DOCTOR WHO AND THE TOAST MONSTER

PART THREE

“FIRE” yelled the Pebelon commander.

The Doctor grabbed Nyssa and Tegan by the shoulders and pushed them to the ground with strength that most people never believed he had. Adric, he reasoned, was well versed enough in his own self interests to make his own bid for cover. The first Pebelon laser bolt cut through the air and missed the party by millimetres. It slammed into a display case and showered the cowering travellers with debris. Romeo Challenger merely stood still. He had turned his back on the Pebelon group and they seemingly made no effort to shoot him. He was an easy target and yet he had all but become invisible.

“Take cover” shouted the Doctor. They had crawled behind a table and motioned for Romeo to join them. He refused.

“Don’t be fool” yelled the Doctor, “they’ll show no mercy.”

“My dear Doctor” began Challenger, calmer in tone than he had been at any point during their brief acquaintance, “Pebelons live by a code of honour. I may not know how they come to be here but I know that a Pebelon would rather die than shoot a man in the back.”

As if to prove his point an energy bolt fizzed past him and destroyed a dais.

“You’re mad” exclaimed the Doctor.

“I know the Pebelons a little better than you do – I created them.”

“You created them?” asked the Doctor.

“Yes – and since you’re sharing this moment with me, I must’ve created you as well.”

“I assure you” began the Doctor, unable to believe either the conversation or the circumstances in which it was being conducted, “that I exist.”

“That’s what they all say. You are a product of my subconscious mind projected and given form by my dream rock. It doesn’t normally take me this long to figure it out.” Laser bolts continued to pound the chamber. Scary as they may be, Pebelons were terrible shots. The time travellers and their grubby human colleagues shuffled around what cover remained while Romeo stayed rooted to the spot.

Pebelons are not noted for their patience. Or rather, they are so devoted to duty that they will persist with a task until it is completed while displaying no patience what so ever. This was a paradox that Romeo had never bothered to address – persistence suited some occasions, impatience suited others. One of the Pebelon task force, bored with shooting, began to kick a display cabinet. It contained a complete set of Zygon body armour (the Doctor might have mentioned that Zygons don’t actually wear armour) which, pity the foolish Zygon who might theoretically have worn it, didn’t last long under the Pebelon’s boots.

“ADVANCE” bawled L’unk and the unit stomped towards Romeo.

“For heavens sake man” shouted the Doctor, “take cover”. Romeo stubbornly refused to move.

“I don’t know about you slap monkeys but I’m making a run for it” shouted Smith. He and his comrades raced for the door. The Doctor’s companions didn’t know what to do – follow the Three’s rather sensible plan or stick with the Doctor. Their minds were made up when the Doctor ordered them to follow Smith and he, with Romeo he assured them, would follow. He told them to head for the TARDIS, they’d all be safe there. The Pebelons observed all this commotion with blank faces. They were here to kill Challenger and, since they couldn’t do that for the moment (code of honour blah blah blah) they weren’t sure what to do. The Doctor steeled himself for action. He bounded out from his hiding place, grabbed Challenger by the arm and the two scuttled, crab like, out of the room with swift sideways steps. The stupid warriors were utterly confused and decided to shoot things at random until their heads cleared. Once clear of the room, the escaping humans broke into a sprint, weaving through the corridors towards their rendez vous.

They reached the safety of the Doctor's police box and crashed into the tranquil console room.

"It's smaller on the outside than the inside" said Smith. "Nice one."

"I never thought I'd see anything like this" gasped Romeo. "I've been in many TARDISes before, of course, but the real thing has a..."

“Bouquet?" said the Doctor, gently mocking the incredulous young man.

"Exactly - a bouquet" agreed Romeo.

"The question is" continued Smith, "What are we going to do about the Big Ugly outside?”

"Pebelons are merciless - they'll never give up" explained Romeo. "It all goes back to the sixth commandment of the Warrior Prophet S'link"

"You seem to know an awful lot about Pebelons" noted the Doctor. "A purely academic interest?”

"As I said before Doctor, I created the Pebelons. They were my fantasy monsters."

"Your fantasy monsters?" asked the Doctor.

"I imagined them - over a period of time they developed into the well rounded race you see now. I made up endless background material - ask me anything about Pebelon history and I could answer it."

"Then why are they here and trying to kill us?" demanded Tegan.

"Good question" asked the Doctor. "Somehow either these fictional characters have been brought to life or your supposed imaginations were actually channelling real beings. Either way, they're here and they're determined to destroy us."

“But you don’t exist any more than they do” insisted Romeo.

“Can’t you just accept that we do exist?” asked the Doctor, “it really will make things much easier.”

“Hmm” pondered Challenger. “Perhaps” but his demeanour gave away the fact that he did believe but was too fundamentally frightened to admit it.

"You say you've faced them in your imagination" began Nyssa who, up until now, had remained silent. "How did you defeat them?”

"Do this slapmonkey's day dreams help us?" mocked Smith.

"They might" agreed the Doctor, "If they are creations of his mind and they obey all the rules he created, they should have the same weaknesses."

"Pah!" snorted Smith. "I say we use this ray gun and waste the chimp sniffers."

"Laser guns don't work on Pebelons - they have special armour" explained Romeo.

"Balls" cursed Smith. "If this ray gun doesn't fry them, my name is Gladys Pop of Rose Cottage, Wimbledon. I'd stake my reputation on its assiduity and Euan will be only too happy to prove it." He thrust the gun into his colleague's hand and pushed him towards the door. Euan raced out, let loose half a dozen bolts of thunder, gawped when the Pebelons brushed them aside as if he'd thrown pancakes and continued about their deadly business. He threw himself through the TARDIS door and sulked on the floor.

"On the other hand..." began Smith, his eyes darting about the console room for inspiration, "should that light be flashing?”

"Which light?" asked the Doctor. His attention diverted to the console, Smith sidled round to Tegan and distanced himself from the recent failure.

"You seem like a nice girl - do you want to buy me dinner?”

"Challenger has taken refuge in a box" reported G'onk. "We cannot break through its defences.

"That is not possible" replied L'unk. "Pebelon technology is the finest in the three universes. Bring the sonic destructor."

"We've tried the sonic destructor."

"Then use the laser lance."

"The laser lance does not work."

"Then employ the tachyon disruptor."

"It failed."

"The Vaporiser ?"

"Overheated."

"The Time Evaporator ?"

"No use at all."

"Gyarghhh - we must have a weapon that can breach this box - we are the Pebelons - we are the masters of space."

"F'unk wants to try hitting it with his sword."

"Agreed."

"We should compile a list of known Pebelon weaknesses and start to fight back. Who knows what damage they'll do to this world if left to their own devices" began the Doctor.

"It's all very well you offering an opinion Doctor" began Romeo, "but I think we should leave this to the Proctor - all three of him." He turned to The Three and looked at them with hope in his eyes.

"Obviously there is some merit in what blondie said" conceded Smith. "We could waste them in a variety of novel ways or we could just get the hell out of here and find somewhere sunny."

"I vote we waste them" said Euan.

"Me too" added Stevo.

"Oh how sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have ungrateful ass clowns in one's entourage" cursed Smith. "Ok - you, Jeff" he pointed to Romeo, "what are their weak points ?"

The TARDIS shimmered away leaving a squad of Pebelons swatting at thin air with their sabres.

"Where did it go ?" asked R'unt.

"Challenger has managed to outwit us again - we must find him" ordered L'unk. The squad regrouped and marched behind their leader. Only the previous month, Romeo had decided that Pebelons had excellent sense of smell and could track an enemy from a considerable distance. Which was, I think you'll agree, a shame. L'unk ordered his forces to spread out and search the building - one Pebelon warrior was, he reasoned, more than enough to deal with a bunch of inferior aliens.

The TARDIS team had formulated their plans. The short hop - at which the Doctor still felt obliged to mention his ever improving skill - landed one floor above their previous location and quickly disembarked. The Pebelons, who had only existed for about an hour, couldn't know what was waiting for them.

Tegan and Euan were the first to encounter Pebelonian opposition.

"Number one" Romeo had explained, "Pebelons have a small tusk at the back of their neck. A sharp blow to this point will kill a Pebelon instantly."

They had found a Sontaran space helmet and attached it to a rope. The rope had then been looped round a light fitting and, after extensive swing testing, they were confident they had a weapon fit for the job. They heard the tell tale sound of a Pebelon blasting and smashing his way along a corridor. Tegan squirted a jet of her perfume and the Pebelon picked out the scent immediately. It stomped towards the door, shoved it open and glanced around the apparently empty room. Euan stepped out from their hiding place and diverted the warrior’s attention. He shuffled slowly along as the beast attempted to tell one ugly human face from another. This wriggling creature was not, he decided, the accursed Challenger but he was still unimportant enough to kill. He procrastinated long enough for Euan to have turned him far enough around. The Pebelon raised its blaster, Euan gave Tegan a signal and she let the helmet swing down. It struck the soldier on the back of his head, missing the tusk by a good six inches.

“Rabbits” said Tegan. The blow was enough to stun the Pebelon, however, and Euan pounced. Tegan watched as Euan picked up the helmet and brought it crashing down on the vulnerable tusk. The Pebelon let out a cry of pain as the spike of bone severed his spinal column.

“Number two” Romeo had continued “Pebelons are used to an atmosphere which contains very little oxygen. They can tolerate our air but higher concentrations are fatal.

Adric and Smith were in the deep space wing of Romeo’s museum. Smith rapidly scanned the displays of space suits through the ages (a passion of Romeo’s great uncle) looking for breathing equipment.

“Look over there, girl” ordered Smith.

“I’m not a girl” squealed Adric.

“Balls” replied Smith. “You’re a girl, just not a very pretty one. I need a canister of oxygen.”

“I do know why we’re here” snapped Adric.

“Is it your time of the month?” asked Smith patronisingly.

“Sorry?” queried Adric.

“Apology accepted. Ah ha – that looks promising.” He pulled a small hammer from his pocket and smashed a pane of glass. He took a metal cylinder from the ruined display, opened a valve and took a sniff of the enclosed gas. “Yup – this is the stuff. Right – on to phase two, popsie. Before we start, would you like to go and powder your nose?”

“Stop it” bawled Adric. Smith ignored him – he was malicious for it’s own sake and not for the glory of seeing his victims reactions.

“You sound in need of natural yoghurt” he added.

Pebelon-under-lieutenant F’unk had heard the glass being broken and was rushing (in so far as Pebelons could rush) to find out what was going on. He barged into the deep space wing, his blaster at the ready. Smith and Adric were hiding behind a case on the opposite side to the recent vandalism. Smith placed a hand on the small of Adric’s back, gave him a wink and said “I’ll let you do this – I’m actually a closet feminist”. He pushed Adric into F’unk’s path. The Pebelon looked at the dumpy little boy and flashed its teeth. For a moment it was distracted by the light glinting off the badge for mathematical excellence which was the sole interesting feature of the youth’s countenance. Adric, the words of the plan echoing round his head, turned quickly round. F’unk dribbled with annoyance – this was going too far. He half considered just shooting (who would ever know?) but the code of honour that Romeo had instilled in them overrode his reasoning. While F’unk was wrestling with his conscience, Smith had crept up behind him. The nozzle of the oxygen canister was being aimed like the weapon it had become, a trigger finger upon the release mechanism. He bashed the metal base of the cylinder into F’unk’s back and blasted the jet of pure gas into the turning Pebelon’s face. It staggered, clutching its throat and feeling every fibre of its lungs burn, before sinking to the ground. Smith picked up it’s gun and made sure.

“We don’t make a bad team” said Smith. “Remind me to send you some flowers.”

"Number three" continued Romeo (he was turning it into a lecture) is bright light. Pebelonia is a comparatively dark planet and exposure to very strong light will burn out their brains."

Nyssa and Stevo were in a cupboard.

"We've definitely got the worst of them" grumbled Stevo. "We need lights that are strong enough to melt lizard brains - where are we going to get those? I'm not happy."

"There has to be something we can use" reasoned the always practical Nyssa. "Can I see that guide?” Stevo handed her a folded map of the house. In years gone by the museum had been open to the public and Romeo had thought it helpful to hand them out. Nyssa was looking for something specific but her small sigh let Stevo know she hadn't found it.

"I was hoping for a hydroponics’ facility with some kind of artificial lighting system" she explained.

"Oh right - growing something naughty?" asked Stevo, tapping his nose and utterly failing to get his message across to the straight laced Trakenite. "Could we not just get loads of normal lights and put them together?”

"That wouldn't work I'm afraid" said Nyssa, increasingly aware that she was not being ably assisted by a scientist. Or indeed somebody able.

"Wait" she said excitedly, after a couple of intense minutes of scrutiny. "There's a landing pad on the roof - that should have something useful."

“Tarmac?”

"Lights that can be seen from several...er...’miles’?”

"Yeah"

"Several miles away."

"Then we might as well go to the roof" sighed Stevo. "If all else fails, we could always jump off it."

"This could work" said Nyssa. She had found what looked to Stevo like the spotlight from a prisoner of war camp. "It's for guiding craft down manually" she explained. Stevo was dubious as to whether dazzling the pilots was the best course of action but the cobwebs on the lamp and the stiffness of the controls told him it had not been used for an awfully long time. Nyssa motioned for him to join her behind the light and she eventually flipped the rusted switch. The landing pad and a good portion of the surrounding jungle was bathed in harsh white light.

"It works" said Stevo with almost a flicker of emotion in his voice.

"We should shut all the other lights down to make it as dark as possible - it'll heighten the impact when we switch on. Stevo found a junction box and pulled the cold grey lever, plunging the rooftop into darkness. He could see the twin moons of Scallon and, utterly lacking poetry in his soul, he was completely unmoved by the experience. Nyssa on the other hand gazed upwards and felt her mouth drop open with wonder. No matter how much she travelled through the galaxy, there was no better way of seeing it than a dark night on a new planet.

Her wonderment was disrupted by the pounding arrival of their Pebelonian victims. Not one but two had sought them out. Nyssa said a silent prayer to a god she hadn't believed in since her father's death. Please let them stay together. They would only get one chance at this. Her request was granted as they lumbered along as a pair and got closer and closer to the mark Nyssa had decided was the key point. "Three... two... one..." she muttered before flipping the switch. Nothing.

"Oops" said Stevo. "I might have done something." He sprinted over to the junction box, eliciting a volley of laser fire from the Pebelons. He grasped the handle and flooded the pad with light. He and Nyssa screwed up their eyes while the Pebelons were not so fortunate. One was directly in the beam of the searchlight and fell smoking to the concrete, the other was so disorientated by his sudden lack of eyeballs that he fell from the roof and was never seen again. Nyssa shut the spotlight off and they walked, silently from the roof. There was something about their victory that made celebration the last thing on their minds.

"Number four" droned Romeo, "Pebelons are vulnerable to electrocution since their armour has a design flaw which allows electric current to build up until a fatal level is reached." The Doctor bit his lip again - the universe, in his experience, obeyed certain physical laws and Romeo Challenger didn't seem to be aware of any of them.

The Doctor and Romeo were examining the generator.

"It looks capable of packing a hell of a punch" enthused Romeo.

"I'd hope we can be a little more restrained" said the Doctor.

"Restrained isn't a word to use around Pebelons."

"We'll see. What level of current would we need to stun them?”

"I've no idea - I've never had to stun a Pebelon - it's been death all the way."

"Delightful" sighed the Doctor. He had been trying to find another way, trying to convince himself that Pebelons didn't count as they weren't real, trying to convince himself that cold blooded murder could be dismissed as self defence. He was, you might be interested to learn, failing to convince himself of any of it.

"We need to attach the probes here" Romeo pointed to the middle of his chest, "here" meaning where the human heart would've been, "here" the left side of his neck, "and here" pointing to his temple. These are the weak points of his body armour.

"Two of those points are on the flesh not the armour" noted the Doctor.

"Trust me - I know the Pebelons better than you do."

The Doctor nodded reluctantly. He was feeling very uncomfortable outside his normal role of man-who-knows-everything. Though reluctant to boast (usually), the Doctor really was a fund of useful information whenever one found oneself under attack. But here he was powerless, forced to go along with whatever this tragic individual said. He took his pair of electrodes and waited.

The house was momentarily plunged into semi darkness as the might of the generator pulsed through the body of the Pebelon. The Doctor would later swear the body glowed and the skinny form of an armourless Pebelon was briefly visible. The creature dropped as if its bones had turned to paper and the smell of burnt meat filled the corridor.

“Just like old times” grinned Romeo. The Doctor merely looked pained.

“Number five on the Pebelon bashing list” Romeo’s lecture was becoming more and more animated as he recalled his old adventures, “is heat. Pebelonia is a cold world and extremes of heat can stun or even kill a Pebelon.

“You astonish me” muttered The Doctor. Romeo took it as a compliment.

“Thank you, Doctor” he replied.

“Ok Missy” said Smith, “we need heat and a lot of it.”

“Stop calling me Missy” whined Adric.

“Fancy a trip to the kitchen?”

“Oooh yes” squealed the boy, his appetite being more important to him than his dignity.

“Excellent – pull up your skirts and follow me. Where is the kitchen?”

“I know the way” said Adric.

“Chocolate craving? I almost sympathise.”

The kitchen was, they found, equipped to deal with the coach parties that had once frequented the manor. The ovens were big enough for Adric to fit in (Smith was tempted to shut the door) but not for a Pebelon. Besides, how do you get a Pebelon in an oven?

“I don’t know – how do you get a Pebelon in an oven?” asked Smith, assuming Adric had been attempting a joke. “Take off their hats? Or is that Popes in a Metro?”

“What are you talking about?” snapped the boy. Smith mouthed ‘PMT’ to himself and gave Adric a mockingly sympathetic smile.

“Is that a microwave?” he asked suddenly.

“A what?”

“A microwave oven – ideal for heating meals-for-one,” explained Smith before adding “not that I know about meals-for-one.”

“I can see that” muttered Adric, pointing at Smith’s stomach.

“How rude” said an aghast Smith. “I may have to stop being nice to you, Missy.”

“How will this microwave help us?”

“It’s rather bigger than the ones at home but, like the slower, conventional ovens, tricky to persuade a Pebelon to climb inside. Unless…” Smith made the face of one who has had an idea. “We could put up a sign saying ‘Transmat terminal’ and maybe the Pebelon would climb inside.”

“Really?” asked Adric.

“Of course not – what a ridiculous idea” scoffed Smith. “But at least I’ve found your gullibility threshold. We must have a talk later about this fantastic business opportunity I’ve got for you…”

“Gas jets” shouted Adric.

“It’s not I assure you – it’s absolutely genuine… gas jets? Gas jets needing gas pipes, gas pipes being rife with potential. Well done Missy.”

Three Pebelon soldiers had tracked them down to the kitchen. The door was closed. Excellent – Pebelons liked closed doors. They signified there was something worth having on the other side of them. R’unt kicked a hole in the door. They were met by a strong scent but one they didn’t recognise. Their respiratory systems could, they decided, cope with the unusual aroma and they stomped into the kitchen. They couldn’t see Challenger, they couldn’t see anyone else to kill either. Romeo hadn’t given them enquiring minds (except where fiendish plans were concerned) so they didn’t stop to investigate. A kitchen timer suddenly burst into a shrill of life. The Pebelons swung round and opened fire. The gas filled room boiled its occupants away to nothingness. There hadn’t been time for pain, merely an instantaneous oblivion. The walls of the house had been built when walls were walls – solid things, designed to stand the test of time. The doors however were more fallible. A navel of fire burst past the sheltering Smith and Adric, carrying with it the imagined cries of those who hadn’t been able to cry themselves.

“Anyone for a barbeque?” asked Smith. “What? James Bond did it every time and no one looked at him like that. Bloody favouritism…”

“Number six” persisted Romeo, now accompanying his talk with self explanatory hand gestures, “is decapitation. Pebelons are designed in such a way that the absence of a head will severely reduce their capacity for evil.” His joke failed to get a response. “Anyway, chop their heads off and they won’t bother us.”

“If you can think of a better way, let’s hear it” mumbled Stevo. He was cradling an axe and staring back at the horrified Nyssa.

“We can’t just…” she began, finding herself unable to even say the words.

“Chop it’s fat head off ? I think we could. Well, I could. They’re really only trees with legs – you could chop a tree down couldn’t you ?”

“No.”

“So if you can chop a tree, you can chop a Pebelon.”

“They wear armour – if the cyber gun can’t get through it, what chance has that axe?”

“That Romeo bloke said their armour has another design fault and there is a gap between the helmet and the body armour – just big enough for a manfully swung axe. Boy that guy needs to get out more.”

“Even with that weakness I can’t imagine Pebelons will let you get close enough to swing at their vulnerable inch” she said logically.

“I intend to take advantage of the fact that Pebelons are conveniently unable to get up if they fall over. He should get himself a girlfriend – all this Pebelon stuff isn’t healthy.”

“So we knock them off their feet and then…”

“Chop off their bonces. Yup. Unless you fancy being hunted down and killed by aliens who won’t even remember murdering you a moment after it happens…”

“We could erect a tripwire” she suggested. Stevo sniggered for a moment over the word ‘erect’ before agreeing that it was a good plan.

Two lumbering Pebelons had picked up on Stevo’s scent and felt they must be getting closer. Not that they thought of him as ‘Stevo’ or even as ‘small, depressed human’. He was just ‘vermin’, just as all the others were ‘vermin’. Except Challenger – he was ‘Challenger’. By rights he should’ve been their god but they didn’t know that. They clomped towards the tripwire, oblivious to their fate and, right on cue, toppled forwards like felled oaks. Stevo leapt out and took a swing at the first exposed inch of neck. His axe bounced off the armour. He had a second swipe, again he missed. Strokes three, four and five also missed their target. He began to get a little rattled (as you do).

“It’s harder than you’d think” he protested, his glassed beginning to steam up, further hampering his vision. “It’s golf school all over again.” He placed a foot on the first Pebelon’s helmet as if the squirming of the warrior had been the cause of his misfortune. He brought the blade down and came much closer to chopping his own limb off than killing the alien. The other Pebelon was beginning to work out a plan for getting to his feet (or at least rotate his body so he could shoot people from the floor). Nyssa, sensing danger, picked up the axe that Stevo had told her to use. She swung it into the air and paused for a moment. Killing was killing, was it not ? No, she decided, it wasn’t all the same. She turned the axe and brought the flat head crashing on to the prone Pebelon’s lethal tusk. The shard of bone pierced the Pebelon’s brain like a bullet and he died instantly.

“Hit the tusk” she called the Stevo.

“I’ll get the neck in a minute” he shouted back, slashing away like a maniac. Finally, long after losing count, his axe sliced through Pebelon flesh and the floor became soaked with sticky green blood.

“Reeeeeeesult” he said, punching the air and basking in the applause of an imagined audience. Nyssa preferred to feel quietly sick and try to put the image as far from her mind as she could.

“That’s it I’m afraid” concluded Romeo. “There was some business with space mirrors but it was kind of a one off – special circumstances and all that.”

The Doctor knew that pairing up with Challenger was asking for trouble and the two Pebelons in hot pursuit were proving his hypothesis. Their guns roared with fury as they attempted to disable their prey. Their code of honour allowed them to shoot creatures running from them as long as they didn’t kill them from behind. It was more of a sub-clause in the code than an actual rule but it helped matters enormously in situations like these. Both the Doctor and Romeo were too fond of their legs to let the Pebelons have them. The adrenaline inspired them to run faster and faster while the Pebelons plodded at a surprising speed some distance behind them.

“We must lay a trap” gasped Romeo.

“No time” said the Doctor. “Where are we?”

“We’re almost back at the main hall” came the reply.

“Head for there – my rule of thumb is that the more junk you have to hand, the more likely you are to find something useful.”

“My collection is not junk and I resent… this really isn’t the time for this is it?”

They burst into the hall and sought out a place to stop and think. They were, however, interrupted by L’unk.

“I knew you would return here” he bellowed. “And now you will die.”

“Wait” called the Doctor, even more breathless than normal, “you do realise that this man created you?”

“That is not true” boomed L’unk.

“I’m afraid it is – you were figments of his imagination before a crystalline parasite gave you life.”

“Pebelons were born from the lustful passion between the gods of thunder and wine” raged L’unk. “Everyone knows that.”

“You wouldn’t exist were it not for that rock.” The Doctor pointed to the dream rock, sitting in perfect blackness on its dais. L’unk gave it a derisory glance.

“Pah” he snorted. He moved over to the stand and picked up the rock. For a moment he clutched it contemptuously, then his mind began to crumble. The parts of the Pebelon brain which could think and create and, yes, imagine had lain dormant until this moment. L’unk clutched his head in pure terror as images and concepts filled his mind for the first time. The Doctor grabbed Romeo (who had decided to try the turning-his-back trick once more) and pulled him behind a bench. The two pursuing Pebelons crashed into the hall and, seeing L’unk, they made the crude Pebelon gesture of salute. L’unk, however, didn’t see two Pebelons, he saw two Romeo Challengers. He blasted away with his gun and the last of his armed platoon were dead. L’unk wasn’t done yet – he saw Romeo Challenger everywhere, in mannequins, in suits of armour, in shadows, in his own reflection and eventually in himself. He shot a big enough hole in his head that it was almost impossible to believe a head had ever been there. The Pebelons were dead.

“And all this was your fault?” said Smith, burning a hole in Romeo with his furious gaze.

“Well, in some ways, possibly…” stammered Challenger.

“Then I see only one way to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Smith punched Romeo in the face and he dropped in an unconscious heap.

“Was that really necessary?” asked the Doctor.

“If he isn’t awake, he can’t use that dangerous imagination of his” reasoned Smith. Nyssa tried to make the slumbering Romeo comfortable while the Doctor and Smith debated their next course of action.

The Doctor cautiously approached the dream rock.

“We have to find some way to neutralise it” he explained.

“I’m sure I could make a packet selling it to the Vin Man” said Smith. “He’s always on the look out for a new hit.”

“I hardly think that Earth is the best place for a mental parasite. Trust me – I’ve been there, done that.”

“We could smash it” suggested Euan. “Let me do it – let me smash it into little pieces and then stamp on them over and over again. Maybe try swallowing a couple and letting them disolve in my stomach. And using my acid collection to melt some other bits and…”

“Quite” interrupted the Doctor. “But breaking it up won’t stop it – it’ll just create more dream rocks.”

“You dumb clitoris” scoffed Smith. “Fancy not knowing that. Personally I think we should give it to me and let me play with it. You’d enjoy my subconscious – it’s like utopia but with broadband.”

“I’m sure we would” said an unsure Doctor.

They were disturbed by something dropping from the ceiling. It was a toaster.

“How odd” noted Stevo. A second toaster dropped, like the first it landed perfectly. More toasters fell, landing in what was building up to be a circle. The air became tinged with the smell of burning bread.

“What the f…” began Smith.

“I have a horrible feeling that the dream rock is still active” warned the Doctor.

“But he’s not awake” reminded Smith.

“No – he’s asleep. Asleep and dreaming…” pondered the Doctor. He jolted with surprise as toast began popping out of the circle of toasters. The first pieces began shooting into the air like fireworks. Unlike fireworks they didn’t come down again. They hung in space, forming an enormous shape.

“Dreaming… or having a nightmare” said the worried Time Lord.

“It’s a man” gasped Nyssa as the toast’s shape began to become recognisable. It stood twenty feet high and was, now without a shadow of a doubt, humanoid.

“You fool – by knocking him out you’ve made it worse – far worse” sighed the Doctor.

The monster stretched its newly grown limbs.

“What is it?” cried Adric.

Romeo thrashed around in his sleep.

“I AM THE TOAST MONSTER” bellowed the creature…