The Mind of The Daleks

Chapter 5: Slaves

The doors swung open to admit a blinding shaft of golden light.

"Out!" commanded the man outside in a flat voice.

They filed out slowly, cramped, hot, and resentful. They were again in an isolated spot, bordered on one side by a chain link fence. Although there were a couple of factories visible, they were out of earshot and probably vacant, considering that it was long after normal work-hours. About fifty feet away in a shallow depression that was just deep enough to conceal it was a building that had been demolished, hardly recognizable as a building if it hadn't been for the ruinous chunks of wall and pipes that stuck up here and there. Silhouetted in the play of light and shadow created by the rays of the sinking sun, about ten or fifteen people were working in the rubble, laboriously clearing it.

"So that's what they want us for," muttered Miguel close behind Isabel.

No one dared return a comment.

One of the construction trucks was pulling up along the dirt road behind them. The other was already parked close by and one of the Daleks rolled down off the ramp of the trailer behind it. With a feeling of dread, Isabel looked out over the debris of the building and spotted yet another Dalek standing sentinel over the other prisoners, and her heart sank.

The cluster of former bus passengers was herded together, augmented by those who climbed off the trailer and then by those from the other truck, until all twenty-seven, plus the stranger, stood in a tight little group warily watching their captors. Isabel spotted Ben, looking tired and bewildered, but better than the last time she had seen him.

The two Daleks rolled forward and stood before them. Immediately one began to shout orders in the grating voice that Isabel was beginning to loath:

"The prisoners are to be scanned to determine the use that you will be to the Daleks. The prisoners will then work to clear the debris without rest for one hour. If you do not obey than you will be exterminated!"

"Yeah," jeered a young Hispanic man who had been riding on the trailer. "You bastards have a real one-track mind, don't you? But what if we don't obey? You're just going to kill us anyway."

"If you obey and do not resist then you will be allowed to live," the Dalek said, as if it were granting a concession but with the underlying implication that it would be a living hell. "Prepare to be scanned."

As if on command, their three human guards shoved and pushed them into a long, single-file line. Isabel found herself wedged between Miguel and the stranger. Then, while one Dalek stood motionless at the far end of the line, the other went up to the opposite end and aimed its plunger into the face of the first person. It stood like that for perhaps two seconds and then lowered the appendage and commanded; "Begin work." And that first person, looking very pale and faint, turned and without question stumbled towards the rubble.

The Dalek repeated the sequence, moving gradually down the dwindling line. But when it came to Mackenzie Donavan, the man who had thought it worth-while to pay attention to their direction, it varied the routine.

"This specimen is suitable," it announced. "Remove it and take it for processing."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Mackenzie objected as two human guards moved in. "What do you mean, processed? What are you going to do? Hey, lemme go!"

But it was too late. He was dragged in an iron grip back to the white van and locked in.

The Dalek punctually commanded him not to resist and went on "scanning" the prisoners. Soon it reached the stranger.