Christmas Special: Retaliation of the Daleks

[The Doctor]

NB: This story forms part of the sequence of stories, 'Five Billion'. Previous entries were:
#1: 'There but for the grace of...'
#2: 'The Escape'
#3: 'Haul of Dead Gods'
#4: '332'
#5: 'Blackpool and Beyond'

And now, the story continues.
---
Five billion years ago, they came from Cybertron One, a world composed entirely of machinery...a world torn by age-old war between they who called themselves the 'heroic' Autobots and their enemies, the 'evil' Decepticons. These incredibly powerful living robots,capable of converting themselves into land and air vehicles, weapons and other mechanical forms, continue their conflict throughout the ends of time and the wastes of space. They are...THE TRANSFORMERS.

PREVIOUSLY: Optimus Prime, Combat Deck and Roller were unable to return in time from a deep space mission to prevent the invasion of their adopted home, Earth Colony Blackpool, by the forces of the Dalek Empire. Now, only Longtooth can save the world..

RETALIATION OF THE DALEKS
Written by Karl Thurgood & Ralph Burns
Story by Ralph Burns

1: DEVIL'S PLANET
The old Earth Gregorian Calendar is not entirely applicable to Colony Blackpool. The planet's different axial tilt and rotation period around it's primary makes direct comparisons with the long-vanished homes of the human race more than a little misleading. Nevertheless, there are some things that are still marked on dates derived from the old calendars. Some things are just traditional and that is all there is to it. Also, no matter the era, the human race loves a good party.
It is this sense of tradition that explains the changed appearance of Colony Blackpool's main city. The bright strands strung from building to building, the small lights that illuminate dark winter streets, the green conical shapes that can be seen on each street corner festooned with bright and sparkly trinkets. All of these things would be comfortingly familiar to the ancestors of the residents of Colony Blackpool, a venerable tradition of goodwill and good cheer. Arcs of tinsel and lights illuminating the dark and bringing warmth to a cold winter's morning. But there is more, much more, at work here than just the spirit of the season. Something else is going on here in Colony Blackpool on this 25th of 'December'....

2: THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS
Several days earlier, in a small cave deep below a remote area of Colony Blackpool:
“Oh Golly, oh Gosh,” burbled Longtooth as he watched the video monitor., his expression somewhat confused They'd taken over the planet so swiftly, so efficiently. Longtooth didn't think he'd ever seen a planetary conquest managed so quickly. Not even that time on Frontios with the doughnuts. But then, there had been so many of them.... Dalek ships landing on every street corner, each disgorging squads of four Daleks. Bubbling lumps of hates within their metallic casings, screeching a message contrary to their nature.
“WE-ARE-HERE-TO-PROTECT-YOU!” they had declared, “THE-DALEKS-ARE-YOUR-FRIENDS! WE-BRING-GREETINGS-FROM-THE-EMPEROR-OF-THE-DAAAALEKS!”
In a matter of hours, the Daleks had secured the planet. Then something strange happened: they vanished. No demands for the population to work for them, no giant mines drilling down into the crust. The Daleks had rolled back into their ships and lifted off again, all save a token force who it was rumoured had taken up residence in the Mayoral Tower. Their voices were heard over the cities Public Address System, but where was the massive occupation force that Longtooth knew was standard procedure for a Dalek pacification program?
“They must be up to some clever plan!” Longtooth observed, “Oh golly, I must find out what it is and put a stop to it!” But first there were other things he needed to do – there would be others who would resist the Daleks. He needed to gather them together so they could coordinate their efforts,protect each other, band together for the common good! Just like that time on the Sense-Sphere. He also needed a plan to make sure the Daleks were confused, because from that confusion would come the opportunity they would need to succeed against them. Fortunately, Longtooth had an especially clever plan that would help him do both of these things. The question was whether he had the resources he needed to carry it out.
Double-sided sticky-tape, scissors, glue-stick, yes some of these things would come in handy, but there were other things he would need. He would have to slip into the urban centre of Colony Blackpool and hope that he could track down what he needed, which was far from a foregone conclusion at this time of year.

3: DAY OF ARMAGEDDON
A few hours ago. Deep Space, on a heading to Colony Blackpool at the highest speed:-
Combat Deck hurtles through the void, engines straining to deliver even the slightest particle of thrust more. Nothing was being held in reserve, time was of the essence. They were already too late, now all they could do was try their hardest to reach Colony Blackpool in time to reduce the damage. Optimus Prime sat on Combat Deck's bridge tensely watching the monitors. He knew that he had failed the people of Colony Blackpool, people whom he had sworn to protect. Now he had to do all he could to save them from their peril. The image on one of the forward monitor flickered and changed.
“Yes, I see it Deck,” he replied. A fleet of saucer shaped craft were moving into their path far ahead of them. Disc-shaped vessels laden with fire-power, smaller fighter craft flitting back and forth between them. They were clearly determined to intercept Optimus before he could reach Colony Blackpool. Things had just become a bit more difficult. He rubbed his forehead tensely, an affectation he had picked up from his time among humans. This just wasn't fair. He should - what was the word - yes, he should be 'retired' by now. Hmph.
“Time to intercept, Deck?”
“Would you like that in astro-seconds, humanian minutes or vorns?”
“Astro-seconds, please.”
“Fourteen million!”
Hmmm, still a while to go. But what to do in the meantime? He could spend the time worrying or -
“Roller! Come to me, my little friend!”
With an electronic shutter, the miniature wheeled component of the trio rolled from the back of the bridge and nestled himself at Prime's feet.
“Activate games mode, Roller.”
A monitor screen shot up from Roller's front seat. Prime quickly pressed the controls on it. If he was lucky, he could get in three whole relaxing games of Tetris in before combat began.

Several days ago, in the sewer system beneath Colony Blackpool:
The air moved out of the way with a rushing of wind and a wheezing sound. A shape forced its way into the space-time continuum. Then promptly overbalanced and cracked it's skull against the wall of the tunnel. It scowled in irritation
“Ow. Can think of better ways to travel. Need to put a rider in next contract about return transportation, yes?” observed Deaths Head. Travelling through space and time without a timeship was always somewhat uncomfortable, and when you were following a profession you did feel entitled to some comfort some of the time. He checked the chronometer built into his wrist. It appeared that he had overshot his destination anyway. By several million years. No reason to worry – he could always find himself some work until he found a time vessel headed in the right direction. In the meantime he needed to find out where he was, and what the market conditions were for good freelance peacekeepers. A fuzzy pool of time energy fizzled in the air behind him.
Deaths Head made his way through the tunnel system until he found a ladder leading upwards. He pushed open the manhole cover and clambered out onto the street. The first thing that he noticed was that the street seemed to be festooned with icons and symbols. Also, there was a bird of some sort walking down the street making a gobbling noise. Coloured lights on strings hung across the streets, with star shapes and figures of primitive sled vehicles pulled by animals here and there amongst them. On the insides of windows he could see furry metallic looking ropes hanging in loops from the ceilings of habitation units. Also there was a bird of some sort walking down the street making a gobbling noise. Wherever he was, he had clearly arrived in the middle of some sort of festival. That was excellent – one thing that you could always guarantee about a festival is that someone would take advantage of it to go on a crime spree or to oppress the celebrators. Failing that, such celebrations were almost guaranteed to generate falling outs within family units or between co-workers. One way or another there would be plenty of peace to be kept, for the right price. A quick scan around the street confirmed what Deaths Head had suspected – wherever he was, it was inhabited by humans. He knew a bit about humans, he had had to shoot or maim a few from time to time as a consequence of his work. He accessed his memory bank.
“Lights, decorations.... Must be Christmas, yes?” This was even better – Christmas was a time when humans were often rather generous with their currency. He should be able to make a bit more at this time of year than he otherwise would. He was distracted from his musings by a sudden musical tone, a series of rich, woody bonging sounds clearly emanating from some kind of public address system followed by a grating mechanical voice,
“DALEK-FREIGHTER-XK47-HAS-ARRIVED-FROM-PLANET-FIFTHEEEEN. IT-IS-BRINGING-SUPPLIES-DONATED-BY-YOUR-FRIENDS-IN-THE-DALEK-EMPIRE. THERE-WILL-BE-INCREASED-PUDDING-RATIONS-FOR-ALLLLLL! YOU-LOVE-US-WE-LOVE-YOU.”
Deaths Head didn't pay much attention to the announcement. Not much profit in pudding really. He was considering which way to go, weighing up whether left or right held out the best chance of him finding or creating gainful employment when something landed on his shoulder. He spun quickly on the spot. As he did so he unlimbered his gun, it's barrel easily wide enough to encompass his head, and swung it up ready to fire from the hip.
“Whoaaah!” the tapper jumped back in surprise, “didn't mean to startle you.” Deaths Head stared at him for a moment. He seemed familiar,
“We met before?” He asked.
“You're Deaths Head!” the other observed happily.
“Know that, yes?” Deaths Head pointed out. He wasn't in the best frame of mind to have random people telling him who he was, and his head was still thumping from his jaunt through time.
“You helped us out a long time ago, back before Star Saber and then there was Shockaract and then the Great Relocation and then all that business with the Humanian Empires, then the Diaclone men and then the Secret Masters then...” He stopped for a second, “Golly, that was a long time ago! Good grief.”
Deaths Head taxed his memory banks as he searched them. He cocked his head, comparing the figure standing in front of him with the image in his memory banks. Oh no, it was...
“Longtooth?”
“You remember, that's fantastic! You're great, you are. I was always a big fan of yours, even with all the killing and stuff.”
“Don't kill, yes? Merely stop people from moving about as required.”
“Cool beans. You still doing that mercenary thing then?”
“WEATHER-CONTROL-HAS-BEEN-ADJUSTED-APPROPRIATELY. ALL-CITIZENS-MAY-NOW-DREAM-OF-A-WHITE-CHRISTMAS,” declared the public address system.
“Freelance Peacekeeping Agent. Not Mercenary,” Deaths Head pointed out. Perhaps he should think about getting cards printed up. Or perhaps he should just shoot the next person who forgot his job title? He could start by shooting this idiot. No hang on, he would have to re-budget his bullet allowance then.
“Oh, that's a real pity because I don't really need any peacekeeping done,” Longtooth replied.
“Can tell me where I can find those who do, eh?”
“Uh, dunno. I think we may be between governments at the moment so I'm not sure whose in charge right now. It's a pity because there are some things that need doing and I'm sure I could find you a reward. A big bag of coins or something. Would that be OK, DH?”
Deaths Head lowered his gun and looked at Longtooth for a moment.
“Should have said so,” he observed, “let's have a little chat. And don't call me DH.”

A few hours ago, the Mayoral tower of Colony Blackpool:
The tower had been comprehensively remodelled. All four of the top levels had been heavily modified. On two of them the floors had been removed, eliminating offices and meeting rooms previously used by the Colony's council. The resulting cavernous space had been reshaped and altered into the dark form of a vast, vaulted audience chamber. At the heart of this chamber was the immobile form of the Emperor, his presence dominating the cold space. Cables and tethers ran from the Emperors casing, disappearing into cable runs and ducts in the walls, or rising up in a braided cable of gold and silver to disappear into the ceiling. Nothing less than a cradle for something far from human.
A door opened and a red Dalek trundled into the chamber. It rolled forward and positioned itself in front of the Emperor. His large, lidless stalked eye tracked downwards to observe the Red Dalek squad leader.
“REEEPORT,” The Emperor ordered, his voice carrying a weight and gravitas far beyond the average Dalek. His voice was not so much heard through auditory functions as felt deep within the very being of others.
“WE-HAVE-PREPARED-THE-T'IEN-S'EL-NETWORK. WE-WILL-REQUIRE-SEVERAL-HOURS-FOR-IT-TO-REACH-FULL-CHAAAAARGE!”
“THE FLEET WILL DELAAAAY OPTI-MUS PRIME'S ARRIVAL UNTIL THE TRAP IS PREPARED”.
“PROPAGANDA-BROADCAAAASTS-CONTINUE! THE-PEOPLE-OF-COLONY-BLACKPOOOOOOL-BELIEVE-THAT-ALL-IS-WELL!”
“THAT IS AS IT SHOULD BE,” The Emperor paused, “HAS THE SABOTEUR LONG TOOTH BEEN APPREHENDED.”
“NOOO.”
“HE MUST BE CAPTURED. HE MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO WARN OPTI-MUS PRIME.”
“WE-WILL-DEPLOY-ALL-UNITS-TO-MONITOR-THE-STREETS. WE-WILL-CAPTURE-HIM-WHEN-HE-SHOWS-HIMSELF.”
“DO NOT FAIL. HE MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO INTERFERE WITH THE DAAAALEK PLAN.”
“I-OBEY!” The red Dalek glided from the Imperial chamber to carry out his orders.
The Emperor occupied himself with his own silent thoughts.

4: THE TRAITORS
Several days ago, an undisclosed location in Colony Blackpool
“So you see,” Longtooth explained, “since the Daleks arrived, we have mostly been doing a bit of information gathering to try and work out what they are up to. Oof, it was tiring getting folk together to aid the cause against evil, you know! So, we've been encouraging a bit of passive resistance – you know, getting people to work a bit slower than they otherwise would, knock off a bit early, redirect or hold up the electronic mail to and claim its because they are swamped that time of year.”
“Roadside bombs to blow up Dalek patrols, ambushing Dalek transports at the spaceport. Big explosions, cripple their resources. That sort of thing, yes?”
Longtooth looked shocked, “Oh golly, no. That wouldn't be the done thing at all!” Deaths Head looked at him for a moment. Longtooth might seem like he was the only game in town for paying work, but he was exactly the sort of amateur that it pained Deaths Head to work with. He could see Longtooth getting very killed in the long run. He was just curious as to whether it was going to be by him or the Daleks. He knew which way the pendulum was winging at the moment.
“So what's the plan then?”
“Well, we're going to find out what the Daleks are doing and thwart their plan, of course! That is what you are meant to do in these situations.”
“Just you and me going to stop Dalek invasion all by ourselves. Sounds like it could be fun, yes?” Deaths Head grinned a cold grin.
“Gosh no DH, we're not going to be on our own, I've got some help arranged.” Longtooth opened a door and they stepped through into a medium sized cellar. The room was fairly empty, lit by a single white bulb hanging from a flex in the centre of the ceiling and a rope of red, blue and green lights which twined its way down the handrail of the stairs. The only furnishings in the room were a large blackboard supplied with a good stock of chalk, and a number of wooden boxes on which people were sitting. No, not people. Longtooths! There were four other Longtooths sitting in the room! Or rather, approximations of Longtooths. The proportions weren't quite right and the colours were a bit off – as if someone had been forced to make do with the closest paints that were left in the stores but hadn't been able to get quite the right shades. “These are Rod, Xi'an, Jacques and Freidrich,” Longtooth explained. He beamed with pride, almost knocking his eye-patch off as he raised his fists in apparent triumph.
“Er,” Deaths Head started. One of the Longtooths put its hand on either side of it's head and unscrewed it, lifting it up to reveal the face of an Asian appearing woman.
“Oh, actually we should probably hide our identities from each other as well. That's the idea! Better keep the helmet on,” Longtooth observed. He turned to Deaths Head, “This way we can confuse the Daleks because they don't know which of us is which or who is doing what. And as long as we don't know who each other are we can't accidentally betray each other. Eh, DH? Who da man? I'm da man! And you too as well. And the women. Oh yesh.” Deaths Head stared silently at Longtooth, then at the assembled Longtooths. He made a mental note,
'Fee goes up. Additional premium for mental stress.'

A few hours ago, in deep space in the galactic neighbourhood of Colony Blackpool:
The Dalek Supreme sat at the centre of the command deck of his Space Cruiser. The deep throb-throb-throb of equipment boomed out throughout the room. On the monitors before him he could see the status of the fleet that he commanded. Several Space Cruisers, each supporting a force of Space Destructor class fighters. With this gathering of superior might, the Dalek Supreme knew that there was no force that could stop them. He watched as his fleet moved in to formation, spreading out to block the approaches to Colony Blackpool. No force in the universe could defeat them. Not even the Doc-tor, who was nowhere near them. He knew this with absolute certainty for he had deep space checked for 10 light years in all directions every 0.332 rels. And even if the Doc-tor did appear, he would be crushed utterly! Crushed as the Daleks defeated all their enemies! All of them! And one day the Movellans too! No enemy could resist their might. Opti-mus Prime would be helpless before their power. The Daleks were superior. THEY WOULD TRIUMPH! THEY WERE THE SUPREME RACE IN THE UNIVERSE! DALEKS CONQUERED AND DESTROYED!
The Dalek Supreme beckoned a subordinate closer. “INCREASE-FREQUENCY-OF-MONITORING-FOR-THE-DOC-TOR.”

[The Doctor]

5: COUNTER PLOT
A day or so ago, an uncertain location in Colony Blackpool:
“So, does everyone understand the plan?” Longtooth asked, “We split up and try to identify where the Daleks are massing their forces. Then, once we know where they are we sneak in and find out what they are up to! Cool?” There were nods from the others in the room. All except for Deaths Head, who raised his hand.
“Still think the plan is bad,” Deaths Head shook his head, “ capture Dalek. I'll make him tell us everything he knows.”
“No, no,” Longtooth replied. His sharp teeth wobbled in agitation. “That wouldn't do at all. That would get the Daleks angry and they would start hunting us down and that would be bad. No, what we need to do is find out their plan and thwart it.”
“Should still put them off balance. Blow up power plant or something.”
“How could you suggest something like that,” Longtooth was aghast, “the people of Colony Blackpool need that power for heat and lighting, and for doing their cooking. How will they make their Christmas dinners then?”
“Exactly point,” Deaths Head explained. His teeth might have been gritted if it wasn't for the fact that they were actually moulded in place as part of his head, “stir up city, make it easier for us to move about and harder for Daleks to operate. See?”
“That would make the situation worse for the people of Colony Blackpool,” Longtooth protested. The four Longtooths muttered to each other through their Longtooth helmets. “No we stick to the plan,” Longtooth pointed at the blackboard with it's annotations and diagrams. He had spent a lot of time making them.
“Fine, fine. Stick to plan,” Deaths Head shrugged. To himself he thought, 'don't kill him and his plan works, get paid. Kill him, don't get paid. Maybe Daleks would pay if I killed Longtooth? Maybe Longtooth would pay if I killed all Daleks? Need to work out who would pay more.'

A few hours ago, deep space in the Galactic vicinity of Colony Blackpool:
The Dalek Supreme could see on his space-monitor that Optimus Prime's vessel was drawing nearer. Soon he would be in range of his fleets most powerful weapons. They would be able to demonstrate to the Cybertronian the foolishness of opposing the Daleks. All they – all he - needed now were the orders from the Emperor. This was essential.
One of the Supreme's grey armoured subordinates approached his command position,
“WE-HAVE-RECEIVED-A-MESSAGE-FROM-THE-EMPEROR,” he observed.
“PLACE-HIM-ON-SPEAKERS,” The Dalek Supreme ordered.
“IT-IS-A-SIMPLE-INTERGALACTIC-MESSAGING-SYSTEM-MESSAGE. DIRECT-VOICE-COMMUNICATIONS-ARE-IMPOSSIBLE-DUE-TO-THE-T'IEN-S'EL-NETWORK. THE-MESSAGE-IS-ALSO-ENCRYPTED.”
“TRANSMIT-IT-TOO-ME. I-WILL-DECRYPT-IT.”
“DECRYPTION-DALEKS-ARE-STANDING-BY-TOO.”
“DO-NOT-ARGUE! OBEY! OBEY!”
“I-OBEEEEY!” The grey Dalek transmitted the message directly to the Dalek Supreme's memory banks. It steadily filled up with the ones-and-zeros that represented the Emperor's encrypted message. The Dalek Supreme began to decrypt the message, his numeric processors noting that the interference that was preventing direct voice communications had clearly affected this system as well. There seemed to be some data missing from the message. Nevertheless he was confident that enough would remain that it would be comprehensible. In a few milliseconds the message was decrypted. Once again superior Dalek technology had triumphed. The Dalek Supreme reviewed his orders.
“Optimus Prime [..........] approaching Colony Blackpool. He[...........] must [..] be destroyed. He must be prevented [...........] arriving at Colony Blackpool. [..........] not fail.” The Dalek Supreme reviewed his orders one more time. He comprehended them and he knew what he had to do. Before this rel was out, the Opti-mus Prime would be exterminated! He was not the hated Doc-tor but he was the next best thing.
“ORDER-ALL-SHIPS-TO-ATTACK. OPTI-MUS PRIME-MUST-NOT-BE-ALLOWED-TO-APPROACH-COLONY-BLACKPOOL! THESE-ARE-THE-ORDERS-OF-OUR-EMPEROR! THEY-MUST-BE-OBEYED-WE-MUST-NOT-FAIL. OPTI-MUS-PRIME-MUST-BE-EXTERMINATEEEEEEEED!” The Daleks on the command deck glided into place to carry out their orders. They began to chant, a war-chant that was soon echoed by the Daleks of the other ships of the fleet rising in pitch and intensity,
“DESTROY-OPTI-MUS-PRIME! EXTERMINATE-HIM! EXTERMINATE! ANNIHILATE! DEEEE-STROYYYYYYY!”
The Dalek fighters took flight through space like a shoal of deadly fish, the battlecruisers cruising ominously in their wake. The Dalek Supreme felt the tingle of anticipation. Soon, victory would be found! And this time, the Doc-tor would not stop him! Never again would he feel the ignominy of defeat!

6: VOLCANO
Less than an hour ago, the Mayoral Tower of Colony Blackpool.
The red Dalek sub-commander trundled into the Emperor's chamber. He rolled to a halt before the gargantuan form of his race's leader.
“SPEAK.” The Emperor commanded.
“WE-HAVE-ASSEMBLED-THE-GOVERNING-COUNCIL-OF-COLONY-BLACKPOOL.” the red Dalek reported.
“EXCELLENT. THEY WILL SOON WITNESS THE DESTRUCTION OF THEIR PROTECTORRRRR, OPTI-MUS PRIME. THEY WILL UNDERSTAND THAT NONE MAY DEFY THE WILL OF THE DAAALEKS.”
“WE-HAVE-ALSO-LOCATED-THE-INSURGENT-LONG-TOOTH-ON-OUR-MONITORS.”
“YOU HAVE HIM UNDER SURVEILLAAAANCE?”
“YE-ES”
“ACTIVAAAATE THE MONITORRRRS.”
“WE-OBEY!” The sound feed from the monitors implanted into the Daleks robotised servants filled the room with a rhythmic gobbling sound. The Emperor and the red Dalek listened for a while. The gobbling sound continued.
“ACTIVAAAAATE VISUAL FEED FROM THE ROBO-TURKEYS.” The Emperor ordered. The Red Dalek obeyed. A large oval wall-screen sprung to life. An image quickly filled it, a view from a foot or so above street level. They could clearly observe the hunched, blocky shape of Longtooth making his way through the snow that was falling heavily on Colony Blackpool, his large flared feet leaving clear tracks in the snow. They watched as he nodded his head in apology as he stepped out of the way of a woman pushing a large conveyance loaded with her two off-spring across the road. Longtooth stopped to help her to raise the conveyance up over the lip of the curve.
“THAT-IS-THE-SABOTEUR-LONG-TOOTH!” declared the red Dalek with malevolent hate, “I-WILL-ORDER-HIS-EXTERMINATION.”
“NOOOO,” the Emperor ordered, “DO NOT DESTROYYYY HIM. HE MUST BE CAPTURED AND INTERRORGATED.”
“I-OBEY,” the red Dalek turned its eyestalk slightly away from the Emperor, “DESPATCH-DALEK-SQUAD-TO-APPREHEND-LONG-TOOOTH.”
Down below, in the bowels of the Mayoral Tower, a squad of four Daleks swept down a ramp, the door at the bottom of the ramp folded upwards with a 'Ka-Turrrr' like sound and the Daleks pirouetted gracefully as they came out onto the street.
“LONG-TOOTH-IS-ON-NINTH-AVENUE. HEADING-TOWARDS-INTERSECTION-WITH-FIFTH-STREET. PURSUE AND APPREHEND.
“WE-OBEY” The Daleks headed off in pursuit of Longtooth, their casings ploughing deep furrows in the snow as they went.

An hour ago, in the solar space of Colony Blackpool:
The Dalek fighters charged towards Combat Deck at battle speed, rushing onwards at frightening velocity. On board the lead fighter the command pilot barked his orders to his squadron,
“ALL-SHIPS-PREPARE-GALACTIC-ROCKETS. FULL-BARRAAAGE!”
“WE-OBEY,” came the response. The fighters flew ever closer to Combat Deck.
“FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!” the squadron leader ordered. The fiery projectiles of the Galactic rockets leapt out from the wings of the Dalek fighters, speeding towards their prey like a shoal of ravenous Piranhas swarming through the black ocean of space. The Dalek squadron waited, confident that no ship built by an inferior species could possibly survive such a bombardment. The Galactic Rockets veered towards Combat Deck, swarms of counter-missiles leapt out to fend off the onrushing doom. Of those that survived that gauntlet, others were decoyed away by the false radar signals generated by the countermeasures equipment into which Roller was socketed during space combat. The rest of the rockets bored in towards Combat Deck, some being plucked out of space by its self-defence gun turret, but enough survived to land heavy impacts against the shielding. In his cockpit, the Dalek squadron leader observed that Optimus Prime's vessel had survived a barrage that would have destroyed even a Gedherim battle cruiser,
“ALL-VESSELS-CONTINUOUS-FIRE-CONTINUOUS-FIRE!” he ordered. A constant stream of Galactic Rocket fire roared outwards from the Dalek fighters.

On Combat Deck's bridge, Optimus Prime did not need his monitors and read-outs to tell him how serious the situation was. He could feel the rain of impacts against Deck's shielding. They could not take this pounding forever, but he did not want to be drawn into battle against the Dalek fighters. That was what they wanted, to delay him here and prevent him from reaching Colony Blackpool. He had to find a way to elude them, but what was there out here in the reaches of the system? He thought for a moment. He must have learned something from playing all the ancient video games Roller had insisted he practice on. Sometimes entertainments could provide the answers experience lacked. Hmmm, perhaps one of the space combat simulations might help concentrate his focus.
“Roller! Activate games mode. I need a space combat sim. Stat!”
The small drone chirruped several different options. The bridge rocked under the impact of heavy enemy fire.
“No, not Wing Commander IV!”
Roller swore violently. He was doing his best under trying circumstances.
“No, wait! R-TYPE! Fire up R-TYPE! Spectrum 128K version! Go go go!”
The games monitor flared to monochromatic life, the colour option having been damaged during the last assault. Blocky sprites clustered around the screen. Optimus raced through the game at high speed. Now, very satisfying but not quite what he needed. Just shooting at things would not save them and he had run out of power-ups... Ah ha! Lateral thinking!
The only objects close to his current location were a great cluster of asteroids gathered together in space by gravity, and the planet of Cykignis with its ever burning atmosphere. His decision was sudden and immediate.
“Combat Deck, change course towards Cykignis!” Optimus ordered. Deck made no bones about its feelings as to the tactical advisability of such a decisions. “I know Deck, but it is our only chance. Thank P.R.I.M.U.S. for video games. They never rotted my brain, despite the warnings.”

7: THE WAKING ALLY
Less than an hour ago, Colony Blackpool:
The Emperor and his red Dalek subordinate watched with interest the monitors from the robo-turkeys. The huge screen was split into small window, so they were able to watch the feed from multiple robo-turkeys at once, allowing them to monitor much of the city and to guide the Dalek patrol towards their target. Another robo-turkey marching in formation with the four Daleks allowed the Emperor to monitor their progress.
“THEY MUST INCREASE THEIR SPEEEED,” ordered the Emperor, “LONG TOOTH MUST NOT ESCAAAPE.”
“LONG-TOOTH-IS-NOW-ON-FIFTH-STREET! NEAR-WINDOW-OF-TOILETRIES-SHOP. INTERCEPT-AND-APPREHEND!”
“WE-OBEY,” chorused the patrol Daleks.
The Emperor and his subordinate watched the view from the robo-turkeys, listening as they did so to the unnatural gobble-gobble of their data transmissions.
“WARNING-LONG-TOOTH-NOW-TURNING-ONTO-EIGHTH-AVENUE.”
“WE-ARE-AT-FIFTH-STREET-MOVING-TO-CAPTURE”
“BEWAAARE,” the Emperor said, “LONG TOOTH IS ENTERING THE BAAAKERS ON EIGHTH AVENUE. CAAAPTURE HIM. AAAAT ONCE.”
“WE-OBEY”.
The Emperor and the red Dalek watched as Longtooth entered the Bakers, then the Red Dalek's eye stalk was drawn to the visual feed from one of the other robo-turkeys.
“ALERRRRT-LONG-TOOTH-NOW-EXITING-BUTCHERS-ON-TWELTH-AVENUE!”
“WE-UNDERSTAND. MOVING-TO-CAPTURE” The Patrol Daleks left deep impressions in the whiteness as they pivoted on the spot, heading back towards twelfth avenue.
“LONG-TOOTH-CROSSING TWELTH-AVENUE-TURNING-ONTO-SEVENTH-STREET.”
“AFFIRMATIVE” the Patrol Daleks turned again, to head down towards Seventh Street and cut Longtooth off.
“LONG-TOOTH-NOW-APPROACHING-ENTRANCE-TO-CANDLESTICK-MAKERS-ON-CORNER-OF-SEVENTH-STREET-AND-ELEVENTH-AVENUE.”
“WE-ARE-NEARBY. INCREASING SPEED!” The Patrol Daleks ploughed a furrow in the snow in their haste, throwing up low banks of snow along the line of their travel.
“ALL-MAG-LEV-TRAINS-ARE-RUNNING-ON-TIME! DALEK-TECHNOLOGY-HAS-MADE-THIS-POSSIBLE,” declared the public address system. Gobbling fiercely the robo-turkey following in the patrol's wake was forced to rely on much of the speed of its cybernetically enhanced legs to keep pace.
“WHAAAT IS THE STAAATUS OF THE FLEET'S ENGAAAAGEMENT WITH OPTI-MUS PRIME?” The Emperor asked. The Red Dalek's eyestalk swivelled vertically as it contacted Dalek Control.
“LAST-TRANSMISSION-STATED-THAT-THEY-WERE-ENGAGING-OPTIMUS-PRIME'S-VESSEL,“ he replied, “THE-DALEK-SUPREME-WAS-CONFIDENT-OF-HIS-DESTRUCTION.”
“THAAAT IS NOT CORRECT!” The Emperor cried, “ORDER HIM TO BREAK OFF HIS ATAAACK AT ONCE! IT IS IMPERITIVE THAAAAT OPTI-MUS PRIME MUST NOT BE DESTROYED.”
“I-OBEY,” the red Dalek looked skyward once more as he relayed the Emperors orders. On the viewscreen a Robo-turkey watched Longtooth enter the doorway of the Candle makers shop.


8: JOURNEY INTO TERROR
An hour ago, in the Flame belts of Cykignis:
Optimus Prime could feel the heat begin to penetrate Combat Deck's shielding. He was glad there were no humans on board as temperatures had already reached the level which would have been injurious to them. Outside, the burning atmosphere of Cykignis streamed around Combat Deck's hull – the volatile gases which made up this world had been ignited at one stage or another in its history, and as a result a perpetual belt of flame surrounded the planet, hot enough to melt the hull of any starship that was unlucky enough to chance into the atmosphere. Few were willing to plunge deliberately into the flame belts.
“I know, Deck. I know,” Optimus Prime agreed. For once he could find no cause for complaints with the Combat Deck's constant questioning of his orders. This was indeed a risky proposition. The Dalek fighters had not broken off their pursuit as he had hoped they would. Instead they were following him deep into the atmosphere. He would have to play out his plan to its eventual conclusion. It had seemed a good idea at the time but now doubts had begun to fester at the edges of his mind. He should ignore them. His era of self-doubting was far behind him now. “Bring the thermal shields to maximum and flood the coolant from the weapon systems over the hull,” he ordered. Dumping the coolant would make it impossible for Combat Deck to use his weapons, but the coolant slowly vaporising and escaping through the thermal shields should protect them from the worst of the heat and allow them to safely traverse the flame belts and elude the Dalek fighters. Theoretically.
Perhaps a tune might help soothe his nerves. Cybertronian music would not do. Far too harsh and militaristic. That just wasn't his style at all any more. He checked through his database of old Earth tunes and selected the theme tune from the children's television show 'Postman Pat'. He hummed along with the jaunty, pleasantly simple lyrics. He felt he could relate.
'Postman Pat, Postman Pat, Postman Pat and his black and white cat. All the birds are singing, and the day is just beginning. Pat feels he's a really happy man.'
The Autobots fell through the atmosphere, their enemies in close pursuit.

[The Doctor]

9: CORONAS OF THE SUN
Less than an hour ago, Colony Blackpool:
“ALERT. LONG-TOOTH-HAS-ENTERED-CANDLEMAKERS-SHOP,” the Red Dalek observed. The Patrol Daleks hurried to close in on the shop. Now was the time!
“WAIT,” the voice of the Emperor boomed out, “LONG TOOTH IS NOW OBSERVED AAAAT SEVENTH STREET.”
“HOW-IS-THIS-POSSIBLE? THE-TIEN-S'EL-NETWORK-PREVENTS-ALL-GRAVITIC-FLIGHT-AND-SPATIAL-AND-TEMPORAL-TRANSIT-SYSTEMS-FROM-OPERATING!”
“LONG TOOTH CLEARLY POSSESSES A SYSTEM THAT FUNCTIONS ON PRINCIPLES UNKNOWN TO THE DAAALEKS. IT IS IMPERITIVE HE BE CAPTURED SO THAAAAT WE CAN STUDY HIS TECHNOLOGY. IT SHALL BE USED TO AID THE DAAALEK CAUSE.”
“PATROL-DALEKS-PROCEED-TO-SEVENTEENTH-STREET-AND-APPREHEND-LONG-TOOTH!”
“WE-OBEY.” In their haste to obey their Emperor's orders the Patrol Daleks momentarily forgot that the weather conditions were not in their favour. Whilst three of them snap-turned through one-hundred and eighty degrees and sped of in the direction of Seventeenth Street, one of them overestimated the friction of the snow beneath him and instead of stopping at one-hundred-eighty degrees completed a full three-sixty and continued forward to collide with the fence of a nearby habitation.
“I-AM-UNDAMAGED!” it pre-empted enquiries from its fellows, “PROCEED-PROCEED-I-WILL-FOLLOW!”

Near the planet of Cykignis: Just under an hour ago:
The Dalek Supreme listened to the report from the leader of his fighter wing.
“OUR-HULL-TEMPERATURE-IS-APPROACHING-CRITICAL,” the squadron commander reported, “FURTHER-EXPOSURE-WILL-LEAD-TO-THE-DESTRUCTION-OF-OUR-VESSELS.”
“PURSUE-PURSUE! OPTI-MUS-PRIME-MUST-BE-DESTROYED!”
“OPTI-MUS-PRIME'S-VESSEL-NO-LONGER-APPEARS-ON-OUR-RANGER-SCOPES.HE-MUST-HAVE-BEEN-DESTROYED. EVEN-DALEK-VESSELS-CANNOT-SURVIVE-THIS-HEAT-MUCH-LONGER.WE-MUST-WITHDRAW.”
The Dalek Supreme considered this for a moment, “INFERIOR-TECHNOLOGY-IS-LESS-DURABLE-THAN-DALEK-TECHNOLOGYYYY. OPTI-MUS-PRIME'S-VESSEL-WILL-NOT-BE-ABLE-TO-SURVIVE-THE-FLAMEBELTS. FIGHTERS-WILL-WITHDRAW-AND-REGROUP.”
“WE-OBEY.”
The Dalek Supreme was enraged. Though the enemy had been vanquished, it had been more difficult than it should have been. Somehow, some way, this must be the work of the Doc-Tor! There was no other possible explanation. Opti-mus Prime must have been helped by him. Would be never be free of the meddling Time Lord? But no matter! The power of the Daleks would one day destroy the Doc-tor. The Dalek Supreme would rejoice at the death of his most hated enemy. One day!
“INCREASE-SCANNING-FOR-THE-DOC-TOR! HE-MUST-BE-FOUND-AND-EXTERMINATED!”

Less than an hour ago, the tunnels beneath Colony Blackpool:
Deaths Head hauled himself up another rung on the seemingly endless ladder. Alongside him stretched the elongated mass of the thermal potential generator. He had been at this for quite some time.
“Still think this plan is bad,” Deaths Head observed.
“It is ideal, chum! By now the Daleks will be spread across the city, and their headquarters will be almost empty. The perfect opportunity for us to sneak in. I spent ages working this out.”
“No, mean going in this way. Still think we should have gone in the front door, yes?”
“No, no, no! There are Daleks on guard at the front door, you see.”
“So shoot Daleks at doors then go up one floor at a time, deal with rest. No problem.”
“We need to do this without shooting at anyone if we possibly can,” Longtooth shook his head.
“Why?”
“Because,” Longtooth began, “because that's the way it is.”
“Hmm. Bad idea, sentiment. Bad for business.”
“You don't understand this at all,” Longtooth replied, “oh, watch that rung! It's is a bit loose. I don't want anything to happen to you, my good friend.” Longtooth's warning came too late, as the rung tore loose from the ladder under Deaths Heads weight, sending him plummeting down the dank shaft. His scream sounded especially bitter.

10: FLASHPOINT
Near the planet of Cykignis, Just under an hour ago:
Optimus Prime felt the heat begin to abate as Combat Deck exited from the flame belts back into space. It would take a while for the on-board systems to dissipate all the heat, but Combat Deck's new outer hullform had proven its worth. Prime was thankful for a moment for the ancient art of Die-cast construction, until he remembered how it was constructed. Hmmm.
“We need to get back on course for Colony Blackpool, Deck,” Prime observed. Deck suggested a dangerous, least time course that would take them right through the densest part of the asteroid cluster. He appeared particularly excited at the possibility. Prime asked Roller but he was busy reading a book. “Agreed, I suppose.” Optimus nodded. The time for caution had passed, now was a time for courage and for risk. A wire in his left elbow burst and popped. Damn it. He wasn't getting any younger.

On board the Dalek Flagship, the Dalek Supreme watched his monitors in what, in a lesser species, might have been dismay. It was indeed dismay but he wasn't going to acknowledge the emotion. It just wasn't the way of the species.
“THE-THRICE-CURSED-OPTI-MUS-PRIME-HAS-SURVIIIIVED! ORDER-FIGHTERS-TO-PURSUE-AND-DESTROY!”
“FIGHTERS-TOO-DAMAGED-TO-OVERTAKE-OPTIMUS-PRIME'S-VESSEL,” one of his grey subordinates informed him from the very back of the bridge.
“DEPLOY-THE-BATTLE-CRUISERS! OPTI-MUS-PRIME-MUST-NOT-ESCAPE-US! DESTROY-HIM-AAAT-OOOOONCE! AND-FIND-THE-DOC-TORRRRRRRRR! HE-MUST-BE-DESTROYYYYED!”


11: THE END OF TOMORROW
Less than an hour ago, the tunnels beneath Colony Blackpool:
Deaths Head hooked his leg over one of the lower runs, arresting his plunge but at the cost of leaving himself dangling head down in the endless-seeming shaft. He watched the attachments from the quiver slung over his back dwindle in the darkness, their polished metal glinting as they tumbled. Axe, mace, rockets and sundry other weapons falling down into the dark. Very aggravating. He gripped onto the pistol grip of his rifle grimly. He was not going to lose that into the bargain. Might need it to take care of employer, yes?
“DH! DH, my good chum! Are you alright?” Longtooth asked, “Golly, it is a long way down.”
“Fine,” Deaths Head replied curtly, hauling himself back to an upright position on the ladder. To himself he added 'nice collection. Took a long time. Worth more than you are paying Longtooth.'

Less than an forty-five minutes ago. Colony Blackpool:-
The Daleks hurtled towards the candlestick makers. Their headlong dash through the snow disturbed the whiteness covering the ground, throwing it back into the air to drift down once more in the wake like a scene in many quaint picture cards. The three Patrol Daleks were almost on top of their target, with the fourth member of their squad still lagging a considerable distance behind them on Twelfth Avenue.
The Emperor and the Red Dalek watched as the troops approached the Candlestick makers. The Daleks smartly deployed in a semi-circle around the doorway. But before they could move, an urgent gobbling from one of the other Robo-turkeys drew the Emperors attention to another screen.
“ALERRRT. LONG TOOTH IS NOW ON TWELTH AVENUE. EXITING THE SHOW FABRICATORRRS RELOCATE AND AAAPREHEND.” The Patrol Daleks turned swiftly to obey, but Twelfth Avenue was a long way behind them. Could they get there before Long Tooth was able to disappear again? It would be close.
The Emperor watched on as Long Tooth made his way down Twelfth Avenue, crossing from one side of the street to the other. He was just about to enter the doorway of another shop – surely to translocate elsewhere – when something fast entered the robo-turkeys field of vision. A streak of grey, trailing a plume of snow behind it, collided with Longtooth. The insurgent fell into the thick snow, which fortunately cushioned his fall, whilst the Patrol Dalek came to a sudden Longtooth-assisted stop. He remained motionless for a moment, his eyestalk fixed on Longtooth.
“DO-NOT-MOVE-DO-NOT-MOVE-DO-NOT-MOOOOVE!” he ordered, “YOU ARE-MY-PRISONER!” Under the guidance of the Red Dalek, a robo-turkey moved in for a better view of the prisoner. Gobble. Gobble. Gobble. Clearly visible in the robo-turkey's field of vision was the torn cardboard and bubble-wrap where the Dalek's sucker-arm had collided with “Longtooth”.

12: THE ORDEAL
In the asteroid cluster between Cykignis and Colony Blackpool. Forty-minutes ago:
Combat Deck excitedly slalomed between the two largest asteroids within his field of vision. Annoyingly, they hadn't anticipated that the Dalek battlecruisers would follow them in here. The large ships didn't have Deck's manoeuvrability. Nevertheless, the Dalek ships had followed, their weapons pulverising the asteroids with the utmost ferocity as they neared them. If things stayed as they were then inevitably they would catch up to Combat Deck. But the plan didn't call for things to stay quite as they were...
As Combat Deck looped around the rear face of one of the asteroids, two small objects broke away from its hull, impacting on the surface of the asteroid. Deck's weapons might be off-line, but the seismic survey charges would do the job with satisfyingly destructive results. The charges detonated, fragmenting the asteroid into a cloud of pieces heading off at very diverse vectors. They struck other asteroids, fragmenting them in turn. The pursuing battle cruisers realised the danger they were in and redoubled their efforts to destroy the asteroids with their weapons. However ,their near-constant fire only worsened the situation. Asteroid fragment struck asteroid fragment struck asteroid, shattering and disturbing until the cluster was an almost solid wall of rock and ice. 'Hot damn!' thought Combat Deck. This was much, much more like it. Prime could take his 'diplomatic' missions and go hang.

On his command ship, the Dalek Supreme listened to the reports. He was not best pleased by what his subordinates were telling him. He had not had to put up with this level of incompetency back on New New New New New New New New Skaro.
“WE-ARE-THE-MAAASTERS-OF-SPACE! WE-ARE-THE-MAAASTERS-OF-SPACE!” screeched the Dalek Supreme as the Dalek from the back of the Bridge rolled forwards towards him, gunstick drooped.
“I-HAVE-FAILED-THE-DALEK-SUPREME! I-HAVE-FAILED! I-HAVE-FAILED!” Smoke billowed from its casing as its' top spun round erratically. “AAAAAAH! AAAAAH! OUT-OF-CONTROL! OUT-OF-CONTROL!” There was a dull thud as the Dalek exploded. The Bridge remained silent for several moments, punctuated only by the deep throbbing of computer equipment. Finally, the Dalek Supreme broke the silence: “REPORRRRT!”
“BATTLE-CRUISERS-SEVERELY-DAMAGED. ASTEROIDS-ALSO-BLOCKING-SENSORS. THEY-ARE-UNABLE-TO-EFFECTIVELY-PURSUE-OPTI-MUS-PRIME,” reported the furthest way subordinate.
“THEY-MUST-PURSUE!” roared their leader. “OPTI-MUS-PRIME-MUST-NOT-BE-PERMITTED-TO-APPROACH-COLONY-BLACKPOOL!”
“FURTHER-PURSUIT-WILL-LEAD-TO-DESTRUCTION-OF-BATTLECRUISERS.”
“IRRELEVANT! OPTI-MUS-PRIME-MUST-BE-MADE-TO-UNDERSTAND-THE-LAW-OF-THE-DALEKS! PURSUE-AND-DESTROY!”
“INCOMING-MESSAGE-FROM-IMPERIAL-COMMAND,” another grey subordinate reported.
“PROCEED.”
“COMMUNICATIONS-STILL-DISRUPTED. MESSAGE-DECRYPTS-AS: [.....]ATTACK-AT-ONCE. IMPERATIVE-OPTI-MUS PRIME- [....]-DESTROYED.” The Dalek Supreme pondered the message for a moment,
“MOVE-THIS-VESSEL-TO-INTERCEPT-OPTI-MUS-PRIME. HOLD-FIRE-TO-POINT-BLANK-RANGE. WE-WILL-DESTROY-HIM.” His subordinates hurried to carry out his commands. A chant went up amongst them as they did so,
“WE-WILL-DESTROY-OPTI-MUS-PRIME. DESTROY-ANNIHILATE-DESTROY-EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINAAAAATE!”
“AND-DEATH-TO-THE-DOC-TORRRR!” chimed in the Dalek Supreme unexpectedly. There was the briefest of pauses before the troops joined in.
“DEATH-TO-THE-DOC-TOR! DEATH-TO-THE-DOC-TOR! DEATH-TO-THE-DOC-TOR!”

13: THE SURVIVORS
Twenty-minutes ago: The basement of the Mayoral tower, Colony Blackpool. It sat there, squalid upon the land, a mangled nightmare of bad taste augmented by alien minds.
Deaths Head looked at the machinery sitting at the top of the thermal bore: it didn't seem to fit what he had seen of the design aesthetic of Colony Blackpool. Too squat and brutally efficient. Yet it seemed as if someone had tried to do something to make it fit in with the spirit of the season. A great forest of multicoloured strands emerged from the top of the machine. Red, gold, silver, blue and green spreading out like the multicoloured roots of an inverted tree. Almost as if this machine had been put right at the centre of the web-work of decorations that now stretched across Colony Blackpool. Deaths Head tapped his foot impatiently as he tried to cover the whole of the room with his single gun. Tap-tap-tap.
“Finished?” he asked, “need to get moving. Lots of Daleks to kill. Yes?” Longtooth, his head invisible somewhere within the innards of the machine did not immediately respond. When he did his voice echoed back through the open access panel,
“How interesting! This is very odd indeed.”
“So you know what it does?” Deaths Head asked.
“Ah, not really, no,” Longtooth replied. There was a clanging noise as if something had been dropped, “oops. Butterfingers!”
“Hurry up, yes?” Deaths Head insisted. “Bad idea to be caught down here, no cover and poor options for retreat. Does not suit my mood, yes?”
“Just a moment,” Longtooth extracted himself from the innards of the machine and contentiously replaced the access panel, “all ready now, DH.”
'No, can't kill him yet' reminded the freelance peace-keeping agent to himself. Cautiously, he opened the rooms only door and whipped out into the corridor, his gun tracking left and right along its length. Longtooth sauntered through the door whistling a jaunty tune of an indeterminate nature.
“Left or right, do you think?” he asked. Deaths Head was about to respond when suddenly two Daleks appeared at one end of the corridor, weapons primed for death.
“DO-NOT-MOVE-DO-NOT-MOOOVE!” their voices echoed from the walls. Deaths Head and Longtooth heard a noise from behind them. They risked a glance over their shoulders, only to see a further two Daleks at the other end of the corridor. They were badly out-numbered. Longtooth picked at a jagged tooth worriedly.
“Stay down,” Deaths Head ordered, “job for a professional. Yes?” He had calculated the odds and knew that this would work. Two quick shots ahead and then spin around to take out the Daleks behind. They would all be destroyed before the casing fragments from the first landed on the floor. It would be like shooting Sharkticons in an aquarium, which was something he hadn't done but had often imagined and looked forward to doing in his retirement. His finger tightened on the trigger, ready to send laser death searing down the corridor towards the Daleks.
CLICK.
That wasn't right. Deaths Head tried again.
CLICK.
That definitely wasn't right. He looked down at his gun.
“YOUR-WEAPONS-WILL-NOT-FUNCTION. YOU-ARE-OUR-PRISONERS! One of the Daleks grated, a note of triumph in its voice.
Deaths Head's eyebrows shot up simultaneously. This wasn't in the script.

14: THE EXECUTIONERS
Twenty five Minutes ago, Near the orbit of Colony Blackpool:
Optimus Prime stepped carefully along Combat Deck's outer hull. The magnetic adhesion system in his feet would keep him securely attached to the cold surface, so long as he was cautious and didn't do anything foolish. This was not the wisest time to be outside the ship, but if the damage the thermal shields had taken from traversing the flame belts, and the damage to the sensors caused by asteroid impact were not repaired, then they would not be able to survive re-entry to the atmosphere of Colony Blackpool. Therefore the work had to be done. How hard could it be? Roller had plenty of such simulations in his video game library.
In his left hand, Optimus clutched the stubby cylinder of a self-contained plasma cutting torch. Fortunately he had not needed it, as the access panels had not been, as he feared that they might, fused shut. He bent to his task. There was much to do and little time to do it in. No reason why he couldn't try to relax while he did it though. He contacted Roller and asked for a suitable Earth track. He tapped his free hand against his thigh in time to the Amy Winehouse track selected. Wow, Roller really knew how to pick the appropriate tracks.
'They tried to make me go to rehab. I said no, no, no. Yes I been black, but when I come back. You wont know, know, know.'

Twenty-four minutes ago, the bridge of the Dalek Supreme's command ship:
The Dalek Supreme watched with festering hatred as Optimus Prime's ship drew closer and closer. He seemed to be making no attempt to evade them. Fool! Legends of Optimus Prime's military prowess went hand-in-hand with tales of his witless moralising and preaching to 'the high ground'. The Dalek Supreme hated him for it. How could the ultimate victory of the Daleks be denied? They were clearly the superior race. It would be to the benefit of all races that they come under the control of the Dalek Empire. For then there would be peace!
They were already in weapons range, but he had ordered that there was to be no firing without his order. This time there were to be no mistakes. Prime would be destroyed, and with him, the Doctor! Nothing could prevent the catharsis of spurious morality!
“PREPARE-THE-SUPER-LASER” The Dalek Supreme ordered. His crew transferred power to the massive laser cannon, mounted to point straight down from the centre of the vessels dorsal side. Mostly it was used for intimidating the inhabitants of planets targeted for conquest. It was refreshing how quickly resistance ceased once you had blasted a few governmental buildings into smoking craters in the ground. This time it would serve nicely to obliterate Optimus Prime totally. The Emperor would be pleased and would reward the Dalek Supreme greatly, bring him closer within the sphere of power, and then...

Twenty-three minutes ago Colony Blackpool, the Mayoral Tower:
His name was Norman, and he sincerely hoped that Optimus Prime would be returning soon. The Daleks had rounded him up when they had first landed on Colony Blackpool. Although they had held him for a while they had concluded that his only value lay in his connection to Optimus. They had decided that in himself he represented no-threat-to-Dalek-plans, and whilst they had forbidden him from leaving the Mayoral Tower they had not imprisoned him or otherwise restricted his accesses. Norman had taken advantage of that. Now he slipped quietly into a small cupboard-sized room on the third floor. He quickly found the control panel he was looking for. The security system for the Mayoral Tower was still the original humanian system. The Daleks had not yet installed one of their own, preferring to rely on their robo-turkeys, which were out patrolling the streets. Norman punched a four digit code into the security system, and watched a light change from one colour to another. He hoped this would all be worth it. It had been decades since he had last seen Prime. Hopefully his memories had not been too tinged with nostalgia.

[The Doctor]

15: ESCAPE SWITCH
Fifteen minutes ago, near the orbit of Colony Blackpool:
Optimus Prime saw it at the corner of the field of view of his optic: the unmistakeable form of a Dalek spacecraft bearing down on them, intent upon their destruction. He had been so focussed on the music that he hadn't noticed it before, and until the sensors were back on line Combat Deck was flying functionally blind. The Dalek ship loomed over them, so close he could virtually touch its hull. He would never be this close again...
“Deck, maximum acceleration!” Prime ordered. He threw up his hands as if to shield his cranial unit as Combat Deck's massive engines came to life. In his haste and surprise, Optimus had forgotten the cutter he held in his left hand. He accidentally triggered the activation stud as he raised his hand as a bright blade of contained plasma leapt out above his head. The cutters blade sliced into the hull of the Dalek ship like a heated knife cutting into a butter-curl, slicing through hull-metal and power conduits alike in Deck's swift flight beneath the Dalek ship. The Super-laser (what a great name, mused Prime) cut out, severed from its power source, sparing Combat Deck its fury. As Optimus struggled to regain his equilibrium, and deactivate the fusion cutter, the Dalek ship sailed majestically by.
But not unscathed. The lower hull peeled neatly away, taking the floor out from underneath the Dalek crew, as it's two pieces departed to Port and Starboard. With no floor or artificial gravity to restrain them the Daleks found themselves drifting down out of the vessel like a rain of small colourful parcels.
The Dalek Supreme swivelled his eyestalk first to the receding form of Combat Deck, then to the upper shell of his spacecraft, then finally back to Combat Deck. This was beyond imagining.
Optimus turned to face his now fast receding opponent. He gave a little wave.
“ALL-DALEKS-PURSUE! PURSUE-AND-EXTERMINATE-OPTI-MUS-PRIME!”
“WE-ARE-TOO-SLOW-IN-FREE-FLIGHT-MODE,” his subordinate observed, “WE-WILL-BE-UNABLE-TO-OVERTAKE-HIM.”
“DO-NOT-QUESTION-THE-ORDERS-OF-THE-DALEK-SUPREME! OBEY! OBEY!” The Dalek Supreme inwardly seethed. He quickly reoriented himself in space and began to fly through space at the best speed his casing would carry him. There were times when the Dalek objective could best be achieved if he just did it himself. With his crew massed behind him, he pursued Colony Blackpool's defender doggedly, if at a less breakneck velocity, towards the planet. For there, Prime would meet his doom. And so would his accomplice, the Doc-Tor!

16:THE FEAST OF STEVEN
Fourteen minutes ago, the Mayoral Tower of Colony Blackpool, the Imperial Command Chamber:
“MORE-STUFFING?” the red Dalek enquired.
“No, that's quite alright,” Longtooth replied. Deaths Head stared down at the plate that was spread before him, groaning with roast turkey, stuffing, potatoes, sprouts and assorted festive trimmings. A plate much like each of those in front of Longtooth and the members of the Mayoral Council whom the Daleks had ensured where seated around the table with them. Xi'an, the head of her Longtooth costume removed, sat at the far end of the table with a downcast look on her face despite the feast that was spread before them. She picked at a few items.
“GRA-VYYY?” One of the grey Daleks rumbled past behind him, a gravy boat firmly attached to his sucker arm.
“Should have killed us while you had chance, yes?” Deaths Head replied.
“Now now,” Longtooth said, “that isn't a very polite way to address our hosts. Who after all have been very solicitous. Small beautiful things like that are probably what life should be about, eh? I read that in a book once, back on the front lines on Cybertron. I often got the job of guarding the trenches and there wasn't a lot to do in them you, other than read books. Though there was often stuff lying about to make things with. There was that time during the Battle of Solindun that I made some hand puppets of Straxus and -”
“THE DAAALEKS CAN BE GENEROUS,” the Emperor's booming voice echoed around the chamber, “WE WISH THE LEADERS OF COLONY BLAAACKPOOL TO UNDERSTAND WE CAN REWARD OUR FRIENDS JUST AS HARDHLY AS WE DEAL WITH OUR ENEMIES.”
“Good policy,” Deaths Head observed, “although rewards better not shared.”
“I'm surprised that you haven't exterminated us already,” Longtooth observed, “after all, that's what you usually do to enemies-of-the-Daleks.”
“YOU-WILL-BE-EXTERMINATED-AT-THE-PROPER-TIIIIME!” The Red Dalek interjected.
“YOU ARE MERELY A DISTRACTION. LONG TOOTH,” the Emperor explained, “YOU WILL LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO OBSERVE THE DESTRUCTION OF THE TRUE ENEMY, OPTI-MUS PRIIIIME.”
“Really? Oh darn. A lot of people have said that before you know, and he is rather difficult to destroy. Well not difficult as such. He has appeared to die quite a bit but really he just gets terribly unwell a lot of the time.”
“THIS PLAAAANET HAS BEEN PREPAAAARED AS A TRAP FOR HIIIIIM. HE WILL LAND HERE AND THEN THE DALEK FORCES UNDER THE COMMAND OF THEDALEK SUPREME WHO ARE SHADOWING HIM HROUGH SPACE WILL ARRIVE BEHIND HIIIIIM AND CUT OFF HIS RETREAT. A DEVIOUSLY CLEVER PLAN. ONLY THE DAAAALEK RACE HAS SUCH AMBITION.”
“Still difficult to kill. Might fight his way here, puts you at serious risk.” Deaths head observed. “Then you go 'boom-boom-bye-bye'. I shed tear then go.”
“His weapons will not function any more than yours did.”
“Golly, but that seems like a bit of an optimistic assumption.” Longtooth scratched at his elongated right tooth. It was itching him terribly and he'd left his spare can of WD-40 at home.
“DALEK-TECHNOLOGY-IS-SUPERIOR. THE-TIEN-S'EL-NETWORK-WILL-RENDER-HIS-WEAPONS-USELESS!”
“The Tinsel?” Xi'an asked.
“THE TIEN S'EL NETWORK,” declaimed the Emperor, “IS A PRODUCT OF DALEK TECHNOLOGY. WE HAVE ESTABLISHED ITS STRAAANDS ALL ACROSS YOUR CITY, DRAWING POWER FROM THE MANETIC POTENTIAL OF YOUR WORLD. IT'S RADIOACTIVE FIELD WILL RENDER ALL WEAPONRY INEFFECTIVE.”
Then all present heard a sound rarely ever heard by a living soul: the laughter of the Emperor of the Daleks. It bored down deep within the subsonic frequencies and rebounded all over the walls. It was like the wailing of a thousand starving children.
Deaths Head coughed and looked at his boots.
“But then you won't be able to exterminate him,” Xi'an observed, steering the conversation back. Longtooth nodded at her with a grin. His face promptly fell, however, as the Red Dalek declared proudly,
“DALEK-TECHNOLOGY-IS-SUPERIOR! OUR-SYSTEMS-ARE-SHIELDED!”
“OPTI-MUS PRIME WILL BE HELPLESS BEFORE OUR MIIIIGHT. HE WILL LEARN THAT THE FATE OF ALL ENEMIES OF THE DAAALEKS IS THE SAME – EXTERMINATION.” Longtooth listened as the echoes of the Emperor's voice faded. Then he stood up and took a step away from the table, towards the Imperial Casing. He looked sternly at both Emperor and Red Dalek.
“Then there's one thing you have to realise,” he told them, “Optimus Prime isn't the only hero on Colony Blackpool, you know. He isn't the only brave sentient who won't be bossed around by you, by jove! The people of Colony Blackpool are humans, and humans are one of my favourite species. They don't laugh at me half as often as the Autobots did, and that means more than you'll ever know. They'll stand up to you even if you destroy me and Optimus Prime. They'll stand up to you and in the end they'll win. The only way you can take over Colony Blackpool is if you killed every living person on the planet.”
'Payment of fee not looking likely. Wonder if Daleks hiring?' Deaths Head thought to himself. Two Daleks glided by either side of Longtooth, boxing him in between them and the Red Dalek.
“WE-WILL-DESTROY-ALL-WHO-RESIST-THE-DALEKS! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! FIRE! FIRE!”
“FIRE! FIRE!” chorused the other two Daleks. All three Daleks activated their ray-guns aimed directly at Longtooth. No rays were forthcoming.
“FIRE! FIRE!” the Red Dalek ordered again. The three Daleks opened fire again, with much the same lack of results. “THIS-IS-NOT-POSSIBLE! DALEK-TECHNOLOGY-IS-SUPERIOR! THIS-CANNOT-BE!”
“Having a problem with your Tien S'El?” Longtooth asked. He nodded to Deaths Head, who snatched something up from the table and hurled it through the air. The object hurtled through space with unerring accuracy, impacting with deadly precision on its target. The mince pie slammed straight into the eyestalk of one of the grey Daleks, wedging firmly onto the front of mechanism,.
“MY-VISION-IS-IMPAIRED! MY-VISION-IS-IMPAIRED! I-CANNOT-SEE! EMERGENCY!” The Dalek warned his fellows, even as he rotated rapidly on the spot, his sucker arm jerking and waving as he tried in vain to wipe the mincemeat and pasty from his vision. A grey Dalek hurled the gravy boat in Deaths Head's direction. He dodged as the china flew past, but the slick of gravy made the floor slippery and his feet slipped out from under him, sending him skating and slipping to the floor. He cursed sharply.
'Undignified, yes?' he thought as his metal cranium impacted with the floor. Longtooth dodged past the outstretched suckers of two Daleks, diving for the long table. One of the Daleks charged speedily towards him. Longtooth quickly snatched up a jug of brandy sauce and poured it out onto the floor. The Dalek hit the brandy sauce and, unable to check its progress, shot across the floor and through a door out into the corridor as Longtooth gurned in triumph. Xi'an and the members of the Mayoral Council swiftly got the hang of things and suddenly flying food was everywhere. Stuffing caked Dalek eye-stalks, blinding them. A rain of chippolatta sausages propelled at high speed by a Dalek sucker arm forced Xi'an to take shelter behind one of the chairs. But the Dalek was soon distracted in turn by the large tier of Christmas Cake slammed down over its head.
The Emperor Dalek watched the spreading chaos from its lofty vantage point. A projectile of nut-roast bounced harmlessly from the Dalekanium armour of its casing, impacting messily on the polished floor.
“THIS IS YOUR EMPEROR SPEAKING! DO NOT FIGHT IN HERE! DO NOT FIGHT IN HERE!” The Emperor declared, “DAAALEKS, RE-ESTABLISH ORDER AT ONCE!”
“MORE-PLUM-PUDDING!” grated one of the grey Daleks, hurling a bowl full of the heavy, flavourful substance at Xi'an. She ducked and the pudding carried onwards. Deaths Head was just getting back to his feet when the pudding struck him squarely in the face, sending him straight back down. He said something, but his vocoder was clogged with plum pudding and his exact words remained a mystery, though did contain several sharp syllables.
“DALEKS-REGROUP-AND-RESTORE-ORDER!”the Red Dalek ordered. One of the sets of double doors was thrown open, but it wasn't Dalek reinforcements that were silhouetted in the doorway.
“Enough, Daleks! Your reign of terror over Colony Blackpool must end!” declared Norman. Behind him were the distinctive shapes of three Longtooths.
“Rod, Jacques, Frederick!” Longtooth called happily to them. “I'm so glad to see you! All of you are an important part of my life!”
“We thought you might need a hand,” one of the Longtooths replied, waving curtly.
“The more the merrier, Jacques. The more the merrier! Daleks: come and have a go if you think you're hard enough! Come on! I'll get you! I'll show you!”
The Longtooths charged into the fray. Eyestalks clogged with stuffing and plum pudding, sliding all over the suddenly treacherous floor, it was clear that the Daleks were losing the initiative. Something had to be done.
“DEPLOY THE ROBO-TURKEYS TO RESTORE ORDER!” boomed the Emperor. A door opened and the sound of massed gobbling could be heard. A phalanx of robo-turkeys, glistening cybernetics attached to them, marched into the room in lockstep. The robo-turkey at the head of the phalanx regarded the Emperor Dalek with an unblinking eye, tilting its head to the left. “END THIS CHAOS! OBEY THE WILL OF THE DAAALEKS!” the Emperor ordered.
“LET NONE OPPOSE OUR DESTINYYYY!”
“Gobble. Gobble,” replied the lead robo-turkey. At an unspoken signal, the robo-turkeys took flight, distributing themselves around the room and entering the melee with wild abandon...but not on the side of the Daleks. Beset by this new setback, the Daleks plight became more desperate by the second. Xi'an and Frederick crept up behind one and shoved it firmly into the broom closet. It squawked in muffled rage. The Dalek tried to turn around, only to discover that it's sucker arm meant it did not have enough room to turn, and it could not back up far enough to ram the door open. This was not possible!
“You see,” Longtooth paused, looking up at the Emperor, “even your robo-turkeys are free! They have turned against you. You're beaten, Emperor! You have lost! Now obey the will of the Longtooth!”
The Emperor of the Daleks did not reply.

Three point five minutes ago, in low orbit of Colony Blackpool, a figure of rage screamed against the night.
“DALEK-SUPREME-TO-EMPEROR! DALEK-SUPREME-TO-EMPEROR!” The Dalek Supreme reported, “WE-ARE-IN-PURSUIT-OF-OPTI-MUS-PRIME-BUT-UNABLE-TO-ENTER-ATMOSPHERE. WE-WILL REMAIN-HERE-TO-CUT-OFF-HIS-RETREAT. WE-SHALL-PREVAIL! WE-SHALL-PREVAIL!”

Three point four five minutes ago, the Mayoral Tower of Colony Blackpool:-
“........against you. You're beaten, Emperor! You have lost! Now obey the will of the Longtooth!”
The Emperor of the Daleks glared at the former Autobot balefully with his unblinking eyestalk. Although Longtooth and his insurgents were equally as caked in pudding and dinner, he could plainly see that few of his Daleks were holding their own in the chamber, and now this news from his Dalek Supreme. They were not ready to fight a battle on two fronts at this time. That had been why the Supreme had been ordered to delay Optimus Prime's arrival until all was in readiness. His failure to do so had cost them dear. There would be words later.
“YOU HAVE MERELY DELAYED THE DALEK STRATEGEM. THERE IS NO VICTORY FOR YOU HERE, LONG TOOTH. MERELY A DELAY IN YOUR EXTERMINAAATION. THE DALEK EMPIRE IS FOREVERRRR.”
“I think not! It ends here and now! You can't get away, Emperor!”
“AAAACTIVATE EMERGENCY TELEPORTATION!” the Emperor ordered. A thin blue-glow encapsulated the Emperor and all of his fellow Daleks. The emergency teleporter on board the Imperial Command Ship surrounded them and whisked them quickly and cleanly off the planets surface. A projectile of Plum Pudding thudded to the floor – it would have been right on target if its target hadn't been whisked swiftly away.
Deaths Head finally clambered to his feet, wiping the sticky mass of Plum Pudding from his optics. He looked around at the sticky mess covering every available surface. What a waste. There should have been another way. Still glancing around, he saw robo-turkeys, humans and Longtooths aplenty. But....“Where are the Daleks?” he asked, long since having had enough of this situation and this planet. Forget weapons, he was going to disassemble a Dalek with his one two ha.....
“They've all gone. I think we won,” sighed the one true Longtooth, almost sadly. Deaths Head glowered. He wanted a gun at that moment almost more than he had at any point since arriving on the planet.

[The Doctor]

17: FLIGHT THROUGH ETERNITY
“Well my good chum, thank you so much for all your help,” Longtooth said in a tone pitched just a tad too highly. Deaths Head just glowered at him. “Really,” Longtooth added, “I'm so glad that you were around to help out...and there's something I just have to do. Come here you big lug!”
Deaths Head cried out in anguish as Longtooth embraced him in a fierce bear hug. “You're gonna love the statue we're making of you, DH!”
“Forgetting something, yes?” Deaths Head tried to raise himself up an inch or two after extricating himself, without making it obvious that he was trying to loom a bit more.
“Oh yes, of course,” from some unseen location Longtooth produced a huge red sack, it's top trimmed with white fur, “your payment. I didn't forget you see. Not for you, bestest buddy!” He passed the sack over to Deaths Head, who opened it and peered within it. He was satisfied with what he saw – the sack was filled to brimming with sizeable golden coins recognised by most sensible official and non-official financial establishments.
“Now, that's just the down-payment. There is lots more that we'll deliver to you once we sort you out with transport off-world. We wouldn't want to burden you with it all at once. Bad for the teeth.” Longtooth explained. Deaths Head wasn't listening to him. He had turned and started to walk away down the corridor, toting his sack with him. He had gone a few steps when a thought struck him. Stopping, he put the sack down on the ground. He took out one of the coins and examined it. There, he was right. There was a seam line around the edge of the coin. Carefully he peeled it open, the two halves of the coin parting like a veneer of metal foil to reveal.... He held the shape to the chemical receptors in his head. There was no mistaking the sickly stench. Cocoa Mass, Butter Solids and a little bit of whey. Deaths Head looked at his promised big bag of coins, then back up the corridor where Longtooth had already disappeared to rejoin the combination victory party/clean-up operation. If his face could have become any more cold and steely then it would have done so, as it was he grimaced,
“Longtooth, be watching your back. Business not finished between us, yes? Because -”
Deaths Head never finished his sentence as he promptly stepped into the fuzzy pool of time energy left behind from his earlier trip through time and space. 'Bloody typical' he thought sharply as he was ripped through the aeons. It really was rather painful without a time capsule. His world turned inside out and sharply to the left.
Finally, after a period of time that was impossible to measure, his vision flared violently back into colour as he was thrust screaming on to the dusty surface of another world, another time. “Uh...not on Blackpool any more, yes?”
He had landed on his knees. He groped forward for a hand-hold to lift himself up in his disorientated state. He felt something that was like an enormous platform shoe.
Deaths Head looked up. He had touched the left-foot of a towering 14-foot tall being. Part man, part beast, it swayed its arms majestically like that of a dancer. Covered in matted dark fur with a short skirt being its only garb, it was a mighty sight. Red eyes burned fiercely beneath twin protruding yellow horns. Three similar beings stood behind it. Large egg-like objects were scattered on the ground beyond.
“We are the Nimon!” growled the being directly in front of Deaths Head. “You have dared to come to our world and interrupted the great journey of life! You must be destroyed! ROARRRRR!”
“ROARRRRRR!” agreed the three other Nimon.
'Here we go again, yes?' thought the downed free-lance peacekeeping agent.

18: THE RESCUE
Longtooth paused, mop hovering over the bucket. He sensed something, just outside... Optimus Prime strode in through the door, the robo-turkey leader perched on the shoulder of the giant Autobot.
“Longtooth, it has been a long time,” Prime observed. Longtooth shed his walrus-tusked Pretender shell and grew to the full-size of his Autobot form. He only felt like shedding his outward form around other Cybertronians, which was ironic given how much he had been derided by them for being different over the years. He never had quite understood why he had been different.
“Since the battle of Iacon's Shadow,” he replied. Optimus extended his hand to Longtooth, who clasped it firmly, much more firmly than at any similar period in the past.
“Naturally, I feared the worst,” Prime said, “but I should not have. From what I have heard Colony Blackpool was left in safe hands.” The Robo-turkey hopped from Prime's shoulder down to the shoulder of Longtooth's Pretender shell, where it perched on the shoulder next to the suits patched eye,
“Gobble, Gobble.” it observed.
“It wasn't just me, Optimus. Everyone played their part, everyone had something to contribute. It was all of us. Together,” Longtooth declared. “Together we're stronger.” It seemed a nice idea.
“Not sure my other two selves would quite agree with you, but a fine sentiment nonetheless. They're not staying with me, you know: Combat Deck and Roller. They wish to, ah, 'stretch their wings'. It would appear that I find myself alone again.”
“Gosh, no! Not alone. I think I'll hang around for a bit. See where life takes me. Maybe make a few friends.”
Prime walked to the door. “Norman and some of the other humans are conducting a ceremony known as 'Secret Santa'. Perhaps you would like to - “
“Of course I'll come! Cool!”
And the last two Cybertronians left on the planet set off for ventures new and horizons unknown.

19: THE DEATH OF DOCTOR WHO
“YOU HAVE FAILED ME.” The Dalek Emperor's voice boomed around the confines of his command ship. It was more crowded than normal, with both the landing force from Colony Blackpool and the Daleks from the Dalek Supreme's erstwhile vessel crammed within its hull. There had been jostling for room earlier. Resentment abounded.
“ADDITIONAL-FORCES-SHOULD-HAVE-BEEN-DEPLOYED-TO-DESTROY-OPTI-MUS-PRIME” the Supreme's grating voice rose in pitch.”DALEK-STRENGTH-WAS-WASTED-ENGAGING-THE-SABOTEUR-LONG TOOTH. OPTI-MUS-PRIME-WAS-THE-REAL-THREAT! HE-SHOULD-HAVE-BEEN-EXTERMINATED-AT-ONCE!”
“YOU WERE NOT TO DESTROYYYY OPTI-MUS PRIIIIIME. YOU WERE ORDERED TO DELAY, NOT DESTROYYYY HIM. YOUR DISOBEDIENCE OF IMPERIAL ORDERS CONTRIBUTED TO OUR DEFEAT.”
“YOUR-ORDERS-WERE-NOT-TO-DELAY! THEY-WERE-TO-DESTROY-OPTI-MUS-PRIME-AT-ONCCCCE!”
“YOU WERE NOT ORDERED TO DESTROY HIIIIM. ONLY TO DELAAAAY HIM UNTIL THE TRAP WAS PROPERLY PREPARED.”
“DESTROY!” screamed the Supreme.
“DELAAAY!”
“DESTROY!” The Dalek Supreme was indignant. His casing wobbled in irritation.
“DELAAAY!” The Emperor and the Supreme looked at each other for a long moment, two unblinking stalked eyes waiting for the other to blink first. Then they turned as one to look at the monitor screen, and the image of Colony Blackpool it displayed.
“WE-WILL-REBUILD!” The Dalek Supreme grated.
“WE WILL REGROUP AND GROW STRONGERRRR” the Emperor boomed.
“THEN-WE-WILL-RETURN-AND-”
“DESTROY OPTI-MUS PRIME AND CONQUER COLONY BLACKPOOL. THE DAAALEKS ARE THE SUPREEEEME BEINGS IN THE UNIVERSE.”
The Dalek Supreme paused in his own mantra. “WAIT-WHAT-ABOUT-THE-DOC-TOR?!”
“HE IS OF NO CONSEQUENCE!”
“WHAT-WHAT-WHAT! HE-MUST-BE-EXTERMINATED! ANNIHILATED! DESTROYED!”
The Emperor was silent as the Supreme continued his rant. All other Dalek swivelled their eyestalks to watch the Supreme as he paced up and down the bridge, growing ever more agitated. “YES! THE-DOC-TOR! HE-WAS-BEHIND-OUR-DEFEAT! HE-IS-AN-ENEMY-OF-THE-DALEKS! AND-I-THE-DALEK-SUPREME-SHALL-BE-THE-ONE-TO-DEFEAT-HIM-FOR-THE-GREATER-GLORY-OF-THE-DALEK-RACE! DIE-DOC-TOR! DIE! DIE! DIE!”
By now, the Dalek Supreme was so carried away with his rhetoric that he loosed forth a bolt of destructive energy from his gun arm. The bolt bounced off a bulkhead and glanced off a ceiling-mounted conduit which promptly exploded, causing a rain of debris to land squarely on the Dalek Supreme. He screamed once, sharply, then screamed no more.
The Emperor remained impassive. He would need a new Supreme. He ordered a subordinate to come closer and informed him that he was now the new Dalek Supreme. “WE-WILL...DESTROY-OUR-ENEMIES...AND-CONQUER-ALL!” suggested the newly promoted Dalek.
“DALEKS WILL CONQUER AND DESTROY!” agreed the Emperor approvingly. Both he and the new Dalek Supreme repeated the mantra.
“DALEKS-WILL-CONQUER-AND-DESTROY!” The Red Dalek rolled over and joined in, accompanied slowly by the rest of the Daleks on board. The heavily overloaded Dalek vessel jerked and juddered as it made its way out of the Colony Blackpool solar system to the accompaniment of the chant of massed Dalek voices:
“DALEKS-WILL-CONQUER-AND-DESTROY!”

20: THE PLANET OF DECISION
From up here, on the balcony at the top of the Mayoral Tower the city appeared peaceful. New snow was still falling, laying a blanket over the city leaving it feeling pristine and new in this Christmas morning. Bright strands were strung from building to building, small lights that illuminating dark winter streets, green conical shapes could be seen on each street corner festooned with bright and sparkly trinkets. All of these things would have added a comforting air familiar to the ancestors of the residents of Colony Blackpool, a venerable tradition of goodwill and good cheer. Arcs of tinsel and lights illuminated the dark and brought warmth to a cold winter's morning: a cosy and familiar glow to this place and moment in time.
Then on the balcony, impossibly, a blue box seemingly made of wood ground itself into existence between the seconds. After a moment, a door opened and a tall man with unruly hair and a long brown overcoat stepped out.
“Right, I'm here. Earth Colony Blackpool, five billion and so, just in time to stop the Dalek attack! Hooray!”
The man peered over the balcony at the lights and festivities being played out far below. He frowned and pulled a watch out of his pocket. He jabbed at it several times until a spring popped out. “Ah, bit late. Oh well, looks like everything's been sorted out anyway. Martha!”
A young woman, possibly in her twenties stepped out from within the blue box. “What have I told you about shouting? Oh, it's bloody freezing. So what's the big emergency about then?”
“Never mind. Got the date a bit wrong. Need to get the SOS receiver sorted out though. Hey, you what this is? It's Christmas! Hang on a tick.”
The woman scowled as her companion darted back within the box only to re-appear almost instantaneously with two deckchairs, a folding table and a large hamper. The table and chairs were quickly set out and the man emptied copious amounts of food and drink from within the hamper on to a tablecloth with pictures of 'Edd the Duck' on it. Despite herself, the woman was unable to stifle a wide smile as her parter indicated they should sit down. “Christmas dinner in the year five billion! Dig in! I bagsy the little sausages with bacon wrapped round them. Ohhh, I love them.”
The two friends tucked into their meal, the man occasionly indicating points of interest in the city down below. “Merry Christmas, Martha!” The man looked up at a security camera at the side of the balcony, which had swung to watch them. He waved at it cheerily while swigging from a bottle of ginger pop. “And a very merry Christmas to all of you at home too!"

THE FINAL END

RB/KT 23/12/07

[Andy Turnbull]

A little late in getting round to reading this I know.

A very enjoyable tale, almost whimsical in places and something of a love letter to a lot of things that Ralph enjoys - Daleks, The Nimon and of course Longtooth.

I do like your take on Optimus Prime, he's been fighting so long he's almost at right angles to sanity. It makes for amusing and disturbing reading at the same time.

Bonus points for using the word chum. Doesn't get enough of a look in these days in my opinion.

Well done to Karl and Ralph.

Andy