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  GODENGINE

  AN ORIGINAL DOCTOR WHO NOVEL

  ‘We’re on Mars, we’re surrounded by Ice Warriors, and the TARDIS has been destroyed. Business as usual, I suppose.’

  Stranded on Mars, the Doctor and Roz team up with a group of colonists on a journey to find much-needed supplies at the North Pole. But when their expedition is joined by a party of Ice Warrior pilgrims, tensions are stretched to breaking point. Meanwhile, Chris finds himself on Pluto’s moon, trapped with a group of desperate scientists in a deadly race against time.

  The year is 2157: the Earth has been invaded, and forces are at work on Mars to ensure that the mysterious invaders are successful. Unless the Doctor can solve the riddle of the GodEngine, the entire course of human history will be changed.

  Craig Hinton is the author of two previous Doctor Who novels and is a regular contributor to TV Zone and Cult Times magazines. Although he lives on a different planet from most people, he often visits Earth to frighten the natives.

  ISBN 0 426 20473 5

  GODENGINE

  Craig Hinton

  First published in Great Britain in 1996 by

  Doctor Who Books

  an imprint of Virgin Publishing Ltd

  332 Ladbroke Grove

  London W10 5AH

  Copyright © Craig Hinton 1996

  The right of Craig Hinton to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  ‘Doctor Who’ series copyright © British Broadcasting Corporation 1996

  Cover illustration by Peter Elson

  Original Grand Marshal design by Mike Tucker

  ISBN 0 426 20473 5

  Typeset by Galleon Typesetting, Ipswich

  Printed and bound in Great Britain by

  Mackays of Chatham PLC

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  For Jim

  Contents

  Prologue

  Part One: The Bringers of War

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Interlude

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Part Two: The Cauldron of Sutekh

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Craig’s Bit – More of the same...

  Standing as I do in the view of God and eternity, I realize that patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness towards anyone.

  Edith Cavell

  Prologue

  Broken Swords

  2109 – Arsia Mons, Mars

  Holding the sword horizontally in front of him, Old Sam switched on the suit’s external speakers, hoping that the digital gain would make him audible in the thin air of the Martian tunnel. He swallowed, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to say it.

  He said it. ‘I am Samuel Robert Garvey Moore of the Second Battalion Third Brigade of the United Nations Armed Forces; I have killed more people than I can count.’

  Pulling it downwards, Old Sam broke the ancient sword across his knee and dropped the two sections on the rubble-strewn ground. There, he had performed the ritual that the Doctor had instructed. Now for the final part.

  ‘I come in peace,’ he said.

  For over an hour, Old Sam stood in the silent tunnels in the outskirts of the underground Martian city, waiting for a sign that his peace offering had been accepted – or even acknowledged. But the endless, whispering silence grew too oppressive for him to remain. Leaving the broken Japanese katana to gather dust on the ground, he stood up and left. He had done what the Doctor had asked of him; if the Martians chose to ignore the overture, that was their problem.

  2110 – Jull-ett-eskul Seminary of Oras, Argyre Planitia, Mars

  ‘It is a gesture,’ explained Abbot Aklaar, pointing at the broken katana on the stone table in front of him. It had been brought to the seminary only hours ago by a pilgrim who had witnessed the events at Arsia Mons, but Aklaar had spent those hours meditating upon its significance. ‘A symbolic gesture of peace. Obviously, some humans are better versed in our customs than we have imagined.’

  ‘The humans offering peace after they have ripped the soul from our people – it is an insult.’ Abbot Kyren turned his back on the broken sword, his beige robes of office swirling round him.

  ‘You sound like a Grand Marshal of the Warrior caste rather than an Abbot in the Order of Oras,’ said Aklaar, his voice vaguely chiding. ‘With so many of our people dead or departed, we are the spiritual guardians of Mars. By instituting a formal peace with our neighbours on Earth, we can safeguard the future for our descendants.’

  ‘Descendants? Descendants?’ Kyren frowned, the smooth green skin of his forehead wrinkling over his yellow eyes. ‘Only a handful of us are left on Mars now. Any descendants will be born on Nova Martia, never seeing the true Martian sun, never breathing true Martian air.’

  Aklaar held up an admonishing finger. ‘It is considerably more than a handful, Kyren; there are still hundreds of thousands of us here, and we owe it to them to come to an accord. We have lived in secrecy for too long, hiding in our cities and atoning for our crimes. The humans are not even certain that any of us still remain here. Yet after atonement must come forgiveness. That is what I propose.’

  ‘Peace, Aklaar? Remember, there are still some factions on Mars that would baulk at such an idea.’

  ‘The remaining Warriors?’ Aklaar nodded. ‘They are few, yet their opinions carry much weight, even now. We must contact them, persuade them of the wisdom of this new path.’

  ‘And if the Warriors agree?’ asked Kyren.

  Aklaar placed his hand on the beautiful, broken weapon on the table. ‘Then perhaps this will not be the last sword to be broken in the name of peace.’

  2157 – Void Station Cassius, Edge of the Solar System

  Julius Ericson leant back in his chair and sighed: another shift in the most boring job in the solar system. Void Station Cassius, in orbit around the planet of the same name, did nothing but stare into the black infinity that lay beyond the solar system, gazing outwards with unblinking cybernetic eyes.

  ‘Coffee, Jules?’ It was Lena Martin, his fellow inmate, carrying two mugs. Julius cheered himself up by remembering that their current assignment ended in two days’ time; Lena and he would be replaced by two more unfortunates and finally be able to fly back to their respective homes on Earth and Mars. Personally, he couldn’t wait to see his wife and kids again.

  ‘Just what the doctor ordered.’ He took a sip and placed the coffee on the desk. It was foul, but it was the best that they could hope for, this far away from civilization.

  ‘Anything going on?’ she asked, sitting in the chair next to him. It was a running joke – there was more chance of the sun going nova than anything actually happening out there.

  ‘What do you think?’ Julius laughed. But his laughter was cut off by a screeching alarm that filled the room. The proximity alarm. His eyes darted to the monitor, which had automatically switched to the view that was causing the furore.

  Those same eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Holy shit!’ he whispered.

  Wave afte
r wave of jet-black saucers were dropping out of subspace in sector eight, huge black discs bristling with weaponry, materializing just beyond the Oort Cloud.

  The Black Fleet.

  Julius had heard of the fleet; they all had. They had all seen the news broadcasts from the once beautiful world of Sifranos, where a billion settlers had been exterminated and the world turned into a sterilized cinder. And then there had been the other fourteen colonies, also obliterated by the mysterious adversaries who came and went and left nothing but destruction in their wake.

  But they were all far-distant colonies, worlds on the very edge of the Alliance. No one ever imagined that there was any threat to Earth – however powerful this unknown enemy was, they couldn’t be stupid enough to attempt a head-on confrontation in the solar system itself.

  Clearly, everyone was wrong. As the hundreds of saucers headed towards Earth at just under lightspeed – given the sheer number of ships, they would have had to have come out of subspace this far out to avoid problems with the sun’s gravity well – Julius opened a channel to Interstellar Taskforce Command. The whole purpose of Void Station Cassius was being justified: it would take hours for the monitor satellites closer to Earth to even spot the invasion fleet, let alone mobilize any counter-defences. Julius reached out for the panel that would link the station directly to Taskforce Command on Earth.

  His hand never reached it.

  Under the impact of six photon impellers, the delicate assembly that was Void Station Cassius bloomed in an explosion of metals and plastics, threaded with boiling gobbets of organic matter, that lit up the frozen Oort Cloud which ringed the solar system. Leaving only an expanding cloud of debris behind, the Black Fleet proceeded towards the third planet in the solar system.

  The Dalek Invasion of Earth had begun.

  PART ONE

  THE BRINGERS OF WAR

  Chapter 1

  Roslyn Forrester’s subconscious mind fully accepted the fact that somebody was whistling classical music into her left ear. Why shouldn’t they – it was a free universe. But although her subconscious made a valiant attempt to ignore it, the incessant military beat that pounded away inside her skull eventually forced her to react.

  The whistling stopped.

  Two things struck Roz when she opened her eyes: the sky was pink, and her right hand was clasped around the Doctor’s neck. She immediately let go, allowing the surprised Time Lord to slump to the dusty red ground, where he rubbed his throat with an aggrieved expression on his lined and mobile face. ‘At least the respiratory bypass system cut in,’ he muttered. For a second, she was shocked by her reaction; you’re behaving more like Kadiatu all the time, she mused.

  Then she recognized the significance of the Doctor’s tune. Rolling dunes of reddy-brown dust stretched away in all directions, with nothing – no buildings, no vegetation, nothing – to interrupt the desolation. Their current location was painfully obvious.

  ‘Mars, the Bringer of War?’ It had been a long time, but no one ever forgot a stint on the Red Planet. She definitely remembered hers, a particularly unpleasant period during her generally unpleasant time squiring Konstantine.

  The Doctor cradled his fingers and then twisted them back until the joints cracked. ‘Correct planet, correct Ho1st.’ He jumped to his feet and smoothed down the silvery atmospheric density jacket that he was wearing over his usual cream linen one, and dusted off his trousers. And then he threw his arms open to encompass the landscape. ‘Unless my areography is sadly mistaken, we are about ten thousand kilometres from Tharsis Plain. That’s if I have identified that correctly.’ He nodded towards the horizon, where a distant flattened cone broke the monotony of the sky, which darkened from salmon pink to deep crimson as it met the ground. Really distant, when you considered that the little cone was an extinct volcano twenty kilometres high and six hundred across.

  ‘Olympus Mons,’ stated Roz, mainly to establish her credentials. She sniffed the air: thin, but breathable, with that unmistakable burnt smell that characterized Mars, which put it somewhere between the mid twenty-second and the early twenty-fourth century, if she remembered the start-stop timetable of terraforming correctly. By 2310, Mars had gained an Earth-type atmosphere, including the pollution. ‘How the hell did we end up here?’ Mixed and jumbled images and sounds flashed through her mind – tortured materialization noises blurred into frantic bell-ringing, while brilliant orange globes danced around the console room and behind her eyes. But nothing would hang together, nothing would connect.

  The Doctor plucked his panama hat from his head and spun it on a forefinger. ‘The emergency emergency systems would have locked on to the nearest environment that offered safety.’ He cast his gaze towards his feet, which were kicking the red dust with a life of their own. ‘Unfortunately, Mars seems to have fulfilled the requirements. A pity; I would have preferred somewhere with a little more atmosphere.’ Roz wasn’t sure whether he meant that literally or not.

  But there was something missing. Realizing what it was, she looked around, but the vista of red rocks and red dust was completely clear of anything even vaguely Cwej-shaped. ‘Where’s Chris? He left the TARDIS just after we did.’ Then she said it. ‘Didn’t he?’ Nasty feelings were doing nasty things in her stomach.

  The Doctor produced his umbrella seemingly from thin air and started to doodle aimlessly in the sand. ‘The TARDIS broke up because she was caught between a subspace infarction and a Vortex rupture,’ he said quietly, drawing an oblong shape with a light on top. ‘That particular combination of events curdled the Time Vortex throughout the solar system, and its psuedo-Euclidian geometry would have -’

  That was too much. ‘In terms that a simple cop can understand, Doctor; you lost me just before the word “infarction”.’ Then again, the way her head was behaving, words of one syllable would be of little help.

  He frowned, smiled sadly, and started again. ‘The forces which, er, interacted with the TARDIS screwed up the Time Vortex, to put it bluntly. As far as the TARDIS emergency emergency systems were concerned, Mars and Triton could have been next door to one another. Normal rules didn’t apply.’

  ‘Chris is on Triton?’ Vile world. Didn’t even merit a viscount, just a grossly distasteful baron with a liking for young boys, Roz remembered vaguely. She hoped for Chris’s sake that he had landed somewhere else.

  The Doctor shrugged. ‘Just a guess. It could just as easily be Vulcan or Cassius. Or Earth, come to that. All we can be sure of is that he’s safe, wherever he is.’

  ‘Did you give him one of these survival kits?’ She held up the white box.

  The Doctor nodded. ‘Although Chris’s has been tailored to suit his personal needs,’ he added mysteriously. ‘Rest assured, Chris is safe – the TARDIS would have made sure of that. Safety is, of course, relative.’

  Then it hit her: delayed shock as she finally understood what had happened. The TARDIS had been totally, utterly destroyed.

  One minute, they were flying away from Benny and Jason’s wedding in good – if hungover – spirits; the next, all hell broke loose. The first inkling that something was about to go terribly wrong was the low, insistent chiming of some distant bell from deep within the TARDIS, but they barely had time to register that before they were thrown to the floor; something had hit the TARDIS. Roz remembered clambering to her feet to see the Doctor running around the control console in desperation, his hands darting out over the controls with almost blinding speed. Electrical fires were igniting everywhere, filling the console room with acrid black smoke; as Roz found it more and more difficult to breathe, the Doctor started muttering about subspace infarctions and Vortex ruptures. Just before she passed out, the Doctor shouted out that he had activated the ‘emergency emergency systems’... and then Roz had woken up on Mars.

  And the Doctor had lost his TARDIS. ‘Are you all right?’ she whispered. The TARDIS was more than the Doctor’s ship, she knew that. It was his home, his friend, his life... ‘I mean -’

&n
bsp; The Doctor replaced his hat. ‘The subject is closed,’ he stated with a finality that Roz knew not to argue with. ‘I suggest that we find a slightly more hospitable environment before nightfall. Despite humanity’s determined attempts to terraform this planet, it still gets rather chilly around these parts.’ He pointed towards the crimson horizon, where a feeble brilliance marked the sun. It was rather too low on the horizon for Roz’s liking.

  ‘And it’ll get chillier. I have been here before, you know.’ Her posting to the Martian colony at Jackson City – a massive conurbation sprawled over Olympus Mons – had been a riot. Well, a lot of riots, actually. But the Doctor’s icy tone cut short her recollections.

  ‘No, Adjudicator Forrester, I did not know. But you’re right: night will fall in about five hours, and then it will get very, very cold. Bitter.’ And that coldness seemed to have started with the Doctor.

  Fine, so they were on Mars. But there were many different flavours of Mars, depending on the era. ‘Have you any idea when we are?’ If they were beyond the late twenty-third century, the planet was fully colonized; there was a good chance that a reconnaissance flitter would spot them before too long.

  ‘It’s difficult to calculate the year solely from the amount of terraforming,’ the Doctor explained. ‘Mars was actually terraformed four times over a million-year period. By four different races, come to that.’ He frowned, and looked up at the sky. For a couple of seconds he cocked his head as if listening to some galactic time beacon, and then sucked a finger and held it up. ‘Er, 2157. May, I believe, give or take a month or two.’