Doctor Who: Engines of War (22 page)

She gasped, and then realised she was still breathing, and that gravity of some description was still holding her to the floor. They
were
inside a TARDIS.

After the initial shock, her mind began to process the rest of what was going on. They were standing in the console room of the other vessel, but it was so fundamentally different to the Doctor’s that at first it hadn’t registered. There were three squat, hexagonal consoles, dark grey in colour and seemingly identical in appearance. Unlike the Doctor’s they were not covered in all manner of makeshift levers and contraptions, and looked smooth and manufactured, rather than organic. Boring, was the word for it, thought Cinder.

The room itself was cavernous, bigger than the Doctor’s by a magnitude of three or four times. The walls and ceiling had been rendered transparent so that Commander Partheus might better see how his fleet was faring against the Daleks.

There were three male Time Lords, one in attendance at each of the consoles. They were dressed in the same red and white uniform as the Castellan’s guards at the Capitol.

Commander Partheus himself stood on a raised platform, glowering at them. He was clutching a pistol in his left hand. He was a tall, portly fellow, with a bushy black beard. He was wearing black robes with a red skullcap. ‘You!’ he said. His voice was thunderous. ‘What do you think you’re doing? That little trick of yours might have resulted in a Time Ram, annihilating us both.’

The Doctor shrugged. ‘Come now, Partheus. Do you really think I’d be that reckless?’ He beamed.

Partheus offered the Doctor a look of sheer disbelief. ‘I think you’re the only one who might,’ he said. ‘I thought you were in a cell on Gallifrey?’

‘So did Rassilon,’ said the Doctor, ‘but even the Lord President can’t get his way all the time.’

Partheus raised his pistol. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor. I don’t want to do this, but you’re putting me in a terrible position.’

‘Not as terrible a position as those you’re about to murder,’ replied the Doctor.

‘If you try anything…’ continued Partheus.

Cinder coughed. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, waving her gun from her hip.

The three other men were looking decidedly uncomfortable, but remained where they were standing by their consoles. The Doctor walked to the first of these, glanced at the controls, and then shook his head. He walked around the man and over to the next console, repeating the procedure. Evidently he saw what he wanted there, as he reached over and began pressing buttons.

The other man, whom Cinder guessed was a pilot, looked outraged. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Setting a new course,’ said the Doctor. ‘This is, after all, a hijack.’

‘But you can’t!’ The man turned, trying to intercept the Doctor.

‘Step away,’ said the Doctor. ‘This doesn’t concern you.’

The man continued to try to push the Doctor out of the way.

‘Believe me when I say that I’m truly sorry for this,’ said the Doctor resignedly.

‘Wha—’

He turned and delivered a smart right hook, which connected with the man’s jaw and dropped him to the floor in an unconscious heap. The Doctor shook his hand and wiggled his fingers, pulling a pained expression. ‘Oh, I really don’t like that bit,’ he said. ‘I wish people would just
listen
.’

He ducked suddenly, dodging to the right, as a bolt of energy fizzed past his left hand, burning a dark, smouldering depression into the console. Cinder turned to see Partheus holding his weapon outstretched. ‘A warning shot, Doctor,’ he said. ‘To let you know that I’m serious.’

The Doctor crossed to Partheus and snatched the pistol from his grip, tossing it away so that it clattered to the floor near the foot of his own TARDIS.

‘I’m trying to help you, Partheus. Believe me – this is a burden you don’t want to live with.’

‘In the corner,’ Cinder said to the other two, waving her gun, but keeping Partheus covered.

‘Don’t worry,’ said the Doctor. ‘This isn’t going to take very long. Just a short glimpse into the future.’ He began turning dials and manipulating the controls, his fingers dancing over the keys. Cinder heard the distant groan of the engines responding to his ministrations. It was a different sound entirely to that made by the Doctor’s TARDIS – more of a subtle burr than an elephantine roar.

‘Well, I can’t say I think much of your TARDIS, Partheus,’ said the Doctor. ‘It lacks… character.’

‘You’ll pay for this with your life, Doctor,’ said Partheus. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

The Doctor shrugged. He didn’t even turn to look at the man. ‘My life in exchange for billions of others,’ he said. ‘Not bad odds, I suppose. I’ve lived long enough.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the Commander. ‘Have you even considered what it is you’re about to do?’

‘Don’t patronise me,’ snapped Partheus. ‘Of course I’m aware of the gravity of the situation. As I see it, though, we have little choice. The Daleks must be stopped.’

‘There’s more than one way to skin a cat,’ said the Doctor. He pulled a face, looking at Cinder. ‘I’ve never liked that expression. Why would anyone want to do
that
?’

He was in his element again, Cinder realised. She could see it in the child-like gleam in his eyes. He was enjoying himself. She wondered if this was what he would be like all of the time, if it weren’t for the weight of the War bearing down on him. Being around him when he was like this – she couldn’t help but smile.

The view all around them had altered. No longer were they anywhere in the vicinity of the Tantalus Eye, or the fleet of Battle TARDISes, locked in combat with enemy saucers.

Here, they hung alone in the void. Around them the darkness was all-consuming, with only a handful of stars still twinkling in the still night of space. All except for the massive, swollen carcass of a red giant, a dying sun, which filled the forward view screen. The core of the star burned gently; a dying flame in the last embers of a fire that had burned for millennia. The outer envelope was pale and thin, near transparent.

‘Where have you brought us?’ asked Cinder.

‘To the end of the universe,’ said Partheus, ‘to the last, lingering moments before the final stars wink out and the universe contracts.’

‘I see you have at least some poetry in your soul,’ said the Doctor. ‘Perhaps you’re not irredeemable, after all.’

‘I can’t let you do this, Doctor,’ said Partheus. ‘The Tear is our last hope.’

‘We’ll find a way,’ said the Doctor. ‘It’s not over. It
cannot
come down to this.’ He moved to one of the other consoles and tapped in a sequence. ‘There. The Tear is primed.’

‘You’re going to shoot it into the heart of that star?’ said Cinder.

The Doctor nodded.

With a sudden roar, Partheus launched himself from the platform toward the Doctor. Cinder fought the urge to squeeze the trigger of her gun. The Doctor had, after all, told her not to fire it under any circumstances, and if she did, she risked hitting the Doctor. All the same, she kept it trained on Partheus as he collided with the Doctor at the console.

Both men fell forward across the controls and the TARDIS listed to the right in response.

‘Get away from the controls!’ Partheus bellowed. He grabbed the Doctor around the waist and hauled him bodily away from the console. With immense strength, he tossed the Doctor onto the floor, where he landed on his backside, wearing an outraged expression.

He scrambled to his feet and without missing a beat, charged at Partheus, his head down and to one side, taking the other Time Lord in the chest with his shoulder and sending them both barrelling over in the other direction. Partheus pounded at the Doctor’s back with his fists, and the Doctor rolled off him, struggling free.

Cinder glanced up at the two other Time Lords, who were still cowering in the corner. She showed them her gun, just to remind them to keep out of it.

The Doctor sprung to his feet while Partheus was still struggling to shift his considerable bulk from the floor.

‘Look, Partheus. This is all terribly unseemly. Why don’t we ju—’ The Doctor stopped short as Partheus kicked out at his ankles, taking his feet out from under him. He went down again, barely avoiding smashing his head on the edge of the console. He groaned as he rolled into a sitting position.

Cinder had had enough. She stormed forward. ‘Which button is it?’

‘The red one,’ gasped the Doctor.

Cinder shrugged. She supposed that should have been obvious, really. She slammed her fist against the button.

‘You
stupid
girl!’ roared Partheus. Both men were getting to their feet, dusting themselves down.

There was a mechanical
clunk
from beneath their feet, followed by a series of sounds like clamps being released. Partheus lurched to the console, jabbing at the buttons. ‘It’s too late. The sequence has been initiated. The Tear is being deployed.’

There was a rumble of ignition and then, as they watched, a rocket blazed silently, seemingly from beneath their feet, towards the heart of the Red Giant.

The rocket was small and Cinder couldn’t help thinking that what had been described to her as such a devastating weapon, was, in fact, somewhat anticlimactic. Perhaps, like a TARDIS, the Time Lord weapon was bigger on the inside.

All of them stood in stunned silence, waiting to see what would happen when the Tear fell into the star and began to unpack itself.

‘I’d suggest we make a strategic withdrawal,’ said the Doctor.

Partheus, still standing by the controls, tapped out a series of commands and the TARDIS began to slowly back away from the star.

The rocket was now a tiny speck, barely visible against the bloated aurora of the celestial giant.

‘Nothing’s happening,’ said Partheus.

‘Keep watching,’ said the Doctor, and a second later Cinder noticed the slight hint of a shadow at the centre of the star. As she watched, it began to grow steadily in size, swelling like an oil spill. The black stain continued to spread, gaining momentum, drawing in and consuming the faint red light from the outer rim of the star.

‘It’s collapsing the star,’ said the Doctor, ‘dragging it all towards a gravitational singularity.’

‘You’re a fool, Doctor,’ said Partheus. ‘You’ve thrown away the best chance we had of defeating the Dalek threat.’ He’d stopped, and was helping his lieutenant up from the floor as the man had blearily started to come round. ‘They’ll make you pay for this.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ said the Doctor levelly. ‘But that doesn’t make me wrong.’

The last of the red light had now faded to black, and the collapsing star was now beginning to drag at the surrounding matter. The floor of the TARDIS began to vibrate as the engines fought against the pull.

‘Time to go,’ said the Doctor.

Partheus had retrieved his pistol and was pointing it at the Doctor. ‘I should kill you now,’ he said, ‘for all the lives you’ve just condemned.’

The Doctor met his gaze, his eyes challenging. ‘Well, then,’ he said. ‘Do it if you’re going to. I’ve just prevented you from becoming a murderer, but if you’re that set on the idea…’

Partheus’s resolved seemed to falter. The end of the weapon dipped. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘Get off my ship.’

Wordlessly, the Doctor turned his back and walked toward his own TARDIS. Cinder followed, keeping her weapon trained on Partheus, but she could tell the fight had gone out of him.

The Doctor unlocked the TARDIS door and they both stepped over the threshold.

Cinder breathed a sigh of relief, dropping her gun, as the door closed behind them. ‘We did it,’ she said. ‘We really did it.’

The Doctor smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose we did. But I’m afraid our problems aren’t over yet. There’s still the Daleks to deal with, not to mention a bunch of furious Time Lords, baying for my blood.’

‘What are you going to do about it?’ said Cinder.

‘There’s only one thing
to
do,’ said the Doctor. ‘We’re going back to Gallifrey.’

‘What!’ said Cinder. ‘You really
are
insane.’

The Doctor laughed. ‘I like to think so.’

Chapter Nineteen

The TARDIS materialised on a bluff above a desolate, wild landscape.

After a moment, the door opened and Cinder emerged, bracing herself against the sharp bite of the wind. Her hair whipped up into her face, her eyes streamed, and she found herself wrapping her arms around her body, trying to retain the warmth.

She heard the Doctor close the TARDIS door behind her and looked round to see him standing there, surveying the moorland below them. As far as the eye could see, fields of straw-like grass and heather, punctuated by the occasional clump of trees, dominated the view. The sky was a crisp, pale blue, shot through with wisps of cloud.

‘I thought you said we were going back to Gallifrey?’ she said.

‘Ah,’ replied the Doctor. ‘Yes, I should explain.’

Cinder raised an expectant eyebrow, putting her hands on her hips. ‘Well?’

‘This
is
Gallifrey,’ he said. ‘At least, in a sense. It’s a small pocket of Gallifreyan wilderness, cordoned off in a temporal bubble. The Time Lords know it affectionately as the Death Zone.’ He grinned. ‘Pretty inhospitable place, really,’ he said.

‘Wonderful,’ said Cinder. ‘The Death Zone.’ She stamped her feet, feeling exposed up there in the hillside. ‘Remind me why we’re here again?’

‘The Death Zone used to be the place where unlucky participants were co-opted to play the Game of Rassilon, pitted in a life or death battle against a variety of alien species, forcibly scooped from their natural habitats,’ said the Doctor, ignoring her question.

‘And here’s me thinking the Time Lords were the good guys,’ said Cinder sarcastically.

‘It was a long time ago, back in the first Age of Rassilon. He built his tomb here.’ The Doctor turned on the spot, pointing to a black spire in the distance, jutting from the earth at the foot of a mountain. ‘There,’ he said. ‘The Dark Tower.’

‘His tomb?’ said Cinder. ‘But he’s not dead. I met him. As much as I wish I hadn’t.’

‘It’s complicated,’ said the Doctor. ‘Rassilon is essentially immortal. In ancient times he gave up corporeal form, and for millennia resided here in his tomb, worshipped as a once-and-future king. He was resurrected back in the early days of the War, however, when the Time Lords realised they needed a different sort of leader.’