Doctor Who: Engines of War (20 page)

All the same, it felt strange to be sitting still.

The Doctor was bustling about the console room like he’d lost something.

‘What are we going to do now?’ asked Cinder. She rested her chin on her upturned palm. ‘We can’t go back to Moldox, and we can’t go back to Gallifrey. We’re not very popular, are we?’ she mused.

The Doctor stopped what he was doing for a moment. ‘We’re going to stop the Time Lords from deploying the Tear of Isha,’ he said. ‘That’s what we’re going to do.’

No mean feat, thought Cinder, for two renegades in a blue box. She realised she was being maudlin and decided to cheer herself up. ‘Assuming we’re successful,’ she said, ‘and that we’re able to prevent the Time Lords from collapsing the Tantalus Eye…’

‘Yes,’ said the Doctor.

‘Then what about the Daleks? What are we going to do about them? Surely you’re not going to allow them to finish what they’ve started, to wipe Gallifrey from existence?’

‘Shouldn’t I?’ he said, but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He was furious at his people, and justifiably so. Not only had they refused to listen to him, they’d turned on him when he was trying to help them, when they’d needed him most. They’d shown him their true colours.

Everything she’d heard about the Time Lords, all the rumours – she now supposed they must be true, that there really wasn’t that much difference between them and the Daleks.

All except one, she thought, with a smile. He wasn’t so bad. And she didn’t believe for one minute that he was going to stand by and watch them be obliterated.

‘Ah, got it!’ the Doctor exclaimed, and Cinder shuffled round to see what he was up to, bringing her knees up to her chest and curling her arms around them.

The Doctor was on his knees, worrying away at something beneath the mushroom-shaped console. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Hold on…’ came the muffled response. He was wearing a look of intense concentration and his tongue was sticking out comically from the corner of his mouth. ‘There!’ he declared. A small black pod, which had evidently been fixed beneath the control panel, came away in his hand. He tossed it in the air and caught it again. ‘That’ll teach them,’ he said, getting to his feet.

‘What is it? What have you found?’

The Doctor got to his feet and crossed to where she was sitting. He held out his hand. The black object was a thin ovoid, made of what appeared to be glossy ceramic. It didn’t give much away. ‘A tracking device,’ he said. ‘I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist. The Castellan’s men must have planted it before they moved the TARDIS to the scrapyard.’

‘So you think they’ll come after us, then?’ asked Cinder. That was all they needed. She’d had enough of the Time Lords to last her a lifetime. Maybe two.

‘Nothing would surprise me,’ said the Doctor, resignedly. ‘If they can find us, that is. They’ll know we’re going after the Tear. They’ll probably send a strike force to try to stop us.’

Cinder sighed. When would it all end? ‘So, about the Daleks, then,’ she said.

‘What about them?’

‘Well, I know you weren’t serious. But what
are
we going to do to stop them?’ she said. ‘If they use their weapon on Gallifrey, it’ll only be a matter of time before they use it somewhere else, too. There’ll be no one to stop them.’

‘Yes, I haven’t quite worked that bit out, yet,’ said the Doctor. His bushy eyebrows twitched.

‘Then have you considered the alternative?’ she said. She hated herself for even bringing it up, but it had to be said.

‘There is no alternative,’ replied the Doctor.

Cinder shook her head. ‘You could let the Time Lords deploy the Tear. What if Rassilon’s right? The lives of a few billion human slaves to ensure the safety of everyone else in the universe…’

The Doctor looked furious. ‘That’s not how this works, Cinder. We don’t get to make that choice.
No one
should wield that sort of power.’

‘But if we don’t, aren’t we handing that same power to the Daleks?’

‘I’ll find a way,’ said the Doctor. ‘I always do, in the end. But I certainly won’t allow the Time Lords to commit genocide to do it.’

Cinder nodded. Idly, she picked up the Dalek cannon, which was lying on the floor by her feet. There was nothing aesthetically pleasing about the thing. It was a weapon of pure hate, functional and deadly.

‘Where did you get that?’ said the Doctor. He sounded suspicious.

‘Just here, where you left it,’ replied Cinder.

The Doctor dropped to his haunches beside her and put his hand out. She passed it to him. ‘I left this on Gallifrey,’ he said. ‘In the council chamber.’

‘They must have decided to return it,’ said Cinder.

‘Mmmm,’ mumbled the Doctor, turning the weapon over in his hands. ‘Yes, as I thought.’ He turned it around to show her the little black nodule that had been secreted beneath the barrel. He wrenched it free.

‘Seems they weren’t taking any chances,’ he said. ‘I do have a reputation for being difficult to keep in a cell.’

He stood, leaving the two tracking devices side by side on the floor. He then stomped on them repeatedly, crushing them beneath his heel until there was nothing left but a pulp of broken ceramic and diodes. ‘There, that should see to that,’ he said.

He offered her his hand, hauling her up. ‘Now, it’s time you got some rest.’

Cinder rubbed her eyes. ‘No, I’m OK,’ she said.

The Doctor shook his head. ‘You need sleep.’

Now that he had mentioned it, she realised how close to exhaustion she really was. Her eyes were hot and heavy and there was a dull ache at the back of her skull, which had been there ever since her experience with the mind probe. Her limbs were leaden. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘For a little while.’

‘Up those steps,’ said the Doctor. ‘First door on the left. You’ll find somewhere to get some sleep.’ Cinder smoothed her tunic. It was filthy. ‘There should be some fresh clothes in the wardrobe, too. Take whatever you want.’

‘Thanks,’ she said. She crossed to the stairs. Perhaps for the very first time in her life, she felt peaceful. Yet she couldn’t help wondering if this was the calm before the storm, the eerie silence on the night before battle. Either way, she would take a while to muster her strength.

‘Do you know what you’re going to do yet?’ she said. ‘How you’re going to stop them. The Time Lords, I mean.’

The Doctor smiled. ‘I’ve always been one for just… well, winging it,’ he replied.

Cinder laughed. ‘Me too.’

She climbed the steps in search of a bed.

Cinder came hurtling down the steps to find the Doctor still standing at the console, tinkering with the controls. ‘I’ve been asleep for hours,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

The Doctor looked up, unperturbed. ‘You needed the rest,’ he said.

‘But the Tear! Won’t we be too late?’

The Doctor laughed. ‘This is a
time
machine,’ he said. ‘Out here in the Vortex we’re one step removed from what’s going on.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Think of it like a river,’ said the Doctor, ‘always flowing, always rushing by. That’s time, and the TARDIS is hovering above that river. Follow it upstream and we can dip into the future, back in the opposite direction, and although we’re swimming against the tide, we can find our way to any point in the past.’

Cinder shook her head, hopping down the last of the steps. ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she said.

Navigating the TARDIS hadn’t been as simple as ‘the first door on the left’, which had actually led to a palatial courtyard, filled with olive trees and park benches and complete with a marble fountain sculpted to resemble a naked woman, pouring water from a jug. Here, at least five other doors led off to adjoining rooms. She’d tried them each in turn, discovering all manner of bizarre environments: a squawking jungle, heady with the scent of fresh rain; a vast aviary filled with colourful, chirping birds; a chemistry lab with old-fashioned wooden benches, gas taps and Bunsen burners, and bookcases lined with innumerable phials. Finally she had found a bedroom, evidently still filled with the clutter of a previous occupant. Cinder hadn’t taken most of it in, but simply collapsed in a heap on the bed and drifted off into a long, luxurious sleep.

Upon waking, she’d found a pair of skinny black jeans and a Greenpeace T-shirt in the wardrobe, although she had no idea what the slogan meant.

‘So what’s the plan?’

‘Head to the Tantalus Spiral,’ said the Doctor. ‘The Time Lord fleet is going to have to get close if they intend to deploy the Tear. That’s where we’ll find them.’

‘And then?’ said Cinder.

‘And then we make it up as we go along,’ he replied. ‘Hold on!’

She did as he said, grabbing hold of the edge of the console as he stirred the TARDIS back to life. The engines roared as they plunged toward the Tantalus Spiral. Towards the place she had once called home.

The Doctor had left the ceiling de-opaqued, and Cinder watched as the swirling mists of the Time Vortex shifted suddenly, giving way to a crisp star field.

‘Now, we just have to hope we don’t attract the attention of any Dal—’ The Doctor stopped short, as the TARDIS shuddered, as if caught by a glancing blow.

‘What was that?’ said Cinder.

The Doctor grabbed a knob on the console and twisted it in a circle, causing the view through the canopy to slide dizzyingly, offering them an alternative perspective of local space. Five white Battle TARDISes, similar to the ones they had seen in the graveyard, but bristling with an array of brutal-looking armaments, had formed a ring around them.

‘An ambush,’ said the Doctor, grimly. ‘They were waiting for us, the moment we materialised. There must have been another tracking device.’ He looked at Cinder. ‘Of course!’ he said, dashing the heel of his palm against his forehead. ‘I should have seen it.’

‘Seen what?’ said Cinder, eyeing the array of TARDISes on the screen.

‘You! It’s you!’

Cinder stepped back, feeling uncertain. ‘What? What have I done?’

The Doctor shook his head. ‘No, they must have planted the tracker on you during that business with the mind probe.’

Cinder wasn’t sure ‘that business’ adequately described the torturous episode to which she’d been subjected by Karlax and the Castellan. Nor did she like the implication that they were somehow still using her to get to the Doctor. She didn’t have time to consider it, however, as a familiar voice crackled over the comm-link.

‘Most perceptive of you, Doctor,’ said the thin, reedy voice.

‘Karlax,’ spat the Doctor. ‘I might have known. With a few friends from the CIA, no doubt?’

‘Naturally,’ replied Karlax. ‘I must say, Doctor, we were all very impressed with the way in which you were able to give our guards the slip. I understand it’s always been very difficult to keep you in a cell.’

The Doctor glanced at Cinder with an expression that said ‘I told you so.’

‘Still, it matters little,’ continued Karlax. ‘Commander Partheus will soon deliver the Tear of Isha to the Eye. You and your companion, alas, will be counted amongst the billions of the dead.’

On the monitor Cinder saw one of the Battle TARDISes extrude what looked like a torpedo chute. It was pointed directly at them. ‘Doctor,’ she said.

‘I know.’ He had his back to her.

‘No, Doctor, I really think you need to—’

‘I
know
,’ he said, more forcefully.

‘Then
do
something!’

There was a burst of light from the end of the torpedo chute as the other TARDIS fired. In response the Doctor fell against the controls, and the TARDIS dropped, plummeting straight down and leaving the five Battle TARDISes hanging in a neat circle.

The torpedo swam away into the void, trailing light. Moments later there was a flash as it detonated harmlessly in the vacuum. Above them, the ring of TARDISes stirred.

‘Find something to hold on to,’ said the Doctor. ‘This is going to be a bit of a bumpy ride.’

There was a sudden jolt as the Doctor manipulated the controls and the TARDIS ceased its freefall and spun sideways, twisting in a corkscrew which left Cinder feeling as if her heart was in her mouth and her stomach was in her chest cavity. She closed her eyes, but it didn’t make the spinning feel any better.

They flipped, dropping again – this time upside down – to avoid the trajectory of another torpedo. The Doctor yanked a lever and they lurched into a loop, climbing upwards in an effort to shake one of the Battle TARDISes that had fallen in behind them, riding hard on their tail.

‘You know you’re wasting your time,’ said Karlax over the comm-link. ‘Think about it. Isn’t it better to go gracefully, with dignity, knowing that your time is up?’

‘That sounds like you, Karlax,’ replied the Doctor. ‘Always willing to give up when things gets tough. If I’m going, I’m going out fighting.’

‘So be it,’ said Karlax, cutting the connection.

The Battle TARDIS behind them was gaining on them. It was well within range to fire its weapons, but the Doctor was weaving from side to side, clearly making it difficult for them to get a lock.

‘Fire!’ bellowed Cinder.

‘I can’t!’

‘What do you mean, you can’t?’ she called, incredulous.

‘We don’t have any weapons,’ shouted the Doctor. The noise of the squealing engines was drowning everything else out.

‘Why not?’

‘The TARDIS, she doesn’t like them,’ replied the Doctor. He was hanging on to the console with both hands, but leaning back, as if trying to physically pull the ship in a different direction.

‘Doesn’t
like
them!’ Cinder would have put her head in her hands if she hadn’t been hanging on for her life. ‘What can I do?’ she called. ‘Tell me!’

‘Just hold on,’ said the Doctor. ‘I’m going to attempt to dematerialise and get away, buy us a little time.’ He jerked the controls, just as the trailing TARDIS set loose another torpedo.

This time the Doctor didn’t have chance to slide out of the way, and the thin, silver cylinder slammed into the side of the police box, detonating in a halo of intense white light.

The console room shook, causing Cinder to drop to one knee, and then suddenly, everything stopped. The engines sighed, the lights dimmed, and she could tell from the vibration of the floor plates and the view through the ceiling that they’d come to an immediate and complete stop.