The Slitheen Excursion

by Simon Guerrier

  ‘Well,’ said June. ‘We’d still have ended up here. Only there’d be lots more of us.’

  A terrible thought struck her.

  ‘There’d be too many of us.’

  ‘Exactly,’ grinned the Doctor.

  ‘Seventy people,’ said Deukalion. ‘All fighting against the tide.’

  ‘All fighting each other, more like,’ said Vik.

  ‘You’d all want to be up against the cliff,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘But there’s only room for a few of us,’ said June. ‘So it would get nasty.’

  ‘It could get nasty,’ said the Doctor. ‘Maybe you’d work together.’

  ‘You think so?’ asked June.

  ‘It’s a nice idea,’ said the Doctor. ‘But you’ve all been told you’re competing with each other. Perhaps this is the first round.’

  ‘Great,’ said Deukalion. ‘I mean, that’s really clever what you’ve worked out. But the tide is up to my waist now!’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said the Doctor. ‘It has to look like you’re in real danger. You’re meant to be fighting for your life.’

  ‘It’ll be OK,’ said June, taking Deukalion’s hand. He squeezed her fingers tightly, watching the water rise up round his middle. ‘If it comes up to your shoulders, you just float on it again. We’ll be fine.’

  The water came up to her armpits, and then no further. It lapped and splashed around her arms, and Deukalion started laughing.

  ‘We’re OK,’ he said. ‘We’re OK.’ He leant over to kiss June on the forehead. She ducked away before he could follow that with a kiss on the lips.

  ‘So now what?’ she asked the Doctor.

  ‘They’ll come for the ones who are left,’ he said. ‘We’ll be on to the next round.’

  Stars began to peek from the darkening sky, and a cold wind ruffled the surface of the water. June shivered, but Deukalion squeezed her hand. Vik, Polos and Herse huddled close together, keeping warm. ‘We could always do that too,’ Deukalion said to June.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she told him.

  He looked crestfallen. She assumed he’d pulled the same puppy-dog face when his wives met one another.

  ‘Ah,’ said the Doctor. ‘Here we go.’ Behind them, higher than the level of the water, the pale cliff face rippled inwards. They looked up into a dark opening.

  The Doctor reached his hands up to it and hauled himself from the water. He disappeared into the darkness for a moment, checking it was safe. Then he hurried back, a wide grin on his face. He reached down to help June out of the water. ‘Come on, then,’ he said. ‘You’re not going to believe this.’

  A huge, tall cave had been carved out of the rock. June and the others stood on a narrow stone platform, the gap out to the sea just behind them. The platform was about a metre wide, running round one edge of a deep pool of water, in which floated an enormous ship.

  The hull was more than sixty metres long, the dark wood curving elegantly up out of the water to the deck. Three huge masts reached up almost to the ceiling of the cave, the vast sails tethered by a complex system of ropes. It was a majestic, beautiful vessel – but thousands of years out of place.

  ‘It’s the Cutty Sark!’ said the Doctor. ‘Or a very good copy.’

  ‘But why’s it here?’ asked June.

  ‘They probably use it for pleasure trips,’ said the Doctor. ‘Bit more comfortable than those boats.’

  ‘How do they get it out of the cave?’ asked Polos.

  The Doctor looked round the cave. ‘There must be some controls somewhere.’

  ‘But it shouldn’t be here,’ June insisted.

  ‘What?’ said the Doctor. ‘A Victorian tea clipper in the late Bronze Age?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said June. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Oh, it makes sense,’ said the Doctor. ‘It just shows the Slitheen don’t give a stuff about history. Come on.’

  He led them along the platform round the side of the huge ship. They made their way down the dark corridor at the back of the platform, water clattering noisily from their sopping clothes. June worried her jeans might shrink after two long soaks in cold water, but there was little she could do about it now. The Doctor led them, June close behind him, Vik, Polos and Herse. Deukalion was at the end, muttering quietly to himself – but loudly enough for the others to hear – that they were all going to die.

  But they walked for an hour without incident. A warm breeze pressed against their faces, slowly drying their hair and clothes.

  The corridor led them slowly upwards, and then they reached a flight of stone steps. Light glittered down on them from somewhere high above, so they were just able to make out the edges of the steps. They were weary after all the time in the water, and every step was exhausting. But slowly they climbed up towards the light.

  The Doctor stopped them within sight of the top landing. Noise echoed from the lit passageway ahead, the noise of many people.

  ‘We can’t go back,’ whispered June.

  ‘No,’ said the Doctor. ‘But just remember . . .’

  ‘We’re all in this together,’ they chorused.

  ‘Um, yeah,’ said the Doctor, awkwardly. ‘I suppose that proves it.’

  Deukalion sniffed. ‘Until you want to do your own thing,’ he said.

  ‘You’ll see,’ said the Doctor. ‘Everyone ready?’ They nodded. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

  They emerged into a wide, square courtyard larger than a football pitch. People in all kinds of costumes were busy training in the centre. June gaped at them, trying to make sense of it. There were people in spacesuits, people dressed as Vikings, people in the leather uniforms of Samurai. Two Roman centurions duelled with wooden swords. Women in heavy, old-fashioned police uniforms practised karate moves, dancing around in bare feet.

  June turned to the Doctor, hoping he’d explain. But he was gaping too.

  ‘They’re from all through time,’ said June. ‘Brought here to compete.’

  ‘It looks like it, doesn’t it?’ said the Doctor. ‘But they’re not. Real Vikings didn’t have horns on their helmets.’

  ‘And the police should be wearing boots,’ said June.

  ‘Yes, they should.’ He and June looked round. The courtyard was bordered by a high gantry, from which the sport could be watched in safety. June’s heart leapt into her mouth.

  Terrifying creatures pressed against the railings. Some had long, scarlet tentacles, others glistened with dark spikes. One fat creature belched clouds of dark blue gas.

  ‘Aliens,’ she said, in awe. Yes, she’d known there were aliens here, but actually to see them . . . It was incredible.

  ‘Tourists,’ the Doctor corrected her. She glanced at him, then back at the throng of strange creatures. And she almost had to laugh. The aliens nattered noisily and took pictures, exactly like the brash tourists she’d seen hulking round the Parthenon. Even in outer space, tourists were still tourists.

  A man dressed in a suit of armour clanked over to the Doctor and June and the others. ‘Quick,’ he said. ‘You’d best start training. Give them something to look at. They’ll make bets on how you do.’

  ‘Right,’ said the Doctor. ‘You lot get going. Make it look good. I need them to be watching you.’

  Vik, Herse and Polos hurried into the centre of the courtyard and began a number of well-practised fight moves. June assumed they had spent months training to compete in this contest. They looked professional and a little scary.

  ‘Aren’t you going?’ she asked Deukalion.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m sticking with you. Just like you said.’

  ‘It might get nasty,’ the Doctor warned him.

  ‘But June’s going with you,’ said Deukalion.

  ‘He does have a point,’ said June.

  ‘All right,’ said the Doctor. ‘Welcome aboard. There’s just a few rules . . .’

  ‘Look,’ said the man in the suit of armour. ‘Whatever you’re doing, get on with it. The masters don’t l
ike us just talking.’

  ‘Right,’ said the Doctor, chastened. ‘Thanks.’ He led June and Deukalion across the courtyard, through the duels and play-fights. A pretty girl in a khaki camouflage ball gown did an awesome high kick as they passed. Deukalion veered towards her. June grabbed his arm and ushered him on.

  They ducked into the dark cloister under the alien-stuffed balcony. Blood-red columns held up the balcony, looking oddly upside down because they were thicker at the top than they were at their bases. The Doctor whipped his sonic screwdriver from his suit pocket and buzzed it on the lock of the door. With a click, the door swung open and they passed quickly through.

  ‘Right,’ said the Doctor. ‘We just need to find where the Slitheen are hiding,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, really?’ gurgled a high, childish voice. Three long claws slashed out of the darkness, round the Doctor’s neck, lifting him off the floor. The creature stepped forward, slapping the Doctor’s body against the wall. June gaped up at it in horror: two and a half metres of green flesh, wet and wobbling, naked but for a bracelet round one wrist. Its long, scaly neck curved over at the top, like an upright prawn, its huge head leering down at the Doctor, struggling in the grasp of its claws. The bloated green face was like some warped, mutated baby with huge, jet-black eyes. It smiled, showing razor-sharp teeth.

  ‘I’d say,’ it giggled at the Doctor, choking in its grip, ‘that you’ve found us.’

  NINE

  DEUKALION RAN FOR the door but it had closed behind them. He squealed as he tried to force it open. June watched the Doctor hanging from the Slitheen’s long talons, his legs wheeling in the air. She watched the Slitheen grinning at its prey and tried to think of something she could do. The Slitheen towered over her, its green muscles glistening and taut.

  ‘Wait,’ she begged it. ‘Please!’ She tried to think what would appeal to the huge alien creature. What would it care about? The Slitheen giggled gleefully as it closed its grip around the Doctor’s neck. ‘If you don’t let him go,’ June said sternly, ‘he’ll give you a bad review.’

  The Slitheen twisted its long neck to look down at her. Huge black eyes blinked expressively.

  ‘He’ll do what?’ it slurred. Thick spittle drooled from its lips. The Slitheen had breath like old baked beans.

  Behind them, unable to get the door open, Deukalion continued to squeal.

  ‘A damning review,’ said June, willing herself not to flinch. The Slitheen blinked at her again. Then it twisted its head to look back up at the Doctor.

  ‘Is he famous?’ it asked suspiciously.

  ‘Me?’ said the Doctor, straining in the grip of the enormous talons. ‘No, not famous exactly. Have to travel incognito. You know how it is. But I’ve got some identification if you could just see your way to letting me down . . .’

  Carefully, the Slitheen placed the Doctor back down on the ground, but kept its claws loosely clasped around his neck. The Doctor fished in his inside pocket and produced his battered leather wallet. The blank page inside dazzled the Slitheen, who jumped back a couple of steps.

  ‘Oh my word!’ it gurgled, throwing its claws into the air. ‘A gazillion apologies! We weren’t informed you’d be coming!’

  The Doctor flapped the wallet closed and stuffed it back in his pocket. Then he straightened his tie, looking serious and in charge. ‘Well,’ he said hoarsely, ‘that’s sort of the point. I’m meant to be invisible.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course,’ the Slitheen bowed obsequiously. ‘I never saw you, honestly.’

  ‘Well, you’ve seen me now,’ he said. ‘Hello. I’m the Doctor. Travel critic for the Mutter’s Spiral Herald. This is my assistant June and our local Passepartout, Deukalion.’

  The Slitheen curtsied at June. ‘Charmed,’ it gurgled. ‘I’m Cosmato Fel Fotch Hangle-Wang Slitheen.’

  ‘How do you do,’ said June.

  ‘Help,’ said Deukalion, pressed up against the door.

  ‘My friends call me Cosmo,’ said the Slitheen quietly. ‘You can be my friends if you want.’

  June raised an eyebrow at the Doctor. ‘Would that be appropriate?’ she asked him archly.

  Cosmo took another step back. ‘I only meant to be friendly!’

  ‘Oh,’ said the Doctor grinning. ‘I think we can all be friends, can’t we? You’ll have to forgive my assistant. Right one for the rule book. Gives me an earful just for parking on an up-quark!’

  The Slitheen bobbed its head between them, trying to work out which of them it wanted to side with. ‘Well,’ it murmured. ‘Rules are there for a reason.’ It had clearly decided June was the one to fear.

  ‘Yeah,’ said the Doctor appreciatively. ‘I suppose that’s right. I’m glad I met you, Cosmo. You’re a pretty shrewd observer.’

  ‘It is one of my skills,’ admitted Cosmo modestly.

  ‘Well,’ said the Doctor. ‘We normally do this on the quiet. Nose round on our own. But since you’ve been sharp-eyed enough to spot us, I guess we might as well have the tour.’

  Cosmo nodded. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘I’d be delighted. What would you like to see?’

  The Doctor’s eyes twinkled. ‘Absolutely everything.’

  June found it hard to make sense of the layout. Instead of main hallways and corridors, the citadel – as Cosmo called it – had some 1,300 rooms connected by various small corridors. Rooms sprung from other rooms, so they might as well have been traipsing through a maze for all she could get her bearings. Cosmo proudly showed them the theatre, the vast storerooms of clay vases, and boasted that no other building in this period of history had anything like five storeys. Then he was on to the fascinating subject of aqueducts and sewers. June found herself concealing a yawn. To her horror, Cosmo saw her.

  ‘And now I think we’ve earned a drink,’ he said quickly as they joined the other aliens on the balcony above the courtyard, looking down on the duelling humans. June felt nervous about mingling with such extraordinary-looking creatures, but the Doctor seemed to take it in his stride and she didn’t want to embarrass him. There were one-eyed aliens and horse-like aliens and aliens with faces like lions and sprouting enormous wings. They wore elegant dinner clothes, sipped elegant drinks and gossiped and giggled elegantly. Some passed comment on the human combatants down in the square, but the fighting seemed more like background entertainment, like a telly on at a party. June felt embarrassed at her own bedraggled state. She wasn’t even wearing any shoes.

  ‘This is the main arena,’ Cosmo continued, leading them up to the balcony. He nodded and smiled at some of the guests, holding his head high to show he was on official business. ‘The late human period preferred an eye-shaped game space, of course. They staged gladiatorial contests, pitched players against wild animals and – most savage of all – fought a game called “football”. Its rules are lost to us now, but it sounds absolutely ghastly!’

  ‘Ghastly?’ said June. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well,’ said Cosmo, leaning towards her conspiratorially. ‘We don’t know exactly. But one source claims they competed for two hours, during which not one player died!’ He gurgled with laughter as if this was the funniest thing in the world. ‘Seriously, though,’ he said. ‘Most respected academics don’t think that would have been tenable.’

  June smiled up at him, horrified but trying not to show it. A spiky waiter in a silk bow tie glided round them with a tray of drinks. Deukalion leaned in and grabbed a glass of a scarlet liquid. He made to drain it but the Doctor stopped him just in time. The glass was returned to the tray.

  ‘Wallagula dissolves human stomachs,’ he explained.

  ‘Great!’ enthused Deukalion. ‘Just what I’m after.’

  ‘Go watch the competitors,’ the Doctor told him. ‘I’ll need tips for laying a wager.’ When Deukalion was gone, the Doctor turned to Cosmo. ‘Primitives,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I know,’ agreed Cosmo easily. ‘Who’d think they’ll grow up to be the scourge of the galaxy!’

  ‘What?’ said June. ‘
Human beings?’

  ‘No offence,’ Cosmo added hastily. ‘Some of my best friends are humans.’

  ‘Really?’ said the Doctor.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Cosmo. ‘Well, there’s you two, anyway.’

  ‘We end up the scourge of the galaxy?’ said June, appalled.

  ‘Tell me, Cosmo,’ the Doctor interrupted. ‘What year are you from? In the future, I mean?’

  Cosmo scratched at his forehead with one enormous claw. ‘The Lord Predator, Haralto Wong Bopz Wim-Waldon Arlene, died twenty-two years ago. The current Lord Predator prevails.’

  ‘Yes, he prevails,’ agreed the Doctor airily. ‘Thank you.’ He leaned over to June. ‘He’s from the year 34,600 or so. Bit after the Platonic War.’ He considered a moment. ‘And, sorry, personal question. Have the Slitheen been allowed back home yet?’

  Cosmo gasped at the Doctor. He looked quickly round at the assembled alien guests, but they were all too busy with one another. Cosmo cleared his throat. ‘I can’t imagine what nasty rumours you’ve heard about my family,’ he sniffed.

  ‘I’m sure they’re all completely unfounded,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘But also tricky to disprove,’ admitted Cosmo, his head sagging down. ‘We expect a legal ruling any time in the next thousand years.’

  ‘Oh, sure,’ said the Doctor. ‘So at the moment you’re temporarily of no fixed abode. Looking for opportunities. On the make, so to speak.’

  ‘The Slitheen have always been entrepreneurs,’ Cosmo told him carefully.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ grinned the Doctor. ‘This is very impressive. I’m just trying to build up a picture. Make a great feature, you see. You and the family, battling all the odds. Coming up with this lot from nothing. Great stuff for an editorial.’

  Cosmo snickered. ‘That could be a valuable advertisement for what we’re doing here.’

  ‘I suppose it might be,’ nodded the Doctor. ‘Though obviously you know the rules. It would have to look like I was being independent.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ drawled Cosmo. ‘I completely understand. Tell me, Doctor, what else would you like to see?’

  The Doctor looked all round, popping his mouth like a goldfish. ‘I dunno really,’ he said. ‘The accommodation – for the guests and the competitors. The transporter systems you’re using. The temporal drives for getting back to Arlene-plus-22. Everything you’ve got.’