BY: ROBERT HOLMES
Part One
Original Air Date: 23 December 1978
Running time: 23:16
FENNER: Thawn, I saw your landing. How did things go on Delta Magna?
THAWN: Oh, fine, but after a few months here you notice how crowded it's becoming.
FENNER: Want a drink?
THAWN: Out. Er, yes, please.
THAWN: Harg! Your Lytteker micros.
HARG: Oh, thank you, sir.
THAWN: Five hundred of them. I got you the complete library.
HARG: Magnificent. How much do I owe you?
THAWN: Oh, don't worry about that.
DUGEEN: Oh.
THAWN: What's the matter with you.
FENNER: I didn't offer him a drink.
DUGEEN: I'm getting an echo track on here.
FENNER: Well, try it again.
DUGEEN: I've tried it, I've tried it. Look. Look at this.
DUGEEN: Now look, that's Thawn's track. He's about twelve miles out there, coming in now. This is where the other track starts to show, do you see?
HARG: Yes.
THAWN: What do you think it is?
DUGEEN: Well, I think you were followed down, sir, by somebody using your track as a cover.
HARG: Who would dare?
FENNER: And it's definitely another ship?
DUGEEN: Yeah.
THAWN: Where has it landed?
DUGEEN: Oh, out in the swamp somewhere.
FENNER: They split off at the last second.
DUGEEN: You see, the scanners were only set to check your approach to the pad. Any secondary plotting would have been irrelevant.
HARG: But who would risk it? There's nothing out there but a wasteland.
THAWN: Gentlemen, there is a rumour on Delta Magna that the Sons of Earth are planning to arm the Swampies.
FENNER: There are times I could well do without those Sons of Earth.
HARG: Oh, but surely nobody would give arms to those savages?
THAWN: Those savages, Harg, are getting a lot of sentimental support. The Company is putting a lot of effort into making a more balanced picture, but you've got to remember that most people on Delta Magna have never even seen a Swampie.
HARG: Oh, but even so, sir, it's un
FENNER: If these Swampies were given weapons that could well lead to them attacking the refinery.
THAWN: It could well lead to that.
DUGEEN: The Sons of Earth wouldn't be likely to arm the Swampies. They've always condemned v*olence.
FENNER: I don't know. There was a report a couple of days ago in the routine daily circular that Rohm-Dutt's ship had vanished from Elvedon Port and all stations have been told to watch out for him.
HARG: Rohm-Dutt? He is involved in gun-running, isn't he.
FENNER: Yes, he is involved in gun-running.
DUGEEN: Do you think that's his ship out there?
FENNER: I don't know, but whoever it is, if he's making for the settlement, he's got to cross the swamps.
THAWN: In which case, he may never reach the settlement.
THAWN: Those swamps can be awfully dangerous. Fenner!
ROMANA: Was it absolutely necessary to land in a quagmire?
DOCTOR: Well I told you it was a bit swampy. It's not the TARDIS' fault, anyway. These marshes go on for miles. A little water doesn't hurt.
ROMANA: Try telling that to K9. He's marooned.
DOCTOR: Yes, well, we won't be here long enough to need K9. Come on.
DOCTOR: Gravity check. Escape velocity about one point five miles a second.
ROMANA: Really? Isn't that a little low for a planet?
DOCTOR: Yes. This must be one of the moons of Delta Magna.
DOCTOR: I'd say the third.
ROMANA: Doctor? Sometimes I don't think you're quite right in the head.
DOCTOR: Never mind about that. Just point the tracer and see where we go next.
ROMANA: Oh, it's not a very clear reading. It's a very diffuse signal. It seems to cover about forty two and a half degrees in that direction.
DOCTOR: Forty two and a half degrees?
ROMANA: Hmm. I don't like the sound of that.
DOCTOR: No.
ROMANA: It either means the source is right on top of us, which it isn't.
DOCTOR: Yeah, or else the tracer's developed a fault.
ROMANA: Yes, well, perhaps the atmosphere here's affecting it. I know, I'll try the higher ground here.
DOCTOR: Yes, why don't you try the higher ground there.
FENNER: What's this Rohm-Dutt look like?
THAWN: Bit of a hard case. Dresses the part. Wide-brimmed hat, bandolier. We can't miss him.
FENNER: I don't intend to.
DOCTOR: Romana? Romana?
THAWN: There he is.
THAWN: I think you've hit him.
ROHM-DUTT: Just the one sh*t.
VARLIK: We're near the refinery here. Perhaps one of the dryfoots is out hunting.
ROHM-DUTT: What, that lot? They're technicians, Varlik. Technicians don't hunt. They can't use their computers. Come on, now. Come, we must hurry.
FENNER: So much for Rohm-Dutt. I never did like g*n runners.
THAWN: That's enough. That's not Rohm-Dutt.
FENNER: What do you mean, it isn't Rohm-Dutt? You told me. His hat and everything.
THAWN: I tell you it is not Rohm-Dutt. You've sh*t the wrong man.
DOCTOR: Not quite. You sh*t the wrong man's hat, though. Fancy taking me for Rohm-Dutt.
FENNER: Who are you, then. Go on, tell us. What are you doing here?
DOCTOR: Well, a sort of survey. I've lost my friend.
FENNER: Who sent you?
DOCTOR: Something must have happened to her. Look at the way those reeds are crushed.
THAWN: The Swampies must have got her.
DOCTOR: Swampies? Are they the local tribes here?
FENNER: Yes. They've never come so near the refinery before. They're getting bolder, aren't they.
THAWN: If they jump us here, we don't stand a chance.
DOCTOR: Listen, how do I get in touch with these Swampies?
FENNER: What's that?
THAWN: You're coming with us.
DOCTOR: No, no, no, no. I'm looking for my friend. You see, she's important to me.
THAWN: I insist. There are a lot of very important questions yet to be answered.
DOCTOR: Fine. Shush. Will there be strawberry jam for tea?
ROHM-DUTT: You know, there's a thing called a drill fly in these swamps. Lays its eggs in your feet. A week later, you get holes in your head.
ROMANA: How long am I going to be tied up here?
ROHM-DUTT: Well, that depends.
ROMANA: On what?
ROHM-DUTT: On whether you cooperate. If you don't, you'll rot there. Won't take long in this climate.
ROMANA: And that doesn't bother you?
ROHM-DUTT: Young woman, I'm indifferent.
ROMANA: Emotional insulation is usually indicative of psychofugal trauma.
ROHM-DUTT: I didn't know that.
ROHM-DUTT: Ah, I've never known such a place for rainstorms. That's why it's so wet.
ROMANA: How do I cooperate?
ROHM-DUTT: Are you with the refinery?
ROMANA: What refinery?
ROHM-DUTT: Ah. Good.
ROMANA: What's good?
ROHM-DUTT: I thought you'd lie. I happen to know they don't employ women there.
ROMANA: Look, I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't heard of any refinery or
ROHM-DUTT: Now, there's no need to get excited. There's plenty of time to dig out the truth.
ROMANA: I am telling you the truth. Who do you think I am?
ROHM-DUTT: Did they send you here alone?
ROMANA: Nobody sent me.
ROHM-DUTT: How many are with you?
ROMANA: Just the Doctor.
ROHM-DUTT: The Doctor? And where is he?
ROMANA: Looking for me, I expect.
ROHM-DUTT: What were you doing in the swamp?
ROMANA: Catching butterflies.
ROHM-DUTT: Oh, I like a joke.
ROMANA: I'll try and think of one.
ROHM-DUTT: What were you doing in the swamp?
ROMANA: Look, you'd be none the wiser if I did tell you.
ROHM-DUTT: What were you doing in the swamp?
HARG: Oh, good. You got him.
THAWN: This isn't Rohm-Dutt.
HARG: What?
FENNER: We don't know who it is. We found him in the prohibited area.
DOCTOR: You should put up the usual notices. Trespassers will be sh*t. Who is Rohm-Dutt?
FENNER: He's a gun-runner. Don't you know him?
DOCTOR: No, I'm new here.
THAWN: What were you doing out there?
DOCTOR: I told you, looking for my friend.
THAWN: Well, looking for a friend in a prohibited area a hundred yards from a classified project could lead you into a lot of trouble.
DOCTOR: What classified project?
FENNER: You're in the middle of it.
DOCTOR: What, this? A methane catalysing refinery, classified?
THAWN: So you admit that you know what it is?
DOCTOR: What? Well, of course I know what it is. I've seen hundreds of them.
HARG: He's crazy.
FENNER: This is a pilot plant, the first ever built.
DOCTOR: You Earth colonists are always so insular. If you'd been to Binaca-Ananda, you'd see one in every town.
THAWN: Get up! Are you claiming that you're from outside this constellation?
DOCTOR: Yes.
THAWN: And how did you get here?
DOCTOR: I have my own transport.
HARG: He is crazy.
DOCTOR: Will you stop saying that? What gives him an insight into my mental processes?
THAWN: All right, expert, what's that?
DOCTOR: That's an air vent.
THAWN: Not that, that!
DOCTOR: It's a funicular gas separator.
THAWN: And that?
DOCTOR: Well, it looks to me like a primitive enzyme recycler, with an injection circuit feeding the bacterium bioplast. I imagine that the raw protein is centrifuged before being freeze-dried and compressed for packaging. I think you'd find it more efficient if you inserted a plasmin catalyst ahead of the bioplast circuit.
THAWN: A plasmin catalyst?
DOCTOR: Yeah, why not?
HARG: But that's brilliant!
FENNER: Oh, yes, that's brilliant.
THAWN: Yes.
DOCTOR: Am I free to go now?
THAWN: No.
DOCTOR: Oh.
THAWN: What were you doing out there?
DOCTOR: Right. A sort of mineralogical survey. Look, I've got to go and find my friend.
FENNER: I wouldn't. You see, if the Swampies have taken him to their settlement, then you'll never reach him, because those swamps are bottomless and only the Swampies know the paths.
THAWN: And you'll get a spear in your back. They've k*lled two of my men already.
DUGEEN (OOV.): Attention. Orbit sh*t in ten minutes.
DOCTOR: Orbit sh*t?
THAWN: Right, we'll watch it from the control centre. You come with us.
ROHM-DUTT: Sixty calibre gas-operated Stelsons.
RANQUIN: They are old.
ROHM-DUTT: Old? No, they need cleaning. Some of these g*ns have never been out of their crates. They're in perfect working order.
SKART: Where are the magazines?
ROHM-DUTT: In there. Two for each g*n.
SKART: And spare amm*nit*on?
ROHM-DUTT: You have eighty magazines with fifty rounds in each. Is there an army at the refinery?
RANQUIN: You are my brother, and with these weapons we will drive the dryfoots from our waters.
ROHM-DUTT: That's why the Sons of Earth sent them. Oh now, Chief, Chief, Chief, if you'd be kind enough to put your signature on this?
SKART: Signature? What is this signature?
ROHM-DUTT: Well, make your mark or anything you like. Put your seal on it.
RANQUIN: The mark of Kroll is sacred to my people.
ROHM-DUTT: Oh. Oh, that will do very nicely. It's just to say that I've made the delivery.
SKART: We do not understand your dryfoot ways.
ROHM-DUTT: I have to show them the paper back on Delta Magna.
RANQUIN: Ah, I see, my brother. The Sons of Earth do not trust you, is that it?
ROHM-DUTT: Well, it is business, Chief, you know.
RANQUIN: Skart.
RANQUIN: Now, what of the dryfoot woman that you captured? Was she spying on you?
ROHM-DUTT: Oh, thank you, thank you. No, she's stubborn. She admits nothing.
SKART: Ranquin, let us offer her to the Great One. Always in the past, before our people went into battle, we made a blood sacrifice to Kroll, our protector.
RANQUIN: We will sacrifice the dryfoot woman that we may triumph over her kin.
THAWN: We produce a hundred tons of compressed protein a day and then sh**t it into Delta orbit every twelve hours.
FENNER: That's what makes the operation viable. If we used freighters it wouldn't be a commercial proposition.
DOCTOR: Ah.
THAWN: Of course, the plant is fully automated. The computer controls the orbit sh*t, but we like to double check.
DOCTOR: Very sensible.
FENNER: If there's a misfire then we have a manual override system.
DOCTOR: And just the six of you here?
THAWN: No, five.
DOCTOR: Oh no, I make it six. One, two, three
THAWN: Oh, you're counting Mensch. He's a Swampie.
DOCTOR: Doesn't he count?
THAWN: No.
DOCTOR: Ah. Why are his friends attacking you?
THAWN: Because they're ignorant savages.
DUGEEN: They were the first on Delta Magna.
FENNER: I don't think we owe them very much for that.
DUGEEN: We took their planet. Now they're afraid we'll take what they've got left.
FENNER: You know there are times, Dugeen, that I think the Sons of Earth have got at you.
HARG: Two minutes to sh*t.
DUGEEN: When we put ten full scale refineries in here, there'll be no room for the natives and they know it.
DOCTOR: In any case, a lake that size couldn't possibly support ten full scale refineries.
FENNER: It can.
DOCTOR: Oh. Then you must have an alternative source of methane feedstock.
FENNER: We have calculated the methane production. We can satisfy the protein requirements of one fifth of Delta Magna.
DOCTOR: Ah. Tell me, where were your men when they were k*lled?
THAWN: Why do you ask?
DOCTOR: What? Oh, I don't know. Just curious.
THAWN: Out in the baygule, taking samples.
HARG: One minute to sh*t.
DOCTOR: What happened?
THAWN: We never found the bodies. The Swampies made quite sure of that.
DOCTOR: Then they might just have been drowned.
THAWN: They were experienced men.
DOCTOR: Well, anyone can make a mistake.
HARG: Thirty seconds to sh*t.
THAWN: Don't you worry about the Swampies. We'll look after them, provided they see reason.
DOCTOR: What, teach them to carry trays?
FENNER: Why not? Tell me, would you let a small band of semi-savages stand in the way of progress?
DOCTOR: Well, progress is a very flexible word. It can mean just about anything you want it to mean.
DUGEEN: Ten, nine, eight
HARG: All external doors sealed.
DUGEEN: Seven, six, five
DUGEEN: Four
SWAMPIES: Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll!
SWAMPIES: Kroll! Kroll!
ROMANA: I suppose you're enjoying this.
ROHM-DUTT: Makes no odds to me. I'm going back to Delta Magna. Any last messages?
SWAMPIES: Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll!
RANQUIN: All is ready in the Temple of Kroll.
SKART: The offering is prepared.
SWAMPIES: Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll!
VARLIK: Soon we will put a stop to that.
RANQUIN: Open the pit! Let Kroll come from the bottomless deep! Kroll, hear thy people.
SWAMPIES: Great Kroll!
RANQUIN: Kroll, we summon thee!
SWAMPIES: Mighty Kroll!
RANQUIN: Kroll, we offer this life in tribute to thy greatness.
SWAMPIES: Great Kroll!
RANQUIN: Guide and protect us, All Powerful One, in the great struggle which lies ahead.
SWAMPIES: Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll!
DOCTOR: Hello.
THAWN: I wondered where you were.
DOCTOR: Well, if you've seen one orbit sh*t, you've seen them all.
SWAMPIES (OOV.): Kroll! Kroll!
THAWN: It's coming from the settlement.
DOCTOR: Are they having a dance?
MENSCH: My people are calling Kroll. They're making a blood sacrifice.
DOCTOR: Who's Kroll?
THAWN: Oh, it's their name for a giant squid. Centuries ago, when we resettled the Swampies from Delta Magna, we shipped along a couple of specimens just to keep them happy.
DOCTOR: Yes, but just the same, a blood sacrifice. I don't like the sound of that.
THAWN: Don't be stupid. You'll never cross those swamps on your own.
DOCTOR: What? Look, I have a shrewd idea who it is that might be being sacrificed, and Romana's not the easiest of guests.
THAWN: It'll be light in one hour, so we'll take a swamp glider and go in force.
DOCTOR: There's no need for you to be involved.
THAWN: You heard Mensch. If they're sacrificing, they're preparing for w*r, and that means Rohm-Dutt has got through with the g*ns. We've got gas mortars, so we could knock out that settlement in a couple of minutes. Now that we know they're armed, we can prove that we were acting in self-defence. Let's go.
SWAMPIES (OOV.): Kroll! Kroll! Kroll!
THAWN: Not you!
SWAMPIES: Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll!
SWAMPIES (OOV.): Kroll! Kroll! Kroll!
SWAMPIES (OOV.): Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll!
SWAMPIES: Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll!
ROMANA: It's all nonsense. Primitive spirit worship.
SWAMPIES: Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! Kroll! etc, etc.
RANQUIN: Kroll rises from the depths!
`
The Doctor
Tom Baker
Romana
Mary Tamm
Thawn
Neil McCarthy
Ranquin
John Abineri
Fenner
Philip Madoc
Rohm-Dutt
Glyn Owen
Varlik
Carl Rigg
Skart
Frank Jarvis
Dugeen
John Leeson
Harg
Grahame Mallard
Mensch
Terry Walsh
Writer
Robert Holmes
Assistant Floor Manager
Chris Moss
Costumes
Colin Lavers
Designer
Don Giles
Film Cameraman
Martin Patmore
Film Editor
Michael Goldsmith
Incidental Music
Dudley Simpson
Make-Up
Kezia Dewinne
Production Assistant
Kate Nemet
Production Unit Manager
John Nathan-Turner
Script Editor
Anthony Read
Special Sounds
d*ck Mills
Studio Lighting
Warwick Fielding
Studio Sound
Richard Chubb
Theme Arrangement
Delia Derbyshire
Title Music
Ron Grainer
Visual Effects
Tony Harding
Producer
Graham Williams
Director
Norman Stewart
Tom Baker
Romana
Mary Tamm
Thawn
Neil McCarthy
Ranquin
John Abineri
Fenner
Philip Madoc
Rohm-Dutt
Glyn Owen
Varlik
Carl Rigg
Skart
Frank Jarvis
Dugeen
John Leeson
Harg
Grahame Mallard
Mensch
Terry Walsh
Writer
Robert Holmes
Assistant Floor Manager
Chris Moss
Costumes
Colin Lavers
Designer
Don Giles
Film Cameraman
Martin Patmore
Film Editor
Michael Goldsmith
Incidental Music
Dudley Simpson
Make-Up
Kezia Dewinne
Production Assistant
Kate Nemet
Production Unit Manager
John Nathan-Turner
Script Editor
Anthony Read
Special Sounds
d*ck Mills
Studio Lighting
Warwick Fielding
Studio Sound
Richard Chubb
Theme Arrangement
Delia Derbyshire
Title Music
Ron Grainer
Visual Effects
Tony Harding
Producer
Graham Williams
Director
Norman Stewart