Winner Takes All

by Jacqueline Rayner

  ‘Did you leave the door open when you left?’ she said to the Doctor.

  He shook his head, and he suddenly looked concerned. He went inside, peering here, there and everywhere. Rose followed him. The flat was empty. In the lounge, the games console lay on the table, and the telly was still switched on. On the floor was a half-eaten pickled onion, toothmarks clearly visible in it.

  ‘Someone kicked in the door and caught him by surprise,’ the Doctor said. He darted back outside the front door. ‘Look at this,’ he called. Rose followed him out, and he pushed the door to, pointing at scratches on its lower panel.

  ‘Um . . .’ she said.

  ‘Claw marks,’ he said. ‘Whoever kicked open this door had clawed feet.’

  ‘Like Percy the Porcupine?’ she said.

  ‘Exactly like Percy the Porcupine,’ said the Doctor.

  They went back inside the flat, the Doctor closing the door behind them. ‘Amazed his telly’s still here, if the door’s been open long,’ he said.

  ‘Hey,’ said Rose, offended. ‘You don’t live here. You’re not allowed to say things like that.’

  ‘Is that how it works then?’

  She nodded, sitting down on a chair and surveying the room for clues. ‘Yeah. Like how I’d have a go at anyone who called you a cocky know-it-all who never listens to a word I say, but I’m . . .’

  She broke off. The Doctor wasn’t listening to her. He’d picked up the abandoned games console, and was prising off the back. He started poking around inside. ‘Definitely alien,’ he said. ‘Bother.’

  ‘Not just really advanced human?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nope.’

  ‘D’you reckon they’ve gone around kidnapping anyone who’s got one?’

  He shook his head. ‘There must be loads of the things out there. I think someone would’ve noticed. And what would be the point of that? No, they’ve taken Mickey for a reason. And I’d say it was fairly obvious what that reason was.’

  Rose thought for a moment, leaning forward in concentration. ‘For you, maybe, alien big-brain . . . It’s gotta be something to do with this game . . . But Mickey’d been playing it for a bit with nothing happening . . .’ She suddenly thumped the arm of the chair as realisation struck. ‘And then you came along, and beat his score, and if I know you, probably the scores of everyone else who’s ever played it in, like, two minutes. And they’re monitoring the scores somehow so they send out troops to find this genius and carry him off. But they got Mickey instead. Right?’

  The Doctor was now putting the games console back together. ‘You get there in the end,’ he said, giving her a grin. ‘You’d have thought the moment they saw the lack of intelligence in his eyes they’d have realised he wasn’t the one they wanted, though.’

  Rose frowned. ‘Like I was saying, you don’t get to say stuff like that. Anyway, he’s not thick. He’s got GCSEs.’

  ‘I apologise,’ said the Doctor, smiling, not looking sorry in the slightest.

  She decided to leave it. ‘Well, anyway, what do they want with him – with you? Has this all been some sort of bizarre alien intelligence test? Like they’re looking for the most intelligent people and then they kidnap them to drain their brains?’

  The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, and she almost shouted, ‘Don’t you say a word! You dare make a comment about Mickey’s brain when it might be being sucked out by an alien right now!’

  He’d shut his mouth at her yell, but opened it again now. ‘Could be that. But it’s a bit of a random way of going about it. I wouldn’t worry. He’s probably fine.’

  She was almost comforted. ‘Really?’

  He looked sincere. ‘Yeah. Really.’ A pause. ‘Well, probably. Tell you what, shall we go and rescue him?’ He glanced at the LCD clock on the front of Mickey’s video recorder. ‘Still plenty of time before tea.’

  She threw an ‘I don’t believe it’ look at the ceiling. ‘Well, yeah. I pretty much assumed we’d be going to rescue him.’

  The Doctor plonked himself down on the other chair. ‘All right then. I mean, I’m not saying I’ll miss him now he’s gone or anything. But I’d rather he didn’t get kidnapped by aliens on my watch, you know?’

  She nodded, biting back a remark. She still could never tell if he was pretending not to care, some dry humour sort of thing, or if he really didn’t care. And on the whole, she thought it was probably better in the short term if she didn’t find out one way or the other.

  The Doctor didn’t seem to be doing anything, though. She waited for a moment, and then said, ‘Well? Thunderbirds are go, or what?’

  ‘Or what,’ he said. ‘Or did you get a Brownie badge in porcupine tracking?’

  She glared at him. ‘It can’t be that hard. Someone’ll have noticed a giant porcupine walking about the place carrying someone in its arms, or whatever.’

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘Have a sniff.’ She did so, and as she breathed in a sneeze took her by surprise.

  ‘Ooh,’ she said. ‘Better make a wish.’

  ‘How about, “I wish I knew where Mickey had been teleported to”?’ the Doctor suggested.

  ‘Teleport?’ she said. ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘Leaves a distinctive tingle in the air, teleportation,’ the Doctor said. ‘And means our porcupines are fairly technologically advanced an’ all.’

  She shivered, thinking of Mickey’s atoms being broken down and zapped through the air. ‘You’ve managed to reverse teleportation before,’ she said, thinking back to one of their previous adventures.

  ‘Yeah, if I was at the other end where the controls are,’ he said. ‘Sorry, no can do here. No, there’s only one thing for it.’ He grinned, and picked up the games console. ‘Time to go fishing.’

  It took her a moment, but she got it in the end. ‘You’re going to act as bait. You’re going to play the game and hope they come and get you too.’

  ‘Yup.’ He pressed a button on the console. The legend ‘Introduction’ appeared on the screen, and the Doctor grimaced. ‘Right back to the beginning.’

  ‘At least you don’t have to do the training level,’ Rose said. ‘Anyway, we might learn something.’

  Dancing cartoon porcupines shimmied across the TV screen, eventually drawing back to reveal a grainy image of what Rose now knew to be the real aliens.

  ‘Yeah, s’pose you’re right,’ said the Doctor, selecting an on-screen option.

  A graphic flashed, and the introduction began.

  There were a group of porcupine-aliens sitting round a table. It looked like a council of war.

  ‘Fellow Quevvils,’ said a porcupine who had salt-and-pepper facial hair and long quills curving back off his head like a deadly teddy boy, ‘we meet to discuss the threat of the evil Mantodeans.’ The picture cut to footage of the giant praying mantises, then back to the Quevvils at their table.

  ‘But what can we do, Frinel?’ said another of the aliens. ‘We are at a stalemate! We cannot hurt the Mantodeans, and they cannot hurt us!’

  Now it cut to a cartoon showing a Mantodean trying to fix its jaws round a Quevvil’s thick, spiny neck, and finally giving up with a shrug of its feelers. Another cartoon showed a Quevvil shooting a barrage of quills at a Mantodean, only for them to bounce off the insectoid’s tough exoskeleton.

  ‘Looks as if nature had the right idea,’ said the Doctor in an aside to Rose. ‘Two species that could live together in harmony.’ He snorted. ‘Like that’s ever going to happen anywhere in the universe.’

  Back at the table, another Quevvil continued, ‘We have tried to infiltrate the Mantodean stronghold.’

  Cut to a structure rather like one of the great pyramids, only without the point. Mantodeans, dwarfed in comparison, scuttled in and out of the hundreds of doors around its base. The building seemed to be in the middle of a sandy nowhere.

  ‘Looks like a desert planet,’ said the Doctor to Rose. ‘Porcupines and praying mantises are found in deserts on Ear
th. It’d make sense for creatures like that to have evolved there.’

  ‘Really?’ she said. ‘Is that how the universe works?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ he said.

  ‘But the catacombs within are not fit for our impressive bulk,’ continued the Quevvil, ‘And the Mantodeans have seeded their stronghold with fiendish traps.’

  The Quevvil called Frinel narrowed his watery pink eyes, showing his disdain for those who set fiendish traps. ‘Which is why we turned to technology to defeat our foes, developing the extremely clever science of teleportation, to enable us to reach the very centre of the Mantodean stronghold, defeat the enemy, and incidentally provide access to the valuable mineral deposits below.’

  ‘Aha,’ said the Doctor. ‘Look for the money, they always say.’

  ‘But the dishonourable Mantodeans have turned to technology also,’ said Frinel, snarling and showing stumpy but fearsome-looking yellow teeth.

  ‘Porcupines are vegetarians, right?’ said Rose, a bit nervously.

  ‘They have protected their stronghold with a force field. It prevents teleportation! And worse, it is tuned in to Quevvil biology!’

  A cartoon showed a Quevvil trying to run into the pyramid. With a sizzling sound and a lot of jagged lines, it was clearly fried.

  ‘This is terrible!’ cried one of the Quevvils at the council of war. ‘What can we do?’

  ‘I have had an idea,’ said Frinel. ‘We will scour the universe for aliens of great cunning and ingenuity. They will come to Toop and infiltrate the Mantodean stronghold for us. They will evade the traps, and get to the centre. And there they will place this.’ He held up a shiny metal cube. ‘This is the disruptor developed by our scientists. When placed within close range of the Mantodeans’ computer banks it will disrupt all their technology, taking down the force field and allowing us to teleport in – to victory!’

  ‘But where will we find such beings?’ asked a Quevvil.

  Another Quevvil came running up to the table. ‘Frinel! Fellow Quevvils! I have found a planet within range of our teleporters, where the inhabitants are warlike and possessed of great guile.’

  ‘And what is this planet?’ said Frinel.

  The screen cut to an image of a very familiar blue and green globe.

  ‘It is . . . the Earth!’ said the Quevvil.

  ‘Now there’s a turn-up for the books,’ said the Doctor to Rose.

  There was a whirring noise and a jump in the image, and suddenly they were with another Quevvil. A counter in the top right corner read ‘0’.

  ‘Starting the game proper,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘Thank you for rising to the challenge, human,’ said the Quevvil, holding out a disruptor. The Doctor pressed buttons, and the Quevvil took back its hands, now empty. In the bottom of the screen, a little icon appeared, labelled ‘Disruptor: primed’. Then the Quevvil moved aside, revealing a window beyond which was a stretch of desert. In the distance was the enormous truncated pyramid of the Mantodean stronghold. ‘The fate of our race is in your hands,’ the Quevvil said, pulling a lever on the wall. The image shimmered, and suddenly they were looking at a completely different wall, containing a door. As the Doctor manipulated the controls, their point of view moved forward, towards the door.

  ‘Nice when the villains present you with their whole plan in semi-animated form,’ said the Doctor. ‘Saves you having to be tied up and about to die before they’ll reveal anything.’

  ‘You really think they’re telling the truth?’ said Rose. ‘About the force field, and why they need humans and everything?’

  ‘Wouldn’t be at all surprised.’ The Doctor pressed a button, bringing the door into sharp relief. ‘After all, no one’s going to suspect it’s true for a second. And even if they did, even if some human sat down to play this game and thought, “Hang on, maybe these are real aliens telling us about their real enemies,” what are they gonna do about it? Try to tell anyone and they’d get locked up, trust me.’

  ‘And I suppose no one on Earth would even care,’ said Rose, thinking about it. ‘What a bunch of aliens get up to on their own planet is hardly going to bother anyone.’

  On the television, the first puzzle filled the screen. It was different to the mathematical one from last time the Doctor had played the game, but he solved it just as quickly. Once inside, he had to climb through vents, jump across chasms, and negotiate twisting and turning mazes.

  ‘I can see why those fat porcupines couldn’t manage this,’ commented Rose, as the Doctor pressed a combination of buttons to navigate a series of long jumps on to tiny platforms. ‘These are definitely meant for jumping insects.’

  A couple of Mantodeans appeared at the end of a tunnel. The Doctor, leaning forward eagerly, pressed down hard on the controller’s blue button. An icon appeared on the screen, a tiny pistol. ‘Gun selected,’ the graphics read. The Doctor’s finger hovered over the red button.

  Rose caught at his arm. ‘You can’t! You can’t shoot them! They’re real! You’d be killing them.’

  The Doctor hurriedly pressed another button, and the Mantodeans snapped out of view as he ducked down a side tunnel. He sat back, looked at her. ‘I was getting a bit carried away there.’

  She gave him a half-smile. ‘Yeah, me too. I mean, I wanted you to shoot them, for a second. Kill or be killed, and all that.’

  He nodded. ‘Only it isn’t, you’re right. Even if I have to start again, half an hour here or there probably won’t make much difference to Mickey.’

  She hadn’t thought of that, and frowned. But although she’d have gunned down a dozen aliens to get to a Mickey being threatened in front of her, this was different. If the Doctor was right, he was just being made to play video games somewhere. Who knew, they might even be providing him with tea and biscuits. ‘Have you got far to go, do you think?’ she said. ‘Before you get to the end of the game, I mean.’

  ‘I’m not going to get to the end of the game,’ he said, surprising her.

  ‘What, is it too tricky?’ She couldn’t believe that was the case.

  He laughed. ‘As if!’ Then he continued more seriously, ‘We reckon I got further than any other player in a shorter time, right?’

  ‘Right.’ She nodded.

  ‘And we reckon that’s why they took Mickey. Probably because they thought he was their great hope, the only person likely to get to the end of the game. If what they’re saying is true, they only need one person to get to the centre of this place, one person to activate their disruptor. Then that’s it, game over. I do that, they’ll have no need to come looking for me, they’ll have achieved their purpose.’ He gave her a meaningful look. ‘And they’ll have no need for Mickey any more, either.’

  She understood, and shivered a little. ‘Yeah, I get it.’

  ‘So I’m just going to beat my previous score, and then I’m going to stop. And then they’ll come and get me. And –’ he broke off for a moment to jab at the controller – ‘that’s probably going to be any minute now.’

  The Doctor’s fingers flickered over the buttons, and then stopped. He gave a loud sigh, and placed the controller down on the table. ‘There. One hundred points higher. Should get their attention.’

  She felt like a bundle of nerves. Knowing a giant porcupine might appear out of thin air any second wasn’t a relaxing thought. ‘And what do we do when we get there?’ she asked. ‘What’s the plan?’

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Probably should have checked you were up for it, really. You are up for it, aren’t you? Dangerous, and all that.’

  ‘Up for what?’ He could be frustrating sometimes. ‘But of course I am. You know I am. Always.’

  He grinned. ‘Yeah, I know that. Well, you’d better get behind this chair then.’

  She glared at him. ‘If you think I’m hiding while you run off into goodness knows what . . .’

  ‘No, no, no,’ he said hastily. ‘Just, if they see both of us, they’ll capture both of us, right? So they have to just see me, then
there’s one of us free to let the other out. Grab my ankle, then the teleportation field should take you as well. They won’t be expecting someone else the other end. With any luck you’ll be able to crawl away before they notice you.’

  She was aghast. ‘That’s the brilliant plan?’

  He held out his hands. ‘It’ll work! Those thick necks they’ve got, they won’t be able to look down properly. You’ll be way out of their field of vision.’

  She wasn’t convinced, but knew she probably couldn’t come up with a better plan in time. ‘Couldn’t you be the one hiding?’ she asked as a last resort.

  ‘I’m over six foot!’ he said. ‘Catch me fitting behind this.’ He patted the chair. ‘And the shame of it! Hiding behind a chair from a monster? Me?’

  Rose raised her eyebrows at him, but got up anyway, and crawled into the gap between the seat and the wall. The Doctor arranged a throw so it was more or less covering her. ‘Oh, gross!’ she called out. ‘No one’s hoovered back here since the Dark Ages.’ A second later: ‘I’ve just found a biscuit.’ A second later: ‘I’ve just found a pound coin.’ A second later, worriedly: ‘I don’t know what I’ve just found, but I’ve put my elbow right in it . . .’

  And a second later, she could smell something. A tang in the air, as if she’d just been spritzed with lemon juice. Her tongue and nostrils were fizzing.

  ‘This is it,’ said the Doctor, perching on the arm of the chair above her. ‘Hold tight.’

  She grabbed hold of his bony ankle, reflecting in a distracted way how odd it was that a 900-year-old alien from outer space wore diamond-print socks, just like they’d used to sell at the shop where she’d worked, £8.99 for three pairs, breathable cotton weave.

  There was a crash; they’d smashed open the front door again. And then the Doctor was standing up, and saying really unconvincingly, ‘Oh no! Why are you pointing a gun at me? I’ll come quietly.’

  And she just had time to see, from under the draped throw, a pair of clawed legs obscuring her view of the screen, which was showing a load of angry Mantodeans swarming around, clacking their jaws together.