Doctor Who: Prisoner of the Daleks

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Authors: Trevor Baxendale
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Bowman was, the Doctor could still look him in the eye. And he did this now, unflinchingly, his gaze cool and level. 'You can beat me up if you want to,' the Doctor told him. 'Here and now. Go on. Give it your best shot. If it helps, your two pals here can hold my arms. How about it, fellas? No?'
     
Scrum shook his head and even Cuttin' Edge looked away.
     
'Stop wasting my time,' Bowman said.
     
'I never waste time. So, come on. Here I am!' The Doctor held his arms out wide. 'Use your fists, do me some damage. Get rid of that anger and frustration. Don't hold back, Bowman, I'm not armed. I'm just a skinny guy in a suit. What's the problem? Here, I'll make it easier for you, shall I?' The Doctor put on his glasses. 'There! Now, come on, Bowman! Hit me hard! Sort me out!'
     
By now the Doctor was practically shouting in Bowman's face. The captain of the Wayfarer stared back, unmoving, but the muscles in his jaw and face were quivering with barely suppressed anger.
     
Then Koral stepped between them. 'That is enough. Everyone mourns for Auros. We should be fighting Daleks, not each other.'
     
There was a long, deadly pause.
     
Then the Doctor slowly folded his glasses and put them away. 'Thank you.'
     
Bowman was still seething, but, somehow, Koral had been able to prevent him losing his temper completely. He scowled at the Doctor. 'What were the Daleks doing on Hurala? What are they up to? We've stumbled across something big here, and I think you know what's going on.'
     
All eyes turned to look at the Doctor. 'I don't know,' he told them. 'Really, I don't. I shouldn't even be here. I'm in the wrong time and place altogether. In fact, I'm in the wrong time and place in more ways than you can imagine.'
     
'You always talk like that,' muttered Cuttin' Edge. 'Don't make no sense.'
     
'I just want to know what the Daleks were doing at the Lodestar station on Hurala,' repeated Bowman wearily. 'That's all.'
     
Scrum cleared his throat. 'Actually, captain, I think I may know a way we can find out.'
     
It was still cold in the cargo chamber, and the Dalek was still frozen.
     
But not as frozen as it was.
     
Now there was a steady trickle of water running down the segmented shoulders, dripping from the gun and sucker, pooling on the floor beneath the base. The head dome was almost completely clear of frost.
     
'What's happening?' asked Bowman.
     
'It's thawing out,' said the Doctor. His eyes were wide and anxious.
     
'Who asked you?' demanded Bowman. He turned to Scrum. 'I thought it was dead.'
     
'Perhaps it still is,' Scrum replied, circling the Dalek slowly, examining the casing. 'Perhaps this is some kind of automatic response by the armour.'
     
'But?'
     
'Yeah,' said Cuttin' Edge, 'I can sense a big "but" there, too.'
     
' But ... I was thinking,' said Scrum, 'that the armour is actually a life-support system. Perhaps when the cryo-charge hit it didn't kill the creature inside but it froze it as well. Exactly what a cryo-charge is supposed to do, after all.'
     
'Wait,' said the Doctor. He stepped forward, right up to the Dalek. And then he hesitated, almost as if he was trying to convince himself of what he should do next. He took an old stethoscope out of his jacket pocket, clipped it into his ears, and placed the other end against the Dalek casing very, very softly.
     
Everyone was silent. All that could be heard was the steady background rumble of the ship's engines and the occasional drip of melting ice.
     
The Doctor had closed his eyes, concentrating. He moved the stethoscope to another area of the casing and listened again. Then, finally, he tried it against the black grille between the bronze neck rings.
     
Then the Doctor's eyes snapped open, the pupils dilating. He straightened up and backed away from the Dalek very quickly. 'It's alive,' he whispered. 'Inside. It's still alive.'
     
'I knew it,' breathed Scrum. A strange light came into his eyes as he watched the machine creature. More water

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