Doctor Who: Engines of War by George Mann Read Free Book Online Page A

amongst the ruins and constantly watching over her shoulder for Daleks. She’d never wanted to be a warrior, but the role had been thrust upon her by circumstance, and now, finally, this was her opportunity to escape, to do something different with her life. She knew if she saw Finch that the debt she owed him risked pulling her back in.
    ‘Cinder! Who’s your friend?’
    With a sigh, she turned to see Coyne making a beeline for them from around the other side of his tent. ‘Hello, Coyne,’ she said.
    He was lean and muscular, around 40 years of age and was one of the leaders of their small troupe. He was also the veteran of numerous encounters with the Daleks, as testified by the deep purple scar across the left side of his face, where a glancing energy beam had incinerated his ear and chewed up the flesh of his cheek.
    It had been Coyne who had plucked her from the dustbin in the burning ruins of her homestead, and Coyne who had taught her how to survive, how to fight.
    ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ he said, with a wary look at the Doctor.
    ‘This is…’ She hesitated. ‘This is—’
    ‘John Smith,’ said the Doctor, extending his hand.
    ‘Well, John Smith,’ said Coyne, looking the Doctor up and down. ‘Where have you been hiding?’
    ‘Anywhere the Daleks can’t find me,’ said the Doctor, with a thin smile. ‘Moving about from place to place, never staying still for very long.’ He glanced at Cinder, and she could tell this wasn’t a lie. ‘I found Cinder here trying to singlehandedly take down a Dalek patrol,’ he continued, ‘and decided to drop in and help.’
    Coyne laughed amiably. ‘Yes, that sounds like Cinder.’ He put a protective arm around her shoulder. ‘But why didn’t you take anyone with you? You know the rules. It’s not safe to go out there alone.’
    ‘I wasn’t alone,’ she replied. ‘I had John Smith here, didn’t I?’
    Coyne rolled his eyes. ‘You know precisely what I mean, Cinder,’ he said. ‘Look, I bet you could both do with something to eat. Come on, the stew’s almost ready.’
    Cinder glanced apologetically at the Doctor. ‘Well, we…’
    ‘That sounds like a marvellous idea,’ said the Doctor.
    The stew was a thick broth made from vegetables and herbs, but it was hot and welcome, and Cinder gulped it down, enjoying the rare sensation of a full belly.
    It was now what passed for night on Moldox, and the strange, ethereal light of the Eye rippled across the sky, an aurora of yellow, pink and blue striations. It bubbled like the surface of some unfathomable lake, like a colourful oil painting being smeared across the sky.
    The Doctor, who’d been deep in conversation with Coyne for the last half an hour gleaning details about the Dalek occupation force, came to sit down beside her on an overturned drum. He followed her gaze, looking up at the sky.
    ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ she said.
    ‘Do you know what they are?’ he replied. She shook her head. ‘Time winds.’ He took a long swig from a metal mug of tea. ‘Temporal radiation from the Eye. What you’re seeing up there is a billion years of history, a glimpse into the night sky of the ancient past and the furthest reaches of the future. The radiation causes anomalies, glitches in space-time. It’s a window right through to another time, only the world on the other side is shifting in constant flux. And yes, you’re right – it is rather beautiful.’
    Cinder glanced up at it again, this time with new eyes. ‘All that time, all those years of peace. Now there’s only the War.’
    ‘The universe is full of wonders, Cinder. The things I’ve seen… the glass moons of Socho, the Red Veil of the Eastern Parabola, the sky beaches of Altros. There are things out there that would make you weep with joy.’ He was watching her intently.
    ‘Moldox was like that once,’ she said. ‘Before your war. Before the Daleks came. The skies used to be filled with transport ships, bringing in