Текст книги "Doctor Who- Legacy of the Daleks"

Автор книги: John Peel

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

11

Death – and Worse

Donna ignored the pain and taste of blood in her mouth. Seeing the Doctor in trouble, she threw off the handcuffs, and reached for the gun she’d secreted down the back of her tunic. Before she could get to it, the door to the war office opened again.

Haldoran glanced around, distracted for a moment, and he frowned, his finger loosening on the trigger. A dishevelled older man stormed in, his own gun drawn. It took Donna a moment to recognise Tomlin. Her ex‐husband’s favourite was wild‐eyed and furious.

‘Traitor!’ he screamed. ‘You betrayed me!’ The gun came up, but Haldoran was faster. He shot once, the sound echoing around the room loudly. Tomlin gasped, glanced down at the hole in his chest, and then crumpled to the floor, leaking blood.

‘If you’re going to shoot,’ Haldoran snarled at the corpse, ‘then shoot. Don’t talk.’

‘Good advice,’ Donna murmured. Coldly, she aimed her gun and fired.

The top of Haldoran’s head exploded, and his body was hurled back to collapse across his map table. Bloody detritus littered the floor and one wall. Two of the guards started to move, but Donna covered them swiftly.

‘I’m in a seriously bad mood,’ she growled. ‘Don’t tempt me.’

They didn’t. David collected their guns, and shoved them to one side. Now that it was over, Donna felt weakness wash over her, but she refused to give in to it. It was mixed with elation as she stared down at the body of her tormentor. ‘That was much too fast,’ she whispered. ‘He didn’t suffer enough.’

‘Really,’ the Doctor murmured, sadly. ‘He won’t hurt you or anyone else again.’

‘I know,’ Donna sighed. ‘But I owed him –’

‘I don’t want to listen to you,’ said the Doctor simply, turning from her. ‘Now…’ Immediately, his attention was somewhere else. He removed his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and aimed it at the cases lined by the wall. A small amount of fiddling with its controls brought a smile to his face. ‘That should do it. I’ve overloaded their power packs. The whole lot will explode in about thirty seconds.’ He looked at them all. ‘I think we’d better say our goodbyes quickly.’

David hurried to the door, gesturing to the two guards and the other three shocked men in the room. ‘Time to run for your lives,’ he advised them.

‘And get everyone else out, too,’ the Doctor advised. ‘It’s going to be quite spectacular.’

Donna grabbed his arm and almost dragged him through the door. Together they sprinted down the corridor, running for the courtyard.

‘Bomb!’ the Doctor screamed at the top of his lungs. ‘Everybody out!’

Panicked people followed the general rush for safety, and the place emptied quickly. Donna was gasping for breath as they halted in the courtyard. Refugees streamed about them and then the ground shook. Part of the roof erupted and the wall of sound slammed her to the ground. Sharp pieces of debris and stone rained down on her, drawing blood and bruising her. She forced her mind to ignore the pain, feeling only relief.

The weapons were destroyed, and Haldoran was dead. Her family had to be safe from his insane ambitions now. Relief flooded through her at the sudden sense of closure she felt.

Until there was the sound of weapons being levelled at her. She looked up from where she lay on the ground, beside the Doctor and David. They were surrounded by armed men, rifles pointed down at them. A youngish man she knew stepped forward and looked mildly down at them.

‘Well,’ Barlow said, ‘it looks like you held a party and forgot to invite me. How very rude of you.’

Susan sat alone in her cell, concentrating hard. The Daleks had finished their interrogation of her, and had transferred her to this solitary room. They might simply leave her here to die, or come for her with further questions. There was no way of knowing. She didn’t know whether or not they believed her story that the humans were on their way to destroy the installation, but it hardly mattered.

Her one advantage was that the Daleks had arrogantly assumed that she was merely human when they had thrown her into this room. It wasn’t really a cell, because the Daleks had little need for one in this facility. It was simply a room not being used for any other purpose right now. And that meant that there was a lock on both sides of the door. It was meant to be operated only by a Dalek, of course, and no human being would be able to subvert it.

But she wasn’t human.

Her mind having calmed again, Susan rose to her feet and crossed to the door The lock was about three and a half feet from the floor. It was a small panel, about eight inches on either side, with a depression for a Dalek pad. There was no way for her to manipulate that, since a Dalek would simply place its pad against the door, extend its sensor and make contact with the lock via its onboard computer. But there was a way around it. She took off her Peace Officer pin once again – it was amazing how useful something supposedly ornamental could be – and used it to take off the panel face.

Beneath the plate were the logic circuits. Examining them carefully, she used the point of the pin to tap them, getting them to register. They responded quickly, and she smiled. All that she had to do now was to work out the logic codes, and the door would open.

And, with luck, there wouldn’t be a Dalek guard on the other side…

Refusing to be pessimistic, she set to work.

The Master guided his TARDIS back to DA‐17 once more. What had gone wrong? Everything should have been working perfectly, and now it seemed as though there was a glitch in his carefully laid schemes. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear that the Doctor had done something to sabotage his plans. But the guards had been adamant that the Doctor had been taken as he’d tried to penetrate the complex, before even he could have attempted anything.

The Doctor… and with a new face. He’d used up another of his lives, obviously. Probably through some foolish good deed or other. Despite his best efforts, he had never been able to convince the Doctor of the pointlessness of attempting to do good in a chaotic universe. The only important thing was power, which he understood perfectly, and the Doctor refused to grasp. Survival of the fittest – the weak being led by the strong. That was the way of life, and the way things inevitably had to be. The Doctor struggled against the natural order of things, his foolish head filled with notions such as compassion, love and pity.

Idiot.

It was unlikely, though, that his appearance here was a coincidence. Even if he’d not managed to interfere yet, he was bound to do so before very much longer. And somehow, the Doctor always evaded his traps. It was frustrating in one way, and yet… what the Master wanted more than anything from his old friend‐turned‐foe was for the Doctor to see the Master win and admit for once which of them was superior. Killing him would prove it, but that way the Doctor couldn’t acknowledge his defeat. And he needed to have the Doctor do just that.

Well, let the fool do what he wanted – he couldn’t stop this plan that simply. The Doctor was in Castle Haldoran, without his TARDIS, and therefore an hour from DA‐17 by human transport. The Master was arriving now. If the entry codes had been broken, he could simply take what he’d come for and leave. If not, he still had at least an hour to break them, and it shouldn’t take that long. Either way, he’d have his weapon and be off this stinking planet before the Doctor could possibly arrive to interfere.

Assuming, of course, that Downs hadn’t managed to torture and kill the Doctor. It was an appealing thought but, frankly, rather unlikely. The Doctor could think rings around a cretin like that in his sleep. The most the Master was expecting was for Downs to delay the Doctor, and perhaps kill one or two of the human assistants the Doctor always seemed to pick up like stray dogs.

With a sigh, his TARDIS landed in the anteroom of the Dalek installation, and he reflected irritatedly on the Dalek scrambling‐technology operating inside the Artefact that prevented his TARDIS from landing inside. He used his scanner to check the area outside, but there was nobody there. His eyebrow rose when he saw that the doors were open. The programme was complete, then, and access to the weapon was his! Eagerly, he left his craft, locking it carefully behind him, and proceeded through the main door.

And stopped immediately. From either side of the door, Daleks trained their guns on him. He didn’t know where they were from or how they had come to be here, but they were not likely to be in good humour.

‘Ah, there you are,’ he improvised, with a small bow. ‘Good, I’m glad to see that you’re on the alert. Take me to your control centre immediately.’

‘Daleks do not take orders from humans,’ the one on the left stated.

‘I’m not a human,’ the Master explained patiently. ‘I have been working for the Daleks now for some time. I must check in with your commander to receive an update on my orders.’ He gestured towards his pocket. ‘I have confirmation for what I say here. Don’t be alarmed while I retrieve it.’

‘Proceed,’ the Dalek agreed. It did not, however, lower its gun‐stick.

The Master reached into his coat. His fingers brushed his TCE, and then moved to a small computer disk which he brought out slowly. ‘These are my credentials from the Dalek Prime,’ he explained. ‘If you check them you will see that I am telling the truth.’

The Dalek considered. It was most likely calling for orders from higher up, unable to make decisions like this on its own. After a moment, it said, ‘You will go before me. Your information will be investigated.’

‘Of course,’ the Master agreed. He slipped the disk back into his pocket and palmed his TCE. ‘As you command.’ He started down the corridor. One Dalek fell in behind him, the other remaining on duty to guard against further intruders. The Master walked swiftly, scanning the corridor and side corridors as he went. There didn’t seem to be many Daleks about, which was to the good. While his credentials were reasonably good, he could hardly chance their being checked. If these Daleks had access to Skaro Central, they’d be sure to read that the Master had failed the Daleks on his last mission, and they had only one punishment for failure.

As soon as he was alone with his escort, therefore, the Master spun around, and applied his TCE to the dome of the Dalek. Triggering it sent powerful energies tearing through the Dalek. It didn’t even have sufficient time to fire at him as its computers and the living thing inside the shell were both attacked and compressed by the Master’s weapon.

Brushing the six‐inch inert Dalek into a side room, the Master followed it in. There was a small computer panel there, and he smiled. Just what he needed. A little hacking, and he’d discover just where in this complex the weapon he was after was stored…

Lord London stared at his map board again, his stomach churning worse than before. He’d managed to take a little milk, but it had done him no good. The claws were starting to move into place about New London now, and it would be only a matter of an hour or so before his escape route was cut off completely. If he stayed here to fight, he was bound to be captured, tortured and then executed. Haldoran would never allow either him or his immediate family to live. They would only be a seed for rebellion.

He’d arranged for his sons’ families to get to runabouts that would take them to safety. All that was left now was himself and Donna – and he was unable to locate her anywhere. He was becoming more and more certain that she’d disobeyed his strict instructions once more and gone off somewhere with this Doctor she’d found. Damn the girl!

Well, that was her problem now. He’d done all he could for her, despite her treatment of him and his honour. She’d shamed him publicly, ruined his plans for any kind of peace with Haldoran, and disobeyed him constantly. Perhaps it was time she paid for her mistakes, instead of his sheltering her once again from the consequences of her actions.

He turned to McAndrew, Durgan and Broadhurst. ‘I’m leaving now,’ he informed them. ‘I have to get out of the city before Haldoran’s men arrive. You may do as you wish, but I would strongly advise against waiting for the inevitable.’

Broadhurst scowled. ‘You’ve changed your tune. You’re fleeing New London without even putting up a token defence?’ he growled.

‘What defence is there?’ London asked wearily. ‘They’ve wrecked most of our army. All we can do now is to escape.’

‘We’ll never be able to get our families out before they arrive,’ Durgan whined. ‘There isn’t time for that. They’ll be trapped here and killed.’

‘You should have planned for it,’ London informed him coldly ‘I did.’

‘So did I,’ McAndrew added, smiling slightly. He moved, and London was abruptly aware of something in the man’s hand a second before McAndrew used the knife to slice through his throat…

McAndrew watched as London gasped, choking on his own blood, clutching at his half‐severed neck as if to somehow stop the spray. Specks dotted McAndrew’s jacket and face, but he ignored them and the near‐dead man, turning to look at his shocked comrades.

‘We now have something to offer for our lives,’ he explained. ‘Proof positive that London is defeated and dead.’ He kicked the former Lord as he collapsed, choking and dying, to the floor. ‘This carcass can buy us our lives and our freedom.’

Durgan looked ready to faint any second; the man was a weak fool. But Broadhurst nodded his understanding. He, at least, seemed to appreciate necessity.

‘I think we’d better contact Haldoran,’ Broadhurst said slowly. ‘And negotiate our surrender.’

Nodding, McAndrew moved towards the communication equipment. Something could yet be salvaged from their defeat…

It seemed as if her torture was never going to end. Donna stared up at Barlow’s astonishingly impassive face as he regarded her, David and the Doctor. His men had them surrounded, and there was no way they could fight their way free. Barlow held out his hand and she meekly turned over her pistol.

‘I have a strange suspicion that I’m looking at the remains of the weapons I returned to collect,’ he commented.

‘Quite correct,’ the Doctor agreed, sitting up.

‘Ah.’ Barlow nodded slightly. ‘I was looking forward to using them, too. Well, can any of you think of a good reason why I shouldn’t have you executed here and now?’

‘Yes,’ said Donna and the Doctor at precisely the same moment.

Barlow raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, it looks as though I may have been a trifle hasty.’ His eyes met Donna’s. ‘Perhaps we’d better let ladies go first.’

‘Because there’s no point to it,’ she answered. ‘Haldoran’s dead. I blew what few brains he had out.’

That got some reaction at last from the soldier. Not grief, certainly, and not exactly relief. Donna couldn’t recall Barlow very well. He’d been considered a good soldier, but he’d never indulged in the popular pastime of torturing her that Downs and Portney had so enjoyed. He’d been considered a trifle odd. All she could remember of him was that he had a wife and a couple of children, and that he was a brutally efficient warrior. Complicated emotions seemed at play within him right now.

‘Interesting news,’ he finally decided. ‘But that’s not an argument against shooting you. Quite the reverse, if anything. You’ve just confessed to murder.’

‘Mercy killing,’ Donna corrected. ‘But I’m the one responsible, not the Doctor or David. Kill me if you like – to be honest, I think it would be a good trade. I dispose of Haldoran and Downs, and you put me out of my misery.’

‘Downs as well?’ Barlow was back to his faintly mocking attitude. ‘My, you have been a busy girl. Though I have to confess you show good taste in selecting your victims.’ He studied the Doctor. ‘And what’s your reason why I shouldn’t execute you?’

‘Daleks,’ said the Doctor simply.

‘Daleks?’ Barlow laughed. ‘There are no Daleks! It’s my men, armed with Dalek guns I swear, people are really paranoid about those metal monsters. Take it from me, they’re dead.’

‘Not necessarily,’ the Doctor answered. ‘The man you know as Estro has been subverting power from your nuclear reactor and feeding it into DA‐17.’

Barlow’s eyes lit up. ‘Ah. So that’s where he’s been getting the guns from.’

‘No it isn’t,’ the Doctor snapped. ‘He stole the guns while he was working for the Daleks. I doubt they’re very happy about that, especially since he had to destroy one of their hatcheries to do it. He’s after DA‐17 because he believes there’s a weapon within that will make your new weapons seem like peashooters.’

That perked up Barlow’s interest. ‘And is there?’ he asked.

‘How should I know?’ the Doctor retorted. ‘I was on my way to investigate it when I was brought here, hit about the head and threatened with death several times over. If you’ll be kind enough to spare our lives, I intend to go there immediately to check on the place.’

David gave a tight smile. ‘Estro lost contact with his men there,’ he added. ‘Something’s gone wrong.’

Barlow nodded. ‘And what makes you think it’s Daleks?’ he asked.

‘Every instinct in my body,’ the Doctor answered.” And I have a lot of those. It doesn’t seem to matter how often I destroy the Daleks, they always come back. And Estro is arrogant enough to have reactivated them without knowing it.’ He stared earnestly at Barlow. ‘Trust me, man – if the Daleks have revived, this little war you’re waging for control of Britain is going to become utterly insignificant.’

‘My father fought the Daleks, Doctor,’ Barlow said grimly. ‘He impressed on me how dangerous and evil they are. If you’re right in your belief, I’m inclined to agree with you that we should stop our own war and attack them. But I’ll need proof.’

‘The only place you’ll get that is DA‐17,’ the Doctor pointed out.

‘Fair enough,’ Barlow agreed.

‘And the first thing you need to do,’ the Doctor said, ‘is to cut off the power that’s going to the site. The Daleks are using it for their own purposes.’

‘Agreed.’ Barlow turned to one of his men, and sent him off after Murdock with firm instructions to cut the power flow to DA‐17. He then offered a hand to Donna. ‘As far as I’m concerned, you all have amnesty for now. I may extend it later.’

Taking his offer of help, Donna stood up. ‘Do I get my gun back?’ she asked.

He grinned. ‘If we see any Daleks, I’ll arm you myself,’ he promised. ‘Until then… well, just be satisfied with today’s kills, OK?’

She didn’t know how to take him. He was almost impossible to read, and even harder to understand. ‘We’re going to need transport,’ she pointed out.

‘That I can arrange,’ Barlow answered. ‘But first, we have to do some clearing out.’ He turned to one of Haldoran’s men, who had been standing around looking scared and confused. ‘I want all of your officers out here immediately,’ he announced. ‘And any of Haldoran’s family you find. Move.’ The man hesitated, saluted, and then headed at a trot for the intact portions of the castle. Barlow nodded to two of his men. ‘Go with him. If anyone causes trouble, shoot them.’

‘A little ruthless, aren’t we?’ the Doctor asked mildly.

‘If we’re going off to fight Daleks,’ Barlow informed him coldly, ‘I’m not leaving anyone here I can’t trust. I don’t want to have to fight another battle when I return.

Donna gave him a disgusted look. ‘So you’re seizing power now Haldoran’s dead?’ she asked contemptuously.

‘Someone has to do it,’ he replied. ‘And, frankly, I can’t think of a better man for the job. Unlike most of your ex‐husband’s men, I’m not a sadist or a thief. But neither am I stupid. We move from here just as soon as I’m certain I can come back if I want to.’

‘If you want to?’ Donna scowled. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means that I might be moving into your father’s old suite when we’re done,’ he answered. ‘New London is just about ready to fall.’

‘Is there anywhere you’re not about to attack?’ the Doctor asked distastefully.

‘I’m doing what I must, Doctor,’ Barlow answered calmly. ‘Britain needs a firm hand and a guiding vision right now Haldoran and London are – were, whatever – both fools. I’m not. There’s a power vacuum right now, and I intend to fill it.’

‘If the Daleks don’t beat you to it,’ the Doctor muttered.

‘In case you’d forgotten,’ Donna said furiously, ‘I happen to be Lord London’s daughter. You’re talking about deposing my father and murdering him.’

‘Yes,’ Barlow agreed. ‘I’m sorry if you become a widow and an orphan in one day, but sometimes the world doesn’t work the way we want it to.’

‘Did anyone ever tell you you’re a cold‐blooded, heartless bastard?’ she demanded.

‘Everyone,’ he replied with a faint smile. ‘It’s not news.’ He turned to his aide. ‘Get through to Craddock,’ he ordered. ‘Tell him that Haldoran and Downs are both dead, and I’ve assumed command here. Tell him to press home the attack on New London – and that if there are any overtures for surrender to accept them. There’s no need for any further killing.’ The aide saluted and left.

‘How noble of you,’ Donna sneered.

‘We don’t need to be fighting on more than two fronts,’ Barlow explained. He turned to another man. ‘Get the runabouts ready for departure. Ten men, plus the four of us here.’ He glanced at Donna. ‘Unless you’d rather stay behind?’ he suggested.

‘I’m coming,’ she said, daring him to deny her.

‘I thought you might.’ Barlow glanced around as people started moving out of the castle and into the courtyard. ‘Get them together,’ he ordered one of his men. ‘I’ll talk to them when they’re ready.’ His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of someone he recognised. ‘Except her. Have her brought to me right now.’

Donna stiffened as she saw who it was he’d indicated. It was her cousin, Brittany, looking pale and panicky as ever. Anger and hurt began to bubble up inside of her again. It might have been several years since she’d been betrayed by Brittany, but Donna knew that none of her anger had died down.

A soldier hurried her over. Brittany was distracted, and this allowed Donna to slip behind the Doctor and David without being seen. Both of them must have seen the pain in her eyes because they closed ranks without comment.

‘Barlow!’ Brittany said, her dark hair dishevelled. She’d obviously been sleeping not too long before. She had only a robe on over a long nightdress. ‘What’s happened? I heard this terrible explosion, and I was coming out to see what was going on when your men hurried me out.’

‘If you’ll let me get a word in edgeways,’ Barlow said drily, ’I’ll be happy to explain. First of all, allow me to offer you my condolences. Your husband, sadly, is dead.’

Brittany paled, and then gave a brittle laugh. ‘What is this, a coup?’

‘Of sorts,’ Barlow admitted. ‘But I didn’t begin it. Your husband was dead by the time I arrived. One of his old girlfriends, I believe.’

‘The stupid bastard deserved it,’ Brittany spat. Then she blinked rapidly, realising what this meant. ‘Then you’ve taken his place as the new Lord Haldoran?’

‘Something like that,’ Barlow agreed. ‘Though I’m none too fond of the title. I’m not quite as egotistical as your late, and apparently very unlamented, husband.’

Brittany snorted. ’As if I’d mourn his passing! All I was to him was a breeding cow.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Does that mean you aim to… remove his sons?’

‘It might be politically wise,’ Barlow said practically.

Donna felt bile rising up inside her.

‘I can show you where they are,’ Brittany offered. ‘I heard that you’re a widower now, and if I’m a widow… Well, marrying the niece of Lord London would improve your political standing.’

Donna was even more disgusted than she had been before. She started to move around the Doctor’s back, but Barlow waved her to stop.

‘Your motherly devotion is as well developed as your love for your husband,’ he said drily ‘Fortunately for your… offspring, I’m not an overly bloodthirsty man.’ He stared into her eyes. ‘They deserve pity for having two such parents, not murdering. As for your other kind offer, of marriage for political gains… Well, you’re right: my claim to power would be strengthened by marrying into the London family.’ Brittany had looked worried at first, but now brightened. ‘However, you’re not the only prospect. I believe you know your cousin?’ He gestured at Donna.

Brittany whirled around, her eyes wide and panic‐stricken. She tried to pull her tattered dignity together, but that was beyond her right now.

Another payback. ‘Hello, Brittany,’ Donna said cheerfully. ‘Remember me? It’s so good to see you again.’ She whipped her fist out, punching her cousin hard on the jaw. With a scream, Brittany collapsed backward, arms and legs flailing. Donna rubbed her hurting fist, but it had been worth the pain. She glared down at where Brittany lay in the mud of the courtyard, sobbing.

Barlow actually looked amused as he gestured to the soldier. ‘Find somewhere to lock her away,’ he instructed. ‘And keep her away from her children. I’d realty like them to survive the night.’ He turned to Donna. ‘Unless you’d like a punching bag?’ he suggested.

Donna’s face was flushed. ‘I’m finished.’

‘Good,’ the Doctor interrupted, irritation in his voice. ‘I’m glad that at least one person has come to their senses.’ Donna could see the disappointment in his face as he regarded her for a moment. Then he turned back to Barlow. ‘Now can we get on with the important matters? The Daleks could be planning to overrun Earth while the two of you enjoy yourselves.’

‘Patience, Doctor,’ Barlow answered. ‘As soon as everyone’s here, I’ll speak to them. They can either agree to join my side or be imprisoned. Then we can be on our way.’

‘About time,’ the Doctor muttered impatiently. ‘Just keep the speeches short, please!’

Susan smiled to herself as she finished working on the lock. It really hadn’t been as difficult as she’d feared. Dalek logic was simple once you got the hang of it. She tapped in the code, and hesitated before she made the final entry. She’d been assuming that the Daleks had better things to do with themselves than to guard one weak, unarmed prisoner, but what if she was wrong? There might be a Dalek on the other side of the door…

In which case, it would either try to kill her for attempting to escape, or simply relock the door. If it chose the latter, it wouldn’t hurt to have a plan…

She went back into the circuit boards, and set up a power drain. To relock the door, the Dalek would have to interface with the lock. If it attempted that after her little act of sabotage, it would get a power surge down its probe that would short out its internal computers. That would fix it.

If it tried to kill her, of course…

Ignoring that possibility, because there was nothing she could do about it, she finished the code to unseal her prison door. It hissed upward, and Susan winced as she saw that there was indeed something waiting for her. But it wasn’t a Dalek. Instead, it was a humanoid form, and one she recognised with surprise.

It was the guard captain who had captured her Yet he stared at her without recognition. He started to bring up the machine gun he still held.

‘You are a prisoner of the Daleks,’ he intoned, in a flat voice. ‘You will remain in your cell or die.’

Susan’s throat went dry as she stared at the helmet encasing his head.

A Roboman…