But she wasn’t human.
Her mind having calmed again, Susan rose to her feet and crossed to the door The lock was about three and a half feet from the floor. It was a small panel, about eight inches on either side, with a depression for a Dalek pad. There was no way for her to manipulate that, since a Dalek would simply place its pad against the door, extend its sensor and make contact with the lock via its onboard computer. But there was a way around it. She took off her Peace Officer pin once again – it was amazing how useful something supposedly ornamental could be – and used it to take off the panel face.
Beneath the plate were the logic circuits. Examining them carefully, she used the point of the pin to tap them, getting them to register. They responded quickly, and she smiled. All that she had to do now was to work out the logic codes, and the door would open.
And, with luck, there wouldn’t be a Dalek guard on the other side…
Refusing to be pessimistic, she set to work.
The Master guided his TARDIS back to DA‐17 once more. What had gone wrong? Everything should have been working perfectly, and now it seemed as though there was a glitch in his carefully laid schemes. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear that the Doctor had done something to sabotage his plans. But the guards had been adamant that the Doctor had been taken as he’d tried to penetrate the complex, before even he could have attempted anything.
The Doctor… and with a new face. He’d used up another of his lives, obviously. Probably through some foolish good deed or other. Despite his best efforts, he had never been able to convince the Doctor of the pointlessness of attempting to do good in a chaotic universe. The only important thing was power, which he understood perfectly, and the Doctor refused to grasp. Survival of the fittest – the weak being led by the strong. That was the way of life, and the way things inevitably had to be. The Doctor struggled against the natural order of things, his foolish head filled with notions such as compassion, love and pity.
Idiot.
It was unlikely, though, that his appearance here was a coincidence. Even if he’d not managed to interfere yet, he was bound to do so before very much longer. And somehow, the Doctor always evaded his traps. It was frustrating in one way, and yet… what the Master wanted more than anything from his old friend‐turned‐foe was for the Doctor to see the Master win and admit for once which of them was superior. Killing him would prove it, but that way the Doctor couldn’t acknowledge his defeat. And he needed to have the Doctor do just that.
Well, let the fool do what he wanted – he couldn’t stop this plan that simply. The Doctor was in Castle Haldoran, without his TARDIS, and therefore an hour from DA‐17 by human transport. The Master was arriving now. If the entry codes had been broken, he could simply take what he’d come for and leave. If not, he still had at least an hour to break them, and it shouldn’t take that long. Either way, he’d have his weapon and be off this stinking planet before the Doctor could possibly arrive to interfere.
Assuming, of course, that Downs hadn’t managed to torture and kill the Doctor. It was an appealing thought but, frankly, rather unlikely. The Doctor could think rings around a cretin like that in his sleep. The most the Master was expecting was for Downs to delay the Doctor, and perhaps kill one or two of the human assistants the Doctor always seemed to pick up like stray dogs.
With a sigh, his TARDIS landed in the anteroom of the Dalek installation, and he reflected irritatedly on the Dalek scrambling‐technology operating inside the Artefact that prevented his TARDIS from landing inside. He used his scanner to check the area outside, but there was nobody there. His eyebrow rose when he saw that the doors were open. The programme was complete, then, and access to the weapon was his! Eagerly, he left his craft, locking it carefully behind him, and proceeded through the main door.
And stopped immediately. From either side of the door, Daleks trained their guns on him. He didn’t know where they were from or how they had come to be here, but they were not likely to be in good humour.
‘Ah, there you are,’ he improvised, with a small bow. ‘Good, I’m glad to see that you’re on the alert. Take me to your control centre immediately.’
‘Daleks do not take orders from humans,’ the one on the left stated.
‘I’m not a human,’ the Master explained patiently. ‘I have been working for the Daleks now for some time. I must check in with your commander to receive an update on my orders.’ He gestured towards his pocket. ‘I have confirmation for what I say here. Don’t be alarmed while I retrieve it.’
‘Proceed,’ the Dalek agreed. It did not, however, lower its gun‐stick.
The Master reached into his coat. His fingers brushed his TCE, and then moved to a small computer disk which he brought out slowly. ‘These are my credentials from the Dalek Prime,’ he explained. ‘If you check them you will see that I am telling the truth.’
The Dalek considered. It was most likely calling for orders from higher up, unable to make decisions like this on its own. After a moment, it said, ‘You will go before me. Your information will be investigated.’
‘Of course,’ the Master agreed. He slipped the disk back into his pocket and palmed his TCE. ‘As you command.’ He started down the corridor. One Dalek fell in behind him, the other remaining on duty to guard against further intruders. The Master walked swiftly, scanning the corridor and side corridors as he went. There didn’t seem to be many Daleks about, which was to the good. While his credentials were reasonably good, he could hardly chance their being checked. If these Daleks had access to Skaro Central, they’d be sure to read that the Master had failed the Daleks on his last mission, and they had only one punishment for failure.
As soon as he was alone with his escort, therefore, the Master spun around, and applied his TCE to the dome of the Dalek. Triggering it sent powerful energies tearing through the Dalek. It didn’t even have sufficient time to fire at him as its computers and the living thing inside the shell were both attacked and compressed by the Master’s weapon.
Brushing the six‐inch inert Dalek into a side room, the Master followed it in. There was a small computer panel there, and he smiled. Just what he needed. A little hacking, and he’d discover just where in this complex the weapon he was after was stored…
Lord London stared at his map board again, his stomach churning worse than before. He’d managed to take a little milk, but it had done him no good. The claws were starting to move into place about New London now, and it would be only a matter of an hour or so before his escape route was cut off completely. If he stayed here to fight, he was bound to be captured, tortured and then executed. Haldoran would never allow either him or his immediate family to live. They would only be a seed for rebellion.
He’d arranged for his sons’ families to get to runabouts that would take them to safety. All that was left now was himself and Donna – and he was unable to locate her anywhere. He was becoming more and more certain that she’d disobeyed his strict instructions once more and gone off somewhere with this Doctor she’d found. Damn the girl!
Well, that was her problem now. He’d done all he could for her, despite her treatment of him and his honour. She’d shamed him publicly, ruined his plans for any kind of peace with Haldoran, and disobeyed him constantly. Perhaps it was time she paid for her mistakes, instead of his sheltering her once again from the consequences of her actions.
He turned to McAndrew, Durgan and Broadhurst. ‘I’m leaving now,’ he informed them. ‘I have to get out of the city before Haldoran’s men arrive. You may do as you wish, but I would strongly advise against waiting for the inevitable.’