by Doctor Who
'Do you mind if I join you?'
Captain Darke had been picking at a plate of lukewarm 88
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meat and dry bread on the table before him with little interest, and turned at the familiar voice to find the Doctor standing behind him, looking distracted.
'Where's your friend?' The Captain glanced around for the pretty young woman, and was surprised at the disappointment he felt when he couldn't see her.
'Emily? She's gone. It's better that way,' replied the Doctor, but Darke sensed his companion's concern for the girl. The Doctor nodded in the vague direction of the Sheriffs quarters. 'How's cheerful Charlie?
Still the life and soul?'
'He remains in his waking sleep. There didn't seem much point in staying with him, so I posted a guard outside and decided to get something to eat.' Darke prodded the chunks of food around his plate for the umpteenth time. 'Funny thing, though. I've not eaten for the best part of a day, yet I find I no longer have any appetite.'
'Captain, the Sheriff wishes to see you.'
The unexpected new voice brought him out of his reverie. He hadn't noticed the guard come over, and Darke felt his stomach tighten.
The Sheriff was awake.
'Of course. You can finish this if you like.' Darke pushed the plate of food towards the Doctor, who immediately tore off a strip of bread and popped it in his mouth nonchalantly.
Darke rose from the table and made his way to the Sheriffs quarters.
Before he'd had a chance to knock, he heard the Sheriffs voice.
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'No need to announce your presence, Captain. You may enter.'
The Sheriff was sitting at his desk, with no outward sign to suggest he'd done anything other than have a good night's sleep.
'Unless I'm much mistaken, I believe I gave you orders to bring your prisoner to me.'
'I assumed you'd prefer to wait until morning, my Lord, allow the prisoner time to get some rest, so he could better answer your questions,' Darke bluffed. 'He remains in his lodgings on the other side of town.' It was the best excuse he could think of. He had no intention of revealing that the Doctor was in this very building, and the lie would buy them some time.
'I think it's best if you follow orders and leave the thinking to your superiors, don't you?' sneered the Sheriff, and Darke wondered if he was equally repugnant when his mind was his own.
'I received further intelligence during the night, concerning your prisoner. It seems he may be from out of town. Therefore my need to speak with him has become more pressing.' The Sheriff paused, and it struck Darke that it was almost as if the man were listening to some other voice, whispering in his ear. 'Send an armed guard. It is imperative that the prisoner is not allowed to escape.'
'Of course, my Lord, I understand. I shall fetch him myself, straight away.' Darke bowed and left the Sheriff to his own or, more likely, somebody else's dark thoughts.
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The sensation of engaging with the world through someone else's eyes, forcing your thoughts and words through their mouth, was something unique, and Henk relished every moment. True, his control over the Sheriff was limited, but to feel another being's soul subsumed beneath one's own was one hell of a rush.
Henk disengaged the neural relay, casually removing the headset and tossing it onto the table. He relaxed back into the Bishop's ornate chair, knowing that the Sheriff would have reverted to a sleep state already. The human probably wouldn't last much longer — direct mind control without suitable recovery periods was fatal - but the Sheriff was an expendable tool, and the project was nearing completion.
The hidden scanners would alert him to the arrival of the prisoner, giving Henk plenty of time to reconnect with his puppet Sheriff, and he would make short work of the prisoner if he turned out to be a threat.
He felt sure his Krillitanes would enjoy the extra meal.
The Captain closed the door behind him, softly. What had the Sheriff meant by 'further intelligence? What's more, when had he received it?
Darke looked at the guard he'd posted outside the chamber.
'You're certain the Sheriff has received no visitors?' he demanded.
'None, sir,' said the man.
Darke was certain that nobody could have gained 91
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an audience with the Sheriff without the soldier seeing them, which meant that no one else had been in the room since he'd spent the early hours in there with the Doctor, Emily and the strangely distant Sheriff.
If an external force was controlling the Sheriff, that had to be where he had got his new information from, transferred directly into his mind by whoever it was within the Cathedral that held dominion over his thoughts and actions. If they wanted to capture the Doctor, then they had decided that he was a threat, and Darke had to find him and warn him.
He hurried back into the main hall, but stopped short. The room was empty, save for a half-empty plate at the table where they had been sitting minutes earlier. There was no sign of the Doctor.
Ignoring a rising tide of panic, Darke hurried briskly to the main doors, and out into the snow-covered yard, wincing in the bright sunlight as he scanned for the Doctor. What was the man playing at?
Where could he have gone?
The answer was right there in front of him. The Cathedral. The mad fool was going in there, alone, unprotected.
Darke broke into a run, out of the Castle and into the now busy Worcester streets, pushing his way through the early morning bustle, desperately looking ahead for a glimpse of the Doctor's tall form.
Finally, in the distance, there he was, striding into the Cathedral grounds as if he owned the place. Darke knew 92
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there was no way he was going to catch him in time, but he upped his pace regardless.
'Doctor, wait,’ he shouted, turning the heads of a few passers-by, no doubt wondering what all the fuss was about. But it was too late. He could do nothing but watch as the doors of the Cathedral closed behind the Doctor.
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mily smiled at the tumbledown barn ahead of her. _The roof Ewas bowed, and its timber sides battered and cracked. It would offer scant protection against the elements, and looked as if it would collapse if she stared at it too hard for too long.
As cloaking devices went, the simplicity of the upgraded system on her ship was breathtaking. For a fraction of the cost of showy invisibility cloaks, it just meshed the ship's shields with a holographic projection system, selecting a suitably innocuous disguise based on local architecture which blended in but was utterly impenetrable.
She couldn't think why nobody had come up with something like it before.
Activating the security overrides, Emily opened a portal in the shield and stepped aboard the compact
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vessel she called home. As she entered the access corridor to the main cabin, lights flickered on, along with the low hum of the life support powering up.
'Welcome aboard,' purred an electronically synthesized female voice.
'Hello, Babe,’ Emily addressed the shipboard AI, glad to hear a reassuringly familiar voice, however digitally synthesized it was.
'Engage the long-range transmitter, please.'
She dumped her rucksack on the cabin floor and pulled out her binocs, plugging them into the ship's data terminal with practised efficiency.
Ten-point encryption, via a narrow beam. I don't want anyone listening in.' Emily ordered, her hands tapping at the terminal keys, uploading images of Henk and his associates to the message she was preparing to fire out into the galaxy, along with an invoice. She would wait for a response, and for payment to reach her preferred bank, before blasting off this rock and heading who knew where. 'OK, Babe. Message is bundled. Please transmit and monitor for response.'
&nbs
p; 'Confirmed.'
Babe. What a stupid name for a shipboard AI, thought Emily. It would be easy enough to change, the AI certainly didn't care what she called it, but she'd become used to it now, and besides it was a reminder of happier times.
Emily relaxed back into her seat, suddenly exhausted, aching for sleep. She'd expected to feel elated, having achieved what she'd set out to, but strangely she felt only
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emptiness. The void in her heart had not been filled, just thrown into stark relief.
Then there was the guilty feeling that she'd betrayed the Doctor, leaving him to the not so tender mercies of Mister Henk. This crazy stranger, who seemed to want nothing more than to get himself mixed up in things that weren't his business, to help for the sake of helping.
The Doctor could look after himself. Couldn't he?
The space inside any religious temple demanded a degree of reverence, even from the most hardened non-believer, and this was especially true of the European cathedrals of this era. The Doctor relaxed and let the silence wash over him, drinking in the splendid calm of the nave. He stared up towards the vaulted ceiling high above, its stonework stretching out like the fine bones in a bird's wing. Now, unfortunately, wasn't the time for architectural appreciation. He had some serious rooting around to do. But where to begin?
The slap of sandalled footfalls on the cold marble floor caught the Doctor's attention, and he saw a monk scurry out from behind a pillar at the quire end of the nave, moving quickly towards a stone doorway.
'Perfect.' The Doctor smiled, then raised his voice, surprised at the power the acoustics lent it. 'Hello! D'you think you could help me?"
The surprised monk spun around and froze at the unexpected voice, looking like a startled rabbit staring out of a hessian sack.
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The Doctor ambled over to the monk, speaking quickly and authoritatively, not giving him a chance to get a word in edgeways.
'I've been sent to carry out an audit of ecclesiastical accoutrements in the local environs. You should have received a notification parchment from... Ofcom. Actually, is the Bishop about? He'll be expecting me.'
The monk's shocked expression didn't fill the Doctor with confidence, and for a moment he worried that he might have overplayed the chirpiness. 'Oh blimey, you haven't taken a vow of silence have you? You have, haven't you? That's going to make things awkward when it comes to filling out the questionnaire.'
'Brother Matthew was rendered dumb at an early age, I'm afraid. A terrible accident. While a sad affliction for him, it is a great asset to his order.' A strong voice echoed from the opposite side of the Cathedral, where a tall man with sharp, intelligent eyes met the Doctor's gaze. 'Perhaps I can be of assistance? I am the Bishop of the Diocese. Bishop Henk.'
'Course you are. Bishop Henk, hello, I'm the Doctor. I was just telling old Brother Matthew here...'
'Yes, I overheard your conversation. The sound carries in this wonderful building. You can continue about your good works now, Brother Matthew.' The monk bowed nervously, and scurried past the Doctor, careful to keep his hooded face obscured. Bishop Henk continued, with a tight smile. A survey of some kind, you say? On behalf of?'
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The Doctor noticed a hint of tension in the Bishop's voice. 'My master, Baron Urnnold, the Burgess of the county of Worcestershire. King Stephen is demanding an increase in levies, so we're exploring all available revenue streams: stocks of gold, arms, comestibles. I'm doing cathedrals and churches, my colleague got inns and taverns. Needless to say, it's taking him longer to work through his list. Still, mustn't grumble. Allons-y.'
'Quite so. Of course, we'll be happy to give you any assistance we can.' Henk gave a slight bow, but his keen eyes continued to regard the Doctor, unsure what to make of this random visitor.
'So, Bishop Henk,' the Doctor placed specific emphasis on the name,
'when did you come and take over here? Last I heard, Worcester had a bishop by the name of Simon.'
The previous incumbent was fortunate enough to receive a sudden Papal invite. He left for Rome immediately.' The Bishop spoke calmly. 'I am merely a factotum, until a permanent replacement can be found.'
'Well, I hear you're very popular amongst the townsfolk. A bright light in these dark times. Who knows, maybe you'll get the job full-time.'
'It would be an honour to serve, to be sure. But what of you, Doctor? I take it you are a recent visitor to this fair city?'
'Very much so. In fact I just got here, yesterday evening to be precise.
Almost came a cropper of this curfew business, though. Apparently there was some kerfuffle
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and they made an arrest. Terrible monster loose in the shire, causing no end of fuss, they say. Do you know anything about it?'
The Bishop replied, evasively. 'We keep ourselves to ourselves here, and leave the business of maintaining law and order to the professionals. I'm sure the Sheriff knows exactly what he's doing.'
'I wouldn't be so sure,' the Doctor murmured, as he breezily wandered over to a rather beautiful fresco. 'Anyway, no time like the present. Maybe we could tot up your idols first, then move on to candlesticks?'
He grinned at Bishop Henk, who smiled back wanly.
A good forty-five minutes later, Henk was clearly beginning to wonder if his visitor was little more than an itinerant lunatic, using his wit to get out of the cold.
For his part, the Doctor had been diligently sketching and scribbling furiously in a leather-bound notebook, maintaining his cover as an auditor while testing the supposed Bishop with sly questions about medieval life. As expected, he'd found numerous gaps and inaccuracies in the man's knowledge. Not knowing the name of the current Pope had been a bit of a blinder, considering he was posing as a Bishop. Henk hadn't even batted an eyelid when the Doctor casually mentioned Pope Delboy.
The Doctor was satisfied that this was no human he was speaking to, but equally he was no Krillitane.
By now, they had almost completed a circuit of the nave, and it looked like Henk had had enough. He was
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about to usher the Doctor out of the Cathedral altogether when a young monk rushed in from the cloisters.
The youngster immediately noticed the Doctor, and hurriedly buried the datapad he was carrying inside his robes. 'Bishop Henk, your worshipfulness, if I could beg a moment of your time,'
stammered the youth.
Henk looked more than happy at the interruption. 'Of course, Brother Branlo. Please forgive me, Doctor, but I have church matters to attend to. Would you excuse me for a moment?'
'Oh, of course. Go right ahead. I'll just carry on auditing. I'm quite happy on my own. It's a solitary old business, being an auditor.
Maybe I should become a monk, eh? Better social life.'
'Yes, I suppose it must be,' said Henk, and all but dragged Branlo out of the nave.
In the safety of the cloisters, away from the babbling idiot, Henk smiled at Branlo. 'It's a good job you came along. It wouldn't do for the Bishop to be caught throttling a member of his congregation. What did you find out?'
Branlo looked from Henk and back towards the direction of the nave. 'Erm, a box, sir. I mean, I took some of the men to the location of the energy spike we detected, and there was a box there. Only, it was giving out some extremely odd energy readings. I think it must be a teleport terminal or something. I put it under guard, just in case anyone tried to return to it.'
'Good work, Branlo. I'm impressed.'
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'But there's more, sir.' Branlo again glanced nervously towards the doorway to the nave.
Henk frowned, and followed his gaze. 'What is it, boy? Why can you never get to the point?'
'Sorry sir. I
left a diagnostic running on the Bio-Scanner, tracking the double pulse that came out of the box. Anyway, it settled for a bit, but it's hardly stopped moving since Lynch was killed.
Until now.' Branlo swallowed, and stared at the entrance to the nave.
'Oh.' Henk's eyes opened wide in realisation, annoyed at himself for not recognising the idiot auditor as an imposter sooner. 'I wish I'd throttled him after all.'
'Not good.' The instant the door closed behind Henk and the new arrival, the Doctor knew he was in trouble. They were onto him.
He was too far from the main door to make a run for it, and the only other way out was through the very cloisters to which the faux bishop had just departed. The only option was to hide and figure out an escape route later.
Then he remembered a door he'd noticed earlier, hidden down a short flight of steps that they had wandered past twenty minutes earlier. Henk had paid it no attention. Perhaps he didn't even know it was there.
The Doctor sped across the short distance to the dark oak door, but it was deadlock sealed. With no time to wonder why, he dug frantically through his pockets, pulling out an old French picklock.
'Forgotten I had that.
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Really should get it back to Marie Antoinette next time I see her.' He thrust the intricate tool into the lock, turning it delicately until he heard a reassuring clunk as the lock's internal mechanism shifted. In a flash he ducked inside, pulling the door closed quietly behind him. He took a moment to lock it again, before kissing the picklock and slipping it back in his pocket.
Glancing around, he saw he was in a small, windowless chamber, probably an antechamber to the crypt, and it wasn't as dark as it should have been.
'Hello. That shouldn't be here.' The blinking lights of a computer terminal made the Doctor's hearts sink. Not such a good hiding place after all, but seeing as he was stuck in here for now, he might as well make the most of it and explore.
Popping on his glasses, the Doctor settled into an empty chair in front of the incongruous bank of high technology, and cast his eyes over its array of monitor screens. One of these cycled through grainy, indistinct footage from security cameras, while another flickered with cardiovascular readings and nutrient-flow levels. But for what?
