Текст книги "Doctor Who- Legacy of the Daleks"

Автор книги: John Peel

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

4

The Pit

Susan cut the power on the runabout, and let the small electric car glide to a silent halt. She was about a mile away from DA‐17, and feeling more and more uneasy about matters. The site was close to the border between Domain London and Domain Haldoran, and Susan knew that the current political situation between the two groups was deteriorating. It might even end up in armed conflict. Not that this should affect her directly – Peace Officers were allowed to go wherever they must to investigate Dalek Artefacts, and it wasn’t likely that the fact that she lived in London would prompt Haldoran’s men to prevent her from travelling through their Domain. But…

She glanced at the mostly mud‐and‐dirt road she’d been travelling the past fifteen minutes. It showed evidence of a lot of traffic recently, and that didn’t look good. She’d been working on the assumption that whoever had tried to gain access to DA‐17 was either an individual or a small group of idiots. But the wear on the road suggested it was a more concerted effort than that. Perhaps even one that Haldoran was sponsoring, for some insane reason. Nobody in their right mind would interfere with a Dalek site. Haldoran was pushy and aggressive, but she’d never heard him described as insane.

Still, driving any further could lead to trouble. Susan had driven off the road and parked in the shade of several trees. Anybody passing by wouldn’t be able to see the little runabout, especially since night was falling. She would go the rest of the way on foot – just in case. She carefully strapped on her revolver, praying she wouldn’t need to use it. She still didn’t like the idea of harming anyone, and had managed to avoid doing so for most of her thirty years on the job.

The most sensible thing to do right now was to check in with Spencer. She picked up the microphone, and sent the pulse. The only response was static. That bothered her seriously, because it meant that the frequencies were being jammed. And that suggested a very deliberate attempt to hide what was going on.

There was nothing else for it but to carefully check things out. Then she could drive out of range of the jamming and report back. Susan had a serious suspicion that she’d need a lot of backup to handle whatever was going on here. She slipped out of the car and walked parallel to the road, heading for the site.

Darkness closed about her, and she saw a glow ahead of her through the trees. Haldoran must have run a power line out here, then. He had to be very serious about this to go to such lengths. But whatever did he expect to gain from all of this? It didn’t make any sense. Well, perhaps it would, closer up.

Barely leaving a ripple in her wake, Susan made her silent way up to the site. It was, as she recalled, at the base of a cliff in an old quarry. DA‐17 was simply a shaft the Daleks had sunk into the ground, with nothing of particular interest to it. But somebody was certainly very interested indeed…

Susan gained the top of the cliff, and then went down on her stomach to inch her way to the very edge. She slid between bushes, and then reached her target. The quarry was spread below her, some sixty feet down.

Arc lights had been set up around the pit itself, six of them blazing away, illuminating the activity there. Several thick cables led from the far end of the quarry and disappeared into the shaft. There were at least twenty people down there, and three lorries. The people were all working at the mouth of DA‐17, some with instruments, others assembling equipment. She was too far away to see what was happening, but there was really only one conclusion she could reach: Haldoran’s men were supplying DA‐17 with power for some reason. Those cables were capable of transmitting quite a lot of electricity. But for what purpose? What did Haldoran think he was doing? Did he want something that lay in the shaft? Did he know, somehow, what was down there?

It hardly mattered. The most important thing was to leave now, and call in a strike team. This was far more than she could handle by herself. Central would have to organise a full‐scale assault to put a stop to this.

There was a sharp, metallic click dose by, and then cold metal touched her temple. Both her hearts thudded, and she realised she’d been paying too much attention to the scene below and not to that around her.

‘Slowly,’ a grim voice said. ‘Rise to your feet, and keep your hands where I can see them.’

Susan had no option but to obey. She’d been caught so easily she felt ashamed. As soon as she was upright, a light flashed on, almost blinding her. A hand pulled her revolver out of its holster. Squinting, she tried to make out her captors.

‘Peace Officer, eh?’ the voice said again. ‘I knew we must have tripped some sort of alarm when we broke in, whatever Estro said.’

‘What do we do with her, sir?’ a second voice asked. Susan could just make out three shapes behind the light.

‘Do?’ The first man grunted. ‘The Peace Officers are going to wonder why they haven’t heard from her. We’d better let them know. She’s going to have to die.’

Susan shuddered at the grim certainty in his voice, and steeled herself as the men closed in.

Donna accepted the cup of Darjeeling with an increasing feeling of unreality. The Doctor had produced a framework to hang her armour on from somewhere in his TARDIS, and she had to admit that she felt more comfortable wearing casual clothing again. At least comfortable in her body. Her mind, however, was in a profound state of shock.

Somehow, the box was larger inside than it had any possible right to be. Instead of a cramped space, there was a huge room, dominated by a many‐sided control console that lacked only a large, hookah‐smoking caterpillar to qualify it for a place in Lewis Carroll land. Close by this were the chairs they were now relaxing in, and the table holding the steaming pot of tea and the freshly buttered crumpets. Donna stared around, unable to work out how this was done.

‘I didn’t know that they were this technologically advanced on the colony worlds,’ she finally managed to say.

‘They’re not,’ the Doctor said. ‘Transdimensional engineering is practised by very few species, and the human race isn’t one of them.’

Trying to take in this new fact made Donna leap to a logical conclusion. ‘You’re claiming that you’re not human?’ she asked, dazed.

‘We have our differences,’ he murmured. ‘Crumpet?’ He held out the plate, and Donna took one. Biting into it at least gave her time to think.

‘And this granddaughter of yours, Susan,’ she said slowly.

‘She’s about the same as me,’ he admitted. He frowned. ‘I can’t understand why she’d look about fifty yet. She’s only a child really. Our people do live a terribly long time.’

‘Like elephants,’ Donna said solemnly.

The Doctor laughed in delight. ‘You’re taking all of this very well,’ he said. ‘Many people wouldn’t.’

‘I’m trying to stave off insanity till tomorrow,’ Donna told him. ‘I’ve had a busy day, and I don’t have the time for it now.’

‘An admirable decision.’ The Doctor took a sip of his own tea. ‘Now, perhaps you can help me a little. Ive been away from Earth for thirty of your years, so I really don’t know a whole lot of what’s been happening. Would you be so kind as to fill in the blanks for me? You mentioned that Susan s a Peace Officer, for example. What would that be?’

‘Well, after the Daleks were defeated,’ Donna began, ‘everywhere was…’ She suddenly stared at him. ‘There was a man involved in that!’ she exclaimed. ‘He was called the Doctor! And he had some sort of disappearing box…’ She looked around the TARDIS. ‘Is this it?’

‘This is it and I am he,’ the Doctor replied.

‘But you can’t be,’ Donna said firmly. ‘He was an old man, with long white hair. You’re… well, you’re not.’

‘Yes, well, I seemed older then, I know… Eventually that body wore out, and I needed a new one.’

Donna shuddered. ‘What do you do – take over other people’s bodies when your own one packs in?’

‘No!’ he exclaimed, indignantly. ‘Our bodies restructure themselves and we become literally a new person. This is still the same body that I had when I was older, but it’s been… restructured a lot since then.’

‘Isn’t that sort of thing against Newton’s Third Law?’ she asked weakly.

‘Yes,’ he agreed cheerfully, ‘but I have to admit that I do violate a few laws now and then. Only when absolutely necessary, of course. Now, about Susan…?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Donna tried to gather her thoughts, but it was difficult. Sitting so close to this alien in a bizarre spaceship was seriously damaging her ability to think. Especially since he seemed to be so friendly. ‘Well, when the Daleks were destroyed, the human race tried to pick itself up and go on with life as usual. The problem was that the Daleks and their plagues and slavery had killed about nine‐tenths of Earth’s population, and most of the industrial infrastructure. Rebuilding wasn’t technically possible. As a result, we’ve been forced to compromise a lot.’

‘Knights in armour carrying carbines,’ the Doctor mused. ‘I begin to see. But didn’t the colony worlds offer to help?’

‘Certainly,’ Donna agreed. ‘But they were refused. Doctor, this is our home. We don’t need anybody’s help to rebuild it. We can do it ourselves.’

‘Really?’ The Doctor sighed. ‘It sounds like the human race began rebuilding with arrogance, stubbornness and stupidity. Well, you’ve survived a long time with those traits.’

‘We don’t need help from others!’ Donna insisted sharply.

‘Donna, you’re a knight,’ the Doctor said gently. ‘It’s your job to help others. Why is it so hard for you to consider accepting help as well?’

‘I only help when I’m needed,’ Donna replied stubbornly. ‘I don’t insist on helping if I’m not wanted.’

‘I see.’ The Doctor sipped more tea. ‘Well, I operate something along those lines myself, so I can’t fault you for that. But if you discover you need my help, you need only ask. I promise not to rub your nose in the fact that I’m an alien. So, you tried and failed to rebuild…’ he prompted her.

‘We haven’t failed,’ she answered. ‘It’s simply taking time. Anyway, when the Daleks were destroyed, there were an awful lot of sites where they had been that were left behind. Some of them were booby‐trapped; others were simply dangerous by their nature. The provisional government of the day ordered that all Dalek Artefacts were to be off limits to everyone. They were sealed, and the Peace Officers were formed. Their job is to make certain that nobody interferes with any of the sites, and to prevent people from being harmed by them.’

‘A sensible precaution,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘A bit like bomb sites in London after the Second World War. Rope them off, and keep everyone away until they can be exploded.’

‘You’ve read about them, too?’ Donna asked. ‘Yes, that’s exactly it And Susan’s one of those Peace Officers. They have unlimited power to go where they wish, even across Domains.’

‘Domains?’

‘The area controlled by a Lord and his men,’ Donna replied. Britain’s split into Domains. The early attempt to form a one‐country government didn’t last very long. Instead, the whole place fragmented. Initially there were about a hundred Domains, but over the past twenty‐five years, most have consolidated into the ten surviving ones.’

‘Consolidated how?’ the Doctor asked darkly. ‘By persuasion or by force of arms?’

Donna shrugged. ‘A bit of both,’ she admitted. ‘Now the situation’s getting rather critical. The Domains that are left are all rather large, and the only way for them to grow is by absorbing a neighbouring Domain.’

‘Same old human race,’ the Doctor muttered.’ Recover from the Daleks killing you and start killing one another instead. It’s so foolish! You need everyone you have to rebuild, and instead you waste your time and lives on murdering each other in an asinine struggle for pointless power. How typical.’

Donna’s face burned. ‘Domain Haldoran is provoking Domain London!’ she exclaimed. ‘He wants to take control of the country, and my father won’t allow it!’

‘Ah.’ The Doctor gave her a piercing look. ‘And would this father of yours happen to be Lord London?’

Donna sighed, cursing her stupid mouth. She hated people to know that. ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But don’t spread that around.’

‘Why?’ he asked lazily. ‘Don’t you get on with your father?’

‘I love him,’ she insisted. But honesty made her add, ‘Most of the time.’

‘Typical father‐daughter relationship,’ the Doctor said. ‘So, why keep it hidden?’

‘Because people always treat me as if I’m fragile when they know who my father is,’ she explained. ‘They get all funny on me, bowing and scraping. And they’re scared that if they upset me, I’ll have them executed or something.’

‘And would you?’ he asked.

‘Of course not!’

‘Good.’ He grinned. ‘Then I don’t have to worry about you getting my head chopped off. That’s a relief.’ He sat forward, his eyes burning into her. ‘But I think you’re accepting the party line a little bit too readily. Is it possible that your father is the one starting the aggression?’

‘Certainly not!’ Donna insisted. Then she hesitated.

‘Ah…’ the Doctor said with a sly grin. ‘Now you’re starting to be honest with yourself. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to pass judgement. In fact, I’m just here to say hello to Susan and David and to look for a friend whom I seem to have –’ he frowned for a moment before continuing – ‘misplaced. Then I’ll be on my way again, leaving you all to get along or murder one another, whatever the case may be.’

‘You don’t have to sound so condescending,’ Donna said, stung a little by his tone.

‘I’m not.’ He sighed, ‘In some ways, you and I are very alike. I, too, travel all over, trying to make things a little better where I stop. But neither of us can cure every ill, can we? So we have to choose our battles carefully. And sometimes we make little mistakes.’

Donna smiled. ‘Surely not?’

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said, smiling faintly. ‘I never make little mistakes. My mistakes are always huge blunders.’ His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Earth’s underpopulated, you said. At a guess, I’d say that everybody’s into rabbit mode right about now, trying to breed like crazy.’

Donna’s throat tightened, and she nodded. ‘Yes. It’s government policy that everybody should marry young and raise large families, to get the population back up as soon as possible.’

‘And that doesn’t apply to you?’ he asked perceptively. ‘I don’t mean to pry.’

‘Then don’t,’ she snapped, blushing again.

The Doctor held up his hands in surrender. ‘My mistake,’ he murmured. ‘Apparently, another of the major ones I told you about. Would you like another crumpet?’

‘What I’d really like,’ Donna informed him, ’is a good bath. You have no idea how sweaty and smelly you can get inside a suit of.’

‘Actually, I do,’ he replied, not meeting her eyes. ‘I’m sitting down‐wind of you. Let’s see about getting you cleaned up, shall we?’

‘You have a bath in here?’ she blustered, trying to disguise her embarrassment.

‘Of course,’ he grinned. ‘Otherwise I’d smell worse than you do. And I’m sure I can find you a nice change of clothes, too. And a bed for the night. Unless you want to camp out with your horse.’

‘If there’s a genuine bed in the offing,’ Donna replied firmly, ‘my horse can sleep alone.’ She scowled at the Doctor. ‘This bed wouldn’t have any conditions attached to it, would it?’

‘Conditions?’ The Doctor looked puzzled, and then realised what she meant. ‘Ah. No, no conditions. I rarely sleep.’

Donna grinned. ‘It’s not whether you wanted to sleep in it that concerned me,’ she admitted.

The Doctor cocked his head to one side in the manner of a puzzled dog, then spun neatly on one heel away from her.

Smiling, Donna allowed him to lead her off in search of the bathroom.

‘Barlow – a word in your ear!’

Slowing his steps to allow the other man to catch up with him, Toby Barlow found himself looking into the steady gaze of Craddock. He inclined his head slightly. Is there some way I can help you?’ he inquired politely.

‘Yes,’ Craddock answered.’ You can cut the polite crap, for one thing. I think we need to talk.’

Barlow nodded, glad that this was to be on a personal level. ‘Here?’

Craddock managed a thin smile at that. ‘It’s probably the safest place,’ he said, gesturing down the corridor they were traversing. ‘It’s simple to bug a small room, but it would take a fanatic to wire the whole castle for sound.’

‘And you think Haldoran isn’t a fanatic?’ Barlow mused.

‘He’s not that kind of a fanatic,’ Craddock replied brusquely. ‘Just what kind he is remains to be seen. What do you think of this idea of using Dalek technology?’

Barlow had been fairly sure that this was what was on Craddock’s mind, and he was pleased to discover that he was right. ‘It will give us quite an edge in the coming war.’

‘A safe, if disgustingly poor, answer.’ Craddock sighed. ‘Let’s agree to trust one another, Barlow. To be frank, you re the only one of us all I’m willing to trust.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘Don’t be.’ Craddock gave him a sharp look. ‘The others are all fools or self‐servers. They’d turn me in to Haldoran in a second, not even aware it wouldn’t be in their own best interests. You, however, are different.’

‘You mean I’m neither a fool nor self‐serving?’ Barlow suggested. He was amused by Craddock’s perceptions – particularly since they matched his own almost exactly. He would have selected Craddock to confide in himself And, perhaps, Malone.

‘Whatever you want to be in the end doesn’t bother me. How you want to achieve it does.’

‘I gather you object to using the Dalek guns,’ Barlow said gently.

‘Damned right I do.’ He rubbed his almost bald head. ‘I spent years fighting the Daleks, and the one thing I learnt from it was that Dalek technology is just as nasty and tricky as the Daleks themselves. I think we’d be insane to use those guns.’

Barlow nodded. ‘I can see your point. But there’s one you seem to be overlooking. We don’t have a choice about using them Haldoran’s made up his mind –’

‘Haldoran’s a fool,’ Craddock snapped. ‘Just as his father was. He wants to be king so badly his judgement’s shot to blazes.’

‘Agreed,’ said Barlow. ‘And Estro is the one with the supply. He’s chosen to help Haldoran for reasons of his own that I’ve not been able to fathom. The price for his help seems to be utilising Dalek technology. If we persuade Haldoran to give it up, I’ve a strong suspicion that Estro would then offer the same deal to London. In that case, we’d end up at the working end of those Dalek weapons. And, given a choice, I’d sooner be firing them than dodging them.’

Craddock smiled. ‘Well thought through,’ he said approvingly. ‘I’ve no doubt that you’re correct. Given the chance, Estro would certainly go over to London’s side. If he were alive to do so.’

Barlow was starting to understand the point now. ‘You favour killing him and wiping out the supply right now?’ he asked. ‘I doubt that Haldoran would look kindly on the thought.’

‘Haldoran’s gone too far,’ Craddock said. ‘Even thinking about using Dalek technology is too much. We have to stop this now.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you with me?’

Barlow considered his answer carefully. ‘No,’ he replied, holding up a hand. ‘I’m simply not convinced that using the Dalek guns is necessarily a bad thing. I want to think about it some more, and see if my agents can’t find out what Estro’s up to. I’ve been watching the man carefully, and he doesn’t look like he’s willing to play second fiddle to anyone. I don’t think he’s got Haldoran’s best interests at heart.’

‘I’m certain that he hasn’t,’ Craddock answered.

‘You may be right,’ Barlow agreed. ‘But I won’t tell anyone what we’ve talked about until I give you my decision.’ He held out his hand. ‘You have my respect. You know that.’

‘Yes,’ Craddock agreed, taking the grip. ‘And I appreciate your candour.’ He released Barlow’s hand and nodded. ‘I’ll talk to you again later.’ He hurried away, and left through a nearby door.

Barlow considered his next move very carefully, and then looked up at the ceiling. ‘Estro,’ he said, ‘I think we had better talk.’ He considered repeating the comment, but decided that there was no need. If he was correct, Estro was monitoring him; if he was wrong, repetition was futile, and the man’s worth would go down a notch in his estimation.

Less than thirty seconds passed before the dark‐clad adviser stepped into the corridor, and Barlow turned to look at him. Estro smiled, and spread his gloved hands. ‘You were so sure I was observing you?’

‘You’d have to have been a fool not to watch two of Haldoran’s lieutenants conferring privately,’ Barlow replied. ‘And, whatever you are, you’re no fool.’

Estro moved closer. ‘Neither, I perceive, are you.’

‘I doubt that a man who has access to Dalek technology needs to do anything as crude as planting microphones all over the castle in order to monitor someone,’ stated Barlow.

That made Estro laugh in delight. ‘My dear Barlow, you’re very refreshing,’ he said. He held up one hand, and a small fly landed upon his outstretched finger. ‘A mobile camera. It’s very sensitive, and virtually unnoticeable.’

Barlow nodded. ‘I quite agree.’ He’d have to be more careful what insects he allowed in his rooms from now on.

Estro released the fly. ‘Well, now that we’ve evaluated one another’s keen sense of perception, what is it that you wish to discuss?’

‘Craddock,’ Barlow said bluntly. ‘You heard his intentions.’ He’d promised not to tell anyone what Craddock had said, and he wasn’t about to break his given word – especially since Estro knew everything anyway.

‘Indeed.’ Estro spread his hands helplessly. ‘I’m afraid it would be most inconvenient to my plans if Mr Craddock were to succeed in killing me. I shall have to take measures.’

‘No.’ Barlow gave him a scowl. ‘I shall make sure he doesn’t follow through on his plan to kill you.’

‘In return for what?’ Estro seemed amused.

‘Two things. First, you don’t try to pre‐empt his strike and kill him.’

Estro raised his eyebrows. ‘Sentiment?’ he inquired politely.

‘Not entirely,’ Barlow confessed. ‘He’s also too valuable to us. O’Hanley’s a fine tactician, but he’s cold. Tomlin has little respect. Malone is too blunt, and Downs is… sick. Craddock is the key to the war you’ve proposed we start.’

Estro nodded. ‘I quite agree. You and he are the only two men in this plan that I can rely on. In your own way, you’re honourable people. So, as long as you can keep him in line, I agree not to murder him first. And your second condition?’

‘I never lie,’ Barlow said. ‘What you heard me tell Craddock was the truth: I’m not yet convinced that using Dalek weaponry is a good idea. Oh, I’m not so paranoid about it as Craddock is. His problem is that he simply hates the Daleks so much that he can’t contemplate touching anything of theirs. It’s his one major weakness. But there are others like him who’ll be fighting for us, and they’ll have the same problems with those guns.’

‘Surely you can talk them around?’ Estro suggested.

‘I can’t persuade my men unless I’m first persuaded myself. If you win me over, I guarantee my best efforts to convince our troops and the rest of Haldoran’s advisers.’

‘I see.’ Estro barely had to consider. ‘Mr Barlow, I admire your candour. I will show you the source of those Dalek weapons, and convince you of their worthiness. You will then, I am certain, join with me in urging their use.’

‘Excellent.’ Barlow smiled. ‘Then I am very pleased we’ve had this talk.’ With a slight incline of his head, he marched away.

Estro watched him leave, an amused smile on his face. ‘Such a bright young man,’ he murmured to himself. And such refreshing honesty.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Such a shame everyone isn’t as candid and open as he…’ Humming cheerfully, he returned to his work.