said the Dalek. ‘The prisoners escaped and destroyed the hatcheries.’
‘What of the progenitor?’
‘Rendered inoperable. The clones are unviable,’ said the Dalek.
‘Unimportant,’ purred another of the blue and gold Daleks on the plinths. ‘Testing is complete. The template for the new paradigm can be disseminated. Transmit instructions to the other progenitors in the Tantalus Spiral. Order them to begin production immediately.’
‘I obey.’
‘Did the humans have Time Lord assistance?’ asked the Dalek on the central plinth.
‘Yes,’ replied the bronze and gold Dalek. ‘Transmissions from the base indicate the presence of the Predator on Moldox. We have confirmed the energy signature of his TARDIS.’
‘Excellent. The plan nears completion.’ The blue and silver Dalek made a sound that might almost have been a chuckle. ‘Soon, the Predator will lead the Daleks to their ultimate victory. Soon, he will be ours.’
Part Two
Gallifrey
Chapter Nine
Karlax hunched over his desk, wearily stabbing at a data screen with his index finger. Scrolling glyphs indicated countless reports coming in from the front – or rather, from the numerous fronts on which the Time Lords were currently engaged against the Daleks.
He selected one at random and pulled it up on the screen, then scanned the opening lines, not even bothering to check which epoch it referred to. They were all blurring into one, anyway – every period of Gallifrey’s history was now under assault from the vile Kaled mutants.
The story was the same. In each and every report, it was always the same. No matter how well they fought, how many Dalek saucers or stealth ships the Time Lords managed to destroy, more took their place. The things were relentless, and worse, somehow capable of replicating themselves at a rate of knots. They were wily, too – they’d taken to seeding their progenitors into uncontested eras, cloning themselves and manufacturing entire legions, which would then lay dormant, sometimes waiting for years for the right moment to strike. Inevitably, they would deploy to strengthen an existing Dalek attack force or else lay siege to an unsuspecting Time Lord stronghold during some chaotic period in Gallifrey’s history. They’d even attempted to purge prehistoric Gallifrey of its primitive life forms in an effort to stop the Time Lords from evolving.
To the Daleks, life was cheap and easily replaced. That gave them an edge. A Time Lord might have thirteen lives, but, reflected Karlax, regeneration was no good whatsoever if you’d been atomised in a detonating Battle TARDIS or eradicated before you’d ever been conceived.
Karlax sighed. His collar and robe felt heavy, today. He had the foreboding sense that they were only moments away from the apocalypse, that all of their efforts, all of their so-called victories against the Daleks would, ultimately, be for nothing. They were locked in a stalemate, and it would only be a matter of time before the Daleks found a way to break it and the countdown continued. They were trying to hold the inevitable at bay.
His data screen bleeped. More reports were coming in by the second, and they all needed to be read and summarised for the Lord President. The trouble was, Karlax simply couldn’t keep up, not whilst he had other duties to consider. Still, he supposed, they weren’t going to read themselves. He pressed the icon for another report, but as he leaned back in his chair the shrill cry of an alarm sounded overhead. His shoulders sagged. What was it now?
Karlax looked up at the sound of the door sliding open, only just audible over the din of the alarm. A soldier of the Chancellery Guard came running into his chambers. He stopped before Karlax’s desk, catching his breath.
‘Well? What is it?’ Karlax snapped at the guard. ‘What’s this infernal racket about?’
‘It’s a level nine emergency, sir,’ said the guard, still a little breathless. He sounded
‘What of the progenitor?’
‘Rendered inoperable. The clones are unviable,’ said the Dalek.
‘Unimportant,’ purred another of the blue and gold Daleks on the plinths. ‘Testing is complete. The template for the new paradigm can be disseminated. Transmit instructions to the other progenitors in the Tantalus Spiral. Order them to begin production immediately.’
‘I obey.’
‘Did the humans have Time Lord assistance?’ asked the Dalek on the central plinth.
‘Yes,’ replied the bronze and gold Dalek. ‘Transmissions from the base indicate the presence of the Predator on Moldox. We have confirmed the energy signature of his TARDIS.’
‘Excellent. The plan nears completion.’ The blue and silver Dalek made a sound that might almost have been a chuckle. ‘Soon, the Predator will lead the Daleks to their ultimate victory. Soon, he will be ours.’
Part Two
Gallifrey
Chapter Nine
Karlax hunched over his desk, wearily stabbing at a data screen with his index finger. Scrolling glyphs indicated countless reports coming in from the front – or rather, from the numerous fronts on which the Time Lords were currently engaged against the Daleks.
He selected one at random and pulled it up on the screen, then scanned the opening lines, not even bothering to check which epoch it referred to. They were all blurring into one, anyway – every period of Gallifrey’s history was now under assault from the vile Kaled mutants.
The story was the same. In each and every report, it was always the same. No matter how well they fought, how many Dalek saucers or stealth ships the Time Lords managed to destroy, more took their place. The things were relentless, and worse, somehow capable of replicating themselves at a rate of knots. They were wily, too – they’d taken to seeding their progenitors into uncontested eras, cloning themselves and manufacturing entire legions, which would then lay dormant, sometimes waiting for years for the right moment to strike. Inevitably, they would deploy to strengthen an existing Dalek attack force or else lay siege to an unsuspecting Time Lord stronghold during some chaotic period in Gallifrey’s history. They’d even attempted to purge prehistoric Gallifrey of its primitive life forms in an effort to stop the Time Lords from evolving.
To the Daleks, life was cheap and easily replaced. That gave them an edge. A Time Lord might have thirteen lives, but, reflected Karlax, regeneration was no good whatsoever if you’d been atomised in a detonating Battle TARDIS or eradicated before you’d ever been conceived.
Karlax sighed. His collar and robe felt heavy, today. He had the foreboding sense that they were only moments away from the apocalypse, that all of their efforts, all of their so-called victories against the Daleks would, ultimately, be for nothing. They were locked in a stalemate, and it would only be a matter of time before the Daleks found a way to break it and the countdown continued. They were trying to hold the inevitable at bay.
His data screen bleeped. More reports were coming in by the second, and they all needed to be read and summarised for the Lord President. The trouble was, Karlax simply couldn’t keep up, not whilst he had other duties to consider. Still, he supposed, they weren’t going to read themselves. He pressed the icon for another report, but as he leaned back in his chair the shrill cry of an alarm sounded overhead. His shoulders sagged. What was it now?
Karlax looked up at the sound of the door sliding open, only just audible over the din of the alarm. A soldier of the Chancellery Guard came running into his chambers. He stopped before Karlax’s desk, catching his breath.
‘Well? What is it?’ Karlax snapped at the guard. ‘What’s this infernal racket about?’
‘It’s a level nine emergency, sir,’ said the guard, still a little breathless. He sounded
Similar Books
