Doctor Who: The Dalek Generation

by Nicholas Briggs

  The people in the crowd started to scoff now. Some were openly hurling abuse.

  ‘And I have no doubt that unless we all band together to take action, many more people will be killed by the Daleks,’ said the screen Doctor. ‘So I urge you. Stand with me and—’

  One of the crowd members had stepped forward, jabbed at an on-screen control and changed the channel. The crowd let out a huge cheer of approval as the latest edition of How Nice Is Your Brain? started. A high-energy theme tune with a bewilderingly fast bass line and a cloying, chiming melody of tinkling bells and bizarrely ascending strings rang out to the delight of the crowd.

  ‘I’m Mathias Sunam!’ said a brightly dressed man with a frighteningly insincere, fixed smile and sweat on his top lip. His face was on every screen in the mall. ‘And I’ll be your host for the latest, nerve-melting edition of How Nice Is Your Brain?’

  The Doctor felt utterly defeated. He turned to Lillian.

  ‘Did that really just happen?’ he asked her.

  She nodded slowly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dalek Litigator

  Sabel and Ollus were staring up at the screens, enraptured by what they saw. The first contestants were already stepping up to the podium on the holographic TV show How Nice Is Your Brain?

  The Doctor looked away from them and up into the sky, in despair. Was there nothing that could be done for this Dalek generation? Were they so beguiled by the petty pleasures of the Sunlight Worlds that nothing could make them realise the terrible danger they were in?

  Lillian walked close to the Doctor and put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘This … this is how I felt,’ she said. ‘Looks like I’ll have lost my job for nothing.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘How would you know?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ said the Doctor. ‘I meant, “oh no” as in, look up there!’

  He pointed right up into the sky. A small, glowing dot was descending towards them. As they watched, the artificial sunlight glinted off it, revealing as it got closer that it was a metallic, disc-shaped object. An object all too familiar to the Doctor.

  ‘A Dalek ship!’ he shouted at the top of his voice, in warning. But he was drowned out by a game show that had its audience in the palm of its glossy, bejewelled hand.

  ‘Are you sure it’s a Dalek ship?’ asked Lillian.

  ‘Of course I’m sure! I’ve spent all my lives fighting the Daleks, I know a Dalek ship when I see one!’ screamed the Doctor in frustration over more jangling music from the screens.

  Lillian moved close to the Doctor, speaking right into his ear. Her voice was trembling. ‘What … what do you think they’re going to do?’

  ‘Do? Oh, probably offer us all tickets to see How Nice is Your Brain? or something,’ sneered the Doctor. ‘No, don’t you see?’ he asked. ‘I’ve gone and done it now. The people here may not believe me. There may not be an uprising in progress, but I’ve gone and done it and prodded the hornet’s nest.’

  ‘You mean … they’re going to attack?’ asked Lillian, her eyes widening. ‘They’re going to kill us, like they killed those resistance people and the train drivers?’

  The Doctor turned resolutely to the crowd and brandished his sonic screwdriver.

  ‘Listen to me!’ he cried out to them.

  But they were simply not interested.

  ‘Right,’ he said and activated the sonic screwdriver, switching off all the screens. There was a massed groan, like this was an inflatable crowd that had suddenly been punctured. But then, bit by bit, random cries of abuse started to fly the Doctor’s way.

  ‘That’s better,’ said the Doctor, climbing on top of a bench, so that he could be seen by the maximum number of people. ‘Now I’ve really got your attention!’

  ‘Go back to wherever you came from, you nutter!’ an old man hollered out at him.

  ‘Yes, thanks for that,’ smiled the Doctor. ‘But if you want to stay alive long enough to insult me again, you’d better LISTEN!’

  For a moment, the crowd was stunned into silence by the fierceness of the Doctor’s voice. He drew breath to speak again. Already he could hear the silence dissolving into mutters, but he persisted.

  ‘You may not believe what I had to say on the screen, but it’s too late now.’

  Behind him, he could hear the sound of the Dalek saucer descending. Its anti-grav engines were now preparing for touchdown.

  ‘The Daleks are coming!’ yelled the Doctor. ‘Run! Run for your lives!’

  The crowd stared back at him, the mumbling and muttering gained momentum. Someone wandered over to the main screen and touched a number of controls. Suddenly all the screens were back on and the contestants on How Nice Is Your Brain? were on their podiums, smiling nervously. A huge round of applause ignited in the crowd. It was so loud, it almost drowned out the sound of the saucer landing.

  The Doctor ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. He looked down to see Sabel and Ollus, still staring up at the screen, caught up in it all, clapping their hands together along with everyone else. He turned to see the saucer complete its landing, having skilfully manoeuvred itself into the limited space available. The anti-grav motors powered down with a deep, vibrating hum.

  ‘Should we … should we run for it?’ asked Lillian tentatively.

  The Doctor stared at the saucer. A hatchway was already opening and a ramp was sliding down. People in the crowd were starting to turn and look at it. Some pointed and smiled, others carried on their applause, directing it at the Dalek ship now.

  Some cheering started.

  Cheering … for the Daleks?

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the Doctor, feeling sick inside. ‘I feel like my whole universe has been turned upside down.’

  Then he looked down at the children. Whatever happened, he knew he must protect them.

  ‘Sabel, Ollus!’ he called. They reluctantly looked up at him as he jumped down and took their hands. ‘Stay close,’ he said. The children tutted, irritated that they had been taken away from their entertainment.

  Bronze-armoured Daleks were now filing down the ramp from the saucer. The Doctor stared hard at them. If he, Lillian and the children ran from them now, the Daleks could easily cut them down.

  As four of the Daleks reached the bottom of the ramp, one of them continued its advance, whilst the three others fanned out, crabbing sideways, quickly and efficiently positioning themselves near the exits of the shopping mall, eyestalks fixing on the Doctor.

  ‘That’s it, then,’ the Doctor murmured. ‘Trapped.’

  The Dalek advancing towards him was very close now. The crowd’s applause for it and the other Daleks was getting louder. Someone had turned the sound down on the holographic TV screens. They were now all enraptured by the Daleks.

  ‘Oh, just stop it, will you?’ yelled the Doctor, the anger in him surging to the surface.

  Stunned by this latest outburst from the Doctor, the crowd’s applause and cheering dissolved into a smattering of single claps and muted chatter. The Dalek, too, stopped, almost as if it had been commanded by the Doctor.

  He stared at this Dalek. He knew he had seen this particular Dalek before. Once again, he could see the strange blurring effect in the middle of its upper grating section. And now there was a sharp, stinging pain in his head. He winced.

  ‘Are any of you seeing this too?’ he murmured to Sabel, Ollus and Lillian.

  ‘Seeing what?’ asked Lillian, clearly bewildered. Sabel and Ollus looked confused.

  ‘A sort of blur in the middle of that Dalek …’ but even as the Doctor uttered the words, he knew they could not see it. ‘Just me, then. So, Mr Dalek Litigator, what brings you here?’ he asked. ‘Oh yes, I recognised you, you see.’

  ‘You are illegally holding these children,’ the Litigator stated, firmly and precisely. The blur in its grating seemed to have completely vanished now, and the pain was fading slowly.

  The crowd started to mutter
disapprovingly. Some people shouted out ‘Shame!’ and ‘Shouldn’t be allowed’ and other, more extreme comments.

  ‘You hypocrite!’ shouted the Doctor, slightly ashamed that his anger at the Daleks was probably making him look like a crazy person who just shouted a lot. ‘You’re “illegally” holding their sister.’

  ‘You will present proof of this unfounded allegation,’ the Dalek Litigator purred in what the Doctor felt for a moment were distinctly non-Dalek-like tones.

  Ollus immediately blurted out, ‘We saw you take her! On Gethria! You took my sister!’

  Ollus’s words rang out around the mall and the crowd fell utterly silent again. The Doctor patted Ollus on the shoulder and gently ssshed him, feeling some pride at the little boy’s bravery.

  ‘This child’s evidence is inadmissible,’ said the Litigator.

  ‘Why?’ demanded Sabel. ‘I was there too! We saw you take Jenibeth!’

  ‘You have both been influenced by the Doctor, who is known to be … unreliable,’ the Dalek Litigator said, focusing on Ollus, Sabel and then the Doctor in turn.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ challenged the Doctor. ‘Exterminate us all?’

  The crowd became tangibly uneasy.

  ‘Interesting, isn’t it?’ said the Doctor. ‘They all apparently trust you Daleks. They even applaud you. They’re grateful to you for having saved them from galactic economic meltdown … But there’s still something, isn’t there?’

  The Doctor moved away from Ollus, Sabel and Lillian and walked straight up to the Litigator. He prodded its casing. ‘Still something about a Dalek that a human being can’t quite trust.’

  ‘Silence!’ the Litigator barked.

  A murmuring ripple went through the crowd. Ollus and Sabel cringed in fear and Lillian immediately stepped forward to comfort them. They clasped her, urgently.

  The Doctor was grinning, showing some satisfaction to his old foes. He looked around at the Daleks covering the exits. He could see that they had become twitchy. Their gunsticks flicked from potential target to potential target, covering the area in case of an emergency. But their aim always returned to the Doctor.

  ‘Showing your true colours, are you?’ the Doctor taunted. ‘Who was it said a leopard can never change its spots? They were right, weren’t they? So go on, then …’

  His voice descended to a whisper.

  ‘Exterminate me.’

  The Litigator remained stock still. Its fiercely cold blue lens light constant in its penetrating stare.

  ‘Oh, you’re good,’ said the Doctor, daring to pat the Dalek’s dome section. ‘You’re very good. Yes, you don’t do that sort of thing any more, do you? Eh?’ Then he added, mockingly, ‘You spend all your time making lovely nice planets for nice people to live on now, don’t you?’

  ‘These children are wards of the state of Carthedia. They must be returned there,’ said the Litigator.

  The Doctor made sure he spoke aloud now, for the sake of the crowd. Although they were set against him, they were his only tangible defence now. If the Daleks wanted so badly to maintain their illusion of civilised behaviour, for whatever secret reason, then the Doctor had to make sure the crowd stayed interested. If he was right, the Daleks wouldn’t dare to do anything to tarnish their image in front of the people of Sunlight 349.

  ‘These children are orphans!’ he shouted. ‘Orphaned by the Daleks. There’s nothing left for them on Carthedia except a life in some appalling institution, because you seized their family’s assets.’

  ‘Because you have committed hate crimes against the Dalek Foundation,’ countered the Litigator.

  ‘Hate crimes?’ mocked the Doctor. ‘Oh, do me a favour. You’re the experts when it comes to hate.’

  He turned to the crowd and jumped up on the bench again.

  ‘They’re giving you what you want now, but you can’t trust them. I know you know that deep down. That feeling of unease. I know it’s there in you. Hang on to that. You don’t have to live under the rule of the Daleks. There’s a resistance movement, you know. People among you who are brave enough to fight against the Daleks. Who know the secrets of what the Daleks are really doing here. I have met these people. I saw some of them killed, but there will be others. You should seek them out.’

  The Doctor scanned across the eyes of the crowd. They were almost completely quiet again now. And he could sense that they were starting to listen.

  ‘Seek who out?’ asked the Dalek Litigator pointedly.

  Then the Doctor heard the sound of shoes clicking on metal. He corkscrewed round immediately to look at the Dalek saucer. Five human figures were walking down the ramp from the hatchway. They were wearing dark coats with their hoods up. They had dark trousers and wore dark glasses. Three of them were women.

  ‘Doctor …?’ Lillian started to ask, sounding worried.

  ‘What is this?’ murmured the Doctor, uncertain.

  As the figures reached the bottom of the ramp, they stopped a good few metres away from the Doctor. But they were close enough for him to see … To be sure that they were the resistance people he had seen murdered earlier today.

  ‘Are these the resistance you talk of?’ asked the Litigator.

  ‘But … they were … Daleks exterminated them!’ said the Doctor, making sure the crowd heard.

  ‘He’s right! They did!’ shouted Sabel.

  ‘Yeah, we were there!’ chimed in Ollus.

  ‘Evidence from the children is inadmissible,’ said the Litigator.

  ‘Inadmissible? What’s the matter with you?’ said the Doctor, jumping down to face the Litigator again. ‘This isn’t a court! I’m not on trial here!’

  ‘You are now,’ said the Litigator, swivelling to focus on the crowd. It continued to speak, now in loud, measured tones. ‘The people who have just left my ship are care workers. They help people with paranoid delusions. They seek them out and care for them.’

  ‘What, by lying to them?’ scoffed the Doctor.

  ‘By humouring them. By … sympathising,’ the word sounded awkward for the Dalek to say.

  ‘Oh, now I’ve heard it all!’ said the Doctor, throwing his hands up in the air. ‘So, I imagined the fact that Daleks killed these … people, is that it?’

  ‘They are clearly alive,’ said the Litigator.

  ‘Except they’re not, are they? Hmm?’ said the Doctor. ‘They’re … What are they? Robomen? Duplicates? Reanimated dead filled with Dalek nanogenes? Take your pick!’ He turned to the crowd again. ‘The Daleks have an infinite number of tricks up their sleeves. They just love to control other people’s minds. Makes it easier to get them to carry out their orders.’

  ‘But …’ said Lillian, clearly more confused than ever now. ‘You said they were dead, Doctor.’

  ‘They were. Are. They were never alive.’ The Doctor could see that Lillian was wavering now.

  ‘Lillian was one such patient who needed treatment,’ said the Dalek Litigator. It slowly extended its suction arm to its full length, leaving the black cup at the end just a few centimetres short of Lillian.

  The Doctor looked on in horror and disbelief.

  ‘They contacted you to help you, Lillian,’ said the Litigator in a soft, staccato tone.

  ‘I … But …’ she said, hesitating. A tear forming in one eye.

  ‘Do you still trust the Doctor?’ asked the Litigator. ‘Are you sure he is telling the truth?’

  ‘Lillian, you can’t believe what this Dalek—’ the Doctor started.

  ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure,’ said Lillian. She was starting to break down. She clutched the children to her for support.

  ‘Wait a minute, wait a minute,’ said the Doctor, moving to Lillian, but the Litigator moved its suction arm to bar his way. The Doctor stumbled back, scanned across to the other Daleks, saw their gunsticks twitch in his direction.

  ‘Do not try to influence her,’ said the Litigator coolly. ‘As you influence … the children.’

  A rumb
le of disapproval was growing in the crowd.

  ‘You told them their parents died because of the Daleks,’ continued the Litigator. ‘But what proof did you offer them? They only have your word for that.’

  The Doctor could see that Sabel and Ollus were thinking about this. They were starting to look at the Doctor with uncertainty in their eyes … almost as if he were a stranger to them.

  ‘Bring these … these “care workers” forward,’ the Doctor said. ‘Come on, let’s see what they’re really made of. Let everyone here see their faces. There’s something not right about their faces.’

  ‘They wear disguises,’ said the Litigator.

  ‘You see,’ said the Doctor, pointing frantically, feeling he had won a point.

  ‘To protect their anonymity for the sake of their patients,’ continued the Litigator.

  The Doctor could feel the crowd turn against him. In that moment, he knew he had lost them for good. What was worse, he could see Lillian no longer trusted him. A lifetime of unsettled feelings, of her true instincts constantly telling her the whole Sunlight World set-up was a lie had taken its toll. He understood. With her mind filled with Dalek memory cells, how could she be sure of anything any more?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Lillian softly. ‘I understand.’

  Lillian could not speak. She merely shook her head slowly, tears now flowing. She seemed unable to look the Doctor directly in the eye.

  He looked down at the children. They stepped back from him, confused, starting to be afraid.

  The Doctor let out a long sigh. He nodded slowly at the Litigator.

  ‘Gotta hand it to you,’ he said, almost friendly in his tone. ‘Never thought I’d see all this from a Dalek. Always got a surprise for me, haven’t you?’

  He looked back at the children. He looked into their eyes.

  ‘You … you didn’t go back for Jenibeth,’ said Ollus accusingly, tears in his eyes.

  ‘Oh,’ said the Doctor. ‘Like that, is it?’ Then he crouched by them, looking at them on their level. They moved away from him again. He smiled. But they did not smile back. ‘You don’t want to go back to that orphanage, do you?’ he asked them.