Chapter Six

The Doctor grabbed a handful of his hair and stared at the screen. 'Martian spacedrives are notoriously slow. I don't understand how they have got here so quickly.'

Alexander Christian rubbed his chin. 'It's simple old chap. The radar signal was jammed. It's been on its way here all this time and no-one down here was any the wiser.'

The Doctor pressed his face up to the video wall, calculating trajectories and velocities. 'Yes, of course. Don't you see, Brigadier? It means that this has been planned: the Martians launched their revenge ship a day and a half before the astronauts even set foot on Mars.'

'Skywatch confirms UFO on heading for Northern hemisphere.'

'But how did the Martians know that the Lander was heading their way?'

'They must have picked up the transmissions from Mars 97,' Bernice suggested.

The Doctor whirled to face the video screens, a little concerned. They were all missing something obvious. A cylindrical object on radar; faked radio signals; no telemetry from the Lander. He turned back to the group.

Captain Ford's former scepticism had evaporated. He was also staring at the screen, unable to take his eyes from it. 'So how long have we got?'

The Doctor glanced up at the screen. 'Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.'

Bambera snatched up the phone. 'We'll need a global state of emergency. Captain Ford, contact the Secretary-General and the Prime Minister. Tell them "Cromwell". Tell them "Ultimate".'

Back in the Second World War, 'Cromwell' had been the codeword for the German invasion of Britain. An invasion that had never come. 'Ultimate' must be some sort of codeword stressing the urgency of the situation.

'The PM's in Washington. We'll need the Home Secretary.'

'Whatever,' she snapped.

'Skywatch confirms UFO on heading for Western Europe.'

'Brigadier - it's New York for you.'

'That was quick.'