Doctor Who: The Dalek Generation

by Nicholas Briggs

  That had been some time ago, and now the lack of communication from his friends Alyst and Terrin Blakely was worrying him. They should have arrived on Gethria already. But he dared not investigate, for fear of drawing attention to them and the secrets they carried in their heads.

  As to the nature of the real purpose of the Cradle of the Gods. Every day for the past forty-seven years, Hogoosta had pondered that conundrum. And as every year passed, he became more and more certain that the complex, planetary inscriptions on the walls of its inner chambers and the often reported supernatural episodes experienced there were a signal that truly devastating powers were housed within the Cradle.

  Hogoosta was not a believer in the supernatural, but he was experienced enough in the field of interplanetary archaeology to know that the unexplained effects of long-dead technologies could sometimes feel like visitations from beyond the grave. He himself had felt it, while alone in the Cradle’s inner chambers. That feeling of someone or something else being there with him, when he was certain the chamber was empty. There had been times when the air had felt so thick with the presence of ‘something’ that he had found himself to be genuinely fearful. He did not speak publicly of these experiences, but he bore them in mind and was convinced that what he was experiencing was the stirring of some unimaginably powerful technology from galactic prehistory. He was determined that one day, if at all possible, he would know its secret. And then, he thought, then he would decide if the modern civilisations of the galaxy were ready to learn about it.

  As he gazed up at the soaring tower of the monument, it struck Hogoosta that night was beginning to fall. The sky above the Gethrian wasteland was turning a deep, beautiful purple and the stars were starting to shine through. He eased himself forward, seven upright legs now ready to support him, ready to walk back to the skimmer that would return him and his team to the nearest town, Gesela, where they would rest and replenish themselves before the next day’s toil to unearth the Cradle’s secrets.

  Suddenly, however, the highly sensitive, bone-like ears atop his pyramid-shaped head detected a sound. It was coming from high above, in the sky, and was growing in intensity. It was a spaceship approaching, coming in to land.

  Moments later, and his team had picked up on the noise too. All of them downed tools and equipment and joined Hogoosta, staring up into the night sky. There they saw a tiny pinpoint of light growing larger by the second.

  It could be Alyst and Terrin, thought Hogoosta, hopefully.

  But as the ship got closer, it seemed far too large and military-looking to be a chartered ship transporting two avid physicists and their family. This was a ship with a highly polished surface and signs of weaponry banks bristling across its oval-shaped hull.

  Then Hogoosta spotted some familiar markings. It was a ship from his own people, the Klektids. But not necessarily a welcome one. The markings were those of the Klektid Enforcers, an order of Klektid warriors who had, in recent times, hired themselves out to anyone who could afford them. They would enforce the law wherever they were paid to go.

  The Enforcer ship touched down with a dusty thud, its landing legs having extended to absorb the impact in large, hydraulic cylinders. A door slid open and a ramp shot down rapidly into the dusty desert floor. Straight away, a squad of Klektid Enforcers scuttled down the ramp, brandishing formidable-looking weapons.

  They were indeed the same species as Hogoosta, seven-legged, wide bodies with bony pyramidal heads sitting on top of flexible, extending necks. Except these Klektids, unlike Hogoosta, were clad, not in lightweight, loose-fitting material suitable for hot desert life, but with tight-fitting armour, glinting, metallic.

  They made straight for Hogoosta. The self-evident leader of the squad, with ceremonial blue head-dress, extended his neck fully in a gesture designed, Hogoosta knew, to assert authority and intimidate. He peered down at Hogoosta threateningly.

  Hogoosta did not respond. He knew there was no point trying to face up to an armed squad of Enforcers. He also knew that failing to respond would annoy the squad leader – which gave him some small satisfaction. But it was to be short-lived.

  The leader’s bony mouths clicked open and shut rapidly, emitting the characteristic stereo chorus of his species.

  ‘We are shutting down this dig site,’ he announced.

  Before Hogoosta could utter a word, he heard the crash of other Enforcers pulling down scaffolding erected next to the monument. It was a symbolic gesture of intent, he gathered. As the dust settled, he could see that no one had actually been hurt; but members of his team retreated in alarm and were being ushered towards the awaiting skimmer.

  ‘You are to be evicted from this planet!’ said the squad leader.

  Now Hogoosta knew for sure that the Cradle of the Gods represented something really dangerous.

  The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, turning briefly to tell the Blakely children that it might be too dangerous for them to come with him and that he should check things out first. The trouble was, the children had already scooted through his legs and under his arms and were already running across the desert in the bright moonlight.

  ‘Nooo!’ cried the Doctor, in a futile sort of fashion. But it had no effect. ‘Who’d be a dad?’ he muttered to himself as he ran off to catch the children.

  They were well ahead of him, having spotted, he imagined, the lights he had just noticed in the mid-distance. He could hear them giggling and whooping. How changeable they were. How remarkable their ability to live purely in the moment. They had been so relieved when the TARDIS had not actually been torn apart and had finally landed on Gethria that, for a while at least, they seemed to have forgotten the deep pain of the loss of their parents.

  The Doctor smiled to himself. ‘Resilient,’ he said, and then broke into a run to catch them up, which he did easily.

  ‘Whoa! Whoa! Slow down,’ he said, placing a gentle hand on Sabel’s head. Sabel, in turn, held on to Jenibeth’s hand. Jenibeth tried to hold on to Ollus’s hand, but he dodged away, simply turning to face the Doctor, pointing at the lights in the distance.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the Doctor. ‘A settlement of some sort, I expect. People probably live there.’

  ‘I thought you said you’d been here before,’ said Sabel, slightly accusingly.

  ‘I have, but that was in a different time period,’ he explained. ‘Things seemed friendly enough then, but who knows what might be here now. Remember, the TARDIS more or less crash-landed.’

  ‘Didn’t you land here on purpose?’ asked Jenibeth.

  ‘Er … no, no I didn’t,’ said the Doctor, scratching his head. It was troubling him that the energy pulse from the Vortex had mysteriously propelled him back to the very planet he had visited just before he had landed on the Blakely’s spaceship. He felt sure there must be a connection.

  ‘And the truth is,’ he said, finding himself thinking aloud, ‘I’m feeling more than a little bit manipulated.’

  ‘You mean when everything went wrong in the TARDIS, someone else was making that happen and they wanted you to come here?’ asked Sabel.

  ‘Perhaps,’ mused the Doctor. ‘You’d better stay close. And you’d better be quiet from now on,’ he added, a little gruffly. The children looked back at him, clearly a little hurt.

  ‘I’m not telling you off,’ the Doctor explained. ‘Just … you know, behave yourselves. Aren’t you afraid of the dark or anything?’

  ‘Daddy said being afraid of the dark was stupid,’ said Ollus.

  ‘Oh,’ said the Doctor. ‘Not entirely sensible of him.’

  As they reached the outskirts of the small settlement, the Doctor could see by the dim light of Gethria’s three or four moons that its dusty streets were packed with activity. Creatures of all kinds were running along between the low, stone buildings. There were squeals and frantic vocalisations of all kinds. Many of the aliens were clutching what looked like valued items to themselves, quite
often more items than could comfortably be carried.

  ‘This is an evacuation,’ the Doctor murmured to himself.

  ‘Evacu-shon?’ asked Ollus.

  ‘The people are leaving,’ explained Sabel. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Doctor?’

  ‘I think so,’ said the Doctor slowly as he put his arms around the children, sensing danger and starting to crouch down.

  Suddenly, one of the creatures in the settlement stopped, turned its pyramidal head and shot a look straight at them.

  ‘Ah,’ said the Doctor. ‘Busted.’

  The creature scuttled towards them, very probably as fast as it could move, its seven bony legs kicking up a minor dust storm as it approached. One of its four arms was carrying a metallic item that was unmistakably a weapon.

  As it came to a halt in front of them, its long neck extending so that its strange face was peering down at them, Ollus shouted out, ‘Hogoosta Funny-Legs!’

  The creature immediately pointed its weapon directly at Ollus. The Doctor instinctively thrust himself in front of the boy, blocking him from the creature’s view.

  ‘We’re not getting off to a very good start, are we?’ said the Doctor, his voice low and more than a little threatening. ‘Perhaps we should politely introduce each other? Eh? What do you say to that?’

  ‘Who are you?’ asked the creature, stereophonically, from its two mouths, jerking its gun and extending its neck even higher. By the blinking of its eyes, the Doctor imagined this extra extension was causing it some discomfort. Served it right!

  ‘Now you’re just not listening, are you?’ continued the Doctor, inching towards the creature, his posture becoming ever more threatening. ‘But for your information, I am the Doctor. And for your further information, I’m never really impressed by people whose opening gambit in a conversation is to point a gun at a child’s head!’

  Those final words rang out loud and clear as the Doctor allowed himself to lose his temper a little. The creature involuntarily jerked back a little. Glancing over its shoulder, the Doctor noticed that some of the activity in the settlement had ceased. His voice had carried and a few of the bustling creatures had stopped to see what all the noise was about.

  ‘He looks just like Hogoosta Funny-Legs,’ came the muffled voice of Ollus from behind the Doctor’s tweed jacket. This was quickly followed by a ‘Sssh!’, from Sabel, the Doctor guessed.

  ‘So, you’re a Klektid, then?’ the Doctor said. ‘But clearly not Hogoosta Funny-Legs.’

  ‘Hogoosta Fun—’ The creature corrected itself. ‘Hogoosta is the head of the Archaeological Dig Site which is being evicted from this planet.’

  ‘Oh, really,’ mused the Doctor. ‘By you, I assume. You and your big gun. That right, is it?’

  The Doctor put a disparaging finger on the weapon. The Klektid withdrew the weapon sharply.

  ‘And the aforementioned Hogoosta is here!’ came another voice from behind the threatening Klektid.

  The Doctor and the children moved as one, taken aback by the sudden, surreptitious arrival of someone else. The Klektid with the gun turned round to reveal another Klektid creature behind it. Its features were broadly the same, but its clothing was softer, gentler … and there was something far more kindly about its posture and expression.

  ‘Oh, hello, Hogoosta,’ said the Doctor, feigning familiarity for what he believed was the best.

  The children jumped and yelped with delight. ‘Hogoosta Funny-Legs!’ they cried. The Doctor put his arms out to hold them back. He stared hard at the new arrival … at Hogoosta. The kinder Klektid face softened further. The Doctor was becoming fairly sure he could trust this Hogoosta person.

  ‘They’re with me!’ Hogoosta said firmly to the Klektid holding the gun. It surveyed him from above, then slowly lowered its extended neck. The Doctor thought he spotted a little relief on the aggressive Klektid’s odd face. That neck stretching business must have taken it out of him a bit.

  ‘Continue your evacuation!’ the Klektid barked out as it turned and scuttled away back to the settlement.

  At this, the children broke free of the Doctor’s restraining arms and ran to Hogoosta. He greeted them warmly, extending his four arms around them and allowing Ollus to clamber up his body, using two of his legs as supports. They had clearly created quite a bond during their many inter-space communications with each other.

  ‘Children! It is so good to see you!’ said Hogoosta. He glanced at the Doctor. The Doctor looked straight into Hogoosta’s eyes and he could tell by the creature’s gentle shift in expression that it knew something was wrong.

  Sabel was too smart to have missed this.

  ‘Mummy and Daddy are dead,’ she said, simply. Ollus and Jenibeth immediately fell silent and bowed their heads. Hogoosta’s tender grip on them tightened a little and his pyramidal head vibrated slightly, like a shudder of emotion was running up that strange, long neck.

  The Doctor nodded in sad confirmation.

  ‘And who is this?’ asked Hogoosta, gesturing to the Doctor with a free arm.

  ‘He’s the Doctor,’ said Jenibeth.

  ‘He saved us,’ Ollus added, straight away. Jenibeth and Sabel both nodded.

  ‘And he’s very, very clever,’ said Jenibeth.

  The five of them stood there for a moment or two, in silence, not knowing quite what to say or do next. There was so much yet to find out, the Doctor knew that. But where to start?

  ‘Come with me,’ said Hogoosta.

  Chapter Nine

  The Cradle Awakens

  The Doctor sat, slightly uncomfortably, in Hogoosta’s small stone house. He was sitting on a chair no doubt perfectly designed for the comfort of a Klektid. For someone with only two legs, it was decidedly … lumpy.

  The children sat silently. Sabel was leaning on a table leg. Jenibeth lay on the floor with her head in Sabel’s lap, as Sabel gently ran her fingers through Jenibeth’s hair. Ollus was quietly playing with his toy spaceship again.

  Hogoosta had just finished explaining the Cradle of the Gods to the Doctor, and telling him how the Klektid Enforcers were shutting down the dig site. This, Hogoosta said he felt sure, meant that the secret technological purpose of the Cradle of the Gods was something dangerous. The Doctor nodded slowly in agreement.

  Outside, the bustle of the eviction from Gethria was continuing. Every now and then, Hogoosta gave a wary glance out of the stone-framed window, and tidied away more of his belongings into a large, leathery bag.

  ‘It won’t be long before they ship us out now,’ he said.

  Everyone turned to the Doctor. He was deep in thought and remained silent for a good few seconds. Finally, he spoke.

  ‘Why’s it called the Cradle of the Gods?’ he asked.

  ‘No one knows for certain,’ confessed Hogoosta. ‘But several possible translations of some of the hieroglyphics inside the inner chamber hint at the … well …’ He paused, clearly troubled by the thought. ‘The creation or destruction of planets.’

  ‘I see,’ said the Doctor. ‘Creation or destruction?’

  ‘Depending on the translation,’ said Hogoosta, shrugging all four arms.

  ‘Tricky business, this translation lark, isn’t it?’ mused the Doctor. ‘And you think your Klektid Enforcers are interested in getting their hands on this power to create … or destroy?’

  ‘No,’ said Hogoosta. ‘The Enforcers just do the bidding of the highest payer.’ Then he moved in closer to the Doctor, clearly rattling his mouths as quietly as he could. ‘What exactly happened to Alyst and Terrin?’

  The children were, the Doctor knew, unfortunately still able to overhear.

  ‘The Daleks,’ he said, barely louder than a whisper.

  ‘The Daleks?’ Hogoosta seemed almost amused.

  ‘Oh, don’t tell me!’ sighed the Doctor. ‘You think they’re a force for good, for progress … the Sunlight Worlds etcetera, etcetera … Am I right?’

  ‘Well …’ Hogoosta shrugged again, his strange inte
rlocking arm bones moving in sequence, creating a sort of wave effect.

  ‘Oh come off it, Hogoosta,’ said the Doctor. ‘You’re an archaeologist. You know about the past. Surely you’ve heard about the Daleks and what they’ve done.’

  ‘I have,’ confessed the Klektid. ‘But that was long ago. And their more recent works speak for themselves.’

  ‘Oh do they? Do they indeed?’ said the Doctor, rolling his eyes in frustration and starting to lose his temper a little. ‘It’s the Daleks who tried to get Alyst and Terrin to give up their secret. They threatened to board their ship. They were very insistent. So insistent that poor Alyst and Terrin felt the only way to preserve their secret was to …’

  He stopped short, flicking a look to the children.

  Hogoosta seemed to understand. ‘I see …’ he clicked, slowly, through only one mouth. ‘I see …’ His head shuddered again, indicating, the Doctor felt sure, that he was moved by the thought of this.

  ‘So,’ continued the Doctor, more stridently now. ‘I have to find out what this Cradle of the Gods actually does and make sure the Daleks don’t get hold of it. Actually, on second thoughts … I’ve mostly just got to make sure the Daleks don’t get hold of it. Finding out what it does would just be the icing on the cake. So, Hogoosta, you’d better get us there, now.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Hogoosta.

  ‘What do you mean, you can’t?’ asked the Doctor, a little petulantly. Then he moved in closer to Hogoosta and whispered, ‘No such word as can’t.’

  ‘The Enforcers won’t let us go back to the dig site.’

  ‘Then we’ll just have to go there without their permission!’ said the Doctor standing up to make his fearless pronouncement, accidentally knocking the chair down behind him. ‘Sorry …’ he muttered, picking the chair back up again and setting it right. ‘So, let’s go!’