DOCTOR WHO - DEATH TO THE DALEKS

by Terrance Dicks

  Pausing a moment to get her bearings, she headed back towards the TARDIS.

  As she hurried along, she heard strange noises all around her. At times she thought she saw black shapes flitting through the darkness. But she reached the TARDIS safely enough, and paused, sobbing for breath. Telling herself sternly not to make matters worse by imagining things, she went inside.

  Back in the darkened control room, Sarah was angry with herself for not bringing the blood-smeared lamp. Now she'd have to try to find another one, and some more matches too. She paused for a moment by the door of the TARDIS, looking out over the sand dunes, half-hoping to see the Doctor hurrying towards her. But he was nowhere in sight. She heard movements from out in the fog, and realised she'd left the TARDIS door open. She went to the crank, still in its wall socket, and began to turn it. Slowly the door started to close. The crank was stiff and it took all Sarah's strength to move it. Absorbed in her task, she didn't see the tall black shape that rose from its hiding place behind the control panel... A whisper of sudden movement caught her ear, and she turned to see a bat-like figure swooping down on her, eyes gleaming evilly beneath a monk-like hood.

  Her hand was still on the crank-handle, and snatching it from its socket, she swung it in terror at the approaching shape. The iron handle thudded down on to the black hood. The creature gave a shrill cry of pain and flopped to the ground.

  Sarah turned to run but thanks to her own efforts, the door was now closed again. Hurriedly she rammed the handle back in its socket and started winding it the other way.

  As she turned the handle she kept a wary eye on the creature on the floor. To her horror she saw that it was stirring. She wound the handle faster and faster. Soon the door was open wide enough to get through. As she moved towards it, the creature came suddenly to life. Lunging towards her, it grabbed her ankle with a skinny claw. Sarah pulled the handle free, and smashed it down across the bony arm. With a shriek of pain it released her, and she slipped through the gap and out across the dunes.

  As she ran desperately on, Sarah became aware that the darkness was no longer quite so thick. The fog was lifting, and in the sky above her were the first pale streaks of dawn.

  The Doctor was being marched along a path between the dunes, escorted by two hooded black-robed figures. The one in front was dragging him along by a rope which formed a noose around his neck. The one behind was carrying a flaming torch.

  The Doctor stumbled onwards, tugged on by a jerk on the rope whenever he slowed down. His head was slumped, he was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, and he moved like a man barely conscious. But in reality the Doctor wasn't nearly as badly off as he was making out. His strength was returning rapidly, and he was deliberately exaggerating his weakness in the hope of catching his captors off guard.

  His mind went quickly back over his capture. Alerted by the faintest of noises he had looked up—and immediately the alien had pounced, claw-like hands seizing him by the throat. It was wiry and incredibly strong, but once over his surprise the Doctor reckoned he would have been able to deal with it. Indeed, he had already broken free—when another of the creatures had snatched up the brass lamp and aimed a savage blow at his head. The Doctor had caught a brief glimpse of gleaming eyes in a distorted face—then the heavy lamp had taken him across the forehead and he'd blacked out.

  And now here he was, a captive of these hideous creatures. Presumably they were taking him back to their base. The Doctor was determined to break free before they arrived. He might be able to deal with two of the aliens but he didn't want to take on any more.

  Choosing his moment, the Doctor gave a feeble groan, stumbled artistically, and collapsed on the path. The leading alien jerked savagely on the noose, but the Doctor didn't move. The one with the torch knelt beside the Doctor to examine him, shoving the burning torch towards his face. To its surprise, the alien saw that the Doctor's eyes were wide open and alert. A bony fist shot out with savage force, taking the alien under the chin, and it slumped back unconscious. Immediately the Doctor was on his feet. The second alien yanked on the noose, pulling him off-balance, but the Doctor grabbed the rope and snatched it from the alien's hand. With a screech of rage it rushed into the attack. Rolling over backwards the Doctor shot up both legs. The alien flew a surprising distance through the air and landed further down the rocky path with a thud that knocked it senseless. The Doctor got to his feet and pulled the noose from his neck. He tossed it aside, looked at his unconscious opponents with satisfaction and turned back the way he had come. The first thing to do was find Sarah. He only hoped she'd had the sense to wait in the TARDIS...

  But Sarah was some way from the TARDIS by now, running across the dunes with no clear idea where she was going. At first it had been enough to get away from the flapping horror in the control room. But she was beginning to realise that she couldn't just run on indefinitely. She must stop and make a plan.

  Ahead of her the dunes were rising sharply. It was light enough now for her to see that the dune area formed a kind of giant bowl—and she was coming to its edge. She toiled on up the slope wondering what lay on the other side of the steep rise—and froze as she heard swift, shuffling footsteps close behind her.

  Not far away, the winds had scooped an overhanging ledge into the side of the nearest dime. Sarah left the path and flung herself down, rolling over and tucking herself beneath the ledge for cover.

  She lay very still, doing her best to burrow her way into the sand. From her hiding place she saw two black-cloaked, hooded forms loping along the path towards her. They came nearer, nearer—and stopped. They held a brief, agitated conference. One of them turned and ran back down the path. The other hovered for a moment, and followed.

  She waited until they were out of sight, then came out of her hiding place, trying to work out what had been happening. Clearly the creatures had been on her track—and equally clearly, they had been reluctant to go further up the path.

  Sarah decided anywhere those hooded horrors wanted to keep away from was the right place for her. She began climbing up the steep track as fast as she could, and a few minutes later she stood on the crest of the rise. She stopped, eyes widening in amazement.

  Ahead of her stretched a vast plain made of smooth level rock. It was as though someone had sliced off the top of a mountain with a giant cleaver. In the centre of this plateau there was a City. It was made of white, gleaming marble-like stone and its towers stretched upwards to the dark clouds that floated across the grey morning sky. The design was ultra-modern, all smooth level surfaces and squared off, geometrically regular shapes, with something of the towering majesty of the Aztec temples of Earth. Adjoining the City was an enormous tower, and at the top of this tower was a beacon. It pulsed in a steady, regular rhythm like some colossal lighthouse.

  For some time Sarah stood there, gazing in awe. There was a civilisation on this planet after all. Perhaps the creature that had attacked her was merely one of the barbarians of this world, one of the savages who skulked outside the City without daring to approach. Only an advanced, ultra-civilised race could build a place such as this. Surely they would help her to rescue the Doctor, help to repair the TARDIS and send them on their way. Full of renewed hope, Sarah set off towards the City.

  The Doctor meanwhile was trying to find his way back to the TARDIS. Unfortunately, the dunes looked much alike, and he had no idea how far, or indeed in what direction, his captors had dragged him while he was semi-conscious. Now he too had come to the edge of the dunes, to an area of wild broken country strewn with huge boulders, the lower slopes of the range of mountains that fringed the area. For a moment the Doctor considered turning back—he certainly hadn't come this way before. But if he did that he risked losing himself again. He decided to climb higher and get a general view of. the area. With luck he might even be able to spot the TARDIS. He started to climb the rocky path ahead of him. The path rose steeply, and soon it was enclosed in high rock walls as it wound across the face of the moun
tain. The Doctor marched determinedly on. If he could scale that spur just ahead and look back the way he had come...

  Suddenly he found that he had stopped, and was staring cautiously about him. It was as if his subconscious mind had spotted some danger and was trying to warn him. He studied the path ahead. There was no sound, no movement. Everything was normal. He took a few cautious paces forward, and stopped again. Stretching across the path, concealed under some loose brushwood, there was a rope. It was obviously designed to trip anyone coming along the path. He touched it with a cautious finger. It was taut, like a bow string. The ends disappeared into the shrubs on either side of the path.

  The Doctor looked thoughtfully at the rope, and backed away. He picked up a football-sized rock and lobbed it hard along the path. As the rock hit the rope, there was a grinding sound from the hillside above, and a huge boulder smashed down on to the path—at exactly the point where a passer-by would have been standing when his foot touched the rope. The boulder rolled across the path and disappeared down the mountainside.

  Crude, but effective, thought the Doctor, as the rumbling died away. He wondered what other traps were waiting for him—and suddenly someone jumped him from behind. At first the Doctor assumed that his black-cloaked enemies had caught up with him. Then he saw that the arm across his throat was clad in silvery-grey plastic-type material—and the knife that was stabbing towards his chest was made from a single piece of metal —a spaceman's knife. Interesting as this was, there were more urgent problems. The Doctor dug his chin into his chest to counter the stranglehold, grabbed his attacker's knife-wrist with both hands, swept a leg round his attacker's ankle and threw himself backwards. He crashed to the ground, his assailant beneath him. But the shock of the fall broke the Doctor's grip. The attacker rolled away, sprang to his feet and came into the attack, knife held low. As the knife flashed forward the Doctor grabbed desperately for the knife-wrist and caught it yet again. But the Doctor was still in an awkward crouch: his opponent was poised and determined and very strong. He loomed over the Doctor, blocking out the light. The knife came closer and closer to the Doctor's throat...

  3

  Expedition from Earth

  A hand appeared, knocking the knife aside. Roughly the newcomer pulled the attacker away. 'All right, Galloway, that's enough. You can see he's not an Exxilon.'

  The man called Galloway stepped back, the killing anger fading from his face. 'Aye, you're right. But it was all so quick. He sprung the trap, d'you see, and then we were fighting...'

  The newcomer helped the Doctor to his feet. 'I'm sorry,' he said gruffly. 'We've had a pretty bad time on this planet. Quite a few of us have been killed. Dan Galloway here tends to attack first and ask questions afterwards. My name's Railton, by the way...'

  Dusting himself down, the Doctor studied the two men. Galloway, the one who'd attacked him, was big and burly, with a barrel-chest and great hairy hands. The second man was considerably smaller and several years older, with thinning hair and a lined, careworn face. Both wore astronaut-type uniforms with military insignia, both had blasters and knives in their belts.

  Galloway was carrying a bow, improvised, the Doctor noticed, from a flexible plastic rod. A plastic quiver filled with arrows of sharpened cane hung over his shoulder.

  Rubbing his bruises, the Doctor said ruefully, 'I'm the Doctor. I can understand how you feel, gentlemen. I was attacked myself as soon as I arrived. Perhaps you can tell me—'

  Galloway was looking back down the path. 'Something moving,' he whispered urgently. 'Getting closer.'

  Railton tensed. The Doctor listened. From around the bend of the path came a faint shuffling sound. Railton said urgently, 'You'd better come back to base with us. We can talk safely there.'

  Galloway was already scrambling over the rocks, moving away from the path. Railton set off after him and the Doctor followed. Soon all three had disappeared amongst the tumbled rocks.

  Minutes later a black-cloaked figure appeared. Others followed. They stood for a moment, almost as if sniffing the air, then set off over the rocks after their prey.

  Galloway led the way over the broken ground at a terrific pace. He doubled back in a wide loop and soon they were moving along the edge of a low cliff at a point where the rocks bordered the dunes. Galloway made for a shallow niche in the rock face, and the Doctor saw that a small plastic survival dome had been erected against the base of the cliff. It was a good position, protected from above by the overhang of the cliff, shielded on each side by the arms of the V-shaped niche. As they headed for the dome, a man with a bow and arrow seemed to rise out of the ground. The Doctor looked closer and saw that a protective trench had been dug just in front of them.

  At the sight of the Doctor's companions, the sentry lowered his bow and gave a cheerful grin. He was considerably younger than the other two with brown hair and a round cheerful face.

  Railton returned the wave. 'All right, Peter, it's only us. We've got a visitor, but he's quite friendly.'

  'We hope!' muttered Galloway. He was still keeping a wary eye on the Doctor, his hand close to the hilt of his knife.

  Railton led the way into the dome, slapping the sentry on the shoulder as he went by. 'Keep a sharp look out, Peter. Dan heard some movement back there.'

  Peter gave a quick salute. 'Aye, aye, sir.' He sank back into his trench, eyes scanning the broken ground ahead.

  The Doctor looked round the dome. He was in a large circular chamber, divided into different sections. There were sleeping bags against the wall, and in the central area there was a scattered pile of partially-unpacked crates which appeared to contain some kind of mining equipment. Near the crates was an assortment of improvised weapons—clubs, spears, slingshots, bows and arrows, made partly from steel and plastic, partly from wood and rock.

  On the far side of the dome screens had been set up forming a little cubicle. Inside it, on a makeshift bed, lay a heavily bandaged man. A young woman was kneeling beside him, tucking an aerofoil space blanket into place. She straightened up at the sight of the others, brushing back fair hair from her forehead. 'Who's this? Did you find Jack?'

  Railton didn't reply, and there was an awkward silence. Then Galloway said brutally, 'Aye, we found him, right enough. Floating in one of the pools, stuck full of arrows like a hedgehog.'

  The young woman gave a gasp of horror and Railton said gently, 'We buried him out there, Jill. It seemed best.'

  The girl nodded, absorbing the shock. She looked at the Doctor. 'And who's this then?'

  Galloway said. 'He calls himself the Doctor. We found him, out there.'

  'This is Jill Tarrant, Doctor,' said Railton. 'She's our mining engineer. The lad on guard outside is Peter Hamilton.'

  'There are just the"five of you then ?'

  'There used to be ten,' said Galloway bleakly. 'Two were killed in that first ambush. Three more have been picked off since.'

  Railton looked at the man on the bed. He was dozing uneasily. 'This is Commander Stewart, the leader of our expedition. He was wounded in the first ambush.'

  'Commander? You're a military expedition then?'

  'Mixed,' said Railton. 'Miss Tarrant and I are scientists. The rest are all M.S.C.'

  The Doctor frowned. 'M.S.C.?'

  'Marine Space Corps,' said Galloway. 'You've plenty of questions, Doctor: Now maybe you'll tell us something about yourself? Where do you come from? And where were you heading when I jumped you?'

  'Back to the TARDIS—my space-ship.' The Doctor gave a brief account of his arrival on the planet, the mysterious power failure, and the ambush which had separated him from Sarah. 'I only hope she had the sense to stay in the ship,' he concluded. 'But I'm afraid Sarah's inclined to be headstrong. By now she's probably out looking for me.'

  'Then she's probably dead by now,' said Galloway.

  The Doctor gave him a frown, and Railton said, 'She might still be all right, Doctor, as long as she's careful. The Exxilons are mainly night creatures.'

>   'Exxilons? I take it those are the inhabitants of this planet—the unfriendly gentlemen in the cloaks and hoods?'

  Railton nodded. 'They usually keep out of sight in the day time. Maybe they won't find her.'

  'Just as long as she doesn't go near the forbidden city,' added Jill. 'That's guarded day and night.'

  Gloomily Galloway said, 'Aye, that's right. Anyone they catch nearby—that's their lot.' He made a slashing gesture.

  'We've seen Exxilon prisoners being taken from near the City into a big cavern where most of them live,' said Jill. 'We're not sure, but we think they're sacrificed.'

  The Doctor felt somewhat overwhelmed with all this new information. But it was vital that he absorb it as quickly as possible. The more he knew about the planet, the better his chances of finding Sarah, and of finally escaping from it altogether. He looked round at the others. 'I've only just arrived on this singularly unpleasant planet, and you've obviously been here for some time. I'd be very much obliged if you'd tell me all you can...

  Sarah moved on across the rocky plateau. The sun was up by now, larger and closer than the sun of Earth. It blazed down at her from a coppery sky, and reflected upwards from the bare rocks. She could feel their heat through the soles of her shoes. Hot, tired and thirsty, Sarah stumbled on. Perhaps the City would be a kind of Arabian Nights palace, she thought. There would be cool courtyards with gently splashing fountains, and white-robed attendants with long cool drinks in golden goblets...

  The City was very close now. Its white buildings rose up and up, blotting out the sky. Sarah paused to look again. There was something uncanny about the City, for all its beauty. There seemed to be no windows, no gates or doors. It was as if the City was blind.

  Sarah hurried on. The last stretch of baking rock seemed endless, but she reached the walls of the City at last. White, smooth and unbroken they towered high above her, stretching away on either side as far as she could see.