I may have had a more refined version up on Archive of Our Own, but they're down for the month+, so this is all I gots. Oh backups and iteration issues, Batman!
Sergei waved Wendy over to the rickety birch ladder. “Quick! Climb down,” he urged. “There’s no time to waste. I’ll hold it steady.”
Wendy stopped short and looked about. “You said you were with my sister; where is she?”
Sergei sighed. Context. He had to set some emotional context if he was to have any hope of getting her to do what he wanted. What was necessary. “She has a mission to lead.” He walked over and put his hands on her shoulders. “To do that effectively, she has to know you’re safe. At the far side of the waste pit, behind that rusted metal sheeting, is the entrance to a tunnel. Go to the far end…” His voice trailed off. Wendy’s eyes were staring not at him, but over his shoulder.
Sergei stiffened and turned, using his best imitation of a robot. He found himself face to face with the roboman Madden.
“No revision to the orders for Work Detail Three Five B was issued. Explain. Who gave the order?” the roboman demanded, his speech slow and deliberate.
Sergei looked up at the man and swallowed hard. Madden had at least fifty pounds on him, and longer reach. On the other hand, robomen were slow witted. Orders had to be funnelled through the helmet control apparatus. And they were doggedly procedural and literal minded. Like zombie bureaucrats.
That gave Sergei an idea. He raised up an arm and pointed at the shed. “He did.”
The roboman’s brow furrowed. He then turned towards the shed.
As he did so, Sergei pulled out a knife and shoved it up between Madden’s ribs, through a lung, and into man’s heart. The roboman let out an airless gasp, staggered, and fell face first into the dirt. Sergei yanked out the knife, wiped it on the corpses’ back, then sat on the dead man’s back and examined the helmet. He found the tracking transponder, yanked it out and smashed it with the butt of the knife.
As he clambered awkwardly to his feet, he noticed Wendy, who was gaping at the corpse.
“Move!” hissed Sergei. “Don’t you understand? They’ll know he’s dead soon enough. Go out the end of the tunnel and hide in the bushes there. If we don’t arrive by dark, head south. Do you hear?!?” He gave her a quick shake.
She snapped out of it and looked into his eyes. “Cas?”
“She’ll see you soon. It’s going to be alright, but there’s no time to waste. Go!”
Wendy nodded, rushed down the ladder and ran towards the discarded metal sheeting.
Sergei watched her slip beneath it and fix it back in place. Satisfied, he ran north, weaving between stacks of wood and equipment, his feet pounding on plank pathways.
Any response force would take at least a few minutes to arrive; robomen were slow. Very slow. And there were few Daleks up top. He didn’t know their top speed, but was willing to bet he could outrun them on uneven ground.
Besides, they must have mechanical and transmission failures, too. From the cheap, shoddy construction of the helmets, he’d bet that happened all the time.
They wouldn’t know it was a murder for sure until they found the body.
By then, he’d be in the access shaft elevator and on his way down to the strike team.