Doctor Who_ Remembrance of the Daleks - Ben Aaronovitch [45]
The mouse runs round the tree and nips back through the hole, Rachel could hear Hawthorne’s voice, almost smell the grass and the coal fires. ‘What happens next?’
asked the eight-year-old Rachel. Hawthorne laughed. Then the mouse comes out, and a bird gets it. Rachel pulled the rope tight and snapped back to the present day. The shattered chemistry lab, an alien spacecraft and the presence of evil.
She checked the knot, it was secure. Thank God for the Girl Guides, thought Rachel and stood up. Gilmore was looking at her.
‘Why are we doing this?’ asked Allison.
‘Elementary piracy,’ said the Doctor. ‘Dalek shuttles have massive ground defences, sophisticated anti-aircraft weapons, and an unguarded service hatch on the top.’ He looked at them and smiled. ‘Once I’m down, I’ll attempt to open the hatch. Ace, you come down after me, then Gilmore, followed by Rachel and Allison, any questions?’
Yes, thought Rachel. Why am I doing this?
‘No,’ said the Doctor and threw the lasso.
The lasso whistled out and slipped around one of the shuttle’s antennas.
So what if I was aiming at the other antenna? thought the Doctor as he pulled the rope tight. This will do just as well. He hooked the handle of his umbrella over the rope and pushed off.
The rope sang as he left the window and sped down towards the shuttle. The sky was blue; in the distance he could hear the sound of Daleks killing each other. He landed on the shuttle’s roof as silently as a cat.
He found the service hatch. The locking mechanism was an eight digit code based on a prime number in the sigma series. It took him a couple of seconds to crack.
There was a muffled thump as the interlocking electromagnetic fields disengaged. The hatch dropped inwards by three centimetres and slid open.
The Doctor swung over and dropped into the dim interior.
He landed on the deck and paused. He was in a short access corridor. Glow-plates mounted on the bulkhead cast a ruddy light over pipes and cables. There was the smell of carbon lubricant.
Something scuttled away from his feet.
The Doctor’s head jerked round to the direction of the noise. A little servo-robot climbed halfway up the sloping bulkhead and stopped, watching him with tiny red LED
eyes. The Doctor scowled and the servo-robot vanished into a vent.
The Doctor crept to the forward bulkhead door and stamped on the pressure pad on the deck. The door whispered open and the Doctor rushed onto the bridge.
The shuttle pilot was instantly aware of him.
‘Hallo,’ said the Doctor.
The shuttle pilot was locked into its control position. Its eyepiece twisted impotently to follow the Doctor as he advanced.
‘Emergency, emergency,’ screamed the Dalek. The Doctor jammed the point of his umbrella into the control console. A panel opened and flux circuits spilled out. The Doctor jabbed again and crystal shattered. The shuttle pilot was suddenly isolated from the command-net.
‘Human on the bridge,’ screamed the Dalek, unaware that only the Doctor could hear it.
‘I’m not human,’ said the Doctor and started sorting through the circuits. Cables snaked through his fingers with an unpleasant movement of their own.
‘You are the Doctor,’ said the Dalek. ‘You are the enemy of the Daleks.’
‘Yes,’ said the Doctor, and with a sharp pull of his right hand blew every circuit in the Dalek. The shuttle pilot shuddered violently for a second. Its eyepiece flailed around then slumped down. A wisp of smoke drifted up from its dome.
‘Goodbye,’ said the Doctor.
16
Saturday, 16:15
Scan-op tasted a new energy pattern emanating from the renegade base. The configuration was unmistakable: it was the primary starting field of a time controller. Scan-op passed the data on to the systems controller, who informed the Emperor.
The renegade’s time corridor is being primed.
Estimated time to its operation? asked the Emperor.
Estimated at thirty-one minutes, replied the systems controller. The Emperor quickly reviewed the tactical situation