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Authors: George Mann
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about burying them in violence and revenge, turning them into the burning hatred of the Daleks that now festered at the very core of her being.
She’d never once thought of trying to rescue anyone, of trying to change things. It had always seemed so futile, so far beyond her means. And so she had settled for taking pot shots at passing Dalek patrols, or hunting them in the ruins of her former home, counting each death as a victory.
Then the Doctor had come along, tumbling out of the sky in his magical box, and in a few short hours had forced her to face up to this, to recognise that perhaps there were things that could be done, that nothing was quite as impossible as it might seem. There were different ways of fighting back. She wasn’t quite sure what he intended to do with the information he gleaned here on Moldox, but she knew it wasn’t simply for his own gratification. He was getting involved, because he wanted to help, wanted to make it all stop.
She could see now that all she’d been doing was screaming into the wind. Those victories she’d notched up on the barrel of her gun had been hollow, every one of them. She hadn’t changed anything, hadn’t really made a difference. She’d wasted so much time.
Yet something in her had known there was still time to make a difference. She’d followed the Doctor here, a Time Lord she barely knew, and now, standing in the remnants of Andor, she realised he might prove to be her salvation. This wasn’t simply about helping her to run away from her old life. It was about showing her how to change it for herself. What was more, she thought he knew that, too.
She looked round for him and realised he’d already moved on, deeper into the house. She heard his footsteps on the stairs and followed after him.
Cinder found him in one of the children’s bedrooms on the second floor, standing by the window, the brightly coloured curtains pulled aside so that he might look out upon the Dalek base. She joined him there.
From this distance the Dalek structures didn’t appear quite as sophisticated as she’d imagined. In fact, they looked rather lashed together, with narrow metal causeways erupting from the flank of each dome to puncture its neighbour. There were five domes in total, forming a loose circle around a central courtyard. They were large and seemingly identical, disc-shaped with a raised central turret, and decorated with the same bronze and gold patterning as the Daleks themselves.
The base had an economical, practical layout that had little or nothing to do with aesthetics and everything to do with function. The whole place had a temporary, transitory feel to it, despite the fact it had been in situ for well over a decade.
‘What are they?’ said Cinder.
‘Spacecraft,’ said the Doctor. ‘Dalek vessels. They haven’t co-opted the old school, so much as levelled it and landed their saucers on top of it. They’ve erected walkways between the ships, but they’re only temporary structures. The whole base could be disbanded at any moment. They’re clearly not intending to stay on Moldox.’
‘Then what are they doing here?’ asked Cinder. She’d always supposed the occupation was about the Daleks wanting control of the planet. She’d never even considered that there might be another, less permanent purpose.
‘That’s a question I’m very keen to know the answer to,’ said the Doctor.
Cinder thought she saw a sign of movement in the courtyard and leaned forward, until her nose was almost touching the dirty glass of the window. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see what was going on. There was definitely movement – people, in fact – a group of humans being shepherded out into the paved area that had once been a children’s playground.
Floodlights blared suddenly, causing her to wince as everything was brought into sudden, sharp relief. Three Daleks were jostling the human prisoners – around ten of them, both male and female – making them
She’d never once thought of trying to rescue anyone, of trying to change things. It had always seemed so futile, so far beyond her means. And so she had settled for taking pot shots at passing Dalek patrols, or hunting them in the ruins of her former home, counting each death as a victory.
Then the Doctor had come along, tumbling out of the sky in his magical box, and in a few short hours had forced her to face up to this, to recognise that perhaps there were things that could be done, that nothing was quite as impossible as it might seem. There were different ways of fighting back. She wasn’t quite sure what he intended to do with the information he gleaned here on Moldox, but she knew it wasn’t simply for his own gratification. He was getting involved, because he wanted to help, wanted to make it all stop.
She could see now that all she’d been doing was screaming into the wind. Those victories she’d notched up on the barrel of her gun had been hollow, every one of them. She hadn’t changed anything, hadn’t really made a difference. She’d wasted so much time.
Yet something in her had known there was still time to make a difference. She’d followed the Doctor here, a Time Lord she barely knew, and now, standing in the remnants of Andor, she realised he might prove to be her salvation. This wasn’t simply about helping her to run away from her old life. It was about showing her how to change it for herself. What was more, she thought he knew that, too.
She looked round for him and realised he’d already moved on, deeper into the house. She heard his footsteps on the stairs and followed after him.
Cinder found him in one of the children’s bedrooms on the second floor, standing by the window, the brightly coloured curtains pulled aside so that he might look out upon the Dalek base. She joined him there.
From this distance the Dalek structures didn’t appear quite as sophisticated as she’d imagined. In fact, they looked rather lashed together, with narrow metal causeways erupting from the flank of each dome to puncture its neighbour. There were five domes in total, forming a loose circle around a central courtyard. They were large and seemingly identical, disc-shaped with a raised central turret, and decorated with the same bronze and gold patterning as the Daleks themselves.
The base had an economical, practical layout that had little or nothing to do with aesthetics and everything to do with function. The whole place had a temporary, transitory feel to it, despite the fact it had been in situ for well over a decade.
‘What are they?’ said Cinder.
‘Spacecraft,’ said the Doctor. ‘Dalek vessels. They haven’t co-opted the old school, so much as levelled it and landed their saucers on top of it. They’ve erected walkways between the ships, but they’re only temporary structures. The whole base could be disbanded at any moment. They’re clearly not intending to stay on Moldox.’
‘Then what are they doing here?’ asked Cinder. She’d always supposed the occupation was about the Daleks wanting control of the planet. She’d never even considered that there might be another, less permanent purpose.
‘That’s a question I’m very keen to know the answer to,’ said the Doctor.
Cinder thought she saw a sign of movement in the courtyard and leaned forward, until her nose was almost touching the dirty glass of the window. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see what was going on. There was definitely movement – people, in fact – a group of humans being shepherded out into the paved area that had once been a children’s playground.
Floodlights blared suddenly, causing her to wince as everything was brought into sudden, sharp relief. Three Daleks were jostling the human prisoners – around ten of them, both male and female – making them
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