by Nick Walters
‘If only I still had my sonic screwdriver.’
‘What’s happening?’ said Taiana, her voice more slurred than usual.
‘Yes, would you mind explaining just what is going on?’
said Athon, walking up to the Doctor, the young woman’s head lolling against his shoulder, seemingly forgotten. ‘I mean, I like party games, but...’ he caught sight of Peri, and frowned.
Then the colour drained from his face. ‘I remember now.
Those creatures...’
The Doctor raised his hands in a shushing gesture. ‘There will be time for explanations later.’ He whirled around. ‘We have to find another way off this ship.’
The soldier in Taiana’s arms began muttering something.
‘Shuttle bays.’ His voice was cracked and weak. He opened his eyes. They were blue and unfocused. ‘Shuttle bays’ He raised a wobbling finger, pointing back the way they had come.
‘Brilliant!’ said the Doctor. ‘Lead the way, Mr...?’
‘Captain. Captain John Melrose.’
‘What about the TARDIS?’ said Aline.
The Doctor looked pained. ‘We have to get away from here.
The TARDIS won’t be any use if we end up dead.’
Taiana took the lead, carrying Melrose in her strong arms like a baby. It was a bizarre sight; the tall, dark-limbed woman cradling the barely conscious six-foot soldier. They had to stop and listen to Melrose at each junction as he muttered directions and pointed the way with a shaking hand. In this fashion they wormed their way through the Valethske ship, coming eventually to a vaulted hangar-like area. Ranged along the walls were sleek wedge-shaped vessels of varying sizes, some of which Aline recognised as the same as the one that had attacked the Eknuri.
The Doctor led the way to one of the smaller shuttles, putting Peri down gently against its hull and motioning for Aline to steady her. After a tense moment fiddling with the controls, a hatch hissed open, revealing a dark interior. The Doctor scrambled inside and after a few seconds, harsh interior lighting snapped on. The Doctor emerged and ushered them all in. Athon went first, carrying the female soldier; then Taiana with Melrose.
The Doctor picked Peri up once more with surprising ease.
‘After you.’ he said to Aline.
‘Thank you.’ His politeness in such a situation made Aline smile, and she ducked inside, following the sound of Taiana’s voice along a short companionway to the flight deck. It was small and cramped, and Aline wondered how the Valethske - being as tall as he Eknuri - could stand such confinement. She helped Taiana and Athon make sure that Melrose and his comrade were safely strapped in, then the Doctor appeared with Peri.
‘Won’t the Valethske know about this little hijack?’ asked Aline. ‘Probably.’ said the Doctor as he strapped Peri in to a seat.
He motioned for Aline to take the co-pilot’s position and she strapped herself in as tightly as she could. She heard him tap away at the console in front of them.
‘I mean, won’t the flight log show it? Won’t there be alarms, security?’
The Doctor grinned at her from the pilot’s seat. ‘I’ve just made friends with the flight computer and told it that we’re a party of Valethske on a scouting mission. Their technology is -’
‘Not very advanced,’ finished Aline. ‘Thankfully for us.’
‘Indeed,’ said the Doctor. He craned round to look at the others. ‘Is everyone ready?’
There were murmurs from Athon and Taiana, but the others were still unconscious.
The Doctor raised his eyebrows at Aline. ‘Well, here goes.’
He reached forward and took hold of the shuttle’s controls, which consisted mainly of chunky levers and buttons. They looked as brutal and simple as the creatures they were designed for.
Nothing happened for a few seconds, then Aline felt herself pressed back into her seat as the shuttle plunged downwards and outwards, as if the ship was spitting them out like a pip.
She couldn’t believe it. They’d escaped. They were free.
Well, almost all of them...
She tried not to think about Seryn and the others. And the Doctor’s TARDIS, trapped in the bowels of the ship.
The dark hulk of the Valethske ship had been sleeping for over a hundred years, and now it was fully awake. Its damage log showed interference with the sleep cells, and there was some confusion over the skirmisher complement - minor troubles. At least this time the sleep cells had functioned: none of the occupants, Valethske or prey, had perished, and there had been no major failures of any systems. The ship was fully tuned up now, ready to play its killer song.
It came to a complete halt, between the orbits of the two inner planets of the destination system, as it had been programmed to, thousands of years ago.
And then waited for its masters to awake.
Chapter Eight
Lust for Life
The first thing Hunt Marshal Veek felt on waking was a pitiless gnawing in her guts, a demand for sustenance she couldn’t ignore. Then cold: ice cutting down to the bone, burning her throat as she gasped for air. She tried to move, couldn’t; tried again; couldn’t. Always this paralysis, always the mind waking before the body. All she could do was think. And all she could think of was food, of sinking her teeth into the quivering flanks of a calfling, of ripping open the abdomen of a human and sinking her face into its slippery guts. Her hunger seemed to Veek like a living thing, racing through her veins like wildfire.
She knew it was really the nanites working their magic in her bloodstream, helping her back to consciousness, but she liked to think it was her hunger, her lust, her driving force, which dragged her from the long sleep.
At last, with a great effort, Veek was able to open her eyes.
Made no difference; everything blurred, foggy. She arched her back, feeling her spine stretching, muscles complaining. The stiffness slowly thawed out of her and she half-stepped, half-fell from her alcove, dimly aware of the mewling and growling of the other waking hunters. She staggered forwards, stumbling against the railing, yawning, strands of spittle trailing down on to her teats. Below them, her stomach growled like a sick cub. Had to eat, had to eat now. Always this way, after waking. Always this insatiable hunger. As she wiped the sleep from her eyes, her vision returned. She glared back at the alcove that had been her prison, remembering the rainy planetoid, over a century in the past yet seeming only like yesterday.
Another span of forfeited time, pushing them further away from home. How far had they travelled, through both distance and time? Did home even exist any more?
Groans and mewls of pain echoed around the pit as her fellow hunters clawed themselves back to reality, naked, their red fur frosted, their eyes open but as yet unseeing, feeling their way along the gantries, bumping into each other and having pathetic, blind tussles. Was this any way for Valethske to behave? Where was the dignity? After so long, what was the point? Dangerous thoughts, Veek knew - but as she watched the waking hunters, she wondered if any of them thought this way. Or if any of them thought at all.
Veek growled and tore her gaze away from the scene, padding hastily along towards the exit ladder, wanting to be first to reach the fresh prey. The Commander’s Vale Guards, always the first to be woken after the long sleep, would have sated their hunger on disgusting, pallid, synthetic flesh, lit the fires in the pit and prepared some of the ship’s store of fresh prey for the hunters. The prey would be waiting now in the pit, terrified, shivering in deliciously sweet fear-sweat, wondering what was going to happen to it.
Veek was going to happen to it, Veek and all the other hunters were going to gorge themselves and there was nothing the prey could do about it. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
For once, the thrill of the chase didn’t matter to Veek - sating her hunger was more important.
Now more of the hunters had regained enough of their senses to act upon the hunger that gnawed at their guts. They were scrambling up the ladders, fighting to b
e first, uttering yelps and shrieks of anticipation.
Veek heaved herself up out of the pit and staggered to her feet, feeling her legs take control and propel her across the earth floor.
Suddenly something grabbed her legs and she went sprawling headlong in the dust. Feet thumped past her as other hunters made headway for the prey. She rolled over, snarling and coughing, eyes watering, to see Flayoun crouched before her in a fighting stance, his eyes gleaming with lust.
The sight of his body sent a thrill of anticipation through Veek. She’d almost forgotten him in her haste to eat. He looked a mess: fur matted and dull, ichor running from the corners of his eyes, claws long and untended. But that didn’t matter. It was good to see him.
‘Flayoun,’ she murmured, stepping closer, rubbing his chest, teasing him. ‘Shall we fight, frisk or feed?’
The lust in his eyes sharpened, he put his hands to his belly, and wailed. ‘We feeeeeeed!’
Veek felt her own hollow stomach growl again, demanding sustenance. How many times had they gone through this ritual? She pulled her lips back, revealing the sharp teeth she knew he admired. ‘I’ll take a bite out of you, hunter!’
Flayoun roared and lunged for her.
Veek leapt backwards with a shriek, spun round and dived after her fellow hunters, Flayoun close behind, snatching at her tail.
Soon, she told her hunger, soothing it as if it was an embryo cub growing inside her, soon you shall be satisfied.
Scuttling and scampering, the Valethske hunters obeyed their impulses and swarmed towards their prey.
Seryn woke to the sounds of crackling fire and the moans of the wounded. So it hadn’t been a hallucination. It had all been real. She took in her surroundings as quietly and as calmly as she could. What she saw made her want to scream, but she bit her lip until it bled.
She was in a cage suspended over a pit in which fires burned. She wasn’t alone; there were three other Eknuri with her. She called their names, but they were still unconscious.
That - or dead.
Her dress was torn, ripped off crudely at the waist, her shoes were gone, and her body was slick with sweat. It kept running down her forehead, stinging her eyes. She ached in every possible way and her left arm felt as if it had been wrenched out of its socket, as if she’d been carried like a doll.
Painfully, she turned to lie on her belly, looking down through the grid of the cage at the bonfires. Oily smoke curled upwards towards her. Seryn could make out other cages, suspended at differing heights from a ceiling criss-crossed with gantries, the occupants slumped within. Around the walls of the pit, dark mouths of tunnels gaped. Could she hear a distant shrieking, a bestial yapping above the constant crackle and pop of the fires? She strained her hearing, heart hammering, eyes fixed on the nearest entrance.
How had she got here? She dimly remembered waking, freezing cold, and being taken half-blind and stumbling through a maze of earth-floored passages. She remembered trying to speak to the beasts, plead with them, ask them why they were doing this to her and her friends. In reply they’d beaten her and she’d passed out. Now her whole body ached, and sitting on the jagged, rusted grid of the cage floor didn’t help. She tried standing, but her legs were too weak and any movement made the cage lurch beneath her.
She looked down at the orange pools of light cast by the fires, squinting to make out shapes. There, fifty feet or so below her cage, lay one of her shoes, next to a pile of bones. Human bones by the look of it. She coughed as a wraith of smoke passed through the cage. Surely they weren’t going to eat her? It was absurd. She laughed out loud. The sudden crazed sound frightened her, so she clamped her hands over her mouth.
Her laughter caught the attention of one of her fellow captives. He raised his head, dull eyes staring from beneath a floppy fringe of grey hair, mouth sagging open. Daeraval, the musician. A man of cheerful heart, charming wit, incredible musical versatility and wondrous voice. Seryn remembered how he’d sung at Athon’s party, his voice seeming to soar into the air like a kite, a sound of pure freedom and joy.
Now, his tunic shredded, bare arms showing deep furrows of claw-marks, Seryn could hardly bear to look at him.
On a sudden mutual impulse, they shuffled towards each other, the cage swinging wildly in response to their movement, its supporting chains creaking in protest. They held each other tightly, Seryn burying the man’s head in her breast. Great swathes of emotion surged within her. She had never felt the need for the company so much as now she kissed him with more passion than she’d ever kissed anyone before, as if she was trying to suck the life out of him.
She knew then she was going to die. This intensity, this passion, was all there was now, all that was left. They held each other for a long time before they spoke.
‘Seryn?’
‘Yes?’
‘What’s happened to us?’
Seryn smoothed his hair. ‘I don’t know. Part of me still hopes it’s all some elaborate joke.’
‘Seryn, this is real. We’ve been stupid, letting ourselves be caught off guard like this. These creatures, whatever they are, will soon be very sorry for what they’ve done.’
Seryn leaned back, regarding his face. He looked fevered, his skin pink-orange in the fireglow. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ll be missed, don’t you worry. Our friends will be after us. And they’ll send these beasts shrieking into the heart of a black hole. Wipe them all out!’
His voice had sunk to a terrifying hiss.
‘Daeraval, calm down. Help me look for a way out of this cage.’
‘Already tried. There is no way out.’
Seryn slumped against him. There was nothing either of them could do but wait. Or maybe there was something.
Daeraval, this may sound mad, but could you sing for me?’
He turned to look at her, eyes wide. ‘I can’t.’
She squeezed his hand, sticky with sweat. ‘Please.’
He shook his head, eyes wide. She realised that he was looking over her shoulder, beyond her, to the tunnel entrances in the pit walls. They’re coming.’
She spun round.
From the dark entrances, vulpine shapes were pouring in their dozens, their claws scrabbling on the dirt. She could hear their panting and growling, fancied she could almost feel the heat of their breath. But it was only the heat from the fires below.
The cage gave a sudden jerk, and started to descend.
Seryn held Daeraval to her and screamed.
Suddenly the cage rocked under a heavy impact. Seryn looked up to see one of the creatures spread-eagled on top, teeth champing at the bars.
Screams from somewhere to her left. She looked to see the nearest cage, almost hidden under a writhing mass of fur, crash to the floor of the pit, its occupants spilling out.
She looked away but couldn’t blot out their screams.
The cage bottom suddenly swung open beneath them and they fell, spinning a short distance before thumping into the ground. Seryn lay stunned, her whole body thrumming with pain.
The two unconscious Eknuri smacked into the ground nearby and she heard the snap of breaking bone.
Daeraval rolled into a nearby fire, screaming as his tattered tunic burst into flames. Soon two of the creatures were on him and his screams intensified. Seryn watched them rip at his throat, watched his arms flailing to push away the beasts, watched the dark spray of blood splatter on fur, hardly daring to believe it was happening.
But it was.
Seryn scrambled into an area of darkness away from the fires. She was crying, her vision blurring and her chest heaving, but inside she was calm. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt that much, perhaps it was only the small pains of life - cutting a finger, stubbing a toe - that hurt, and death wouldn’t be too bad.
Soon enough she felt rough paws on her arms and legs, claws digging in. The pain wasn’t too bad. Then a heavy weight on her chest as one of the beasts pinned her to the ground. As it began to rip at her throat and face,
drinking down her lifeblood, Seryn realised she had been wrong. It did hurt, it hurt worse than anything, it was agony and she screamed...
Veek drank down the human’s blood and screams with gusto. She remembered this one; the terrified creature that had tried to crawl away from her at the last hunt. Senseless with fear, the prey didn’t put up any resistance and Veek was able to eviscerate it with ease, filling her mouth with great clumps of its flesh. She tossed the liver, kidneys and heart on to the rocks surrounding the nearest fire, preferring the taste of cooked internal organs.
Her immediate hunger sated, Veek lay back, watching her fellow hunters feed. Vale Guards watched from the gantries above, eyes gleaming in the firelight, lusting after the prey - but they would have to wait, until they trained as hunters. If that ever came to pass, on this madness of a mission.
The Great Mission. All too soon the Vale Commander would be calling them to the briefing. All too soon they would have to embark on yet another pointless survey, with not even the promise of fresh prey at the end of it. All too soon they would have consumed all their live prey and be reduced to subsisting on synthetic flesh like the Vale Guards.
Flayoun appeared before her, fur streaked with blood. Veek grinned. All too soon... but there was still time to sate other appetites.
In the light of the fires, in the pools of spilled blood and entrails, as Seryn’s internal organs cooked slowly on the hot stone, Veek and Flayoun’s bodies came together and the pit rang with the piercing screams of their mating.
Chapter Nine
Well-Tended Paradise
Peri sat up, opened her eyes and realised she had absolutely no idea where she was. As she took in her surroundings, her mouth fell open in awe. Wow. Had she died and gone to botanist’s heaven? Her head reeled with a sense of disorientation as she tried to take it all in.
