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Ended by the war.

Ended by a Thal shell and a rush of radioactivity.

He remembered the smell of his own blood, pulsing slowly from severed arteries, the taste of concrete dust in his mouth, and the crackling of his own skin. He hurtled blindly into darkness.

And then resurrection.

An age of pain and humiliation. He was reconstructed with chrome and plastic, held together by tungsten wire.

They drilled sockets through his skull and threaded fibre-optics into his forebrain.

He screamed when he saw himself for the first time. The med-techs smashed him back into darkness with anaesthetic. Questions were raised among the Kaled elite: for all his brilliance, should such an abomination be allowed to live? The psych-techs said there was an eighty-six per cent probability, plus or minus ten percent, that he would commit suicide within an hour of waking. A decision was made – let the creature prove his function, or die.

They allowed him awareness once more and he looked at himself again. The elite gave him a trigger linked to a lethal dose of poison and then they left him.

He spent a long time examining the monstrosity he had become, searching for some reason to live. His remaining hand trembled on the switch that would kill him. With a convulsive effort he twisted himself into his new shape. I am but the idea, he thought, the seed, the dream. He saw a purity, not in what he was, but in what he might become.

A being unbound by flesh and the stupidities that flesh brings. A creature fit to hold dominion.

Carefully he put the trigger down. At a thought his chair turned, a door opened and he slid out to face the Elite.

‘Give me what I want,’ he told them, ‘and I will give you victory.’ They provided for him, of course. It was their destiny to serve his purpose.

Emperor on the bridge.

Now the low vibration of the Dalek ship sang a song of power as he entered.

Report, he ordered.

Scan-op shunted data. We have located the Omega device.

Tack-op went on line, estimated troop deployments, native and renegade, updated battle senarios, bombardment patterns. Renegade agents are in the area, it reported.

Prepare the assault shuttle, ordered the Emperor. They will surrender the Omega device or be exterminated.

The girl was beginning to irritate Ratcliffe. Her cool gaze was making him uncomfortable. ‘Haven’t you got a home to go to?’ he demanded.

She just stared back – unblinking, Ratcliffe realized with a prickling of the flesh on his neck. He turned back to his men. ‘Put your backs into it,’ he shouted. ‘We don’t have all day.’

He could feel the girl’s eyes on his back. He turned, ready to lash out, threaten – anything to make her leave.

The girl was gone.

With a sudden thrill Ace saw the Doctor come to life. With a small movement of his hand he summoned Gilmore over.

The cafe became suddenly quiet and expectant.

Now that’s style, thought Ace.

‘We need to establish a forward base at the school,’ said the Doctor. ‘Can it be done?’

Gilmore nodded quickly and turned to Mike. ‘Sergeant, get Embery. Move in command units.’ Ace could hear the confidence creeping back into Gilmore’s voice. ‘Establish forward command, third floor, defensive positions on the ground floor and the roof.’

Mike hesitated over his second plate of chips.

‘Get a move on,’ snapped Gilmore, and Mike moved.

The Doctor’s eyes were intense as the soldiers began boiling out of the cafe. He’s doing it again, thought Ace.

Rachel felt suddenly cold when she saw Ace grin.

‘Professor Jensen, Miss Williams,’ said Gilmore.

‘Ja wohl,’ said Allison quietly and stood up. ‘Coming, Professor Jensen?’

Rachel put down her coffee and grabbed her coat. ‘Of course Miss Williams.’ I wouldn’t miss this for the world, she thought.

‘I wish Bernard was here.’

‘The British Rocket Group has its own problems.’

Ace sidled over to the counter and pinched a piece of toast.

‘What’s so important about the school?’

‘Now that I’ve disabled the imperial Daleks’ transmat,’

said the Doctor, ‘absolutely nothing. The renegade Daleks have the Hand of Omega