Doctor Who: War Machine by Ian Stuart Black

we can find,’ she went on. ‘Perhaps it is too soon to destroy this stranger. Why do we not require him to work first? To help in this great task, and then to destroy him later?’
    ‘How are you to know what Wotan would require?’ asked the Major.
    The Machine was fractionally subdued. Lights dimmed, the dynamo hummed softly.
    ‘I have just come from the offices of Professor Brett. These are his orders. So they are directives from Wotan.’
    There was a moment’s silence.
    It seemed an age to Ben.
    ‘Very well,’ said the Major slowly. ‘He is to work for the time being. He will work for us now.’ He waved dismissively to the crowd, ‘Time has been wasted. Return to your tasks... all of you... now.’
    The crowd moved quietly away. They resumed what they had been doing. There had been a hitch, but it was over now. It was as though there had been no interruption.
    'Strewth!’ Ben took a deep breath. ‘That was a close one. Thanks, gal. You really played them along. You even had me fooled.’
    She looked at him coldly. ‘You have been spared. You most now show your gratitude. Work hard for the success of this sacred Cause.’
    ‘Eh? What cause?’
    ‘The victory of the War Machines.’
    Polly moved back to her work. Ben hesitated a second, then followed suit. All he could do now, wasn’t it? Lie low. Keep his head down... wait his chance... If it ever came up!
    Both Brett and Krimpton received the directive from Wotan. It came in the form of a series of signals. ‘All War Machines will be completed and ready by noon tomorrow. The deadline has been brought forward.’
    They repeated the orders to one another, standing in front of Wotan.
    ‘Machines have been programmed to destroy any human life that opposes them.’
    ‘The order to launch the attack comes from Wotan alone.’
    ‘Covent Garden War Machine is closest to completion. But none are yet fully developed. They are in the stages of final testing.’
    ‘All Machines must be under one discipline. They are to attack simultaneously.’
    There was a pause as the two men awaited the next spate of instructions.
    ‘The object of the attack,’ said Brett, ‘is to occupy the strategic points in the city. The War Machines are to assume total control over human authority.’
    ‘By noon tomorrow,’ repeated Krimpton.
    The message came through to the warehouse. To achieve the new deadline the pressure had to be increased. The Machine drove through the room with the Major in tow, dealing out blows as he saw the workers around him stagger at their benches. Those who collapsed made way for others, always standing by. They were putting together a second and a third structure, each an improvement on the previous version. The material used became lighter, yet more impenetrable.
    ‘Such an alloy will take War Machines to the moon,’ the Major informed those around him. The speed of development was possible as information flooded from the computers.
    It appeared strange to Ben that this vast increase in scientific technology should depend on such a primitive activity as human labour. These men and women, staggering under heavy loads, like coolies a hundred years earlier, were little different to the slaves who built the pyramids. If this was an example of the benefits of science, he for one could do without it!
    But he made a great show of putting his back into his work as the Major strode by in the wake of the War Machine, issuing orders, and handing out blows. ‘Faster there! Faster! Anyone who fails to work will be dispensed with.’
    Although it was the man who spoke, the words were undoubtedly issuing from the machine, and Ben made sure he shifted a heavy crate at speed as they viewed him in passing.
    The moment they had gone, he lowered his load, and carefully checked to see where Polly was.
    She worked by herself a few steps away, and looked as though she were on the point of collapse.
    He managed to move closer. ‘You all right?’ he asked.
    ‘Why do