by Doctor Who
‘That must be the treaty they’re going to sign,’ Martha whispered.
The Doctor yawned. ‘Come on, Orlo,’ he murmured.
‘You want him to do something?’ Martha hissed.
‘I want him to think he’s in control. If he realises that he’s miscalculated . . . It’s a good job Thorodin never got a chance to talk to him. I hope.’
‘We are about to witness –’ Defron announced. But he got no further.
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‘Be silent!’ General Orlo roared. The tiny microphone attached to his breastplate and wireless-linked to the sound desk at the back of the hall relayed his words through huge speakers arranged along the sides of the room.
Defron turned, flustered and confused. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I said, be silent.’
The General rose to his clawed feet and stepped forward.
‘You are right,’ he announced, adjusting his eyepatch as he spoke. ‘History will indeed be made here today. But not by you.’ He grabbed Defron by the shoulders, lifted him off his feet and hurled the startled man from the dais to sprawl across the people sitting in the front row.
There was confused muttering. Cameras began to flash as the press sensed a photo opportunity.
Orlo stood at the front of the dais.
Behind him Lady
Casaubon made to stand up, but Stellman put his hand on her shoulder. Silently he gestured for her to leave the side of the dais.
‘Today you will indeed witness history.’ General Orlo stared out at the audience, waiting for silence.
Martha gasped. ‘The mirror – look in the mirror.’ There were murmurings as other people also saw what was happening. Heads turned, assuming that what they could see was a reflection of events in the Great Hall. But it was not.
The mirror was angled so that the press could not see themselves reflected in it. All they could see was General Orlo, alone on the dais now that Defron, Stellman and Lady Casaubon were gone. And the line of Zerugian soldiers marching through the open doors at the back of the hall.
Their heads appeared first, like the masts of ships rising over the horizon at sea. As they approached the mirror, Martha and everyone else could see the shining breastplates, the clawed hands holding their guns, the snarling dripping teeth.
Orlo turned, so that it was his reflection that spoke out of the mirror to the confused audience.
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‘Today, Zerugma will conquer!’ he announced.
And the reflected image of Orlo stepped out of the mirror to stand beside the real General. His soldiers marching through behind them, weapons raised.
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The noise died away and for several moments there was silence.
Defron struggled to his feet. ‘What is the meaning of this?’
he demanded. His voice was quavering as he addressed the two mirrored figures looking down at him. ‘General Orlo? What is going on here?’
‘Victory,’ both Orlos said together.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Of course you don’t, you snivelling wretch,’ the original Orlo declared. He stepped down from the dais and hauled Defron up until the man was on tip-toe, almost at eye level with the massive creature.
‘You want to negotiate the red-line clauses?’ Defron asked, his voice rising an octave.
‘We will negotiate nothing. This fiasco ends now. I hold Castle Extremis, and my troops will crush any resistance.’ Orlo let go of Defron, who sprawled on the floor at his feet. ‘Negotiation is over.’ He swept his arm across, pointing to the assembled audience. ‘You will report that Zerugma holds Extremis through right of conquest and might of arms.’
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‘This castle is neutral territory,’ Defron thundered.
He
seemed to have regained his confidence as he stood up again.
‘It is under the jurisdiction of the Galactic Alliance. Colonel Blench!’
Blench was at the back of the Great Hall. Martha saw he had been watching events impassively. Now the Colonel stepped into the aisle. ‘Sir,’ he acknowledged.
‘You will please relieve the Zerugian troops of their illegal weapons and escort the General – the Generals,’ Defron corrected himself, ‘to the negotiating chamber. We will sort this out in private.’
‘And what do you suggest, High Minister Defron, sir, if General Orlo doesn’t agree?’ Blench asked calmly.
Orlo laughed, his reflection mirroring him. ‘I most certainly do not agree.’
More of the GA soldiers were arriving at the back of the hall. They deployed along the side and down the aisle in professional, practised moves. Their weapons trained on the dais.
‘Could I say something, before anyone does anything a bit, well, silly?’ The Doctor was walking slowly up the aisle, hands deep in his pockets. ‘Won’t take long, promise.’
Behind Orlo and his reflected self, the Zerugian soldiers had spread out across the dais and to the side of the hall.
‘What is it, Doctor?’ Orlo’s reflection demanded.
The Doctor stopped in front of the dais. He leaned forward slightly as if to get a better view of his own reflection in the mirror. He licked the ends of his fingers and slicked down his hair. ‘Surrender,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Surrender. You’re outnumbered and outgunned. Defron is right, this isn’t the way. You want glory and honour for your people? Then fight for it at the negotiating table. That’s the way wars are won and victory is achieved – victory for everyone.
This way, your way, everyone loses. So do the right thing. Be brave. You have one chance – surrender.’
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‘Outgunned?’ Orlo, the real Orlo, laughed.
The Doctor shook his head in exasperation. ‘Is that the only word you listened to? Didn’t you hear any of the other things I said? But yes, if that’s the only argument you’ll understand, surrender because you will lose.’
For an answer, Orlo raised a hand. He snapped his clawed fingers together. Immediately, the Zerugian soldiers arranged behind him levelled their weapons.
‘You forget, Doctor, my troops are armed.’
‘Really.’
‘With guns that work.’
The Doctor seemed to freeze. ‘Ah.’ Then he smiled. ‘Maybe I don’t need guns.’
Blench was standing close behind the Doctor now. ‘Give us the release codes,’ he said. ‘As a special agent and representative of the Galactic Alliance, you can authorise use of weapons.
Give us the codes now – our guns won’t work without the codes.’
The Doctor was still staring at the two generals, indistin-guishable except that they wore their eyepatches on different sides. ‘Is that what you want?’ the Doctor asked. ‘I give Blench and his men the codes and you all shoot it out? I tell you, Orlo, it’s over. Surrender now, lay down your guns and we can still negotiate. But if I have to give the release codes then that means weapons will be released for use. And if that happens it’s tantamount to a declaration of war. Zerugma against the Galactic Alliance – that’s not the way to win anything.’
At the back of the hall, Martha held her breath. Of course the Doctor didn’t have any codes to give. The GA troops really were powerless. But would Orlo take the risk? She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as Orlo said.’
‘Very well, Doctor.’ The two Generals turned to look at each other. Then the real Orlo went on: ‘Give Colonel Blench the release codes.’
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The Doctor’s mouth dropped open. ‘What?’ He leaned forward. ‘What?’ He shook his head. ‘What?!’
‘Or could it be,’ Orlo’s reflection said quietly, ‘that you don’t know the codes?’
‘Doctor!’ Blench said urgently.
‘I’ll tell him,’ the Doctor warned.
The two massive reptiles in front of him folded their arms.
There was muttering from the audience.
Several people
slipped o
ut the back of the room, but most were torn between fear and the chance of reporting on a huge news story.
‘You’re no more a GA representative than I am,’ Orlo said, his voice picked up and amplified by the microphone he wore.
‘I have friends at Galactic Central, and they tell me no observers were dispatched to these talks. It was felt that the pres-sure of observation might endanger the chances of agreement.’
‘Doctor?’ Blench said.
‘Tell him he’s wrong,’ Defron insisted. ‘The point about covert observers is that no one knows about them. I only know because the GA Council themselves told me they have an agent here. Two agents, in fact. The Doctor and Miss Martha.’
‘Ah,’ the Doctor said. ‘Well, that’s not strictly true, is it? I mean, they didn’t actually give you our names, did they?’
‘Well no,’ Defron admitted. ‘But who else could it be?’
‘No one,’ Orlo said. He sounded bored. ‘I told you, no agents or observers were despatched. So I suggest you tell your men to drop their weapons, Colonel Blench. I suggest you surrender.’
The Doctor held up his hand. ‘You really don’t get it, do you?’ No agents were despatched because the GA agents were already here.’
Orlo stepped to the front of the dais and leaned towards the Doctor, towering over him. ‘You are bluffing.’
‘Want to bet on it? And I’ll tell you another thing: your army there isn’t as mighty and all-powerful as you think. Because 162
the Mortal Mirror doesn’t work in the way you believe it does.
Thorodin – or whoever it was you had imitating him – he tried to tell you. But I don’t think he ever got round to it.’
‘Where is Sastrak?’
‘Was that his name?’
‘He is dead?’ Orlo demanded.
‘Shattered. And I mean that. Your army, even your reflection standing beside you there – they’re all made of glass.’
‘You lie!’ General Orlo swung round to look at his troops.
Then back to the Doctor. ‘I don’t believe you.’
The Doctor shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. But when Blench gets his release codes, you’ll soon find out. Last chance – surrender.’
‘Never!’ Orlo snarled. ‘There are no codes. You think I haven’t monitored and checked every transmission in and out of Extremis? No codes have been sent.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Positive.’
‘Maybe he’s right, Doctor,’ Blench said quietly,
‘No, no, no,’ the Doctor said. ‘No, I won’t have that. I mean, there are other ways the codes could have been sent here. Ways that weren’t monitored. Aren’t there?’
‘You clutch at straws, Doctor,’ Orlo said. ‘It is time to end this.’ He raised his hand again.
‘Surely the codes could have been sent by post, or courier, or carrier pigeon, or – well, somehow.’
The Doctor turned to the audience, most of whom were now ducking down behind the chairs and any other cover they could find.
‘Could have been narrow-beamed directly to the agents,’ Bill called from the back of the room.
‘There you are then,’ the Doctor said happily.
‘Encrypted for the receiver only,’ Bott agreed. ‘That wouldn’t go through main comms and no one else would detect it.’
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‘It would work a treat,’ Bill told everyone. ‘Wouldn’t it, Bott?’
‘Oh, it certainly would, Bill.’
General Orlo was shaking his massive scaly head. His reflected self mirrored the action. ‘A narrow-beam direct com-munication has to go to a receiver. It can’t be used to com-municate with an agent. It’s a network protocol for sending instructions and data to equipment and technology.’
‘You mean, like a robot?’ the Doctor asked.
Orlo blinked. A trail of viscous saliva dripped from his open jaw.
‘I really don’t think there’s any option left,’ the Doctor said sadly. ‘Colonel Blench, the Galactic Alliance authorises you for use of weapons.’
‘No!’ Orlo roared.
‘Then surrender!’ the Doctor shouted at him.
In reply, Orlo ripped the microphone from his breastplate and dashed it to the floor.
And from the back of the hall, Bill said: ‘The GA Release Code is nine seven four oblique-stroke two.’
‘Colonel Blench, you have use of weapons,’ Bott added.
‘Doesn’t he, Bill?’
‘He certainly does, Bott,’ Bill said. ‘Take cover.’
From all round the hall there came the sound of the GA soldiers entering the release code into their weapons. The double-click of power-rounds loading into the guns as they were made ready to fire.
‘You are outnumbered and outgunned,’ Colonel Blench told General Orlo.
Orlo’s lips curled back from his stained, yellowing teeth.
‘You think so.’ He stepped aside, his alter ego moving across the dais in the opposite direction. In the mirror behind, another group of Zerugian soldiers marched into the reflection of the Great Hall. Then another. And another. Marching towards the mirror, and stepping out of it into the real world.
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There was chaos. Martha dived behind the sound desk where Bill and Bott were standing. Soldiers raced for cover.
The press and dignitaries in the audience were under their chairs, hiding behind the huge speakers, or crawling, staggering, running for the doors. The Zerugians already in the hall advanced, while more and more emerged from the rippling surface of the Mortal Mirror.
Colonel Blench was shouting to his troops to wait, and to Orlo and the Zerugians to surrender.
But after a moment, his voice was lost in the deafening roar of the guns.
The Doctor dived under the side table with the treaty book on it.
‘You all right?’ he asked as he pulled his feet out of sight after him. It was a bit cramped, but it would have to do. And if he was going to end this madness he needed to talk to the person already hiding under the table and now sitting with her legs pulled up under her chin beside him.
‘I hoped he’d surrender, once he saw that Colonel Blench had overwhelmingly more soldiers. But he didn’t. Because he hasn’t. Which is annoying.’ The Doctor lifted the edge of the velvet table cloth to peer out.
The GA soldiers were retreating towards the main doors, forced back by the sheer numbers of Zerugians from the mirror.
‘Where have they all come from?’ the Doctor wondered out loud. ‘He can’t have hidden that many in there, unless . . . ’ He shook his head as he realised. ‘Multiplied in the mirror. Reflections of reflections of reflections.’
A bullet hammered into a Zerugian close to the table. It caught the creature in the leg, shattering it. The Zerugian collapsed, one arm breaking as it hit the stone floor. The side of its head sheared off. But still it tried to drag itself on, firing its own weapon as it went.
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‘Brittle, but resilient,’ the Doctor murmured. ‘Determined.
Obsessed, even. We need more than bullets. Bullets never solved anything. We need . . . ’ He turned towards the girl.
‘. . . You.’
Her eyes were wide. ‘What can I do?’
The Doctor held up his sonic screwdriver. ‘Get this to Martha. Tell her it’s all set and ready to rock and roll. Bill and Bott will know how to use it.’
‘And what’s it do?’
Before the Doctor could answer, the cloth was pulled aside and a snarling green face appeared. A gun swung up to cover the Doctor and Janna. The snarl became a reptilian smile as a claw tightened on the trigger.
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Janna shrieked as the grotesque, green face pulled back, a fine maze of cracks webbing across its scaled cheek.
The Doctor thrust the sonic screwdriver right at the Zerugian and switched it on. The Zerugian’s face was illuminated by the bright blue light for a moment. A high-
pitched squeal erupted from the sonic screwdriver. The mass of cracks became splits, widening and growing. Then the whole creature exploded in a shattering blast of glass fragments.
With his hands over his face, the Doctor dived across Janna to protect her from the flying shards.
‘ That’s what it does,’ he said. ‘But it’s too focused to be much use except right up close like that.’ He held out the sonic for her to take. ‘Get it to Martha. I’ll distract them all, make sure you’re safe.’
Janna looked at the Doctor. Her eyes were still wide with fear, and he smiled and nodded to reassure her. After a moment, she nodded back and crawled out from under the table.
The Doctor jumped to his feet on the other side of the table.
His hands were thrust deep in his pockets and his face set in 167
a stern, uncompromising expression. Immediately a Zerugian turned towards him. The Doctor shoved the creature aside. Its feet skidded on broken glass and it crashed to the floor. The Doctor stepped over the shattered body.
‘Orlo!’ he shouted. ‘You have to end this. You stop it, or I will. Your choice.’
There were two General Orlos, but he didn’t care which one he spoke to. They would be of the same mind.
‘And how can you stop me now?’ a voice said from behind the Doctor.
He switched on a grin and spun round. The room was falling quiet. GA soldiers and Zerugian warriors holding their positions as they watched the Doctor and Orlo standing in the middle of the carnage – broken glass, shattered warriors, dead and dying soldiers . . .
The Doctor took a moment to look around before he answered. The other Orlo – the reflection, the Doctor saw from the side he wore his eyepatch – was halfway down the hall, leading his warriors against Colonel Blench’s forces. Blench and his men had taken what cover they could. There was a barricade hastily built from piled-up chairs and behind that was the sound desk. The Doctor could see Martha with Bill and Bott, and he could see Janna crawling between the legs of the jungle-pile of chairs as she worked her way to the back of the hall.
‘Oh, I’ll stop you,’ the Doctor said. ‘You and your army of glass. Delicate stuff, glass.’
