Doctor Who: Engines of War (17 page)

‘What happened?’ he said, softly. ‘What did they do to you, Cinder?’

Her mouth opened, but all that came out was an indecipherable mumble. ‘Mm… mmm…’

He leaned closer, putting his ear close to her mouth so that he could feel her warm breath against his cheek.

‘M… mind… probe…’ she said, with what seemed like a gargantuan effort. She seemed to fold back into the chair, the last of her energy spent.

The Doctor straightened up, turning slowly to face the expectant faces in the other room. He felt the white heat of fury building inside his chest. ‘The mind probe!’ he bellowed, causing the Castellan, who was still standing by the harp, to wince.

The Doctor stormed from the room, making a beeline for Karlax, who – seeing what was coming – began to circle the table, seeking to put a barrier between himself and the Doctor.

The Doctor was not interested in playing games of cat and mouse with the obsequious fool, and so, rather than attempt to chase him around the table, he tossed the Castellan’s chair out of the way and leapt up onto the table, to the startled gasps of the rest of the High Council.

Sending papers fluttering to the floor with every step, he marched across the table top towards Karlax, who was now pinned in the corner, with nowhere left to run. He cowered as the Doctor hopped down from the table.

Two strides put him directly in front of the aide, and without losing his momentum, the Doctor thrust out his hand, grabbed the man by the throat and shoved him back against the wall, hard enough that he squealed in pain as his head struck the plaster.

‘Tell me why I shouldn’t just throttle you now, Karlax?’ barked the Doctor. Spittle flecked Karlax’s face, and he flinched, his eyelids fluttering in panic.

‘L… Lord… President…?’ he stammered, squirming in the Doctor’s grasp.

The Doctor glanced round at Rassilon to gauge his reaction. The Lord President appeared entirely uninterested in what was happening, as if he were simply waiting for it all to blow over. This, in itself, only added to the Doctor’s rage.

‘Begging for your master, eh?’ laughed the Doctor, returning his attention to Karlax. ‘Now who’s straining on a leash? I could kill you before he so much as looked at you again, you snivelling toad.’

‘But of course, you won’t,’ said Rassilon, from behind him. He heard the tap-tap-tap of Rassilon’s gauntleted fingers on the surface of the table. A warning, the Doctor knew – that gauntlet held unimaginable power, including the ability to dematerialise a person, just like the new Dalek weapon. Rassilon was reminding him where he was.

The Doctor sighed. ‘No. I won’t.’ He released Karlax by pushing him to the floor, where he sank to his knees, scrabbling at his throat. ‘But trust me, Karlax – it wouldn’t leave a stain on my conscience.’

‘Are you finished with your little rebellion now, Doctor?’ said Rassilon. ‘It grows wearisome.’

The Doctor rounded on the President. ‘Did you know about this, Rassilon? Did you know what they were going to do?’

Rassilon’s lips curled into a thin smile. ‘Oh, no, Doctor. That was all down to Karlax and the Castellan here, using their initiative. The results, however, have been most enlightening.’

The Doctor looked at the Castellan, who wouldn’t meet his eye. ‘You might have killed her!’ he said. ‘She’s human. Her mind isn’t strong enough to withstand the probe. What could you possibly hope to gain?’

‘It’s just as you said, Doctor,’ mewled Karlax, climbing to his feet and dusting down his robes. ‘Her perspective proved most valuable. We’ve now been able to corroborate your story. We’re fully appreciative of the Dalek threat.’

‘What are you saying?’ said the Doctor.

‘That the High Council have endorsed my recommendation, Doctor,’ said Rassilon, rising to his feet. ‘You’re just in time to see the order given.’ He turned to his aide. ‘Karlax, you may give the order. The Tear of Isha is to be deployed.’

‘Yes, Lord President,’ said Karlax, eyeing the Doctor.

‘Castellan, tell Commander Partheus to ready his fleet,’ continued Rassilon. ‘He is honoured this day. He shall carry the Tear deep into the Tantalus Eye, and with him, the hopes of all Time Lords, living, dead and still to be. We will strike a hard blow to the Daleks this day. They shall know the fury of the Time Lords.’

‘And you shall know mine,’ said the Doctor quietly. He could not –
would
not – allow this to happen. So many lives, on so many worlds. There had to be a better way.

‘Doctor?’ said Rassilon. ‘You have something to add?’

‘I’ll stop you,’ he said. ‘Understand that, Rassilon. I refuse to allow you to deploy the Tear of Isha.’

‘You
refuse
?’ said Rassilon, his tone incredulous. ‘You will directly disobey a decision of the High Council, of the Lord President?’

‘It’s nothing I haven’t done before,’ said the Doctor. ‘It means nothing.’ He looked at them each in turn. ‘You’re all mad,’ he said, exasperated. ‘You’ve forgotten who you are. You’ve allowed the War to make you desperate and blind. Look at you all, hiding up here in your robes and fancy headdresses, pretending you know what’s really going on out there, telling yourselves you’re so damn important. Well, let me tell you the truth: you’re wrong! You’re just
wrong
.’

He jabbed his finger at Rassilon. ‘If you allow him to do this, to commit genocide on this scale, then we’re every bit as bad as the Daleks. Can’t you see that? You’re so obsessed with your own, petty survival that you’ve lost sight of the bigger picture. If this is what the Time Lords have become, then we don’t deserve to survive.’

The room was silent for the moment. The Doctor tried to regain his breath. Rassilon was the first to speak. ‘Am I to understand, Doctor, that you intend to move against us?’

The Doctor met his gaze. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him. He glanced at Cinder, still semi-conscious in the chair. ‘Yes,’ he said, with steely determination. ‘If that’s what it takes. I do it for your own good, for the good of the Time Lords. I’m trying to save you from yourselves. The path you are taking, Rassilon – it doesn’t lead to victory. If you do this, it will be the end of the Time Lords. Ask Borusa if you doubt me,’ he added, bitterly.

He marched across the room towards Cinder. It was time to leave Gallifrey, and he doubted he’d ever return. There was no looking back. He’d had enough.

‘Seize him,’ said Rassilon. ‘Him and the girl. Throw them in a cell and impound his TARDIS.’

The Doctor felt hands grab him from behind, twisting his arm up behind his back. He struggled, but to no avail. The Castellan was younger, and stronger, and adept at carrying out orders, no matter how unsavoury. ‘Better still,’ continued Rassilon, ‘scrap it. It’s a decrepit old thing and of no use to us. The Doctor is a renegade and he will not be allowed to interfere with our plans. Once the Tear of Isha has neutralised the Dalek threat, he will be tried and found wanting.’

The Doctor heard Karlax calling for more guards. It was useless putting up a fight – for now, at least. His chance would come. He had to believe that.

As the Castellan dragged him off to the sound of Karlax’s sniggering laugh, the Doctor took one last look at Cinder. He hadn’t wanted the responsibility, but he’d assumed that mantle now, regardless. Not just for Cinder, but for the entirety of her race, all those billions of people being held prisoner on the occupied worlds of the Spiral. Judging by the current state of affairs, they were better off with the Daleks than with his own people.

The Time Lords were about to cross a line they could never come back from, and there was only him, an old, tired warrior, standing in the way.

He wasn’t going to be able to do very much from the inside of a cell.

Chapter Fifteen

Cinder stirred. The side of her face was pressing against something cold and hard. Her head throbbed as if someone were using her skull for a bass drum,
bang, bang, bang
, and for a moment she had no idea where she was, or what she had been doing to get there.

Had she been at the grain alcohol again? She was sure there hadn’t been a party last night. She’d been out on an ambush, but then something had happened, and –

She sat up with a start, and, moments later, when the world came with her and she swooned, she wished she hadn’t. Lights danced before her eyes like sunspots, obscuring her view. She took a deep breath, which encouraged a painful, racking cough. She blinked away the fog.

She was sitting in a cell, on a low bunk formed from a slab of rough stone. Across from her, the Doctor sat slumped against the wall, his feet jutting out in front of him. He peered at her myopically. ‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Where are we?’ she said. Her mouth was dry. She rubbed the back of her neck.

‘In a cell,’ he said, redundantly.

‘A cell?’

‘Yes, beneath the Capitol on Gallifrey. Do you remember…?’

‘The mind probe,’ she said. ‘How could I forget?’

The Doctor sighed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t even have brought you here, to Gallifrey, and got you mixed up in all of this.’

Cinder massaged her temples. ‘Like I told you, back at the Dalek base on Moldox, we’re in it together,’ she said. ‘Although I admit, I hadn’t imagined we’d end up in a cell.’ She considered for a moment. ‘Why
are
we in a cell?’

‘Ah,’ said the Doctor. ‘Now that’s a bit of a long story.’

‘You told Rassilon where to shove it, didn’t you?’ she said. She grinned. ‘Where he could go and stick his Tear of Isha.’

The Doctor laughed. ‘In as many words,’ he conceded. ‘Perhaps with a little less vulgarity.’

Cinder shrugged. ‘Perhaps a little vulgarity was what he needed. Well, perhaps a lot of it.’

‘You’re not wrong,’ said the Doctor.

Cinder studied the cell. It was very much a
cell
. No plumbing, heating, monitor screens, books or data slates – just four stone walls, a raised stone slab, and a door. The floor was dressed in uneven flagstones, and covered in a grimy layer of dust. The Doctor was sitting in it. The only light came from a small panel in the ceiling, dim and watery.

‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ she said. ‘I like what you’ve done with it.’

The Doctor winced. ‘It’s positively mediaeval,’ he said.

‘Meddy-what?’ said Cinder.

‘Barbaric,’ replied the Doctor. ‘Unimaginative. Primitive.’

Cinder’s head was still spinning. To her, the whole situation seemed somewhat surreal. ‘How long was I out?’ she said.

‘Two or three hours,’ replied the Doctor. ‘You did well to withstand the effects of the mind probe. Better than well. I’ve seen it unravel the minds of those with far superior intellects.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ she said.

‘It was a compliment!’ said the Doctor.

‘Sounded like one,’ said Cinder.

The Doctor laughed again. ‘You know, you’re quite remarkable, Cinder,’ he said. ‘You know your own mind. You’re aware of what you want, and you go out and get it. It’s an enviable quality.’

‘Now
that’s
a compliment,’ said Cinder. ‘See the difference?’ She stretched, yawning and arching her back. She got to her feet. ‘So – and I want a straight, honest answer here – are they going to deploy the weapon?’

The Doctor nodded. ‘I’m afraid so,’ he said. His voice was grim. ‘I tried to stop them, but Rassilon had already made up his mind.’ The way the Doctor said his name made it clear he’d lost all respect for the Time Lord President – if indeed he’d had any in the first instance.

‘Well, it’s not over yet,’ said Cinder. ‘How long have we got?’

‘Until they’re ready to deploy?’ The Doctor appeared to do a quick calculation in his head. ‘No more than a couple of hours,’ he said.

Cinder stood over him, offering him both hands. ‘What are you doing sitting down there, then?’ she said. ‘You’re not going to save everyone wallowing in the dust and grime.’

The Doctor took her hands and allowed her to help him up, but his expression was telling. ‘I wish it were that simple,’ he said. ‘We’re in a Time Lord prison cell. Despite its primitive aesthetics, there’s no way out. They’ve impounded the TARDIS and they’re not going to let us out of here until the Tear has been deployed and the Tantalus Eye has been neutralised.’

Cinder fixed him with her best incredulous look. ‘Sounds like a lot of excuses to me,’ she said. It was pure bravado. She knew that. Inside, her heart ached at the certainty of the Doctor’s response. Her chest felt tight and she could feel the panic welling up, threatening to overwhelm her. She simply didn’t want to believe that he was right, that this stranger she had grown to trust had been defeated, and that everyone she knew – everyone even remotely like her, on twelve inhabited worlds – was going to die.

The Doctor looked pained. He was still holding her hands. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I understand.’

‘No!’ she said. ‘No, you don’t understand. You don’t get to be kind. You don’t get to hold my hand while everything I’ve ever known is obliterated. That’s not how this is going to work.’ She sucked at the air. ‘You’re going to find a way out of here and you’re going to go and
stop
them.’ She pulled her hands free of his grip and struck him forcefully in the chest with both fists. She felt tears welling in her eyes. ‘Do you understand?’

The Doctor looked at her with sad, haunted eyes. ‘If there was a way…’ he whispered.

She shook her head. ‘When we first met, you told me that you used to have a name, that you were no longer worthy of it. Today’s your chance to prove that you are.’

Cinder walked to the cell door. It was made from heavy wooden beams, banded with wrought iron. There was a large mechanical lock. ‘Here, look,’ she said. ‘You can use your screwdriver thingy to open it.’

The Doctor came to stand beside her. He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Cinder,’ he said. ‘I’ve tried. Remember what I said. This is a
Time Lord
cell. The lock is immune to the effects of sonic devices. That’s why they didn’t even bother to take it off me when they threw us in here. I spent the first hour and a half looking for ways out. I simply can’t find one. If we could get out of this cell then maybe we’d stand a chance. As it is, we’re stuck.’