by George Mann
‘What is it? What have you found?’
The Doctor got to his feet and crossed to where she was sitting. He held out his hand. The black object was a thin ovoid, made of what appeared to be glossy ceramic. It didn’t give much away. ‘A tracking device,’ he said. ‘I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist. The Castellan’s men must have planted it before they moved the TARDIS to the scrapyard.’
‘So you think they’ll come after us, then?’ asked Cinder. That was all they needed. She’d had enough of the Time Lords to last her a lifetime. Maybe two.
‘Nothing would surprise me,’ said the Doctor, resignedly. ‘If they can find us, that is. They’ll know we’re going after the Tear. They’ll probably send a strike force to try to stop us.’
Cinder sighed. When would it all end? ‘So, about the Daleks, then,’ she said.
‘What about them?’
‘Well, I know you weren’t serious. But what are we going to do to stop them?’ she said. ‘If they use their weapon on Gallifrey, it’ll only be a matter of time before they use it somewhere else, too. There’ll be no one to stop them.’
‘Yes, I haven’t quite worked that bit out, yet,’ said the Doctor. His bushy eyebrows twitched.
‘Then have you considered the alternative?’ she said. She hated herself for even bringing it up, but it had to be said.
‘There is no alternative,’ replied the Doctor.
Cinder shook her head. ‘You could let the Time Lords deploy the Tear. What if Rassilon’s right? The lives of a few billion human slaves to ensure the safety of everyone else in the universe …’
The Doctor looked furious. ‘That’s not how this works, Cinder. We don’t get to make that choice. No one should wield that sort of power.’
‘But if we don’t, aren’t we handing that same power to the Daleks?’
‘I’ll find a way,’ said the Doctor. ‘I always do, in the end. But I certainly won’t allow the Time Lords to commit genocide to do it.’
Cinder nodded. Idly, she picked up the Dalek cannon, which was lying on the floor by her feet. There was nothing aesthetically pleasing about the thing. It was a weapon of pure hate, functional and deadly.
‘Where did you get that?’ said the Doctor. He sounded suspicious.
‘Just here, where you left it,’ replied Cinder.
The Doctor dropped to his haunches beside her and put his hand out. She passed it to him. ‘I left this on Gallifrey,’ he said. ‘In the council chamber.’
‘They must have decided to return it,’ said Cinder.
‘Mmmm,’ mumbled the Doctor, turning the weapon over in his hands. ‘Yes, as I thought.’ He turned it around to show her the little black nodule that had been secreted beneath the barrel. He wrenched it free.
‘Seems they weren’t taking any chances,’ he said. ‘I do have a reputation for being difficult to keep in a cell.’
He stood, leaving the two tracking devices side by side on the floor. He then stomped on them repeatedly, crushing them beneath his heel until there was nothing left but a pulp of broken ceramic and diodes. ‘There, that should see to that,’ he said.
He offered her his hand, hauling her up. ‘Now, it’s time you got some rest.’
Cinder rubbed her eyes. ‘No, I’m OK,’ she said.
The Doctor shook his head. ‘You need sleep.’
Now that he had mentioned it, she realised how close to exhaustion she really was. Her eyes were hot and heavy and there was a dull ache at the back of her skull, which had been there ever since her experience with the mind probe. Her limbs were leaden. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘For a little while.’
‘Up those steps,’ said the Doctor. ‘First door on the left. You’ll find somewhere to get some sleep.’ Cinder smoothed her tunic. It was filthy. ‘There should be some fresh clothes in the wardrobe, too. Take whatever you want.’
‘Thanks,’ she said. She crossed to the stairs. Perhaps for the very first time in her life, she felt peaceful. Yet she couldn’t help wondering if this was the calm before the storm, the eerie silence on the night before battle. Either way, she would take a while to muster her strength.
‘Do you know what you’re going to do yet?’ she said. ‘How you’re going to stop them. The Time Lords, I mean.’
The Doctor smiled. ‘I’ve always been one for just … well, winging it,’ he replied.
Cinder laughed. ‘Me too.’
She climbed the steps in search of a bed.
Cinder came hurtling down the steps to find the Doctor still standing at the console, tinkering with the controls. ‘I’ve been asleep for hours,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’
The Doctor looked up, unperturbed. ‘You needed the rest,’ he said.
‘But the Tear! Won’t we be too late?’
The Doctor laughed. ‘This is a time machine,’ he said. ‘Out here in the Vortex we’re one step removed from what’s going on.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Think of it like a river,’ said the Doctor, ‘always flowing, always rushing by. That’s time, and the TARDIS is hovering above that river. Follow it upstream and we can dip into the future, back in the opposite direction, and although we’re swimming against the tide, we can find our way to any point in the past.’
Cinder shook her head, hopping down the last of the steps. ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she said.
Navigating the TARDIS hadn’t been as simple as ‘the first door on the left’, which had actually led to a palatial courtyard, filled with olive trees and park benches and complete with a marble fountain sculpted to resemble a naked woman, pouring water from a jug. Here, at least five other doors led off to adjoining rooms. She’d tried them each in turn, discovering all manner of bizarre environments: a squawking jungle, heady with the scent of fresh rain; a vast aviary filled with colourful, chirping birds; a chemistry lab with old-fashioned wooden benches, gas taps and Bunsen burners, and bookcases lined with innumerable phials. Finally she had found a bedroom, evidently still filled with the clutter of a previous occupant. Cinder hadn’t taken most of it in, but simply collapsed in a heap on the bed and drifted off into a long, luxurious sleep.
Upon waking, she’d found a pair of skinny black jeans and a Greenpeace T-shirt in the wardrobe, although she had no idea what the slogan meant.
‘So what’s the plan?’
‘Head to the Tantalus Spiral,’ said the Doctor. ‘The Time Lord fleet is going to have to get close if they intend to deploy the Tear. That’s where we’ll find them.’
‘And then?’ said Cinder.
‘And then we make it up as we go along,’ he replied. ‘Hold on!’
She did as he said, grabbing hold of the edge of the console as he stirred the TARDIS back to life. The engines roared as they plunged toward the Tantalus Spiral. Towards the place she had once called home.
The Doctor had left the ceiling de-opaqued, and Cinder watched as the swirling mists of the Time Vortex shifted suddenly, giving way to a crisp star field.
‘Now, we just have to hope we don’t attract the attention of any Dal—’ The Doctor stopped short, as the TARDIS shuddered, as if caught by a glancing blow.
‘What was that?’ said Cinder.
The Doctor grabbed a knob on the console and twisted it in a circle, causing the view through the canopy to slide dizzyingly, offering them an alternative perspective of local space. Five white Battle TARDISes, similar to the ones they had seen in the graveyard, but bristling with an array of brutal-looking armaments, had formed a ring around them.
‘An ambush,’ said the Doctor, grimly. ‘They were waiting for us, the moment we materialised. There must have been another tracking device.’ He looked at Cinder. ‘Of course!’ he said, dashing the heel of his palm against his forehead. ‘I should have seen it.’
‘Seen what?’ said Cinder, eyeing the array of TARDISes on the screen.
‘You! It’s you!’
Cinder stepped back, feeling uncertain. ‘What? W
hat have I done?’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘No, they must have planted the tracker on you during that business with the mind probe.’
Cinder wasn’t sure ‘that business’ adequately described the torturous episode to which she’d been subjected by Karlax and the Castellan. Nor did she like the implication that they were somehow still using her to get to the Doctor. She didn’t have time to consider it, however, as a familiar voice crackled over the comm-link.
‘Most perceptive of you, Doctor,’ said the thin, reedy voice.
‘Karlax,’ spat the Doctor. ‘I might have known. With a few friends from the CIA, no doubt?’
‘Naturally,’ replied Karlax. ‘I must say, Doctor, we were all very impressed with the way in which you were able to give our guards the slip. I understand it’s always been very difficult to keep you in a cell.’
The Doctor glanced at Cinder with an expression that said ‘I told you so.’
‘Still, it matters little,’ continued Karlax. ‘Commander Partheus will soon deliver the Tear of Isha to the Eye. You and your companion, alas, will be counted amongst the billions of the dead.’
On the monitor Cinder saw one of the Battle TARDISes extrude what looked like a torpedo chute. It was pointed directly at them. ‘Doctor,’ she said.
‘I know.’ He had his back to her.
‘No, Doctor, I really think you need to—’
‘I know,’ he said, more forcefully.
‘Then do something!’
There was a burst of light from the end of the torpedo chute as the other TARDIS fired. In response the Doctor fell against the controls, and the TARDIS dropped, plummeting straight down and leaving the five Battle TARDISes hanging in a neat circle.
The torpedo swam away into the void, trailing light. Moments later there was a flash as it detonated harmlessly in the vacuum. Above them, the ring of TARDISes stirred.
‘Find something to hold on to,’ said the Doctor. ‘This is going to be a bit of a bumpy ride.’
There was a sudden jolt as the Doctor manipulated the controls and the TARDIS ceased its freefall and spun sideways, twisting in a corkscrew which left Cinder feeling as if her heart was in her mouth and her stomach was in her chest cavity. She closed her eyes, but it didn’t make the spinning feel any better.
They flipped, dropping again – this time upside down – to avoid the trajectory of another torpedo. The Doctor yanked a lever and they lurched into a loop, climbing upwards in an effort to shake one of the Battle TARDISes that had fallen in behind them, riding hard on their tail.
‘You know you’re wasting your time,’ said Karlax over the comm-link. ‘Think about it. Isn’t it better to go gracefully, with dignity, knowing that your time is up?’
‘That sounds like you, Karlax,’ replied the Doctor. ‘Always willing to give up when things gets tough. If I’m going, I’m going out fighting.’
‘So be it,’ said Karlax, cutting the connection.
The Battle TARDIS behind them was gaining on them. It was well within range to fire its weapons, but the Doctor was weaving from side to side, clearly making it difficult for them to get a lock.
‘Fire!’ bellowed Cinder.
‘I can’t!’
‘What do you mean, you can’t?’ she called, incredulous.
‘We don’t have any weapons,’ shouted the Doctor. The noise of the squealing engines was drowning everything else out.
‘Why not?’
‘The TARDIS, she doesn’t like them,’ replied the Doctor. He was hanging on to the console with both hands, but leaning back, as if trying to physically pull the ship in a different direction.
‘Doesn’t like them!’ Cinder would have put her head in her hands if she hadn’t been hanging on for her life. ‘What can I do?’ she called. ‘Tell me!’
‘Just hold on,’ said the Doctor. ‘I’m going to attempt to dematerialise and get away, buy us a little time.’ He jerked the controls, just as the trailing TARDIS set loose another torpedo.
This time the Doctor didn’t have chance to slide out of the way, and the thin, silver cylinder slammed into the side of the police box, detonating in a halo of intense white light.
The console room shook, causing Cinder to drop to one knee, and then suddenly, everything stopped. The engines sighed, the lights dimmed, and she could tell from the vibration of the floor plates and the view through the ceiling that they’d come to an immediate and complete stop.
‘What was that?’ she said.
The Doctor banged his fist against the console. ‘Time torpedo. We’re temporarily frozen in a stasis bubble. We can’t move.’
‘Perfect,’ said Cinder. ‘I wish I’d stayed in bed.’
As they watched, one of the Battle TARDISes slid into view, drawing closer with the clear intent to board them. ‘This’ll be Karlax,’ said the Doctor. ‘Wanting to crow.’
‘Can’t we stop him coming aboard,’ she asked.
‘We can try,’ said the Doctor.
Cinder sensed movement out of the corner of her eye, and a split second later the Battle TARDIS bloomed, detonating suddenly, as if struck by a shot from behind. The console room shook with the aftershock of the blast. She couldn’t see anything, any sign of what had caused the explosion, as she hurriedly searched the view.
The ruined TARDIS seemed to unpack in space before her eyes, its interior unfolding like the ones she had seen at the graveyard, swelling until it filled their entire view. Objects drifted away into the vacuum: broken monitors, spacesuits, chairs.
The Doctor wiggled the knob on the console and the view shifted. A formation of sleek, black vessels had engaged the four remaining TARDISes, and the two sides were pitched in battle, trading shots as they circled each another in a fast and violent dance.
The black ships seemed to have come out of nowhere. ‘What are they?’ asked Cinder.
‘Dalek stealth ships,’ said the Doctor. ‘They don’t show up on any Time Lord monitoring systems. They lie in wait in the Time Vortex like hunters stalking prey, then strike at the most opportune moment.’
One of the TARDISes appeared to land a missile on the flank of one of the stealth ships, and it detonated in a shimmering burst, rolling over the black carapace of the vessel. The TARDIS tried to capitalise on its strike, swinging around for a second shot, but another of the Dalek vessels swept past, unleashing a volley of super-charged energy, which shredded the TARDIS, annihilating it in a matter of seconds.
‘We’re sitting ducks, here,’ said Cinder, with rising panic. ‘Can’t you do something?’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘We have to hope that they’re happy to deal with the moving targets first,’ he said, although she noticed his hands had not strayed far from the controls.
One of the stealth ships erupted in a ball of flame, caught in a volley between two of the remaining Battle TARDISes, but it was never going to be enough. There were simply too many of the Dalek ships. Cinder hadn’t been able to count them, but the number was in double figures, more than twice those of the Time Lords. They were outclassed in every respect.
Almost simultaneously, she watched the remaining TARDISes die, their interior dimensions suddenly, dramatically exposed.
Cinder’s palms were sweating. She knew what was coming next. The stealth ships would converge on the Doctor’s TARDIS, and in a moment, it too would be reduced to nothing but a bloated carcass, drifting in the void.
She watched one of the Dalek ships glide overhead. The Doctor flicked a switch on the console and the engine hissed to life.
‘I thought you said we were frozen in a temporal bubble,’ she cried.
The Doctor shrugged. ‘I’m not falling for that old chestnut again,’ he said. ‘I upgraded the shielding.’
‘Then … you were just stalling for time?’
‘Precisely,’ said the Doctor, slamming his fist into the controls. The TARDIS corkscrewed up at an incredible velocity, slamming into the underside of the stealth ship.
&nb
sp; The Doctor’s aim hadn’t been quite true, and they caught the side of it, rending a massive hole as they burst through. On the monitor she saw the other ship spin out of control, a twisted mass of tortured metal. Jets of gas billowed into the void, freezing instantly to form drifting clouds of ice.
‘Quickly! Get us out of here,’ bellowed Cinder. ‘Dematerialise. There are too many of them.’
The Doctor tapped the monitor with his index finger. ‘There’s someone still alive down there.’
She moved round, still holding the railing. On the monitor she could see the carcass of one of the devastated TARDISes. A tiny figure writhed in agony in the ruins of a console room.
‘Surely you can’t be thinking …’
‘Oh, but I am,’ replied the Doctor. He yanked a lever and the TARDIS dematerialised for the briefest of seconds, forming again amongst the wreckage of the downed Battle TARDIS. Stealth ships were closing in from all directions.
Cinder tried to make sense of what was happening. Suddenly, there was wreckage all over the floor: bits of broken coral pillar, fragments of a dark grey wall, half a shattered console, still fizzing and popping as the electrics discharged. Amongst them all, nestled in a pit of cables, lay a Time Lord.
He was dressed in scarlet robes and skullcap, and was clutching at his throat with both hands, struggling to breathe. Bright blood bubbled from his eyes, nose, and lips, dribbling down his chin. His flesh was burnt and blistered, but his features were unmistakable. ‘It’s Karlax,’ she said.
‘Make him comfortable,’ said the Doctor.
‘But I—’ she started.
‘Just do it!’ he bellowed, cutting her off.
The TARDIS trembled as they pirouetted out of the way of another Dalek volley. ‘Damn it!’ said the Doctor. He mashed the controls and the engines whined, phasing them into the Vortex. ‘Damn it!’ he said again.
Cinder was on her knees, cradling Karlax’s head in her hands. He was in a bad way. His breath was coming in short, wheezing gulps. Exposure to the vacuum had almost killed him, and even now, she wasn’t sure he was going to make it. His skin had taken on a strange glow, which seemed to fade in and out, as if the light was somehow shifting about beneath the surface of his flesh.
