Prisoner

of the

Daleks

TREVOR BAXENDALE

Recent titles in the Doctor Who series:

GHOSTS OF INDIA

Mark Morris

THE DOCTOR TRAP

Simon Messingham

SHINING DARKNESS

Mark Michalowski

THE STORY OF MARTHA

Dan Abnett

BEAUTIFUL CHAOS

Gary Russell

THE EYELESS

Lance Parkin

JUDGEMENT OF THE JUDOON

Colin Brake

THE SLITHEEN EXCURSION

Simon Guerrier

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

Published in 2009 by BBC Books, an imprint of Ebury Publishing.

Ebury Publishing is a division of the Random House Group Ltd.

© Trevor Baxendale, 2009

Trevor Baxendale has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this

Work in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

Doctor Who is a BBC Wales production for BBC One

Executive Producers: Russell T Davies and Julie Gardner

Original series broadcast on BBC Television. Format © BBC 1963.

‘Doctor Who’, ‘TARDIS’ and the Doctor Who logo are trademarks of the

British Broadcasting Corporation and are used under licence.

Daleks created by Terry Nation.

This electronic book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of

trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the

publisher’s prior consent in any form other than that in which it is published

and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the

subsequent purchaser

The Random House Group Ltd Reg. No. 954009.

Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at

www.randomhouse.co.uk.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 9781409070191

Version 1.0

Series Consultant: Justin Richards

Project Editor: Steve Tribe

Cover design by Lee Binding © BBC 2009

For Martine, Luke and Konnie – for ever

It was a forgotten world.

On the very edge of explored space, the planet

resembled little more than a speck of dirt floating between

the stars. From the surface of this world, the nearest sun

was visible only as a distant blue glow on the horizon. The

planet existed in perpetual dusk.

It had once been inhabited by men intent on pushing

back the dark boundaries of the universe. The planet had

been a useful staging post between the old worlds and the

distant, uncharted stars beyond.

The debris of men impatient to be gone littered the

dusty surface: empty, prefabricated buildings, corroded

machinery, plastic components brittle with neglect. The

computers lay dormant, their purpose lost in shadowy,

offline sleep.

But even a remote and unremembered place can

become important – if only to those who visit.

There was no wind to trouble the dust that had settled

over the ages, but, at a secluded point in the middle of the

abandoned central structure, a breeze appeared from

nowhere. Scrubby little weeds, struggling through the

cracks in the paving stones, shivered and withdrew. A

sudden, wild noise reverberated from the walls of the

surrounding buildings, reaching a crescendo of wheezing

and groaning as a tall blue box surged into existence from

nowhere.

The TARDIS doors sprang open and the Doctor leapt

out, thoroughly annoyed.

‘All right! That’s it!’ he yelled. ‘I’ve had enough.

What’s got into you?’

The TARDIS made no reply.

The Doctor shoved his hands into his pockets and

thrust out his bottom lip. ‘You’ve been acting all funny

since we left Earth. What’s the matter? Bit of grit in the

old dimensional stabilisers? Broken sprocket on the

relative time filter?’

Still no reply.

The Doctor sighed. ‘You’re costing me a fortune in

repairs, you are. How can I be expected to run a classic

TARDIS if it keeps jumping time tracks every time it

lands?’

Gradually, the Doctor seemed to become aware of his

surroundings, as if the silence had politely, and

impossibly, cleared its throat.

He turned on his heel. His canvas trainers were already

covered in dust. He let his gaze wander around the empty

buildings and crumbling machinery and then sniffed. ‘So

where are we?’ he wondered aloud. ‘And is there really

any point in talking to myself?’

He shot a black look at the TARDIS and then closed

and locked the door. ‘You can’t even bring me anywhere

interesting any more,’ he grumbled. Then he relaxed a

little and smiled, giving the police box an affectionate pat.

‘Who am I trying to kid? There’s always something

interesting…’

He wandered down a path between two prefabs and

called out ‘Hello!’ a few times. ‘Anyone home?’

There was no reply.

‘Hello!’ he called again. His voice came back to him in

a mocking echo. Above him, beyond a thin grey mist, was

nothing but deep space and a distant neutron star.

‘Brrr,’ he said, wishing he had stopped to collect his

coat before leaving the TARDIS. He trudged on until he

found a steel podium, pitted with corrosion, supporting an

old, scratched monitor screen. He pressed a few buttons

on the keyboard but nothing happened. He tried giving it a

whack with the flat of his hand, but it still wouldn’t

respond.

The sonic screwdriver broke through the computer

terminal’s dormant status in seconds. A minute later, the

Doctor’s face was bathed in a cool light as the screen

activated. A rather fuzzy graphic swirled into focus:

WELCOME TO LODESTAR STATION 479.

‘Well, thank you very much,’ replied the Doctor.

‘Lovely to be here. Not.’

He put on his glasses and started scrolling through the

data.

‘Ah, now that’s interesting,’ he said, smiling and

nodding. ‘No wonder this place is deserted. No one’s been

here for, ooh, absolutely yonks. No need for a refuelling

station in this part of space any more, is there? And here’s

poor little you, the computer interface, all forgotten and

alone.’

He used the sonic screwdriver to delve a little deeper

into the computer’s databanks. ‘Blimey, what’s been going

on in here, then? Your independent sub-routines have been

messed around a bit, haven’t they?’

Frowning, the Doctor glanced around for the nearest

doorway. ‘I’d better check your operational hard drive’s

not corrupted,’ he muttered. ‘Wouldn’t do for a place like

this to go haywire. You’d have the Health and Safety

department of the Shadow Proclamation down on you like

a ton of bricks.’

The screwdriver made short work of the door and the

Doctor went inside. It was cold and smelled of metal and

oil. He was reminded of old, forgotten refineries on Earth;

places full of the hard edges and unforgiving angles of

brutal practicality. He found a stairwell and trotted down

the steps, the metalwork rattling under his plimsolls.

He hooked out a pencil torch from his pocket and

switched it on. The beam found walls studded with rivets

and disused electrical cable. It was colder down here and

there were cobwebs hanging thickly in the shadows. The

Doctor brushed some aside, surprising a number of

arachnid life forms that immediately ran for cover, their

spindly legs skittering across the ceiling. He avoided some

of the larger webs; he’d got on the wrong side of enough

spiders in his life to know when to keep clear.

Further down, he reached a bare corridor with a

concrete floor covered in debris and grime. His torchlight

roved the area until it found a sign saying:

COMPUTER DATA CORE – NO UNAUTHORISED

ACCESS

The access door was locked but it didn’t take long to

pick it. The sonic screwdriver proved to be all the

authorisation he needed.

‘That’s odd,’ the Doctor said aloud. His voice sounded

flat in the confined space beyond. There didn’t appear to

be any computer terminals in here, and certainly no sign

of any data core.

Something lying on the floor caught his attention. It

was white and smooth; half-hidden in what looked like a

pile of laundry. The torchlight gleamed on bone and in

that instant the Doctor recognised the shape as a human

body, curled up against the opposite wall. It was a

complete skeleton, held together by the last remnants of

dried skin. It was wearing the remains of a one-piece

overall, the decaying fabric tucked into cracked plastic

boots.

The Doctor knelt down and inspected the body but

there was no way of identifying it. ‘What were you doing

here, then?’ he wondered grimly. ‘Same as me, probably.

Sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong…’

The door shut behind him with a loud clang.

The Doctor jumped up and tried to open it, but it was

locked. He tried the sonic screwdriver again but it was no

use. ‘Deadlock sealed and rusted,’ he muttered ruefully.

‘It’s just not my lucky day, is it?’

He stepped away from the door and checked the cell –

because that’s what it had suddenly become – for any

other way out. Of course there was none. He was trapped

in here, alone but for the emaciated corpse on the floor.

No way out and no one to know, or care, that he was here.

‘Nice one, Doctor,’ he congratulated himself. ‘Now all

you can do is sit and wait. Someone must have

programmed the door to shut like that. They’ll have to

come and inspect their trap sometime, see if they’ve

caught anything.’

He stared mournfully at the skeleton. ‘Any time

soon…’

‘Don’t be such a baby,’ said Stella. Scrum tried to pull

his arm away, but Stella had a good grip on it.

‘Ow! I’m not a baby! Ow! Ow! Ow!’

She dabbed the antiseptic wipe against the wound and

then smiled brightly at him. ‘There you are – all done.’

Scrum withdrew his hand slowly, almost disbelievingly.

The gash on his forearm looked sore but clean. ‘Isn’t there

anything else you can do?’

‘Amputation?’ Stella suggested archly.

‘I mean really. It hurts, you know…’

Stella rolled her eyes.

‘How about a cryo-charge?’

‘What does that do?’

‘Lowers your body temperature to absolute zero in

about half a second. Literally freezes you on the spot. We

take you back to a planet where there are proper hospital

facilities and they thaw you out and treat you.’ She smiled.

‘Don’t look so worried, Scrum, I’m only kidding. I

wouldn’t waste a cryo-charge on a great oaf like you.

They’re for emergencies only.’

‘OK. You win.’

‘Here.’ Stella tossed a plastic-wrapped bandage at him

and it bounced off his head. ‘Last of the field dressings.

All yours, big boy.’

‘Don’t make fun of me,’ Scrum said. ‘I’m not combat

trained. I don’t even like fighting. I’m a computer

technician, not a soldier.’

They were sitting in the tiny medical compartment of

the ship – it was too small to call it a sickbay. It was just

big enough to hold a narrow bunk, some computers,

stores, and a swivel chair for Stella. She spun round and

picked up her bottle of water. ‘You were lucky not to lose

your arm,’ she told him, taking a drink. ‘A couple of

centimetres either way and you’d be doing your computer

programming one handed.’

Scrum looked forlornly at his arm and then tore open

the field dressing with his teeth. He seemed to have

shrunk even more than usual. He was short, a bit

overweight, with sad eyes and lank, prematurely grey hair

tied back in a stubby ponytail. The tip was dyed green, the

only remnant of an effort, long ago, to make himself look

more ‘interesting’ to women.

Stella put her water down. ‘What’s up? C’mon, you can

tell me.’

‘I nearly got us all killed back there,’ he said quietly.

He looked up at her. ‘It wasn’t even a proper mission. It

was just a stupid bandit trap and I nearly got us all killed.’

‘Forget it. You’re alive and we’re alive and that’s all

that counts. Like I said, you were lucky. We’re always

lucky.’

He sighed. ‘Some day our luck will run out.’

‘We can make our own luck. Come on, let’s get

something to eat.’

She led the way down the narrow passageway to the

galley. Scrum followed, pressing the bandage into

position. ‘Bowman doesn’t believe in luck. He won’t see

it that way.’

‘Leave Bowman to me,’ Stella advised.

A tall, dark, muscular man in combat fatigues was

doing pull-ups in the galley, hanging from a duct running

across the ceiling that bent and creaked under his weight.

He broke into a wide grin when he saw Stella and Scrum.

‘Hey! How goes it, my friends? How’s the walkin’

wounded?’

‘I’ll live,’ said Scrum, forcing a smile. ‘Apparently.’

Stella slumped into another chair and scooped her

black hair up into a scruffy topknot, tying it off with a

rubber band. ‘We’re seriously low on stores, Cuttin’ Edge.

I’m down to using some old antiseptic wipes because I

haven’t even got any bactoray. We’re going to have to stop

soon and pick up some provisions.’

Cuttin’ Edge dropped lightly to the deck. ‘Man, that

ain’t gonna be easy. We’re in deep space, right near the

border.’

‘I’m going to have to put it to the captain.’

Cuttin’ Edge wiped his neck with a towel and grinned.

‘Hey, rather you than me, babe.’

Stella paused outside the entrance to Bowman’s cabin. It

wasn’t very often the crew called on the captain. She took

a deep breath and opened the door. ‘Sorry to disturb you,

skipper…’

Jon Bowman dismissed the apology with a single

movement of one finger. He was a big man in every sense

of the word: tall, broad shouldered, a body toned and

hardened by decades of combat. His face looked as though

it had been hewn from a single piece of granite, deep-set

eyes burning beneath a jutting brow, a slightly broken

nose above thin, straight lips. His dark hair was unkempt,

streaked with grey now, tied back with an old, blood-red

bandana.

‘Ship’s damaged,’ he said without preamble. His voice

was a deep, masculine growl. He never had to raise it to

be heard and he never wasted a word. ‘Pirates blew a hole

in one of the aft fuel tanks. We’re going to have to stop for

repairs.’

Stella breathed a quiet sigh of relief. What was it she

had told Scrum about being lucky? ‘Any suggestions on

where?’ she asked.

Bowman sat forward in his chair. He had a small desk,

cluttered with old pieces of equipment, weapons,

monitors, charts. There was a small 3D holopicture of a

young man and a woman, grinning at the camera, their

arms wrapped around a lanky, dark-haired teenager with a

broken nose. He was smiling too. Stella liked to think this

was the young Jon Bowman, a lifetime ago, with his

parents. But had he ever smiled? Stella never dared to ask.

Bowman tapped one of the chart screens on his desk.

He moved the holopicture aside to give him more room.

‘We’re in the Kappa Galanga sector. There’s nothing here

– except pirates – and the very edge of Earth space. We’re

twenty light years from the nearest habitable star system,

forty from what you might call civilisation. We don’t have

enough fuel left for either.’

Stella frowned, peering at the charts. ‘So…?’

Bowman pointed to a single point of light on the map

with one thick finger. ‘There’s only one option. This

place. Small, forgotten, not even listed on some recent

charts, but it’s within range. Used to be a frontier staging

world, so it’s probably got what we need.’

‘It’s right on the border,’ noted Stella cautiously.

Bowman looked up at her. His grey eyes were as cold

as steel. ‘I didn’t say it wasn’t risky.’

‘But you did say it’s our only option.’

‘That’s right.’

Stella looked closer, reading the name attached to the

tiny planet. ‘Hurala. Sounds lovely.’

‘It won’t be.’

The Wayfarer was a converted naval patrol ship that had

been rescued from scrap twenty years before Bowman got

hold of it. It had been refitted more times than any one of

its current crew could guess, and certainly more times

than the entries in its log book showed. The interior of the

ship had evolved in accordance with the needs of its

various crews over the years, but it remained cramped and

claustrophobic. As the Wayfarer came in to land on the

planet Hurala, Stella grew ever more desperate to get out

and get some fresh air. She was starting to feel trapped.

She leant over the back of the pilot’s seat, peering over

Cuttin’ Edge’s shoulder at the craggy, brown surface of

the planet as it sped beneath.

‘Spaceport,’ said Scrum, tapping one of the displays on

the flight console. ‘Twenty kliks north-west.’

Cuttin’ Edge brought the ship down on one of the small

landing pads situated on the perimeter. The buildings were

little more than rusting hulks, and there were no other

ships in sight.

‘It’s actually an old refuelling station,’ Scrum

explained. ‘This kind of place was fully automated

anyway. As long as there’s still some juice in the tanks we

can fill up and be on our way.’

‘OK,’ said Bowman. His voice rumbled quietly from

the rear of the flight cabin. ‘Let’s get this done. I don’t

have to remind you guys that we’re right on the edge of

human space. There’s nothing and no one here, but I don’t

want to hang around and risk attracting any unnecessary

attention. One hour’s shore leave and then we go.’

They filed out of the ship, stretching and yawning.

Scrum was holding a portable scanner. ‘Let’s see if this

thing can find the nearest astronic fuel terminal.’

‘Oh, man,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. ‘It feels good to just

walk.’ He strode purposefully to the rim of the landing

pad. ‘Reckon we can get anything to eat around here?’

‘Depends on whether they left food behind when they

abandoned the place,’ said Scrum, concentrating on his

scanner. ‘And whether they left it in a stasis field. They

probably switched them all off, and that accounts for the

pong.’

‘Nuts,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. ‘I’m gonna take a look.

Comin’, bro?’

Scrum nodded, still looking down at the scanner

display, and set off after his friend.

Stella watched them go with a smile. They made an

unusual pair, complete opposites but the best of mates.

Stella wondered what it must be like to have a good

friend, someone you could rely on, share secrets with,

even share a life with. The crew of the Wayfarer were her

friends, but they were also colleagues. Something inside

her longed for more, for a better life. She just didn’t know

how to find it.

‘Doesn’t do to think,’ growled Bowman.

‘It’s this place,’ Stella said. ‘So silent and forgotten. It

reeks of death.’

‘What put you in such a good mood?’

She sighed. ‘Maybe I need a break.’

‘You sure that’s all you need?’ Bowman asked. ‘I know

you only joined up short term. If you want to go, then go.’

‘Why, captain, I do believe you have a heart after all.’

‘Who, me? Forget it.’

Someone moved into view behind Bowman, stalking

across the concrete from the Wayfarer like a panther.

Koral was tall, tawny like a lioness with bright, burning

eyes. She wore supple, natural buckskins and leather

boots. She was humanoid, but sometimes seemed more

like an animal – powerful, predatory, slightly aloof. Stella

still wasn’t certain exactly what Koral’s relationship was

with Bowman, but she seemed to act like some sort of

personal bodyguard.

Koral whispered something to Bowman. When she

spoke, Stella glimpsed sharp, white fangs.

‘It’s OK,’ Bowman said quietly. He always spoke softly

to Koral. ‘We’re only staying for a short time.’

Koral nodded and moved away, as indifferent to Stella

and the rest of her surroundings as a cat.

‘What’s up with her?’ Stella asked.

‘She wants to know why everyone’s so nervous,’

Bowman said. ‘Says she can smell the sweat.’

‘It’s the life we lead, I suppose.’

‘That, and the fact that this place is so … wrong.’

‘Wrong?’

Bowman nodded. ‘It’s empty. Abandoned. A corpse of

a world. Like you said, it reeks of death.’

Stella shivered. And then they both heard a cry –

Cuttin’ Edge’s voice, calling them from some way off.

‘Hey! Dudes, over here. You gotta see this!’

They found Cuttin’ Edge at a small intersection between

the old prefab buildings. Scrum was standing to one side,

busy taking readings with his scanner, moving the device

around for a better signal. Koral paced the area, looking

this way and that for any sign of danger.

Cuttin’ Edge was excited. ‘Well? What do ya think?’

He gestured theatrically at a tall blue box with panelled

sides and small, frosted windows set high up on a pair of

double doors. A sign across the top read:

POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX

‘What is it?’ asked Stella, unimpressed. It was odd, but

not spectacular.

‘My guess is it’s a police public call box,’ said Scrum

drily.

‘Police?’ echoed Cuttin’ Edge. ‘What the hell is

“police”?’

‘Old-fashioned word for law enforcement,’ said

Bowman.

‘Then what’s it doin’ out here?’ Cuttin’ Edge wondered.

‘Ain’t no law around these parts, and that’s for sure.’

‘Maybe it was put here years ago,’ suggested Stella.

‘And they left the lights on?’ Cuttin’ Edge rested the

palm of one hand against the side of the object. ‘Hey – it’s

hummin’.’

Stella had walked right around the box. She tried the

door but it was locked.

‘Well, it’s weird,’ said Bowman, ‘but it isn’t what we’re

here for. Scrum, have you found anything we can use yet?

There must be some fuel left in the tanks somewhere.’

‘Oh, there is,’ Scrum confirmed. ‘But I’m picking up

other readings too. The scanner shows that the automated

computer system is still running. Refuelling shouldn’t be a

problem. But the computers are using a strange signal

code, one I can’t properly identify.’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Well, no, not really. Except for one thing: I’m picking

up another, equally unusual signal from deep

underground. Almost directly beneath us, in fact…’

Bowman frowned. ‘What kind of signal?’

‘It’s some kind of reverberation. A knock, or a tap, only

it isn’t mechanical. We can’t hear it, of course, but if I

isolate the vibrations and enhance the audio signal…’

Scrum fiddled with the controls on his scanner, and

suddenly the air was full of a hiss of white noise and a

strange, rhythmic tap of metal on metal. And it kept

repeating itself:

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

‘Unbelievable,’ whispered Scrum after they had all

listened to it several times. ‘It can’t be…’

‘Can’t be what?’ asked Bowman.

Scrum seemed awestruck. ‘Well, it barely seems

possible…’

‘Spit it out, dude,’ said Cuttin’ Edge.

Scrum licked his dry lips. ‘Thousands of years ago,

way back on Earth, long before there was any space

travel, a man called Morse invented a code that could be

signalled by short and long sounds – dots and dashes – to

represent every letter of the alphabet. Three dots and three

dashes, followed by another three dots, spells SOS.’

‘It’s a cry for help,’ said Stella.

They traced the signal quickly enough. Koral was left

guarding the entrance while the others descended several

levels beneath the spaceport via a series of rattling metal

staircases.

‘This whole complex extends far underground,’

explained Scrum as they went. ‘The refuelling silos must

have been huge.’

‘They needed them in those days,’ said Bowman.

Eventually they reached a small corridor lined with

doors and a number of computer terminals. Scrum traced

the SOS signal to a heavy-looking door marked with

warning signs.

‘Shh,’ ordered Bowman. ‘Listen.’

They could all hear the tapping now – faint but distinct

– through the metal door.

‘I wonder how long they’ve been stuck down here?’

Stella said.

‘Wait a sec,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. He had stepped back a

little, to give him room to unsling his gun. All of them

were armed, but only Cuttin’ Edge had brought an assault

rifle.

‘Do you think that’s necessary?’ asked Stella.

‘Hell, we don’t know anythin’. We don’t know what’s

behind that door. But we do know this is pirate country.’

‘You think it’s a pirate in there?’

‘Or something worse. A mutant, maybe. Or a plague

victim. Could be the “police” locked up whatever it is in

there for a good reason.’

‘And it knows Morse code?’ queried Stella.

The tapping had continued all the while, completely

oblivious to the discussion.

‘Could be a trick.’ Cuttin’ Edge cocked his gun and

took aim at the door. ‘We just gotta be careful, that’s all

I’m sayin’.’

Bowman drew his own blaster pistol. ‘Only one way to

find out. Get that door open, Scrum.’

Scrum started work on the small control panel next to

the door.

‘Here’s that other strange signal again,’ he said,

frowning. ‘Like the computer’s working on a different

system to the original design. The door’s been deadlock

sealed. But I should be able to override it… aha!’

The control panel bleeped and, somewhere deep inside

the door, heavy metal bolts slowly withdrew.

They all moved back to allow a clear field of fire as the

door slid open.

Sitting on the opposite side of the tiny cell behind was

a man in a brown pinstriped suit. He was holding a

teaspoon.

He looked up at the people gathered in the doorway,

and, despite the guns trained directly on him, broke into a

huge grin that lit up his face.

‘Hello!’ he said cheerfully.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Bowman’s voice sounded like

the distant thunder of an approaching storm, but the man

in the cell didn’t seem bothered.

‘I’m the Doctor!’ he announced, standing up. He was

remarkably tall and thin, with dark, spiky hair and darting

eyes.

There was a loud click as Bowman cocked his blaster

pistol. The muzzle was trained on a spot right between the

Doctor’s eyes. ‘What are you doing in here?’

The Doctor looked quickly around the bare cell, almost

as if he was a child caught pilfering from the larder.

‘Nothing!’ he said. ‘Well, I say nothing. I’ve been sitting

on my backside tapping out an SOS and waiting for

someone to turn up. But apart from that, nothing.’

‘How long have you been here?’ asked Stella.

‘Oh, ages. Absolutely ages. Well, five days, fourteen

hours and twenty-seven minutes, actually, but who’s

counting?’

Stella gazed around the cell, utterly confused. ‘ Five

days…?’

‘Yeah, I’m starving. You haven’t got anything to eat,

have you? And a cup of tea would go down an absolute

treat.’ He beamed and winked at her.

‘Stop talking!’ ordered Bowman. ‘Cuttin’ Edge –

search him.’

Cuttin’ Edge slung his rifle and moved in, knocking the

Doctor’s arms up out of the way and expertly frisking

him. His suit was pretty tight fitting, Stella couldn’t help

but notice, and it would be difficult to conceal any fancy

weaponry. In fact, he didn’t seem to have anything on him

except the teaspoon, a pencil torch, a pair of old-fashioned

thick-rimmed spectacles, a wallet and some kind of

cylindrical device with a blue light at one end.

‘What’s this?’ asked Bowman, holding up the device.

‘Sonic screwdriver.’

‘Huh.’ Bowman tossed the screwdriver back and the

Doctor returned it to his pockets, along with all the other

items except for the wallet.

‘Here’s his ID,’ said Cuttin’ Edge, flicking open the

wallet. He paused and frowned. ‘Says he’s a pirate.’

‘What? Give me that,’ said Bowman, taking the wallet.

He flipped it open and looked. ‘Don’t be an idiot. It says

he’s a…’ The captain hesitated, squinting, turning the

wallet around so that he could hold it up the light better.

‘He’s a… What does it say? I can’t make it out.’

He gave the wallet to Stella. She opened it, looked up

at the Doctor, then looked at the wallet again. ‘It doesn’t

say anything. It’s blank.’

The Doctor gently took the wallet from her and slipped

it into a pocket. He was smiling at her, almost admiringly.

Stella felt herself start to redden and said, ‘You can’t have

been down here that long. You’re still clean shaven.’

The Doctor rubbed his chin experimentally. ‘Well,

yeah… but you wouldn’t believe the concentration it takes

not to grow a beard for that long. It’s going to itch like

mad later on.’

‘OK, that’s enough,’ said Bowman. ‘I don’t know what

the hell you’re doing here, Doctor whoever you are, but I

can’t afford to hang around on this dump any longer.’ He

turned away, losing interest, and spoke to Scrum. ‘Get

back to the ship and start refuelling. I want us off this rock

PDQ.’

Scrum nodded and turned to leave. Then he said, ‘What

about the signal, skipper?’

‘What signal?’

‘The extra signal the computer’s using.’

‘Not interested. It’s nothing to do with us. Now get

going.’

Scrum left, and Stella saw the Doctor watch him go

with a sharply quizzical look in his eyes. Bowman ordered

Cuttin’ Edge to check the area for provisions and, glaring

sullenly at the Doctor, he left as well.

‘Scrum has a point, you know,’ Stella said to Bowman.

‘None of this makes sense. Why’s this guy been locked up

down here? Who locked him up?’

‘You know, that’s the first intelligent question anyone

has asked,’ said the Doctor brightly. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Stella.’

‘Well, you know what, Stella? I’d quite like to know

who locked me up as well. Because until you lot arrived, I

thought I was the only person on this planet.’

‘What brought you here?’ asked Bowman. He was

watching the Doctor suspiciously all the time.

‘I’m not sure. My ship got dragged off course.’ The

Doctor’s cheery demeanour had suddenly been replaced

by a thoughtful frown. ‘There’s something going on here

that really isn’t right.’

‘Could it be something to do with that rogue computer

signal Scrum was talking about?’ wondered Stella.

‘Let’s have a look, shall we?’ The Doctor stepped past

her to get to the computer terminal, pulling out his

spectacles. He switched the machine on and the display

screen lit up:

WELCOME TO LODESTAR STATION 479

‘Yeah, yeah, done all that.’ He flicked through to

another screen:

HURALA – GATEWAY TO THE STARS

‘What does that mean?’ Stella asked.

The Doctor pulled a face. ‘Not much. These places

were just stopping-off points for people on their way to

more interesting places. Look, here’s a list of the nearest

planets: Klechton – pretty dull, that one, to be honest.

Jalian 17 – all right for a party if that’s your thing. Tenten

10 – the Decimal Planet. Blenhorm Ogin – never heard of

it…’

‘Oh!’ exclaimed Stella, pointing. ‘Look! Arkheon! I’ve

heard of that! They used to call it the Planet of Ghosts.’

‘Oh yeah,’ said the Doctor, nodding enthusiastically.

‘Always wanted to go there, never did get round to it.

Think I did the London Dungeon instead. Or was it

Madame Tussauds?’

‘Can we get a move on?’ snapped Bowman impatiently.

‘Nearly there,’ said the Doctor. Soon the little screen

was filling up with more technical information. ‘Now

then… This is the baseline program for the refuelling

station. It’s fairly standard, but it’s been dormant for years.

It’s activated again now, though, has been since I arrived.

And that seems to have kicked off another program,

something buried deep in the main server. Let’s see if I

can drill down…’ He took out his sonic screwdriver and

aimed it at the computer. ‘ Bingo!’ he suddenly yelled,

making Stella jump and Bowman glare murderously at

him.

‘What is it?’ asked Stella.

The Doctor tapped the screen. ‘Oh, that’s good, that is.

Look – an override system. It’s a new program, bolted on.

When it’s activated – like now – it assumes total control

of the entire base. No one locked me in that cell. It did it

automatically. The base sensed I was in there and sprung

the trap. Bang! Clever!’

Stella frowned. ‘But why? What for?’

The Doctor grinned. ‘Aww, you ask all the right

questions, don’t you?’

‘Well, here’s another good question for you,’ growled

Bowman. ‘What about that other poor guy in the cell?’

The Doctor looked sadly at the skeleton lying on the

floor. ‘I’m not sure. Possibly the same thing happened to

him, but he wasn’t as lucky as me.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘Or,’ suggested Stella, ‘perhaps he was one of the

people who installed the override system. Well, someone

must have done it. Maybe he got caught in his own trap.’

The Doctor’s face darkened. ‘Or maybe he was

expendable.’

‘Dead men tell no tales,’ said Bowman grimly.

‘Exactly.’

Stella shivered. ‘But why? What’s it for?’

‘There you go again,’ said the Doctor. ‘Asking all the

right questions at all the right times. Keep ‘em coming.’

‘You like questions?’

‘Love ‘em! But you know what I like more than a good

question? A good answer.’ The Doctor looked expectantly

at her and Bowman. ‘Got any?’

They both shook their heads.

‘Ah well, can’t have everything I s’pose.’ The Doctor

turned back to the computer terminal and went to work

again. ‘Maybe I can isolate the new program from here.’

‘Do you need to?’ asked Bowman.

‘The trap was sprung when I went in that cell, and the

computer’s sending a signal to alert someone. Your pal

Scrum found it – but I wonder who it’s meant for?’

‘You mean whoever set the trap?’ asked Stella.

‘Got it in one.’ The Doctor adjusted a control and they

heard a strange, crackling signal repeating over and over.

‘Not Morse code again,’ said Bowman.

‘No, far too complex.’ The Doctor screwed up his face

in concentration, as if trying to decipher the strange noise.

‘It does sound familiar, though…’

‘The thing is,’ said Stella, ‘that must have been

transmitting ever since you arrived here. Five days,

fourteen hours…’

‘And… oh, thirty-one minutes, now. Yes. Good point.

Whoever’s supposed to receive that signal will have

already done so.’ The Doctor’s face dropped. ‘Which

means they could be here any minute to collect their

prize.’

Bowman grabbed his communicator. ‘Scrum – get that

ship ready to go double quick. We’re expecting company.’

There was no reply.

‘Scrum? Do you copy?’

A loud squawk of static burst from the communicator.

They could hear Scrum’s voice saying something but it

was impossible to tell what.

‘Something’s interfering with the communications

field,’ realised the Doctor. Suddenly he was very serious.

‘Whoever they are, they’re already here.’

Stella swallowed. There was a rising tension in the air,

as if everything around them was becoming charged with

static electricity.

The Doctor was working at the computer again, rattling

the keys with frantic speed. ‘If I can isolate the signal and

jam it from here…’ Suddenly he stopped dead, fingers

curved over the keyboard. ‘Oh no. No no no. Listen to

that.’

Stella and Bowman listened to the sound emanating

from the computer speakers. It was a slow, heavy throb,

like an electronic heartbeat.

The Doctor’s face was ashen. ‘It can’t be…’ he said. ‘It

just can’t be.’

Bowman had drawn his blaster again. ‘You’d better

believe it,’ he said.

And then, with a terrible screech of rending metal, the

doorway at the end of the corridor exploded open.

Shrapnel sliced through the air and the three of them were

already crouching, turning away, as something large and

metallic swept through the wreckage.

Stella gaped in shock. There were three of them, filing

through the remains of the door, their burnished bronze

armour glinting dully, weapons swivelling in their sockets,

eyestalks turning to stare at them with glowing blue

lenses.

‘Daleks!’ said the Doctor, horrified.

‘EXTERMINATE!

EXTERMINATE!

EXTERMINATE!’

Stella cringed as the first Dalek screamed

‘EXTERMINATE‘, knowing the end was about to come.

But just as the Dalek’s gun blazed, a hail of automatic

gunfire crashed into its head and neck section. The bullets

had little effect, intercepted by the Dalek’s protective

force field before they could strike home, but it was just

enough of a distraction to allow the Doctor to shove Stella

and Bowman out of the way.

The Dalek blaster beam illuminated the corridor with a

terrible blue glare. ‘ACQUIRING SECONDARY

TARGET!’ grated the Dalek, its eyestalk swivelling.

‘EXTERMINATE!’

On the stairs above them, Cuttin’ Edge was taking aim

with his assault rifle. He squeezed off another shot, the

gun recoiling heavily, and this time the effect was rather

different. The force field sizzled and there was a brilliant

explosion.

When the smoke cleared, the Dalek was relatively

unharmed, apart from a burning dent in its armour, but

even the slightest delay was just enough for the humans to

escape, running for their lives up the stairs. Fear is a great

motivator.

Cuttin’ Edge sprayed the corridor with bullets and then

sprinted after his friends. Directly in front of him was the

Doctor, urging them all to greater speed as they clattered

up the stairs.

‘How did you do that?’ he demanded. ‘Guns don’t

work on Daleks.’

‘This one does,’ said Cuttin’ Edge with a savage grin.

‘We’re Dalek bounty hunters.’

Stella caught a sudden glimmer of hope in the Doctor’s

wide-eyed stare. ‘Is that right?’

‘ELEVATE!’ They all heard the harsh command

echoing up from below. They didn’t need to look down to

know that the Daleks were rising up the stairwell behind

them.

‘Hurry up!’ yelled the Doctor, pushing them all

forward. Stella stumbled and he caught her, lifting her,

propelling her up the last few steps with remarkable

strength. Bowman kicked open the door and they piled out

into the dusty street outside. Cuttin’ Edge slammed the

door shut and spun the lock. Then he aimed his rifle at the

mechanism and blasted it into molten slag.

‘That won’t stop them,’ said the Doctor.

‘I know, but it makes me feel better.’

‘Stop talking and move,’ ordered Bowman, leading the

way along the passageway at a run. He already had his

communicator out again and was calling for Scrum to get

the Wayfarer ready to leave.

Stella saw the Doctor turn back as the Daleks blasted

their way out of the stairwell building. The first Dalek

emerged, the glowing blue eye roving around until it fixed

on them. Its body swivelled around and it started to glide

after them.

And then stopped.

‘WARNING!’ grated the Dalek. ‘WARNING! OUTER

CASING UNDER ATTACK!’

A patch of black was spreading over the bronze dome

of the Dalek’s head section. Where Cuttin’ Edge’s last shot

had struck, the metal was beginning to dissolve.

‘EMERGENCY!’ cried the Dalek. ‘PROTECTIVE

ARMOUR COMPROMISED!’

The other two Daleks examined the damage.

‘MOLECULAR DISSOLUTION VIRUS. RETURN TO

THE SHIP FOR REPAIRS!’

‘I OBEY!’ The Dalek rose into the air, its dome fizzing

as the virus spread remorselessly, and flew away.

The remaining Daleks turned and glided after their

prey.

Stella, Bowman, Cuttin’ Edge and the Doctor hared

through the base, dodging from building to building and

alley to alley.

The Doctor skidded to a halt at one junction, grabbing

Stella by the arm. ‘This way! I’ve got my own transport.’

‘Where?’

‘Follow me! Come on, you lot – allons-y!’

‘Let him go, Stella,’ said Bowman. ‘We’re heading for

the Wayfarer.’

Stella hesitated. Behind her, Bowman and Cuttin’ Edge

were glaring at her, urging her to follow them.

‘We don’t have much time,’ Bowman insisted. ‘What’s

the problem?’

The Doctor had stopped and was looking back at her.

And there was something in his eyes, a kind of longing, or

a bitter hope. He held out his hand. ‘You’ll be safe in the

TARDIS. Come with me!’

In the end the decision was made for her. A Dalek slid

into view at the end of the passageway, blocking off the

Doctor’s retreat.

‘HALT – OR YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!’

Cuttin’ Edge opened up with his rifle. Gunfire filled the

alley with crackling thunder.

The Dalek blasted at them, but the shots went wild and

suddenly they were all running again, tripping over each

other, yelling at each other to move faster.

They reached the edge of the spaceport landing bays.

And there, right in front of them, was the Wayfarer. Stella

had never been so glad to see the old crate.

‘That’s your ship?’ asked the Doctor, surprised.

‘Yeah,’ growled Bowman. ‘Why? Don’t you like it?’

‘I know it doesn’t look like much—’ began Stella.

‘But it’s got it where it counts,’ finished the Doctor.

‘Don’t worry, my ship’s just the same.’

Scrum was unhooking a series of heavy cables from the

spacecraft’s underside. They were connected to a number

of squat machines placed around the perimeter of the

landing pad.

‘She’s not full yet, but we’re good to go,’ he called.

‘Koral’s already onboard.’

‘Get her started!’ roared Bowman.

Daleks were gliding into view from the edge of the

spaceport. The blue lights of their eyes all turned to face

the Wayfarer crew as they ran the last few metres to the

ship.

‘HALT!’

None of them did. Scrum was already inside the ship

and the engines were whining into life, the whole vessel

shuddering with compressed power.

Bowman sprinted to the foot of the ramp and turned to

give the Doctor and Cuttin’ Edge covering fire as they

helped Stella onboard. The smell of energy-weapon

discharges filled the air.

And then suddenly the ship began to lift off, the

landing ramp still extended. Bowman grabbed hold of one

of the hydraulic supports, raising a leg to plant his foot

firmly on the Doctor’s backside, propelling him into the

ship. Dalek gunfire screamed all around them, lighting the

ramp with electric blue flashes.

The Doctor scrambled to his feet. Ahead of him, Cuttin’

Edge was helping Stella as the ship swayed. She was

grinning, overjoyed to have made it, giving the Doctor a

happy and relieved thumbs up as he came towards her.

‘Scrum!’ yelled Bowman. ‘Get us the hell out of here!’

‘Aye aye, captain!’ Scrum called back from the flight

cabin. ‘We’re on our way…’

Something exploded behind them, outside the ship,

probably one of the refuelling pumps at the side of the

landing apron caught in a Dalek blast. The fireball ripped

through the air, causing the Wayfarer to stagger slightly,

and debris filled the open landing ramp area just before

the interior hatch finally hissed shut. The shockwave had

already blown Stella backwards and sent the Doctor,

Bowman and Cuttin’ Edge sprawling.

‘Stella!’ The Doctor saw immediately that she was

injured. There was a lump of metal, part of a fuel tank,

sticking out of her thigh.

The Doctor crawled towards her. She was leaning

against the bulkhead wall, her face pale, staring at him.

The leg wound was deep and serious, with dark arterial

blood spreading across her trousers.

‘Oh, but that hurts,’ she croaked.

‘It’s all right,’ he said hurriedly. ‘It’s just a flesh wound.

You’ll be OK.’

‘Hey,’ she said, smiling weakly. ‘I cross-trained as a

medic, y’know. I can tell how bad it is.’

The Doctor squeezed her hand. ‘You’ll be fine.’

‘We’ve got no more medical supplies onboard. Used

the last of them on Scrum.’

Bowman stepped forward. ‘Stop talking. You need to

get into the med room.’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Cuttin’ Edge. ‘Man, that was close, but

we’re OK. Everything’s gonna be fine, babe. We’re outta

here.’

The Wayfarer had swung away from the spaceport and

was climbing, Scrum easing the ship up through the

atmosphere as quickly as he could.

Bowman said, ‘I’ll get the medical computers fired up.

Bring her through.’

‘Don’t waste your time,’ said Stella as he left. She was

pale and clearly in pain, but she kept on smiling. ‘You’ll

be putting me back together with packing tape.’

‘Try not to talk,’ advised the Doctor.

‘Hey, give a girl a break, I’m pleading for my life

here…’ Stella smiled grimly, tears filling her eyes. ‘And

don’t let Cuttin’ Edge operate, do you hear? He can’t even

use a knife and fork properly.’

‘Are you kidding?’ said Cuttin’ Edge. ‘I ain’t goin’ near

that medical stuff. Never do. Anyway, he’s the only doctor

around here.’ He jerked a thumb at the Doctor.

‘I thought you said he was a pirate.’ Stella laughed and

turned to the Doctor. ‘Want my advice? Try one of those

emergency cryo-charges. Freeze me and get me

somewhere they can operate properly.’

‘Good idea,’ said the Doctor. ‘You keep on coming up

with them.’

There was a loud screech of metal from behind them.

The interior airlock door buckled and then jerked in its

housing, sliding away with a grinding protest. Beyond the

door was the studded shape of a Dalek.

‘What the hell!’ yelled Cuttin’ Edge, diving for his rifle.

The Dalek’s sucker arm pushed the remains of the

airlock door to one side, the metal and plastic crumpling

in its grip. Its single blue eye blazed at them and its head

lights flashed.

‘EXTERMINATE!’

The Doctor had tried to pull Stella away, but it was too

late.

The extermination beam struck her full in the small of

the back, illuminating her with such powerful radiance

that her skeleton and internal organs were clearly visible.

The beam was kept trained on her, pinning her against the

wall, its shrill whine merging with the horrendous scream

of agony that seemed to fill the ship.

Eventually, after what seemed like an age, the beam

ceased and her corpse slid to the floor.

Cuttin’ Edge opened fire at the Dalek with a scream of

rage. The shots ricocheted around the airlock passage,

sparking off the force field, filling the air with a storm of

ammunition. The Dalek’s eye turned implacably towards

Cuttin’ Edge as he stepped forward, rifle jammed against

his shoulder, emptying the magazine into its head and

neck. The Dalek remained impervious. It waited a second

for the rifle to empty and then brought its own gun to bear

on the human.

The Doctor lunged forward, hurling something at the

Dalek. For the briefest of moments there was a clang as it

struck the metal casing and a brilliant blue-white glare

filled the airlock. Cuttin’ Edge staggered backwards,

caught in a sudden blast of incredibly cold air that took his

breath away. He fell on top of the Doctor and they

collapsed together in a heap of arms and legs.

Silence.

Cautiously, they sat up on the floor and looked at the

Dalek.

It was frozen – literally. A chill white mist floated around

the familiar domed shape, and the metal casing was

covered from top to bottom in a thick white frost. Behind

the lens of its eye, the blue light slowly faded, replaced by

an icy darkness.

‘What…what was that?’ gasped Cuttin’ Edge. ‘What

did you do?’

‘I used one of the emergency cryo-charges.’ The Doctor

got up and looked around the airlock, where the Dalek

stood in a small blast area covered with ice.

Cuttin’ Edge, satisfied that the Dalek was immobilised,

ran over to where Stella lay. At that moment Bowman

came running too, his boots pounding on the metal floor.

He glanced uncertainly at the frozen Dalek and then knelt

down by Stella. ‘What happened?’

‘Dalek chased us, must’ve got inside the airlock

somehow,’ Cuttin’ Edge said quietly. He didn’t need to say

any more.

Bowman stared in disbelief at Stella’s smoking body,

his lips tightening and a muscle trembling in his jaw.

‘I’m sorry,’ said the Doctor behind him. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Bowman took a long, shuddering breath, and then

stood up. He straightened his shoulders and lifted his

head. His face was an expressionless mask, but the deep-

set eyes were smouldering with fury as he turned to look

at the Doctor. ‘Get that thing off my ship.’

He didn’t need to point at the Dalek. Everyone knew

what he meant.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t,’ said the Doctor. His voice was

barely a whisper. ‘The outer airlock door’s been damaged

– probably in the explosion as we took off. It’s jammed.

We might be able to—’

Bowman ignored him, turning back to Cuttin’ Edge.

‘Get it fixed. Get rid of it.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The Doctor said nothing. Bowman looked back at the

immobile Dalek for a second and then asked, ‘Is it dead?’

The Doctor approached the Dalek cautiously. He waved

a hand in front of the frost-covered eyestalk, but there was

no response. Very carefully, he walked right around the

Dalek, inspecting it from every angle. Finally he poked

the gun-stick. There was no reaction. ‘No vision, no

motive power, weaponry offline. I’d say it’s as good as

dead.’

‘As good as?’

‘You never can tell with a Dalek. But it’s cryogenically

frozen – they are sometimes susceptible to a sudden

reduction in temperature, particularly if caught off guard.

Cuttin’ Edge was shooting at it from close range, so there

would have been quite a bit of power diverted to the

defensive force field. Enough to allow the cryo-charge to

do its stuff, at least.’

‘That was quick thinking.’

The Doctor shook his head. ‘Not quick enough. And

anyway, it was Stella’s idea.’

They should have been celebrating, thrilled and excited

by the fact that they had defeated an unstoppable foe – but

instead, all they felt was a sense of utter failure. None of

them could bear to look at Stella’s body.

‘I should have acted faster,’ insisted the Doctor. ‘She

didn’t deserve to die like that. No one does.’

‘I don’t know what the hell you were doing on that

planet,’ Bowman growled, ‘but everything went wrong the

moment we found you.’

‘It’s not my fault,’ said the Doctor.

‘Just keep telling yourself that.’

Cuttin’ Edge stepped up. ‘Easy, skip. We need to move

Stella.’

‘Looks like we’re stuck with you,’ grumbled Bowman

menacingly at the Doctor. ‘At least until we get that

airlock fixed. Until then, keep out of my way.’

Once the Wayfarer was in deep space and travelling at top

speed, Bowman went to his cabin and ordered that no one

should disturb him. Scrum was left at the helm while

Cuttin’ Edge, having helped move Stella’s body, went to

fix the airlock.

He found the Doctor there, examining the Dalek with

his sonic screwdriver. ‘The cryo-charge worked better

than I thought,’ he said. ‘This thing seems to be

completely defunct. It acts as a life-support system for the

creature inside, so I imagine it’s dead.’

‘You know a bit about the Daleks, then?’ asked Cuttin’

Edge warily.

‘A bit.’

Cuttin’ Edge peered at the Dalek, which was still

wreathed in a freezing mist and caked with frost. ‘Man,

we were lucky. I really thought my time was up.’

‘It wouldn’t have worked if you hadn’t been shooting at

it.’ The Doctor glanced at the rifle slung over Cuttin’

Edge’s shoulder. ‘What kind of ammunition does that

thing take? You damaged that Dalek on Hurala – I’ve

never seen that done before with a conventional firearm.

Lucky shot at the eye, maybe, but that was something

special.’

‘MDV,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. ‘Molecular Dissolution

Virus. It’s something Scrum developed. Bastic-headed

bullet to penetrate the force field. Then it infects the

armour plating and just eats its way through.’

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. ‘Ingenious. It’d have

to act fast, though. It would take an extremely aggressive

MDV to beat the automatic self-repair molecules that

make up the bonded polycarbide.’

Cuttin’ Edge was peering carefully at the head and neck

section of the Dalek. ‘What I don’t understand is why the

thing didn’t work this time. I had it point-blank. Should’ve

rusted its damn head clean off.’

‘Well, your weapons are smart all right,’ said the

Doctor, ‘but the Daleks are smarter. Their armour learns

and adapts. By the time your metal-eating virus was

chewing its way through that first Dalek, it was already

analysing the damage and transmitting emergency defence

protocols so its mates wouldn’t get caught out in the same

way.’

‘Now you’re sounding just like Scrum,’ Cuttin’ Edge

muttered. ‘He’s usually the brains of this operation.’

‘Operation?’

‘We’re bounty hunters employed by Earth Command to

kill Daleks. We get a fixed bonus for every eyestalk we

collect. Which reminds me…’ Cuttin’ Edge reached for

his belt, unhooking a laser tool.

He moved to grab the Dalek’s eyestalk but the Doctor

batted his hand away. ‘Don’t touch it! These things can

absorb genetic data from your DNA – all it takes is one

touch, and it might be enough for it to start regenerating.’

‘I thought you said it was dead.’

‘You can never be too careful where Daleks are

concerned, believe me.’

Slowly, reluctantly, Cuttin’ Edge returned the laser to

his belt. ‘So what’s your story? How come you know so

much about the Daleks? You don’t look like a soldier.’

‘Nor did Stella.’

Cuttin’ Edge stiffened. ‘She was different.’

‘So am I.’

‘If you say so.’ Cuttin’ Edge didn’t sound convinced.

‘Just what were you doin’ on Hurala, anyway?’

The Doctor sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

‘I’m not sure, to be honest. My ship was acting up a bit –

guidance systems all gone to pot.’

‘You’re a long way lost to be out here, dude.’

The Doctor looked up with a smile. ‘You know, I think

that’s the first time anyone’s ever called me “dude”.’

‘Don’t get carried away. Captain Bowman wants you

off the ship, an’ I ain’t arguin’ with him. And besides, it

don’t alter what I said: your ship must be way off course

for you to end up this far from Earth space.’

‘Oh, it’s not space I’m worried about,’ said the Doctor,

lost in thought. ‘The TARDIS seems to have slipped a

time track… I’ve travelled back in the Daleks’ own time

line to way back when.’

‘I thought Scrum talked funny, but you beat him hands

down, dude.’

‘I really shouldn’t be here,’ said the Doctor seriously.

He almost seemed to be talking to himself. ‘I mean, this is

wrong in so many ways. I’ve gone back to a point before

the Time War even started, and that’s impossible. Well, I

say impossible. Clearly it’s not impossible. I’m here and

so are the Daleks, right in the middle of the great conflict

with Earth’s first Empire.’

‘You ain’t making any sense at all.’

‘What year is it, Cuttin’ Edge?’

‘You were only in that cell for five days. Get a grip.’

‘Just answer the question.’

Such was the severity in the Doctor’s voice that Cuttin’

Edge answered automatically.

‘Ahh,’ said the Doctor, nodding slowly as realisation

dawned. ‘Let me guess: the Daleks are rampaging through

the galaxy. The Earth Empire is resisting them in every

way it can, but the battles rage on year after year across all

the solar systems. Some humans have never known a time

when they’ve not been at war with the Daleks.’

‘Guess so.’

‘The Dalek Generation. But you’ve reached the tipping

point, haven’t you? Two mighty galactic powers, facing

off across the stars. Two giant superpowers vying for

supremacy, slugging it out planet by planet. It could go

either way.’

‘That’s about the size of it. We’re doin’ what we can

out here on the edge, raiding Dalek space, messin’ with

their supply lines. Earning a living.’

‘You’ve chosen a harsh life.’

‘Never known any other kind. I was brought up on

Gauda Prime and we’re born fightin’ there. Regular army

couldn’t stomach me – said I was too much of a loose

cannon, an’ I wouldn’t let them recondition me.’

‘Good for you. It’s always best to just say no.’

‘Ended up on the Wayfarer with Captain Bowman.

There ain’t nothin’ he don’t know about killin’ Daleks.’

‘Then we’ve more in common than I thought,’ the

Doctor commented drily.

‘Hey, Bowman’s all right. He’s a soldier’s soldier, if

you know what I mean. They don’t come any tougher than

Jon Bowman. He was a trooper in Earth Force One, back

in the day. A veteran of the Draconian Conflicts too. They

say he was on the front line at Tartarus. He’s an expert in

weapons an’ tactics and he was stickin’ it to Skaro’s finest

before I was out of short pants.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Don’t think he likes me much.’

Cuttin’ Edge looked away. ‘We all liked Stella. She was

one of the good guys. Captain Bowman was like a father

to her.’

‘I’m sorry.’

The door hissed open and Scrum came in. He nodded at

Cuttin’ Edge but avoided looking at the Doctor. ‘Skipper

says we’re going back to Auros.’

‘Auros?’ repeated the Doctor.

‘Stella’s planet,’ explained Scrum bleakly. ‘We’re

taking her home.’

Auros was one of the colony worlds that formed the

backbone of the Human Empire. Even at the Wayfarer‘s

top speed, it would take the best part of a day to get there.

Bowman remained in his cabin, while Stella’s body was

stowed in the medical bay, cryogenically frozen in the

same way as the Dalek. No one appreciated the irony,

least of all the Doctor.

He paid his respects. She was lying peacefully on the

narrow examination couch, arms folded across her chest,

looking like a marble effigy on a tomb. Her skin was as

white and perfect as alabaster, covered by a thin veil of

freezing mist.

He wanted to say he was sorry, but what would be the

point? She was gone. Whatever had made Stella unique

was no longer here. Her body remained, but the person –

the intelligence, the good humour, the courage that he had

glimpsed so briefly – they were gone from the universe

for ever. It was something the Doctor would never truly

understand.

‘You really liked her, didn’t you?’ Scrum asked from

the passageway. There wasn’t room for more than two

people at a time in the medical cabin.

‘Yes,’ replied the Doctor. ‘I did. She reminded me of

someone… something… I miss.’

‘She was good company.’

The Doctor bit his lip and nodded. ‘Yeah, I bet she

was.’

‘Doesn’t do to dwell,’ Scrum said. ‘She’s going home,

that’s all we need to know.’

‘Does she have any family?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘That’s good.’

Scrum shrugged. ‘Never really thought about it. So

many people are orphans now.’

‘Because of the Daleks?’

‘Yes. They call it the Dalek Generation.’

‘I know.’

Scrum cleared his throat, clearly wishing to change the

subject.

The Doctor looked up and forced a smile. ‘Has Cuttin’

Edge managed to fix that airlock door yet?’

‘He’s working on it.’

‘Not too hard I hope.’

‘He’ll have it fixed in time for us to land on Auros. You

can get off there.’

The Doctor nodded. ‘I’ll need to get back to Hurala.

My ship is still there.’

‘Hurala will be crawling with Daleks.’

‘That’s what worries me.’

The Doctor followed Scrum down the narrow

passageway to the galley area. He could hear the sound of

Cuttin’ Edge’s tools further down the corridor by the

airlock. Glancing along the passage, the Doctor was

surprised to see that the Dalek had gone.

‘We had to move it,’ Scrum explained. ‘Cuttin’ Edge

didn’t have any room to work.’

‘That was risky,’ said the Doctor. ‘Even a dead Dalek is

dangerous. They’ve got a hundred different automatic

defences.’

‘It’s all right, we didn’t even touch it. I used a couple of

cargo grapplers to shift it down to the hold. Besides which

I think that cryo-charge has completely disabled the thing.

It didn’t even twitch when Cuttin’ Edge took its eyestalk

off.’

The Doctor stopped in his tracks. ‘He did what?’

‘Cut off the eyestalk. You know, for the bounty.’

‘I told him not to do that.’

Scrum looked at the Doctor, a little bemused. ‘Doctor,

he doesn’t take his orders from you. Captain Bowman is

in charge here, in case you hadn’t noticed. And the bounty

on those things is what keeps us alive. It’s a confirmed

kill, and that’s what Earth Command pays us for. We

deliver that eyestalk to the authorities on Auros and we

can afford to eat again.’

The Doctor said nothing. He sat down in the galley,

tight-lipped.

Scrum sat down opposite him. ‘I’ve been thinking

about that Dalek, actually. It’s not often I get the chance to

look at one up close – at least, not for long. There must be

a lot of stuff I could learn from it, if I could take it apart.’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ warned the Doctor darkly.

‘It’s dead. I could crack it open with the right tools.’

The Doctor stared at him. ‘Believe me, you really don’t

want to do that. Every Dalek has defences against that sort

of thing. It would be like playing with a live hand

grenade. The creature inside may be dead, but that casing

is chock full of anti-handling devices and booby traps that

would make your hair curl. There are enough self-destruct

mechanisms packed inside one of those things to keep a

team of bomb-disposal experts happy for a month.’

‘But while it’s here—’

‘Forget it. As soon as that airlock door is fixed, dump it

in deep space and forget it about. Consider yourselves

lucky that we didn’t all end up like Stella.’

The Doctor regretted the outburst straightaway, but it

was too late. Scrum stared coldly at him for a minute or

two and then got up to leave.

‘If Bowman has his way, you’ll follow that Dalek

straight out of the airlock.’

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought only pirates

made people walk the plank.’

‘Just remember, Doctor – Stella was our mate. She was

one of us. You aren’t.’

Scrum went out, leaving the Doctor sitting in the galley

alone.

Cuttin’ Edge was working on the door. The outer bulkhead

had been slightly distorted, causing the running tracks for

the main airlock to jam. He had the tools to fix it, but the

truth was, he just couldn’t concentrate.

All he could think about was Stella. All he could hear

was the shrill scream of the Dalek’s death ray, and the

equally shrill scream of his friend as she died, spread-

eagled against the wall by the sheer force of the energy

blast. All he could see when he closed his eyes was the

brilliant blue flare, and Stella’s skull, thrown back with its

jaws wide open.

His hand slipped and he barked his knuckles on the

metal grating of the deck. He swore and then threw the

gravity spanner across the passageway, where it hit the

floor with a heavy clang.

‘You’ll get me next time,’ said Scrum. The spanner had

just missed his foot as he came round the corner.

Cuttin’ Edge shook his head. ‘I can’t do this.’

‘Course you can. You’ve been taking this old crate

apart and putting it back together for years. We both

have.’

‘I don’t mean that. I can fix this thing in my sleep.’

Cuttin’ Edge heaved a sigh and sat back on his haunches,

resting his muscular arms on his knees. ‘I mean… Hell, I

don’t know what I mean.’

‘We fight Daleks for a living,’ said Scrum quietly. ‘We

could be killed any day, any one of us. You know that. We

all know that – Stella did too.’

‘That don’t make it any easier. She never wanted to be

part of this, not like us. Her dyin’ like that – it just feels

wrong, bro.’

‘I know what you mean.’ Scrum sat down on the deck

opposite him and reached into a belt pouch. He produced

a small metal flask, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip.

‘Here.’ He passed it to Cuttin’ Edge.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s an old Earth drink. Very old. It’s expensive,

because it’s so rare.’

Cuttin’ Edge raised the flask, swallowed, and almost

choked. ‘Hey – what the hell is that stuff? Damn’ near

killed me!’

‘Consider it medicinal.’

Cuttin’ Edge took another sip and then gagged and

blinked. ‘What’s it called?’

‘Ginger beer.’

‘Sure has a kick.’

‘I only use it for special occasions.’ Scrum took the

flask back and drank again. ‘To Stella – one of the good

guys.’

‘Amen to that.’

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes,

passing the flask back and forth. Eventually Scrum put the

lid back on and stowed it away. ‘What do you make of

that Doctor?’ he asked.

‘Well, he sure ain’t no pirate,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. ‘But

other than that – I don’t know. I don’t understand half of

what he says. He’s a bit like you, in that respect, only

better lookin’.’

Scrum sniffed. ‘He knows things.’

‘Like what?’

‘About the Daleks – stuff he isn’t telling us.’

‘Maybe. It don’t really matter, though – either way,

Bowman’s gonna kick his bony butt off the ship as soon

as, and a good thing too.’

‘Why do you say that?’

Cuttin’ Edge leant forward. ‘Because whatever, or

whoever, he is – he’s brought us nothin’ but bad luck.’

The Doctor had decided that there was no point in sitting

in the galley doing nothing but look morose. He was stuck

on the Wayfarer at least until it reached Auros, and so he

might as well get his bearings. Besides, he couldn’t resist

having a little look around. Which, he reflected, is what

had got him into this mess in the first place.

The first thing he decided to do was check out the

engine room. It was a small ship, but powerful, and he

wondered what kind of propulsion system it used. Not

many spacecraft of this era relied on antiquated fuel

systems like astronic recharge.

On the way to the engine room he passed by the hold,

and the Doctor couldn’t help but pause to look in through

the plastic window in the door.

There was the Dalek, like some terrifying ice sculpture,

glistening in the cargo bay lights. Where the eyestalk

should have been attached to the dome, there was only the

stub of the pivot nestling in its metal cowl. A couple of

wires and fibre-optic filaments dangled from the hole.

Even robbed of its eye, the Dalek looked dangerous.

The very shape of it chilled the Doctor to the bone. He

had too many bad memories, too many nightmares, to feel

anything but revulsion.

And fear.

He took a deep breath and the little window clouded

over slightly, obscuring the frost-whitened demon within.

It was only that which prevented the Doctor from spotting

the single drop of water that fell from the rim of the

Dalek’s sucker arm.

The engine room was a little further on, to the rear, or aft,

section of the vessel. The closer the Doctor got to the

heavy astronic motors, the more he could feel the

vibration through the soles of his trainers. The noise level

increased too. He thought he could detect a slightly

irregular beat coming from the coolant pumps, and felt a

flicker of interest – it almost certainly meant a problem

with the regulator valves, and perhaps he could fix them,

or improve them, and thus gain some points with the rest

of the Wayfarer crew.

But something caught his eye as he approached the

engine room. Further down the corridor, there was a

movement in the shadows.

‘Hello?’ he said, trying to see what it was. It was dark

down here, the passageways lit only by a series of small

amber lights running at shoulder height along the walls.

Thick cables and pipes ran the length of the ceiling and

steam from the coolant pumps floated up through the deck

plates, a sure sign that the regulator valves were worn.

‘Anyone there?’

The Doctor caught a brief glimpse of something lithe

and dark, with bared fangs glinting in the lights – and then

it was on top of him, bearing him to the ground with an

angry snarl.

‘Captain wants to see you,’ it said in a sibilant whisper,

completely at odds with the ferocious beast the Doctor

had been expecting.

He frowned. ‘What?’

‘I said, the captain wants to see you,’ repeated the alien

sitting on his chest.

He lay there for another moment, unable to think of a

suitable reply.

‘ What? ‘ he said again, eventually.

She jumped off his chest. When the steam from the

coolant pumps had drifted away, the Doctor saw a tawny,

humanoid figure with a pair of luminous eyes. He

scrambled to his feet, straightening his jacket in an

attempt to regain some of his dignity, and peered at the

strange, leonine face.

‘Do you attack all your guests like that?’

‘It depends.’ Again, the reply was barely more than a

whisper.

‘Depends on what?’

‘On whether I like them or not.’

‘I see,’ said the Doctor, rubbing his throat. Only

seconds before, he’d been convinced this creature was

going to rip it out with her bare teeth. ‘I take it you don’t

like me much, then.’

‘If I didn’t like you, you’d be dead already.’

She turned and led the way down the passageway,

disappearing into the shadows.

‘Right,’ said the Doctor. ‘That’s that clear, then.’

Bowman was sitting at his desk, cleaning a large

automatic blaster. He didn’t look up at the Doctor until the

door hissed shut behind him.

‘Doctor,’ said Bowman eventually. He said the word as

if it tasted bad.

‘Captain.’

‘It’s been a long time since I was entitled to any kind of

rank,’ he said. ‘I’m captain here only because the

Wayfarer‘s my ship – and this is my crew. Officially, we

don’t exist.’

‘You’re mercenaries.’

‘Bounty hunters.’ Bowman sat back and folded his

arms, the muscles rippling beneath skin tanned by the suns

of a hundred different worlds. There were signs of many

old wounds, and one livid white scar on his forearm.

‘Mercenaries will work for whoever pays them the most.

We hunt Daleks, and Earth rewards us for every kill.

There’s a difference.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do. We work for Earth Command and no one else.’

‘I know Earth Command. They’re running scared. The

Daleks are engaging them on every front, pushing back

the boundaries of Earth control. And now Earth’s prepared

to use any and every method to stop the Daleks in their

tracks – even mercenaries. Or bounty hunters.’

‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’

‘The problem is escalation. Tit-for-tat raids in the

border regions, no one really cares. But then a planet gets

wiped out and suddenly it’s all over the news. But it’s no

use trying to hold back the Daleks with a bunch of willing

cut-throats on the front line. Earth will have to send in

troops – thousands of ‘em. Half of them will be no more

than kids themselves, joining up because they think it’s

the right thing to do.’

‘And you don’t think it is?’

‘I don’t believe in innocent people getting slaughtered.’

‘The Daleks want to conquer our entire galaxy. We

have to fight them.’

‘Of course you do. But it’s the way you fight them that

matters. They want to drag you into a long, drawn-out war

because that’s what they like. Destruction, killing,

slaughter – extermination. It’s what they do. You’re

playing right into their hands. Suckers. Whatever.’

‘You seem to know a lot about them.’

‘Enough to know that, eventually, if you’re not careful,

the Daleks will drag you all down fighting. Every single

human being. It’s what they want.’

Bowman watched the Doctor carefully, as if weighing

up his words and trying to decide whether to question him

further or just shoot him on the spot. There was an

unreadable, stony look in the captain’s eyes that told the

Doctor it could easily go either way. But at that moment

there was a distinct change in the background rumble of

the Wayfarer‘s engines as the ship altered course. The

intercom on Bowman’s desk bleeped and Scrum’s voice

said, ‘Just entering the Auros system, skipper.’

‘OK,’ Bowman replied. ‘Let me know when we’re

coming into orbit.’ Then he turned back to the Doctor and

said, ‘Sit down.’

There was a seat in front of Bowman’s desk and the

Doctor sat, lifting his feet and resting his trainers casually

on the edge of the desk. Something caught his eye

immediately, and he reached out to pick up the

holopicture. ‘Aww, is this your mum and dad? That’s so

sweet! You’ve got your mum’s eyes, you know. Only she

doesn’t seem to be frowning so much in that picture. Bet

she doesn’t even know what you do for a living. Bounty

hunter, eh?’

‘Put that down,’ growled Bowman.

The Doctor tossed the holopicture across the desk and

Bowman caught it with a snap of his hand. ‘Now – what

did you want to see me about? And who’s that charming

creature who fetched me here – your bodyguard? Hired

muscle? Ship’s cat? You don’t look like you need any of

them, to be honest.’

‘I don’t. But Koral is unique. She is fast, strong and

very loyal. She also has claws that can rip through sheet

metal.’

‘Really? I don’t think I’ve seen her kind before.’

‘Her planet was destroyed by the Daleks – she’s the last

of her kind.’

‘I know the feeling.’

‘I saved her life,’ Bowman said simply. ‘She was dying,

suffocating in the smoking ruins of her own world. I took

her onboard the Wayfarer and nursed her back to life. Now

she believes she owes me that life, quite literally. She has

sworn to protect me.’

‘It’s an old story,’ the Doctor remarked, ‘but I still don’t

think you need it.’ He nodded at the heavy blaster pistol

resting on the desk.

‘True, but what else is there for her to do? Life with me

gives her the one thing she craves – the chance to destroy

Daleks. Something I have seen her do with her bare hands,

incidentally. In a recent encounter with some space

pirates, one of my crew was slightly injured in the

altercation. Koral leapt on the bandit who fired the shot

and ripped his head clean off with one stroke of her claws.

Her loyalty extends through me to the rest of the crew.’

The Doctor whistled. ‘And the rest of your crew…

what kind of tricks can they do?’

‘Scrum is a brilliant computer technician and

theoretical scientist – or so he tells me. He’s also a wanted

criminal throughout Earth space, so it’s difficult to

substantiate his claims. But as he invented most of our

anti-Dalek weaponry and defence systems, I’m willing to

give him the benefit of the doubt.’

‘And what about Cuttin’ Edge?’

‘Used to be a Space Marine, one of the best – except

that he couldn’t handle military discipline and ended up

on the wrong end of a dishonourable discharge.

Something to do with murdering his commanding officer,

I believe.’

‘And what about Stella?’ The Doctor spoke softly,

cautiously, but he had to ask. ‘She didn’t exactly fit in

with you lot – criminals, killers, people who can tear

through sheet metal.’

Bowman stared at the Doctor. ‘Stella was a good kid.

That’s all you need to know.’

The Doctor nodded. ‘I liked her.’

‘You hardly knew her.’

‘I’m a good judge of character.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yeah, so look: I really don’t want to hang around here

any longer than I have to, and I know you certainly don’t

want me here, so how about we forget all this chit-chat

and go our separate ways? You needn’t bother throwing

me overboard, either. Just drop me off when we get to

Auros and we’ll call it quits.’

Bowman didn’t reply straight away. He simply

continued to work on the blaster pistol, clicking each

component into place without even looking.

Eventually, he said, ‘Not so fast, Doctor.’

The Doctor watched as Bowman finished reassembling

the gun.

‘You see,’ Bowman said, ‘I’ve been thinking about you,

Doctor. It’s been preying on my mind ever since we left

Hurala. That planet’s nothing but a forgotten piece of grit

on the edge of space. So what were you really doing

there? And, more importantly, what were the Daleks doing

there? They don’t do anything – or go anywhere – without

a reason.’

‘I’ve no idea,’ replied the Doctor. ‘I shouldn’t really

have been there myself. I can hardly speak for the

Daleks.’

‘Is that so?’ Bowman made no attempt to hide his

scepticism. ‘Come on, Doctor. I know you’re a spook.’

‘Spook?’

‘Earth agent. Military intelligence. Why else would you

be stuck on Hurala just when the Daleks turn up? You

couldn’t even provide any proper ID. You’ve got “secrets”

written all over you. There wasn’t any other spacecraft

there when the Wayfarer touched down. I bet if I asked

you straight how you got to Hurala you wouldn’t be able

to answer.’

‘It’s difficult to explain, it really is.’

Bowman curled his lip. ‘Let me guess – if you told me,

you’d have to kill me?’

‘I’d probably have to stop you laughing first.’

‘Want to bet?’ Bowman aimed the blaster casually at

the Doctor’s head. ‘Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t

like spooks and I don’t like you. But one way or another

I’m going to find out what you were doing on Hurala, and

why the Daleks were there.’

The intercom on Bowman’s desk bleeped again and

Scrum’s voice crackled through: ‘Skipper! We’re just

coming into orbit around Auros…’

Both Bowman and the Doctor heard the strange,

anxious tone. ‘What’s up?’ asked Bowman.

‘Something’s wrong,’ Scrum replied, his voice

trembling. ‘Badly wrong. You’d better come and take a

look, skip. Auros is burning.’

The planet was on fire. From the large portside viewing

window, the crew of the Wayfarer looked down in

disbelieving horror as the surface of the planet churned

and broke apart, molten lava erupting from beneath the

shattered crust, incinerating everything in its path and

filling the atmosphere with toxic gas.

Auros had been a typical human colony world –

naturally located in a temperate biosphere around its

parent sun, with one small moon. It was a beautiful planet,

with equatorial rainforests, mountains, deserts, grassland

and oceans, and men had come here in their droves, keen

to escape the overcrowded Earth.

The Doctor looked up from the unfolding devastation.

Scrum was white-faced, and there were tears running

down his cheeks. ‘Any communications?’

Scrum shook his head. ‘We didn’t establish contact

beforehand. We’re not always welcome.’

‘There were some ships flying away when we got here,’

said Cuttin’ Edge slowly. ‘Looks like they were

evacuatin’. A couple of them said we should clear out too.

Auros is goin’ down.’

‘The last ship to leave told us to cut and run,’ Scrum

added quietly. ‘They said the Daleks were coming.’

A chill spread through the Wayfarer, and even Koral –

watching from the shadows through narrowed,

smouldering eyes – moved closer to the others.

Jon Bowman stood behind all of them, like the statue of

an ancient god overlooking Hell. His hard, rock-like face

reflected the orange and red glow of the dying planet.

‘I’ve seen this before,’ he growled. ‘It’s the Osterhagen

Principle.’

‘They’ve scuttled the planet,’ explained the Doctor in

response to Scrum’s questioning look. ‘There’s a network

of nuclear devices across the planet, buried deep below

ground. It’s a self-destruct mechanism.’

‘It’s designed to prevent the enemy getting hold of the

planet,’ said Bowman. ‘When all else fails.’

‘I know what it’s for,’ said the Doctor bleakly. ‘It was

invented on Earth over five hundred years ago. It was a

bad idea then and it’s a bad idea now.’

Cuttin’ Edge stepped back from the window, rubbing a

hand over his shaven head in confusion. At first he

seemed almost lost for words, but then he said, ‘Hey, they

must have done it for a reason, man.’

‘You heard what they said,’ Scrum argued. ‘The Daleks

are coming. Maybe this way the population will have time

to escape.’

‘Yeah,’ Cuttin’ Edge nodded. ‘Yeah. At least this way

the Daleks don’t get the planet.’

Cuttin’ Edge was desperate to make sense of what he

was seeing, to find a way to come to terms with the

terrible destruction consuming the charred surface of the

world below. But all the Doctor could feel was the bile

rising in his throat, a stark revulsion that he couldn’t

contain. ‘It’s a stupid, stupid waste,’ he said. ‘All they’ve

done is save the Daleks a job. They’d have destroyed a

planet like that anyway. Now they don’t even have to

bother.’

Scrum glared at the Doctor, and there was hate in his

tearful eyes now. ‘Don’t say that,’ he moaned.

‘I’m sorry,’ said the Doctor quietly. ‘But it’s what the

Daleks do.’

‘I can’t watch it any more,’ said Scrum. He turned

away from the window and leant his head against the wall.

His whole body was shaking.

‘Take it easy, bro,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. He rested a hand

on his friend’s shoulder and shot the Doctor a venomous

look.

‘Satisfied?’ Bowman growled at the Doctor. ‘First

Stella, now her homeworld. What’s going on?’

‘I don’t know,’ the Doctor said. He looked out of the

window again, keen to avoid their accusing stares. On the

surface of the planet below, vast chunks of charred land

broke away into seas of boiling lava. ‘But it wasn’t the

Daleks who did that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Human beings did that,’ the Doctor said in a funereal

tone. His big, dark eyes never left the planet. ‘All those

cities and homes and farms and fields… the sum of human

endeavour on a beautiful new world. All gone –

deliberately wrecked. A self-inflicted wound.’

Bowman’s temper flared. ‘What choice did they have?

Auros is too far from Earth Command for them to protect

it against a fleet of Dalek destructor ships. This was the

only way to protect them. The only way. Don’t you see

that?’

‘All I see is a planet in flames and not a Dalek in sight.’

‘Then the survivors should count themselves lucky.’

The Doctor tore his gaze from the planet’s death throes.

He stared at nothing, thinking furiously. Then he clapped a

hand against his head and yelled, ‘Of course!’

The others stared at him.

He looked up, his eyes wide with a sudden, horrific

realisation. ‘Oh no. Oh no, no, no…!’

And then he pushed straight past Bowman and ran

towards the flight cabin. ‘We need to contact them – warn

them! Hurry!’

Bowman jerked his head, and Cuttin’ Edge and Scrum

obediently set off after the Doctor.

‘What’s up?’ Cuttin’ Edge demanded as they reached

the flight cabin. The Doctor was all over the controls,

leaping from one panel to the next, flicking switches and

jabbing buttons with frenetic speed. ‘Hey – what you

doin’, man?’

The Doctor was practically tearing his hair out. ‘I’m

trying to make contact with the refugees,’ he gabbled.

‘There must be a long-range transceiver system onboard a

ship like this – but where? This thing’s been repaired,

replaced and reconditioned more times than my TARDIS!’

‘Here,’ said Scrum, sliding into one of the cockpit seats

and activating a control unit. ‘It’s a hyperlink data-stream

salvaged from an old Draconian battleship. It can tap into

almost any major communications signal.’

‘Brilliant!’ The Doctor slipped on his glasses and

studied the console over Scrum’s shoulder. ‘Send out a

broad-contact beam. But scramble the signal. We don’t

want to be any more visible than we have to be, do we?’

‘What’s going on?’ asked Bowman as he entered the

flight deck. Koral was at his shoulder, a shadow among

shadows.

‘We’ve got to warn the people who left Auros,’ said the

Doctor without looking up. ‘Tell them to turn around and

head back home.’

‘What?’ Cuttin’ Edge frowned. ‘You gotta be kiddin’,

man…’

‘Their home is burning,’ Bowman said. ‘They’re

running away, trying to put as much distance between

themselves and the Daleks.’

‘Are they?’ The Doctor whipped off his glasses and

looked straight at Bowman. ‘This is the Daleks we’re

talking about, remember. They don’t let people go. It’s not

in their nature.’

And in that instant Bowman understood. ‘The Daleks

will ambush the fleet. It’s a trap.’ He turned to Scrum and

barked, ‘For God’s sake, man, get them on the hyperlink

now.’

‘I’m working on it,’ Scrum assured him. His fingers

flew over the communications controls, his tears forgotten

as he concentrated on the task. ‘Here we are. Looks like

they left Auros in commercial passenger ships and cargo

freighters, plus some private vessels. A convoy, packed

with the entire population.’

‘How could they have organised all that so quickly?’

wondered Cuttin’ Edge.

‘There’s probably not all that many of them in

planetary terms,’ said the Doctor. ‘No more than a few

thousand. They will all have been located near to the

major spaceport, or owned spacecraft of their own. And

fear is a great motivator. Once the countdown for the

Osterhagen nukes started, I bet they all moved pretty fast.’

Bowman’s face was a grim mask in the light of the

control board. ‘Too fast,’ he growled.

‘I still don’t understand—’ Cuttin’ Edge began.

‘Shh,’ said Scrum. There was a rush of static from the

panel. ‘I’ve done it – I’ve hacked into the Auros convoy’s

communications network.’

The Doctor leant in and grabbed the microphone by its

flexible neck. ‘Auros convoy! Do you copy? This is the

Wayfarer calling the Auros convoy – can you hear us?’

A burst of static, then: ‘This is the Auros convoy.’ The

screen fizzled into life and the grainy image of a tired,

anxious-looking woman came into view. ‘I’m Vanessa

Lakestaad—’

‘Listen to me—’ began the Doctor.

‘Do you wish to join the fleet?’

‘No, listen—’

‘You can’t miss us,’ Vanessa Lakestaad said. ‘There are

nearly four hundred vessels in this convoy alone…’

‘Stop!’ yelled the Doctor. ‘Turn back!’

‘I’m sorry, you’re breaking up,’ said the woman,

frowning. The image crackled. ‘There’s another signal

interfering with yours. It’s very powerful…’

The Doctor’s grip tightened on the microphone and his

knuckles turned white. ‘Turn around!’ he yelled. ‘Tell the

fleet to split up! Scatter! Run for your lives!’

‘What? I can’t hear you. Wait – here’s that signal again.

It’s drowning you out.’

There was a loud crackle from the speakers and Scrum

winced as the picture suddenly zigzagged and

disappeared. ‘We’ve lost contact…’ He adjusted some

controls. ‘We can still hear them but they can’t hear us.

Someone’s blocking our signal.’

The woman’s voice came again, loud and clear, almost

as if she was standing next to them on the flight deck of

the Wayfarer. ‘Unidentified vessel, this is Vanessa

Lakestaad, Leader of the Auros refugee fleet. Our

homeworld is destroyed. We are fleeing for our lives.

Please identify yourself.’

There was a long pause. And then a harsh, grating

voice filled the cabin: ‘SURVIVORS OF AUROS! PAY

CLOSE ATTENTION!’

‘Oh my God,’ whispered Scrum.

The Doctor put his hand over his mouth in mute horror

as the image on the screen slowly resolved into the

familiar dome of a Dalek head. The eye glowed a bright

blue, almost filling the screen.

‘WE ARE THE DALEKS! YOUR EFFORTS TO

ESCAPE ARE USELESS! PREPARE TO

SURRENDER.’

‘Please,’ said Vanessa Lakestaad. Her voice now

sounded small and frightened, suddenly almost childlike.

‘You… you must let us pass. We are a refugee fleet,

heading for the Inner Worlds. We can’t—’

The metallic voice interrupted her. ‘SILENCE! YOU

WILL TRAVEL NO FURTHER. YOUR CONVOY IS

SURROUNDED.’

‘No, please, you can’t mean that! You mustn’t! We

don’t want to fight!’ A sob broke through Lakestaad’s

words. ‘We can’t fight. We can’t…! We’re private vessels,

merchant ships only. This is the entire population of

Auros. We claim refugee status…’

‘SILENCE! YOU HAVE DESTROYED YOUR OWN

PLANET AND FLED INTO SPACE.’ The Dalek voice

rose in pitch as it grew more excited. ‘YOU ARE NOW

PRISONERS OF THE DALEKS!’

‘I don’t understand…’ began Vanessa.

‘YOUR SPACECRAFT WILL BE BOARDED AND

YOUR PASSENGERS TAKEN AS PRISONERS. ANY

ATTEMPT AT RESISTANCE WILL BE MET BY

EXTERMINATION.’

‘No! You can’t!’

The Dalek’s voice grated on: ‘AS AN EXAMPLE TO

THE REMAINDER OF THE REFUGEE FLEET, YOUR

VESSEL WILL NOW BE DESTROYED.’

‘Please, no…’ whispered Vanessa.

Scrum turned in his seat and looked up at Bowman.

‘We’ve got to do something!’

But Bowman stared impassively at the communications

console, utterly powerless.

The Doctor closed his eyes.

‘Please… Have mercy on us,’ wept Vanessa. ‘I beg

you…’

‘EXTERMINATE!’ shrieked the Dalek.

There was a howl of feedback, echoing around the

flight cabin like a blood-curdling scream. And then,

abruptly, the signal died and the air was filled with white

noise. The image of the Dalek faded slowly from the

screen.

Scrum buried his head in his hands. Cuttin’ Edge swore

and looked down at his boots. Koral stepped closer to

Bowman, who simply stood, rock-like, his eyes narrowed

into grey slits as if his gaze could pierce the walls of the

ship and see across space, to where the Auros fleet had

once been.

There was complete silence on board the Wayfarer now.

The Doctor gently switched off the radio.

‘Gone…’ Scrum was saying softly. ‘That woman… All

those people – just… gone. Slaughtered.’

Bowman turned his cold, steely eyes on the Doctor.

‘You knew that was going to happen.’

‘I guessed,’ said the Doctor quietly. ‘The Daleks knew

the survivors would run for their lives. It was a simple

matter to position the Dalek ships ready to intercept the

convoy. A lot quicker and easier than attacking the planet

itself. They kill the leaders and take the rest prisoner.’

‘They never stood a chance.’

‘No,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘They didn’t.’

Bowman’s lips compressed into a thin, bleak line and

his face was white with anger. ‘There’s something going

on here which I don’t understand. First the Daleks turn up

on Hurala, right out on the very edge of nowhere. And

now this. Taking thousands of prisoners in one go. Why?

What’s going on?’

‘I don’t know.’

Bowman had grabbed the Doctor by the lapels of his

suit and slammed him up against the bulkhead wall. ‘The

hell you don’t!’ he roared. ‘You never saw Auros before!

Fields and oceans and blue skies! Men and women and

kids! They had everything!’

‘I’m sorry…’

‘Sorry isn’t enough!’ Bowman swung the Doctor

around, hurling him across the cabin. He crashed against

the door and then slid to the ground in a crumpled heap.

‘Sorry isn’t nearly enough.’

The Doctor got to his knees slowly and painfully. He

felt as if every bone in his body was still vibrating from

the impact with the wall, and his mouth hurt. The front of

his suit was creased where Bowman’s giant fists had held

him.

‘Don’t bother standing up,’ Bowman growled

menacingly, ‘unless you want me to knock you down

again.’

The Doctor touched a finger to his lip. There was blood

where it had split.

‘You know more than you’re telling,’ Bowman insisted.

‘You know what all this is about. Don’t you?’

Scrum and Cuttin’ Edge were watching the altercation.

Scrum looked nervous but Cuttin’ Edge was sneering.

‘You best tell us what you know, man. Otherwise we may

have to make you.’

The Doctor stood up, slowly, to his full height. As tall

as Bowman was, the Doctor could still look him in the

eye. And he did this now, unflinchingly, his gaze cool and

level. ‘You can beat me up if you want to,’ the Doctor told

him. ‘Here and now. Go on. Give it your best shot. If it

helps, your two pals here can hold my arms. How about it,

fellas? No?’

Scrum shook his head and even Cuttin’ Edge looked

away.

‘Stop wasting my time,’ Bowman said.

‘I never waste time. So, come on. Here I am!’ The

Doctor held his arms out wide. ‘Use your fists, do me

some damage. Get rid of that anger and frustration. Don’t

hold back, Bowman, I’m not armed. I’m just a skinny guy

in a suit. What’s the problem? Here, I’ll make it easier for

you, shall I?’ The Doctor put on his glasses. ‘There! Now,

come on, Bowman! Hit me hard! Sort me out!’

By now the Doctor was practically shouting in

Bowman’s face. The captain of the Wayfarer stared back,

unmoving, but the muscles in his jaw and face were

quivering with barely suppressed anger.

Then Koral stepped between them. ‘That is enough.

Everyone mourns for Auros. We should be fighting

Daleks, not each other.’

There was a long, deadly pause.

Then the Doctor slowly folded his glasses and put them

away. ‘Thank you.’

Bowman was still seething, but, somehow, Koral had

been able to prevent him losing his temper completely. He

scowled at the Doctor. ‘What were the Daleks doing on

Hurala? What are they up to? We’ve stumbled across

something big here, and I think you know what’s going

on.’

All eyes turned to look at the Doctor. ‘I don’t know,’ he

told them. ‘Really, I don’t. I shouldn’t even be here. I’m in

the wrong time and place altogether. In fact, I’m in the

wrong time and place in more ways than you can

imagine.’

‘You always talk like that,’ muttered Cuttin’ Edge.

‘Don’t make no sense.’

‘I just want to know what the Daleks were doing at the

Lodestar station on Hurala,’ repeated Bowman wearily.

‘That’s all.’

Scrum cleared his throat. ‘Actually, captain, I think I

may know a way we can find out.’

It was still cold in the cargo chamber, and the Dalek was

still frozen.

But not as frozen as it was.

Now there was a steady trickle of water running down

the segmented shoulders, dripping from the gun and

sucker, pooling on the floor beneath the base. The head

dome was almost completely clear of frost.

‘What’s happening?’ asked Bowman.

‘It’s thawing out,’ said the Doctor. His eyes were wide

and anxious.

‘Who asked you?’ demanded Bowman. He turned to

Scrum. ‘I thought it was dead.’

‘Perhaps it still is,’ Scrum replied, circling the Dalek

slowly, examining the casing. ‘Perhaps this is some kind

of automatic response by the armour.’

‘But?’

‘Yeah,’ said Cuttin’ Edge, ‘I can sense a big “but”

there, too.’

‘ But… I was thinking,’ said Scrum, ‘that the armour is

actually a life-support system. Perhaps when the cryo-

charge hit it didn’t kill the creature inside but it froze it as

well. Exactly what a cryo-charge is supposed to do, after

all.’

‘Wait,’ said the Doctor. He stepped forward, right up to

the Dalek. And then he hesitated, almost as if he was

trying to convince himself of what he should do next. He

took an old stethoscope out of his jacket pocket, clipped it

into his ears, and placed the other end against the Dalek

casing very, very softly.

Everyone was silent. All that could be heard was the

steady background rumble of the ship’s engines and the

occasional drip of melting ice.

The Doctor had closed his eyes, concentrating. He

moved the stethoscope to another area of the casing and

listened again. Then, finally, he tried it against the black

grille between the bronze neck rings.

Then the Doctor’s eyes snapped open, the pupils

dilating. He straightened up and backed away from the

Dalek very quickly. ‘It’s alive,’ he whispered. ‘Inside. It’s

still alive.’

‘I knew it,’ breathed Scrum. A strange light came into

his eyes as he watched the machine creature. More water

trickled down through the frosted globes on its base unit.

‘It’s thawing itself out. The casing is doing it

automatically.’

‘This is bad news, man,’ said Cuttin’ Edge.

‘The worst,’ confirmed the Doctor. ‘It’s not strong

enough to control the machinery yet, but it will be…’

Bowman said, ‘Not really interested in your opinion,

Doctor. All I know is we’ve caught ourselves a live Dalek

here. I don’t know anyone who’s ever done that before.’

‘It’s better than that,’ said Scrum excitedly. ‘It’s

thawing out very slowly. We’ve got it totally under our

control. If we disable the weaponry and self-destruct

system we can render this thing completely harmless.’

The Doctor frowned at him. ‘No Dalek is ever

completely harmless.’

‘So what are you suggesting, Scrum?’ Bowman asked.

‘I suggest we open this thing up,’ Scrum replied. ‘And

ask it a few questions.’

The Wayfarer suddenly became a hive of activity. Scrum

and Cuttin’ Edge set about securing the Dalek, wheeling

in equipment and tools into the cargo hold with an air of

professional urgency.

The Doctor caught up with Bowman in the corridor,

heading for his cabin. ‘You can’t be serious about this.’

‘I’m deadly serious,’ replied Bowman over his

shoulder. ‘This is a golden opportunity to gain first-hand

intelligence from an actual Dalek. No one’s ever done that

before.’

‘Bowman, it’s a golden opportunity to get us all killed,’

the Doctor argued. ‘Why don’t you just take the thing

back to Earth Command? Let them handle it.’

‘No way. Earth Command is too far from here. We’re

in deep space, Doctor. Out here, no one can hear you

whinge.’

‘Bowman, I mean it—’

‘Me too. We’re on our own, Doctor. Just us and a

Dalek. I’ve waited a long time for this.’

The Doctor let out an exasperated gasp. ‘You’re

messing with things you just don’t understand!’

Bowman rounded on him. ‘No,’ he growled. ‘I

understand the Daleks only too well, Doctor. I’ve fought

them all my adult life. Fought them. I saw good soldiers

and friends gunned down by those things, vaporised, like

they never even existed. We all listened to the leaders of

Auros being shot out of space in cold blood…’

‘Believe me, no one knows the terrible things the

Daleks can do better than me but—’

‘Really?’ Bowman paused in the doorway to his cabin.

He looked doubtfully at the Doctor. ‘That thing killed

Stella. And you know how those Dalek guns work, don’t

you? On full power, they can blast a human being into

atoms in a split second. But they never do that. Every

Dalek dials down the power on its gun-stick to the specific

level that will kill a human being. Then they lower the

power setting just a tiny bit further, so that the beam burns

away the central nervous system from the outside in,

meaning that every human being dies in agony. So it takes

a full two to three seconds for a Dalek to exterminate one

of us – and that’s deliberate.’

‘I know,’ said the Doctor. ‘I know all that. But it still

doesn’t mean that what you’re about to do is right. You

can’t just use it as an excuse to take your revenge for

Stella’s death.’

‘But revenge is what I want,’ said Bowman simply.

Cuttin’ Edge had used the cargo loader to suspend the

Dalek upside down from the ceiling. Its base unit was

clamped into the lifter’s giant metal slide grips. It hung in

the middle of the chamber, its dome section level with

Scrum’s head.

‘Perfect,’ said Scrum, giving the thumbs up. ‘See if you

can secure the arm now.’

Cuttin’ Edge was standing at the remote-control unit for

the cargo loader. A few deft adjustments and a powerful

metal clamp moved down from the lifting apparatus to

grab hold of the Dalek’s sucker arm. Cuttin’ Edge

increased the torque until the clamp began, very slowly, to

dent the metallic tube which made up the arm. It was

utterly immobilised.

The door to the cargo hold slid open and the Doctor

moped in, hands in pockets. He looked up at the Dalek

and tilted his head, frowning. ‘Why upside down?’

‘The loader’s gravity field cancels out the Dalek’s

elevation units,’ explained Scrum. He was moving around

the Dalek, examining the neck and shoulder sections

carefully. ‘I’ve rigged a high-frequency radio-wave

jamming field too, which should counteract the motive

unit.’

The Doctor nodded, impressed. ‘Yeah, that might work.

I’ve done that a couple of times myself. It’ll interfere with

the guidance systems at least, and maybe the motive unit.

But it won’t last for ever. You’ll get ten seconds, tops,

before it finds a way to cancel the jamming field.’

‘That’s all we’ll need.’

‘You know this is wrong, don’t you?’ the Doctor asked.

He picked up a couple of tools from a nearby table,

checked them over, tossed them back down. ‘Wrong,

wrong, wrong. Wrong in so many ways.’

Cuttin’ Edge looked scornful. ‘We know what we’re

doin’.’

‘And one of the many ways in which it is wrong,’

continued the Doctor, ‘is the way in which it is insanely,

obviously and ludicrously dangerous.’

‘Hey, we’re Dalek hunters, dude. We do this for a

livin’. Scrum’s got everything covered.’

Scrum cleared his throat. ‘Actually, I was rather hoping

you would help, Doctor.’

‘Not a chance.’

‘You may not agree with what we’re trying to do, but

you must want to make sure the Dalek is truly

defenceless.’

‘No Dalek is ever truly defenceless.’ The Doctor

sighed. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. Sucked in his

cheeks. Blew out a long breath between his teeth and

scratched the back of his neck. ‘Oh, all right. But not

because I approve of what you’re doing. I just don’t fancy

my central nervous system being fried from the outside in

– or watching yours being fried, for that matter.’

‘We’ve immobilised the Dalek and secured the arm. It’s

effectively blind but—’

‘Watch that sucker,’ warned the Doctor, pulling Scrum

away from the Dalek’s reach. ‘I’ve seen those things crush

bricks like that.’ He closed his fingers into a sudden fist.

‘Uh, thanks. Well, as I said – the Dalek is effectively

blind…’

‘Vision impaired,’ muttered the Doctor. ‘That’s how

they like to put it. But don’t forget it’s got sensor systems

all over its body.’

‘It’s the gun I’m worried about.’

‘Yeah, you really want that out of action.’ The Doctor

slipped his glasses on and examined the weapon housing.

‘Best thing is to remove it completely.’

‘Is that possible?’

‘While it’s still thawing out we can try.’

The Doctor pulled a small set of steps over so that he

could see the gun platform more easily. He took out his

sonic screwdriver. ‘There are four galvanised trintillium

bolts securing the armour plate here around the ball-and-

socket joint. See? We’ve got to get those out before we

can see what’s what.’

Scrum’s eyes widened. ‘Can you do that?’

‘Let’s give it a go,’ answered the Doctor, clicking open

the screwdriver.

Bowman kept an old bottle of Draconian branka in his

cabin. He unscrewed the lid and sloshed some into a

plastic cup. He stared at it for a second and then

swallowed it down in one. The fire spread through his

throat and stomach and he closed his eyes to appreciate

the flavour. Then he grimaced.

‘Yuck. Never did like that stuff.’

‘Yet you still drink it?’ Koral stepped into the pool of

light that came from the captain’s desk lamp.

‘Sometimes.’ Bowman placed the cup on the desk.

‘Why?’

‘It’s tradition. Times like these, you need courage.’

‘It gives you courage?’

‘No. It just makes you think you have it. Drink enough

and you think you’ve got all the courage in the world.’

‘And what if you drink too much?’

‘Then it doesn’t really matter what you think.’

Koral sat on the edge of the desk. ‘And what about the

Doctor? What do you think of him?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? He’s a jumped up little nerd who

thinks he knows a bit about the Daleks.’

‘Perhaps he does.’

Bowman regarded her carefully. ‘You reckon?’

‘He’s not like you. But he does know a lot about the

Daleks.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘Because of the fear in his eyes.’

‘Huh.’ Bowman reached for the plastic cup and the

bottle again.

Koral put a hand on his arm, stopping him from

pouring another drink. ‘The more you know about the

Daleks,’ she said, ‘the more you learn to fear them.’

Very carefully, the Doctor lifted the Dalek gun-stick out of

its housing. The big black sphere at its base, which

provided the weapon with an incredible field of fire, was

attached to the interior of the rotating shoulder platform

by a number of wires and flexible tubes.

‘Hold that steady,’ he told Scrum. Scrum took the gun-

stick in his hands and watched the Doctor peer inside the

open socket.

‘You have to cut the right connections in the right

order,’ said the Doctor, aiming his sonic screwdriver

inside and making a number of careful incisions. His

voice was barely a whisper. ‘It’s a bit like defusing a

bomb.’

‘You’ve defused bombs before, then, have you?’ asked

Cuttin’ Edge, looking over his shoulder.

‘Yeah, loads.’ The Doctor concentrated on the task at

hand for a few more seconds and then said, ‘Here we go!

Molto bene! Out we come!’

He pulled the last wires out and the gun came free.

Scrum carried it over to a workbench – it was heavier than

it looked – and set it down carefully.

‘You’re right to be cautious,’ the Doctor told him,

wandering over. He was wiping his hands on a rag.

‘There’s a compressed power reservoir in the ball joint.

There’s still plenty of shooting to be done with that thing.’

He pointed the sonic screwdriver at the base of the gun-

stick and a shrill whine filled the air. Smoke started to

drift out of the gun.

‘There.’ The Doctor flicked off the screwdriver. ‘I’ve

fused the control linkages. No more killing.’

‘It was that easy?’ queried Cuttin’ Edge, looking from

the gun-stick to the sonic screwdriver. ‘An’ that thing

looks so dinky.’

‘It’s not dinky,’ retorted the Doctor sharply. He held the

screwdriver up, examining it. ‘It’s not at all dinky!’

‘Whatever, it still made short work of that Dalek gun.’

The Doctor’s face hardened and he took off his glasses.

‘Only because it’s disconnected from the Dalek itself. A

sonic screwdriver wouldn’t touch it otherwise.’

At that moment, Bowman strode in with Koral in tow.

He took one look at the upside-down Dalek, and then

glanced at the Doctor. ‘What’s he doing here?’

‘He’s been helping us,’ said Scrum.

Bowman looked sceptical and the Doctor quickly

shook his head. ‘Oh no. No, not really. Not helping as

such…’

‘Yes, he has,’ insisted Scrum, nodding at the gun-stick

lying on the workbench. ‘Couldn’t have done that without

him.’

‘I’m not helping,’ said the Doctor firmly. ‘I just don’t

want any of you hurt.’ He glanced at Bowman. ‘Well,

most of you.’

Bowman and Koral exchanged a look but said nothing.

Eventually Bowman turned his back on the Doctor and

addressed Scrum. ‘Where are we up to?’

‘We’re ready. The casing is secured and disarmed. We

can transmit a jamming field to interfere with any attempt

by the creature inside to activate a self-destruct

mechanism.’

‘All we gotta do now is open the damn thing up,’ said

Cuttin’ Edge.

Bowman walked slowly around the Dalek. It was

completely inert. No movement from the single remaining

appendage, no glimmer of light in the luminosity

dischargers on its head. ‘You’re sure it’s still alive in

there?’

‘Only one way to find out,’ said Scrum.

‘OK,’ nodded Bowman. ‘Let’s get on with it. I’ve got a

few questions I’d like answers to.’

‘It won’t work,’ said the Doctor. He was leaning against

the doorway, arms folded. ‘Interrogating a Dalek is

pointless. It won’t give you any information. There’s

nothing you can do to it that will make it tell you

anything.’

Bowman looked at him, raising an eyebrow. ‘You ever

tried?’

A pause. ‘No.’

Bowman turned back to Scrum. ‘Open it up.’

Cuttin’ Edge powered up his laser and stepped forward.

‘Wait!’ cried the Doctor. ‘Just one more thing. Don’t

forget that machine is also a life-support system. Open it

up and you’ll kill the creature inside.’

Bowman shrugged. ‘Like I’m worried.’

‘It’s murder.’

All eyes turned on the Doctor, and he knew exactly

what they were all thinking. Bowman said it out aloud:

‘What about Stella? What do you call that?’

‘You some kinda Dalek sympathiser now?’ asked

Cuttin’ Edge bitterly.

‘No. It’s just…’ The Doctor took a deep breath. ‘It’s

just not right. I won’t be a part of it.’

Bowman’s lip curled as if his every worst opinion of

the Doctor had been confirmed. He turned back to the

others. ‘Let’s get on with it.’

Cuttin’ Edge moved in with the laser, but Koral stepped

forward and blocked his way. Puzzled, he switched off the

laser, and the Doctor felt a surge of hope.

But Koral simply said, ‘I wish to do this. For Stella.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Bowman. ‘Let her.’

Metallic claws sprang out of Koral’s fingertips. They

glinted, razor-sharp in the electric light. She stepped up to

the Dalek and, turning her hand flat like the blade of a

knife, pointed her fingertips at the centre of the shoulder

section. It was here that the two halves of the weapons

platform met, and, below this now that the Dalek was

suspended upside down, the sections of the neck. There

was an almost invisible join, less than a hair’s breadth.

Koral’s red eyes narrowed as she concentrated and then,

with explosive force, jabbed her fingers into the Dalek.

The claws penetrated the metal with a flash of angry

sparks.

There was no response. The Doctor was both appalled

and fascinated. He realised that the claws must be

diamond-hard and incredibly sharp, but even so – that

kind of effort required immense mental focus and physical

power.

Koral inserted her claws in the gap she had made and

then suddenly, apparently with little effort, began to pull

the two sections apart. At first the metal protested with a

hideous grinding noise, but then, with a loud hiss of

escaping gas, hydraulic motors opened the Dalek from

within. Segments of armour split away, shifting on

concealed hinges and slides.

Now the creature inside was visible. Something pale

and wet moved like a slug among the exposed machinery,

recoiling from the light.

‘Get it out,’ ordered Bowman.

Scrum and Cuttin’ Edge picked up a pair of long metal

staves, like boathooks, and approached the Dalek.

‘Don’t do this,’ the Doctor urged them.

But they ignored him. Cuttin’ Edge, grimacing in

distaste, prodded the mutant creature a couple of times.

The creature shrank back in its housing, but there was no

escape. Scrum, his hands shaking, crouched low and

inserted the end of his stave as well, trying to gain some

kind of leverage.

And then, gradually, the creature began to emerge as

they gouged it free like an oyster from its shell. It was

accompanied by a foul stench, a smell of pure wrongness,

of something rotten sealed away for too long.

Instinctively, both Scrum and Cuttin’ Edge backed

away. Whether this was due to fear, or a strange kind of

respect for their captive, it was impossible to tell. Cuttin’

Edge dropped the stave and drew his blaster, a look of

utter revulsion on his dark, sweating features.

Koral watched carefully, cautiously, ready to strike at a

moment’s notice. Bowman simply stood, arms folded, his

face impassive.

The Dalek oozed slowly out of its cradle, leaving a

thick film of mucus behind. There was a long, obscene

sucking noise and then, all in a rush, the rest of the

creature emerged. It plopped out in a tangle of slippery

tentacles, some over a metre in length. It didn’t fall onto

the floor. Something caught inside the machine and the

Dalek hung there, dripping slime, swaying from side to

side. One of the tentacles reached down to the floor and

rested there, unmoving.

‘Is it dead?’ Bowman asked.

‘Damn waste of time,’ muttered Cuttin’ Edge, lowering

his blaster.

‘Wait,’ breathed the Doctor quietly. ‘Look…’

He was pointing at the centre of the beast. In among the

dangling appendages and wires still connecting the flesh

to the armoured machine, there was an eye.

And it was opening.

The eye was yellow and bloodshot with a single black

pupil.

No one said a word. The cargo chamber felt hot and

claustrophobic now, more like a prison cell than a ship’s

hold. There was a genuine feeling that they were all

witnessing something extraordinary.

The eye twitched, as if gaining some kind of focus, and

began to move slightly in its socket.

‘Dude,’ said Cuttin’ Edge, ‘you are one ugly critter.’

‘Be quiet,’ said the Doctor sharply. ‘I don’t suppose

you’re the number one poster boy on Skaro yourself.’

‘No, I guess that would be you,’ said Cuttin’ Edge.

‘Only if they’re “wanted” posters.’

‘Shut up, the pair of you,’ said Bowman. He stepped

forward and looked down at the mutant. ‘Can you hear

me?’

There was a faint, gurgling reply. Bizarrely, the lights

on the Dalek’s dome flashed weakly.

‘It’s still connected,’ Scrum realised, peering more

closely at the nest of wires and tubes leading from the

mutant’s quivering flesh into the interior of the Dalek.

‘Get back!’ cried the Doctor, pulling Scrum to one side.

As he moved, the black suction cup on the end of the

Dalek’s immobilised arm suddenly flexed as if trying to

grab hold of Scrum’s head.

‘Whoa!’ Cuttin’ Edge cocked his blaster and aimed it at

the creature’s blinking eye. ‘Steady on there, boy.’

The sucker continued to grasp at thin air. The arm

juddered in the vice-like grip of the cargo loader, and the

Dalek let out a long, low groan of despair.

‘You got it, dude,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. ‘We got you by

the—’

‘That’s enough,’ growled Bowman. He turned back to

the Dalek. ‘You’re on board the Wayfarer. I’m Captain Jon

Bowman and this is my crew. You’re our prisoner.’

‘I think it’s worked that part out,’ said the Doctor.

‘You stay out of this,’ warned Bowman.

‘I can’t.’

‘You can and you will. If you say another word, I’ll

have Cuttin’ Edge throw you out. Got it?’

Cuttin’ Edge gave the Doctor a stony look to reinforce

the promise.

‘You were one of a squad of Daleks on the planet

Hurala,’ Bowman continued, addressing the dangling

mutant. ‘What were you doing there?’

‘It won’t answer,’ said the Doctor.

‘Cuttin’ Edge,’ said Bowman.

The Doctor held his hands up as Cuttin’ Edge started

towards him. ‘All right, all right! I won’t say another word

– and nor will the Dalek.’

Bowman smiled thinly.

‘We’ll see. Hey. Dalek. I know you can hear me. And I

know you can understand me.’ Bowman lowered himself

to his haunches, so that he was eye-level with his prisoner.

‘Now we’re all humanoids here and we can be reasonable.

It’s your choice. Talk to us, tell us what we want to know,

and things will be easier for you. If you don’t cooperate –

well, let’s just say it won’t be so easy. I don’t want things

getting ugly in here, but if they do… then so be it.’

The Dalek’s single eye glared at Bowman with a fierce,

palpable hatred. But it said nothing.

‘That your final answer?’

The eye closed.

‘Right,’ said Bowman, standing up. ‘You got that

equipment I asked for, Scrum?’

Scrum wheeled a small instrument trolley forward.

Laid across the tray were a number of tools.

‘You can’t be serious,’ said the Doctor.

‘You know I am,’ said Bowman bleakly.

‘I can’t allow this.’

Bowman raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re not in charge

around here, Doctor. I am. I want some answers from this

ugly son of a bitch and I’m going to get them – by

whatever means necessary.’

‘You’re better than this, Bowman!’ the Doctor argued

fiercely. ‘You’re a human being! Don’t do this. Stand up

for what you believe in.’

‘I’m standing up for Stella. I’m standing up for the

people of Auros. What are you standing up for, Doctor?’

‘Something better than that!’ The Doctor jabbed a

finger at the mutant. ‘Humanity!’

‘Well, that’s a very precious commodity,’ Bowman

sighed. ‘But it isn’t worth a damn to the Daleks. They

don’t even understand it. They just want to eradicate it.

And they’ll do anything and everything to achieve that

aim. You know they will. They’ll stop at nothing to

destroy us, and so neither can I if I want to prevent them.’

‘This is just one Dalek. It’s as good as defenceless.’

‘So I guess it’s my lucky day.’ Bowman picked up one

of the tools from the tray and switched it on. A crackle of

energy leapt from the business end. ‘This one Dalek could

tell me all I need to know. Now you can either stay in here

and watch, or step outside if you’ve not got the stomach

for it.’

‘If you compromise your humanity now, Bowman, then

the Dalek has won before you’ve even started.’

For a second, Bowman looked doubtful. He stared at

the tip of the energy discharger, frowning. Eventually he

said, ‘I’m sorry, Doctor. I cannot afford the luxury of

humanity right now.’

‘I’ll stop you!’ growled the Doctor.

‘No, you won’t,’ said Cuttin’ Edge, levelling his gun at

the Doctor’s head. ‘One more word an’ you’ll be able to

sharpen pencils in your forehead.’

The Doctor glared icily at him. Then he turned to look

at Scrum. ‘What about you, Scrum? Are you a part of this,

too?’

‘You know I am,’ replied Scrum quietly. He looked

away. ‘Just get out, Doctor, while you still can.’

The Doctor took a deep breath, realising that he was

defeated. Koral watched him carefully from the other side

of the cell, but her gaze was inscrutable.

Finally, the Doctor looked down at the Dalek creature.

There was a slight gurgle, no more than a cough, and the

dome lights sparked once. It could have been a nerve

twitching, or an attempt at thanks, or even an insult. It

could have been anything.

Tight-lipped, the Doctor stepped out of the room and

the door hissed shut behind him.

He paced the corridor outside, seething. He had seldom

felt so helpless. Of all the difficulties he had ever faced,

all the strange and deadly encounters with creatures and

aliens and monsters, it had to be a bunch of humans that

finally stopped him in his tracks. Stupid, stubborn,

infuriating humans.

Not for the first time, the Doctor felt incredibly alone.

He longed for someone like Martha or Donna, someone

who would understand, someone who could help. He

thought of Stella, and a deep sense of grief suddenly

washed over him. She would have understood. She would

have helped.

With a heavy sigh, the Doctor leant against the wall

opposite the cargo bay door. He could hear voices from

inside the hold, but he couldn’t tell what they were saying.

He knew the Dalek wouldn’t speak. He wasn’t even sure

if it could speak – there was no way of knowing how

damaged it was after the cryo-charge had struck, or

whether it had been harmed by the thawing process.

Perhaps it was little more than a vegetable, incapable of

thought or action.

He wished it was dead.

‘ Think!’ he ordered himself, pressing the knuckles of

his fists into his temples, running his hands backwards and

forwards through his hair. He had to do something.

Anything. There must be a way of stopping them.

Seized by a sudden need to take action, he turned

towards the flight deck. Perhaps he could take control of

the ship, force them to stop. Or divert all power from the

cargo hold so that none of their instruments and tools

would work.

The Doctor was already reaching into his pocket for the

sonic screwdriver when the door hissed open. He looked

up, surprised and hopeful.

It was Koral. The door hissed shut behind her and she

stalked towards the Doctor. ‘I’ve been sent out to stop you

doing anything stupid.’

‘I’m not the one who’s doing anything stupid.’

‘Put the sonic device away.’

The Doctor looked imploringly at her. ‘Koral – you

could put a stop to this madness. You know you could.’

‘Perhaps. But I do not wish to.’

‘But, Koral—’

‘No buts.’ She held up a hand and out jumped the steel

talons. ‘It would be much wiser to do as I ask.’

‘Would it?’ The Doctor’s shoulders slumped and he put

the screwdriver back in his pocket. ‘All right. You’ve

made your point.’

There was a hint of a smile as the claws were sheathed.

‘Bowman guessed you would try to sabotage the ship or

otherwise attempt to stop him.’

‘He was right.’

‘I will make sure that doesn’t happen.’

The Doctor did not reply. He simply looked down as

they both heard the sharp, galvanistic crackle of

Bowman’s energy discharger starting up, the noise slightly

muffled by the cargo hold’s heavy door.

The Doctor closed his eyes.

And then he heard an awful, shrill scream of pain as the

discharger was used on the Dalek. It was followed by a

long, involuntary gargle of relief as the agony ceased.

Koral stared straight ahead, utterly impassive.

The Doctor sank to the floor, his head in his hands.

The screaming continued for another full minute before

the Doctor cracked. He leapt to his feet and dived towards

the cargo bay door. But Koral was there before him, steel

claws at his throat. They felt cold and sharp on his skin.

‘On my homeworld of Red Sky Lost, we hunted

koogah beasts alone. Each koogah has a thick, armoured

hide and poisoned tusks and we respected it as a

formidable enemy. It is why we developed these claws.’

‘Very useful, I’m sure.’ The Doctor didn’t move a

muscle.

‘With these, I could rip an adult koogah wide open with

a single strike. I’m used to extreme violence and the

spilling of blood. You mean less to me than a koogah

beast, Doctor. I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if I had to.’

‘Yes, I can see that.’ Very carefully the Doctor backed

away from the door, hands raised. ‘But tell me, Koral –

when you were hunting these koogah things… did you

torture them as well?’

She made no reply. All they could hear was the crackle

of the power discharger.

The Doctor leant back against the opposite wall. ‘So,

what are we going to do now? Stand out here and listen to

that thing scream until it dies?’

‘If necessary.’

‘But that’s just it.’ The Doctor’s teeth were grinding

together as he bit off each individual word. ‘It’s not

necessary.’

‘Nor was the destruction of Red Sky Lost!’ It was the

first time the Doctor had seen Koral lose her cool, even

slightly. ‘The Daleks razed my planet to the ground. They

slaughtered everyone. Everything. Genocide!’

‘They are masters of it.’

‘And you expect me to stand aside and allow them to

go unpunished?’ Koral glared hotly at him. ‘I am the only

survivor! The last of my people! After me, there is

nothing.’

‘Yes,’ said the Doctor sadly. ‘I know.’

She shook her head. ‘You know nothing.’

He leant closer to her again, looking directly into her

flaming eyes without flinching. ‘Let me go back in there,

Koral. Stop Bowman from tearing that creature apart and

let me talk to it.’

‘You?’

‘Yes! I can make it talk!’

The corridor was filled with another round of

screaming. Something thick and wet gurgled in the

Dalek’s vocal cords – or whatever it used to speak – and

the noise suddenly choked off, replacing by a pathetic,

ululating whimper.

‘If it’s not too late,’ insisted the Doctor, ‘I can make it

speak. I know how to get information out of it.’

‘You’re bluffing.’

The Doctor didn’t even blink. ‘Trust me!’

The silence that followed was thick with possibilities.

In the end it was broken by the sound of the cargo hold

door opening.

The Doctor and Koral separated quickly, as if they were

lovers caught by surprise, but no one was interested.

Bowman stood in the doorway. His big shoulders were

slumped, and there was sweat on his face. A waft of hot

air, carrying an indescribably fetid odour, seeped out of

the hold.

‘It’s over,’ he growled. ‘It’s dead.’

Scrum and Cuttin’ Edge emerged behind him. Scrum

looked white-faced and physically ill. Cuttin’ Edge’s face

was etched with what could have been distaste or fear. He

was still carrying the stave, and the end of it was covered

in a sticky, green ichor.

Bowman stalked away, calling Scrum after him like an

obedient dog. Cuttin’ Edge paused, raising his head so he

could look at the Doctor. ‘If it’s any consolation,’ he said

quietly, ‘you were right. It never said a word.’

The Doctor just looked at him with contempt.

Cuttin’ Edge turned to Koral. ‘Skipper wants us all in

the galley,’ he told her. ‘Team meeting.’

The door to the cargo bay remained open. Inside it was

dark, except for a dull red glow from the emergency

lights. The Doctor guessed that Bowman’s power

discharger had fused the illumination circuits at some

point. Now the interior of the hold looked like a little

pocket of Hell.

Ignoring the stench, the Doctor stepped inside.

The remains of the Dalek lay on the floor beneath the

upended casing. It was quite small – the distended brain

sac lying like a rotten melon in a pool of dark unguent.

Some of its squid-like arms were coiled around the

carcass, while others lay on the floor like dead worms,

severed from the main body.

There were many more wires and cables dangling from

the Dalek casing, evidence of how Scrum and Cuttin’

Edge must have had to scrape the creature out of its shell.

Strings of glistening slime hung down like the drool of

some strange metal beast that had recently vomited the

half-digested contents of its stomach onto the floor.

The Doctor knelt down carefully by the dead creature

and put his glasses on. It was difficult to see anything

clearly in the red emergency lighting, but there was

something that made him want to check. You could never

trust a Dalek, even in death.

And, just fractionally, the single eye twitched.

‘You’re still alive,’ breathed the Doctor. His voice was

no more than an awed whisper.

The eye slowly closed.

‘Oh, come on,’ said the Doctor. ‘You can’t fool me.’

The eye opened again, swivelling jerkily in the broken

socket until it was looking at the Doctor. There was no

indication that it could actually see, let alone focus.

Perhaps it was just registering the sound of his voice.

‘It’s me,’ said the Doctor. ‘The Oncoming Storm.’

The eye opened a little wider, and the red-black dot at

its centre shrank. An inarticulate gurgle emerged faintly

from the glistening remains.

‘Or maybe you just know me as the Doctor.’

Another gurgle.

‘That’s the trouble with jumping the time lines,’ said

the Doctor, sitting down on the floor. ‘It’s difficult to work

out where we’re up to. Dalek history was confusing

enough before the Time War.’

‘DOC…TOR…’

The hairs on the back of his neck actually stood up. He

swallowed, momentarily lost for words. Eventually he

simply replied, ‘Yes?’

‘ONLY… AT… THE END… DO YOU COME…’ The

Dalek quivered with the effort of speaking, although it

was hard to make out the actual words. ‘TO GLOAT.’

‘No,’ the Doctor shook his head. ‘No, I’m not

gloating.’

‘THEN… KILL… ME…’

‘I can’t.’

‘COWARD.’

‘There’s no need to fight me,’ said the Doctor.

‘THEN… WHY HAVE YOU COME?’

‘I’m not here for that. You’re finished. Even you must

admit that.’

‘DALEKS… NEVER… CAPITULATE.’

‘That’s your problem. There’s no reasoning with you.

You’ve all got one-track minds. I bet if you could fire your

gun now you’d exterminate me on the spot.’

‘YES!’

‘When any sane being would plead for their life. For

mercy.’

‘DALEKS DO NOT PLEAD.’

‘I know. But you could have saved yourself a lot of

bother if you’d spoken up sooner. Bowman only wanted to

talk.’

‘BOWMAN…?’

‘The man who was… interrogating you.’

‘HE FAILED.’ There was a hint of triumph in the

croaking voice. ‘I SHOULD NOT… HAVE ALLOWED

MYSELF… TO BE CAPTURED. BUT HIS FAILURE…

WAS THE GREATER. NO MATTER WHAT HE DID TO

ME… I WOULD NOT TALK.’

‘Very impressive, I’m sure.’

‘HUMANS DO NOT UNDERSTAND TORTURE.’

‘Oh, I think they do. Unfortunately. It’s not one of their

more endearing traits, but they do know how to inflict

pain and suffering, I’ll give you that.’

‘I EXPECTED NOTHING LESS.’

The Doctor stirred. ‘No. That’s wrong. Humans are

capable of love and mercy as well. And generosity and

charity too. There is no limit to the good they can do – or

that they are capable of. Not like you. All you know is

pain and suffering.’

‘AND THAT IS WHY WE WILL SUCCEED,’ said the

Dalek. ‘WE UNDERSTAND PAIN. HUMANS DO

NOT.’

The Doctor wondered if the Dalek was speaking from

experience. And when he considered the metal and plastic

wires connecting the creature to its cramped life-support

machine where, up until today, it had spent its entire

waking life, he realised that it probably was.

The Dalek had not yet finished its rant. ‘BUT THE

HUMAN RACE WILL BE DEFEATED. ALL HUMANS

WILL CEASE TO EXIST. THE DALEKS WILL

ERADICATE THEM FROM THE UNIVERSE!’

‘Never.’

‘THE DALEKS WILL TRIUMPH! THERE IS

NOTHING THAT CAN STOP US FROM CHANGING

THE PATH OF HISTORY – NOT EVEN YOU, DOC–

TOR!’

‘You’re delirious,’ said the Doctor scornfully.

‘THE DALEKS WILL CONQUER AND DESTROY,’

grated the creature, seeming to regain some of its energy

in its dying moments. ‘We will eliminate all human life

from its very beginnings! WE WILL CONQUER TIME

AND SPACE! THE FUTURE WILL BELONG TO THE

DALEKS!’

The Doctor leant closer, suddenly angry. ‘Oh yeah?

Well, get this: I’ve seen the future. You lot are going to

end up so hungry and mad for power that you bite off

more than you can chew. And the whole conquest of time

and space thing is going to blow up in your faces.’ The

Doctor moved even closer, until he could smell the toxic

slime that covered the Dalek. ‘You’re all going to burn

and no matter how much you try to come back, or which

of you remain, I’m always gonna be there to stop you. So

just remember: there’s a storm coming!’

The Dalek shrank back a little. But there was still

defiance, even in its last seconds of life. ‘YOU

THREATEN ME WHEN I CANNOT FIGHT BACK.

YOU HAVE ONLY COME TO WATCH ME DIE. BUT

THE DALEKS WILL TRIUMPH! THE DALEKS WILL

ALWAYS SURVIVE. WE WILL BE MASTERS OF THE

UNIVERSE!’

The Dalek’s final words died in a hysterical groan; the

creature convulsed and then seemed to deflate as the eye

closed for a final time. The Doctor was under no illusion

that it was now truly dead. And for that he was profoundly

grateful.

But then something seemed to click in his brain – a

sudden connection, something the Dalek had said that

flicked a switch of realisation in his head. He jumped up,

wide-eyed and alert. His hair was practically standing up

in spikes with agitation. ‘Of course!’ he exploded,

smacking his forehead with the heel of one hand. ‘ That’s

what they were doing on Hurala!’

And then he turned and left the cargo hold at a run.

For a few seconds all was quiet in the room. And then a

shadow detached itself from the corner of the hold and

Koral followed the Doctor out.

There was silence in the galley. Bowman sat with his chin

resting on one giant fist, locked in his own thoughts.

Scrum sat at the mess table. Cuttin’ Edge was sprawled on

another seat, glumly nursing his assault rifle. None of

them would look at the others.

‘Total waste of time,’ muttered Cuttin’ Edge after a

while. ‘But I’m glad we did it.’

Scrum looked at him, hollow-eyed. ‘Why?’ he asked

bitterly.

‘Cos it felt good.’

‘Did it?’

Cuttin’ Edge looked away. ‘OK, so maybe it didn’t feel

so good. It’s like… it’s like that thing was laughin’ at us.

Inside. Like it could just soak up anything we did to it. It

was makin’ monkeys outta all of us!’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘It was never gonna tell us anything.’

‘That wasn’t the point,’ said Bowman abruptly. He

straightened up, looking at both crewmen. His grey eyes

were tired and deep-set. ‘We did it for Stella.’

‘It didn’t bring her back, though, did it?’ said Scrum

miserably.

‘Wasn’t meant to. But that Dalek had some pain

coming to it.’

Scrum still looked unconvinced. ‘I don’t think Stella

would have wanted that.’

‘I don’t think Stella wanted to be shot in the back by

that scum either,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. ‘Skip’s right. Dalek

had it comin’. End of.’

They lapsed into silence again, each man brooding on

the argument.

And then the Doctor suddenly whirled into the room,

fizzing with energy. ‘What do you know about the

Arkheon Threshold?’ he demanded.

All three looked up at him. ‘What?’

‘I’ve just been having a little chat with your Dalek,’

explained the Doctor. ‘What was left of it, anyway.’

‘You what?’ growled Bowman.

‘It’s dead,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. ‘We killed it.’

‘Yes, it’s dead now,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘And yes, you

did kill it. But there was one last spark of life left in those

old mutant genes and it suddenly felt quite chatty. Starting

telling me all about the Daleks’ big plan to wipe mankind

from history.’

‘You’re lying,’ Bowman stated, getting to his feet. He

practically filled the small galley on his own.

‘No,’ said Koral, appearing in the doorway. ‘He’s not.’

The Doctor looked at her, puzzled.

‘I was in the cargo hold with you,’ she told him. ‘I

heard every word.’

‘Really?’ said the Doctor. He waited for her to say

more, but she just returned his stare.

‘Hang on,’ interrupted Cuttin’ Edge. ‘How come it

talked for you?’

‘Dunno,’ confessed the Doctor brightly. ‘Maybe it was

my winning personality. Maybe it was because I wasn’t

poking it with a sharp stick and discharging 50,000 volts

through it at the time. Who knows?’

‘Maybe it was a deathbed confession,’ said Koral.

‘Well, either way, we did exchange a few words in its

final moments – although there was a lot of the usual kind

of thing: Daleks are the supreme beings, Daleks will

conquer and destroy, exterminate exterminate, et cetera.

But it did let slip one tiny thing that could be important.

Very, very important.’

Bowman folded his arms. ‘Such as?’

‘The Daleks must know about the Arkheon Threshold.’

The Doctor was met with four blank stares.

‘The what?’ said Bowman.

‘ That’s what they were doing on Hurala,’ the Doctor

explained. ‘They were sniffing around for information.

The Lodestar station was a staging post for interstellar

travel, remember – forgotten and dusty, but in its heyday

quite an important little place. They used to call it “the

gateway to the stars”. Stella hit the nail on the head when

she spotted the planet Arkheon in the station’s list of

nearby worlds. It didn’t mean much to me at the time, but

now I realise exactly why the Daleks were so interested in

whoever turned up there! They want the Arkheon

Threshold.’

‘Which is…?’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the Arkheon

Threshold?’

Cautiously, Scrum raised a hand. ‘Well, I have heard of

the planet Arkheon…’

The Doctor spun around and pointed a finger straight at

him. ‘Give that man a star! The planet Arkheon –

somewhere near the Crab Nebula, I seem to recall, just

past the Pleiades and left at the Blue Star Worlds. You

can’t miss it.’

‘Well you can now,’ Scrum said. ‘It was completely

destroyed over forty years ago.’

The Doctor’s face froze. ‘What?’

‘Arkheon was one of the planets that fell victim to the

First Dalek Incursion,’ Scrum explained. ‘I think it was hit

by one of those old planet-splitters. I was only a kid at the

time.’

‘Completely destroyed?’

‘Yes.’

‘What, completely completely?’

‘Yes.’

‘Doesn’t matter!’ The Doctor was instantly re-

energised. ‘Or rather, the actual planet itself doesn’t

matter. But the Threshold does.’

‘The Arkheon Threshold,’ Bowman repeatedly

carefully.

‘I think we ought to listen to the Doctor,’ advised

Koral. She was speaking directly to Bowman.

Bowman raised an eyebrow, considering. ‘All right,

Doctor. You’d better tell us what you know.’

‘The planet Arkheon was famous for its ghosts,’ began

the Doctor, lowering his voice in a suitably sinister

manner. He was sitting in the middle of the galley, with

the crew of the Wayfarer arranged around him like

children ready to hear a ghoulish campfire story. ‘In fact,

it was often called the Planet of Ghosts.’

A shiver seemed to pass through the little group.

‘Well, I say ghosts,’ the Doctor went on, ‘but they were

more like quasi-temporal personality echoes. But the

Planet of Quasi-Temporal Personality Echoes just doesn’t

sound quite the same, does it? I won’t bore you with the

science – unless you really want me to – but the ghosts

and spectral visions that haunted Arkheon were actually

the usual sort of stuff you get with a planet that contains

some sort of time rift.’

‘Time rift?’ echoed Scrum, frowning.

The Doctor pulled a face. ‘Well, not actually a time rift.

Not in your honest-to-goodness Cardiff kind of way…’

‘Cardiff?’

‘Never been to Cardiff? You haven’t lived. Never mind.

What I’m trying to say is that Arkheon was special.

Located deep inside the planet was a small chronic schism

– a little tear in time and space, if you like. It wasn’t

important. In fact it was largely ignored, except by the

kind of scientists who liked to research that sort of thing.

And the Arkheon Threshold – which is what the scientists

called the temporal anomaly – was never actually found.

After a while it was dismissed as nothing more than a

theory.’

‘What about the ghosts?’ asked Scrum.

The Doctor grinned. ‘Aw, what about ‘em! Greatest

ghost stories anywhere! Doesn’t matter that they were

nothing more than harmless echoes in time, they were still

brilliant. I used to like the one about the sailor who had

lost his head in a terrible battle. He could sometimes be

seen just off the coast, rowing his way slowly around the

bay in a small raft. They used to call him the Headless

Oarsman.’

‘Keep to the point,’ said Bowman bluntly. He was

sitting on the far side of the galley, massive arms folded

across his chest and a sullen, distrustful look on his face.

Koral sat nearby, cross-legged, her eyes half-closed like a

dozing cat.

‘OK,’ said the Doctor with a sigh. ‘Tough crowd. Never

mind. The point is this – if Arkheon was destroyed by the

Daleks like you say, then any little fracture in time and

space at its centre will have remained. It wouldn’t be a

part of the actual rock and soil of the planet, you see, it’d

be part of the fabric of time and space itself. You can’t

destroy a time fissure.’

‘And this is really important because…?’ prompted

Cuttin’ Edge.

‘Because if the Daleks manage to locate the Arkheon

Threshold then we’re all in big trouble. I don’t just mean

the five of us in this ship. I’m thinking a little bigger than

that – like the whole universe.’

‘Why?’ asked Bowman. ‘How could the Daleks use

this theoretical time thing – if it even exists?’

The Doctor looked grim. ‘The Daleks are brilliant

scientists and engineers. Combine their indomitable

hunger for power and conquest with the hitherto untapped

potential of a time-space anomaly and… well, do I have to

draw a diagram?’

‘Yeah,’ said Cuttin’ Edge.

‘He means they could use it to control time,’ said

Scrum.

The Doctor nodded gravely. ‘Any foothold the Daleks

can get in time they will exploit to the maximum. The

Dalek you captured said that they intended to wipe

mankind from history. It’s easy to think that’s just the

usual Dalek rhetoric – but in this case it could be close to

the truth.’

There was a short silence while the Doctor looked

expectantly at them.

‘So what are we supposed to do about it?’ asked

Bowman eventually.

‘We have to stop them,’ replied the Doctor simply.

‘They must be looking for the Arkheon Threshold. We

have to prevent them finding it. I suggest you contact

Earth Command immediately and—’

‘Hold it,’ said Bowman, raising a hand. ‘Forget that,

Doctor. We can’t contact Earth Command. For one thing,

we don’t have any official status with the authorities.’

‘And no one on Earth will believe us anyway,’ added

Cuttin’ Edge. ‘We’re bounty hunters, man. That’s one step

up from criminals as far as they’re concerned. We tell

them about this, they’ll just laugh in our faces. We caught

ourselves a live Dalek and interrogated it for the

information? Yeah, right.’

Scrum nodded in agreement. ‘You did say this time

fissure was only a theory, Doctor. We haven’t exactly got

any hard evidence, have we? And we’re light years from

anywhere out here. By the time we reach Earth space and

make contact, the Daleks will have found what they’re

looking for.’

The Doctor was looking worried. ‘Even so—’

‘We don’t contact Earth Command,’ said Bowman

firmly. ‘And that’s final.’

He stared hard at the Doctor, absently rubbing the

white scar on his forearm.

‘All right.’ The Doctor took a deep breath. ‘So it’s up to

us to stop them.’

‘Us?’ Scrum looked around the galley, making a

headcount. He didn’t look very encouraged by the result.

‘We’ve stumbled on something incredibly important

here,’ said the Doctor forcefully. ‘We can’t afford to

ignore it.’

‘It’s only you who says it’s important,’ Bowman

pointed out.

‘You’re the one who wanted to question the Dalek,’

returned the Doctor acidly. ‘Don’t waste the answers.’

‘It didn’t give any answers – except a hint about some

kind of legend. It’s stupid.’

‘For what it’s worth,’ said Koral, ‘I think you should

listen to what the Doctor says.’

Bowman frowned. ‘I’m not promising anything. This

whole thing sounds lame to me. Some old planet blown up

way back when that can help the Daleks change history?

It’s a crazy idea, even for them.’

‘But the Daleks are crazy,’ said Scrum. ‘They’re

arrogant and clever enough to take something like the

Arkheon Threshold and use it against us. Against the

whole human race. If there’s even a chance of stopping

them, then I think we should go for it. We owe Stella that

much at least.’

After a short silence, Bowman said, ‘OK. We’ll check

it out. For Stella.’

‘There’s one problem we’re overlookin’,’ said Cuttin’

Edge. ‘If the Daleks don’t even know where this Arkheon

thing is, how can we hope to find it?’

‘That’s where you have an advantage,’ smiled the

Doctor. ‘Me.’

The Doctor was soon sitting at the flight controls of the

Wayfarer while Scrum showed him the navigation

computer.

‘It’s programmed with all galactic coordinates for this

sector of space,’ Scrum explained, ‘including star lanes

and trade routes of every major solar system. It uses a

hyperlink tachyon echo to the Earth satellite network.’

‘Never did trust satnav,’ sniffed the Doctor.

‘You can’t navigate your way through deep space

without a proper guidance system.’

‘I’ve got a proper guidance system,’ the Doctor

retorted. He tapped his forehead. ‘Up here. Trust me, I

never get lost. Well, hardly ever. Well, not often. All right,

sometimes, perhaps… but more often than not I…’ He

started to tap his pockets. ‘Where did I put my glasses?

I’ve left them somewhere…’

‘Well if you can’t even find your glasses…!’

‘No, here we are.’ The Doctor found his glasses and

slipped them on. He examined the navigation computer

and then blew out a big raspberry. ‘This is a bit primitive,

isn’t it?’

Scrum sounded hurt. ‘This is state-of-the-art! It may

not look like much but—’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ the Doctor waved him to silence. ‘I don’t

mean to be rude, but… I was hoping for something a tiny

bit more sophisticated. We need to get to the Arkheon

system before the Daleks. We won’t get there before

Christmas using this stuff.’ He rapped a knuckle on the

navigation computer.

‘The Wayfarer‘s an old military vessel,’ explained

Scrum. ‘She saw action in the First Dalek Incursion –

there are still dents in her secondary hull where she was

hit by a neutronic missile that failed to detonate.’

The Doctor whistled. ‘She’s a tough old bird, I’ll give

you that.’

‘She was decommissioned and turned into a merchant

ship,’ Scrum continued as the Doctor began to work on the

controls. ‘Bowman had her reconditioned when he took

her over. Her engines and flight controls have been

completely replaced, much of it with stuff that isn’t

available on the commercial market. The Wayfarer may

not be perfect, and she may be in need of repairs, but to us

she’s more than a ship, Doctor. She’s home.’

‘Reminds me of the TARDIS,’ said the Doctor sadly.

‘TARDIS?’

‘My own ship. I left it on the planet Hurala.’ The

Doctor stared into space for a few seconds, lost in thought.

Then he sniffed and gave Scrum a smile. ‘Look, I couldn’t

help but notice that the Wayfarer‘s engines were a bit

rattley. It’s probably just a loose regulator valve in the

coolant pumps. I can fix it if you like.’

‘Will you have time?’

‘Course. It’ll take a couple of hours for this old thing to

get to Arkheon.’

‘But what about the navigation? The coordinates?’

‘All done.’ The Doctor waved a hand at the flight

controls. ‘And I’ve set the autopilot. Straight past the

Pleiades, left at the Blue Star Worlds. Like I said, can’t

miss it.’

‘And the Daleks?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about them. They’ll be using satnav.

Probably going the wrong way round the Crab Nebula

already.’

Scrum grinned. ‘You remind me of Stella. No matter

how bad things got, she was always able to cheer you up.

She had a knack of saying just the right thing, you know?’

‘I think I do.’

‘And, for what it’s worth…’ Scrum added quietly, ‘she

would never have let Bowman do what he did to that

Dalek. Stella was… better than that. She was someone

you could rely on to do the right thing. And she could

stand up for herself. I didn’t like what was happening in

that cargo hold, Doctor, but I was too weak to stop it. I

was more scared of Bowman than the Dalek. But Stella

would have stood up to him.’

‘And Bowman would have listened to her?’

Scrum thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I think he would.’

‘I didn’t know her for long, but she certainly seemed

very special,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘You must really miss

her.’

Scrum heaved a sigh. ‘More than you can imagine.’

‘Perhaps.’

In the cargo hold, Bowman and Cuttin’ Edge were

clearing out the remains of the Dalek. Bowman, wearing a

pair of heavy, padded gauntlets from an old spacesuit, was

scooping the remains of the Dalek mutant into a waste

sack. His mouth was downturned, his nostrils pinched.

The creature stank to high heaven.

Cuttin’ Edge was detaching the empty casing and

mechanisms from the cargo lifter, flinging bits of armour

plate and lumps of wiring across the hold into a pile in the

corner. Every so often he would throw a piece of the

Dalek with more force than was necessary, accompanied

by some very earthy language.

‘Hey,’ said Bowman. ‘What’s got into you?’

Cuttin’ Edge paused, breathing hard. ‘It was askin’ for

trouble,’ he spat. ‘Scum of the universe.’

Bowman straightened up. ‘Say again?’

‘We did the right thing,’ Cuttin’ Edge said. ‘Didn’t

we?’

‘Course,’ said Bowman. ‘It’s warfare. You knew that;

the Dalek knew it too.’

Cuttin’ Edge wiped the sweat off his forehead with the

back of his hand. ‘I know that. But I only ever shot ‘em up

before. I never… did that. Not close up. It felt… it felt

kinda wrong. An’ the way the Doctor was goin’ on… I just

felt confused.’

Bowman sealed the bag and carried it across the hold.

He dumped it on the floor alongside the jumble of

machinery. ‘Sometimes tough decisions have to be made.

It’s easy to take the moral high ground. The politicians

and the civilians can do that. But we’re the ones left to

deal with the consequences.’

‘Then why do I feel so bad?’

‘No one said it was gonna be easy.’

Cuttin’ Edge bristled. ‘I know that. I ain’t never had it

easy. I had my Pa kickin’ all kinds of zip outta me from

day one on Gauda Prime. I had to drag myself out that

hole an’ into the army an’ not even they wanted me. An’

you know the fix I was in when you found me.’

Bowman looked at Cuttin’ Edge for a long moment

before replying. He suddenly felt very old, and Cuttin’

Edge suddenly looked very young. ‘Listen, son. You’re

one of the good guys. Don’t let anyone tell you anything

else. Not your folks, not the army, not even the Doctor.

You fight Daleks and that means you’re on the right side

when all is said and done, no matter what. And it takes

courage to do what you did.’

‘I didn’t feel very brave when I was scrapin’ that thing

out of its barrel.’

‘It’s not how you feel that matters. It’s what you do

despite the way you feel. Look at Scrum. Damn near

wetting himself the whole time but he still stuck it out.

The only one not gettin’ his hands dirty was the Doctor.’

Cuttin’ Edge gave a shrug. ‘Everyone has a point of

view, I guess.’

‘Yeah,’ Bowman nodded. ‘Only trouble is, his point of

view is the wrong one. Now get that Dalek off my ship.

Kick its tin backside out into space, along with the

contents. I don’t ever want another one of those things

onboard.’

‘You betcha.’

Bowman smirked. ‘Whatever happened to “Yes, sir”?’

‘You what?’

‘Never mind, Cuttin’ Edge. Never mind. Old days, long

gone.’ Bowman pulled off the gauntlets and threw them

onto the rubbish heap. ‘Best get rid of them too while

you’re at it. And then you can clear the rest of that slime

off the floor. Smell’s getting on my nerves.’

The Doctor and Scrum were discussing the technical

specifications of the Wayfarer‘s engines when Bowman

strode onto the flight deck. He glared suspiciously at the

Doctor and then spoke to Scrum. ‘We’ve got rid of that

thing, anyway. Dumped the casing and the mutant into

deep space. Cuttin’ Edge is cleaning out the cargo hold

now.’

‘The Doctor’s plotted a course for Arkheon,’ Scrum

informed him. ‘Or at least, where it used to be. We should

be there in a couple of hours.’

Bowman raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s quick, even for the

Wayfarer.’

‘Well, I know a few short cuts,’ admitted the Doctor.

‘And I picked up some clues on Hurala.’

‘Maybe the Daleks did too.’

‘True – which is why we need to push ahead at full

speed.’ The Doctor stood up and faced Bowman. ‘With

your permission, I’d like to tighten the regulator valves in

the engine room. They’re loose and costing us time.’

Bowman regarded him coolly. ‘Just for the record,

Doctor, I still don’t like you. I’ve no idea what we’re

heading into, but I still say you know more than you’re

letting on. The only reason I haven’t thrown you

overboard with the remains of that Skaro slime is because

of Koral. She’s vouching for you and I’d trust her with my

life. So if you betray that trust – if this is any kind of a

trick or some sort of con – then I’ll kill you myself,

quickly and with pleasure. Got that?’

‘Loud and clear.’

‘And once we reach Arkheon, just remember one thing:

I’m in charge. Not you.’

The Doctor was in his shirtsleeves, working on the

Wayfarer‘s engines, when Koral found him.

She stepped out of the shadows in a cloud of steam as

the Doctor finished tightening the last of the regulator

valves. He looked up when she arrived, the sonic

screwdriver still clamped between his teeth.

‘Gnnf gnn mmph gnn,’ he said.

‘Excuse me?’

The Doctor dropped the screwdriver into his hand. ‘I

said, you can’t creep up on me like that any more.’

‘I wasn’t trying to.’

‘Well, I’ve fixed these old engines so they’re running

like a sewing machine. Listen.’ The Doctor cupped a hand

to one ear and grinned. ‘Not a rattle or a squeak. You

could hear a pin drop anywhere onboard now.’

Koral frowned. The Wayfarer‘s engines produced a

constant, bass rumble. If you touched the bulkhead

anywhere, you could feel the heavy vibration, and the

deck plates trembled beneath your feet. This close, the

engines sounded like more like the roar of a wild,

mechanical animal.

The Doctor bounced to his feet and picked up his jacket

from where he’d left it slung over a pipe. ‘It’s not often I

get to fiddle with one of these old astronic propulsion

systems. They’re brilliant, in their own way. Rotten for the

environment, of course, and prone to sudden catastrophic

ion implosion if they’re not looked after – but brilliant,

even so.’

Koral gave him an odd look.

‘It’s a man thing,’ he said.

‘What did you mean, back in the cargo hold,’ began

Koral. ‘When you said that you’d seen the future?’

‘Ah, sudden change of subject. Very good. Catch me

off guard. Won’t work.’

‘Don’t avoid the question.’

The Doctor stopped and looked at her. ‘I don’t want to

talk about it. It’s complicated.’

‘When you first came onboard you said you were in the

wrong place and time.’

‘It’s just a saying. It means bad luck.’

‘I think you meant it literally.’

The Doctor took a deep breath. ‘Koral, let’s say that I

have seen the future. Call it foresight or precognition or

just plain madness, I don’t care. But when – if – the

Daleks manage to crack time wide open, it will lead to

death and destruction on a scale you simply can’t

comprehend. The Daleks are more than capable of that.

Worse, they’re willing to do it.’

Koral looked into his eyes and realised that,

somewhere, somehow, those eyes had witnessed that kind

of death and destruction. She shivered. ‘You really intend

to stop them, don’t you?’

‘I can’t.’ He looked suddenly pained. ‘I just… can’t.

But maybe I can delay them, until the universe is ready.

Or as ready as it will ever be. I don’t know. Like I said,

it’s complicated. If you think about it too much your head

will hurt. Let’s just say I’m in the wrong place and time,

but while I’m here I might as well try to help.’

‘I think I understand,’ Koral said eventually.

The Doctor nodded. ‘And thanks for vouching for me,

by the way. I think your pal Bowman is beginning to trust

me.’

‘Bowman does not trust anyone.’

‘He trusts you. But he did say if I betray that trust he’ll

kill me.’

‘Then he is mistaken,’ Koral said. ‘He will not kill you

– I will.’

Thanks to the Doctor, the Wayfarer reached its destination

in record time. The crew were met with something of a

surprise when they reached the flight deck.

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Scrum in an awed whisper. He

was staring, open mouthed, at the forward viewscreen.

The others crowded in behind him. ‘What… the hell is it?’

‘It’s the remains of Arkheon,’ said the Doctor. ‘The

Planet of Ghosts.’

It looked like the spectral remnant of a planet – a pale,

wraithlike world shrouded in mists and shimmering ice.

But there was something even more unnatural about it: a

deformity, a terrible wrongness to its shape. This wasn’t a

complete globe – this was only one half of a planet, a

giant hemisphere of frozen rock with the remains of its

glowing, molten core exposed to space like a luminous

scab.

As the Wayfarer descended into orbit, the pristine

curvature of the horizon suddenly disappeared. The

glittering white surface gave way to a dizzying chasm and

a ragged, black interior. At its centre was a hard orange

ball of superhot iron, crusted with burning rock.

‘It’s incredible,’ breathed Koral. ‘Impossible.’

‘The Dalek planet-splitters do exactly what they say on

the tin,’ remarked the Doctor. ‘That’s all you’re left with:

bits and pieces and a big, lifeless chunk of rock floating in

space.’ He glanced sourly at Bowman. ‘Between them and

your lot, it’s a wonder there are any planets left in the

galaxy.’

Bowman curled his lip but said nothing.

‘It is both wonderful and terrible at the same time,’ said

Koral.

Scrum was checking the instruments. ‘There’s no sign

of any other spaceships in the vicinity,’ he reported. ‘It’s

deserted. Looks like the Daleks are looking in the wrong

place after all.’

‘Couldn’t be better,’ said the Doctor, clapping Scrum

on the shoulder. ‘We’ve got the place to ourselves.’

‘Do you think that Threshold thing is still down there?’

wondered Cuttin’ Edge.

‘Let’s find out,’ said the Doctor. ‘Take us in.’

Bowman gave a meaningful cough.

‘Oh, sorry…’

The captain turned to Scrum.

‘Take us in,’ he ordered.

The Wayfarer swept through the tattered remains of

Arkheon’s atmosphere. Clouds parted like frightened

wraiths as the ship thundered over mountain ranges and

glaciers. There were deep, dry ravines where rivers and

oceans once flowed, and towering crystals sculpted into

strange shapes by harsh winds.

Finally, they flew over the ruins of a city. Crumbling

spires stood among bridges and arched hallways, all

covered in shrouds of snow that broke away in startled

white flurries as the Wayfarer came in to land.

‘It’s fantastic,’ said Scrum, his face reflecting the

bright, wintery glare. ‘Amazing.’

The Doctor peered out of the viewscreen, utterly

captivated. ‘The rulers of Arkheon built a city fit for a race

of kings and queens,’ he said appreciatively.

‘Now all that’s left is the wreckage,’ growled Bowman,

the blazing white light of the planet’s surface bleaching

the colour from his face.

‘The atmosphere is borderline toxic,’ reported Scrum.

‘You can breathe it, but it won’t be nice.’

‘We won’t be staying long,’ said Bowman.

Scrum set the Wayfarer down on a rocky shelf

overlooking the outskirts of the city. They assembled near

the exit airlock and sorted out some cold-weather gear

Bowman had stowed.

‘You gotta be kiddin’, man,’ said Cuttin’ Edge, pulling

on a thick, padded jacket with a fur-trimmed hood. His

bulky arms stretched the material taut across his

shoulders. ‘How am I expected to look cool in this stuff?’

‘You’re expected to look warm,’ said Bowman. He

pulled on his own parka and fastened the seal. ‘These

were Space Navy standard issue when the Wayfarer used

to patrol the Iceworlds. They’ve got integral soft filament

thermostats that will tune themselves in to your own

natural body heat.’

He turned to look at the Doctor, who was struggling

into one of the parkas. ‘What exactly are we looking for,

anyway? Ghosts?’

‘No such thing,’ replied the Doctor cheerfully. ‘But

keep an eye out for any quasi-temporal personality

echoes, won’t you?’

‘Why? They dangerous?’

‘No,’ the Doctor sighed. ‘I’d just like to see one, that’s

all.’

‘So how do we find this Threshold?’

‘Leave that to me.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Bowman assured him. He rammed a

charge pack into his blaster and holstered it. ‘I’ll be right

behind you.’

The Doctor’s plimsolls crunched into the snow. There was

always something special about stepping onto a new

planet and he tried to savour the moment.

‘Move on out, dude,’ said Cuttin’ Edge behind him.

‘There’s a queue buildin’ up here.’

The Doctor walked towards the remains of the city.

Spires and towers and the jagged remains of rising

walkways hung with long, glimmering icicles. Above him,

thin strips of clouds glowed silver in the light of the stars.

The planet – what was left of it – was on the edge of a

vast, gaseous nebula which turned the night sky into a

field of verdant, glittering green lights.

‘Well?’ Bowman asked, trudging through the snow.

‘Fine, thanks,’ nodded the Doctor. ‘You?’

‘Don’t get funny, I’m not in the mood.’

‘Where’s Koral?’ asked the Doctor.

‘Why? Worried she isn’t around to protect you?’

‘No, I just thought she would enjoy a bit of shore leave.

We could all do with stretching our legs.’

Bowman turned away, scanning the horizon. ‘She’s

around. Koral likes to keep a low profile.’

‘Even here?’

The Doctor was impressed. There didn’t appear to be

anywhere in this white wilderness that even Koral could

hide.

‘You’d be surprised.’

Scrum crunched his way through the snow to join

them. ‘Ship’s secure. Any luck with the Threshold?’

‘Haven’t started looking yet,’ said the Doctor. ‘We’re

just admiring the view.’

‘ He’s admiring the view,’ grunted Bowman. ‘I’m not.’

Cuttin’ Edge had climbed up onto a high wall. ‘Hey,

guys. Check this out.’

They clambered up to join him, using a succession of

broken rocks and icy ledges to reach the top. On the other

side, a long, shallow ravine stretched away from them,

littered with boulders and lumps of what looked like

rusted machinery.

‘What the hell?’ growled Bowman.

‘It’s a road,’ Scrum realised. ‘Look – leading out of the

city. Sweeping off in that direction. You can see where the

ice has formed.’

Cuttin’ Edge pointed at the machinery. ‘What are they?

Cars?’

‘Some sort of transport, yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘All

heading out of the city. Probably running for their lives

when the planet-splitter missiles were detected heading

straight for them. They never stood a chance. Clogged up

with all these vehicles, the road would have become a

death trap. When the missile struck, the seismic shock

would have been enough to shift continental plates. Tidal

waves, volcanoes, earthquakes, fire, poisonous fumes – all

at once. There probably wasn’t even time for all those

cataclysms to have an effect. The entire planet would have

broken apart, right down to the centre, like an apple hit by

an axe. The atmosphere would have been torn to shreds.

These people would have perished in an instant, turned to

jelly by the initial shockwave.’

They stood and stared at the fossilised cars for several

minutes, each trying to take in the size of the catastrophe

in their own way. It was barely possible.

‘Hold it,’ said Cuttin’ Edge, raising his assault rifle.

‘Thought I saw somethin’.’

‘What?’ asked Scrum.

‘I dunno. Somethin’ movin’. In the distance.’

‘Impossible,’ said Bowman.

Cuttin’ Edge was scanning the road through the

gunsight on his rifle. After a minute he lowered the

weapon. ‘Gone now. If there was anythin’ at all.’

‘Maybe it was just some snow falling,’ suggested

Scrum. ‘Or an icicle breaking.’

‘Yeah.’ Cuttin’ Edge didn’t sound convinced.

Bowman whistled – a short, sharp note that was carried

eerily away on the cold breeze. A moment later, a dark

figure scampered up onto the wall alongside him. It was

Koral; she wasn’t wearing a parka but appeared

completely at ease in the biting cold.

‘Cuttin’ Edge thinks he saw some movement down

there,’ Bowman told her. ‘Check it out.’

Without a word, Koral turned and darted away,

jumping lithely down the rubble where the wall had

collapsed. She ran onto the road and quickly disappeared

among the dead cars. Soon, the sound of her feet in the

snow was covered by the thick blanket of silence.

‘Koral can scout ahead,’ Bowman said to the others.

‘Let’s get on with it, Doctor.’

The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and clicked

it on. Holding the device out in front of him at arm’s

length, he appeared to take a number of readings from all

points of the compass. ‘This way,’ he said at last,

following Koral down towards the ancient highway.

‘OK,’ nodded Bowman. ‘Let’s move out.’

‘I can’t see Koral anywhere,’ said Scrum nervously. He

was standing on the remains of a collapsed footbridge. All

he could see were the ruins, stretching away into the

distance, cut through by wide boulevards full of debris.

‘Her tracking skills are second to none,’ said Bowman.

There was a hint of pride in his voice. ‘And if she doesn’t

want to be seen, she won’t be. First her prey knew about

her on Red Sky Lost was when their throats got ripped

out.’

‘They must have loved that,’ said the Doctor drily. He

was walking slightly ahead of the Wayfarer‘s captain,

moving the sonic screwdriver slowly from side to side.

The tip pulsed blue and a low, wavering hum could just be

heard.

‘This place is spooky,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. He was

walking a little to the left, his assault rifle held ready

across his chest as his eyes roved from side to side,

scanning in his own way.

‘Well, it is the Planet of Ghosts,’ Scrum called over.

‘Ha ha.’

Occasionally, Cuttin’ Edge would raise his rifle and

peer through the scope, roving the electronic crosshairs

around the terrain, clicking through a variety of image

enhancers: thermal, infrared, macroscopic. Nothing

showed up, but they could all feel a definite tension in the

crisp polar air. Scrum said it was almost as if they were

being watched.

The road had collapsed in on itself, and their progress

slowed as they tried to negotiate a series of rocks,

boulders and crushed, rusting cars.

‘Whoa,’ said Cuttin’ Edge, approaching an overturned

vehicle. Sprawling out of the driver’s seat was a thin,

snow-crusted jumble of bones. The skull lay at an angle,

neck broken but still attached to the body by scraps of

leathery skin and dried tendon. One skeletal hand kept a

fingertip grip on the steering column. Jewellery glittered

on the blackened wrist and arm.

‘People died here,’ Scrum said, climbing up to look.

‘Real people, living real lives. Families, friends, lovers.

Men and women and children – laughing, playing,

working. Doing all the things people do. I wonder where

this poor soul was going when the planet-splitter hit?’

‘Nowhere,’ answered Bowman. His tone was blunt.

‘Let’s keep going.’

They marched on, the Doctor leading them further

down the crumbling roadway, and Koral suddenly

appeared, bounding up the slope.

‘There you are,’ said the Doctor, still concentrating on

the screwdriver. ‘Wondered where you’d got to.’

Koral reported only to Bowman. ‘I’ve scouted ahead

but I can’t find anything. The ground gives way further on

– sheer drops, then some sort of escarpment. I can’t see

much beyond that.’

‘We’re probably right on the edge of a massive area of

subsidence,’ noted the Doctor. ‘It must’ve been seismic

chaos here.’

‘Anything else? Any movement, sign of life?’ Bowman

asked Koral.

‘Any sign of ghosts?’ Cuttin’ Edge added.

‘No. But there is a… smell.’

Cuttin’ Edge snorted. ‘Babe, this whole planet stinks.’

‘It’s the atmosphere,’ said Scrum. ‘All sorts of pollutant

gases and reactions were thrown up when the planet was

split.’

Koral shook her head. ‘I do not mean that kind of

smell. I mean something else. Something I can’t define.

Something not right.’

‘OK,’ Cuttin’ Edge cocked his rifle loudly. ‘Now

you’re makin’ me nervous.’

Bowman turned to the Doctor. ‘What have you got?

Anything? If this is some sort of wild goose chase,

Doctor…’

‘Shh.’ The Doctor now had the sonic screwdriver

against his ear, listening intently for some faint signal or

another. He made a couple of tiny adjustments and

listened again, screwing up his face in concentration.

‘We’re definitely getting warmer,’ he said. ‘I’m picking up

all sorts of stray chronon activity. It’s hard to be sure.

There’s a lot of background radiation, muons, huons,

tachyonic decay… and… and…’ He shook the

screwdriver and listened again, closing his eyes and

holding up a hand for silence.

‘And what?’ asked Bowman regardless.

The Doctor frowned and shook the sonic again. ‘And

sand, I think. Dropped it on Scarborough beach last

month. Took me ages to find it.’

Bowman sighed. ‘This is getting us nowhere.’

‘No! Wait!’ the Doctor suddenly yelled, his voice

echoing around the rocks.

Cuttin’ Edge and Bowman instantly dropped into

defensive crouches, weapons brought to bear. When

nothing happened, they straightened slowly and glared at

him.

‘I’ve got it again,’ declared the Doctor. ‘This way!’

He sprang forward, hopping down the rocks as if the

land had become a series of enormous steps. On either

side, Cuttin’ Edge and Bowman dropped from ledge to

ledge, their guns and equipment rattling.

‘You think there is something down here, don’t you?’

asked Scrum, hurrying to keep up.

‘What makes you say that?’ the Doctor asked.

‘I saw the way you listened to Koral. You took her

seriously.’

‘Sometimes you have to trust your instincts, Scrum. Or

someone else’s. Koral’s hackles were raised – the hair on

the back of her neck. Stood up like a brush. A primal

reaction as old as time. She sensed something all right, she

just doesn’t know what.’

‘Something dangerous?’

The Doctor shrugged casually. ‘It usually is.’

‘Ghosts?’

A smile. ‘Unlikely – although the sonic screwdriver is

registering some kind of time drift. Oh! I’ve just had a

thought.’ The Doctor stopped in his tracks. ‘Time drift. I

wonder…’

‘Wonder what?’

‘Well, nothing really. It’s just a bit of a coincidence,

when you think about it. Coming here, looking for some

sort of temporal disturbance – and when I’ve already

jumped a time track to a period in history when…’

‘When what?’

The Doctor ran a hand roughly back and forth over his

spiky hair, as if trying to dislodge an unwelcome train of

thought. ‘Nothing important. Just thinking aloud. Take no

notice. Wibbly wobbly timey wimey. You really don’t

want to know.’ Then the sonic screwdriver buzzed and the

blue light winked faster. The Doctor was instantly

galvanised into action. ‘Aha! Oh, yes! We’re really getting

warm now!’

The Doctor scampered away, screwdriver aloft.

They moved on, heading down all the time. Further on,

they couldn’t see anything any more – as if they were

approaching the edge of a cliff. Beyond that was a distant

mist.

Looking back up the slope, Scrum was surprised to see

how far they had descended. He could just make out the

broken spires of the old Arkheon city, and beyond that a

dark green sky full of stars.

‘Movement!’

The word was barked out by Cuttin’ Edge. He was

already down on one knee, bringing the rifle sight up to

his eyes. Bowman had swung around to cover him. Scrum

stood, wide-eyed, peering at a patch of broken ground

way to their left, his heart racing.

Everyone stood still. There was complete silence.

‘I thought I saw it too,’ said Scrum after a minute. He

spoke very, very quietly. ‘Out of the corner of my eye.’

‘Yeah,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. ‘That’s what I saw.

Definitely somethin’ movin’ past those rocks. We’re bein’

followed.’

The Doctor put a finger to his lips. There was a tangle

of metal half-hidden in the soil, the remains of another

rusting hulk. Flakes of snow drifted off the sharp edges,

carried up and away into the night sky by the faintest

breath of wind.

The Doctor crept slowly towards it. Behind him,

Bowman and Cuttin’ Edge aimed their weapons.

When the thing launched its attack, flying over the

wreckage with a shocking, awful wail, everyone froze.

Like a spectral demon from the planet’s darkest shadows,

the creature dragged the Doctor to the ground.

Two guns roared. Bowman and Cuttin’ Edge had the

thing in their sights before it had even reached the Doctor.

The two rounds struck simultaneously, throwing the

creature backwards like a discarded rag against the rocks.

It slid to the ground in a heap of tattered grey material.

The Doctor was already on his feet, racing to its side.

Bowman and Cuttin’ Edge closed in, their weapons

trained on the inert figure.

‘Don’t get too close,’ ordered Bowman.

The Doctor ignored him, kneeling down. It was

roughly humanoid – but strangely distorted and wrapped

in a rough grey shroud. There were two large smouldering

holes in the material, and a pale light shone out from

inside.

‘Is it dead?’ asked Scrum, approaching warily.

‘Course it’s dead,’ snapped Cuttin’ Edge. ‘High-impact

rounds, hollow tipped. We ain’t messin’, dude.’

The creature gave a last, nervous twitch and slumped

sideways. The cowl that hid its head slipped and revealed

the face beneath.

‘Holy cow,’ muttered Cuttin’ Edge. ‘It’s a freakin’

ghost.’

The face was pale and glowing. The skin was actually

luminous, shining like the moon, with two eyes set so

deep and so immersed in wrinkles that they looked like

those of a newborn rat. A gaping mouth revealed yellow

teeth and dark, withered gums. The pallid flesh was

covered in iridescent spots and pustules.

‘We just shot ourselves a ghost,’ Cuttin’ Edge repeated.

He sounded fearful and thrilled, all at once.

‘Be quiet,’ ordered Bowman. He bent down to examine

the features more closely. ‘What is it?’

The Doctor shook his head. ‘I don’t know. The

devolved remains of the native Arkheonites, perhaps.

Irradiated, desperate, scavenging among the ruins. More

wild animal than anything.’

‘It’s disgustin’,’ said Cuttin’ Edge.

The Doctor stood up. ‘It’s dead,’ he said solemnly.

The creature’s glowing face had begun to darken. As

they watched, a black stain seemed to spread across its

skin, which sagged and crumpled like ancient paper in a

fire. Soon the creature was little more than a blackened

husk.

‘Whatever it is,’ growled Bowman, ‘it won’t be alone.

Look sharp and stay focused.’

No sooner had he spoken than there was a noise behind

them. They turned to see two more of the mutant figures

scrambling towards them. They moved with an awkward,

urgent gait across the uneven terrain.

Bowman’s gun cracked twice and the figures reeled

back. The foremost staggered a few more steps, his

tattered hood thrown back to reveal the bright, snarling

face and gaping black mouth. Then it collapsed and lay

still, face down in the snow.

‘More of them!’ shouted Scrum, pointing further back.

Half a dozen of the grey, shambling creatures surged into

view.

‘Incomin’,’ muttered Cuttin’ Edge, squaring his boots

and pulling up his rifle to aim. He and Bowman dropped

the first three between them with quick, precise shots.

The fourth loped across the intervening scrub with a

surprising turn of speed, closing in on Koral. She bared

her fangs and claws, preparing for battle, but the Doctor

stepped nimbly forward, pulling her to one side as he

flicked a lump of snow up with the toe of his trainer,

straight into the mutant’s face. ‘Don’t touch them! The

blood will be contaminated – poisonous! You start digging

your claws into this lot and it could be the last thing you

ever do.’

‘I will die fighting!’

‘Very likely – but not just yet.’

The Doctor ducked, pulling her down with him despite

her protests, as a volley of fire from Cuttin’ Edge’s rifle

tore through the cold air.

‘They’re all over the place!’ cried Scrum, helping the

Doctor and Koral away.

‘We’ve stirred up a nest or somethin’,’ said Cuttin’

Edge. He was picking off more of them as he spoke, the

heavy boom of the rifle echoing around the wreckage. The

mutants were crawling from holes in the ground, their

black teeth bared in the middle of glowing, growling

faces. ‘There’s too many of ‘em. We need to move out.’

‘This way,’ Bowman called. He shot another mutant

through the head and climbed swiftly up the slope behind

them. ‘Get to the high ground.’

They scrambled up the rocks after him, Cuttin’ Edge

bringing up the rear. Every couple of paces he would turn

and shoot. The creatures were starting to recognise the

danger and moved quickly from rock to rock, car to car,

staying low.

‘We can’t get back to the ship,’ Scrum panted. ‘They’ve

cut off our retreat.’ He had drawn his own blaster and was

looking around uncertainly for a target.

‘Cuttin’ Edge!’ barked Bowman. ‘Left flank! Clear a

path!’

‘Yo.’ Cuttin’ Edge dropped to one knee, turning to the

left, and switched his rifle to automatic fire. The barrage

ripped through the air and tore into a group of mutants

climbing up the slope towards them. Their strange,

whimpering cries merged into a funereal wail.

Bowman led the way down, jumping from rock to rock.

The Doctor, Koral and Scrum followed.

‘This way!’ yelled the Doctor, pointing to a gap in the

horde.

Bowman’s blaster roared repeatedly, mercilessly

clearing mutants from his path. He strode through the

carnage, wreathed in the smoke from his weapon. His

boots crunched over the corpses as he led his party

onward. Behind them, more mutants were filling the night

with hungry snarls.

‘We’re being herded,’ realised the Doctor, skidding to a

halt.

‘What?’

There was a wind blowing now, cold and harsh, and it

took the Doctor’s words straight from his lips. He cupped

a hand over his mouth and yelled, ‘We’re being herded!

They’re forcing us to go this way.’

Craggy rocks reared ahead of them. They couldn’t see

what lay beyond, but thin, ragged flurries of snow kept

drifting past them, blown down from the summit. They

hesitated, uncertain now. Bowman looked back with dark,

angry eyes. ‘We can’t afford to stop,’ he growled.

‘They’re closing in!’ said Scrum, looking back at the

approaching mutants.

Bowman turned and began to climb steadily up the

rocks, setting the example. The Doctor, Scrum and Koral

hurried after him. Cuttin’ Edge gritted his teeth, squeezing

off half a dozen more shots, and then turned to follow.

Behind him, the pale, glowing creatures were converging

on the slope.

Near the summit, Koral was helping Scrum. ‘Th-

thanks,’ he stammered, breathing heavily. ‘I don’t think I

can go… much further.’

‘Just a little more,’ Koral urged.

‘Keep moving!’ thundered Bowman.

Koral hooked an arm around Scrum and supported him

as they struggled up the last few metres.

‘What’s over the ridge?’ asked Cuttin’ Edge.

‘No idea,’ Bowman said. ‘But we’re gonna found out.’

With a final series of lung-bursting steps, they made it

to the top. As each of them crested the rise, they halted in

their tracks and gaped. A strange, massive silence weighed

down on them, crushing them.

‘My God,’ breathed Bowman, awestruck.

‘It’s… it’s impossible,’ said Cuttin’ Edge.

Scrum started hyperventilating as a panic attack rushed

through him. Koral simply stared, open mouthed.

They had reached the very edge of the world. Literally

– because the ground simply fell away at their feet in a

gigantic, immeasurable cliff stretching from side to side,

horizon to horizon. The sheer face sank down and down,

into a dark, mist-shrouded distance. And below them – far,

far below – was the curved edge of a glowing ball of

molten rock.

‘Cor!’ exclaimed the Doctor. His face was a picture of

boyish excitement. His eyes were wide, his hair standing

on end, as he practically danced along the cliff edge. ‘I

mean – core!’

‘It’s… it’s…’ Cuttin’ Edge was, finally, lost for words.

‘It’s the edge of the world!’ cried the Doctor. He was

jumping up and down, barely able to contain his

excitement. ‘Look at it! The very edge! It’s a sheer drop,

right down to the core! Amazing! Fantastic! Brilliant!

Have you ever seen anything like that in your life before?

You haven’t, have you? You haven’t!’ He bounced around

among them, whooping and laughing. ‘I haven’t either!

Never, ever before! Not like this! It’s a new sight! A new

sight! ’

Somehow, heat radiated from the distant knot of

burning iron, rising up to carry flakes of snow from the

edge of the cliff into the air. The snow danced faintly in

the air, rising like pale, spectral flames.

‘I feel sick,’ Scrum said.

‘It’s just vertigo,’ said the Doctor happily. ‘Perfectly

natural. It’s quite a view, isn’t it? Brilliant! Molto bene! ‘

He roared the last two words into the night sky, feet

planted wide, arms thrown up into the air.

‘Before you get too carried away,’ warned Bowman,

‘you might like to think about our position in purely

strategic terms.’

‘He means this ain’t no sightseein’ trip,’ said Cuttin’

Edge, pointing behind them. A crowd of glowing mutants

were dragging themselves up the rise, murmuring and

growling.

‘Oh, them,’ nodded the Doctor. ‘No, I hadn’t forgotten.

I’m just multitasking.’ He whipped out his sonic

screwdriver, held it out over the cliff edge and clicked it

on. The sonic bleeped faintly, slowly at first but then with

sudden, thrilling urgency. ‘Aha!’ The Doctor’s face broke

into another huge grin. ‘There it is! We’ve found it – the

Arkheon Threshold. Remember that? The little tear in

space-time – it’s right near the heart of this planet… right

in the dying core!’

‘Doctor,’ Cuttin’ Edge said. ‘They’re gettin’ closer.’

‘Working on it, working on it…’

Bowman turned to Cuttin’ Edge with a frown. ‘Since

when did he become leader?’

‘Oh no.’

The Doctor’s voice cut through the air like a knife. He

was staring over the cliff edge again, but with none of the

giddy delight he had previously shown. He looked

suddenly stiff and uncertain.

‘What is it?’ asked Scrum. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘A thought has just occurred to me,’ the Doctor said.

His tone was bleak, almost angry. ‘Why didn’t I think of it

before?’

‘What?’

The Doctor pointed downwards, towards the exposed

centre of the shattered world. ‘The planetary core!’ He

suddenly snapped his hand upwards, smacking himself on

the forehead. ‘D’oh!’

Koral frowned. ‘I don’t understand…’

‘I think things are about to get a lot worse,’ the Doctor

sighed.

‘Worse?’ repeated Cuttin’ Edge scornfully. ‘We’re

trapped on the edge of the biggest cliff in the universe,

facin’ an army of zombie ghosts from hell. What could be

worse?’

The Doctor looked at him sadly, at all of them, and his

expression was as cold and terrible as the planet they

stood on. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his eyes full of anguish.

‘I’m so sorry…’

And then, behind him, rising up beyond the cliff edge,

seemingly borne aloft on the flickering curtain of snow,

they came: metallic bronze shapes, bristling with arms and

weaponry which wavered and twitched like insect

antennae.

Eyestalks swivelled, fixing on the Doctor and his little

party as they cowered on the edge of the cliff. Implacable,

glowing blue eyes stared down at them.

‘HALT!’ screeched the nearest Dalek, its dome lights

flickering in triumph. ‘DO NOT MOVE – OR YOU

WILL BE EXTERMINATED!’

There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. They just

stood and stared helplessly as the Daleks floated towards

them.

‘YOU ARE NOW PRISONERS OF THE DALEKS!’

The Daleks slowly descended until they were skimming

the surface of the escarpment.

The native mutants of Arkheon immediately scattered,

turning and running for cover or slipping down boltholes,

their thin rags snaking after them as they disappeared

from sight. Within moments, there was no sign that they

had ever existed – ghosts in every sense.

‘RESIST AND YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED,’

grated the first Dalek. It glided over to where the

Wayfarer crew stood huddled together. The eyestalk roved

up and down, examining them contemptuously.

‘YOU ARE OUR PRISONERS,’ the Dalek repeated

loudly. ‘YOU WILL OBEY THE DALEKS!’

Bowman was gripping his blaster so hard his knuckles

were bone-white. He was a fraction of a second from

opening fire when the Doctor said, ‘Leave it. Try anything

stupid and you’ll be exterminated on the spot.’

‘Then what do we do?’ hissed Cuttin’ Edge, his voice

cracking with anger and fear. He, too, was a single jittery

moment away from bringing his rifle to bear.

The Doctor simply raised his hands. ‘Surrender.’

There was a tense moment, but neither Bowman nor

Cuttin’ Edge moved.

The Dalek swivelled to address the Doctor. ‘ARE YOU

THE LEADER OF THIS GROUP?’

‘No, he isn’t,’ said Bowman. ‘I am.’

The Dalek’s dome turned, the eye focusing on

Bowman. His face reflected the blue glow like stone.

‘DISCARD YOUR WEAPONS,’ it ordered.

Nobody moved.

‘IMMEDIATELY!’ screeched the Dalek. ‘OBEY!’

‘Do it,’ said Bowman, after a pause.

He let go of his blaster and it dropped to the ground at

his feet. Cuttin’ Edge threw down his rifle. Scrum dropped

his handgun.

‘I’m not carrying any weapons,’ said the Doctor. ‘And

neither is this person.’ He indicated Koral with a nod of

his head.

A Dalek moved forward, extending its sucker arm. It

scanned the Doctor and Koral briefly. ‘NO ENERGY OR

PROJECTILE WEAPONS DETECTED.’

‘Told you,’ said the Doctor quietly.

‘SILENCE!’ barked the Dalek. It turned its head

towards another pair of Daleks. ‘DESTROY THE

WEAPONS.’

The Daleks glided forward, their gun-sticks swivelling

to point at the blasters lying in the dirt. There was a bright

flare and the discarded weaponry was melted into slag.

Koral was trembling violently. The Doctor could sense

that she was about to run or attack. And knowing Koral,

he guessed it would probably be the latter. Either action

would result in death.

Bowman had sensed it too. He reached out a hand and

rested it on her shoulder. ‘Easy.’

Koral turned to look at him, her eyes blazing. Bowman

simply nodded. He understood. ‘You’re the last of the Red

Sky Lost,’ he said gently. His voice sounded like the purr

of a tiger. ‘You’ve got to stay alive.’

Scrum, also, was visibly shaking. But this was due to

simple terror. He had one hand clamped over his mouth,

as if trying to stop himself from being sick. Cuttin’ Edge

nudged him with his elbow. ‘Dude. Chill out.’

Scrum nodded but kept his hand on his mouth. His eyes

were so wide they were almost circles.

‘WALK THIS WAY,’ grated the lead Dalek, turning

towards the cliff edge.

‘I couldn’t walk that way if I tried,’ muttered the

Doctor under his breath. ‘At least, not without castors…’

The Dalek’s dome swivelled right round, the eyestalk

glaring at him.

‘Nothing,’ the Doctor said, innocently.

‘WALK IN FRONT OF ME,’ the Dalek said, gliding

round to position itself behind the group. ‘MOVE!

DISOBEDIENCE WILL RESULT IN INSTANT

EXTERMINATION.’

‘Come on,’ said the Doctor, adopting as jaunty a tone

as he could manage. He stuck his hands in his trouser

pockets and sauntered towards the cliff edge, whispering

into Scrum’s ear as he passed. ‘Stick with me. I’ll handle

this.’

Scrum looked uncertainly at him. ‘Really?’

The Doctor raised his eyebrows and pulled an of

course! face. ‘I’ve done this loads of times,’ he said.

So Scrum stuck with him, walking stiffly towards the

cliff edge, the direction in which the Daleks were herding

them. When they reached the precipice, they stopped.

Bowman, Koral and Cuttin’ Edge joined them. No one

wanted to go too near to the abyss.

‘What they gonna do?’ asked Cuttin’ Edge. ‘Throw us

off?’

But a heavy whine of machinery was already filling the

air as a large, flat metal surface suddenly rose up adjacent

to the cliff top. There were two Daleks on the platform,

one of them positioned next to a small control podium. It

made an adjustment with its sucker and the platform

moved closer to the edge, hovering on antigravity

thrusters.

‘A lift!’ exclaimed the Doctor. ‘That’s handy. Come on,

everybody, hop on.’

He led the way, springing lightly onto the metal

platform. It bobbed fractionally under his weight, like a

raft floating on a pond. There was room for a dozen or so,

but the other Daleks simply floated off the cliff top

alongside the platform.

‘Looks like we were expected,’ Bowman remarked.

‘Yeah,’ nodded the Doctor. He took a deep breath.

‘Gravity, atmosphere, the lot. They’re giving us the VIP

treatment.’ He looked carefully at Bowman. ‘Why d’you

think that is?’

Bowman shrugged but did not reply.

The platform started to descend. Eventually they

couldn’t even see the top of the cliff, it just rose up like a

vast, dark wall, blotting out half of space. The Doctor

wandered over to the edge of the platform and peeked

over. Below, the exposed centre of Arkheon broiled and

spat like a cauldron of fire. ‘Y’know,’ he said

conversationally to the Dalek at the controls, ‘that really is

an incredible view. Absolutely amazing. Pity you lot had

to come and spoil it.’

The Dalek said nothing. The platform continued to

descend.

‘So, what’s it all for, then?’ the Doctor asked. ‘Let me

guess. You’re gonna replace the molten core with a drive

system, start flying the planet around the galaxy? See the

sights?’

‘SILENCE!’ grated the Dalek.

‘I’m only trying to make conversation,’ the Doctor

retorted, sounding hurt. He waited for a response but there

was nothing.

The platform cleared the upper edge of an enormous

cavern. The solid wall of the planetary magma had

suddenly given way to a vast hollow in the rock. Whether

it was a natural chasm or deliberately excavated it was

impossible to tell, but there was enough room for several

spacecraft hangars. The platform veered into the cavern,

moving slowly inside the planet itself. Below them was an

immense, metallic web of criss-crossing walkways and

landing areas. There were Daleks gliding along the

walkways, across platforms, through corridors. On one

level there were serried ranks of Daleks, all moving in

unison, disappearing into a deeper, darker cavern.

‘Hell and damnation,’ breathed Cuttin’ Edge. He had

never in his life seen so many Daleks in one place. ‘Now

we’re really in the—’

‘Should have seen this coming,’ interrupted the Doctor.

There was no attempt at a casual demeanour now. ‘I really

should.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Scrum.

‘They’ve been here all the time,’ the Doctor said. The

expression on his face was dark, rueful. ‘Look at this

place! It must have taken years to build and develop a

base like this. We thought the Daleks were searching for

Arkheon. Turns out they found it ages ago and moved in.’

‘I think it’s worse than that,’ said Bowman.

Cuttin’ Edge let out a hiss of frustration. ‘Will you guys

stop sayin’ that? “It’s worse than that” and “It’s worse

than I thought”! Hell! How much worse is this gonna

get?’

‘A lot,’ said Bowman. ‘I think I know what this place

is. I heard rumours. The Daleks had a top-secret base

where they took all their high-level prisoners for

interrogation and experimentation.’

‘No way,’ Cuttin’ Edge spat out in disbelief.

‘Interrogation? Experimentation? Are you serious?’

‘Daleks love prisoners,’ the Doctor said. ‘Gives them

such a sense of power. They love nothing more than

lording it over the inferior species. Humiliation, torment,

slavery. That’s their thing.’

Cuttin’ Edge shook his head. ‘You ain’t makin’ it sound

any better, dude.’

The Doctor turned to Bowman. ‘This top-secret

interrogation base. Is there anything else you can

remember about it?’

‘Why?’ Bowman’s tone was bleak. His face was

retreating into its stone-like appearance as he prepared

himself for what lay ahead.

‘Anything could be useful.’

‘Don’t count on it. They used to call it “the Black

Hole” – as in nothing ever came out again. No one – and I

mean no one – ever escaped from this place. It’s a one-

way ticket.’

‘CEASE TALKING!’ One of the Daleks moved

towards them, gun and arm twitching eagerly.

‘PRISONERS WILL BE SILENT.’

No one spoke again as the platform continued its

descent into the Dalek prison. Whenever they passed more

Daleks, eyestalks would slowly turn, domes swivelling,

observing. It was as if every Dalek that saw them was

minutely examining them, glaring at them with a mixture

of hatred and resentment and, perhaps, just a hint of

curiosity. The prisoners huddled together, Koral moving

closer to Bowman so that he could put a hand on her

shoulder.

Presently the platform lowered itself into a wide

reception area. Daleks glided to and fro, watching them

carefully. Two Daleks came forward to meet the platform.

‘STEP OFF THE LANDING PLATFORM,’ grated the

first.

Slowly the prisoners filed onto the metal floor. The

Dalek on the platform prodded Cuttin’ Edge in the back

with its sucker arm, pushing him forward so that he

stumbled. ‘MOVE! FASTER! OBEY THE DALEKS!’

Cuttin’ Edge glared back. ‘Don’t push me, you metal

creep.’

The Dalek floated forward, the bulbous blue eye fixed

on the human. ‘BE SILENT!’

Cuttin’ Edge stared back, his face reflecting the light.

‘Don’t wave that eyestalk in my face, creep. I can get

good money for that back home.’

‘BE SILENT OR YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!’

‘All right, cool it,’ said Bowman. ‘That’s enough,

Cuttin’ Edge. Let’s not rile them. It’s too easy.’

With a snort, Cuttin’ Edge turned away. ‘Whatever you

say, skip.’

The Dalek circled slowly around Cuttin’ Edge,

examining him from every angle. ‘YOU WILL OBEY

THE DALEKS. FROM NOW ON YOU WILL TAKE

ORDERS ONLY FROM DALEKS. THIS HUMAN IS

NO LONGER YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER.’

‘He never was my commanding officer,’ shrugged

Cuttin’ Edge. ‘He’s just a guy I kinda like.’

The Doctor, keeping very much to the background,

watched the exchange carefully. He didn’t know whether

to wince or cheer out loud. But Cuttin’ Edge was playing a

dangerous game; the line between defiance and suicide

was a very thin one when baiting Daleks.

This particular Dalek had already reached screeching

level. ‘OBEY THE DALEKS! YOU WILL OBEY!’

‘Just remember,’ Cuttin’ Edge said coolly, ‘that

eyestalk’s mine.’

‘BE SILENT!’ The Dalek’s sucker arm suddenly

extended and grasped Cuttin’ Edge’s chest. The black cup

gripped and squeezed and Cuttin’ Edge howled. Then the

Dalek released him and he fell to the floor, gasping for

breath and rubbing his chest.

Scrum helped him to his feet. ‘You’re going to get

yourself killed!’

‘THE NEXT PERSON TO SPEAK WITHOUT

PERMISSION WILL BE EXTERMINATED,’ grated one

of the other Daleks. ‘NOW REMOVE YOUR OUTER

GARMENTS.’

Slowly the prisoners unfastened their heavy winter

jackets and dropped them on the floor. Cuttin’ Edge’s

bravado may have been inspirational, but he had very

nearly paid for it with his life. The Doctor was trying to

keep a low profile and merge in with the group, keeping

his head down. But Koral had already seen enough. She

was looking at him curiously, but the Doctor pretended

not to notice and stared down at his canvas trainers.

Two Daleks approached the group, sucker arms

extended. ‘PRISONERS WILL BE SCANNED AND

CATEGORISED,’ said one. ‘STAND APART! MOVE!’

The little group shuffled around until they were all

separate and in a line. First to be scanned was Scrum. The

suckers roved all over him, emitting strange electronic

warbling noises. ‘SPECIES – HUMAN.’ The Dalek spoke

the word as if it tasted foul. ‘MALE. PHYSICAL

CAPACITY – LEVEL FIVE POINT NINE. MARGINAL

USE.’

‘Marginal?’ echoed Scrum, affronted.

The Daleks scanned Cuttin’ Edge. ‘SPECIES –

HUMAN. MALE. PHYSICAL CAPACITY – LEVEL

SEVEN POINT FIVE. SUITABLE. YOU WILL BE

TAKEN TO THE MINE TO WORK FOR THE

DALEKS.’

The Daleks then moved on to Koral, who was standing

next to Bowman.

‘SPECIES – UNKNOWN,’ announced one of the

Daleks. ‘FEMALE. PHYSICAL CAPACITY – LEVEL

NINE POINT FOUR. SUITABLE. YOU WILL BE

TAKEN TO THE MINE TO WORK FOR THE

DALEKS.’

Koral looked fearfully at Bowman. He reached out and

squeezed her hand gently; and it was easy for Koral to see

the relief in his eyes – relief that she hadn’t been declared

too dangerous and killed on the spot.

The Daleks moved on, scanning Bowman next. He

stood straight, shoulders back, chin up, almost as if he was

back on the parade ground.

‘SPECIES – HUMAN. MALE. PHYSICAL

CAPACITY – LEVEL SEVEN POINT SIX. WAIT!’

Something had attracted the Dalek’s attention. ‘EXTEND

YOUR ARM.’

After a brief pause, Bowman thrust out his left arm.

The Dalek’s eye focused on the small white scar

running down his forearm. ‘EVIDENCE OF

SUBCUTANEOUS TRANSMITTER REMOVAL!’

Another Dalek moved forward, its blue eye zeroing in

on the scar. ‘X-RAY CONFIRMS TRANSMITTER HAS

BEEN REMOVED.’

‘Transmitter?’ Scrum whispered. ‘What transmitter?’

‘Hell, I dunno, pal,’ Cuttin’ Edge whispered back. ‘But

Bowman don’t look happy.’

Bowman glared stonily at the Dalek and lowered his

arm. ‘Guess it’s your lucky day,’ he growled.

‘What’s going on?’ Scrum wanted to know. Like the

others, he could sense something was up, and his curiosity

– kindled by panic – was enough to make him forget the

orders not to speak.

But the Daleks were too preoccupied with Bowman to

notice. ‘STEP FORWARD! KNEEL!’

‘I’m not kneeling for you,’ Bowman replied simply.

The Dalek behind Bowman simply thrust out its sucker

arm, aiming for the back of Bowman’s left knee. His leg

folded and Bowman hit the metal floor with a grunt.

Koral started forward, clearly alarmed. But the Doctor

reached out and took her arm, shaking his head

fractionally. She looked at him in despair.

‘INITIATE BRAIN SCAN!’ Two Daleks extended their

suckers, closing them around Bowman’s head. There was

a shrill, piercing whine and Bowman gasped loudly, flecks

of saliva jumping from his lips.

‘Leave him alone!’ yelled Scrum, moving forward, but

Cuttin’ Edge grabbed him and pulled him back.

The Doctor, too, had to grab hold of Koral again to

prevent her from physically attacking the Daleks. ‘Don’t

be stupid!’ he hissed.

The suction cups retracted and Bowman fell forward,

onto his hands and knees. He was trembling violently, his

head hanging low between his arms, fighting the urge to

vomit. There were angry red weals on his face where the

suckers had gripped him.

The Daleks were screeching at each other with

excitement. ‘ALERT! INFORM COMMAND!

PRISONER IDENTIFIED AS SPACE MAJOR JON

BOWMAN!’

‘WE OBEY!’ shrieked a pair of Daleks.

‘Space Major?’ echoed Cuttin’ Edge. He sounded

shocked. ‘ Space Major?’

‘Since when?’ Scrum asked.

‘Since the very beginning,’ said the Doctor. ‘Remember

when Auros was destroyed? Bowman knew about the

Osterhagen Principle. Only senior members of the Earth

military would have access to that kind of information. No

wonder the Daleks are so excited… it can’t be often they

catch someone as important as this.’

‘Important?’ Cuttin’ Edge frowned. ‘He ain’t important.

Well, not that kinda important.’

‘The Daleks would appear to disagree.’

At this point a new Dalek arrived – it had a similar

bronze shell to all the others but they obviously deferred

to it as chief, backing away slightly to allow it access to

the prisoners. The Doctor surmised that this would be the

Dalek designated as overall commander of the prison.

‘STAND!’ ordered the Command Dalek, looming over

Bowman. ‘STAND IMMEDIATELY!’

Koral helped Bowman to his feet. He was unsteady,

uncharacteristically pale and listless. His eyes were cloudy

and he looked confused. Koral turned and spat at the

Command Dalek. ‘Leave him alone! Do not touch him or

I will rip out your guts!’

‘RELEASE THE PRISONER!’ Already, the spittle was

evaporating from the Dalek’s head dome in a tiny, pathetic

puff of steam. ‘HE IS TO BE TAKEN FOR FULL BRAIN

EXCORIATION.’

‘You will have to kill me first!’ Koral roared. She

lunged at the nearest Dalek, flicking out her claws and

gouging bright sparks from its armour plate.

But two Daleks fitted with claw manipulators had

already moved in and seized her. They gripped her arms

and practically lifted her off her feet, kicking and

struggling.

‘YOU WILL OBEY THE DALEKS,’ said the

Command Dalek.

‘Why don’t you just exterminate me!’ Koral yelled.

‘IT IS NOT NECESSARY,’ intoned the Dalek. ‘YOU

ARE REQUIRED FOR WORK IN THE MINES. BUT

YOU HAVE DISOBEYED THE DALEKS. ONE OF

YOUR PARTY WILL BE PUNISHED.’

Bowman looked up groggily. ‘No…’ he croaked.

The Dalek glided forward. ‘THE WEAKEST

MEMBER WILL DIE,’ it said.

Cuttin’ Edge choked. ‘No!’ he bellowed, knowing

exactly what this would mean.

‘DISABLE THIS HUMAN,’ ordered the Command

Dalek. One of the others lowered its gun-stick, aiming for

Cuttin’ Edge’s legs, and fired. A bright blue flash lit the

area and Cuttin’ Edge collapsed to the floor. He then lay

there, hands scrabbling at the metal, unable to get a grip.

His legs were completely immobile.

‘I can’t feel my legs!’ he cried.

‘YOU HAVE SUFFERED TEMPORARY

NEUROLOGICAL DAMAGE,’ one of the Daleks

informed him. ‘MOBILITY WILL RETURN IN DUE

COURSE.’

Cuttin’ Edge swore at the Dalek, completely unable to

stand. Tears of pain and frustration ran hotly down his

cheeks.

Scrum was watching all this, his face white with fear.

He could hardly breathe. He knew exactly what was

coming next, but his brain, normally so quick, had simply

stopped thinking. He was completely unable to speak. His

mouth dropped open wordlessly as two Daleks slowly

turned to face him.

‘EXTERMINATE THIS HUMAN,’ ordered the

Command Dalek.

The twin beams caught Scrum full in the chest,

illuminating him with a deadly, coruscating charge. He

screamed and flung his arms out wide, the bones darkly

visible through the irradiated flesh. And then he fell to the

floor, sprawled across the metal next to Cuttin’ Edge.

‘No…’ said Cuttin’ Edge, almost silently. ‘ Please,

no…’

Then Scrum’s face tipped slowly over, and Cuttin’

Edge saw that his eyes were still open, but they were

charred black and utterly dead.

Scrum’s smoking corpse lay between the prisoners and

the Daleks.

All that could be heard in the minutes that followed

was the dull, persistent throb of the Dalek machinery.

‘There was no need for that,’ said the Doctor quietly.

He didn’t look up. He was staring down at the body, his

fists clenched hard. ‘He wouldn’t have harmed anyone.’

‘HE WAS OF NO USE TO US,’ replied the Command

Dalek.

Its voice grated on the Doctor’s nerves, and he closed

his eyes to shut out the sight.

‘You’ll pay for this,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. He tried to sit

up on the floor, teeth gritted as his legs filled with

agonising pain. ‘I’ll make you pay.’

One of the Daleks circled around Cuttin’ Edge, eyestalk

fixed on him. ‘SILENCE. YOU WILL BE TAKEN TO

THE MINES AND MADE TO SERVE THE DALEKS.’

‘No! Never! Kill me now, you metal b—’

‘Cuttin’ Edge!’ barked Bowman. ‘Leave it. Just… stay

alive as long as you can.’

Cuttin’ Edge looked up at him, his eyes wet with tears.

There was a world of despair in those eyes, and they had

turned to the only person who had ever believed in him,

looking for hope, for reason, for anything. ‘How?’ he

asked, eventually.

‘Kid,’ said Bowman, ‘Just do your best.’

The Command Dalek approached Bowman. ‘YOU

WILL BE TAKEN FOR DEEP-LEVEL

INTERROGATION. THE PROCESS INVOLVES

BRAIN EXCORIATION AND SURGERY. YOU WILL

NOT SURVIVE THIS PROCESS.’

Bowman did not reply. He merely looked the Dalek

straight in the eye, his face as impassive as rock.

The Dalek moved a little closer, and then rasped,

almost gloatingly, ‘THE INFORMATION YOU

POSSESS WILL SERVE THE DALEKS. IT WILL BE

USED TO AID US IN OUR VICTORY AND HELP IN

THE DESTRUCTION OF THE HUMAN RACE.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Bowman grunted. ‘Tell me something I

don’t know.’

‘YOU WILL OBEY THE DALEKS!’

Bowman raised an eyebrow. ‘That a fact? What if I

choose not to? What if I say you can take your gun-stick

and—’

‘SILENCE!’

‘Why? What are you going to do to me, Dalek? I’m too

valuable for you to exterminate. You need me alive for

interrogation, remember? To help you wipe out mankind

or something.’

The Dalek quivered, its arm and gun twitching with

annoyance. The lights on its head flashed manically as it

replied: ‘YOU WILL BE MADE TO COOPERATE. IF

NECESSARY YOU WILL BE PERMANENTLY

DISABLED AND TAKEN TO THE INTERROGATION

CHAMBER BY FORCE.’

Bowman straightened up, squaring his shoulders.

‘Forget it. I’ll walk. Which way is this interrogation

chamber, anyway?’

Once again, the Doctor felt like he wanted to punch the

air. There was Scrum, murdered in cold blood, and Cuttin’

Edge with his legs paralysed, about to be dragged off with

Koral to who knew what. But Bowman, the great, bloody-

minded, thick-skinned and irresistible human being that he

was, had still found a way to maintain his dignity.

Koral had other ideas. She tried to free herself from the

grip of her guards, but it was useless. Not even her alien

sinews could break the grip of the Dalek claws. She pulled

towards Bowman, her spine bent like a bow and her fangs

bared, but it was no good.

Bowman saw her and just shook his head. ‘I’ll be OK,’

he lied.

‘No,’ Koral said. Her voice came out as a pathetic

croak. She turned to the Doctor. ‘Please… You can’t let

them take him away.’

The Doctor swallowed. ‘I can’t stop them, Koral.’

‘You can! You know you can!’

He shook his head. ‘I can’t.’

‘What’s she talkin’ about, man?’ asked Cuttin’ Edge.

‘What’s she sayin’?’

The Doctor looked away. ‘Nothing. She doesn’t know

what she’s talking about.’

‘I do!’ Koral’s eyes flamed. She looked across at

Bowman, who stood watching with a slightly puzzled

frown on his old, craggy face. Then she turned back to the

Doctor. ‘You know the future. You’ve seen it. You know

what happens. You know more than him.’

‘Koral, stop it,’ ordered the Doctor. ‘You don’t

understand!’

‘I understand that they are going to take him and cut

out his brain!’ Koral yelled. ‘And you’re just standing

there, letting them do it! And he doesn’t know anything.

Not compared with you!’

The Doctor took a step towards her. Around them, all

the Daleks had also turned to watch the altercation. ‘It

doesn’t work like that. I can’t let that happen.’

This time Koral did not reply. She simply stared at the

Doctor, a look of utter desperation on her face.

The Doctor looked away.

Bowman caught his eye and shook his head slowly. His

meaning was clear: don’t do it.

‘TAKE JON BOWMAN TO THE INTERROGATION

LEVEL,’ ordered the Command Dalek.

Two Daleks began to herd Bowman towards a ramp

leading further down into the Dalek base. He walked

ahead of them, head high and shoulders squared. He didn’t

look back.

‘Wait,’ said the Doctor.

The Command Dalek swung round to face him.

The Doctor cleared his throat. ‘Can I have a private

word?’

‘SPEAK,’ ordered the Dalek.

‘Well, this is probably going to be a bit

embarrassing…’

‘EXPLAIN!’

‘Look, I really hate it when people say this sort of

thing, but… Do you know who I am?’

The Dalek said nothing. It simply stared.

The Doctor stepped towards it, lowering his head

slightly so that his mouth was level with the Dalek’s neck

grille. Ignoring the oily, noxious vapour that came from

within, he leant a little closer.

And whispered something.

The effect on the Dalek was literally electric. Its head

lamps flashed involuntarily and it suddenly jerked away,

arm, gun and eye quivering like the antennae of an

alarmed cockroach.

‘ALERT!’ it cried, head spinning from side to side.

‘ALERT! SCAN THIS PRISONER!’

Two Daleks glided forward, suckers extended.

The Doctor stood, hands held wide. ‘Come on,’ he said

with a smile and a wink. ‘You know you want to.’

The sucker arms scanned his body up and down and

then both Daleks became agitated. Ever so slightly, they

seemed to move back, giving the prisoner a little more

space. ‘Emergency!’ one of them shrieked.

‘EMERGENCY! IT IS THE DOC–TOR!’

‘It’s the twin hearts, isn’t it?’ asked the Doctor.

‘They’re such a giveaway.’

Several Daleks took up the chant, a note of hysteria

entering their voices: ‘It is the Doc–tor! IT IS THE DOC–

TOR!’

‘Please,’ smiled the Doctor modestly. ‘No autographs.’

The Command Dalek aimed its blaster at the Doctor.

‘DO NOT MOVE! DO NOT MOVE! YOU ARE THE

DOC–TOR! YOU ARE AN ENEMY OF THE DALEKS.

YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!’

‘Oh, come off it. Not before you’ve had a chance to

interrogate me, surely?’ The Doctor looked around the

assembled Daleks. ‘At least a quick question-and-answer

session. No?’

Throughout the vast, metallic cavern, a ripple of

agitation spread through the Dalek ranks, with the Doctor

at its very centre.

Despite himself, Cuttin’ Edge was impressed. ‘Dude,

you got some serious presence. What the hell did you say

to them?’

‘Just enough to make Space Major Bowman look like

third prize in the Christmas raffle. Sorry about that.’ The

Doctor turned to Bowman with an apologetic shrug. ‘I’m

afraid they’re not going to be all that interested in you

now. Try not to feel too downhearted.’

‘I always knew there was something you weren’t

telling us,’ replied Bowman. ‘Turns out you’re Dalek

Enemy Number One. Congratulations.’

The Doctor nodded sadly. ‘I know. Funny how things

turn out, isn’t it?’

‘SILENCE!’ shouted the Command Dalek. ‘DO NOT

SPEAK! YOU ARE A PRISONER OF THE DALEKS!

YOU WILL BE TAKEN FOR INTERROGATION! AND

THEN YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!

EXTERMINATED!’

‘You always make me feel so welcome.’

This was now altogether too much for the Dalek. Its

sucker arm thudded into the Doctor’s stomach and he

folded, the wind whooshing out of him. As he lay on the

floor, gasping for air, the Command Dalek turned back to

Bowman. ‘You will be taken to await your interrogation.

The other members of your crew will be taken to work in

the core mines.’

Two Daleks lifted Cuttin’ Edge and, dangling him like

a puppet, took him away with Koral, heading for a

doorway that led deeper into the prison.

Koral looked back at Bowman, shouting, ‘I will come

back for you!’

And then the door closed and Bowman knew that

would be the last he ever saw of her.

The Doctor was marched into a security room to be

scanned again. Though he was naturally optimistic, even

he had to admit that things weren’t looking too good right

now. He was uncomfortably reminded of an electric chair

as he was forced to sit down in the machine.

The equipment hummed and circular screens around

the scanning area filled with information as the Doctor

was examined on a molecular level. Daleks roved around

the room, checking instruments and displays. The

atmosphere was electric, in more ways than one: the

Doctor could tell that his arrival had really set the cat

among the pigeons.

The Command Dalek glided forward. ‘YOU WILL BE

TAKEN TO A MAXIMUM-SECURITY HOLDING

CHAMBER TO AWAIT FULL INTERROGATION.’

‘Really, I don’t want to put you to any trouble…’ said

the Doctor.

‘NOTIFICATION OF YOUR CAPTURE HAS

REACHED SKARO.’

‘Ah. Well, they say bad news travels fast.’

‘THE SUPREME DALEK HAS AUTHORISED THE

PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE UNIT TO EXTRACT ALL

NECESSARY INTELLIGENCE VIA MIND PROBE

EXTRACTION. THE PROCEDURE WILL

ULTIMATELY

PROVE

FATAL.

THE

INTERROGATION WILL BE LED BY THE DALEK

INQUISITOR GENERAL.’

The Doctor raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You mean

the Supreme Dalek has sent someone to question me?

That’s an insult. It’s outrageous. The least he could do was

come himself. Better fish to fry, has he?’

The Command Dalek’s eye loomed large as it drew

closer, the lights on its head flashing with calculated

menace. ‘THE SUPREME DALEK IS FULLY

ENGAGED DIRECTING THE WAR AGAINST

EARTH! BUT BY THE TIME THE INQUISITOR

GENERAL

HAS

COMPLETED

YOUR

INTERROGATION, YOU WILL WISH THE SUPREME

DALEK HAD COME HERE!’

Koral tried to blank Bowman from her mind. She had

been consumed by rage and fear in the reception area, and

it could have cost her everything. She had to stay alive

and get back to him, somehow. The Doctor had diverted

the Daleks’ attention, but Koral knew it was only a

temporary reprieve.

The base crackled with static electricity and the

metallic air smelled of machine oil and hate. Cuttin’ Edge

could barely walk and he was forced to lean on Koral for

support. They staggered slightly as the lift that carried

them down into the prison vaults slowed to a stop and the

doors slid open. The Daleks pushed them out onto a

narrow walkway overlooking a vast cavern. Its rough-

hewn walls rose up to a jagged, cathedral arch of

stalactites.

It was incredibly hot. Emerging from the lift had been

like stepping into an oven. As they moved down the ramp,

descending through a layer of thick, searing mist, the

ground suddenly came into view: irregular blocks of black

granite separated by streams of bubbling, red-hot lava and

volcanic slag.

And all around, everywhere, there were people: human

beings manacled together and set to work with pickaxes

and shovels, breaking rocks and carrying them to heavy,

primitive barrows.

Floating through the clouds of steam and hovering over

the glowing lava were Dalek guards, their bronze armour

plate pockmarked and stained, their domes constantly

revolving, looking for signs of trouble or weakness from

the slaves. The blue eyes shone out of the burning haze

with deadly, implacable purpose.

‘WORK UNIT DELTA,’ grated one of the Daleks.

‘YOUR PRODUCTION RATE HAS DROPPED BELOW

MINIMUM TOLERANCE. YOUR OUTPUT IS

UNSATISFACTORY!’

Four men looked up fearfully as the Dalek approached.

They were thin, emaciated, clearly exhausted – and all

chained together. One of the men, a few wisps of grey hair

left on his skull, simply sat down heavily on a nearby rock

and put his face in his hands. ‘I can’t go on…’

‘It’s not our fault!’ cried one of the other men. He was

younger, healthier. He pointed at the weakened old man

on the rock, his chains rattling as he moved. ‘He’s holding

us all back. He can’t work any longer. He’s sick!’

‘INEFFICIENT WORK UNITS WILL BE

REPLACED,’ said the Dalek remorselessly.

Two more Daleks descended slowly to join the first.

‘EXTERMINATE!’

They opened fire without another word, shooting all

four members of the slave group. The men screamed and

twisted in the blaze of energy and then sank into the lava.

Within minutes, they had disappeared, leaving nothing but

a layer of bubbling slime on the surface of the molten rock

and the stench of roasting meat in the air.

‘STEP FORWARD,’ ordered the Dalek who had

brought Koral and Cuttin’ Edge to the mine.

They shuffled forward, Koral trying to keep Cuttin’

Edge on his feet. His legs were shaking as he tried to

walk.

The mine Dalek swung around, glaring at them both for

a long moment before saying, ‘YOU WILL NOW BE

WORK UNIT DELTA.’

‘This man is injured,’ Koral pointed out. ‘His legs have

been damaged. He cannot work.’

‘THEN HE WILL BE EXTERMINATED!’

‘No, wait!’ cried Cuttin’ Edge, raising a hand. ‘Wait.

I’ll be OK. I can work.’

‘CAN YOU STAND UNAIDED?’ grated the Dalek.

‘Yeah.’

Cuttin’ Edge let go of Koral’s arm. His teeth were

bared – he was clearly in great pain – but he managed to

stand on his own two feet. Koral could see that Cuttin’

Edge simply wasn’t going to give the Daleks the

satisfaction of killing of him.

‘SATISFACTORY,’ droned the Dalek.

Cuttin’ Edge smiled through the pain.

‘Damn right.’

Bowman paced back and forth like a wild animal in a

cage. The cell was no more than a few metres square,

solid walls and floor. No windows. A harsh white light

beat down on his head.

Two narrow benches ran along opposite walls.

Bowman tried sitting down but he couldn’t keep skill. The

anger inside him raged like a beast. He wanted to punch

the walls, kick the door, tear apart the first thing that came

through it with his bare hands.

The cell door hummed open and the Doctor was thrown

inside. He hit the floor heavily and groaned. The door

closed behind him with a solid clang.

Bowman stalked backwards and forwards but made no

attempt to help him up.

The Doctor crawled up onto a bench and stared at

Bowman for a full minute before saying, ‘All that pacing

up and down is going to wear you out. It’s making me

tired just watching you.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Sorry. What are you doing, thinking up a way to

escape?’

‘You don’t escape from a place like this,’ Bowman

snarled back. ‘You just wait until they come and kill you.’

The Doctor blew out his cheeks in a long sigh. ‘You’re

a big comfort, aren’t you? Some cellmate.’

‘I’m just telling it like it is.’

‘Sounds more like you’re giving in.’

‘Don’t you see?’ Bowman suddenly roared. ‘Don’t you

care? They’re gonna rip our brains out! It’s the end of the

line!’

‘Well, technically, they’re going to take my brain apart

neuron by neuron. But yes, they’ll probably just rip yours

out.’ Under his breath, the Doctor added, ‘If they can find

it…’

‘You think this is all one big joke, don’t you?’

The Doctor stretched out his legs and folded his arms.

‘No. I think it’s a disaster. And, worst of all, I should have

seen it coming.’

‘What?’

‘We’ve been set up. This was a trap all along. A great

big gold-plated trap. With the words “this is a trap”

written on it in mile-high luminous letters. And we just

walked right into it.’

Bowman frowned dangerously. ‘What the hell do you

mean?’

‘The Dalek on the Wayfarer,’ explained the Doctor. ‘It

tricked us. When it finally talked, it left us just enough

clues to lead us here, to Arkheon.’

‘You mean it tricked you,’ Bowman said. ‘ You brought

us here, remember.’

‘Yeah, well, if you want to point the finger, then maybe

– maybe – I should have seen it coming. I did exactly

what I told you not to – which is underestimate the

Daleks. They’re always thinking, always conniving,

always planning. You can’t trust them an inch. Even in its

last, dying moments that Dalek – having been torn out of

its life-support machine and tortured – managed to trick

us. Sold us half a line about the Arkheon Threshold and

left my imagination to do the rest. It knew who I was, it

knew who you were. And it tricked us into taking

ourselves straight to the biggest Dalek prison this side of

Skaro.’ The Doctor’s eyes narrowed as he stared into

space. ‘Clever, that. Really, really clever.’

Bowman leant down so that he was right in the

Doctor’s face. ‘For your information, I don’t admire the

Daleks. Never have done. I respect them, but I don’t

admire them.’

The Doctor smiled. ‘Nah. It’s not respect, Bowman. It’s

fear.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said it’s fear. That’s what you’re feeling now.’

‘No chance.’

‘It’s fear of what the Daleks can do to you, of what they

can do to your friends and family and loved ones. What

they can do to all of us – everyone and everything that

isn’t a Dalek. Cos you know they won’t stop until they’re

the only creatures left in the universe.’

‘The supreme beings?’ Bowman sneered. ‘In their

dreams.’

‘That’s more like it,’ grinned the Doctor. ‘There’s life

in the old dog yet.’

In the caverns, two more prisoners – a woman and a girl –

were marched over to where Cuttin’ Edge and Koral

stood. Manacles and chains were quickly fixed to their

wrists and ankles so that all four were bound together. The

woman and the girl clung to each other, not even looking

up.

‘YOUR TASK IS TO REMOVE ROCK DEBRIS

FROM THE DRILL AREA,’ a Dalek informed them. ‘IF

YOU DO NOT WORK HARD ENOUGH YOU WILL

BE EXTERMINATED!’

Cuttin’ Edge looked at the woman and the girl. They

were probably mother and daughter, the girl perhaps only

eleven or twelve years old. Both kept their heads down.

Cuttin’ Edge felt his stomach churn with anger.

‘You gotta be kiddin’,’ he told the Dalek. ‘They can’t

work. She’s only a kid.’

The Dalek glided forward, gun-stick revolving in its

socket. ‘The Daleks do not make exceptions. You are to

work as a unit. If you fail you will be exterminated.’

‘I’m tellin’ you, she can’t work—’

‘DO NOT ARGUE WITH THE DALEKS! YOU WILL

OBEY!’

Cuttin’ Edge felt a cool hand on his arm. It was the

woman – looking up at him through a thin curtain of dirty

hair with imploring eyes. She didn’t say anything. She

didn’t have to. The meaning was clear. Be quiet, please.

Don’t argue. Don’t provoke them.

The woman had kept one arm tight around the girl’s

shoulders, holding her close. She was doing her best to

protect her daughter. The anger in Cuttin’ Edge’s guts

turned into a sense of helplessness. He looked back at the

Dalek, but its single blue eye only blazed, challenging

him, daring him to argue. Wanting him to argue.

‘OK,’ he muttered. ‘OK. You win. For now. We’ll move

rocks.’

‘SPEAK LOUDER,’ grated the Dalek.

‘I said OK! We’ll work!’

Cuttin’ Edge turned to Koral. She was staring listlessly

at the rocky ground, the chains hanging heavily on her

wrists. She looked utterly defeated.

‘Hey, don’t let your head go down, babe,’ he said

quietly. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’

Cuttin’ Edge had been leaning on Koral for support, but

his legs were now full of an agonising pins and needles

sensation, which he presumed was a good sign. It meant

that the feeling was finally coming back. He could walk a

little, although it was still painful.

‘I can manage,’ he told Koral quietly. ‘Don’t help me

any more. If they think I can’t walk on my own they’ll

shoot, remember.’

Koral nodded and let him stand unaided. Cuttin’ Edge

took a deep breath. The nerves in his legs felt like they

were burning up. But he was determined to walk alone.

That’s what Jon Bowman would have done.

The four of them trooped slowly, awkwardly, across the

cavern, winding their way through the other slaves and

clouds of steam. They were taken to an area littered with

rocks and rubble, where several work units – groups of

four humans chained together – were picking up rocks and

passing them along the line to a large metal skip.

‘They don’t need us to do this,’ said Cuttin’ Edge in

disgust. ‘They could do this faster an’ better with

machines. Why use us?’

‘Because they can,’ said Koral. ‘Because they like to.

Subjugation of the lower races. It’s Dalek policy.’

A Dalek rolled by, watching them, and Cuttin’ Edge

picked up a rock. ‘Best get started,’ he said. ‘Pass it

along.’

Koral passed the rock to the woman, who let her

daughter take it to the skip and throw it in. The girl moved

quickly back to stand close to her mother, waiting for the

next rock. The chains that bound them all together rattled

with every movement.

Again, Cuttin’ Edge felt the fury building inside him.

But they were surrounded by Daleks – all of them looking

for an excuse to exterminate. There was nothing he could

do.

Except, he realised numbly, whatever the Daleks

wanted.

‘All the detention cells they must have in this place, and I

get to share one with you.’

The Doctor sat up on the bench. ‘It could be worse.

You could have been having your brain scooped out of

your skull and dissected by now.’

‘Tough choice.’ Bowman sat back on a narrow metal

bench and folded his arms.

‘At least this way we’ve got a bit more time. You’ve

been put on the back burner while they think what to do

with me.’

‘Whatever.’

‘And they’ve put us together deliberately,’ said the

Doctor, looking upwards. The cell was metal and

otherwise featureless – apart from a protected light fitting

in the ceiling and a camera mounted high up on one wall

which resembled a Dalek eyestalk. ‘They’ll be watching

everything we do. They want to hear what we’ve got to

say to each other.’

‘Which is nothing.’

‘Oh come on. Talking is good! I like talking.’

Bowman closed his eyes. ‘Yeah, I’d noticed.’

They sat in silence for a minute before the Doctor said,

‘So. Space Major Bowman. You’re a bit of a dark horse,

aren’t you?’

Bowman looked balefully at the Doctor. ‘Don’t you

ever give up?’

‘Never. So come on. How come you’re so important to

the Daleks?’

‘I thought you said they’d be listening to us,’ Bowman

growled, jerking a thumb at the eyestalk on the wall.

‘Yeah, but they’ll know all this stuff already. They’ll

probably just turn over and watch whatever’s on the other

side.’ The Doctor sat forward and pointed at the white scar

on Bowman’s forearm. ‘That’s what gave you away, isn’t

it? Where you took the old Earth Command transmitter

out of your arm. Everyone over the rank of captain has

one surgically implanted when they’re commissioned. It’s

a little microchip that transmits your location and health

status – basically whether you’re alive or dead – back to

base. Helps Earth Command keep track of all its important

military assets right across the galaxy. But you took yours

out, which is strictly against orders. Are you a deserter,

Space Major Bowman?’

Bowman’s eyes narrowed. The Doctor was staring at

him, eyes huge, mouth hanging open in a half grin.

Bowman felt like punching his lights out.

‘It’s a bit more complicated than that,’ he said

eventually.

The Doctor sat back, put his hands behind his head and

stretched his long legs out on the bench. ‘Go on, I’m

listening.’

‘Well,’ Bowman rumbled, ‘maybe it just seemed

complicated at the time. Thing is, I was once a good

soldier with a bright future. Did some good stuff in the

First Dalek Incursion. Got promoted. Somehow ended up

a Space Major and before I knew it I was helping to

design the defence system for Earth Central. I’d gone

from being a fighting soldier on the front line to a security

consultant sitting behind a desk. Didn’t like it one bit –

but I did a good job.’

A bitter look flashed across his face at the memory.

‘When I finished, Earth Command decided that I was now

a security risk because I knew so much and the safest

thing to do was wipe my memory.’

The Doctor winced sympathetically. ‘No wonder you

didn’t want to involve Earth Command in this business.’

‘Yeah, well, I didn’t fancy a future as a brainless old

trooper in some spacers’ home. So I got out.’

‘You deserted.’

‘I cut the chip out of my arm and buried it in the desert

on the planet Mykron. And then I went on the run.’

‘But carried on doing the only thing you knew – killing

Daleks.’

‘The only thing I wanted to do. Worked around the

fringes of the Earth worlds for a while, on the Wayfarer.

But eventually, when Earth was getting desperate, they

started recruiting bounty hunters to harass the Dalek

forces on the frontier planets. I jumped at the chance to

kill some Daleks, and it paid good money.’

‘Bit of a comedown, though, for a high-ranking officer

in the Space Service.’

‘Better than winding up a brainless old trooper.’

Bowman considered where he was and then added,

‘Looks like that’s gonna happen now anyhow. The

defence system for Earth Central is still wet-wired into my

brain. The Daleks know that – I’ve been on their most

wanted list for years. Now I’m here and I can’t help

thinking I should have taken the brain-wipe when it was

first offered.’

‘Rubbish. While you’re still alive and you’ve still got

all your marbles, there’s always hope. Always.’

Bowman raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re pretty optimistic

for a man who’s sitting in a cell at the very centre of the

Daleks’ biggest prison and interrogation centre.’

The Doctor was suddenly struck by a thought. ‘Have

you ever heard of something called the Dalek Inquisitor

General?’

Bowman’s eyes opened fractionally. ‘Where did you

hear that name?’

‘The Command Dalek said I was going to be

interrogated by the Dalek Inquisitor General. Mean

anything to you?’

Bowman sat upright. His whole demeanour had subtly

changed: he was alert, tense, and his eyes were

uncharacteristically wide. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.

You’ve never heard of Dalek X?’

‘Should I have?’

Bowman drew a deep breath.

‘The Dalek Inquisitor General is one of Earth

Command’s priority targets. His Space Service security

designation is X. Hence the nickname – Dalek X. If

they’ve called him in then you’re in more trouble than I

thought. In fact, you must have put every damned Dalek

from here to Skaro on red alert.’ He leant forward, staring

intently at his cellmate as if examining him properly for

the very first time. ‘Just who the hell are you? Really?’

‘Never mind about me. Tell me what you know about

this Dalek X.’

‘Well, he’s a whole deal of trouble. It’s not very often a

particular Dalek gets a reputation – but he’s one of the

Supreme Dalek’s top commanders and a helluva tough

customer. They say he’s put the order in to exterminate

more humans than anyone else in history. I’ve heard him

described as the Devil in Dalek form.’

The Doctor sagged. ‘Suddenly I’m not feeling quite so

optimistic.’

Cuttin’ Edge was still hurting. He was starting to shake,

almost as if he had a fever. Spasms of burning pain ran

through his legs every few seconds. Occasionally he

would stumble, or fall painfully on one knee, and Koral

would have to pull him quickly to his feet before the

Daleks noticed. His heart hammered in his chest every

time a Dalek came near.

The Daleks glided among the workers, some armed

with a kind of electric tine in place of the usual sucker.

Any slave thought to be slacking was prodded. There

would be a loud crackle and the slave would instantly

move faster, blinking away hot tears of pain.

‘I can’t stand much more of this,’ muttered Cuttin’

Edge.

Koral looked at him. ‘Don’t stop now. You are stronger

than almost anyone else here.’

‘I don’t mean that. I can keep on shiftin’ rocks from

now until doomsday, if my legs hold out. I’m talkin’ about

watching those scumbuckets torturin’ innocent people.’

‘Just keep working,’ said a voice from the back of the

line. It was the woman. Her voice wavered as she spoke,

but her green eyes were steady and determined. ‘If you do

anything stupid, the Daleks will kill all of us. Me and my

daughter included.’

Cuttin’ Edge lowered his gaze.

‘I’m Jenifa,’ said the woman. There was the ghost of a

smile on her lips. ‘This is Kuli.’

‘Hi,’ said Kuli in a small voice.

Cuttin’ Edge found himself waving back at the little

girl. She was just like her mother – long, straight hair,

determined eyes. ‘How long you been here?’ he asked.

‘Long enough to know that you’re badly injured,’

Jenifa replied.

‘I’m OK.’

‘You can barely stand. You’re shaking.’

Koral said, ‘He was shot in the legs by a Dalek. Some

kind of stun blast.’

‘It’s neurological shock,’ Jenifa explained. ‘I was a

nurse on the planet Auros. When the Daleks intercepted

the refugee fleet, we were all brought here to work. But

I’ve helped treat injuries like yours before.’

‘Is he going to die, Mummy?’ asked Kuli. She stared at

Cuttin’ Edge in wonder, as if expecting him to keel over

any minute.

‘Hey,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. ‘I ain’t goin’ anywhere yet,

babe.’

‘Does it matter?’ asked Jenifa. ‘Looks to me like we’re

already in Hell as it is.’

A Dalek descended through the mist. ‘DO NOT

SPEAK. YOU ARE HERE TO WORK. TALKING IS

FORBIDDEN. OBEY THE DALEKS.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ grumbled Cuttin’ Edge. ‘Same old same

old.’

The Dalek’s electric prod extended and a spark leapt

into Cuttin’ Edge’s chest. He cried out and sat down

heavily, chains rattling. Koral grabbed him and tried to

pull him upright. It was difficult. Cuttin’ Edge felt as if his

legs were on fire, and they were as weak as a newborn

lamb’s. He held on to her for support, teeth gritted.

‘YOU CANNOT STAND,’ observed the Dalek. ‘IF

YOU CANNOT STAND YOU CANNOT WORK.’

‘We’ve been through this already,’ snarled Cuttin’

Edge. ‘An’ I’ve told you: I’m still standin’. And I’ll still

be standin’ when you’re a pile of rust on the floor. Got

that?’

The Dalek eyed him implacably. ‘IF YOU DO NOT

WORK YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED.’

‘Yeah,’ nodded Cuttin’ Edge, bending down and

picking up a rock. ‘So you said.’ For a moment he

contemplated ramming the rock into the Dalek’s eye.

Wouldn’t do it a whole lot of harm, but it might make him

feel a bit better. Just for a second. But then he thought of

Koral and Jenifa and Kuli. And he turned and passed the

rock on. It was transferred down the line and dropped into

the skip with a loud clang.

Satisfied, the Dalek moved on.

And, teeth grinding as he fought back the

overwhelming pain, Cuttin’ Edge bent down and picked

up another rock. His legs trembled and his heart pounded.

But he continued working.

In the main control room, the Command Dalek swung

around to face a subordinate. ‘REPORT!’

‘EXCAVATION WORK ON THE PLANETARY

CORE IS BEHIND SCHEDULE,’ said the Dalek.

‘SLAVE OUTPUT IS FALLING. RESOURCES HAVE

BEEN DIVERTED TO ENSURE MAXIMUM

SECURITY ON LEVEL NINE ZERO ONE.’

Level nine zero one was Arkheon’s most secure area.

That was where the Doctor was being held.

‘UNDERSTOOD,’ replied the Command Dalek.

‘REPORT ON THE SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH TEAM.’

‘PROGRESS CONTINUES. THE RESEARCH TEAM

ESTIMATES THRESHOLD BREAKTHROUGH IN

THREE SOLAR DAYS.’

‘THAT IS UNSATISFACTORY! THE ARKHEON

THRESHOLD MUST BE BROKEN AS SOON AS

POSSIBLE. DIVERT ALL AVAILABLE RESOURCES.

PRIORITY ONE!’ The Command Dalek glided over to

one of the main control panels, where several circular

screens showed views of the surrounding cosmos. ‘THE

DALEK INQUISITOR GENERAL IS DUE TO ARRIVE

IN FOUR HUNDRED RELS! THE FLEET HAS BEEN

PLACED ON FULL ALERT ON THE EDGE OF THE

ARKHEON SYSTEM. WE MUST BE READY!’

There was no mistaking the rising pitch of the

Command Dalek’s voice. The subordinate’s lights flashed

urgently. ‘I OBEY!’ it shrieked, and turned to leave the

room quickly.

The Command Dalek watched the screens. One showed

a fleet of Dalek saucers flying in formation towards

Arkheon space. A tiny thrill of anticipation passed through

the shrunken creature inside the bronze casing.

Anticipation and fear. It could sense, like every other

Dalek in the room, that history was about to be made. Or,

if not actually made, then torn apart.

Dalek X was coming.

The Inquisitor General had adopted the security

designation given to him by Earth Command. He

understood that it inspired fear in humans – fear of the

unknown, fear of his ruthlessness, fear of his complete

devotion to the Supreme Dalek.

Dalek X had just one purpose, one goal: the total and

utter destruction of the human race. Mastery over every

other life form. Domination of the universe at any cost.

These were the central beliefs of every Dalek in existence,

but Dalek X was driven by something else: the certain

knowledge that the only way the Dalek race would ever

achieve its ultimate aim was by conquering both space

and time. He reported only to the Supreme Dalek on

Skaro. He was feared by everyone and everything in the

galaxy.

And he was coming for the Doctor.

‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ said the Doctor. He was

moving around the cell, checking the walls and floor.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ growled Bowman.

‘You can either sit there and criticise, or you can help.’

Bowman snorted. ‘What are you looking for? A trap

door?’

‘Anything. Anything at all.’ The Doctor dropped to his

hands and knees, pressing his ear to the metal floor. ‘I

can’t hear a thing. I think we’re on the lowest level.’

‘Figures.’

The Doctor jumped to his feet. ‘Well, it means one

good thing: the only way is up!’

‘Feeling optimistic again?’

‘Oh yes!’

‘You’re insane.’

‘I’m in here. And I want to be out there.’ The Doctor

pointed at the door. ‘Is that so crazy?’

‘Save your breath, Doctor. You’ll need it for screaming

when Dalek X gets hold of you.’

‘By the time Dalek X gets here, I intend to be long

gone. But if you see him, pass on my regards.’

‘You’re never gonna give up, are you?’

‘Are you?’

‘Have you ever escaped from a Dalek prison cell

before, Doctor?’

‘Loads of times. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

“I visited Skaro and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.”

Believe me, it can be done.’

‘All right.’ Bowman got slowly to his feet. He was as

tall as the Doctor but he was a lot broader. He seemed to

fill the little cell. ‘What do we do?’

‘Bang on the door. Yell for the guards. You say I’m sick

– I’m having a fit or something. Or I’m dead! Yes, tell ‘em

I’m dead. I’ve just collapsed on the floor – double heart

attack. That’ll bring them running.’ The Doctor quickly

lay on the floor, spread-eagled with his eyes shut. ‘Go

on!’

Bowman thumped on the door. ‘Hey, Dalek!’ he called.

‘I know you’re out there. You better come in and check

this out. The Doctor’s collapsed. I think he’s dead.’

Silence.

The Doctor opened one eye. ‘Any sign?’

‘Yeah, I think they’ve sent for an ambulance.’

‘This is no time to develop a sense of humour,

Bowman.’ The Doctor got back up on his feet. ‘I thought I

could rely on you to be dour and pessimistic.’

‘Hey, I’m just killing time until they come to rip my

brains out. Meanwhile, I’m wondering exactly what they

must be thinking, watching you do all this.’ He pointed up

at the camera eye on the wall. ‘Or had you forgotten

they’re watching our every move and listening to our

every word?’

The Doctor looked up at the eyestalk, almost comically

surprised. Then he turned to face Bowman, and, together,

they burst out laughing.

‘Well,’ gasped the Doctor after a few moments, wiping

his eyes, ‘it was worth a try!’

Bowman shook his head in wonderment. The two men

stared at each other, a unique moment of comradeship

passing between them. Locked together in the deepest

dungeon of a Dalek prison, they both knew the end was in

sight.

In the distance, echoing through the steel walls of their

cell, a klaxon sounded. A warning alarm. It was the kind

of noise that made the guts turn over.

Bowman swallowed. ‘Dalek X is here,’ he said.

On the edge of the Arkheon solar system, a squadron of

Dalek saucers emerged from hyperspace and swept

towards the broken planet that glittered like a tiny

diamond in the glare of its distant sun.

Six outrider saucers zoomed ahead of the giant

Exterminator-class flagship belonging to the Supreme

Dalek’s Inquisitor General.

It was the first of its kind; the ultimate expression of

Dalek power. Ten immense antigravity impeller engines

thrust the ship onwards, so powerful that they left a trail of

time distortion in its wake. The neutronic reactor at the

ship’s centre supplied gigantic power to the vast array of

particle-beam weapons, missiles and energy-shield

repulsors. The saucer carried a standard crew complement

of five hundred Daleks plus ten ranking commanders and,

at the very top, secure in his Dalekenium plate-armoured

control dome, Dalek X.

This squadron of ships had broken away from the

command battle fleet, redirected from Skaro, for one

purpose only: to bring the Primary Intelligence Unit, led

by the Inquisitor General, to Arkheon. Its mission: to

interrogate and destroy the definitive enemy of the Daleks

– the renegade Time Lord known only as the Doctor.

The ships swooped into orbit around the shattered

remains of the prison planet, scything through what was

left of the upper atmosphere and cracking the deserted

ruins of its once-beautiful cities with a succession of giant

sonic booms.

The Exterminator settled into a geostationary orbit

level with the huge cavern that housed the landing port

and upper tiers of the Dalek prison facility. The saucer

was far too big to land in the cavern or even dry dock. It

simply hovered, its engines throbbing with enough

suppressed power to shake loose stones from the edges of

the cave.

Hatches slid open around the saucer’s edge, and a

phalanx of Daleks poured out in strict formation, heading

for the landing platforms.

There were many more Daleks assembled in ranks on

the various levels of the Arkheon base. At the very front

was the gleaming bronze shape of the Command Dalek.

The Exterminator Daleks hovered as a small unit broke

away and floated down towards the reception area. There

were two elite guard Daleks, their black domes

continually sweeping from side to side, double gun-sticks

raised, and they came in to land first. Behind them were

four assault Daleks, fitted with laser-cutting claws rather

than suckers.

And then there was Dalek X.

The armour casing was gunmetal black where the other

Daleks were bronze. But the globes which studded the

base unit and the thick armour slats on the weapons

platform were all gold. He glided imperiously onto the

landing level and swept straight past the Command Dalek

without even acknowledging it.

The Command Dalek slid hurriedly in behind the

Inquisitor General.

‘REPORT!’ barked Dalek X.

The Command Dalek edged closer as they moved

towards the prison interior, flanked by the assault and elite

guards. ‘CORE SEPARATION IS PROCEEDING AS

ORDERED – BUT THE SCHEDULE HAS BEEN

DELAYED BY THE ARRIVAL AND APPREHENSION

OF THE DOC–TOR!’

‘HOW LONG UNTIL THE ARKHEON THRESHOLD

IS BREACHED?’

‘RESEARCH TEAM ESTIMATES TWO SOLAR

DAYS UNTIL THE THRESHOLD IS EXPOSED.

PARTICLE ACCELERATION BOMBARDMENT WILL

FOLLOW IMMEDIATELY!’

They had reached the interior hallway. Dalek X swept

around and allowed his cold blue gaze to fall on the

Command Dalek for the first time. ‘THE DELAY IS

UNACCEPTABLE,’ it grated. ‘SUMMON THE

DALEKS RESPONSIBLE FOR MAGNETIC CORE

SEPARATION.’

‘I OBEY!’

Led by Dalek X, the group moved into the prison

control centre. The guard Daleks took up positions behind

and either side of their master. Very soon, three Dalek

mine overseers arrived. Their normal bronze casings were

covered in grime and dust and lava splashes from the cave

systems that surrounded the planet’s molten core.

Dalek X’s dome lights flashed menacingly. ‘EXPLAIN

THE DELAY IN MAGNETIC CORE SEPARATION!’

One of the Daleks moved forwards, twitching

nervously. ‘DISRUPTION DUE TO THE ARRIVAL OF

THE DOC–TOR HAS DIVERTED RESOURCES FROM

THE MINE WORKINGS. THE HUMAN SLAVES ARE

NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO ABSORB THE

INCREASED WORKLOAD.’

‘THIS DELAY IS UNACCEPTABLE,’ repeated Dalek

X implacably. ‘YOU HAVE FAILED THE DALEKS!

FAILURE

CANNOT

BE

TOLERATED!

EXTERMINATE!’

The two elite guard Daleks on either side of him

instantly opened fire, unleashing twin bursts of neutronic

energy at the mine Dalek. The creature inside was fried

alive, its harsh, dying shriek nearly drowned by the

piercing screech of the beams. A moment later, all that

was left of the Dalek was a blackened shell, the oily

smoke belching from the neck grille accompanied by a

quiet sizzling noise.

‘RECYCLE THE CASING,’ ordered Dalek X,

addressing the remaining mine Daleks. ‘CONTINUE

WITH THE SEPARATION SCHEDULE. FORCE THE

HUMANS TO WORK HARDER AND FASTER.

SELECT THE WEAKEST HUMAN EVERY HOUR

AND EXTERMINATE IT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER

SLAVES. THEY WILL REDOUBLE THEIR EFFORTS.

CONTINUE!’

‘WE OBEY!’ shouted the Daleks. They turned and

hurried away.

The Doctor was listening at the door of the cell with his

stethoscope. He moved the diaphragm carefully around

the metal frame and then raised his eyebrows.

‘Lots of activity outside,’ he murmured. ‘Something’s

really stirred them up.’

‘I told you,’ said Bowman. ‘It’s Dalek X.’

The Doctor straightened up and folded away the

stethoscope.

‘We’ve got to get out of here.’

‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ wondered Bowman drily.

He was sitting along one of the benches watching the

Doctor run his hands through his hair in agitation.

‘We can’t all be geniuses,’ replied the Doctor, but he

wasn’t smiling. He started to go through his pockets.

‘This is the top Dalek detention and interrogation

facility. No one gets out of here alive.’

‘You’re being negative again.’

‘I tell you it’s impossible,’ growled Bowman, losing

patience.

‘I like impossible!’

Cuttin’ Edge stumbled again, crashing to his knees and

almost pulling Koral over with him.

She staggered, grabbed him quickly by the arm and

hauled him to his feet.

‘Another slip like that will cost us all our lives!’ she

hissed in his ear.

He shook her hand away. ‘You think I don’t know

that?’ He looked down at his legs, where the tough

material of his fatigues was stained with blood. He

couldn’t feel the pain, not properly. His legs were still

riddled with nerves and it took all his concentration not to

let them shake. Bending down and picking up rocks was

becoming more and more problematic.

‘Please, don’t argue,’ said Jenifa. She looked past Koral

at Cuttin’ Edge. ‘It just attracts attention.’

‘Not pickin’ up rocks is gonna attract attention,’ said

Cuttin’ Edge bitterly.

‘Let’s change places, then,’ Jenifa suggested. She

pulled a strand of sweat-soaked hair back behind her ear;

her fingers were sore and bleeding from the work but she

never complained. Behind her, Kuli watched silently, eyes

wide and fearful.

Cuttin’ Edge felt ashamed.

‘I’ll go to the head of the line,’ explained Jenifa

quickly. ‘You stand at the back. Then you won’t have to

bend down so much.’

‘I ain’t no invalid,’ said Cuttin’ Edge.

‘The Daleks might not agree,’ Koral said.

‘Look out,’ Jenifa whispered suddenly. ‘They’re back.’

Two overseer Daleks had swept back into the cavern.

They floated over the bubbling streams of lava, eyestalks

roving over the human slaves.

‘ATTENTION! THE WORK RATE IS

UNACCEPTABLE! YOU WILL INCREASE YOUR

EFFORTS IMMEDIATELY! IMMEDIATELY!’

‘We can’t work any harder,’ argued one old woman

bravely. She stood up straight, right in front of one of the

Daleks. Her grey hair stood out on her scalp like wires,

but there was a burning defiance in her eyes. ‘You’re just

being ridiculous.’

‘DO NOT ARGUE WITH THE DALEKS!’ screamed

the overseer. Its sucker arm extended and grabbed her by

the face.

Unable to breathe, she was forced quickly to her knees.

The suction cup released its grip and the old woman

sagged to the ground, heaving. Those in her work unit

gathered around, helping her back up as quickly as they

could. Everyone knew that any untoward sign of

weakness could result in death for them all.

‘FROM THIS POINT ON WE WILL IDENTIFY THE

WEAKEST WORK UNIT EVERY HOUR,’ the Dalek

continued, addressing the entire cavern. Its harsh, metallic

voice echoed around the stalagmites. ‘THAT WORK

UNIT WILL BE EXTERMINATED.’

‘NO FURTHER WARNING WILL BE GIVEN!’ the

second Dalek added.

There was a murmur of fear throughout the crowd – but

no one wanted to argue too loudly.

‘They’re in one bad mood,’ observed Cuttin’ Edge

quietly. ‘I mean, worse than usual. Wonder what got into

them?’

‘Fear,’ said Koral.

The Daleks swept through the lines of slaves, domes

rotating. ‘THE FIRST WORK UNIT TO BE

EXTERMINATED WILL BE CHOSEN NOW.’

The slaves milled around in a quiet panic, all trying to

look stronger, taller, fitter than their neighbours. Cuttin’

Edge gritted his teeth as his legs started to shake. The

sweat was pouring down his face and chest, his shirt stuck

to his skin, and he knew he must look awful. Everyone

else around him seemed to be healthier and more upright.

Even the old woman who’d been suckered looked livelier

than him.

The Daleks cornered a work unit on the edge of the

cavern. From where they stood, Cuttin’ Edge and Koral

could not see the prisoners. Were they old? Weak?

Injured? It was impossible to tell. All they heard was the

savage metallic cry, ‘EXTERMINATE!’ and then a

brilliant blue flash as the neutronic beams struck home.

Then silence.

‘CONTINUE WORKING!’ ordered the Daleks.

The remaining slaves set to their tasks with desperate

energy, each work unit competing with the next as if it

was some macabre contest.

Cuttin’ Edge picked up rocks and passed them quickly

down the chain. Kuli tossed them into the skip, giving a

tiny little grunt of exertion every time. The whole process

was repeated, again, again, faster, faster. Cuttin’ Edge was

shaking now, his legs on fire. Tears burned his eyes.

Whoever they were – the ones that the Daleks had

murdered – they couldn’t have been any weaker than him.

He felt ill with fear and guilt. How long would it be before

they came for him?

In the prison control centre, the Command Dalek was

studying a bank of monitors. Circular screens projected

images of the mines, the core, the research laboratories,

and the prison levels. One large monitor was showing the

interior of the Doctor’s cell on level nine zero one. The

Doctor and Bowman were sitting opposite each other,

talking.

Dalek X glided over and stared intently at the image.

‘WHICH ONE IS THE DOC–TOR?’

The Command Dalek indicated. The thin figure on the

screen made the creature that lurked inside the bronze

casing squirm. But Dalek X seemed completely unfazed.

He studied the Time Lord with fierce intent, the blue light

in his eye growing stronger by the second. And then,

bizarrely, the Doctor looked up, straight at the camera

lens. His wide, alien eyes stared out of the screen at the

observers.

‘HE KNOWS THAT WE ARE OBSERVING HIM!’

said the Command Dalek.

‘IT IS UNIMPORTANT. THE DOC–TOR HAS A

HIGHER THAN AVERAGE INTELLIGENCE RATING

FOR A HUMANOID. CERTAIN REACTIONS ARE

EXPECTED.’

The Command Dalek touched a control and a

succession of images flicked rapidly across the screen –

different men: old, young, tall, short. The faces flicked

past at bewildering speed. ‘THIS PERSON DOES NOT

MATCH ANY PREVIOUS IDENTIFIABLE VERSIONS

OF THE DOC–TOR IN OUR DATABANKS.’

‘HE CONTINUALLY CHANGES HIS PHYSICAL

APPEARANCE IN A FUTILE EFFORT TO AVOID

DETECTION,’ explained Dalek X. His eyestalk never left

the Doctor on the screen. ‘HE HAS INTERFERED WITH

DALEK PLANS ON MANY OCCASIONS. BUT HE

WILL INTERFERE NO LONGER.’

‘HE IS RESOURCEFUL AND CUNNING,’ warned

the Command Dalek.

‘HE RELIES ON FORTUITY. HIS ARROGANCE

WILL PROVE TO BE HIS DOWNFALL.’ Dalek X

turned away. ‘BRING HIM TO THE INTERROGATION

CHAMBER!’

The Doctor and Bowman had emptied their pockets to see

what they could muster between them. It was the Doctor’s

idea; Bowman complied simply because he was too tired

to argue.

On the floor in the centre of the cell was a little pile of

junk: the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver, his psychic paper,

glasses, the TARDIS key, a pencil, a handful of strange

coins, some string and a couple of rubber bands. He

studied the assorted odds and ends as he chewed the

earpiece on his stethoscope.

‘No blaster,’ observed Bowman.

‘Guns are not the only weapons,’ replied the Doctor

tartly. ‘It’s all a matter of resources – and using our brains.

Or rather my brain.’

‘You going to take out the guard with a pencil?’

The Doctor picked through the junk. The sonic

screwdriver was useless; all Dalek doors were deadlock

sealed. The screwdriver wouldn’t even scratch them. He

picked up the TARDIS key and looked at it sadly. Then he

closed his fist tightly around it. ‘Come on, Doctor, think!’

Bowman sat back with a sigh.

‘There must be more,’ insisted the Doctor. ‘Come on,

anything. Are you sure you’ve checked all your pockets?

No one travels that light.’

‘I do.’

‘You’re just not trying. You’ve given up!’

Bowman raised an eyebrow. ‘I think I gave up a long,

long time ago.’

Something in his voice made the Doctor stop. He

watched Bowman carefully for a second or two before

saying, ‘You mean when you first went on the run? I don’t

think Cuttin’ Edge would believe that. He thinks the world

of you.’

‘Cuttin’ Edge is just a kid.’ Bowman rubbed a big hand

across his eyes. ‘No, I gave up long before all that.’

He reached into a side pocket and withdrew a small

card. He threw it down in front of the Doctor. It was an

old photograph, slightly creased and dog-eared – and the

same picture that the Doctor had already seen as a

hologram in Bowman’s cabin aboard the Wayfarer. A very

young, smooth-faced Jon Bowman with his proud parents.

‘There,’ growled Bowman. ‘That’s everything I have.

There’s nothing else.’

The Doctor picked up the photo and studied it.

Bowman was smiling out from the past, caught in an

unguarded moment when he knew nothing of the future.

The Doctor wondered if that smile would have been so

bright if he could have seen what lay ahead: older,

tougher, disowned and disheartened, sitting on the floor of

a Dalek prison cell.

‘Ever since we came here,’ said Bowman thickly, ‘ever

since I met you… I’ve had a feeling that this was it. The

end of the line. I looked at Stella when she was lying in

the sickbay and I knew – I just knew – what was coming.’

He took the photo back and stared at the picture. ‘The end

of the line.’

‘Not yet,’ the Doctor said. ‘You mustn’t ever give up.

There’s always a chance.’

He grunted, unconvinced.

‘Are your parents still alive?’

Bowman shrugged, ‘Maybe. I haven’t seen them in a

long, long time. I doubt they even think of me any more.

Why would they? I’m just a bad memory. When I went on

the run, the army would have called on them, told them.’

Bowman’s words faded as his lips grew tight. He stared at

the image in the photo, at the smiling eyes of his parents.

He knew they weren’t smiling at him.

‘It’s not too late…’ began the Doctor.

The door to the cell suddenly whirred open, revealing

two Daleks.

‘End of the line, Doctor,’ said Bowman.

They were taken out of the cell and marched down a

series of featureless metal corridors. The Doctor could see

that Bowman was getting very anxious now. His skin was

a horrible grey colour, his lips compressed into a thin

white line. His eyes were sunk deep into his head, full of

visions of what lay ahead.

The Doctor’s own hearts were hammering in his chest,

the blood pounding away in his head. He was trying to

think, trying to come up with a last-minute escape plan or

brilliant idea, but his mind felt paralysed.

They passed a number of doorways and laboratories,

with wide windows allowing views of Daleks at work: the

Doctor saw one room with a native Arkheon mutant

strapped to the wall, its skin glowing brightly under the

harsh electric light. A Dalek opened fire at the mutant,

which blackened and died like an autumn leaf. Another

Dalek was calculating exactly what firepower was

required to exterminate the creature.

Sickened, the Doctor looked away.

They arrived at a junction. Bowman was led to one

door, while the Doctor was pushed towards another.

‘Looks like this is it,’ said Bowman. ‘Time to give

them a piece of my mind.’

The Doctor gamely tried to smile at Bowman’s joke,

but all he felt was a profound, helpless sadness. He

swallowed with difficulty and then looked at Bowman.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

Bowman touched his forehead with a finger in ironic

salute as the door began to close. ‘Good luck.’

‘Never give up!’ the Doctor shouted after him. ‘Never!’

Then the door slammed shut.

‘MOVE!’ ordered the Dalek next to him.

The Doctor drew a breath, and followed the Dalek into

a darkened room. He was marched over to a metal wall

and forced to stand upright against it. It felt uncomfortably

like being made ready for the firing squad. His ankles and

wrists were secured with tight steel bands so that he was

utterly immobilised. The Daleks then withdrew and the

door clanged shut behind them. The Doctor was left in

complete darkness.

It was cold. He had no idea how big the room was or

what else was in there with him. He couldn’t see a thing.

All he could hear was the heavy, metallic throb of Dalek

machinery and behind that some kind of hard, electric

vibration. The air tasted of static.

Something cold and metal embraced his head. The

Doctor gasped as his skull was clamped into position and

a hundred fine needles pricked his scalp. This is it, he

thought, his hearts racing. The beginning of the end.

Eventually, a light appeared in the darkness – a blue

disc. The eye of a Dalek. He sensed rather than saw the

familiar shape as it circled, its single blue eye always on

him.

Eventually a harsh, grating voice said, ‘DOC–TOR…’

The lights on the Dalek’s head flashed slowly, in time

with each syllable. The Doctor swallowed. This Dalek was

in no hurry. He licked his lips and, as brightly as he could

manage, replied, ‘That’s me.’ His voice sounded more

brittle than he would have liked.

‘I AM DALEK X.’

‘Can’t say I’m pleased to meet you, sorry.’

‘YOU ARE ATTACHED TO A DALEK MIND-

PROBE MACHINE. IT HAS BEEN CALIBRATED TO

YOUR SPECIFIC BRAINWAVE FREQUENCY.’

‘You won’t get anything out of me,’ the Doctor blurted.

‘THAT IS NOT THE INTENTION,’ replied Dalek X.

‘YET.’

The Doctor couldn’t turn his head because of the mind

probe. It felt like a vice clamped around his skull. A

couple of extra turns on the screw would crack the bone.

‘So…’ he said at last, ‘what do you want? If it’s my secret

recipe for bread and butter pudding you can forget it. I’m

taking that little beauty to my grave.’

‘I INTEND TO MEASURE YOUR CAPACITY FOR

PHYSICAL PAIN,’ said Dalek X.

‘Oh. Why?’

‘BECAUSE I WISH TO.’

The Dalek’s sucker touched a control on the mind-

probe machine and turned it minutely. There was a fierce,

galvanistic crackle of power, and the Doctor’s body

arched like a bow, straining against its bonds. A howl of

anguish echoed through the darkness, torn from his lips

with sudden, shocking ease.

How long it was before the control was released the

Doctor could not tell. Time passed in an abstract sense

amid a kaleidoscope of pain. It could have been seconds,

minutes or even hours. It left him drained, limp, his hair

stuck to his head with perspiration and his throat raw from

screaming.

‘EXPECT NO MERCY,’ Dalek X informed him.

‘I’m not stupid,’ the Doctor croaked, feeling very

stupid indeed. Partly because his head felt so foggy with

pain but also because he couldn’t for the life of him work

out how it had all come to this: helpless, friendless and

homeless, chained to a wall and tortured by the Devil in

Dalek form. That’s how Bowman had described him, and

it was difficult to argue.

‘DALEKS DO NOT SHOW MERCY,’ said Dalek X.

‘Yes,’ the Doctor replied. ‘I know.’

‘MERCY IS WEAKNESS.’

‘Really? Why don’t you just give it a try? Go on, I

won’t tell anyone.’ The Doctor tensed, ready for the next

onslaught. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the

Dalek’s suction arm hovering over the probe control. Any

second now and he would be plunged back into the abyss

of pain. ‘On second thoughts, maybe I’m wasting my

breath. And I’ve reconsidered the bread and butter

pudding thing. You can have it if you want.’

‘YOU DO NOT BEG FOR MERCY LIKE THE

OTHERS.’

‘What others?’

‘THE FUGITIVES OF AUROS.’

A chill ran through the Doctor. ‘Was that you?’

‘I GAVE THE ORDER FOR THE REFUGEES TO BE

EXTERMINATED,’ Dalek X confirmed. ‘THE PEOPLE

OF AUROS HAD FLED AND LEFT THEIR PLANET

IN RUINS. THEY COULD HAVE BEEN SLAVES.

INSTEAD THEY CHOSE DEATH.’

‘No they didn’t. They had no choice at all. You

murdered them all in cold blood. An entire colony.’

‘DALEKS SHOW NO MERCY.’

‘Or common sense, for that matter. Don’t you realise

that when news of that attack gets back to Earth they will

launch a counter-offensive?’ The Doctor suddenly stopped

speaking and marshalled his thoughts. ‘Ah. Now I see.

That was the whole point, wasn’t it?’

‘EARTH COMMAND WILL RESPOND AS YOU

HAVE PREDICTED. THE DALEKS WILL BE

PREPARED. THE HUMANS WILL BE CRUSHED.’

‘It’s a bit desperate, though. Or is that the real reason?

Are you losing the war with Earth? Is this one last shake

of the dice?’

The response was unequivocal: a savage twist of the

probe control and a series of wracking, nerve-shredding

waves of pain. His brain felt like it was about to burst, but

when the torment ended the Doctor was laughing.

‘That’s it, isn’t it?’ he panted, his breath ragged and

thin. ‘You’re losing! This whole plan – the slaughter of

the Auros fugitives, the attempt to break through the

Arkheon Threshold… it’s a last-ditch attempt to worm

your way out of defeat. Well it won’t work! ’

He lifted his head and yelled the last four words.

‘YOU UNDERESTIMATE OUR POWER,’ grated

Dalek X. ‘YOU DO NOT REALISE WHAT THE

ARKHEON THRESHOLD MEANS TO US – AND TO

THE REST OF THE UNIVERSE.’

‘Well I’m a bit of an expert on time travel and that sort

of thing, and I can tell you it won’t work. I was there, on

Skaro, right at the very beginning when you lot were first

slugging it out with the Thals and losing. And I’ll be there

right at the end, too – and guess what? You lose. Again.’

‘IN THIS UNIVERSE,’ conceded the Dalek. ‘BUT

NOT IN THE NEXT.’

Another chill of fear passed through the Doctor. His

mind was racing. ‘If you think you can use the Arkheon

Threshold to change the entire universe, you’re mistaken.’

‘WE WILL CHANGE HISTORY.’

‘But you’d need a massive power source to break down

the Threshold. It’s a minor fissure in space-time. A dead

end. Blink and you’d miss it. What makes you think

you’ve got what it takes?’

Dalek X approached the wall, his eyestalk boring into

the Doctor. ‘I WILL SHOW YOU.’

The Doctor was released from the mind probe. He

sagged for a second as the bonds slid away, but then stood

up stiffly, rubbing his wrists. He felt unsteady on his feet

but tried not to show it, ruffling his hair back into its usual

spiky fringe and clearing his throat. ‘Find anything?’ he

asked, giving the probe a tap with his knuckle.

‘THE MIND PROBE CONFIRMS THAT YOU ARE

THE TIME LORD KNOWN AS THE DOC–TOR. BUT

YOU DO NOT MATCH ANY OF THE PHYSICAL

DESCRIPTIONS WE CURRENTLY HOLD IN OUR

DATABASE.’

‘Oh, shame. Maybe your records aren’t as up to date as

you think.’

Dalek X swivelled round to glare at him. ‘THE MOST

LIKELY CONCLUSION IS THAT YOU ARE FROM

THE FUTURE.’

‘What?’ The Doctor looked horrified. ‘Don’t be

ridiculous! As if!’

‘IT HAS HAPPENED BEFORE.’

The Doctor pursed his lips. ‘Ah, well, yes, now you

mention it… but never mind. I hate all that continuity

stuff. Tell me all about your plans for the Arkheon

Threshold instead. That’s much more interesting.’

Dalek X led the Doctor out of the mind-probe chamber

into a long, low room with a wide viewing window

stretched across the far wall. The room was in darkness,

but there was a flickering orange glow coming through the

window, as if it overlooked a furnace. The Doctor strolled

across to the window and found himself looking out

across a vast, subterranean vault. Dark crags were

separated by winding, straggling rivers of molten rock.

Daleks hovered amid clouds of sulphurous smoke,

overlooking a hundred or more human slaves as they

toiled in the searing conditions.

‘Your own private view of Hades?’ asked the Doctor as

Dalek X joined him.

‘WE ARE CLOSE TO THE MAGNETIC CORE OF

ARKHEON,’ Dalek X replied. Lit from below by the

bubbling red light, his black and gold casing appeared to

run with blood.

‘Getting humans to do your dirty work again, eh? It’s

always the same with you lot. Of course, I blame the

suckers.’

‘EXPLAIN.’

‘I mean,’ the Doctor said, ‘does stealing planetary cores

really compensate for having no hands?’

‘IF THE DALEKS ARE TO ACHIEVE TOTAL

UNIVERSAL DOMINATION AND TAKE OUR

RIGHTFUL PLACE AS THE SUPREME BEINGS

THEN WE MUST MASTER TIME TRAVEL,’ said Dalek

X. ‘THAT THE TIME LORDS HAVE FAILED TO

ACHIEVE THE SAME GOAL IS A SIGN OF THEIR

WEAKNESS AND INFERIORITY.’

‘Or perhaps a sign that they don’t want to rule the

universe.’

‘THEN THEY WILL CAPITULATE TO THE POWER

OF THE DALEKS.’

‘Forget it. If future Daleks gained mastery of time

travel then you’d already know about it. They’d be here

right this minute. In fact we’d all be trundling around in

the old Mark Three Travel Machine chanting

“exterminate” by now.’

‘INCORRECT. DALEK TIME-TRAVEL THEORY

STATES THIS IS AN ERRONEOUS VIEWPOINT.

MASTERY OF TIME WILL BEGIN WITH THE

DESTRUCTION OF THE TIMELORDS AND

CONTROL OF THE TIME VORTEX. AND IT WILL

END IN THE COMPLETE SUBJUGATION OF THE

HUMAN RACE!’ For the first time, Dalek X’s voice

increased in pitch as he grew more excited. ‘WITH THE

ARKHEON THRESHOLD WE WILL FIND A WAY

INTO THE VORTEX!’

Bowman was pushed into a brightly lit laboratory bustling

with Daleks. He turned angrily on the Dalek behind him.

‘Keep your filthy sucker off me!’

The Dalek threw Bowman backwards. He landed on his

back, winded.

‘OBEY THE DALEKS!’ shouted the metallic shape as

it loomed over him.

‘Never.’

‘STAND!’

‘Or what?’ asked Bowman from his position on the

floor. ‘You ain’t gonna exterminate me, remember. Not

until you’ve picked this to bits.’ He tapped his head.

The Dalek regarded him sourly for a moment but said

nothing.

With a humourless smile, Bowman got slowly to his

feet. ‘I’ll stand, but not because you tell me to. I’ll stand

because this way I’m taller.’ He squared his shoulders and

stared down the Dalek’s eyestalk. ‘Just remember that.

Cos every human being you ever meet will look down at

you.’

The Dalek glided forward. ‘PAY ATTENTION TO

THIS SCANNER SCREEN.’

Bowman looked at the bank of instruments to which it

pointed. There was a circular monitor showing what

looked like the surface of Arkheon – frozen, elegant ruins.

The image zoomed in to one particular spot: a heavy,

rough-looking spaceship that Bowman recognised only

too easily.

‘The Wayfarer,’ he said aloud, momentarily stunned. It

made his heart heave when he saw the old ship, left

exactly where it had touched down only hours before.

Almost as if it was waiting for him. Silent and patient.

‘WE HAVE LOCATED YOUR SPACECRAFT,’ the

Dalek stated.

Bowman blinked. Was the Dalek expecting him to say

thanks? And then a shadow passed over the Wayfarer, and

a Dalek saucer came into view on the screen, hovering

above the old ship. Bowman automatically identified the

saucer: an assault craft, Aggressor-class, small, highly

manoeuvrable and heavily armed. As he watched, missiles

streaked from the underside of the saucer and struck the

Wayfarer amidships. It exploded into a giant, silent

fireball and the debris scarred the snow around it for

hundreds of metres.

‘TARGET DESTROYED,’ stated the Dalek.

It felt like a punch to the solar plexus. Bowman had to

fight the urge to physically wilt. He took a deep,

shuddering breath and stood up straighter, stronger. He

looked at the Dalek.

‘Think I’ve never seen a ship blown up before?’ he

snarled. ‘I’m Space Major Jon Bowman. I’ve been

blowing up spaceships and Daleks all my life. When are

you going to get it? I’m not scared of you. ’

‘MOVE!’ ordered the Dalek. It was joined by two

others, and together they herded Bowman across the

laboratory.

There were several benches arranged with clinical

precision around the room. They were metal and looked

like mortuary slabs. On each of them was a human being,

lying face up, head shaved and exposed to the Daleks

surrounding them. Some of the Daleks had surgical

implements attached to their arms rather than suction cups

or claws. Bowman felt physically sick.

‘LIE DOWN.’

‘This where you cut my head open?’

‘LIE DOWN! OBEY!’ The Dalek used its sucker arm

to force Bowman back against the mortuary slab, so that

he was bent awkwardly over it. Suddenly he twisted,

lashing out with his foot, but the Dalek barely moved.

Two more Daleks joined the first and together they

manipulated him, kicking and fighting, onto the bench.

Metal straps secured his wrists, ankles and throat.

He struggled, but uselessly. A sudden, wild fear swept

through him, the kind of panic he had never experienced

in his life before. His chest heaved and sweat broke from

every pore. The bench felt hard and unyielding beneath

him.

‘NOW YOU FEAR THE DALEKS!’ observed one of

his captors triumphantly.

‘PREPARE FOR FULL BRAIN EXCORIATION,’ said

another.

A surgical Dalek glided over, a small metal saw

whirring into life on the end of its arm.

‘Go on, then!’ roared Bowman. ‘Do it! You might as

well get your kicks, cos I did the same thing to one of you

not so long ago.’

The Daleks ignored him, going about their business

with meticulous care.

‘I had to scrape him out of his shell like a snail!’

Bowman screamed. ‘And you know what? He didn’t make

a damn sound. And neither will I! ’

Cuttin’ Edge winced, straightened up, took a deep breath.

He caught Koral’s eyes, and she nodded at the woman and

the girl. They were clearly exhausted, perhaps only

minutes from collapse.

‘Don’t give in now,’ Koral whispered.

Jenifa looked up wearily through bloodshot eyes.

‘There’s nothing more we can do,’ she croaked.

Kuli wept. ‘I don’t want to die, Mummy! I don’t want

to die.’

‘Hush,’ said Koral. ‘You will attract attention.’

Jenifa scowled. ‘We can’t go on much longer. None of

us can. They’re going to kill us sooner or later and that

will be it.’ She put her arm around her daughter. ‘I’m

sorry, Kuli. I love you. I will always love you.’

Kuli squeezed her mother tight, and Jenifa looked back

at Cuttin’ Edge and Koral with a sad smile. ‘Thank you

for helping us,’ she said.

Cuttin’ Edge gritted his teeth. ‘No, you helped me. I

could hardly stand and you kept me goin’. All of you.’

‘It’s not over yet,’ Koral said.

‘It is now,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. He was looking past

them, to where a cloud of sulphur had dispersed to reveal

two Daleks.

‘WORK UNIT DELTA!’ grated the first. The hard,

metallic words were full of cold menace. ‘STEP

FORWARD!‘

‘So this is the guided tour, is it?’ asked the Doctor

airily. Dalek X had taken him down into the granite

bowels of Arkheon. Two of the Inquisitor General’s black-

domed guard Daleks had joined them. They hung back

slightly, gun-sticks trained on the Doctor at all times.

Dalek X glided along a metal walkway installed the

length of the cavern. Clouds of evil-smelling steam drifted

by. The Doctor strolled along, hands in pockets, gazing all

around him like a tourist on a holiday excursion. ‘It’s a bit

stuffy down here,’ he said. ‘You need to get the heating

fixed.’

Despite his casual demeanour, the Doctor was very

worried. For a Dalek, the Inquisitor General was one cool

customer. He was impossible to taunt. And he seemed to

be two steps ahead all the time, out-guessing the Doctor at

every turn. The Doctor was waiting for the chance to

somehow turn the tables, but it was never coming – or

showing any sign of coming.

‘I suppose we’re pretty close to the core here,’ said the

Doctor chattily. He tried a few light bounces, his trainers

squeaking loudly on the metal walkway. ‘I can feel the

fluctuations in the magnetic field. Must be playing hell

with you.’

‘I AM IMMUNE TO THE EFFECTS,’ Dalek X

replied.

‘Well,’ said the Doctor. ‘Good for you.’

They came to another part of the cavern and turned a

corner. The Doctor stopped in his tracks. After a moment

he let out a low, appreciative whistle. In front of them was

an enormous machine, five storeys high and just as wide,

filling the length of a massive tunnel. It curved away into

the distance on either side.

‘It’s a particle accelerator,’ said the Doctor, gazing at

the towering apparatus. Dalek scientists hovered around

the machinery, adjusting and monitoring the complex

systems. ‘A very big one.’

‘THIS IS THE LARGE CHRONON COLLIDER,’

explained Dalek X. ‘WE WILL BOMBARD DISCRETE

PARTICLES OF TIME AGAINST EACH OTHER AT

SUPRALIGHT SPEEDS. THE RESULTING HUON

SHOWER WILL BE USED TO TRACE THE

TEMPORAL PROFILE OF THE ARKHEON

THRESHOLD. WE WILL THEN BE ABLE TO

ACHIEVE MAGNETIC SEPARATION AND BREAK

THROUGH TO THE TIME VORTEX.’

‘Oh, that was good,’ nodded the Doctor. ‘You’ve been

taking gobbledegook lessons. I like it.’

‘IT WILL WORK.’

‘Ah, well, yes – it might.’ The Doctor craned his neck,

looking up at the highest parts with a critical eye. ‘It’s

possible, I’ll give you that. But it is also insanely

dangerous.’

‘NOTHING IMPORTANT CAN BE ACHIEVED

WITHOUT RISK.’

The Doctor frowned.

‘Was that a bit of Dalek philosophy I just heard? You’re

going soft.’

‘YOU CONCEDE THAT OUR PLAN IS VIABLE.’

The Doctor couldn’t tell if this was a statement or a

query. But it was true, nonetheless. He nodded

thoughtfully, suddenly serious. ‘Yes. It will work. But –

and it’s a big but – you’ll need some sort of control

element to stabilise it. Then it will work properly.’

‘A CONTROL ELEMENT?’

‘Yeah.’ The Doctor sniffed, scratched his ear, looked

away.

‘SUCH AS A TARDIS.’

There it was again. Statement or question? The Doctor

wasn’t sure. He pulled a face, weighed up the factors

involved, shrugged. ‘Well, yeah. That’d do it. I suppose.’

‘SUCH AS YOUR TARDIS?’

A grim look stole across the Doctor’s face and his eyes

became deep, dark pools. ‘No,’ he said bluntly.

‘Absolutely no.’

‘YOU ARE NOT IN A POSITION TO REFUSE THE

DALEKS.’

That was definitely a statement. And it was also a fact.

But the Doctor shook his head nevertheless. ‘No. Sorry.

No. N-O spells no. It’s not even negotiable.’

‘YOU WILL PROVIDE YOUR TARDIS, DOC–TOR!’

‘Never.’

‘THE DALEKS WILL USE ITS CONTROL

SYSTEMS TO ACCESS THE TIME VORTEX!’

‘I said never.’

Dalek X moved closer. His voice continued to grate out

calm, unhurried statements as if they were facts. ‘YOU

REQUIRE PERSUASION.’

‘I do not.’

‘COERCION.’

‘Not possible.’

‘LET US INVESTIGATE.’ Dalek X turned to one of

the other Daleks as it glided by. The Dalek almost seem to

cringe as the black and gold machine addressed it

peremptorily: ‘ALERT THE COMMAND DALEK!’

The Doctor was taken back to the detention levels and

then into the high-speed lift to the prison control room. He

walked out into the busy chamber with Dalek X in tow, as

if they were old buddies. The feeling made the Doctor’s

skin crawl.

The Command Dalek swivelled hurriedly to face the

Inquisitor General. ‘YOUR ORDERS HAVE BEEN

CARRIED OUT!’

The Doctor had an uneasy feeling. Dalek X glided

silently forward and then turned. ‘SUMMON THE

PRISONERS.’

A door opened and four people shuffled into the control

room.

‘Koral! Cuttin’ Edge!’ the Doctor exclaimed in delight.

His face fell. They looked awful. ‘Are you all right?’

Cuttin’ Edge was limping badly, and he seemed smaller

than before, his shoulders hunched and his face haggard.

Koral also seemed bowed, and her red eyes looked cloudy.

Behind them, in chains, were a woman and a girl the

Doctor had never seen before. They looked equally weak,

and the girl was crying.

‘Hi there,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. His smile looked fake,

although the Doctor sensed he was genuinely pleased to

see him. At least at first. When he looked around the

brightly lit control room, saw the Doctor standing with the

Daleks, his expression turned sour. ‘What’s goin’ on? You

colludin’ with this scum now?’

‘No,’ said the Doctor. Then he cleared his throat and

said, more firmly, ‘No, I’m not.’

‘THE DOC–TOR IS REFUSING TO COOPERATE

WITH THE DALEKS,’ stated Dalek X. ‘THAT

POSITION IS ABOUT TO BE REVERSED.’

‘No,’ said the Doctor again. ‘You can’t do this…’

‘INCORRECT!’

The Command Dalek said, ‘BRING FORWARD THE

PRISONERS WHO CAME TO ARKHEON WITH THE

DOC–TOR.’

Two guards unfastened the chains that connected

Cuttin’ Edge and Koral to Jenifa and Kuli. They were

marched forward into the centre of the room. Koral looked

uncertainly at the Doctor, as if wondering whether to

attack him or the Daleks.

Dalek X moved forward, fixing the Doctor with his

steady glare. ‘IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY WITH

DALEK INSTRUCTIONS THEN INNOCENT LIVES

WILL BE LOST. IT IS YOUR DECISION.’

‘I won’t be bullied into helping you,’ replied the

Doctor. His voice was steely. ‘There’s too much at stake!’

Dalek X looked at Cuttin’ Edge and Koral for a long

moment and then said, ‘THESE TWO PRISONERS ARE

COMBATANTS. THEY EXPECT TO DIE IN THE LINE

OF DUTY. THEREFORE THERE IS NO VALUE IN

THEIR EXTERMINATION.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Cuttin’ Edge

demanded.

Dalek X turned away, addressing the Doctor only.

‘THESE PRISONERS WILL NOT BE KILLED.’ There

was a longer, colder pause. ‘BRING FORWARD THE

HUMAN MOTHER AND HER OFFSPRING.’

‘No!’ said the Doctor.

‘No!’ Cuttin’ Edge shouted. ‘Kill us instead!’

Jenifa and Kuli were herded forward, looking panicky

and frightened. Jenifa had her arms around her daughter,

her fingers were rigid and white on her shoulders.

‘FORMATION THREE!’ ordered the Command Dalek.

A trio of Dalek guards lined up in front of the woman

and her daughter. There was no doubt that it was an

execution squad. They turned their faces away from the

Daleks, hugging each other tightly. No one drew so much

as a breath and the only sound that could be heard was

Kuli’s muffled sobs.

‘EX—’ began the Command Dalek.

‘ All right!’ yelled the Doctor. His voice echoed around

the control room. ‘All right! All right. Stop! I’ll do it.’

Dalek X’s eye swivelled slowly to face him.

‘I’ll give you the TARDIS,’ said the Doctor quietly.

The eye glowed, full of greed. It bathed the Doctor’s

face in its cold blue light.

‘But there are conditions,’ the Doctor added.

‘NOT VALID.’

‘Wait. It’s important.’

The Doctor took a deep breath, his face solemn.

‘I’m giving you everything here. All of history opened

up like a book for you to rip the pages out and start again!’

His voice was shaking with fury. ‘The very least you can

do is hear me out!’

‘CONTINUE.’

‘My TARDIS requires a crew of six to function

properly. Together with myself, I need Koral, Cuttin’ Edge

and Space Major Bowman.’

‘THAT IS ONLY FOUR,’ said Dalek X.

The Doctor indicated Jenifa and Kuli. They were

looking up at him with haunted, disbelieving eyes. He

hardly dared give them hope but he had to try. ‘These two

make six.’

‘THESE HUMANS ARE NOT CREW MEMBERS.’

‘I know. But they can be trained. They can help. I can

show them what to do—’

‘NEGATIVE.’ The three syllables were ground out like

pieces of broken rock. There would be no negotiation on

this. ‘YOU WILL HAVE FOUR CREW MEMBERS

ONLY.’

‘It can’t be done!’ the Doctor argued.

‘IT WILL BE DONE! THESE HUMANS ARE NOT

MEMBERS OF YOUR CREW. THEY ARE NOT

NECESSARY. THEREFORE THEY WILL BE

EXTERMINATED!’

The Doctor leapt forward. ‘No! No, wait. They must be

allowed to live. Even if they can’t come, they must be

allowed to live.’

The execution squad was already moving back towards

the Jenifa and Kuli, taking up extermination positions

again. The Doctor ran over and placed himself between

the Daleks and the women. ‘If you really want to kill them

then you’ll have to go through me first.’

‘YOU CAN BE DISABLED,’ warned Dalek X.

‘Try it.’

The Dalek guns twitched impatiently in their sockets.

All eyes were on the Doctor, but he met the pitiless blue

stares unflinchingly.

‘Harm them in any way and I will not cooperate. You

can disable me and torture me and kill me but you will

never get the TARDIS.’

Dalek X seemed to consider. Then: ‘AGREED. BUT

THAT IS THE LAST OF YOUR CONDITIONS. THERE

WILL BE NO FURTHER COMPROMISE.’

‘All right. You win.’ The Doctor’s shoulders were

slumped in miserable defeat. ‘But I do need Space Major

Bowman.’

Dalek X turned to the Command Dalek. ‘RELEASE

THE HUMAN PRISONER AND HAVE HIM

BROUGHT HERE.’

‘I OBEY!’

Dalek X swivelled back to face the Doctor, his gun,

arm and eye quivering hungrily. ‘TELL ME THE

LOCATION OF YOUR TARDIS.’

Through gritted teeth the Doctor said, ‘Hurala.’

The Command Dalek twitched excitedly as it processed

the information. ‘PLANETOID KX–NINE IN THE

LASRON SOLAR REGION!’

‘Of course you’d know it,’ muttered the Doctor

resignedly. ‘That’s where all this started, after all.’

‘WE WILL PROCEED IMMEDIATELY,’ said Dalek

X. ‘PREPARE THE EXTERMINATOR FOR

DEPARTURE.’

‘There is just one another thing…’ ventured the Doctor.

‘NO MORE CONDITIONS!’

‘This isn’t a condition. It’s just a word of advice.’ The

Doctor sounded apologetic. ‘The TARDIS is actually

grounded at the moment.’

‘EXPLAIN!’

‘Its spatial motivator is all to cock,’ the Doctor said

matter-of-factly. ‘Why else d’you think I left it on Hurala?

It’ll be fine for what you want, but you’ll need to remove

the time rotor.’

‘SUMMON THE TEMPORAL RESEARCH TEAM,’

ordered Dalek X. ‘IT CAN MAKE THE NECESSARY

TECHNICAL ARRANGEMENTS ON HURALA.’

The Doctor joined Cuttin’ Edge and Koral. ‘Crew

members?’ Koral frowned.

‘Don’t mention it.’ The Doctor murmured, and then he

turned to the mother and daughter. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I

did my best…’

‘I know,’ said Jenifa. She smiled weakly. ‘Thank you.’

The Doctor nodded.

A door opened and Bowman walked through, covered

with ugly bruises and cuts but still standing tall. Two

Daleks glided in behind him. ‘MOVE! WAIT IN THE

CENTRE OF THE ROOM!’

Bowman sneered at them and then crossed over to

Koral. She suddenly seemed to be filled with renewed

hope, her eyes glowing strongly.

‘Bowman!’

‘Didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easy, did you?’ he

asked.

‘Are you OK?’ asked the Doctor.

‘Yeah. They pushed me around a bit but they never got

as far as the knives.’ Bowman gave the Doctor a wry look.

‘I take it you’re to blame?’

‘He’s cut a deal with the Daleks,’ said Cuttin’ Edge.

‘Like some sorta collaborator.’

‘Easy, kid.’ Bowman placed a hand on Cuttin’ Edge’s

shoulder. ‘You’re still breathing, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah, but for how much longer?’

‘PROCEED TO LANDING PORT!’ Dalek X

interrupted them loudly.

The Command Dalek and its guards started to herd the

Doctor and his friends towards the exit. ‘MOVE!’

The Doctor, Bowman, Koral and Cuttin’ Edge marched

out in sombre formation. Dalek X watched them go. Then

he turned to follow, his head swivelling to address the elite

Daleks that were still guarding the other prisoners.

‘RETURN THEM TO THE CORE MINES,’ he said.

‘WE OBEY!’ screeched the Daleks. Instantly, they

turned back to face Jenifa and Kuli.

And the dark shape of Dalek X glided smoothly

through the door as Jenifa broke down and wept.

The interior of the Dalek cruiser was typical in its

design: dark and functional, studded with control pillars

and instrument banks, and teeming with Daleks. It was

difficult not to see it as a kind of giant nest, with the

Daleks crawling and hovering busily around the vaguely

honeycombed interior.

The Doctor, Bowman, Cuttin’ Edge and Koral were

transported from Arkheon to the Exterminator via

antigravity discs – large circular platforms fitted with

handrails suitable for the transportation of individual

prisoners, equipment or even Daleks that were damaged

beyond their ability to fly.

Then they were led from the vast docking slot on the

edge of the huge saucer through several levels until they

reached the central command dome at its very heart.

‘It stinks in here,’ growled Bowman.

Koral, who had not left his side since they had been

reunited, agreed. ‘The stench of metal and hate.’

The Doctor was rather more impressed. ‘Look at it this

way,’ he said. ‘Very few human beings have ever been

aboard a Dalek saucer, let alone one as big as this.’

‘And we’re bein’ taken right to the top spot,’ noted

Cuttin’ Edge ruefully. ‘Guess they must really like us.’

Two guard Daleks herded them into a small area to one

side of the circular flight deck. Then the ever-present

assault Daleks, outriders for Dalek X, took up positions on

either side of the raised podium. A section of the deck

plate in the centre of the dais ground open like a steel iris

and the now-familiar black-and-gold shape of the Dalek

Inquisitor General rose slowly up through the aperture.

‘SET COURSE FOR THE PLANET HURALA!’ Dalek

X ordered. ‘MAXIMUM SPEED!’

‘WE OBEY,’ chorused the bridge crew, turning to face

their individual flight stations. From his raised position at

the centre, Dalek X could easily watch all of the

instruments by simply swivelling his head.

Bowman watched the Daleks at the control panels

carefully, but the Doctor shook his head. ‘Don’t bother

trying to memorise what they do,’ he warned quietly. ‘The

controls can only be activated by Daleks – they each have

a code signal aligned to the ship’s computer systems to

allow them access.’

Bowman raised an eyebrow. ‘Is there anything you

don’t know about the Daleks?’

‘Yes,’ the Doctor admitted. He kept his voice low. ‘I

don’t know how we’re going to stop them.’

‘I don’t think we can.’

‘You didn’t think there was any way to get out of

Arkheon,’ the Doctor reminded him. ‘And yet here we

are.’

‘On a Dalek battle cruiser. Not exactly free.’

‘Well it’s a start.’

The Exterminator‘s huge engines fired up and a heavy

rumble passed through the ship. The deep, persistent

background throb of the control room rose in pitch as, on

the main viewscreen, the broken orb of Arkheon began to

move slowly away.

Then the saucer powered up, suddenly leaving the

planet behind until it was little more than a shimmering

white dot.

‘That’s some acceleration,’ marvelled Cuttin’ Edge.

‘Yeah, hardly felt a thing,’ Bowman agreed. Even he

was struggling to keep a note of admiration out of his

voice.

‘Superb inertia-dampening fields,’ explained the

Doctor. ‘Whatever you think of the Daleks, they are

brilliant scientists and engineers.’

‘This must be the pride of the fleet.’

‘Yes,’ the Doctor said thoughtfully, looking up at Dalek

X. ‘It must be.’

The Exterminator paid scant attention to the laws of

physics that governed normal space flight. The immense

ion thrusters warped the space around the saucer to a point

where time could, temporarily, be condensed. It wasn’t

time travel per se, the Doctor told the others, but it did

mean the ship was incredibly fast. It made the Wayfarer on

its best days look like a complete sluggard.

The journey took no more than an hour. The cruiser

slammed out of maximum speed on the edge of the Hurala

solar system, and again no one inside the craft could

discern any real change. Space simply warped back into

its normal shape around the vessel. Even decelerating, the

ship took only another twenty minutes to complete the

trip.

Hurala quickly filled the viewscreen, swelling up like a

ball of dried mud. The Exterminator and its outrider

saucers burst through the thin atmosphere and swept

across the deserted terrain until they reached the old

Lodestar depot.

The battle cruiser was too big to land, so it remained

hovering over the rusting hulks and abandoned refinery

buildings like a giant metal hand poised to crush a spider.

Squadrons of Daleks flooded out of the saucer towards the

desolate settlement, flying in strict formation. The Doctor

and his friends were transported on antigrav discs once

again, to be joined on the surface by the Command Dalek.

Dalek X and his elite guards arrived moments later.

‘WHERE IS YOUR TARDIS?’ demanded Dalek X.

‘I’m not sure,’ replied the Doctor, turning slowly on his

heel and scanning the surrounding buildings. ‘All these

alleyways look the same to me.’

Dalek X turned to one of his subordinates.

‘INSTRUCT THE COMMAND SHIP TO SCAN THE

AREA.’

The Doctor laughed softly. ‘It won’t be that easy to find

the TARDIS,’ he said. ‘It’s designed to blend in with its

surroundings, to come and go like a whisper in the night.’

‘TARDIS LOCATED,’ grated the Command Dalek as it

received the response signal from the Exterminator.

‘GRID COORDINATES TWELVE-ZERO-NINE-

GAMMA.’

‘Ouch,’ said the Doctor.

‘MOVE!’

The Daleks glided effortlessly over the scrubby earth,

leaving little trails of dust floating behind them in the

wake of their gravity repulsors, as they marched their

prisoners into the town.

‘Never did like this dump,’ muttered Cuttin’ Edge,

kicking at the dust. ‘Back end of nowhere and smells like

it too.’

‘Stella said it reeked of death,’ noted Bowman. ‘I think

I see what she meant now.’

‘We’re not dead yet,’ the Doctor reminded them.

‘CEASE TALKING!’ ordered a nearby Dalek.

‘I trust you have a plan,’ whispered Bowman after a

few minutes.

‘Who, me?’ The Doctor shook his head. ‘Nah. Have

you?’

‘Not a clue.’

‘At least we’re thinking along the same lines, then.’

They arrived at the TARDIS soon enough. The old

police box was waiting for them at the end of the little

alley where it had originally materialised several days

earlier.

‘Is that it?’ asked Cuttin’ Edge, disappointed. ‘The

Daleks have come all the way here for that?’

‘It may not look like much, but… oh, forget it.’ The

Doctor brushed some dust off the doors and regarded his

ship sadly. ‘What do they know?’

Dalek X glided forward. ‘THIS TARDIS WILL

PROVIDE THE CONTROL SYSTEM FOR THE

ARKHEON THRESHOLD! SUMMON THE

TEMPORAL RESEARCH TEAM!’

Moments later a number of Dalek scientists descended

and approached the police box. Their eyes glowed

hungrily. ‘Open it!’ demanded the leader.

‘Say please,’ the Doctor said. ‘Oh, sorry, I forgot. That

word isn’t in the Dalek vocabulary, is it? Along with

“thank you”, “joke” and “blancmange”. You lot must be

so miserable.’

‘STOP WASTING TIME,’ said Dalek X menacingly.

‘OPEN THE TARDIS.’

‘All right, all right.’ The Doctor fished in his pocket for

the key. Then he tried another pocket. Hurriedly he went

through all his pockets, looking more and more worried. ‘I

can’t find it!’ he said. ‘The TARDIS key – it’s gone…’

‘BLAST OPEN THE DOORS,’ ordered the Command

Dalek.

‘NEGATIVE!’ Dalek X countermanded. ‘THE

TARDIS IS PROTECTED BY A TEMPORAL FORCE

FIELD. DALEK WEAPONRY WILL NOT PENETRATE

THE SHIELDING. IT MUST BE OPENED WITH THE

CORRECT KEY!’

The Doctor was still checking and double-checking his

pockets, handing various bits and pieces to Bowman and

Cuttin’ Edge in an effort to minimise the clutter. ‘I don’t

understand it…’ he complained. ‘How could I lose the

TARDIS key? I’ve never lost it!’

‘HURRY!’ ordered Dalek X. ‘THE TARDIS MUST BE

OPENED!’

‘It’s not that simple,’ the Doctor insisted. ‘It’s a triple-

curtain trimonic lock. It’s got twenty-seven different

tumblers in four separate dimensions. If I don’t find the

key, I’m absolutely stuck, never mind you.’

There was a ridiculous few seconds while Bowman,

Cuttin’ Edge, Koral and all the assembled and various

Daleks watched the Doctor going through his pockets one

last time.

‘It’s no good,’ he said eventually, slumping in defeat.

Dalek X was starting to twitch. ‘WHERE DID YOU

LAST HAVE IT?’

‘I don’t know.’ The Doctor suddenly leapt up straight

with a sharp cry. ‘Wait! I know! It was here – on Hurala. I

was trapped in one of the cellars down below. I must have

dropped it there!’

‘YOU ARE LYING,’ stated Dalek X.

‘No, honestly!’ The Doctor looked at Bowman and

Cuttin’ Edge. ‘Don’t you remember? You had to open the

door to the cellar. I’d been locked in by an automated

trap.’

‘He’s right,’ said Cuttin’ Edge.

The Doctor looked earnestly from one Dalek to

another. ‘We were all chased off the planet by a Dalek

scout team,’ he explained.

‘It’s true,’ said Koral. ‘We had to run for our lives.’

The Command Dalek turned to Dalek X. ‘THERE IS A

REPORT FROM A DALEK SCOUT UNIT THAT

SEVERAL HUMANOIDS WERE RECENTLY

DISCOVERED HERE AND PURSUED. THEY MATCH

THE DESCRIPTION OF THESE HUMANOIDS.’

‘That’s it,’ nodded the Doctor. ‘It was a close thing, too.

I didn’t exactly have time to check my pockets properly

before I left.’

‘One of our crew was killed by a Dalek,’ added

Bowman darkly. ‘We were rather preoccupied with her at

the time.’

‘WHERE IS THE KEY NOW?’ asked Dalek X.

‘It must still be in that cellar,’ said the Doctor carefully.

‘Wait here, I’ll go and get it.’

He started off but Dalek X stopped him with his sucker

arm. ‘HALT! YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO

LEAVE.’

‘OK. Why don’t we all go?’

‘I WILL LEAD THE WAY.’

‘Of course. After you. It’s that way.’ The Doctor

pointed. ‘The more the merrier – we’ll stand a better

chance of finding it then.’

Dalek X led, with the Command Dalek and the elite

guards behind. The Doctor, Bowman, Koral and Cuttin’

Edge brought up the rear with a number of assault Daleks.

They filed into the building that housed the Lodestar’s

computer core. The Doctor recalled his first trip in here,

when he had been investigating the dormant computer

system and allowing his sense of curiosity to get him into

trouble again. There was a metal stairwell leading down

deep beneath the surface.

The Doctor turned to Dalek X and pulled an apologetic,

slightly embarrassed face. ‘Sorry. Stairs.’

‘ELEVATE,’ commanded Dalek X. He and the other

Daleks started to lift off the ground slightly, floating down

the steps after the Doctor and his friends. It was an

awkward journey in such a confined space, but the Daleks

managed the descent with irritating ease. A couple of them

ventured out into the space between the stairwells,

lowering themselves slowly down while keeping careful

watch on the prisoners.

Cuttin’ Edge was limping badly, and one of the Daleks

watched his painful progress with great attention.

‘What you lookin’ at?’ asked Cuttin’ Edge. He had

stopped for a rest, flexing his swollen knees and

grimacing. Nearby a number of heavy chains rattled and

clanked as the others filed slowly past. The chains were

still attached to ancient pieces of machinery, left behind

by the station’s original owners.

‘MOVE!’ ordered the Dalek.

‘When I’m ready,’ said Cuttin’ Edge. ‘My legs are still

sore after you lot shot me.’ He started to pull himself up

using some of the chains, his biceps bulging as he allowed

the chain to take his weight. He looked back at the Dalek,

which had remained stationary, floating next to the steps.

‘Wait a second,’ said Cuttin’ Edge quietly. Such was the

tone of his voice that everyone else on the stairs stopped

to look back at him. The Doctor, Bowman and Koral had

reached a landing where there were a number of narrow

maintenance hatches. Cuttin’ Edge glanced down at his

companions and smiled at them.

‘What is it, Cuttin’ Edge?’ asked Bowman. ‘You’re

holding us up.’

‘I know this guy,’ said Cuttin’ Edge, pointing at the

Dalek. ‘I recognise his itty-bitty eyestalk tag.’

The Dalek said nothing.

‘You’re the one that killed my pal Scrum,’ Cuttin’ Edge

said. His tone was serious, quiet. ‘You shot him down in

cold blood just to make a point.’

Still the Dalek said nothing.

‘Scrum was my best friend,’ Cuttin Edge said. ‘I ain’t

never had a friend before him.’

‘Hey, kid…’ said Bowman. He sounded worried. There

was a grim light in Cuttin’ Edge’s eyes that only he could

see.

Cuttin’ Edge held up a hand for Bowman to be quiet.

His attention was still fully focused on the Dalek. ‘I made

a promise,’ he said. ‘I said I’d get you for that. And I

meant it.’

‘PROCEED,’ the Dalek ordered, gesturing with its gun-

stick for Cuttin’ Edge to carry on down the stairs.

Cuttin’ Edge had been holding himself up by the

chains. Now, with explosive force, he suddenly moved.

He wrenched the chains off the wall, looping them around

the Dalek’s head and yanking it tight with one huge jerk,

forcing the eyestalk hard up against its armoured housing.

The Dalek squawked and pulled back, its balance shifting

slightly.

Bowman started back up the steps to help, but the

Doctor caught hold of his arm fiercely. ‘No!’

‘Cuttin’ Edge!’

‘HALT!’ The Daleks on the stairwell were also starting

to turn, but there wasn’t much room to manoeuvre.

Cuttin’ Edge, his teeth bared in a savage grin, kicked

out at the machinery attached to the chains. It flipped over

the stair rail and plunged heavily down into the darkness.

The chain snapped taut and the Dalek was suddenly pulled

downwards after it, tipping over, the blue glow from its

underside strobing across the walls. With a terrible clatter,

the machinery, the Dalek and the chains tumbled down the

stair well. Then the Dalek struck another that had been

rising up from below to help, and together they banged

and crashed their way down into the shadows.

‘EXTERMINATE!’ screeched Dalek X. His blaster ray

found Cuttin’ Edge and lit him up for all to see, bones

glowing, head back. He clenched his teeth and refused to

scream, his eyes staying wide open in their sockets. Then

he reached out, grabbing the nearest Dalek in both arms.

The paralysing neutronic flare engulfed the Dalek as well

and there was a startled metallic yell from within.

The extermination beam ceased abruptly. The Dalek

dropped to the steps with a loud clang as its elevation unit

failed and it started to topple down the stairs, threatening

to knock the others down like skittles. They were forced to

levitate higher, moving clear of their stricken comrade as

it bounced and banged down the stairs, dragging Cuttin’

Edge’s dead body with it.

‘This way!’ yelled the Doctor, grabbing Bowman and

Koral and hauling them across the landing towards the

maintenance ducts. He kicked open a hatch and pushed

them through. ‘Move! Hurry!’

They tumbled into a narrow passage, pitch black and

full of dust. They ran through a curtain of sticky cobwebs,

dislodging spiders as big as hands.

Bowman crashed into a solid wall and swore. Koral

dragged him away, pushing him to the left, along another

narrow passage. Bowman’s shoulders banged and jarred

along the rough walls, his legs scraping against pipes and

electrical ducting. Eventually they fell down a step into a

small, rectangular bay. The Doctor switched on a pocket

torch and checked they were all right.

‘What the hell—’ began Bowman, coughing up a

lungful of dust.

‘Service hatches,’ said the Doctor, sweeping the torch

beam around. They could see old, discarded tools and

junction boxes covered in spiders’ webs. ‘Maintenance

ducts. You know the kind of thing. Used by robots to help

keep the place running in the old days. Luckily for us the

access tunnels are too narrow for Daleks.’

‘But Cuttin’ Edge…’ began Koral. ‘Why did he do

that…?’

‘He saw where we were,’ said Bowman. ‘Standing right

next to the hatches. He made a diversion so we could get

away.’

‘It cost him his life,’ Koral said numbly.

‘Then let’s not waste it,’ said the Doctor.

Bowman looked carefully at him. ‘You’ve got a plan,

haven’t you?’

The Doctor grinned widely. ‘Oh, yes! Do I have a

plan!’

Neither Bowman nor Koral could manage a smile in

return; they were still in a state of shock after Cuttin’

Edge’s sacrifice. But they both felt a surge of hope.

‘There is one small snag, though,’ the Doctor warned

them. ‘The plan does rely on us staying alive.’

‘We’re trapped underground with a squad of angry

Daleks on our tails,’ Bowman noted.

The Doctor winked at him. ‘I never said it was going to

be easy.’

Dalek X did not spare a glance at the dead Dalek as it

crashed down the stairwell, dragging the human’s corpse

with it. No Dalek was capable of lamenting a loss or

wasting time rueing an error, the Inquisitor General even

less so.

He was, however, furious. And anger was something

that every Dalek knew.

‘THE DOC–TOR HAS ESCAPED!’ exclaimed Dalek

X. ‘INITIATE EMERGENCY TRACKING SCAN!’

Two Daleks approached the maintenance hatches. One

of them was an assault Dalek, and it immediately began to

cut away a large section of the wall around the nearest

hatch. The other extended its sucker arm, scanning the

dark recess beyond.

The Command Dalek had descended alongside Dalek

X. ‘TEMPORAL SCIENCE TEAM ARE STILL

UNABLE TO PENETRATE THE TARDIS.’

‘WE NEED THE DOC–TOR! HE MUST BE

FOUND!’

The Dalek scanning the maintenance tunnel swivelled

its head around. ‘HUMANOID LIFE FORMS TRACED

IN STATION SUPERSTRUCTURE,’ it reported. ‘THEY

ARE FOLLOWING THE MAINTENANCE

CONDUITS.’

‘ASSEMBLE ALL SEARCH UNITS!’ ordered Dalek

X. ‘SEEK! LOCATE! EXTERMINATE!’

The Doctor, Bowman and Koral moved through the

tunnels. They wanted to move quickly, but it was difficult

in the darkness. The space was claustrophobically narrow,

and they kept snagging clothes and skin on sharp, oily

ledges and bundles of wire.

‘So what’s the plan?’ asked Bowman, bringing up the

rear. He couldn’t see anything apart from the jerky

movement of torchlight up ahead as the Doctor and Koral

struggled on.

‘I brought the Daleks to Hurala for a good reason,’

replied the Doctor, his voice echoing dully along the

conduit. ‘And it wasn’t the TARDIS. That was just the

lure – Dalek X is so greedy for success I knew he’d come

here if I gave him a good enough reason. But this place

was a refuelling station, remember. There’s a number of

immense astronic energy piles buried underground.

Chances are there is still a lot of residual energy in them –

it’s impossible to fully drain the tanks.’

‘Astronic fuel is extremely volatile,’ Bowman noted.

‘So we’re effectively sitting on a giant bomb.’

‘A ginormous bomb,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘If we can find

a way to detonate it, the explosion would not only destroy

Dalek X and all his mates, but the Command Saucer and

support vessels as well.’

‘That would make for quite a dent in the Dalek war

machine in this sector of the galaxy,’ Bowman realised.

‘So hurrah for Hurala,’ the Doctor said.

‘But it is a suicide mission, surely,’ said Koral. ‘We will

not survive the blast either.’

The Doctor avoided a direct reply, suddenly

exclaiming, ‘Aha! Here we are…’ as he emerged into a

wider access area. It was a small chamber, dimly lit by a

number of low-level phosphorous strips, and at last they

could stand up straight.

Bowman stretched, his joints creaking, but he was

careful to avoid meeting Koral’s gaze.

‘If we must lose our own lives to defeat the Daleks,’

she said, ‘then so be it. We must avenge the deaths of

Stella, Scrum and Cuttin’ Edge.’

‘I’m hoping it won’t come to that,’ said the Doctor. He

took out his sonic screwdriver. ‘First things first, though.

Let’s find the fuel silo controls. They can’t be far.’

As the Doctor began to focus the screwdriver and scan

for the control systems, Bowman checked some

equipment stacked against one of the chamber walls.

There were a number of tools lying around, presumably

left by the original contractors who had built the Lodestar

station. They were old and dirty and forgotten, but some

of them still had functioning power packs.

‘Listen,’ hissed Koral suddenly. She held up her hand

for silence and the Doctor snapped off the sonic

screwdriver.

They all heard the distant sound of Dalek voices

grating out orders. The harsh words reverberated through

the metal tunnels. Echoing, far away, but clearly drawing

closer, they heard metallic cries of ‘SEEK! LOCATE!

EXTERMINATE!’

The Doctor looked serious. ‘We’re gonna have to fight.

We can’t let them stop us.’

‘But we have no guns,’ Koral said. ‘How can we fight?’

‘Guns are not the only weapons,’ said Bowman, with

the slightest of smiles at the Doctor. He lifted a heavy

piece of equipment, blowing a thick layer of dust off its

control module. It was shaped like a large, two-handed

power drill. ‘This is an ion bolter. It uses focused particle

streams to propel ion bolts through plate steel. Crude but

effective.’

The Doctor searched quickly among some of the other

discarded equipment and came up with a device that

looked like a heavy steel hubcap. ‘And this is a

magnetronic condenser.’ He tossed the metal disc towards

Bowman, who caught it easily. ‘Could be useful.’

There was a loud bang and crash from the adjoining

tunnel and suddenly part of the wall began to glow a

fierce cherry red. ‘HUMANOIDS LOCATED!’ grated a

voice on the other side. ‘WALL PENETRATION IN TEN

RELS!’

‘Move!’ said the Doctor, leading the way out of the

chamber.

The exit tunnel was much wider than the service ducts,

and the Daleks would not have a problem following them.

They all heard the wall caving in behind them.

A pair of assault Daleks glided through the burning

gap. They scanned the surrounding area and set off in

pursuit. ‘SEEK! LOCATE!’

The Doctor scrambled out of the tunnel onto a wide

metal gantry overlooking a vast, black chasm. Koral and

Bowman ran straight into him, and the three of them

peered over the edge of an old, rusted railing. They could

see nothing but blackness.

‘Empty silo,’ said the Doctor, his voice echoing madly

in the darkness. ‘No use. Come on!’

They ran to the left, heading around the curved inside

wall of the vast silo, just as the Daleks came into view

behind them. ‘VISUAL CONTACT ESTABLISHED,’

reported the first.

‘HALT!’ yelled the second Dalek. ‘SURRENDER!

YOU ARE PRISONERS OF THE DALEKS!

SURRENDER OR YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!’

‘Hurry!’ shouted the Doctor as he raced around the

perimeter. ‘Run!’

The Daleks followed them, trying to manoeuvre for a

clear shot. One Dalek rose up from the platform and flew

after them, screeching instructions.

Bowman whirled, a look of grim intent on his face.

With a heavy grunt, he hurled the magnetron condenser at

the flying Dalek like a discus. It whirred through the air

and hit the armour casing with a satisfying clang,

clamping tight. The Dalek just had time to lower its

eyestalk, attempting to locate the device on its body, when

the condenser activated and a low whine started to

emanate from the disc.

‘UNDER ATTACK!’ squawked the Dalek.

‘LOCALISED MAGNETIC FIELD CONDENSING!’

Suddenly the Dalek imploded, as if crushed by a giant,

invisible fist. It was squeezed so hard and so fast that the

creature inside was forced through the splits in the metal

armour. It squirted away into the darkness in a screaming

fountain of slime.

The second Dalek watched the remains of its comrade

plummet into the shadows. Then it swivelled its eyestalk

back to the fugitives. ‘HALT OR YOU WILL BE

EXTERMINATED!’

But Bowman was already running again, hurrying after

Koral. The Doctor was sprinting with the sonic

screwdriver held out in front of him. The tip glowed a

brilliant blue and the doorway ahead of them swung open

on old, grinding hinges.

They dived through, and the Doctor hit the deck, rolled,

came up and fired the sonic screwdriver back at the hatch

in one motion. The door rolled shut just as the Dalek

reached it.

‘Come on!’ The Doctor scrambled down a stairwell,

Koral close behind.

Bowman followed, a little slower because he was

carrying the ion bolter. The muscles of his shoulders and

neck stood out like cables, shining with sweat, but his

teeth were bared in a savage grin of delight.

The stairwell went down three levels and then they

were in a wide, curved corridor. There were several doors

set in the walls.

The Doctor slowed to a jog, scanning with the sonic

screwdriver. ‘Not far now… should be just through here.’

He opened one of the doors and they went through.

‘This silo is still in use,’ the Doctor said. ‘At least, it

still contains astronic fuel. The controls system can be

accessed from that panel over there.’

He led the way across a wide gantry that stretched

towards a large, central dais suspended over what looked

like a bottomless pit. The acrid stench of astronic fuel rose

up in sickening waves from far below.

‘The Daleks will be closing in,’ Koral said. ‘They’ll

signal our position and converge on this spot. We’ll be

trapped.’

‘Yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘I know.’

‘Never mind that,’ ordered Bowman. ‘Let’s get to

work.’

The Doctor busied himself at the controls, popping

open an access panel and delving into the circuitry

beneath. ‘The Daleks will get here any minute,’ he said

quickly. His brows furrowed as he concentrated on the

work. ‘I’ve got to bypass the override and set up a

feedback loop on the fuel containment field. It’ll take –

ooh, too long probably – so I’d appreciate it if you could

buy me just a little time…’

‘You’ve got it,’ said Bowman. He grabbed hold of

Koral’s hand. ‘Come with me.’

The Daleks were tearing the Lodestar station apart looking

for the Doctor and his friends. The Command Dalek

barked out orders to several different search parties as

they spread through the refuelling complex.

Dalek X floated in the centre of an empty silo. His

eyestalk revolved slowly, examining his surroundings,

analysing, calculating, extrapolating. He scanned the

structure using X-ray vision, infra-red, thermal imaging,

spectronic diffusion. He compared the information with

data absorbed from the sensor apparatus in his sucker arm.

Then he downloaded a complete schematic of the

Lodestar station from the Exterminator for comparison.

Less than a minute later, Dalek X moved across the silo

and examined the access door. It had been locked using

some kind of sonic recalibration code. Dalek X extended

his suction arm and manipulated the locking mechanism,

burning through the simple computer it contained using

several million potential combinations in less than a

second. The door slid slowly open.

Dalek X knew where the Doctor would be. He knew

what he would try to do. He realised that he had been

tricked into coming here and that the Doctor would

attempt to destroy him and the Exterminator. This was a

desperate ploy and doomed to failure.

But a deep, overriding hatred boiled inside the black

and gold armour. Dalek X was determined to stop the

Doctor, to destroy him at all costs.

And he would do this alone.

* * *

The access gantry was a wide, thick construction with

metal floor grilles covering a ditch full of cables and

pipes. Bowman prised up one of the lattice panels and

jumped into the narrow channel beneath, beckoning Koral

to join him. Together they crouched down in the gap and

Bowman slid the grille back into place over their heads.

It was cramped and uncomfortable but they could see

clearly up through the flooring.

‘The Daleks will have to come this way,’ whispered

Bowman. ‘We stay here and attack when the first one

passes overhead. You strike first, disabling it. Then I’ll do

the rest.’

Koral opened her mouth to ask a question but a grating,

metallic voice suddenly echoed across the silo.

‘DOC–TOR!’ The word was spat across the void with

cold purpose.

The Doctor looked up from his work, sonic screwdriver

clamped between his teeth. He raised his eyebrows and

gave a little wave when he saw Dalek X approaching

along the access gantry.

‘STAND AWAY FROM THE SILO CONTROL

SYSTEM,’ ordered Dalek X.

The Doctor removed the sonic screwdriver from his

mouth. ‘Sorry! Bit busy right now. Why don’t you come

back a little later?’

‘STAND AWAY OR YOU WILL BE

EXTERMINATED.’

‘I wouldn’t open fire in here if I were you,’ the Doctor

cautioned. ‘Astronic fuel vapour – boom!’

‘STAND AWAY!’

The Doctor turned his back on the Dalek, working with

feverish haste at the controls with the screwdriver. ‘I’ll be

right with you,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Just wait

there a sec.’

‘DOC–TOR!’

The Doctor let out a huge, impatient sigh and turned

around. ‘Look, what is it? I’ve already told you, I’m busy.’

He waggled the sonic screwdriver to show how busy he

was.

‘YOU HAVE THREE SECONDS TO STAND AWAY

FROM THOSE CONTROLS BEFORE I

EXTERMINATE YOU!’

‘Don’t be daft. Exterminate me and you’ll never get the

TARDIS.’

‘WE WILL BREAK INTO THE TIME VORTEX

WITHOUT IT!’

‘I doubt that.’

‘THEN WE WILL FIND A WAY TO PENETRATE

THE TARDIS DEFENCE SYSTEMS WITHOUT YOU.

DALEKS ARE NEVER DEFEATED!’

The Doctor’s eyes widened. ‘Wanna bet?’

The grating slid away beneath Dalek X, and Koral

lunged upwards, claws extended. She ripped into the

antigravity mechanism under the Dalek’s base, tearing

through the metal and plastic in a shower of angry sparks.

There was a flash of energy and the Dalek shuddered,

visibly sinking as his power to levitate faded.

‘MOBILITY IMPAIRED!’ shrieked Dalek X as he

crunched down heavily onto the walkway. His gun and

sucker arm waved around in sudden panic as he searched

for his assailant. ‘I CANNOT MOVE!’

Bowman rose up behind the Dalek, clutching the ion

bolter. He rested the barrel against the neck grille as the

head spun around and Dalek X’s eye focused on him.

‘HUMAN ASSAILANT!’ cried Dalek X, his voice

rising in pitch. His shoulder section began to turn,

bringing the gun-stick round to bear on Bowman.

Bowman held the Dalek’s gaze for a long moment,

leaning in so that his face filled the creature’s vision.

Then, very carefully, he said one word: ‘ Exterminate.’

And pulled the trigger on the bolt gun.

The gun was set to automatic. A succession of heavy

ion bolts rammed through the barrel and into the Dalek’s

neck.

‘ALERT! ALERT! CASING BREACHED!’ yelled

Dalek X, shuddering as each bolt shot home. ‘FORCE

SHIELDS INOPERATIVE!’

Smoke and flames began to spew from the ruptured

grille and the living thing inside suddenly let out a

piercing yell of agony. Bowman switched position,

ramming the bolt gun against a different section of the

neck, and squeezed the activator. More ion bolts rattled

into the Dalek and the whole machine seemed to shake

under the impact. Dalek X’s cries rose above the crackle

and spit of the fire, and Bowman was forced to step back

as the skin on his hands began to burn.

But the ion bolter was empty. Every round had been

stamped into the Dalek’s neck section, disrupting the

electrical controls and skewering the creature inside. With

a snarl of disgust, Bowman raised his boot and pushed the

blazing Dalek X off the gantry. He tipped and then fell,

trailing smoke and a bloodcurdling shriek until he

disappeared into the darkness.

‘Ex-Dalek,’ muttered Bowman, dropping the empty

bolt gun after it. Then he sank to his knees, exhausted,

blood pouring from his leg.

Koral crawled across and helped him up. ‘We’re not

finished yet,’ she told him. ‘Come on…’

‘Good work,’ said the Doctor as they joined him by the

controls. ‘Clever, too. The underside of a Dalek can’t be

properly force-shielded because of the gravity repellers.

Take those out and you’ll short-circuit the rest of the

defensive fields. Well done.’

‘Never thought I’d be the one to KO Dalek X,’ grunted

Bowman.

‘Well now we’ve got the chance to KO his Command

Ship and every other Dalek here as well. I’m almost

done.’ The Doctor made a last adjustment to the wiring on

the control panel and then snapped the access hatch shut.

He clicked off the sonic screwdriver. ‘There.’

‘Will it be enough?’ Bowman asked. ‘I mean the

Exterminator is one big ship, Doctor.’

‘You’ll be able to see the explosion from the other end

of the solar system,’ the Doctor promised. ‘Believe me,

it’s more than big enough.’ He paused. ‘But there is a

problem.’

Koral looked up, recognising a grave note in the

Doctor’s voice. ‘What?’

‘The detonation relies on the safety override failing to

function. I can’t do that by remote control, and nor can I

set a timer on it.’ He looked at them grimly. ‘Someone

will have to stay and hold the manual override lever down

until the silo reaches critical.’ He tapped a metal lever on

the control panel. ‘It’s a failsafe measure.’

‘We knew this was a suicide mission,’ said Bowman.

Koral agreed. ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s do it.’

Still the Doctor hesitated. ‘By my reckoning, the

TARDIS is parked directly up there…’ The Doctor

pointed upwards. ‘And… well, we could have made a run

for it. Just.’

‘You still can,’ said Bowman. ‘I’ll hold the failsafe

lever. You can go with Koral.’

‘What? No!’ said Koral, horrified.

‘I’m injured anyway,’ Bowman said. ‘Get going with

the Doctor, and leave me here.’

‘No!’ Koral argued, stricken. ‘I will not leave you! The

Doctor can—’

‘He already risked his life once for me, Koral. And

anyway, only he knows how to fly that ship of his. At least

this way you and he both get to survive. Now go on, get

going…’

But Koral was having none of it. ‘No! You go! I’ll stay,

I’ll hold the lever! I won’t let you die, Bowman! I love

you!’

The last three words were blurted out. Bowman gaped

at her but then clamped his mouth shut. The Doctor

looked desperately from one to the other.

Then Bowman grasped Koral by the shoulders and

kissed her, hard. ‘I love you too,’ he growled. ‘Which is

why there is no question of me going while you stay here.

What would be the point?’

‘Um, excuse me…’ said the Doctor.

‘No!’ Koral choked. She held Bowman’s face in her

hands and looked up imploringly. ‘No, I can’t let you go,

not now…’

‘Running out of time here…’ warned the Doctor.

Bowman rubbed a tear from Koral’s face with his

thumb. ‘Don’t cry. You’ll set the Doctor off – you know

what a wimp he is.’

‘What?’ the Doctor frowned.

‘See, he’s cryin’ already…’

Koral looked at the Doctor, and Bowman quickly

shifted his hand to grip her neck and shoulder between his

strong fingers. He squeezed on the nerve junction there

and Koral stiffened, suddenly losing consciousness.

Bowman caught her as she fell, then, hoisting her into his

arms, held her limp body out to the Doctor. ‘Here – take

her and go.’

‘Bowman…’

‘At least this way she survives!’ Bowman’s voice was

ragged with emotion. ‘And so do you. Now go!’

The Doctor took Koral in his arms. ‘I’ll look after her.’

‘You’d better.’

There was a clang from the far side of the silo and a

group of Daleks filed through the doorway. The Doctor

turned, hesitated for a moment. Looked back at Bowman.

‘Give us as long as you can,’ he said.

Bowman gripped the failsafe lever. ‘Get outta here.’

The Doctor hurried across the gantry to the far side of the

silo and started up the steps. It was hard going with Koral

in his arms but he was determined to escape. He owed Jon

Bowman that much at least. Koral was regaining

consciousness, murmuring as he pounded up the metal

steps, heaving for breath.

At the top he lost his footing and collapsed, crashing to

the floor. He held on to Koral but she had suddenly woken

up to what was happening. She struggled against him as

they got up. ‘Let me go! Let me go back to him!’ she

cried.

‘No! Koral! You’ve got to run! We only have seconds

left!’

‘Bowman!’ screamed Koral.

The Doctor held her back. ‘It’s too late! We’ve run out

of time! He wants you to live, and that’s the least you can

do!’

He dragged her along the corridor but she fought him

every step. Eventually he turned and grabbed her by the

shoulders, shaking her. ‘Stop fighting me! Think what

Bowman would have wanted! If you go back now we all

die. Is that what you want? Is that what you think he’d

want?’

She sobbed, then allowed herself to be pulled along

after him. The Doctor opened the door at the end of the

passage and they burst out into the cold Hurala night.

There were stars above them and, directly ahead, the

TARDIS, big, bold and blue. The Doctor almost yelled

with delight and relief.

The Daleks glided across the gantry. Bowman watched

them come, a grim smile on his bloodied lips. They hadn’t

even seen him yet, leaning over the control panel, one

hand gripping the failsafe lever. Indicator lights on the

controls were flashing intermittently, lighting his face

spasmodically with a hellish red glow.

‘ALERT!’ screeched the first Dalek. ‘HUMAN

PRISONER IDENTIFIED!’

The Doctor and Koral staggered towards the TARDIS.

‘HALT! EXTERMINATE!’

They heard the Daleks behind them. The heard the

shrill whine of the extermination beams and the alleyway

flickered with light. The Doctor zigzagged, pushing Koral

ahead of him. The air was filled with a sharp, hot tang of

ozone.

‘Run!’ the Doctor bellowed.

‘What about the key?’

‘What about it?’ The Doctor held up his hand and the

key flashed as he inserted it into the TARDIS lock. The

police box doors snapped open and they both shot straight

inside.

The Daleks converged on Bowman.

He stood, unsteady but unbeaten. One hand remained

on the lever, sticky with blood. He grinned defiantly at the

Daleks as they approached.

‘So long, suckers.’

And he pulled the lever.

Instantly the whole world seemed to shake, as if a giant

hammer had laid a deathly blow deep inside the planet.

There was a distant, heavy reverberation from far below, a

growing roar as an unstoppable chain reaction began.

The Daleks were vibrating, jerking around as the entire

Lodestar station began to shudder with a terrible finality.

Pieces of rusting metal clattered from the ceiling and the

gantry gave a loud, ominous crack. Far below, a green

light suddenly flared into life.

‘EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY!’ cried one of the

Daleks. ‘RETREAT!’

Bowman just laughed.

The Doctor rushed madly around the TARDIS control

console. There was no time for Koral to ask any questions

– like why there was such a huge chamber contained

inside such a small box – and so she was just forced to

watch him work. She gripped the railing, looking all

around her, numb with the realisation that everything had

just changed for her, more than she could ever

comprehend.

‘No time, no time,’ the Doctor muttered, working

feverishly at the controls. His teeth were gritted and his

eyes wild. The ground was shaking, rattling the metal

floor. Suddenly the Doctor let out a huge, ‘ Ha!’ and

released the handbrake.

The central column erupted into bright turquoise light

and an uncanny groaning noise filled the chamber.

‘Oh yeah!’ shouted the Doctor. ‘ Come on!’

The Daleks were rattling and squawking. The bright green

light – accompanied by a deep, thunderous roar –

suddenly increased in intensity as the chain reaction

ignited the astronic fuel below. A huge gust of wind

whipped up from the depths of the silo, but Bowman kept

his eyes wide open.

He’d never backed down from anything in his life. He

wanted to see death coming.

But what he actually saw was a blue box materialising

out of thin air, right in front of him. It was difficult to see

properly in the emerald glare of the oncoming explosion,

but it looked like…

The police box door opened, and there was Koral,

standing inside, holding out her hand to him.

The Command Dalek saw what was happening and

swivelled its gun around. ‘EXTERMINATE!’

With a gasp Bowman launched himself through the

TARDIS door. It crashed shut behind him and the Dalek

blast hit nothing but empty air as the entire station was

instantly and catastrophically vaporised.

The explosion ripped the planet open. The Lodestar

station itself disappeared in the initial blast – a stone,

metal and plastic town one moment, a gaseous mass of

atoms the next. The exit wound spewed a glowing, fiery

stream of astronic radiation straight up into the

atmosphere. Fragments of the deep silos and rock were

hurled up like a hundred thousand tonnes of shrapnel,

propelled at supersonic speeds. The force fields of the

Dalek Command Saucer hovering over the station

absorbed the first wave, but they could not withstand the

point-blank onslaught of the astronic blast.

The Exterminator took the blast amidships, crunching

under the impact, flaring with a thousand secondary

ignitions as the neutronic power source at its centre

overloaded. The ship was ruptured, disembowelled, fire

spurting from the rim. And then the vast saucer tipped,

slowly at first, and slid into the broiling chasm below.

The crash released final detonations which caught the

support ships in a second chain reaction. Each exploded in

a bright star of energy, popping like flashbulbs as the

Exterminator crashed.

The astronic flare would be seen from seven light years

away.

It was a glorious day on planet Earth. High above the

silver towers and walkways of London, flying cars and

distant spacecraft crossed a clear blue sky. The sun glinted

on the golden spires of Westminster, just visible inside its

protective force bubble.

The Doctor was standing by the TARDIS, waiting for

Bowman and Koral. They’d been inside Earth Command

Headquarters for the best part of a day, and he had agreed

to meet them here. Part of him had wanted to just drop

them off and go, dematerialise and disappear, for ever and

a day. Pop up some place else, in another era, a million

miles and years away. See what happened.

But something compelled him to stay and see this

through. Something at the back of his mind that he

couldn’t quite put his finger on. A lingering sense of

comradeship, perhaps. Or maybe the fact that Bowman

and Koral had both lost dear friends in this adventure, and

the Doctor remained their only link to them now. Shared

memories and experiences. Friendship.

The park was busy. The summer sun had brought the

locals out. Some things never changed. Men and women

strolled along the walkways, warm and relaxed, taking a

tiny break from the stresses and strains of their working

lives. Children played on the grass. The Doctor was dimly

aware of their high, excited voices calling out to each

other in pretend battle: cries of ‘Exterminate!

Exterminate!’ and ‘You’re dead!’ followed by the

inevitable ‘No I’m not. You missed!’

He smiled and shook his head, thinking that the human

race would never end its love affair with war.

‘I thought you’d be long gone,’ said a rough voice

behind him.

Bowman was there, standing on crutches, rugged and

scarred and old. Koral was with him, one arm linked

through his.

‘Nah,’ the Doctor said. ‘There’s something about Earth.

I just can’t seem to stay away.’

‘Come on,’ Bowman growled. ‘What’s the real reason?

Don’t tell us you weren’t tempted to just take off in that

TARDIS thing. What did you stay for?’

The Doctor shrugged. ‘I dunno. Unfinished business, I

suppose. How did it go?’

‘Pretty good. The Dalek fleet is in complete disarray.

The loss of the Exterminator has knocked them right back,

along with any plans to use time-travel technology. The

Supreme Dalek’s Temporal Research Team bit the dust

along with everything else on Hurala.’

‘That’s good. And the prison?’

‘Earth Command has a squadron of ships on its way to

seize Arkheon and liberate the prisoners.’

The Doctor watched the children playing. ‘That could

be quite a battle.’

‘Yeah.’

‘They asked Bowman to lead the mission,’ said Koral.

She pulled him closer. ‘But he refused.’

‘I’m too old for that kinda thing now.’ There was a

slightly pained, regretful look on the old soldier’s face.

‘That’s what Koral says, anyway. Besides, I’ve got better

things to be doing with my time.’

‘He’s taking me to meet his parents,’ said Koral.

The Doctor laughed. ‘You old dog.’

‘Gotta start tying up some loose ends,’ Bowman said.

‘Earth Command’s given me a full pardon. Seems I’ve

pulled their fat out of the fire again. Now it’s time to see

my folks.’

‘I’m glad.’

No one felt the need to mention Stella, Scrum and

Cuttin’ Edge. Each knew they were in their thoughts and

in the quietness behind the smiles.

‘Well, talking of loose ends…’ began the Doctor, ‘I’ve

a few of my own to tie up before I get the TARDIS back

on the right time track.’ He shook hands with Bowman

and kissed Koral goodbye. Then, with a final, ironic

salute, he turned and headed towards the TARDIS.

It was a forgotten world.

Dusty, torn and left in darkness. Nothing and no one

ever came here.

Deep below the surface of Hurala, beneath the vast

black crater where the Lodestar station had once stood, all

was now quiet. The carnage was silent, and there was not

a sign of life.

But deeper even than that, down in the caves, in a

crevice beneath the mangled wreckage of the astronic fuel

silo, was a clutter of black and gold debris. It was burnt

and twisted and split, and it was all that remained of Dalek

X. The life-support system was smashed, the containment

tank fractured. Wires trailed towards the living creature

where it lay on the rocks, twitching feebly in the darkness.

A light pulsed in the shadows. The Dalek’s misty eye

widened fractionally, disbelievingly. A loud wheezing and

groaning noise filled the little cave as an old blue police

box materialised in the gloom.

The Doctor stepped out wearing his long coat, the light

from the console room spilling out across the writhing

remains of the Inquisitor General.

‘YOU… LOCATED… MY… TRANSMISSION…’

the Dalek croaked.

‘Yeah, that was easy.’ The Doctor sat down on a rock.

‘But there’s no one else listening. You’re finished.

Arkheon is no more. The prisoners have been freed and

the Daleks there all wiped out. Thanks to Space Major

Bowman, of course. Earth Command is on the offensive.

Your lines are in disarray. You’re beaten.’ He paused. ‘Just

thought you’d like to know.’

‘THE SUPREME DALEK…’

‘Oh, he’s given you up for dead. Besides, I doubt he’d

be in a forgiving mood if you did happen to turn up after

all this. You’re better off down here to be honest.’

‘THE ARKHEON THRESHOLD?’

‘Sealed. One of the advantages of being a Time Lord

with a TARDIS. It’s nice to be able to tie these loose ends

up sometimes. The temporal fissure is gone. I put a stitch

in time.’

‘VERY… THOROUGH. YOUR VICTORY IS…

TOTAL.’

‘Almost.’ The Doctor pursed his lips and frowned.

‘There’s still you, of course. Still here, still alive. You

certainly know how to hang on, I’ll give you that.’

‘THE ASTRONIC RADIATION WILL KEEP ME

ALIVE…’

‘Yeah, I thought there was a smell.’ The Doctor

wrinkled his nose. ‘Never mind. It won’t do you much

good, trapped down here. There’s a communications seal

around Hurala, part of the radiation quarantine. Five

thousand years at least before anyone will hear your cries

for help. But neither you nor your batteries will last that

long, I’m afraid.’

‘I WILL FIND A WAY.’ Dalek X glared at the Doctor.

‘I WILL SURVIVE! THE DALEKS ARE NEVER

DEFEATED!’

The Doctor shook his head. ‘You can never see it, can

you? You just don’t get it. Daleks are always defeated.

Always. Because you never learn. You never accept the

simple truth – that every other life form in the universe is

better than you.’

‘INCORRECT! DALEKS ARE THE SUPREME

BEINGS!’

‘There’s not a life form in the universe that would

volunteer to become a Dalek. Doesn’t that tell you

anything? Well, doesn’t it?’

Dalek X did not reply.

The Doctor stood up and turned to leave.

‘DOC–TOR!’ gasped the Dalek. ‘YOUR FAILURE TO

DESTROY ME… WILL PROVE TO BE YOUR

DOWNFALL. I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN…!’

‘Yeah, well, good luck with that.’ The Doctor paused in

the TARDIS doorway, silhouetted in the golden light. His

face was stony. ‘Cos I’ll be waiting.’

The TARDIS door clicked shut behind him and then the

police box faded away.

And Dalek X was left to stare, unblinking, into the

darkness.

Acknowledgements

My family, first and foremost – without whom this book

wouldn’t have been half so much fun to write, or so

worthwhile. And my old mate Pete Stam – who never,

ever believes that the book is going to be rubbish, no

matter how much I try to warn him.

And, in no particular order – Justin Richards and Steve

Tribe, and Russell T Davies, Steven Moffat and Gary

Russell and all at Cardiff – for doing what they do, and

doing it brilliantly. Thanks for asking me to write this one,

and giving me the chance to play with the ultimate Doctor

Who toy.

And while I’m on the subject of the Daleks, it is only

right and proper that I offer my heartfelt thanks to Terry

Nation and Raymond P. Cusick, and to all the other

writers, designers, actors, artists and technicians who have

helped contribute to Dalek mythology over the last forty-

five years. Here’s to you.

Finally, David Tennant – a brilliant Doctor, who will

live on in the hearts and minds of kids everywhere for the

rest of their lives.

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Rose

as played by David Tennant and Billie Piper:

THE STONE ROSE

by Jacqueline Rayner

THE FEAST OF THE DROWNED

by Stephen Cole

THE RESURRECTION CASKET

by Justin Richards

THE NIGHTMARE OF BLACK ISLAND

by Mike Tucker

THE ART OF DESTRUCTION

by Stephen Cole

THE PRICE OF PARADISE

by Colin Brake

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Martha

as played by David Tennant and Freema Agyeman:

STING OF THE ZYGONS

by Stephen Cole

THE LAST DODO

by Jacqueline Rayner

WOODEN HEART

by Martin Day

FOREVER AUTUMN

by Mark Morris

SICK BUILDING

by Paul Magrs

WETWORLD

by Mark Michalowski

WISHING WELL

by Mark Morris

THE PIRATE LOOP

by Simon Guerrier

PEACEMAKER

by James Swallow

Also available from BBC Books:

The Encyclopedia

by Gary Russell

ISBN 978 1 846 07291 8

£14.99

Do you know what was playing

on Cassanda's iPod?

What was the name of

Shakespeare's lost play?

Where were the Slitheen planning to hide a tribophysical

waveform macro-kinetic extrapolator?

There’s no need to search time and space – it’s all right

here. From Autons to Anne Droid, from Cat Nuns to Canary

Wharf, from Plasmavores to Pig Slaves… everything you

need to know about everything you didn’t know you needed

to know about Doctor Who.

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Freema Agyeman:

Martha in the Mirror

by Justin Richards

ISBN 978 1 846 07420 2

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

Castle Extremis – whoever holds it can control the

provinces either side that have been at war for centuries.

Now the castle is about to play host to the signing of a

peace treaty. But as the Doctor and Martha find out, not

everyone wants the war to end.

Who is the strange little girl who haunts the castle? What is

the secret of the book the Doctor finds, its pages made from

thin, brittle glass? Who is the hooded figure that watches

from the shadows? And what is the secret of the legendary

Mortal Mirror?

The Doctor and Martha don’t have long to find the answers

– an army is on the march, and the castle will soon be under

siege once more…

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Freema Agyeman:

Snow Globe 7

by Mike Tucker

ISBN 978 1 846 07421 9

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

Earth, 2099. Global warming is devastating the

climate. The polar ice caps are melting.

In a desperate attempt at preservation, the governments of

the world have removed vast sections of the Arctic and

Antarctic and set them inside huge domes across the world.

The Doctor and Martha arrive in SnowGlobe 7 in the

Middle East, hoping for peace and relaxation. But they soon

discover that it’s not only ice and snow that has been

preserved beneath the Dome.

While Martha struggles to help with an infection sweeping

through the Dome, the Doctor discovers an alien threat that

has lain hidden since the last ice age. A threat that is starting

to thaw.

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Freema Agyeman:

The Many Hands

by Dale Smith

ISBN 978 1 846 07422 6

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

The Nor’ Loch is being filled in. If you ask the soldiers

there, they’ll tell you it’s a stinking cesspool that the city

can do without. But that doesn’t explain why the workers

won’t go near the place without an armed guard.

That doesn’t explain why they whisper stories about the

loch giving up its dead, about the minister who walked into

his church twelve years after he died…

It doesn’t explain why, as they work, they whisper about a

man called the Doctor.

And about the many hands of Alexander Monro.

Also available from BBC Books:

Starships and Spacestations

by Justin Richards

ISBN 978 1 84607 423 3

£7.99 US $12.99/$15.99 CDN

The Doctor has his TARDIS to get him from place to place

and time to time, but the rest of the Universe relies on more

conventional transport… From the British Space

Programme of the late twentieth century to Earth’s Empire

in the far future, from the terrifying Dalek Fleet to deadly

Cyber Ships, this book documents the many starships and

spacestations that the Doctor and his companions have

encountered on their travels.

He has been held prisoner in space, escaped from the moon,

witnessed the arrival of the Sycorax and the crash landing

of a space pig… More than anyone else, the Doctor has

seen the development of space travel between countless

worlds.

This stunningly illustrated book tells the amazing story of

Earth’s ventures into space, examines the many alien fleets

who have paid Earth a visit, and explores the other starships

and spacestations that the Doctor has encountered on his

many travels…

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Catherine Tate:

Ghosts of India

by Mark Morris

ISBN 978 1 846 07559 9

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

India in 1947 is a country in the grip of chaos – a country

torn apart by internal strife. When the Doctor and Donna

arrive in Calcutta, they are instantly swept up in violent

events.

Barely escaping with their lives, they discover that the city

is rife with tales of ‘half-made men’, who roam the streets

at night and steal people away. These creatures, it is said,

are as white as salt and have only shadows where their eyes

should be.

With help from India’s great spiritual leader, Mohandas

‘Mahatma’ Gandhi, the Doctor and Donna set out to

investigate these rumours.

What is the real truth behind the ‘half-made men’? Why is

Gandhi’s role in history under threat? And has an ancient,

all-powerful god of destruction really come back to wreak

his vengeance upon the Earth?

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Catherine Tate:

The Doctor Trap

by Simon Messingham

ISBN 978 1 846 07558 0

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

Sebastiene was perhaps once human. He might look like a

nineteenth-century nobleman, but in truth he is a ruthless

hunter. He likes nothing more than luring difficult

opposition to a planet, then hunting them down for sport.

And now he’s caught them all – from Zargregs to Moogs,

and even the odd Eternal…

In fact, Sebastiene is after only one more prize. For this

trophy, he knows he is going to need help. He’s brought

together the finest hunters in the universe to play the most

dangerous game for the deadliest quarry of them all.

They are hunting for the last of the Time Lords – the

Doctor.

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Catherine Tate:

Shining Darkness

by Mark Michalowski

ISBN 978 1 846 07557 5

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

For Donna Noble, the Andromeda galaxy is a long, long

way from home. But even two and a half million light years

from Earth, danger lurks around every corner…

A visit to an art gallery turns into a race across space to

uncover the secret behind a shadowy organisation.

From the desert world of Karris to the interplanetary

scrapyard of Junk, the Doctor and Donna discover that

appearances can be deceptive, that enemies are lurking

around every corner – and that the centuries-long peace

between humans and machines may be about to come to an

end.

Because waiting in the wings to bring chaos to the galaxy is

the Cult of Shining Darkness.

Also available from BBC Books:

The Time Traveller’s Almanac

by Steve Tribe

ISBN 978 1 846 07572 8

£14.99

Who are the eminent artists of the 16th, 19th or 21st

centuries? What are the mysteries of Carrionite science?

Where do the Daleks come from? Answers to all of these

questions and more are found in The Time Traveller’s

Almanac, the ultimate intergalactic fact-finder.

The Almanac draws on resources far and wide, from the

beginning of time to the end of the universe, to provide

information on key historical events and great lives,

important issues in science, technology and the arts, and the

stories that have defined each era.

Fully illustrated with photos and artwork, The Time

Traveller’s Almanac provides an essential biography of the

Doctor Who universe.

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Freema Agyeman:

The Story of Martha

by Dan Abnett

with David Roden, Steve Lockley & Paul Lewis,

Robert Shearman, and Simon Jowett

ISBN 978 1 846 07561 2

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

For a year, while the Master ruled over Earth, Martha

Jones travelled the world telling people stories about

the Doctor. She told people of how the Doctor has

saved them before, and how he will save them again.

This is that story. It tells of Martha’s travels from

her arrival on Earth as the Toclafane attacked and

decimated the population through to her return to

Britain to face the Master. It tells how she spread the

word and told people about the Doctor. The story of

how she survived that terrible year.

But it’s more than that. This is also a collection of the

stories she tells – the stories of adventures she had with

the Doctor that we haven’t heard about before. The

stories that inspired and saved the world…

Coming Soon from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor

as played by David Tennant:

The Eyeless

by Lance Parkin

ISBN 978 1 846 07562 9

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

At the heart of the ruined city of Arcopolis is the

Fortress. It’s a brutal structure placed here by one of

the sides in a devastating intergalactic war that’s long

ended. Fifteen years ago, the entire population of the

planet was killed in an instant by the weapon housed

deep in the heart of the Fortress. Now only the ghosts

remain.

The Doctor arrives, and determines to fight his way

past the Fortress’s automatic defences and put the

weapon beyond use. But he soon discovers he’s not

the only person in Arcopolis. What is the true nature

of the weapon? Is the planet really haunted? Who are

the Eyeless? And what will happen if they get to the

weapon before the Doctor?

The Doctor has a fight on his hands. And this time he’s

all on his own.

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor

as played by David Tennant:

Judgement of the Judoon

by Colin Brake

ISBN 978 1 846 07639 8

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

Elvis the King Spaceport has grown into the sprawling

city-state of New Memphis – an urban jungle, where

organised crime is rife. But the launch of the new

Terminal 13 hasn’t been as smooth as expected. And

things are about to get worse…

When the Doctor arrives, he finds the whole terminal

locked down. The notorious Invisible Assassin is at

work again, and the Judoon troopers sent to catch him

will stop at nothing to complete their mission.

With the assassin loose on the mean streets of New

Memphis, the Doctor is forced into a strange alliance.

Together with teenage private eye Nikki and a ruthless

Judoon Commander, the Doctor soon discovers that

things are even more complicated – and dangerous –

than he first thought…

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor

as played by David Tennant:

Prisoner of the Daleks

by Trevor Baxendale

ISBN 978 1 846 07641 1

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

The Daleks are advancing, their empire constantly

expanding into Earth’s space. The Earth forces are

resisting the Daleks in every way they can. But the

battles rage on across countless solar systems. And now

the future of our galaxy hangs in the balance…

The Doctor finds himself stranded on board a starship

near the frontline with a group of ruthless bounty

hunters. Earth Command will pay them for every Dalek

they kill, every eye stalk they bring back as proof.

With the Doctor’s help, the bounty hunters achieve the

ultimate prize: a Dalek prisoner – intact, powerless,

and ready for interrogation. But where the Daleks are

involved, nothing is what it seems, and no one is safe.

Before long the tables will be turned, and how will the

Doctor survive when he becomes a prisoner of

the Daleks?

Coming Soon from BBC Books:

Companions and Allies

by Steve Tribe

ISBN 978 1 846 07749 4

UK £7.99 US $12.99/$15.99 CDN

The Doctor has been travelling through space and time

for centuries, showing his friends and companions the

wonders of the universe. From Sarah Jane Smith and the

Brigadier to Martha Jones and Donna Noble, Companions

and Allies celebrates the friends who have been by his side

and the heroes that have helped him battle his deadliest

foes. Find out:

• How the First Doctor uprooted schoolteachers Ian and

Barbara from their twentieth-century lives

• Why the Third Doctor worked for UNIT

• How the Fifth Doctor sacrificed his life for Peri

• Who helped the Eighth Doctor save Earth from

the Master

• What became of Rose Tyler and her family

And much more. Beautifully illustrated and including

– for the first time – a complete story guide to the

adventures of all ten Doctors, this is the definitive guide

to the Doctor’s intergalactic family.

Document Outline

Prisoner

Acknowledgements