Doctor Who_ Bunker Soldiers Part 1

BUNKER SOLDIERS.

by MARTIN DAY.

Prologus

Separatio

Every day he asked the same question, and every day the answer was the same.

'I would like to see my s.h.i.+p, if I may.'

'Very well. I will arrange an escort.'

Sometimes I accompanied him. Sometimes I declined, for I could not bear the anguished look on his face, and I preferred my own company to his tortured introspection. Either way, the same procession of cloaked figures would make their way into the same expansive chamber, where the wind made the torches throw grotesque shadows on to the cold stone walls. And, in the centre, was the same blue box, the same 's.h.i.+p', as the Doctor called it. Our escape route, our home our TARDIS TARDIS.

The last time I saw it, there was a fine patina of dust visible on the gla.s.s windows (or, rather, over that part of the exterior that resembled gla.s.s few things about the Doctor's s.h.i.+p are entirely as they appear). It was a stark reminder of the length of our enforced stay, of the impa.s.se engineered by two polite but utterly intractable wills.

The Doctor would stand and stare, a faraway yet precisely focused look in his eyes. Were it not for his white hair, and the cane he occasionally lent on for support, he would perhaps have resembled a serious-minded student in an art gallery or a museum, where one exhibit unexpectedly takes the breath away and demands close attention. The fervour in his gaze was that of a religious missionary in a strange land, staring at the object of his remembered faith.

Seeing the s.h.i.+p brought him some comfort, a pinp.r.i.c.k of light in the darkness, yet its very existence was enough to remind him of what he had lost, what he was separated from.

I came to realise that, to the Doctor, the TARDIS was more than a means of conveyance. How else could I explain the daily ritual, the contradictory look of pleasure and pain that gripped his angular features? Dodo and I, of course, wanted nothing more than to escape from this benighted city, to leave in the TARDIS and return to that which we had left behind. We had, together, hatched numerous plots and plans, ruses and subterfuges. All had failed. 'Never let your enemy realise the true value of that which is important to you,' the Doctor noted, and he was right. Our biggest mistake was in drawing our captors'

attention to the craft. Whether or not they believed it really could allow us to escape, they certainly came to realise its vital importance to us. And desperate men are drawn to the hope of others a hope which the Doctor resolutely failed to elaborate upon. The TARDIS, he said, must must remain a mystery to them. We would either leave on our terms, or not at all. remain a mystery to them. We would either leave on our terms, or not at all.

The door remained locked, and the Doctor refused to open it. The TARDIS remained where it was, guarded round the clock, and we were refused unhindered access to it.

But still the Doctor persisted with this ritual, this daily drama of the moth, despite all intentions to the contrary, returning to burn itself in the flame.

For a moment, he would close his eyes, and breathe deeply, as if transported to some verdant hillside where the air is fresh and cool. He seemed to draw strength from his proximity to the machine, as if it afforded him access to limitless determination and patience. Occasionally I thought I saw his eyes flutter beneath his eyelids, as if he was dreaming.

And then he would turn sharply on his heels and return to our quarters, where he would brood and mutter under his breath.

When the Doctor was in that sort of mood it was best to give him a wide berth. After all, what possible words of encouragement could I offer the old man? If he was starting to run out of ideas, of possible resolutions to the dilemma, what hope did I have? The Doctor would clearly have waited until eternity became cold before even thinking about revealing the secrets of the TARDIS, but he was surrounded by people who had more immediate and lethal concerns. For them, time was running out.

Dodo and I would sit in an upper room, overlooking the square at the centre of the city and watch, in the endless twilight, as preparations continued. Always preparations, round the clock, irrespective of weather, personal health, dwindling provisions.

The attackers would show no mercy, no compa.s.sion: their eventual and crus.h.i.+ng a.s.sault was reckoned to be as inevitable as the setting of the copper-coloured sun.

A shroud had settled over the city, and it was palpable. You could feel it p.r.i.c.kling at the shoulders of the people who pa.s.sed you by, hear it in frightened murmurs on the street corner and in the abject prayers of the pious.

It was an undertaker's shroud, preserving the dignity of a corpse, for, by all accounts, the city and its inhabitants were already sentenced to death. What lay beyond the hills was, to the people of the city, alien, unfathomable, and utterly unstoppable.

'How much longer?' asked Dodo, as she looked to the forests and hills for the first glimmer of light, the first sound that would herald the arrival of the apocalyptic hordes.

'I have no idea,' I said, trying hard to hide my own fear. 'At least when the attack begins, this awful waiting will be over.'

'If only we could get back to the TARDIS.'

I nodded. I didn't like admitting it, but if someone had given me a free path to the Doctor's craft, I don't think I'd have spared the city and its inhabitants a second glance. My potential cowardice sat heavy in my stomach.

'Oh, Steven, what are we going to do?'

I shrugged my shoulders, and waited for the darkness to envelop us.

Codex I

Cecidit de coelo stella magna.

I, Andrey, potter by trade, and man of G.o.d only through such mercies as He has chosen to show me, write this account in my own hand, while the He has chosen to show me, write this account in my own hand, while the memories are still fresh, and my mind still ablaze with images of heaven. memories are still fresh, and my mind still ablaze with images of heaven.

I offer this account to my family and to the future, hoping that one day some sense or use might be found in it, and that all will know how the dark some sense or use might be found in it, and that all will know how the dark angel came to visit our land. I thank the Lord that I have been taught well angel came to visit our land. I thank the Lord that I have been taught well enough to capture such things in written words for the mind and memory enough to capture such things in written words for the mind and memory seek always to embellish, elaborate or alter, as our consciences allow but I seek always to embellish, elaborate or alter, as our consciences allow but I know that I am not sufficiently tutored to explain or understand what has know that I am not sufficiently tutored to explain or understand what has happened this day. I merely commit to this parchment my own impressions of happened this day. I merely commit to this parchment my own impressions of the arrival of the celestial star, and the angel that it contained. the arrival of the celestial star, and the angel that it contained.

I was busy at work, and deep in thought, when I first heard the cries of terror. By the time I had wiped my hands on my ap.r.o.n and come to the door, terror. By the time I had wiped my hands on my ap.r.o.n and come to the door, the entire village was in chaos. Pigs were running free, women were trying to the entire village was in chaos. Pigs were running free, women were trying to urge their children indoors, and men stood open-mouthed in disbelief. urge their children indoors, and men stood open-mouthed in disbelief.

And the smell the smell that greeted me was strong and primal.

The forest was on fire.

I stood in the centre of the village, turning to follow the gaze of those around me. High on the rising slope, almost exactly behind my dwelling, a around me. High on the rising slope, almost exactly behind my dwelling, a column of fire twisted in the darkening sky. Trees crumbled into the white-hot flames, ash and burning leaves sparking with the flow of the wind. column of fire twisted in the darkening sky. Trees crumbled into the white-hot flames, ash and burning leaves sparking with the flow of the wind.

Leading into the great conflagration, and arcing across the sky like a scimitar, was a line of reddened cloud. It looked to me like a leering grin, an scimitar, was a line of reddened cloud. It looked to me like a leering grin, an expression of satisfaction as the trees succ.u.mbed to the fire. expression of satisfaction as the trees succ.u.mbed to the fire.

'What happened?' I asked the stout herdsman who stood at my shoulder. shoulder.

As he replied, I saw the flames reflected in his awestruck eyes. 'I was tending my animals... There came a great noise from the skies, like a tending my animals... There came a great noise from the skies, like a mult.i.tude of birds, or the very breath of G.o.d. I looked, and saw a star mult.i.tude of birds, or the very breath of G.o.d. I looked, and saw a star falling to the earth. When it touched the trees, they began to burn as you falling to the earth. When it touched the trees, they began to burn as you see.' see.'

Others nodded their agreement it was as the herdsman had said.

I turned again to watch the conflagration. I remember only too well the last forest fire, and its awful touch as it raged against our village. If the wind last forest fire, and its awful touch as it raged against our village. If the wind turned towards us, and this time did not ease... turned towards us, and this time did not ease...

Petrov the metalworker, an enormous fel ow rendered black by the soot of his furnace, clearly had similar thoughts. He threw some dust into the air, of his furnace, clearly had similar thoughts. He threw some dust into the air, and watched its course keenly. 'The wind will keep the flames away from us and watched its course keenly. 'The wind will keep the flames away from us for now,' he announced loudly.

I was less sure. In my limited experience, once a fire like this starts it takes on a life its own, moving where it wants, devouring what it wants, and takes on a life its own, moving where it wants, devouring what it wants, and only showing mercy when G.o.d Himself wishes it so. only showing mercy when G.o.d Himself wishes it so.

I looked back at the flames just as they blinked into darkness.

A murmur went around the a.s.sembled villagers. What fire was this, that vanished into nothing in a heartbeat? that vanished into nothing in a heartbeat?

'By the saints...' I approached Petrov. 'Have you ever seen such a thing?' thing?'

The big man shook his head. 'A miracle. It is nothing less.'

I watched Alexander the village elder sink to his knees.

'Thank the Lord.'

I let out a relieved sigh. 'We should pray,' I said.

'No,' said Petrov firmly. 'There will be time for prayer later. There may be smal er fires burning that we cannot see. We should take what water may be smal er fires burning that we cannot see. We should take what water we can carry, some brushes. Who will join me?' we can carry, some brushes. Who will join me?'

Most of the villagers held Petrov in such esteem that they would follow his burly frame to the gates of h.e.l.l and back. There was an immediate his burly frame to the gates of h.e.l.l and back. There was an immediate chorus of a.s.sent, brave words flowing forth from people who moments before chorus of a.s.sent, brave words flowing forth from people who moments before had seemed resigned to the flames. had seemed resigned to the flames.

I was more cautious than the others, though wary of being called a coward. I became aware of people looking towards me, as if daring me to coward. I became aware of people looking towards me, as if daring me to stay. stay.

I too publicly a.s.sented to Petrov's plan.

Alexander's wizened face cracked into a smile. 'You are a good man, Petrov. I shal pray for your safe return.' Petrov. I shal pray for your safe return.'

Within the hour, the group of men was ready. I could have made excuses then. There were reasons enough to stay and, in time, my decision excuses then. There were reasons enough to stay and, in time, my decision would have been forgotten. would have been forgotten.

But, more frightened of the word of men than the Word of G.o.d, I set out with them. out with them.

As I sit here in the darkness, as the shadows deepen and the wind makes the torchlight flicker, I fervently wish that I had not or that the makes the torchlight flicker, I fervently wish that I had not or that the Lord could wipe these memories from my mind. Lord could wipe these memories from my mind.

There are some things mortal man is not fit to know.

I.

Tempestas ex oriens

Dmitri paced the room. His anger and resentment ebbed and flowed beneath his air of well-mannered authority.

'Chernigov and Pereislav have already fallen,' he said quietly, stopping for a moment to glance out over the roof-tops. 'What chance have we?'

Although I didn't recognise the names of the cities that Dmitri spoke of, I had little reason to think they were any smaller, or less well prepared, than the sprawling settlement in which we were trapped.

I looked towards the Doctor. His features were impa.s.sive and set, as if carved from granite, and his voice carried little more warmth than this cold stone. 'You say that, and yet you govern the mother of Russian cities? You will not inspire your subjects with such defeatism, sir.'

The rebuke in the Doctor's voice only served to agitate Dmitri further. 'My subjects?' His voice was bitter now, and he seemed about to launch into some tirade, some honest expression of the appalling position he found himself in, when he noticed the soldiers positioned about the debating chamber. I could read his face in an instant: it was unwise to talk about such things in front of the common folk. Status, and apparent status, were everything in this society.

Instead, Governor Dmitri lapsed into introspective silence. I glanced at Dodo, sitting opposite me, and smiled, but we both knew that the conversation was not going well. We were at the mercy of the governor but, though unstintingly polite, the Doctor seemed unprepared to meet the man half-way.

I turned my mind back to our arrival the previous day.

Dodo, feeling a little unwell, had said she needed some 'fresh air'. The Doctor, rigorous pragmatist that he is, complained that the TARDIS's air supply was constantly recycled, purified, modified... But, with a twinkle in his eye, he had agreed to Dodo's request. 'It's not the aft, my dear,' he said, 'it is the walls which enclose it that become wearisome.'

The TARDIS had come to rest in the corner of a room just as a family were about to have supper.

As unannounced entrances go, it was one of our best.

We emerged to find ourselves almost alone in the room, as all had fled in superst.i.tious terror. All bar one. I later learned that his name was Isaac, and that he was the head of the household.

For the moment, though, he stood meekly before us, clearly afraid, but very much intrigued.

Not knowing when or where we had landed, the first thing I observed was the man's clothing. He wore a black fur-trimmed coat over some sort of embroidered tunic. Dark, narrow trousers led down to large boots of leather. Everything about him was understated, though I guessed that his tunic was of high quality for the time. Given this, the yellow patch of fabric on the man's coat drew the eye, a bright badge against a backcloth of cool sobriety.

I sensed that the Doctor was also drawn to this single identifying mark. He glanced swiftly around the room no doubt taking in the design of the stone walls, the oak table at which the family had been sitting, the food on the table, the candles that provided illumination and nodded to himself as if precisely confirming our whereabouts in time and s.p.a.ce. The TARDIS's instruments were all very well, but the Doctor was a scientist, an inquirer, who would take nothing at face value, and believe nothing until it had been categorically proved.

The Doctor looked back at the man, and smiled. ' Shalom Shalom aleichem aleichem,' he said, inclining his head in a mark of respect.

The man was clearly amazed, barely knowing how to respond to this courtesy. Eventually, he fell to his knees, averting his eyes.

The Doctor chuckled. 'Get up, get up,' he said. 'I am a man, such as yourself.'

(I grinned to myself at this. If only it were that simple. .) 'Forgive me,' stuttered the man. 'We were saying our prayers before our meal. I have read of the angel of the Lord appearing to Abraham. I merely thought...'

'Of course you did,' said the Doctor lightly. He indicated the TARDIS. 'Our means of travel might be unusual, but I a.s.sure you that we mean you no harm.'

Moments later, Isaac introduced himself, then begged us to stay and join in with the family meal. He insisted it was his obligation to all weary travellers. The moment we gave him our word that we would be delighted to stay, he scurried off to rea.s.sure his servants and family. We found ourselves alone for some minutes clearly convincing his family to return was no easy task.

I remember the Doctor sitting on one of the benches that surrounded the low table and surveying the food with great interest. Wooden bowls were filled with some sort of vegetable and meat broth, whose smell was a good deal more inviting than its appearance. A platter in the centre of the table bore a pair of pigeons, resting on their backs. Their blackened legs jutted from the cooked flesh like trees after a forest fire. At either end of the table were ceramic jugs decorated with exaggerated pictures of birds and animals. I suspected that they might contain ale, but the contents proved to be a rough red wine that smelt of spices and rich, sun-dried earth.

'Observe how the spoons are placed face up,' said the Doctor quietly.

'So?' I queried.

'In this culture, spoons are often placed face down, so that one does not run the risk of seeing the face of the Devil reflected in it.' The Doctor grinned. 'Such superst.i.tions are prevalent.We are lucky to find ourselves not only in the house of a man of some status, but a man of some thought, some openness.'

'I can't see any forks,' said Dodo prosaically.

'Indeed, no,' the Doctor replied with a smile. 'They have yet to be invented.'

'The Middle Ages,' I stated, probably sounding more confident in my summation than I felt.