Doctor Who And The Dalek Invasion of Earth

by Terrance Dicks

  "Dortmun set up a second Command H.Q. - in the old Transport Museum. If your friends have survived, that's probably where they'll make for. There are more supplies there too, bombs and weapons. Dortmun had quite a laboratory..."

  The Doctor groaned and started to sit up, and Susan helped him into a chair. "How are you feeling now?"

  The Doctor spoke with surprising clarity. "The Daleks paralysed my body and my willpower, but not my mind. Really a most interesting experience." He flexed his legs and found he could move them a little. "It's wearing off, though. Wearing off fast."

  Susan hugged him again. "You just have a good rest. As soon as you feel better, we're going to go and find Barbara."

  For Barbara and Jenny, the long journey across London was fraught with danger. Although it was now broad daylight, the fact that Dortmun was in a wheelchair meant they had to keep to roads and paths in fairly good repair, and prevented them from using the safe routes across the rubble and through the sewers. Time and time again they had to shove the chair into some doorway for cover, and crouch motionless while a patrol of Daleks glided by.

  Most dangerous of all was crossing the river. They had decided to use Westminster Bridge, since that part of Central London seemed fairly free of Daleks. They had almost reached the bridge itself when Jenny called, "Look out!" and they rushed into a shop doorway for cover. Barbara never forgot the sight that met her eyes when she peeped out. A patrol of Daleks gliding over Westminster Bridge, their sinister shapes profiled against the ornately decorated facade of the Houses of Parliament. It made an unforgettably symbolic picture. The squat metallic shapes of the alien invaders stood out against the building that represented so many centuries of human progress and tradition - a tradition the Daleks had ended with brutal abruptness. They watched in silence as the Daleks filed over the bridge and disappeared.

  Dortmun nodded satisfied. "There shouldn't be another patrol for a while. Come on, let's try to get across while we can."

  They pushed the wheelchair across the bridge and through the deserted streets of Belgravia without running into any more Daleks. The Civic Transport Museum was housed in an elegant exhibition hall, in a quiet side street.

  Dortmun led them to a back entrance in a mews, and produced a key that opened a locked side-door.

  They found themselves in a shadowy darkened hall, rather like a huge bus garage. All around stood vehicles of various kinds, roped off with explanatory placards nearby. There were milk-floats, taxis, old-fashioned open-topped buses, dust-carts--all the many kinds of vehicles that are part of the life of a big city. Some of the vehicles had still been in use in Barbara's day, and she wondered what had replaced them in this future age. Had Londoners ever solved their traffic problem? If they hadn't, thought Barbara, remembering the empty streets, the Daleks had certainly dealt with it for them.

  At the back of the hall were various rooms intended for museum staff, including a workshop where Dortmun had established his laboratory. He made for it immediately, forgetting the two girls in his anxiety to get back to work on his one obsession - the creation of a bomb that would destroy the Daleks. Jenny disappeared too, scouting the area for signs of the enemy.

  Several hours later, Barbara was prosaically employed in boiling a kettle in one corner of the hall. Behind a small screen she'd found a tiny kitchen alcove. There was a table and a gas-ring, a packet of tea in one of the cupboards, and an unopened tin of milk. The logical thing to do seemed to make a cup of tea. The typically English response to any crisis, thought Barbara with a smile as she poured water into a chipped china teapot.

  A side-door flew open and Dortmun propelled him-self towards her. The satchel over his shoulder was once more filled with gleaming grenades. "It's finished," he announced triumphantly. "I've boosted the explosive charge. The problem is to crack the Daleks" outer casing. It's made from a metal called Dalekenium."

  Barbara looked doubtfully at the grenades. Would they really work this time? Dortmun had been just as confident before the disastrous raid on the Dalek flying saucer. She passed him a cup of tea. "This Dalekenium... could that be what they're mining for in Bedfordshire?"

  "I doubt it. I imagine they mine Dalekenium on their own planet."

  "Then what are they looking for? Oil maybe? Some other metal?"

  Dortmun shook his head. "They could have picked on a hundred planets to find those things. But they're after something... Something buried deep in the heart of Earth."

  Footsteps echoed through the great hall as Jenny came towards them. "I've checked over the whole building," she announced. "Not a sign of anyone. But I think the Dalek patrols have been here - and I know some of our people have."

  Barbara poured her some tea. "How can you be so sure?"

  Jenny pointed to a mysterious symbol scrawled on a wall nearby. "That's one of our message-signs. It means some of our people have been here and moved off towards the South Coast. Don't blame them either. London seems to be swarming with Daleks."

  Dortmun frowned. "You think they've landed another force in London?"

  "You saw for yourself. We were lucky to make it here through the streets. If things go on building up, we haven't a chance. We'll have to move on."

  Barbara's heart sank at the thought of another pointless, dangerous journey. "Where can we go? What's the good of just running all the time?"

  Jenny looked coldly at her. "We're surviving, aren't we? That's what counts."

  Dortmun patted his satchel of grenades. "We'll all survive. Now I've got this new-formula explosive..."

  Barbara looked despairingly at her two companions. Dortmun obsessed with perfecting the bomb that had become his reason for living, Jenny thinking only of running and hiding like some hunted animal. They needed someone who could look at the problem with a wider perspective. Barbara spoke her thoughts aloud. "I wish the Doctor were here."

  Jenny looked surprised. "He's just an old man, isn't he? What could he do?"

  "He happens to be a brilliant scientist. He could think - which is more than the rest of you seem to be doing!"

  "A scientist, you say?" Dortmun was immediately interested. "I'd like to discuss my work with another scientist. If only we knew where he was..."

  "I've been thinking about that, trying to put myself in his place. I'm sure he'd be intrigued by those mines in Bedfordshire. He'd want to take a look at them."

  Jenny said brutally, "If he's still alive."

  "Of course he's still alive," said Barbara angrily.

  "Why? What's so special about your Doctor? He doesn't wear some invisible shield, does he?"

  Dortmun spoke with sudden authority. "Jenny! Go and take another look around." As Jenny moved sulkily away, Dortmun said apologetically, "She's not really callous, you know. She's been fighting the Daleks for most of her life." Barbara nodded understandingly and he went on. "I'd like you to try to find your friend the Doctor and give him this - it's the notes for my bomb." He handed her a tightly folded bunch of papers, scrawled over with notes and incomprehensible diagrams...

  Barbara looked at the papers in astonishment. "Why can't you give them to him yourself?"

  "I can, I can... if we ever meet. But meanwhile I'd like you to take care of them. I'm not exactly mobile like this, am I? If something happened, I'd like my work to go on."

  For all his bitterness, thought Barbara, no one could deny Dortmun's courage. Crippled, defeated, hunted, his one thought was to go on fighting. She took the papers and laid them on the table. "All right, I'll look after them if you like. But I'm not leaving you..."

  Dortmun gave one of his rare smiles. "Thanks. Now then, if you'll round up Jenny, we can set out for those mines..."

  Barbara didn't have to go far to look for Jenny. There were stairs on the other side of the hall, and Jenny came running down them, her footsteps echoing. "Daleks! I saw them from an upper window. They're all over the place."

  Jenny's voice rang out across the hall. Nearby, Dortmun heard it, and came to a sudden decisi
on. Clutching the bombs on his lap, he wheeled his chair towards the main doors.

  Barbara and Jenny missed him as they ran down the other side of the hall. Barbara stopped in astonishment when she saw Dortmun wasn't where they'd left him. Jenny looked round. "Where is he? He can't have gone outside, he wouldn't be so stupid."

  Barbara saw the papers on the table. "Look, he's left the plans - but he's taken the bombs. I think he's gone to try them out!"

  There was an echoing crash from the front of the hall. Daylight streamed in as the main doors were flung open. They turned and saw Dortmun in the door-way. heard his voice raised in defiant challenge.

  "Daleks! Where are you, Daleks?"

  The group of Daleks outside the museum's main door seemed frozen in astonishment as Dortmun appeared in the doorway. To be defied and attacked was a new experience for them, and they hesitated, fearing some trap.

  Dortmun wheeled himself forwards straight at the nearest Dalek. When he was close enough he hurled the entire satchel of grenades. There was a shattering explosion, and a sheet of flame. A corner of the building collapsed, and Dortmun and his Dalek enemy disappeared beneath the rubble. Daleks milled about in confusion, shouting "Emergency! We are being attacked!"

  Picking up Dortmun's papers, Barbara pulled Jenny back into the shadows. "They'll be here any minute. We've got to hide!"

  Daleks moved cautiously into the hall, eye-stalks scanning the exhibits on either side. One of them trained its gun-stick on the waxwork of a milkman, posed stiffly beside his float. "Halt! Who are you?" The waxwork, naturally enough, didn't move. Another Dalek examined it more closely. "It is a sub-cultural effigy. Proceed with the search."

  Methodically the Daleks continued to search the hall. Barbara and Jenny retreated before them, dodging from one antiquated vehicle to another. Despairingly, Barbara realised they were being driven into a corner. The Daleks moved closer and closer, tightening the circle around the two girls...

  The Doctor was staggering determinedly to and fro across the little cellar, working off the remaining effects of the Dalek drugs. His face was grim and set as he fought to ignore the shooting cramp-like pains in arms and legs. Susan watched him in concern, realising the Doctor was quite likely to go on till he dropped. She caught him by one arm, and gently led him to a chair. "Easy does it. That's enough for a first try."

  Thankfully the Doctor stretched his aching limbs. "I never realised walking could be so exhausting. The numbness is most certainly wearing off though. I shall be able to travel in a short while."

  "Good. David says we should move North, join up with the resistance groups there."

  Susan saw at once that she'd made a mistake. The Doctor frowned and said sharply, "My dear child, I don't care what that young man says. I make the decisions, and I think it best that we return at once to the TARDIS."

  "But we can't even get inside. David says London's swarming with Daleks. We'd never even get there alive."

  The autocratic side of the Doctor's nature came to the fore. "Are you questioning my authority, child?"

  "No, but David says..."

  "David says, David says," mimicked the Doctor savagely. "You seem to trust this young man's judgement more than you do mine!"

  With a shock Susan realised the Doctor was quite right. Somehow she had grown to rely on David, to trust his judgement in every crisis. She felt safe when they were together. That was why she didn't want to leave him. Perhaps there were other reasons too...

  Returning from his scouting expedition, David heard raised voices, and listened to the last stages of the argument. He paused at the head of the cellar steps, realising he would have to move carefully. He was getting very fond of Susan, and he didn't want them to be separated. He ran down the steps into the cellar. The Doctor and Susan were glaring at each other, and scarcely seemed to notice him. David ignored the tension in the atmosphere. "I didn't even get as far as the river. There are patrols everywhere. We'll never make it to the Museum."

  The Doctor snorted. "I take it you're saying it would be impossibly dangerous to go back to the river too?"

  David nodded. "I'm afraid so. There are Daleks in this area of course, but not nearly so many." He grinned reassuringly at Susan and turned back to the Doctor. "I wanted to ask you - what would you suggest as our next move?"

  The Doctor sat bolt upright. "Me? Why do you ask me?"

  "You're the senior member of the party, sir. Naturally, I'd like the benefit of your superior experience."

  The Doctor beamed. Clearly this young fellow David was a sensible chap after all. He considered carefully.

  "Well, if you really want my advice... I think we should head North, join up with some of the resistance groups there. I'm very keen to see what the Daleks are up to in this mine of theirs!"

  Susan flung her arms round the Doctor and hugged him. "Grandfather! Oh, Grandfather!" The Doctor returned her hug, winking at David over her shoulder. "My dear child, what is all the fuss about?"

  The Commander of the Dalek ground forces glided in-to the control room of the London base. "Message from Dalek Supreme, now en route for mining area. Report on the destruction of rebel hiding places."

  The Dalek engineer gestured with his sucker towards an illuminated wall-chart. "Destruction is proceeding. Rebel hiding places in areas one to three destroyed. Areas four to eight now in flames. Proceeding to lay charges in vicinity of suspected rebel hideout in area nine." The sucker indicated a spot on the map...

  Two Daleks glided along the alleyway outside the basement in which the Doctor and his friends were hiding. Between them they pushed a small trolley on which stood a large metal canister. Dials and switches were set into the canister lid. One of the Daleks touched a control, and the canister began emitting a steady electronic bleep.

  Leaving the trolley just at the head of the stairs, the Daleks turned and glided away. From somewhere in the distance there came the noise of an explosion.

  Susan looked up at the sound of the distant rumble. "What was that?"

  "The latest Dalek tactic," said David grimly. "Block-buster bombs. They destroy whole sections of the city at a time. Anywhere the Daleks think we've a hideout, they just blow up the entire area."

  The Doctor was on his feet. "Shouldn't we be on our way, my boy? If they suspect you've a hideout in this area...?"

  Susan shivered. "Must we? I don't like the sound of those explosions - and there may still be Daleks about."

  David put an arm round her shoulders. "All right, we'll hang on a little longer. But the Doctor's right, we must go soon."

  A needle flickered on the detonation dial of the canister outside. The electronic bleep quickened as countdown entered the final phase...

  8: The Mine of the Daleks

  Suddenly the Doctor held up his hand. Susan stared at him. "What's the matter?"

  "Listen!"

  In the silence the electronic bleep sounded clearly. It was speeding up, and getting louder. The Doctor and his companions ran out of the basement. They stopped in horror at the sight of the gleaming metal canister at the top of the steps. "What is it?" whispered Susan.

  David's face was grim. "One of the Dalek blockbuster bombs."

  Susan tugged at his arm. "Quick, let's get clear... runt"

  David didn't move. "No use. That thing's due to go off any moment. There's no way we could get out clear of the range of the blast." He stood staring at the bomb as if paralysed by horror.

  "In that case we'd better dismantle the thing," said the Doctor briskly. He ran nimbly up the steps and leaned over the canister, studying the controls set into its top. "Now then, this dial with the needle is the time mechanism. The red area at twelve o"clock signifies the detonation point, I imagine."

  David looked over his shoulder. "So when the needle reaches the red, that will be it?"

  The Doctor nodded. "Help me prise the front off this thing, will you, my boy? I must destroy the timing control."

  David produced his knife and thrust
it into the join between the main body of the canister and its lid. He heaved with all his strength - and the knife blade broke in two.

  "I need some kind of a lever," snapped the Doctor. "Look around, both of you. A nail, a piece of metal, anything will do."

  Obediently David and Susan began searching the rubble. The Doctor went on working with the broken blade but without much success. The stub of the blade was too thick to go in the crack. He tossed it aside. Susan found a twisted piece of iron. "How about this, Doctor?"

  "Too big. There must be some way we can get in... some tool."

  Suddenly David said, "Acid! Those bombs of Dortmun's - the detonation mechanism is acid-based. Maybe we could burn through the casing."

  The Doctor nodded eagerly. "It's a chance. Let's have one of them here. Quickly now! " David ran down into the cellar, reappearing almost immediately with his bomb-satchel. He ran back up the steps and handed the Doctor one of the fragile glass spheres.

  The Doctor took it from him, and held it carefully on the top of the canister, just over the point where he estimated the timing mechanism to be. "Pass me your piece of iron, Susan. Now, if I can manage to release the acid without detonating this bomb..." Using the iron as a hammer, the Doctor gave the sphere a carefully measured tap, like a man cracking a boiled egg with a spoon. A crack appeared in the sphere and a colourless liquid started to trickle out. As it ran over the lid of the canister it smoked .

  "Look," whispered Susan. "It's starting to burn through..."

  A patch of the metal was beginning to crack and crumble. The Doctor jabbed cautiously with the piece of iron, and the metal flaked and crumbled away. "Splendid! Now your knife again, young man." Feeling like the assistant surgeon at an operation, David passed the Doctor the broken knife.

  The Doctor glanced at the detonation dial. The needle was now only a fractional distance from the red zone, and the bleep was rising even higher. But the Doctor's face was calm and his hand steady as he jabbed at the delicate mechanism with the improvised tool.

  "Now, if I remove the fuse..." Carefully he lifted out a small section of the bomb's "works"...