending it into a corkscrew dive, hurtling towards Earth’s surface.
    Passengers screamed and clung to one another in terror as Murray fought with the controls to try and bring the damaged craft around. Luggage ripped free of the racks and crashed down onto the hapless tourists. Food and drink filled the aisle.
     

Chapter Seven
    Hawk and Weismuller, after several fruitless hours trying to pluck signals from the ether, had returned to the hillside phonebox. Weismuller, reluctant to admit failure, was still scanning the skies with his brass telescope.
    ‘Forget it, Weismuller. Without any co-ordinates we’re shooting in the dark.’
    ‘Well,’ said his partner huffily, ‘it’s not going to be me who makes that call. No sir! I wanna skedaddle out of this place. You know it’s been so