The Mind of The Daleks

Chapter 7: Stirrings

It seemed like an infinity later when the prisoners were at last commanded to sit down and take a rest. The sun had set a few minutes before and now the barren lot was filled with the pale gray-blue light of dusk.

Grateful, Isabel tumbled down amid the rubble in the tight little cluster of frightened and exhausted prisoners. The persistent and unrelenting exercise had made her hot and sweaty and she was glad for a chance to cool off. She quickly began to shiver, in fact; the wind had picked up and it was getting cold. Closing her eyes, she listened for a minute; everybody was too worn out to talk much yet and beyond the slight scuffling and an occasional word, she could hear the familiar sound of not-so-distant traffic – perhaps they hadn't gone completely out of the world after all.

"Finally," said someone beside her.

She opened her eyes and saw Ben gingerly lower himself to the ground beside her. In the dim light, she noticed that he was very pale, tired and worn, streaked with dirt and sweat and faintly shaking.

"You doing okay?" Isabel asked.

"We're finally allowed to rest; I'm overjoyed!" he replied sarcastically. "I'm doing okay. Doctor, sit down; I want to talk to you."

He gestured to the little man, who tottered their way and plopped down, cross-legged, and settled his long chin into his hands.

"Is this going to go on much longer?" Isabel asked the air, knowing that it was as likely to answer as anyone. "I just want to go home! But we're stuck doing stupid slave labor. How do they expect us to work without light, anyway?"

Somebody nudged her and pointed to the other truck, which was pulling to a stop beside the dirt road. It was loaded with several large, battery-powered flood-lights. Isabel groaned and leaned back, closing her eyes again.

"Wonderful," she said. "So they do expect us to work through the night."

"I don't even know why we keep obeying them," complained one of the youths. "They're stupid. I mean, c'mon! They don't even look dangerous. I've seen better bad guys on ten-year-old video games!"

Most of the others half-agreed despite the evidence they had seen of just how dangerous the Daleks could be.

"This is ridiculous!" said Debbie, in an exasperated tone. "I have things to do; I can't be kept here indefinitely. I-I have a family... Oh, God!"

She trailed into a shaken series of sobs saturated with pure emotion that was grating on the bare nerves of everyone around her. Somebody began to comfort her, and they all sank into a moment of blank silence.

"So you're a doctor," asked Ben finally, keeping his voice steady and low and even professional with an effort. "What of?"

"Oh, this and that," the Doctor brooded.

"I'm being serious," Ben said, his anger apparent just beneath the surface.

"So am I. Dead serious."

"Look, I'm a scientist; I have a PhD in physics and applied mathematics from Illinois State University, as well as a couple of minor degrees elsewhere. As a scientist, I think I might have a better chance against these things than most people. You obviously know something about them; but if you're a doctor of art or marine biology or physical education or something unscientific, then I'd like to know, so I don't ask you the wrong kind of questions."

The Doctor looked at him soberly through the dusk, and then replied; "I am also a scientist, and it's very nice to meet someone here who is able, at least a little, to ask the right kind of questions."

"Good." Ben gazed at him hard for a few seconds and then began. "Okay, so can you explain to me the casing that makes up the Daleks? It looks to me like some sort of an alloy."