Doctor Who_ Night Of The Humans Part 12

Sancho marched towards the Doctor, raising his spear, but then, one by one, the giant screens that lined the walls of the control room flickered on, each one showing nothing but fizzing white static. Sancho froze.

At the console the Doctor tapped at keys and flicked switches, and the screens turned from a jittering blizzard to a single, vibrant shade of blue. The Doctor hit a final switch, and the blue became the image of a man, his face repeated dozens of times the length of the room. The man wore the khaki uniform of a pilot, his surname, Velasquez, stencilled onto his chest.

'I am Captain Zachary Velasquez, of the Gobocorp Freight Company! he said, his voice booming and echoing in the cathedral-like s.p.a.ce.

145.

'What is this?' bellowed Tuco, seething and clutching at the handrail with his bony fingers.

Velasquez continued: 'The GFC Herald of Nanking has crash-landed on this world, at the outer edge of Battani 045. Of our 3,000-strong crew, only 500 are left. If you are watching this, there is every chance that we are all dead. Earth is twenty-five light years away, and our location remote. May G.o.d have mercy on our souls.'

The Doctor hit a b.u.t.ton. The image on the screens fizzed and crackled, and then they turned once more to that brilliant shade of blue. Breathing heavily through his nostrils, Tuco turned to the Doctor.

'What is this outrage?' he howled. 'What heresy is this?

Doctor? Tell me!'

The Doctor turned to Tuco, pocketing his sonic screwdriver. 'I'm so sorry. It's who you are. You're the survivors.'

Tuco shook his head and tore at his robes with clawed fingernails, his voice reduced to an anguished wail.

By his side, Sancho looked out across the chamber full of glowing blue screens with an expression of horror.

'E-earth?' he stuttered. "This isn't... this isn't Earth?'

The Doctor shook his head.

'But... but... he said "s.h.i.+p". The man... the man 146 NIGNT OF THE HUMANS.

said s.h.i.+p. He said they crashed here. And Gobocorp. What is Gobocorp?'

The Doctor turned back to the console and pressed another burton. Once again the screens came to life with the image of Captain Velasquez. The Doctor twisted a dial, speeding through the last few seconds of the video, and now they saw the image of an animated clown, Gobo, carrying a parcel. The clown placed the parcel on the ground, opened it, and a bright red balloon came floating out. As the balloon rose up into the air, the Gobo popped it with a needle, and the word 'GOBOCORP' appeared in its place.

'Gobocorp!' said a big and cheerful voice which echoed across the room. 'For all your delivery needs, go Gobocorp!'

Sancho turned away, closing his eyes as if to block out what he had seen.

'No...' he whimpered. 'No...'

Then he turned to Tuco.

'You lied to us! he raged. 'You... Django... Lies. It was all lies. Must tell the others. Must tell everyone.'

Tuco glowered at Sancho, shaking his head, the spittle in the corners of his mouth whipped into a foam.

'No!' he screeched, charging towards the guard. 'No!'

With terrifying violence, Tuco struck Sancho 147 across the head with his cane, dazing him and, in one ferocious move, he pushed him over the side of the walkway, sending him rumbling down into the depths of the control room, where he landed with a heavy thud.

It happened so quickly the Doctor had no chance to intervene. 'No!' he shouted. Tuco! What have you done?'

'You see?' said Tuco. 'This is how the heresy spreads. You, Doctor! You are to blame!'

He lifted his cane once more, preparing to launch himself at the Doctor, but found himself staring down the barrel of Slipstream's gun.

'Don't think so, Tuco, old chap. We've wasted enough time.

Let's move on.'

Braced against the console, the Doctor let out a long shuddering breath. Slipstream was ushering Tuco and Manco along, still aiming the gun. He turned now to the Doctor.

'You too, Doctor,' he said.

Unseen by Slipstream or the others, the Doctor hit one last switch before they left.

148.

Chapter.

15.

Captain Jamal sat at the controls of the Golden Bough. He'd never flown a s.h.i.+p like this before. The thing was practically an antique, and it was neither a military nor a commercial craft, that was for sure. This was the kind of s.h.i.+p that men like Dirk Slipstream flew for no other reason than to show off. Hot rods, they called them. An old Earth term, apparently. Sure, it was probably fast and it would turn enough heads, but the thing was of little practical use. the controls of the Golden Bough. He'd never flown a s.h.i.+p like this before. The thing was practically an antique, and it was neither a military nor a commercial craft, that was for sure. This was the kind of s.h.i.+p that men like Dirk Slipstream flew for no other reason than to show off. Hot rods, they called them. An old Earth term, apparently. Sure, it was probably fast and it would turn enough heads, but the thing was of little practical use.

The controls were so archaic he was vaguely surprised to find an autopilot. Still, he was pretty sure he had it all figured out. Now if he could only bring himself to call Dr Heeva to the s.h.i.+p and take off, make that final move. Leave the Gyre.

149.

But it wasn't just a case of leaving the Gyre. If that was all it came down to, he'd have activated the bomb and left right away. No, something else was keeping him here, stopping him from leaving. His anger had subsided now, and in its place he felt something strange and unsettling. An emotion that was different to anything he had felt before. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought it was a human emotion. Fear.

'Captain Jamal!'

The voice of Dr Heeva spoke to him from the c.o.c.kpit's intercom.

'Yes, Dr Heeva. What is it?'

He looked up from the windscreen of the Golden Bough towards the deck of the Beagle XXI. Dr Heeva was standing in its windows, holding the microphone to her mouth.

"There's a signal, Captain. It's coming from the human city.'

'What kind of a signal?'

'It looks like Morse code, sir.'

'Morse code? Who uses Morse code these days?'

'I don't know. I can barely make it out. There's a flas.h.i.+ng light... Looks like it's coming from the tower; from the old wreck. But I can't read Morse code.'

'OK, Heeva. Read it out to me. Tell me what it says.'

150.

One by one Dr Heeva read out the dots and dashes of the signal, and one by one Captain Jamal translated them into letters.

'H... u... m... a... n... s... a... t... t... a... c...k...i...'

That was when he was stopped. At the other end of the line, Dr Heeva was silent. He looked up at her once more.

'It's the humans...' gasped Captain Jamal. "The humans are coming.'

Dr Heeva nodded, closing her eyes. 'Then I'll do it,' she said.

'Do what?'

I'll activate the bomb.'

They were surrounded by Sollogs on all sides. The monstrous slimy creatures slithered through the stagnant green waters of the swamp and scuttled from pipe to pipe, drawing around them in an ever-tightening circle. Some of their vehicles had proven useless crossing the swamp, and had been left on the salt flat. Others, such as the contraption carrying Django on his throne, were more robust.

Django looked around, at the swarming Sollogs, and he bared his teeth and snarled at them. Around him, his men fought with the creatures, lunging at them and skewering them with spears, or shooting them with arrows, but they were outnumbered.

As all hope seemed lost, there came from the 151 sky a series of loud cras.h.i.+ng sounds, each one more deafening than the last.

Django looked up from his throne and saw, high above, what looked like falling stars, tearing through the dark blue sky - so bright it looked as if the night itself had been ripped into shreds. The falling stars pa.s.sed over the swamp, heading east, and then there was a sound like thunder, and the ground beneath them shook. The plastic tubes that shot up from the surface of the swamp clanked and rattled, and the waters sloshed around their legs.

The Sollogs were startled, their attack on the humans forgotten in an instant. They scurried in all directions, breaking from their packs.

Django began to laugh.

'A miracle!' he roared, then pointed east to the far side of the swamp. 'We move on!'

They marched on through the swamp, hacking away at the plastic tubes with their swords and spears, until at last they reached the edge of the canyon. Half of the metal pipe that had been a makes.h.i.+ft bridge was still hanging from their side of the gorge, but over on the other side they saw the point where the fallen stars had crashed.

The high cliffs to either side of the distant gully were beginning to collapse: mountains of refuse hundreds of metres tall now crumbling, sending countless tons of metal plummeting down into the canyon.

152.

Django stood up from his throne, holding his hands towards the sky. His army could only look on, as the canyon before them began to disappear, its dark void filled with the falling wreckage. Great clouds of dust and smoke billowed up from the chaos and the noise below them, and Django was laughing.

When it had stopped, and the dust had settled, they saw before them not an impa.s.sable gulf, but a shallow trench.

'Witness!' shouted Django. 'Witness the might of Gobo! We move on!'

At his order, the humans marched on, down into the shallow ravine and ever closer to the Sittuun's hiding place.

Several storeys below the bridge of the Beagle XXI, the Nan.o.bomb sat in its chamber. The room was silent and still, and would have been completely dark had it not been illuminated by the light from the bomb's counter. The digits counted down, second by second.

00:59:23...

00:59:22...

00:59:21...

153.

Chapter.

16.

The cargo hold of the GFS Herald of Nanking was vast. No, the Doctor decided. Vast was too small a word. Four letters, one syllable. Vast was far too small. Humungous was getting there, but still didn't do it justice. As they entered the cavernous s.p.a.ce, with Tuco now carrying the flaming torch, their voices echoed out into the gloom, bouncing through deep gullies of crates and containers. the GFS Herald of Nanking was vast. No, the Doctor decided. Vast was too small a word. Four letters, one syllable. Vast was far too small. Humungous was getting there, but still didn't do it justice. As they entered the cavernous s.p.a.ce, with Tuco now carrying the flaming torch, their voices echoed out into the gloom, bouncing through deep gullies of crates and containers.

'Crikey! said the Doctor. 'It'll be like finding a needle in a haystack. Or rather, it'll be like finding one specific needle in a pile of near-identical needles.'

With the s.h.i.+p having crashed at such an angle - its front half buried in the Gyre and the whole s.h.i.+p turned slightly on its side - the cargo hold was 155.

like the inside of a cube balanced perfectly on one corner. Most of its contents had been sent tumbling down to one end of the room, where the containers lay in a disorganised mound.

'Not necessarily, Doctor! said Slipstream, producing a small hardbound book from his pocket. He flipped it open, licked his thumb, and began flicking through the pages.

'This book lists all of the pa.s.sengers, crew and contents for the Herald of Nanking on the day she went missing. Only thing it doesn't have is schematics. Seems the Herald of Nanking was quite the mystery, back in the day. A small army of obsessive enthusiasts would pore over her every last detail and concoct all manner of outlandish theories to explain her disappearance. And this book lists not only the contents of the s.h.i.+p, but also their location.'

Slipstream craned his head back, looking up into the far corner of the room.

'I say... Tuco, old chap, could you lift the torch a little higher?

You're hogging all the light.'

With a derisive grunt, Tuco lifted the torch. The feeble light spread itself a little further into the room, pus.h.i.+ng back the shadows.

'Up there! said Slipstream. 'Row F. Level 3. Let's get climbing.'

Like mountaineers in the foothills of a mountain range, the four of them set about climbing up 156.

over the rugged landscape of shattered crates and debris, past stacks and shelves that had buckled and sagged after millennia of neglect. From somewhere, out beyond the s.h.i.+p's hull, they heard another thunderous boom. The room shook violently, flakes of orange rust raining down from the ceiling.

The Doctor felt both of his hearts beating faster than before.

'So, Slipstream...' he said.

'Yes, Doctor?'

'When we're done here, when you've got what you want, we're leaving, yes?'