‘How can you be so sure?’ Donna asked.

He gestured to a shoulder‐high window. ‘Viewport,’ he explained. ‘Dalek embryos are grown, and they can be pretty vicious. They’re highly unsociable, and will attack anything on sight – even Daleks. It can get messy for them to haul their babies off their domes, so they like to be able to check that the little ones are still inside their vats before they go in.’ Donna started to take a look, but he was already tapping some sort of code into the lock. ‘Don’t worry, its nap time.’

The door hissed open, and they all slipped inside. Donna stared around in disgust.

The room was like one huge, raised tank filled with a seething flood. Nutrients bubbled away, flowing into pipes leading to metallic storage vats in the corners. The viscous liquid was greenish in colour.

‘The embryos are in there?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ the Doctor answered. ‘They’re cloned material, grown for the first stage of life in small jars. When they’re ready, they’re transferred to this nutrient bath, where they mature.’ There was a flurry of splashes in the centre of the tank. ‘Here they grow to full term – and fight with one another. They’re intelligent creatures,’ he added, ‘but their instincts are horribly powerful. They’re not complete until they’re taken from these breeding tanks and mated with the travel unit shell. The baby Daleks are by then fully grown. They interface with their internal computers, which gives them all the information and conditioning they need. They can be up and running in a matter of minutes, ready to go out and kill on command.’

Donna looked at the slime distastefully ‘A big job,’ she muttered.

‘They like long‐term planning.’ The Doctor glared at the vats. ‘But it’s the end of the road for this lot. This isn’t their world, and they can’t have it.’ He moved to the machinery, and started to fiddle with the computer controls.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked him. ‘Scientific abortion?’

‘Actually, the exact opposite,’ he replied. ‘I’m increasing production of the embryos.’

Donna gave him a puzzled look. ‘That doesn’t sound like it’s going to help us. You want more Daleks produced?’

‘Not produced,’ he replied. ‘Begun. I’ve increased the production rate by a thousand per cent. The power drain on their reserves will be enormous.’

She caught on at last. ‘And with no more power coming in from Haldoran,’ she realised, ‘that’s going to really hurt.’

‘Exactly.’ The Doctor gave her a bitter smile. ‘The Daleks are utterly dependent on electrical power. It keeps their shells going, and their life‐support systems working. If we can drain their power, it will kill them – this time permanently.’

‘Won’t they detect this drain and try to stop it?’ David objected.

‘Try, yes,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘But I’ve set up a logic loop in the controls here. The only way they’ll be able to stop the drain is to bypass it, and it won’t be easy. Add that to the tiny adjustment I made in the furnace, and they’re going to have a severe energy shortage in the not‐too‐distant future.’

‘So what do we do now?’ Donna asked. ‘Hide until their little batteries run down?’

‘No,’ David said. ‘Now we look for Susan.’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘I’ll see if I can find any mention of a prisoner in their computer records. Failing that. I’ll check for their most sensitive area. That’s where she’s bound to be. She never could resist tinkering with things.’

‘I wonder where she gets that from,’ Donna commented drily.

The Doctor was suddenly lost in contemplation. ‘I wonder how long we’ve got before all hell breaks loose.’

Did he have to ask that question? Donna had been trying to avoid thinking about it, but he’d made it impossible. The Daleks were bound to discover the power drain pretty quickly, and they would then head down here to try to stop it. Unless she, David and the Doctor were gone before that happened, she didn’t give much for their chances of surviving this…

Barlow stared down at the communications array with growing dismay. Several of the Daleks had moved away now, leaving only four of them working. That had to mean that they were almost ready to utilise the device. ‘Sorry, Doctor, Donna,’ he muttered to himself. ‘We just can’t wait any longer.’ He could only hope they’d had enough time to do whatever the Doctor had planned, because time had just run out. He couldn’t take any more chances. He grimly gestured to his men to move out, knowing full well how high the casualty rate of this assault would be.

And would he number among them? It could be that he’d have one of the shortest reigns on record at this rate, but there was no choke. He made sure the grenade launcher was operational, and then he moved to the left, heading for the pathway down to the cutting. They were bound to be spotted soon, but nothing could be done to prevent it.

He and his men moved swiftly, since surprise was hardly possible, without worrying about noise. They were on the pathway down, going as fast as they could while retaining their footing, when Barlow saw that they had been spotted. Three of the Daleks whirled to study them, and they clearly gave some kind of orders. He couldn’t make out what had been said, but the Robomen suddenly spun about in unison and began marching towards the cliff.

Bullets couldn’t hurt Daleks, but against humans they were very effective. Reaching the end of the path, Barlow led the charge towards the marching Robomen. They had no expressions on their faces, mirroring the blankness of their minds, but they had their guns up and aimed.

The first burst of gunfire tore at the ground just ahead of them. Barlow ignored it, leaving this to his men. Several returned fire as they ran and weaved. Barlow concentrated on just being a hard target to hit. His grenades weren’t for the Robomen.

One of his soldiers gave a cry and collapsed, blood streaming down his leg. But he didn’t stop firing. Good man. Two of the Robomen went down, without a sound, their chests stitched red by bullets. Then Barlow ignored them. He was just about in range now, and had his weapon at the ready.

Unfortunately, that also meant that he was in range of the Daleks. One fired a blast of lethal energy that barely missed him.

‘Bastard,’ he growled, and fired the first of his grenades. A moment later, the top of the Dalek exploded, fire and metallic debris spraying all over. Ignoring its loss, the other two Daleks also opened fire.

Barlow threw himself to one side, rolled and then fired from the ground. The skirt of a second Dalek exploded, throwing the metallic monster backward, electronic guts and slime spewing from the wrecked casing. The third Dalek moved away, still trying to catch him in its death ray. He blew it apart with his third shot. But more Daleks were rising from the pit, and advancing to join the growing firefight. He chanced a glance around, and saw that all of the Robomen were now dead but that only three of his men remained on their feet. The rest were either wounded or dead.

They didn’t stand a chance of holding back the Daleks.

Which left him exactly one option. He levered the next grenade into position and fired, targeting the communications equipment. He was at extreme range, but it was a bloody huge target, so surely he couldn’t miss. To be sure, he sent a second grenade after the first.

The machinery erupted under the double assault. A gout of flame caught three of the Daleks working on it, enveloping them and exploding them too. The communications array started to collapse in on itself, and Barlow felt a huge sense of relief. It lasted until a blast from one of the advancing Daleks torched a tree beside him. They were in range…

‘Pull back!’ he ordered his men. ‘They won’t be able to follow!’ He himself spun around, sending another grenade back as a parting gift. He weaved his way back, pausing only to grab hold of the wounded soldier he’d left earlier. Another man grabbed his arm, and together they hurried him away. Apparently he was the only other survivor.