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Section four would unship and with the Abomination maintain perimeter defence. Its orders were rapidly downloaded into the warriors and scouts.

With only the faint whine from the scouts’ overpowered motivators the imperial Dalek assault squad moved off.

Gilmore got to his feet and ran to the window. Glass crunched under his feet; tendrils of acrid smoke wound round his legs. Most of the window frame had been blasted inwards by...

Gilmore wanted to turn away from the window, turn around and walk away from what he suspected he would see. It took so much of himself to stare down into the playground.

It was dirty white, constructed from a series of polygons, it was ugly and it was large. Daleks in cream and gold livery moved around down there. Gilmore stepped back from the window.

‘Right,’ he said to the others, ‘out of here, downstairs.’

Rachel, Ace and Allison went scrambling for the door.

The Doctor remained where he was.

‘Is that the mothership?’ asked Gilmore.

‘No,’ said the Doctor, ‘that’s a shuttle. The mothership is much larger. Are you willing to co-operate with me?’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘Well,’ said the Doctor, ‘you could go out there and make a gloriously futile gesture.’

‘What do we do?’

‘A little bit of piracy.’

Ace’s shoulder hurt – a knot of tension in her back that refused to go away. She tried rotating the joint as she followed Rachel and Allison into the foyer.

‘Ace,’ said Mike from behind her.

‘Go away,’ she said, without turning round.

She felt him come closer. ‘I didn’t know about the Daleks,’ he said. ‘I was just doing Mr Ratcliffe a favour.’

‘Do me a favour,’ said Ace, ‘and drown yourself.’

She wanted him gone before he saw the wetness in her eyes, but he wouldn’t shut up. ‘I just thought it was the right thing. Mr Ratcliffe had plans, such great plans.’

‘Shut up.’

‘I never really hated anyone. It’s just that you have to look after your own...’

A smell invaded her nostrils, acrid, like..

‘Keep the outsiders out...’

Hospital smell and...

‘... just so your own people can get a fair crack.’

Disinfectant and charred wood.

Ace was facing him before she knew she had turned.

Her hands were striking out at his chest, pushing him away.

‘I said shut up!’ she screamed. You betrayed the Doctor, you betrayed me. I trusted you – I even liked you – and all the time...’

Ace turned her back on him, she couldn’t look at him any more. Her shoulder hurt. On the table in front of her was a stack of metal boxes. ‘Danger, High Explosives’ was stencilled along their sides, in yellow letters. She reached out for the top box.

‘Sergeant Smith.’ It was Gilmore.

Mike mumbled something in reply.

‘Attention!’ Gilmore shouted at parade ground volume.

Ace’s hand faltered on its way to the box. She turned to look back.

Mike stood rigidly to attention, Group Captain Gilmore was beside him, face impassive. Behind the group captain stood an armed corporal.

‘Sergeant Smith,’ said Gilmore, ‘I am placing you under close arrest under suspicion of offences contrary to the Official Secrets Act.’ The corporal moved forward. ‘You will surrender your weapon.’

Mike handed over his submachine-gun.

‘Dismissed.’

Mike’s salute was crisp and formal, but Gilmore ignored it. Mike turned and followed the corporal out. Ace could see pain on the group captain’s face and then she too looked away.

Imperial scout Dalek seven shot down the street at thirty kilometres an hour. Its overpowered motor lifted its fairing two centimetres above the primitive road surface. Sensor signals fanned out from the bulb housings on its torso. The creature inside rushed headlong through a world of enhanced sensory impression.

Three metres behind and left, scout eight ran back-up position.

They were eight minutes out from the landing zone, clearing the central route for the warriors of section two.

The street terminated in a T-junction. Blue light flashed at the Dalek’s base as scout seven increased power to the motor and skipped the curb, crabbing sideways as