Ravon and Nyder sprayed the meeting chamber with bullets. The thundering echoes of the gunfire in the enclosed space hammered at their ears. Long rows of bullets holes were torn in the metal walls as they raked the room, side to side.

The empty room.

Nyder saw it first, through the smoke, and took his finger off the trigger: there was nothing in this room, it was completely bare. Ravon was still caught up in the adrenaline rush, and it took him an additional instant to stop. They both stood dumbfounded. They'd heard the meeting over the intercom, they knew all of the Elite were in this section, what was happening?

Nyder caught a shadow out of the corner of his eye. There were people on each side of the ramp, standing close against the wall so as not to be seen, and they were wearing gas masks.

"Gas!" he shouted, and both of them reflexively held their breath. Two masked women leaped and grabbed the machine gun in his hands, dragging it and him down by sheer weight. Gas was sprayed at them through hoses held by the others. They fought silently, and Nyder fought back, still holding his breath, forgetting entirely that he had not been planning on surviving. To die in triumph at destroying the traitors, that was one thing, but to die at the hands of a pack of women…!

He was clawing at his attackers' faces, trying to get off one of their masks for himself, but a man in a Security uniform punched Nyder in the diaphragm. He gasped out the last of his air, and turned, heaving off the two women, fighting his way back towards the door, clean air, escape!

Ravon was fighting too: there were four Security men on top of him, obscuring everything but his boots. His legs thrashed. A sudden anguished cry - and a single shot.

Everyone froze; then the women were lunging forward, between the Security men who were rising and stepping back from Ravon's disturbingly limp form.

"Head wound, you can't-" said one Security guard, gesturing to what lay on the floor.

The women spoke together. "We can save him. Get the medical kit in here!"

Nyder had to breathe now, and he gasped in poison. His legs wobbled as his attackers laid him flat on the ramp. His hands lolled limply on the floor; he was vaguely aware of the women searching him for weapons, and removing the passkey from his glove. Turning his head (it felt heavy and stuffed with mist), he blurrily saw more Reflectionist women working on the two men in the corridor. The one who'd been shot was conscious now, and groaning, "Horned God, that hurts … thought you said he wouldn't shoot me?"

"He didn't," came the reply. "Ravon did. Sorry about that."

Waiting, they'd been waiting for him. The room had been empty, no Peace Accords ceremony. It had all been a trap. Nyder slid down into unconsciousness, with one last terrible thought pressing him down: had the trap been set by the Reflectionists - or by Davros himself?

# # #

"Release me!" cried Davros.

"Never," said Councilman Than. His clothes were filthy with dust, but his face blazed with gloating. The man was almost licking his lips at having Davros captive. "Now that I've got you, I'm not letting go until you're dead, old man!" Davros sat frozen as Than's free hand reached towards the switches of his support chair.

"I've always wondered what would happen if I were to turn this thing off," mused Than. "How long would you live?"

"Less than thirty seconds," said Davros. He was almost in shock. "He couldn't have ordered this. He would never destroy me. Take my power, replace me as leader, yes, but I am too valuable! Hif would never kill me! I cannot die!"

Than turned his head and stared directly at his captive. "Who's Hif?" he asked distractedly. "Never heard of him. I wonder if instead of watching the life fade from your eyes, I could just watch the light fade out of this implant in your head."

"Hif the Elite scientist, the man behind all of this!" Davros tried to twist his arm free again, but he was pinned solidly. Then his spirit leapt, realising - "Hif must have sent you to do this. But he will punish you if you harm me!"

"And I'm telling you, I never heard of this Hif!" snapped Than. "Nobody sent me, and who cares about punishment? I just want to see you die, Davros. You've destroyed the Council, destroyed me. But I'm not going down alone. I'm taking you with me. Your animated corpse has been in control of the Kaled people for too long. It's time you were properly and mercifully buried." His hand settled over a small black switch, one that Davros' own hand usually hovered protectively over.

Davros was frozen, looking into the face of the death he had fought so hard to escape - how ironic that it was going to be delivered by this weak, pallid bureaucrat. Than's attention was totally focused on his victory, his triumph over Davros. He had no time even to be surprised when his blazing joy was replaced by a blazing pain in his head, and then darkness. His relaxing body was roughly yanked backwards and dropped on the floor.

Davros' freed hand immediately jumped back to his chair's switches - and then paused. Security Liaison finished laying out Than, tucked her own shot-loaded truncheon back up her sleeve, and then sat down on the floor. She looked up at Davros with an innocent expression.

"May I inquire as to why you are not dead?" he asked. He was certain that Nyder had depressed the switches in her head as instructed - or had he failed?

Security Liaison cleared her throat. "The neural reset switch, as you found in the Reflectionist information I gave you, is used during the growth of a body in the tanks - if the memory and personality print is somehow corrupted in transmission, we can wipe the mind clean and start over. But once we're out of the tank, we disengage it. Much too dangerous." She smiled up at Davros' confusion, showing just the tips of her teeth. And then she just sat there, relaxed, hands on the floor, and looked at him.

"You can't-" said Davros, and paused. Of course she could stop him as Than had just so painfully demonstrated, but instead she was just sitting there. She looked interested, even amused.

"You have updated your programme to control the Daleks, I presume," she said. "Well, perhaps it will work, and the Daleks will obey you and slaughter the lot of us. Or perhaps they will not, and will instead turn and slaughter you. Have you considered the possibility that you will lose either way?"

"I will not lose!" he snarled.

"If your program can control the Daleks absolutely, they will follow your orders. They may achieve all that you have ever dreamed of. But that is all they will achieve. You will never dare release them from the program, because they might turn on you. So they will go on with you, your puppets, your servants. Their every evolution hindered, their every advance chained, by the needs of your program. The Daleks will never surpass you; never do anything new, anything unexpected." Her tone was sad. "You condemn yourself, Davros. Condemned to a future where nothing ever changes, a universe filled with only the dead."

"I will not let Hif win!"

Security Liaison frowned. "Hif. Haven't you realised by now that Hif is dead?"

Davros swayed in his chair. Surely his hearing had malfunctioned. "What?"

"Hif is dead. He died in the creation of the first of us, J29A, and she was with him, with his mind, as he died."

"But the Daleks … they were to go to the Dome, to find him and bring him back to me! To kill all in their path until Hif was surrendered into my power!"

Security Liaison clucked her tongue. "Tsk-tsk. If you send the Daleks out and order them to kill every Kaled until they come to Hif - they will never stop. They will kill them all. And unless your program restrains them otherwise, they will keep on killing, Thal and Muto, all life on this planet potentially. You will be alone here, forever - unless, of course, they kill you as well."

She stood, but did not move closer to Davros. "Is that the future you want, Davros? You deserve more, you deserve everything!"

Davros inched his chair away, his hand still reflexively shielding the black power switch. "You are not the leader of the Reflectionists. It is not for you to give me everything. They have conquered the Kaled people. And," his hand moved away from his communication switches, " they have taken over the Daleks, as well. Turned them against me." It was the only possible explanation for why she had not tried to stop him from broadcasting his control program: she must be certain that it would have no effect.

Davros swallowed, and felt as though he was swallowing his pride as well. But it had to be said. He would pretend defeat, bitter at it might be to him. "So. There is only one logical choice left to me. I surrender." For now, he added only to himself.

Security Liaison looked briefly horrified. "We are not conquering the Kaleds, we are freeing them. And we don't want to conquer you, Davros. There is no reason why you should not keep your rightful place as the Kaled Supreme Commander, and lead your people in peace instead of war."

"War made me." Davros snapped out each word like a blow. "What am I without the war, except-"

"Except the most brilliant scientist on Skaro?"

"Except a blind, useless cripple!"

She closed her eyes, and spoke softly. "Davros, do you think I have never been blind?"

He sat silently.

She continued, "That I have never been crippled, been maimed, been un-manned - for yes I have been a man, many times. I have been burned, beaten, flayed, crushed, tortured. I have died. Many times, I have died. I have been reduced to far less than you are now, Davros. And I have gone on."

Opening her eyes, she went to Davros' desk and picked up the folder holding the report she had told Nyder was so crucial.

"I would like for you to read this." Davros made no response. "As my reward for saving your life? As a favour? Please?" Carefully, she came close and sank to one knee, holding out the opened folder at arms'-length, with only her fingertips supporting it.

Davros' visual implant flashed as he grabbed an image of the page, then he read it. It was not very long, almost a summary rather than a full report. But it was enough to change everything.

# # #

Nobody in this part of Section Two had even noticed Nyder and Ravon's spectacular failed attack. The Elite, and Sarah Jane and Harry, were all completely intent on the large viewscreen that was broadcasting the Peace Accords. The scientists murmured with excitement as vials of some white gooey substance were passed over the table onscreen, along with sheaves of notes.

Gharman looked ready to burst with excitement. "That's it, the unaltered fungus samples and the catabolic reactions specifications! How long will it take to get them here, though?"

"Here? I thought this was being broadcast from another room in the Bunker," asked Sarah Jane.

"No, I don't recognise it. It must be somewhere else," said Gharman distractedly.

One of the Kaled Councilmen turned to the camera and spoke. "This ceremony was going to be held in the Thal Dome, and then in the Kaled Dome, and then in the Kaled Bunker complex. I wish I'd brought better shoes."

Councilman Mah looked down over the edge of the table with an expression that spoke of blisters. The watchers laughed, and someone whispered, "He's a natural."

"But instead, we held it in a place that has become the very symbol of this war. A place corrupt, and tainted, and piling death upon death to all those who have ventured into it. Because that is the place that we are here to change."

Mah and the Thal Councillor stood up and turned around, and pushed against the plain white wall behind them. It fell.

Revealed behind them was the murky atmosphere and churned mud of the Wastelands, in all their desolations. The camera that had been showing the entire ceremony pulled back a bit, showing that the ceremony had all taken place on a tiny stage, set up somehow in the middle of the battlefield.

"These are the lands that we must restore for all the people." There was a burst of applause from the watchers, and Sarah looked around, expecting the Doctor to say something cutting and pessimistic. But there was no sign of his tall gangly form among the gathered Elite. She nudged Harry and asked, "Psst! Where's the Doctor?"

"I don't know, Sarah," Harry said. "Where would he go?"

"The main laboratory - the Time Ring."

Harry looked up at the screen, where Mah was starting what looked like a very long political speech, all about peace and rebuilding. From what he knew about political ceremonies, Harry could guess that everyone would get a turn: and while this would probably be enthralling to the Kaleds who after all knew all these people, it was something Harry would just as soon skip.

"Well come on old girl, let's go meet him," Harry said. Politely they drifted towards the back of the room, and then slipped out a side door into the deserted Bunker corridors.

# # #

Whiteout was what the Elite called Davros' times of withdrawal, when he thought so intensely and deeply that the exterior world was pushed aside as a bothersome distraction. When he pushed aside the environment around him, and went into a world of pure symbols - a world he preferred to the physical.

But what he felt now was the complete opposite. This was feeling, memory, sensation: this was real, the real world, being offered to him. This was the future, inevitable, unstoppable. He had to have it. Now!

"I could be free," he whispered finally. " I could do anything! If I wanted a thing done, I would no longer have to wheedle my inferiors to perform the task, endlessly supervising and correcting them. I could just do it! I could do everything! A body, a new body, and how could you hide this from me!"

Davros' fury was fierce as fire, and as fast. Security Liaison quickly replied, "We had to be certain that the transfer would work, that the mechanical taps already set into your brain would be enough to effect the personality transfer."

"You tested this?"

"Ferr was the test. You supervised the operations and implant to his central nervous system yourself; they are identical to your own. He passed the test. You can see him, talk to him! He will walk to you on his own two feet, look at you with his own two eyes, and tell you that it is true!"

Security Liaison was throbbing with excitement inside; this was literally what her entire life had been leading up to. "Be reborn with us, Davros. Be reborn with your planet at your feet, with all the Universe before you, within your grasp!"

Davros was swept away by her enthusiasm - for a fraction of a second. Then his logic took over again. "How do I know that you will not tamper with the specimen? With me?"

"You can test your new body using every tool, every sensor. Set all of the Elite to it, but we assure you, they will find it as we say it will be. A completely blank mind, waiting for you. A whole body. Your body."

Davros' mind flashed immediately to the information that had not been downloaded to him by Security Liaison; the strange holes in her knowledge. Perhaps it was knowledge that had not survived the irregular transfer from J29A, but perhaps they were really hiding information from him. Weapons, formulas, strategies. If he could directly access her mind, could access all of their minds, there was nothing that could be hidden from him. And - they knew the technique of transferring personalities as well. Why could he not use their power to create more of himself? If he was empowered to directly transmit himself into their bodies, surely his personality was stronger, surely his will would prevail over theirs!

"And now we ask the only question," Security Liaison whispered. Once she was certain she had his attention, she went on. "How much will you give us for this?"

Davros thought. It had been years since he had to exchange anything for something he wanted: he ordered that this piece of equipment be built, that this person be transferred to the Bunker, and it happened. But these Reflectionists, they already had everything, the Kaled people, Skaro itself if they wanted it. What could he offer them that would be worthy?

His first answer was spontaneous, "Not the Daleks! Never!"

"They are not yours to give, Davros. They are their own species. They will choose their allies." She shrugged. "We believe that they will choose us, will work with us - but it will be of their own free will."

Davros pivoted his chair away. Then he said, slowly, "You say in your councils that every Kaled is a treasure."

"We believe that," she said, not sure where he was going.

"A treasure is worthless until it is spent. I will give you - someone who has harmed you. Someone who has crippled your selves, all of them. Who cost you, and myself, the complete range of information that you should have had." He turned back. "You may speak of saving even the irredeemable, but I think you will not save this one, if he is no longer under the protection of my hand. I will give you the man who murdered J29A. Commander Nyder. To do with as you please."

She nodded, slowly.

# # #

The Doctor was almost at the main laboratory when somebody said "Psst!" behind him. He turned to see Sarah Jane and Harry trotting up the corridor towards him.

"What are you doing here?" he scowled.

"Same thing you are, getting the Time Ring back." She looked at the Doctor's torn expression, and said, "But there's something else, isn't there?"

"Yes, something else. I passed the armoury on the way here, it was unguarded. No weapons, but I found these." He displayed a bundle of material under his arm. "Plastic explosives, detonators. If I destroy the Dalek incubation room, they can be wiped out for all time."

Sarah Jane thought aloud, "A universe without the Daleks … but are you sure it's the right thing to do? These Reflectionists don't seem to think the Daleks should become conquerors."

"But there's no future mention of the Reflectionists and the Daleks as allies - which means that sometime in the near future, the Daleks will turn on the Reflectionists and exterminate them on Skaro."

"But what if," Sarah paused, "what if the Reflectionists aren't a part of Dalek history, yet. What if they are here to change things, just like you are?"

"Bit of a coincidence," said Harry sceptically.

"I agree," said the Doctor. "I can't risk the Daleks having knowledge of the future. If they know the outcome of their wars, of their battles, now at the beginning - they would be invincible. They would take over the Universe as fast as they could build more of themselves. I can't trust the Reflectionists with that kind of power." They reached the door to the main laboratory together, and slipped inside.

The laboratory was empty - fortunately, it looked like everyone was watching the video of the Peace Accords signing, even the Reflectionists. Harry and the Doctor were ready to pry Ronson's desk apart, but it wasn't necessary: the first drawer they opened had the box with their possessions, which were quickly handed back around. The Doctor hurriedly slipped the broad copper cuff of the Time Ring onto his own arm, and rolled the sleeve down over it. The rest of his tools and knick-knacks were randomly stuffed into his trouser pockets.

The trio of travellers went to leave through another laboratory door. The Doctor glanced down as they passed Nyder's desk and said, "Hello, there's a new personality wheel here." He held up a darkly swirled and intricate transparency, and stared at it.

"Doctor, we really have to go," urged Sarah. "As soon as that ceremony ends, all the Kaled Elite will be coming back!"

"I wonder who this is?" Then he sighed. "It's Davros, it must be. And this," he scooped up another slide, bold with pink and green streaks, "is Security Liaison-"

He held the two transparencies to the light, back to back; looking up and over his shoulder, his companions could see that the colours overlaid one another in a neatly symmetrical pattern."

"Oh," said the Doctor softly. "I was wrong."

"Really?" asked Harry, and the Doctor shot him a sharp glance.

"Security Liaison isn't made for Nyder, she was made to complement Davros."

"What does that mean?" asked Harry.

"I don't know. But all I can think of is Security Liaison saying that they were here for Davros, mind, body and soul." said the Doctor. "There's no time to find out. I need to do what I came here to do."

He strode out of the laboratory, heading for the Dalek incubation chamber; Sarah Jane and Harry followed, quickly, but without his certainty.

# # #

There was an actual Kaled guard in the corridor to the incubation chamber, and the Doctor breathed a mental sigh of relief. Talking his way past a Dalek was stressful at the best of times. He put on his most endearing grin, and asked the guard, "Excuse me, but isn't this the way to the Dalek incubation chamber?"

"Yes?" asked the guard, a little puzzled. He had thought that everyone was watching the Peace Accords ceremony; he was only stuck here because Captain Tane had assigned him punishment duty. "Shouldn't you be-"

"No, it's quite all right. So, the chamber's right down there." The Doctor craned his neck to look, then turned back to the guard. "Thank you, that's what I needed to blow."

"Blow?"

"Up!" and the Doctor took the guard by the shoulder and neck in a peculiar grasp that quickly laid him out flat on the floor, unconscious.

At the doorway to the incubation chamber, the Doctor took out one of the reels of wire and started unwinding it, leaving a long length of it trailing on the floor. Through the door came the hideous squishing and burbling of the Daleks and their support equipment.

"I say, what do those things look like inside?" asked Harry.

"Trust me," said Sarah, "you don't want to know."

"Wait here," ordered the Doctor. "I'll only be a few minutes." He handed Harry the ends of the wires, and went inside the incubation room.

It was hot and steamy and fetid in the incubation room; the embryonic creatures writhed in their jars and tanks. Probably quite radioactive as well; he should get out as fast as he could. He reached to carefully tuck a bundle of explosives between two tanks, and the creature inside slapped itself against the glass. Although it had no eyes, the Doctor could feel it regarding him.

Then it made a noise.

"Ikki-ikki."

The Doctor leaned back, eyes wide. That was the noise that one of the Laboratory Assistants had made to the Dalek, during their first confrontation. And now the other embryos took up the cry; over their gurgling came the noise, "'Ikki-ikki-ikki-ikki." It sounded - curious? The Doctor ignored it.

Near the base of one of the environmental controls, the Doctor discovered a familiar looking pile of cloth. It was in fact his brown coat, which had been left behind in the Command Complex days ago. Several of the more mobile mutants were actually pawing at the thing with their tentacles, and he had to gently work it free of them. They squeaked "Ikki-ikki? Ikki-ikki?" in the most imploring way when he took it, and he looked at them with doubtful eyes. Then he finished placing the explosives. Paying out the wires behind him, he backed out of the incubation room.

The Doctor rejoined his companions, and handed Harry the coat. "Could you do me a favour, Harry, and go through the pockets? The Daleks were playing with it."

"Ew. Reminds me of a cat once, which had kittens in the pocket of my greatcoat." Harry shook the coat out upside-down, but there were no little living surprises inside. "Why would the Daleks want a coat?"

'Taking your scent, maybe? Like a bloodhound," suggested Sarah Jane.

"The Daleks can sense atmospheric molecules, although it isn't exactly a sense of smell." The Doctor's large hands were deftly stripping the ends of the wire. When he was done, he just stood there, holding the two wires.

"Touch these together, and I destroy the Daleks forever. Destroy them for all time. But is it the right thing to do?"

"Why don't you just tell the Reflectionists what you know about the Daleks?" urged Sarah Jane. "Work with them to neutralise them as a threat."

"The Reflectionists will have taken everything I said straight from the Bunker computers, they're probably tapped into any internal surveillance equipment as well," said the Doctor, still staring at his wires. "If they are from the future, they must know what the Daleks will do, what they are capable of becoming. But they aren't stopping them! If anything, the Reflectionists are giving the Daleks more autonomy, more power. Can I risk the future on their good will, against the Daleks?"

"From what you say, Doctor, don't you have to destroy them?" asked Harry.

"But they will change the universe in so many ways, Harry. Good and bad ways. Many races will unite to fight the Daleks. Do I have the right to change history for billions of sentient beings in the future?"

"You've changed history before, Doctor," said Sarah. "If the good will outweigh the harm-"

"The ends justify the means, Sarah - that's what you mean. But genocide? Can I wipe out an entire intelligent species, destroy them forever?"

"I'll go make sure no one is coming," whispered Harry, going around the corner.

"Doctor, you have to decide." Sarah Jane was getting more frustrated. "Look, there isn't much time, I'm going to check the other way."

The Doctor stood alone in the corridor, staring at the wires. It seemed somehow more terrible than he could express, that he had only to touch these tiny wires together, and destroy his greatest enemies forever. Aloud to himself, he said, "Do I have the right?" The two wires trembled in his hands, so close to touching.