Doctor Who and the Genesis of the Daleks
Terrance Dicks
* * *
The place: Skaro
Time: The Birth of the Daleks
After a thousand years of futile war against the Thals, DAVROS has perfected the physical form that will carry his race into eternity - the dreaded DALEK. Without feeling, conscience or pity, the Dalek is programmed to EXTERMINATE.
At the command of the Time Lords, DOCTOR WHO travels back through time in an effort to totally destroy this terrible menace of the future.
But even the Doctor cannot always win...
CONTENTS
1 Secret Mission
2 Prisoners of War
3 The Secret Weapon
4 Rocket of Doom
5 Escape to Danger
6 Betrayal
7 Countdown to Destruction
8 Captives of Davros
9 Rebellion!
10 Decision for the Doctor
11 Triumph of the Daleks
12 A Kind of Victory
1 SECRET MISSION
It was a battlefield.
The ground was churned, scarred, ravaged. Nothing grew there, nothing lived. The twisted, rusting wrecks of innumerable war machines littered the landscape. There were strands of ragged, tangled wire, collapsed dugouts, caved-in trenches. The perpetual twilight was made darker by fog. Thick, dank and evil, it swirled close to the muddy ground, hiding some of the horrors from view.
Something stirred in the mud. A goggled, helmeted head peered over a ridge, surveyed the shattered landscape. A hand beckoned, and more shapes rose and shambled forward. There were about a dozen of them, battle-weary men in ragged uniforms, their weapons a strange mixture of old and new, their faces hidden by gas masks. A star shell burst over their heads, bathing them for a moment in its sickly green light before it sputtered into darkness. The thump of artillery came from somewhere in the distance, with the hysterical chatter of automatic weapons. But the firing was some distance away. Too tired even to react, the patrol shambled on its way.
A man materialized out of the fog and stood looking in bewilderment after the soldiers. He was a very tall man, dressed in comfortable, old tweed trousers and a loosely hanging jacket. An amazingly long scarf was wound round his neck, a battered, broad-rimmed hat was jammed onto a tangle of curly brown hair. Hands deep in his pockets, he pivoted slowly on his heels, turning in a complete circle to survey the desolate landscape.
He shook his head, the bright blue eyes clouded with puzzlement. This was all wrong, he thought. It was all terribly wrong. The transmat beam should have taken him back to the space station. Instead he was here, in this terrible place. How could it possibly have happened?
'Greetings, Doctor.'
The Doctor spun around at the sound of the voice behind him. A tall, distinguished figure in flowing robes stood looking at him quizzically. A Time Lord! The Doctor knew all about Time Lords—he was one himself. He had left his own people untold years ago to roam through Space and Time in his 'borrowed' TARDIS. He'd rebelled against the Time Lords, beencaptured and exiled by them, and had at last made his peace with them. He had served themoften, sometimes willingly, sometimes not. These days their hold on him was tenuous. But itwas still a hold, a limitation of his freedom, and the Doctor never failed to resent it.
He glared at the elegant figure before him. 'So! I've been hijacked!' he said indignantly.'Don't you realize how dangerous it is to interfere with a transmat beam?'
'Oh come, Doctor! Not with our techniques. We transcended such simple mechanical deviceswhen the Universe was young.' The languid voice held all the effortless superiority that theDoctor always found so infuriating.
He controlled himself with a mighty effort. 'Whatever I may have done, whatever crimes I committed in your eyes, I have made ample restitution. I have done you great services, and I was given my freedom as a reward. I will not tolerate this continual interference in my lives!'
The Time Lord looked thoughtfully at him and began to stroll across the battlefield, with theair of someone taking a turn on the lawn at a garden party. The dull rumble of gunfire camefrom somewhere in the distance. 'Continual interference, Doctor? We pride ourselves we seldom intervene in the affairs of others.'
'Except mine,' the Doctor said bitterly. He hurried after the Time Lord.
'Ah, but you are an exception, Doctor&mdah;a special case. You enjoy the freedom we allow you. Occasionally, not continually, we ask you to do something for us.'
The Doctor came to a halt, his arms folded. 'I won't do it,' he said obstinately. 'Whatever you want—I won't do it'
The Time Lord spoke one word. 'Daleks.'
The Doctor spun around. 'Daleks? Well, what about them?'
The Time Lord paused, as if collecting his arguments, then said, 'Our latest temporal projections foresee a Time-stream in which the Daleks will have destroyed all other life forms.They could become the dominant creatures in the Universe.'
'That has always been their aim,' agreed the Doctor grimly. 'Go on.'
'We'd like you to return to Skaro at a point in time just before the Daleks evolved.'
Immediately the Doctor guessed the Time Lord's plan. 'And prevent their creation?'
'That, or alter their genetic development, so they evolve into less aggressive creatures. At the very least, you might discover some weakness which could serve as a weapon against them.'
The Doctor tried to look as if he was thinking it over. But it was no more than a pretence. He couldn't resist the idea of a chance to defeat his oldest enemies once and for all. 'Oh all right. All right. I suppose I'll have to help you—just one more time. Return me to the TARDIS.'
'No need for that, Doctor. This is Skaro.' The Time Lord gestured at the desolate scene around them. 'Skaro—after a thousand years of war between Kaleds and Thals. We thought it would save time if we assumed your agreement.' He tossed something to the Doctor, who caught it instinctively. He found himself holding a heavy, ornately designed bangle in a metal that looked something like copper. It wasn't copper, of course, any more than the object was the simple ornament it appeared to be. 'A Time ring, Doctor. It will return you to the TARDIS when your mission is finished. Don't lose it, will you? It's your life line. Good luck.' The Time Lord vanished as suddenly and silently as he had appeared.
'Just a minute,' yelled the Doctor. 'What about my two human companions?'
As if in answer a voice called from the fog. 'Doctor? Where are you?'
'Sarah?' The Doctor began running toward the sound. Almost immediately he lost his balance and skidded down a long muddy slope. Sarah Jane Smith and Harry Sullivan were waiting for him at the edge of a big shell crater.
Sarah was a slim, pretty girl in fashionable clothes. On Earth she was a journalist, though that life seemed very far away now. Harry was a square-jawed, blue-eyed, curly haired young man. He had the rather dated good looks of the hero of an old-fashioned adventure story. Harry was a Naval man, a doctor. He was attached to UNIT, the Security Organization to which the Doctor was Scientific Adviser. Harry had made the mistake of doubting the power of the TARDIS. This amazing device, in appearance an old-fashioned police call box, was in fact the machine in which the Doctor traveled through Time and Space. Harry had rashly accepted the Doctor's challenge to "come for a little trip." Now, after a number of terrifying adventures, he often wondered if he would ever see Earth again.
The Doctor's two companions looked at him indignantly. 'I say, that was a pretty rough landing,' protested Harry.
Sarah had known the Doctor for longer than Harry; her travels had accustomed her to rough landings and unexpected destinations.
'All right, Doctor, where are we? This isn't the beacon.' They were supposed to be returning by transmat beam to the space station, where the TARDIS was waiting to carry them home.
The Doctor looked at her apologetically. 'I'm afraid there's been a slight change of plans...'
There was a sudden whistling sound. The Doctor wrapped his arms around his two friends and threw himself into the crater, dragging them with him. They raised their heads to protest—then lowered them hurriedly as heavy-artillery shells roared overhead. One thudded into the rim of the crater, showering them with mud.
The barrage went on for an appallingly long time, but at last it died away. The Doctor lifted his head and looked cautiously out of the crater. 'Not what you'd call a very friendly welcome.'
He turned at a muffled scream from Sarah. She pointed shakily. They were not alone in the crater. A raggedly uniformed soldier crouched on the other side, his rifle aimed straight at them. Nobody moved. Then the Doctor walked cautiously toward the soldier. The man didn't react. The Doctor touched him on the shoulder and the soldier pitched forward, landing facedown in the mud.
The Doctor knelt beside him. 'It's all right, Sarah, the poor fellow's dead.' The Doctor examined the body, noticing the strangely shaped gas mask, the holstered hand blaster, the ancient projectile rifle. He pointed out the last two items to Harry. 'You see? These two weapons are separated by centuries of technology.'
Sarah joined them. She pointed to a small dial sewn into the ragged combat jacket. 'What's this thing, Doctor?'
'A radiation detector.'
'Worn with a gas mask straight out of the First World War?' asked Harry incredulously.
Sarah examined the uniform more closely. 'That combat jacket's some synthetic fiber—and the rest of the uniform seems to be made of animal skins!'
The Doctor nodded. 'It's like finding the remains of a stone-age man with a transistor radio.'
Harry chuckled. 'Playing rock music eh?' Even in the most macabre circumstances, Harry could not resist a joke. He looked at the others, hurt at their lack of reaction. 'Rock music—cave man—get it?'
Sarah threw him an impatient look and said, 'What does it all mean, Doctor?'
'A thousand-year war,' the Doctor said sadly. 'A once highly developed civilization on the point of total collapse. Come along, you two.'
He jumped out of the crater. Sarah scrambled after him. 'Where are we going?'
'Forward, of course.'
The Doctor set off at a great pace, Sarah and Harry following. They were picking their way through a very nasty clump of barbed wire when the Doctor stopped. His keen eyes had seen a sinister shape, half-buried in the mud.
'What is it?' asked Sarah.
Apologetically the Doctor said, 'I'm afraid we seem to be in the middle of a mine field. Keep close behind, and follow in my footsteps.'
'You sound just like good King Wenceslas.'
The nightmare journey continued. Fog swirled around them, gunfire rumbled in the distance, and their feet squelched through clammy, clinging mud. In between studying the ground beneath his feet, the Doctor swept occasional glances about the desolate landscape.
'What is it, Doctor? Have you seen something?' asked Harry.
'I'm not sure. I keep getting the feeling we're being watched.'
'Me too,' said Sarah. 'Ever since we set off...'
'Rubbish,' said Harry vigorously. 'There's nothing out there except mud and fog.'
'Then let's hope it's just my over-active imagination.' Still looking around him, the Doctor took another step forward. Suddenly he stopped. Beneath the mud his foot was jammed against something round and metallic. Silently the Doctor pointed downward. Harry and Sarah looked.
All three held their breath. Slowly the Doctor started to withdraw his foot, then stopped at once as he felt the movement of the mine. He spoke in a quiet, conversational voice. 'Harry, this mine seems to be resting on something solid. If I move my foot it will tilt—and that could be enough to detonate it.'
Harry edged cautiously forward and dropped to his knees beside the half-buried mine. He began clearing mud and gravel away from the mine's surface. The Doctor stood motionless, like someone caught in a game of Statues.
'Seems to be a rock underneath,' said Harry slowly.
Sarah spoke in a whisper, as though the very sound of her voice might be enough to explode the mine. 'Can't you wedge it, Harry? Jam something underneath to make it firm?'
Without looking up, Harry said, 'That's what I'm trying to do, old girl.' He groped around the surrounding area and picked up a suitably sized lump of rock. Very slowly he slipped it between the mine and the rock on which it rested, holding the mine steady with his free hand. 'All right, Doctor, give it a try. Sarah, you back away—and keep to our footsteps.' Sarah obeyed—it was no time to argue.
'You get back as well, Harry,' said the Doctor.
Still crouching at the Doctor's feet, Harry shook his head. 'No. You'll have a better chance if I hold the mine steady while you move.'
'Don't be stupid, Harry.'
'Don't waste time arguing, Doctor. just move that foot—gently.'
The Doctor moved it. Nothing happened. He watched as Harry Sullivan took first one hand and then the other from the mine. It didn't shift. The Doctor let out a long sigh of relief. 'Thank you, Harry.'
'My pleasure, Doctor,' said Harry Sullivan, a little shakily.
As they moved clear of the minefield, a huge twisted figure in a shapeless fur hood slipped after them through the fog. The Doctor's and Sarah's instincts had been right. Something was following them across the battlefield...
The Doctor trudged to the top of a long steep rise. He stopped and pointed. 'Look!'
Harry and Sarah joined him. There in the distance they saw—what? A giant, semi-transparent dome, fog swirling around its base, odd shapes just discernible beneath it.
'A protective dome,' said the Doctor softly. 'Large enough to cover an entire city.'
Harry gazed at it in wonder. 'If these people can build something like that, why are they fighting a war with barbed wire and land mines?'
'Why indeed?' replied the Doctor.
Sarah looked at him curiously. 'Doctor, isn't it time we had a few explanations?'
The Doctor sighed. 'Yes, of course it is. I must begin with an apology...' Briefly the Doctor told them how the Time Lords had intervened to prevent their safe return to the TARDIS, and of the vital mission that had been imposed on him. 'I'm only sorry you two were caught up in their high-handed action.'
He seemed so genuinely distressed that Sarah said, 'It's all right, Doctor. Not your fault, is it,Harry?'
'Of course not. If these Daleks are as bad as you say, it'll be a pleasure to help scuttle 'em.'
The Doctor grinned, spirits restored by Harry's cheerful confidence.
'So where do we begin?' asked Sarah, sounding a good deal braver than she actually felt.
The Doctor pointed toward the dome. 'There!' he said. And they started moving toward the distant city.
But getting to the city wasn't so easy. It was guarded by an elaborate system of interconnecting trenches, similar to those that had covered Europe during the First World War. Fortunately the trench network appeared to be completely deserted. The Doctor and his companions were going through a kind of maze, moving, they hoped, ever nearer to the mysterious city.
'Maybe all the troops have been withdrawn,' suggested Harry.
'Or killed,' said the Doctor. 'See here.'
They followed him around a corner and found themselves in a large trench, floored with wooden planks and barricaded with sandbags. It was lined with men, propped up along its edge as if awaiting attack. 'Even the dead have a part to play in this war,' said the Doctor.'They've been stood here to make the trench look fully manned.'
They moved along the row of silent figures. Harry examined one more closely. 'Same scrappy uniform as that chap in the crater. Seems to be different insignia though.'
Sarah shivered as she glanced at the line of dead men, their sightless eyes staring out into the fog. She wandered further along the trench. Set deep into the rear wall was a heavy metal door. 'Look at this' she called out.
Harry and the Doctor joined her. 'We must be getting near the city,' said the Doctor. 'That's probably the entrance to some kind of service tunnel.'
Harry heaved on the door, but it wouldn't budge. 'Seems to be locked solid,' he grunted.
Suddenly there was a whistling sound, followed by a thud from over the rim of the trench. Cautiously the Doctor looked out. A metal projectile lay half-buried in the mud. Evil-looking green smoke was welling out of it, and creeping slowly toward the trench.
The Doctor jumped back. 'Look out,' he yelled. 'Poison gas, and it's coming this way!'
2 PRISONERS OF WAR
The Doctor was already reaching for one of the propped-up bodies. 'Get gas masks, quickly!' he shouted. Sarah and Harry ran to obey.
It wasn't particularly pleasant grappling with the stiff, cold corpses, but things were too desperate for any fastidiousness. All three pulled tight the straps of their gas masks, just as green smoke began creeping into the trench.
There was a sudden burst of rifle fire. Bullets sprayed the edge of the trench, thudding into the sandbags and whining over their heads.
The Doctor peered cautiously out. A small group of ragged soldiers was pelting toward them, yelling and firing as they came. He turned to shout a warning to Sarah and Harry, but it was already too late. Troops leapt over the sandbags and dropped into the trench. Seeing the gas masked forms of the Doctor and his companions, they hurled themselves upon them.
They had no chance to explain their neutrality. within minutes they were engaged in savage hand-to-hand fighting. Luckily the trench was so packed with struggling bodies that the attackers had no chance to use their weapons, not daring to shoot for fear of hitting each other. The Doctor and Harry closed ranks to defend Sarah. They put up a splendid fight. Harry had boxed for the Navy in his time and he dealt out straight rights, lefts and uppercuts in the best traditions of the boxing ring. The Doctor fought in a whirl of long arms and legs, using the techniques of Venusian Aikido, to drop one opponent after another. But so heavily were the two outnumbered that the sheer weight of bodies soon bore them down.
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