Doctor Who_ Remembrance of the Daleks - Ben Aaronovitch [40]
Gilmore turned on the Doctor. ‘I trust your little jaunt was successful.’
‘Moderately so,’ the Doctor said calmly. ‘I’m afraid we brought back some Daleks.’
Ace wiped her face with a handkerchief.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Mike. ‘They’ve got the Hand of Omega, why don’t they just leave?’
Ace’s hand froze, holding the handkerchief to her face.
The Doctor turned and looked at Mike. He took a step towards him and looked into his eyes. ‘How did you know that?’ he asked quietly.
Ace turned to look at Mike, her face suddenly drained of colour.
‘Ace told me,’ Mike said desperately.
‘You toerag.’ Ace said softly, ‘you dirty lying scumbag.’
Her hand lashed out at his chest. Mike staggered back, more from the fury on her face than the blow. The Doctor caught Ace by the waist.
‘It can wait, Ace!’ he said.
Ace flailed with her arms, legs kicking uselessly as the Doctor lifted her off her feet.
‘You’re a dead scumbag,’ she screamed at the cowering man as the Doctor inexorably pulled her towards the stairwell. Ace turned to Gilmore. ‘He’s a grass, a dirty stinking grass,’ she wailed. ‘He’s been selling us out to the Daleks.’
Mike flinched at the hatred on Ace’s face. The Doctor’s eyes battered at his skull.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Gilmore. ‘What are they talking about, Sergeant?’
Mike had a sick feeling in his stomach. He was going to lose it all. ‘I didn’t know it was the Daleks,’ Mike was sweating. How could he explain the loyalties that had pulled him to this position: about Ratcliffe and the Association; their plans for the future; his feelings for Ace?
Ace. Her eyes were burning. But the Doctor’s eyes were hiding a deep sadness. Mike looked away – perhaps the Doctor would understand.
‘I can explain everything,’ he said.
The foyer door exploded.
12
Saturday, 15:42
The target planet filled half the monitor. The shuttle was low enough for the cloud patterns to sweep past underneath. Onboard the pilot fed a continuous update to the commander. The screen flared as the ionosphere bit at the heatshields. The modular cargo bays held warriors webbed into a restraint matrix, and in a special section, isolated from the other Daleks, was the Abomination.
The shuttle started to vibrate as it cut a swath through the thickening atmosphere; the flaring spread to encompass the entire view. Communications were cut off as a layer of ionized air enveloped the shuttle. The spot temperature of the heatshields began to approach that of the sun’s interior.
The shuttle fell towards London like a flaming torch.
Eyes watched it fall.
On the roof of a house in Hampstead, an eye nestled in the gable next to the television aerial. A sign advertised tile repairs courtesy of George Ratcliffe and Co. Data flashed from a microwave transmitter to a relay point on a roof’ of a tower block in Hackney and from there to the warehouse in Shoreditch.
The battle computer was getting reports from hidden sensors placed in strategic positions over the south-east of England. An object was penetrating the atmosphere on a powered trajectory.
Smoke was drifting up the stairwells. Allison felt explosions as vibrations through the floor. There were Daleks on the ground floor. She could hear men screaming.
‘What was that, Fylingdales, over?’ she shouted into the radio microphone. The operator at the other end kept on talking in a calm voice, inaudible over the battle. Allison took a deep breath. ‘I’m not reading you Fylingdales.’
Ace ran past her, clutching a large bundle of something explosive close to her chest.
‘Say again, over.’ Again the maddeningly quiet voice, something about a radar contact.
The Doctor ran by.
‘Repeat that,’ asked Allison.
‘Ace,’ shouted the Doctor, ‘careful with that.’
Fylingdales repeated the message. Allison missed the crucial bit when half the stairwell blew out.
That’s it, decided Allison. ‘Speak up,’ she shouted, ‘or I’ll eviscerate you, over.’
Fylingdales spoke up.
Imperial shuttlecraft entering atmosphere, reported the battle computer.
The Dalek Supreme considered this.
We must defend