The pain on waking was doubled for Stillman by the realisation that he was constrained by some kind of barrier that was cold and hard against his bare-flesh. His eyes flickered open to find he was strapped into a type of chair, it also confirmed what he had suspected when he felt the cold air on his skin. The Daleks had somehow removed his clothes while he had lain unconscious.
“Psionic probe complete,” grated one of their pitiless voices. “Mind scan indicates he has the correct mental make up for our purposes.”
“Caution- he is regaining consciousness!”
Stillman was aware of conical silhouettes looming over him and then a familiar voice speaking to him from the darkness.
“Stillman, we’ve brought you here because we need you alive,” said the voice.
Opening his eyes he found himself staring into the Captain’s uncompromising blue eyes: “You’re not him!” he snorted. “You’re not Forrester!”
“He has seen through the duplication,” said the Black and Silver Dalek from behind Forrester.
“Seen through you bastards more like!” growled Stillman.
“Now, now Simon,” said the Forrester-double. “No need to antagonise them!”
“Go to hell,” snarled Stillman coldly. “The real Forrester never called me Simon- ever! Not as clever as you think you are, are you!” Stillman was so frantic with contempt that he spat the words out, literally. Tiny flecks of flem dripped from the Dalek’s eyestalk. This strangely elated the Section Leader and his accomplice.
“I see that the Psionic laser has shattered the superficial layer of obedience to reveal his defiant core,” said the Forrester replicant.
“Excellent! Then we can proceed to stage two of the plan!”
This piqued Stillman’s curiosity: “Stage two? What plan? What are you talking about?”
“Er, Section Leader,” said Forrester. “Perhaps a bit of space is needed at this point for Stillman to recover his orientation.”
“Space? Define space in this context?” asked the Black Dalek. Stillman smiled at Forrester’s obvious discomfort.
“What I’m saying is that it might be more efficient if you left me to explain what we want him to do. It helps that I am someone familiar…”
“No!” screamed Stillman hoarsely, “no way are you leaving me alone with that freak,” he said staring at the Forrester double with hatred. “I prefer the organ grinder to the monkey any day!”
“Explain?” said the Section Leader.
“An old terran colloquialism,” said Forrester. “It means he wants to hear it from you Section Leader.”
“Very well, we will release you now,” said the Dalek. “But be warned human- any attempt to escape and you will be exterminated!”
“I’m not that fucking stupid!” growled Stillman, astonished now by his own profanities. “Just get me out of this thing and find me some clothes, its bloody freezing in here!”
To Stillman’s surprise they did find him some clothes, more nondescript grey overalls this time. But they were warm and fitted him snugly; the Daleks even laid on some food and drink for him. This all seemed just too civilized of them. The more physically comforted he felt the more his fear of the Daleks started to return and he became uncomfortably aware of his recent outspokenness. They had brought him to an underground chamber, deep within the catacombs of the Dalek City. After he was fed and watered he was brought to a small bare cubicle room, lined on one side by a bank of dormant instruments. Some subtle form of illumination that bathed everything in a soft blue haze faintly lighted the other walls. Three Daleks stood at the compass points of the room; one was the Black and Silver Dalek, the other two were of slightly different configurations and colour scheme. They seemed to be all senior ranking Daleks that was for sure. Together with the replicant they encircled him in the small room, their eyestalks focussing grimly on him as he finished the bready cake and water that their guards had brought for him. Stillman stared back; he had all the time in the world. Finally it was Forrester who broke the silence.
“So I expect, you are wondering what this is all about, Mr Stillman,” he began.
“Just call me slave,” said Stillman, guzzling down some water. “Let’s not beat about the bush here,” he said savouring the confused blinking of the Daleks’ headlights. “You stun me and bring me down here to run a mind probe on me while I’m out cold. And then you give me clothes and food and say you want me to do something for you!”
“That is correct!” said a red Dalek.
“And this something you want me to do, must be really important, yes?”
“Correct!” said the same Dalek.
“Your personality matrix falls within the right boundaries,” said the Black and Silver Dalek.
“In English please!” snarled Stillman.
“You are a defiant little trouble-maker with a restless urge to cause discontent,” said Forrester. “Whilst you were under my indirect command on the Andromeda I had many occasions on which it was my sad duty to inform your supervisors of inappropriate behaviour!”
“That’s rich that is, coming from a man who is at best a traitor and at worse an abomination!” Stillman took greater comfort still in the Daleks agitated light blinking. “You know that word, don’t you Dalek,” he addressed the black and silver leader. “Abomination! Was that what you were saying just before you zapped me?”
“That is correct!” was the Section Leader’s terse response.
“Funny word that abomination. It means something hateful and detestable,” said Stillman. “Like most of the creatures in this room.”
“Do you know what we mean when we use the word abomination?” asked the red Dalek.
“I guess it has something to do with the emperor and his new Daleks,” muttered Stillman. “Though why I should care is another matter.”
“You are correct Still-man,” intoned the Black and Silver Dalek. “And you will care!”
“You will care?” gasped Stillman. “Only a Dalek could think it could order someone to care about it! Why don’t you just turn me into one of them,” he said pointing at Forrester again. “At least then you’d have total obedience!” From the silence that greeted this statement Stillman quickly deduced he had hit a raw nerve. “You can’t, can you?” he asked.
Forrester coughed politely, the Black and Silver Dalek answered the question. “That is correct.”
“Why not?”
“The Human Factor,” said Forrester. “Many centuries ago the Daleks discovered that human beings possessed something special in their mental make-up, something that allowed them to defy the Daleks even when all the odds were stacked against them.”
“Human beings are fickle, irrational creatures,” spat the Black Dalek angrily, “unpredictable and volatile!”
“Let me guess,” said Stillman excitedly. “Your taking about free-will, am I right?”
“Somewhat crudely surmised, but yes,” said Forrester. “It is this human quality of independent choice and ‘free-will’ as you put it, that has caused most trouble for the Daleks.”
“It is this obsession with the Human Factor that has lead to the development of the abomination!” snarled the red Dalek.
“You mean the prototype?” said Stillman. “It hardly seemed very human to me, seemed more Dalek than a Dalek!”
“The Mark V Daleks have a greater, er, understanding of the human factor,” said Forrester. “But they are not ruled by it.”
“I see,” said Stillman. “So why does that bother you so much?” he addressed his question directly to the Daleks.
“Because the Mark V Daleks are not Daleks!” said the Black Dalek.
“They are abomination!” cried the red Dalek.
“They are abomination!” crowed Stillman in imitation. “Yes, but what makes them so abominable- they seem very efficient in what they do? Why should that upset the Daleks?”
“Because the superior species always exterminates the inferior species,” grated the Black Dalek. “That is the universal law of all nature!”
“I see,” said Stillman. “How very Dalek of you to say. But that still doesn’t explain why I should give a damn. Go get some other dupe to do your dirty work, I don’t see why I should help you!”
“You always were a fool, Stillman,” sneered Forrester. “You think the Daleks haven’t thought of that already, and they didn’t need a mind probe to figure out your relationship to the Horowitz woman!”
Stillman became very pale at the mention of her name: “Jane? Where is she? What have you done to her?”
The Black and Silver Dalek turned to Forrester: “Show him!” said the replicant.
“Very well,” said the Black Dalek, it turned to Stillman next. “You will come with me to the holding cells.”
They took Stillman to an even lower level, stark rock face walls, and an endless line of cubicles along each side. “Strange kind of holding cells,” said Stillman warily. “No doors? Aren’t you worried the prisoners will escape?”
“Escape is not possible!” snapped the Red Dalek. “Observe!” it said gesturing to the occupants of the cubicles.
To his disgust Stillman quickly realised what they meant, all of the prisoners were as still and as silent as statues. “You’ve got them in some kind of stasis,” he suggested.
“Not entirely correct,” said Forrester in well-oiled tones. “The Daleks have placed them each in an area of slow-time.”
“Each prisoner experiences time subjectively the same,” explained the Red Dalek. “But each exits in a different time stream from the other and the outside world.”
“And if they were to try and leave this area of slow-time?” Stillman enquired.
“Then the relativistic forces would tear them apart, chronologically speaking,” said Forrester. “They would age within seconds and be a pile of dust before they reached through the time bubble.”
Stillman’s heart began to race as he saw where this was going: “Why do you keep them down here? Are they excess to your requirements or something?”
“The Daleks find it expedient to keep some humans for long periods of time,” said Forrester.
“These humans are used to incentivise work-group leaders,” said the red Dalek.
“Hostages, keeping it plain and simple,” said Stillman, stopping to look in wonder at a middle-aged man, caught in the act of pouring a drink. The water hung from the lip of the bottle, a frozen torrent gradually and imperceptibly moving towards the plastic beaker below it. “I suppose you’ve got Jane in one of these things,” said Stillman bitterly.
“That is correct,” said the Red Dalek. “She was found wandering in the basement laboratory at the Mark V Factory with a companion.”
“Why was she there?” asked Stillman.
“We do not know,” said the Dalek, before suddenly coming to a stop. “Halt! Turn to your left!”
Stillman followed the Dalek’s instructions, dreading more with every passing second what they were about to show him. Time seemed to hang loose for a while. Then he saw her, in profile at first, staring into space just above where her companion, a dark woman with long frizzy hair, sat hunched against the wall. Like the others she had that statue like quality all the more horrifying for the fact that he knew her.
“Very well,” he said at last. “What is it you want me to do?”
The Daleks wasted no time in orientating him for his mission. he was to join the workers at the Mark V Factory in the biometrics lab on the fourth floor. What that entailed wasn’t explained, only that his first task would be to observe and gather intelligence.
“You will report to us only!” said the Black Dalek. “Is that understood?”
“Yes,” grunted Stillman.
“Do as we say and we will reunite you with Horowitz,” said Forrester.
“Will you?” said Stillman. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
The third Dalek, who had remained quiet and unobtrusive to now, suddenly appeared at his side. “You will follow me!” it grated.
“Oh well then, looks like I’m off,” said Stillman moving off with his escort. “I suppose there’s more to this then just a simple reconnaissance mission?”
“That is correct,” said the Dalek, a standard grey and silver model with red trim around its upper section. “You will learn what we require you to do when the time comes.”
“I see,” said Stillman, falling into step with the machine. “I take it you have something to do with the factory?”
“That is correct,” said the Dalek. “I am in charge of co-ordinating humanoid labour supply and distribution.”
“Good for you,” said Stillman. “This conspiracy is spread far and wide!”
The Dalek rebuked him with a prod from its claw hand. “Do not speak of this now human! You have your orders- follow them or your friend dies!”
“I…obey,” said Stillman.
Bastards!
Stillman was eventually deposited at the back of a swollen queue of forlorn slaves gathering at the outskirts of the industrial zone. Ahead of him in the orange haze of the artificial sun great conical cooling towers poured clouds of smuts and steam into the air.
“So, is this the heart of darkness?” he muttered as the queue moved sluggishly forward. The presence of thousands of his own kind did nothing to lift the gloom that suffused his being. Now he understood what Olsen had meant by the Daleks having you by the balls.
“Well you’re pretty mobile- for a dead man!”
He turned to see a familiar care worn face smiling at him: “Lemuel!” he cried excitedly. “It’s so good to see a friendly face!”
“Likewise,” said Lemuel, looking shiftily over his shoulder. He nudged closer to Stillman: “I see you’ve been recruited as well.”
“H-how do you mean?” asked Stillman.
“Come off it,” whispered Lemuel. “Olsen was pretty sure you were up for the chop when he last saw you. They came for me then, said my skills were needed elsewhere, Olsen was pissed off- two of his crew down in one day!”
“Yes, the mines…”
“Well, this can’t be any worse than there,” Lemuel supposed. “What with the way things were going we’re probably better off out of it.”
“I don’t know,” said Stillman. “We’re closer to the Daleks.”
“No, not really, there are the new models of course, but the old ones aren’t allowed in this factory.”
“Really? Who told you that?”
Lemuel grinned furtively: “Oh, this line is rife with rumours, it’s hard to sift fact from fancy. But I’ve seen nothing to contradict that observation, have you?”
Stillman thought, stopping to examine the bleak silhouette of the factory that stretched out across a burnt orange sky. Eventually the line started moving again and Stillman continued brood in silence.
“Maybe I ought to take back my earlier remarks about you being so mobile,” Lemuel kidded him. “Surely it can’t be that bad, can it?”
“It’s worse Lemuel. I feel I’m caught up in quicksand and no matter what I do, how hard I struggle against it I just keep sinking lower and lower.”
“But maybe this is also an opportunity,” said Lemuel. “From all accounts something big is in the air. Can’t you feel it? Like a great expectation of dread and change.”
“Of course I can feel it, believe me, I’m part of it!”
Lemuel looked at him, his smile evaporating instantly.
“Part of it?” he asked anxiously.