Doctor Who BBCN22 - Martha in the Mirror

by Doctor Who

  They left him alone with his memories.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  134

  ‘So we just turn off the mirror thing and that’s it?’ Martha asked.

  ‘Well, the controls are deadlock sealed so I’ll have to work out how to shut it down gracefully.’ The Doctor grinned. ‘But yes, that’s about it.’

  ‘And that traps the Zerugians inside.’

  ‘For the moment. We can always let them out later.’

  ‘And we’d do that – why exactly?’

  ‘Would you want to spend longer in there than you have to?’

  ‘But they’re planning to kill everyone at the conference.

  Aren’t they?’

  ‘They’re soldiers. I think they’re just obeying orders. Which is no excuse, but since Colonel Blench’s soldiers are in effect unarmed I don’t think there’d be much of a fight. Not here at any rate. But once they have control of Castle Extremis, Anthium is only a metaphorical stone’s throwaway. Nothing else in the way to prevent them, just rolling in.’

  ‘Invasion?’

  ‘Conquest. But we’ll stop them.’

  The Great Hall was empty, the doors standing open. ‘I guess the canapés and drinks are somewhere else then.’ Martha’s voice echoed in the empty room.

  They walked slowly towards the mirror – which looked exactly like an ordinary mirror. Martha found it hard to believe that she had actually been into the mirror, been trapped inside it.

  ‘Right,’ the Doctor announced. ‘Bit of a delicate operation, but for a genius like me it shouldn’t take too long. Just shut down the Mortal Mirror and we’re done.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  The Doctor had his sonic screwdriver in one hand, and in the other he was holding the glass diary. He flipped it open and held it up to the mirror to see the reflected writing.

  ‘There was a bit in here about how the thing works. I only skimmed through it, but with a bit of luck it’ll give us some 135

  clues about shutting the thing down again . . . ’

  Something moved. In the reflection; behind the images of Martha and the Doctor. Martha caught just a glimpse, as the Doctor flipped over another thin, brittle, glass page. A flicker of motion. Where was it?

  She peered into the mirror – and saw that something was moving on the side wall of the Great Hall.

  At first she thought it was one of the suits of armour, poised on a plinth in an alcove. Then she realised it was just the figure’s sword. As she watched, the sword lifted free, as if of its own accord.

  ‘Doctor!’ She pointed at the reflected sword, now catching the light as it twisted towards them.

  ‘Mmm?’ He turned to look at her. Saw over her shoulder.

  Froze.

  Tearing her gaze from the sword dangling impossibly in the air in the mirror, Martha also turned.

  The sword was held by a man – the expert and historian Thorodin. He angled it towards the Doctor and Martha.

  ‘You can’t stop us now,’ he snarled.

  The flickering light danced along the blade of the sword. It reflected off Thorodin’s hand, off his face.

  Martha checked the mirror – and saw that he cast no reflection.

  When she turned back, Thorodin was charging towards them. His left arm raised behind him balancing his sword arm.

  And Martha saw that the trailing arm had no hand. It ended in a broken, ragged stump, facets reflecting the light like mirrors.

  The sword sliced through the air. The Doctor spun away, but not quite fast enough.

  The blade caught the Doctor’s hand, as he parried with the only thing he had. The sword jarred on the glass book and sent it spinning across the room. The Doctor and Martha both leaped back.

  136

  With an explosion of sound, the diary hit the ground and shattered into fragments. The floor was strewn with shards of broken glass, glittering and shining.

  Just as Thorodin’s face was glittering and shining. The sword arced again, ready to slash down.

  The Doctor sucked his fingers, looking annoyed more than scared.

  And Martha stared at the man in utter disbelief – the man who cast no reflection in the mirror.

  ‘He’s made of glass,’ she gasped.

  137

  ‘Areyouthemaninthemirror?’ theDoctordemandedas he backed away. ‘Was it you following us?’

  Martha was backing off too, but away from the Doctor. If they kept separate, Thorodin would have two targets to deal with. One of them should be able to get to the door and go for help.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Thorodin said, turning and swinging the sword as he tried to keep both of them in view. ‘And, you know what? I don’t care.’

  He charged at the Doctor again, who stepped nimbly aside.

  ‘I’d offer you a hand,’ he said. ‘Only I gave it back to Stellman.

  It was your hand, wasn’t it?’

  Thorodin didn’t answer. He thrust the sword at the Doctor again, and again the Doctor dodged aside at the last moment.

  ‘No idea what I’m on about?’ the Doctor wondered. ‘Got you stumped has it?’

  ‘That’s awful,’ Martha told him. She leaped out of the way of the backswing as Thorodin wielded the sword once more.

  The glass man missed the Doctor again. The sword smashed into one of the suits of armour. The armour collapsed in a 139

  clanging heap. The helmet bounced across the floor. A sword clattered, and the Doctor snatched it up.

  ‘Ha-ha!’ he cried. ‘Have at you.’ He raised the sword, but it was a heavy and cumbersome gesture. ‘Ah, no – hang on.’

  The metal gauntlet from the armour was still attached to the handle, and the Doctor tugged it free and tossed it away. He tested the weight of the sword as he waited for Thorodin to close in. ‘That’s better. Have at you!’ he tried again.

  They were blocking the route between Martha and the door as they fought. She tried to edge round and past a couple of times. But, on each occasion, Thorodin swung at her, and Martha was forced to retreat.

  The Doctor seemed to be enjoying himself. He easily parried Thorodin’s sword thrusts, but was unable to get through the man’s guard. They circled each other warily and attacked again.

  Thorodin lunged suddenly forward. The Doctor was up against the long table and was forced to lean back over it.

  Blades locked, and the Doctor managed to force Thorodin back. But not for long. Thorodin thrust again, and the Doctor leaped backwards – up and onto the table.

  ‘Got you now!’ the Doctor declared. He swung the sword down at Thorodin.

  The glass man stepped back, and the sword continued down, biting deep into the side of the table at the Doctor’s feet.

  He heaved at it, but the sword was stuck.

  And Thorodin was coming at him again.

  ‘Time for Plan B, Martha,’ the Doctor shouted.

  ‘What’s Plan B?’

  The Doctor was tap-dancing out of the way on the table as Thorodin’s sword swept at him. ‘It’s what you do when your first plan goes a bit wonky.’ He leaped back off the table. ‘And this is looking pretty wonky to me.’

  ‘No, I mean – what’s Plan B? What is it? What do we do?’

  140

  The Doctor backed away as Thorodin came at him again. He was standing close to Martha now. ‘I was kind of hoping you’d been working on that while I was busy.’

  Thorodin hurled himself at them, shrieking in rage, sword raised.

  ‘Run!’ Martha yelled.

  ‘Yeah,’ the Doctor agreed, racing after her, Thorodin at his heels. ‘That’ll do it. Good plan.’

  Martha reached the doors from the Great Hall ahead of the Doctor, and turned to see how close he was. How close Thorodin was, too.

  As she turned, she saw a blur of movement between the two men. Thorodin was bringing his sword down fast. It looked as though the blade would slice into the Doctor’s back or shoulder.

  But then wha
t looked like a bundle of scruffy rags rolled out from under a side table and tangled in Thorodin’s feet.

  The man went flying. His sword skidded across the floor.

  The bundle unrolled and resolved itself into the shape of a young girl, who leaped to her feet and dashed after Martha and the Doctor.

  ‘Janna!’

  Thorodin crashed to the floor. His scream cut through the air like broken glass. Martha watched, horrified, unable to look away. The Doctor running towards her, Janna close behind. And Thorodin, pushing himself up from the floor. Looking at her. His face cracked across from the top left of his forehead to under his chin on the right, one half slightly mis-aligned with the other. He staggered to his feet, and scooped up his sword. He held it awkwardly in crazed fingers.

  ‘Come on, Martha,’ the Doctor yelled, grabbing her as he rushed past. His other arm gathered Janna and dragged her along as well.

  Out into the corridor, Thorodin hurling himself after them, sword slicing the air. The Doctor, Martha and Janna raced 141

  along the corridor. Martha could feel the breeze on the back of her neck as the sword swept past.

  Then a figure stepped out of the shadows ahead of them.

  Stellman.

  ‘Doctor, duck!’ he shouted.

  ‘That’s me,’ the Doctor confirmed. ‘Bit busy right now though. Maybe if you made an appointment?’

  ‘No,’ Martha yelled in his ear. ‘He means duck!’ She hurled herself to the floor, dragging the Doctor and Janna with her.

  Stellman raised the glass gun and fired.

  The gunshot was a massive echoing percussion of sound in the stone corridor. Martha looked up from the floor in time to see Thorodin’s whole side smash and breakaway.

  Another shot. The glass head exploded into fragments, and the body crashed forwards. It shattered on the hard stone floor. Shards of glass whipped past Martha’s face.

  Stellman walked calmly past them. He nudged one of the larger fragments of what had been Thorodin with the toe of his boot. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘There’s something you don’t see every day.’

  ‘Glass man shattered with a glass bullet from a glass gun,’

  the Doctor said, picking himself up and dusting himself down.

  ‘Seems appropriate.’

  ‘Very,’ Stellman agreed. ‘Considering I found it in his room.’

  ‘You search everyone’s rooms?’ Martha said.

  ‘Of course. You can’t be too careful.’

  ‘You’ve searched my room?’ she was scandalised.

  ‘Yours and the Doctor’s, as soon as I knew you were here.’

  ‘Can’t have taken you long,’ the Doctor said. ‘We travel light.

  Good job you found that gun though,’ he went on. ‘Thorodin was dangerous enough with his sword. If he could have shot us, he would have. You should be grateful, Martha.’

  ‘Oh yeah, cheers. Thanks.’ She knew her room was empty, but even so she resented Stellman’s intrusion.

  142

  Stellman seemed more bothered by the gun. He turned it over in his hand. ‘You know, I assumed it was glass so he could get it past the weapons detectors. Now I’m not so sure.’

  ‘It’s the gun he used to shoot the real man,’ Janna said.

  ‘When he came out of the mirror.’

  ‘You saw him?’ Martha realised. ‘Thorodin was the man you saw come out of the mirror?’

  The girl nodded.

  ‘He came out of a mirror?’ Stellman said. He gave a short laugh. ‘You are kidding me, right?’

  ‘Wrong,’ the Doctor told him. ‘Look – he was made of glass.

  Of course he came out of a mirror. Where else would he have come from?’

  ‘Stained glass window, maybe?’ Martha offered.

  ‘Yes, all right, well, I suppose that’s possible,’ the Doctor conceded.

  ‘The city of glass on the glass planet of the glass people?’

  Stellman suggested. ‘And aren’t there glass deserts and a pyra-mid on San Kaloon?’

  ‘Yeah, all right, so several possibilities then. But actually, he came out of the Mortal Mirror. And Janna saw him, didn’t you?’ He turned round. ‘Didn’t you? Janna?’

  But the girl had gone.

  ‘She doesn’t hang around,’ Martha said.

  ‘She’s an odd one and no mistake,’ Stellman agreed. ‘You know, she had a twin sister . . . ’

  ‘It has been mentioned,’ Martha assured him.

  ‘I think we need to find Janna,’ the Doctor said. ‘See what else she knows.’

  ‘All of us?’ Martha asked, rolling her eyes towards Stellman.

  ‘What? Oh . . . Stellman, can you try and delay this official opening ceremony thing? Or at least get it shifted to somewhere other than the Great Hall?’

  ‘I can try. Is it important?’ He caught the Doctor’s glare. ‘It’s important. OK, I’ll do what I can.’

  143

  ‘And we’ll go and ask Janna how come she doesn’t have a reflection,’ Martha said as Stellman left them. ‘I mean, that’s got to be important, right? Thorodin had no reflection and neither does Janna.’

  ‘Oh, they both have reflections,’ the Doctor told her. ‘Or did.’ He kicked aside some of the shattered glass strewn across the floor.

  ‘Janna doesn’t have a reflection,’ Martha said. ‘You know that. You pointed that out to me.’

  ‘I was wrong,’ he said simply. ‘Janna has a reflection and you’ve seen it. Maybe even spoken to it. You followed it into the maze, remember?’

  Bill balanced the dented helmet on top of the suit of armour he’d just finished putting back together. ‘There we go. What do you think, Bott?’

  ‘Very nice, Bill,’ Bott said. He was making his way slowly round the Great Hall looking for a sword which one of the other suits of armour seemed to have mislaid. ‘No sign of that sword in here.’

  ‘Never mind. No one will notice.’

  ‘I expect it will turn up. Things usually do.’

  ‘You been invited to this signing ceremony press conference event, Bott?’ Bill asked.

  ‘Not me, Bill. Have you?’

  ‘No,’ Bill said. ‘But I think we should be there.’

  ‘So do I,’ Bott agreed. ‘We might be needed.’

  ‘Got to keep everything nice and tidy,’ Bill said. He spun slowly round inspecting the Great Hall. They had moved the long table to the side of the room and put out rows of chairs.

  ‘Didn’t like sweeping up that glass,’ Bott said.

  ‘Doesn’t do my vacuum attachment any good at all.’ Bill agreed. ‘Nasty sharp stuff. Shan’t be sorry if I never have to clear up any more glass again ever.’

  144

  ‘Something gets broken, Bill, and guess who has to clear it up,’ Bott told him. ‘Anyway, we’ve still got the 7.1 Quadra-phonic Tarantula Surround Sound System to set up.’

  ‘Let’s get it now.’

  There was an edge of satisfaction in Bill’s voice as they emerged into the corridor. ‘Yes, the whole castle is looking very tidy, Bott.’

  ‘All ready for the ceremony, Bill.’

  ‘We’ve done them – and ourselves – proud.’

  They rounded a corner of the corridor. And stopped.

  ‘Where the blooming heck did all this glass come from?’ Bill exclaimed.

  ‘No idea,’ Bott said. ‘But like I said, guess who has to clear it all up.’

  ‘Did you manage to shut down the mirror?’ Martha asked.

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘But now that Thorodin – or whoever it was that clothed himself in Thorodin’s reflected light – now he’s out of the way, there’s no one to switch it on.’

  ‘Unless he had an accomplice,’ Martha said.

  ‘Ever the optimist,’ the Doctor said, smiling. ‘We know Thorodin killed Chekz, or at least had a hand in it.’ He paused for Martha to laugh, and when she made a point of not doing so went on. ‘He clonked Gonfer over the head and then stalked after us
in the monk’s outfit.’

  ‘Er,’ Martha said.

  ‘He followed you into the maze for some reason.’

  ‘Ah,’ Martha said.

  ‘And finally, if further proof were needed . . . ’ The Doctor stopped and turned to face Martha, frowning. ‘What are you doing that for?’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘“Er” and “Ah” and all that stuff.’

  ‘Because the monk man wasn’t Thorodin. I mean, I only got a glimpse of his face, but it wasn’t him.’

  145

  ‘Er,’ said the Doctor. ‘Ah . . . Yes, I can see where it’s coming from now.’ He let out an explosive sigh. ‘So who is the monk?’

  he demanded in exasperation.

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’ Martha suggested. She pointed along the corridor.

  Further along, stepping out from an alcove into the flickering light, was a hooded figure wearing a long, dark cloak.

  ‘Assuming it isn’t one of Gonfer’s mates,’ the Doctor said.

  But from his tone, Martha could tell he didn’t think it was.

  Another figure stepped out of the alcove. At first Martha thought it was Janna. But as she followed the Doctor along the passage, towards the two figures waiting for them, she saw how the light reflected off the girl’s face, her hair, her clothes.

  Like they were made of glass.

  The monk reached up slowly with one hand and pushed back the hood of the cloak.

  Martha recognised the face beneath, even though she had only glimpsed it before. The chipped nose, the hairline cracks across the features. A face made of old, brittle glass.

  In his other hand, the monk was holding something. A book. The glass diary – but that was impossible, the diary had been smashed to pieces.

  The Doctor stopped in front of the two glass figures. ‘I know who you are, Janna,’ he said. ‘And I can make a good guess now at you,’ he said to the monk.

  ‘I am not Janna,’ the girl said. Her voice was Janna’s and yet it wasn’t. It sounded lighter, more fragile.

  ‘Her reflection then,’ Martha said.

  The girl shook her head, strands of delicate hair catching the light. ‘Janna’s dead. She’s been dead for years.’