by Nick Walters
The Doctor looked at a loss for a second, glanced at Peri, and then sighed. ‘I suggest we go along with your plan.’
Peri gaped, but one look from the Doctor was enough to tell her he was biding his time. Let the soldier-boys do all the shouting while the Doctor worked everything out in the background.
‘Right!’ said Melrose, sounding pleased with himself. ‘I suggest we head for the structure Lt Meharg sighted a few hours ago.’
‘What structure?’ asked Peri.
The Doctor led her a little way off, and pointed along one of the avenues of trees. In the distance, a good few miles off, something rose into the clouds, like a fairytale castle, only more organic-looking.
‘It’s a fair guess that it’s a centre of civilisation,’ explained the Doctor. ‘Let’s hope the natives are friendly.’
Melrose called for everyone’s attention, but another, softer voice cut across his hectoring tones.
‘Before we set off, there’s something you all should know.’
Everyone turned to look at Aline.
Her pale face looked strained with tension. She had her arms folded in front of her, hugging the leather jacket to her.
‘What’s the matter, Aline?’ said the Doctor.
Aline took a deep breath. Peri could see there was a lot going on behind those large brown eyes. ‘Ten years ago, I headed up a contact mission to investigate a new life form, which hadn’t responded to any attempts to communicate with it. I had - I have - wide experience of all types of alien species, so I went in.
This creature... I can’t begin to describe it and it’s not important now.
It sensed I was receptive to it and tried to mentally bond with me. It was too much for my mind - for any human - and I -
well, I lost my mind for a while.’ She tried a smile which looked ghastly ‘But I’m all right now.’
‘You have my sympathies,’ said Melrose, in a voice which implied the exact opposite, ‘but is this relevant?’
‘It may be,’ said Aline, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. ‘When we first got here, I sensed a presence.’
Melrose snorted and Lt Meharg gave a short sneering laugh. ‘Why didn’t you tell us before?’ said the Doctor.
‘I wasn’t sure, there was too much else going on - landing the shuttle, getting everyone away...’
‘What sort of presence?’
‘I don’t know, but it was similar to the thing that drove me out of my mind.’
‘Similar in what way?’
Aline’s dark eyes were fixed on the Doctor as she spoke.
‘Old. And powerful. And more alien than anything any human has ever encountered.’
Chapter Ten
The Sleeping Beast
Vale Commander Kikker stood among the flickering shadows on a gantry above the pit and watched his hunters feed and copulate. Over a third of the ship’s store of prey had been broken out for the hundred-plus hunters. There would be enough left for this survey, but after that they’d need to replenish their stocks. More hunting, more delay - but Kikker knew he couldn’t deny his hunters the pleasure of fresh, living flesh.
Kikker gazed into the embers of a fire far below. Perhaps there wouldn’t need to be another stop. Perhaps, after so long, this was it, their long search over at last. The prospect filled Kikker with surges of pride, followed quickly by a sinking sense of disappointment. What would he do, once he’d completed the Great Mission? It had been going on so long he could hardly remember Valeth Skettra. Better, perhaps, if it never ended - but no. Kikker wanted the honour. Maybe, once the Great Mission was over and Kikker’s immortal glory was assured, he’d take his own life. It would be the perfect point at which to end.
Kikker took a bite from the chunk of synthetic flesh he carried with him and chewed absently, trying not to notice the dismaying lack of taste. Another reason Kikker wanted the Great Mission Over. Unlike his loyal Vale Guards, he was entitled to fresh prey, but to set an example he’d taken a vow to abstain until the successful conclusion of the Great Mission. This sent a strong message to Vale Guards and hunters alike - Kikker, bloodthirsty veteran of a thousand hunts, was so certain of the success of the mission that he was willing to forgo the greatest pleasure known Valethske.
Kikker, success would have a real taste - the taste of warm blood and soft, succulent flesh.
He turned away from the feast below, trying vainly to stop himself drooling. He dared not let any of the hunters see him like this. There had been several challenges to his command, and he’d bested them all, but if any of the hunters saw the merest hint of weakness in him they’d be on him like a pack of cubs on a tender roasted boar.
Unable to keep the thought of food far from his mind, Kikker angrily thrust more of the synthetic meat into his mouth, gagging at the rubbery texture. Vats deep within the ship’s bowels grew the stuff from cultures prepared centuries ago, an unending source of bland sustenance. If he’d been a harsh leader, and a stupid one, he could put an end to the hunts, force the hunters to eat the synthetic stuff and concentrate solely on the Great Mission. But that was no way to treat hunters. They needed fresh prey.
If only one of the two viable planets in this system showed signs of mammalian life. That way, they could combine the search with the hunt. He’d only find out after the ship completed its first survey of the planets.
Uneven footsteps rang along the gantry, and Kikker wolfed down the rest of the food, wiping the drool from his lips, instantly angry.
A tall, stooping figure limped towards him, clad in a simple tunic, his yellow eyes gummy with age.
‘Ruvis,’ hissed Kikker. ‘Why do you disturb me? The mission briefing isn’t for another hour, after the initial survey!’
Ruvis blinked at him, licking his lips. ‘I make no apology for disturbing you.’
Kikker ignored his insolence. Ruvis had the respect of the hunters, but paid none to their Commander. He had once been a hunter, but instead of taking the honourable way out for an old hunter - volunteering for one of the Great Vale’s glorious suicide missions - Ruvis had instead opted to join the technical elite. The coward’s way out, Kikker always thought, but on balance, the Valethske needed technicians and engineers to manufacture the machines of war and destruction. And Ruvis was no coward - he refused to be intimidated by Kikker, however much the Vale. Commander tried. If his role in the Great Mission had been less important, Kikker would have killed him long ago. ‘Then what you have to say had better be of the utmost importance.’
Ruvis bowed his head, but his voice was mocking. ‘That’s for you to decide, Vale Commander.’
Ruvis popped a piece of synthetic flesh in his mouth and chewed, his jaw whirring. Kikker knew he preferred it to living flesh. Sometimes he wondered if the cancers that had ravaged his body - or the treatment that had eventually burned them away -had warped the technician’s mind. Ruvis was one of the few survivors of a disastrous skirmish with the Sontarans. He’d spent three lunar cycles stranded on a derelict ship with nothing to eat but Sontaran flesh, which was notoriously tough, tasteless and highly carcinogenic. His left leg and lower jaw had been eaten away by disease and subsequently replaced by prosthetic equivalents. His mechanical jaw whirred with servo-mechanisms as Ruvis spoke, but his voice was still as smooth and deep as it had ever been.
‘When the Vale Guards began the revivification process, they noticed that five prey had already been revived. They were nowhere to be found on the ship. And one of the short-range skirmishers is missing.’
Kikker hurled the lump of ersatz meat into the pit. ‘What?’
Ruvis went on. ‘The computer log indicates that it was taken by a pack of hunters for a scouting mission, but this is obviously impossible. I suspect sabotage.’
Kikker’s mind raced. ‘So five prey escaped. Not enough for the hunters to notice.’ He bared his teeth and flattened his ears, moving closer to the technician. ‘It is best that no one hears about this, Ruvis.’
Their eyes
locked. Ruvis didn’t back down, but he gave a tiny nod. Kikker relaxed. Ruvis may not respect the Vale Commander but he knew what was best for the Great Mission.
‘So what happened?’ asked Kikker. ‘A breakdown in the cryogenic equipment?’
Ruvis shook his head. ‘As with the flight computer in the skirmisher, that had also been tampered with. We have had Intruders.’
This was unprecedented. ‘How? The hull is unbreachable!’
‘They left something behind,’ said Ruvis. ‘I think you’ll find this interesting.’
With a last look at the hunters, many of whom were now relaxing in the glow of the fires, the smell of burning human fat rising to his nostrils, Kikker followed Ruvis from the gantry down to the main access tunnel of the ship and to one of the holding bays. At the far end, a tall blue box stood behind a cordon of Vale Guards. The young Valethske looked edgy, and seemed very relieved to see their Commander.
Kikker dismissed them with a wave of his hand and approached the strange object. ‘What is it?’
Ruvis shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ A rare admission of ignorance.
Kikker walked up to the blue box, wondering at its strangeness. It seemed to be a manufactured thing of squares and straight lines, but its purpose was unclear. He reached out to touch it, claws chafing the worn blue surface. There was the strangest sensation, as if he was caressing a sleeping beast.
There was something familiar about it, something which nagged at him. He was sure he had seen it somewhere before, maybe in the century-long dream of the long sleep, maybe in reality.
Kikker drew back his hand and turned to Ruvis. The old technician was staring at the object, eyes misty, lost in contemplation.
‘An alien artefact, obviously,’ said Kikker, letting his tongue explore his formidable set of incisors. ‘Equally obviously, it must have penetrated the ship, using some sort of teleport.’
Pleased with this hypothesis, Kikker glanced slyly at Ruvis.
Ruvis’s jaw whirred. ‘In which case, what is it doing still here? If I it teleported in, it could teleport out.’
That was a point. ‘Maybe it was meant to remain here.
Maybe it’s some sort of explosive device, planted by our enemies to destroy us. Maybe even the Gods themselves...’
They looked at each other, and Kikker noticed the unease in Ruvis’s old eyes. Kikker knew that Ruvis, although a technician, believed in the Gods as much as he did. All Valethske believed. Their existence was a historical fact.
Whether or not they still existed, it was up to Kikker and his crew to discover. Could this strange object have been sent from the Gods? Could the Great Mission, after so many centuries, be over at last?
Kikker could see similar thoughts passing behind Ruvis’s gummy eyes. At length the old technician spoke. ‘We cannot rule out that possibility. Though if it was sent to destroy us, would it not have been a little less ostentatious? It was discovered within minutes of the Vale Guards’ waking. And surely, it could have detonated while we all still languished in the long sleep.’
Then Kikker remembered where he’d seen it before. Ruvis -
remember the last hunt, before the long sleep?’
Ruvis nodded, his tail curling up against his spine. ‘Yes, the planetoid. Slim pickings, I hear.’
Kikker pointed at the blue box. ‘That box was there, right in the middle of things! And it was still there when we left!’
‘You’re sure?’
Kikker bunched his fist and punched the side of the box. ‘Of course I’m sure! Which means that..’ he tailed away, not really knowing what it meant.
Ruvis’s jaw whirred. ‘It must have followed us. It couldn’t have teleported in before the long sleep, as we would have detected it. It must somehow have come here while we were in flight.’
Kikker snarled. ‘That’s impossible, the speed we were going!’
‘I know,’ said Ruvis. ‘That leaves only one possibility. It must have come aboard when we came out of faster-than-light speed. Which leans... by Azreske!’
Kikker met Ruvis’s astonished gaze.
‘A time machine?’ they both said at the same time.
Kikker looked back at the blue box in wonder. Could it be?
‘If we gain access to time travel we will be invincible,’
whispered Ruvis.
Kikker growled. ‘You mean, more invincible than we already are.’ The implications spun in his mind. With a time machine, the Valethske could proliferate throughout the universe. The Possibilities were endless. Kikker’s place in the Hall of Glory was as certain as the breath in his body.
‘Of course, this might not be the same object,’ mused Ruvis. ‘It could be another of its kind.’
‘It’s the same, I know it,’ said Kikker. He came to a decision. ‘Prepare a skirmisher, take this artefact to a safe distance beyond the blast range of a thermonuclear device of this size. We’ll investigate it once this phase of the mission is over.’
Ruvis saluted and went away to prepare transport for the strange blue box.
Kikker stayed for a while, regarding the box intently, as if he hoped that just by looking at it he could divine its secrets.
His hunter’s instinct knew that whatever it was, time machine or not, it would be vital in this mission. It was an omen, a sign that the end was in sight, that the objective set hundreds of years ago by the Great Vale would finally be reached, and Valethske honour satisfied.
And then, thought Kikker, eyes closing gently in a dream of flesh, he would taste living meat once more.
Chapter Eleven
Shock Tactics
As the creature advanced Aline stood her ground, even though her legs felt as if they were going to crumple beneath her, even though she wanted to scream her lungs out and run for the trees. Two things prevented her from embarking on such an undignified course of action: her training, and the reassuring presence of the Doctor at her side.
‘Fascinating!’ came the Doctor’s voice of indefatigable enthusiasm. ‘Completely autonomous, motile plants - I’ve never seen such a degree of specialisation.’
Aline felt herself nodding in agreement, her eyes fixed on the creature before her. Its pale-green appendages did indeed seem suited for a number of tasks - there were many-fingered
‘hands’, digits rippling like the fronds of a sea-anemone; thick, trowel-like leaves, surely intended for digging; sharp, lethal-looking pincers that reminded Aline bizarrely of secateurs; and other, obscurer forms, their purpose unclear.
Aline was close enough now to see that the joints in its limbs were barely half an inch apart, making them extremely flexible. As they curled and waved against the blue sky, they made a clicking sound.
‘Hey, don’t shoot them!’ Peri shouted from somewhere near the edge of the garden.
Aline tore her gaze away for long enough to see Captain Melrose and Lt Meharg crouching against the neatly trimmed hedgerow, Valethske weapons targeting the creature. Peri, Athon and Taiana stood nearby, the two Eknuri trying not to look out of their depth, Peri looking on anxiously. Further along, another of the creatures worked on the hedge, seemingly oblivious to the drama being played out around it, pincers busily snipping at the leaves.
The creature stopped just in front of the Doctor and Aline, swaying slightly on stilt-like legs, its great flowered head raised up as if in fanfare to the golden orb of the sun. Its many appendages came to rest, looping back against the central stem.
Aline realised she had hold of the Doctor’s hand, and as she turned to him he smiled in reassurance.
That was enough to shake Aline out of her fear-trance and remember who she used to be. Who she would be again: Aline Vehlmann, renowned xenologist, veteran of countless first contact situations. Just like this.
She let go of the Doctor’s hand and stepped towards the alien creature. It was beautiful, in a bizarre kind of way. Its limbs -
which numbered above a dozen, though they were so complex and spindly Aline found it
hard to count them -
sprouted from a gourd-like central mass roughly the size of a human torso, dark green, mottled and gnarled like old tree-bark.
Its half-dozen ‘legs’ were complex, stilt-like appendages which bore the body a good six feet clear of the ground, and which ended in leaf-like ‘feet’. From the top of the body rose a thick green stem which widened out into a trumpet-like flower-head, rather like an orchid, which towered over ten feet from the ground, dwarfing even Taiana. This one was pale creamy-white shot through with bright-red veins; beyond it, and around the garden, stalked other creatures with different colorations.
‘Tempting to think of the flower at the top as the creature’s head,’ came the Doctor’s reassuring voice, ‘but its sense organs are probably in the tips of its appendages. A unique life form...’
Aline discerned a gentle urging in the Doctor’s raised eyebrows, his half-smile. Saw what he was up to. Her therapist would have pronounced it madness for Aline, in her current state of recovery to attempt contact with a totally new alien species. Hence Eknuri assignment. But there was a gentle wisdom in the Doctors eyes, telling Aline that he knew better; there was no point hiding no point running away. Best to confront her fears. Best to confront the alien - the obviously and outrageously alien, like this plant thing, not beings like the Doctor who hid their difference beneath a mask of seemingly human flesh and blood.
Not that the Doctor would risk her life by thrusting her towards something dangerous. He’d let her make up her own mind about going with him to the Valethske ship - and there was always the possibility of a second, closer and possibly fatal encounter with that species - so he must be sure the plant-creature posed no threat.
With a last look at the Doctor, Aline squared up to the alien plant. She didn’t smile or spread her arms wide in welcome - a novice error: any gestures made in first contact are open to interpretation. Instead she kept her expression relaxed and open, her mind calm and focused, one sentient being reaching out to another.