The Slitheen Excursion

by Simon Guerrier

  ‘I just needed a bit of a sleep, I think,’ said the Doctor. ‘I don’t know what June has told you . . .’

  ‘You’re from the future,’ said Actaeus.

  The Doctor turned on her crossly. ‘You told him that?’

  ‘No!’ she protested. ‘Really, he worked it out himself.’

  The Doctor considered. ‘Oh, well, all right then.’ He turned to Actaeus. ‘You’ve met people from the future before.’

  ‘Our masters,’ said Actaeus, nodding his head at the frescos of aliens. ‘We are meant to show you hospitality.’

  The Doctor nodded. ‘Treating strangers well is just good manners,’ he said. ‘I hope you’re not forced against your will.’

  Actaeus smiled. ‘You and June have simpler needs than some,’ he said gently.

  The Doctor put his bowl down. ‘Tell me what’s happening here,’ he said.

  Actaeus narrowed his eyes. June could see his quick mind picking over the Doctor’s words. ‘You don’t already know?’ he said.

  ‘I want to hear how you see it yourself.’

  Again Actaeus considered. ‘This is some kind of test of loyalty?’

  ‘Actaeus,’ said the Doctor. ‘I can’t help you if you won’t tell me. Tell me as much as you want.’

  ‘You said we couldn’t get involved,’ said June.

  ‘The Slitheen are here,’ he said. ‘I have to know what they’re up to. First time I met them they were going to blow up the world. And then there was Margaret, who wanted to blow up Cardiff. And then . . . Look, it doesn’t matter. What are they doing back in time, at this critical moment in history?’

  ‘They can’t change anything, though, can they?’ said June. ‘I mean, it’s already happened. I’m proof of it. I exist.’

  The Doctor looked her up and down, then prodded her arm with his oily finger. ‘Yes you are,’ he said. ‘Let’s keep it that way, shall we?’

  Just for an instant June pictured her home, her parents, her friends at university, even her ex-boyfriend, Bruno. All of them, everything she’d ever known, thousands of years of human history. And it could all vanish in a blink of an eye. Where would that leave her? Would she vanish as well?

  ‘What can we do?’ she asked the Doctor in a quiet voice.

  He looked up at Actaeus. ‘How long have the Slitheen been here?’

  ‘Since before my father was born,’ said Actaeus. He took a deep breath and began. ‘They came from the sky and they saw we were hungry. They gave us food. They saved us from ourselves.’

  The Doctor groaned. ‘Oh, it’s not going to be the official version, is it?’

  ‘It’s our history,’ said Actaeus. ‘It is all we have.’

  ‘Don’t be rude,’ June chided. ‘You asked to hear it.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said the Doctor. ‘Please, go on.’

  ‘They have fed us, they have helped us to find peace. And in return they ask only for a small payment.’

  ‘I thought there would be a price,’ said the Doctor. ‘And what do they take from you?’

  Actaeus faltered. Aglauros came forward to sit with him, and he put an arm around her. Both had such terrible looks on their faces.

  ‘You don’t have to tell us,’ said June. ‘Doctor, please.’

  The Doctor’s face was stern. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to tell me. But I know the Slitheen of old. I know what they do. And I’ve beaten them more than once.’

  Actaeus sighed. ‘We give them what is asked for,’ he said. ‘We are loyal.’

  ‘What do they take?’ insisted the Doctor.

  But Actaeus glanced at Aglauros and would not say anything more.

  ‘I had two brothers,’ said Pandrosos, coming forward to stand behind the king. ‘They were our future. They were good boys. Though they teased me when I was small.’

  ‘And I had to box their ears on more than one occasion,’ smiled Actaeus. ‘But then Aglauros was going to have a baby. She became my daughter. We were happy! A grandson for the king. An heir for the kingdom.’

  ‘And then the order came,’ said Aglauros, her eyes suddenly dark hollows.

  ‘It was not an order,’ said the king. ‘It was a request.’

  ‘But you couldn’t say no,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘There are stories sung of those who say no,’ Actaeus told him. ‘But we don’t even know their names.’

  ‘They’re punished?’ asked June appalled.

  ‘They’re wiped from history,’ said the Doctor. ‘Isn’t that right?’

  ‘Isn’t it better that a man surrenders the lives of his sons than those of all of his people?’

  ‘Did you think so?’ asked the Doctor.

  ‘I told myself it was the right thing to do. And they were young. Keen to take the challenge. They wanted to go.’

  ‘What happened to them?’ asked June, though she didn’t really want to hear it.

  Actaeus shrugged. ‘The request said they would compete for the glory of my kingdom. They went. We have heard nothing more. And then the earthquake came and destroyed my kingdom anyway. And . . .’ He tailed off, his voice breaking.

  ‘And I lost the child,’ said Aglauros. June wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, to show some kind of sympathy. But Aglauros sat stiffly apart from them all, an awful deadness in her eyes.

  ‘Some think it was a sign,’ said Actaeus at length.

  ‘That you made the wrong choice?’ asked June.

  The king looked up at her with surprise and anger, as if she had just slapped him. ‘That my sons had failed,’ he said. ‘That they would not be coming home. The town fell. We hid in the ruins and were prey to wild animals. So those of us left now shelter on this rock. The animals can’t climb the walls of our stockade. And other tribes keep away from this place anyway.’

  ‘Why?’ said June. ‘It’s a great position. You can see for miles. Isn’t it a valuable spot?’

  ‘Our masters come here, sometimes,’ said Actaeus.

  ‘They come here?’ asked the Doctor. ‘Why?’

  ‘Perhaps it is the view,’ Actaeus smiled bitterly.

  ‘We’re on the Acropolis,’ June told the Doctor. ‘Or what will be the Acropolis.’

  ‘Ah,’ said the Doctor. ‘And they come in groups, do they? The Slitheen plus brightly dressed parties of other creatures?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the king. ‘They come to point at us and cast the magic that paints our image in the air. There is a ritual. The Slitheen forecast the future and the other creatures laugh.’

  ‘And then they head off to other historical sights,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘I do not know,’ said the king. ‘But they never stay for long. That is why we gambled we could stay here.’

  ‘They’re running a package tour!’ June realised. ‘See Athens before they build it.’ She turned to the Doctor. ‘Can they do that?’

  The Doctor sat back, finishing his meal and thinking. ‘Who’s going to stop them? This period of your history is full of tales of gods and monsters. Perhaps the Slitheen have always been here. Perhaps they’re meant to be.’

  ‘You think this is fate?’ asked Actaeus. And something about him had changed. He sat forward, alert, and his smile had gone.

  ‘It’s just a theory,’ said the Doctor. ‘But there’s something else, isn’t there?’ The king hesitated and glanced at his two daughters.

  ‘You don’t have to tell us,’ said June kindly. But she hoped that would only make him tell them.

  ‘We have had another request,’ said Actaeus. ‘And this time they ask for my daughters.’

  To June’s horror, the Doctor would not offer his help. He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say yes either. June wanted to argue with him. Of course they should get involved. The princesses were off to their deaths! She realised why the king had sent them out to fight with lions. He had hoped to train them as warriors so they might stand some chance.

  But instead, Actaeus changed the subject. He and the Doctor wiled away an hour di
scussing the different needs of herding sheep. June couldn’t relax. She watched the two princesses, who sat politely listening to their father. In their eyes she could see their torment, their fear. But they were too well brought up to argue. At one point Aglauros glanced at her, and they shared a pained and desperate look. But then Aglauros looked away again, all meek smiles for her father.

  June turned to the Doctor. And for all he gabbled on about how he’d once had to rescue a ram from a crocodile with only a wooden spoon, she could see the conflict in his eyes. No matter how long she watched him, he would not meet her gaze.

  Then at last, without anyone having to say it, the evening had come to an end. Aglauros and Pandrosos went over to a wooden box at the edge of the room and from it produced woollen blankets. These they laid around the central fire.

  ‘Well, thanks for tea,’ said the Doctor to Actaeus. ‘You’ve been very kind. June and me should get back to the TARDIS.’ He turned to June. ‘Do you know where it is?’

  ‘Sort of where we left from,’ she said. ‘South side of the rock.’

  The Doctor grinned. ‘Really? I’m not always good at those tricky manoeuvres. And in the middle of a crash . . .’

  ‘You can’t leave the compound at this time of night,’ said Actaeus. ‘There are lions out there.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said the Doctor, ‘but I’ve got this thing with cats. Didn’t to begin with, but we’re on a wavelength now.’

  ‘Doctor,’ said Actaeus. ‘You can’t leave the compound. I’m sorry, I need your help.’

  The Doctor stood tall, towering above him. ‘You can’t force me,’ he said. He spoke firmly, with menace. June was almost scared of him.

  The king smiled. ‘And I would not want to. But in the morning, let me make my plea again. Then, if you are not persuaded, you can go in peace. You have my word.’

  The Doctor considered, glancing at June. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But don’t expect me to change my mind.’

  June grinned at him, but again the Doctor would not meet her eye.

  FIVE

  THE STUCCOED FLOOR was hard underneath her, even when June doubled up the blankets. But it wasn’t just the floor that kept her awake. She watched the embers of the fire. The princesses slept beside their father, the Doctor next to June. No one else seemed troubled by the worries worming through her mind.

  How could they leave the king to give up his daughters? She understood that the Doctor didn’t want to rock the boat, that the aliens and their strange requests might have always been a part of history. But surely if she and the Doctor could help, they were obliged to try. After all, aliens had stopped being masters to humans at some point in history. Why couldn’t that happen now?

  But then, what could they really do to stop them? These aliens must have a sizeable operation going on. What difference could two people make?

  She turned over, trying to make herself comfortable. And found the Doctor watching her. He smiled then glanced over at the king and his daughters. The king was snoring.

  The Doctor put a finger to his lips and then untangled himself from his blankets. He had not taken off his trainers, and she realised he’d never intended to stay. She reached for her shoes, lying beside her bed, but he stopped her from putting them on. Of course, she thought, she’d make less noise on the stuccoed floor if she escaped in bare feet.

  They made for the door on tip toes. June could hear her own heart hammering in her chest. She glanced back at the fire where the king and the princesses lay. And Pandrosos was sat up, watching them. There was a terrible look of disappointment in her eyes. She reached a hand forward to wake the king. And then she decided not to. Pandrosos lay back down, turning away from the Doctor and June, pretending to be asleep.

  Feeling wretched, June followed the Doctor out into the biting cold night. It took her a moment to get her shoes back on, the cold air whipping at her clothes. The Doctor again put his finger to his lips, then led her down the creaking wooden steps to the stockade. A man in a long cloak stood guard on the gate. His egg-shaped helmet seemed to have long teeth sewn all over it and for a moment June thought they might have been his. But they were too long for a human and there were too many of them to have come from one person. She guessed they’d belonged to some animals.

  ‘Wotcher,’ said the Doctor as he ambled over to the guard. He rummaged in his inside pocket and withdrew a leather wallet. ‘His majesty has given us a secret mission, but this says all you need to know.’ He opened the wallet, showing a blank white page.

  The guard on the gate grinned widely, showing many missing teeth. ‘I don’t actually read,’ he said.

  ‘Oh,’ said the Doctor, snapping the wallet shut. ‘That’s a bit of a problem.’

  ‘But I’m sure it must be all right,’ said the man. ‘Only an idiot would want to go out this time of night. You know there are lions out there?’

  ‘Yes, we know about the lions,’ said the Doctor. ‘But orders are orders. You know what his majesty’s like.’

  The man immediately stood more erectly. ‘I won’t speak ill of the king,’ he said.

  ‘No, of course,’ said the Doctor. ‘But you know what he’s been through. Best just let us do what he says.’

  The man opened the gate and the Doctor took June’s hand to lead her through. ‘Rather you than me,’ said the guard as he closed the gate after them. ‘See ya.’

  June tried to speak to him as they hurried across the rocky ground but again the Doctor put his finger to his lips. Perhaps their voices would travel up the sheer slopes of the high rock to the community asleep on top of it, she thought. But it seemed more likely the Doctor just wanted to avoid the argument.

  She held his hand tight in hers and struggled to keep up with his long, nimble strides. Another reason not to start arguing now was that their voices might attract lions.

  But too late. The night air was torn by a rumbling growl, and a large male lion padded towards them. He didn’t seem to think they posed much threat – he approached them rather casually. June felt almost insulted.

  ‘Hello, kitty,’ said the Doctor soothingly.

  ‘I tried that,’ June told him. ‘It doesn’t work.’

  ‘No?’ said the Doctor, as if June were being mean to think such nasty things of the poor pussy cat. He fished in the inside pocket of his suit. ‘But I’ve got a little treat for kitty in here.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s a reader, either,’ said June. But the Doctor withdrew the short magic wand she’d seen him use in the future. He pressed the button and the tip of the wand buzzed with electric blue light. The Doctor raised the wand and aimed it right between the lion’s glinting eyes.

  June waited for the wand to zap the lion with laser beams or lightning. But instead the lion stopped in its tracks and just lowered its head forward, so the beam of blue light tickled over its scalp. The Doctor waved his wrist around, moving the spot of light up onto the lion’s ears and back again. To June’s amazement, the lion started purring. Warm, contented breathing filled the silent night.

  ‘Naw,’ said the Doctor, not getting any closer. ‘Who’s a big fluffy cat?’

  June took a step closer to the lion, ready to tickle its ears. But the Doctor grabbed her hand. ‘Best not,’ he said. ‘Just in case.’

  He switched off the beam of light and the lion growled with frustration. The Doctor switched on the beam again, and the lion flopped over on its side, letting the Doctor tickle its tummy with the light. It waggled its legs in such a silly, kittenish way that June burst out laughing.

  ‘Come on, then,’ said the Doctor. ‘Which way’s the TARDIS?’

  June led him on and the lion padded after them, keeping a respectful distance. It felt more like a loyal dog than any kind of cat now. And, June hoped, with this one tagging along with them, no other lion would try its luck.

  Eventually they could see the distinctive shape of the TARDIS, stood slightly at an angle on the bare rock. The light on the roof and in the high windows of th
e door glared bright in the starlit darkness. Immediately June felt safe. They hurried on, the lion bounding after them, enjoying this strange game.

  As they reached the doors, the Doctor handed his wand to June, showing her the button to press. ‘Go careful,’ he told her. ‘We don’t want him too excited.’

  June buzzed the blue light around the lion’s forehead and then over the back of its neck. The lion rolled over on the ground, purring with delight. June laughed out loud again at this, and the lion turned to look at her sternly. This was no laughing matter.

  While she continued to play, the Doctor fished in his pocket for the key. The door of the TARDIS creaked open, light pouring out from within.

  ‘Come on, then,’ he said, and June hurried after him into the time ship. The lion mewled and scratched at the closed door.

  ‘Right,’ said the Doctor, hurrying to the central column of controls. ‘You’re going to tell me we have to get involved. That we can’t stand by and just let the king give up his daughters.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me that we can’t?’ said June, joining him as he worked the complex systems. ‘That we don’t want to change anything that’s already happened?’

  ‘Er, yeah,’ he said. ‘I think you’re gonna be good at this.’ Then his head whipped back to the instruments before him. He put on his thick-rimmed pair of glasses to read the screen as information scrolled across it.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘the TARDIS is feeling better. Needed a sleep just like I did. Lost its bearings when we went through that area of atemporal mismatch. Probably because, by definition, it doesn’t have any bearings. Capiche?’

  ‘No,’ said June. ‘I have no idea what that meant.’

  ‘Me neither. Never mind. If we leave we might have to pass through that time storm again, which isn’t exactly ideal. And if we stay we might not be able to resist bothering the Slitheen.’

  ‘You think the Slitheen have always been here? That they’re meant to be?’

  ‘You’re the classicist,’ he said. ‘You know the stories of the ancient Greeks.’