Chapter Twenty-five

 

“I see your ten and raise you twenty.”

Mel tossed her money into the pile of change in the middle of the table.

Leo looked suspiciously at her.  “Are you counting the cards?”

“Of course not!”

Leo shook his head.  “I don’t trust a woman with total recall.”

“I knew it was a mistake letting that get out.”

“Never mind,” Leo waved.  “I’ve had enough.  I fold.”

“What did you have?”  Mel looked at his hand with curiosity.

“A pair of twos.”

“You should’ve played the game out to the end.”  Mel displayed her hand, smiling cheerfully.  “All I had was Ace high.”

Leo snorted.  “I’ve been bluffed to death.”

A voice came reverberating over their heads.  “I find it interesting that Emissaries of Davros would spend their time engaged in frivolity rather than closely examining our operation here in the Capital.”

Mel felt a chill.  She spun her chair around to see the Blue Dalek’s eye stalk looking down at her.

“We were just taking a break,” Mel stammered.

Leo struck a relaxed pose.  “We do not have to explain our actions to you, Mr. Dalek.”

The Blue Dalek’s head spun to eye Leo.  “Emissaries or not, I despise indolence.”

Leo slammed his fist down on the table.  “I will not be spoken to in that manner!”

“Forgive me,” the Blue Dalek said soothingly.  “Your actions are not in keeping with regulations.  I have my doubts as to the authenticity of your position, especially seeing as how one of you number matches the description of one of Karaq Fa Gatri’s longtime companions.  In fact, the Doctor himself, who I have had prisoner here for some time, escaped last night.  You haven’t, by any chance, seen him?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Leo asked.

“I think you know.”

“I don’t understand your suspicion.”  Mel made a broad gesture with her arms.  “We have given you the proper identification codes.  The facts should satisfy you.”

The Blue Dalek turned away from her and began looking about the room.  “Other facts must also be weighed.  Your arrival here was under mysterious circumstances, ahead of schedule, with no warning.  Perhaps the most damning evidence is the disabling of the listening devise I had planted in your room.  If you had nothing questionable to say, then why act like criminals and destroy it?

“It was an invasion of privacy,” Mel protested.

The Dalek stifled a triumphant laugh.  “What a very human concept.”  It turned on Mel.  “Not a very Imperial philosophy, is it?”

“And what of respect for one’s superior officers?” demanded Mel.  “Is that not an Imperial philosophy?  Or do you make a habit of treating your betters like criminals?  You insult us with these accusations.”

“Insult you?” You insult me.  As leader of Gallifrey, it would be irresponsible for me not to question you.”
            “Granted.  But all of the evidence is circumstantial.  You cannot decide our guilt based on that.”

“I have decided your guilt based on my instincts!” the Blue Dalek shouted.  “They have been infallible in the past!  I know that because of your rank it is not enough to have you killed, but I will produce concrete evidence soon enough.  When I do, you will all die.”  With that, the Dalek trundled out of the room.  “I wish you all a good morning,” it said just before the doors shut behind it.

 

“What happened to him?”

Allene Varalla ran her hands along the warped and battered figure of the Red Dalek.  Her fingers fell into the wide holes that had been blasted into its side.

The Dalek stared back at the Time Lady curiously.  “I function properly.  For entertainment I would now like to fire my weapon at some purposeless object.  This lab technician, for example.”

Lab technician Retwic ignored the blatant threat.  “H appears to have sustained severe damage to his outer shell and neural passages.”  The technician then indicated the wounds Allene was touching.  “How these injuries were inflicted is still a mystery.  Some of the wounds are deep dents, the others mere scratches.  These areas here that were blasted open were exposed to a laser weapon of some kind – perhaps Movellan in origin.”

Allene arched her eyebrow.  “Movellan?”

“Odd, isn’t it?”

“Didn’t you say he was found outside the Citadel?” Allene Varalla asked.

“Yes.  The Chancellery Guards found him last night.  Apparently, he fired on the outer wall.”

“Curious.  Have you been able to identify him yet?”

Retwic pursed his lips.  “His internal identification has been removed, but the Imperial Character Number printed on his base reads 084726.”

The number provoked a strong reaction in Allene’s features that frightened Retwic.  Her eyes half-closed and her jaw tensed.

“Have I said something wrong?”

“I think I know what became of his internal identification.”

“Really? What?” he asked innocently.

Allene stared coldly at him.  “I consider that to be privileged information, mister.”

Retwic looked down at the floor. “I am sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

But, she thought to herself, the false “Emissaries” would be very sorry indeed.

She put aside her plans for the moment and resumed her examination of the Red Dalek.  “You said he fired on the outer wall.”

“Yes.”

“Why would he do that?”

The Dalek answered instead of Retwic.  “Because it is entertaining.”

Retwic smiled.  “That remark told us more than our friend realizes.  He appears to be mentally unbalanced.”

“A deranged Dalek?  How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Retwic murmured.  “I’ve never encountered it before.”

Varalla turned to the scientist.  “Has his condition improved since last night?”

“Last night he was near death.  His own life-support systems were on the verge of total collapse, so the doctors had to hook it up to an external system.  I’ve since managed to re-haul his damaged unit and sealed up several of the punctures in his armor.”

“So he will survive?”

Retwic shook his head.  “The damage is too extreme.  All I’ve been able to do for him is prolong his life.  I’d give him only another day to live before a total systems failure. The only option left is a possible salvaging of spare parts.  Truly, I am amazed he has survived so long in this state.”

The Red Dalek gasped.  “How would you like it if I salvaged some of your parts?”

Both Allene and Retwic dismissed the lunatic Dalek’s words as ramblings.  Allene eyed it with compassion and rubbed its dome with her hand.  “I don’t understand.  Couldn’t we transplant the mutant into a new outer casing?”

“Normally I would, but the mutant itself has been damaged.  Its body is badly bruised and the reasoning circuits in its cybernetic implants have overloaded.”

“How sad.”

The Red Dalek turned unexpectedly and prodded Retwic with its Gatling gun.  “Answer my question!”

The Dalek moved closer, pushing the lab assistant backwards.  Allene looked on with disbelief played across her face.

“Answer me!”

“I wouldn’t,” he stammered in response, suddenly aware of his predicament.

Allene held up her hand in a motion to stop the Dalek.  “Sir, I respectfully request that you cease harassing the technician.  He is only trying to treat you.”

“No he is not!” the Dalek growled.  “He wants to kill me!”

Sensing that reasoning with the Dalek was senseless, Allene flipped open her communicator and hissed into it: “Security to level twenty-three med lab.  Rogue Dalek – potential danger.”

Paying no heed to Madame President’s summoning of security, the psychotic Dalek trained its weapon on Retwic.  Its target did not hesitate before making a mad dash for the exit.  The Dalek readjusted its aim and fired.  Retwic dropped to the ground just as the waves of heat passed harmlessly overhead.  By the time the Dalek was ready to fire again, Retwic had managed to scramble to safety.

“Enough of this!” Allene shouted.

Its task completed, the Red Dalek whirled on President Varalla and issued another volley of shots.  Just as the shots were fired, Allene’s hand dove for the red bracelet she wore around her wrist.  Her body was instantly bathed in a vibrant yellow glow.  A moment later, the multitude of blasts resounded off the protective light.

Curious more than angered, the Dalek ceased firing.  “What happened?”

Allene patted the bracelet.  “Personal force field.  You can’t kill me.”
            “How intriguing,” the Dalek said in hushed tones.  “I would like one of those.”  The Dalek raised its sucker arm.  “I believe I’ll borrow yours.”  The bracelet was pulled off her wrist by suction.  It flew into the waiting grasp of the Red Dalek.  The protective field previously surrounding Allene melted away, leaving her defenseless.  It then materialized around the Red Dalek, making him invulnerable.

Anticipating an attack, Allene advanced attentively.  “Sir, you are sick.  You need help.”

“And you have given it to me.”  The Red Dalek noted that the Lord President was afraid and spoke soothingly.  “You should not fear me.  I would do nothing to harm the generous woman who gave me so precious a gift.  I am indebted to you.  Thank you.”

With a newfound zest for life, the all-powerful Dalek drifted off in search of a way to test his new power.  The moment it sped out the door, Allene hurried to a small computer panel.  She depressed a large button and spoke excitedly over the speaker system.  “Put all defenses on full alert.  A hostile force has penetrated the Capital ….”

 

The door to the Blue Dalek’s quarters hissed open.  The Doctor’s head appeared, peering cautiously around the frame into its interior.  Sensing it was all clear, the Doctor walked confidently in.  Peri stepped in after him and shut the door.  “I don’t like this, Doctor.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come,” the Doctor replied simply.

“What are we looking for?”

“Anything.  Everything.  Like that.”  Scanning the room for any clues, the Doctor caught sight of an elongated glass case supported by four wooden posts.  The interior, however, appeared empty.

The Doctor put a finger to his lips.  “I can’t for the life of me understand what this is supposed to do.  I don’t see any controls.”

“Could they be on the wall?” Peri asked.

The Doctor flashed an approving smile.  “Of course.  How foolish of me.”  He spotted the switch on the wall and, hoping he wasn’t doing something he would regret, flicked it into the “on” position.

A bright blue glow emitted from the glass case as the representation of an alien landscape began to form within.  Wild tropical plants and wildlife sprung up on dark purple soil and around bright pink rivers.  The blue lights then became localized flashes, depositing individual figures of Imperial Daleks and Movellans.  It soon became evident that the holographic model was completing a painstakingly accurate re-enactment of a crucial conflict in Imperial history.  The Daleks seemed to be on the losing side seeing as how most of the bodies lying smoldering in an unceremonious heap on the violet ground were Dalek.  Obviously, the Blue Dalek had the hologram built as a reminder of the consequences of unsound planning and overconfidence.  It was also a reminder of what scum the Movellans were supposed to be.

“Intriguing.”  The Doctor took one final glance before turning it off again.  “What else have we here?”  The Doctor stepped up to inspect the large portrait that hung on an otherwise bare wall.  He smiled when he realized whom the portrait was of.  “I would have never thought it.”

Peri stood by his side, looking up at the picture.  The subject was a dark, severe woman who stood with her arms folded across her chest.  Thin eyebrows were arched high over her cruelly amused eyes.  She was dressed in a black, militaristic uniform with a large war medallion pinned over her breast.  It was so vivid a portrayal that Peri felt as if a woman’s penetrating eyes could actually see her and the Doctor. “Who is that?”

“The Terrible Zodin,” the Doctor murmured.

Peri’s eyes brightened.  “That’s the Terrible Zodin?”

The Doctor was surprised Peri knew of Zodin.  “You didn’t actually meet her, did you?”

“No.  But you referred to me as her once in a slip of the tongue.  I’ve wanted to know who she was ever since.”

“I called you the Terrible Zodin?”

“When you were confused after your regeneration.”

“Now there’s a left-handed compliment if I’ve ever heard one.”
            “I heard she wasn’t particularly nice.”

“Let’s put it this way,” the Doctor began.  “If she were, would the Blue Dalek have a portrait of her in his office?”

“Point taken.”

The Doctor turned away from the portrait and set his sights on the Blue Dalek’s desk.  He looked casually over the materials on its surface.  “I don’t see anything particularly noteworthy, do you?”

“Yes.” Peri plucked up a book of all the American Presidents.  The last page had been folded, presumably by the Blue Dalek.  It was the one on Victor Quartermaine.  The name of his Vice-President, Edgar Bacon, had been circled in red ink.  Peri swallowed.

“What’s the matter?” the Doctor asked.

“Remember I told you about the flub at breakfast?”

“Yes.”

Peri held up the book to him.  “It’s caught up to me.”

“I see.  But the situation hasn’t changed.  We’ll be leaving soon anyway.”

The Doctor left the desk and approached the Blue Dalek’s personal computer.  He grabbed a disk at random and placed it inside the computer.  “Let’s see what this is,” the Doctor said cheerfully.  He sat down in front of the screen and began reading the text with interest.

“What does it say?  I can’t read Dalek.”

The Doctor massaged his chin with his fingers.  “It seems the Blue Dalek is writing a novel and this is one of the chapters.”

“You aren’t serious.”

“I certainly am.”

“What use do Daleks have for books?  Is it even in their nature to write?”

“I’ve always thought the only thing in their nature was conquest and destruction.  But these Imperial Daleks appear to be very odd indeed.  They have almost nothing in common with the traditional Daleks.”

“What’s the book about?”

“The favorite subject of all Daleks … themselves.  This segment involves the composition of the Dalek elite.  Here, I’ll read it to you:

“’The Imperial hierarchy will be composed of Dalek units who will be identified by the color of their shells.  The four major categories of these new, supremely intellectual Daleks will be as follows: Blue – administrative officer, Green – technological researcher, Silver – stealth and reconnaissance, Red – war strategist and intensive combat unit.  All three units will have a strong desire to observe alien behavioral instincts ….”

“Why’d you stop?”

The Doctor pulled the disk out.  “There was nothing more of value.  I didn’t want to bore you to death.  Besides, it isn’t safe to stay in here forever.”

The Doctor rummaged through several disks before he found one marked “Emissary.”
            Peri pointed to it excitedly.  “That we should certainly look at!”

The Doctor set it up just like he did the last disk and began to translate the foreign language the text was written in.  “’The label of the Imperial Emissary is not so much a title as the identification of a task.  When the Imperial Empire grew to the size where the Emperor could no longer be personally involved in the governing of worlds, puppet governments were established to retain Dalek control.  Each government would have at least two members of the Dalek hierarchy on hand to prevent insurrection.  These Daleks will be primarily left to their own devices.

“’As an additional precaution to make certain no compromise in loyalty occurred within the colored Daleks themselves, the Emperor decreed the establishment of the Order of Imperial Emissaries.  Admiral Nyder, the Cardinal Emissary, was chosen as the leader because of his close personal association with the Emperor that established a relationship of trust.  This set a precedent where humanoids sympathetic to the Dalek cause could be Emissaries as well as Daleks.  However, it is far more common for the Emissary to be a Dalek, particularly if the planet being observed is an important one….’”

The Doctor went on to read off what he felt were the important points of the section, just to give Peri a general idea of where she and the others were going wrong and why they were so easily doubted by the Blue Dalek.

A thought struck Peri.  “Do you think there is a chance he wrote a chapter on the battle?  Maybe we can discover the exact outcome?”

The Doctor’s grin widened.  “Wonderful thinking.”

His fingers raced across the computer controls, trying to access an index of sorts so he could locate the relevant chapter, should it exist.  “Ah!  I’ve found a table of contents!  What?  The chapter on me is only six hundred pages!  The chapter on the Movellans is twice that length!  I’m insulted.”

Peri’s mouth dropped.  “How long are these chapters?”

“It figures a Dalek wouldn’t know how to get to the point.  The length of this novel makes ‘War and Peace’ look like a Marvel comic book.  Granted, the author had centuries of history to chronicle.  Ah!  I’ve found what we’re looking for.  ‘Chapter Seventy: The Celestial Toymaker: Mysterious Benefactor’,  ‘Chapter Seventy-one: The Shardonian Campaign’.”

The Doctor turned to view the pile of numbered disks and inserted the one marked Seventy-one into the computer.

“’The Imperials’,” the Doctor dictated, “’fell under attack by four seemingly supernatural beings composed of animated antiquated armor.   The source of their life is a mystery that remains unsolved.  These beings were able to murder many of the landing party, throwing all into a state of disarray.  Taking advantage of the chaos, a small taskforce of Shardonians (who had arrived by virtue of the Doctor’s TARDIS) attacked the already suffering Imperials….

“’However, against almost insurmountable odds, the forces of good triumphed, and the Imperial Daleks slaughtered all opposition.  They claimed the Conscience of Shardonia as their own.  Utilizing the transporter, Admiral Nyder sent the Conscience to the Mother-ship Vorkim.  Immediately after the Conscience was sent to safety, the Shardonian armies began an unrestrained bombardment of the caverns.  The landing party was forced to flee to the ship.  Sadly, only twelve Daleks and Admiral Nyder managed to escape alive.

“’The time-dilation transporter had been destroyed, but it was not considered a great loss.  Voyages by ship were safer, more efficient, and better suited for military purposes.

“’To dispose of the annoyance the Shardonian armies caused, the Vorkim fired on the membranous dome that protected the city of Marteria.  The dome tore, sending fathoms of water crashing down on the city, killing billions instantly.  The Vorkim then fired on the other domes, systematically dispatching all of the planet’s inhabitants, leaving none of their alien filth alive to ever challenge Dalek supremacy again.’”

The Doctor looked up at Peri.  “There’s an author’s note saying this description is purposely sketchy.  He wrote an entire novel just on the Conscience.”

Peri avoided the Doctor’s eyes.  “I think we’ve read enough.”
            The Doctor nodded.  “We’ve learned all we can here.  We should go now.”

“I’m with … oh!”  Peri’s hand flew up to her mouth and she took a step back.

The Doctor followed her line of vision and realized what had disturbed her so.  Resting on a shelf above the computer like some sort of macabre decoration was the tiny, graying skull of an infant.  A plaque rested next to the skull with the Dalek proverb inscribed on it:  “Crush your enemies when they are young so they do not crush you when they are old.”

The Doctor stepped in front of the skull so Peri could no longer see it.

Peri’s shock turned quickly to rage.  “How can they be so obscene?  How can they murder a child, put its remains on display, and then be so proud of themselves?”

The Doctor rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “You have to understand, the Daleks have no conception of morals.  They weren’t programmed to recognize any form of life other than their own.  That’s why they have no difficulty killing children.  While to us an infant is something innocent and pure, to a Dalek it is a bag of organic matter taking up space.  Children aren’t Daleks so they can’t possibly be alive.”

“That’s absurd!”

“I’m definitely not condoning it.  I think it’s vile.  I’m just telling you that’s how they think.  They don’t murder when they kill humans or Gallifreyans; they cleanse the universe of a pestilence.  Death only exists for Daleks.”

“Someone should teach them otherwise.”

“You think I haven’t tried?  It’s fruitless.  It’s in their nature to destroy what isn’t like them.  They won’t change to suit the facts.  They’ll change the facts to suit them.  They’re among the few life-forms in the cosmos incapable of redemption.”

“I wish they were all dead, those bastards.”

The Doctor was taken aback.  “Peri!  Those are such harsh words coming from you.”

Peri threw her hands into the air in disgusted confusion.  “I know.  I don’t like what’s happening to me.  I’ve lived through so much horror that I think it’s beginning to twist me inside.”

“Oh, Peri, you can’t – “

The two suddenly heard the voice of the Silver Guard Dalek call from behing the door:  “Is anyone within?  I would like to enter.”

They both froze.

The voice repeated.  “Are you inside, sir?”

“Quick!” the Doctor hissed.  “Hide!”

They dashed as quietly as they could across the room, finding cover underneath the desk.  They managed to conceal themselves just before the Silver Guard crept humbly in the office.

“Sir?”

The Silver Guard had assumed the Blue Dalek would be within.  It knew that entering without permission was a risk, but having waited so long for acknowledgment, it feared that its superior officer had been injured or was in need of some assistance.  It, therefore, decided to chance receiving condemnation for breach of protocol.  Surprisingly, the Blue Dalek wasn’t in at all, harmed or unharmed.

The Silver Guard’s voice was vexed.  “I know I heard activity in here.”

It was silent for over a minute, listening for any further noises.  Its sense globes actively scanned the area for signs of body heat.  Fortunately for the pair, the desk they were crouched under obstructed the results of the scan.  The Doctor and Peri huddled together in the darkness, watching the confused Dalek study the room.

The Dalek glided across the room to one of the old Gallifreyan wardrobes.  With its claw arm, it unlatched the door and opened it.  Old, abandoned clothes hung loosely from hangers, with thick dust and cobwebs veiling them.  The Dalek brushed the clothes aside, searching for his mystery intruders.  He found none.

“I know you are here, Doctor, and I will find you.” 

It stopped within an arms reach of the Time Lord.  All it had to do was look down and it would see him.  Four minutes passed with both beings that close together.  The Dalek remained listening and the Doctor knew it would hear him breathing at so close a distance.  He closed his eyes and mentally willed his respiratory bypass to shut down the involuntary function.  It was a disadvantage that Peri could not do the same.  He knelt there, under the desk, motionless and not breathing, for another three minutes.  It seemed longer to the Doctor

The Silver Dalek abandoned its heat scan and switched to audio sensors to detect breathing.  Using its superb artificial hearing, it heard a faint but regular sound coming from under the desk.  In one full swoop, it lifted the heavy piece of furniture into the air and hurled it across the office.  The doctor and Peri scrambled in opposite directions just as the Dalek fired.  The blast struck the ground where they were one instant before.

The Dalek sped towards the Doctor, who was still climbing to his feet.   It wrapped its claws around his throat and lifted him off the ground.  The Doctor’s eyes bulged and he made gargling noises with his throat.  He could feel the steely fingers crushing his windpipe and fought to remain conscious.

The Dalek spun the Doctor around and carried its kicking captive over to the glass hologram unit.  “You will be made to suffer, Doctor, for all the indignation you have dealt my people.”  It brought the Doctor’s body down on the glass, shattering it.  The force of the blow was incredible as glass shards cut into the Doctor’s back.  He felt himself lifted into the air again and spun around to be slammed into the music unit.

Peri, realizing she’d been regarded as trifling, scrambled over to the Blue Dalek’s computer.  Using both hands, she hoisted it into the air and smashed it down on top of the Silver Guard’s head.  Sparks flew and circuitry flared as the computer exploded over the Dalek’s dome.  Nevertheless, the Dalek was unperturbed, and it hurled the Doctor against the portrait of the Terrible Zodin, tearing the canvas.

Peri looked around, desperately trying to find a weapon.  In its trashing of the office, the Silver Guard had overturned a box of spare Dalek parts.  She stared at the collection of pieces on the floor, hoping to locate something.  She frantically brushed aside a sucker arm and an eyepiece when she came across a disembodied blaster.  She lifted it into the air and fired it.

The weak beam bounced off the Silver Dalek’s dome.  Curls of smoke drifted out from under its head.  Distracted enough to release its hold, the Dalek let the Doctor crach on top of the overturned desk.  Peri attempted to fire again, but the weapon had no power in it.  She looked on in shock as the Silver Guard turned its attention to exterminating her.

Peri abandoned the useless blaster and rushed over to the Doctor.  Dodging a close shot, she grabbed the groggy Time Lord by the wrist and dragged him to his feet.  The Silver Guard rotated, ready to fire once more.  Thinking in unison, Peri and the Doctor placed their hands under the desk and flipped it into the oncoming Dalek.  The Dalek laser beam burst the desk into blazing debris that showered the room.  With the desk providing a momentary distraction, the two companions bolted across the room and rushed out into the hallway.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-six

 

The Citadel’s security center saw more frenzied activity at that time than it did in its entire existence.  Daleks worked frantically at their stations dispatching troops and fellow Daleks to apprehend the growing number of criminals rampaging about the Capital.  An even more difficult task was keeping a fix on the positions of those same criminals with the security cameras going on the blink at inopportune moments. There had been slight glitches in the system since the day before that were in the process of being repaired.  Now those same glitches were costing them dearly.

Rather than idly standing by watching his men carry out orders from the safety of the control room, the Blue Dalek prepared to lead the next dispatch.  He addressed the twelve soldier Daleks he would be accompanying.  His voice was thick and filled with urgency as he explained the situation.

“The circumstances have grown even more dire.  As you know, I have deployed two dozen Chancellery Guards to locate the mentally defective Red Dalek.  Three minutes ago he was discovered and combats instantly ensued between the two forces.  The Red Dalek unit has been outfitted with a personal force-field, so he will be impervious to firepower until the device expires its last drop of energy.  By that time, he will do untold damage to our operation here.

“As an added difficulty, my suspicions regarding the Emissaries were correct.  The one who referred to herself as Cordelia Mackie was indeed Miss Perpugilliam Brown, a known criminal and associate of the Bringer of Darkness.  The two of them invaded my private quarters and were discovered through the ingenuity of the Silver Guard.  Both of them and the other Emissaries will attempt to escape our grasp by departing Gallifrey.  They will certainly be heading for the Doctor’s TARDIS, so I am deploying three of you to guard it.  There are already many there that will assist you.

“The task we face is a difficult one because we will be forced to split the attention of our soldiers between the two menaces, both of which represent equal threats, and the division will act to the advantage of both adversarial forces.  Do whatever you can to redress the imbalance.”

“We obey,” the soldier Daleks chorused.

“Seek … locate … exterminate!” the Blue Dalek screeched.

The soldiers saluted him with their appendages and rose their voices in response.  “Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!”

The Red Dalek rolled down the one of the many seemingly identical corridors that reticulated within the Citadel interior.  Spinning around the next corner, the Red Dalek came to a halt in front of a massive green door.  Muffled sounds of urgent activity that came from behind the door put the Dalek on full alert.  Anticipating an ambush, it backed against the wall and readied its Gatling gun.  Then it let off a stream of projectiles, riddling the door with laser beams.  From the other side it heard two people scream and slump to the ground.  A puddle of blood formed at the base of the door and seeped into the hallway under the crack.

Laughing jovially, the Dalek activated the door mechanism to see the result of its handiwork.  The door began to slide back into the wall with an ominous grating sound.  When it opened all the way, the Red Dalek saw two Chancellery Guards stretched out on the floor, their bodies hacked to pieces by laser fire.  With little effort, it bounded over the two dead obstacles to continue its killing spree. 

The Dalek observed the new surroundings of the adjoining room with disgust.  “This room is very unattractive.”

Six marble support beams held up the ceiling but, otherwise, it was merely a large, empty, green room.  Opting to give the room a more avant-garde aspect, the Red Dalek strafed the walls and pillars, knocking off chunks and burning permanent scorch marks into the already ugly areas.

“Stay where you are!  Do not move!”

The Red Dalek spun its eye stalk to see two soldier Daleks appear from the rear of the chamber.  They were both armed with very heavy firepower that the Red Dalek’s personal force-field might not have been able to withstand.  Deciding not to take any chances, the Red Dalek let its gun and eye stalk droop; an accepted Dalek motion that was taken to signify subservience or, in its case, surrender.

The two Daleks didn’t believe the ploy.  They opened fire on the Red Dalek, viciously assaulting it with their energy weapons.  The insane Dalek stood patiently waiting as the beams reflected harmlessly off the personal force-field.  As it waited, it played itself a small recording of elevator music that it felt fit the mood of the scene perfectly.

“Finished?”

Two soldier Dalek bodies were dashed against the wall by the Red Dalek’s firepower, their armor pulverized by the relentless attack of the Gatling gun.

The Red Dalek looked on the two dead Daleks and laughed gleefully.  “Nice meeting you.”

While well aware of the peril of the Red Dalek, Leo Ravner, and Mel had no idea of the Doctor and Peri’s plight.  Nor did they realize that the Imperials were on their way to the presidential suite to kill them.  Blissfully ignorant of their predicament, they stood within the relative safety of Runcible’s quarters, discussing plans with him.  They talked in hushed tones huddled near Runcible’s personal computer.  Runcible went over the decisions he and the Doctor had made during the course of the night.  Runcible had been assigned the duty of leading them all to the Doctor’s TARDIS.  He would do so using the security access he’d been granted for his Public Register Video research.

When he had finished giving his fellow conspirators a brief review of the escape plan, he slid into the seat in front of the computer and began entering several security access codes into the machine.

“What are you doing?” asked Mel.

“Fulfilling another of the Doctor’s instructions.  My computer is tied in with all the security cameras in the Citadel.  As a precaution, the Doctor asked me to monitor all Imperial activity.”  Runcible successfully tapped into the audio-visual security stations.  A picture from a camera in the dining room appeared.  He hit a key and changed the view.  An alternate picture was given, this time of a civilian populated area in the Citadel, ‘The Square’.  It was currently deserted, evacuated as a result of the Red Dalek’s rampage.  The next view was of another residential area. 

Runcible sucked his teeth.  “How do I control what display I get?  Oh, yes.  I know.”  He made a few more adjustments to the controls and then managed to call up a picture of the hall outside his house.  He got a clear picture of a soldier Dalek trundling its merry way along.

“Where has the Doctor been all this time anyway?” Mel inquired.  “You’d think he’d at least try to make contact with us once in a while.”

Runcible stared gravely at her.  “The Doctor wanted to see if he could discover some information about the Shardonian campaign in the Blue Dalek’s office.  He took Peri with him.  They should be back any time now.  He told me we can all leave as soon as we regroup.”

As they spoke, Jesania lurked within the shadows behind Runcible’s wardrobe, shrouding herself in darkness to conceal her presence.  She listened silently to the dialogue between her husband and his compatriots, realizing the full extent of his betrayal and grieving for his corrupted soul.

“Speaking of regrouping” – Leo produced the communicator that Matrisa had given him to summon her with – “It’s time we brought Matrisa in here.”  He tapped the communicator with his paw to turn it on.  “Matrisa?  Are you there?”

“I am,” was the stale reply from the other end.

“Do you have a lock on our position?”

“I am establishing it now.  Processing.  Yes.  I have a lock on your position.”

“See if you can get over here without getting yourself killed.  Maintain a constant fix on our movements.  If plans go awry, we may be forced to move from our present location.  Simply make the necessary course adjustments to regroup with us.”

“Affirmative.”

Leo shut off the communicator. “All set,” he announced to the others.

“Good.”

Runcibles’s voice broke into the discussion as he whispered to himself, “Hello … what’s this?”

Mel leaned over Runcibles’s shoulder.  “What have you got?”

Runcible waved excitedly for silence.  “Sssh!  Listen.”

While the others were talking, Runcible had been calling up a visual of the outside of the Lord President’s quarters.  Massed by the door were seven soldier Daleks lead personally by the Blue Dalek.

“What are they doing?” Mel asked.

“They were just emerging from your quarters,” Runcible explained, “when the picture came up.  I assumed they were searching for you.”  He slowly spun a dial set in the computer until the audio grew more distinct.

“They were not within.”  The voice of the Blue Dalek crackled, distorted through Runcible’s semi-dated speaker system.  “We must capture and kill them before they regroup with the Doctor.  As a combined force, they will be even more dangerous than they are already.  Three of you take the western wing of this level, the other three take the east.  Use that same procedure systematically throughout every level in the Capital until they are found.  Check especially lifts, stairs, and mobile ramp ways that lead to the Panopticon.  They will be heading for the TARDIS.”

And so, the seven Daleks dispersed in their respective directions to begin the search for the Emissaries.

From their positions of relative safety in Runcible’s house, the Emissaries exchanged concerned glances.  All of them were speechless, waiting for someone else to say something unbelievably intelligent to soothe their worries.

Leo cleared his throat.  “Well, I suppose that’s that.”  He lifted the communicator to his lips again.  “Matrisa?  There’s been a small development.  We may have to make a few changes in our plans.”

While Leo informed his Movellan agent of the new developments, the others scurried about the room, gathering their possessions and preparing to embark immediately for the Panopticon.  Leo snapped the communicator shut when he had finished delivering his message.  He exited the study and walked the length of the apartment to the front entrance where the others awaited him.

Rather than leave his quarters with the others, Runcible paused to rummage through the pockets of his robes.  Agitated, he stamped his left foot and groaned.

“What’s wrong, man?” asked Leo.

“I’m missing the keycard.”

“What keycard?”

Runcible exhaled sharply through his nostrils.   “When I wanted access to the TARDIS computer files for my work as a reporter, Chancellor Goth gave me a keycard.  It is used to open a secret compartment in the Panopticon walls where the TARDIS has been impounded.”

“Clever,” Mel observed.  “Who would think to look there?”
“Exactly.  But not I’ve gone and misplaced the thing.”

Ravner muttered the word “moron” too low for Runcible to hear it and sighed

with disgust.

            Runcible waved them out the door excitedly.  “Go, go, go, go.  You’re in a hurry and I can’t slow you down.  I’ll catch you up.”

            “Let’s go,” Ravner urged when he saw Mel hesitating.  “We can’t waste any more time.”

            Runcible waved absently to them.  “Good-bye.”

            “See you later.”  Mel flashed Runcible a quick smile before shutting the door behind her and the others.

 

            The Imperial in the security control room looked on the formation of scanners on the wall in front of it.  Each scanner displayed a different hall of the Citadel, all of which were charred by gunfire and littered with rubble and carcasses.  Via the few cameras left undamaged by flying gunfire, the Imperial monitored the carnage wrought by the Red Dalek and closely followed the lunatic’s course.

            The Imperial opened a communications channel with all the armed forces in the Citadel.  “Rogue Two approaching sector eleven.  Proceed with caution … personal force-field still at full power.”

The Doctor and Peri bolted their way across the Citadel, successfully evading their pursuers.  They ran swiftly and silently, a skill they picked up over the years of experience in those sorts of situations.  Racing through another doorway, they came across an open space with a wide white column standing at its center.

The Doctor skidded to a halt in front of the structure.   Unable to stop herself in time, Peri ran into the Doctor, letting out a surprised cry. Then she saw what made him stop short.  From around the bend ahead was the emerging form of a soldier Dalek.  The Doctor led Peri behind the column, where they stood with their backs against it, waiting.  They heard the low hum of the Dalek’s machinery s it glided past their position.  Oblivious to their presence, it continued along its way down the halls.

When it had gone, the Doctor stepped into sight.  Suddenly curious, he turned around and stared at the column that had saved their lives.  “How odd.”

Peri followed his gaze and examined the inscription on the column.  Carved into it in bold black letters were the following Gallifreyan words:

 

“TO ALL THE IMPERIAL DALEKS OF THE EMPEROR’S ARMY OF ENLIGHTENMENT WHO HAVE BEEN SLAIN IN COMBAT AGAINST THE FORCES OF EVIL, A MEMORIAM: IN DEATH YOU HAVE PROVEN YOUR DEDICATION TO OUR CAUSE BY MAKING THE ULTIMATE SACRIFICE.  YOU HAVE HELPED VINDICATE THE HONOR OF THE DALEK NAME THAT WAS SO TAINTED BY THE DEFECTION OF OUR PREDECESSORS.  FOR THAT, WE PAY YOU THIS TRIBUTE.  YOUR DEEDS WILL ALWAYS HAVE A PLACE OF ESTEEM IN OUR HISTORY AND YOUR NOBLENESS WILL FOREVER BY REMEMBERED WITH REVERENCE.”

 

“Another shining example of the quest of the modern Dalek,” the Doctor noted.  “To find some form of identity by mimicking the customs of races which they despise.  How very ironic.  How insipid.”

“Doctor?  Why is it I can understand what it says/”

The Doctor grinned at her.  “It looks like it’s written in English, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And the Daleks appear to be speaking English, don’t they?”
            “Yes.”

“I hope you don’t think every race in the cosmos speaks your language.”

“I don’t.  But I never understood why it seems that way.”

“There’s a trait of the TARDIS’ that allows anyone who travels in it to automatically understand the languages of the alien races they encounter.  I’ll explain it to you better sometime.”

“But I didn’t come to Gallifrey by TARDIS.”

The Doctor pursed his lips.  “The time dilation transporter must have had the same feature.  Anyway, we better start moving.  Come along.”

He began walking briskly in the direction in which the soldier Dalek had come, with Peri following close behind.  They soon came upon an open and inviting lift that would take them to the area where the Panopticon was.

The Doctor stared at the open elevator uncertainly.  “I don’t know.”

“How else are we going to get to the TARDIS?”

“I’m sure the moment we step out of the lift there will be a Dalek waiting for us outside.  Maybe there’s some sort of a shaft or duct we can crawl down.”

“But what about the rogue Dalek they keep broadcasting about?  What if it’s distracted them?”

The Doctor turned away from the tempting elevator and began retracing his steps.  “No.  There are bound to be guards.  We’ll find another way.”

Understanding, but annoyed nonetheless, Peri reluctantly abandoned the lift.  They continued walking, down the hall and past the monument, all the time watching and listening for signs of activity.  Since they were on the alert, they heard the Dalek approaching from the west instantly.  However, this time they were too slow getting out of sight.  It had seen them.

“Exterminate!”

The two threw themselves to the floor as the side of the monument exploded under fire.  Rolling to their feet, they broke into a run, desperately hoping to reach the elevator in time.   They hurtled themselves around the corner, barely dodging a second shot.  Peri was in the lead, her skirt gathered up in her hand, running just as fast as the Doctor. 

They leaped into the lift and hit the control button.  The doors hesitated closing.

The Doctor grit his teeth and waved a fist at the machine.  “Come on, come on!”

The pursuing Dalek spun round the corner and fired again.  The beam bore down on them.  They managed to sidestep it at the last instant.  The blast scorched the elevator wall, sending showers of sparks over the two passengers.  Peri screamed in pain as part of the explosion burned her arm.

“Advance and attack!” the soldier Dalek grated.  “Attack and destroy!”

At the last moment before the Dalek was about to enter the lift, the doors slid shut in its face.  A second later, Peri and the Doctor felt the strange sensation of movement under their feet as the elevator moved towards their destination.  Peri let out a long, relieved sigh.

Still uneasy, knowing they would be expected, the Doctor looked around the life interior for some form of escape hatch.  He found none.  They were trapped.

He turned to Peri, smiling gently.  “Are you alright?”

“Let’s have a look.”  The Doctor gently brushed her hand away from her arm.  “It doesn’t seem that bad,” he observed.  “But I’ll wager it hurts like the devil.”

“It does.”

The Doctor looked up into her eyes.  “Peri,” he began slowly, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Yes?”

He swallowed.  “Will you forgive me?”
Peri was disarmed by the question.  “For what?”

“For hurting you.”

Now understanding, Peri shook her head.  “That wasn’t you.  That was my Doctor.   You’re asking me to forgive you for things you haven’t done yet.”

The Doctor was now earnest.  “You have no idea how horrible I felt listening to you relate what will happen between you and I on Thoros-Beta.  I’m sorry for all the pain I’ll cause you.”

“But, Doctor – “

“Please … accept my apology.”

Peri stared back into his troubled eyes and saw once again the full measure of his guilt.  She started to open her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a low bong that announced the elevator’s arrival on their floor.  They both turned simultaneously to see the doors slide apart.  Just as the Doctor suspected, a Dalek was waiting for them on the other side.  It was their old friend, the Silver Guard.

“Greetings,” it intoned cheerfully.  “I’ve been expecting you.”
            The Doctor stepped in front of Peri, shielding her.  “If you want to kill me, you may.  Just let Peri go.”

“Why should I?”

“Because this fight isn’t hers.  It’s between you Daleks and me.  It has always been between you and me.”

The Silver Guard closed in on them, preventing the lift from leaving.  “That isn’t true.  Peri bears a burden of responsibility for some of our humiliation.  Both of you, along with the Grand Master Orsini, destroyed hundreds of my brethren on Necros.  I have heard so much of you and how you have brought a cloud of darkness over Dalek prosperity.  Now I am here, the bearer of light.  I have come to destroy you.”

A tear drifted down Peri’s cheek.  “You’re forgiven, Doctor.”

Then, the shot rang out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-seven

 

Six minutes earlier, the Imperial in charge of monitoring the Red Dalek watched with satisfaction as its charge began heading into a very sparsely populated region of the Citadel.  The lunatic would not be causing much trouble for a while.  Just as it left the range of one security camera and was about to move into the purview of another, the second camera malfunctioned.  Vacillating snow and blaring static purged the picture from the screen.  The Imperial made frantic adjustments to the audio/visual arrays, only to be greeted with a black screen that was disrupted every three seconds by lightening-like flashes.  Grunting with frustration, the Imperial opened a communications channel to the engineer inquiring how long until the terminals would come back on line.

“I am proceeding with a level twelve diagnostic on the systems to locate the fault.  I will inform you when I discover the cause of the malady.”

That’s all the engineer ever does is run diagnostics, thought the Imperial.  He can never discover what the problem is, let alone rectify it.

A call came in unexpectedly, distracting the Imperial.  It received it eagerly.

“This is the Silver Guard.  Rogue One and Rogue Three have been trapped in a life.  I’m on the Panopticon level ready to intercept them as they try to exit.”

The Imperial’s spirits lifted.  “You have orders to exterminate them as soon as the elevator doors open.  Remain in audio contact so I may monitor your progress.”

The Imperial stared back at the viewscreens.  Now some semblance of a picture was forming on the one in front of it.  Rather than stabilize, brief flashes of the hall flickered on and off.  Only by virtue of its computer brain was it able to make sense of the virtually subliminal flashes.  It was then that it regained sight of the Red Dalek.  It turned to all twenty of its comrades in the control room. “I have found Rogue Two!”

“Where is it?” inquired one.

Dread filled the Imperial’s voice.  “Just outside.”

The chamber’s doors hissed open behind them, and a crimson shape glided in.  The Red Dalek regarded its fellow Imperials haughtily.  “I heard you wanted to see me.”

 

Beads of sweat rolled down Runcible’s forehead.  Now frantic, he tore the contents of his desk apart and was completely unable to find the keycard.  His hearts beat furiously as he rifled through his files and overturned his desk drawers.

“Where is it?”  Where is it?  Where is it?”  He muttered the question incessantly, his voice growing more and more wretched with each utterance.  “What could I have done with it?  It was right here!”
            Runcible stepped away from the wreck he’d made of his apartment and surveyed the scene from afar.  Feeling a headache coming on, he massaged his temples to try and make it better.  It did not help.

“Looking for something?” a voice inquired.

Runcible clenched the fabric of his tunic to his chest and turned his head.  Right behind him stood his wife, Jesania.  She wore a strange, foreboding expression and looked on Runcible’s distressed face impassively.  With a sow, deliberate motion, she lifted a staser barrel to center inevitably on Runcible’s chest.

Runcible’s eyes widened with surprise.  “Jesania!  What are you doing?  What is that gun for?”

Jesania held her free hand up.  Clutched in it was a shiny red keycard.  “Perhaps you’re looking for this?”

Runcible adopted a more stern face.  “Where did you get that?”  The act wasn’t very convincing since he wrung his hands nervously as he spoke.

Jesania’s voice had the timbre and the emotion of a soldier Dalek; it was flat and devoid of feeling.  “I stole it from you.”

Runcible reached forward for it.  “Give it back at once, do you hear me?”

Jesania’s only reaction was to move the gun closer to Runcible’s right heart.

“Say something!”

Jesania persisted in her silence, further terrifying Runcible.  Muttering and shaking his head, his feet fidgeting back and forth, Runcible desperately hoped that someone would arrive to rescue him.  “Please, don’t do this.  You aren’t yourself.  You wouldn’t normally pull a gun on me, would you?”

His wife stared blankly at him.  Her finger tightened a little more on the trigger.

“This is all the Daleks’ fault.”  Runcible held up his hands in front of him and took a step back.  “They’re evil.  They’ve twisted your mind.  Come with me and I’ll help you.”

Jesania’s lips curled up into a grim snarl.

“You don’t owe the Daleks your loyalty!  The Daleks have taken everything from you.  If you let them, they’ll destroy you.”

“No,” Jesania said at last.  “You have destroyed me.”

Jesania pulled the trigger and let fly a bolt from her staser.  The shot struck Runcible in the chest, hurling him back against the wall.  Tears streaking down his cheeks, he looked up at his wife, horrified at what she had done to him.  A numb, disorienting sensation swept over his body.  Then his head lolled backwards, his jaw dropping open and his throat making a low, gargling sound.  At last, his knees buckled beneath him and he slid to the floor.  There he remained, still and silent, as smoke rose from the burn on his chest.  He hadn’t even had time to scream before the darkness engulfed him.

Jesania sat on her heels in front of her husband’s corpse and watched it coldly.  She lifted Runcibles’s head, caressing it with her hands.  His skin was not yet cold to the touch; his dead, lifeless eye stared up at her.  Jesania ran her fingers down Runcible’s face, closing his eyes.

“Good-bye, Runcible,” she whispered.  Filling her mouth with phlegm and saliva, she drew her head back and spit it out at the body.  “You traitor.”

 

The security control room was a monument to devastation.  All viewscreens, dispatchers, and computer terminals had been torn up during the chaos.  The Blue Dalek surveyed the smoking ruins that were all that remained of the Imperials who had attempted to stop the Red Dalek.  It approached its slain comrades, tenderly touching the shattered husks with its appendage.  Overcome with grief and rage, it spun its eye stalk away, unable to look at the soldiers any more.

It pulled away from the grisly sight.  An enormous, gouged out hold in the west wall told the Blue Dalek where its red adversary had traversed.  When it spoke at last, the Blue Dalek’s voice cracked with emotion.  “The unthinkable has happened.  A Dalek has committed murder.  He has destroyed members of his own race.”

Behind the Blue Dalek, Allene Varalla stepped into sight.  Her gaze swept back and forth between the devastated soldiers and their anguished commander.  “I don’t understand your shock.  Imperials kill all the time.”

The Blue Dalek look quizzically at Allene.  “How can you say that?  True, we have fought Renegade Daleks, but they are on a lower evolutionary scale than we are.  They do not count.”

“What of Gallifreyans?”

The Blue Dalek clicked impatiently.  “It is a theory that all humanoids have evolved from the same primordial source as rodents, deer, and all other witless animals.  That marks you as no more than a mass of cohesive DNA cells endowed with the ability to mimic real thought.  Should that theory be accurate, you have no real right to life.  So do not insult me by placing the same value on Gallifreyan life as on Dalek life.”
            Having said that, the Blue Dalek turned away from Allene.  Already consumed with wrath over the killings, the Dalek had been further enraged in the senseless and time wasteful prattle Allene had forced him into.  It began heading off in a lather through the hole which had so obviously been blasted open by the Red Dalek.  “Wherever you are, traitor, know this: I will find you.”

 

The Doctor and Peri had stood in the lift, awaiting their deaths.  They tried to put on a brave front, not wanting to give the Dalek the satisfaction of seeing them afraid.  Then, the shot echoed in their ears.

The concussion force of the blast blasted off the top of the Silver Guard. Its dome somersaulted in the air before clattering to the floor.  A grey mist of smoke drifted into the elevator.  The Dalek armor cracked down the middle, revealing the mutant within.  The oozing green blob flailed its tentacles about in a macabre fashion.

Behind the Dalek, with her gun plugged into her hand, stood Matrisa.  She watched the death throes of the mutant with satisfaction.  When the creature fell silent, she motioned Peri and the Doctor to follow her.

“I suppose you are Matrisa?” the Doctor asked.  “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I am.  Quickly.  I have just arrived.  We must find Runcible and the others.”

“I’m with you,” the Doctor nodded.

 

The recursion effect of the dining room mirrors duplicated Allene Varalla’s reflection countless thousands of times.  She stopped briefly to study the queer sight.  Small wonders such as that always used to please her when she was master of her own mind, and it was one of the small eccentricities of her behavior that the Dalek conditioning left intact.  She eyed the numerous images of the Blue Dalek moving towards her with wry amusement.

“I thought the Red Dalek would be in this room,” it announced.  “Its trail ends here.  I see no more bodies or scorch marks on the walls.”

Allene turned away from the reflective surface.  She held one of her ceremonial swords in front of her, running the tip of her finger along the edge of the blade.  Its twin was sheathed at her side.  “Then he must be around here somewhere.  We must stay on the alert.”

A sudden explosion rocked the room.  The dining room door, blown off its hinges, slammed into Allene’s back and bowled her over.  Her sword clattered to the ground as she fell.  Shaking her head to clear out the cobwebs, her gaze rose to see the Red Dalek gun as it entered.  Mirrors around the room exploded into millions of shards of glass as stray shots shattered them.  A protective yellow field was thrown up about the Blue Dalek, preventing any shots from harming it. 

The Red Dalek abruptly stopped firing and stared down at its adversary.  “Ah!  You have a personal force-field also?  How dull!  Do you possess so little imagination that you must copy off my ideas?”

Allene took the momentary cease-fire as a good opportunity to stumble to her feet, making a large mistake in doing so.  Getting up entailed a lot of movement, which attracted attention.  The Red Dalek noticed her and, either in spite of or due to its earlier vow not to kill her, discharged a single pulse in her direction.  “Dance!”

The burst hammered the floor just next to Allene’s feet.  Through sheer reflex action, she jumped away from the warning shot, landed awkwardly on her heel, and toppled over.

The Red Dalek guffawed at the Lord President’s indignation.  Cackling away, he rotated on his ball bearing, eternally pleased with himself.

Consumed by wrath, the Lord President produced a pulsing green sphere from her pocket and pointed it in the direction of the Red Dalek.  Since she held it close to her, she kept in concealed from the deranged Dalek.

When the Red Dalek finished chuckling, the Blue Dalek addressed a question to it.  “I just want to know one thing before I execute you.  Why did you murder those Daleks?  Are you insane?  That kind of ugly behavior belongs with the lesser races, not with Daleks.”

The Red Dalek abandoned its flippant air abruptly.  “I am not insane.  All my life I have lived a fallacy.  I have just now discovered who I truly am … what all Daleks truly are.  I have now embraced my identity and am much happier.”

“What can you mean?”

The Red Dalek smiled inwardly.  “I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.”

The green sphere Allene held gave off a shrill call, letting the Blue Dalek know it had completed its task.  Emboldened by the news, the Blue Dalek trundled closer towards his enemy.  It spoke again in its rich, bass voice.

“You, Red Dalek, are a blight on our people.  Your very existence is a plague on the purity of our mission of galactic harmony.  I cannot allow you to continue living.”

“Take your best shot,” the Red Dalek goaded.  “I won’t stop you.  I’m invincible.  A being who knows who he is cannot be killed, and I know who I am.”

“You are nothing.”  The Blue Dalek discharged a steady beam from its gun.  Instead of being stopped in mid-flight as the Red Dalek expected, the beam began eating away at the battle armor. The Red Dalek was horrified when the force-field was not there to protect it.  As the ray cooked the interior of the Dalek, flecks of flesh peeled off the body of the mutant within.  Its skin blistered and popped.  Taken completely by surprise, the mutant went up in flames as control chamber exploded into a giant ball of fire.  The metal dome blasted into the air and the bottom of the base burst into fragments.  Debris rained down on the Blue Dalek and Allene, who shielded her face with her arms.

The smoke settled and they eyed the deceased Red Dalek.  Now no more than a lifeless hulk of contorted metal, flames ate away at the armor from within, sending sparks flying and smoke pouring out into the dining room.  Another chain of explosions rocked the Dalek, hurling its arm and its Gatling gun forward.  They spiraled to the ground and skidded across the room to strike the far wall.

Still furious, the Blue Dalek fired on the corpse again.  The laser sliced through the twisted metal, tearing open the Dalek’s chest unit.  The Red Dalek lurched backward and dropped to the ground, sending the remains flying apart.

“So much for the Red Dalek,” Allene Varalla scoffed.

“Good work,” the Blue Dalek praised.  “I would never have got him without you.”

“I am honored by your compliment.”

“As well you should be.”  The Blue Dalek took one final look at the scattered body parts of his slain enemy and began moving away.  “Come.  We must locate the Doctor.”

 

The door to the Panopticon moved ajar.  A hand moved around its edge and, following a moment’s hesitation, threw the door open.  The Doctor was framed in the doorway, staring into the vacant chamber.  Well aware that it was a trap, but just as determined to get to his TARDIS, he stepped inside.  He was joined immediately by his two female companions.

“The others have arrived,” Matrisa observed.

Sure enough, Mel, Ravner, and Leo stepped within the confines of the Panopticon.  The Doctor smiled broadly and waved to them.  “Glad you could all make it.”  His smile faded quickly when he noticed one of their numbers was absent.  “Wait a moment.  Where’s Runcible?”

The awkward silence that followed disturbed the Doctor.  “Where is he?”

“We thought he would have joined us by now,” Ravner offered.  “He had to stay in his apartment to get the keycard.”

The Doctor rubbed his jaw.  “And he hasn’t arrived yet?  We’ll have to assume the worst.”  He turned his gaze towards Matrisa.  “Scan the room.”

The Movellan’s robotic eyes looked over the blank sections of wall searching for hollowed out sections.  She pointed to a section of wall on the right side of the room.  “There.”

The Doctor’s long legs took him across the room quickly.  He rested his hand on the cool, flat wall before him.  “Here?”

Matrisa nodded.  “There is a lock three-point-six-two-one inches below your hand.”

“Let’s see if we can’t trip this lock.”

Meanwhile, unseen by the intruders, five shapes detached themselves from alcoves in the chamber as the Daleks came forth from hiding.  Inside their casings, the mutants could discern a green image of the Doctor projected on their semi-telescopic targets.

The Doctor’s hand dove into his pocket, retrieving the sonic screwdriver.  A multi-functional device that served as his escape from many prisons in the past, it would once again save his hide if he could just get it to trip the secret door’s lock.

The Doctor in their sights, the lead Dalek ordered all its subordinates to open fire at once.

The Doctor held the sonic screwdriver up to the lock.  A whirring noise discharged from the device.  A series of quiet clicks told the Doctor that the lock had been successfully picked.

Leo, in a casual glance towards the ceiling, caught sight of the five Daleks.  “Look out, Doctor!”

Five streams of light streaked from the guns’ barrels, all converging on the Doctor.

Leo’s powerful leg muscles tensed and sprung forward as Leo leaped into the air, shoving the Doctor to the ground.  He had just enough time to brace himself for the impact when he was assailed from all directions.  The five beams attacked him, unrelenting in their power.  He closed his eyes and concentrated, blocking out the pain.  When the torrent of energy reached its zenith, Leo threw his head back and belted out a powerful roar that resounded off the Panopticon walls.

The Doctor rolled onto his back and looked up at Leo.  “Extraordinary.”

Under the intensity of the laser beams’ light, the Doctor could tell that Leo’s already broad form had grown slightly larger with the new endowment of power.   When the Dalek weapons disarmed, Leo was still standing.  He stood there, mighty and undaunted, with his fists clenched at his sides, seeming to be completely unharmed.

A low frequency hum issued from his chest.  The energy pumped into him by the Daleks reconfigured, welled up within him, and struggled to break free of his body.  Almost as if they were reflected off the surface of a mirror, the five Dalek rays catapulted forth from Leo’s body, traveling back the same way they had come.  The yellow bolts sheared off the heads of all five Daleks, destroying them all instantly.

Satisfied, Leo folded his arms in front of his chest and nodded.  Not a bad performance if he did say so himself.  Now that he had discharged most of the energy he had gathered, he returned to normal size.

The Doctor wasted no time.  He thanked Leo warmly and pushed open the entrance to the secret compartment.  Peering within, he saw the familiar blue shape of the TARDIS resting in the bare room.  The Doctor jerked his head in the direction of his machine.  “Come along then.  More Daleks will arrive soon.”

 

The Doctor entered the TARDIS first.  All the others – Mel, Peri, Matrisa, Leo – swarmed in immediately afterwards.  Not given any time to savor his reclaiming of the TARDIS, the Doctor rushed over to the door controls, ready to shut them as soon as his last companion filed in.  Ravner was the last one to step within the confines of the craft.  Once he crossed the boundary, the TARDIS doors whipped shut behind him.  He looked up to see the Doctor entering in the command for dematerialization.

 

Outside, three Imperial Daleks entered the impound room only to see the shabby blue Police Box shimmer and vanish from sight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-eight

 

The Doctor smiled wearily at the time rotor that rose and fell at the center of the mushroom console, telling him the TARDIS was now in flight, careening about the Space/Time Vortex.  He then began to adjust the TARDIS’s course heading, having left Gallifrey in too much of a hurry to set them properly.  It was only when he began the operation that he noticed the blindingly obvious.

His hand hovered over the coordinates’ slide controls, suddenly halting in mid-air.  His blue eyes were filled with terror as he looked down at the floor.  His right foot had trodden on a tangled mess of wires that were held together by adhesive tape.  The wires had been torn from their moorings at the base of the mushroom shaped console.  Running his eyes over the rest of the console, he realized the glass database terminal had been smashed and some small, key controls had been vandalized beyond repair.  Every single control violated had been linked to the TARDIS defense system.  Ordinarily, no weapons could be fired within the confines of the TARDIS.  With the disabling of the defense systems, such was no longer the case.

The Time Lord then turned his gaze to the only other way out of the room.  It was a single door with a yellow roundel set into it that led deeper into the TARDIS interior.  He let his hand drop and broke away from the console, heading for the door.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?” asked Mel.  She, as well as the others, had guessed most of what was bothering the Doctor, but they hoped it wasn’t true.

The Doctor closed his hand around the doorknob and slowly turned it.  With one quick pull, he ripped the door open.  A metallic hand flew forward and tried to clamp around the Doctor’s neck.  He narrowly evaded the attack, moving between the soldier Dalek’s claw and gun stick, preventing either from being able to hit him directly.  The Doctor’s companions, sharing a mutual terror, acted as one when they rushed forward to aid him.

A paralyzing spray spewed out of the Dalek’s gun stick.  The mist settled on the Doctor’s right leg and waist.  Wracked with cramps, the Doctor’s leg seized up.  He stopped short and fell face first to the ground.

The next sight the Doctor saw was Allene Varalla’s sword pointing at his head.  The Lord President smiled mischievously down at him.  Like in a dream, the sword moved in slow motion as raised to his throat. The Leo’s fist struck Allene a sledgehammer blow across her face, sending blood flying from her mouth.  Dropping her sword, she spun drunkenly around and slammed into the TARDIS wall, out cold.  Leo looked down at Allene, shaking his head.  He didn’t like having been forced to hit a woman.

Matrisa stepped in front of the soldier Dalek and pumped four laser rounds into it at point blank range.  Green Dalek blood splattered on the control room walls.  The soldier Dalek’s body blockaded the doorway, pouring smoke into the main control room and the hall behind it.

The Doctor’s voice croaked from his position on the floor.  “I can’t move.”

Leo bent over to take the Doctor by the wrists, dragging the paralyzed Gallifreyan to safety.  As he did so, Mel plucked up Allene’s sword and gripped it tightly to her chest.

“It will only be a matter of time before they flush us out,” the Doctor warned.  “Peri, open the other exit.”

Peri began punching some of the few intact buttons left on the console.  Using her piecemeal knowledge of the TARDIS systems and a little bit of guesswork, Peri deduced correctly.  A door-size section of the control room wall slid back and open to reveal a secret passage out of the control room.

“Stand ready,” the Doctor cautioned.  “Allene may have told the Daleks about this feature of the TARDIS.”

Matrisa shook her head.  “I detect no life forms behind that door.”

“Good.”  Leo hefted the limp Doctor over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and took him through the freshly made passage.          

Before the others were able to follow, six Chancellery guards rushed into the control room around the corpse of the soldier Dalek.  They began to spread out into a skirmish line and aimed their stasers at the enemies of the Daleks.

Matrisa was too fast for the guards.  With the speed of a gunslinger, she drew her weapon and shot down the two lead men.  Their bodies jerked spasmodically in a gruesomely amusing death dance before they dropped.

The action gave the others time to scramble through the secret door to safety.  Matrisa quickly joined them when the Chancellery guards initiated their counter-strike.  She took another hit with a laser, but was resilient enough to survive it without much damage.  The door began to close as soon as she passed through it.  One of the Chancellery guards darted up to the door before it could fully close.  He looked straight into the barrel of Matrisa’s weapon as it discharged in his face.  Instantly dead, the guard dropped to the ground just as the door shut completely.

            The Doctor’s head and arms dangled upside-down, rhythmically patting Leo’s back as the lion man raced down the corridors with the Doctor in his grasp.  While he appreciated the strain Leo must have been under carrying him, the resulting sensation further nauseated the already sick Doctor.  The illness was due completely to the mist the soldier Dalek had sprayed his leg with.  The Doctor was familiar with the effects of the Dalek disciplinary ray.  He had seen his companion Ian Chesterton affected by it when he first encountered the Daleks all those centuries ago.  Now that he knew how if felt first-hand, he could appreciate the suffering it had caused Ian.

            He ordered Leo and the others to stop running a moment and turned his feverish head to look at Matrisa, who stood apart from the group.  “Life readings?”

            Matrisa made a wide sensor sweep of the area.  She monitored the directions taken by the Daleks, the Chancellery guards, and the again conscious Lord President.  She felt certain they were in no immediate danger, and told the Doctor so.  There were six invaders all told.  As Matrisa gave him a detailed description of the apparent destinations of each individual invader, Leo set the Doctor down on the floor.  Upon hearing the directions, the Doctor held his head in his hands.  “Oh, no.”

             “What is it?” Leo asked.

            “The Blue Dalek is headed for the lab.”

            “Why is that bad?” asked Peri.

            “The lab is the only place where I can manufacture weapons against the Daleks,” the Doctor explained.  “I had hoped to make a T.A.G.  It would have frozen the water molecules in the air around the Dalek and killed it – Daleks are vulnerable to extreme temperatures, you see.  It wouldn’t have taken long to make, either.”

            “That’s bad,” Ravner agreed. “How is it that Matrisa can locate all the Daleks, but they can’t find us?”

            The Doctor turned conversationally to him.  “Movellan tracking systems are far more refined than their Dalek equivalents.  Dalek sensors work only at short range.  That’s why it’s easy to sneak up on one.  In manhunts, a special sucker arm does the tracking.  The perceptor reader gives them the long range readings they need.”  The Doctor suddenly realized he was rambling and cut himself off.  “I feel rather useless.  I can’t walk and I feel dashed sick.  Still, I can’t just sit here.”

            Without another word, Leo pulled the Doctor up by the waist.  The Doctor draped his arm around Leo’s neck to support himself.  “Take me down the right-hand corridor.”

            The corridor he indicated looked as all the others did, a hospital white with bright yellow roundels lining the walls.  Walking along for a lengthy period, they came across the occasional sight of Romanesque columns that seemed to act more as decorative landmarks than actual supports.

            “Where are we going?”

            “Away from the Daleks.  Hopefully I’ll be able to walk again soon enough.”
            The Doctor ordered them to stop at the last door of the corridor.  Mel opened the door for the Doctor and Leo and followed in behind with the others.  Inside was a spacious chamber of deep brown, wooden color with a pattern of circular indentations in the wall where the yellow roundels should have been.  A much smaller, six-sided mushroom console was situated in the room’s center.  It rested on a raised platform on two sides by arc-shaped railings.  Protruding from the middle top of the console was this console’s time rotor: a long rod that supported a mirror-like disk.

            Leo stepped up to the railing, casting wary glances about the room for signs of the enemy.  The Doctor’s voice called from behind Leo.  “Set me down here.  I want to try to move my legs.”

            Leo allowed the Doctor to slip slowly from his grasp until the Doctor’s feet touched the floor.  His body sank to the ground the moment he was left unsupported.  Peri moved to help him, but he resolutely refused any assistance.  He had to walk by himself.

            The Doctor’s hands latched onto the platform’s railing.  With great effort, he gradually pulled himself to his feet.  His blue eyes stared down at the defiant legs, willing them to work.  The only thing supporting him was the railing.  There were Daleks in his TARDIS and he would be damned if he’d let his legs prevent him from defending his home.

            The Doctor centralized his weight and took in a slow breath.  Slowly, he let his fingers slip away from the railing.  There was an instant when he faltered and he had to wave away Leo’s support, but he soon stood still once again.  His hand remained suspended over the railing, ready to catch it if he started to fall.  He didn’t.  He straightened himself up, drawing his hand back.  He could stand.

            “Don’t try to do any more, Doctor,” Matrisa advised.  “I can detect the condition your legs are in.  Resting them is advisable at this juncture.”

            “Never mind about my legs,” the Doctor said with surprising cheerfulness.  “I have a plan, but I’ll need you all to pay close attention to what I have to say.  It’s rather involved, but since we are outgunned six to one, there are few other options open to us.”

 

            Madame President halted abruptly and gestured the three Chancellery guards with her to do the same.  The four of them together had searched that area of the TARDIS extensively and still found no sign of the Doctor.  Although they were in no danger of running out of corridors to explore, she had the feeling they were getting no closer to discovering their quarry than before.  The passages they traversed led so deep into the bowels of the TARDIS that they appeared to have been abandoned for centuries.  It was becoming more and more likely that Allene’s party had completely overshot the Doctor and the others.

            “This is the last corridor we check before we double back,” she announced firmly.  While she enjoyed being in total command of her branch of the operation, she would have preferred it if at least one of the Daleks had accompanied her expedition to offer its input.

            There were two doors, one directly in front of Allene, another four yards down to the left.  She directed two of the guards to check the one down the hall while she opened the door in front of her.  She clasped her sword in front of her and stepped confidently into the room.

            The sight that greeted her and her escort was a fantastic one.  Instead of the familiar metallic floor of the halls, there were short blades of grass surrounding a sparkling blue pond.  The atmosphere was pleasant, but artificial as there were no signs of wildlife and the air was too stale to mimic the freshness of the outdoors.  A spacious, cream-colored gazebo with an Old World flavor to it sat off the left bank of the pond.

            Allene stepped onto the damp grass of the manufactured landscape.  “How quaint.”

            “It is rather pretty,” remarked the guard with her.

            “It is, isn’t it, Andred?”  Allene relaxed.  “And yet, it has nothing we need.  Let us see if our comrades have discovered anything important.”

 

            Left alone in the secondary control room by his companions, who were hard at work carrying out his instructions, the Doctor was preparing to make some repairs to the TARDIS defense systems.  His legs were feeling better by the minute, so he counted himself fortunate that he was not hit by the full blast of the disciplinary beam or he wouldn’t have walked for several hours.  He bent his right knee and lifted it off the ground, then let it slowly return there.  His body was shaky, but he was managing so far to retain his balance.  He took several steps, warily at first, but with growing confidence.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the sword Mel had stolen from Allene leaning against the platform’s railing.

            The Doctor grinned.  He took two broad steps back to the central console and leaned his fists pensively against its surface.  The database monitor was still displaying the results of the fault locator’s scan.

 

TARDIS DEFENSE SYSTEM

 

1)      Relative Dimensional Stabilizer Field’s nullification of energy weapon discharges – DISABLED.

 

2)      Force-field control – DISABLED.

 

3)      Temporal invincibility – OPERATIONAL.

 

4)      Tractor beams – DISABLED.

 

5)      Improvised defensive tactics engaged from unrelated internal systems – OPERATIONAL UNDER INDEPENDENT CONTROL.

 

The Doctor pursed his lips.  It was time to communicate directly with the TARDIS consciousness.  It was only with the help of the TARDIS that he had a hope of defeating all the intruders.  In its own way, the TARDIS was a living thing, but an intelligence without focus.  It needed the Doctor to nurture its thoughts and actions. Left to its own devises, the TARDIS would act instinctively.  This usually meant it dealt with matters ineffectually or with excessive violence.

The TARDIS consciousness could never communicate directly with the Doctor.  To deliver a message, it was usually forced to display pictures and fragmented sentences from its memory banks on viewscreens for the Doctor to see.  The most effective way of having a tete-a-tete with the TARDIS was establishing a direct telepathic channel with its consciousness.  A symbiotic link already existed between the TARDIS and the Doctor.  Through it, telepathic communication between an organic and an assembled brain was made possible.

Concentrating, the Doctor closed his eyes and folded his hands across his chest.  He made a low humming sound with his throat, falling deeper into the meditative trance.  His body grew pale and rigid, as he seemed to drift into a cataleptic state.  His mind reached out, striving to forge the telepathic link with the TARDIS.

 

It was a colossal belfry.  Fifty square yards in size with over a dozen enormous brass bells hanging from the ceiling, it was a magnificent sight indeed.  Though the ceiling was high and Gothic in style, the bells hung from low beams of wood; their rims coming down to the level of the Chancellery guards’ heads.  Life-sized stone gargoyles were perched like sentinels on ledges, support beams, and atop each individual bell, looking down at the Chancellery guards with dark black eyes.  Their presence gave the room a life to it that the guards subconsciously feared.  Reflected off the cold surface of the bells were the images of the two guards.  The reflections distorted in size and shape as they crept carefully past with their stasers ready.

The first guard rounded the edge of one of the bells and a new sight came into view.  A pillar of water, so stable and perfect in form that it was as if the water was encased in glass while it was not, rose from the floor to the ceiling.  The water swirled and bubbled beautifully within its fixed cylindrical form.  Mesmerized, the guard reached out with his hand to touch the liquid column.  His fingers sunk into the pillar and tingled as the water swept over them.  The guard smiled and shook his head with wonderment.  A call from his partner snapped him out of his fascination and returned him to his immediate duty.  He withdrew his hand from the bright blue water and walked briskly over to his partner.

“They aren’t here,” his partner intoned flatly.

The words had not been uttered more than a second before the belfry came to life.  All around the guards, the bells began to tilt gradually into the air.  They swung slowly back, the clappers striking their brass surfaces in unison.  Blaring gongs echoed around the rooms.  The two guards brought their hands up to protect their hearing from the loud reverberations.  The bells swung back into their original positions, sending another round of gongs resonating in the guards’ ears.

“Let’s get out of here!” screamed the first guard over the ringing.

Not needing to say any more, they raced for the exit, their heavy footsteps drowned out by the continual carillon of the bells.  The two men reached the door and flew through it.  Their eyes widened with astonishment.  Breathing heavily and feeling their pulses in their temples, they looked around in complete stupefaction.  They stood in the exact same room they had just left – the same room they were trying to escape.  Terror gripped them like a physical being and they began to perspire.  Their return was welcomed by another round of tolls from the bells.

The guards dropped their stasers and clamped their palms down on their ears.  The bells rang again.  Their mouths opened wide and they screamed with agony.  If they didn’t get out soon, they would never hear again.  They turned around and stumbled back through the door they had just entered, only to find themselves in the same chamber that was filled with the same deafening bonging.

“What’s happening?”  Tears of torment filled his eyes.

In total desperation, they raced across the room, hoping to escape the torture.  Maybe there was some door that led back to the hallway.  As they scurried about like trapped rats in a maze, the bells assaulted their eardrums with the ceaseless, ear-splitting pealing.  They screamed again, unable to withstand the raw power of the sound.  The first guard doubled over and stumbled straight into a bell just as it swung back in his face.  Bowled over, he rolled on the floor in a fetal position, howling madly.  Leering down at them from high perches were the gargoyles, who laughed silently at their agony through wide and mocking ebony eyes.

The second guard, blinded by the pain, stepped back into one of the water columns.  The violently churning liquid raked at him, fraying his skin from his body.  Consumed with agony, he threw himself out of the pillar just in time to save his own life.  Drained, he crawled to his knees and stumbled to his feet.  His eyes rested on the exit door, which teased him with its presence.  He knew it was hopeless and, yet, he had to make one last attempt to escape.

Every movement brought pain as he dragged himself across the floor towards the door.  Sweat and tears stung his eyes as he crawled pathetically up to the door.  Blood ran out of his ears and dripped onto his shoulder in small droplets.  When he raised his arm to open the door, he lifted it like a frail old man near the end of his days.  His fingers tapped under the handle and weakly brushed the door open.

He closed his eyes and crawled through, hoping vainly for release.  He found none.  When he opened his eyes, he found only more bells, and more bonging.  There was no escape from the recursion effect the TARDIS had trapped him in.  The only release he could ever hope to find was death.