Doctor Who: Engines of War Read Free Page B

into the cold vacuum of space.
    The Doctor roared, slamming his fists into the controls and sending the TARDIS spinning sideways in an evasive action that saved his life. Nevertheless, the TARDIS caught a glancing blow on her right flank and was sent into a wild spin. With the stabilisers unable to compensate, the Doctor slammed to the floor, rolling off the central dais as the ship juddered.
    The TARDIS, out of control, hurtled headlong toward one of the planets below.

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