Engines of War

by George Mann

  She shuffled the dirt around with the edge of her shoe. ‘All those other places you mentioned, those wondrous worlds – you’re going to destroy them all, aren’t you? Every last corner of the universe. By the time you’ve finished there’s going to be nothing left.’

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ said the Doctor. ‘That’s why I’m here, Cinder. That’s what I’m trying to stop, why I need to see what the Daleks are doing here on Moldox.’

  She nodded. Could she really trust this man – this Time Lord? There was something about him, something different. Spending time in his company, she felt herself starting to believe, for the first time in years, that there might be a way out of this mess they’d found themselves in; that there might be hope. It was an unfamiliar emotion, and she wasn’t yet ready to embrace it.

  ‘Did you get what you came for?’ he said, after a moment. The question pulled her right back to the here and now.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, indicating her backpack, which she’d dumped on her bunk a few metres away beneath a canvas awning. ‘Just a few mementoes. Things I didn’t want to leave behind.’ She held up her arm, showing him the bracelet encircling her wrist. It was nothing, really, just a hoop of twisted copper wires, burnished with age. It had been made for her by her brother, all those many years ago, and she’d held on to it ever since. She wouldn’t leave Moldox without it. It was all she had left of him, save for her memories.

  ‘I understand,’ said the Doctor. He frowned, catching sight of something. ‘Tell me, whose is that bunk over there, beside yours?’

  Cinder glanced at the other makeshift cot, only a metre or two from her own. It seemed oddly familiar. ‘I don’t …’ She hesitated. ‘I feel as if I should know, but I don’t,’ she said. ‘It’s the strangest feeling. Like something’s missing.’

  The Doctor nodded, his expression grave. ‘Well, it’s nothing to worry about now. It’s time to drink up and go and find out what the Daleks are up to at Andor.’

  Cinder placed her beaker down and swept up her backpack, slinging it over one shoulder. All she really wanted to do now was sleep, but she’d made a promise to the Doctor, and he in turn had made a promise to her. She was going to see this through, one way or another.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Shhh!’

  ‘I didn’t say anything!’ said the Doctor.

  ‘No, your feet,’ hissed Cinder. ‘On the gravel. Walk on the mud instead.’

  The Doctor looked at her as if she were mad. ‘But then my boots would get filthy,’ he said. ‘It’ll get all over the TARDIS. Who’s going to clear it up? You?’

  Cinder rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, if I must. Just do it. It’s better to have muddy boots than to be lying in a ditch with a hole in your chest. We’re nearly there. The place will be swarming with Daleks.’

  The Doctor tutted dramatically, but did as she said and stepped up onto the verge, abandoning the gravel path.

  They were standing on the outskirts of Andor, just beyond the boundary of the city walls. The walls themselves had been largely torn down during the years of Dalek occupation, and now formed heaps of rubble and broken slabs. It looked disturbingly like a painting she’d seen as a child in one of her picture books, of a citadel from old Earth, sitting on a craggy outcrop above the ocean.

  The net result was that any approach to the city would prove hazardous and, more troubling, exposed.

  It was clear to see that Andor had once been spectacular, a jewel at the heart of the colony. What had begun in the early days of the human occupation as a rag-tag collection of functional architecture – hab-blocs, basic schools and boxy civic halls – had, over the years, evolved into a picturesque metropolis.

  Buildings from a myriad of original Earth cultures stood shoulder-to-shoulder, here – churches, skyscrapers, theatres and mosques – and the thin bands of aerial walkways crisscrossed the sky. Many of them were now broken, splintered during the shelling. The buildings were largely abandoned, too, with any survivors like Cinder, left to fend for themselves in the outlying ruins whilst the Daleks had taken up residence in the city.

  Cinder beckoned the Doctor over to where she was crouching inside the shell of a homestead, peering over a tumbledown wall. Creeping ivy clung to the brickwork, running rampant, the only thing left alive in this forsaken place.

  Ducking down so to stay out of sight, the Doctor crept over to crouch beside her. ‘Over there,’ she said, pointing to a large breach in the city walls. ‘Can you see those domes?’ The Doctor nodded. ‘Those are the Dalek buildings. They’ve co-opted an old school, adapting it and adding to it. We think it’s their base of operations.’

  ‘What about the people?’ said the Doctor. ‘The ones they’re bringing here to the city. Where are they?’

  Cinder shrugged. ‘No one knows. They’re taken into those domes for “processing” and never seen again. In the early days we used to speculate about what was happening to them in there, but after a while everyone stopped talking about it. I think we all just assumed they were dead. I’ve never heard of anyone making it out alive.’

  ‘Then that’s where we need to go,’ said the Doctor.

  Cinder shook her head. ‘Oh no, that’s not what we agreed. You said you needed to take a look. You’ve seen it now. It’s time to head back to your TARDIS and get as far away from here as possible.’

  ‘Cinder, I need to see what they’re doing to those people. If the Daleks are simply killing them, why are they going to the effort of rounding them up and leading them here? Why not just exterminate them on sight? That’s the Daleks’ modus operandi, isn’t it? They’re not exactly known for their mercy.’ He stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘They’re up to something, and I want to get to the bottom of what it is.’

  Cinder kicked out at a rock in frustration. It bounced away across the gravel path, striking the opposing wall. Deep down, though, she’d always assumed that this was going to happen.

  ‘You can wait here, if you like,’ said the Doctor. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘I can’t let you go in there alone,’ she said. ‘Especially unarmed.’ What she was thinking, however, was: if the Daleks find you sneaking about, I have no chance of figuring out how to operate your ship. And besides – despite all of that, she was starting to like him.

  She heard a dull, mechanical whirr from around ten metres away, and hurriedly ducked back behind the wall. The Doctor had clearly heard it too, as he did the same. He peered over the top of the wall, his eyes gleaming.

  ‘What was that?’ she whispered. ‘Can you see anything?’

  ‘Over there,’ said the Doctor, inclining his head. ‘They’re coming this way.’

  Cinder twisted, peeking through a hole in the wall. Through the bushy ivy, she could see a long line of humans, around fifteen or twenty of them, being marched toward the city gates. They looked exhausted, pale and close to death. They were flanked by at least five Daleks, two of which were hovering, one on either side of the line, scanning the surrounding ruins for any signs of resistance.

  She dipped her head as an eyestalk swivelled in her direction. She held her breath, waiting for the bark of a Dalek voice, or the blast of an energy weapon. Thankfully, none came. It seemed the Daleks were preoccupied with transporting their prisoners.

  Four, five minutes passed, with neither Cinder nor the Doctor daring to move or speak. Then came the sounds of the city gates creaking open, the distant squawk of two Daleks exchanging orders and the wail of a human finally succumbing to fear or fatigue. Cinder wanted to stick her fingers in her ears and drown it all out.

  The Daleks rasped more orders at their prisoners, and a minute or two later the gates closed again behind them. Cinder slowly exhaled, for what felt like the first time in hours.

  ‘They’ve gone,’ said the Doctor, taking a quick look. ‘We should move quickly, see if we can find a way to sneak in behind them.’

  He stood, offering her his hand, and as she took it she froze in horror at the sight of the glowin
g tip of a Dalek eyestalk, peering over the wall at them.

  ‘Intru-der! Alert! Alert!’

  Only its head and eyestalk were visible, its manipulator arm and weapon hidden behind the ruined wall.

  ‘Elevate! Elevate!’

  ‘Come on!’ The Doctor wrenched her up from where she was crouched. ‘Run!’

  ‘No!’ she yelled, twisting out of his grip. Her weapon was slung over her shoulder and a makeshift leather strap, and she swung it around, sliding it into her hands and searching for the trigger.

  The Dalek was rising steadily into the air. ‘Extermina—’

  There was a tremendous explosion as a lance of energy burst from the end of Cinder’s gun, taking off the Dalek’s head and sending the remaining shell spinning to the floor. It crashed into the side of a nearby building and bounced across the ground, finally coming to rest a few metres from them. Steam curled from the crater where its head had been.

  The Doctor stared at her. ‘I thought that thing had run out of power,’ he said, surprised but clearly relieved.

  ‘I picked up a new power pack at the camp,’ she said, with a grin. ‘Thought it might come in handy.’

  The Doctor smiled. ‘Well, you’ve certainly given them something to talk about. They’ll be on us in moments. Come on, while we’ve got a distraction. Now’s our chance to get inside.’

  ‘Really?’ said Cinder. ‘You really want to go in there?’

  ‘I thought we’d been through this,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘Just checking,’ said Cinder. ‘Because it is about the worst plan I’ve ever heard.’

  A chorus of Dalek voices rose in the distance, coming from behind the city walls.

  ‘I don’t see that we have much choice,’ replied the Doctor. He started off, his boots crunching in the gravel. ‘Come on. This way.’

  As the Daleks converged on the spot where they’d been standing just a few moments before, the Doctor and Cinder made a mad, panicked dash for the city walls.

  The Doctor led the way, keeping to the muddy verge – somewhat ironically, Cinder noted – and sticking close to the walls of the abandoned homesteads, hiding in the shadows.

  Behind them, she heard a Dalek issuing a tirade of instructions to its vile kin. ‘Seek. Locate. Exterminate!’

  This was utter, unadulterated madness. She’d never done anything quite so reckless in her entire life. She was certain there was only one way this way going to end … and yet, it was exhilarating, too. For the first time in as long as she could remember she had a purpose other than simply destroying as many Daleks as she could before she died. She had something to live for. Which, she supposed, was also ironic, given that she was charging headlong into enemy territory, where the most likely outcome was the bolt of an energy weapon between her shoulder blades.

  The Doctor had reached the foot of the wall and was scrabbling up onto a heap of rubble, aiming for a narrow crevice through which he could gain entrance to the city proper. He was unexpectedly athletic for an old, curmudgeonly man – spritely, even – as he hauled himself up, not even bothering to glance back to see if the Daleks had spotted him.

  ‘Wait for me!’ she hissed as she followed suit, scrabbling up behind him. It was a daunting climb, but she had little choice. It was this or the Daleks.

  The Daleks had now found their dead comrade and were fanning out, combing the ruins in search of the perpetrator. Cinder realised they didn’t have much time before they were spotted.

  She reached up, catching hold of a ledge, but her fingers slipped on the smooth granite and she swung out, dangling by one hand. She stifled a cry of alarm, which came out as an unseemly grunt.

  The cold, sharp lip bit into her remaining hand, and she felt her grip loosening. She reached up, trying again, but without the momentum she couldn’t quite get a hold. She was going to slide back down, back to the rocks below where, no doubt, the Daleks would find her, if she wasn’t dashed upon the rocks first. She looked down, trying to assess the distance. Her vision swam.

  A hand suddenly grasped her own. She looked up to see the Doctor peering down at her, holding her by the wrist. ‘Hurry up,’ he whispered. ‘Places to go, people to see.’

  He dragged her up onto the ledge. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she said, a touch of accusation in her voice.

  The Doctor grinned. ‘Aren’t you?’

  Cinder shrugged, but gave an impish smile. ‘Maybe,’ she replied, noncommittally.

  The crevice in the wall seemed far bigger from up here than it had from below. She’d anticipated having to wriggle through sideways, but in fact it was big enough that they could easily walk through side by side. As they did, Cinder realised the Doctor still had hold of her hand. She didn’t know if it was more for his comfort than her own, but she didn’t mind either way.

  There was a drop of around twenty feet on the other side of the wall, into what looked like soft, sticky mud. Beyond that was a small patch of wasteland, which terminated in a line of abandoned human structures. As far as she could tell there were no Daleks to observe them. Evidently, her quick reactions out there in the ruins had proved a rather successful distraction.

  ‘You first,’ said Cinder, glancing at the Doctor. ‘It was your idea.’

  ‘Oh, together, surely?’ he said.

  Cinder sighed resignedly. ‘Very well.’ She peered over the edge again, considering the wisdom of this next move, but decided she wasn’t about to start being sensible now. It was far too late for that. ‘On the count of one, two—’

  The Doctor jumped, still holding her hand, and she was forced to leap after him. They both landed on their feet, and, with a synchronous movement that would have been funny if it hadn’t been for the circumstances, fell to their knees in the wet, cloying mud.

  ‘Urgh,’ said Cinder, letting go of the Doctor’s hand and getting to her feet. ‘My leggings are soaked through.’ She helped the Doctor up.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’m sure there’ll be something similar in one of the TARDIS’s wardrobes.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Fond of women’s clothes, are we?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, indicating his muddy trousers. ‘Clearly, I have a penchant.’

  She laughed, covering her mouth with her hands.

  ‘Right,’ he said, pointing at the sombre-looking buildings up ahead. They were very much abandoned, shrouded in darkness, with broken windows and plants poking inquisitively through holes in the roofs. ‘I think it was this way.’

  ‘No,’ said Cinder. ‘I’ve studied maps of this place. If you want to get closer to the Dalek domes we should follow the wall round this way for a while. Then we can cut across, keeping to the shadows. They shouldn’t be expecting anyone to approach from that direction.’

  The Doctor grinned. ‘Aren’t you glad you came along? I know I am.’

  They were untroubled by Daleks as they crept through the empty streets of the city, passing long abandoned homesteads and shop fronts in which, years later, goods still stood on display in the windows, now slowly turning to mulch and mould.

  The threat of the Daleks was an ever-brooding presence, however, depressing Cinder’s earlier good humour. She could hear their rasping, tinny voices, barking indiscriminate commands at one another as they combed the ruins, searching for whomever had destroyed one of their patrols.

  Cinder had no idea how they were going to get out of this. Scrabbling back up the wall was no option – it was far too high. They would need to find an alternative route out of the city – preferably one that wasn’t being guarded by Daleks.

  That, however, was for later. Right now, she needed to concentrate on getting them to the Dalek base without triggering any warning systems or bringing down the wrath of a patrol.

  She stopped at the corner of an intersection, putting a hand on the Doctor’s chest to hold him back, and peered around. At the end of a long, narrow street she could see the curve of one of the Dalek domes, its outer surface stippled with fam
iliar globes. Before that, however, was a single Dalek, standing with its back to them, its eyestalk swivelling from side to side, as if keeping watch.

  She pulled back. ‘Dalek,’ she whispered.

  ‘Now I wasn’t expecting to find one of those here,’ whispered the Doctor.

  Cinder punched him gently on the shoulder. ‘Seriously, what are we going to do? If I fire my weapon this close to the dome, they’ll hear it. There’ll be swarms of them on us in moments.’

  The Doctor stuck his head around the corner, assessing the situation for himself. ‘We could just ask it nicely?’ he said. ‘Tell it we’re lost and that we want to go back to our cells in the camp. It’s as good a way as any of getting inside.’

  Cinder looked at him as if he were mad. ‘My liberty is more important to me than getting inside that dome,’ she said. ‘And my life. I have my limits.’

  The Doctor grinned. ‘In that case, let’s go round.’

  They backtracked until they found a gap between two rows of houses, forming a narrow alleyway. Quietly, they traversed the length of it, their feet sloshing in the unwholesome effluvia that ran in a constant stream from the overflowing drains.

  ‘Come on, in here,’ said the Doctor, pulling her into the doorway of an empty house. It looked relatively intact – a standard-issue, prefabricated habitation bloc, built for a family. He tried the door, but it was locked.

  Cinder watched as he removed his screwdriver from its hoop in the ammo belt he wore slung across his chest, and tinkered for a minute with the settings. He held the tip of it to the lock and pressed the button. The end of it lit up, and it emitted an electronic warble. Seconds later, she heard the lock mechanism slide open.

  ‘What did you do?’ she asked.

  ‘Agitated a few molecules,’ he whispered, tapping the end of his nose. ‘Let’s go inside.’ He led her into the building.