027 - Doctor Who and the Genesis of the Daleks

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Doctor Who and the Genesis of the Daleks

Terrance Dicks

The place: Skaro

Time: The Birth of the Daleks

After a thousand years of futile war against the Thals, DAVROS has perfected the physical

form that will carry his race into eternity - the dreaded DALEK. Without feeling, conscience

or pity, the Dalek is programmed to EXTERMINATE.

At the command of the Time Lords, DOCTOR WHO travels back through time in an effort

to totally destroy this terrible menace of the future.

But even the Doctor cannot always win...

CONTENTS

1 Secret Mission

2 Prisoners of War

3 The Secret Weapon

4 Rocket of Doom

5 Escape to Danger

6 Betrayal

7 Countdown to Destruction

8 Captives of Davros

9 Rebellion!

10 Decision for the Doctor

11 Triumph of the Daleks

12 A Kind of Victory

1 SECRET MISSION

It was a battlefield.

The ground was churned, scarred, ravaged. Nothing grew there, nothing lived. The

twisted, rusting wrecks of innumerable war machines littered the landscape. There were

strands of ragged, tangled wire, collapsed dugouts, caved-in trenches. The perpetual

twilight was made darker by fog. Thick, dank and evil, it swirled close to the muddy ground,

hiding some of the horrors from view.

Something stirred in the mud. A goggled, helmeted head peered over a ridge,

surveyed the shattered landscape. A hand beckoned, and more shapes rose and shambled

forward. There were about a dozen of them, battle-weary men in ragged uniforms, their

weapons a strange mixture of old and new, their faces hidden by gas masks. A star shell

burst over their heads, bathing them for a moment in its sickly green light before it

sputtered into darkness. The thump of artillery came from somewhere in the distance, with

the hysterical chatter of automatic weapons. But the firing was some distance away. Too

tired even to react, the patrol shambled on its way.

A man materialized out of the fog and stood looking in bewilderment after the

soldiers. He was a very tall man, dressed in comfortable, old tweed trousers and a loosely

hanging jacket. An amazingly long scarf was wound round his neck, a battered, broad-

rimmed hat was jammed onto a tangle of curly brown hair. Hands deep in his pockets, he

pivoted slowly on his heels, turning in a complete circle to survey the desolate landscape.

He shook his head, the bright blue eyes clouded with puzzlement. This was all

wrong, he thought. It was all terribly wrong. The transmat beam should have taken him

back to the space station. Instead he was here, in this terrible place. How could it possibly

have happened?

'Greetings, Doctor.'

The Doctor spun around at the sound of the voice behind him. A tall, distinguished

figure in flowing robes stood looking at him quizzically. A Time Lord! The Doctor knew all

about Time Lords—he was one himself. He had left his own people untold years ago to

roam through Space and Time in his 'borrowed' TARDIS. He'd rebelled against the Time

Lords, beencaptured and exiled by them, and had at last made his peace with them. He

had served themoften, sometimes willingly, sometimes not. These days their hold on him

was tenuous. But itwas still a hold, a limitation of his freedom, and the Doctor never failed

to resent it.

He glared at the elegant figure before him. 'So! I've been hijacked!' he said

indignantly.'Don't you realize how dangerous it is to interfere with a transmat beam?'

'Oh come, Doctor! Not with our techniques. We transcended such simple

mechanical deviceswhen the Universe was young.' The languid voice held all the effortless

superiority that theDoctor always found so infuriating.

He controlled himself with a mighty effort. 'Whatever I may have done, whatever

crimes I committed in your eyes, I have made ample restitution. I have done you great

services, and I was given my freedom as a reward. I will not tolerate this continual

interference in my lives!'

The Time Lord looked thoughtfully at him and began to stroll across the battlefield,

with theair of someone taking a turn on the lawn at a garden party. The dull rumble of

gunfire camefrom somewhere in the distance. 'Continual interference, Doctor? We pride

ourselves we seldom intervene in the affairs of others.'

'Except mine,' the Doctor said bitterly. He hurried after the Time Lord.

'Ah, but you are an exception, Doctor&mdah;a special case. You enjoy the freedom

we allow you. Occasionally, not continually, we ask you to do something for us.'

The Doctor came to a halt, his arms folded. 'I won't do it,' he said obstinately.

'Whatever you want—I won't do it'

The Time Lord spoke one word. 'Daleks.'

The Doctor spun around. 'Daleks? Well, what about them?'

The Time Lord paused, as if collecting his arguments, then said, 'Our latest

temporal projections foresee a Time-stream in which the Daleks will have destroyed all

other life forms.They could become the dominant creatures in the Universe.'

'That has always been their aim,' agreed the Doctor grimly. 'Go on.'

'We'd like you to return to Skaro at a point in time just before the Daleks evolved.'

Immediately the Doctor guessed the Time Lord's plan. 'And prevent their creation?'

'That, or alter their genetic development, so they evolve into less aggressive

creatures. At the very least, you might discover some weakness which could serve as a

weapon against them.'

The Doctor tried to look as if he was thinking it over. But it was no more than a

pretence. He couldn't resist the idea of a chance to defeat his oldest enemies once and for

all. 'Oh all right. All right. I suppose I'll have to help you—just one more time. Return me to

the TARDIS.'

'No need for that, Doctor. This is Skaro.' The Time Lord gestured at the desolate

scene around them. 'Skaro—after a thousand years of war between Kaleds and Thals. We

thought it would save time if we assumed your agreement.' He tossed something to the

Doctor, who caught it instinctively. He found himself holding a heavy, ornately designed

bangle in a metal that looked something like copper. It wasn't copper, of course, any more

than the object was the simple ornament it appeared to be. 'A Time ring, Doctor. It will

return you to the TARDIS when your mission is finished. Don't lose it, will you? It's your life

line. Good luck.' The Time Lord vanished as suddenly and silently as he had appeared.

'Just a minute,' yelled the Doctor. 'What about my two human companions?'

As if in answer a voice called from the fog. 'Doctor? Where are you?'

'Sarah?' The Doctor began running toward the sound. Almost immediately he lost

his balance and skidded down a long muddy slope. Sarah Jane Smith and Harry Sullivan

were waiting for him at the edge of a big shell crater.

Sarah was a slim, pretty girl in fashionable clothes. On Earth she was a journalist,

though that life seemed very far away now. Harry was a square-jawed, blue-eyed, curly

haired young man. He had the rather dated good looks of the hero of an old-fashioned

adventure story. Harry was a Naval man, a doctor. He was attached to UNIT, the Security

Organization to which the Doctor was Scientific Adviser. Harry had made the mistake of

doubting the power of the TARDIS. This amazing device, in appearance an old-fashioned

police call box, was in fact the machine in which the Doctor traveled through Time and

Space. Harry had rashly accepted the Doctor's challenge to "come for a little trip." Now,

after a number of terrifying adventures, he often wondered if he would ever see Earth

again. The Doctor's two companions looked at him indignantly. 'I say, that was a pretty

rough landing,' protested Harry.

Sarah had known the Doctor for longer than Harry; her travels had accustomed her

to rough landings and unexpected destinations.

'All right, Doctor, where are we? This isn't the beacon.' They were supposed to be

returning by transmat beam to the space station, where the TARDIS was waiting to carry

them home.

The Doctor looked at her apologetically. 'I'm afraid there's been a slight change of

plans...'

There was a sudden whistling sound. The Doctor wrapped his arms around his two

friends and threw himself into the crater, dragging them with him. They raised their heads

to protest—then lowered them hurriedly as heavy-artillery shells roared overhead. One

thudded into the rim of the crater, showering them with mud.

The barrage went on for an appallingly long time, but at last it died away. The

Doctor lifted his head and looked cautiously out of the crater. 'Not what you'd call a very

friendly welcome.'

He turned at a muffled scream from Sarah. She pointed shakily. They were not

alone in the crater. A raggedly uniformed soldier crouched on the other side, his rifle aimed

straight at them. Nobody moved. Then the Doctor walked cautiously toward the soldier. The

man didn't react. The Doctor touched him on the shoulder and the soldier pitched forward,

landing facedown in the mud.

The Doctor knelt beside him. 'It's all right, Sarah, the poor fellow's dead.' The Doctor

examined the body, noticing the strangely shaped gas mask, the holstered hand blaster,

the ancient projectile rifle. He pointed out the last two items to Harry. 'You see? These two

weapons are separated by centuries of technology.'

Sarah joined them. She pointed to a small dial sewn into the ragged combat jacket.

'What's this thing, Doctor?'

'A radiation detector.'

'Worn with a gas mask straight out of the First World War?' asked Harry

incredulously.

Sarah examined the uniform more closely. 'That combat jacket's some synthetic

fiber—and the rest of the uniform seems to be made of animal skins!'

The Doctor nodded. 'It's like finding the remains of a stone-age man with a

transistor radio.'

Harry chuckled. 'Playing rock music eh?' Even in the most macabre circumstances,

Harry could not resist a joke. He looked at the others, hurt at their lack of reaction. 'Rock

music—cave man—get it?'

Sarah threw him an impatient look and said, 'What does it all mean, Doctor?'

'A thousand-year war,' the Doctor said sadly. 'A once highly developed civilization

on the point of total collapse. Come along, you two.'

He jumped out of the crater. Sarah scrambled after him. 'Where are we going?'

'Forward, of course.'

The Doctor set off at a great pace, Sarah and Harry following. They were picking

their way through a very nasty clump of barbed wire when the Doctor stopped. His keen

eyes had seen a sinister shape, half-buried in the mud.

'What is it?' asked Sarah.

Apologetically the Doctor said, 'I'm afraid we seem to be in the middle of a mine

field. Keep close behind, and follow in my footsteps.'

'You sound just like good King Wenceslas.'

The nightmare journey continued. Fog swirled around them, gunfire rumbled in the

distance, and their feet squelched through clammy, clinging mud. In between studying the

ground beneath his feet, the Doctor swept occasional glances about the desolate

landscape.

'What is it, Doctor? Have you seen something?' asked Harry.

'I'm not sure. I keep getting the feeling we're being watched.'

'Me too,' said Sarah. 'Ever since we set off...'

'Rubbish,' said Harry vigorously. 'There's nothing out there except mud and fog.'

'Then let's hope it's just my over-active imagination.' Still looking around him, the

Doctor took another step forward. Suddenly he stopped. Beneath the mud his foot was

jammed against something round and metallic. Silently the Doctor pointed downward. Harry

and Sarah looked.

All three held their breath. Slowly the Doctor started to withdraw his foot, then

stopped at once as he felt the movement of the mine. He spoke in a quiet, conversational

voice. 'Harry, this mine seems to be resting on something solid. If I move my foot it will tilt—

and that could be enough to detonate it.'

Harry edged cautiously forward and dropped to his knees beside the half-buried

mine. He began clearing mud and gravel away from the mine's surface. The Doctor stood

motionless, like someone caught in a game of Statues.

'Seems to be a rock underneath,' said Harry slowly.

Sarah spoke in a whisper, as though the very sound of her voice might be enough

to explode the mine. 'Can't you wedge it, Harry? Jam something underneath to make it

firm?' Without looking up, Harry said, 'That's what I'm trying to do, old girl.' He groped

around the surrounding area and picked up a suitably sized lump of rock. Very slowly he

slipped it between the mine and the rock on which it rested, holding the mine steady with

his free hand. 'All right, Doctor, give it a try. Sarah, you back away—and keep to our

footsteps.' Sarah obeyed—it was no time to argue.

'You get back as well, Harry,' said the Doctor.

Still crouching at the Doctor's feet, Harry shook his head. 'No. You'll have a better

chance if I hold the mine steady while you move.'

'Don't be stupid, Harry.'

'Don't waste time arguing, Doctor. just move that foot—gently.'

The Doctor moved it. Nothing happened. He watched as Harry Sullivan took first

one hand and then the other from the mine. It didn't shift. The Doctor let out a long sigh of

relief. 'Thank you, Harry.'

'My pleasure, Doctor,' said Harry Sullivan, a little shakily.

As they moved clear of the minefield, a huge twisted figure in a shapeless fur hood

slipped after them through the fog. The Doctor's and Sarah's instincts had been right.

Something was following them across the battlefield...

The Doctor trudged to the top of a long steep rise. He stopped and pointed. 'Look!'

Harry and Sarah joined him. There in the distance they saw—what? A giant, semi-

transparent dome, fog swirling around its base, odd shapes just discernible beneath it.

'A protective dome,' said the Doctor softly. 'Large enough to cover an entire city.'

Harry gazed at it in wonder. 'If these people can build something like that, why are

they fighting a war with barbed wire and land mines?'

'Why indeed?' replied the Doctor.

Sarah looked at him curiously. 'Doctor, isn't it time we had a few explanations?'

The Doctor sighed. 'Yes, of course it is. I must begin with an apology...' Briefly the

Doctor told them how the Time Lords had intervened to prevent their safe return to the

TARDIS, and of the vital mission that had been imposed on him. 'I'm only sorry you two

were caught up in their high-handed action.'

He seemed so genuinely distressed that Sarah said, 'It's all right, Doctor. Not your

fault, is it,Harry?'

'Of course not. If these Daleks are as bad as you say, it'll be a pleasure to help

scuttle 'em.'

The Doctor grinned, spirits restored by Harry's cheerful confidence.

'So where do we begin?' asked Sarah, sounding a good deal braver than she

actually felt.

The Doctor pointed toward the dome. 'There!' he said. And they started moving

toward the distant city.

But getting to the city wasn't so easy. It was guarded by an elaborate system of

interconnecting trenches, similar to those that had covered Europe during the First World

War. Fortunately the trench network appeared to be completely deserted. The Doctor and

his companions were going through a kind of maze, moving, they hoped, ever nearer to the

mysterious city.

'Maybe all the troops have been withdrawn,' suggested Harry.

'Or killed,' said the Doctor. 'See here.'

They followed him around a corner and found themselves in a large trench, floored

with wooden planks and barricaded with sandbags. It was lined with men, propped up

along its edge as if awaiting attack. 'Even the dead have a part to play in this war,' said the

Doctor.'They've been stood here to make the trench look fully manned.'

They moved along the row of silent figures. Harry examined one more closely.

'Same scrappy uniform as that chap in the crater. Seems to be different insignia though.'

'Different side, Harry,' the Doctor said. 'He was one of the attackers. These are

defending the city.'

Sarah shivered as she glanced at the line of dead men, their sightless eyes staring

out into the fog. She wandered further along the trench. Set deep into the rear wall was a

heavy metal door. 'Look at this' she called out.

Harry and the Doctor joined her. 'We must be getting near the city,' said the Doctor.

'That's probably the entrance to some kind of service tunnel.'

Harry heaved on the door, but it wouldn't budge. 'Seems to be locked solid,' he

grunted.

Suddenly there was a whistling sound, followed by a thud from over the rim of the

trench. Cautiously the Doctor looked out. A metal projectile lay half-buried in the mud. Evil-

looking green smoke was welling out of it, and creeping slowly toward the trench.

The Doctor jumped back. 'Look out,' he yelled. 'Poison gas, and it's coming this

way!'

2 PRISONERS OF WAR

The Doctor was already reaching for one of the propped-up bodies. 'Get gas

masks, quickly!' he shouted. Sarah and Harry ran to obey.

It wasn't particularly pleasant grappling with the stiff, cold corpses, but things were

too desperate for any fastidiousness. All three pulled tight the straps of their gas masks,

just as green smoke began creeping into the trench.

There was a sudden burst of rifle fire. Bullets sprayed the edge of the trench,

thudding into the sandbags and whining over their heads.

The Doctor peered cautiously out. A small group of ragged soldiers was pelting

toward them, yelling and firing as they came. He turned to shout a warning to Sarah and

Harry, but it was already too late. Troops leapt over the sandbags and dropped into the

trench. Seeing the gas masked forms of the Doctor and his companions, they hurled

themselves upon them.

They had no chance to explain their neutrality. within minutes they were engaged in

savage hand-to-hand fighting. Luckily the trench was so packed with struggling bodies that

the attackers had no chance to use their weapons, not daring to shoot for fear of hitting

each other. The Doctor and Harry closed ranks to defend Sarah. They put up a splendid

fight. Harry had boxed for the Navy in his time and he dealt out straight rights, lefts and

uppercuts in the best traditions of the boxing ring. The Doctor fought in a whirl of long arms

and legs, using the techniques of Venusian Aikido, to drop one opponent after another. But

so heavily were the two outnumbered that the sheer weight of bodies soon bore them

down. Crouched in one corner of the trench, Sarah heard a grinding noise. Peering

through the struggling mass of bodies, she saw the heavy metal door slide open. A fresh

contingent of soldiers appeared. They were better uniformed than the first attackers, and

better armed too. There was a sudden fierce chattering of automatic weapons. Sarah

jumped up to warn the Doctor, but a wild swing from a rifle butt caught her on the temple.

She collapsed face downward.

The Doctor heard the chatter of machine guns and realized that the character of the

battle had changed. These new arrivals had no hesitation in shooting. 'Down, Harry!' he

yelled, and flung himself to the ground. As the two dropped down, heavy shapes began

falling on top of them—the now bulletridden corpses of their first attackers.

Shielded by the bodies of their former opponents, the Doctor and Harry laid low.

The rattle of machine-gun fire ended at last. The leader of the victorious soldiers

saw that the green gas had drifted away. He pulled the gas mask from his face and took in

great gulps of the foggy air. He was very young. As the others pulled off their gas masks it

could be seen that they too were little more than boys.

Pushing aside the dead body which held him down, Harry began struggling to his

feet. Instantly the nearest soldier raised his gun. The Doctor struggled up, shouting, 'No...'

Then came the sound of more shooting from outside the trench, the yelling of a

fresh wave of attackers. The leader indicated the Doctor and Harry. 'Into the tunnel with

them—quick!' Harry and the Doctor were clubbed down and dragged unconscious through

the metal door. The leader followed his men, and the door clanged shut behind them.

Outside the trench the sounds of yelling and shooting faded as the attack moved on

to another section of the line. Hidden beneath a pile of bodies, Sarah lay unconscious, a

trickle of blood running from her temple.

Harry and the Doctor were carried along a dark tunnel into a small, concrete-walled

room at its far end. The place was primitively furnished with wooden tables, benches and a

couple of bunks. One of the tables held some kind of field communications equipment. On

the far side of the room was an arched opening in which stood a small passenger trolley.

The trolley was on rails which disappeared into the blackness of the tunnel. It looked like

the terminus of a miniature underground railway.

As the patrol crowded into the room, Harry and the Doctor were dumped casually

on the ground. The soldiers began struggling out of their equipment.

Looking at his two prisoners with a satisfied air, the young patrol leader wrenched

the gas masks from their faces. His expression changed to one of puzzlement. 'They don't

look like Thals...' He thought for a moment. 'Stick them in the transporter, I'll take them to

Command Headquarters.' A couple of soldiers grabbed the two prisoners and threw them

into the trolley. The patrol leader climbed in after them and operated controls. The trolley

rumbled away into the darkness.

Harry and the Doctor recovered to find themselves rattling through pitch darkness at

terrifying speed. The trolley shot into a big, well-lighted area and jolted to a halt. Armed

guards swarmed around and dragged them along more concrete corridors and into a large

room. By now the Doctor had recovered enough to take an interest in his surroundings.

They were in some kind of central command post. Maps covered the walls, there was more

communications equipment, and in the center of the room was a huge maptable holding a

relief map, a kind of model landscape. It seemed to depict two dome-covered cities, with

the trench-riddled battlefield between them. A fitting image for the present state of Skaro,

thought the Doctor. He noticed that the guards were smartly uniformed here, their weapons

modern and well cared for. Strange how all wars were the same, thought the Doctor. The

staff back at H.Q. always had better conditions than the men actually out fighting...

A tall, very young officer, elegant in his gold-braided uniform, was shifting symbols

on the relief map. He straightened up and looked coldly at the patrol leader. 'Well?'

'Two prisoners, General Ravon. Captured in section one-zero-one. For

interrogation.'

The officer smiled. 'Excellent I enjoy interrogations.'

The Doctor looked at him. The young face was hard and cold. 'Yes,' he said

cheerfully, 'I must say, you look the type.'

A blow from the rifle butt of one of the guards sent the Doctor staggering. 'Insolent

muto,' said Ravon. He turned to the patrol leader who stood rigidly toattention, obviously

waiting to speak. 'Well, what is it?'

'My section totally destroyed the Thal attackers, sir, except for these two prisoners.

But—well,the men are exhausted, and ammunition is running low.'

'Your men will fight until they are relieved. As for ammunition, conserve it. Use the

spears and knives you were issued with whenever possible. Return to your patrol.'

'Sir.' The patrol leader saluted wearily and marched out, taking the guards with him.

The Doctor glanced quickly round the room. Except for the soldier manning the

communications unit, they were now alone with the General...

As if guessing the Doctor's thoughts, Ravon drew his blaster and covered the two

prisoners.'So—the Thals have degenerated to recruiting mutos, have they? Turn out your

pockets!'

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DoctorWhoandtheGenesisoftheDaleksTerranceDicksTheplace:SkaroTime:TheBirthoftheDaleksAfterathousandyearsoffutilewaragainsttheThals,DAVROShasperfectedthephysicalformthatwillcarryhisraceintoeternity-thedreadedDALEK.Withoutfeeling,conscienceorpity,theDalekisprogrammedtoEXTERMINATE.AtthecommandoftheTimeL...

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