Doctor Who_ Remembrance of the Daleks - Ben Aaronovitch [7]
In the first second of the firefight the target was struck at close range by seventy-three carefully aimed rounds.
The bullets bounced off the target’s armour to ricochet uselessly into the junkyard.
‘Give me some of that nitro-nine you’re not carrying,’
said the Doctor. Ace unpacked what looked like a grey can of deodorant from her rucksack and passed it over. The Doctor looked anxiously over his shoulder. ‘Another,’ he demanded.
‘It’s my last can.’
‘I should hope so too. The fuse, how long?’
‘Ten seconds.’
‘Long enough!’
Rachel ducked as a bolt of energy blew a hole in a bit of nearby machinery and shrapnel whined over her head.
Cautiously she looked over the bonnet of the Bedford. It has to be a machine, she reasoned, perhaps a sort of remote-controlled tank. The stalk at the top had to be a camera, but the weapon... a light-maser, but how many megawatts would it take to generate a beam?
The thing fired again, and this time Rachel traced the path of the bolt. I can see it moving, it can’t be coherent light. Perhaps it’s superheated plasma? She continued to search for an explanation.
Gilmore yelled over the noise at her: ‘When I tell you, take the girl and make for the gate.’
A man shrieked somewhere off to the right.
Gilmore frowned as he pushed shells into his revolver, then, bracing his arms on the bonnet, he looked over his shoulder. ‘Now, Rachel, go!’
It wasn’t until later that Rachel realized that Gilmore had called her by her first name.
Gilmore was about to fire when he saw the Doctor running forward. Ducking round a metal pillar the Doctor whistled at the squat metal machine. ‘Oi, Dalek,’ he shouted, ‘over here. It’s me, the Doctor!’
Gilmore watched in horror as the eyestalk swivelled to focus on the Doctor, who seemed to be pulling the tops off a pair of aerosol cans. The machine had paused as if it were uncertain.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ the Doctor shouted irritably. ‘Don’t you recognize your sworn enemy?’
Ducking, the Doctor placed the cans by a large stack of bricks. As the machine moved towards him, the Doctor crept away towards Gilmore’s position.
Three.
A quiver of anticipation ran through the warrior as its battle computer verified the data. Desire ran hot through sluggish veins, its internal life support compensating for the sudden demand on blood sugar. There was a high probability that this was the Doctor, the Ka Faraq Gatri —
the enemy of the Daleks.
Four.
The Doctor desperately zigzagged as bolts of energy flared around him...
Five.
... reproaching himself for being in this ridiculous situation, he decided to blame the human race for it...
Six.
... rather then worry about the homicidal Dalek behind him...
Seven.
... or the vagaries of Ace’s chemistry or how many red bricks it takes to crack a Dalek or...
A kilogram of nitro-nine exploded eight metres behind him.
Luckily the ground broke his fall.
He stayed where he was, his eyes focused on the dirt in front of his face: there he noticed two ants fighting for possession of a tiny fragment of leaf.
Ace was shouting somewhere. Feet thundered towards the Doctor, and then hands tugged at his arm. Sighing quietly he rose to his feet. Ace was bounding agitatedly at his elbow. ‘You said ten seconds,’ he said slowly.
‘No one’s perfect, Professor.’ She moved back as the Doctor violently brushed dust off his coat. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course.’ He sounded surprised. ‘Can you drive a truck?’
‘Why?’
‘Good, I thought so. Come on.’
The machine lay cracked open. Something green oozed between shattered metal and bits of brick. Rachel started towards it.
‘I want a full emergency team here on the double,’
Gilmore was telling Mike behind her. ‘And put a guard on this site. I want a weapons team at Coal Hill School and I want them armed with ATRs.’
Mike answered and left.
Rachel carefully removed a chunk of brick from the upper casing; a fetid odour of zinc and vinegar invaded her nose. Allison passed her a metal probe which she used to poke out a sample of tissue.
‘It has an organic component.