Engines of War Read online

  ‘I’m not joking,’ she called after him. ‘Doctor? Doctor!’

  The three Interstitials bore the possibility engine on their shoulders like the men of old, carrying their king on a litter. Borusa lay still atop the steel frame as they marched across the wilderness towards the TARDIS, Cinder and the Doctor trailing behind in quiet contemplation.

  For nearly an hour they trudged across windswept fields, and all the while, Cinder nervously kept watch for any signs of the beast that had previously come after them, or any of its infernal kin.

  As they approached the bluff, following the Interstitials, who seemed instinctively to know which route to take, Cinder saw the TARDIS perched on the hillside. The sunlight was beginning to fade, and as she peered ahead, she saw that scores of tiny lights had been laid out in a track, leading from the base of the hill to the TARDIS itself.

  ‘What are those?’ she said.

  The Doctor grinned. ‘You’ll see,’ he replied, laughing to himself.

  As they drew nearer and the view properly resolved, she gasped at the sight of fifty or more of figures; all lined up like a bizarre procession, showing them the way to the TARDIS. They were all Interstitials, every single one of them. She counted dozens of them, rows deep, before she gave up, realising it was a fool’s errand.

  The lights she had seen from a distance were the soft glow of their flesh, shining in the gloaming.

  ‘They’re here to wish us well,’ said the Doctor. ‘To guide us on our way.’

  ‘There are so many of them,’ said Cinder. A thought popped into her head. ‘How come they’re not attracting the carnivorous beasts?’

  ‘They can see the future, Cinder,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘Ah, yes. I suppose that would be helpful,’ she replied.

  They’d reached the foot of the bluff, and the three Interstitials ahead of them began the slow climb to the top, hoisting the possibility engine high above their heads in order that the others might see. As they passed, the members of the crowd bowed their heads in reverence.

  Feeling a little sheepish, Cinder followed behind, unsure quite how to act, and whether she was supposed to do or say anything. In lieu of any forthcoming guidance, she simply copied the Doctor, who kept his eyes down and slowly followed behind the litter bearers.

  When they reached the TARDIS the three Interstitials stood to one side while the Doctor unlocked the door. Then, with a quick glance over his shoulder at Cinder, he ushered them all inside.

  Cinder watched as they disappeared through the small doorway, and then, pleased to be getting as far away from the Death Zone as possible, she hurried on in behind them.

  Chapter Twenty

  Cinder eyed the possibility engine uncomfortably.

  The Doctor had directed the Interstitials to prop the frame upright between two stone pillars on the other side of the console, and in what she considered a bit of a surprise move, had yanked two of the dangling cables from their sockets in the ceiling and used the ends of them to secure the frame in place. She hoped they weren’t supposed to be doing anything important.

  Now Borusa hung upright, his wrists and ankles still bound to the frame. His chin had sunk forward to rest on his chest, but she could still see the flickering blue light dancing behind his eyes.

  The Interstitials had retreated after depositing Borusa in the TARDIS, making no attempt to join them on their journey. Perhaps they already knew how this was going to end, she considered, and wanted nothing more to do with it. The thought wasn’t particularly comforting.

  They’d parked in a temporal orbit and the Doctor was busy running cables from underneath the console, attaching them to the empty sockets in the undercarriage of the possibility engine. He appeared to be reading diagnostics on the monitor, his sonic screwdriver clenched between his teeth.

  He saw her watching, and grabbed the screwdriver out of his mouth. ‘Almost ready,’ he said.

  ‘You, or Borusa?’ she asked.

  The Doctor gave a weak smile. ‘Both.’

  He’d seemed different after leaving the Death Zone. Part of it, she supposed, could be down to the fact they were heading into battle, and he was preparing himself for the coming conflict, adopting a more contemplative mood. There was something else there, though, something bothering him. She’d seen him watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking, and he’d had that same, haunted expression on his face, the one he’d been wearing when they’d first met on Moldox. It was as if he was scared of her, somehow, and she couldn’t quite fathom why.

  She wondered if she’d done something to worry him. It was noticeable how he’d avoided telling her his plans as he’d worked on hooking Borusa up to the console, feigning concentration.

  She watched him circle the console now, double-checking his links. He mumbled something quietly to Borusa, who didn’t appear to respond, and then walked over to the dematerialisation lever, and cranked it. The TARDIS trembled, and slid noisily out of the Vortex.

  Holding on to the rail, Cinder looked up. The Doctor punched a sequence of buttons, and the ceiling, which until then had been the same, muted grey material as the walls, seemed to clear suddenly, revealing a wide vista of space.

  Before them was the familiar sight of the Tantalus Spiral, the planets weaving in a single, twisting helix around the roiling anomaly of the Eye.

  In the distance, the tiny specks of Dalek saucers flitted through space like clouds of insects, swarming around a hive.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ she said. The Eye looked so distant from here, on the outer reaches of the Spiral, with the threat of thousands of Dalek saucers between them and their goal. How were they going to get anywhere close to the Eye, let alone inside it?

  The Doctor began tapping buttons and flicking switches on the control panel. Lights blinked off in the console room. The engines sighed. The rotor dimmed and stilled. ‘We’re going to surrender,’ he said wearily.

  For a moment they stood in near darkness, with only the eerie, crackling lights of the possibility engine for illumination.

  ‘Surrender?’ said Cinder, incredulous. ‘After all this? You’re just going to power down the ship and let the Daleks come for us?’ She glanced up. Overhead, the Tantalus Eye peered down at them through the TARDIS canopy, a baleful, watchful presence. Countless Dalek saucers skimmed across the star field, flitting around the vast spiral of occupied worlds. Surely they’d already noticed the arrival of the TARDIS? It couldn’t be long before the Daleks ships began to converge on their position.

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m going to do,’ said the Doctor. He had his back to her, acting as if she wasn’t there.

  ‘You can’t! You can’t stop now. We’ve come too far. If we don’t find a way to stop them, the Daleks will just keep on going for ever. They’ll destroy everything. They’ll murder every last one of your people—’

  ‘My people!’ bellowed the Doctor, cutting her off. ‘My people would have done the same to you. I’m not even sure they’re worth saving any more.’

  ‘Yes, they are’ said Cinder, quietly. ‘Despite everything, they’re worth saving. I know you believe that. Otherwise, why are we here?’

  The TARDIS gave a sudden jolt and its engines sputtered to life. The lights flickered and dipped, and the central column began to steadily rise and fall with its familiar, gentle sigh.

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘No, old girl. We’ve no choice. We have to do this.’ He cranked a lever on the console, his expression pained.

  The TARDIS shuddered again, the engines burring. Somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship, a bell began to clang repeatedly, echoing through the warren of ever-shifting corridors and rooms. It filled Cinder’s head like an incessant metronome, a cry for help. She fought the urge to press her hands over her ears.

  ‘She knows, doesn’t she? The ship knows what you’re planning to do, and she’s trying to stop you?’ said Cinder. ‘She’s trying to take you far away from here. Perhaps you should listen to her …’ />
  The Doctor spun around, waving his hand at Cinder dismissively. ‘Oh, just get out!’ he barked, angrily. ‘Get out!’

  Cinder took a step back, quelled by the sheer ferocity of the Doctor’s response. Her back encountered the metal railing that ran around the central dais. She grasped at it for support, steeling herself. ‘Why did you allow me to come? If you’re so keen on being alone, why did you encourage me? Why are you keeping me around?’

  ‘To remind me of who I’m not,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘You’re angry, about what we saw in the Death Zone, about what the Time Lords have done to their own people,’ she said. ‘And you’re scared about what saving them might mean. I understand.’

  The Doctor shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with sadness. ‘That’s not it,’ he said. His shoulders slumped. He turned around, and she saw the weight of centuries, resting heavy on his shoulders.

  ‘It’s me, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You’re worried about what I might do, that I’m going to go and get us both killed.’

  The Doctor sighed. ‘No, Cinder. I’m worried that I won’t be able to protect you. I’ve lost so many people, so many friends. I …’ he faltered, and then drew himself up tall. ‘I don’t know how I could bear to lose another.’

  She crossed to where he was standing. ‘Remember what I said, back on Moldox. I’m in. I made a choice to come with you. We’re in this together, one way or another. I want to stick it to those Daleks as much as you do. Don’t try to stop me now.’

  ‘Very well,’ he said.

  ‘So, about this surrender?’

  ‘If I show myself, they won’t be able to resist gloating. They’ll take us prisoner; get us closer to the Eye. They know me of old,’ he said.

  Cinder frowned. ‘It doesn’t sound like the safest of Pl—’

  ‘Predator.’

  The metallic scrape of a Dalek voice resonated throughout the console room. Cinder froze, her hackles rising. The sound of those things, those cold, metal demons, seemed to scratch at her very soul.

  She turned about on the spot, fearful that, with the shields lowered, one or more Daleks had teleported themselves aboard the ship. She was convinced that, at any moment, she’d feel the excruciating burn of an energy weapon, boiling her flesh from her bones.

  But there was nothing there. The voice had been broadcast from deep within the Spiral, picked up by the TARDIS’s communications systems.

  The Doctor stepped away from the console, gingerly removing his hands from the controls. Even the TARDIS herself seemed to understand that the moment had passed, that now was the time to stop fighting. The central column sighed, and stilled. The clanging bell ceased its deafening peal.

  ‘I’m here,’ said the Doctor. His voice was low and gravelly, weighted with the gravitas of centuries.

  ‘Doc-tor,’ said the Dalek. ‘Dalek killer. The Great Scourge. The Living Death. The Executioner.’ The Dalek paused. Cinder watched the Doctor, gauging his reaction. His face remained impassive, his jaw set tight. ‘These are the names awarded you by the Daleks, Doctor. I wonder if you feel proud. I wonder if you revel in the deaths of your enemies?’

  This was like no Dalek that Cinder had ever heard. The voice was the same, but there was a different quality here, an unfamiliar intelligence, perhaps even a hint of reverence.

  ‘I have never revelled in death,’ said the Doctor. ‘I value life above all else. I am not like you. I am no Dalek.’

  ‘Yet you exterminate us with impunity. Allow me to assure you, Doc-tor, that Daleks also value life.’

  The Doctor laughed, but it was tinged with regret. ‘You value only Dalek life. You exist only to destroy, to consume. You are parasites, living off the carcass of creation.’

  ‘Daleks are the superior life form in the universe,’ said the Dalek. ‘All other life is irrelevant.’

  ‘Ah,’ said the Doctor, with a sigh. ‘Now you’re beginning to sound more like the Daleks I know. Now you’re telling me what you really think.’

  ‘Yet you, Doc-tor. You are admired by the Daleks. You are revered. Your mere presence invokes terror amongst our kind. There is no greater honour. I would meet the creature that can terrify an entire species. We would learn from you.’

  The Doctor grimaced at this most horrific and unwelcome of compliments.

  Cinder swallowed. She wanted to tell the Doctor to switch it off. To silence the monster, power up the TARDIS engines and take her as far away from the Tantalus Spiral as possible. To use his time machine to take her somewhere where there were no Daleks, and no Time Lords, and no War.

  But she knew that she could not. The Doctor was right. They had no choice. If there was even the slightest chance that his plan might work, that they might find a means of getting close enough to the Eye to deploy the possibility engine, to somehow defeat these monsters, then they had to take it.

  ‘I’m here to parlay,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘The Daleks do not parlay,’ said the Dalek. ‘We do not negotiate. We do not bargain.’

  ‘No,’ said the Doctor. ‘I didn’t really think you would.’

  Cinder tensed in concern. Had he misjudged? They were sitting ducks out here. The Daleks could easily destroy them before the Doctor could ever bring the power back up. It was a hell of a gamble he was taking.

  ‘Yet we would look upon you, Predator, before you are ex-ter-min-ated,’ said the Dalek. ‘You will be granted an audience with the Eternity Circle. You will speak with us before you die.’

  ‘How kind.’ The Doctor glanced at Cinder, and she couldn’t help but catch the impish ‘I told you so’ expression he was wearing. Childishly, she succumbed to the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

  The TARDIS gave a sudden, unexpected shudder, and Cinder was forced to steady herself against the rail. She felt the ship move jerkily, rocking her onto the balls of her feet. The Doctor was steadying himself at the console, clinging on to a nearby lever.

  ‘What …?’ she started, but stopped when she saw the Doctor was staring intently up at the ceiling. She followed his gaze. Through the transparent roof she saw a large escort party of about ten Dalek saucers had gathered around the stationary TARDIS. Hoops of flickering blue light emanated from the base of the nearest saucer, encircling the TARDIS in what she assumed to be a tractor beam. They were slowly being dragged toward the Eye, and the beating heart of the Dalek operation.

  ‘Where do you think they’re taking us?’ she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  The Doctor reached over and pushed a button on the console before answering, presumably to ensure the Daleks would not overhear their conversation, although Cinder could see no actual microphone in the console room. ‘There’s a station orbiting the Eye,’ he said. ‘The seat of this so-called Eternity Circle. That’s where they’re taking us.’ He pointed up at the ceiling, to a tiny black speck, hovering close to the heart of the Eye.

  ‘The Eternity Circle?’ she said. ‘I thought the Daleks only took orders from their Emperor?’

  ‘The Dalek Emperor is experimenting,’ replied the Doctor. ‘Sanctioning the creation of new types of Daleks, hoping that they might provide them with an edge, a means to win the War. As far as I can tell, the Eternity Circle is a select group of Daleks charged with developing new weapons, and coordinating the Dalek war effort throughout time.’

  Cinder shrugged. ‘Just like the Time Lord council,’ she said.

  The Doctor pulled a face, as if he’d just swallowed something distasteful. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I rather suppose you’re right.’

  She looked over at Borusa, still lashed up into the framework of the Time Lord machine. She could barely stand to look at the thing, or to even consider it a being. She felt disorientated just trying to focus on Borusa’s ever-changing face, stuck in that dreadful, regenerative loop. His eyes, electric blue and all seeing, seemed to burrow into her from across the console room. She wondered if he could see into her future, if he knew whether or not they w
ere going to survive this.

  A sudden thought occurred to her. ‘Hold on a minute,’ she said. ‘Did you know the Daleks were going to fall for your plan? That they were always going to be unable to resist the temptation to watch you die in person?’

  The Doctor grinned. ‘I didn’t need Borusa to tell me that,’ he said.

  The Dalek command station looked more like a vast, floating city than the sort of modular, habitable satellite that Cinder had imagined. Domed structures nestled amongst clusters of bristling spines and transmitters, and whatever substance it was constructed from – Dalekanium, she supposed – gleamed like burnished bronze in the reflected light of the Eye. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Dalek saucers and stealth ships buzzed around it like bees dutifully attending to a queen.

  Behind it, though, dwarfing even the massive station into insignificance was the Tantalus Eye itself. This close, through the de-opaqued ceiling of the TARDIS, Cinder could clearly see the fissure at the heart of the anomaly: an immense, crackling nucleus of raw energy, a ragged wound in the fabric of time and space, fizzing with ruby-coloured light.

  She could see now, more than ever, why the anomaly had come to be known as the Eye – this nucleus was its pupil, surrounded by the swirl of softly glowing gas that formed its kaleidoscopic iris. Within that expansive region, time ran amok, accelerating and decelerating, reversing itself and generally behaving so unpredictably that the laws of physics had no way of explaining its existence.

  Cinder watched as stars burst to life with sudden, intense ferocity, only to evolve into bloated, dying giants within seconds. Meanwhile, others collapsed and reignited, resurrected from the verge of death, blooming once more into vibrant life. She wondered what had become of the many explorers who had flown into the Eye, and whether they explored it still, trapped in an intermediary space somewhere between life and death. Is that what would become of her and the Doctor if their plan was successful? Or might the TARDIS protect them somehow?

  All such thoughts were forgotten, however, at the sight of an even bigger Dalek structure hanging above the Eye – the immense cylindrical barrel of their planet killer, the weapon she and the Doctor were supposedly there to prevent them from firing.