DOCTOR: All over the world, fools are poised ready to let death fly. Machines of death, Morgaine. A screaming from above, of light brighter than the sun. Not a war between armies nor a war between nations, but just death, death gone mad. A child looks up in the sky, his eyes turn to cinders. No more tears, only ashes. Is this honour? Is this war? Are these the weapons you would use? Tell me!

MORGAINE: No.

DOCTOR: Then put a stop to it, Morgaine. End the madness.