Doctor Who

by Una McCormack

  The Dalek saucer passed by the ship. It really was no longer important. From a strategic point of view, the Dalek mission to Entranxis had failed.

  Three Dalekanium missiles shot from the saucer and detonated within the planet’s atmosphere. The smouldering skies of Entranxis caught fire, the iron citadels melting, the sullen lakes turning to ash within moments.

  Mission accomplished, the Daleks moved on.

  ‘No! No no no no no!’ The Tenth Doctor stood on the viewscreen.

  The Eighth Doctor slid down to join him. It was as if they were both standing, shaken, on the burning remains of Entranxis.

  ‘That’s what we’re up against,’ the Tenth Doctor said. ‘That’s what we’ve unleashed on the Dark Times.’

  Chapter Nine

  The Donna hung in space, great rips in her hull, fires burning out in the vacuum.

  The Tenth Doctor was preparing to address the crew. He was, at the same time, trying to mend the superluminal drive by wiring it to the demat circuit from his TARDIS.

  ‘So,’ he began, then realised he still had the sonic clamped between his teeth. He removed it. ‘You all signed up to take on the Kotturuh. And we did. We stopped the Kotturuh from bringing their gift of death to the universe. Mission accomplished. More or less.’

  He paused, wincing. At first the crew assumed he was waiting for applause, but then the chief engineer, a surly Thagassian called Menden, spotted that the Doctor was juggling the engine core between his hands. ‘Hot hot hot,’ the Doctor yelped. Menden hurried over and took it off him with a pair of tongs.

  ‘Anyway,’ the Doctor pressed on, wiping his hands on his suit, ‘once we get this mended, we’ll be under way. We could just vanish into nothing, but I’m pretty sure that we’ll be under way. Sooooo. The remaining Kotturuh are still out there. As are the Daleks. They’re up to something and I’m going to stop it. But that’s not the mission you agreed to. I’d never force anyone to go up against the Daleks. Those of you who want to leave now, please see Brian. You’ll get my grateful thanks, a bonus, and the use of the shuttles to take you home. If anyone wants to stay, we’re going to get after the Daleks immediately.’

  Menden looked up from examining the remains of the engine core. She shook her head.

  ‘Did I say immediately?’ the Tenth Doctor frowned. ‘I meant maybe an hour. Perhaps two.’

  The Donna found the wreck on the third day. They’d been following the energy traces of the Dalek saucer, picking up the sad debris they left in their wake. And now they’d found a Coffin Ship drifting.

  The air on board was foetid. There were scorch marks on the tapestries. The Tenth Doctor and Brian made their way down the corridors.

  ‘Mr Ball,’ announced Brian, ‘believes that those piles of dust are all that remains of the undead occupants.’

  ‘Not quite all of them,’ the Tenth Doctor said. ‘I think the Daleks are … shopping.’

  ‘For what?’ asked Brian.

  ‘Species,’ the Doctor said grimly.

  The radio crackled. There was a muffled cry, and then a hiss of static.

  ‘Was that on our ship?’ said the Doctor.

  Brian gestured towards the door. ‘Perhaps we could find out.’

  They strode back to the ship, and found the Eighth Doctor waiting for them in the airlock.

  ‘There you are! We have company,’ he said, with the breezy tones of an estate agent showing off a haunted house. ‘Company with weapons.’

  ‘Always the best kind,’ said Brian.

  ‘They sent me to fetch you,’ said the Eighth Doctor. He swung open the airlock door.

  Waiting behind it, were a group of undead Bloodsmen. They did not look happy.

  ‘Have you been watering that plant?’ the Ninth Doctor asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Madam Ikalla said. ‘You seem not to be.’

  ‘Well,’ the Doctor rubbed a hand over his hair, ‘I was kind of assuming Hector would look after itself. Signs so far have been promising. It doesn’t ask questions or get into trouble. Best companion ever.’

  ‘It needs to drink,’ said Madam Ikalla. ‘All life needs to drink.’

  ‘Especially vampires,’ the Doctor sighed. He produced a vial from his pocket and handed it to her.

  She stared at it. ‘What is this?’

  ‘Probably quite rich,’ the Doctor admitted, already checking the controls on the TARDIS. ‘You may want to water it down.’

  She uncorked it and sniffed it. ‘Is this your …?’

  ‘Yep. Nearly an armful. Let’s call it my plasma.’ The Doctor was studiously avoiding looking at her. ‘Can’t have you telling people you’ve fed off the blood of your ancient enemy.’

  Madam Ikalla looked at the vial with a mixture of hunger and loathing.

  ‘Neither of us is happy about this,’ the Doctor admitted, hitting a switch harder than it deserved with a hammer.

  ‘And yet life goes on,’ the vampire sighed. ‘I have seen the battles in the heavens between my masters and your people. The bowships piercing the hearts of the Great Ones, their death cries shattering suns – and the suffering of the Curcubites as they’re drained.’

  ‘The war will go on for a long time yet,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’m not here to stop that. Barely to interfere. But I can do something for some of you. Find you a new way to live.’

  ‘When a Great Vampire dies,’ Ikalla said, ‘all their scions die, die in that instant, all their spans catching up with them. It is why their scions fight so hard to protect them. If I die, the same will happen to the undead of my Coffin Ship. They too are bonded to me.’

  ‘That’s one of the things we’re stopping.’ The Ninth Doctor looked up, and his eyes were very sad. ‘I’m freeing you from all that.’

  ‘We are simply swapping being indebted to our creators to being indebted to you,’ Madam Ikalla said. ‘We all depend on something for sustenance.’ She tapped the plant. ‘Including this. Look after it.’ She left the control room – and she took the vial with her.

  The Ninth Doctor and Ikalla stepped out into a valley of giant stone heads screaming silently up at three impassive suns. It was a world of old dust and older gods.

  ‘Imagine that,’ the Doctor sighed. ‘The universe is new, but not so new that these have already been forgotten.’ He tapped one of the giant heads. ‘These were built for eternity and already they’re falling apart. There’s something sad about that. In my time, I bet this world no longer exists. These will be flecks floating in space.’

  Ikalla looked around doubtfully, shivering.

  ‘I can fetch you …’ The Doctor paused. ‘Another cape?’

  The vampire shook her head. ‘This world is dead already. What makes you think the Kotturuh are coming here?’

  The Doctor tried to look casual, jamming his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket awkwardly. ‘I saw a kind of Design, a map, in someone else’s mind,’ he offered. ‘Peeking.’

  At the end of the valley was a small village and a very old woman.

  ‘You’ve come from the valley of the gods?’ she said, offering them tea from a cauldron.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Ah.’ the old lady frowned at them. ‘Do the gods want something? It has been so long since they spoke to us.’

  ‘No, we’re just tourists,’ the Doctor said, sipping his tea politely and trying not to splutter.

  ‘I see. Are our gods famous, then?’ The woman’s eyes twinkled with hope as she swigged her tea – then spat it out. ‘These leaves are not good.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Ikalla, pouring hers on the parched ground.

  An awkward silence settled between them.

  ‘Can you …’ The woman stopped. ‘Forgive me – if you have come to see our gods, can you tell me something about them?’

  Ikalla regarded the Doctor and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘The problem is,’ the old woman went on, ‘we have worshipped them for so long, I think we have worn out the memory of them. I can remember the praye
rs to them – they were the first thing I learned as a child – but I cannot remember what they were for. Nor can the others.’ She waved a hand towards the village. ‘Mostly we sleep now and hope that the gods come to us in our dreams.’ She frowned, struck by a sudden thought. ‘Are you – are you perhaps new gods?’

  The Doctor pulled a face. ‘I’m not very worshipful.’

  ‘I would make a very bad god,’ announced Ikalla.

  ‘True,’ the Doctor leaned forwards, lowering his voice, ‘She’d be quite … bloodthirsty.’

  ‘I see,’ said the old woman, and gave the longest sigh.

  ‘Cheer up,’ the Doctor said. ‘We’ve come because you’re going to have some visitors quite soon. So at least there’s a novelty.’

  The woman glanced at the cauldron. ‘Would they like some tea?’

  The Doctor and Ikalla shook their heads.

  The Kotturuh came at sunset. First their ship appeared in the sky, an exquisite twisted spire of glass and metal drawing itself out of nothing. Then three Kotturuh appeared on the ground, gliding towards the group around the cauldron. The Doctor stood, motioning to Madam Ikalla and the old priestess to stay back. Ikalla hissed at the creatures.

  The Ninth Doctor strode forward at his most casual saunter, even though the eventide breeze from the desert made him want to draw his jacket in. ‘So. The Kotturuh. ’Ullo.’

  The Kotturuh ignored him. One hovered forwards. Its cowled face took in the village, the old woman, Ikalla, and finally the Doctor.

  It spoke to Ikalla first, its voice chiming like a bell in a drowned church. ‘You are an aberration. We have nothing for you,’ it said, dismissing her.

  ‘How dare you—’ Madam Ikalla began, drawing her robe about herself.

  ‘You are no longer life, you simply feed off life. That is your sole function.’ The Kotturuh was no longer even looking at her. It turned to face the priestess, gliding closer. Its tentacles reached out, caressing the air around the old woman’s face. ‘Your species is a sad one. You have lived long lives devoted solely to worship of things forgotten. You cannot even keep memory alive.’

  The priestess nodded, sadly.

  ‘Daughter of time,’ the Kotturuh sighed, ‘your species has made its contribution to the universe. We can let it end and bring you peace.’

  ‘Do you …’ the woman began hopefully. ‘Do you wish us to worship you instead?’

  ‘No,’ the Kotturuh said after a long pause. ‘For we also are dying without our great task completed. We do not wish to be remembered for our failure. Would you like your gift now?’

  Its tentacles began to wrap around the woman, and that was the moment that the Doctor stepped in.

  ‘Hold on a tick,’ he said, waving his arms up and down like he was flagging down a zeppelin. ‘What about me? Come on. Pick me!’

  The Kotturuh withdrew from the whimpering priestess and slowly turned to the Doctor. Its fellows also focused in on the Time Lord.

  ‘You,’ it said.

  ‘Me.’

  ‘You, little one, have danced too close to us in several forms. Your path is tangled.’

  ‘Story of my life. Spot on so far.’

  ‘You laugh, and you smile, and you joke,’ the Kotturuh hissed. ‘You hold the hand of the universe as though it is a friend you are seeing for the last time.’

  The grin fell from the Doctor’s face.

  ‘You cannot even agree with yourself what is right and what is wrong. Your future self has brought about our end. And you seek to atone for what you have not yet done. Tell us –’ the cowled face leaned in, almost touching the Doctor’s – ‘how long can you hope to apologise for your future actions when you have not come to terms with your own actions?’

  ‘Steady on,’ the Doctor began, taking a step back.

  ‘What would you ask of us?’ the Kotturuh said. ‘Do you wish to know if the pain goes away? Do you wish to know what you will become?’

  ‘I …’ The Doctor looked around, at the old woman, at Madam Ikalla, at the tiny village, at the suns setting behind the valley of forgotten statues. ‘Actually, I just want to know why you’re still carrying on.’

  ‘Our Death is catching up with us,’ the Kotturuh conceded. ‘Mordeela was the source of our power. You closed that off. And yet, we have our destiny. It began on Birinji. And must continue. Although some would argue it was on Birinji that our mission first went wrong.’ And the Kotturuh sighed. ‘Perhaps you only judge a life for its success at the end.’

  ‘Right.’ The Doctor chewed at the side of his cheek. ‘You can see the contradiction there, can’t you? One rule for you, another for those you judge.’

  The Kotturuh stepped back and nodded its head in acceptance. The others also nodded.

  The Doctor risked a glance over his shoulder at Ikalla and the priestess. ‘I think we’re getting somewhere.’

  He was badly wrong. A Dalek scout ship pushed out of the sky, and the valley echoed with the boom of a carbine drive sending shudders through a planet’s atmosphere.

  The Tenth Doctor looked at the vampires carefully.

  ‘If it helps,’ whispered Brian, ‘I have already calculated seven ways to kill most of them.’

  ‘How many ways to make friends with them?’

  ‘Exactly none.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ The Doctor strode forwards, hands outstretched. ‘Vampires, welcome to the Donna. Over there –’ he gestured – ‘is my former self, and in the other direction is a group of heavily armed mercenaries. If you attack in one direction you’ll trigger a potentially catastrophic temporal paradox, and if you attack in in the other you’ll find an awful lot of weapons are firing your way. So, how about we chat like friends?’

  The lead Bloodsman came forward, his teeth spattered with gore.

  ‘I am Gelsin,’ he grunted. ‘You were in charge of this ship?’

  ‘Still am.’ The Tenth Doctor hunted around for some pockets, found them, and casually stuffed his hands in them. He leaned against the bulkhead. ‘Welcome aboard. If you’re here for dinner I should warn you the chef deserted. It’s tins only. Mind you, you’ve got the teeth for tins.’

  ‘We are looking for Madam Ikalla.’

  ‘Good news!’ The Eighth Doctor waved.

  ‘Well, good and bad …’ the Tenth Doctor said.

  ‘But news.’

  ‘What?’ Gelsin the Bloodsman hissed.

  ‘We rescued her—’

  ‘But she’s with a different us.’

  Gelsin hissed.

  ‘Meanwhile,’ the Tenth Doctor said, pointing to the ship behind him, ‘that’s a Coffin Ship. The crew are dead. Exterminated. Any idea why the Daleks would want to wipe out your kind? If anything, they’d be doing my ancestors a favour.’

  The Bloodsman pointed to two of his group. They shoved past the Tenth Doctor and into the ship.

  ‘I know he’s asking questions, but I really think we might know more than you,’ the Eighth Doctor said. ‘This is a golden opportunity. We can all work together and solve a mystery.’

  Gelsin grunted.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ coaxed the Tenth Doctor. ‘If I can work with myself, then so can you.’

  The Ninth Doctor, the old priestess and Ikalla were knocked off their feet by the booming engine of the Dalek ship. The Kotturuh remained in place, their cloaks torn at by the howling dust. The Doctor crawled towards them. ‘The Daleks,’ he cried, choking on his breath. ‘Not now. Please, Kotturuh, I need to talk to you.’

  The Kotturuh ignored him.

  The Doctor fought another inch forwards against the blasting winds. ‘Please, if you’re going to judge anyone, judge the Daleks. Please. I’m begging you!’

  The Dalek ship rammed the Kotturuh ship without even decelerating, shattering it like an exquisite ornament. The Daleks carried on down towards the Kotturuh.

  The Doctor made it to his knees and somehow stood, grabbing at the hem of the Kotturuh’s coat. ‘Judge them,’ he urged.


  The Kotturuh turned to him, turned with the stillness of a species that assessed mountains. ‘The Daleks?’

  ‘They’re the worst species in existence and please, you’ve got to—’

  ‘You sentence us to death, then you would use us to kill for you?’

  ‘Please. Do it.’

  ‘The Daleks are not part of our design. It would be blasphemy.’

  ‘Please.’

  The Kotturuh turned away from him and the Doctor fell back.

  Three blasts shot from the Dalek ship and one by one, the Kotturuh lit up from the inside and then fell burning to the ground. The Dalek ship vanished with another boom, shattering the silent faces of the forgotten gods.

  When the dust storm cleared, the old priestess stood, shaking her head. ‘So many gods today. All of them cruel.’ She turned and walked away.

  The Ninth Doctor was kneeling by the Kotturuh. He ran a hand over the grime caking his lips, and his voice was dry. ‘They’re wiping out whatever Kotturuh remain,’ he said. ‘The Daleks have appointed themselves the new Bringers of Death.’

  Brian was still working out what would happen next. He very much hoped it would be a fight. If so, he was wondering what it would take to manipulate both Doctors into killing. He’d sadly ruled out them murdering each other, but perhaps, just perhaps, the Bloodsmen would provoke at least one of them into an action they’d both regret.

  A fascinating possibility.

  Brian was also very intrigued by the Tenth Doctor’s concern about not causing harm to his former self. A temporal paradox. Intriguing. This was something definitely worth exploring. Especially as he still had a score to settle with the Eighth Doctor.

  The Tenth Doctor was acting as though he owned the universe. That suited them both, Brian decided.

  ‘So,’ the Tenth Doctor said, ‘once we’ve finished up here, what say we team up and take on the Daleks? I really want to find out what they’re doing, and I think you do too.’

  The two undead dispatched to the Coffin Ship returned, and both nodded to their leader.

  ‘Well?’ said the Eighth Doctor. ‘You were looking for something. Was it the vampire pilot?’

  ‘She is dead,’ Gelsin reported.