Текст книги "Doctor Who- Legacy of the Daleks"

Автор книги: John Peel

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Legacy of the Daleks by John Peel

England in the late 22nd century is slowly recovering from the devastation that followed the Dalek invasion. The Doctor’s very first travelling companion – his granddaughter, Susan – is where he left her, helping to rebuild Earth for the survivors. But danger still remains all around…

While searching for his lost companion, Sam, the Doctor finds himself in Domain London. But it seems that Susan is now missing too, and his efforts to find her lead to confrontation with the ambitious Lord Haldoran, who is poised to take control of southern England through all‐out war. With the help of a sinister advisor, Haldoran’s plans are already well advanced. Power cables have been led down a mineshaft, reactivating a mysterious old device of hideous power. But has the Dalek presence on Earth really been wiped out? Or are there still traps set for the unwary?

The Doctor learns to his cost once again that when dealing with the evil of the Daleks, nothing can be taken at face value…

This is another in the series of adventures featuring the Eighth Doctor.

1: Knight’s Gambit

2: The Campbells

3: Eminent Domain

4: The Pit

5: Domain London

6: Death in the Line of Duty

7: Secrets

8: Transformations

9: Journeys End In…

10: The Trap

11: Death – and Worse

12: Countdown to World’s End

13: Zero Hour

14: The Gates of Hell

15: Happy Endings?

First Epilogue

Second Epilogue

Author’s Note

For Kate Nation,

and for Joel and Becky

1

Knight’s Gambit

Becca had wandered further from home than she had intended. The woods were dark and threatening about her, thick twisted trees hiding who‐knew‐what. Some of the village men had killed and skinned a lion in the woods only a month or so ago, and she knew there could well be more waiting for her in the gloom.

But Becca was eight now, and she had confidence in her own abilities. She had her bow, and a quiver almost half filled with arrows, and she knew how to use them. A full‐grown lion might not take much notice, but she could certainly scare off anything smaller.

Besides, she had to find out where Serenity’s kittens were. They were even less safe out here in the woods than Becca was. The half‐wild cat had been visiting the farm more and more often during her pregnancy, looking for whatever handout she could get. But Becca had only noticed the feral cat a couple of times in the last fortnight. From her shape, Becca could tell Serenity had given birth, and today she had followed her. Serenity rarely lived up to her name, but it had been the biggest and best word Becca had known when the cat had first come around, and somehow it had stuck.

Serenity herself refused to stay on the farm, even though she would have been very handy. The rats had bred strongly again this year, and were constantly after the grain. One or two cats about the place would keep them down, but with the price of cats on the market these days, Becca’s father simply couldn’t afford one.

So it was up to her. If she could find Serenity’s litter, she could take one or two of them, and raise them. They would then stay on the farm, unlike Serenity, and make it their home. They’d keep the rats down, and Becca would be a heroine. How proud her parents would be of her!

Which wouldn’t stop them from killing her if they found out how far she’d gone into the woods, of course. Becca couldn’t plead ignorance, because staying clear of the woods had been one of the earliest lessons drilled into her. Her father had told her, as he puffed on his pipe half filled with the rare tobacco, ‘Them woods have never been the same since the Daleks, young girl. When I were a lad, you could play in there with nary a worry. But since the Daleks…’ He had shaken his head. ‘Stay clear of them woods.’

Since that first cryptic warning, he’d unbent enough to explain a little more. ‘When the Daleks invaded,’ he informed her, ‘they killed off most of the people here on Earth. Almost everyone I grew up with were dead. They seeded a plague from space that ruined the world. Corpses piled up faster’n we could bury them. I lost my best friends and my first girlfriend that way. But, looking back, them might have been the lucky ones. After the plagues were over, the backbone of the country were broken. Nothing worked like it used to; there weren’t enough people to keep more than the barest necessities going. And then they came – the Daleks.’

He’d sunk back into his memories now, and Becca had listened, spellbound. He didn’t like talking about those evil days much, and Mum never spoke of her experiences. ‘I were five then, younger than you. Me mum had died – not of disease, but because food were short, and she’d tried to scavenge some. A looter killed her for what she’d found. So me dad and me tried to get along. That was when the saucers came.’ She remembered the darkness in his eyes. ‘You young ’uns have never seen a Dalek, and I pray you never do. Metal, they are, as tall as my shoulder. There’s a living thing inside them, but you’d hardly know it from the way they acts. Hate‐filled, they are, cold and evil. They put everyone they could to work in their camps. Some they made into living robots, controlling them by helmets. We called them Robomen, because they were more like robots than men. They did whatever the Daleks told them, because their souls were gone.

‘The Daleks were up to something here in England, but it were as bad all over the world. We didn’t really know it at the time, because almost everything had been destroyed. A few had radios, and heard broadcasts, but Daleks destroyed every radio they found and killed anyone using them. They didn’t want humans to get together and fight them. But we did… oh yes, we did. A lot of us died, but so did the Daleks.’

Becca nodded solemnly. She’d been warned any number of times that when she was bad ‘the Daleks will come and get you’. Even though she knew they were real, it was so easy to put them in the same class of creatures as dragons and fairies. Fine for children’s stories, but not the sort of thing you believe in when you’re eight years old. ‘But if they’re all dead,’ she asked, ‘where’s the harm in the woods?’

‘They left a lot of stuff behind them,’ her dad explained. ‘They brought… things with them. And some of them got loose.

‘And then there’s the worst stuff,’ he added, brooding. ‘The Artefacts.’

‘Artefacts?’ Becca asked. She’d never heard that word before. ‘What’s an artefact?’

‘The Daleks tore up the countryside. They built all sorts of strange things that we still don’t understand. There’s nowt as dangerous in all this world as the Dalek Artefacts. So you must stay out of the woods at all times, Becca. The Daleks have caused the death of too many that I love.’

And now, here she was, ignoring his explicit commands. But they really needed those kittens. Without them, there might not be enough food for the approaching winter. Her parents would understand – surely they’d be pleased with her?

Serenity had been cautious as she headed through the trees, but she didn’t seem to be too bothered by Becca’s presence. Half‐wild she might be, but Serenity liked her. Becca didn’t think for a second that Serenity didn’t know she was being followed. The cat was too canny for that. So she wasn’t objecting today, which made Becca feel better.

Just ahead was an old house. It had mostly fallen apart owing to weather, time and neglect. There were so many places like this, all over. The village had more than a hundred houses that had been abandoned. There weren’t enough people yet to fill more than a few dozen homes. Becca was used to seeing these shells, and Serenity headed straight for this one. It would be the perfect place for her to hide her litter. With mounting excitement, Becca moved through the overgrown garden, and clambered into the house through the same broken window the cat had used.

A chorus of mewing greeted them both, and Serenity padded across to the corner of the room. It was filthy and ruined, but Becca could see several small bundles of fur ambling about. The kittens were clearly almost weaned now. Serenity went to them and lay on her side, allowing the hungry infants to cluster around her and fight for space at her teats. Becca moved cautiously, peering down at them. There were eight in all, most of them the same smoky grey as Serenity. But one had dappled white, and one was a dirty brown in colour. The kittens ignored her, concentrating on getting their nourishment. Becca was entranced, and watched them quietly as they fed. Serenity raised her head once, to stare directly at Becca, but then lay back down. She seemed fully aware that Becca meant no harm.

Eventually, the kittens were finished. They started to play with one another, and Becca moved slowly forward. The kittens looked at her in curiosity but with no alarm. Serenity seemed content to allow her to approach her babies. Reaching out, Becca touched one of the grey kittens. The little creature immediately tried to nip her fingers, wrapping her tiny paws about Becca’s hand. Then she licked a finger instead, and started to purr. Becca was enchanted. She stroked the kitten, and then the others came around, obviously wondering what this new game was that made their sibling so happy.

Her hand buried under a small mound of moving fur, Becca was laughing. She glanced at Serenity, who suddenly stiffened and hissed a warning. Thinking she’d transgressed somehow, Becca began to move the kittens. Then she realised that the mother was looking beyond her, at something outside the wrecked house. Becca froze, and listened.

The roar was almost deafening. Even as she shook, terrified, Becca realised that no normal creature could ever make a sound like that. It was as if two voices, in slightly different pitches, were screaming at the same instant. Serenity hissed, and immediately grabbed for the nearest kitten, obviously intending to take it in search of safety. There was the sound of something moving outside of the house.

Becca scooped up the remaining kittens, hastily stuffing them inside her sweater. It was tucked into her trousers, so the kittens wouldn’t tumble out. They were smart enough to be scared and to freeze, which helped. Heart pounding, Becca crept after Serenity, who was heading out of the room. She seemed confident somehow that Becca would follow.

There was a flash of motion in the window, as something crawled up the outside wall, and over the broken sill. Becca caught a glimpse of something dark‐coloured, with what looked like tentacles, and an eye on a stalk. The unfamiliar creature roared again, and slithered after her. Becca screamed and ran. Serenity stayed ahead of her, dashing through the litter‐strewn floors, and out of the broken doorway. Becca had to duck under the shattered door, and she could hear the thing crawling at an astonishing speed behind her. Whatever it was, it wanted her.

Becca sprinted back towards the overgrown pathway she’d followed to reach the abandoned house. There was no sign of Serenity now, and she was concentrating only on escaping with her life, and that of the bundle of kittens she was carrying. The thing behind her roared again, its two‐tone voice echoing horribly. Panicked, Becca’s mind blanked, and all she could do was focus on running.

The thing was astonishingly fast, though. She could hear it as it slithered across the ground in pursuit of its meal. She glanced back, and saw that it was only about twenty feet behind her, and gaining. Now it was out of the confines of the house, it somehow put on a burst of speed, even though it had no visible legs. A nightmare thing. She had to escape it somehow.

Her chest was burning as she whooped in air. Her legs were aching, and the kittens were scratching at her in fear. Becca tried to ignore all the discomfort, but it wasn’t possible. Struggling to escape, she leapt over a fallen log, and landed badly. Her body collapsed under her, and she rolled into the bracken and bushes. Twigs ripped at her exposed skin and hair, and she yelped. Winded by the fall, she was determined to move on.

But the creature was now blocking her escape. Growling in its two voices, it shot forward, its tentacles quivering, and its two eyes focused directly on her. Becca knew that she couldn’t evade it as it prepared to leap at her.

‘Ha!’

Becca snapped around astonished. She hadn’t heard anyone else arrive, concentrating as she had been on her attacker and escape. But there was a figure on horseback on the pathway, looking as if it had stepped from the pages of one of her mother’s old books. The horse was tall, dark and regal. Becca recognised it as a Friesian, mostly from its build and the feathering about its hooves. On the stallion’s back was a figure in armour, complete with helmet and lance – surely a knight, she thought.

‘Ha!’ the figure cried again, spurring on the horse. The Friesian snorted steam and leapt forward, and the knight moved the lance into place. The creature, recognising its danger, whirled astonishingly fast to face the new foe. It took only a second to realise that it was unlikely to win this fight, and the creature tried to move away to safety.

The lance came down, and pierced the creature’s flank. It screamed, echoing about the trees, and dark‐purple blood flowed from the wound. The knight ripped the weapon free, as his steed slowed to a halt. Whirling the lance about, the knight stabbed at the creature a second time, tearing another great, raw wound in it. The roar was more subdued this time, and the monster struggled to move before collapsing, dead.

Becca managed to stagger to her feet, cuddling the frightened kittens to her. The knight wiped the ichor off the lance, before turning to regard the young girl.

‘Don’t you know any better than to be alone out here in these woods?’ The voice was odd, coming as it did from inside the knight’s rather battered helmet. It was impossible to tell if the voice was tinged with anger or worry.

Becca stared at the apparition in amazement. ‘Who are you?’ she asked, ignoring the knight’s own question.

The knight snorted, burying the point of the lance into the ground. Two metal‐clad arms reached up to unfasten and then remove the helmet. The knight shook out her cascade of golden hair and grinned at Becca.

‘I’m called Donna,’ she answered. ‘I’m a knight of Domain London.’ She nodded at the dead creature. ‘You were almost that slyther’s lunch. What are you doing out here, unarmed, in the woods?’

‘I’m not unarmed,’ Becca answered indignantly. ‘I’m a good archer.’

Knight Donna looked pointedly at the quiver, still carrying its unused shafts. ‘Arrows are no good against a slyther,’ she observed. ‘You need something with a bit more force to get through them. Like my lance.’ She shook her head. ‘Honestly, some parents shouldn’t be allowed to have children if they don’t have the sense to keep them out of the woods.’

‘It’s not their fault,’ Becca admitted. ‘I followed Serenity to get some kittens.’

‘Kittens?’ The knight frowned. ‘You risked your life for kittens?’

‘We need them for the farm,’ Becca explained patiently. ‘To keep the rats down.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Knight Donna moved her steed closer. ‘Well, I think I’d better take you back to the farm before you get into any more trouble.’ She leaned forward, holding out her left hand. ‘Grab hold, and I’ll hoist you aboard.’ Becca did so, and the knight jerked her upward, and lowered her effortlessly in front of her in her saddle. ‘Good. Don’t worry, I’ll go slowly.’ She reached out and picked up her lance, and then glanced down at Becca. ‘I assume the squirming bundle down your front is the kittens?’

Becca nodded. ‘Seven.’

‘Quite a catch,’ the knight said approvingly. ‘Now, hold on.’ She started the horse moving. Filled with excitement, Becca had already forgotten her scare. Nobody she knew had ever been rescued by a knight before. This was some adventure she could tell all of her friends…

Mark, Lord Haldoran, strode into the control room and nodded slightly for the report to begin. Haldoran was a tall, spare man with a trim beard, inclined to greyness. He understood little about science, but more than enough about power – of all kinds. And power was his, thanks to this nuclear reactor, so carefully preserved and restored. He glanced in boredom about the room. There were scientists and technicians at work at the various panels, monitoring God knew what. It was state‐of‐the‐art, the best you could find anywhere in the twenty‐second century, yet virtually meaningless to Haldoran. But not, of course, to the men who mattered.

Murdock, the chief scientist, moved forward. The man was carrying one of his ever‐present clipboards. He seemed unable to face reality without one in his pudgy hands; he probably even slept with one for comfort. As always, he didn’t even look at it as he delivered his long‐winded report. Haldoran allowed him to ramble for a minute or two before cutting to the chase.

‘So everything’s working fine?’ he summarised. ‘No problems, no radiation leaks and no theft of power?’

‘Uh… none,’ Murdock agreed, looking bewildered at being interrupted in the flow of technical jargon. ‘Everything’s functioning satisfactorily, my Lord.’

‘Which is what I pay you to be able to tell me,’ Haldoran replied with satisfaction. ‘Very well, continue.’ He spun on his heels and marched from the room. Estro, his adviser, was beside him, as usual. ‘Why the devil do these scientists never learn to speak English?’ Haldoran growled.

Estro smiled, the humour lightening his deep eyes. ‘Oh, they’ve learned to speak it, my Lord,’ he replied with a chuckle. ‘They’re just afraid that if they do, you’ll be able to understand what they’re saying, and they’ll lose their positions of power.’

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Haldoran agreed. ‘But as long as they keep the energy flowing, they’ll be well taken care of. I value my men, Estro, unlike some of my brother Lords. You get better results by treating them with kindness. As long as they understand that there’s steel to back it up if kindness should fail.’

‘Generosity should always be tempered by sense,’ agreed Estro. ‘And, in your case, it always is.’

‘Flattery, my dear Estro, will get you nowhere.’

‘I know that, my Lord,’ the adviser replied. ‘And I assure you that I would never be so foolish as to attempt to use it on you. My remark was simply an observation.’

Haldoran laughed. ‘You amuse me, Estro. There are days when I think I should have made you my jester and not my adviser. We might both have profited more by the arrangement.’

‘Except for the fact that I’m a poor tumbler,’ Estro answered. He seemed amused, though, and not insulted, as a lesser man might well be.

‘Then perhaps we should allow the arrangement to stand.’ Haldoran marched down the antiseptic corridor, Estro at his side, and out of the decontamination shield. Though he knew he was in no danger inside the reactor, it still disturbed him to go inside. However, since the reactor provided the backbone of his own personal sphere of power, Haldoran insisted on being around it. It might disturb him, but no fears ruled his life. ‘Now, what remains to be done this afternoon?’

‘There are the usual requests for audiences,’ Estro answered, without the need to check his schedule. ‘Most of them can be dealt with by underlings, but since you enjoy these audiences so much, I’ve three of them that you might want to look at.’

Haldoran nodded in approval. ‘It’s all very well having capable underlings,’ he pointed out. ‘But if they solve every little problem for me with my people, then the people might start thinking that they are the ones they should be grateful to, and not to me. It’s important for them to see that justice comes from me.’

‘Again, a wise decision.’ Estro paused. ‘And then we must discuss your strategies, my Lord.’

Haldoran stared at him. ‘Still on about that?’ he asked. He stopped dead in the corridor. ‘Why is this so important, Estro?’

‘The balance of power is shifting,’ Estro explained patiently, even though this was the third time he had given the same lecture. Haldoran admired his ability not to get irritated or bored by constantly having to reformulate the same arguments. ‘Domain London is virtually independent of us, with its own power station fully operational. Several of the other Domains are considering switching to London for their own power needs.’

‘London’s power cannot be as affordable as our own,’ Haldoran objected.

‘True,’ agreed Estro. ‘But there are fewer political strings attached.’

Haldoran stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘You think that my brother Lords are restless? That they are regretting swearing allegiance to me?’

‘London has traditionally always been a centre of political power in Britain, my Lord,’ Estro pointed out. ‘I suspect the other Lords are looking to it for leadership. With all the rebuilding, they’re even calling it New London these days to show how improved it is. And Lord London is very ambitious.’

‘You don’t have to tell me that,’ Haldoran growled.

‘Now,’ said Estro, bowing his head slightly, ‘if I may be excused, my Lord, I shall return to you once your audiences have been concluded.’

‘Of course.’ Haldoran waved dismissively. ‘I’ll meet with you later.’ He marched off to his meetings.

Estro watched him until he passed through the next set of double doors, then retraced his steps back to the power centre. There he cornered Murdock. ‘The new power line,’ he said gently, ‘is it ready yet?’

The scientist nodded. ‘The last segments are being installed,’ he replied. ‘Testing can commence in approximately two hours.’

‘Excellent, Estro replied. ‘You’ve done very well, Murdock, and I’m extremely pleased with you.’

‘Thank you.’ Murdock frowned. ‘But I don’t understand why you wanted this kept from the report I gave Lord Haldoran earlier. If he knew, I don’t think –’

‘Exactly,’ Estro said, cutting the tiresome man off in mid‐flow. ‘You don’t think. You don’t need to think, Murdock. I will do the thinking for the both of us.’

‘But shouldn’t Lord Haldoran know about this?’ Murdock insisted. ‘The projected power drain is quite significant. It will impact on future earnings.’

Estro sighed. ‘He will know about it,’ he promised. ‘I shall tell him personally. If there is any blame, I shall assume it all. But there won’t be. There will be only credit when he sees what we have done together.’

Murdock smiled slightly. ‘I’m glad to hear that. But –’

‘Murdock.’ Estro leaned forward, gazing into the scientist’s eyes. His own had a curious effect on the man. He seemed to lose coherent thought. ‘Enough buts for one day, I think. There is no problem. Everything is fine. Do as you have been instructed, and all will work out as it should. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes,’ Murdock replied, his voice very close to a whisper. ‘I understand.’

‘Good.’ Estro stroked his beard. His eyes burnt into Murdock’s again. ‘I know what I am doing. You will obey me without hesitation or question. I am the master; you are my tool.’

‘I understand,’ the man agreed.

‘Good.’ Estro smiled gently. ‘Now, go back to work. There’s still a lot to be done this evening. I’ll be back later to check on progress. I expect to hear good news.’ Murdock nodded, and hurried off, his sluggishness vanishing as he threw himself back into his work.

Estro turned to look back. Haldoran was now hard at work, talking to his serfs, or whatever ridiculous name they called themselves these days. The fool honestly imagined that he was in charge here.

‘Enjoy your rule while you can, Mr Haldoran,’ he murmured.