Doctor Who: The Chase

by John Peel

A shadowy figure moved forward. ‘Good evening,’ it said, in hollow tones.

  While the Dalek was distracted, Ian pushed at the Doctor and Barbara. ‘Inside!’ he snapped. It’s our only chance!’

  The Doctor peered around for Vicki. She was nowhere in sight. Believing that she had already entered, the Doctor followed the other two in and slammed the doors.

  As Dracula moved forwards to greet the Dalek, he was met by a burst of fire. The blast had no effect at all. ‘My name is Dracula. Count Dracula.’ He bowed slightly from the waist. ‘Welcome to Castle Dracula.’

  ‘Stay back! Stay back!’ the Dalek grated, firing again. It was in a state of near-panic, as its lethal radiation blasts seemed to be having absolutely no effect on the humanoid. The Dalek at the top of the stairs joined in the firing. Alerted by the noise, more Daleks came into the room.

  Such was the state of the battle with Dracula that none of them saw when the TARDIS dematerialized. The only eyes that watched belonged to Vicki, crouching behind the stairs. In sheer disbelief and horror, she realized that her friends must have believed she was already safely inside. Instead, she was stuck here, in this terrible house, with monsters and Daleks.

  The one thing that she dared not do was to panic. There had to be some way to rejoin the Doctor. There had to be! Fighting down the urge simply to scream and run, she forced herself to consider her options. with the TARDIS gone, there was only one way out of this horrible place—but it was a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire... Screwing up all of her courage, she began moving towards the doorway.

  Intent on Dracula, the Daleks didn’t see her move. Instead, several more of them began firing at this creature that refused to die. Finally, something happened, though not what the Daleks had wanted. The figure seemed to stiffen, then moved jerkily forwards. ‘I am... I am...’ it slurred. Both hands came up, as it walked towards the closest Dalek, ignoring the firing. ‘Dracula!’ it finished. His hands collided blindly with the Dalek, then began tearing at it.

  ‘Help me!’ the Dalek screamed, attempting unsuccessfully to retreat. ‘Help me!’ Dracula tore off its eyestick, then began to rip at the casing itself. In a shower of sparks, the Dalek exploded, its power systems disrupted. The blast knocked Dracula back, shredding his clothing and burning at his chest.

  Instead of flesh and blood, this exposed gears and wiring. ‘I am... I am...’ Dracula continued, moving randomly around, as though looking for another victim. The Daleks backed away.

  The lone Dalek at the head of the stairs did not see the creature lumbering through the shadows behind it until too late. The Frankenstein monster had emerged from the laboratory, moving with unsteady steps. Finally, it groaned, and crashed into the back of the Dalek, propelling the Dalek straight down the steps. As it fell, the Dalek tumbled, spun and finally crashed into the floor. Badly damaged, it then exploded.

  The monster did not stop, but continued down the steps. It was unsteady, but somehow managed to traverse them without toppling over. It then advanced on the Daleks from one side, as the damaged Dracula moved forward on the other.

  ‘Retreat! Retreat!’ the Dalek Leader called. ‘The enemy is resistant to our fire.’ The rest of the squad needed no further encouragement to evacuate the room. Two Daleks were finished and still burning, sending up a cloud of smoke. From this cloud, Dracula and the Frankenstein monster continued their slow, unsteady advance.

  The Daleks returned to their time machine, and sealed the doors. The Leader examined the screens, and grated, ‘The enemy time machine has departed. Prepare to follow!’

  ‘I obey!’ The other Daleks moved to their positions, and began to power up the time computers. Again, the Doctor had escaped them—but they were now much closer. The next time, they would succeed in exterminating him!

  Leaning against the TARDIS doors, Ian mopped his brow with the back of his sleeve. ‘Phew!’ he exclaimed, loudly. ‘This game of hide and seek through time is getting a little wearing.’

  The Doctor glanced up from the controls, as he ensured that the TARDIS was correctly in flight. ‘Well, at least it has given us the unique experience of seeing the meeting of colossi—Frankenstein’s monster versus the Daleks!’ He chuckled at the thought.

  Barbara, standing beside the Doctor, looked puzzled. ‘Frankenstein?’ she echoed, ‘But he’s just a fictional character.’

  Moving across to join them, Ian smiled. ‘I know he’s supposed to be fictional, Barbara, but the Doctor has a theory to explain what we saw.’

  ‘A theory?’ the Doctor sounded insulted. ‘Well, call it what you like, but I personally am convinced that the castle we were in exists in neither time nor space. Somehow, for some reason, we were lodged for a brief period of time in a place that exists only in the human mind. The realm of the imagination!’

  Barbara suddenly realized what the Doctor meant. ‘That place was just the... the solidified dreams and nightmares of human beings?’

  ‘Exactly.’ The Doctor looked insufferably pleased with himself.

  ‘Well, I for one don’t believe a word of it,’ Ian announced. ‘If that were the case, how could the Daleks have landed there? They can’t invade human thoughts.’

  The Doctor sniffed, loudly. ‘I refuse to argue with a closed mind, Chesterton.’ He turned his back on Ian and bent over the controls again.

  ‘Have it your own way,’ Ian laughed. ‘But I’m certain there has to be another, logical explanation.’

  (Ian was quite correct; had the travellers gone out through the main doors of the castle, they would have seen that there was neither thunder nor lightning outside. A bright, April day led the crowds through Battersea Funfair. Standing by the castle was a sign: ‘The House of Frankenstein: Admission—’ The price was obliterated by a second sign reading: ‘Closed for repairs’.)

  Refusing to contribute to what might turn into another of those ongoing arguments between the Doctor and Ian, Barbara looked around. ‘Have you seen Vicki?’ she asked.

  Ian was moving towards the door that led to the rest of the TARDIS. ‘Mmm? Oh, I expect she’s in her room, changing.’ He sniffed at his sweater. ‘Come to think of it, that’s not a bad idea. Running through haunted houses does work up a sweat.’

  ‘I’ll go and make sure she’s all right, Barbara said, and left. Ian was about to follow when a thought struck him. he turned back to the Doctor.

  ‘Any sign yet of the Dalek ship?’

  The Doctor glanced up, uneasily. ‘Yes, it’s just begun to register now. I’m afraid they’re on our trail again.’

  ‘We can’t go on running like this!’ Ian exclaimed, slamming his fist into the door frame. ‘We might give them the slip once or twice more, but sooner or later we have to face them.’

  Straightening up, the Doctor nodded glumly. ‘Yes, I’m afraid that running away will solve nothing. Each time we’ve landed I’ve hoped for conditions that would allow us to take a stand and fight the Daleks. When we do face them finally, Chesterton, it’ll be with no turning back. There’ll be no quarter given—it’ll be us or them.’

  Before Ian could respond, Barbara came running back into the room, on the verge of panic. ‘She’s not here! I’ve looked everywhere—Vicki’s not here!’

  Three pairs of eyes turned to the time rotor as it rose and fell. They all knew that leaving Vicki behind in the haunted house might well have signed her death warrant...

  The Dalek Leader turned to its assistant. The second Dalek looked round from the panel it was checking in the control room. ‘We are locked on to pursuit course,’ it reported.

  ‘Calculate destination of the enemy time machine,’ the Leader ordered.

  Turning back to the panel, the technician Dalek began to compute the course that they were locked into. The fluxes of the Vortex made such tracking difficult, but not impossible. With typical Dalek determination, their computers had been constructed to perform the complex calculations. Finally, the technician’s eyestick focused on the Patrol Leader. ‘It will l
and next on the planet Mechanus.’

  ‘Understood. Contact Skaro Control and report our destination to the Dalek Supreme.’

  ‘I obey.’ The technician moved into an alcove at the rear of the control room. In it was a very powerful sub-space tachyon transmitter. Normal forms of communication were impossible while in transit through the Space/Time Vortex. The tachyon beamer could break through the fields of static and generally reach its target with a tight transmission. The technician began to adjust the controls to send the message.

  The Leader glided to a small room at the back of the control room. It was one of the two laboratories that the time ship was fitted with. One of the Dalek scientists had remained here throughout the flight, preparing the unit in the room. It was a transparent box on a raised dais. This was linked to a large bank of controls that the scientist was carefully adjusting. It was checking the settings against a read-out on one of the ship’s computers. As the Leader arrived, the scientist spun its head about, continuing its manipulations as it spoke.

  ‘Which of the four enemy is to be reproduced?’

  ‘Their leader,’ the Patrol Leader answered. ‘The one they call Doctor . Is the replicator programmed?’

  The scientist moved towards the transparent box, which was just over six feet long. Using its sucker-stick, the scientist manipulated another control. The glass coloration darkened, then solidified. Within the box was a vaguely humanoid form, though without features or definition. ‘All is ready,’ the Dalek reported. ‘Our data files have been analysed and the computers are prepared to begin. By the time that we reach our destination, the machine will have taken all of the data and built a perfect duplicate of the one called Doctor .’

  ‘Good.’ The Leader spun about to leave, then swivelled its head about. ‘Commence operations, and then join me in the command post.’

  ‘I obey.’ As the Leader left, the scientist finished its operations with the machinery. The translucent box began to pulsate with colours. Satisfied, the scientist also left the room. The planned reproduction was under way.

  After a moment, Vicki peered warily out from behind a panel of instruments. With the Daleks distracted fighting the monsters in the haunted house, she had seized her chance to slip into their ship. Sooner or later, she was bound to meet with the Doctor and the others again if the Daleks didn’t discover her first. Biting back that thought, she glanced about the room she was in. She had no option but to hope that everything would turn out all right.

  She crossed to the replicator, and looked at it in puzzlement. She had heard what the Daleks had talked about, but found it hard to believe that this machine could create a duplicate of anyone. The screens at the base showed images of the Doctor from various angles, animated by the computers. Vicki knew that the Doctor had met and defeated the Daleks twice before. Obviously, then, the Daleks had made visual records of him at those times. No, more than records—they must have studied him in detail if they were hoping to create a copy. Vicki wished she knew how to stop the machine before it could finish its task and then realized that if she were to sabotage it somehow, this would reveal to the Daleks that there was a stowaway on board. If they suspected this for an instant, then she would be found and killed.

  Returning to the panel she had hidden behind, she discovered that it was a sub-space transmitter, similar to the one in the control room. Obviously, it was for use when the scientist Dalek needed to access files back on Skaro. Vicki had been trained during her enforced stay on the planet Dido in the use and theory of transmitters not too different to this. Though the Doctor had rescued her, the memory of her weeks and months listening for a rescue ship at the radio equipment was still fresh in her mind. She checked the board, one eye carefully watching for the return of any Daleks. Signal amplifier, tuner, power boost, microphone... She traced each with her hand, making sure she could operate the machine and then return it to its present settings afterwards. Finally, her hands flew over the controls, as she fine-tuned it to one setting. Then she paused, as a sudden thought struck her: did the TARDIS have a radio receiver?

  She had never seen one, but then again, there was a great deal of the TARDIS she simply had not had a chance to explore. In fact, even in the control room, many of the instruments that she had seen puzzled her. One of them had to be a radio, surely? Who would build a ship that didn’t have one? She tried to fight down a voice that told her the Doctor would be quite likely to do such a foolish thing.

  There was only one possible wavelength that she could think of to transmit on—21 centimetres. The chances that the Doctor would have a radio on and listening for a message would be slim—but all ships that Vicki knew of had automatic scanners that monitored this frequency—the frequency of the hydrogen atoms in free space, the commonest element of all in the Universe. A modulated signal at that precise wavelength was standard for all distress calls. Praying that the TARDIS at least had such instruments, Vicki started the radio transmitting, and whispered into the microphone: ‘Hello TARDIS! Hello TARDIS. Can you hear me? Over.’ She switched to receiving. Nothing but static. She tried again. Once more, no reply.

  The sound of the replicator suddenly cut out, leaving only the background electronic heartbeat of the Dalek ship. Curious, she moved over to take another wary look. The box was again fully transparent, and within it lay a very familiar figure—the Doctor! His eyes were closed, as though sleeping, his hands clenched over the silver head of his cane. His clothing, the ring on his finger—even the lines in his face and the thin, long white hair they were all exactly as they were in the real Doctor!

  The Doctor himself was far from sleeping peacefully. He was striding back and forth in the TARDIS control room, muttering loudly to himself. ‘It’s my fault! My stupid, stupid fault! I should never have moved the TARDIS without being absolutely certain that we were all aboard. I shall never forgive myself! Never!’

  Ian interrupted the Doctor’s pacing. ‘No, Doctor, we’re all equally to blame. I assumed that Vicki was in the ship too.’

  ‘Isn’t there anything we can do?’ Barbara asked. The strain was showing on them all. Barbara was drained, pale and exhausted. The others were no better. ‘Is there no way of going back for her?’

  ‘Do you think I’d just be standing here doing nothing if there were?’ the Doctor yelled. ‘We’re completely helpless. You—you, of all people, should know how impossible it is to pilot the TARDIS back to one space and time!’ He didn’t add that he had been trying to get the two teachers home now for several years’ subjective time. Each attempt had failed.

  ‘Yes, but that’s because we’ve never stayed in one spot long enough to repair all of the TARDIS’s systems,’ Ian exclaimed. ‘Even when we first met you, back in Totter’s Lane, the TARDIS was in need of repairs. Since then... well, you have let the repairs slip a bit. If we had the time and the facilities, do you think we could find our way back again?’

  The Doctor considered this for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Possibly, possibly,’ he sighed. He gestured to the computers behind the glass wall. ‘All of our flight information is recorded in those. Theoretically, if all of the TARDIS’s systems were functioning as they should, it would be child’s play to retrace our steps. But that could take months... years... If we could find the right tools to repair the ship. And if my memory of the correct settings and everything is a hundred per cent reliable.’

  Barbara moved forwards, an anxious expression on her face. If the Doctor gave up, then there was no hope at all for Vicki. ‘But if all of us worked on it and helped—wouldn’t it be worth a try?’

  ‘Of course it would, yes.’ The Doctor glared at her. ‘But do you think that the Daleks are just going to sit back and give us the time to tinker with the TARDIS? They’re after us to kill us, not to play a game of cricket, you know!’

  ‘The Daleks!’ Ian’s face lit up, and he slapped his fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘That’s it! Doctor, don’t you see? They’re our answer.’ Both of his friends had
blank expressions. ‘We can get back to Vicki! Not in the TARDIS — but in the Daleks’ time machine! ’

  Finally getting the idea, the Doctor’s frown vanished as a smile washed over his face. ‘Capture their machine?’ he asked, in dawning comprehension.

  ‘Yes, why not?’

  ‘It’ll take some doing,’ Barbara snorted.

  ‘But it’s the only chance we’ve got of getting back to Vicki. We know that the Daleks’ ship is fully controllable.’

  ‘If we can only pull it off,’ the Doctor mused, seeking inspiration.

  Barbara looked from one to the other. ‘Well, it seems to me that we have nothing to lose,’ she said, firmly. ‘As Ian keeps reminding us, we can’t run forever. Now we have even more reason to stop and fight.’

  Ian turned to the Doctor. ‘Well, what do you say?’

  ‘I say — yes!’ Resolved, the Doctor scuttled back to the control console. ‘Yes, yes, yes! The Daleks have hounded us for quite long enough. Wherever we land next will be our battleground. Either we shall win, or they shall—but it will be finally decided!’

  Vicki backed away from the replication machine, unable to tear her eyes away from the figure that looked so much like the Doctor. She bumped into the radio panel, but before she could begin to send her signal again, she heard an approaching Dalek. Quickly, she reset the controls, then ducked back behind the panel.

  The Dalek Leader and the scientist returned to the room. Behind them came a third Dalek, which moved to the radio panel Vicki had just vacated.

  ‘Report the position of the enemy time machine,’ the Leader ordered.

  The Dalek at the panel checked the controls. ‘Its movement through time is ending. It is now approaching the planet Mechanus.’

  ‘How long before we arrive?’

  ‘Four units.’

  The Leader turned to the scientist. ‘Is the robot completed?’

  The scientist had been examining the replicator’s controls. ‘Affirmative. The computers are now feeding data to its memory cells. Physical duplication is completed. Energy cells are fully charged. The brain unit is almost complete with characteristics and personality traits.’