The captain threw himself to the ground, close enough now for accurate fire. He aimed his machine gun, and let loose a burst. The closest Dalek swung its eyestalk to look at him, and the human could see that the bullets were bouncing off the Dalek casing without effect.

‘Small‐arms fire is useless,’ he reported to his men. ‘Fall back until we can bring in something heavier.’

‘That’ll take too long!’ his second in command yelled. ‘These things will have seized the area by then.’

‘Fall back!’ the captain repeated, knowing what the man had said was true. But they couldn’t stand against Daleks with nothing better than rifles and pistols. They were too well armoured. He rose to a crouch, ready to run, when the Dalek he’d targeted fired.

His body was filled with agony, and he screamed as he collapsed to the ground. To his surprise, he wasn’t dead, but he discovered that his legs were paralysed and his spine was on fire with pain. The Dalek rumbled forward, spared a quick glance down at him, and then moved on, looking for further targets.

The captain groaned in agony and fear. It had deliberately left him alive. But why?

‘We’re losing ground,’ McAndrew reported, as Lord London stared at his display board. London’s lips were dry, and his stomach hurt. That damned ulcer again, and there was little enough he could do about it. New London might be the most renovated city in England, but it still had shortages of certain medicines, and ulcers were considered a low priority. At least by anyone who didn’t have one. He winced as he examined the map.

He’d been outmanoeuvred, he realised. Haldoran had deliberately tempted him by sacrificing Tomlin’s men. Then two other forces had struck, shattering his main attack. Worse, one of the forces was using some new weapon that McAndrew was convinced were salvaged Dalek guns. They had greater range that any automatic weapon, and any kind of a hit was lethal. His men, demoralised, were in full retreat. Haldoran’s soldiers pressed forward, heading slowly but implacably towards London.

‘I can see that,’ London snarled. ‘We need to be able to wipe out those enemy with the new guns. Isn’t there any way to get at them?’

‘With the weaponry at our disposal?’ Durgan asked. ‘Not a chance. We d need tanks, or field guns, or bazookas or –’

‘I get the picture, you imbecile!’ London snarled. The man was a jackass, braying on and on. He needed time to think. There had to be some way to strike back at Haldoran’s troops, to regain the initiative in this battle. But how?

Broadhurst looked up from his tactical table. ‘We’re estimating two hours before they reach the outer walls,’ he reported. ‘There’s already panic in the city. Rumours are flying about their new weapons, and there’s already call for surrender.’

‘Surrender?’ London glared at his underling. ‘Surrender is not an option. Haldoran isn’t likely to grant any of us terms. The man’s a sadist, and he’s got a long memory and a lousy temper. If we try and surrender, we’re all of us in here dead men. And our families, too – if they’re lucky. We fight on, no matter what. It’s better than the alternative.’

‘We can’t win,’ Durgan complained, pale.

‘Then we lose, but we lose on our feet, our guns in our hands,’ London told him coldly. ‘We won’t be led to our own executions.’ He glared at the men about him. ‘I don’t want to hear any more defeatist talk. There’s a way to win this – them must be. I’m not going to let everything I’ve struggled for fall apart because of the actions of one monster. We fight on!’

The men all nodded, bending back to their tasks. They weren’t inspired, but at least they were willing to act as if they were. London winced at the pain in his stomach, and tuned back to the operations board. It might be a good idea to start thinking up some plan of retreat… Two of his sons were still in London, as well as Donna. She might be a terrible disappointment to him, but she was still his flesh and blood. He’d have to see about saving them and their families – as well as his own skin. If they could just get out before Haldoran’s men encircled the walls and made escape impossible…

Would this nightmare never end? Donna was breathing raggedly, her vision blurring slightly from the panic that had seized her. She was going where she had sincerely prayed she’d never have to step again – into Haldoran’s inner lair. The memories of all the disgusting things he’d ever done to her tried to overwhelm her, but she struggled to fight them off. It wouldn’t be the same this time. It wouldn’t! The Doctor had promised her, and she had to believe he would keep his word.

Besides, this was no longer simply her own life and dignity she was concerned with. If Haldoran had more of those Dalek guns, then London and her entire family were doomed. Despite everything, she had to be strong. Even if it killed her.

David rapped on the door, and then entered, saluting. The Doctor touched her elbow, and she almost shrieked. But she forced her feet to carry her inside the door.

He was there, along with other people she couldn’t even focus on. All her attention was on Haldoran’s back, as he crouched over the map table, gloating. The Doctor tapped her arm, and then gestured subtly. She followed his gaze, and saw a stack of crates against the wall. The Dalek weapons – it had to be. She felt a surge of hope that died the second Haldoran looked around.

‘Guard detail,’ David said crisply. ‘The captain thought you’d want to see this intruder yourself.’

‘Yes,’ Haldoran said, eagerness in his eyes, and a slight smile on his lips. ‘Yes, indeed I would.’ He moved across the room towards her, and reached up to grip her chin. ‘Donna, darling, it’s been so long… You’ve no idea how glad I am to see you.’

‘What’s the matter?’ she gasped, wincing at his touch. ‘Couldn’t find some other helpless woman to torture?’

‘There are plenty of other women,’ Haldoran answered. ‘But none as… interesting as you. Believe it or not, I’ve missed you. It’s so good having you back. I’m sure I can think of something special to celebrate tonight. After my men have taken New London and murdered your family, of course.’

Donna wished her mouth wasn’t so dry. She really wanted to spit in his face. She knew that the Doctor had to be up to something, but she couldn’t spare her attention. She was locked once more into this confrontation with this monster, and despite everything, it was all‐consuming. He was dominating her again, just as he always had. Making her quake as he dreamed up new ways to humiliate and hurt her. Hell was in session anew.

No! She was no longer that naive young girl he’d taken and abused. She was now a knight, a warrior in her own right. She’d faced danger and death before without this bowel‐churning fear. She wouldn’t allow him to intimidate and conquer her again. This time she was stronger. She could face him down, no matter what he threatened. He was not as strong as he thought he was.

Haldoran bent and gave her a kiss on the lips, which stunned her in a different way. It was unlike him to make even a single pleasant gesture. Then she yelped as he viciously bit her lower lip, drawing blood. He backed off, smiling, licking her blood from his lips. ‘Just a taste of what’s to come,’ he promised her. Then he pulled out a pistol and whipped around, holding the gun to the Doctor’s head. The Doctor had been edging towards the cases of Dalek guns, and was now caught in mid‐step.

‘I think not,’ Haldoran purred, his finger tight on the trigger. ‘I know all of my guards, and you two aren’t right.’ Another guard had moved in to disarm David, who stood silently. Did you think I’d be so distracted by the sight of my ex-wife that I wouldn’t think straight?’

‘Actually, yes,’ the Doctor admitted. ‘It was quite a touching reunion.’