Prisoner of the Daleks

by Trevor Baxendale

  'Oh, it's not space I'm worried about,' said the Doctor, lost in thought. 'The TARDIS seems to have slipped a time track... I've travelled back in the Daleks' own time line to way back when.'

  'I thought Scrum talked funny, but you beat him hands down, dude.'

  'I really shouldn't be here,' said the Doctor seriously. He almost seemed to be talking to himself. 'I mean, this is wrong in so many ways. I've gone back to a point before the Time War even started, and that's impossible. Well, I say impossible. Clearly it's not impossible. I'm here and so are the Daleks, right in the middle of the great conflict with Earth's first Empire.'

  'You ain't making any sense at all.'

  'What year is it, Cuttin' Edge?'

  'You were only in that cell for five days. Get a grip.'

  'Just answer the question.'

  Such was the severity in the Doctor's voice that Cuttin' Edge answered automatically.

  'Ahh,' said the Doctor, nodding slowly as realisation dawned. 'Let me guess: the Daleks are rampaging through the galaxy. The Earth Empire is resisting them in every way it can, but the battles rage on year after year across all the solar systems. Some humans have never known a time when they've not been at war with the Daleks.'

  'Guess so.'

  'The Dalek Generation. But you've reached the tipping point, haven't you? Two mighty galactic powers, facing off across the stars. Two giant superpowers vying for supremacy, slugging it out planet by planet. It could go either way.'

  'That's about the size of it. We're doin' what we can out here on the edge, raiding Dalek space, messin' with their supply lines. Earning a living.'

  'You've chosen a harsh life.'

  'Never known any other kind. I was brought up on Gauda Prime and we're born fightin' there. Regular army couldn't stomach me – said I was too much of a loose cannon, an' I wouldn't let them recondition me.'

  'Good for you. It's always best to just say no.'

  'Ended up on the Wayfarer with Captain Bowman. There ain't nothin' he don't know about killin' Daleks.'

  'Then we've more in common than I thought,' the Doctor commented drily.

  'Hey, Bowman's all right. He's a soldier's soldier, if you know what I mean. They don't come any tougher than Jon Bowman. He was a trooper in Earth Force One, back in the day. A veteran of the Draconian Conflicts too. They say he was on the front line at Tartarus. He's an expert in weapons an' tactics and he was stickin' it to Skaro's finest before I was out of short pants.'

  'I'm glad to hear it. Don't think he likes me much.'

  Cuttin' Edge looked away. 'We all liked Stella. She was one of the good guys. Captain Bowman was like a father to her.'

  'I'm sorry.'

  The door hissed open and Scrum came in. He nodded at Cuttin' Edge but avoided looking at the Doctor. 'Skipper says we're going back to Auros.'

  'Auros?' repeated the Doctor.

  'Stella's planet,' explained Scrum bleakly. 'We're taking her home.'

  FIVE

  Auros was one of the colony worlds that formed the backbone of the Human Empire. Even at the Wayfarer's top speed, it would take the best part of a day to get there. Bowman remained in his cabin, while Stella's body was stowed in the medical bay, cryogenically frozen in the same way as the Dalek. No one appreciated the irony, least of all the Doctor.

  He paid his respects. She was lying peacefully on the narrow examination couch, arms folded across her chest, looking like a marble effigy on a tomb. Her skin was as white and perfect as alabaster, covered by a thin veil of freezing mist.

  He wanted to say he was sorry, but what would be the point? She was gone. Whatever had made Stella unique was no longer here. Her body remained, but the person – the intelligence, the good humour, the courage that he had glimpsed so briefly – they were gone from the universe for ever. It was something the Doctor would never truly understand.

  'You really liked her, didn't you?' Scrum asked from the passageway. There wasn't room for more than two people at a time in the medical cabin.

  'Yes,' replied the Doctor. 'I did. She reminded me of someone... something... I miss.'

  'She was good company.'

  The Doctor bit his lip and nodded. 'Yeah, I bet she was.'

  'Doesn't do to dwell,' Scrum said. 'She's going home, that's all we need to know.'

  'Does she have any family?'

  'No, I don't think so.'

  'That's good.'

  Scrum shrugged. 'Never really thought about it. So many people are orphans now.'

  'Because of the Daleks?'

  'Yes. They call it the Dalek Generation.'

  'I know.'

  Scrum cleared his throat, clearly wishing to change the subject.

  The Doctor looked up and forced a smile. 'Has Cuttin' Edge managed to fix that airlock door yet?'

  'He's working on it.'

  'Not too hard I hope.'

  'He'll have it fixed in time for us to land on Auros. You can get off there.'

  The Doctor nodded. 'I'll need to get back to Hurala. My ship is still there.'

  'Hurala will be crawling with Daleks.'

  'That's what worries me.'

  The Doctor followed Scrum down the narrow passageway to the galley area. He could hear the sound of Cuttin' Edge's tools further down the corridor by the airlock. Glancing along the passage, the Doctor was surprised to see that the Dalek had gone.

  'We had to move it,' Scrum explained. 'Cuttin' Edge didn't have any room to work.'

  'That was risky,' said the Doctor. 'Even a dead Dalek is dangerous. They've got a hundred different automatic defences.'

  'It's all right, we didn't even touch it. I used a couple of cargo grapplers to shift it down to the hold. Besides which I think that cryo-charge has completely disabled the thing. It didn't even twitch when Cuttin' Edge took its eyestalk off.'

  The Doctor stopped in his tracks. 'He did what?'

  'Cut off the eyestalk. You know, for the bounty.'

  'I told him not to do that.'

  Scrum looked at the Doctor, a little bemused. 'Doctor, he doesn't take his orders from you. Captain Bowman is in charge here, in case you hadn't noticed. And the bounty on those things is what keeps us alive. It's a confirmed kill, and that's what Earth Command pays us for. We deliver that eyestalk to the authorities on Auros and we can afford to eat again.'

  The Doctor said nothing. He sat down in the galley, tight-lipped.

  Scrum sat down opposite him. 'I've been thinking about that Dalek, actually. It's not often I get the chance to look at one up close – at least, not for long. There must be a lot of stuff I could learn from it, if I could take it apart.'

  'Don't even think about it,' warned the Doctor darkly.

  'It's dead. I could crack it open with the right tools.'

  The Doctor stared at him. 'Believe me, you really don't want to do that. Every Dalek has defences against that sort of thing. It would be like playing with a live hand grenade. The creature inside may be dead, but that casing is chock full of anti-handling devices and booby traps that would make your hair curl. There are enough self-destruct mechanisms packed inside one of those things to keep a team of bomb-disposal experts happy for a month.'

  'But while it's here—'

  'Forget it. As soon as that airlock door is fixed, dump it in deep space and forget it about. Consider yourselves lucky that we didn't all end up like Stella.'

  The Doctor regretted the outburst straightaway, but it was too late. Scrum stared coldly at him for a minute or two and then got up to leave.

  'If Bowman has his way, you'll follow that Dalek straight out of the airlock.'

  The Doctor raised an eyebrow. 'I thought only pirates made people walk the plank.'

  'Just remember, Doctor – Stella was our mate. She was one of us. You aren't.'

  Scrum went out, leaving the Doctor sitting in the galley alone.

  Cuttin' Edge was working on the door. The outer bulkhead had been slightly distorted, causing the running tracks for the main airlock t
o jam. He had the tools to fix it, but the truth was, he just couldn't concentrate.

  All he could think about was Stella. All he could hear was the shrill scream of the Dalek's death ray, and the equally shrill scream of his friend as she died, spread-eagled against the wall by the sheer force of the energy blast. All he could see when he closed his eyes was the brilliant blue flare, and Stella's skull, thrown back with its jaws wide open.

  His hand slipped and he barked his knuckles on the metal grating of the deck. He swore and then threw the gravity spanner across the passageway, where it hit the floor with a heavy clang.

  'You'll get me next time,' said Scrum. The spanner had just missed his foot as he came round the corner.

  Cuttin' Edge shook his head. 'I can't do this.'

  'Course you can. You've been taking this old crate apart and putting it back together for years. We both have.'

  'I don't mean that. I can fix this thing in my sleep.' Cuttin' Edge heaved a sigh and sat back on his haunches, resting his muscular arms on his knees. 'I mean... Hell, I don't know what I mean.'

  'We fight Daleks for a living,' said Scrum quietly. 'We could be killed any day, any one of us. You know that. We all know that – Stella did too.'

  'That don't make it any easier. She never wanted to be part of this, not like us. Her dyin' like that – it just feels wrong, bro.'

  'I know what you mean.' Scrum sat down on the deck opposite him and reached into a belt pouch. He produced a small metal flask, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip. 'Here.' He passed it to Cuttin' Edge.

  'What is it?'

  'It's an old Earth drink. Very old. It's expensive, because it's so rare.'

  Cuttin' Edge raised the flask, swallowed, and almost choked. 'Hey – what the hell is that stuff? Damn' near killed me!'

  'Consider it medicinal.'

  Cuttin' Edge took another sip and then gagged and blinked. 'What's it called?'

  'Ginger beer.'

  'Sure has a kick.'

  'I only use it for special occasions.' Scrum took the flask back and drank again. 'To Stella – one of the good guys.'

  'Amen to that.'

  They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, passing the flask back and forth. Eventually Scrum put the lid back on and stowed it away. 'What do you make of that Doctor?' he asked.

  'Well, he sure ain't no pirate,' said Cuttin' Edge. 'But other than that – I don't know. I don't understand half of what he says. He's a bit like you, in that respect, only better lookin'.'

  Scrum sniffed. 'He knows things.'

  'Like what?'

  'About the Daleks – stuff he isn't telling us.'

  'Maybe. It don't really matter, though – either way, Bowman's gonna kick his bony butt off the ship as soon as, and a good thing too.'

  'Why do you say that?'

  Cuttin' Edge leant forward. 'Because whatever, or whoever, he is – he's brought us nothin' but bad luck.'

  The Doctor had decided that there was no point in sitting in the galley doing nothing but look morose. He was stuck on the Wayfarer at least until it reached Auros, and so he might as well get his bearings. Besides, he couldn't resist having a little look around. Which, he reflected, is what had got him into this mess in the first place.

  The first thing he decided to do was check out the engine room. It was a small ship, but powerful, and he wondered what kind of propulsion system it used. Not many spacecraft of this era relied on antiquated fuel systems like astronic recharge.

  On the way to the engine room he passed by the hold, and the Doctor couldn't help but pause to look in through the plastic window in the door.

  There was the Dalek, like some terrifying ice sculpture, glistening in the cargo bay lights. Where the eyestalk should have been attached to the dome, there was only the stub of the pivot nestling in its metal cowl. A couple of wires and fibre-optic filaments dangled from the hole.

  Even robbed of its eye, the Dalek looked dangerous. The very shape of it chilled the Doctor to the bone. He had too many bad memories, too many nightmares, to feel anything but revulsion.

  And fear.

  He took a deep breath and the little window clouded over slightly, obscuring the frost-whitened demon within. It was only that which prevented the Doctor from spotting the single drop of water that fell from the rim of the Dalek's sucker arm.

  The engine room was a little further on, to the rear, or aft, section of the vessel. The closer the Doctor got to the heavy astronic motors, the more he could feel the vibration through the soles of his trainers. The noise level increased too. He thought he could detect a slightly irregular beat coming from the coolant pumps, and felt a flicker of interest – it almost certainly meant a problem with the regulator valves, and perhaps he could fix them, or improve them, and thus gain some points with the rest of the Wayfarer crew.

  But something caught his eye as he approached the engine room. Further down the corridor, there was a movement in the shadows.

  'Hello?' he said, trying to see what it was. It was dark down here, the passageways lit only by a series of small amber lights running at shoulder height along the walls. Thick cables and pipes ran the length of the ceiling and steam from the coolant pumps floated up through the deck plates, a sure sign that the regulator valves were worn.

  'Anyone there?'

  The Doctor caught a brief glimpse of something lithe and dark, with bared fangs glinting in the lights – and then it was on top of him, bearing him to the ground with an angry snarl.

  SIX

  'Captain wants to see you,' it said in a sibilant whisper, completely at odds with the ferocious beast the Doctor had been expecting.

  He frowned. 'What?'

  'I said, the captain wants to see you,' repeated the alien sitting on his chest.

  He lay there for another moment, unable to think of a suitable reply.

  'What?' he said again, eventually.

  She jumped off his chest. When the steam from the coolant pumps had drifted away, the Doctor saw a tawny, humanoid figure with a pair of luminous eyes. He scrambled to his feet, straightening his jacket in an attempt to regain some of his dignity, and peered at the strange, leonine face.

  'Do you attack all your guests like that?'

  'It depends.' Again, the reply was barely more than a whisper.

  'Depends on what?'

  'On whether I like them or not.'

  'I see,' said the Doctor, rubbing his throat. Only seconds before, he'd been convinced this creature was going to rip it out with her bare teeth. 'I take it you don't like me much, then.'

  'If I didn't like you, you'd be dead already.'

  She turned and led the way down the passageway, disappearing into the shadows.

  'Right,' said the Doctor. 'That's that clear, then.'

  Bowman was sitting at his desk, cleaning a large automatic blaster. He didn't look up at the Doctor until the door hissed shut behind him.

  'Doctor,' said Bowman eventually. He said the word as if it tasted bad.

  'Captain.'

  'It's been a long time since I was entitled to any kind of rank,' he said. 'I'm captain here only because the Wayfarer's my ship – and this is my crew. Officially, we don't exist.'

  'You're mercenaries.'

  'Bounty hunters.' Bowman sat back and folded his arms, the muscles rippling beneath skin tanned by the suns of a hundred different worlds. There were signs of many old wounds, and one livid white scar on his forearm. 'Mercenaries will work for whoever pays them the most. We hunt Daleks, and Earth rewards us for every kill. There's a difference.'

  'If you say so.'

  'I do. We work for Earth Command and no one else.'

  'I know Earth Command. They're running scared. The Daleks are engaging them on every front, pushing back the boundaries of Earth control. And now Earth's prepared to use any and every method to stop the Daleks in their tracks – even mercenaries. Or bounty hunters.'

  'You say that like it's a bad thing.'

  'The problem
is escalation. Tit-for-tat raids in the border regions, no one really cares. But then a planet gets wiped out and suddenly it's all over the news. But it's no use trying to hold back the Daleks with a bunch of willing cut-throats on the front line. Earth will have to send in troops – thousands of 'em. Half of them will be no more than kids themselves, joining up because they think it's the right thing to do.'

  'And you don't think it is?'

  'I don't believe in innocent people getting slaughtered.'

  'The Daleks want to conquer our entire galaxy. We have to fight them.'

  'Of course you do. But it's the way you fight them that matters. They want to drag you into a long, drawn-out war because that's what they like. Destruction, killing, slaughter – extermination. It's what they do. You're playing right into their hands. Suckers. Whatever.'

  'You seem to know a lot about them.'

  'Enough to know that, eventually, if you're not careful, the Daleks will drag you all down fighting. Every single human being. It's what they want.'

  Bowman watched the Doctor carefully, as if weighing up his words and trying to decide whether to question him further or just shoot him on the spot. There was an unreadable, stony look in the captain's eyes that told the Doctor it could easily go either way. But at that moment there was a distinct change in the background rumble of the Wayfarer's engines as the ship altered course. The intercom on Bowman's desk bleeped and Scrum's voice said, 'Just entering the Auros system, skipper.'

  'OK,' Bowman replied. 'Let me know when we're coming into orbit.' Then he turned back to the Doctor and said, 'Sit down.'

  There was a seat in front of Bowman's desk and the Doctor sat, lifting his feet and resting his trainers casually on the edge of the desk. Something caught his eye immediately, and he reached out to pick up the holopicture. 'Aww, is this your mum and dad? That's so sweet! You've got your mum's eyes, you know. Only she doesn't seem to be frowning so much in that picture. Bet she doesn't even know what you do for a living. Bounty hunter, eh?'

  'Put that down,' growled Bowman.