by Nick Walters
The Doctor removed the cloth to reveal a mouth hanging open in complete amazement.
‘Well, this is a... this,’ Then his face twisted, dark crevices of anger seeming to slice into the flesh. ‘After all the death you’ve dragged with you halfway across the galaxy, the utter contempt you’ve shown for anything that isn’t yourself, you want my help?’ His voice was the petulant snarl of a teething cub.
Veek brought the blaster up to his face, to remind him who was in control. ‘Yes, I - I want to return home. I do not believe in the Great Mission. It is a perversion of the nature of we Valethske.’
‘Which is presumably to hunt and kill all you see as lesser species,’ said the human in more subdued tones.
‘We are hunters. We exist only to hunt, to feed, to reproduce.
We do not enslave races, or experiment on them, or get ourselves involved in pointless conflicts. We hunt to eat. That is all. That is why the Great Mission is so wrong.’
‘Sounds a very circumscribed life to me. What about your soul? What about your culture?’
‘Of course we have such things - but this isn’t the time to discuss them! Will you help me?’
The Doctor’s eyes glittered. ‘You just want to go home? You don’t want to give your species access to time travel technology?’
Again Veek sensed the power hidden behind the weak flesh. She thought of the glory that bringing such a gift to the Great Vale would bestow upon her, and realised she didn’t care. The sweet rains of home were worth much more than that.
She nodded. ‘Yes. I just want to go home.’
‘Do any other Valethske feel this way?’
‘They are all loyal to Kikker and dedicated to the Great Mission.’
‘So you’re the only dissenter.’ The Doctor seemed to consider for a while. ‘Well, it’s a harmless enough request,’ His voice changed tone, becoming questioning. ‘Tell me, are you a creature of honour, hunter Veek?’
‘I am.’
‘And that if we make a bargain, here and now, you will not renege - as Kikker did?’
‘I swear!’ hissed Veek.
The Doctor looked doubtful. Then he said, ‘All right, I agree
-but you must agree to help me, too. I want you to help me find my friend Peri, if she’s still alive.’ He added as an afterthought: ‘Oh, and to stop Kikker before he destroys this world.’
Veek nodded. The enormity of what she was about to say and do struck home. A hunter - making a bargain with a mere piece of meat! Insanity. ‘Very well, prey - we have an alliance.’
He smiled again. ‘It would help if you used my name. I’m called the Doctor.’
Veek opened her mouth as wide as she could and moved to lock jaws with the human.
He stepped back, a look of alarm on his face. ‘What now?’
Veek closed her mouth and stepped back, feeling foolish.
‘My apologies - that is our custom on sealing a contract.’
The human - the Doctor - looked relieved. ‘For a moment I thought I was back on the menu... anyway, where I come from, and some other places, we have a very different and much more hygienic way of going about such things.’
The Doctor extended his hand. ‘Come on, don’t be shy.
Take my hand.’
Curious, Veek reached out and took it. Her red-furred paw completely enclosed his pink flesh. She growled in surprise as the Doctor began jerking her arm up and down with a vigour that surprised her.
‘There, far more civilised, don’t you think?’
Veek hissed and snatched her hand away.
She would never understand humans.
Peri was beginning to wonder if she would ever see daylight again. After leaving Aline, she had run blindly through the twisting, glowing tunnels of the world beneath the Garden, trying not to think about what the giant insects might be doing to the sick woman. She stopped only when she ran out of breath, slumping to the rock floor, totally exhausted. Her body felt like a machine that had been driven way beyond its design specifications. A car that had crashed too many times, fit only for the crusher. She rolled into a corner, mind teeming with giant insects, humanoid foxes and walking plants, and despite everything fell into a dark, dreamless sleep.
She woke later, feeling heavy and woozy, and far from a hundred percent, but at least partly refreshed, surprised at and grateful for a period of unconsciousness that had not been initiated by a Valethske stun-gun, an explosion or a crack on the cranium with something heavy and blunt. The pain in her muscles had receded to a distant pins-and-needles and her head felt remarkably clear. One thing that hadn’t changed was the rancid smell of sweat and probably worse that permeated her ill-fitting uniform. Her own perspiration had now dried into the suede-like fabric and she could smell herself a sweet and pure fragrance rising above the rank, rotten stench of the uniform’s previous wearers.
Peri wandered along the tunnels, taking any turning that led her in an upwards direction. She had no idea how far she was below the Garden. The Valethske shaft could have been miles long, she’d been far too preoccupied to make any kind of judgement. Athon’s death kept playing out in her mind, a pointless sacrifice. Why hadn’t he listened to her? Or perhaps he was right, death was the only way out.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t believe that.
She had to have hope.
The narrow tunnel began to turn back on itself, until it formed a kind of uneven spiral staircase. Peri climbed, hope beginning to rise along with the tunnel. She had to stop and rest at frequent intervals, the energy she’d gained from her nap quickly ebbing away. As she ascended, the rock walls gave way to peaty, crumbling mud, its tart smell a welcome distraction. The phosphorescent moss was still present, but only in small patches, so Peri was sometimes climbing in near-darkness. Interwoven in the mud were myriads of hair-like strands, trailing down from the wall and sometimes barring her way, like a spider-web. Peri tried not to think of spiders but once she had the image wouldn’t go away. As if she didn’t have enough problems, what with ravenous fox-creatures and giant beetles. She told herself the hair-like stuff was just plant fibre.
Surely, this had to be a way back up to the surface. A kind of emergency exit for the Gardeners, though she had trouble visualising any of the giant, bloom-headed creatures negotiating such a narrow, twisting passage. Maybe there were other types of Gardeners, adapted for different purposes. She remembered the one she had seen mowing the lawn. The last thing she needed was to meet anything in such a cramped space, but in her time underground she hadn’t met a single motile plant, only Aline and the giant insects. She remembered Aline’s hoarse, whispering voice: They’re all dead.
What had she meant? The Gardeners - or something else?
As she climbed she found herself thinking of the Doctor. He was the one person on the planet she badly wanted to see again.
She had no way of knowing if the Doctor was dead, alive, imprisoned, free, whatever. For all she knew he could have single-handedly defeated the Valethske and be waiting patiently on the surface for her. He could even have made peace with them and they could all be sitting around drinking tea and playing cricket. Images of Valethske in cricket-whites brandishing bats instead of guns spun around Peri’s head, the Doctor patiently trying to explain the rules as they growled and prowled around him.
The Doctor would find a way, she had to believe it. The thought of seeing him again was the only thing that kept her climbing. She imagined his face as she rushed up to him and hugged him tight enough to crack a rib. Imagined the look of surprise on his young face that couldn’t mask the smile of joy in his old eyes. Imagined him saying something stupid and witty and lovable. Imagined a nice, long, hot bath and a holiday somewhere the Doctor could guarantee wasn’t about to be invaded by bloodthirsty aliens.
The passage began to level out, turning into a mud-floored ramp that led upwards at a shallow angle. It seemed to go on for ever, and Peri estimated she walked for a least a mile. The walls were now a twisted, knotte
d mass of bark that looked strangely familiar. Eventually they began to close in above her head, making her crawl on hands and knees. As she moved along in this awkward fashion she became aware of a change in the quality of the light. The pale green glow from the ever-present moss was gradually being overtaken by an orange flickering that set shadows dancing on the walls. Firelight, unmistakably.
For a moment Peri thought she was going to emerge back inside the Valethske ship, but after a few moments’ frantic thought she worked out that couldn’t be the case. Then she realised what the walls reminded her of - the giant Tree. Could she have climbed all the way from the interior of the Garden to the Tree? If so, that meant she was on, or at least near, the surface.
She increased her pace, glad for once of her rancid uniform, as its suede-like fabric provided some protection from the rough bark. Her knees still felt like the skin had been stripped from them and her spine, already aggravated by her work in the pit, felt ready to snap at any moment. But she kept on going, questions running round in her mind. Had the Valethske torched the Garden? What a waste that would be. But then they had no use for plants.
Eventually the end of the tunnel came into sight, a dark triangle of blue framed by orange-lit walls. Peri gritted her teeth and made one final effort, heaving herself across the rough bark. A smell of smoke began to tickle her throat, and she could hear screams and the crackling of fire.
Overcome by curiosity, Peri pulled herself to the edge of the tunnel, feeling cool grass under her fingertips. Keeping her body pressed into the shadows, she peered around the edge into a nightmare.
She’d emerged at the foot of the Tree, between two of its lesser trunks. The sky was obscured by thick masses of cloud through which she could glimpse snatches of brilliant blue. A ring of fire curved in a crescent, cutting off escape in every direction, the blue-purple trunks of the Tree reflecting the flames. Within this half-circle, half-a-dozen Valethske were ranged, their black-clad bodies picked out clearly against the wall of fire, ugly-looking guns firing blasts of white energy through the curtain of flame.
Peri buried her face in her hands and wept. Would she never escape these creatures?
Veek threw the door open and stepped through, swinging her blaster round in a wide arc. She felt the Doctor shove past her and watched enraged as he sauntered into the dimly lit laboratory with a carefree air. She holstered the blaster. There was no one here, she could see that now. Ruvis and his technicians would be assisting with the defence of the ship. But how had the Doctor known?
She followed him, trying not to look at the machines that lurked in the shadows. Apart from the sleep cells, Ruvis’s laboratory was the only area on the ship that Veek hated. No one except Ruvis and his technicians knew what went on in here, not even Kikker. To Veek the machines looked like robotic beasts waiting to pounce, their polished metal and glass reflecting the soft blue strip-lighting, full of menace. And the smell - harsh, unnatural cleanliness that seared her nostrils and stuck in her throat. She shuddered.
Against the far wall stood the strange blue box the Doctor called the TARDIS. He stood beside it, one hand touching its blue panels, his face seeming to be lit up from within.
Veek looked around the lab, still on the alert, hardly believing that she would soon be leaving the confines of the ship for good.
The Doctor thumped the side of the TARDIS. ‘Blast! I haven’t got the key - and the spare’s in my other pair of trousers.’
Veek kicked herself for not thinking that the TARDIS would need a key. Of course, Kikker would have taken it. She stared forlornly at the blue box, Valeth Skettra receding into the mists of her mind.
‘Is this what you’re looking for?’
Veek swung round.
Ruvis stood in the doorway, holding a golden key on a long chain that twinkled in the blue lab lights.
In his other hand was a standard-issue blaster, targeting her chest. A mundane weapon for a hunter to be killed with. She shifted from foot to foot but Ruvis kept time with her, his aim never leaving her central mass.
Her own blaster lay useless in its holster.
‘Yes, it is! Thank you very much,’ said the Doctor, walking around from behind Veek right up to Ruvis, hand held open in front of him.
Veek was getting used to the Doctor’s unpredictable nature by now and hardly batted an eyelid, but Ruvis didn’t know how to take this mad human. For a split second he took his eyes off Veek.
Veek threw herself sideways, just as Ruvis fired.
The blaster bolt seared through the air where she had just been standing and slammed into the front of the TARDIS, where it exploded in a blinding diffusion of energy.
Veek rolled across the floor, past the Doctor who was scrambling for cover, and into Ruvis, grabbing his legs and bringing him down.
Veek lunged for his throat, smashing off his prosthetic jaw and sinking her teeth into the stringy flesh of his neck.
He was old, but strong, and put up a creditable resistance despite his ruined body. But Veek was younger and stronger and whole, and the old technician’s struggles quickly subsided.
Veek stood up, looking down at his body, breathing heavily, a feeling of deep satisfaction coursing through her.
Ruvis wasn’t the first of her own kind she had killed; trial by combat was a Valethske tradition. And there was always Flayoun, in the unlikely event that she should encounter him before she returned home.
‘That was not necessary.’
Veek looked at the Doctor in mild surprise. ‘He would have killed us!’
His eyes were hard as glass again. ‘You don’t know that!
He’s a scientist. He would have listened, he may even have agreed to help!’ The Doctor was shouting now.
Veek ignored him, stooping to prise the TARDIS key from Ruvis’s fingers. ‘I know Ruvis. He’s as blinkered as Kikker, totally dedicated to the Great Mission. He would not have helped me.’
‘You don’t know that,’ said the Doctor.
Why was he so concerned over the death of a Valethske? He
hated them; their alliance was born of necessity and that alone.
Once it was over she might have to kill him - or she might not. It didn’t bother her much either way.
‘Give me that.’ The Doctor snatched the key out of her hands and walked over to the TARDIS without another word.
He opened the door and entered without looking to see if she was following him.
Veek stepped over Ruvis’s body and hurried into the blue box.
There was a moment of disorientation, then she found herself inside a brightly lit space, patterned with a curious circular motif. There was something wrong. It was larger on the inside than it was on the outside. Impossible!
‘Impressed?’ said the Doctor.
Veek realised she was panting, her tongue lolling over her teeth. She suddenly saw the Doctor in a new light. She knew that certain
humanoid
races
had
developed
impressive
technologies, but this was something different. She sensed power, the ancient power of the Gods. ‘What - what kind of human are you?’
The Doctor’s smile was like that of an equal. Now they were two hunters squaring up for a fight. Only the Doctor had the advantage - this was his territory. ‘I am a Time Lord, one of an incredibly advanced and incredibly ancient civilisation with immense powers. Not quite up there with the Khorlthochloi, though. But I don’t tend to go around bragging about it.’
Veek had regained some of her composure. ‘Now - take me to Valeth Skettra!’
The Doctor sighed. ‘Veek, we have a deal. You help me find Peri first. And before you start waving that gun around, please remember that without me you cannot operate the TARDIS.’
Veek nodded. ‘Very well.’
The Doctor moved around the control panels, flicking switches.
‘Why do you want to return home, Veek? It must be centuries since you left. You m
ight not even have a home any more.
The Valethske fell to the Khorlthochloi once, they may have fallen again, to another powerful enemy.’
Veek gestured at the control panels. ‘You can take me back through time, to a point just after I left.’
The Doctor seemed to consider this. ‘Yes, that’s feasible. There will be little chance of you meeting yourself so the timelines will be safe. But how are you going to explain your presence at home if you’re supposed to be off on the Great Mission?’
Veek frowned, watching the glass column in the centre of the control panel rise and fall. It was soothing, like the heartbeat of her mother, back when she’d been a playful, vicious little cub. Time and distance seemed to blur in her mind, and she imagined she could taste the rains of Valeth Skettra on her tongue. The longing to return was a hard ache in the pit of her heart, more intense now that the means were within her grasp. How would she explain herself? It hardly mattered. Just being there was all she could think of. Anything beyond that was a blank whiteness like the ceiling of this strange vessel.
Suddenly a muted chime came from all around her and the central column came to rest.
‘I will think of that when I get there,’ she murmured.
‘Yes, well, here’s hoping all goes to plan,’ said the Doctor, walking round the control panel towards her. ‘We’ve landed.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Sea of Thorns
Through the blur of her tears, Peri noticed a number of dead Valethske prone on the grass, their bodies pierced by what looked like spears. At the edge of the crescent of fire lay burning pyres, which Peri realised was the remains of Gardeners. Two of the surviving Valethske were holding flame-throwers, making sure there were no gaps in the fire-barrier.
Peri squinted through the flames, trying to make out what was beyond. Hard to see how much was real and how much was her imagination making shapes out of the orange tongues of fire.
There seemed to be a wall of writhing, thorned tentacles, heaving like a pit of snakes. Gardeners? But these were nothing like the creatures she had already met. As she watched, a hail of spears shot through the flames and another Valethske fell.
