Текст книги "Doctor Who- Legacy of the Daleks"

Автор книги: John Peel

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Eminent Domain

Donna couldn’t help being amused by the discomfort of Becca’s father, but she tried to keep it off her face and out of her voice. He was one of those people who are the backbone of the community – independent, strong, and generally quiet. He and his wife had raised a good family – at least six children that Donna had seen as they had come to gape in awe at a female knight and to stroke her warhorse – and they undoubtedly had as little to do with outsiders as possible. On the other hand, they could hardly ignore the fact that she had saved the life of their daughter.

‘I’m truly sorry, sir… ma’am…’ the father said, confused and uncertain. Knights were generally addressed as sir, and she’d faced this particular embarrassment before.

‘There’s no need for any titles,’ she said gently. ‘It’s just a job.’

‘Begging your pardon, but it’s more than that,’ the farmer replied. ‘Risking your life as you do, and all. But, as I were saying, I’m sorry that my Becca made you risk your life for to save her. I’ll see that she’s properly punished for it.’

‘And rewarded, too, I hope,’ Donna added.

The father looked confused. ‘Rewarded?’

‘For bringing home her prizes,’ Donna explained. ‘As healthy a litter of kittens as I’ve seen in many a year.’ The bundles of fur were on the floor, gathered around a dish of food, nibbling at it and playing with one another. ‘Becca told me how much you need their help with the rodents, and she only did what she did because she wanted to help.’

‘That’s as it may be,’ her father agreed stubbornly. ‘And I’m not saying that they won’t be a grand help and much appreciated. But she has to learn not to go off into the woods alone.’

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Donna replied. ‘If she doesn’t learn, well, next time I’m unlikely to be there to save her. But I’d ask that you temper her punishment with appreciation.’

‘I knows best how to take care of my own,’ he said stubbornly. There was, at the same time, an unspoken accusation in his bold gaze: Why aren’t you taking care of your own? She’d seen it many times, and would undoubtedly see it as many times again. In this terribly underpopulated world, women were valued mostly for their fertility. And it was neither his nor anyone else’s business why she was not at home, tending a gaggle of her own brats. Donna ignored that aspect of his challenge.

‘I can see that you do,’ she agreed. ‘Well, I have to be on my way. I’ll stop by the next time my patrol brings me this way, and see how Becca’s doing.’

‘If there’s anything we can do for you, to show our gratitude…’ the hitherto‐silent mother said.

Donna smiled at the tired‐looking, grey‐haired woman, who could hardly be more than about ten years her senior. ‘Perhaps there is,’ she suggested. ‘When the next generation of cats comes along, I’d like the opportunity to purchase one from you.’

‘Purchase?’ the woman answered, as if she’d said something indecent. ‘We’ll give you your choice. Our word on that. It’s the least we can do.’

Donna inclined her head. ‘Then I thank you.’ She turned to the two girls still stroking the horse. Now, young ladies, if you’ll stand aside, I have to remount. Trust me, this armour’s heavy, and if I fall on either of you, it’ll break a limb or two. And not mine.’

Laughing, the girls scampered back. Donna wasn’t exaggerating about the weight of her armour. She used a portion of a log to stand on, getting her closer to saddle height. From this, she was able to swing a leg across the stallion’s back, and settled into place. One of the boys handed her the helmet, which pulled into place. ‘A good day to you, gentlefolk,’ she called, and then urged her steed into movement. She turned its head away from the farm, and back towards the London road. It was approaching evening, and she wanted to make it back before it got too dark.

She heard the door to the farmhouse close behind her and sighed. Becca was in for a strapping, that was obvious. It was harsh, but the punishment might save her life one day. What the girl had done was brave but extremely foolish. On the other hand, Donna could hardly fault the child, considering her own choice of career. She urged the horse onward, glad that at least Becca would live to lie on her stomach all night.

It had been pure coincidence that she had been close enough to hear the slyther roar, of course. Still, she had recognised the sound of the hunting call, and knew that something was in trouble. She’d never have guessed the prey to be a human child, but she hated slythers enough to kill them whatever their intended victims. One of the nastier little gifts the Daleks had left in their wake.

Donna had never known the Daleks, of course. They’d been dead almost a decade before she’d been born. But her father had fought them, and most of his men, too. And there were damaged casings all over London. Some were in museums, but others were rusting trophies in front yards. Many had been beheaded and used to hold flowers, which doubtless amused their owners: weapons of terror become containers of peace. Donna had always thought the Daleks looked evil, and the idea of using them for anything gentle appalled her. But, she realised, people coped in whatever ways they could, and it wasn’t her place to criticise them.

Her steed carried her almost automatically on the path that led homeward. She was starting to itch badly, and would enjoy removing her armour and having a good, long soak in a bath. Maybe even put on a skirt, and enjoy astonishing her colleagues. The armour was a pain, but the people, she’d been told, needed symbols of the government in action. And the knight was an almost universal stereotype of the gentle stranger. Donna had to admit that it worked: people did accept that she meant them only well when they saw her. But was it really worth wearing this horrible weight of metal?

The sun was sinking, and Donna eyed it with concern. It was starting to look like she’d not make it back before dark. Though she was prepared to set up camp if necessary, she really didn’t like the idea too much. It would mean getting out of her armour all alone, which was a chore, and then carrying it back on her saddle in the morning, which was simply embarrassing. She considered urging her horse to go faster, but that wasn’t really advisable. He wasn’t her usual mount, and she wasn’t too sure how much endurance he had. And, she didn’t feel right pushing him simply because she’d taken the time out to rescue a young girl and then call on her family. It looked as though she’d have to grit her teeth and make a camp in a couple of miles.

The horse’s ears suddenly pricked, and he whinnied softly. Donna was snapped from her thoughts, and she peered around the apparently still woods. Her steed had detected something, and she knew his hearing was far more acute than her own. She patted the side of his neck comfortingly, straining her own ears.

It started softly, building up to a loud crescendo, and then cut off abruptly. It almost sounded like an angry animal, howling and screaming. Donna was puzzled and worried, though, for she’d never heard anything quite like it before. Was this some beast that the Daleks had left behind that she’d never encountered before? But there had been something… vaguely mechanical about it.

Her horse was nervous, but he accepted the prod she gave with her knees and started towards the source of the sound. Donna decided that the possibility of facing an unknown foe was worth the trouble of using precious bullets. Sticking her lance through the rest in her saddle, she drew the rifle instead. Warily, she edged into the small clearing where the odd sound had originated.

There was no sign of life, but there was something very much out of the ordinary there. It was a tall blue box, with small windows. Above them was the sign: police public call box. Donna scowled. The box certainly hadn’t been here on her last trip through the area. And what on Earth was a ‘police public call box’ anyway? There hadn’t been any police as such since before the Dalek invasion. This didn’t make any sense. Added to that, there was no obvious way that the box could have been brought into the clearing. It would have required some kind of truck, or, more likely, a horse and cart, either of which would have left tracks. And there were none.

Was this strange box somehow the source of that terrible noise? Donna didn’t see how it could be, but there was no sign of anything else.

Then a door opened, and a man stepped out. He seemed almost as surprised to see Donna as she was to see him. She held the rifle at the ready, but without making any gesture towards using it, and studied the man.

He was tall, slender, and handsome, in a dark, poetical sort of way. His hair was down to his shoulders, waved and slightly curling. His eyes, as they studied her, were piercing, giving an indication of strong intelligence. His clothing was a little antiquated, but not too strange. A frock coat in dark green, trousers that were slightly over‐sized. He wore a dark‐blue cravat, and a blazing‐white shirt.

‘Interesting mixture of periods,’ he murmured finally. ‘Or have I arrived in time for Hallowe’en?’

Donna ignored the question and gestured at the box. ‘Are you a policeman?’ she asked.

The man glanced up at the sign as if he’d never seen it before. ‘Not in any sense of the word that you’d mean,’ he confessed cheerfully. ‘I’m the Doctor.’

‘Don’t you mean a doctor?’ she asked.

‘No.’ He gestured at the rifle. ‘Are you going to use that, or ask me to stick up my hands, or something?’

‘I heard a strange noise,’ Donna explained, feeling inexplicably embarrassed suddenly. She replaced the rifle. ‘I thought it was some animal.’

‘I’m afraid it was probably just me,’ the Doctor answered. He patted the box, and then swung the door closed. She heard it latch shut. ‘The old girl is a bit wheezy.’

‘What girl?’ Donna asked. This was a very confusing person.

‘My transport.’ He gestured at the box. ‘The TARDIS.’

Donna decided that this was too much to accept. ‘You travel in that thing?’

‘Ssh!’ he replied, putting a finger to his lips. ‘She’s very sensitive. If we’re going to talk about her, let’s move away from her first.’

He was deranged, Donna decided. Probably lived alone in the woods, and used the police box for shelter at nights. ‘What’s your name?’ she demanded.

‘I told you: the Doctor.’ He grinned up at her, a very engaging smile, and offered his hand. ‘And you are…?’

Well, if he was a lunatic, he seemed to be harmless enough. Still, she’d do better keeping alert. Reaching up, she removed her helmet, shaking her hair free. ‘Donna, a knight of Domain London,’ she replied. She accepted his hand and shook it.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Refreshing to know your order accept women members.’

‘They don’t,’ Donna admitted. ‘Usually.’

‘But you’re not usual, eh?’ The Doctor seemed amused. ‘Splendid. We should get along just fine. You wouldn’t happen to be heading back to London, would you?’

‘I would,’ she said. She glanced at the sinking sun. ‘But I don’t think I’ll make it tonight. I’ll have to camp out, and continue in the morning.’

‘Very reasonable,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘Would you have any objections to my accompanying you? There’s a man and a woman or two in London that I have to see.’

Donna shook her head. ‘I don’t see why not – provided you don’t slow me down.’

‘I’ll try to keep up,’ the Doctor promised. He considered for a moment. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know a David Campbell, would you? Former Dalek fighter.’

‘Campbell?’ Donna peered at the man more intently. ‘He’s a Peace Officer. I know him by name. He’s a liaison for Lord London.’

‘Splendid!’ the Doctor said, rubbing his hands together briskly. ‘I rather thought the boy would do well for himself.’

‘Boy?’ Donna laughed. ‘He’s over fifty, Doctor.’

‘That young?’ The Doctor shook his head. ‘It’s all relative. Which is what he is to me, in fact. He married my granddaughter.’

‘Granddaughter?’ Donna stared at the man in confusion. ‘I met Susan Campbell at a party once. She’s in her fifties, Doctor. She can’t be…’ Her voice trailed off, as she finally made some sense of what he was saying. ‘You’re from offworld, aren’t you?’

‘Very,’ he agreed.

‘So that’s it,’ Donna breathed, finally starting to understand. ‘One of the colony worlds, and you’ve come home again. You’ve been in cryo‐suspension, haven’t you? That’s why you’re younger than they are? You haven’t seen them since you left.’

The Doctor looked amazed. ‘That’s marvellous deductive reasoning,’ he complimented her.

Donna smiled smugly. ‘Thank you. You know, Doctor, I was starting to think you were a little touched in the head, but now it’s starting to make some sort of sense.’ She looked around for a fallen tree or a rock she could use to dismount.

‘I said it was marvellous,’ the Doctor answered. ‘I didn’t say it was correct.’ He smiled. ‘If you’ll wait here, I’ll fetch you a stepladder to help you down.’ He turned and used a key to open the box behind him.

Confused again, Donna waited for him to come out. Had he been claiming she was wrong? But how could that be? It was the only logical way to explain his statements, and logic always worked.

The Doctor emerged from the box again, carrying an eight‐foot stepladder. Donna simply stared at it, completely at a loss. It was at least a foot taller than the box itself. Seemingly unbothered by her look of shock, the Doctor set the ladder up beside her horse.

‘There you go,’ he said cheerfully.

‘How did you do that?’ Donna asked in a weak voice.

‘Do what?’ He seemed genuinely puzzled by the question.

‘Get that out of there.’ She gestured at the ladder, then at the box.

‘It’s where I store it,’ he said, patiently, as if talking to a child.

‘But it’s too big to fit in there,’ Donna objected.

‘Oh.’ The Doctor smiled again. ‘The TARDIS is a bit bigger than it looks. Now, are you going to sit up there all day, or would you like to come in for tea and crumpets?’

‘Come in?’ Donna had the strangest feeling that she was suddenly Alice, and the police box was a rather unusual rabbit hole. ‘Tea and crumpets?’

‘Freshly brewed,’ he promised her. ‘If you come down.’ He held out a hand to help her.

What else could she do? She accepted the hand and clambered down from the horse. She placed her helmet on the saddle, and then turned to the – what had he called it? – TARDIS.

‘After you,’ he said, politely.

Donna walked through the rabbit hole and into Wonderland.

Haldoran took his seat on his throne, and looked around the room. Soft electric bulbs illuminated it, and the men within. There were eight of them, his hand‐picked council. Estro sat to his direct right, a symbol of his position that was lost on none of the other men. They were all ambitious and eager, and each of them had hoped for the seat of secondary power that had been lost to them when Estro had arrived a few months ago, and proven himself to be utterly invaluable. The other seven resented this deeply, but not one of them was stupid enough to mention it aloud.

‘They are all plotting your downfall,’ Haldoran had told Estro before the meeting.

‘I’d be disappointed in them if they weren’t,’ Estro had replied. ‘We have no use for chicken‐hearted men who are too afraid to strive for what they want.’

The answer had amused and pleased Haldoran. Estro was a dangerous man, of that there was no doubt. But not dangerous to Haldoran, because he had the means to control the man’s ambitions – and to profit from his advice and help.

To the right of Estro was Barlow. He was the youngest of the council, but both skilled and relentless. His late father had been one of Haldoran’s staunchest supporters, and now the son had inherited the father’s place – and abilities. The dark‐haired, intense young man was carefully not looking at Estro, which almost certainly meant that he was thinking about the adviser.

Beyond Barlow was Tomlin. He was inclined to stoutness, thanks to his liking for beer, and had a genial humour about him. His ferocious temper surprised those who thought him a pleasant‐natured oaf. He was a man others followed out of fear, rather than from respect. But they followed, still, which made him useful.

At the end of the table sat O’Hanley. He was poker‐thin, and utterly humourless. Nobody had ever seen him smile, and he spoke almost as infrequently. He had a razor‐sharp mind, though, and a tactician’s brain. He was utterly invaluable to Haldoran.

On the Lord’s immediate left was Portney. Unlike the others, he was no fighter, but a bookkeeper. He was the kind of man whose face you never remembered because it was so bland and guileless. This was to Portney’s liking, since he was in fact an avaricious crook. He was skimming his own profits from Haldoran’s takings, and didn’t know that Haldoran knew this. In fact, Haldoran secretly approved, because it meant that Portney maximised Haldoran’s profits, in order to gain more for himself. Nevertheless, one of these days Portney would have to be disciplined. Haldoran was considering having his left hand sawn off, but hadn’t made the final decision yet.

Beside him was Malone, who openly scowled at Estro. Malone was a large man, ferocious in his loves and hates, and utterly incapable of hiding either. You always knew where you stood with him, and he never bothered to lie about his feelings. A superb fighter, he was adored by his followers.

Next was Craddock. He was the oldest here, going on sixty, but nobody would dispute him his place. He’d been a battler all of his life, switching from fighting men to destroying Daleks and back to fighting men. His hair was almost nonexistent, but his eyes were as shrewd as anyone’s, his mind sharper than most.

Finally, there was Downs. Haldoran still didn’t know whether he actually liked the man or not. He was reputed to indulge in his vices to excess, and some of them were definitely vile. There were rumours of young boys and teenaged girls going missing and never being seen whole again. Haldoran carefully avoided looking into these stories; as long as Downs kept his perversions reasonably well hidden, he was welcome to them. There definitely seemed to be some inner demon that drove the man, and that was what made him so valuable to Haldoran. He was vicious and, so far, entirely victorious in warfare, and that more than made up for the price he extracted for his loyalty.

‘I’ve been discussing matters with Estro,’ Haldoran said abruptly. He never bothered with any kind of formal nonsense to open meetings. ‘He has raised an… interesting suggestion!

‘I’m sure he has,’ Malone said, scowling. ‘I knew he had your ear for some purpose.’ The others leaned forward, their gazes on the adviser.

‘He has my ear because I choose to listen to him,’ Haldoran answered harshly. ‘And I think you’d all be advised to do the same. Estro.’ He jerked his head, giving the dark man permission to speak.

Estro smiled slightly, the smile of a tiger about to take prey. He held his hands together, fingers linked, and stared around the table. ‘The time has come,’ he said quietly, ‘for Britain to have a single authority again. A king, if you will. It is time to fill in the power vacuum.’ He paused, waiting for reactions.

‘King?’ Tomlin asked. ‘Aye, it’s an interesting thought, man – and I can guess who the obvious candidate is. But can it be done?’

‘No,’ Malone said. ‘The man is flattering you, my Lord, and catering to your ego. But he can’t possibly deliver on such a scheme.’

Craddock looked bored. ‘It would be amusing to hear his plan, though,’ he murmured. ‘Before we all agree that it will fail.’

Haldoran smiled at this. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘It would be better if you all spoke with knowledge instead of prejudice.’ His eyes flickered to Estro’s again, and he read the amusement there. Estro was deliberately baiting the men.

‘Lord London is poised to make his own thrust for the throne,’ Estro said gently. ‘Our informants have made this perfectly clear. He’s building up his forces, and his knights are patrolling the borderlands between his Domain and ours. With his own nuclear power station back on line, he’s attempting to curry favour with the other Domains by undercutting our Lord’s prices. Some will go along with that, which will reduce Haldoran power. That cannot be allowed. The only way to retain them as customers is if their current leadership were replaced.’

‘I can see that,’ O’Hanley agreed. ‘Their rise would be our downfall, certainly, and that can’t go unchallenged. Yet, if what you say is true, London seems to be expecting just such a move.’

‘He is,’ Estro agreed blandly. He gestured to the video screen on the far wall, and switched it on with the remote he held. It lit up with a map of southern England. Haldoran’s land in Surrey was illuminated in green. London’s spread showed in red. The other Domains – Canterbury, Edmonds, Salisbury and Devon – were blue, yellow, orange and brown respectively. ‘Ignoring the north for the moment – which, after all, is not buying from any of us as yet – only London and Haldoran provide power. We cover the most ground at the moment, but London is expanding. It is also the traditional capital of Britain. If we were to take it, we would control all of the power supply in southern Britain. The other Domains would never dare stand against us.’

‘It’s all very well to talk of taking London, man,’ Malone objected. ‘But it’s no easy task. He has large forces. And it looks like he’s asking for a fight.’

‘Because he thinks he can win it,’ Estro answered. ‘And, as matters are, I think he has a sixty‐per‐cent chance of being right. If he provokes us into attacking, he has the advantage of his home grounds and an extensive army to rely on. He would probably win such an encounter.’

‘So what are you saying?’ Downs demanded. ‘That we provoke him into attacking us openly? That we would have the advantage on our home grounds? That we should allow our territory to be razed, our homes sacked and our men, women and children be raped and murdered?’

‘No,’ Estro answered calmly. ‘I propose we change the current situation. Given matters as they are now, London will most likely win. This is why he is pushing for a war. He believes he can win and so do I – unless we change the game.’

‘And how do we do that?’ Barlow asked with interest.

‘Weaponry,’ Estro explained. ‘At the moment, both sides are in a situation of parity. Neither of us has anything larger than small rifles – oh, except for those two tanks you’ve been keeping hidden, Craddock,’ he added. Craddock said nothing, but Haldoran saw the flicker of anger in his eyes. ‘I’m sure London has one or two he’s looted from a museum, as well. But the problem is that there are very few shells for such heavy weapons, since none have been manufactured in more than thirty years. And neither side has any air capability.’

‘We know what we lack,’ Malone snapped. ‘What do you propose to do about it?’

Estro turned and snapped his gloved fingers. One of Haldoran’s soldiers came forward and placed a metal case on the table. It was three and a half feet long, and a foot wide. As the man stepped back, Estro snapped the catches on the case, and flipped open the lid.

Nestled inside the case was a Dalek ray projector.

‘This is how, gentlemen,’ he announced. ‘I have discovered a cache of Dalek guns. Using these, our troops will outclass the enemy. These will hand control of London – and subsequently the entire country – to us.’

The warriors stared at the gun in disbelief. Portney was the first to find his voice. ‘All Dalek weapons were destroyed after the war,’ he protested. ‘I don’t know where you found that, but there can’t be any more.’

‘Portney’s right,’ Malone agreed. ‘My Lord, this is some kind of a con game. Estro’s promising something he can’t possibly deliver! There are no more Dalek weapons.’

Haldoran smiled. ‘Estro has delivered eight of these ray guns so far,’ he replied. ‘They are all in working condition, because I’ve had men try them. And he has promised me several hundred more of them once we begin the assault. With these –’ he gestured at the case – ‘we cannot fail.’

The men were still astounded by the news. Finally, O’Hanley leaned forward. ‘Where are you obtaining these guns?’ he demanded.

Estro smiled and shook his head gently. ‘I see no need to inform you of their source,’ he said. ‘Not that I distrust any of you, of course, but there would be a great temptation for you then to… remove me and usurp the source for yourselves. I prefer not to give you that option.’

‘I know where they’re coming from,’ Haldoran said firmly. And that’s enough. You will all begin to ready your troops for action, gentlemen. I want our lines pushed forward towards London. We will provoke a response from London, and then use that complaint as a pretext for our attack. These Dalek weapons will be spread among your men, and at the right time, we shall use them.’ He smiled happily. ‘I estimate that London should fall within a week. After that, the other Domains will be given the choice of joining us voluntarily – or of being annexed. By the end of the year, I expect the entire country to be behind me. I shall be the first monarch of Britain in thirty‐eight years. And you, gentlemen, shall all share in my power.’ He laughed. ‘Britain will be united once again – under me.’ He picked up the Dalek weapon and brandished it. ‘With the power that these represent, we shall be invincible!’