Doctor Who: Engines of War (3 page)

Chapter Three

The TARDIS plunged through the planet’s upper atmosphere like a dropped stone, tumbling end over end, leaving a rippling trail of black smoke in its wake.

Inside, the Doctor clung to the metal rail that ran around the edges of the central dais. The engines were screeching and stuttering as the ship tried to right herself, but the trajectory was too sharp, and they were falling too fast.

The ceiling was still showing a projection of the view from outside, but now it was nothing but a disorientating jumble of images: snapshots of a bruised, purple sky; sweeping continents encrusted with bristling ruins; flames licking angrily at the edges of the ship’s outer shell.

With a gargantuan effort, the Doctor released his grip on the railing and lurched over to the console, catching hold of a hooped cable in an effort to stop him from being sent sprawling to the floor. He tugged on it for support, but to his consternation it came away in his hand, one end decoupling from its housing and causing him to swing out wildly, windmilling his other arm until the ship tipped forward again and he could grab hold of a nearby lever.

He steadied himself as best he could, rocking with the motion of the tumbling ship. ‘Right, let’s see if this works…’ he said, tossing away the loose end of the cable and jabbing at a series of buttons and switches on the control panel.

Its engines screaming in protest, the TARDIS made a juddering attempt to dematerialise. Outside, visible through the transparent ceiling, the world seemed to fade away to nonexistence, replaced by the swirling hues of the Time Vortex.

Just as the Doctor was about to issue a heartfelt sigh of relief, however, the view stuttered as if it were just out of reach, and returned to flickering images of the desolate, spoiled world beneath him, seen only in snatches as the ground seemed to rush up to meet the falling TARDIS.

He hammered at the controls furiously, to no avail. Even the central column had now ceased its ponderous rise and fall, as if the TARDIS herself had anticipated what would come next and was withdrawing into herself, shutting down her vital systems.

‘I’m sorry, old girl,’ said the Doctor, hanging on to the console for all he was worth. ‘I think we’re in for a bit of a bumpy landing…’

Her mouth was full of soil, her left cheek was smarting and she was pretty sure she’d broken at least one of her ribs. She couldn’t remember where she was, what she’d been doing. Comforting blackness offered to consume her. She welcomed it.
Sleep
. Sleep was what she needed. Sleep would –

‘Locate the other hu-man.’ The rasping, metallic sound of a Degradation stirred her to wakefulness. Of course! The escarpment. The landslide. The
Degradations
. Only a few seconds could have passed. She remained rigid and still. Did they think she was dead?

She was partially covered by the loose soil. She could feel it weighing down on her legs. That was good – at least she could still
feel
her legs. The mud must have cushioned her fall. She shifted her foot, ever so slightly, and felt the heaped earth give way. She’d be able to break free, then. She wasn’t buried too deep.

She was still clutching the stolen Dalek weapon. It felt smooth and cold against her palm, and hummed with power. Not only that, but she had the element of surprise. They weren’t expecting her to suddenly start shooting again. And by the sound of it, they hadn’t found Finch. They hadn’t –

‘Cinder!’ Finch’s worried cry echoed from the ruins. Cinder wanted to scream in frustration. What was he doing! He’d give away his position, make himself an easy target.

Well, she supposed he’d forced her hand…

With a gasp, Cinder heaved herself up out of the heaped earth, twisting as she rose, spitting soil. She didn’t have time to take stock of what the Degradations were doing. She saw one of the Gliders, hovering a few metres off the ground with its back to her, and took aim, releasing two shots. Still turning, she got the other Glider in her sights and squeezed off another two shots.

They detonated into bright balls of flame, one after the other, showering the ground with burning debris, and Cinder dived for cover, rolling behind the shell of the Dalek she had taken out from above. There would still two Degradations to contend with, and she didn’t much fancy her chances against the cannon.

‘Cinder!’

She scrambled to her feet to see the tall, broad silhouette of Finch up ahead, bursting from behind a broken wall and rushing out into the road. He was wearing dirty black coveralls and carrying an old-fashioned machine gun, with which he rained down shells on the remaining Dalek creatures as he ran. The bullets pinged ineffectually off their armour, but his plan – if indeed it was a plan – had worked, and he’d distracted them long enough for Cinder to take cover.

‘Cinder – get to safety, now!’ he bellowed. He sprayed the Degradations with another burst of useless ammunition, then turned and ran.

‘Eradicate!’ burred the Dalek with the cannon, rotating its mid-section to track him as he ran.

‘Finch!’ cried Cinder. ‘No!’

The cannon fired, emitting a pulse of eerie, ruby-coloured light. It struck Finch in the back and seemed to engulf him entirely, encircling his body, whispering around him as if looking for a way in. He stopped running, twisting around in obvious agony and thrashing as if trying to free himself of the beam’s deadly embrace. There was no escape.

He opened his mouth to scream, and the stream of light rushed in through the orifice, pouring into his body, choking him. He clutched at his throat with both hands, scrabbling for breath.

As she watched, tears pricking her eyes, Finch’s flesh began to glow, taking on the same odd, pinkish hue as the light. He seemed to disintegrate before her, fading out of existence, as if the light inside of him was pushing out and expanding, dissolving him from within.

In less than a few seconds, there was nothing left of him whatsoever, aside from a faint wisp of slowly fading light.

Crouching behind the burned-out Dalek, Cinder felt an odd sensation. She knew she’d just witnessed something horrific, but, for some reason, she couldn’t quite understand what. Her memory seemed suddenly fuzzy, confused.

She had the unsettling notion there was something she couldn’t remember, scratching away at the back of her mind. She could have sworn the Degradations had just exterminated someone, maybe even someone she knew, but she couldn’t imagine who it could have been. After all, she’d planned this ambush alone, with no help. Hadn’t she?

Nevertheless, she couldn’t deny the overwhelming feeling of hollowness, as if she was experiencing the absence of an emotion akin to grief. She didn’t have time to dwell on it, however, as even now the two remaining Degradations were moving, turning towards her…

She glanced behind her, looking for somewhere to run. There was nowhere but the ruins on the other side of the road, and she didn’t much fancy her chances in the open. Then again, the wrecked shell of a Dalek wasn’t going to provide much in the way of a shield for very long, either.

Cinder glanced up at a high-pitched whistling sound from overhead, her mouth falling open in slack-jawed awe. Something was falling from the sky – a large, blue box, with illuminated window panels and a flashing lamp on top. It was coming in at quite a speed, glowing white hot around the edges, and leaving a long, dark smear in the sky to mark its passing. Whatever it was, it was clearly out of control, and it was going to make landfall any second…

‘Evade! Evade!’ The egg-shaped Degradation turned and skittered toward the ruins, its spider-like limbs clawing at the broken ground for purchase.

Cinder cringed, dropping to her knees and burying her face in the crooks of her arms. There was little else to do. The roar of the falling box had grown to such intensity that it was all she could hear. There was no time to run, to seek cover. It was coming down, and it was coming down
now
.

It impacted with a tremendous
crunch
, sending up a spew of displaced earth that bowled Cinder, and the shell of the dead Dalek she’d been cowering behind, at least two metres into the air. She landed on her back, knocking the wind out of her lungs, just as the box – which had rebounded from the edge of the escarpment and was sent careening into the road – crashed for a second time, this time causing a colossal
bang
. For the second time that day, she was doused in a spray of loose soil and debris.

The blue box screeched across the asphalt, rending what appeared to be
wood
, until it struck the remains of a brick wall and came to a sudden, jarring halt.

Cinder took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The first thing that struck her was the fact that she was still alive. The second was the eerie silence that had settled over proceedings. The only sound was the hiss of the scorched box melting the asphalt on the road surface where it had come to rest. She had no idea how a box made of wood could have survived the violence of re-entry into the planet’s atmosphere.

Cinder picked herself up, dusting shards of Dalek casing and dirt from her clothes. She gasped for breath, forcing air back down into her lungs. Her ears were ringing. She staggered forward a few steps, but then thought better of it, deciding she’d have to wait until her head stopped spinning.

She tried to get her bearings.

The entire scene was a mess. The initial impact had blown a crater in the side of the escarpment, the force from which had rippled out, crumpling the surface of the road and churning up an area the size of a house.

The shell of the Dalek was lying on its side about three metres away, still rocking gently with the motion of the impact.

Smoke curled from where the blue box had finally come to rest, lying on its side. A hatch was open in the top, but she couldn’t quite see inside. The lights were still glowing softly in the windows, although the lamp on top had gone out. She wondered if that was the distress beacon or homing device.

It appeared the box had inadvertently saved her life, too – half of a Dalek casing – presumably belonging to the cannon-bearing Degradation – still stood upright beside the overturned box, but the top half was nowhere to be seen. It seemed the box had decapitated the ponderous thing before it had had chance to move out of the way.

Of the squat, spider-like mutant, there was no sign.

Cinder crept forward, peering into the box. All she could see was a pall of thick smoke and the impression of some bright, internal lighting. She thought about calling out, to see if there was anyone still alive inside, but was worried about attracting attention. And besides, she had no idea who – or what – might be in there. No, she’d just get a little bit closer and take a look inside…

She froze at the sound of a man spluttering. It had come from inside the box. So – the occupant
was
still alive.

Quickly, she cast around for her gun. It was jutting out of the damp earth close by, and she hastily dug it out with her hands, getting thick, grimy clay wedged beneath her broken fingernails. She yanked it free, trailing cables, then dusted it off and checked it over.

The light on the power pack had dimmed and turned red, indicating that all of the stored energy had been discharged. Clearly, it had been damaged in the explosion. She cursed beneath her breath. Still, whoever it was who’d come down in that blue box didn’t have to know that. The weapon would still make an effective deterrent.

Brandishing it like a shield, she advanced slowly on the box, wary of any sudden signs of movement that might indicate hostilities. Was it an escape capsule? It certainly didn’t look very big, and the way it had fallen from the sky suggested it had been ejected from an orbital craft. The edges of the box were still glowing from its abrasive entry into the atmosphere, and a dark, sooty streak across its outer casing indicated that it had taken a glancing strike from an energy weapon. Had a Dalek saucer shot down the ship? She wondered if the occupant of the escape pod might even be human. But why were the words ‘POLICE BOX’ written on the side in big, bold letters? Nothing that was happening seemed to make any sense.

The man gave another cough, louder this time. Cinder sensed movement. She stopped walking and thrust the barrel of her gun in the direction of the box, just in time to see a head emerge from the open hatch.

With a loud huff, the man threw his arms over the sides of the box and hauled himself up, so that his head and shoulders were poking over the rim.

Cinder glared at him, unsure what to say or do. He was an older man, with a craggy, careworn face and startling green-brown eyes. His hair was silvery grey and brushed up into a tuft at the front, and he wore a bushy white beard and moustache. He frowned at her, looking perplexed. He appeared to be wearing a battered leather coat and a herringbone patterned scarf.

‘Well?’ he said, as if waiting for the answer to an unasked question.

‘Well, what?’ she replied, jiggling her gun to ensure that he’d seen it.

He raised both eyebrows as if taken aback by her insolence. ‘Oh, so waving a gun at me is the best thing to do in the circumstances, is it?’

‘Well…’ Cinder thought for a moment, confused. ‘Look, you’re the one who’s just fallen out of the sky!’

‘And just as well that I did,’ he said. ‘I’d argue that my timing is impeccable.’

‘What are you
talking
about?’ said Cinder, failing to quell her exasperation.

‘Look at you,’ he said. ‘Clearly in need of my help.’

Cinder felt a surge of indignation. ‘Oh,
really
?’ She shook her head at the sheer arrogance of the man. ‘
I
need
your
help?’

‘I should say so,’ replied the man.

‘And what makes you say that?’ asked Cinder. She was growing tired of this irritating newcomer and his ridiculous posturing.

The man made a gesture that might have been a shrug, if it hadn’t been for the fact he was hanging on to the edge of his box with both arms. Come to think of it, the position did appear a little odd, given how shallow the box actually was. He sighed. ‘If you don’t want to end up getting yourself exterminated, then I suggest you get a move on and hop inside.