Moving restlessly the Black Dalek demanded a fresh report. The duty officer turned to answer.
‘Repair units have just reached the gestation pool,’ it said. ‘They report that the controls will not respond. Power drain is increasing.’
The Black Dalek considered the matter. ‘They are to destroy the equipment,’ it decided. ‘Immediately!’
‘Destruction of the embryos will leave us without extra units,’ the officer objected.
‘Their destruction will allow us to survive,’ the Black Dalek grated. ‘Other factories exist that can be wakened by our signal. Priority now is communications. Destroy the embryo unit.’
‘I obey!’
The Doctor poked his head over the lip of the pit, and then hastily withdrew it. ‘Barlow seems to have done his job,’ he called down to Donna softly. ‘But, as usual, the Daleks have a backup plan, and they’re building a new transmitter.’
‘Maybe he can destroy this one, too,’ Donna said hopefully, clinging on, several rungs below him.
‘I think he used up most of his ammunition on the first attack,’ the Doctor answered. ‘Unless he can get reinforcements in, he doesn’t stand much of a chance with a second attack.’
Donna didn’t like the way that this conversation was going. ‘And the Daleks are bound to have traced your sabotage of the hatchery by now,’ she pointed out. ‘Is anything going right?’
‘Oh yes,’ the Doctor assured her. ‘Because they won’t discover my real sabotage until after the gestation pool is history.’
Feeling a sudden surge of hope, Donna asked, ‘And what sabotage is that?’
‘The factory,’ he replied, a faint smile on his pale face. ‘I set the controls there to overload, to continually increase the temperature. It’s an electron‐induction furnace, so we’re talking several thousand degrees.’
Donna winced. ‘We’re talking several thousand degrees as in: if we don’t get out of here we’ll get badly sunburned?’
‘Something like that, yes,’ he admitted.
‘And how long do we have before that happens?’ she demanded.
‘Hard to say. But I wouldn’t make any long‐term plans to stay on this ladder.’
‘Thanks for telling me,’ she growled, glancing back down the pit – knowing that there was a possible end in sight was almost impossible to comprehend. Knowing it might mean her own end as well made it less reassuring. ‘If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d prefer to take my chances up there making a run for it rather than waiting here to become a well‐done chunk of steak.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ he agreed. ‘Shall we?’
‘Why not?’ Taking a deep breath and trying to steady her shattered nerves, Donna followed him up the last few rungs and over the rim of the pit.
As the explosion from the hatchery shook the complex, the Red Dalek in charge of the squad looked towards the computer technician, still scanning the energy readings. ‘Report.’
‘Gestation pool destruction complete,’ it grated. ‘Power levels… still falling rapidly.’
‘Further sabotage,’ the Red Dalek announced. ‘Location?’
The technician worked feverishly. Power levels were dropping dangerously low. ‘The furnace,’ it finally replied.
‘Follow me,’ the Red Dalek ordered its crew, starting down the corridor towards that area. As it moved, it transmitted its report to the Black Dalek.
In the control centre, the Black Dalek considered further. The human sabotage had led to the destruction of the embryos, and still power levels were dropping. ‘Close down all side tunnels,’ it ordered. ‘All mobile units to return to the main area. All other sections are to be shut down to conserve power.’ Then came the message from the repair crew of further sabotage at the furnace. Whoever had done this was clearly more intelligent than most humans. Power levels were falling drastically.
‘Estimate time to completion of communications,’ it demanded.
‘Two time units,’ the technician answered.
That was unacceptable. The power loss would be terminal before then. There had to be another solution to the problem. But one was not obvious. It was not possible that the Daleks had failed again.
It could not be.
Donna jumped to her feet, following the Doctor as he started to move from the head of the shaft. There were about ten Daleks working on their new equipment, close to the still burning wreckage of the destroyed transmitter. Six Robomen were staring outward, probably guarding against another attack from Barlow. The Doctor was trying to get to cover behind the wrecked unit when one of the Dalek technicians spotted them moving.
It whirled around. ‘Intruders!’ it intoned. ‘Exterminate!’ Its gun fired as Donna forced herself to move faster. The bolt singed her hair, and felt like an electrified hand slamming into her back. She was thrown off balance, into the mud.
The Doctor saw her fall, and felt a cold fury seize his battered body. Daleks. Somehow it always came down to this. Good… well, him, against evil. Cold, pitiless evil. How many lives had the Daleks taken? How many worlds lay in ruins in their wake, throughout time and space?
And he knew with a terrible certainty that whatever he did to try to stop them would never, ever be enough.
For a second he wished he could see the bigger picture again, the grand design, as he dreamed he once could. But there was only darkness and pain crowding his head, now.
And fear.
‘Return to work!’ another Dalek ordered the first. ‘Communications is a priority. Robomen will eliminate all intruders.’
Donna stared up from the ground. The Dalek turned back to its equipment, but all six Robomen turned their blank faces towards her and the Doctor. She saw the Doctor’s bloody figure start staggering towards the helmeted figures.
‘Daleks!’ roared the Doctor, ignoring the Robomen as they raised their guns, looking for all the world as if he was going to try and push his way past them to get to the Daleks himself.
Donna staggered to her feet. ‘Doctor! No!’ she screamed, running towards him. She’d be damned if she’d die grovelling in the mud.
Gunshots hammered all around, and she involuntarily closed her eyes. But none of the bullets hit her, and as she looked again, she saw that it was the Robomen who were being cut apart by small‐arms fire.
The Doctor stopped his advance, staring round bewilderedly as if waking from a trance, and slumped to his knees in the squelching mud.
The Daleks at the device all spun around, bringing up their guns. ‘Exterminate all humans!’ She couldn’t tell which had spoken, but it wasn’t necessary to know: each of them had simply that one thought in mind.
Then Donna saw him – Barlow! He was hunched over a rock past the entrance, leading some twenty troopers who were firing at the dying Robomen. A grim smile forced itself on her lips. Maybe they would survive this, after all. Barlow fired first, taking out one of the Daleks. Then the Daleks opened fire. They had targeted the soldiers first, since they were the most dangerous. Four of five were caught in the ravaging fire, and screamed as they died. Others fired futilely at the Daleks. Bullets simply bounced off their armoured casings. Then Barlow fired two more grenades. The man was a wicked shot, striking home with both. Then he flung his weapon away in disgust, clearly out of ammunition.
Donna felt sick. The grenade launcher had been the only weapon effective against the Daleks so far, and the Daleks knew it. They moved forward, firing continually. Donna managed to dash over to the Doctor, still on his knees in the mud. He looked horribly pale. She glanced at the field dressing and winced. It was soaked in blood. The strain was dearly killing him.
‘You can’t keep this up,’ she said, shocked.
‘And I won’t just die,’ he retorted weakly. ‘We have to try to get out of here. Barlow, too. He doesn’t stand a chance.’