Doctor Who: Remembrance of the Daleks by Ben Aaronovitch, Nicholas Briggs, Terry Molloy Read Free Book Online Page A

old wrinkled women groaned and muttered complaints. A bunch of grapes hung pathetically in her hand. She stared at Manisha’s face, noticing the way the skin had bubbled on her cheeks and the raw meat under dressings on her scalp.
    Months later Dorothy watched as her friend’s eyes turned lacklustre and dead. She waved goodbye as Manisha left Perivale – left Dorothy – to stay with relatives in Birmingham. Manisha had gone for good.
    It was Dorothy who stared at the burnt house, the burnt face, the burnt life, the racist graffiti. And it was Dorothy who stared at the words ‘Pakis out’ on the wall of the playground.
    It was Ace who blew away the wall with two and a half kilograms of nitro-nine.
    Fireball in the darkness.
    Fire fighting fire.
     

5
    Saturday, 06:26
    Martin gave the screwdriver a final twist and straightened up. He tugged the handle to make sure the brass fitted snugly against the fine oak of the coffin: his back gave a twinge and he rubbed it idly while checking his handiwork. Martin was in the middle of rubbing down the surface finish when he heard a click behind him.
    The sound echoed in the silent room.
    Martin’s palms suddenly became damp.
    Another click, like a rifle bolt being slammed closed.
    Martin slowly turned to face the noise.
    The casket was almost seven feet long, constructed of metal which was pitted and dirty with age. It seemed to Martin to be, well, somehow expectant.
    Unnerved, Martin moved closer. He saw that two of the lid’s catches were open. He reached out cautiously to close the nearest – cold burned his fingertips and he snatched back his hand. The top layer of skin had been torn from the pads of his fingers.
    Another catch sprang open, this time in front of his eyes. Sweating, Martin backed away from the casket. He had the horrible idea that whatever was in the casket was alive and wanted to get out. He backed into something and whirled, a scream choking off in his throat.
    A man in a pale jacket stood there, an umbrella in one hand and a bottle of milk in the other. ‘Good morning,’ the man said pleasantly. ‘I believe this belongs to you.’ He held up the bottle.
    Not trusting his voice, Martin nodded and took the bottle, still conscious of the tangible presence of the casket behind him.
    ‘The door was open,’ explained the man, ‘so I thought I’d just pop in and collect my casket.’
    ‘Ah well,’ said Martin, ‘I’m afraid the governor has yet to arrive and I really can’t let you...’ His voice trailed off; the man smiled pleasantly at him. ‘Which, ah, casket would this be?’
    The man nodded towards the metal casket behind Martin.
    ‘I see,’ said Martin. ‘Well, if you could just wait until the governor arrives, I’m sure...’
    ‘That would be perfectly all right,’ said the man.
    Martin suddenly felt immensely relieved. ‘Good, splendid, Mister...?’
    ‘Doctor.’
    ‘Doctor...? Martin asked hopefully.
    ‘If I might have just a few moments alone?’
    ‘Of course, of course. I’ll just leave you with your...’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘I’ll be just next door if you require anything,’ said Martin as he made a hasty exit.
    It was there: the presence, the aura as distinctive as a genetic pattern, sharp as a blade. Perception was difficult in this strange cold environment with its slabs of molecules that moved so slowly, its alien auras that flickered so weakly around it. The environment was so unlike the vast hot spaces it loved or the powerful minds of its creators.
    Deep in its most fundamental programming, where rapidly shifting fields of energy interacted, it quivered in anticipation of the data it would receive. Instructions would come: instructions meant purpose; purpose meant function; function meant life!
    The Doctor faced the casket. ‘Open,’ he said.
    The remaining buckles snapped open with the sound of gunshots. The seals cracked apart and light spilled through the rapidly widening gap as the lid pulled itself up and