by Doctor Who
They were standing in a messy wreck of a control room. The floor was packed with earth; it felt warm through his shoes, gently quivering. Banks of soil were heaped here and there around controls, which looked like vast, bristling tree roots. Maggoty things squirmed in the piles, wrapping themselves round levers and switches. In place of the sort of sci-fi scanners and monitors Basel had expected, cobwebbed sacs wobbled on mounds of mud here and there; some showed ghostly black-and-white images of the carnage outside, others showed nothing but interference patterns.
Basel gulped. ‘This thing was really built by aliens?’
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‘Nah. Adapted from living organisms. A technological powerhouse built using nature’s bounty. . . ’ The Doctor paused. ‘I’ve always been able to take or leave Bounties. Prefer Double Deckers. D’you have Double Deckers in Africa, Basel?’
‘Prisoners will be silent,’ announced a thin, muffled voice from ground level. Basel jumped and swore, while the Doctor stared, fas-cinated, as two of the huge, white Wurms pushed up from out of the ground in front of them, coiling and flexing like enormous tubes of flesh. Clumps of wet, white earth clung to their segmented bodies like uniform or armour and were crawling with insect life. The bigger of the two creatures sported a tangle of thick green creepers on top of his glistening, featureless head, like a crown.
‘Flex your ambulatory limbs and point downwards!’ said the smaller of the two Wurms, his voice clearer now he was above ground.
Basel stared at the creatures in disgust. ‘Do what?’
‘Kneel,’ the Doctor translated.
‘At once!’ roared the Wurm.
‘Do as the Knight-Major orders,’ said Faltato, and Basel quickly obeyed.
‘Cor!’ cried the Doctor. ‘It’s Korr! And judging by the niff, that’s Korr as in “rotten to the. . . ”’
‘Abase yourselves at the belly of King Ottak!’ Korr said gruffly.
The Doctor waved a hand in front of his nose, put on his glasses and studied the creature closely. ‘Which bit is the royal belly?’
Korr squirted a dark fluid into the Doctor’s face, so hard it knocked his glasses off his nose. The liquid was rank and salty, and it splashed over Basel’s face too, stung his eyes. Quickly the Doctor joined Basel on his knees.
‘That is better,’ said the crowned Wurm, his voice boomy and bassy, as if it was distorting through an overloaded speaker.
‘Stick these bipeds in the cages,’ growled Korr. ‘They are valueless.’
‘The spirited one is not of this world, Majesty,’ said Faltato. ‘I believe he is a rival art scout, here to make his own assessment of the haul.’
‘I’m not,’ the Doctor declared, sticking his dripping glasses back in his pocket. ‘As it is, I’m just travelling through. But I’d take very good 115
care of me – very, very, very good care – and you know why?’ He stood back up. ‘Because you’re going to need me.’
‘We need no one and nothing,’ boomed King Ottak, writhing in anger like a fat, blind serpent. ‘Faltato, have you located the deactivation plaque?’
‘I have, Your Majesty,’ Faltato replied graciously, five eyelids fluttering. ‘It was well hidden, as ever. But alas, deactivation will not be straightforward. It lies buried beneath a rock-fall.’
‘You have the coordinates?’
‘Naturally I do, sire.’
‘Deactivation plaque?’ the Doctor wondered. ‘Suppose the Valnaxi would want to get back in some day and pick up their valuables – if they’d won, of course.’
‘Do not speak such blasphemy in my presence!’ King Ottak roared, squirming over with alarming speed, like a snake on steroids. ‘The Valnaxi could never win. We are the conquerors of space, the destroy-ers of worlds. And Earth will soon rank among them.’
The Doctor looked up at him coolly. ‘Oh?’
‘We shall wipe out the Valnaxi guardians, seize their artworks, lay waste to their shrines and devastate this entire planet. Every last stinking spore of the Valnaxi must be wiped from the biosphere.’
‘And why d’you wanna do that, then?’
‘To avenge our dead.’
‘Oh. Right.’ The Doctor pulled a face. ‘Just a thought – d’you think the dead will take much notice?’
Korr reared up and lashed out at the Doctor with his tapering head, sending him sprawling into one of the control mounds in a shower of mud. ‘Insolent biped,’ he wheezed.
‘Call me all the names you like.’ The Doctor glared up at him. ‘I won’t let you do this.’
‘Ten-toed scum, you cannot stop us! We shall wring from your world what nutrients we can, then leave it barren and dead, a final monument to the art of destruction.’
Basel looked at the Doctor. ‘He’s mad,’ he whispered.
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King Ottak shivered with what might have been rage or laughter, agitating the insects in his stinking soil.
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Anewdaywaspokingoutitsnosefromnight’sblanket. Rosewished the light away, wished the dawn light would darken till she could see nothing at all.
She felt like she was being marched through hell. Once outside the main complex, the stench, the heat and the sights and sounds of battle fixed every step with horror. Corpses, chewed up and charred, lay scattered all about, yet still the golems kept coming – bats and birds, even gleaming, mutated Wurms – and still the dull wet splats of the mud guns echoed on. For a few moments she had been grateful for the stinking smoke drifting across the concourse that hid the worst from view – until she realised it was ash from roasted bones, and she was breathing it in.
Adiel’s hand found her own and Rose gripped hold of it. Fynn was walking ahead of them, leading the way as if he needed to act the big Director even now. The Wurms were lumbering along behind them. Rose could hear the sickening squelching of their bodies as they bunched up and stretched out, propelling themselves along the churned-up ground, felt their shadows falling over her.
Heard a vengeful, high-pitched humming noise sweep towards her.
‘Pause,’ one of the Wurms hissed wetly in her ear.
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Rose saw a shimmering cloud of golden smoke pull itself from out of the wind-blown ash.
‘Mosquitoes,’ Fynn shouted. ‘More guardians!’
The Wurms curled down behind her and Adiel, and suddenly she realised they weren’t just being marched ahead of their captors. They were human shields. Rose stood dead still, but before she could even start to think of what to do, the cloud of mosquitoes parted like a gauzy curtain around them and moved on.
Adiel was almost breaking Rose’s hand she was squeezing so tight.
‘How come they didn’t attack us?’
Next second, Rose felt sticky wet flesh slapped up against her cheek as one of the Wurms pressed against her. The words seeped into her ear, accusingly. ‘You ally yourselves with the Valnaxi creatures?’
‘Look out!’ Adiel shouted, as a livid gold blur beat a path through the smog, an eagle or something, snapping at the Wurms. Fluid jetted over Rose’s shoulder as her guard’s flesh was torn by beak or claw.
The Wurm holding her gave a gurgling roar of anger and coiled itself about her, soggy segments contracting against her skin as it writhed upwards, lifted her kicking and screaming into the path of the golem.
It’ll rip me to pieces, she thought.
But the misshapen eagle gave a screech of anger and backed off.
The other Wurm grabbed Adiel in much the same way, held her up like she was a living crucifix seeing off a swooping vampire. The eagle-thing soon gave up and went away.
Rose caught Adiel’s eye; they connected in baffled expressions: I dunno what happened either.
‘Continue your ambulation,’ Adiel’s Wurm told Fynn.
‘Gonna put me down?’ Rose said as casually as she could.
‘No,’ the Wurm replied, a deep gouge in its face the only visible feature as it turned to its comrade. ‘Hurry. We must report to the king.
The guardians do not attack the human bipeds.’
‘Since when?’
said Adiel, gasping as the Wurms set off again.
‘What’s changed?’
∗ ∗ ∗
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Basel wiped sweat from his face, longing for a line of passive pills and a cold drink of water to wash them down with. He watched King Ottak squirming about the control room, peering at each of the crackling muddy monitor screens in turn, conferring with Korr. They were getting reports from the field, Basel supposed – at least it was taking the heat off him and the Doctor, sat deep in thought beside him.
Then suddenly Korr steamed over, raining dollops of smelly white soil down all around, and the heat was turned back up to baking.
‘Explain the nature of your people’s alliance with the Valnaxi.’
‘We haven’t got one!’ Basel protested.
‘But I can see why you might think so,’ said the Doctor, getting slowly back up to his feet, staring past Basel at one of the monitors.
It showed an aerial view of Adiel and Rose in the grip of two Wurrns, Fynn in front of them, being herded across the ruined concourse.
‘They’ve caught everyone,’ Basel breathed. Then he realised that gathered all around were golems. Insects, birds, dogs – a writhing mutated Wurm too – moving along like a grisly escort, matching them pace for pace. ‘What’s that lot doing? Waiting for the moment to strike?’
‘Or to step in and try to save them,’ the Doctor murmured. He raised his voice, turning to the king. ‘I hope you treat your prisoners well.’
‘Afraid for yourself, Doctor?’ Faltato sneered.
‘Afraid for all of you,’ he said simply, no trace of humour in his voice now, ‘because if anything bad happens to Rose and I think it’s your fault. . . ’
‘I have never observed such behaviour in the guardian drones,’ said Korr, ignoring him. ‘None have acted this way in any of the other warrens.’
‘It is as if they have been programmed not to attack human bipeds,’
mused the king. ‘And yet we have seen converted humans in the ranks of our enemies.’
‘No doubt the deactivation plaque was damaged in the rock-fall,’
said Faltato. ‘It is malfunctioning.’
Ottak nodded. ‘Perhaps.’
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‘It’s interesting.’ The Doctor was smiling. ‘Don’t you think that’s interesting, Basel? I told King Ottak he’d need me. Didn’t I tell him!’
Ottak shuffled slowly towards them, his voice quiet and dangerous.
‘What assistance can you offer us?’
‘Well, for a start. . . ’ The Doctor pointed to a static-filled screen, unfazed. ‘The Valnaxi know your bio-tech, right? They can detect your scan frequencies and block them – so you can’t see inside that mountain.’ He held up the data-get. ‘I can.’
‘Irrelevant,’ Korr said, though still he stretched out his segmented body towards them, straining obscenely to see. ‘We have Faltato’s intelligence on the warren.’
‘ Limited intelligence.’ The Doctor winked at Faltato. ‘He can give you coordinates for the deactivation panel. Well, whoop-de-doo!’ He patted the data-get. This baby can show you the entire layout of the Valnaxi warren at a glance, allow you to pinpoint every guardian in the place. You can have a butcher’s at their defences, plan how to strike at the heart of their stronghold.’
‘Don’t trust him, Knight-Major,’ Faltato twittered.
‘Oh, shut your slit,’ the Doctor taunted him. ‘Got you going, haven’t I? Eh? Touched a nerve or what! Just ’cause you didn’t think to make one.’
A mechanical probe-arm whirred out from a stump of raw flesh growing from Korr’s torso and took hold of the data-get. He presented it to his king.
‘Think they’ll buy it?’ Basel asked.
The Doctor nodded. ‘Think they’ll try and take it.’
‘Then what?’
‘Wait and see. In about, oooh, three, two, one. . . ’
Korr turned and waved his blind, quivering head at the Doctor.
‘Your scanning machine cannot function as you say it can.’
He winked at Basel, placed one hand behind his back. ‘Let me guess – you’ve noticed the data-get’s memory’s getting clogged by the amount of scan data available, right?’ Basel saw him discreetly drop some tiny circuits and press them into the dirt beneath his heel. ‘Mem-ory wafers! They’ll fix it up in three seconds flat. . . ’
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‘Where can memory wafers be acquired?’ Korr wheezed.
The Doctor looked at Basel, wide-eyed and innocent. ‘Oooh, I dunno. Lab in the unit’s probably our best bet, wouldn’t you say, Basel? Specially as there’ll be other bipeds loitering there. Ones the Wurms haven’t caught yet.’
Basel frowned. ‘What ones?’
‘The staff.’ The Doctor gave him a play-along look. The unit offers the only shelter. Most likely place they’ll go.’ He strolled over to a monitor which now showed Adiel, Fynn and Rose being hustled into some kind of muddy prison area. He tapped the image of Fynn before it vanished inside something that looked like a giant walnut. That man is the Director of this complex.’
‘He is a prisoner of war,’ stated Korr. ‘Like all prisoners, he will be questioned for information on the enemy, then executed and allowed to enrich the soil with the gush of his bodily fluids.’
‘One approach,’ the Doctor conceded. ‘But think about it. Aren’t all your prisoners worth more to you alive? These humans seem to be the most powerful defence you’ve got right now. And Director Fynn’s staff in the unit will surrender to him if he orders them to – no question!
They’ll give you no trouble, and you’ll get yourselves a job lot of living shields.’
‘Patrol seven found no further trace of biped activity in the unit grounds,’ Korr argued.
King Ottak seemed to consider. ‘But battle analysis supports the theory that the guardian drones are not attacking bipeds. . . ’
Basel looked at the Doctor and spoke in the softest of voices. ‘What happens if they ask Fynn and find out you’re lying?’
‘Then they’ll kill me a little sooner,’ said the Doctor simply.
Rose had never been happier to be locked away. Her ribs were bruised, her clothes slimy and damp, and while she didn’t feel exactly safe, at least the ordeal of crossing the battleground was over. They’d reached the Wurm ship and entered down a steep, winding tunnel of wet earth, eerily lit by luminous green bugs scuttling in the filth, all the way to some kind of holding area. The cell was dimly lit, hard and 123
knobbly like walnut shell, and only a little bigger. But at least it was just her, Fynn and Adiel – no Wurms or golems.
Not that Adiel and Fynn seemed ecstatic at being in such close prox-imity. They sat in a silence as uncomfortable as the bony cell floor, with Rose squashed up in the middle. She had a feeling that she was about to become a referee.
‘Just tell me it’s true, Fynn,’ Adiel said slowly. ‘Then tell me why.’
Fynn didn’t answer.
Rose placed a hand on Adiel’s, ‘What happened to your parents?’
‘There had been fighting in Moundou. Didn’t think much about it at first – I mean, there’s always been fighting, probably always will be.’
Adiel shrugged. ‘My parents were driving across the Chad border to help at one of the refugee camps. There was an ambush, witnesses said they were shot.’
‘Why?’ whispered Rose. ‘Why do that?’
‘Different factions, different ethnic groups vying for power and money and good land. . . So rebels fight the government, rebels fight among themselves, they stage shows of strength and take territory. . . ’
‘Sounds familiar,’ said Rose sadly, wondering how long the Wurm war had gone on.
‘In the end, they’re not just fighting the government, they’re attacking the civilians they were supposed to protect. But this little campaign was different.’ Adiel looked at
Fynn, whose head was still hanging down. ‘The rebels didn’t just kill and loot from the innocent.
They kidnapped people. Beat them, bundled them into their trucks and drove off with them.’
Fynn sat up a little straighter. ‘I lost my father to scum like that.
Sacrificed for a ragbag cause. For nothing at all.’
‘Then why did you deal with filth like Roba Isako?’ hissed Adiel.
‘What did Guwe mean when he talked about your experiments –’
‘How many people have died in this conflict?’ Fynn shouted at her.
‘Centuries of ethnic violence, of factions set on wiping each other out, on gaining power for themselves. The bloodshed goes on, how can it ever be resolved? And with the death and disruption comes disease, comes poverty, comes famine. More death.’ His whole body was shak-124
ing. ‘Death with no meaning on such a scale. But if the deaths must go on, I can give them meaning. No one should die in vain.’
Rose suddenly felt more scared than ever. ‘What’re you on about?’
‘There is not enough food to go round, not enough land on which to grow it,’ said Fynn, suddenly calm and controlled again. ‘But imagine if I could farm the dead. . . ’
A thick silence settled inside the shell.
‘You bought bodies from Isako,’ Adiel croaked.
‘I had to,’ said Fynn quietly. ‘I needed preliminary results if I was to get proper funding!’
‘You took dead bodies here and you tried to grow your fungus on them?’
‘It was too soon,’ he said bitterly. ‘My work was not yet advanced enough. Only by making the fungus toxic and useless as a food source could I –’
‘You’re sick.’ Rose remembered the cave of skeletons, the cobwebby fur on their bones. ‘I’ve seen the evidence, Adiel. There’s bones, just. . .
just lying there.’ She rounded on him. ‘No wonder you wanted that side of the tunnels shut off, so no one would ever find out. What you did was disgusting. The dead deserve respect.’
‘We owe respect to the living!’ Fynn argued just as hotly. ‘Would you rather these people died in vain? For nothing, like my father?