Doctor Who: Remembrance of the Daleks by Ben Aaronovitch, Nicholas Briggs, Terry Molloy Page B
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decided the commander, we shall prove our function.
The shuttle prepared to launch.
The supreme renegade Dalek had lived in the darkness of Ratcliffe’s warehouse for many months. Its secondary systems had been shut down all that time as it lived by proxy through its link with the battle computer.
Sometimes it dreamed. They were frightening unnatural dreams – dreams in which it walked like a biped, naked to the environment, breathing unfiltered air.
Psychological programs within the Dalek’s computer countered the dreams with increasing amounts of sedatives that left it agitated within its protective shell. Technical analysis made the source clear – battle computer feedback.
This had not been foreseen at the planning stage – a great deal had not been foreseen. The arrival of the imperial warship, the destruction of the warrior at Totters Lane, the involvement of native military forces.
They were pernicious these bipeds, these humans with their talent for violence and sudden improvisation. They made dangerous slaves.
The battle computer reported that the Hand of Omega was in place. The Dalek Supreme snapped out of dormancy, power flushed through its systems – it felt alive again. The battle computer flashed a tactical update, and based on this the Dalek Supreme made decisions and issued orders. Around it, other warriors became operational. Sensitive aural sensors detected noise from the yard outside – the unlovely sound of human laughter.
These were the native bipeds that had carried the Hand of Omega. They were now disposable.
The Dalek Supreme fed power to its motor unit and slipped forward.
‘What people need,’ said Ratcliffe, ‘is a firm hand. It’s in their nature. They need a strong leader, someone who knows when to be lenient and when to be harsh...’
He was cut off by the sound of men screaming.
Outside, he thought, and lunged across the office and threw open the door.
His men were lying smashed and broken on the cobbles.
‘What have you done?’ he screamed. ‘They were my men.’ There was movement from the shadow in the corner.
‘They were on our side.’
The shadow rotated, and for the first time Ratcliffe could make out its shape. Something unfolded from the darkness and emerged into the glow from his desk lamp.
Light glinted on pale hair, pale skin and blue eyes.
‘You are a slave,’ said the girl. ‘You were born to serve the Daleks.’
11
Saturday, 15:31
The Movellan War was the most disastrous military campaign the Daleks fought. It is perhaps fitting that it took an android race to perceive the Daleks’ ultimate weakness. When the blow came it took the Daleks’
strategic planners by surprise. They had used biological weapons against many races, in the Spiridon campaign, for example. It never occurred to the Daleks that they might be vulnerable to bacteriological warfare.
The Daleks suffered eighty-three per cent casualties.
The great empire that had dominated so much of Mutter’s Spiral disintegrated overnight. Its great battlefleets were shattered, its industrial base gone like smoke, and the Daleks’ homeworld [Skaro] isolated. Remnants of the sector commands became the various factions that characterize Dalek politics to this day...
... the Daleks attempted to use their time corridor technology to repair the damage but to no avail... it was Davros’s subversion of the imperial Skarosian Daleks that opened the schism between them and the renegades. The unthinkable became reality – civil war.’
The Children of Dams, Vol XIX
by Njeri Ngugi (4065)
Ace flattened herself against the side of the car, cold metal under her palms. She could feel the Doctor as a tense presence beside her. Ace risked a look over the bonnet. A grey Dalek went silently past, followed by two more, moving quickly down the road.
That makes six so far, thought Ace. Where are they coming from?
The Doctor tapped her shoulder. ‘This way,’ he said, and moved off.
Ace followed
The shuttle prepared to launch.
The supreme renegade Dalek had lived in the darkness of Ratcliffe’s warehouse for many months. Its secondary systems had been shut down all that time as it lived by proxy through its link with the battle computer.
Sometimes it dreamed. They were frightening unnatural dreams – dreams in which it walked like a biped, naked to the environment, breathing unfiltered air.
Psychological programs within the Dalek’s computer countered the dreams with increasing amounts of sedatives that left it agitated within its protective shell. Technical analysis made the source clear – battle computer feedback.
This had not been foreseen at the planning stage – a great deal had not been foreseen. The arrival of the imperial warship, the destruction of the warrior at Totters Lane, the involvement of native military forces.
They were pernicious these bipeds, these humans with their talent for violence and sudden improvisation. They made dangerous slaves.
The battle computer reported that the Hand of Omega was in place. The Dalek Supreme snapped out of dormancy, power flushed through its systems – it felt alive again. The battle computer flashed a tactical update, and based on this the Dalek Supreme made decisions and issued orders. Around it, other warriors became operational. Sensitive aural sensors detected noise from the yard outside – the unlovely sound of human laughter.
These were the native bipeds that had carried the Hand of Omega. They were now disposable.
The Dalek Supreme fed power to its motor unit and slipped forward.
‘What people need,’ said Ratcliffe, ‘is a firm hand. It’s in their nature. They need a strong leader, someone who knows when to be lenient and when to be harsh...’
He was cut off by the sound of men screaming.
Outside, he thought, and lunged across the office and threw open the door.
His men were lying smashed and broken on the cobbles.
‘What have you done?’ he screamed. ‘They were my men.’ There was movement from the shadow in the corner.
‘They were on our side.’
The shadow rotated, and for the first time Ratcliffe could make out its shape. Something unfolded from the darkness and emerged into the glow from his desk lamp.
Light glinted on pale hair, pale skin and blue eyes.
‘You are a slave,’ said the girl. ‘You were born to serve the Daleks.’
11
Saturday, 15:31
The Movellan War was the most disastrous military campaign the Daleks fought. It is perhaps fitting that it took an android race to perceive the Daleks’ ultimate weakness. When the blow came it took the Daleks’
strategic planners by surprise. They had used biological weapons against many races, in the Spiridon campaign, for example. It never occurred to the Daleks that they might be vulnerable to bacteriological warfare.
The Daleks suffered eighty-three per cent casualties.
The great empire that had dominated so much of Mutter’s Spiral disintegrated overnight. Its great battlefleets were shattered, its industrial base gone like smoke, and the Daleks’ homeworld [Skaro] isolated. Remnants of the sector commands became the various factions that characterize Dalek politics to this day...
... the Daleks attempted to use their time corridor technology to repair the damage but to no avail... it was Davros’s subversion of the imperial Skarosian Daleks that opened the schism between them and the renegades. The unthinkable became reality – civil war.’
The Children of Dams, Vol XIX
by Njeri Ngugi (4065)
Ace flattened herself against the side of the car, cold metal under her palms. She could feel the Doctor as a tense presence beside her. Ace risked a look over the bonnet. A grey Dalek went silently past, followed by two more, moving quickly down the road.
That makes six so far, thought Ace. Where are they coming from?
The Doctor tapped her shoulder. ‘This way,’ he said, and moved off.
Ace followed
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