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Nemesis
A Doctor Who story
Just then, the Time Lord entered the room, looking concerned. “Our trip to Blaydost will have to wait,” he told his companion. “The TARDIS needs some maintenance.” He started re-setting the TARDIS coordinates.
“Anything serious?” Jothan asked, setting the snowboard aside out of the way.
“Not serious, just something that needs done. Old fuel deposits are building up in the engines, and she needs a clean-out. That means going to Elstred for some ciprion.”
“What’s that?” the young man wanted to know.
“Ciprion is a powerful acid; eats through almost anything,” the Doctor said. “Just need a little to get the job done, and then we’ll go to Blaydost.”
“Can we transport a substance like that safely?” Jothan asked, worried.
“Of course I can! It’s all child’s play to me . . .”
Jothan chuckled. “Same old arrogant git,” he said affectionately, taking off the mittens and coat. “Do we have time for some tea?”
“Not really; we’ve almost arrived. In fact . . .”
The TARDIS central column stopped. The Doctor grabbed his jacket from the coat rack while Jothan headed for the door. It opened on to a deep forest of brown and blue trees under an orange sun. “Which way?” Jothan asked.
“There’s a settlement that way,” the Doctor pointed. “I come here every hundred years or so when I need to. I always walk in though; they have a distinct problem with the TARDIS.” The Doctor stepped onto a path through the trees, and the medic followed.
“They don’t like it?” Jothan was surprised.
“That’s not the problem,” the Doctor told his companion. “They want to worship it, which means that they want me out of the way so they can keep it. No matter how many times I tell them, they just don’t grasp the concept that the TARDIS won’t get anything out of it.”
“I’m surprised they still remember you.”
“Not all life forms have as short a lifespan as humans,” the Doctor remarked. “The Nugents live for thousands of years, so I’m sure they haven’t forgotten. That reminds me . . . I hope I still have some . . .” The Time Lord stopped, rummaging through his pockets.
Jothan was curious. “What are you looking for?”
“Rubber bands. That’s all they accept for payment—from me, that is.”
“Never heard of those. What are they for?” Jothan asked as the Doctor fished a ball of rubber bands out of his pocket.
“Take a look and see,” the Doctor offered. “In fact, take about five off; that will be enough to pay them. No sense giving them an opportunity to mark up the price.”
“So, how do you carry ciprion safely?” Jothan handed the ball back to the Doctor, who dropped it back in his pocket.
“Tree-sap,” the Doctor said. “The Nugents gather tree sap and then form it into bags. Put the ciprion inside, close off the bag, and you’re done. I’ll probably get some extra this trip; I want to experiment on other container options. I’m pretty sure I could create a negative force field or some other easy storage method.”
The two travelers walked along until they came to a clearing. There were eight or nine mud huts standing around what looked like a well. The Doctor went over to the largest hut just as two ant-like creatures came out, walking upright. They stopped and looked at the Doctor and Jothan, then hurried back into the structure. The Doctor stopped at the entrance to the hut, waiting.
“Don’t we go in?” Jothan asked.
“No,” the Doctor replied. “It’s very bad manners to enter a Nugent building without invitation. The village Matron will come out to us shortly.”
In due time, the Matron came out. Her dragonfly wings sparkled in the sun. She stood in front of them appraisingly, then said, “No ciprion, God-Rider; it’s been a bad sap harvest here. You’ll have to try the city, or one of the other villages.”
The Doctor bowed, and Jothan followed suit. “Thank you, Matron,” the Doctor told the queen. “We will try the city.”
Jothan waited until they were out of earshot before he started chuckling. “So, you’re named ‘God-Rider’. Appropriate, I guess. Makes us both ‘God-Riders’ if you think about it. So will we have to pay more in the city? I’d hate to see your cash reserves diminished,” he smirked.
“None of your cheek,” the Doctor told his companion. “It’s a long walk, but the day is fair.”
“Is the city all mud huts as well?”
The Doctor shook his head. “The city’s underground. Those that live in the huts are considered to be pioneers. It’s quite an interesting society; I’ve often wanted to spend more time here, but I’m always so busy . . .”
The two walked on down a winding path until they came to another mud hut, this one composed of mud and wooden poles. “An entrance to the city. About time, too. Funny, there should be some guards about . . .” The Doctor looked around, and then entered the hut, telling Jothan, “Can’t stand up here all day. I’ll explain when we run into the guards further on.”
Jothan followed the Doctor down a steep passageway, blinking in the dark. The Doctor reached into his pocket again, retrieving a stick of some kind. “Here. It’s a glow stick. Just bend it until you hear the crack, then shake it up a bit. Should last for 12 hours.”
Jothan activated his glow stick, holding it up high enough so it lit the path. They continued down until they came to a chamber, which was empty. Several tunnels led off in different directions. “Which way?” the medic asked.
“Best to keep going down. Strange though. Usually there’s someone about to ask directions of, and more light.”
“Maybe it’s a holiday,” Jothan offered.
“Could be,” the Doctor mused. “The Nugents are very particular about their celebrations, what one wears and how you address them and so on. If it’s National Cloaking Month we’ll be in for it; they don’t talk to outsiders at all unless they’re in bright pink.”
“What do we do then?” Jothan wondered.
“I have some special spray that works, and it only lasts a few hours. Still, it’s a right nuisance. Ah, that’s better!”
They had come into a portion of cave that was lit with glowing spheres, and Jothan put the glow stick back in his pocket. They followed the spheres into still another chamber, this one larger. The bodies of several of the ant creatures lay on the floor. Jothan was going to rush forward, but the Doctor stopped them with a hand. “Wait. Let me go first, in case it’s something you might catch.” He stepped forward into the cave, kneeling down to examine one of the bodies.
“What killed it?” Jothan asked.
“Not a clue. There are no puncture marks, no obvious signs of what happened.” The Doctor stood up. “Best to keep on; we’ve got to find out what’s happened here. Mind you don’t touch any of them; I don’t want you getting some alien plague.”
The Doctor and Jothan continued to explore cautiously. In each and every chamber it was the same—more Nugent bodies. “It doesn’t make sense,” the Doctor mused. “There’s no sign of any violence or trauma, and look here,” he picked up some strange device. “It’s a personal weapon. If it died of some virus or disease, it wouldn’t have needed this. Let me see the glow stick a minute.”
Jothan handed it over. The Doctor looked over the walls of the tunnel, then said grimly, “Blast points. Weapons were definitely fired, but it doesn’t look like they were effective; nothing’s dead but the Nugents themselves, and there’s no sign of any other bodies or debris.”
“Do you think whoever or whatever did this is still down here?”
“We’ll need to be very careful,” was all the Doctor said.
They went down another passage, this one quite dark. Jothan was about to get out his light stick again when the Doctor pulled him aside into an alcove. “Hush!” he told Jothan, barely whispering, “Something’s coming.”
Jothan was silent as the thing went by them. He had barely gotten a glimpse of a domed head with a long snout-like appendage coming out the head when the Doctor literally shoved him back into the alcove as far as he could, shielding the medic with his body. Jothan was about to push back when he felt the Doctor shaking, and remained perfectly still. Then the unknown creature had gone by, and the Doctor carefully stepped out of the alcove, holding Jothan against the wall with a shuddering hand. He took a long breath and then took the medic by the arm. “We’ve got to get back to the surface, back to the TARDIS,” he whispered.
Jothan tried to understand what was going on, why the Doctor was so afraid, and then a nasty thought came to his mind. “Was it . . . is it . . . a Dalek?” he asked the Time Lord.
The Doctor’s voice was brittle as he answered. “Yes, it’s a Dalek.”
Jothan’s blood ran cold. “I thought you said they all died. How did it get here?”
“No time to find out now. We’ve got to get back to the TARDIS and find a way to stop it.” The Doctor seemed to have regained his composure.
“Supposing there’s more than just the one? And what about the Nugents?” Jothan tried to stay calm, for the Doctor’s sake if nothing else.
“We’ll have to warn them but first we have to get back to the surface. Stay right with me, and don’t use the glow stick. We can’t risk being seen.” The Doctor’s mind was racing, trying to sort through their options.
“How does a Dalek kill, and what are its weaknesses?” Jothan asked, then said quickly, “Sorry. I know you’re trying to—”
“Daleks have very few weaknesses. They kill with an energy weapon on the front. Actually, what you see is just a shell of dalekanium; the real Dalek’s safe inside. The eyestalk is a weak point if you can hit it dead on. They can levitate, so stairs and the like are no good, but they won’t move terribly fast on a surface like this. That weapon has quite the distance on it, so whatever you do don’t get in front of it.”
“What about the acid—the ciprion. Would that kill a Dalek?” Jothan asked.
“It might, but I’ve never tried,” the Doctor admitted. “It might not do anything. I’d hate to have to bet my life on it. Come on!”
They were continuing back the way they came when the Doctor stopped short, holding up a hand. Quickly he pulled Jothan over to a side passage. “Can’t go any further; the Dalek has stopped. We’ll have to find another exit to the city.”
“There’s a dark tunnel to our right. Should we try . . .”
“At this point we need to keep moving,” the Doctor decided. There’s more than one way into the city, and they can’t all be guarded . . . I hope.”
The dark tunnel sloped downward. In fact, all the tunnels seemed to be taking them further into the city rather than back to the surface. Also, they noticed that the tunnels were all dark, and there were fewer chambers. At one chamber, the Doctor stopped. “We’ll have to risk the light; I need to check something.”
Jothan took the glowing stick out, handing it over. The Doctor shone his light around the chamber. “Good sign,” the Time Lord told his companion, “there are no bodies here.” He then went to examine the walls. “Look—these globes have been deliberately broken; that’s why there’s no light in this section. Maybe that Dalek didn’t make it this far down.”
“That means there could be survivors. Scared ones at that,” Jothan commented.
“Yes. I’m really hoping so; they’ll be able to tell us how many Daleks we’re dealing with, and we could use a guide to get us back to the surface. Let’s keep going down for now.”
The two companions continued on through the passages. As they came to a T junction, the medic said, “Hold on; I thought I heard something.”
“Which direction was it coming from?” the Doctor asked.
“I think it was up and to the left.”
Cautiously, the Doctor went stuck his head around the bend. He pulled it back quickly as a laser blast whizzed past. “Hold your fire!” the Time Lord called out. “We’re travelers, trapped down here just like you!”
“Stay where you are!” a voice commanded. In seconds, a Nugent came to them, weapon at the ready. It looked at them, then holstered its sidearm. It called back, “Two strangers, Matron, not the death-bringer.”
“Bring them here,” a female voice demanded.
Hands raised, Jothan and the Doctor continued around the bend and into a side passage. Two male Nugents were guarding the female, breaking lights as they went. The Doctor hurried up to the female, bowing quickly and telling her, “I’m the—”
“You are God-Rider,” the female said flatly. “I’ve heard the stories, but this is not the time. An alien ship crash-landed in the western portion of the city yesterday. When we went to investigate, a nameless horror came out and began killing our people. Those close to the surface have been slaughtered, and those that remain are struggling to survive.”
“It’s not a nameless horror, it’s called a Dalek. Are you sure there’s only one?”
“As far as we can ascertain, yes. We have not gotten close enough to the ship to examine it, but it apparently was quite small. You must understand I got that information through third and fourth-hand knowledge; all those present at the crash are dead by now. Our weapons have been useless against it. You have faced these creatures before?”
“Yes, I have,” the Doctor told the Matron. “How many people have survived?”
“We have 400 people left, not including those in the villages. We Matrons have been doing our best to hide the larvae caves, so at least the next generation will be protected and hopefully survive. You can help us? You can beseech God to spare our lives?”
“I’ve told you lot before, the TARDIS isn’t a god!” the Doctor told the Matron irritably, then said in a quieter tone, “I will do my best to help you, but to do that I need to get back to the surface, back to my ship—what you call God. Can you get one or two of your people to lead me back to—”
“We dare not go higher up in the tunnels. Efforts are being made to build a new access tunnel, but that will take much time.”
“We can’t afford to waste the time.” The Doctor thought a moment, then asked the Matron, “I need to see that ship, and I need to take some ciprion with me. It may be the only way to stop that Dalek.”
“That means going up to the higher levels. We can’t risk—”
The Doctor was firm. “You can’t wait for the Dalek to find you and your larvae either. If we’re going to stop it we’ve got to take some risks. I’m willing to go and see if the ciprion will work, but I need your help.”
The Matron thought for a moment, wings fluttering. “I must consult the other Matrons—there are a handful of us left. You will wait here.” She turned and went down the passage, flanked by her two attendants.
The Doctor paced impatiently, while Jothan sat down, his back to the cave wall. “How do you think the Dalek survived?” he asked the Doctor hesitantly, not wanting to break the Time Lord’s concentration.
“There were a lot of time variances and anomalies when the Eye of Harmony was destabilized. It must have fallen through time and space, ending up here,” the Doctor reasoned.
“What do you want with the Dalek ship?” Jothan wanted to know.
“I need to test the ciprion on some dalekanium to see if it reacts. If not, we’re going to have to find another way. Also, I want to make certain there’s only one Dalek.”
“Do you think the Nugents will lead us to the Dalek ship?”
The Doctor stopped pacing. He crouched down on his heels in front of Jothan, looking straight into the medic’s green eyes. He seemed to be searching for words. “Jothan, when I go to examine the Dalek ship, I want . . . I need . . . you have to stay with the survivors down here.”
Jothan jumped to his feet. “If you think for one minute I’m—”
“Jothan, I need to know you’re safe. Not think, not be pretty sure. I need to know.”
“There’s only one way for you to know—that’s to take me with you.” Jothan would give no ground.
The Doctor tried again. “The safest place for you—”
“—is the TARDIS,” the medic finished, “but that’s not an option. We’ve got to do the best we can with what we have, and the next safest place is by your side.”
The Doctor was going to protest but then he saw the Matron returning, and stood. The Matron had six guards beside her. She said crisply, “Take these four drones with you. They will lead you to the ciprion processing plant, and then to the alien craft. They may even be able to lead you all the way to the surface, but I don’t want them throwing away their lives needlessly if it can be avoided.”
The Doctor and Jothan bowed again, then left with their guides. At first the tunnels were all at the same level, but then they began to slope upward. The Nugents moved fast and Jothan had to almost run to keep up. He had more questions, but knew better than to disturb the Doctor’s thoughts.
After half an hour, the Nugents came to a room with a heavy metal door. The lead Nugent punched in a code on the keypad next to the door, and then all four helped pull the door open. Inside was a large factory. Vats of a bubbling liquid were lined up in rows, and there were pipes, catwalks, and other paraphernalia. As they entered, several dozen Nugents came out of various hiding places, weapons at the ready. The lead Nugent held up a hand, shouting, “Don’t shoot!”
A Matron came out from behind the group of workers. “Who are you?” she asked. “Is the crisis over? We heard the screams and sealed off the processing station.”
The Time Lord stepped forward. “I’m the Doc . . . I’m God-Rider. My companion and I have come to help. Has anyone tried using ciprion on the Dalek?”
The Matron looked confused. “All we know is that something started killing people. I didn’t wait to find out who or why, I just sealed the door. Can you tell us what’s going on?”
“The creature that’s attacking your people is called a Dalek. It’s a mutation inside a shell of dalekanium and it kills anything that isn’t another Dalek. Some of your people are hiding deeper down in the city, trying to wall off the larvae caves. Beyond that, I don’t know a thing,” the Doctor said. “Where’s the ciprion?”
The Matron gestured with a claw. “It’s all around you, in the vats and storage tanks. We use sap gloves and other instruments to protect ourselves. We then pump the ciprion into the sap bags and close them off. Here,” she said, tossing the Doctor a leathery green pouch a worker gave her.
The Doctor examined the pouch carefully, and then threw it on the floor. It made a splatting sound, but did not break open. “I had hoped it would break on contact,” the Doctor sighed, then asked the Matron, “Can you set up a hose to one of the vats? We may be able to spray the Dalek down with ciprion, which might stop it.”
“‘May be able’? ‘Might stop it’? This is a dangerous plan, fatal if the ciprion has no effect,” the Matron pointed out.
“True,” the Time Lord confessed, “But it’s our best hope at the moment. Until I can get my hands on some dalekanium and test it, I can’t know if it will work.”
The Matron motioned to some workers. “Get a pumping hose and attach it to the nearest vat. Get a filling nozzle for it as well.” The workers darted off. “Now, what else do you require, God-Rider?”
“I need a protective suit made of sap. That stuff may splatter when it’s forced out of the hose, especially if it’s under pressure.” The Doctor looked up expectantly.
“We do not have suits. I have gloves and aprons, boots, eyewear . . . none of which will fit you, save the aprons and perhaps some gloves. Your kind are built so strangely . . .”
“I’ll just have to make do with what you have,” the Doctor decided. “How many aprons do you have to spare?”
“We’ve hundreds, certainly more than you would need.” She nodded to the workers, who came over with a hose hooked to a nozzle. “Best to hook up another hose to a different storage tank as well. You, over there—bring me twenty aprons!” she commanded. They rushed off to do her bidding. Other Nugents were working on the second hose and putting on their safety equipment.
The Doctor was rubbing his hands together briskly as the worker brought the aprons and several pairs of gloves. The Doctor tied two aprons over his feet and legs, then started tying others to his arms with Jothan’s help. “Now, we really should get that door closed again before the Dalek hears the noise. It’s roaming around up here, and we don’t—”
“Halt!” a shrill metallic voice squealed from far down the passage. They heard a weapon being discharged, then a scream from a Nugent, and then silence.
“It’s the Dalek!” the Doctor yelled. “Everyone scatter!”
Everyone moved in a different direction, save the Doctor. He stood where he was, hurriedly tying on aprons. Jothan pulled on the Doctor’s arm. “Get down—if it sees you right off . . .”
The Doctor pushed Jothan toward cover. “I’ve got to do this, Jothan,” he said quietly. He pulled on the largest pair of gloves there were, then stepped up to the hose. “Stay where it’s safe.” He waited until he saw Jothan nod, then turned back to the door.
The Dalek came into the room, its eyestalk glancing in all directions. “Do not move, do not move!” it shrilled.
The Doctor stood still, hands on the hose. He said in a cold voice, “The last Dalek. How does it feel to be the only one of your kind?”
“Your statement does not make sense. Explain! Explain!”
“Just what I said. How does it feel to be the last Dalek?”
Jothan saw two or three Nugents crawling toward the second hose while the Doctor was occupied with the Dalek. He peeked out a moment to see the Dalek better. He saw its cylinder-like body, and the two appendages in front. One appeared to be a suction cup, and the other a rod of metal. He ducked back again quickly.
“You must be the Doctor!” The Dalek moved back about a foot, its attention focused on the Time Lord. “You should not have survived. Explain! The Doctor will explain now!”
“My TARDIS was just outside the blast zone that closed the rift, as your craft was. You got sucked through space and time, while I . . . I survived.”
“And what of the Time Lords?” the Dalek asked.
“Dead. Burned and blasted away. You and I are all that’s left. And one way or another, this will be the end of the Time War.”
He was going to say more, but just then, the Dalek noticed the Nugents at the other hose. It whirled around and shot them just in time to get one blast from the hose in its eyestalk. The dead Nugents fell to the ground, while the Doctor sprayed the Dalek in the side, then ducked down.
“Vision impairment! My vision is impaired . . .” The Dalek began whirling around, firing in all directions randomly. The creature was smoking as the ciprion ate through the metal. More Nugents got to the second hose and blasted the Dalek again. This time, they managed to hit the Dalek’s weapon. Between them and the Doctor, the Dalek was soon reduced to a large puddle of goo.
Cautiously, the Matron came out. “Someone get the neutralizer,” she called, and a worker brought over some silvery powder. It dusted the puddle, which stopped smoking after a short time. “We owe you a tremendous debt, God-Rider.”
“Not me; thank those who gave their lives,” the Doctor responded in a tired voice. “Someone should go down and tell the other survivors the danger is past. Now I need a guide to that ship, just in case . . .”
************
Hundreds of Nugents followed behind the Doctor and Jothan as they headed back to the village. Jothan hissed to the Doctor, “What if they want to keep the TARDIS again?”
“I’m not so worried about that; I don’t want this to turn into a holiday and have to stay for the festivities. I never was one for hero worship.”
“So we stay for a day while they thank us. Where’s the harm in that? I like parties,” the medic pointed out.
The Doctor shook his head. “Nugent celebrations last weeks, not days, and they’ll get all fussy about things like how many wives you’ll be shared with . . .”
Jothan stopped short. “Wives?” he gulped. “They’ll try to give us wives?”
The Time Lord shrugged. “Not me, just you; I’m considered too old for marriage. They’ll also expect you to provide for your all wives’ children, and that’s a lot. Then there’s the whole breaking your arms bit . . .”
“Break my arms? Whatever for?”
“You serve your wives for seventeen days, and then they break your arms as an excuse to wait on you hand and foot. It’s a matrilineal society, so the females need some excuse to be serving their husband. Breaking your arms is the excuse.” The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets. “Still want to stay?”
Jothan turned around, walking rapidly toward the TARDIS. “I think not,” he muttered. “Let’s get away while we have a chance!”
The Time Lord chuckled. “I’m joking about the arms thing, but they might want to marry you to one of the Matrons, and the celebrations do last for weeks. Best to be moving on.” He turned around to the crowd, holding up his hands. “My companion and I have to go to our ship . . .”
“They go to God!” someone cried out, and the whole procession stopped. Several Matrons began hurriedly lining up the other Nugents, saying something about proper bowing techniques, while others started moaning about the lack of yellow sashes. Jothan was going to stop too, but the Doctor pulled on his arm. “This is our cue to leave,” he mumbled. The two walked until they were out of sight of the Nugents, then the Doctor broke into a run. “Hurry,” he told Jothan. They’ll be here before you know it.”
In ten minutes, they were at the door of the TARDIS. The Doctor had been right; Jothan could hear the sound of the Nugents approaching, chanting together in a sing-song voice. “Won’t they get mad if we leave?” the medic asked.
“Not likely,” the Doctor told him. “They’ll just assume that their ‘god’ didn’t want to be seen.” The door opened, and the two hurried inside.
“Couldn’t we just wait here inside and let them worship for a little? I hate for them to go to all this trouble . . .”
The Doctor was firm. “It never pays to encourage them. I tried it once, and the next time I came it was a disaster.” He went over to the console and within seconds the TARDIS was in motion. “There. Now we’re safe.” He sat down on the jump seat, quiet.
Jothan noticed him, and said worriedly, “What is it?”
The Time Lord did not reply at first. He finally answered, “That Dalek managed to survive. If it did, maybe others got through as well. I hate to even think about it.”
“Doesn’t that mean that others of your kind might have survived as well?” Jothan sounded hopeful.
“No, I would know. I would be able to sense them.” The Doctor tapped his head. “It’s all empty. No one but me.”
“At least you’re not alone.”
The Doctor stood and went over to Jothan, giving him a hug and a squeeze. “You’re right,” he said cheerfully. “Now, on to Blaydost!”
************ Sequel to Follow: Younger Days ************