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(In the midst of a dense jungle lies a man - JEFF GARVEY, dressed in a military-style tunic and covered in dirt and grime. He appears to be unconscious. The air is filled with the sounds of animal life, and suddenly there is one cry louder and closer than the rest. This rouses GARVEY into consciousness. He opens his eyes and sits up, looking round in terror. Then he cries out, as if in pain, and presses his hands to his temples. His face creases up in agony but then clears. He then smiles and rises to his feet, un-holstering a gun from his belt.)

JEFF GARVEY: I...I remember now. I must...I must kill...I must kill...I must kill.

(He sets off into the dense undergrowth, one thought clear in his mind.)


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(In another part of the jungle, a scout ship sits in the middle of a clearing which its rockets made in landing. Four tail fins sink into the ground. Each one is emblazoned with the words "UN - DEEP SPACE FORCE GROUP 1" and the Union Jack. Beside the ship are two of its crew members. MARC CORY, also dressed in a military-style uniform, looks anxiously at GORDON LOWERY whose head and shoulders are inside a large hole in the side of the ship, apparently effecting repairs.)

GORDON LOWERY: Why you ever wanted to land on a planet like this in the first place, I'll never know. This is getting on my nerves.

(One particularly loud squeal emanates from the jungle. The two men look towards the sound.)

MARC CORY: I hate to think what kind of an animal makes a noise like that.
GORDON LOWERY: Yeah, they're getting closer.
MARC CORY: Yes, all the more reason to...stop talking and get on with the job.

(LOWERY takes offence at this remark and looks hard at CORY.)

GORDON LOWERY: Just you listen to me, Cory. I know my orders were to let you have full reign, and you've certainly taken advantage of that. But as Captain of this expedition, my first responsibility is to get this ship off the ground. So just...cut the chat. Some other time, hmm? Bring that wrench.

(MARC CORY removes a tool from the toolbox and follows LOWERY who returns to his repair work.)

MARC CORY: How's it going?
GORDON LOWERY: Ah, it's slow. Flare-back melted the retaining bolts - it's just solid lumps of Tarnium.

(He manages to pull away part of the damage equipment.)

GORDON LOWERY: Ah, got some of it free.
MARC CORY: I want to have a look round.
GORDON LOWERY: Listen, if we don't shoot off soon, we won't make it to the rendezvous with the freighter, you know? If we're not in the pick-up orbit, they won't wait.
MARC CORY: You'll make it, Lowery. Here you are.

(CORY hands the wrench to LOWERY.)

GORDON LOWERY: I'm doing the best I can. I didn't want to touch down on this lousy planet in the first place, remember?
MARC CORY: Let's not start that again. Just get on with the job would you?

(CORY looks round into the jungle.)

MARC CORY: Where the devil's Garvey? He should be back by now.
GORDON LOWERY: No idea. Pass that screwdriver, will you?

(CORY rummages in the tool box as LOWERY disappears back into the hole in the side of the ship. Meanwhile, JEFF GARVEY is watching them from behind nearby foliage. While CORY is momentarily distracted, GARVEY slips unnoticed from behind the jungle cover, so that only the ship itself is between him and his prey. His mind continues to focus on the one goal, which he speaks out loud like an oath.)

JEFF GARVEY: Kill! Kill!

(He edges forward. On the other side of the ship, LOWERY has removed one of the damaged components.)

GORDON LOWERY: Ahh. Managed to get some of it free. Look at it - useless! Get me a spare, will you?

(CORY starts to dig through the toolbox again.)

GORDON LOWERY: No, in the ship.

(MARC CORY heads back inside the craft. In the meantime, JEFF GARVEY takes the opportunity to get closer to his prey, a pistol raised. The unsuspecting GORDON LOWERY continues his repairs, unaware of the danger. He calls out to CORY in the ship.)

GORDON LOWERY: Ah, it's no good, Cory. You needn't bother with a spare. I'm just not gonna be able to fix it.

(GARVEY appears round the side of the ship and aims at LOWERY. Just as he starts to squeeze the trigger, a blaster is heard, and LOWERY spins around quickly enough to see GARVEY ringed in blaster fire before falling face down - dead. Behind him, CORY stands in the ship's hatchway, pistol drawn.)


(He jumps to JEFF GARVEY'S side, turning him over.)

GORDON LOWERY: You've killed him. You've killed Jeff!
MARC CORY: It was him or you.
GORDON LOWERY: You didn't give him a chance. You shot him down like an animal. You just shot him down!

(He jumps at CORY, hands outstretched to choke him. However, he finds himself lying breathless next to GARVEY, as a result of the punch to the stomach. CORY moves to examine GARVEY, and removes something from below his ear, which he shows to LOWERY.)

MARC CORY: A Varga thorn.
GORDON LOWERY: Wha? V...varga?

(LOWERY reaches out to touch it.)

MARC CORY: Careful! Don't prick yourself with it...or you'll end up the way Garvey is. I'd have to kill you.
GORDON LOWERY: What do you mean?
MARC CORY: Let's get back into the ship.
GORDON LOWERY: What about his personal effects - for his family?
MARC CORY: All right. But hurry up.

(LOWERY starts to collect GARVEY'S belongings and then the two men enter the rocket ship. Once they are inside, the fingers on one of GARVEY'S hands starts to twitch. Long white hairs are growing out of it and amongst the hair are spines.)


(The interior of the ship is very cramped. Most of the space is taken up by three acceleration couch-like seats and the flight instruments. MARC CORY and GORDON LOWERY stand by the control panels, as CORY tries to explain his actions.)

MARC CORY: I didn't intend to tell you anything, but since we're stuck on this planet and Garvey is dead, there are some facts that you're entitled to know.
GORDON LOWERY: Yeah - Jeff Garvey's dead. I mean, we flew together for the last ten years, and now he's dead, and you killed him. You'd better explain that fact and make it good.
MARC CORY: Sit down and take a look at this.

(LOWERY sits. CORY removes a small document from a pocket and gives it to him. LOWERY reads it to himself, then looks up at CORY.)

GORDON LOWERY: Huh! I might have known - "Space Security Service - Licensed to kill".
MARC CORY: That's right.
GORDON LOWERY: Well count me out.

(He removes another document from the same pocket.)

MARC CORY: This other document gives me the authority to enlist the aid of any persons - civil or military. You were just enlisted.

(He also hands it to LOWERY who looks over it.)

MARC CORY: From now on, Lowery, you can take your orders from me.
GORDON LOWERY: Yeah, all right, all right. But I don't fully understand - better fill in a few details.
MARC CORY: All right.

(CORY sits down on one of the couches.)

MARC CORY: I suppose you've heard of the Daleks?
GORDON LOWERY: (Thinks.) The Daleks invaded Earth a thousand years ago.
MARC CORY: That's right. Well, they haven't been active in our galaxy for some time now, but that doesn't mean they've exactly been sitting around. In the last five hundred years, they've gained control of over seventy planets in Ninth Galactic System and forty more in the Constellation of Miros.
GORDON LOWERY: Don't see why that should concern us. I mean, they're both millions of light years away from our galaxy.
MARC CORY: Mmm...that's what we all thought. But about a week ago, we had a report from the captain of a space freighter. His navigator spotted a...a space ship of a type never before used in our system. He saw it only for a second but he gave us a good description.
MARC CORY: What he described...was a Dalek spaceship.

(LOWERY looks shocked.)


(Outside the ship, JEFF GARVEY'S lower body twitches with life. His feet and legs are covered with thick white hair and spines. As he struggles to his "feet", his upper body is also covered with a mass of white hair, his human identity almost lost.)


(CORY is using the radio, desperately attempting to make contact with their intended rendezvous target.)

MARC CORY: (Into radio.) Freighter XM2, freighter XM2 - come in please, come in please!

(All that is coming out of the radio is static.)

GORDON LOWERY: Can you make it work?
MARC CORY: It's got to work!
GORDON LOWERY: It may have been damaged in the crash.
MARC CORY: We must keep on trying!
GORDON LOWERY: Have you tested the link pulses?
MARC CORY: (Snaps.) I know what I'm doing.
GORDON LOWERY: All right, all right, so the link pulses work. There could be something else wrong with it. What about the vergometer? Have you tested that? Without that you'd never break through the atmosphere.
MARC CORY: How can I possibly test that? We've just got to take our chance that it hasn't been damaged.

(CORY turns back to the radio.)

MARC CORY: (Into radio.) Freighter XM2. Freighter XM2, come in please! Come in please!

(CORY waits and listens for a response. Static remains the only response. CORY switches off the set and sighs.)

MARC CORY: It's useless. Are you sure we can't repair this ship?
GORDON LOWERY: Oh, not a chance. ____. So you think that the Daleks have established some sort of a base here, is that it?
MARC CORY: It could be. This is the most hostile planet in the universe. People from other civilisations avoid it. I suddenly had a hunch...that this might make an ideal place for any secret preparations that the Daleks wanted to make. That's why we brought this ship down here.
GORDON LOWERY: Did you tell anybody else about this hunch of yours?
MARC CORY: No one - not even your commander.
GORDON LOWERY: (Smiles.) Huh!
MARC CORY: I just asked for a couple of men and a small rocket. I didn't even tell him what for.
GORDON LOWERY: Then why are you telling me?

(CORY holds up the thorn again.)

MARC CORY: Because of this - a thorn from a Varga plant. A thing...part animal, part vegetable, looks like a cactus. The poison attacks the brain. Rational thought is replaced by an overwhelming desire to kill. Eventually the poison seeps through the system and the victim is gradually transformed...into a Varga.
GORDON LOWERY: Well, what's that gotta do with the Daleks?
MARC CORY: The only place in the universe where Vargas grow naturally is on the Daleks' own planet, Skaro. If the Vargas are here, the Daleks are too.


(And sure enough, the DALEKS are present on Kemble. In a control room, several DALEKS attend to various controls. All eye stalks turn towards the doorway as the darker cased DALEK SUPREME enters.)

DALEK SUPREME: I will receive your reports.

(It looks towards a DALEK.)

DALEK SUPREME: First - space monitor control.

(A DALEK moves forward.)

FIRST DALEK: Space monitor control. The emissaries from the seven planets will arrive as arranged.
DALEK SUPREME: Then the conference will begin at first sun.

(It looks towards a SECOND DALEK.)

DALEK SUPREME: Security report?

(The SECOND DALEK moves forward.)

SECOND DALEK: Security control. Position of alien space craft located. Our patrol will reach it shortly.
DALEK SUPREME: The ship and its occupants must be totally destroyed. Destroyed! Destroyed!
SECOND DALEK: It will be done.


(Night has fallen. The jungle noises seem louder now, and MARC CORY appears more anxious to finish his mission and get off the planet. Noticing movement in nearby bushes, he darts into the undergrowth, where he can make out three lumbering shapes in the darkness - Vargas. He darts back to the rocket where GORDON LOWERY breaks off from working on a small object which resembles a miniature launching pad with a smaller rocket attached. )

GORDON LOWERY: Is anything out there?
MARC CORY: Vargas - they're closing in.
GORDON LOWERY: (Startled.) Do you mean to say they can move?
MARC CORY: Very slowly - look.

(He points into the night and LOWERY looks in the indicated direction.)

MARC CORY: They use ther...their roots to drag themselves along. How long are you gonna be with this...this rescue beacon?

(LOWERY holds up a small mechanism.)

GORDON LOWERY: Well this is the recording part. Let's hope it wasn't damaged in the crash.
MARC CORY: We'll soon find out. Can you fix this capsule up?
GORDON LOWERY: Well that's easy enough, but this is the recording mechanism for the message. If we sent the rocket into space without this, not only would we not be rescued, but if you put it up early, no one would even know we were here.
MARC CORY: (Impatiently.) Hurry up and attach it then.
GORDON LOWERY: All right, all right! I'm as keen to get out of here as you are.

(He re-starts work on the rescue beacon.)

GORDON LOWERY: Give me those pliers will you?

(CORY hands him the pliers.)

GORDON LOWERY: Nearly finished.
MARC CORY: Good. I don't know how long we've got. Now the Daleks must know we're here. They'll be coming for us soon.
GORDON LOWERY: Well I still think you're jumping to conclusions, you know. I mean, just 'cos these...what are they...Varga things grow here, it's no proof that the Daleks are here too.
MARC CORY: Take my word for it, they're here all right.
GORDON LOWERY: Yes, but couldn't these Varga things grow here naturally? I's possible, isn't it?
MARC CORY: No, they were developed in Dalek laboratories. They grow them to give themselves protection.
GORDON LOWERY: Well if they're synthetic, that means they...
MARC CORY: (Angrily shouts.) Look, stop asking questions and get on with the work!

(LOWERY is shocked into silence. He grows sullen.)

GORDON LOWERY: All right...

(CORY stares into the night again.)


(Three DALEKS are on patrol in pursuit of the scout ship crew. One of the DALEKS has one of the compass-like perceptor devices in place of the usual sucker. The patrol halts.)

FIRST DALEK: Perceptor readings indicated alien space craft. We will close on it from two directions.
DALEKS: We obey.

(The patrol splits up and moves off.)


(LOWERY works feverishly, while CORY stands on watch, frustrated at his inability to assist. LOWERY looks up momentarily and sees that the Vargas are creeping closer.)

GORDON LOWERY: Those things are getting too close for comfort. I'll fix 'em.

(LOWERY stops work and brandishes a blaster to take aim but...)

MARC CORY: It's no good, Lowery. They'll only grow again as fast as you can shoot them.
GORDON LOWERY: At least I'll have had a try at 'em.
MARC CORY: Get back to the beacon.

(LOWERY sees the determination in CORY'S manner and does as instructed.)

MARC CORY: You sure it'll work?
GORDON LOWERY: Well it should work - it's standard safety equipment on all rocket ships.
MARC CORY: What does it do exactly?

(He holds up the recorder.)

GORDON LOWERY: Well, you record the message, SOS, on this, just like an ordinary tape recorder.

(He hands CORY the recorder.)

GORDON LOWERY: The rocket launcher shoots it high into orbit, once it's in orbit it transmits the message - simple.
MARC CORY: From what we know about the Daleks, we've got to be picked up.
GORDON LOWERY: Well it's tuned into a special frequency - and there are listening posts all over the galaxy. Our people should get the message.
MARC CORY: And all we have to to stay alive until they get here.

(LOWERY turns back to the launcher. A ship rumbles overhead, its landing lights casting shadows across the jungle. MARC CORY and GORDON LOWERY look up at it.)

GORDON LOWERY: That's the biggest rocket ship I've ever seen. It's like nothing we've got.
MARC CORY: It's from an outer galaxy.
GORDON LOWERY: Yeah, but what's it doing in a God-forsaken planet like this?
MARC CORY: I don't know. But I'll tell you this - there's something very big going on here, and if the Daleks are involved, you can bet your life our whole galaxy is in danger!


(One of the DALEK patrols has also spotted the arriving ship.)

FIRST DALEK: The ship from the planet Gearon...
SECOND DALEK: ...and the beginning of the Great Alliance.

(They resume their advance.)


(GORDON LOWERY finishes his repairs and puts down his tools with a sigh of relief.)

GORDON LOWERY: That should just about do it. Give me the capsule will you. I'll record the message.

(He sees that MARC CORY'S attention is on the surrounding jungle.)

GORDON LOWERY: What is it?
MARC CORY: There's something out there moving.
MARC CORY: No. Moving too quickly. Come on, we've gotta...gotta get away.

(He turns away and prepares to leave.)

GORDON LOWERY: What about the distress signal?
MARC CORY: Take it with us, launch it as soon as we get a chance.
GORDON LOWERY: All right. Which way?
MARC CORY: Over here.

(LOWERY picks up the capsule launcher and CORY indicates a direction, making sure to point out the deadly thorns of the nearby Varga plants.)

MARC CORY: They won't be the only ones, so watch out.

(CORY and LOWERY move off into the jungle, carefully avoiding the Varga plants. Just before they disappear into the undergrowth, the DALEK patrol arrives in the clearing.)

MARC CORY: Get down and don't make a sound!

(They duck under nearby bushes and observe the three DALEKS. One of them looks inside the ship and then faces its companions.)

SECOND DALEK: The ship is empty. The crew has gone.
FIRST DALEK: We will search for them. Destroy the ship. Fire!

(CORY and LOWERY watch helplessly as the ship disintegrates under the DALEKS' fire.)

GORDON LOWERY: It's just falling apart!
MARC CORY: Come on!

(CORY heads off into the jungle and LOWERY follows.)


(As CORY strides ahead, LOWERY pushes aside a clump of bushes and then recoils his hand in alarm. He has been pricked by a Varga thorn. He looks at it for a moment and then realises what has happened. He removes it from his palm and tries to suck the poison out. He hears a movement and removes his hand from his mouth. CORY comes back.)

MARC CORY: Come on man! Come on! They'll be looking for us now!

(LOWERY hesitates and then follows.)


(The three DALEKS are standing by the twisted wreck of the scout ship.)

FIRST DALEK: Report destruction of alien ship to control.
FIRST DALEK: Advise that we will now seek out the crew. Alert all patrols.
DALEKS: We obey.


(In a large darkened conference room are the representatives of the seven galaxies. Trantis is hunched with dark hair and a face from which hang short tendrils. Gearon has a featureless, egg-shaped head and wears a visor. Strangest of all is Sentreal, who is all black, apart from two burning, bright eyes in his cylindrical head. His body looks as though it consists of several open cones stacked on top of each other. Beaus and Warrien both wear protective suits and helmets. Beaus' face and visor are dark and his helmet has an antenna on top. Warrien appears to have a human face beneath his cowled helmet. MALPHA is tall and well built. His face looks like a patchwork, with a network of dark veins on pale skin. The seventh species is, of course, the DALEKS. The representatives are grouped in the centre of the room around a large circular table, on top of which is a representation of the solar system. The centre of this is a large, bright light representing the Sun. Around it, on the surface of the table, are concentric rings representing the orbits of the planets - the planets themselves each being represented by a light.)

DALEK SUPREME: With the arrival of our ally, Malpha, we are enough. The meeting can now begin.

(MALPHA interrupts in a deep guttural voice.)

MALPHA: No it can't.
DALEK SUPREME: What is wrong?
MALPHA: There is a hostile presence among us.
DALEK SUPREME: What do you mean?
MALPHA: On arrival here, I am told that there are hostile influences from the solar system among us.

(There are general sounds of displeasure from the alien delegates.)

DALEK SUPREME: Not among us.
MALPHA: Then here - on the planet Kembel.
DALEK SUPREME: Some beings have landed from the planet Earth - hostile beings from the centre of the solar system. But do not worry, their spaceship has been destroyed.
MALPHA: What about the beings?
DALEK SUPREME: They cannot escape. At this moment they are being hunted down. They will be destroyed.
MALPHA: Are you sure?
DALEK SUPREME: They cannot get away.
MALPHA: Suppose they send a message through this universe?
DALEK SUPREME: They will not have time. If they do not die by our Varga plants, my patrols will kill them!

(The DALEK SUPREME'S voice rises...)

DALEK SUPREME: They will be exterminated! Exterminated!


(CORY and LOWERY are still making their way through the jungle. CORY does not notice the look of worry on LOWERY'S face.)

MARC CORY: This way.


(The conference reaches its conclusion...)

ALIEN ONE: Agreed.
ALIEN TWO: Agreed.
DALEK SUPREME: All are agreed. It is done. The seven great powers of the outer galaxies are one.

(The aliens make various shouts of triumph, speaking over one another.)

ALIEN THREE: Our galactic domination...
ALIEN FOUR: Victory...
ALIEN FIVE: We are the mightiest in the universe!

(The noise subsides.)

MALPHA: This is indeed an historic moment in the history of the universe! We six from the outer galaxies, joining with the power from the solar system - the Daleks! The seven of us represent the greatest war force ever assembled! Conquest is assured!

(MALPHA steps from behind his lectern and moves to the map of the solar system. As he announces each planet, he points to the light representing that planet.)

MALPHA: Mars! Venus! Jupiter! The moon colonies!
DALEK SUPREME: They will all fall before our might. But the first of them will be...Earth!

(The DALEK SUPREME'S arm comes to rest on the representation of the Earth.)


(LOWERY is resting on a small rock. He tries to suck the poison from his palm. Then he notices the back of his hand. He sees that both it and his forearm are covered with white Varga spines. He starts to sob with pain and fear, and shakes all over. He hears CORY returning from a short recce and hastily covers his arm. CORY immediately starts to work on the distress beacon and is too busy to notice his colleague's odd behaviour.)

MARC CORY: We've got to get this capsule off - and fast. There's a city down there - a Dalek city. I got quite close. Close enough to hear an announcement through the loudspeaker system.
GORDON LOWERY: And what did they...?
MARC CORY: Our whole galaxy is to be invaded and destroyed!

(Unseen behind him, LOWERY is finally succumbing to the poison of the Varga thorn.)

GORDON LOWERY: You must kill...

(LOWERY raises his blaster and CORY turns and realises what has happened.)

MARC CORY: (Shocked.) The Varga!
GORDON LOWERY: That's right. I'll soon...soon I shall be one of them...Kill...Kill!

(CORY is quicker to pull out his own gun and shoots LOWERY who collapses "dead" with a groan. Realising that it is only a matter of time before the DALEKS find him, CORY picks up the recording unit from the beacon, switches it on and starts to speak into it. The machine whirrs as is records his speech.)

MARC CORY: (Into recorder.) This is Marc Cory, Special Security Service, reporting from the planet Kembel. The Daleks are planning the complete destruction of our galaxy. Together with the powers of the outer galaxies, a war force is being assembled...


(Nearby, the three DALEKS, one of them still checking its perceptor instrument, close in on CORY'S position.)

FIRST DALEK: Seismic detector is registering.
SECOND DALEK: The crew from the rocket ship must be in this direction.
FIRST DALEK: Are they to be taken for questioning?
SECOND DALEK: No. They are to be exterminated. Destroy them on sight. Destroy and exterminate!
DALEKS: We obey.

(They glide on.)


(MARC CORY continues his message, getting more and more terrified of the impending DALEK arrival.)

MARC CORY: (Into recorder.) If our galaxy is to be saved, whoever receives this message must relay this information to Earth immediately. is vital that...defence mechanisms are put into operation at once! Message ends.

(Just as CORY finishes the recording and turns to place it in the rocket, the DALEKS enter the clearing.)


(Before he can reach the rocket, CORY is hit by a barrage of DALEK fire. He collapses, lifeless to the ground. The DALEKS look over him.)

FIRST DALEK: He is dead.
SECOND DALEK: Our plans for the galactic conquest are safe. Whatever information he discovered has died with him. Return to the city.
DALEKS: We obey.

(The DALEKS glide away. By MARC CORY'S lifeless hand, the message recorder remains unnoticed...)


(MALPHA address the conference...)

MALPHA: Now all is ready. We at this table pledge our allegiance to the Dalek cause. Our armies will reduce the galaxies to ashes, their people to dust and Earth we will conquer first. Victory! Victory!

(His cry is echoed by his allies...)

DALEK SUPREME & ALIENS: Victory! Victory! Victory!

(The DALEKS start to file out of the chamber to start their plans...)

Next Episode

Dr. Who

Jeff Garvey

Marc Cory

Gordon Lowery


Dalek voices

Dalek operators


Title music by
and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop

Costumes supervised by

Make-up supervised by



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