Doctor Who: The Knight, The Fool and The Dead (Doctor Who: Time Lord Victorious)

by Steve Cole

  Disarmed by this rare flash of humour, Barbara smiled despite herself. ‘All right. Well, the tailor went looking for the best godfather, and he met God. God said he would bring health and happiness to the boy. The tailor refused, because God condoned poverty in the world. The tailor went on along the road and he met the Devil, and the Devil said he’d bring the child gold and pleasure, but the tailor knew how the devil deceives mankind.’

  ‘A curious road this tailor travelled …’

  ‘Very curious, because as he continued along it, the tailor met Death. The tailor knew that Death treats all people the same, rich or poor, he doesn’t discriminate. And so, on the following Sunday, Death becomes the child’s godfather …’ Barbara broke off. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not a good story for—’

  ‘No, no, no,’ said the Doctor, his eyes bright as the firelight. ‘Go on, my dear. Do go on.’

  Chapter Five

  The Doctor stood at the glowing coral of the TARDIS console, trying to push from his mind the horror of the carnage left behind at the plaza outside the Tombs of the Ended. Bones and bodies, spread like so much Andalian manure. Small, nascent creatures rising from the remains, inheriting a world they would never understand.

  Brian was making adjustments to an ornate device, like a retirement clock crossed with a sextant – his Snoop DNA tracker. In gloomy silence, the Doctor uncoiled a set of cables with crocodile clips to try to link the two technologies.

  ‘You are considering the end of the Andalian civilisation,’ Brian suggested. ‘I witnessed the same on the planet Perthanon and on Zoot in the aftermath of Fallomax’s sales drives. The Kotturuh bring an agreeable speed and efficiency to the mass murders they perform, do they not?’

  ‘Changing the natural order of the universe according to some half-baked doctrine they’ve invented?’ The Doctor shook his head, sickened. ‘To kill as they do is perverse.’

  Brian looked at him steadily. ‘You have never killed?’

  The Doctor became very absorbed in connecting a cable to the console. ‘Only when I’ve had to.’

  ‘And you have had to on many occasions.’

  ‘Too many.’ The Doctor bit the plastic covering from the cable and separated the wires inside. ‘Just who are you, Brian? How did you end up in the Dark Times?’

  ‘With the help of this vessel.’ Brian gestured around it. ‘The interior has changed, but not the dimensional peculiarities.’

  ‘And I thought you were just playing it cool about the bigger inside than outside thing …’ The Doctor frowned, looked up. ‘Wait. You’re saying you stowed away?’

  ‘Not exactly. Our encounter with the true owner of this TARDIS was unpleasant.’ Brian’s head cocked to one side. ‘We presume you killed him and took his identity?’

  ‘I am him.’

  Brian seemed smug as he petted Mr Ball. ‘So our presumption is confirmed.’

  ‘I don’t remember you, Brian. And I’ve not been this way before, so either you’re lying, or you’re from my future and don’t know me because I’ve changed …’ The Doctor spat out the word. ‘Well, that’s me. That’s the Doctor. Ever-changing. Always going on.’

  ‘Yes, you are, rather,’ Brian muttered.

  ‘I came here looking for peace, for hope. Time out. What do I find? A world that’s waited to end the minute I show up.’

  ‘Mr Ball suggests you have a somewhat overinflated sense of your importance.’

  The Doctor glared. ‘Is this “Mr Ball” stuff some sort of dissociative disorder, or is there something in that sphere affecting your behaviour?’

  ‘We all must take responsibility for our own actions.’ Brian’s ornate gadget beeped, breaking the mood and the moment. ‘Connection made. Coordinates for the child of Destran’s current location are now downloading to this TARDIS.’

  ‘My TARDIS.’ The Doctor looked over at Brian. ‘Is it fair to say that Chalskal wants us to find Estinee, hoping that wherever she is there are some working Lifeshrouds?’

  ‘Indeed. So that Mr Chalskal can outfit an army to repel the Kotturuh.’

  ‘A war where no one dies,’ the Doctor murmured. ‘It’s an improvement.’

  ‘Mr Ball would think it a nightmare.’

  ‘I don’t think he’d like what I’d say back to him.’ The Doctor studied the information loading up from Brian’s device. ‘These astronavigational calculations are like none I’ve ever seen. But they seem to lead somewhere called … Mordeela.’

  ‘A world sacred to the Kotturuh,’ Brian said gravely. ‘It is said to hold the gateway between their own dwelling-space and the cosmos they hold to account.’ He paused. ‘Mr Ball and I have heard many tales about Mordeela. About great leaders searching out the Kotturuh to bargain for the lives.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It is a vale from which none have been known to return,’ Brian said. ‘Mordeela is a word from an old tongue: it means Judgement.’

  The word hung between them for a while, like snow refusing to fall.

  ‘Perhaps those great leaders never arrived.’ The Doctor was engaging the long-range scanner. ‘Mordeela looks to be heavily shielded. A barrier that keeps surrounding space one picosecond ahead of the rest of the universe. But! Like on every other occasion, the Kotturuh’s Judgement is flawed.’

  Brian blinked. ‘Do you wish me to ask In what way?’

  ‘A phase-shift like that will keep out conventional ships and projectiles – but not a TARDIS. We should be able to slip past the Kotturuh defences without anyone knowing.’ The Doctor threw the take-off lever. ‘Let’s see, shall we?’

  With a wheeze and a heave of improbable engines, the TARDIS dipped its toes in the local infinity.

  Estinee sat alone on the rocky floor, at a junction of tunnels where she would hear anyone coming. Too afraid to close her eyes, she kept them fixed on the veins of light in the rock, let their pulse and glow wash over her. There were whispering and mutterings down here in the tunnels. Estinee knew what they were, what they meant, and she knew she should listen.

  But she was so tired. So afraid.

  It was the third time Estinee had been brought to Mordeela. The first time it happened, she thought she’d die there. Then Fallomax had found her, got her out.

  ‘We help each other, kid. Deal?’

  It was only when Estinee had run away, when the pain had grown unbearable, that the Kotturuh found her again. Again, Fallomax had got her out.

  ‘Don’t you ever try to leave me again!’ She could see Fallomax’s furious face right up in her own, feel bony fingers gripping her shoulders. ‘We have to stick together. We’re all each other has.’

  Some nights, Estinee hadn’t been sure which was worse. The demonstrations with Fallomax, the pain of all that … or being left here in the tunnels with only them for company …

  You have the crystals in your pocket, she told herself. Fallomax can still find you. She needs you. Hold on to the crystals.

  Still Estinee wore the Lifeshroud. She wondered what the Kotturuh would do about that. But she knew the moment would come. The Kotturuh had a different relationship with time. They rarely responded to events; they shaped them. Their hearts beat and minds worked only according to their Design.

  But sooner or later, she knew they would come for her again.

  A voice, commanding but still fearful, carried faintly through the gloomy dark. ‘Your Excellencies … Great and noble Kotturuh … I thank you for granting me audience.’

  ‘A living one,’ Estinee whispered aloud, and like a mouse she scurried to see. Privileged creatures were taken here sometimes – viziers and kings and nabobs, gathered from far-off worlds. She liked to hear their voices, even with the shake in them. She liked to peep at them, though they held so stiff with fear. The weakness they tried to conceal proved they were alive.

  The tunnel opened onto a kind of curving balcony. You could cross to its edge and stare out over the vast circular space that stretched upward into darkness and downward into dark red, p
ulsing light. The walls were scratched and painted with patterns, but Estinee didn’t look. She knew what happened if you looked. She lingered in the tunnel mouth, not wanting to be seen. There was a twisting promontory extending from the far side like an animal’s tongue frozen in rock. Estinee saw the figure there, a riot of scales and spikes – whether hide or battledress she wasn’t sure.

  ‘Speak.’ The cold draught of the Kotturuh’s voice came from out of nowhere. It crept around the cavernous space, stealing echoes from the stone.

  The nabob did as commanded. ‘I represent the world of Turska Gordansis and its dominions—’

  ‘We know the lives you represent. This is why we summoned you.’

  Estinee shuddered. She had seen Turska Gordansis on Fallomax’s star charts. She had better listen to it all.

  ‘Speak,’ the Kotturuh prompted icily.

  ‘You brought Judgement to the world of Tuthmoser in a neighbouring star system,’ called the nabob. ‘You left its people with lives lasting less than one hundred years. But Palkh, its sister world … you granted lifespans a thousand times as long.’

  The accusation, if such it was, was all but swallowed by the silence that followed.

  ‘When civilisation fell on Tuthmoser, the creatures of Palkh invaded. Now their forces mass on our borders. They covet the empire of Turska Gordansis and wait only for your Judgement upon us.’ The emissary paused, as if summoning strength to go on. ‘I say to you now … we deserve long lives so we can stand against our aggressors. Make your Judgement on the lesser worlds of our dominion. Billions of lives will still be yours, but let us endure to protect those worlds … help the survivors adjust …’

  Estinee closed her eyes. She could hear the emissary’s words growing slurred. The thing was happening to him. The change.

  ‘In exchange, we will make tribute to you … become your disciples, that we may preach the word of the Kotturuh …’ The emissary clutched his head with many limbs, groaning in pain. ‘Only … please … let us … last …’

  ‘Your time will be short,’ the Kotturuh voice declared, flat of feeling. ‘Your dominions will succeed you and bring better worth to creation. Judgement shall pass at the moment decreed.’

  And as Estinee listened, the nabob’s gnashing and babbling began to resolve itself into words and numbers that sounded strange on his lips: ‘…two-seven, tau, six-heaven-two, sky-alpha. Fixed. Iota. Eight-zero-zero …’ A stream of syllables repeated over and over as he stood, head bowed in acquiescence, still as a statue, only his tongue twitching to spit the Kotturuh incantation.

  He would be dead soon. But he wouldn’t stop repeating the pattern. They could put thoughts and words in your mind – whether just for amusement, or because it brought them power, Estinee didn’t know.

  But she did know that, though the nabob was dead, he would start to move again, like the others.

  Hugging herself for comfort, Estinee edged back up the tunnel. She placed her face to the veins of light in the rock and tried to remember how they felt – those days when good things lasted and everyone lived for ever.

  Chapter Six

  The exclusion zone around Mordeela was a tougher nut to crack than the Doctor had figured, but he found a tiny worn spot in the shield. ‘Must be where the Kotturuh spaceships travel in and out. And we can get in too!’

  The TARDIS groaned like a pregnant whale until, with a final judder, the console room rocked and fell quiet.

  Brian rose from the chair and brushed himself down with the air of a long-suffering Jeeves. ‘We have arrived?’

  ‘On the planet Mordeela.’ The Doctor checked the controls. ‘Inside the planet Mordeela, in fact.’ A smooth-walled tunnel showed on the scanner, lit dimly by snail-trails of crystal in the rock. ‘About a mile underground.’

  Brian looked down at his tuxedo. ‘I feel underdressed.’

  ‘In that?’

  ‘Without heavy weaponry.’

  ‘Ha! Well, don’t forget – you, me, the TARDIS, we don’t belong in the Dark Times. Existing outside the Kotturuh Design gives us the best weapon – surprise!’

  Brian considered. ‘Our best weapon is something you shout to enthuse a small child?’

  ‘I’ve brought down empires with less,’ the Doctor said, with a confidence he wanted to feel. ‘How close are Estinee’s life signs?’

  ‘Within a mile of here. I regret I cannot be more exact, but the readings are distorted.’ Brian adjusted the device then shook his head. ‘Mr Ball suggests that a background power source is causing interference.’

  ‘There’s definitely something down here,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘The TARDIS is registering it, but almost … unconsciously.’ He smoothed his hand through his quiff. ‘Well, we won’t find answers in here. Ready to go outside?’

  ‘After you, Doctor.’

  The Doctor opened the door and stepped cautiously outside. No sign of life. No sign of death. No alarms, at least. Skeins of soft light pulsed in the walls.

  ‘Natural luminescence,’ Brian observed, behind him.

  ‘The surface of the planet is exposed to galvanic radiation blown in from all sorts of exotic local stars,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘Forces like that are bound to form crystals with special properties. Light’s just the visible wavelength. Wonder what else it’s got?’

  ‘Special’ wasn’t quite the word, he thought. There was an atmosphere of dread here, conjured by something more than the darkness. Maybe this is just how it was in the Dark Times, he told himself – but had trouble hearing as his every instinct was yelling danger in a variety of pitches.

  He glanced behind to see Brian watching him, the pale glow of his eyes like nightlights in the gloom. ‘The interference increases outside your ship. But having studied the tracker, Mr Ball advises we take this passage.’

  ‘After you.’

  They moved as quietly as they could through passages made from what looked like melted liquorice. The Doctor could feel it getting colder the further they went. The nape of his neck bristled in the strange atmosphere, and he thought uneasily of those weird background energies. But Brian, striding alongside with his translation sphere in his hand, seemed unbothered.

  ‘Much further?’ the Doctor asked.

  ‘No,’ said Brian. ‘This tunnel will shortly open out.’

  Sure enough, with every step they took, the way ahead through the tunnel seemed brighter. But it wasn’t a welcoming light that shone beyond. It was blood red and softly pulsing, taking and twisting the shadows into sinister shapes.

  Brian stopped and politely gestured that the Doctor go first.

  With a deep breath and hands plunged in coat pockets, the Doctor swept out of the tunnel and onto a kind of rocky balcony. It stretched out in a colossal half-circle, and overlooked not a stage but an abyss – a dark drop down into nothingness, with just a tongue of rock sticking out into the space.

  The far side of the chasm was sheer, smooth rock, thick with carved equations and alien script. Overlaid were lines, angles and formulae in chalk, tar, blood and who-knew-what-else. The Doctor’s mind turned in a vertiginous spin; it was like trying to take in some colossal crime scene investigation board, put together by an infinite number of detectives going mad in an infinite number of ways. Wherever you looked, lines stretched to shapes and figures and different darknesses.

  ‘What does it mean?’ he whispered. He wanted to understand the purpose of it all, but a hole in his sight seemed to open on each part in turn as he tried to focus, like the onset of a migraine. His teeth ached and his cells stirred and he almost laughed. It was as if trying to make sense of it all was changing him in some secret, midnight way. Here was a truth never meant to be known, and he loved the thought of that, and if he could only pin it down—

  The Doctor gasped as cold rock cracked against the back of his head. He’d been brought down, laid out on the ground; Brian was straddling him, gripping him hard by the shoulders, so he fought back, bucking underneath the Ood’s body. Brian’s mouth
tendrils brushed the Doctor’s face like wet seaweed and left a stinging sensation. He gasped, senses on fire while his body seized in an agonising spasm. Then the paralysis ended as Brian quickly retreated.

  ‘What … did you do?’ hissed the Doctor.

  ‘Mr Ball suggested I distract you from appraising the markings in the cavern,’ said Brian. ‘He believed your sanity was being affected.’

  ‘My sanity?’ Painfully, the Doctor got back up. ‘So you attacked me and …’ He spluttered. ‘What even was that you dripped on me?’

  ‘The tips of my mouth fronds are laced with a mild poison.’

  The Doctor frowned. ‘Poison?’

  ‘Used in sufficient measure, it halted your fit and restored your senses.’ Brian paused. ‘I definitely knew the safe dose to administer. Definitely.’

  ‘Deliberately or not, you saved my life.’ The Doctor risked another squint at the markings in the cavern. ‘I think we can guess what the writings on the wall are, then, can’t we?’

  ‘The wellspring of the Kotturuh Design,’ Brian suggested.

  ‘Reckon so. A schematic for bringing suffering to the universe.’ Even from a couple more glances, the Doctor could feel the alien hieroglyphs again trying to gain footholds in his mind. ‘This has to be the Kotturuh’s sanctum sanctorum.’

  Brian was suspicious. ‘Left unguarded?’

  ‘What’s to guard? Graffiti that drives you out of your mind? It guards itself.’ The Doctor shook his buzzing head. ‘Question is, what happens to you then?’

  Brian tilted his head to one side, as if listening to something else. ‘Doctor, may I have your attention? We are not alone.’

  ‘Eh?’ The Doctor fell quiet. As he did so, he heard the footsteps.

  They came in different sounds and sizes, scratching, slithering or beating their way slowly across the rock. A rank smell was filling the air, along with a whispering, clicking, groaning noise that slowly resolved into words: ‘…two-seven, tau, six-heaven-two, sky-alpha. Fixed. Iota. Eight-zero-zero …’