 t times it was painful being a Cyberman.
The process of eliminating animal defects had not been perfected. At times there was an almost ecstatic crippling agony in the areas where metal and circuitry had been meshed and coupled with tissue; where warm, viscous blood caught and conducted and electrically charged or passed through grooves of smooth metal cooled by space-flight. The Cyberman machine was being continually redesigned.
There was a soft agony in Commander Zeinod's brain. It would have to be seen to. He rose from seat and aimed his optical-fibres at a screen on one wall of the special-transference slightly as he moved the controls. The pain would go away. He must make an appointment to see a technician.
The Doctor has a way of making people who would otherwise refuse to believe that the margarine they were eating isn't butter accept his explanations whenever the TARDIS materialises in their backyard, pub or boat.
Ned believed every word the little man had told him, accepting it like the fact that it was less than a year to Christmas. He had also introduced to Zoe.
Oh my gosh! Ned went all silly, playing with his hat in his hands. He tried to make an impression. He stood upright, swept his hair to the side with his fingers, replaced his little green hat and introduced himself:
'Smith's the name,' he said deeply, 'Ned Smith!'
The Doctor loved to look around old boats and though Ned had given him complete freedom he did not wish to nosey around the young man's cabin until he noticed a calendar. Always useful to know when you were.
'August the fourth, 1967..' Nothing significant there. He thought about the two school teachers who hadn't seen him for two years. He wondered how they were doing and what were their names again?
'What are they doing?' asked Zoe, standing on deck and gazing at the folk on the beach
'Oh gosh, just playing.' He put his hands behind his back and played with his fingers. He couldn't think anything to say. He didn't dare look at her. All he wanted to do was monkey around, jumping up and down, a jolly jape.
Zoe took her jacket off. Her eyes were bright and cheerful and her skin shone in the sun. Obviously she and the Doctor had come from outer space to recover the thingamabob.
Was she human he wondered? He didn't care - he was in love. Not even Valerie could compare with this girl from the stars. He decided to impress her with humility.
'Ahhh, Miss Herriot...I'm really sorry I took that little thing of yours.'
'Oh it's alright,' she answered. 'It's been ages since we've been on a warm planet.'
Salt on her tongue, a warm breeze on her face, the sea and sky fused in a brilliant light, there was nothing as beautiful as this on the wheel in space.
Ned began to think of writing a song for Zoe, or maybe a poem like he had done for little Becky in High School. But the Muse had little chance to possess his flowery soul, as Zoe darted off down into the hold hearing the Doctor's cries for help. Ned gulped, replaced his hat and followed.
There was a screeching sound echoing around the murkiness. The hold was empty. Zoe stood alone, shivering.
'S-s-s-s-Cybermen!' she gulped and turned, staring at him. He expected her to hug him for comfort but she didn't. Strange people, aliens.
'What's the matter?' He wished he could have thought of something more original to say.
Zoe explained how she had seen the Doctor being led into the TARDIS by a 'Cyberman', one of the Mondosian semi-robots against whom she had begun her first 'Doctor Who' adventure. But why did the Doctor leave her?
It was all beyond Ned. He shrugged and flapped his arms in embarrassment and took his hat off.
'I'm going up on deck,' he said apologetically.
Zoe remained defiantly in the darkness, hoping that the TARDIS would come back. She began to cry. There was a sudden loud noise. The TARDIS..? It was Ned clattering down the stairs who was in a state of surprise.
'Zoe, we've moved!'
Spinning on his Cuban heels, all Ned could see was the sea, like a plate of blue/grey metal. It wasn't Ned's day. 'Oh I don't know!' he complained. 'Time machines, Cybermen. I wish I ain't never 'ave come across that thingamajig of yours!'
 
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