Chapter Seventeen

 

The Doctor stepped down into the chamber, almost as amazed to see Peri as she was to see him.  “It is you!  How have you been?”
            Peri began opening and closing her mouth reflexively, unable to speak.  She felt like she was drowning in a flood of conflicting emotions and fought desperately for relief.  Once the original moment of surprise passed, she felt a rush of joy at seeing him.  The delight was coupled with hope that he would help her decide how to face her current crisis.  But those positive emotions were almost instantly replaced by a wave of paralyzing fear, followed by indignation and desire for retribution at what he had done to her.

The Doctor had no way of knowing what was going on in her mind.  He wanted very much to come forward and give her a reunion embrace, but he held himself back, uncertain of the wisdom of immediately overwhelming here with his presence.  He stepped back, all of a sudden feeling awkward.  He scratched the base of his neck with his right hand absently, awaiting Peri’s response.  None came.

The Doctor took a step closer.  “Peri, I – “

“Stay back!” Peri widened the distance between them by taking several steps away.

The Doctor had realized the reunion would be awkward, but he had no inkling it would be like this.  Peri was treating him like an enemy.  “Please don’t be afraid of me.  I know we parted on uncertain terms, but I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“’Uncertain terms’?”  Peri’s face twisted as she repeated his words.  “’Uncertain terms’?  You must be joking!  You tried to kill me … again!”

The Doctor shook his head.  “I didn’t try to kill you.” 

“You traded sides!  You helped Sil!  Sil of all people!”

“Peri – “

“The slug who tortured me on Varos!  You took his side against mine.”

“Peri, I’m sorry – “

“You beat me, humiliated me, and threw me in prison!”

“Peri, be reasonable!  You’re becoming hysterical.”  The Doctor reached out in a friendly gesture to try to calm her.

She evaded his touch and moved towards the exit, all the while with her back to the wall.  “I’m not hysterical,” she said calmly.  “I just don’t want to see you right now.”  She turned away and walked briskly past him, exiting the hollow.

The Doctor set off in immediate pursuit.  “I’m sorry, Peri!  Please, don’t leave!”

Peri saw him break into a run after her and she reacted by racing as quickly as she could for the dig site’s main gate.  She blocked from her mind the pathetic pleas for recognition she heard from the Doctor, who was still chasing her.  “Leave me alone!” she cried.

“No!  Not until we talk!”

Suddenly, a massive arm shot out of nowhere and struck the Doctor down.  The Doctor was completely surprised by the sudden attack.  He attempted to get off the floor, only to have his head smashed down to the dirt.

The deep voice of King Yrcanos rumbled wrathfully.  “Leave my Peri alone!”

The Doctor rolled out of the way just in time to avoid having Yrcanos’ boot slammed into his back.  This time, he succeeded in stumbling to his feet.  He prepared Yrcanos’ next assault and managed to block two punches with his arms.  The strikes were strong, though, so they bruised the Doctor’s arms upon contact.

Peri whirled around to see Yrcanos battering the Doctor with his enormous fists.  At first, it seemed like the Doctor was holding his own, but, as she watched, he gradually lost ground to Yrcanos.  She could see the Doctor was now bleeding from the mouth and the temple and that droplets of blood were running into his eyes.  Tears of pity welled up in her eyes.  If she didn’t act immediately, Yrcanos wouldn’t stop until the Doctor was dead.  Without any hesitation, she raced back in their direction, sending dirt flying in her wake.

Meanwhile, the Doctor was surprised by a series of alarmed cries that came from nearby.  Distracted, he looked to see Peri, Mel, a lion man, a Voord, and four archaeologists charging towards the conflict.  Yrcanos took advantage of the Doctor’s distraction, and pounded at the Doctor’s chest, bellowing a war cry of the Krontep.  Yrcanos grasped the back of the Doctor’s neck and lifted him off the ground like a limp doll.

Of the bystanders, Leo was the first to intercede.  He reached up to restrain Yrcanos’ arm from hitting the Doctor any more.  Yrcanos responded by attempting to shove the annoying intruder aside so he could resume his attack.  It didn’t work  Leo stood fast.

“Get away!” snarled Yrcanos.

“Release the Doctor,” Leo demanded.

“Get away or I will kill you too!”

“You will find killing me harder than you think.”
            “Now you’ve made me curious!”  Yrcanos temporarily abandoned his hold on the Gallifreyan and moved in on Leo. 

Peri saw that Yrcanos was about to give Leo a heavy blow to the face.  She immediately interceded, putting her body between Yrcanos and his intended victim.  “Yrcanos, no!”

Yrcanos stopped himself, his teeth clenched firmly together and his lips drawn back in a sneer.  “Why do you help him?  He is garbage!”

“He’s not garbage!”  Peri turned away from Yrcanos to see how badly the Doctor had been injured.  His face was bloodied and covered with dirt and bruises.  “And neither is the Doctor.”

“Thank you.”  The Doctor managed a smile when he felt Peri’s hands caress his face.  “Thought I’d had it.”
            “Don’t talk,” Peri soothed him.  She removed a kerchief from her pocket, wet it with her tongue, and used it to clean his soiled forehead.  “I’ve got to get you some bandages and ointment for this.  A wet handkerchief won’t do the trick.”

All the people who had watched the fight so incredulously surrounded Peri and the Doctor to see how badly he’d been hurt.  Confused and furious, Yrcanos watched the scene.  “What are you doing?  Why do you mother him?”
            “Didn’t see him coming,” the Doctor mumbled.  “Couldn’t fight.”  He breathed in sharply, in the process accidentally sucking blood into his mouth.  He began choking and quickly spit it back out.

“Take it easy, take it easy.”  Peri looked up at Graham.  “Do you have somewhere to put him?”
            Graham nodded.  “We’ve got some tents set up on the other side of the hill.  If he’s well enough, we’ll take him there immediately.”

Leo cleared his throat.  “By the way, Yrcanos?”
            “Yes?” Yrcanos grumbled.

Leo cracked his fist against Yrcanos’ jaw.  Yrcanos whirled around under the force of the punch, lurched to the left, and fell face first into a mound of dust.

 

The Composer spread her arms out as much as she could before touching the energy walls of her cell.  **This is a very small space in which to live.  If you want to keep me forever, you could at least give me a larger living space.**

“You are trying to trick me,” the Toymaker scolded.

**Trick or no, I am very uncomfortable.**

“So was I.”

The Composer’s voice became strained.  **Please let me go.  I have a son who needs me.**

“Really?  And what is he like?”

**He’s going to be a painter, but he is still very young.**

“What an artistic family you have.”

**Will you let me return to my son?**

“No.”  He was firm, demonstrating how futile it would be for her to pursue the request.  “When our positions were reversed, you did nothing to assist me.  You were even eager to see me sentenced.  And yet, I will not have it said I am without mercy.  I will lower the force-field.”

With a wave of his arm, he caused the Composer’s prison to shimmer into nothingness.  The Composer staggered out into the open and breathed in deeply the unfiltered air.

“You will find,” the Toymaker added, “Yourself at liberty to go anywhere in the Toyroom.  With the exception of telepathy, your powers will all be completely inhibited.  After all, in my domain, the only laws of nature applicable are the ones I allow to be true.”

The Composer nodded grimly.  **Thank you.**

“It was of little consequence.  You can do nothing to harm me.  But there is a small favor I want you to do in return.”

The Composer took a fearful step back.  **Oh, no.**

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.  It is only a small favor.  I want you to tell me a story.”

She sighed with relief.  **You want to know about the Rites.**

“Yes,” he nodded.  “Now, tell me why you chose music to be the root of your powers.”

The Composer strode across to the roulette wheel and idly spun it with her finger.  **Upon some reflection, I realize how it is you’ve never performed the Rites.  It is a relatively new ritual.  They created it following the Great Sailing Race for Enlightenment when no Eternal managed to obtain the prize for his people.**

“I know all that.  The Doctor had his fingers in that too.   He gets everywhere.  He even won the damned race.”

**Did he?  Perhaps it is just as well.**

“Skip the editorials and tell me what happened to you.”

The Composer sat down at the roulette table and dangled her feet over the edge.  **I’ve always been impressed by mountains.  They are so tall and so vast.  They represent the strength of nature, seemingly impervious to all elements.  That was how I saw them when I was a child.  My love of mountains made me choose the highest range on the homeworld for the Rites.

**I spent the first day of my communion in the forest by the base of the range.  Using my powers as little as I could, I tried to commune with the elements.  In a fanciful sort of way I had expected the heavens to open up and, in a dramatic flash of light, all would have become clear.  I expected my mission in life to hit me all at once like a great Epiphany.

**It didn’t take long for the harsh reality to dispel the romantic notion as ridiculous.  I soon found the meditation to be extremely difficult.  Looking towards the Creator for guidance, I found it wanting.  Not only didn’t I have an Epiphany, I felt like an imbecile sitting in a forest waiting for a mass of trees to tell me what to do with my life.**

The Toymaker was enraptured by the tale, listening to his captive’s melodious language dictate it and watching her lovely frame miming the action.

**On the dawn of the second day,** she continued, **I felt a little more at peace.  I wasn’t quite as restless and impatient, as I was the day before.   My calm was a definite help in getting things moving along.

**That day I decided to scale the mountains without using my powers.**

The declaration shocked the Toymaker.  “You didn’t!” 

**Yes.  It was really quite exhilarating, if painful.**

“Incredible,” he murmured.

**I made sure I chose the highest mountain.  The climb was tremendous.  The wind was so powerful that I almost fell to my death many a time.**

“All this danger just for a ceremony?”

**It was not just a ceremony,** the Composer corrected.  **It was the turning point of my life.**

“Whatever you say.”  His tone told her that he was skeptical of the claim.

**By the time I reached the peak, much of my skin had been cut and bloodied.  My palms and fingers were completely torn up.  Relief and joy hit me as I collapsed from exhaustion on the mountaintop.

**As I licked my dry and cracked lips, I thought I heard something.  The gusts of wind that licked at the mountains caused a sharp, whistling.   It was not just a wail.  More than an ugly howl caused by the gale, the sound was a real melody.  It was music, the greatest beauty nature can offer.  It was the sign I’d been waiting for.

**I worked through the rest of the Rites attuning my psionic abilities to music.  I forced all my psionic talents from levitation to force-field creation to work only when my body generated sound.  My magic ring fires sonic blasts instead of fire.  I even created my own musical language.**

“But why music?  What’s the point?”

**Music is the root of speech and emotion and art.  Our religion teaches that music was the original language of our ancestors.  The fall of man destroyed that, forcing us to use common speech to communicate.**

“You believe that!” the Toymaker scoffed.

Ignoring him, she continued.  **As an Eternal, I am a descendant of the early ones who were corrupted by the dark lord.  I have striven to regain the innocence and purity that was lost to them.  The symbol of my mission to obtain salvation from the Creator’s forgiveness is music; the same music which the first men used as their speech before Paradise was lost to them.”

“Really?” The Toymaker frowned.  The story had left him with more questions than answers.  “And you attribute your contentment to going through this short, simple experience?”

**No.  The ceremony was merely one of the many tools used in creating the whole.**

“The whole of what?”

**Of me.  Of my identity as the Composer.**

“Then why do you say I am unhappy only because I did not perform the Rites?”
            **I never said that.  Your problem is deeper layered than that.  Nevertheless, your not maturing properly is part of it.**  She clasped her delicate hands behind her back so the Toymaker could not see them.  They were growing faintly, collecting residual mystic energies from about the Toyroom. 

The Toymaker watched her coldly.  “Never speak o f me like I am a laboratory animal to be studied and psychoanalyzed.  I find it offensive.”  There was a subtle menace in his tone that told her that her next transgression would be her final.  “Never do it again.”
            The Composer nodded grimly, feigning resignation.  She was ready.  Her hands were now vibrant with crackling energy.  **I was merely trying to help,** she offered faintly.

The Toymaker turned away.  “I know.  That is why you are forgiven.”

Just when the Toymaker seemed least prepared, the Composer struck.  She thrust both arms forward and launched a spiraling fireball of energy from her fingers.  It shattered against the Mandarin’s back, igniting his clothes and sending him flying forward.  The Toymaker screeched with surprised pain, rolling on the floor to smother the flames.

The Composer summoned all her remaining strength to form a Gateway back to her own dimension.  Her hand knifed through the air, tearing open a narrow portal in the sky.  Frantic to escape, she widened the passage and began to step through it into freedom.

“D. J.!  Stop her!” the Toymaker ordered an unseen servant as he finished beating out the flames.

A towering, wooly shape loomed up behind the Composer.  Before she could move, it seized her with its giant paws and dragged her away from the gateway.

**No!** the Composer screamed.  She braced herself against the Toymaker’s creature, groping for the portal with her outstretched arms.  The thing was too strong for her.  Straining against her power, it slowly pulled her away from her freedom.  As her hands fell farther away from the gateway, her eyes welled with tears of frustration.   Already it was fading.  Moments later, the door sealed closed, unable to sustain itself without more strength from the Composer.

Crushed, she slumped back against the monster that held her, too tired and defeated to care that the Toymaker saw her so despondent.  Not long ago, she was able to smother an exploding sun.  Now she was so weak and drained by the Toymaker that she couldn’t even escape from one of his brainless minions.  How could this be?

The Mandarin stepped in front of her, his clothes fully restored and his skin healed of the effects of her attack.  His smile was sympathetically malevolent as he raised his hand and slapped her across the face.  The slap returned her defiance with a vengeance.  The Toymaker looked over her shoulder at the hulking beast.  “D. J., it seems she has yet to learn who is master here.  She is very insubordinate.  Beat the knowledge into her so she does not repeat the offense.”

 

The time dilation transporter was the first sight that greeted Nyder as he entered the main chamber of the ice caverns.  It rose twelve feet above him on a circular dais.  Two wide metal rods that touched the ceiling framed the platform. Wide rows of stairs served as the main approach to the transporter.  At the base of the dais, where Nyder stood, were the controls for the machine.

Scanning the ancient Shardonian engravings, Nyder deduced it was a transporter capable of sending its subjects to any location, no matter the distance, at virtually the speed of light.  Nyder shook his head.  “I don’t understand.  It isn’t possible for objects to travel at that speed without using hyperdrive.”

The Green Dalek confirmed this statement.  “However,” it added, “this machine makes people travel at almost that speed – approximately ninety-nine percent that speed.  The one percent makes all the difference.”

“But,” Nyder interrupted, “if I tried to transport myself to say … Gallifrey from here, it would take me ages traveling only at light speed.”

Here the Green Dalek was forced to correct him.  “Time for people traveling at that speed would be contracted so they would have lived through and aged only a few minutes or hours during the journey.”

“Even to a distance as far off as Gallifrey?”

“Yes.  Such would be the case even if the jaunt actually took many years of undisturbed time to complete.  The object transported would not age or be aware of the passage of outside time.”

“Interesting.  But then, that means this machine is only good for long range transport.”
            “No, sir.  One can make short transports without the time dilation becoming a factor.  It only goes into effect if the distance of transport involves light years rather than a paltry few miles.”

“This is an unexpected bonus.”  Nyder’s wide smile exposed his sharp, yellow teeth.  “Our army could benefit greatly from the addition of this technology.”

“A necessary bonus, it seems,” the Green Dalek observed.  “According to the inscription, this is the only machine which can be used to transport the Conscience out of this cavern.”

Nyder failed to see why such was the case.  “Why can’t we use our trans-mats to send the Conscience to our ship?”

“The Conscience is programmed to self-destruct when transported.  This is the only transporter capable of overriding the self-destruct command.”

“I see.”  Nyder gazed about the rest of the cavern.  “But where is the Conscience?”

The vast, high-ceilinged room they stood in was wide enough to accommodate an army, but there were almost no features aside from the temporal transporter and the dead Sontarans to speak of.

“Start looking for it,” Nyder ordered.  “If it is here, it must be encased in one of the ice walls.”

Nyder’s attention was called for by one of the soldier Daleks who had ventured to the right of the room.  He walked quickly to its side, anxious to see what the Dalek had discovered.

“I thought you would want to see this,” the Dalek grated.

Nyder looked at the section of ice the Dalek had indicated.  Within the confines of the wall, he observed four men who were fated to spend eternity buried in ice.  They were suited in a bizarre form of armor quite unlike the battle gear Nyder had seen on his home planet Skaro.

The helmet that concealed the face of the lead warrior had sweeping metal wings on its sides and was plumed with yellow feathers.  A faded red cape was fastened about his neck by a silver brooch.  Clutched in his left hand was a cumbersome standing shield that matched his six feet in height.  Held ready in his right hand was an enormous axe that looked sharp enough to cut through anything.

The warrior’s three companions appeared just as menacing as their leader, wearing similar dress and clutching a spear, a broadsword, and a crossbow respectively.

They failed to instill any fear in the impassive Nyder.  “I doubt they will be a problem.”

“Those weapons were definitely the ones which killed the Sontarans,” the soldier Dalek remarked.

“I can see that,” Nyder snapped.   “But they can’t do us much harm closed in ice, can they?”

A cry of excitement came from two yards to Nyder’s left.  The Green Dalek was waving its appendages about excitedly and chattering incoherently.

“What is it?”  Nyder called.

“The Conscience!” the Green Dalek burst out.  “The Conscience!  I’ve found it!  I’ve found it!”

 

 

 

 

 

                                     Chapter Eighteen

 

The motley group converged for the first time under the shelter of Graham’s tent.  It was large enough to hold all of them comfortably, even allowing for the areas that they had to avoid for fear of upsetting Graham’s work.  The Doctor was reclining in a metal armchair, holding a plastic bag of ice to his head.  Now that he had time to allow the restorative powers of his Gallifreyan body to recover from the attack, he was feeling much better.

To his delight and his despondency, everyone except Peri, who sat off to the side, alone and quiet, tended to his needs in the extreme.  He felt safe knowing that Yrcanos was removed from the premises by park security and was being detained until further notice.  Mel had been kind enough to answer all the officer’s questions so that the Doctor would not be bothered.

Once he was feeling more comfortable, the Doctor discreetly asked the others to leave the tent so he could speak to Peri privately.  Little by little, they complied with his wishes until he and Peri were the only two people in the tent.  Thankfully, Peri seemed not to notice.  But how was the Doctor to approach her?  The same man who could trick Cybermen into self-destruction with all but a catch phrase could barely conceive of a way to renew Peri’s trust in him.

The Doctor lowered the bag from his head and winced. “Peri?”
            Either she did not hear him or she refused to answer.

“Peri?”

She turned to look at him and he saw her eyes were red and watery.  “What?”

“I was wondering what you’ve been up to since we parted.”

‘What do you care?”  The remark was more weary and disconsolate than angry.

“You know I do.”

Peri remained silent.

“Besides, I need to know what you know if I’m to stop the Conscience from falling into the wrong hands.”

Peri gave a short, humorless laugh.  “Of course, business as usual.”

“Well, not exactly,” was the Doctor’s feeble protest.

An awkward silence fell between them.  He shifted his position and coughed nervously.  “Well, I suppose an explanation is in order.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” she said quietly.  “I’m sure you had a very good reason to do what you did.”

“Then a apology at least.”

“Whatever.”

The Doctor gave her a pleading look.  “Please, Peri.  I’ve been combing the cosmos for weeks trying to find you.  I was terrified you were dead.”
            “No thanks to you,” she said sharply.

The Doctor took his eyes away from her, unable to face the hurt he’d caused her.  “Please, give me a chance.”

When Peri spoke again, it was in a voice barely above a whisper.  “After your regeneration, you were so unstable that you tried to strangle me.  I gave you a chance to make up for that.”  The Doctor began to protest, but Peri cut him off.  “To your credit, you did.  Your personality stabilized and, though you could be a bit brusque sometimes, you were warm deep down.  We became good friends … very good friends.”

This momentarily satisfied the Doctor’s objection.

“But then,” Peri added, “when you cracked up on Thoros-Beta and helped Sil …. Well, my good nature goes only so far.  I can’t live with worrying when and where you’ll lose it next.  I’m not a fool, you know.”

“I hardly think you’re a fool.  Quite the con—“

Peri’s composure exploded into confined anger.  “That’s twice you’ve harmed me!  Twice!  I barely escaped both times.  I may not be so lucky next time.   So, excuse me if I’m not leaping in the air with joy that you found me!”

“I knew you wouldn’t be too happy to see me, but I got a message that your life was in danger.  I came to protect you.”

“Who’s going to protect me from you?”

The Doctor sighed.  “I deserved that.”

“You certainly did.”

“I suppose … I suppose Yrcanos can protect you from me.  He’s rather good at it, you know.”

Peri’s expression changed slightly.  “Oh.  Well, yes.  I’m sorry about that.  If I hadn’t run from you it wouldn’t have happened.”

The Doctor waved the comment away.  “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I suppose I don’t,” she agreed.

The Doctor pressed his fingertips together and once again looked like he was struggling to find the right words.  “I suppose all the fun we had together before Thoros-Beta means nothing now.”

Peri paused.  “’Fun’ is a funny choice of a word.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I try very hard to remember you the way you were when we saw England and Spain.  You were courageous, humane, bluntly honest, and even funny at times.  But, no matter how hard I try, all I can think of is Thoros-Beta.  And, when I think of that, I think of the … regeneration.”  She said the word ‘regeneration’ like it was the filthiest curse she knew.

The Doctor nodded.  “I understand.”

“I’m sorry things can’t be the way they were before, but I just can’t erase those memories.”

“You know if I could I would do everything over differently.”
“I know,” said Peri sadly.

Feeling that he had fought the battle to the end and lost, the Doctor began to rise.

“Where are you going?”

The Doctor cleared his throat and pointed vaguely outside the tent.  “I … out

there.”

“Before you go, I have to tell you who I’ve met and what I’ve discovered.”

The Doctor returned slowly to his seat.

 

Pride.  Satisfaction.  Anticipation.  These three emotions, usually suppressed,

overwhelmed Nyder.  The Imperial Daleks had claimed the Conscience of Shardonia and he was the one leading the triumphant party.  There it stood, a machine of legend, encased in a massive wall of ice.  Nyder pressed his face against the freezing surface and stared at the Conscience.

            “Such a beautiful weapon,” Nyder whispered.  “And it is all ours.”  His moment of rapture passed suddenly and his thoughts returned to the immediately practical.  “Now that we’ve found it, how do we get it out?”

            “We could melt the ice with our energy weapons,” the Green Dalek suggested.

            Nyder shook his head.  “That’s too risky.  We may damage the machine.”

            The observant soldier Dalek who had located the ice soldiers indicated a section of wall near the floor.  “I see a pipeline protruding from the wall with a valve on it. Its function may be to melt the ice.  Shall I risk twisting it?”

            Nyder gave the option a thought.  “Have you scanned it to make sure there aren’t any snares?”

            “It appears safe.”

            “I’d feel very foolish if we go and blow ourselves up now.”

            “You have my personal guarantee that this valve will not destroy the Conscience,” the Green Dalek reassured.

            “Then I am satisfied.  Proceed.”

            The soldier Dalek used its sucker arm to turn the valve.

            Instantly, a low gurgling sound heralded the melting of the ice.  A pool of water began to form at the base of the ice wall and slowly spread out.

            “It seems to be working.”  Nyder turned to face the transporter. “While we are waiting for the Conscience to become accessible, it is in our best interests to discover how the transporter is operated.  I want to make sure the self-destruct override is in effect when we transport the Conscience back to the ship.”

            Ten minutes after the Doctor was filled in on the identities of Peri’s associates and their stakes in the conflict, he leaped into action.  He gathered them all together – Leo, Peri, Mel, and Eukel – and they made their hasty good-byes with a flustered Graham.  After making two stops, one to pick up Matrisa from Leo’s house and one to have Yrcanos released from confinement, they opted to return to the TARDIS.  The entire process took much longer than the Doctor would have liked.  It was a full hour and a half before they returned to the site of Gwydion’s house.

            All land in a one-mile radius from the house had been cordoned off by a military blockade.  Soldiers dressed in the midnight blue uniform of the Marterian elite corps were crawling the sight.  They were all making combat preparations of sorts.  One unit of men was unloading rifles from munitions trucks and fitting them with power packs.  Others planned attack strategies.  Still more were arriving with tanks and rocket launchers from the nearby military base.  It was these soldiers who stopped the Doctor’s party occasionally to see their identification.  Leo managed to produce the identification needed to get through the blockade, but he refused to say how he procured it.

            When they arrived at the crumbling remains of the house, Mel’s mouth was agape.  “What happened there?  This is even worse than before!”

            The Doctor frowned.  “I may have made a terrible mistake.”

            “What else is new?” Peri grumbled.

            From off to their right, they heard a voice call to them.  A moment later, Ravner jogged up to them, hefting an automatic weapon equipped with a grenade launcher.  “How did you get past the blockade?”

            “We had a pass,” the Doctor explained.

            “What happened to your face?”

            “I got into a minor scuffle and lost.”

            “I see.”  Ravner glowered at the entourage.  “Who are all these people?”

            “Later,” the Doctor cut in impatiently.  “What has happened in my absence?”

            “That dead Dalek came back to life, slaughtered half my men, and disappeared.”

            “I’d feared as much.”

            “There’s more,” Ravner said cryptically.  “One of the ECCs was destroyed by an alien attack.  It didn’t have time to send any information before it was destroyed, but it’s a sure bet we know who did it.”

            “And so you’re mobilizing a counterattack?”

            “Yes.”

            This pleased Yrcanos.  “At last we fight!  Vroomnik!”

            “A full scale attack may not be completely necessary,” the Doctor informed him.  “The real issue here is the Conscience.  If you’ll give me time, I can sneak a handful of people into the heart of the Dalek position, sabotage the Conscience, and be back in time for tea.”

            “I don’t know.”  Ravner looked doubtful.  “I don’t even know if I trust you.  Any of you.  You all just show up out of nowhere and expect to take command of everything.  Who do you think you are?  You’re just civilians.  This isn’t a game.  This is a threat to global security!”

            “Don’t you think I realize that?” the Doctor snapped.  “The truth is I’m a party to information you need to defuse this ‘threat to global security’.  Besides, I’ve reason to believe it isn’t just your planet that’s in danger, but countless others as well.”

            Ravner frowned.  “Well, it’s a moot point anyway.  I’m not in a position to make these decisions.  It’s out of my hands now.  The big shots have arrived to take command.  The Prime Minister is the commander-in-chief of the military.  He’s here now giving the orders.  I’m just a simple cop along for the ride.”

            “Is there any way you can get us to see the Prime Minister?” asked Peri.

            Ravner shrugged.  “If that’s what you want, I’ll do my best.  The only reason I have his ear is because I was the one who called in the heavyweights.  But I can’t guarantee anything.  He’s naturally very busy at the moment.”

            It would be another half-hour before the Doctor got the audience he sought.

 

            When the Prime Minister at last had a brief respite as the soldiers carried out his orders, he walked briskly over to Ravner.  He smiled grimly and shook Ravner’s hand.  “How are you holding up?”

            “Alright, sir.”

            “Now, where are these people you’ve told me about?”

            Ravner indicated the gathering behind him.  “Here.”  He introduced each person in turn to the Prime Minister.

            To Peri, the Prime Minister looked exactly like all the other Shardonians.  She felt it was a sign of prejudice not being able to tell Shardonians apart, and she berated herself for it, so she fought to discover his more distinctive features.  Unlike the other natives she’d seen, the Prime Minister was taller – almost a full seven feet.  His face was fuller and his eyes more pronounced, which were signs of advanced age for his people.

            The Prime Minister stopped in front of the Doctor.  “I’ll listen to what you have to say, but I don’t have much time.  I want to act as soon as possible.”  He was diplomatic as he spoke, as all politicians had to be to succeed, but there was a strong sincerity in his manner.

            “As do I,” the Doctor agreed.

            The Doctor then proceeded to explain, in brief detail, his intentions regarding the Conscience.  Peri watched, once again beguiled by the Doctor’s eloquence as he spoke to the Prime Minister.  The Doctor talked with humble familiarity and Peri could see he was slowly convincing the Prime Minister of the logic of the plan.  In five minutes, the Prime Minister was all but ready to turn over command to the Doctor. It was one of the most amazing feats of diplomacy Peri had ever seen the Doctor perform.

            “And you say that there is another intelligence guiding the Dalek’s attack?”

            “Yes,” the Doctor clarified.  He then began to speak in a more extravagant tone, adopting the frustrated actor facet of his personality that never failed to grate on Peri’s nerves.  “That guiding intelligence is known only as the Celestial Toymaker.  He is a genius, a philosopher, and abstract thinker.  He has a brain of the first order. He sits motionless, like a spider in the center of its web, but that web has a thousand radiations, and he knows well every quiver of each of them.  He does little himself.  He only plans.  But his agents are numerous and splendidly organized.”

            “You sound like you’re quoting from something,” noted the Prime Minister.

            “’The Final Problem’ by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  It is Sherlock Holmes’ description of Professor Moriarty.  I find it a fitting one for the Toymaker as well.”

            For the first time, the Prime Minister was beginning to show doubts regarding the Doctor’s reliability.  “I will accept your plan of action.  It compliments steps we have already taken and plan to take.  However, I want you to be escorted by a large number of troops in case it backfires.”

            “If you wish.”

            The Prime Minister glanced at a soldier next to him.  “Allow the Doctor and his companions access to the house.  I want forty men mobilized to join him.”

            “But the house might not be able to take all those people in it.”

            “It’ll be alright.”  The Prime Minister turned once again to the Doctor.  “Forty men can fit in your Police Box, right?”

            “Just about,” the Doctor mumbled mysteriously.

 

            As he familiarized himself with the transporter controls, Nyder accidentally triggered the appearance of a cross-section map of one of the Shardonian cities on the readout screen.  “Interesting.”  He eyed the Green Dalek next to him.  “Marteria, isn’t it?”

            “Affirmative.”

            “I see the computer has marked off where the densest population clusters are.  Do you think it is possible to pinpoint individual life readings and transport the being in question here?”

            “Yes, Admiral.”

            Nyder nodded emotionlessly.  “Can you make anything of this?  Electronics isn’t my strong point.  Back on Skaro I spent too many years as chief of security while Davros did all the scientific work.”

            “What is it you wish me to ascertain?”

            “Can you find for me the Red Dalek unit which we abandoned?  I would like very much to reclaim it.”

            “That is easily done.”  The Green Dalek attached itself to the computer terminal and began accessing the relevant information.  “Task completed.”

            “Excellent.  Bring him to us.”

            Obeying the command, the Green Dalek activated the transporter.  There was a brief glow atop the dais as the outline of a Dalek unit began to take form.  An instant later, the Red Dalek was fully materialized.

            “It’s about time!” the Red Dalek cried.

            “Are you functioning properly?” inquired the Green Dalek from below.

            “No thanks to you!” the Red Dalek barked.  It descended from the dais down to the icy floor below.  “What took you so long to get me out of there?”

            “You were not a priority,” explained Nyder.

            This remark gave the new arrival pause.  Eventually, it nodded its eye stalk in comprehension.  “That’s alright.  I do not think very highly of you either.”

            Nyder drew back, shocked.  “What?  How can you exhibit such insubordination?”
            “Let me alone,” the Red Dalek groused.  “I’ve had a terrible day.”

            “Indeed?”  Utter disbelief covered Nyder’s face.

            “Indeed!  First I was buried in tons of mortar and knocked out cold.  When I regained consciousness, I felt out of sorts.  It suddenly occurred to me that I wasn’t feeling myself because I had a touch of acute schizophrenia.  Not long afterwards, I engaged in mortal combat with the local constabulary and was almost deactivated.  The last thing I desire now is a military etiquette harangue.”

            “Your defiance grows with each passing second!”  Nyder roared.

            “My senses are more than capable of discerning your speech patterns without an escalation of audio volume.”

            Nyder clenched his teeth together.  “You have, in attitude and intelligence, a strong resemblance to a Renegade.”

            The remark enraged the Red Dalek.  Drawing any comparison between an Imperial and his natural enemy was the ultimate insult.  It aimed its Gatling gun at Nyder.  “Have you grown tired of corporeal existence?”

            Nyder was prepared for this development.  “Disarm your weapon or I will have every Dalek in the room gun you down.”

            The Red Dalek chuckled.  “That eventuality would not do you much good if you were already dead.”

            “True.”

            “Then you admit your life is in my hands.”

            Nyder paused.  He did not want to compromise his honor to placate the Dalek but he felt it was the best course of action.  “Yes.”

            The Dalek relaxed.  “Good.  Now you know who you’re dealing with.”

            Yes, Nyder thought.  A complete lunatic.

            “It seems, my friend,” Nyder remarked,  “that you have been reduced to celebrating small victories.”

            The Red Dalek responded sarcastically to the rebuke.  “I feel I shall never have enough time to adequately recover from the crippling insult.”

            Nyder ignored the rejoinder.  Instead, he once again sought the advice of the Green Dalek.  “What’s the matter with him?”

            The Green Dalek eyed his crimson counterpart curiously.  “Brain damage,” it diagnosed.

            “I’ll show you brain damage,” the Red Dalek grated.

            Nyder growled.  It was beginning to look like reclaiming the Dalek was a large error on his part.

            As the Red Dalek’s absurd confrontation with Nyder progressed, all the other Daleks present found themselves absorbed in the unfolding of events.  Their attention was focused primarily on him and the total surprise surrounding his insane behavior.  They were very curious to find out who would slay whom first.  Since the Daleks were so concerned with events over near the transporter platform, none of them were checking the progress of the melting ice.

            Although nowhere near enough ice had melted to expose the Conscience, the heads and torsos of the armored sentinels were now free of confinement.  They had been awakened again from their long slumber to defend their prize once more.

            The lead warrior’s helmeted head moved slightly to spy the latest outsiders.  His grip tightened around the handle of his enormous axe.  The blood of the Sontaran intruders still stained its sharp blade.

            These intruders were unfamiliar to him.  It mattered little.  Whoever they were, they would die.  None could ever lay eyes on the Conscience and be allowed to live.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                 Chapter Nineteen

 

            In the chamber of the Conscience, Nyder was hard at work assembling a formidable Dalek army to protect his treasure.  Five more Daleks materialized on the transporter pad and quickly descended to make room for the new batch of arrivals.  The five joined the thirty-seven already assembled at the base of the dais.

            The Imperial defenses were growing steadily larger.

 

            When the Doctor entered, he found the TARDIS console room packed with people.  The designated forces had assembled inside the Police Box, quickly recovering from the surprise which awaited them.  All of them were methodically making last minute adjustments to the weaponry they took along.  It was the most impressive firepower the world had to offer, and they would need it to successfully penetrate the Dalek shell. Despite himself, the Doctor smiled grimly at the crowd.  Then he approached the central console and began laying in the coordinates found in the inscription.

            As he did this, General Jenner, the Shardonian assigned to command the mission, hefted a fusion rocket launcher in one arm and a heat gun with laser sighting in the other.  He grinned at the biggest of his men, a human named Dariev. “The right tools for the right job.”

            Dariev smiled back and resumed his task of gingerly clamping explosives to the belt around his waist.

            All forty of the other soldiers engaged in similar banter and minor jobs as they awaited dematerialization.

            Peri came up behind the Doctor and looked over his shoulder.  “What was that vial you just put in your pocket?”

            “Acid corrosive enough to eat through Dalekonium armor.”

            “I see.  Can I ask you a question?”

            “Not now.”

            “What if we materialize in the midst of several million Daleks?”

            The Doctor pursed his lips but continued to work the controls.  “I don’t know.”

            “What if those are the exact coordinates of the machine itself and we materialize inside it?”

            “I don’t have time to explain.”

            “I know we’ve been in jams before,” Peri admitted, “but we’re flying totally blind on this one, aren’t we?”

            “That is for certain.”  The Doctor turned to face her.  “Which is why I want you and Mel to stay behind.”

            Hearing this, Mel’s ears pricked up.  “Why can’t we go?”

            The Doctor rounded to the other side of the TARDIS console to check some readings on the computer terminal.  “Anticipating your accusation, this decision has nothing to do with your sex.  Matrisa is coming and she’s a woman.”

            “She’s an android,” Peri corrected.

            “Precisely.  She’s more than physically capable of fighting Daleks.”   The Doctor looked up from his work and eyed the two women.  “To be horribly blunt, you two are not built for combat … thank God.”

            Mel protested.  “But there’s more information I have to give you.”

            “According to what I’ve read, you’ll find a transporter nearby.  It is the only thing capable of moving the Conscience.  If you destroy it, the Daleks won’t be able to take the Conscience with them.”

            “I’d feel more comfortable destroying the Conscience itself,” the Doctor replied.  “The Daleks are not completely without ingenuity.  Given time, they’ll find a way to get it out of there.  Now, is there anything else?”

            “Not that I can think of.”

            The Doctor waved her away. “Good.  Now you and Peri run along.  I’ve got a suicide mission to begin.”

            Jenner’s loud voice interrupted any response from the girls.  “Doctor!  Are we going to get going or do we have to sit and listen to you argue with your women?”

            The Doctor jerked his head towards the open TARDIS doors to underline his wishes to Mel and Peri.  They stood their ground.  The Doctor clenched his teeth.  “Leave!”

            “At least let us stay in the TARDIS,” Mel urged.

            The Doctor slammed his fist down on the console.  “Very well!  If it will shut you up.”
            “Doctor!” Jenner shouted again.

            “Wait a moment!”  The Doctor depressed the switch that closed the double doors.  He ran his fingers along the controls and the central column began to rise and fall.  Turning to face Jenner, he said, “There. We’re on our way.”

            “Good.”

            When he saw the Doctor was no longer busy, Yrcanos joined the Gallifreyan’s side.  He grumbled awkwardly, trying to find the words.

            The Doctor stared at him curiously.  “Yes?”

            Giving up trying to say something eloquent, Yrcanos grasped the Doctor’s arms with his massive fists.  “I was wrong.  You are not living garbage.”

            The Doctor paused.  “Um … thank you … I think.”

            “You are welcome.  I look forward to killing these devils who would harm both you and my Peri.”  Yrcanos looked over at Eukel and Leo.  “Now you will be able to prove that you two can fight.  I will believe it when I see it.”  Yrcanos tossed his head back and roared with laughter.  His laughter faded away quickly when he saw few others looked amused.  However, his smile remained.  “Why do you not laugh?  You might as well enjoy yourselves while you can, for in a half hour, we may all be dead.”

 

            “Enter new destination setting for the Kasterborus constellation at galactic coordinates ten zero eleven zero zero by zero two from galactic zero center.”

            Under instructions from Nyder, the Green Dalek programmed the programmer.  “Gallifrey?” it inquired.

            “Yes,” Nyder nodded. “It is the first planet Davros wishes to conquer.”

            “Very appropriate,” the Green Dalek observed.

            “Isn’t it?”  Nyder cast an impatient glance at the melting block of ice at the far side of the chamber.  The Conscience could be more clearly seen.  Nyder pointed it out to the Green Dalek with a contorted claw.  “Is it not a work of majesty?”

            The Green Dalek’s eye stalk focused on the distorted image of the Conscience.  While the Dalek was very impressed by the machine’s scientific value, he was not programmed to discern ‘majesty’.  It simply saw the Conscience in its natural proportions.  The Conscience was a transparent sphere seven square meters in size.  Around the circumference intersected a framework of cross struts that acted as supports for the globe.  While its controls lay long dead, the Green Dalek could make out the faint traces of circuitry laced within the sphere.

            The Dalek’s eye drifted two yards to the right where the four sentinels had been.  They were gone.  In their stead was a large cavity where the ice had turned completely to water.  The Green Dalek’s eye returned to Nyder.  “The guards have disappeared.”

            Nyder stared quizzically back.  “What?”

            Suddenly, a flaming arrow pierced Nyder’s chest.  It tore through his body and fired out his back, sending green blood splashing on the ice.  Nyder screeched in pain and clutched the wound.  His mandibles twitched angrily as he felt the warm, sticky fluid running over his fingers.

            Standing in front of him, one of the armored guardians pointed a crossbow at his chest.  Flanking the crossbow warrior were the three other guards, each brandishing their antiquated weapons.  Nyder grinned at the sight of them.  They would pay for the indignity he suffered.  Did they really think their ridiculous weapons could penetrate Dalekonium armor?

            “Kill them,” Nyder snarled.

            A savage storm of Dalek laser blasts strafed the Chamber from end to end.  The Green Dalek lead the attack, firing its weapon at the nearest warrior.  The warrior staggered as the blast dented his armor, but recovered a moment later and resumed his advance.  When hit be Dalek firepower, the other guardians were just as resilient.

            The soldier Dalek who had first discovered the warriors decided range must have been a factor.  It approached the spear-wielding warrior and fired at close quarters.  The beam was just ineffective.  With an inhuman war cry, the guardian drove his glowing spear into the Dalek’s head.  The spear cut through the adamantine armor and sent a shower of sparks flying in the air. With some difficulty, the guardian pushed the Dalek corpse off its spear and advanced on the next target.

            Nyder spied one of his Daleks, who was concentrating its fire on the sword wielder, backing into the axe warrior.  He cried a warning, but it came too late.  The warrior brought his axe down on the Dalek, cleaving its body in half.

            Grimacing, Nyder barked orders that the imperials with greater firepower, the Red and Special Weapons Daleks, should move to the front of the fighting.  As he did so, the knight brandishing the broadsword approached from his left.

            The Red Dalek spotted the knight first.  Defending Nyder, it spun its Gatling gun and riddled the knight with energy.  The relentless assault caused the soldier’s armor to fly apart.  Shocked and repulsed, the Red Dalek backed off.  It couldn’t believe what it was detecting.  There was no body beneath the armor, just air.  It wasn’t fighting a man. It was fighting animated weapons and clothing.

            The Dalek watched, horrified, as the broken and twisted pieces began pulling themselves back together.  The helmet snapped itself into place.  A curled hunting horn draped itself over the reconnected shoulder.  Even the leather belt tied itself shut neatly in place.  In seconds, the warrior completely regenerated.

            Nyder couldn’t believe his eyes.  How could these creatures be fighting so well?  For the first time in history, the Daleks were susceptible to the enemy’s weapons and the enemy impervious to the Daleks’.  It was an absurdly ironic twist.  The Daleks outnumbered their opponents ten to one and yet they were hopelessly outclassed.

            Consumed with fury at the unstoppable creatures, Nyder hurled himself onto the back of the crossbow knight.  He dug his claws into its torso, sending electricity flowing through it.  It instinctively let out several shots of its crossbow, narrowly missing the Green Dalek.

            Nyder now had his eight legs wrapped tightly around the warrior.  He smiled, realizing that the metal armor was active with the conducted force.  As he tightened his grip and flowed more electricity into it, the soldier bucked more furiously.  A sudden lurch to the side caused Nyder’s talons to fall away from his opponent’s shoulders.

            Feeling some relief from the attack, the warrior began to chant rhythmically.  Its body glowed with the same red fire its weapon did.  The fire seared Nyder’s skin, sending pain shooting all over his body.  Tears of agony streaked down his cheeks.  His nostrils flared with the stench of his burning skin.  Although profound pain plagued him, he knew that if he released his grip he would die.  Through a massive effort, he managed to resume channeling energy into the warrior’s body.        

            It was now only a matter of who died first.  Nyder was fighting for his life against the ethereal red flames just as desperately as the knight against Nyder’s electricity.  Neither of them could hold out much longer.

            In moments it was over.

            Nyder’s body unwound itself from the warrior and collapsed on the floor.  Gasping for breath, he crawled weakly forward.  Nyder had lost.  He had let go just in time.  In another second he would have been killed.

            The warrior straightened up, fully recovered from the electricity.  It seemed just as energetic as ever while Nyder was half-dead.

            Sensing a coming attack, Nyder rolled to the side to avoid getting shot with another arrow.  Too slow, the arrow sliced through one of his legs.  Nyder roared again, his mandibles open wide.  “Daleks!  Help me!”

            Just then, the Special Weapons Dalek appeared.   The last, best hope for victory, it turned its massive cannon on the creature that was attacking Nyder.  A beam of pure force streaked from the barrel.  The force pulverized the aggressor.  Moments before he would kill Nyder, the warrior disintegrated in a flare of energy.

            At last, the Daleks had managed to destroy one of their attackers.

            Wincing in pain, Nyder dragged himself to his feet.  “Hunt down the others,” Nyder ordered.

            “I obey,” replied the Special Weapons Dalek.

            Nyder cocked his head to one side.  Above the clamor of the battle, he detected a grinding sound coming from behind the transporter dais.  Pain wracking every movement, Nyder walked off to investigate.  Behind the dais was a rectangular blue box that hadn’t been there before. Nyder recognized it instantly from descriptions Davros had given him.

            “The Doctor’s machine!”

            The TARDIS doors flew open and General Jenner leaped out followed by two other men.  The laser sighting of Jenner’s gun centered on Nyder’s skull.  Jenner pulled the trigger and scorched a hole through Nyder’s head.  Nyder dropped to the ground, still and lifeless.

            The Shardonian marines poured out of the TARDIS.  Seeing the chaos caused by the warriors as a perfect diversion, they attacked the already surprised Daleks.  One branch of their forces began heading up the stairs to sabotage the transporter, while another group, led by the Doctor, headed for the Conscience.

            In the Toyroom, the Toymaker watched the scene on his screen.  He silently applauded.  Games involving the Doctor were always so enjoyable.  He was so glad the Shardonian military was drawn into the conflict.  The more bodies, the merrier.

            The guardians had seen the newly arrived Shardonian troops as a threat equal to the Daleks.  They divided their attention between the Daleks and the Shardonians, spilling blood and circuitry with their blades.  The Daleks chose to focus their firepower on the Shardonians, seeing the humanoids as easier targets and leaving the supernatural armor to the vices of the Special Weapons Dalek.  At first, the Shardonians were at a disadvantage since they all emerged from the same point in the room.  Nevertheless, once they were given a chance to take offensive action, they soon recovered from their initial disadvantage.

            Eukel opened fire at the nearest Dalek with his high caliber automatic weapon.  The Dalek glided effortlessly forward, ignoring the bullets that bounced harmlessly off its casings.  Dodging the retaliatory shots, Eukel hurriedly adjusted the weapon for the highest setting as the Daleks remorselessly slaughtered his comrades.  Firing again, Eukel’s rounds cut along the exterior shell of the Dalek, decimating its sense globes.  One well-placed shot blasted the Dalek’s domed head into minute particles.

            Eukel laughed at the dead Dalek.  “Is to get you!  Is to get you!”

            Standing next to Eukel was Matrisa.  She snapped a funnel-shaped, rose-colored gun into a hole in her hand.  Taking careful aim, she channeled energy from her android body into the weapon and fired a concentrated blast at a nearby Dalek.  The laser pulse centered on the Dalek and blew it into a million glowing fragements.

            One of the Imperials spied Matrisa from across the room.  It had never seen a Movellan before.  Delighted to encounter one of its race’s archenemies, the Dalek welcomed the challenge of facing so deadly an opponent.  As of yet, she had not noticed his presence.  Light from the glistening ice wall glinted off its shell as it charged into combat with Matrisa.  It let out a loud gurgling sound like an evil chuckle as it attacked.  The Dalek beam struck Matrisa in the shoulder.  She staggered backwards under the impact but soon regained her balance enough to fire. Her enemy successfully dodged the blast as it sped headlong towards her.

            Just when the Dalek was about to slam into Matrisa, it began firing its automatic weapon at point-blank range.  She leaped out of the way of the oncoming machine, firing as she rolled.  The short bursts pulverized the Dalek as it passed.  One shot tore through the dome and twisted to a halt, leaving it defenseless in front of Matrisa.

            She straightened herself, carefully eying the creature.  The Dalek made no motion. Just to make sure it was dead, Matrisa fired a staccato of blasts that gunned the Dalek’s head to pieces.

            The Doctor recognized the design of the Conscience right away.  It looked exactly like the Conscience he had encountered on Marinus so many centuries ago in his first incarnation.  “This is it,” he remarked to the soldier next to him.  “But the ice is blocking us.  Can you blow it open?”

            The soldier nodded.  He withdrew a bomb from his pocket and planted it onto the ice.

 

            Back inside the TARDIS, Peri and Mel watched the battle play out before them on the scanner.  Mel looked away, disgusted, “I can’t watch this.”

            Peri frowned.  “If only there was a way we could help.”  She gave a sharp intake of breath.

            Mel turned around.  “What is it?”

            Peri pointed to the screen.  “Look.”

            Standing in front of the Conscience, the Doctor, yrcanos, and a Shardonian soldier fell under attack by two ghostly creatures – one armed with a spear, the other a glistening sword.  The soldier pumped round after round into the warriors, but their attack was relentless.one of thye knights managed to knock the weapon from the soldier’s hand.  He then thrust his sword into the soldier’s stomach.

            “We’ve got to help them!” Mel cried.

 

            The warrior slashed his sword across the Doctor’s shoulder, cutting a large gash into his skin.  The Doctor went to reach for his vial of acid, but the warrior struck too quickly.  He ducked, barely avoiding the blow.

            Yrcanos stepped between the warrior and the Doctor.  He braced himself and grabbed hold of the warrior’s wrist.  He thrust himself against the guardian, bellowing a war cry of the Krontep.  This was what life was all about.

            Defending the Doctor left Yrcanos vulnerable to an attack from the knight with the spear.  The spear point glistened with the blood and tissue of the Kaled mutant it had just slain as it moved inexorably closer to Yrcanos.

            “No!” the Doctor cried.  He wrenched the bomb free of its position on the ice.  He hastily primed it and atached it to the warrior’s belt.

            The warrior turned around angrily to see who had touched it.  It saw the Doctor leaping for cover behind a wide stalagmite in the moments before the bomb blew it into atoms. 

            Above the conflict, a small group of people worked furiously to destroy the transporter.  Leo handed off explosives to Ravner and Dariev, who raced to plant them about the transporter platform.

            Leo’s eyes darted uneasily about the chaos, anticipating an attack.  He spotted a Dalek drifting up the stairs towards them.  Squeezing off a shot at it, he blasted its chest unit wide open.

            “Good job,” Ravner praised as he primed his explosive. 

            “We need a little more backup,” Leo remarked as he disposed of two more Daleks.  “They’re coming too fast for me to take out.”

            As if in response to his plea, Matrisa appeared at the base of the stairs.  She raced towards them, firing as she went.  “I came to offer assistance,” she explained upon her arrival.

            “We’re almost done,” Ravner informed her.  “Just cover us for a few more seconds.”

            Down below, seven Shardonians found themselves boxed in between the wall and the transporter dais when the Special Weapons Dalek moved in on them.  The awesome amount of energy that spewed forth from the Dalek’s cannon was so powerful that it totally consumed the Shardonians in one wicked burst, leaving only a pile of charred cinders.

            Still grappling with the sword-carrying demon, Yrcanos noticed two female forms racing towards him in a futile effort to offer assistance.  Yrcanos, having accepted that Mel and Peri were not fighters, was furious at them.  “Why are you here?” he shouted as he strained against the creature.  “You should be in the TARDIS!”

            Peri and Mel watched, hopeless to assist him.

            “We must do something!” Peri cried.

            “You are fools!” Yrcanos yelled.  “Total moroms!”

            The Doctor reappeared intact from his confrontation with the now-dead spear warrior.  He was not happy to see the two girls either.  “Hurry!  Find cover!”
            The Red Dalek spotted the two easy targets from his position across the room.  When the way was clear, he aimed his Gatling gun at Mel and Peri.  Partly disappointed with such simple prey, he fired dozens of rounds at them, ready to slash their bodies to pieces.

            Horrified, the Doctor jumped forward, tackling Peri and Mel.  The energy blasts assailed and ricocheted off the ice walls, sending showers of jagged chips onto the Doctor’s back.

            Vibrations from the turmoil caused the base of one of the stalactites to fracture.  The crack widened until the stalactite became unstable.  It started to sway dangerously, like the Sword of Damocles, ready to fall at any time.  Finally, the massive ice blade broke loose, falling towards the wrestling figures of Yrcanos and the guardian.

            Spying the stalactite, Yrcanos realized it would miss both him and the guardian, so he was in no danger.  Pity. 

            “Vroomnik!”

            Yrcanos put all his weight into one final shove.  Off-balance, the guardian staggered back several steps.  A moment later, the stalactite descended from above and shattered the warrior’s body.  The giant icicle burst apart as well, sending razor sharp debris into a nearby Shardonian soldier and killing him.

            Feeling momentarily safe, Peri, Mel, and the Doctor rose from the ground.  The Doctor gave them both an angry look.  “If you can get there without getting yourselves killed, get back to the TARDIS.”  Seeing the guardian reforming, he ushered them off quickly.  “Now go!”

            Yrcanos saw the disembodied gauntlet reaching for its sword.  His hand darted downward and claimed the sword as his own.  The instant the weapon was no longer in the possession of the guardian, the pieces of his body ceased to move.  All the life had left them and they were now no more than a pile of inanimate objects.

            “What happened?” Yrcanos asked.

            “They must get their life from their weapons,” theDoctor observed.

            “How?” Yrcanos asked.  “What is this armor?  How can it be alive?  How can it think?”
            “How should I know?” the Doctor snapped.  “I may be brilliant, but I’m not omniscient.”

            “Are these guardians demons?”

            “Who can say?” The Doctor looked around for signs of his other companions.  “There’s no way the two of us alone can destroy the Conscience.”

            Meanwhile, on Eukel’s front, the battle was going very well.  From the beginning, his grace and agility were more than enough to evade the blasts flying around him.  Most of his counter-attacks were completely successful in destroying his aggressors.  Aside from Yrcanos, he was the only humanoid in the room having the time of his life.  Nevertheless, he was not a trained warrior.  Street instinct alone was not enough to prepare him for a battle with the Daleks.

            That was why, after so much success, Eukel allowed one of the Imperial to get the drop on him.  Before he could cry out, the Dalek reached forward with its claw arm and grabbed Eukel around the throat in a vise-like grip.  It hoisted him from the ground, his feet kicking furiously in the air.  Fighting its hold on him, he pounded his fists against the claw.  The Dalek maintained its deadly hold.

            Seconds later, the world went black. The Dalek closed its metal fingers shut.  A sickening snapping sound was followed by a dull thud as the decapitated head fell to the ground.  The Dalek released its hold on the remains of Eukel’s neck and let the headless body drop to the floor.

            Realizing the tide was turning against the Shardonians, Jenner decided it was time to act.  During the course of the fight, ice had fallen away from the Conscience, leaving it more and more susceptible to attack.  He snatched up a satchel of grenades and darted towards the transporter.

            The Green Dalek saw him rushing around the fringes of the battle towards the machine.  It set off in immediate pursuit.  As the Imperial Science Officer, the Green Dalek appreciated the Conscience’s technological value as well as its militaristic potential and was thus more determined to protect it from the invaders than his compatriots.

            Jenner opened up the sack and reached in for the explosive.  As he did so, the Green Dalek snuck up behind him and fired.  Jenner’s body twisted in the intense beam.  His eyes rolled backwards until only the whites showed.  He gave a shrill cry and toppled over the unused explosives.

            Jenner’s death went unseen amidst the carnage.  All the other men were concerned primarily with the mission and their own self-preservation to notice.  Further tremors rocked the caverns and more ice broke loose from the ceiling.  A monstrous slab of ice cracked free of its mooring.  Crashing on top of the timecapsule, it exploded, sending countless fragments falling to the ground.  The chunks showered down around the Police Box, effectively blockading the entrance. 

            Peri and Mel stared at the inaccessible machine, flabbergasted. If they didn’t regret disobeying the Doctor before, they did then.  They didn’t know where to go.  Every which way they turned, another certain death awaited them.

            Mel indicated the transporter.  “It’s safer up on the dais.”

            Peri nodded and the two raced up the stairs.  They felt the heat from the rays as Dalek gunfire missed their fleeing figures.

            On the other side of the chamber, the Green Dalek was going ballistic.  Whirling around, the Green Dalek spied a soldier preparing to attack.  “Exterminate!”  It sent a volley of blasts in the soldier’s direction.  Struck full force in the stomach, the soldier flew a good ten feet and was dashed against the ice wall.  The Green Dalek revolved, firing as it turned, and disposed of three more aliens.  “Exterminate!  Exterminate!”

            Seeing the nearby Dalek butchering so many men, the Doctor’s face twisted with hatred.  With an almost primal snarl, his hand dove for the vial of acid in his pocket.  “Dalek!” he roared.  “Over here!”

            Just as the Green Dalek spun around to face the Doctor, he drew his arm back and hurled the container at it.  The glass shattered upon impact with the metal armor.  Bright yellow liquid streamed over the Dalek.  The mutant withing the battle armor stared in astonishment as the deadly concoction dissolved the outer casing.

            The acid seared through the supports that held the control chamber aloft. 

When the chamber lurched backwards, the mutant was hurled from its sanctuary.  It groped furiously at the wrecked chamber in a vain attempt to right itself.  Before it could pull away, the scorching fluid splashed onto it.  Bubbling and bursting, the creature’s flesh made gurgling sounds as the acid mangled its already-disfigured frame.  It screamed in a mixture of rage and agony in the moments before it crumpled into a seething mass, dead.

            By this time, very few of the combatants were left alive.  The slush and ice were stained with the blood of the dead soldiers.  Ruined and motionless, Dalek bodies stood with their insides ripped out and their domed heads being consumed by flames.  Shardonian corpses were sprawled out on the floor or draped over one another, their bodies ravaged by enemy fire.  This was all the result of a stalemate, with both Daleks and Shardonains having their forces cut down, bu neither gaining any form of advantage.

            Despite this, the only group that was on the verge of annihilation were the sentinels.  Now only the axe-wielder lived, avoiding the Special Weapons Dalek at all costs, focusing on weaker Daleks and Shardonians for its prey.   And yet, its time had come as well.  The Doctor stepped in front of the warrior, holding up a small circuit for it to see.

            “Look, my friend.  The anti-immunizer.  Do you recognize it?”

            The warrior did.  The anti-immunizer was a part of the Conscience.  No part of the Conscience was to fall into enemy hands.  It had to slay this infidel before he learned any more of the ancient secrets it had been sworn to forever safeguard.  It closed in on the Doctor, grasping its axe menacingly.

            While it was distracted, yrcanos charged the knight from behind.  He plungerd the mystic sword into the warrior’s back, bellowing as only he could.  The sword tore through the armore with ease, its blade piercing all the way through until its point burst forth from the warrior’s chest plate.  The warrior uttered a surprised choke before falling forward.  Killed by one of its comrade’s weapons, the guardian’s armor collapsed, destined never again to protect the Conscience.

            The Doctor patted Yrcanos on the back.  “Good work, man.”  His head turned to examine the Conscience from afar.  He could tell the ice melted enough to reveal the front half of the machine.  “Maybe blowing it up isn’t the only option,” the Doctor mused.  He decided to return to the Conscience and set off to examine the machine once more, with Yrcanos following close behind.

            As this was occurring, the Red Dalek spotted the transporter saboteurs and chose them as the perfect targets.  Turning on its anti-gravity thrusters, the Dalek floated up the side of the pedestal.  While it had approached as stealthily as possible, Leo spotted it instantly.

            “Look!”

            The Dalek was suspended several feet above Leo’s head Leo primed a grenade and threw it at the Dalek.  Due to the haste in which he acted, his aim was faulty and the grenade exploded too far from the Dalek to destroy it. Damaged, the anti-gravity failed and the Dalek fell, smashing onto the platform.  Most of the people on the transporter managed to dive out of the way of the plunging Dalek.  Unfortunately, Dariev had been too slow.  The Dalek slammed into his back and knocked him from theplatform.  Screaming, Dariev hurtled to the ground.  His back slammed into the control panel, snapping his spinal column.

            The collision caused the apparatus to activate.  Lights began flashing under the numerical keys, illuminating the pre-programmed coordinates for Gallifrey.

            Considerable heat emanated from the dais, washing over Peri and those with her.  They looked down in shock as a strange, spectral light engulfed the figures.  Realizing what was about to happen, Peri tried to leap to safety, but she found her feet fixed to the metal surface.  She opened her mouth to cry out, but was cut short as she disappeared in an amazing dazzle of blue light.

            The Doctor’s jaw dropped open with horror when he saw what was happening.  “Peri!”

            Peri, Leo, Matrisa, Ravner, and Mel vanished from sight along with the Dalek who had attacked them.

            Yrcanos and the Doctor couldn’t take their eyes off the site of the disaster they’d just witnessed.  All that greeted their eyes was the vision of an unoccupied transporter platform.

            The Doctor shuddered.  Where could they have gone?  Had the transporter even been programmed?  Were they still alive?  Could Peri be dead after all he’d gone through to find her?  

            Yrcanos grabbed the Doctor’s collar roughly.  “Doctor! The Dalek!”

            The Doctor turned his head slowly, like he was moving in a dream.  In the emotion of the moment, he had forgotten where he was.  The sight of the Special Weapons Dalek bearing down on them snapped him out of his trance.  “Run, Yrcanos!”

            Their reactions came too slow.  Acting first, the Specail Weapons Dalek fired.  Raw energy catapulted from the barrel of its cannon and flowed over the Doctor and Yrcanos.  The Doctor felt the beam frying his body.  He raised his arms up in a futile attempt to shield himself from the radiation.  In the next instant, he and Yrcanos disintegrated into a pile of burnt ashes.