The Dalek regarded her. Its body swivelled to face away from the vestibule, though its eye never wavered from her. ‘Humans are inefficient and inferior. You will follow me or die.’ The eye swung about to face the direction in which the Dalek was moving. Susan limped along behind it, knowing she’d be cut down instantly if she attempted anything else.
Where were these Daleks from? All of the Daleks on Earth had been destroyed – so how were these alive? Susan could only hope that shed learn the answers by pretending to cooperate with them, but a cold fear knotted her stomach.
What could the Daleks possibly want with her?
Tomlin sat in the shadow of a shattered wall, breathing heavily, and shivering because he was soaked to the skin. But at least he was no longer being pursued. The enemy soldiers had simply stopped following him after a while. He’d continued to flee, but then become aware of something odd. The sounds of battle had died away.
His professional interest had finally overcome his fear, and he had slowly made his way back to the battle zone. He found dozens of bodies of his men, and some of London’s troops, but of the main bulk of London’s army there was no sign. It didn’t make any sense to him at first, so he’d followed the line of retreat of London’s men, and stumbled eventually across the truth.
In the distance from where he sat, he could make out flares of light and screams of tenon There was only one possible explanation for this – the Dalek guns were being used. And not to back him up. This was a separate thrust, and, as he sat in the ruins, he finally began to work it all out.
He hadn’t been honoured to lead the initial attack on the enemy – he’d been sacrificed as a decoy. Craddock and Barlow must have led the real attack, once his troops had drawn the bulk of London’s men.
Haldoran had betrayed him.
Tomlin sat alone in the cold, wet darkness, lost in his thoughts. All of his life he had gladly served the House of Haldoran with unswerving loyalty, And this was his reward? To be sacrificed as a pawn in Haldoran’s unlimited ambitions? Was that his only value – as cannon fodder, and not as a friend and a confidant?
His whole world had come crashing down about his feet. Everything he’d striven for and believed in was nothing more than the mud he walked in. His entire purpose in life had been decimated. He had been betrayed.
It had to be the work of that smug bastard, Estro. The man had somehow poisoned the mind of Haldoran against him. Something had to be done to remove the poison. But what?
In the distance, lights flashed and men died. Oblivious, Tomlin sat and considered his own future.
Barlow was more than happy with the way the war was progressing. As he’d anticipated, London was pulling his surviving troops back towards the city. Craddock’s men had flanked them and attacked, speeding the retreat to a rout. He and his men continued to press on slowly. There was no rush at this point – in fact, the more time the enemy had to witness the advance, the more terrified they were likely to get, which could only help. From time to time, his troops came across stragglers, or units left to try to delay them. In each case, the men with the Dalek guns annihilated all opposition.
Barlow had no real desire to kill more men than was necessary, so he had issued strict orders that anyone who wished to surrender should be allowed to do so. They had already collected some twenty broken men that way. His purpose was to take over London, not to destroy it, and the more men who came over rather than fought, the better.
‘Message from base, sir,’ the radio operator reported.
Twisting in his seat, Barlow nodded. ‘Lord Haldoran needs a progress report?’ he asked.
‘No, sir, it’s not the official channel. It’s your private line.’
That was odd. Barlow gestured for the headset, which the operator handed over. ‘Barlow here,’ he said.
‘Sir, pardon me for disturbing you.’ It was Arkwright, his aide. ‘I know you’re busy, but I thought you’d want to know this immediately. We caught a man going though your private files about half an hour ago. He was… hurt during capture, but we’ve been able to determine he’s an agent working for Craddock.’
Craddock? ‘Are you sure about that?’ he asked sharply.
‘Quite sure, sir,’ Arkwright answered. ‘He was paid to try to access your private files and copy potentially damaging information to be used against you. He’s currently undergoing medical assistance to keep him alive. Any further instructions?’
Barlow considered for a moment. ‘No. Make sure he stays as fit as can be expected, for the moment. I’ll want to speak with him when I get back. Were any files copied or stolen?’
‘No, sir. Security caught him before he got too far.’
‘Understood. Thank you.’ He handed the headset back to the operator, and then sank into his seat, deep in thought.
Craddock had paid a man to ransack his files while he was out? Why would the soldier do that? Perhaps to gain some leverage in case Barlow decided to turn on him? It was plausible – for anyone other than Craddock. Craddock was a blunt man, who preferred to face a foe and fight him. Blackmail was hardly his weapon of choice.
And, besides that, he wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t hire a man who was incompetent enough to be caught so simply.
Barlow had to strongly consider the possibility that Craddock was the one being framed here. That some other player in this game had hired a thief, claiming to be from Craddock, in order to set the two generals at each other’s throat. That made a lot more sense. Who? Short answer: anyone who stood to gain if he and Craddock were to distrust each other. Obvious suspects? Estro sprang to mind. The adviser was a devious and dangerous man, and he had already expressed a desire to remove Craddock from the picture. Barlow had tried to protect the older soldier: was this move one of Estro’s aimed at removing Barlow’s support of Craddock? It did make sense.
It also left an obvious way of checking things.
Barlow turned to the radio operator. ‘Get through to General Craddock personally,’ he instructed. ‘I want to speak to him immediately.’
It took a couple of minutes, but eventually Barlow was handed the headset. ‘Craddock?’ he inquired.
‘Yes.’ The reply was hard and noncommittal.
‘I’d like to suggest that you have a man check your offices,’ Barlow informed him. ‘I suspect that you’ll find a thief in there raiding your files, and claiming to have been sent by me.’
‘Ah.’ There was a faint chuckle at the other end of the line. ‘I see you must have had someone similar in your office. My men discovered the thief just a few moments ago. Someone appears to be attempting to drive a wedge between us, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Indeed.’ Barlow was relieved to discover his instincts had been correct. ‘My own theory is that it’s Estro. He overheard our earlier conversation in the hallway.’
There was a sharp expelling of breath from the other end of the radio. ‘And?’ Craddock prompted.
‘I believed I had persuaded him not to harm you,’ Barlow explained. ‘It’s starting to look as though I might have been wrong. You’d better watch your back very carefully.’
‘Understood,’ Craddock answered. ‘I’m… a trifle disappointed that you didn’t mention this to me before.’
‘I didn’t see any need before,’ Barlow answered candidly with this new move, ‘I do. It appears that we may both be in rather a precarious position.’
Craddock considered the idea for a moment. ‘And what do you think we should do about it?’
Barlow smiled. ‘I think we should act as though we believe what we’re supposed to have believed,’ he suggested. ‘We should act very coldly and even hostilely towards one another. Let Estro think he’s broken us apart. Then, when he makes his next move, we can strike against him together!