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blast of heat behind her and a lot of smoke.
    The rocket had barely started to accelerate when it struck the grille just below the Dalek’s eyestalk, but it was going fast enough to detonate. Superheated gases punched a hole in the Dalek’s polycarbide casing, ripped through the delicate circuits and soft organic parts, and blew them out of the back in a spray of shattered armour.
    ‘Ace,’ she breathed softly.
    ‘You destroyed it.’
    ‘I aimed at the eyepiece.’
    The Doctor looked at her with something close to despair.
    There was a clatter of army boots in the hallway. Mike was shouting orders as he came round the corner. ‘Keep sharp, watch your back, watch your...’ his voice wound down as he faced Ace, the Doctor and an obviously dead Dalek. ‘Doctor, Ace,’ he paused, eyeing the Dalek, ‘any more?’
    ‘No,’ said the Doctor.
    Mike ordered a soldier back to fetch the group captain.
    Then he noticed the rocket launcher that Ace was carrying.
    ‘Did you do that?’
    Ace waved smoke away from her face and nodded.
    ‘Makes a lot of smoke, doesn’t it?’ She handed over the weapon – it was getting heavy. Mike gave her a strange look, almost like awe, as he took it.
    The Doctor considered his next move, watching as the group captain, Professor Jensen and her assistant, Miss Smith, entered the corridor. They represented a flaw, a deviation from the plan, as did the Dalek at Foreman’s Yard.
    Gilmore looked coldly at the smoking Dalek. ‘You destroyed it, good.’
    Anger coursed through the Doctor, shocking and unexpected in its intensity. ‘It is not good. Nothing about this is good. I have made a grave error of judgement.’
    The plan was becoming blurred around the edges, and within that uncertainty people were beginning to die. ‘I’m beginning to wish I’d never started this,’ he said softly to himself.
    He looked at the others, their faces filled with expectation, and he wondered if he was going to get them killed. He fixed Gilmore with his eyes. ‘Group Captain, I must ask you to evacuate the immediate area.’
    ‘That’s an absurd idea,’ snapped Gilmore.
    ‘Why, Doctor?’ Rachel interjected quickly, forestalling any dismissal by Gilmore.
    ‘I have reason, reasons,’ he corrected, ‘to believe that a major Dalek task-force could soon be operating in this area.’
    ‘Great,’ said Allison.
    ‘And where,’ demanded Gilmore, ‘will this task-force arrive from?’
    ‘One certainly is already in place, hidden somewhere in this vicinity.’
    Now there is a comforting thought, said a voice in Rachel’s head.
    ‘The other,’ continued the Doctor, ‘probably from a timeship in geostationary orbit.’
    How easily he says these things, as if they were commonplace, thought Rachel.
    ‘Come on, Doctor,’ Gilmore said stubbornly, ‘be reasonable.’
    But the Doctor was not reasonable. ‘Do you dispute the non-terrestrial nature of the Daleks? Examine this,’ he gestured angrily at the remains, ‘or better still ask your scientific adviser.’
    Gilmore turned on her. ‘Well, Professor Jensen?’
    Rachel knew Gilmore wasn’t going to like her reply.
     
    ‘The Doctor is right. It’s alien.’
    Gilmore looked betrayed. ‘You’re positive?’
    ‘Yes.’
    The group captain thought about it. ‘Professor, a word please.’ He drew Rachel away from the others. ‘This Doctor chappie, do you trust him?’
    ‘He knows what he is talking about and considerably more than he is telling us. I think we should go along with him for now.’
    ‘And after?’
    Rachel shrugged. ‘We could ask for an explanation.’
    ‘We might,’ said Gilmore, and there was steel in his tone, ‘do a bit more than ask.’ He turned back to the Doctor. ‘I’ll have to get a decision from my superiors.’
    ‘When?’ asked the Doctor.
    ‘I should get a decision either way by tomorrow morning.
    ‘I’ll see you all then.’ And with that he strode out.
    ‘Can you look after Ace for me?’ the Doctor