Doctor Who: Prisoner of the Daleks (11 page)

Cuttin' Edge wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 'I know that. But I only ever shot 'em up before. I never... did that. Not close up. It felt... it felt kinda wrong. An' the way the Doctor was goin' on... I just felt
confused
.'

Bowman sealed the bag and carried it across the hold. He dumped it on the floor alongside the jumble of machinery. 'Sometimes tough decisions have to be made. It's easy to take the moral high ground. The politicians and the civilians can do that. But we're the ones left to deal with the consequences.'

'Then why do I feel so bad?'

'No one said it was gonna be easy.'

Cuttin' Edge bristled. 'I know that. I ain't never had it easy. I had my Pa kickin' all kinds of zip outta me from day one on Gauda Prime. I had to drag myself out that hole an' into the army an' not even
they
wanted me. An' you know the fix I was in when you found me.'

Bowman looked at Cuttin' Edge for a long moment before replying. He suddenly felt very old, and Cuttin' Edge suddenly looked very young. 'Listen, son. You're one of the good guys. Don't let anyone tell you anything else. Not your folks, not the army, not even the Doctor. You fight Daleks and that means you're on the right side when all is said and done, no matter what. And it takes courage to do what you did.'

'I didn't feel very brave when I was scrapin' that thing out of its barrel.'

'It's not how you feel that matters. It's what you do despite the way you feel. Look at Scrum. Damn near wetting himself the whole time but he still stuck it out. The only one not gettin' his hands dirty was the Doctor.'

Cuttin' Edge gave a shrug. 'Everyone has a point of view, I guess.'

'Yeah,' Bowman nodded. 'Only trouble is, his point of view is the wrong one. Now get that Dalek off my ship. Kick its tin backside out into space, along with the contents. I don't ever want another one of those things onboard.'

'You betcha.'

Bowman smirked. 'Whatever happened to "Yes, sir"?'

'You what?'

'Never mind, Cuttin' Edge. Never mind. Old days, long gone.' Bowman pulled off the gauntlets and threw them onto the rubbish heap. 'Best get rid of them too while you're at it. And then you can clear the rest of that slime off the floor. Smell's getting on my nerves.'

The Doctor and Scrum were discussing the technical specifications of the
Wayfarer
's engines when Bowman strode onto the flight deck. He glared suspiciously at the Doctor and then spoke to Scrum. 'We've got rid of that thing, anyway. Dumped the casing and the mutant into deep space. Cuttin' Edge is cleaning out the cargo hold now.'

'The Doctor's plotted a course for Arkheon,' Scrum informed him. 'Or at least, where it used to be. We should be there in a couple of hours.'

Bowman raised an eyebrow. 'That's quick, even for the
Wayfarer
.'

'Well, I know a few short cuts,' admitted the Doctor. 'And I picked up some clues on Hurala.'

'Maybe the Daleks did too.'

'True – which is why we need to push ahead at full speed.' The Doctor stood up and faced Bowman. 'With your permission, I'd like to tighten the regulator valves in the engine room. They're loose and costing us time.'

Bowman regarded him coolly. 'Just for the record, Doctor, I still don't like you. I've no idea what we're heading into, but I still say you know more than you're letting on. The only reason I haven't thrown you overboard with the remains of that Skaro slime is because of Koral. She's vouching for you and I'd trust
her
with my life. So if you betray that trust – if this is any kind of a trick or some sort of con – then I'll kill you myself, quickly and with pleasure. Got that?'

'Loud and clear.'

'And once we reach Arkheon, just remember one thing: I'm in charge. Not you.'

The Doctor was in his shirtsleeves, working on the
Wayfarer
's engines, when Koral found him.

She stepped out of the shadows in a cloud of steam as the Doctor finished tightening the last of the regulator valves. He looked up when she arrived, the sonic screwdriver still clamped between his teeth.

'Gnnf gnn mmph gnn,' he said.

'Excuse me?'

The Doctor dropped the screwdriver into his hand. 'I said, you can't creep up on me like that any more.'

'I wasn't trying to.'

'Well, I've fixed these old engines so they're running like a sewing machine. Listen.' The Doctor cupped a hand to one ear and grinned. 'Not a rattle or a squeak. You could hear a pin drop anywhere onboard now.'

Koral frowned. The
Wayfarer
's engines produced a constant, bass rumble. If you touched the bulkhead anywhere, you could feel the heavy vibration, and the deck plates trembled beneath your feet. This close, the engines sounded like more like the roar of a wild, mechanical animal.

The Doctor bounced to his feet and picked up his jacket from where he'd left it slung over a pipe. 'It's not often I get to fiddle with one of these old astronic propulsion systems. They're brilliant, in their own way. Rotten for the environment, of course, and prone to sudden catastrophic ion implosion if they're not looked after – but brilliant, even so.'

Koral gave him an odd look.

'It's a man thing,' he said.

'What did you mean, back in the cargo hold,' began Koral. 'When you said that you'd seen the future?'

'Ah, sudden change of subject. Very good. Catch me off guard. Won't work.'

'Don't avoid the question.'

The Doctor stopped and looked at her. 'I don't want to talk about it. It's complicated.'

'When you first came onboard you said you were in the wrong place and time.'

'It's just a saying. It means bad luck.'

'I think you meant it literally.'

The Doctor took a deep breath. 'Koral, let's say that I
have
seen the future. Call it foresight or precognition or just plain madness, I don't care. But when – if – the Daleks manage to crack time wide open, it will lead to death and destruction on a scale you simply can't comprehend. The Daleks are more than capable of that. Worse, they're willing to do it.'

Koral looked into his eyes and realised that, somewhere, somehow, those eyes had witnessed that kind of death and destruction. She shivered. 'You really intend to stop them, don't you?'

'I can't.' He looked suddenly pained. 'I just... can't. But maybe I can delay them, until the universe is ready. Or as ready as it will ever be. I don't know. Like I said, it's complicated. If you think about it too much your head will hurt. Let's just say I'm in the wrong place and time, but while I'm here I might as well try to help.'

'I think I understand,' Koral said eventually.

The Doctor nodded. 'And thanks for vouching for me, by the way. I think your pal Bowman is beginning to trust me.'

'Bowman does not trust anyone.'

'He trusts you. But he did say if I betray that trust he'll kill me.'

'Then he is mistaken,' Koral said. 'He will not kill you – I will.'

Thanks to the Doctor, the
Wayfarer
reached its destination in record time. The crew were met with something of a surprise when they reached the flight deck.

'I don't believe it,' said Scrum in an awed whisper. He was staring, open mouthed, at the forward viewscreen. The others crowded in behind him. 'What... the hell is it?'

'It's the remains of Arkheon,' said the Doctor. 'The Planet of Ghosts.'

It looked like the spectral remnant of a planet – a pale, wraithlike world shrouded in mists and shimmering ice. But there was something even more unnatural about it: a deformity, a terrible wrongness to its shape. This wasn't a complete globe – this was only one half of a planet, a giant hemisphere of frozen rock with the remains of its glowing, molten core exposed to space like a luminous scab.

As the
Wayfarer
descended into orbit, the pristine curvature of the horizon suddenly disappeared. The glittering white surface gave way to a dizzying chasm and a ragged, black interior. At its centre was a hard orange ball of superhot iron, crusted with burning rock.

'It's incredible,' breathed Koral. 'Impossible.'

'The Dalek planet-splitters do exactly what they say on the tin,' remarked the Doctor. 'That's all you're left with: bits and pieces and a big, lifeless chunk of rock floating in space.' He glanced sourly at Bowman. 'Between them and your lot, it's a wonder there are any planets left in the galaxy.'

Bowman curled his lip but said nothing.

'It is both wonderful and terrible at the same time,' said Koral.

Scrum was checking the instruments. 'There's no sign of any other spaceships in the vicinity,' he reported. 'It's deserted. Looks like the Daleks are looking in the wrong place after all.'

'Couldn't be better,' said the Doctor, clapping Scrum on the shoulder. 'We've got the place to ourselves.'

'Do you think that Threshold thing is still down there?' wondered Cuttin' Edge.

'Let's find out,' said the Doctor. 'Take us in.'

Bowman gave a meaningful cough.

'Oh, sorry...'

The captain turned to Scrum.

'Take us in,' he ordered.

The
Wayfarer
swept through the tattered remains of Arkheon's atmosphere. Clouds parted like frightened wraiths as the ship thundered over mountain ranges and glaciers. There were deep, dry ravines where rivers and oceans once flowed, and towering crystals sculpted into strange shapes by harsh winds.

Finally, they flew over the ruins of a city. Crumbling spires stood among bridges and arched hallways, all covered in shrouds of snow that broke away in startled white flurries as the
Wayfarer
came in to land.

'It's fantastic,' said Scrum, his face reflecting the bright, wintery glare. 'Amazing.'

The Doctor peered out of the viewscreen, utterly captivated. 'The rulers of Arkheon built a city fit for a race of kings and queens,' he said appreciatively.

'Now all that's left is the wreckage,' growled Bowman, the blazing white light of the planet's surface bleaching the colour from his face.

'The atmosphere is borderline toxic,' reported Scrum. 'You can breathe it, but it won't be nice.'

'We won't be staying long,' said Bowman.

Scrum set the
Wayfarer
down on a rocky shelf overlooking the outskirts of the city. They assembled near the exit airlock and sorted out some cold-weather gear Bowman had stowed.

'You gotta be kiddin', man,' said Cuttin' Edge, pulling on a thick, padded jacket with a fur-trimmed hood. His bulky arms stretched the material taut across his shoulders. 'How am I expected to look cool in this stuff?'

'You're expected to look warm,' said Bowman. He pulled on his own parka and fastened the seal. 'These were Space Navy standard issue when the
Wayfarer
used to patrol the Iceworlds. They've got integral soft filament thermostats that will tune themselves in to your own natural body heat.'

He turned to look at the Doctor, who was struggling into one of the parkas. 'What exactly are we looking for, anyway? Ghosts?'

'No such thing,' replied the Doctor cheerfully. 'But keep an eye out for any quasi-temporal personality echoes, won't you?'

'Why? They dangerous?'

'No,' the Doctor sighed. 'I'd just like to see one, that's all.'

'So how do we find this Threshold?'

'Leave that to me.'

'Don't worry,' Bowman assured him. He rammed a charge pack into his blaster and holstered it. 'I'll be right behind you.'

The Doctor's plimsolls crunched into the snow. There was always something special about stepping onto a new planet and he tried to savour the moment.

'Move on out, dude,' said Cuttin' Edge behind him. 'There's a queue buildin' up here.'

The Doctor walked towards the remains of the city. Spires and towers and the jagged remains of rising walkways hung with long, glimmering icicles. Above him, thin strips of clouds glowed silver in the light of the stars. The planet – what was left of it – was on the edge of a vast, gaseous nebula which turned the night sky into a field of verdant, glittering green lights.

'Well?' Bowman asked, trudging through the snow.

'Fine, thanks,' nodded the Doctor. 'You?'

'Don't get funny, I'm not in the mood.'

'Where's Koral?' asked the Doctor.

'Why? Worried she isn't around to protect you?'

'No, I just thought she would enjoy a bit of shore leave. We could all do with stretching our legs.'

Bowman turned away, scanning the horizon. 'She's around. Koral likes to keep a low profile.'

'Even here?'

The Doctor was impressed. There didn't appear to be anywhere in this white wilderness that even Koral could hide.

'You'd be surprised.'

Scrum crunched his way through the snow to join them. 'Ship's secure. Any luck with the Threshold?'

'Haven't started looking yet,' said the Doctor. 'We're just admiring the view.'

'
He's
admiring the view,' grunted Bowman. 'I'm not.'

Cuttin' Edge had climbed up onto a high wall. 'Hey, guys. Check this out.'

They clambered up to join him, using a succession of broken rocks and icy ledges to reach the top. On the other side, a long, shallow ravine stretched away from them, littered with boulders and lumps of what looked like rusted machinery.

'What the hell?' growled Bowman.

'It's a road,' Scrum realised. 'Look – leading out of the city. Sweeping off in that direction. You can see where the ice has formed.'

Cuttin' Edge pointed at the machinery. 'What are they? Cars?'

'Some sort of transport, yes,' said the Doctor. 'All heading out of the city. Probably running for their lives when the planet-splitter missiles were detected heading straight for them. They never stood a chance. Clogged up with all these vehicles, the road would have become a death trap. When the missile struck, the seismic shock would have been enough to shift continental plates. Tidal waves, volcanoes, earthquakes, fire, poisonous fumes – all at once. There probably wasn't even time for all those cataclysms to have an effect. The entire planet would have broken apart, right down to the centre, like an apple hit by an axe. The atmosphere would have been torn to shreds. These people would have perished in an instant, turned to jelly by the initial shockwave.'

They stood and stared at the fossilised cars for several minutes, each trying to take in the size of the catastrophe in their own way. It was barely possible.

'Hold it,' said Cuttin' Edge, raising his assault rifle. 'Thought I saw somethin'.'

'What?' asked Scrum.