Free Doctor Who: Engines of War by George Mann

trace of them, as if they never even existed. It’s what happened to your friend, out there in the ruins, the person whose bunk was next to your own at the camp, the one you can’t quite remember. Your mind is struggling to comprehend it. You know there’s something wrong, something missing. The memories are still there, buried inside your head, but they no longer add up, they no longer relate to a person you’ve known or seen, because reality has warped around you.’
    Cinder shook her head, as if trying to clear it. She didn’t understand. A weapon that not only killed someone, but rewrote history as if they’d never even been born? It was the most awful thing she’d ever heard. The sheer violence of it – to not only take a life, but to undo every action, every thought, every emotion ever enacted or experienced by that person… it had to be the most evil device ever conceived. She wiped tears from her eyes, remembering the grief, if not the people.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said the Doctor. ‘I truly am. But that trip in the TARDIS is going to have to wait a little longer. If the Daleks are able to disseminate this weapon, then the War is all but lost.’ He stepped towards her, put his arms around her and pulled her close, hugging her to his chest. ‘I’m going to stop them doing this to anyone else.’
    Sniffing back her tears, Cinder pushed the Doctor away. She fixed him with a defiant stare. Her resolve hardened. ‘I’m in,’ she said. ‘Whatever it takes, I’ll help you stop them.’
    The Doctor gave a grim smile. ‘That’s my girl,’ he said.

Chapter Seven
    ‘How are we going to get in?’ said Cinder.
    They’d left the house, emerging onto the still, empty street outside. The Dalek domes loomed large and foreboding at the next intersection. Cinder was trying to work out the best plan for getting inside.
    ‘I always find at times like these,’ said the Doctor, ‘that the best recourse is to use the front door.’
    ‘The front door? You can’t seriously mean that you’re just going to walk on up there and try the handle?’ said Cinder. She couldn’t tell if he was naive, confident, or just dangerously reckless. Nor did she know if the doors on Dalek space vessels even had handles.
    ‘Precisely,’ replied the Doctor. ‘It usually does the trick.’ He strode off in the direction of the dome.
    Exasperated, Cinder rushed after him. ‘You find yourself in these sorts of situations often, do you?’ she asked.
    ‘More than you’d care to know,’ said the Doctor, with a heavy sigh. His eyes looked rheumy and tired.
    She wondered how old he really was. He certainly looked old, but she had no idea how long a Time Lord could actually survive. She’d heard tell that they were immortal, that they couldn’t be killed, but also that they could change their faces at will, become someone different and new. She didn’t know if any of that were true. For all she knew, the Doctor was as mortal as she was, and just as susceptible to the blast of a Dalek energy weapon.
    ‘But what about the Daleks?’ she said. ‘You’ve seen what they can do. That new weapon, the dematerialisation gun – what if they come at you with one of those?’
    ‘The Daleks are as arrogant as the Time Lords,’ said the Doctor. ‘Perhaps worse. That’s the beauty of a plan like this. They won’t be expecting anyone to simply roll up and invite themselves in.’
    ‘I’d hardly call it a plan,’ muttered Cinder. She clutched her gun a little tighter. When she’d said she was in on this escapade, she’d expected him have a bit more of an idea about exactly how they were going to go about it.
    At the end of the street she glanced left, ready to make a run for it, but the Dalek they’d seen earlier had moved on. She checked in the other direction, looking along the street.
    The city was arranged in a basic grid pattern, designed to a plan the colonists had brought with them from Earth. They’d arrived with a certain