by Doctor Who
‘Damaging?’ Petr sprang behind his brother, pulling him into a headlock, squeezing his neck with his long arms.
‘No!’ Martha threw herself at Petr, but the man brushed her aside easily. She fell forwards onto her face, tasting the grit of the path.
‘I’m going to kill you,’ said Petr with grim finality, tightening his grip on Saul’s huge throat. Saul fell to his knees, his eyes bulging – and yet he did not struggle. He seemed entirely accepting of his fate.
Martha got to her feet, still swaying, and looked over at the ghostly boy – only to find that he had entirely disappeared. And, as the fog thickened and came closer all the time, the only sound she could hear was Saul, choking.
The Doctor was running at breakneck speed down a bewildering succession of corridors. Jude wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up with him. ‘Humans!’ he was exclaiming, still clearly irritated by what he had seen when the shadow creature had enveloped him.
‘They are amazing. Absolutely amazing! But, my god, they can be thick!’
‘What do you mean?’ said Jude, struggling to breathe, talk and run all at the same time.
‘Thinking they can do away with evil with the wave of a technolog-ical wand!’ he exclaimed, suddenly coming to a halt before a great, rounded door and waving what seemed, to Jude’s eyes at least, a tech-nological magic wand in front of him. A panel set into the wall made 130
a chirruping noise, and the door began to open. ‘Evil isn’t a disease you can eradicate just by messing with people’s minds,’ he continued, almost hopping from foot to foot like a child waiting to open an enormous wrapped gift. ‘And you can’t remove people’s bad memories and somehow think that’ll make everything hunky dory.’
He ducked through the doorway before it was fully open, and started running again. Jude noticed that there seemed to be fewer bodies in this part of the ‘ship’ – soon after the monster had attacked, they’d moved onto one of the ‘habitation levels’ and the signs of car-nage had been all too apparent. The Doctor had tried to keep Jude from the worst of it, but even so both were much happier when they found their way into this section of the vessel, still gleaming and apparently new. ‘Better seals on the doors,’ the Doctor had explained absent-mindedly. ‘A door a day. . . keeps decay at bay,’ he’d added, nonsensically.
Nothing could disguise the fact that it was getting darker all the time – and, once or twice, Jude was sure there’d been something in her peripheral vision, lurking just out sight. The Doctor seemed at-tuned to the dwindling light, running faster and seeming to become yet more agitated with every passing moment. Jude kept trying to ask him questions, if only to slow him down a little. ‘But surely,’ she said,
‘whether you had a nice childhood, how your parents treat you. . .
Doesn’t that change who you are?’
The Doctor beamed at Jude. He seemed pleased that she was able to follow what he was saying – and to engage with him. ‘Evil actions are the result of decisions,’ he was saying, forcefully. ‘Not environmental factors, not genetics. They have their place, of course, but. . . You can’t blame other people, other things, for what you do. Two children, brought up in similar circumstances, don’t end up as the same person!
Your personality is the sum of everything that’s happened to you, yes
– but also of every decision you’ve made.’
He stopped suddenly, the corridors forming a crossroads. ‘Talking of decisions. . . Which way?’
Jude shrugged.
‘Haven’t seen a map for a while,’ explained the Doctor. ‘I know it’s 131
not far, but. . . ’
‘That monster,’ said Jude, still turning everything over in her mind.
‘You said it’s made up of all the evil thoughts of all the prisoners who were here. . . ’
The Doctor nodded. ‘Every thought, every instinct and desire. . . ’
‘So what was left behind?’
‘Good question,’ said the Doctor. ‘After the treatment, were the prisoners truly human, were they capable of free will?’ He looked around, and for a moment Jude imagined herself back on the walkways that connected the cells, with their bodies and piles of grey ash. ‘Clearly not everything that’s happened here is a result of this shadow creature. Some of what we’ve seen. . . Well, let’s just say that the prisoners still had the capacity to choose to do wrong, to be selfish and violent when perhaps, had they joined together, sought refuge. . . ’
‘The Dazai says to choose is to be human.’
The Doctor smiled. ‘Perhaps that’s it. . . Perhaps that’s what your entire world is.’
‘What?’ asked Jude.
‘A place where human beings – even specially created ones – can struggle with issues of choice, of morality, of free will. . . An arena, a theatre stage, a science lab, all rolled into one. But why? Who benefits?’
‘Doctor. . . ’
‘Hmm?’
‘The choice before us. . . I know which way to go.’
‘Really?’
Jude pointed – at the far end of the corridor they faced, where shadows thrived and merged, she could just make out the angelic creature that had attacked the Doctor.
‘Any corridor but that one,’ she said simply.
‘He’s gone!’ shouted Martha. Desperate, she was trying to pull Petr’s hands from his brother’s throat. ‘Your boy, Thorn – he’s disappeared!’
She tugged at Petr’s arms, seemingly in vain. Though less well built than Saul, Petr was no desk-bound wimp. He was as strong as any-132
one in the village, given that all lived in harsh conditions and had to struggle to survive. Martha could barely get a grip on his arms, and she was worried that he might throw her aside again. Her lip was sore from where she’d hit the ground, and one hand and elbow were grazed.
‘Gone?’ said Petr suddenly. The manic look drained from his face like drawn poison. His arms dropped, limp, to his sides.
Saul collapsed, choking and gasping for air.
‘You could have killed him!’ said Martha, more angry now than anything. ‘You stupid, stupid man! We’ve got to get to that island –
together.’
Petr looked around, desperate to get one last glimpse of his son, but the wall of fog was opaque now. He looked down at his brother, though his eyes didn’t seem t us on him. ‘We’ll talk later,’ he growled, and marched off into the fog.
Martha helped Saul to his feet. ‘Is it true?’ she asked, not sure if they should trust the apparition they had just seen. ‘You and Kristine. . . ’
Saul got up, looking guilty – and grateful to be alive. ‘We’ve always been very close,’ he explained, clear in his throat and dusting himself down. ‘We saw each other for months before Petr even noticed her –always had his head in the clouds, you see. Even then.’
‘And, even though she married Petr. . . ’
‘He’s always been suspicious of me.’
‘Sounds like he has every right to be,’ said Martha. She didn’t mean to be so harsh, but the last thing she needed – when the world was about to end – was a domestic feud. Saul said nothing in response.
They soon came across Petr, stooped by a handful of small boats that were moored behind a large house on stilts, right at the lake’s edge.
The fog was a little less thick here, and Petr was already waist-deep in the water, struggling to untie one of the boats.
Saul wordlessly waded into the lake, helping his brother with the rope, which was matted and the colour of algae. Soon both men were in the boat and trying to help Martha to join them without tipping the whole thing over.
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Martha wasn’t overly keen on ships of any size, still less this rickety vessel that seemed little more advanced than a coracle from a mu-seum. It was far larger than she might have expected, though, with a definite prow and stern, and places set up for oars, and plenty of room in the centre for fish – or, in this case, a bedraggled woman convince
d she’d left her sea legs behind. Martha flopped into the middle of the boat with all the grace and finesse of a harpooned seal.
As she struggled to sit, Saul and Petr began to row the boat across the lake. Without talking, without even looking at each other, they established a decent, sustainable rhythm. Soon the shoreline, and the cluster of shapes that represented the village, slipped back into the fog.
The boat lurched suddenly. Perhaps the lake wasn’t as calm as it appeared.
‘You said you had to be brave to fish in the lake,’ said Martha. ‘Why’s that, then?’ In truth, she was just desperate to break the silence that the brothers had lapsed into.
‘Oh, you’re safe enough if you stay near the shore,’ said Saul, after a rare glance at Petr as if asking for permission to speak.
‘Given that we’re heading out towards the island,’ said Martha, ‘that doesn’t entirely answer my question.’
‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ said Saul. He turned his gaze back to the lake in front of him. The water was calm again, as flat as a sheet of glass, and the fog that drifted in streamers and strands around the boat seemed to soak up every noise, bar the occasional lap of water as the boat pushed on towards the island. The island began to solidify in the distance, a small, peaked black shadow wreathed with cloud.
‘So,’ said Martha. ‘What’s on the island?’ She paused. ‘Anyone?’
Saul and Petr said nothing, toiling away with the long wooden oars.
Martha sighed – it would have been nice to know what to expect, but she supposed it was going to be more monsters and beasts to mark the edge of this world. Perhaps it was just as well not to know.
She glanced back. The village was entirely out of sight now, the constantly moving fog expanding as far as she could see in every direction. She was grateful for Saul and Petr’s competence – if it was 134
down to her, they’d probably end up rowing around in circles.
This comforting thought faded from her mind the moment something hit the boat. It wasn’t turbulence in the water, or the effect of a sudden squall of wind – a pale shape was moving through the dark waters.
Her blood ran cold. She looked over at the brothers, who’d scarcely missed a beat. ‘What was that?’ she asked.
‘Just a friendly welcome,’ said Saul. ‘We’ll only be in trouble if they all come at once.’
Saul’s use of the plural bothered Martha almost as much as the idea of an attack on the boat. With great trepidation she peered over the side.
A handful of bullet-shaped creatures swam under the boat, their paths criss-crossing as they made powerful, darting surges forward.
Martha thought at first that they were swelling and growing bigger.
Then she realised that each one was rising up through the grey waters of the lake.
There was a sudden splintering sound only a few feet away from where Petr was patiently rowing. Through the shattered wood and turgid water Martha could see some sort of snout as a creature tried to widen the hole. It disappeared again and the boat began to fill with water.
There was another bump, then the entire craft started to shake wildly. Martha gripped the wooden rail that ran across the centre of the boat; it was like being thrown into a tumble dryer. The air was full of water as the boat flexed and twisted. Great waves threatened to flood it entirely.
Martha looked over the side again. More and more of the creatures were circling the boat, thrashing and writhing and clearly desperate to attack the vessel.
There was another sound of splintering wood. ‘Right,’ said Martha.
‘I think we can safely say we’re in trouble now.’
135
It was so dark on the Castor that the Doctor was using his wand –sonic screwdriver, he’d called it – to illuminate the corridors as they walked. They’d taken a circuitous route in an attempt to avoid the shadow creature, and the Doctor had filled in the silence by reminding Jude that the fate of her entire world might rest on how quickly they could find the heart of the ship.
Jude still wasn’t sure she understood what the Doctor had said, but the gathering shadows were eloquent enough. A darkness was flowing over everything that Jude knew and took for granted. If the Doctor didn’t succeed, Jude might never see the light again.
‘You’ve got to hand it to Martha,’ said the Doctor, seeming to move more slowly now for fear of stumbling over something in the dark.
‘Whatever it is she’s doing, it’s just enough. . . ’
‘Just enough to what?’
‘To give whoever it is that’s sustaining your world something to think about. I’m sure your father’s helping, too,’ he added with a sympathetic smile.
‘And if they stopped?’
The Doctor paused, his face hidden by shadow. ‘Goodnight Vienna,’
he said quietly. He pointed at the ceiling, where a row of lights still 137
glowed faintly. ‘Should be pitch black by now,’ said the Doctor. ‘By rights, your people should be asleep, and this place. . . This place should be as quiet as the grave.’
He paused, standing at another intersection, turning his head slowly as if listening for something.
‘Whereas,’ he said, excitement returning to his voice again, ‘you just listen to that! The hum of machinery, the gentle vibration of electricity through circuit boards!’
Jude wasn’t sure she could hear anything at all.
‘This way!’ said the Doctor urgently. ‘Nearly there. Where there’s noise there’s. . . ’
He stopped suddenly. A solid wall of shadow blocked the corridor in front of them; at its heart, like some great carrion bird flying against the wind, an ethereal figure hovered silently. A twisted angel, unfathomable and random and with no comprehension of what the Doctor was trying to do.
‘We’ll have to go back,’ said Jude, grasping the Doctor’s hand tightly.
‘Can’t,’ said the Doctor Simply. ‘The control room, the heart of the ship. . . It’s right over there.’
‘But you said if we saw that thing again. . . it might kill us. It might drain us, or scare us witless, or. . . ’
‘You’re young!’ said the Doctor positively. ‘How many bad things can you have done?’
‘Enough,’ said Jude.
‘Even so,’ said the Doctor, a stiffer determination in his voice now,
‘we need to get to the door behind that creature.’
‘You go,’ said Jude, suddenly not feeling at all brave. ‘I’ll wait here.’
“Fraid I’m going to need your help,’ said the Doctor in a whisper. ‘I can’t do it on my own.’
Jude paused, trying to make sense of everything. She supposed she was just a normal child, that she’d not done much wrong. She’d certainly never deliberately set out to bully or to hurt anyone. But if this creature was going to sift them both like wheat from chaff, was that enough? Her reading of books about morality indicated that there was more to a good life than an absence of evil. How many 138
positive things had she actually done?
There was a beggar in the village, a scary old drunk with a habit of talking to himself and randomly shouting at the children as they played. Had she ever given him food or drink? Had she ever even tried to talk to him? And, even if she had – had she done it for the right reasons, or because people expected her to be good and kind?
Did she hope for rewards when she did good deeds, or was she truly good?
Anyway, this monster of shadows. . . Who was to say its idea of good and evil was the same as hers? At school, she had a reputation as a know-it-all, as a brain on legs. It was certainly true that she’d always enjoyed philosophical discussions almost as much as the science and history lessons that were so dear to her heart.
But she had never once expected them to have a practical use.
‘All right,’ she said after a moment, and she grasped the Doctor’s hand even more tightly. ‘If it’s the only way I’m going to get home. . . ’
‘That’s the spirit,’ said the Doctor brightly, starting to walk forward with Jude at his side. ‘Just be positive. Think happy thoughts, good memories. Moments when you could have been selfish or hurtful but you chose not to.’
‘All right,’ said Jude. Her eyes were half-closed now, and she allowed herself to be guided forward by the Doctor. She glanced sideways at him – he was concerned, yes, that much was evident from his face. But he was absolutely determined, his strong jaw set forward.
He was going to survive this, and save Jude’s world, whatever the cost.
They took three more steps, right into the heart of the creature. It was like stepping outside and away from the warmth of a burning fire; the air was suddenly cold and still, and just for a moment there was silence.
Suddenly, someone, somewhere, was shouting out – overlapping cries of terror and anguish. It was only when the dark shadows flowed directly into Jude’s mind that she understood – distantly, as if all this was happening to someone else – what the sounds were.
She and the Doctor were screaming.
139
∗ ∗ ∗
Martha leapt away from the side of the boat as one of the lake creatures pushed its head through the splintered wood of the stern. The beast’s stubby face reminded Martha of a shark, with ragged, random teeth and tiny eyes – three of them, arranged in a perfect triangle at the top of its head. The skull was ringed with forward-pointing horns, which ran like a frill around its neck. It resembled a bulldog that had grown a spiked collar out of its very flesh.
Saul was already on his feet – his legs wide and braced against the bucking of the boat – and he whirled the oar high over his head. He brought it down on the monster’s head with a sharp crack!
The creature flinched and splashed back into the water. Though it retreated, other creatures were already moving into position, writhing over each other like alabaster worms.
Martha glanced around wildly. The water in the bottom of the boat was already ankle deep, and Petr was rowing for his life, struggling against the extra weight and the sudden fragility of the vessel. Saul stood, oars in his hands like paddle-ended spears, waiting for the next attack.
