‘Something like that,’ Barlow agreed. ‘Though I’m none too fond of the title. I’m not quite as egotistical as your late, and apparently very unlamented, husband.’

Brittany snorted. ’As if I’d mourn his passing! All I was to him was a breeding cow.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Does that mean you aim to… remove his sons?’

‘It might be politically wise,’ Barlow said practically.

Donna felt bile rising up inside her.

‘I can show you where they are,’ Brittany offered. ‘I heard that you’re a widower now, and if I’m a widow… Well, marrying the niece of Lord London would improve your political standing.’

Donna was even more disgusted than she had been before. She started to move around the Doctor’s back, but Barlow waved her to stop.

‘Your motherly devotion is as well developed as your love for your husband,’ he said drily ‘Fortunately for your… offspring, I’m not an overly bloodthirsty man.’ He stared into her eyes. ‘They deserve pity for having two such parents, not murdering. As for your other kind offer, of marriage for political gains… Well, you’re right: my claim to power would be strengthened by marrying into the London family.’ Brittany had looked worried at first, but now brightened. ‘However, you’re not the only prospect. I believe you know your cousin?’ He gestured at Donna.

Brittany whirled around, her eyes wide and panic‐stricken. She tried to pull her tattered dignity together, but that was beyond her right now.

Another payback. ‘Hello, Brittany,’ Donna said cheerfully. ‘Remember me? It’s so good to see you again.’ She whipped her fist out, punching her cousin hard on the jaw. With a scream, Brittany collapsed backward, arms and legs flailing. Donna rubbed her hurting fist, but it had been worth the pain. She glared down at where Brittany lay in the mud of the courtyard, sobbing.

Barlow actually looked amused as he gestured to the soldier. ‘Find somewhere to lock her away,’ he instructed. ‘And keep her away from her children. I’d realty like them to survive the night.’ He turned to Donna. ‘Unless you’d like a punching bag?’ he suggested.

Donna’s face was flushed. ‘I’m finished.’

‘Good,’ the Doctor interrupted, irritation in his voice. ‘I’m glad that at least one person has come to their senses.’ Donna could see the disappointment in his face as he regarded her for a moment. Then he turned back to Barlow. ‘Now can we get on with the important matters? The Daleks could be planning to overrun Earth while the two of you enjoy yourselves.’

‘Patience, Doctor,’ Barlow answered. ‘As soon as everyone’s here, I’ll speak to them. They can either agree to join my side or be imprisoned. Then we can be on our way.’

‘About time,’ the Doctor muttered impatiently. ‘Just keep the speeches short, please!’

Susan smiled to herself as she finished working on the lock. It really hadn’t been as difficult as she’d feared. Dalek logic was simple once you got the hang of it. She tapped in the code, and hesitated before she made the final entry. She’d been assuming that the Daleks had better things to do with themselves than to guard one weak, unarmed prisoner, but what if she was wrong? There might be a Dalek on the other side of the door…

In which case, it would either try to kill her for attempting to escape, or simply relock the door. If it chose the latter, it wouldn’t hurt to have a plan…

She went back into the circuit boards, and set up a power drain. To relock the door, the Dalek would have to interface with the lock. If it attempted that after her little act of sabotage, it would get a power surge down its probe that would short out its internal computers. That would fix it.

If it tried to kill her, of course…

Ignoring that possibility, because there was nothing she could do about it, she finished the code to unseal her prison door. It hissed upward, and Susan winced as she saw that there was indeed something waiting for her. But it wasn’t a Dalek. Instead, it was a humanoid form, and one she recognised with surprise.

It was the guard captain who had captured her Yet he stared at her without recognition. He started to bring up the machine gun he still held.

‘You are a prisoner of the Daleks,’ he intoned, in a flat voice. ‘You will remain in your cell or die.’

Susan’s throat went dry as she stared at the helmet encasing his head.

A Roboman…

12

Countdown to World’s End

Susan had never expected to see Robomen again. They were the living dead – people whose minds had been wiped of all personality and independent action, completely unrecoverable. The only thing that kept their bodies functioning was a small radio receiver in the helmets that they wore. This was a tiny computer that issued Dalek orders to them, and updated directives. Robomen were grotesque creatures, shambling, and totally loyal to the Daleks because they had no other option.

Luckily, this lack of independent thought made them marginally slower than a healthy human being.

Swiftly, Susan punched out with her right hand at the Roboman’s stomach. They weren’t allowed to feel pain, but even they had to breathe. The blow forced the air from its lungs, as Susan’s left hand grabbed the Roboman’s weapon and pushed it aside. The creature wheezed for breath. Wincing at the necessity, Susan grabbed at the Roboman’s conditioning‐helmet, and pulled it free, severing his connection to the Daleks. His eyes glazed over and he collapsed, spasming, to the floor. Susan couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty, even though she knew the Daleks had already killed the human being this pitiful shell had once been.

Jerking the gun from the dead man’s grasp, Susan moved out into the corridor. Typically, the Daleks had assumed that a single guard was sufficient for a human prisoner. Though there were Daleks constantly being produced, she had seen that this was a fairly large complex. With luck and care, she could avoid running into further trouble.

While she had been held captive in the control room, she had seen and memorised a schematic of the place. It was essentially two parallel corridors, cross‐connected several times, with a nest of short side corridors. The control room was centrally located, but she had no intention of heading for it. Her target had to be the weapon the Daleks had developed. The most important thing right now was to prevent them from activating it. And that was located in a short corridor near the entrance to the complex.

Susan hauled the body of the dead Roboman back into her cell, and closed the door from the outside, careful not to trip her own trap. If a Dalek came along to investigate, it was going to get a nasty shock…

Reaching the weapon chamber wouldn’t be easy, but she set off determined that nothing would stop her. Cradling the machine gun made her feel better, even though the chances of damaging a Dalek with it were slight. It was some form of reassurance, at the very least.

Craddock halted at the walls of New London, surveying them as the sun began to rise. It had been a long night, and a tiring one, but ultimately a very successful one. London’s troops had been chased back to their lair, and they were skulking miserably behind these walls, waiting for the inevitable. Their spirit had been broken, their leaders panicked, and their hopes shattered. Craddock felt good.

He had never learnt to enjoy combat as such, but he did love the aftereffects. The glow of victory was intoxicating, even though it might be a trifle premature. London hadn’t fallen yet, and could hold out for a while. But the battle had already really been won. The important thing now was to seize the prize before one of the other Domains scented the carcass and tried to claim some booty of its own.