Chapter 2

The Body Snatchers

Natasha and Grigory had reached the seventh level of freezing units. Luck seemed to be on their side; they had managed to reach this far down into the complex without being seen.

Natasha consulted the map which detailed the route they needed to take to reach a certain unit. At the far end of the corridor was another double set of doors. There was a solitary guard in position outside it, the first human they had encountered so far.

Grigory watched as Natasha primed her laser pistol. ‘You're such an impetuous child. Those things kill.’

‘So do guards,’ she replied harshly.

‘Oh, how did I ever allow myself to be talked into this folly?’ To calm his nerves he removed the cork from the flask around his neck and took a swig of the contents. The sharp acidic taste of voxnix burned his throat.

‘That stuff won't help you,’ she snapped with disapproval.

‘It can but try,’ he replied, and took another swallow. ‘I don't know if my hands shake from fear - or from the delirium tremens.’

‘If you're ready.’ She was just as scared as he was.

‘If you must,’ he said as he cocked the breech of his own gun in readiness.

‘One... two... three!’ she counted, then leaped into the corridor, firing a quick shot at the guard.

Grigory also fired off a short burst, scoring three direct hits. The guard didn't have a chance. He took the laser full in the face and the bullets ripped into his chest, puncturing his lungs and penetrating his heart. He collapsed to the floor in a bloody heap.

The sound of gunfire on the floor above him triggered an alarm within Davros's chamber.

‘Message-indicates-disturbance-on-level-seven,’ informed a Dalek.

‘Show me.’

The images of Natasha and Grigory appeared on the screen. ‘Inform Takis there are body-snatchers in the complex!’

‘At-once,’ the Dalek droned, and it glided out of the room.

Carefully stepping over the guard's body, Grigory pushed open the doors and cautiously peered into the corridor. It was empty, but for how long?

Natasha consulted the map and saw that they had to take the next right hand passageway. There, they faced another set of doors. Sensing that they were close to their objective, the two ‘body-snatchers’ smiled in satisfaction.

Grigory put down the metal case he carried and took from it a thin wire. Next to the door was a keyboard with coloured buttons. He inserted the wire into the panel.

‘Hurry up,’ she said nervously. She looked back along the corridor, hoping that no one would see them. The dead guard would surely be found soon and the alarm sounded.

Grigory wiggled the wire. With a soft click, the doors opened. Smiling, Grigory closed the case, and they stepped through.

The Doctor had fully recovered from his ordeal with the creature. It now lay on its back, its head resting in the Doctor's lap. Peri, crouching at his side, held the poor creature's hand in hers.

‘Why did you attack us?’ the Doctor asked.

The creature indicated the Doctor's watch, hanging from his vest pocket.

‘The disk... should not have tried to condition me,’ it groaned. There was pain in its voice. ‘I would have reacted similarly had you attacked me.’

The creature tried to sit up. ‘In many ways I think you have done me a favour. It's not much fun being like I am. You wouldn't think that I once looked like you.’

‘What happened?’

‘The Great Healer...’ The Doctor noticed the hatred for that name in its tone. ‘I am a mutant - a product of his experimentation.’

‘Who is this Great Healer?’

The effort to speak proved to be too much for the mutant. Its body convulsed in pain. Peri had done more damage than she had intended, and now it was dying. With a final breath, the mutant stopped moving and lay still. Peri stood up, tears welling in her eyes.

‘I killed him - and he forgave me.’ She had never killed anything before. It was a horrible thing to have to experience.

The Doctor had seen death many times before, but the loss of life was still disturbing to him. He lowered the mutant's head onto the ground and stood beside his companion, and placed a comforting arm around her.

‘Why did he have to be so nice about it?’ she sobbed.

‘You had no choice.’ The Doctor picked up the stick that Peri had used on the mutant and started to scrape away at the ground. Peri watched in bewilderment, then realised what he was doing. She found another branch, and silently they dug a grave...

Davros - the Great Healer - sat silently brooding in his chamber waiting for news from Takis. A Dalek entered.

‘Takis-does-not-respond,’ it reported.

Davros growled in anger. The body-snatchers were getting closer.

‘Get me Kara - and find Tasambeker! I want the intruders caught!’

‘I-obey.’ The Dalek left the chamber.

Davros had feared an assassination attempt on his life for some time now. The complex provided excellent security and protection, and his Dalek guards were obedient only to him. Although he had human agents all over the planet, it was only his Daleks that he could completely trust.

For ten or so years he had been at Tranquil Repose, using the complex to further his experimentation into breeding the ultimate Dalek. The Colony leaders wanted them all destroyed but Davros assured them that these Daleks were of no threat. Reluctantly the leaders agreed to let him continue. They needed him. They owed him a great deal.

But Davros feared that the leaders would still try to kill him. To this end, he placed human agents on every planet within the Pherra system. As a precaution, he transferred his laboratories to the old sub-catacombs. For further protection, he had his withered body sealed within a special shield. There he would be safe.

His fears had been justified. Two humans had managed to get to level seven. One more level down and they would be close to his laboratories - and himself. These ‘body-snatchers' had to be stopped...

Natasha's and Grigory's progress was being monitored by the DJ (and watched with keen interest by Davros). The DJ was making his routine early morning newsflash. ‘Hey, you guys - we have you-know-what in the building. Body-snatchers! Looks like one of you will be in for a defrosting,’ he laughed.

‘But seriously. I think it's time to cool the pace down a little.’ He switched off the droning sounds of Procol Harum's Whiter Shade Of Pale. ‘You know, I think there's nothing more soothing than a dedication or two.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

‘You know, guys. I get as much a kick out of reading these as I know you do hearing them...’

Tasambeker had found Takis with Lilt. They had both been seen trying to sneak into the female Attendants' dressing rooms. One of the juniors alerted Tasambeker and she was soon giving them both a good sounding off.

‘You both are in enough trouble as it is. There are body-snatchers in the building and they must have walked in right under your noses!’

Takis turned to Lilt. ‘You see anyone?’

Lilt shook his head. ‘No. Did you?’

‘No.’ Takis turned back to Tasambeker. ‘You see - they must have got in another way.’

‘Enjoy yourselves whilst you can,’ she sneered and walked away.

Takis and Lilt remained where they stood, and made faces behind her back. She stopped.

Takis's grin fell from his face. Does this woman have eyes in the back of her head, he wondered.

Without turning around, Tasambeker bellowed an order. ‘Meanwhile - find the intruders!’

Davros switched off his monitor. Tasambeker had shown great control over those two lay-abouts. She had great promise. He could use her.

He swivelled around to face the human guard who had come to deliver the latest fiscal profit figures. ‘Bring that woman to me.’

The DJ decreased the volume of his transmitter. The final notes of Elvis Presley's Hound Dog faded out.

‘Wow - Rock and Roll.’ He enjoyed dedication time!

‘Okay. Hello there casket 816, or should I say Hi, George. This is the DJ. Well, I have a very special dedication for you, my friend - from your dear wife Finella, who is still very much alive and would like to send you her fondest love.’ He placed a new cassette into the player unit.

‘Yes, she still misses you a heck of a lot. And she would also like to reassure you on this very special day, that her every waking moment is spent administering the research fund which you set up to find the cure for Beck's Syndrome - that oh-so dreadful disease which took you from her side.’

He took a deep breath before continuing. ‘So George, from her heart to yours, celebrating your long life, here is some good old 1950s Earth-time Rock and Roll!’ He pressed the play button on his console, and the blaring sounds of Elvis Presley once more flooded the chamber:

One for the money,

Two for the show,

Three to get ready...

Exhausted, the DJ turned down the volume once more, and removed the cumbersome headphones.

‘You've got a wife-and-a-half there, George. She found a cure for Beck's Syndrome forty years ago. Still, it'd be interesting to know what she's really doing with all the money...’

Something on the scanner caught his eye, and he brought the picture to zoom in on the Doctor and Peri, who had by now reached the outer perimeters of the complex.

‘Hey there, guys. The maiden in distress is coming this way. I wonder which one of you lucky fellows she's coming to see,’ he grinned.

There was no reply. ‘Well don't you all answer at once,’ he joked. He revved the volume control up again...

Well you can do anything

But keep offa my blue suede shoes...

Although he always laughed at Tasambeker's little tantrums, Takis took the matter of body-snatchers very seriously. Lilt had earlier brought to him news of the death of one of the lower level guards. The bodies of two Attendants had also been found near the rocket-landing bay, stripped of their uniforms.

Takis and Lilt took the elevator to level seven where the dead guard had been found. As they walked down the corridor, a white Dalek glided out of an adjacent passage and stopped them. They showed it their identity cards. The Dalek quickly processed the data and moved away without a word, satisfied that their credentials had been verified.

‘Was that thing on guard duty?’ frowned Takis. The Daleks usually kept to the catacombs to be close at hand to serve their master, the Great Healer.

‘So it seems,’ replied his assistant.

‘Then it's worse than I thought. All that's supposed to be in those cabinets are a few thousand stiffs in suspended animation. If the intruders were only body-snatchers, why is the Great Healer so concerned?’

‘You know too much, Takis...’ The Great Healer was worried. He had a secret within the cryogenic units that he did not want discovered - especially by a couple of body-snatchers. There was too much to lose if they succeeded in opening one of the caskets. As much as he feared and distrusted the planet leaders, he also feared the Tranquil Repose personnel. Any one of them could be a spy, awaiting the ideal chance to kill him.

A Dalek glided in. ‘Kara-is-now-available.’

‘Then I shall speak to her.’

The Dalek activated the communications console. On the scanner appeared the face of an attractive middle-aged woman. Her eyes were heavily made up and her hair was hidden beneath a purple turban.

‘Ah, my dear Kara...’ purred Davros.

The cryogenic units were located on seven levels of the complex. A criss-cross of corridors covered these floors, their walls lined with a honeycomb of hexagonal panels. Each of these contained a casket holding the frozen body of the unfortunate victim of a deadly disease.

Natasha and Grigory entered corridor 712. Natasha consulted the map again. Casket 712Q was the one they wanted. She located the corresponding panel.

‘This is it,’ she pointed.

‘How did I ever let you talk me into this?’

‘Get on with it,’ she snapped nervously.

Grigory placed his case on the floor and took out a device the size of a pocket radio.

‘A bit of tomb-robbing is one thing, but did we have to kill that guard?’

‘Look. I don't want to be here any more than you do. But that's supposed to be my father in there.’ She nodded at the wall panel. ‘And I want to know why the courts were so unwilling to allow me to bring his body back. Now hurry up!’

Natasha was the daughter of professor Arthur Stengos, an agronomist, whose research into the manufacture of artificial plants to assist in alleviating the famines threatening his world and others alike, had brought him great acclaim and respect. Months earlier he had become stricken with a mysterious incurable disease. His death, he believed, would result in the deaths of millions of others. An anonymous sponsor contacted him soon after he learned he had only weeks to live. The mysterious benefactor agreed to pay for Stengos's internment at Tranquil Repose. Arthur accepted the kind offer.

Natasha was suspicious of this sudden act of kindness from a complete stranger. After her father had been interred, she made application for the removal of her father's body through the courts but they declined. Natasha refused to give up without a fight.

She contacted a small group who were trying to petition the closure of Tranquil Repose on moral grounds. Through them she got in touch with others who had been just as unsuccessful in securing the return of loved ones. They believed that Tranquil Repose was a hoax. No one would ever be revived, the bodies just left to rot. The company stood to lose too much revenue if any of their clients came back to life. The annual fees to keep one interred were astronomical, meaning a very profitable business. To get proof, the group had to get someone on the inside. Natasha volunteered. She needed the skills of a surgeon to assist, so someone volunteered Grigory's services.

Aron Grigory had been a child prodigy. He entered medical school at the age of ten and was considered a genius by his professors. He had a bright future ahead of him. Then tragedy struck. He had been out with a group of friends on a jet sled cruise when they hit a young child. Grigory had been driving. His friends kept quiet, but he still blamed himself. He turned to alcohol for penitence. The next day his patient died whilst undergoing minor surgery. He was struck from the register for incompetence, and his life just fell apart.

He joined a couple of gangs to pass the time because he had nothing better to do. He learned various tricks which he believed would come in handy - lock-picking, minor electronic repair, lying and cheating. One day he fell in with the anti-Tranquil Repose people. When they planned to break into the complex, he thought they were all mad, especially the fiery woman who kept ordering him about. He wanted to spend his free time drinking, not running around cemeteries. The last thing he wanted to do was to break into a coffin!

Grigory continued his work on the panel. The hatch was sealed with a magnetic lock which could only be activated from a switch in main control on Level One. The proof they needed lay just beyond that small panel. Would the body be there or would the casket be empty?

Natasha urged him to hurry up. She was certain that the dead guard would have been found by now. Time was quickly running out.

‘You can't rush this sort of thing,’ he said. He put the radio-like device against the control panel beside the cabinet.

‘Neither can we hang around here!’

‘If I open that door too soon, the molecular structure of the body will break down and poor old Stengos will turn into a pool of high protein water. Even if I was confident that I could reconstitute him, we do not have a suitable vessel into which he could be ladled.’

His attitude was beginning to annoy her. ‘Just get on with it!’ she said angrily.

‘Don't you ever listen?’ He stood up. ‘I'm a doctor - not a magician. You'll kill him, okay.’

‘If we don't succeed, he's already dead. Now, get that door open!’

Through the thick purple smoke that belched from the four chimneys of the factory, the yellow sun looked blood red.

This was just one of many protein factories on Necros owned by Madame Kara Wardas that manufactured the food extract that was the staple diet of the Pherran colonies. This monopoly made Kara a very wealthy woman and she exploited this position to the fullest. But she had not always been so influential.

The arrival of Davros ten years ago changed all that. The factories were originally used to refine water from snow. He demanded the conversion of the refineries to process the new protein which he had developed. Initially she opposed his demands, but once she realised the profitability of working with the Great Healer instead of against him, she welcomed him with open arms.

Her office was in the biggest of her factories, which was situated twenty kilometres south of Tranquil Repose. A great lover of art, Kara had decorated the office with statues and tapestries, a luxury only a few could afford. She sat at her wide desk. Her secretary, Vogel, stood behind her. He was a little man, his back slightly stooped (from bowing to her constantly). He had a small beard. Around his neck hung the medallion Kara had awarded him for services rendered.

Kara was in conference with Davros. He had interrupted an important business meeting, with demands to speak with her. His face leered at her from the video-screen.

‘It's all very well to make these demands,’ she was saying. ‘But already you take most of the profits my factories make.’

‘I created the product that you manufacture. I have a right to the money.’

‘But, Great Healer. I am well aware of that. I would willingly sell the bones of Vogel here if it would help your cause.’

‘And I would give them willingly,’ squeaked Vogel, forcing a smile.

‘You see how devoted we are? But you'd get very little for him - dead or alive - and I would be without a secretary. And good secretaries are very hard to find.’

But Davros was not interested in all this nonsense. Kara seemed to be stalling.

‘I do not wish to hear any more from your prattling tongue!’ he exploded. Kara and Vogel were both shocked by this sudden outburst.

‘Forgive me,’ said Davros. ‘I want... I need more money. I cannot complete my research without it.’

‘We'll do our best for you,’ assured Kara. ‘I am sure that Vogel can engage in a little creative accountancy on your behalf.’

‘I already do, madam,’ Vogel smiled. He took great pride in his work. ‘I am a past master at the double entry.’

‘Then you must make it a triple,’ said Kara. ‘You heard what Davros said. He needs more money.’

Do not call me by my real name on an open channel!’ screamed Davros.

‘I am sorry, Great Healer. Such is my enthusiasm for your cause, my tongue sometimes speaks what my mind would dare not think. Please accept my apologies.’

‘I would rather accept your money,’ Davros chuckled.

Kara laughed too, but it was more a sign of relief.

Davros terminated the connection. As his image faded from the screen, Kara's smile vanished. The Great Healer - Davros - had given her the means with which she had obtained her wealth. But still she despised him for who he was, and for what he spent her precious money on. Something had to be done.

‘Has Orcini arrived?’ she asked Vogel.

‘Yes, madam.’

‘Then send him in...’

That ‘something' was about to happen...

The usual hubbub of conversation quickly died as the corpse of the guard killed by Natasha and Grigory was brought into the main Hall. The white cloth covering the body was stained with blood. Tasambeker lead the way and indicated to the bearers to leave the body outside Jobel's office.

The sudden silence had alerted Jobel, and he emerged from his office to see what the problem was. The Attendants started to whisper, the noise slowly building up to a loud buzz.

‘If you wish to gossip, there is a rest room provided, you know,’ he said to the crowd.

The Attendants went on with their business. Jobel noticed Tasambeker standing next to the corpse.

‘I'm sorry, Mr Jobel,’ she said.

‘Oh, I'd have guessed you'd be here,’ he snapped. Trouble seemed to follow her around.

‘A guard has been murdered,’ she explained.

‘It's a pity it couldn't have been you.’

Tasambeker gave him an angry look. She hated the way he constantly teased and ridiculed her. But her love for him was too great.

Jobel saw she was hurt. ‘Oh, I do wish you'd get used to my sense of humour.’

‘I'm sorry, Mr Jobel.’

He pointed to the stretcher which had been unceremoniously left on the floor.

‘Why are you taking him to my preparation room? That is not the mortuary.’

‘He's been badly damaged,’ she explained. ‘He'll require cosmetic-embalming.’

‘Don't you ever listen? I have the President's wife out there, and I can tell you that she's far more happy now than she ever was when she was alive.’

Jobel returned to his office and stood before his large wall-sized mirror. He studied his reflection with adoration and readjusted his toupee.

Tasambeker waddled in after him. ‘I'm sorry, Mr Jobel.’

‘I do wish you'd stop apologising,’ he snapped. She was beginning to irritate him again.

‘I'm sorry, Mr Jobel,’ she said automatically.

He picked up a silver tray containing surgical instruments. ‘I haven't got the time to deal with him.’

‘Perhaps I could do it?’ she asked expectantly.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I am a third year student and I've studied your methods very closely.’

‘I sometimes wonder too closely,’ he said under his breath. That would explain why she was always under his feet.

Jobel pushed his way passed Tasambeker and moved out into the corridor. He lifted the shroud covering the guard's body and studied the corpse. The chest was riddled with bullet holes. ‘He certainly is a mess. I suppose you can't make him look any worse.’ He had visions of Tasambeker armed with a scalpel hacking into the body with relish.

‘Oh, thank you, Mr Jobel,’ she squealed in delight. A smile that could easily shatter a mirror broke out on her face. Now she could prove that she was not an incompetent.

‘Get him away from here!’ Jobel yelled. He had work to do. The President was due to arrive shortly and Jobel didn't want stray corpses lying around in the corridors.

‘Certainly, Mr Jobel - and thank you.’ She took one end of the stretcher. An Attendant seized the other and they carried it into an adjoining room.

As Jobel turned to enter his office again, his eye caught sight of the surveillance camera affixed to the wall above him. He called out to Tasambeker: ‘Before you start hacking him around, the Great Healer wants to see you.’

He stared into the camera lens, knowing full well that the Great Healer would be watching. ‘Though I don't know why I should be the messenger boy,’ he added.

Indeed the Great Healer was watching. ‘You are a fool, Jobel. I had offered you immortality, and though you prefer to play with the bodies of the dead - so you shall join them!’

Kara stood as Vogel brought the new arrivals into her office. The first man who came in had a look about him that made Kara gasp.

Everything about him was black; his jacket, his pants, his boots, his gloves, and even his expression. His long dark hair was tied in a pony-tail. A goatee beard grew at his chin. He carried a wooden cane which had the head of a dragon on the silver-tipped handle. A single medal hung from his left breast pocket. Kara saw in his eyes the weariness of a man tired and exhausted. Being a Grand Master in the Grand Order of Oberon, he had faced death many times.

In contrast, the other arrival was a pig. He was dressed in a simple combat uniform. Because of his lowly status of squire, he did not wash or clean himself. His face was heavily scarred, his teeth chipped and yellowed. He had a week's growth of stubble on his puggish face.

‘My dear Orcini,’ greeted Kara. ‘I would have met you on your arrival, but a small crisis in the process department diverted me. My sincerest apologies.’ She lied. The small diversion had been her conversation with Davros.

‘It is rare for someone in my profession to meet a client on their home territory,’ the Grand Master smiled. His voice was clear and deep. ‘Assassins, like debt collectors, are rarely welcomed. When we are allowed on the premises, it is usually through the side door.’

‘He is a philosopher - how charming.’

Vogel agreed. ‘I sensed it at once, madam.’

‘I think we shall get on very well,’ laughed Kara. She was eager to get down to business. There was a great deal to be discussed.

The dirty little man stepped forward and took her hand, pressing it to his lips. She flinched as she felt the roughness of his face against her soft, feminine skin.

‘Bostock, my squire,’ announced Orcini.

‘M'Lady,’ said Bostock.

‘I'm afraid that the only philosophy practiced by Bostock, is to do as little about his personal hygiene as possible,’ explained Orcini.

Kara felt herself gagging at the smell of the little squire. But not wanting to injure the relationship she hoped to build with Orcini, she forced a smile. ‘And why not. The odour of nature has charms all of its own.’

‘My sentiments exactly, m'lady,’ grinned Bostock.

‘He may smell like rotting fish,’ Orcini admitted, ‘but he's an excellent squire.’

‘Indeed,’ she said.

Vogel stepped forward and indicated the two chairs facing Kara's desk. ‘Be seated, gentlemen.’

‘We prefer to stand,’ sniffed the Grand Master.

‘Ah, how foolish of me,’ Kara realised. ‘As men of action you must be like coiled springs, alert, ready to pounce.’

‘Nothing so romantic,’ laughed Orcini. ‘I have an artificial leg with a faulty hydraulic valve. When seated, the valve is inclined to jam.’

‘Perhaps you would like one our engineers to repair it for you,’ suggested Vogel.

‘I prefer the inconvenience. It's a constant reminder of my mortality. It helps to keep my mind alert.’

Kara was impressed by Orcini's honesty and integrity. She had definitely chosen the right man. ‘Oh, Vogel. We have a master craftsman here. I feel humble in his presence. No wonder your reputation is like a fanfare throughout the galaxy.’

Orcini's tone became more serious. ‘I take little pride from my work. That I leave to Bostock.’

Kara saw that Bostock was grinning inanely at her. She felt her spine tingle.

Orcini continued: ‘I prefer the contemplative life - it isn't always easy to find. So to cleanse my conscience, I give what fee I receive to charity.’

‘Such commitment,’ Kara whispered to Vogel. She turned back to Orcini. ‘You are indeed the man for our cause.’ She picked up a black box, about the size of a small book, and a small glass cube, containing a thick green gunge, from a nearby table. ‘As you know, our factories are dedicated to producing a high protein concentrate. This we sell to developing planets for such a ridiculously low price. It embarrasses and frustrates my accountants!’

‘I am aware that this product has eliminated famine from the galaxy,’ said Orcini.

Bostock screwed up his nose. ‘Tastes horrible, though.’

Vogel gave the little squire a stern look. ‘That our scientists are working on to improve.’

‘Indeed,’ confirmed Kara. ‘As everything we do here, it's to improve the quality of life for others.’

‘But if only we could get on with our work,’ said Vogel, his tone suddenly becoming serious.

Madame Kara's voice also became colder. ‘As in every paradise, there is a snake,’ she explained. ‘A serpent.’

‘And our malignancy is a particularly vile one,’ added Vogel. As if on cue, Kara switched on the video screen. An image of Davros appeared. ‘He calls himself the Great Healer.’

‘I have heard of him,’ nodded Orcini. He had been all over the galaxy, but had never fully kept up with the latest news. He did manage to catch the odd piece of information, and knew of the wonderful things that the Great Healer had done for Tranquil Repose.

‘A pretentious type,’ pointed out Vogel. ‘And a decidedly evil man.’

Bostock stepped forward and peered at the face on the screen. ‘Not much of him,’ he noted, seeing the intricate life support system surrounding the body.

‘Nevertheless,’ said Kara, ‘he holds this planet in a grip of fear. He bleeds my factories dry with his constant demands for money.’

Orcini stared at the face on the screen. ‘The countenance is familiar.’

‘Then let me put a name to it.’ She paused for dramatic effect, then spat out the name with utter hatred: ‘Davros!’

Orcini snapped his fingers. Davros! So, the Great Healer of Necros was none other than the evil genius whose creations had tried to invade the galaxy. Orcini had knowledge of Davros from his time with the Order. But like many he understood that Davros, who had been a prisoner of the Earth (a planet he himself had visited on several occasions as an assassin), had been killed about ten years ago. If Davros was still alive, Kara had good reason to despise him, and if his guess was correct, Kara had brought them to Necros to destroy this ‘snake’. Kara switched off the scanner.

‘He sits like a spider at the heart of this planet, using the money he extorts from us to rebuild his disgusting creatures.’

‘Creatures of hate,’ sneered Vogel. ‘Daleks!’

‘Fascinating,’ Orcini nodded, rubbing his chin with his gloved hand.

‘To kill Davros would be like...’ started Bostock, grinning as usual.

‘...the old days, Bostock,’ finished Orcini.

‘Destroy Davros - and your name will become a legend for all time!’ declared Kara.

‘You don't know how long I have waited for a noble cause,’ Orcini said. ‘To once again kill for honour and glory.’

Kara's face beamed. ‘Then you'll do it?’

Orcini turned to Bostock. The squire nodded. Orcini looked back to Kara. A decision had been made.

‘Of course...’

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8