He looked uncomfortable again, as though he was sad at doing such a bad job of telling the story. "Yeah. Don't worry, I'll explain it all later...

... I never got to stand in the GodEngine myself. I know what it was like, of course. I know everything. It was like it was built out of death, somehow. As though every single person in the Universe who’d died had had his or her final moments written into it. It was so ancient and powerful.

And it wasn’t alive at all, but there was some sort of presence in it. Like it was built just to hold something in, some big idea that had been so terrible, the people who’d had it had needed to tear it out and build it into this machine.

Those people had been old before other civilizations had been born. Their shadows stretch long all over the Universe - believe me, I know. The thing was so dark and massive it was like standing in something you can’t understand, because the ideas behind it were so big.

I said it could’ve been made out of death, but it could’ve been made out of shadow too. The shadows of the gods who had built it, before they’d disappeared, stretching into infinity. The last echo of their people, written into the structure of the Universe as a natural part of it, a natural trigger for death.

This guy I used to know, Nick, was sitting in it. He’d recently had his body smashed and his legs weren’t working, so he’d draped them over the machinery, letting them sprawl out funnily and trying not to look at them.

These things I just wrote are what was going through his head. That, and the fact he could hear the sounds of the Cybermen approaching outside, as the thrumming of their feet echoed in the massive chamber created by the parts in the machinery.

The Cybermen were these dead things. I mean, they really were... just dead bodies kept moving. They had no souls, and you’ll understand how important that is soon. They weren’t alive and yet they were still there, like parts of the Universe rather than in it, just functions of death, like the GodEngine.

There were millions of them on the surface of this planet, Mars. They were like this massive army, spreading across the land like ink spilt on paper, soaking into it and covering it with darkness, an iron-grey darkness.

They weren’t like the calm and emotionless robots the legends will describe in centuries to come. They were like savages, or animals. They were tearing across the land, their liquid metal flesh sliding over them, shared between them.

They were bloody scary, actually.

But outside the GodEngine there was this sort of extension of it, where some of the machinery breached the surface. Originally there was no control room, but the machinery evolved and it grew one. At that moment it was sensing the needs of the Martians and growing some weapons to help keep back the Cybermen.

The weapons grew like buds out of the machine before cracking open and blossoming out. It was like the spirit of death trapped in the machine’s core was desperate to cause as much damage as possible in whatever way it could.

So they cracked open and started launching energy at the Cybermen. It’s wrong to say how many Cybermen there were. They have no souls, no presence there really, so it’s wrong to distinguish between them. But most people would say there was roughly two million of them, so the energy blasts didn’t do much good really.

The Martians were kind of disheartened. They were a warrior species; all filled up with honour and stuff. They kept on fighting anyway, but they knew there was no hope unless something happened.

They were expecting a ship to arrive near Mars soon. It was the Emperor’s personal war ship, and it was a massive thing that could take out the Cybermen in a second. It was very tough, and they needed it to be there now. But it wasn’t.

There was a darkening in the sky, though, and the surface of Mars was filled with shadow, or at least what could be seen of the surface beneath the blanket of metal flesh was thrown into shadow.

The Martians looked up, all expectantly, their hearts filled with hope that their great and glorious Emperor was here to save them. He wasn’t. It was three Cyber ships, hovering in the sky above them.

The Cyber ships were huge cylinders, about a mile in diameter and three miles tall. They were silver and they were silent, and they just hung there in the sky, shining with the light of the sun. They looked really ominous and surprisingly beautiful.

It was the end for the Martians though. They were distracted by the big shiny objects. There’s this part inside every creature that recognizes things more advanced than them, and when the Martians saw the Cyber technology, something inside them snapped and they were reduced to gawping primitives.

The bottoms of the ships swirled open to reveal a blue ball of plasma, a weapons core. Something else inside the Martians snapped. The core really was beautiful. It was swirly and shiny and transfixing, and blue. It hurt your eyes to look at it, and the Martians had to squint or the dust blew into their helmets, and it really itched.

They just stood there as the weapons core silently powered up with enough energy in a single one to crack the planet open and release the GodEngine inside. To be fair there’s nothing they could’ve done anyway, but they were just hypnotized by it. It was really embarrassing, and some of them felt their honour lost and so sacrificed themselves later, in the battle.

And so eventually, the silent ships let out a shot, and this was silent too, until it got close enough and then it sounded like swooping fire...

...I’m really sorry to leave this there."

The doctor looked up, puzzled at Roger's apology. He raised an eyebrow in query.

"When they’re just about to die," he explained, "but I want to try and sustain dramatic tension. I’m not telling this for me - I’m telling it for a friend. I’m trying to make his story, the story of his last days something to remember...

... In space there was this massive battle going on. These two sides, the Federation and the Cybermen, had been about to go at each other for ages, and both sides had been building up for the conflict. This other guy I knew had been helping one side; the Doctor. He was the last of the Time Lords, and something of a temporal anomaly.

But anyway, these two sides had been having a big fight, and despite the Doctor trying to help things, the Federation, which was like a galactic get together between advanced cultures, was losing.

They never really stood a chance against the Cybermen, but the Doc had been really trying to make things work for them. The Federation forces were huge, there were about ten Federation ships to every one Cyberman ship, but the Feds were still losing. Things hadn’t quite worked out for them.

The Cybermen had weapons on their Ships that took over approaching craft and changed them about a bit, rearranging them to become Cyber ships. The Cybermen were all about conserving resources.

So all the Federation’s big ships had been lost, either taken by the Cybermen or smashed to pieces. The Cybermen had been launching strategic attacks on the home worlds of other races for about the last two days, wiping out the thrones at the heads of empires, cutting off the head so the body dies.

And it was worse than that too. Small cultures, little emerging powers, the sort of people the Federation needed on their side for the war, had been disappearing for months. The Cybermen had started the war in secret years ago, taking out emergent powers, engineering situations where certain useful weapons of the other side would be removed.

They’d thought this through, and that was why the Federation never really stood a chance.

There was one secret weapon left though. There was one thing, and one thing only that could turn the tide. There was one thing left that could save the Federation, and the galaxy, from defeat.

The Draconians had a special ship. It was called The Imperial and it was the war ship of their God Empress. It was like a huge dragon, very ceremonial looking, but predatory. It looked like it had been made from opal, and it was filled with weaponry. It was quite probably the most advanced and deadliest ship on the Federation side.

On the other hand it wasn’t the secret weapon; it only contained it. The Imperial was built for use with one weapon, which only the Emperor or Empress was allowed to use. It was a weapon passed down from generation to generation.

It wasn’t the God Empress about to use it though. It was her nearest equivalent, which was a woman known as Makaara. Makaara was a warrior, too. She was a noble of one of the royal houses of Draconia. They were hoping that would be enough for the weapon to accept her.

The Imperial War Room onboard the dragon-ship was a big garden. It was like a huge chamber hollowed out of stone and filled with a jungle, and waterfalls. It even had it’s own clouds and was filled with mists which helped to calm the mind.

It was a really peaceful place, which is ironic because Makaara was in there now on the way to war. The way of using this special weapon was being brought to her now by a war priest.

She was sitting at the top of a waterfall, leaning over to watch the water crash against the rocks. The priest was this really old bloke who walked through the door, which sort of irised open for him.

He was carrying this ceremonial sword, with a handle made of opal and shaped like a dragon, clutching the blade in its teeth. Makaara saw him coming and touched her hip, and the clothes she was wearing, a synthetic armour woven into a fabric that was cut into a sort of dress, melted into a pod at her hip for storage.

The priest held the sword out to her and she took it from him. This next bit is nasty, so I’ll try and abbreviate the details, okay? She takes the sword and forces it through her chest.

There’s all this blood and stuff, and you don’t want to hear how many times she had to try to get it all the way through, but the basic idea is, she’s dead, with a gaping wound in her upper body.

So the priest leaves and the sword burns away all the blood from its hilt and blade, and she’s left there, dead on the floor of the War Room. But don’t worry; it’s all going to plan here, okay? Now this is the tough bit, so concentrate.

There is an afterlife, but it’s different for every species. If you believe in it, you go there and it’s like what you think it will be. I’m not going to go into any more detail than that, so live with it.

The Draconian after-life is like a giant royal palace, only everyone’s the emperor and the unrighteous (other species) are the servants. The dead Emperor’s, of course, are the gods.

So this is where Makaara finds herself, only she’s chained at the moment. She shatters the chains with a sword, which she sort of makes with her mind. So then she uses the sword to start shattering the walls, racing to where she wants to go, further and further into the palace, to see the centrepiece of the afterlife.

Now this, you’ll see, is the weapon. It’s like a glowing planet-sized ball of soul energy. It’s like, if a human’s version of God died, this is the soul he’d leave behind. It’s big. Really big. Despite the fact it was created in the Draconian second dynasty it actually forms part of their creation myth.

It’s so pure, and so good, and so immense, it will bond with any soul worthy or ready and will be able to be used, for good and creation only, in our Universe. So it recognizes the royal blood in Makaara and bonds with her, it’s as simple as that.

Remember I told you about the Doctor earlier? Well he’s on Nova Mondas. That’s the home world of the Cybermen. He’s there with all these elite Draconian fighters, and they’re all sitting in their one attack craft, a small fighter ship, only about a hundred metres long, flying over Nova Mondas trying to get to the Cybermen’s leader, the Controller; more about him later.

So the Doctor is paying attention when suddenly Makaara bonds with this Soul Weapon. And it’s like… a spiritual epiphany. Just because it’s been brought into our Universe, your soul starts singing with joy at the fact something as pure as that can even exist.

It pushes your bliss buttons and fills you up with joy. And it does it to everyone with a soul in the entire solar system. Remember I told you earlier, it was important that the Cybermen didn’t have souls?

So the Doctor and the Draconians feel this monumental event. They notice it and the Doctor, decides to take advantage. He lets his mind go blank and lets his soul sink into the Soul Weapon, lets it go into commune with Makaara...

...So Makaara speaks to the Doctor."

There were a few moments of silence and the doctor looked up in query. "What's wrong?"

"I can't work out whether to let you hear the conversation. I can’t really remember it that well, it’s been a while since I knew everything."

"Try," the doctor suggested.

Roger looked doubtful for a moment. "Ahh, crap, here we go:

"'Hello.' At least I think that’s what the Doc said.

"'Hello.' Pretty boring so far, huh?

"'Where are we?' asked the Doctor.

Roger broke off. "Oh god, that’s boring." The doctor looked up at him. "Do you really want to hear this? I know my own monologue can get a bit tiresome."

"Not at all."

"Okay, but if you start to get bored, tell me if I can do something. This is really important to me, and I don’t want you to miss any of it, okay? Remember, I’m not doing this for me." The doctor nodded.

"Okay, so basically the Doctor asks the Soul Weapon to find out what the Cybermen are up to, and she does..."

...Perhaps it’s worth introducing another character at this point. A former companion of a later Doctor, called Alf (or Ace, depending on who you talk to), is on another Draconian ship, which has joined the Imperial fleet, following on from the Imperial itself.

She’s watching from a window when the soul weapon activates. She watches the giant tendrils unfold from the dragon-ship; watches them spread out and blossom form it like a flower before extending into further, more complicated and more beautiful patterns, constantly shaping and evolving to match it’s use, at this point, poking about for the Doctor.

She knows Nick… oh, my gosh I forgot about Nick. I’ll have to get back to him soon. But anyway, she can see the Soul Weapon, and it’s like it’s made out of a glowing white liquid that can shape and control itself. She feels the singing in her soul too.

But what the Weapon finds out for the Doctor is that the Cybermen are restructuring their star. I should’ve explained earlier that the GodEngine needs a star to function, as it turns it into a giant laser.

Nick is on Mars, trying to get the GodEngine to use against the Cybermen, they’re doing something to their star… the conclusion is obvious. The Doctor must get a warning to Mars, to make sure the GodEngine is used before the Cybermen have finished rebuilding their star to prevent it. So guess who the Doctor chooses as his messenger…

Anyway, back on Mars, well the Cybermen don’t kill them all quite yet, big surprise there. The shots are stopped by this big wall of pure light. When the Martians actually lived on Mars, centuries ago, they left behind all this technological stuff.

And this is some of it. The wall builds upon itself, with new structures opening out of it and reforming into new designs. Internal architectures build up around the hub of the GodEngine. The pure light energy fields are formed into a Palace Of Light. At least that’s what the locals call it.

This thing towers into the sky, and with it come giant spikes from the ground. The spikes are made of real metal and are ancient and rust coloured. They are miles wide and four times as high, and they emerge in a network across the surface - the planetary defence network.

They’re covered in all these runes and they start crackling with energy and pretty soon they’re energy grids suck in all the power from the Cyber ships. The three Ships just fall from the sky, and they’re huge. They land on the approaching army of Cybermen, at least those not forced up by the spikes.

They just crash into them, crushing thousands with the initial impact and throwing the others up in a wave of dirt as the crust of the planet is shaken like a blanket. The impacts are tremendous and the ground shakes so hard, everyone in the Palace falls over (apart from three people but they’re hovering so it doesn’t count).

The spikes then start using some of the stolen energy and attack the Cybermen crawling out of the ground to continue the attack. And it’s at this point the Emperor’s ship turns up in space. It launches some thingies towards Nova Mondas, containing something called the Red Death (further explanations will follow) and then docks on one of the spikes.

Did I mention that Izlyr’s ship dwarfs the Cyber ships combined!!! Now that really is huge.

So the Doctor gets something else done while he’s speaking to Makaara, because he’s got this idea how to get into the Cybermen’s main control complex. Now we have to go back in time a few weeks to get this one, because that’s when it starts.

The Doctor has had this idea about how to get through for a while, and he’s made some predictions about the course of the war, too. Basically, he’s just very clever, because he’s set up a very big distraction for the Controller.

The Cybermen’s skins are made out of this liquid metal, yeah? Well this liquid metal is only adapted from the ordinary skin cells of the converted individual. They still retain the same cellular structure and the like.

Which is handy for the Doctor’s first attack, because he’s engineered a technological virus that will attack the skin cells and hopefully break down the liquid metal. The Controller will be able to come up with a mutation to protect the skin cells, but that will take 0.7 seconds.

At the same time, there will be another attack going on. At one point, kinda recently, the Doctor built something called an infinity chamber. This chamber was able to interact with the real Universe to create real-time representation, constructed from the data streams that run through the Universe.

So the Doctor did some twiddling and turned the table, altering the data streams and creating a few new toys for himself, on Nova Mondas. Basically, he built bombs made out of reality. A lot of reality, compressed into a small, dimensionally transcendental point, but the nucleus of the microcosms is unstable, and they’re about to burst and funnel a whole load of reality and destructive energy into our Universe.

So these invisible “bombs” have been planted in the structure of reality around Nova Mondas, and timed to go off concurrently with, and you should’ve guessed this one, the liquid metal virus.

Together, these two should absorb all the Controller’s attention for a good 2.7 seconds. And the Doctor isn’t finished there, either. There’s one last attack, which he got Makaara to create for him.

The Cybermen are restructuring their star, and there’s a lot of data coming from that, and the Cyber Controller is processing all of that data. He’s got a very busy mind anyway, and can only just handle it. So if something interesting were to happen on the surface of the sun, like a few solar flares, the data input should be enough to crash the Controller’s systems, and, combined with the other two attacks, he could be out of the game for almost 4 seconds. Possibly five if the Doctor has the flare configuration right and the Controller develops degenerative Alzheimer’s from processing the data.

So, what can you do with five seconds?

Alf is on the Imperial now. Actually, this happened a few seconds ago, but don’t let that bother you. She’s walking through the ship, being taken to see Makaara by the priests. The priests are struggling really hard not to show any emotion, like the soldiers outside Buckingham palace.

Alf had a massive grin on her face, but she doesn’t realise it, she’s so happy she’s distracted by the joy, and it gets stronger the closer she gets to Makaara. When she finally gets to the door it swirls open for her and instead of the garden, all she can see it a glowing white light filling the entire room, apart from a slight patch of shadow in the middle.

So she heads towards the shadow, ironically, the source of all the light. And when she does it speaks to her, not through the air, not through her mind but through her soul. At this point Alf breaks down into tears, collapsing onto her knees. Her bliss buttons have been pushed so hard, one of them might be broken.

She listens to what Makaara has to say. I’ll give you a breakdown again. Basically, Alf must go to Mars, because Nick is there, and he needs her, and also, she needs to warn them to hurry with the GodEngine.

So Alf is quickly rushed away, as the priests run into the room, grab her by the shoulders and drag her out.

Perhaps now is a good time to explain about the Controller. Most people think he’s just a big-brained Cyberman. He’s not. He’s actually a prime contender for highest life form in the Universe, because, unlike the other Cybermen, he can be classified as a life form - he has a soul.

It’s not his own, admittedly, but it’s welded to him pretty solidly, and guess what it’s made out of? You probably guessed right - death. It is a soul made out of the difference between life and death and it can swing either way, so the Controller tends to use it for death.

It came from the metal the Doc’s people built, Validium. But it raises the Controller’s consciousness to a few levels above even the Doctor’s as well as making him nigh on immortal and extremely powerful.

He is actually in space in the Nova Mondas stellar system. He’s dug out reality there and he’s hiding inside. And he also cracked open time like a smashed dinner plate and hid inside that too. He can control probability and the flow of time; he can foresee and prevent undesirable events to the cyber race.

So as you can see, pretty tough. But his mind is just so much above all that. Beyond all the power and all the ability, beyond all the life and death and control and processing systems his mind is a thing of rare and deadly beauty. And it’s that that makes him come close to being the Universe’s highest life form. So don’t underestimate him.

At this point, roughly, Nick is on the highest battlement of the Palace Of Light, escorted by the Martian priests who activated it. These priests have been on Mars for years, and have only just emerged from hiding to activate the Palace.

So Nick is about a mile off the surface, around half way up a mountain in relative terms, if that helps. And he’s sitting in a hovering wheel chair the Martians found for him in the Palace. And in his lap, he’s holding part of the Sword Of Tuburr, the control element for the GodEngine.

And as he watches the Emperor’s ship the hatch opens and a single figure emerges. As he gets closer, Nick can make out he’s on a hover disc, and he’s being followed, by more figures, and yet more.

Nick is kind of freaked by this. The other half of the sword is getting an entourage of an entire army, as thousands of Martians emerge from the ships on hover-discs. But it’s the first figure that really amazes. Emperor Izlyr.

He’s leading the army, clutching his part of the sword in one hand. His cape is billowing around him and he’s wearing some special kind of adaptation to the Ice Lord armour. It’s adorned with bits of gold plating, and it looks very, very tough and powerful. The advantage of being an Emperor, Nick supposed.

He looked again at the half of the sword sitting in his lap. He’s only here because the priests insisted that he was important - that he had some kind of destiny involving the sword and the events here today. That was slightly mind-blowing too.

And so the Emperor arrives. He lands straight on the battlement but his army drift into other parts of the Palace, dispersing them selves for a better tactical positioning. And so Nick hands Izlyr the sword and they disappear inside.

But outside a sea is raging against the walls of the Palace. It rears up and then crashes down, smashing into the foundations of the building and it boils angrily with a storm. Of course, it’s not a sea really, because no sea is coloured with that dark iron grey. It is, of course, the Cybermen.

It’s worth mentioning at this point that Alf set off on her own little ship towards Mars. There were a few other important characters with her, but they don’t become anything more than window dressing until much later.

In space, The Imperial engages the Cyber fleet. Or at least it would if it could get close enough. The soul weapon’s limbs, as multifarious as they are adaptable, extend for miles into the battle ahead of the Imperial and they engage each Cyber craft at the front individually, spreading themselves backwards too, in order to attack more at once, simultaneously shielding the Imperial War Fleet.

The tides of the battle are actually, slowly, being turned.

The Doctor has worked out how to use the distraction of nearly five seconds, by the way. The attack craft is actually approaching the control complex now, and the Cybermen are angrily trying to shoot it down and the such-like.

If the Doctor can encode them into a nuclear bomb, detonated at just the right time and place, then the energy will be able to get past the Cybermen’s shields as they adapt their position to contain the threat of the “bombs.” It’s a very complicated procedure though, so the Doctor programs in their course, removing control from their pilot. He sets everything in motion, and waits until exactly the right time.

So the Doctor activates a fusion bomb. For some reason they have loads of them in a crate at the back of the ship. He twists the top with his mind, for he’s still connected to the Soul Weapon, and the thing activates, counting down.

It’s only when it gets to:

“3 - 2 - 1…”

that the Doctor realises he’s forgotten how he’s going to encode them.

A fusion bomb is one of those things that everybody’s heard of, but not many people have seen, mainly because they’re so damn powerful they’re illegal. On Nova Mondas there’s a loud cracking sound, a sudden rushing sound and this is all following a sudden flash of light. The explosion is easily visible from space.

The light vanishes and gives way to a glowing cloud of destruction that blossoms out like a flower, extending petals into the landscape and unfurling more and more. Unfortunately, it should also mean our heroes are dead.

However, at the same time as that was happening reality was altering as matter expanded into it from outside our own, carrying with it deadly energies. The shields surrounding the main complex adapted their positions to counter the clockwork expansion of the energies and countered them, containing and disposing of them.

But it took five seconds, because at the same time the liquid-metal skin cells of the Cybermen were attacked by a synthetic virus. They had their control elements challenged and started to lose cohesiveness and break down. The Controller managed to trigger a mutation that protected them from the effects.

But it took five seconds, because the Controller was busy screaming in agony at the sensory input he just received from the explosions on the surface of the sun. His brain was almost burning, but it did manage to heal, despite being slowed down by a degenerative Alzheimer’s.

But it took five seconds, so the Controller raised his mind out of his brain and let the latter do the work while he poked around a bit. He expanded his mind into the space usually controlled by his brain and noticed that amongst all the attacks a fusion bomb had detonated. It was almost beneath his notice with events of this scale happening, but somehow he expected that was the point. He could sense a number of presences in its slow expansion (time moves slower for him - it gives him more time to think), so he reached out his mind and knocked them out.

Now here’s the bit where you have to remember what I told you about the Controller earlier; it’s his mind that is the dangerous thing, not his body. I’ll give you a relevant demonstration.

In the Palace Of Light, in the central chamber, there exists a triumvirate of priests who sacrificed themselves to create the building. Their minds are used to regulate the architecture and cohesion of the building, but as a consequence they are wiped clean.

They are hovering in this chamber, their minds and bodies filled with light. So the Controller enters one. He puts his consciousness into the empty mind and moves the body out of the position it was needed in.

You see; that’s the thing about the Controller. Nothing is safe from him. He’s everywhere, and as soon as you let your guard down then you’re as good as lost. You can’t forget anything or he’ll slip inside and take advantage.

Sometimes, I wonder if even the Controller can keep track of all he’s doing at once. But anyway, he moves this body out. The other two priests struggle to maintain the building without him, but he moves his puppet to draw a sword, and he kills the other two, slicing them open and letting their bodies splatter to the floor.

And so begins the breaking down of the Palace Of Light, until another three next decide to sacrifice themselves for eternity to the Palace.

But the Controller really can do a million things at once. Makaara can feel him all over this solar system, and she’s busy using her Soul Weapon to burn his presence away. He’s being forced out of his hiding place behind reality.

Makaara knows the Cybermen don’t have souls, they have nothing that should be able to stand up to the soul weapon. She knows she can beat whatever presence is attacking her; whatever presence is building itself up in its few remaining strongholds.

But she’s unprepared, because she’s made the fatal mistake I warned about earlier: never underestimate the Controller.

The sea of Cybermen continue to boil in anger, but this time, when they throw themselves against the walls of the Palace they really do crack open. They crack open and the Cybermen pour in, like a wave of destruction.

They smash down walls, they tear down people, they ignore weapons levelled against them, they just claw their way unstoppably through the structure of the Palace. None of the Martians stand a chance against them for long, and all the Cybermen are heading for the control chamber of the GodEngine.

Outside, the Palace starts to crumble. Entire towers break off as the structural integrity weakens. They just slide off the battlements and smash into the sea. Cracks appear in the outer walls. The end has begun.

Nick and Izlyr are halted in their slow procession to the activation port as the Cybermen appear, tearing at them, slicing through Martians to try and stop them. So Izlyr takes the two halves of the sword and welds them together with his bare hands.

He then goes for it, running for the activation port with the Cybermen finally cutting through the ranks of Martians to try and hold him back. But they’re too late, because he was nearly there.

Nick felt sick when it happened. He’d gotten used to this kind of thing. There would be some dire peril and some big rush for the only way out, and the villains would be on your tail, but you’d just make it.

He felt sick because it wasn’t meant to go like this. When the liquid metal spear cut through Izlyr and he collapsed, bleeding to the ground, Nick didn’t feel sick at the sight of the violence. He’d seen so much of that. He felt sick because that’s not the way these things happened.

Izlyr collapsed, dropping the sword.

Do you ever get that feeling, when you can’t actually see anyone, or hear anyone, but you can tell they’re there, so you turn around and there is somebody. How does that work? I know, but I’m not going to tell you, because it’d spoil the magic. I know I was disappointed when I found out.

But that’s what Makaara felt. She could feel another presence nearby. She “turned” and found another figure standing in her soul. He wasn’t there really - it was only his mind.

He was dark looking, but she didn’t know why, as he wasn’t actually dark in colour at all. He was small and very frail, only child-sized in proportion but naked and old. There was something very scary about him, about how un-natural he looked.

His head was large. He was completely bald and his dome was huge compared to the rest of him, like he had a massive brain. And his eyes smouldered. They were burning away at her, little points of darkness and ash. They smouldered with trying to keep back the intellect contained in that skull.

Makaara and the little figure had a conversation now, and this one, I will transcribe.

“Who are you?”

The little man gave a small smile. “The Controller.”

“You are the presence I’ve been fighting?”

A little nod.

“You can’t beat me. I have something you couldn’t hope to understand.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate me. You may think your newfound power is unstoppable but remember - there are always people bigger than you. To tell the truth your Soul Weapon is the only hope your pathetic Federation have got. The battle was lost before you got here.

“And even now, it’s not doing as much as you thought it would. It’s not quite as effective as it should’ve been. Almost as though something else were acting against it - testing it to find its weaknesses.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Shall we try this?”

“Pardon?”

“A contest. My power against yours.”

Now it was Makaara’s turn to smile.

Alf was still watching the Imperial and the conflict, even as her ship escalated away from it. The soul weapon transfixed her, fighting the entire Cyber fleet from the one ship. She could feel something horrible in her mind for a moment though.

Doubt. The feeling she’d had for the first time since the Soul Weapon had been activated - that perhaps they might not win after all. Then the tentacles of the Soul Weapon writhed in agony and suddenly withdrew from the battle, shrinking away into the Imperial.

They drew the power from the rest of the Imperial War Fleet as they went, deactivating them, and leaving them as sitting targets for the Cybermen. They’d even damaged Alf’s ship although they didn’t realize it yet, slowing it down. Alf screamed at the idea of a light like the Soul Weapon going out. She couldn’t bear it.

She broke down into tears, crying in spiritual agony. She couldn’t even see the blackened husk of the Imperial, floating dead in space.

The corridors of the Imperial were charred to ash. The outside had been turned to stone. Everyone aboard had been killed, apart from one person, who had survived the torching because she was the source of it.

She lay in the War Room, now a blackened chamber, her body going through uncontrollable spasms, her eyes wide and her mouth drooling in between the screams. She twitched and lay naked and defenceless, her brain disconnected from control of her body - the last vestiges of the soul weapon oozed from her orifices as a thick, unsavoury goo.

In her mind the Controller was still there. She felt so ashamed. He’d only taken seconds to beat her. He was standing there, gloating. She’d been trapped, confined to one part of her mind and locked in, and the Controller had complete control of her body.

It lay there in the darkness, twitching like a spastic for his amusement. She had failed everyone, failed the Fleet, failed the Empire, failed the Federation, failed the Soul Weapon and failed herself.

I’ll do another transcribe here;

“Well, well. Who’s not as tough as they thought they were then?”

Makaara cried.

“What hope does your precious fleet stand now? And what of your Empire? I have a strategic garrison ready to attack your throne world, should this battle be won. Shall I call them now?”

“No… please…”

“You’re right. I’m going to bring you with me to watch when I do, I’ll take you out of this broken piece of crap you’ve got to live in now and keep you in my own mind to watch the fun.”

“You’re sick.”

“True, I do tend to get rather emotional when I leave my brain behind. But no less powerful. You were beaten before you began.”

“…Monster…”

“But for now, I’m going to leave you here, trapped as an invalid in your own mind with no control over your body, watching your hideous limbs twitch and spasm and feeling your bladder empty itself all over your legs. I imagine the experience should be suitably degrading.”

“Before I come back, you’ll be begging me to return, to set you free from…” he seemed unable to find the right word so he gestured with disgust at her body “…this. Goodbye.”

Makaara was left alone in the darkness. She would’ve cried, if she could, if she’d had any control over her body at all.

At this point I think it’s time I got back to the Doctor. He was lying on the floor outside the control complex, with all the other elite Draconian fighters and stuff. He’s used the Soul Weapon’s power to encode them into the fusion bomb, but now he couldn’t feel the weapon at all any more, so he knew it must be dead. Poor Makaara…

He noticed all this while still flat on his back, looking up at the stars, and seeing some of them move and explode. They weren’t really stars after all then. Just space ships. It was beautiful.

It was then he remembered he was meant to be inside. He was meant to have entered the complex in this attack, not be lying on his back, looking at the sky after it. It was then he got up and nearly broke it. His back that is.

He looked around from side to side and each individual vertebrae in his neck clicked. His back was in agony. When he looked down his skin was like parchment - pure white. He stretched it and it tore open. He watched in fascination as a thick, syrupy black blood started to seep slowly from the tear in his baggy skin.

He felt sick at his own age. It must’ve been an effect of being inside the Soul Weapon when it died. He was wasted, thousands of years older physically than he should’ve been.

His beard was massive and silvery, and when he stroked it, every hair he touched came away in his hand. He looked up, past the awakening Draconians, towards the lip of the crater created by the Fusion bomb. Over the edge, hundreds of Cybermen were pouring, and running towards them.

They didn’t stand a chance. The Doctor reflected with pity on how useless he’d actually been. The Soul Weapon was dead, and now so was he, unless a miracle happened. The Federation’s last hopes rested on Mars...

...I'm sorry, but our session for today ends in a couple of minutes."

"What?" Roger looked horrified.

"I'm going to have to move on to another one of my patients soon."

"But I'm not finished."

"Well, you'll have to soon. Maybe we can finish it in tomorrow's session."

"No, it'll be too late! We won't be having a session tomorrow. I can't finish it then. I need to finish it now!"

"Well, I suggest you get a move on then."

Roger looked at him darkly, his eyes filled with resentment. He did carry on, but his voice had a different tone now - one of resignation, as though he knew now that, just because he wouldn't be able to finish it today he was only carrying on because he couldn't see anything else to do...

...Okay, let's start again on Mars.

Izlyr rolled over. He reached down and pulled the spear out of his chest, barbs and all. It was agony, but he just ignored the pain, because Izlyr was incredible. He then just tries top claw his way across the floor, to where the sword has slid. He barks into his helmet, ordering another regiment to make planet fall.

He’s too late though. There’s nothing he can do now. Nick looks over at this point, towards a kid called Falex. I haven’t said much about Falex, because this isn’t his story. He’s not the one who dies. His story comes later. Years later.

Nick has come to think of Falex like a son, almost. And when he sees Falex cowering in the corner of the room, trying to hide from the monsters, his body starts moving before his brain thinks about it. He propels himself out his chair on the useless legs, collapsing embarrassingly to the floor.

He doesn’t notice though and instead activates the hover equipment implanted in his legs. He is lifted up and flies towards the sword, reaching out a hand to grab it. And as he gets closer to the GodEngine, the machine can tell it’s time is near. It reaches out it’s machinery to him, extending it’s own self and developing new structures to do whatever it takes to obtain the sword, to kill again.

A beam of light emerges from one pad, and Nick slots the sword into it. The pad retracts into the machinery, which starts to spiral away into the core of the machine itself. It starts to fold in, activating and leaving only the hilt visible. The machine whirrs, it makes noises as the idea inside, the willful impulse of death, starts desperately trying to fulfill it’s self.

The GodEngine is activated. The Federation may have a chance yet. At least that is what Nick thinks, but he was right earlier when he thought this time was different, when he thought that this time, there might not be a happy ending.

This time, you see, the enemy was too powerful, and too clever. The sea of Cybermen becomes dormant and part to let a lone figure through, a Martian priest, with glazed black eyes and a sick and wicked grin on his face. Nick can recognize the presence of the Controller.

As the figure walks closer, the Martian soldiers in his path, just standing and watching with awe, die, their hearts exploding or their brains haemorrhaging. They just collapse, dead, clutching the pain that killed them, their faces contorted into masks of pain.

Nick remembers saying that Validium has the power of life and death, and Nick’s suspicions as to the creature’s identity are confirmed. It really is the Controller.

Izlyr stands again; ready to face the menace. He drags himself up and Nick watches in horror as the Martians head tips slightly and Izlyr’s spine shatters. The Martian collapses again, in agony, only his exoskeletal armour keeping him alive.

The Controller just grins and starts to explain. I’ve talked enough in this story, so I’m going to let someone else have the final word. But remember; it doesn’t end here.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Nick. Apparently when I processed the attack information the Doctor gave me, he’d configured it to induce something similar to Alzheimer’s, but don’t worry - I’m okay now.” The Controller flicked a wicked grin at Nick. “Which is more than can be said for the Doctor.”

Nick’s stomach lurched at his words, but the Controller carried on. “Your foolish friend found out we were restructuring our star, and thought it was to prevent it being used with the GodEngine. He was wrong.

“We discovered the GodEngine years ago, and made some… adaptations. Did you know it has a mind? A will of it’s own? It was willing to become our servant if we could give it what it wanted - death.

“We’ve been tailoring our star to work with its new design. We will transplant the GodEngine into the star itself, to create a creature of near ultimate power, subservient only to me. My control circuits are wired into it fully now, and it will work as an extension of my own mind.

“We have just created the ultimate weapon, and you have just doomed the Universe to death, from the Cybermen. The Federation is lost. There’s nothing left for you to do. Except die...”

...Well, that's where we finish for today."

"No!" Roger looked at him, his face lined with anguish.

"I'm sorry, Roger, but I have other patients and other commitments."

Roger's voice betrayed how broken he felt. He was very quiet when he asked;

"Please..?"

The doctor felt something inside him in conflict. He quickly stamped it out. He had to be rational here. If he gave in, he'd just be strengthening this man's delusions. If he gave in it would be like admitting that he wouldn't be able to continue tomorrow. The patient had to be shown that the world would not end, no matter how much he expected it to.

"I'm sorry, Roger, no."

It was dark outside now. Roger looked wasted, haggard and hollow eyed. Exhausted. "You look tired, Roger. Do you want me to turn the light out when I go, so you can get some sleep."

Roger was still silent, glaring resentfully at him. After a moment he gave up though. "Yes," he finally said, his voice betraying his tiredness. "Yes, please." He sounded so resigned.

As the doctor left the room, he was sure he was doing the right thing. The patient had to be shown. So he turned out the light and his last glimpse was of Roger, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring emptily into space as the door closed, shutting him in and he was left, alone, in the darkness.