Martha in the Mirror

by Justin Richards

  ‘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?’

  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 what 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 misaligned 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 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 break away.

  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.

  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 pyramid 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.’

  ‘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.’

  ‘Something gets broken, Bill, and guess who has to clear it up,’ Bo
tt told him. ‘Anyway, we’ve still got the 7.1 Quadraphonic 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.’

  ‘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.’

  ‘What?’ Martha gasped.

  The monk took a step forward. ‘Forgive me if I frightened you earlier,’ he said to Martha. ‘I am Manfred Grieg – the Man in the Mirror.’

  ‘I’ve read your diary,’ the Doctor said. ‘Quite enjoyed it. But if you want a few pointers I can help you with your prose style and grammar.’

  ‘Maybe later,’ Martha told him. ‘So, who are you and what do you want?’ Martha asked Grieg. ‘Are you really made of glass? Glass people – I’ve seen it all now.’

  ‘The mirror isn’t just a portal, a doorway to another universe,’ the Doctor said. ‘That’s the problem, isn’t it? Once you’re inside you’re made of light – or potentially made of light. And if anyone sees you, perceives you as a light wave or a series of protons or whatever, then that rewrites your DNA as a translucent matrix based on the silicon that runs the computer chips that make the whole thing work. Probably,’ he added. ‘Is that it?’ he asked Grieg.

  The man made of old, chipped glass considered. ‘Perhaps,’ he said at last. ‘I confess, such explanations are a little beyond me. All I know is that the mirror is not a prison. It is a trap. And that is how you must see it, Doctor – if you are to succeed. If you are to stop General Orlo.’

  The girl who wasn’t Janna was shifting nervously on her feet, desperate to say something. Now she blurted it out: ‘Why does my sister run away from me?’

  Martha crouched down so she was at eye level with the girl. ‘She doesn’t know who you are. She’s afraid of you. She thinks you’re a ghost.’

  The girl laughed nervously. ‘That’s silly.’

  ‘Is it any more silly than a reflection running about the place?’ the Doctor asked gently. ‘She’ll get there. Give her time. Like Martha says, she’s frightened and nervous. And since Tylda died—’

  ‘But Tylda didn’t die!’ the girl said. ‘She’s still here, she’s me and I’m her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Martha asked. She glanced at the Doctor, but he shook his head.

  ‘I’m Tylda,’ the girl insisted. ‘It was Janna who died. It should have been me, but it was my sister. It’s my fault, all my fault and now even my own self can’t bear to look at me.’

  Manfred Grieg put his hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘Calmly, my little friend,’ he said. ‘Time for all that later. First, we must help the Doctor and Martha stop General Orlo.’

  ‘You’re sure he’s behind all this?’ Martha said. ‘I mean, Thorodin killing Chekz and everything.’

  ‘He’s the most likely suspect, Martha,’ the Doctor said. ‘For all his talk about diplomacy and being tired of war, it was Orlo who brought the mirror here. The real Mortal Mirror that his family saved and preserved. It’s no copy.’

  ‘Bill and Bott knew,’ Grieg said.

  ‘They said it was the same,’ Martha recalled.

  ‘They meant exactly the same,’ Grieg said. ‘They hung the original mirror, remember. So they knew this one was exact in every dimension, in every measurement, even its weight. The same mirror.’ He held out his arms. ‘I am proof, if it were needed.’

  ‘You said that Orlo doesn’t understand what the mirror is,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’m paraphrasing, but you said it’s a trap not a prison.’

  ‘You were imprisoned inside it though,’ Martha said. ‘In the story.’

  ‘Oh, the story is true. As far as it goes.’

  ‘I like stories,’ the girl said. ‘Tell us a story.’

  ‘We don’t have time for stories,’ Martha pointed out. ‘We need to get to the Great Hall in case Stellman can’t stop the ceremony.’

  ‘He won’t,’ Grieg said. ‘Orlo won’t let him stop it now. You see, Orlo thinks he has won. He thinks his soldiers will emerge from the mirror and he will take and hold Castle Extremis. The galaxy will witness his triumph and none will dare oppose him again.’

  ‘Well, maybe he’s right,’ Martha said.

  ‘But Orlo thinks the mirror is a prison. He thinks he has found a way to open the door to that prison, so he can hide soldiers inside and bring them out through the door when they are needed.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Martha said.

  The Doctor put his hand on her arm. ‘You’re saying he’s wrong?’

  ‘The door was always open,’ said Grieg. ‘The mirror is not a prison but a trap. Not a trap that holds you in one place and allows no freedom of movement.’

  ‘Then, what?’

  ‘A trap that holds you for the rest of your life. A trap that allows no escape no matter how you come and go through the portal. A trap that, once you understand it, will destroy Orlo’s dreams for ever.’ Grieg’s
eyes gleamed as he leaned forwards. ‘Do you want to understand it, Doctor?’

  The Doctor returned Grieg’s stare. Then he dropped to the floor, landing cross-legged, patting the stone slab beside him. ‘Sit down, Martha. It’s story time.’

  It was called the Mortal Mirror in honour of the Mortal Monks of Moradinard, who originally built Castle Extremis. But the monks had nothing to do with the mirror. They were men of peace and valued their solitude. They built this place as a retreat from the rest of the galaxy. But they built it in the wrong place.

  When the Anthium fleet ventured out beyond the Visonic Belt, they realised that the star debris and asteroids in this area formed a natural barrier. The only safe route through was past the Monastery. Fleet Admiral Karloff devised a plan – the Extremis Strategy – to buy the monastery from the Mortal Monks and turn it into an armoured fortress that would defend Anthium from any aggressor that tried to come through. And, of course, Karloff knew too that the monastery would make an ideal forward base for any attack Anthium wished to press home.

  Zerugma had just been discovered. We considered the reptilian race there to be warlike and aggressive. We feared they would make war on us – and they feared we would attack them.

  And the Mortal Monks refused to sell up and move on. Some argued that the Monastery was a better defence than a fortress – peace and understanding ends wars more effectively that military might and force of arms. Sure enough, as soon as Anthium moved against the Monks, so too did Zerugma. Extremis – as it was renamed – became the first battlefield. And the Mortal Monks, so aptly named, became the first innocent casualties. But by no means the last.

  By the time I was appointed Chief Minister, the war was old and we were all weary. I felt that peace had at last become an option, and pressed for Anthium to negotiate with Zerugma. But we had to do that from strength, and they held Extremis. My first task on the road to peace was to take it back, and that was what I did. An act of aggression that would, I hoped, pave the way to a lasting peace.

  But the Lord High Advocate for Anthium and later the Governor of Castle Extremis was a man called Kendal Pennard. And he had very different thoughts. He welcomed the stalemate created when I took back Extremis for him. And it was in his interest to prolong the status quo. When things change, then the people expect a change of leaders too. And Pennard was so very ambitious, so hungry for power.