THE POWER OF KROLL

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 w*apon 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 g*n, isn't he.

FENNER: Yes, he is involved in g*n.

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 h*t 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 g*n. 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*n 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 w*apon 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*n. 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!
{"type": "series", "show": "Doctor Who", "episode": "16x17 - The Power of Kroll - part 1"}