by Doctor Who
He was coming after her. Surprise was gone now, and as soon as he got a clear shot . . .
Round the corner. How fast was Stellman? He looked fit, but was he quick? Breaths coming in gasps, heart thumping.
Stopping to try a door – locked. Running again.
‘In a hurry?’ Bill asked as Martha sprinted towards the two robots still putting up pictures.
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‘He’s got – a – gun!’ Martha gasped as she approached. ‘Help me!’
‘Don’t like guns,’ Bott said. ‘Best to hide.’
‘My defensive mode burned out years ago,’ Bill said sadly.
‘Hide where? Can’t you slow him down?’ She was level with Bott now. ‘Buy me time to get away?’
Bott’s round head tilted slightly. ‘And get shot? You’re joking.’
‘I am not joking. Thanks for nothing,’ Martha ran on.
Further down the corridor, Bill was holding open a section of wall. ‘In here,’ he hissed in an electronic whisper. Then he looked through the door and added: ‘Sorry Janna.’
Martha didn’t wait to ask why a part of the wall had opened, or how, or where it led. She ran inside and collapsed gasping on the floor.
The wall closed behind her. The light faded to a flickering gloom. Martha sat up and looked round, her breath still ragged and painful.
On the other side of the small hidden room was a thin mattress with a pile of blankets bundled on top of it. Beside the pile of blankets sat a pale, fair-haired girl.
‘You’re funny,’ Janna said.
The book was a diary. An account of the man’s life, or at least a part of it. The man in the mirror. Suddenly a lot of things were becoming clearer, and not just the unintelligible symbols on the cold, brittle, glass pages.
It was just getting even more interesting, when Defron arrived. The Doctor could see him reflected in the mirror, standing in the doorway, as if uncertain whether to come in.
‘You seen Martha?’ the Doctor called. ‘I thought she came this way.’ He closed the diary and put it back in his jacket pocket.
‘No,’ Defron said. ‘No, I haven’t.’ He walked slowly towards the Doctor. ‘Could I have a word?’
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‘Any word you like. Meringue is a good one. Or cropper. You know – as in come a cropper.’
Defron did not seem amused. ‘I sent a report to the Galactic Alliance,’ he said. ‘Telling them about the . . . incident.’
‘Fair enough.’ The Doctor nodded. Then he realised what this might mean. ‘Ah. You mentioned me and Martha?’
‘I did, yes. As we already have GA observers here, I suggested that further intervention by the justice authorities was not necessary.’
‘And they told you that they’d never heard of us?’ The Doctor shook his head sadly.
‘They will admit to having two Special Agents on site, as well as Colonel Blench’s peacekeeping force. Though the troops have rather limited powers, of course. But when I mentioned that I had already made contact with you . . . ’ He opened his hands in a silent apology.
‘We get this a lot,’ the Doctor confided, looking round as if to check they were alone. ‘Becomes a bit of a bore, to be honest. But what can you do? I’m sure I can rely on your discretion.
Bloke like you – you understand how it works.’
‘Er,’ Defron said.
‘I mean, Martha Mouse and Doctor Duck? Is that the best aliases they could come up with? I ask you. I despair sometimes, I really do.’
‘Er,’ said Defron again. ‘Quite.’
‘Still,’ the Doctor went on, ‘that’s what happens when you get involved in covert operations.’
‘ Covert? ’ Defron’s eyes widened in something close to panic.
‘Well, clandestine anyway. Well, undercover. Well – you know, we have to be discreet, you can see that.’
‘Yes,’ Defron said, but he sounded dubious.
‘And I know we can rely on you. Told the General Secretary before we came, actually.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes. Teddy, I said . . . ’
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Defron frowned. ‘Her name is Canasta. Canasta Ventron.’
‘Well, obviously. But I call her Teddy. Always have. Ever since we were at school together.’
‘She’s in her eighties.’
‘Didn’t you know she used to be a teacher? Well, you live and learn. Anyway, Teddy, I said – Defron’s a good man. A pragmatist. A realist. He’ll understand the need for caution, for playing it close, for going undercover. And as long as everyone else believes we’re just GA observers and no more than that, then I’m happy for Defron to know the truth. He’ll be glad to help in any way he can.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Defron said, still looking confused. ‘I had no idea. So – who exactly are you really?’
The Doctor tapped his nose. ‘Need to know,’ he whispered conspiratorially. ‘The less you know, the less you can divulge.’
‘I’ve sent the guides to their rooms for the duration, and I’ve assigned guards to be with Lady Casaubon and General Orlo at all times. Orlo wasn’t pleased by that, I can tell you. But, do you really think there’s still danger?’
‘Chekz is dead.’
‘Someone wants to start another war between Zerugma and Anthium?’
‘Chekz is dead,’ the Doctor said again. ‘It might be an incident, but it wasn’t an accident.’
Defron nodded. He was looking pale. He sank down into one of the upright wooden chairs at the side of the room. ‘How can I help, Doctor? Er-or is it . . . ?’
‘Doctor will do for now. And you can help by telling me something. Something that may be vitally important, however trivial it might seem to you.’
‘Yes?’
The Doctor leaned close. ‘Who,’ he asked, ‘was Manfred Grieg?’
∗ ∗ ∗
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Martha put her finger to her lips. With her ear pressed to the stone door, she could just make out voices from the other side of the wall.
‘She did come this way,’ Bill was saying.
‘Kept going. Went past me,’ Bott explained. ‘Going that way.’
‘Did you see where she went at the end?’ Stellman’s voice demanded.
‘At the end?’ Bill asked.
Could robots lie, Martha wondered? And if they could, would they? They had hidden her in this secret room with Janna. Or had they trapped her in there and made it easier for Stellman?
‘No, didn’t see her get to the end,’ Bill said. ‘Did you, Bott?’
‘I did not, Bill.’
‘Then, maybe . . . ’ Stellman’s voice sounded closer now.
There was a scraping on the other side of the stone. ‘I wonder . . . ’ Had he seen the outline of the hidden door?
‘Left,’ Bott announced suddenly.
‘What?’ The scraping stopped.
‘There’s a good chance she went left.’
‘But you didn’t see her go left.’
‘That’s true,’ Bott agreed.
‘But we didn’t see her go right either,’ Bill explained. ‘So there’s a good chance she didn’t.’
‘If you see her,’ Stellman said with what sounded like great control, ‘please tell her that I’d like a word.’
‘No problem,’ Bill said.
‘It’ll be our pleasure,’ Bott agreed.
‘Everyone knows the story,’ Defron said. ‘The story of Manfred Grieg and the Mortal Mirror. But you’d do better to ask Professor Thorodin. He’s the expert.’
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‘Oh.’ The Doctor sounded disappointed. ‘I’d much rather ask you. I mean, he’s so boring. But you’re a diplomat, an ora-tor. You make language come alive. You really do.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’ Defron cleared his throat. ‘Well, er, as you know, Manfred Grieg was Chief Minister to Kendal Pennard.’
‘Who was, of course . . . ?’ the Doctor prompted.
‘Who was of course Lord High Advocate for Anthium
and the Governor of Castle Extremis.’
‘As we both well know,’ the Doctor’s agreed quickly.
‘And it was Grieg, by all accounts, who advised Pennard on the strategy used to recapture Extremis after the Second Occupation, a little over a hundred years ago. Quite brilliant. Really, quite, quite brilliant.’
‘Oh, I like brilliant,’ the Doctor agreed.
‘Anyway, by way of thanks, Pennard gave Grieg a mirror.
The Mortal Mirror.’ He pointed down the Great Hall to where the replica was hanging. ‘And I imagine Grieg was suitably impressed and grateful.’
‘I’m sure he was. Go on.’
‘But what he didn’t know was that Pennard had tricked him.
He was jealous of Grieg’s brilliance, and was afraid his minis-ter would supplant him, though there is no evidence to suggest that Grieg was especially ambitious. Though, I suppose . . . ’
Defron considered for a moment before going on. ‘Well, he was a politician.’
‘Yeah, right,’ The Doctor laughed. ‘And whoever heard of a politician who wasn’t cunning and conniving and ambitious, eh?’ He caught Defron’s eye, and his grin faded. ‘Sorry. Joke.
Go on.’
‘The Mortal Mirror was made for Pen nard by the Darksmiths of Karagula.’
The Doctor whistled. ‘They knew a thing or two. Must have cost him a packet and a half. Maybe two packets and a half.’
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‘Perhaps. But what Manfred Grieg did not know was that the mirror was a trap. It was hung here, just as the replica that General Orlo has so kindly provided hangs now. There was a great feast to celebrate the victory and to honour Grieg. Or so he thought.’
‘That’s always ominous – the “so he thought” bit.’ The Doctor shivered. ‘Gets me every time. So, big feast, mirror un-veiled, huge surprise for Grieg, yes?’
Defron nodded. ‘He thought he was being honoured. Instead Pennard denounced him as a traitor and claimed that he had tried to sell the Anthium forces out to Zerugma. Soldiers rushed in, and Grieg backed away. But there was nowhere for him to go.’
‘Except,’ the Doctor said thoughtfully, ‘into the mirror.’
‘So the legend says. The Mortal Mirror, when primed and adjusted in a certain way, reflects not this world, but rather an image of another identical world. A dark realm beyond our own where time and space are inverted and . . . ’ Defron shook his head. ‘I forget the rest, but you get the idea.’
The Doctor was still staring at the mirror. ‘I do indeed. The Darksmiths had the power to reshape the stuff of the universe.
They could open portals into other worlds, or so it was said.
Didn’t know they went in for mirrors.’
He leaned forward and tapped the glass gently. Then he breathed heavily on it, and wiped away the misty condensation with the back of his hand.
‘So Pennard tricked Grieg into the mirror world and trapped him there,’ he went on. ‘Which seems a bit convoluted. There must have been more to it than that, or he’d have just had the man shot. But whyever he did it, Pennard then disconnected or unplugged or switched off whatever mechanism opened the portal, and that was it. Grieg became the man in the mirror.’
‘And the mirror became . . . just a mirror,’ said Defron.
‘Until it was destroyed by the Zerugians,’ the Doctor said.
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Defron nodded. ‘They feared that Grieg might one day escape, and they knew better than Pennard that he was the one man who could defeat them and overthrow the Third Occupation.’
‘So this mirror is just a copy,’ the Doctor said quietly.
‘That’s right. It’s only a story. And this is just an ordinary mirror.’
‘Just an ordinary mirror,’ the Doctor murmured. ‘That can translate Manfred Grieg’s glass diary.’
Janna was watching her with curiosity as Martha pressed her ear to the stone. She couldn’t hear anything now, and hoped that Stellman had moved off. She’d give it a few more minutes, she decided, before taking a look. Just in case . . .
‘You hiding?’ Janna asked.
‘Just a bit.’
‘I hide. This is my hidey hole.’
‘Sorry. But there was this man with a gun.’
‘The guards have guns,’ Janna said dismissively. ‘But they don’t work. It’s all right. I don’t mind you being here. You can visit. Like your friend.’
Martha turned in surprise. ‘The Doctor was here?’
‘A few minutes ago. He’s funny too.’
‘You’re telling me. So, is this where you live?’
‘One of the places. I got lots of homes.’
‘And how do you live? I mean, where do you get food and stuff?’
Janna looked at Martha like she was mad. ‘Kitchens of course. Where does your food come from?’
‘You just take it?’
‘If I have to. But they know me. They give me stuff. I used to work in the kitchens sometimes,’ she said. Then she looked away. ‘With my sister. Not any more.’
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‘I heard about your sister,’ Martha said gently. ‘I’m sorry.’
She wondered if she should go and sit by the girl. Give her a hug. Or would that just freak the poor girl out?
‘Sorry she’s gone?’ Janna asked. ‘Or sorry she’s come back?’
Martha nodded slowly, remembering what Gonfer had told them about the girl’s sudden changes of mood. ‘I think maybe I met your sister. In the courtyard.’
Janna sighed. ‘That was me.’
‘She was rude. Abrupt.’
‘Yeah. I get like that. Sorry.’
‘Is that what happens?’ Now Martha did go and sit beside the girl. ‘Does she sort of, I don’t know, take you over? Do you feel like you’re her?’
Janna edged along the mattress away from Martha. ‘Are you crazy?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Do you think I’m crazy?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘She died. In the gardens. Gonfer found her, all . . . ’ The girl shook her head, her eyes moist in the flickering light. ‘All dead.
He saw what happened. Now he’s so nice and kind and he gets me food.’
‘That’s good,’ Martha said. She wasn’t sure what else she could say. She took Janna’s hand, and was relieved the girl did not pull away again.
‘Why does he do that?’ Janna wailed suddenly, turning to Martha. She wiped away her tears with the back of her free hand. ‘Why is he so nice? I used to tease him, and upset him. I was horrid to him and now he’s so good to me. Why?’
‘Perhaps he feels sorry for you.’ Martha could feel her own tears welling up.
‘He used to get so angry.’ Janna shook her head. ‘My sister was nice to him and I was horrid. Now he’s nice to me. And she’s back.’
‘What do you mean, she’s back?’
‘I mean she’s here in the castle. She follows me. I see her watching from the shadows. I hear her footsteps behind me. I 75
go to my secret places – like here – and I find she’s been there already. I’ve got places no one else knows about, not even Bill and Bott, and she goes there and moves things. Lives there.’
She looked at Martha, eyes wide and lips trembling. ‘How can she live there, when she’s dead?’
Martha could only shake her head. It would do no good to tell the girl she was imagining things. And what if she wasn’t?
What if she really was being haunted by her own dead sister?
But Martha did not have to answer. Because at that moment the hidden door to the corridor outside swung open.
Stellman was standing framed in the opening, one hand in his jacket pocket.
‘I’m sorry it took me so long to get the door open,’ he said.
‘How did you find us?’ Janna demanded.
‘Bill and Bott.’
‘So,’ Martha said, ‘robots can’t lie.’
‘Oh yes they can,’ Stellman said. ‘It’s just that they’re not very good at it.’
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He had watched the Doctor. Watched the way he looked at the mirror and the way he reacted to Defron’s account of the story of Manfred Grieg. The way he examined the glass book . . . And he was worried. This Doctor could be trouble. It was best to take no chances.
He waited until Defron and the Doctor headed back to the negotiating chamber, then slipped into the Great Hall. There was no one else there, so he didn’t need to worry about the angles. Didn’t need to avoid the mirror.
Nursing his shattered arm, he fumbled with the hidden mechanism. He reached round the wooden frame, pulling it slightly away from the wall, feeling for the controls. They were stiff with age but he knew what to do. He had to hold the mirror away from the wall with his broken wrist while he set the mechanism.
The Doctor was head down, hands deep in pockets as they walked.
‘It’s too late for Zerugma to send a replacement for First Secretary Chekz,’ Defron was saying. ‘Even if they wanted to.’
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‘You reckon?’
‘There’s always been tension between the military and the politicians. Chekz was billed as a compromise. A politician with military experience, albeit a long time ago.’
‘So the politicians won,’ the Doctor mused. ‘Not necessarily a bad thing.’
‘Not a bad thing at all,’ Defron agreed. ‘The military was furious and insisted on sending General Orlo as his aide.’
‘Because he’s a hardliner?’
‘Absolutely.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘And with the death of Chekz, they’ll see Orlo as the best choice anyway. Uncompromising, determined, firm and resolute. With the moral high ground now as well.’
‘Don’t forget bloodthirsty,’ Defron said in a lowered voice.
‘Oh?’
‘He led the Zerugian troops into Mendalla. And we all know what happened there.’
They were almost at the negotiating chamber.
‘Yeah,’ the Doctor said. ‘Yeah, that was . . . nasty. OK, so we add bloodthirsty to our list. Still leaves a great big question though. A huge glaring whopping humdinger of a question.’
The soldiers either side of the door snapped to attention.
‘Which is?’ Defron asked as they paused outside the room.
