Doctor Who: Prisoner of the Daleks (18 page)

Dalek X glided over and stared intently at the image. 'W
HICH ONE IS THE
D
OC–TOR
?'

The Command Dalek indicated. The thin figure on the screen made the creature that lurked inside the bronze casing squirm. But Dalek X seemed completely unfazed. He studied the Time Lord with fierce intent, the blue light in his eye growing stronger by the second. And then, bizarrely, the Doctor looked up, straight at the camera lens. His wide, alien eyes stared out of the screen at the observers.

'H
E KNOWS THAT WE ARE OBSERVING HIM
!' said the Command Dalek.

'I
T IS UNIMPORTANT
. T
HE
D
OC–TOR HAS A HIGHER THAN AVERAGE INTELLIGENCE RATING FOR A HUMANOID
. C
ERTAIN REACTIONS ARE EXPECTED
.'

The Command Dalek touched a control and a succession of images flicked rapidly across the screen – different men: old, young, tall, short. The faces flicked past at bewildering speed. 'T
HIS PERSON DOES NOT MATCH ANY PREVIOUS IDENTIFIABLE VERSIONS OF THE
D
OC–TOR IN OUR DATABANKS
.'

'H
E CONTINUALLY CHANGES HIS PHYSICAL APPEARANCE IN A FUTILE EFFORT TO AVOID DETECTION
,' explained Dalek X. His eyestalk never left the Doctor on the screen. 'H
E HAS INTERFERED WITH
D
ALEK PLANS ON MANY OCCASIONS
. B
UT HE WILL INTERFERE NO LONGER
.'

'H
E IS RESOURCEFUL AND CUNNING
,' warned the Command Dalek.

'H
E RELIES ON FORTUITY
. H
IS ARROGANCE WILL PROVE TO BE HIS DOWNFALL
.' Dalek X turned away. 'B
RING HIM TO THE INTERROGATION CHAMBER
!'

The Doctor and Bowman had emptied their pockets to see what they could muster between them. It was the Doctor's idea; Bowman complied simply because he was too tired to argue.

On the floor in the centre of the cell was a little pile of junk: the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, his psychic paper, glasses, the TARDIS key, a pencil, a handful of strange coins, some string and a couple of rubber bands. He studied the assorted odds and ends as he chewed the earpiece on his stethoscope.

'No blaster,' observed Bowman.

'Guns are not the only weapons,' replied the Doctor tartly. 'It's all a matter of resources – and using our brains. Or rather my brain.'

'You going to take out the guard with a pencil?'

The Doctor picked through the junk. The sonic screwdriver was useless; all Dalek doors were deadlock sealed. The screwdriver wouldn't even scratch them. He picked up the TARDIS key and looked at it sadly. Then he closed his fist tightly around it. 'Come on, Doctor,
think
!'

Bowman sat back with a sigh.

'There must be more,' insisted the Doctor. 'Come on, anything. Are you sure you've checked all your pockets? No one travels that light.'

'I do.'

'You're just not trying. You've given up!'

Bowman raised an eyebrow. 'I think I gave up a long, long time ago.'

Something in his voice made the Doctor stop. He watched Bowman carefully for a second or two before saying, 'You mean when you first went on the run? I don't think Cuttin' Edge would believe that. He thinks the world of you.'

'Cuttin' Edge is just a kid.' Bowman rubbed a big hand across his eyes. 'No, I gave up long before all that.'

He reached into a side pocket and withdrew a small card. He threw it down in front of the Doctor. It was an old photograph, slightly creased and dog-eared – and the same picture that the Doctor had already seen as a hologram in Bowman's cabin aboard the
Wayfarer
. A very young, smooth-faced Jon Bowman with his proud parents.

'There,' growled Bowman. 'That's everything I have. There's nothing else.'

The Doctor picked up the photo and studied it. Bowman was smiling out from the past, caught in an unguarded moment when he knew nothing of the future. The Doctor wondered if that smile would have been so bright if he could have seen what lay ahead: older, tougher, disowned and disheartened, sitting on the floor of a Dalek prison cell.

'Ever since we came here,' said Bowman thickly, 'ever since I met
you
... I've had a feeling that this was it. The end of the line. I looked at Stella when she was lying in the sickbay and I knew – I just knew – what was coming.' He took the photo back and stared at the picture. 'The end of the line.'

'Not yet,' the Doctor said. 'You mustn't ever give up. There's always a chance.'

He grunted, unconvinced.

'Are your parents still alive?'

Bowman shrugged, 'Maybe. I haven't seen them in a long, long time. I doubt they even think of me any more. Why would they? I'm just a bad memory. When I went on the run, the army would have called on them, told them.' Bowman's words faded as his lips grew tight. He stared at the image in the photo, at the smiling eyes of his parents. He knew they weren't smiling at him.

'It's not too late...' began the Doctor.

The door to the cell suddenly whirred open, revealing two Daleks.

'End of the line, Doctor,' said Bowman.

They were taken out of the cell and marched down a series of featureless metal corridors. The Doctor could see that Bowman was getting very anxious now. His skin was a horrible grey colour, his lips compressed into a thin white line. His eyes were sunk deep into his head, full of visions of what lay ahead.

The Doctor's own hearts were hammering in his chest, the blood pounding away in his head. He was trying to think, trying to come up with a last-minute escape plan or brilliant idea, but his mind felt paralysed.

They passed a number of doorways and laboratories, with wide windows allowing views of Daleks at work: the Doctor saw one room with a native Arkheon mutant strapped to the wall, its skin glowing brightly under the harsh electric light. A Dalek opened fire at the mutant, which blackened and died like an autumn leaf. Another Dalek was calculating exactly what firepower was required to exterminate the creature.

Sickened, the Doctor looked away.

They arrived at a junction. Bowman was led to one door, while the Doctor was pushed towards another.

'Looks like this is it,' said Bowman. 'Time to give them a piece of my mind.'

The Doctor gamely tried to smile at Bowman's joke, but all he felt was a profound, helpless sadness. He swallowed with difficulty and then looked at Bowman. 'I'm sorry,' he said.

Bowman touched his forehead with a finger in ironic salute as the door began to close. 'Good luck.'

'Never give up!' the Doctor shouted after him. 'Never!'

Then the door slammed shut.

'M
OVE
!' ordered the Dalek next to him.

The Doctor drew a breath, and followed the Dalek into a darkened room. He was marched over to a metal wall and forced to stand upright against it. It felt uncomfortably like being made ready for the firing squad. His ankles and wrists were secured with tight steel bands so that he was utterly immobilised. The Daleks then withdrew and the door clanged shut behind them. The Doctor was left in complete darkness.

It was cold. He had no idea how big the room was or what else was in there with him. He couldn't see a thing. All he could hear was the heavy, metallic throb of Dalek machinery and behind that some kind of hard, electric vibration. The air tasted of static.

Something cold and metal embraced his head. The Doctor gasped as his skull was clamped into position and a hundred fine needles pricked his scalp.
This is it
, he thought, his hearts racing.
The beginning of the end
.

Eventually, a light appeared in the darkness – a blue disc. The eye of a Dalek. He sensed rather than saw the familiar shape as it circled, its single blue eye always on him.

Eventually a harsh, grating voice said, 'D
OC–TOR
...'

The lights on the Dalek's head flashed slowly, in time with each syllable. The Doctor swallowed. This Dalek was in no hurry. He licked his lips and, as brightly as he could manage, replied, 'That's me.' His voice sounded more brittle than he would have liked.

'I
AM DALEK
X.'

'Can't say I'm pleased to meet you, sorry.'

'Y
OU ARE ATTACHED TO A
D
ALEK MIND-PROBE MACHINE
. I
T HAS BEEN CALIBRATED TO YOUR SPECIFIC BRAINWAVE FREQUENCY
.'

'You won't get anything out of me,' the Doctor blurted.

'T
HAT IS NOT THE INTENTION
,' replied Dalek X. 'Y
ET
.'

The Doctor couldn't turn his head because of the mind probe. It felt like a vice clamped around his skull. A couple of extra turns on the screw would crack the bone. 'So...' he said at last, 'what do you want? If it's my secret recipe for bread and butter pudding you can forget it. I'm taking that little beauty to my grave.'

'I
INTEND TO MEASURE YOUR CAPACITY FOR PHYSICAL PAIN
,' said Dalek X.

'Oh. Why?'

'B
ECAUSE
I
WISH TO
.'

The Dalek's sucker touched a control on the mind-probe machine and turned it minutely. There was a fierce, galvanistic crackle of power, and the Doctor's body arched like a bow, straining against its bonds. A howl of anguish echoed through the darkness, torn from his lips with sudden, shocking ease.

How long it was before the control was released the Doctor could not tell. Time passed in an abstract sense amid a kaleidoscope of pain. It could have been seconds, minutes or even hours. It left him drained, limp, his hair stuck to his head with perspiration and his throat raw from screaming.

'E
XPECT NO MERCY
,' Dalek X informed him.

'I'm not stupid,' the Doctor croaked, feeling very stupid indeed. Partly because his head felt so foggy with pain but also because he couldn't for the life of him work out how it had all come to this: helpless, friendless and homeless, chained to a wall and tortured by the Devil in Dalek form. That's how Bowman had described him, and it was difficult to argue.

'D
ALEKS DO NOT SHOW MERCY
,' said Dalek X.

'Yes,' the Doctor replied. 'I know.'

'M
ERCY IS WEAKNESS
.'

'Really? Why don't you just give it a try? Go on, I won't tell anyone.' The Doctor tensed, ready for the next onslaught. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Dalek's suction arm hovering over the probe control. Any second now and he would be plunged back into the abyss of pain. 'On second thoughts, maybe I'm wasting my breath. And I've reconsidered the bread and butter pudding thing. You can have it if you want.'

'Y
OU DO NOT BEG FOR MERCY LIKE THE OTHERS
.'

'What others?'

'T
HE FUGITIVES OF
A
UROS
.'

A chill ran through the Doctor. 'Was that you?'

'I
GAVE THE ORDER FOR THE REFUGEES TO BE EXTERMINATED
,' Dalek X confirmed. 'T
HE PEOPLE OF
A
UROS HAD FLED AND LEFT THEIR PLANET IN RUINS
. T
HEY COULD HAVE BEEN SLAVES
. I
NSTEAD THEY CHOSE DEATH
.'

'No they didn't. They had no choice at all. You murdered them all in cold blood. An entire colony.'

'D
ALEKS SHOW NO MERCY
.'

'Or common sense, for that matter. Don't you realise that when news of that attack gets back to Earth they will launch a counter-offensive?' The Doctor suddenly stopped speaking and marshalled his thoughts. 'Ah. Now I see. That was the whole point, wasn't it?'

'E
ARTH
C
OMMAND WILL RESPOND AS YOU HAVE PREDICTED
. T
HE DALEKS WILL BE PREPARED
. T
HE HUMANS WILL BE CRUSHED
.'

'It's a bit desperate, though. Or is that the real reason? Are you losing the war with Earth? Is this one last shake of the dice?'

The response was unequivocal: a savage twist of the probe control and a series of wracking, nerve-shredding waves of pain. His brain felt like it was about to burst, but when the torment ended the Doctor was laughing.

'That's it, isn't it?' he panted, his breath ragged and thin. 'You're losing! This whole plan – the slaughter of the Auros fugitives, the attempt to break through the Arkheon Threshold... it's a last-ditch attempt to worm your way out of defeat.
Well it won't work!
'

He lifted his head and yelled the last four words.

'Y
OU UNDERESTIMATE OUR POWER
,' grated Dalek X. 'Y
OU DO NOT REALISE WHAT THE
A
RKHEON
T
HRESHOLD MEANS TO US – AND TO THE REST OF THE UNIVERSE
.'

'Well I'm a bit of an expert on time travel and that sort of thing, and I can tell you it won't work. I was there, on Skaro, right at the very beginning when you lot were first slugging it out with the Thals and losing. And I'll be there right at the end, too – and guess what? You lose. Again.'

'I
N THIS UNIVERSE
,' conceded the Dalek. 'B
UT NOT IN THE NEXT
.'

Another chill of fear passed through the Doctor. His mind was racing. 'If you think you can use the Arkheon Threshold to change the entire universe, you're mistaken.'

'W
E WILL CHANGE HISTORY
.'

'But you'd need a massive power source to break down the Threshold. It's a minor fissure in space-time. A dead end. Blink and you'd miss it. What makes
you
think you've got what it takes?'

Dalek X approached the wall, his eyestalk boring into the Doctor. 'I
WILL SHOW YOU
.'

The Doctor was released from the mind probe. He sagged for a second as the bonds slid away, but then stood up stiffly, rubbing his wrists. He felt unsteady on his feet but tried not to show it, ruffling his hair back into its usual spiky fringe and clearing his throat. 'Find anything?' he asked, giving the probe a tap with his knuckle.

'
THE MIND PROBE CONFIRMS THAT YOU ARE THE
T
IME
L
ORD KNOWN AS THE
D
OC–TOR
. B
UT YOU DO NOT MATCH ANY OF THE PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS WE CURRENTLY HOLD IN OUR DATABASE
.'

'Oh, shame. Maybe your records aren't as up to date as you think.'

Dalek X swivelled round to glare at him. 'T
HE MOST LIKELY CONCLUSION IS THAT YOU ARE FROM THE FUTURE
.'

'What?' The Doctor looked horrified. 'Don't be ridiculous! As if!'

'I
T HAS HAPPENED BEFORE
.'

The Doctor pursed his lips. 'Ah, well, yes, now you mention it... but never mind. I hate all that continuity stuff. Tell me all about your plans for the Arkheon Threshold instead. That's much more interesting.'

Dalek X led the Doctor out of the mind-probe chamber into a long, low room with a wide viewing window stretched across the far wall. The room was in darkness, but there was a flickering orange glow coming through the window, as if it overlooked a furnace. The Doctor strolled across to the window and found himself looking out across a vast, subterranean vault. Dark crags were separated by winding, straggling rivers of molten rock. Daleks hovered amid clouds of sulphurous smoke, overlooking a hundred or more human slaves as they toiled in the searing conditions.

'Your own private view of Hades?' asked the Doctor as Dalek X joined him.

'W
E ARE CLOSE TO THE MAGNETIC CORE OF
A
RKHEON
,' Dalek X replied. Lit from below by the bubbling red light, his black and gold casing appeared to run with blood.

'Getting humans to do your dirty work again, eh? It's always the same with you lot. Of course, I blame the suckers.'

'E
XPLAIN
.'

'I mean,' the Doctor said, 'does stealing planetary cores really compensate for having no hands?'

'I
F THE
D
ALEKS ARE TO ACHIEVE TOTAL UNIVERSAL DOMINATION AND TAKE OUR RIGHTFUL PLACE AS THE SUPREME BEINGS THEN WE MUST MASTER TIME TRAVEL
,' said Dalek X. 'T
HAT THE
T
IME
L
ORDS HAVE FAILED TO ACHIEVE THE SAME GOAL IS A SIGN OF THEIR WEAKNESS AND INFERIORITY
.'

'Or perhaps a sign that they don't want to rule the universe.'

'T
HEN THEY WILL CAPITULATE TO THE POWER OF THE
D
ALEKS
.'