Engines of War

by George Mann

  Cinder swallowed. She didn’t even know where to start. The cannon was the size of three moons – or rather, it was actually comprised of three moons – which had been lashed together in a massive latticework of struts and nodes, and segmented by vast, shimmering discs of metal. At the front, three spokes came together to form a massive tip, from which she assumed the energy blast would be fired.

  Swarms of Daleks tended to it, thousands of them, hundreds of thousands of them, like worker ants, crawling all over its surface.

  A stream of ruby-coloured light was being siphoned from the Eye itself, channelled into two crackling antenna towards the rear of the weapon. She could see at the business end of the gun – if it could even be called a gun – the ruby light was beginning to flicker, as if it were building up for a discharge, just like the smaller temporal weapons she’d seen the Daleks using on Moldox.

  This, then, was the weapon they would use to obliterate Gallifrey, and any other planets that stood in the way of their terrible ambition. Cinder could see now, for the first time, the true scale of the threat. She could see what had terrified Rassilon and his council.

  This was engineering on an epic scale. With it, she had no doubt the Daleks would be able to end the War and claim dominion over the entire universe. It was in equal parts one of the most terrifying and impressive things she had ever seen, and worse, it looked to her as if it were almost ready to fire.

  She stepped back from the console, averting her gaze.

  The Daleks had been silent since the Doctor had severed the connection, but now the communications system crackled to life again, picking up a transmission from the command station.

  ‘Report,’ demanded an abrupt Dalek voice. Cinder jumped at the sudden intrusion.

  ‘Target acquired,’ replied another, near-identical voice, presumably from onboard one of the escort vessels.

  ‘Proceed,’ came the economical response.

  Cinder and the Doctor watched in silence as they were dragged toward the station. She couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size of the structure, as they drew closer and the true scale of the Dalek operation dawned on her. There must have been billions of them there in the Spiral, when she considered how many of them had been on Moldox, and must have spread across all of the other inhabited worlds. And this was only now, in this particularly time period, in this one specific region of space.

  The thought of a universe teeming with Daleks filled her with dread. Had she been wrong? Had the Doctor? Perhaps they should have allowed the Time Lords to proceed with their plan to deploy their Armageddon device. Perhaps the loss of human life would have been worth it.

  As if understanding her mounting sense of terror and the darkness that was beginning to creep into her thoughts, the Doctor moved over to stand beside her, taking hold of the rail. ‘It’ll be all right,’ he said, quietly. ‘Just stay by my side and you’ll be fine.’

  She wanted to ask how he could be so sure, so confident, but the moment had passed. He’d already returned to watching their approach. The station now filled their entire view, and the escort ships were starting to peel away, spinning off into the void. The Daleks were clearly under the impression that they’d managed to cage the Doctor; that he and his TARDIS were entirely at their mercy. Cinder couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, the reality of the situation was quite the opposite.

  The TARDIS, anchored to the Dalek saucer like the swinging pendulum of a clock, slid through the cavernous mouth of the station’s docking bay, and deep into its maw.

  She barely had time to gain an impression of what the interior of the station looked like before, with a sudden jolt, the TARDIS was released from the tractor beam and crashed to the floor of the loading bay. She was flung forward, and was only prevented from stumbling head-first into the console by the Doctor, who swung out an arm to catch her around the waist, maintaining his own grip on the railing all the while. Breathless, she thanked him, finding her footing again a moment later. She brushed her hair out of her eyes.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘We’re just going to waltz out of here like we own the place, into the waiting arms of a billion Daleks?’

  ‘Something like that,’ said the Doctor, distracted. He’d returned to the console and was fiddling with the dials and switches again.

  Cinder gaped at him. ‘I mean … I … I was only being sarcastic,’ she mumbled. ‘That’s not really the plan? Is it?’

  The Doctor glanced at her over his shoulder, moving smoothly around the console to crank another lever. ‘Parking brake,’ he said, as if that answered everything. ‘Best not to leave that on if we think we might need to make a quick getaway.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think there’ll be any need for that,’ said Cinder, incredulous. ‘I think we’ll be too busy getting unequivocally exterminated for that to make much of a difference.’

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘You do have a way with melodrama,’ he said. ‘Now come along. Bring your coat.’

  Cinder emitted an exasperated gurgle, but did as he said, fetching her old, scorched jacket from where she’d tossed it on the floor after fleeing Gallifrey. She shrugged it on. ‘I can’t quite believe we’re going to do this,’ she said. She turned to see the Doctor was no longer there. Twisting about, she spotted him, coming down the short flight of steps from the upper level. Cinder frowned. She hadn’t even seen him leave. He must have stepped out while she was collecting her coat.

  ‘A little late for regrets now,’ he said, striding confidently toward the door. He pushed it open and stepped out into the harsh, electric light of the Dalek command station.

  ‘Hello,’ she heard him say. ‘What is it that one’s supposed to say in such situations? Ah, yes, that’s right. Take me to your leader!’

  With a heartfelt sigh, Cinder rushed out behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A clutch of Daleks led them at gunpoint through the quiet, cavernous passageways of the command station. The walls here were similar to those aboard the Dalek saucers on Moldox: a hexagonal crystal lattice, pulsing with the passage of coloured gases and fluids.

  They passed branching corridors and rooms that formed hubs, like nexus points in a strange, otherworldly labyrinth. Sealed doors suggested rooms and cells, but none of them were open. Other Daleks glided silently along the hallways, like solemn monks in the corridors of an abbey, not even greeting one another as they passed by. All of the Daleks here appeared to be of the typical brass and gold variety. None of the mutants or Degradations appeared to be present.

  Soon after, their Dalek guards came to a halt before a large, open archway.

  ‘Wait,’ said one of them in a deep, mechanical monotone, before sliding off into the chamber beyond.

  Cinder couldn’t see much from where she was standing behind another of the Daleks, other than the fact the walls inside the room changed in appearance, becoming white and opaque. The floor, too, appeared to be made from panels of smooth, white metal.

  The Dalek returned a few moments later, clearly having checked ahead. ‘Proceed.’

  ‘Glad to see you’re feeling conversational,’ muttered Cinder.

  The Doctor, who had so far kept his own counsel as they’d been led through the station, turned to her. ‘Right, let’s see what we’re up against, shall we?’ He stroked his beard nervously, tugging on the corner of his moustache.

  Cinder gave a startled yelp as one of the Daleks prodded her between the shoulder blades with its manipulator arm, jostling her forward. ‘All right, all right,’ she said. ‘I’m going.’

  The Doctor glared at the Dalek and caught her arm, pulling her to his side. Together – arm in arm – they strolled into the room to meet the Eternity Circle.

  Cinder and the Doctor found themselves entering a large audience chamber, arranged around a hexagonal concourse.

  On each side of the hexagon, excluding the entrance, was a raised plinth, and atop each one sat a Dalek, looking down imperiously upon the auditorium.


  They were similar in size and appearance to the bronze Daleks she had seen elsewhere on the station and so frequently on Moldox – the same manipulator arm and energy weapon, the same menacing eyestalk – save for the colouring, which, Cinder supposed, marked them out as unique. The casing of all five of these ‘Eternity Circle’ Daleks was a deep, metallic blue, with silver sensor globes and domed heads. They appeared to be identical to one another, although she knew from examining the casings of dead Daleks on Moldox that they usually carried small markings beneath their eyestalks to make them easier to identify.

  Two other passageways fed into the room, and a series of shadowy alcoves existed between each of the Dalek’s pedestals.

  ‘Welcome, Doctor,’ announced the Dalek on the central plinth.

  ‘So this is the so-called Eternity Circle,’ said the Doctor with a smirk. ‘You do realise it’s not actually a circle, don’t you?’ He traced a circle in the air with his finger to emphasise his point.

  The Daleks regarded him in silence. Cinder noticed the guards had retreated to stand in the shadow of the archway, watching from the side lines.

  ‘So you’re the ones responsible for all of this? For harnessing the power of the Tantalus Eye?’ said the Doctor. ‘I’ll grant you, it’s certainly original.’

  ‘It is a weapon worthy of the Daleks,’ replied the Dalek on the central plinth. Cinder decided it had to be the leader.

  ‘Is that what you do, then?’ said the Doctor. ‘Sit there on your pedestals feeling superior and dreaming up new ways to torture any of the other life forms in the universe?’

  ‘That is, indeed, our purpose,’ said the Dalek, and again, Cinder got a sense of a deep and disturbing intelligence at work. This was the Dalek they had heard over the TARDIS’s communications array. It was different from the others, and not simply by virtue of the colour of its casing. It appeared to have a sense of irony. ‘We of the Eternity Circle are charged with securing the proliferation of the Dalek race throughout time. We undertake the invasion of history in order to secure the future, and the eradication of all other forms of life.’

  ‘Creatures born of hate,’ spat the Doctor in response. ‘You disgust me.’

  ‘Such fury. Such pure, burning rage. It is a thing of rare beauty to behold. You are every bit as worthy as we hoped, Doc-tor.’ The Dalek sounded impressed.

  ‘Worthy?’ said the Doctor. ‘Of extermination? I was under the impression that one simply had to have the temerity to be alive in order to warrant such a response from your kind.’

  The Dalek made a sound as if it were choking – a strange, strangled cry that Cinder realised, with disgust, was in fact a rasping cackle. The Dalek was actually laughing.

  ‘You’re even more deluded than I’d imagined,’ said the Doctor, pointing to each of the five blue Daleks in turn. ‘Sitting here in your ivory tower, hatching schemes and constructing your super-weapons.’

  ‘The Temporal Cannon is but one small component, Doctor. A means to an end. Gallifrey will be destroyed regardless. The Dalek ambition knows far greater bounds.’ The Dalek paused, as if weighing its words. ‘You, Doctor. You will be our saviour. You will ensure the survival of the Dalek species.’

  The Doctor narrowed his eyes. ‘I will not,’ he said. ‘I made that mistake once before, back on Skaro, when I failed to put an end to the work of your creator.’

  ‘Ah,’ said the Dalek. ‘The beginning of the Time War. The moment that you, Doctor, taught the Daleks their most valuable lesson of all – that emotion is a weakness that must be eradicated. That mercy has no place in victory.’

  ‘Not a weakness,’ said the Doctor, ‘but a strength.’

  ‘If it had not been for your hesitation,’ said the Dalek, its tone derisory, ‘for your inability to do what was necessary, then the entire War could have been prevented. The Daleks would have ceased to exist.’

  ‘Is that true?’ said Cinder, astonished. ‘That you had the chance to kill them all and you let them live?’

  ‘Continue,’ said the Dalek. ‘Tell your companion. Tell her how you failed.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said the Doctor, hanging his head. ‘Long before the War began, in a different life, I had the chance to prevent the advent of the Dalek race, to murder them in their cradle before the universe ever knew of their terror.’ He sighed. ‘But I hesitated. I still hoped that they might be saved. I was wrong, and when I went back, when I realised my mistake and did try to destroy them, I was too late. They’d already started the production line.’

  Cinder didn’t know what to say. The thought that he might have prevented all of this, what had happened to her family, her friends, the trillions of lives that had been lost throughout the cosmos – how could he have allowed it all to happen?

  The Doctor had held that power in his hands. Yet he had also spoken to her about responsibility, about how it should never be the burden of one person alone to wield such power. Did he really have the right to destroy a race in its infancy, before he truly understood what it was capable of, how it might evolve? Of course he didn’t. There could be no blame on him for that. ‘Not wrong,’ she said, quietly. ‘Only human.’ It was the greatest compliment she could think to offer him. He smiled appreciatively.

  ‘I see, Doc-tor, that you understand,’ said the Dalek. ‘And now we shall offer you a gift, a role in the coming dawn of the new Dalek empire. You will become our instrument of extinction. You will conceive of new and inventive means by which to spread your gift of death throughout the cosmos. Your rage shall reignite the flames of war, leading the Daleks to victory on a billion worlds. It shall be a beautiful and terrifying reign, and the Daleks shall worship you for it.’ The Dalek fell silent, awaiting the Doctor’s response.

  ‘I will die before I lift a finger to help you,’ replied the Doctor.

  ‘The entity known as the Doctor will, indeed, be exterminated,’ said the Dalek. ‘The emotion centres of your brain will be neutralised. All thoughts of your prior lives will be excised. Your mind, however, will be harvested. Your creativity will be put to wondrous use supporting the Dalek cause.’

  ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ said the Doctor, laughing. ‘You have no idea. It’s because of my emotions that I am who I am. Without them I’d be nothing more than a drone, like the rest of your pathetic race.’

  ‘We shall see, Doctor,’ said the Dalek. Its eyestalk shifted suddenly to the right. ‘It is time. Commence the procedure.’

  ‘I obey,’ came a metallic response from somewhere out of sight.

  Cinder sensed movement in one of the alcoves beneath the Eternity Circle, and something began to emerge from the shadows. It was the silhouette of a Dalek, only far larger.

  ‘Behold, Doctor – the Predator Dalek.’

  Cinder watched in horrified awe as new Dalek rolled forward into the light. It was twice the size of a standard Dalek casing, although constructed to that same, familiar design. Its skirt was a deep, metallic vermillion, with black sensor globes and grilles, and although mostly inanimate, its appearance nevertheless filled Cinder with dread. The Daleks had clearly been planning this for some time, and she was beginning to get the sense that the Doctor had unwittingly stumbled into their trap.

  ‘This is our true victory, Doctor,’ said the Dalek on the plinth. ‘The weapon that will win the war. The Tantalus Eye is but a means to an end, the removal of the Time Lord distraction. The Predator Dalek will be the herald of a new age. The time of the Daleks approaches.’

  The casing of the Predator Dalek hinged apart like doors being simultaneously opened outward, revealing a large cavity within.

  Inside, there was a burnished metal seat surrounded by dials and monitors, resembling the cockpit of a small vehicle. It was clearly empty and awaiting an occupant, but unlike the standard Dalek casings she’d seen on Moldox, this one wasn’t designed to house mutant Kaleds, but a humanoid figure in the chair.

  Fibrous wires and clusters of needle-like probes fought for space on either side of t
he chair, and a sharp metal spike, fixed to the back of the headrest, glistened with lubricant. This was clearly the Dalek version of a neural interface, to be inserted into the soft tissue at the base of the occupant’s skull.

  More vicious-looking needles were fixed to the inside of the hinged doors like an iron maiden, waiting to be embedded in the occupant’s flesh once they were in situ.

  Once entombed, there was clearly no escape. The engines of the casing would merge with the biology of the occupant, fusing to become a single, symbiotic entity. A Dalek.

  ‘This, Doctor, is your future,’ said the leading Dalek.

  From the doorway, the three Dalek guards whispered forward, forming a loose circle around Cinder and the Doctor.

  ‘Doctor?’ she said, concerned. He looked at her, and she saw real terror in his eyes. He hadn’t anticipated this, the true agenda of the Eternity Circle. What was more, it didn’t appear as if they were going to draw matters out or offer any chance of escape – the casing of the Predator Dalek stood waiting to accept its new host.

  ‘Come on!’ bellowed the Doctor, looking around frantically. ‘Come on!’

  ‘Do not fight it, Doctor,’ said the Dalek.

  ‘Cinder … I …’ he didn’t seem to know what to say.

  ‘Your companion will have the privilege of being the first human to be exterminated by the Predator Dalek.’

  The guards inched closer, their manipulator arms raised like cattle prods. Cinder wanted to scream. She wished she had her gun, had anything, but there didn’t seem to be any way to fight back, and nowhere to left to run. The Doctor had unwittingly led them into a trap.

  She rushed forward, clutching frantically at the lapels of the Doctor’s leather jacket. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. ‘I’m sorry, Cinder,’ he said.

  ‘Doc-tor, it is time,’ rasped the Dalek.