Prisoner of the Daleks

by Trevor Baxendale

  'Spaceport,' said Scrum, tapping one of the displays on the flight console. 'Twenty kliks north-west.'

  Cuttin' Edge brought the ship down on one of the small landing pads situated on the perimeter. The buildings were little more than rusting hulks, and there were no other ships in sight.

  'It's actually an old refuelling station,' Scrum explained. 'This kind of place was fully automated anyway. As long as there's still some juice in the tanks we can fill up and be on our way.'

  'OK,' said Bowman. His voice rumbled quietly from the rear of the flight cabin. 'Let's get this done. I don't have to remind you guys that we're right on the edge of human space. There's nothing and no one here, but I don't want to hang around and risk attracting any unnecessary attention. One hour's shore leave and then we go.'

  They filed out of the ship, stretching and yawning.

  Scrum was holding a portable scanner. 'Let's see if this thing can find the nearest astronic fuel terminal.'

  'Oh, man,' said Cuttin' Edge. 'It feels good to just walk.' He strode purposefully to the rim of the landing pad. 'Reckon we can get anything to eat around here?'

  'Depends on whether they left food behind when they abandoned the place,' said Scrum, concentrating on his scanner. 'And whether they left it in a stasis field. They probably switched them all off, and that accounts for the pong.'

  'Nuts,' said Cuttin' Edge. 'I'm gonna take a look. Comin', bro?'

  Scrum nodded, still looking down at the scanner display, and set off after his friend.

  Stella watched them go with a smile. They made an unusual pair, complete opposites but the best of mates. Stella wondered what it must be like to have a good friend, someone you could rely on, share secrets with, even share a life with. The crew of the Wayfarer were her friends, but they were also colleagues. Something inside her longed for more, for a better life. She just didn't know how to find it.

  'Doesn't do to think,' growled Bowman.

  'It's this place,' Stella said. 'So silent and forgotten. It reeks of death.'

  'What put you in such a good mood?'

  She sighed. 'Maybe I need a break.'

  'You sure that's all you need?' Bowman asked. 'I know you only joined up short term. If you want to go, then go.'

  'Why, captain, I do believe you have a heart after all.'

  'Who, me? Forget it.'

  Someone moved into view behind Bowman, stalking across the concrete from the Wayfarer like a panther. Koral was tall, tawny like a lioness with bright, burning eyes. She wore supple, natural buckskins and leather boots. She was humanoid, but sometimes seemed more like an animal – powerful, predatory, slightly aloof. Stella still wasn't certain exactly what Koral's relationship was with Bowman, but she seemed to act like some sort of personal bodyguard.

  Koral whispered something to Bowman. When she spoke, Stella glimpsed sharp, white fangs.

  'It's OK,' Bowman said quietly. He always spoke softly to Koral. 'We're only staying for a short time.'

  Koral nodded and moved away, as indifferent to Stella and the rest of her surroundings as a cat.

  'What's up with her?' Stella asked.

  'She wants to know why everyone's so nervous,' Bowman said. 'Says she can smell the sweat.'

  'It's the life we lead, I suppose.'

  'That, and the fact that this place is so ... wrong.'

  'Wrong?'

  Bowman nodded. 'It's empty. Abandoned. A corpse of a world. Like you said, it reeks of death.'

  Stella shivered. And then they both heard a cry – Cuttin' Edge's voice, calling them from some way off. 'Hey! Dudes, over here. You gotta see this!'

  They found Cuttin' Edge at a small intersection between the old prefab buildings. Scrum was standing to one side, busy taking readings with his scanner, moving the device around for a better signal. Koral paced the area, looking this way and that for any sign of danger.

  Cuttin' Edge was excited. 'Well? What do ya think?'

  He gestured theatrically at a tall blue box with panelled sides and small, frosted windows set high up on a pair of double doors. A sign across the top read:

  POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX

  'What is it?' asked Stella, unimpressed. It was odd, but not spectacular.

  'My guess is it's a police public call box,' said Scrum drily.

  'Police?' echoed Cuttin' Edge. 'What the hell is "police"?'

  'Old-fashioned word for law enforcement,' said Bowman.

  'Then what's it doin' out here?' Cuttin' Edge wondered. 'Ain't no law around these parts, and that's for sure.'

  'Maybe it was put here years ago,' suggested Stella.

  'And they left the lights on?' Cuttin' Edge rested the palm of one hand against the side of the object. 'Hey – it's hummin'.'

  Stella had walked right around the box. She tried the door but it was locked.

  'Well, it's weird,' said Bowman, 'but it isn't what we're here for. Scrum, have you found anything we can use yet? There must be some fuel left in the tanks somewhere.'

  'Oh, there is,' Scrum confirmed. 'But I'm picking up other readings too. The scanner shows that the automated computer system is still running. Refuelling shouldn't be a problem. But the computers are using a strange signal code, one I can't properly identify.'

  'Does it matter?'

  'Well, no, not really. Except for one thing: I'm picking up another, equally unusual signal from deep underground. Almost directly beneath us, in fact...'

  Bowman frowned. 'What kind of signal?'

  'It's some kind of reverberation. A knock, or a tap, only it isn't mechanical. We can't hear it, of course, but if I isolate the vibrations and enhance the audio signal...' Scrum fiddled with the controls on his scanner, and suddenly the air was full of a hiss of white noise and a strange, rhythmic tap of metal on metal. And it kept repeating itself:

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  'Unbelievable,' whispered Scrum after they had all listened to it several times. 'It can't be...'

  'Can't be what?' asked Bowman.

  Scrum seemed awestruck. 'Well, it barely seems possible...'

  'Spit it out, dude,' said Cuttin' Edge.

  Scrum licked his dry lips. 'Thousands of years ago, way back on Earth, long before there was any space travel, a man called Morse invented a code that could be signalled by short and long sounds – dots and dashes – to represent every letter of the alphabet. Three dots and three dashes, followed by another three dots, spells SOS.'

  'It's a cry for help,' said Stella.

  They traced the signal quickly enough. Koral was left guarding the entrance while the others descended several levels beneath the spaceport via a series of rattling metal staircases.

  'This whole complex extends far underground,' explained Scrum as they went. 'The refuelling silos must have been huge.'

  'They needed them in those days,' said Bowman.

  Eventually they reached a small corridor lined with doors and a number of computer terminals. Scrum traced the SOS signal to a heavy-looking door marked with warning signs.

  'Shh,' ordered Bowman. 'Listen.'

  They could all hear the tapping now – faint but distinct – through the metal door.

  'I wonder how long they've been stuck down here?' Stella said.

  'Wait a sec,' said Cuttin' Edge. He had stepped back a little, to give him room to unsling his gun. All of them were armed, but only Cuttin' Edge had brought an assault rifle.

  'Do you think that's necessary?' asked Stella.

  'Hell, we don't know anythin'. We don't know what's behind that door. But we do know this is pirate country.'

  'You think it's a pirate in there?'

  'Or something worse. A mutant, maybe. Or a plague victim. Could be the "police" locked up whatever it is in there for a good reason.'

  'And it knows Morse code?' queried Stella.

  The tapping had continued all the while, completely oblivious to the discussion.

  'Could be a trick.' Cuttin' Edge cocked his gun and took aim
at the door. 'We just gotta be careful, that's all I'm sayin'.'

  Bowman drew his own blaster pistol. 'Only one way to find out. Get that door open, Scrum.'

  Scrum started work on the small control panel next to the door.

  'Here's that other strange signal again,' he said, frowning. 'Like the computer's working on a different system to the original design. The door's been deadlock sealed. But I should be able to override it... aha!'

  The control panel bleeped and, somewhere deep inside the door, heavy metal bolts slowly withdrew.

  They all moved back to allow a clear field of fire as the door slid open.

  Sitting on the opposite side of the tiny cell behind was a man in a brown pinstriped suit. He was holding a teaspoon.

  He looked up at the people gathered in the doorway, and, despite the guns trained directly on him, broke into a huge grin that lit up his face.

  'Hello!' he said cheerfully.

  TWO

  'Who the hell are you?' Bowman's voice sounded like the distant thunder of an approaching storm, but the man in the cell didn't seem bothered.

  'I'm the Doctor!' he announced, standing up. He was remarkably tall and thin, with dark, spiky hair and darting eyes.

  There was a loud click as Bowman cocked his blaster pistol. The muzzle was trained on a spot right between the Doctor's eyes. 'What are you doing in here?'

  The Doctor looked quickly around the bare cell, almost as if he was a child caught pilfering from the larder. 'Nothing!' he said. 'Well, I say nothing. I've been sitting on my backside tapping out an SOS and waiting for someone to turn up. But apart from that, nothing.'

  'How long have you been here?' asked Stella.

  'Oh, ages. Absolutely ages. Well, five days, fourteen hours and twenty-seven minutes, actually, but who's counting?'

  Stella gazed around the cell, utterly confused. 'Five days...?'

  'Yeah, I'm starving. You haven't got anything to eat, have you? And a cup of tea would go down an absolute treat.' He beamed and winked at her.

  'Stop talking!' ordered Bowman. 'Cuttin' Edge – search him.'

  Cuttin' Edge slung his rifle and moved in, knocking the Doctor's arms up out of the way and expertly frisking him. His suit was pretty tight fitting, Stella couldn't help but notice, and it would be difficult to conceal any fancy weaponry. In fact, he didn't seem to have anything on him except the teaspoon, a pencil torch, a pair of old-fashioned thick-rimmed spectacles, a wallet and some kind of cylindrical device with a blue light at one end.

  'What's this?' asked Bowman, holding up the device.

  'Sonic screwdriver.'

  'Huh.' Bowman tossed the screwdriver back and the Doctor returned it to his pockets, along with all the other items except for the wallet.

  'Here's his ID,' said Cuttin' Edge, flicking open the wallet. He paused and frowned. 'Says he's a pirate.'

  'What? Give me that,' said Bowman, taking the wallet. He flipped it open and looked. 'Don't be an idiot. It says he's a...' The captain hesitated, squinting, turning the wallet around so that he could hold it up the light better. 'He's a... What does it say? I can't make it out.'

  He gave the wallet to Stella. She opened it, looked up at the Doctor, then looked at the wallet again. 'It doesn't say anything. It's blank.'

  The Doctor gently took the wallet from her and slipped it into a pocket. He was smiling at her, almost admiringly. Stella felt herself start to redden and said, 'You can't have been down here that long. You're still clean shaven.'

  The Doctor rubbed his chin experimentally. 'Well, yeah... but you wouldn't believe the concentration it takes not to grow a beard for that long. It's going to itch like mad later on.'

  'OK, that's enough,' said Bowman. 'I don't know what the hell you're doing here, Doctor whoever you are, but I can't afford to hang around on this dump any longer.' He turned away, losing interest, and spoke to Scrum. 'Get back to the ship and start refuelling. I want us off this rock PDQ.'

  Scrum nodded and turned to leave. Then he said, 'What about the signal, skipper?'

  'What signal?'

  'The extra signal the computer's using.'

  'Not interested. It's nothing to do with us. Now get going.'

  Scrum left, and Stella saw the Doctor watch him go with a sharply quizzical look in his eyes. Bowman ordered Cuttin' Edge to check the area for provisions and, glaring sullenly at the Doctor, he left as well.

  'Scrum has a point, you know,' Stella said to Bowman. 'None of this makes sense. Why's this guy been locked up down here? Who locked him up?'

  'You know, that's the first intelligent question anyone has asked,' said the Doctor brightly. 'What's your name?'

  'Stella.'

  'Well, you know what, Stella? I'd quite like to know who locked me up as well. Because until you lot arrived, I thought I was the only person on this planet.'

  'What brought you here?' asked Bowman. He was watching the Doctor suspiciously all the time.

  'I'm not sure. My ship got dragged off course.' The Doctor's cheery demeanour had suddenly been replaced by a thoughtful frown. 'There's something going on here that really isn't right.'

  'Could it be something to do with that rogue computer signal Scrum was talking about?' wondered Stella.

  'Let's have a look, shall we?' The Doctor stepped past her to get to the computer terminal, pulling out his spectacles. He switched the machine on and the display screen lit up:

  WELCOME TO LODESTAR STATION 479

  'Yeah, yeah, done all that.' He flicked through to another screen:

  HURALA – GATEWAY TO THE STARS

  'What does that mean?' Stella asked.

  The Doctor pulled a face. 'Not much. These places were just stopping-off points for people on their way to more interesting places. Look, here's a list of the nearest planets: Klechton – pretty dull, that one, to be honest. Jalian 17 – all right for a party if that's your thing. Tenten 10 – the Decimal Planet. Blenhorm Ogin – never heard of it...'

  'Oh!' exclaimed Stella, pointing. 'Look! Arkheon! I've heard of that! They used to call it the Planet of Ghosts.'

  'Oh yeah,' said the Doctor, nodding enthusiastically. 'Always wanted to go there, never did get round to it. Think I did the London Dungeon instead. Or was it Madame Tussauds?'

  'Can we get a move on?' snapped Bowman impatiently.

  'Nearly there,' said the Doctor. Soon the little screen was filling up with more technical information. 'Now then... This is the baseline program for the refuelling station. It's fairly standard, but it's been dormant for years. It's activated again now, though – has been since I arrived. And that seems to have kicked off another program, something buried deep in the main server. Let's see if I can drill down...' He took out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the computer. 'Bingo!' he suddenly yelled, making Stella jump and Bowman glare murderously at him.

  'What is it?' asked Stella.

  The Doctor tapped the screen. 'Oh, that's good, that is. Look – an override system. It's a new program, bolted on. When it's activated – like now – it assumes total control of the entire base. No one locked me in that cell. It did it automatically. The base sensed I was in there and sprung the trap. Bang! Clever!'

  Stella frowned. 'But why? What for?'

  The Doctor grinned. 'Aww, you ask all the right questions, don't you?'

  'Well, here's another good question for you,' growled Bowman. 'What about that other poor guy in the cell?'

  The Doctor looked sadly at the skeleton lying on the floor. 'I'm not sure. Possibly the same thing happened to him, but he wasn't as lucky as me.'

  'You can say that again.'

  'Or,' suggested Stella, 'perhaps he was one of the people who installed the override system. Well, someone must have done it. Maybe he got caught in his own trap.'

  The Doctor's face darkened. 'Or maybe he was expendable.'

  'Dead men tell no tales,' said Bowman grimly.

  'Exactly.'

  Stella shivered. 'But why? What's it for?'

/>   'There you go again,' said the Doctor. 'Asking all the right questions at all the right times. Keep 'em coming.'

  'You like questions?'

  'Love 'em! But you know what I like more than a good question? A good answer.' The Doctor looked expectantly at her and Bowman. 'Got any?'

  They both shook their heads.

  'Ah well, can't have everything I s'pose.' The Doctor turned back to the computer terminal and went to work again. 'Maybe I can isolate the new program from here.'

  'Do you need to?' asked Bowman.

  'The trap was sprung when I went in that cell, and the computer's sending a signal to alert someone. Your pal Scrum found it – but I wonder who it's meant for?'

  'You mean whoever set the trap?' asked Stella.

  'Got it in one.' The Doctor adjusted a control and they heard a strange, crackling signal repeating over and over.

  'Not Morse code again,' said Bowman.

  'No, far too complex.' The Doctor screwed up his face in concentration, as if trying to decipher the strange noise. 'It does sound familiar, though...'

  'The thing is,' said Stella, 'that must have been transmitting ever since you arrived here. Five days, fourteen hours...'

  'And... oh, thirty-one minutes, now. Yes. Good point. Whoever's supposed to receive that signal will have already done so.' The Doctor's face dropped. 'Which means they could be here any minute to collect their prize.'

  Bowman grabbed his communicator. 'Scrum – get that ship ready to go double quick. We're expecting company.'

  There was no reply.

  'Scrum? Do you copy?'

  A loud squawk of static burst from the communicator. They could hear Scrum's voice saying something but it was impossible to tell what.

  'Something's interfering with the communications field,' realised the Doctor. Suddenly he was very serious. 'Whoever they are, they're already here.'

  Stella swallowed. There was a rising tension in the air, as if everything around them was becoming charged with static electricity.

  The Doctor was working at the computer again, rattling the keys with frantic speed. 'If I can isolate the signal and jam it from here...' Suddenly he stopped dead, fingers curved over the keyboard. 'Oh no. No no no. Listen to that.'