Prisoner of the Daleks

by Trevor Baxendale

  Bowman did not reply. He merely looked the Dalek straight in the eye, his face as impassive as rock.

  The Dalek moved a little closer, and then rasped, almost gloatingly, 'THE INFORMATION YOU POSSESS WILL SERVE THE DALEKS. IT WILL BE USED TO AID US IN OUR VICTORY AND HELP IN THE DESTRUCTION OF THE HUMAN RACE.'

  'Yeah, right,' Bowman grunted. 'Tell me something I don't know.'

  'YOU WILL OBEY THE DALEKS!'

  Bowman raised an eyebrow. 'That a fact? What if I choose not to? What if I say you can take your gun-stick and—'

  'SILENCE!'

  'Why? What are you going to do to me, Dalek? I'm too valuable for you to exterminate. You need me alive for interrogation, remember? To help you wipe out mankind or something.'

  The Dalek quivered, its arm and gun twitching with annoyance. The lights on its head flashed manically as it replied: 'YOU WILL BE MADE TO COOPERATE. IF NECESSARY YOU WILL BE PERMANENTLY DISABLED AND TAKEN TO THE INTERROGATION CHAMBER BY FORCE.'

  Bowman straightened up, squaring his shoulders. 'Forget it. I'll walk. Which way is this interrogation chamber, anyway?'

  Once again, the Doctor felt like he wanted to punch the air. There was Scrum, murdered in cold blood, and Cuttin' Edge with his legs paralysed, about to be dragged off with Koral to who knew what. But Bowman, the great, bloody-minded, thick-skinned and irresistible human being that he was, had still found a way to maintain his dignity.

  Koral had other ideas. She tried to free herself from the grip of her guards, but it was useless. Not even her alien sinews could break the grip of the Dalek claws. She pulled towards Bowman, her spine bent like a bow and her fangs bared, but it was no good.

  Bowman saw her and just shook his head. 'I'll be OK,' he lied.

  'No,' Koral said. Her voice came out as a pathetic croak. She turned to the Doctor. 'Please... You can't let them take him away.'

  The Doctor swallowed. 'I can't stop them, Koral.'

  'You can! You know you can!'

  He shook his head. 'I can't.'

  'What's she talkin' about, man?' asked Cuttin' Edge. 'What's she sayin'?'

  The Doctor looked away. 'Nothing. She doesn't know what she's talking about.'

  'I do!' Koral's eyes flamed. She looked across at Bowman, who stood watching with a slightly puzzled frown on his old, craggy face. Then she turned back to the Doctor. 'You know the future. You've seen it. You know what happens. You know more than him.'

  'Koral, stop it,' ordered the Doctor. 'You don't understand!'

  'I understand that they are going to take him and cut out his brain!' Koral yelled. 'And you're just standing there, letting them do it! And he doesn't know anything. Not compared with you!'

  The Doctor took a step towards her. Around them, all the Daleks had also turned to watch the altercation. 'It doesn't work like that. I can't let that happen.'

  This time Koral did not reply. She simply stared at the Doctor, a look of utter desperation on her face.

  The Doctor looked away.

  Bowman caught his eye and shook his head slowly. His meaning was clear: don't do it.

  'TAKE JON BOWMAN TO THE INTERROGATION LEVEL,' ordered the Command Dalek.

  Two Daleks began to herd Bowman towards a ramp leading further down into the Dalek base. He walked ahead of them, head high and shoulders squared. He didn't look back.

  'Wait,' said the Doctor.

  The Command Dalek swung round to face him.

  The Doctor cleared his throat. 'Can I have a private word?'

  'SPEAK,' ordered the Dalek.

  'Well, this is probably going to be a bit embarrassing...'

  'EXPLAIN!'

  'Look, I really hate it when people say this sort of thing, but... Do you know who I am?'

  The Dalek said nothing. It simply stared.

  The Doctor stepped towards it, lowering his head slightly so that his mouth was level with the Dalek's neck grille. Ignoring the oily, noxious vapour that came from within, he leant a little closer.

  And whispered something.

  The effect on the Dalek was literally electric. Its head lamps flashed involuntarily and it suddenly jerked away, arm, gun and eye quivering like the antennae of an alarmed cockroach.

  'ALERT!' it cried, head spinning from side to side. 'ALERT! SCAN THIS PRISONER!'

  Two Daleks glided forward, suckers extended.

  The Doctor stood, hands held wide. 'Come on,' he said with a smile and a wink. 'You know you want to.'

  The sucker arms scanned his body up and down and then both Daleks became agitated. Ever so slightly, they seemed to move back, giving the prisoner a little more space. 'Emergency!' one of them shrieked. 'EMERGENCY! IT IS THE DOC–TOR!'

  'It's the twin hearts, isn't it?' asked the Doctor. 'They're such a giveaway.'

  Several Daleks took up the chant, a note of hysteria entering their voices: 'It is the Doc–tor! IT IS THE DOC–TOR!'

  'Please,' smiled the Doctor modestly. 'No autographs.'

  The Command Dalek aimed its blaster at the Doctor. 'DO NOT MOVE! DO NOT MOVE! YOU ARE THE DOC–TOR! YOU ARE AN ENEMY OF THE DALEKS. YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!'

  'Oh, come off it. Not before you've had a chance to interrogate me, surely?' The Doctor looked around the assembled Daleks. 'At least a quick question-and-answer session. No?'

  Throughout the vast, metallic cavern, a ripple of agitation spread through the Dalek ranks, with the Doctor at its very centre.

  Despite himself, Cuttin' Edge was impressed. 'Dude, you got some serious presence. What the hell did you say to them?'

  'Just enough to make Space Major Bowman look like third prize in the Christmas raffle. Sorry about that.' The Doctor turned to Bowman with an apologetic shrug. 'I'm afraid they're not going to be all that interested in you now. Try not to feel too downhearted.'

  'I always knew there was something you weren't telling us,' replied Bowman. 'Turns out you're Dalek Enemy Number One. Congratulations.'

  The Doctor nodded sadly. 'I know. Funny how things turn out, isn't it?'

  'SILENCE!' shouted the Command Dalek. 'DO NOT SPEAK! YOU ARE A PRISONER OF THE DALEKS! YOU WILL BE TAKEN FOR INTERROGATION! AND THEN YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED! EXTERMINATED!'

  'You always make me feel so welcome.'

  This was now altogether too much for the Dalek. Its sucker arm thudded into the Doctor's stomach and he folded, the wind whooshing out of him. As he lay on the floor, gasping for air, the Command Dalek turned back to Bowman. 'You will be taken to await your interrogation. The other members of your crew will be taken to work in the core mines.'

  Two Daleks lifted Cuttin' Edge and, dangling him like a puppet, took him away with Koral, heading for a doorway that led deeper into the prison.

  Koral looked back at Bowman, shouting, 'I will come back for you!'

  And then the door closed and Bowman knew that would be the last he ever saw of her.

  SEVENTEEN

  The Doctor was marched into a security room to be scanned again. Though he was naturally optimistic, even he had to admit that things weren't looking too good right now. He was uncomfortably reminded of an electric chair as he was forced to sit down in the machine.

  The equipment hummed and circular screens around the scanning area filled with information as the Doctor was examined on a molecular level. Daleks roved around the room, checking instruments and displays. The atmosphere was electric, in more ways than one: the Doctor could tell that his arrival had really set the cat among the pigeons.

  The Command Dalek glided forward. 'YOU WILL BE TAKEN TO A MAXIMUM-SECURITY HOLDING CHAMBER TO AWAIT FULL INTERROGATION.'

  'Really, I don't want to put you to any trouble...' said the Doctor.

  'NOTIFICATION OF YOUR CAPTURE HAS REACHED SKARO.'

  'Ah. Well, they say bad news travels fast.'

  'THE SUPREME DALEK HAS AUTHORISED THE PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE UNIT TO EXTRACT ALL NECESSARY INTELLIGENCE VIA MIND PROBE EXTRACTION. THE PROCEDURE WILL ULTIMATELY PROVE FATAL. THE INTERROGATION WILL BE LED BY TH
E DALEK INQUISITOR GENERAL.'

  The Doctor raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'You mean the Supreme Dalek has sent someone to question me? That's an insult. It's outrageous. The least he could do was come himself. Better fish to fry, has he?'

  The Command Dalek's eye loomed large as it drew closer, the lights on its head flashing with calculated menace. 'THE SUPREME DALEK IS FULLY ENGAGED DIRECTING THE WAR AGAINST EARTH! BUT BY THE TIME THE INQUISITOR GENERAL HAS COMPLETED YOUR INTERROGATION, YOU WILL WISH THE SUPREME DALEK HAD COME HERE!'

  Koral tried to blank Bowman from her mind. She had been consumed by rage and fear in the reception area, and it could have cost her everything. She had to stay alive and get back to him, somehow. The Doctor had diverted the Daleks' attention, but Koral knew it was only a temporary reprieve.

  The base crackled with static electricity and the metallic air smelled of machine oil and hate. Cuttin' Edge could barely walk and he was forced to lean on Koral for support. They staggered slightly as the lift that carried them down into the prison vaults slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. The Daleks pushed them out onto a narrow walkway overlooking a vast cavern. Its rough-hewn walls rose up to a jagged, cathedral arch of stalactites.

  It was incredibly hot. Emerging from the lift had been like stepping into an oven. As they moved down the ramp, descending through a layer of thick, searing mist, the ground suddenly came into view: irregular blocks of black granite separated by streams of bubbling, red-hot lava and volcanic slag.

  And all around, everywhere, there were people: human beings manacled together and set to work with pickaxes and shovels, breaking rocks and carrying them to heavy, primitive barrows.

  Floating through the clouds of steam and hovering over the glowing lava were Dalek guards, their bronze armour plate pockmarked and stained, their domes constantly revolving, looking for signs of trouble or weakness from the slaves. The blue eyes shone out of the burning haze with deadly, implacable purpose.

  'WORK UNIT DELTA,' grated one of the Daleks. 'YOUR PRODUCTION RATE HAS DROPPED BELOW MINIMUM TOLERANCE. YOUR OUTPUT IS UNSATISFACTORY!'

  Four men looked up fearfully as the Dalek approached. They were thin, emaciated, clearly exhausted – and all chained together. One of the men, a few wisps of grey hair left on his skull, simply sat down heavily on a nearby rock and put his face in his hands. 'I can't go on...'

  'It's not our fault!' cried one of the other men. He was younger, healthier. He pointed at the weakened old man on the rock, his chains rattling as he moved. 'He's holding us all back. He can't work any longer. He's sick!'

  'INEFFICIENT WORK UNITS WILL BE REPLACED,' said the Dalek remorselessly.

  Two more Daleks descended slowly to join the first. 'EXTERMINATE!'

  They opened fire without another word, shooting all four members of the slave group. The men screamed and twisted in the blaze of energy and then sank into the lava. Within minutes, they had disappeared, leaving nothing but a layer of bubbling slime on the surface of the molten rock and the stench of roasting meat in the air.

  'STEP FORWARD,' ordered the Dalek who had brought Koral and Cuttin' Edge to the mine.

  They shuffled forward, Koral trying to keep Cuttin' Edge on his feet. His legs were shaking as he tried to walk.

  The mine Dalek swung around, glaring at them both for a long moment before saying, 'YOU WILL NOW BE WORK UNIT DELTA.'

  'This man is injured,' Koral pointed out. 'His legs have been damaged. He cannot work.'

  'THEN HE WILL BE EXTERMINATED!'

  'No, wait!' cried Cuttin' Edge, raising a hand. 'Wait. I'll be OK. I can work.'

  'CAN YOU STAND UNAIDED?' grated the Dalek.

  'Yeah.'

  Cuttin' Edge let go of Koral's arm. His teeth were bared – he was clearly in great pain – but he managed to stand on his own two feet. Koral could see that Cuttin' Edge simply wasn't going to give the Daleks the satisfaction of killing of him.

  'SATISFACTORY,' droned the Dalek.

  Cuttin' Edge smiled through the pain.

  'Damn right.'

  Bowman paced back and forth like a wild animal in a cage. The cell was no more than a few metres square, solid walls and floor. No windows. A harsh white light beat down on his head.

  Two narrow benches ran along opposite walls. Bowman tried sitting down but he couldn't keep skill. The anger inside him raged like a beast. He wanted to punch the walls, kick the door, tear apart the first thing that came through it with his bare hands.

  The cell door hummed open and the Doctor was thrown inside. He hit the floor heavily and groaned. The door closed behind him with a solid clang.

  Bowman stalked backwards and forwards but made no attempt to help him up.

  The Doctor crawled up onto a bench and stared at Bowman for a full minute before saying, 'All that pacing up and down is going to wear you out. It's making me tired just watching you.'

  'Shut up.'

  'Sorry. What are you doing, thinking up a way to escape?'

  'You don't escape from a place like this,' Bowman snarled back. 'You just wait until they come and kill you.'

  The Doctor blew out his cheeks in a long sigh. 'You're a big comfort, aren't you? Some cellmate.'

  'I'm just telling it like it is.'

  'Sounds more like you're giving in.'

  'Don't you see?' Bowman suddenly roared. 'Don't you care? They're gonna rip our brains out! It's the end of the line!'

  'Well, technically, they're going to take my brain apart neuron by neuron. But yes, they'll probably just rip yours out.' Under his breath, the Doctor added, 'If they can find it...'

  'You think this is all one big joke, don't you?'

  The Doctor stretched out his legs and folded his arms. 'No. I think it's a disaster. And, worst of all, I should have seen it coming.'

  'What?'

  'We've been set up. This was a trap all along. A great big gold-plated trap. With the words "this is a trap" written on it in mile-high luminous letters. And we just walked right into it.'

  Bowman frowned dangerously. 'What the hell do you mean?'

  'The Dalek on the Wayfarer,' explained the Doctor. 'It tricked us. When it finally talked, it left us just enough clues to lead us here, to Arkheon.'

  'You mean it tricked you,' Bowman said. 'You brought us here, remember.'

  'Yeah, well, if you want to point the finger, then maybe – maybe – I should have seen it coming. I did exactly what I told you not to – which is underestimate the Daleks. They're always thinking, always conniving, always planning. You can't trust them an inch. Even in its last, dying moments that Dalek – having been torn out of its life-support machine and tortured – managed to trick us. Sold us half a line about the Arkheon Threshold and left my imagination to do the rest. It knew who I was, it knew who you were. And it tricked us into taking ourselves straight to the biggest Dalek prison this side of Skaro.' The Doctor's eyes narrowed as he stared into space. 'Clever, that. Really, really clever.'

  Bowman leant down so that he was right in the Doctor's face. 'For your information, I don't admire the Daleks. Never have done. I respect them, but I don't admire them.'

  The Doctor smiled. 'Nah. It's not respect, Bowman. It's fear.'

  'What did you say?'

  'I said it's fear. That's what you're feeling now.'

  'No chance.'

  'It's fear of what the Daleks can do to you, of what they can do to your friends and family and loved ones. What they can do to all of us – everyone and everything that isn't a Dalek. Cos you know they won't stop until they're the only creatures left in the universe.'

  'The supreme beings?' Bowman sneered. 'In their dreams.'

  'That's more like it,' grinned the Doctor. 'There's life in the old dog yet.'

  In the caverns, two more prisoners – a woman and a girl – were marched over to where Cuttin' Edge and Koral stood. Manacles and chains were quickly fixed to their wrists and ankles so that all four were bound together. The woman and the girl clung to each other, not even loo
king up.

  'YOUR TASK IS TO REMOVE ROCK DEBRIS FROM THE DRILL AREA,' a Dalek informed them. 'IF YOU DO NOT WORK HARD ENOUGH YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!'

  Cuttin' Edge looked at the woman and the girl. They were probably mother and daughter, the girl perhaps only eleven or twelve years old. Both kept their heads down. Cuttin' Edge felt his stomach churn with anger.

  'You gotta be kiddin',' he told the Dalek. 'They can't work. She's only a kid.'

  The Dalek glided forward, gun-stick revolving in its socket. 'The Daleks do not make exceptions. You are to work as a unit. If you fail you will be exterminated.'

  'I'm tellin' you, she can't work—'

  'DO NOT ARGUE WITH THE DALEKS! YOU WILL OBEY!'

  Cuttin' Edge felt a cool hand on his arm. It was the woman – looking up at him through a thin curtain of dirty hair with imploring eyes. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. The meaning was clear. Be quiet, please. Don't argue. Don't provoke them.

  The woman had kept one arm tight around the girl's shoulders, holding her close. She was doing her best to protect her daughter. The anger in Cuttin' Edge's guts turned into a sense of helplessness. He looked back at the Dalek, but its single blue eye only blazed, challenging him, daring him to argue. Wanting him to argue.

  'OK,' he muttered. 'OK. You win. For now. We'll move rocks.'

  'SPEAK LOUDER,' grated the Dalek.

  'I said OK! We'll work!'

  Cuttin' Edge turned to Koral. She was staring listlessly at the rocky ground, the chains hanging heavily on her wrists. She looked utterly defeated.

  'Hey, don't let your head go down, babe,' he said quietly. 'Come on. Let's go.'

  Cuttin' Edge had been leaning on Koral for support, but his legs were now full of an agonising pins and needles sensation, which he presumed was a good sign. It meant that the feeling was finally coming back. He could walk a little, although it was still painful.

  'I can manage,' he told Koral quietly. 'Don't help me any more. If they think I can't walk on my own they'll shoot, remember.'

  Koral nodded and let him stand unaided. Cuttin' Edge took a deep breath. The nerves in his legs felt like they were burning up. But he was determined to walk alone. That's what Jon Bowman would have done.