Shining Darkness Read online

  It was all well and good, Donna realised as she heard Mesanth cough politely behind her. But she had to find some way to turn it to their advantage, to get hold of the precious segment that they’d come here for.

  She raised her hands in what she hoped was a goddessy gesture and the chanting began to fade away.

  ‘My people!’ she shouted, bringing the amplifier closer. ‘My faithful people!’

  There was more cheering. This was becoming a bit embarrassing. She glanced back to see Ogmunee rolling his eyes.

  ‘My first commandment!’ she called. ‘My first commandment is that thou shalt have no other gods!’ Talking in that cod-Biblical way sounded a bit naff. This was the twenty-first century after all. She cleared her throat. ‘You will have no other gods,’ she said – although it didn’t sound any less silly. She wondered if she were about to be struck by lightning for blasphemy.

  ‘No other gods!’ the Jaftee began to chant. ‘No other gods!’

  Donna raised her hands again. This was going to take for ever.

  ‘All your religious bits and bobs,’ she said, wincing a bit at the words, ‘all the stuff from your previous religions. It must be cast out!’

  ‘Cast out!’ they chanted. ‘Cast out!’

  She nodded.

  ‘Bring everything here – all of it! I must see it before I destroy it! Bring it now!’

  ‘What’s she playing at?’ she heard Ogmunee whisper.

  ‘Oh,’ said Mesanth in a low voice. ‘Donna is clever. I was right to bring her down with us. She knows what she’s doing.’

  Too right I do, mister, Donna smiled to herself.

  ‘Go now!’ she called to her followers. ‘Go now and bring all the blasphemous articles to me – all of them!’ She widened her eyes in what she hoped was a mad fury kind of look.

  There was a brief flurry of activity down below, and – backing away from her – the Jaftee began to stream out of the chamber.

  Narucchio eventually found it mouldering away at the back of a storeroom full of chipped stone statues, silly costumes and paintings of things with one eye, or dozens of them. They were all the relics, the props, from previous religions. Occasionally, some Jaftee or other would get it into their head that they should have a jolly good clean-out and get rid of them all; but then some older and wiser Jaftee would point out how things inevitably went in cycles, and that if they binned everything the chances were that within a couple of years they’d need them all again to celebrate some new belief system.

  Once she’d found the Wheel of Shining Thingummy, she got a crowd of Jaftee to roll it, quick-sticks, out of the chamber and along to the meeting pit.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ said Mesanth in a very flutey voice. ‘You handled that like you were born to it, Donna.’

  Donna grinned and gave an imperious little bow.

  ‘Goddess Donna,’ she corrected him before catching sight of Ogmunee’s scowl.

  ‘Do you ever smile?’ she asked him. ‘I could get them to make you smile, you know. In fact,’ she added, narrowing her eyes evilly and pushing her face right in front of his, ‘I could probably get them to tear you limb from limb and flush the bits down the loo if I wanted. My people,’ she paused hammily, ‘will obey my will!’

  ‘Don’t push it,’ said Ogmunee. ‘Let’s wait until we have the segment before you get too smug.’

  Donna just raised an eyebrow and turned back to the chamber. The handful of Jaftee left – including Enchikka – were staring up at her.

  ‘Ginger Goddess!’ called Enchikka. He’d let down his hair and was trying to muss it up into an approximation of Donna’s own, but it wasn’t working very well.

  ‘Yes, oh faithful – um, what was your name again?’

  ‘Enchikka, oh Ginger Goddess.’

  ‘Yes, oh faithful Enchikka?’

  ‘May I humbly crave that you descend to be amongst your people?’

  Donna pulled a face.

  ‘Don’t see why – um,’ she’d forgotten the amplifier, which was probably as well, considering how she’d forgotten to do the voice. She lifted it up again. ‘The Ginger Goddess sees no reason why she should not come amongst you.’

  She covered up the amplifier and glanced back at the other two.

  ‘We’re going to have to go down there to get the segment, aren’t we?’

  Mesanth nodded hesitantly.

  ‘OK then – you two better shush, though. It’s me they’re worshipping. Don’t want you two spoiling it.’

  She glared at Ogmunee in particular, fluffed up her hair again, and set off along the ledge towards where she could see a flight of steps leading down to the floor of the chamber.

  Behind her, Mesanth and Ogmunee followed.

  ‘What’s she doing?’ asked Li’ian, pulling herself closer to the rim of the ledge.

  ‘I think she’s getting ready for panto season,’ the Doctor muttered. ‘I hope she knows what she’s doing.’

  ‘We’re not going to get a close look at the segment, are we?’

  ‘I don’t think so – not close up, no.’

  Li’ian sighed.

  ‘Maybe we should just get back to the ship, then.’

  The Doctor shook his head.

  ‘Not yet. I want to make sure that – oh! Hello! Look!’

  He gestured down to the floor of the chamber. Through the doorway, a whole host of Jaftee were dragging an assortment of costumes and props and bits of wood and metal.

  ‘There’s more junk down there than in my pockets – ahh! There it is!’

  Bringing up the rear of the bizarre little procession, at least a dozen Jaftee were rolling the segment along on its edge, bumping and banging it as they went. It was the biggest artefact they had by far. Although at this rate, thought the Doctor, it might be one of the smallest by the time they got it to the centre of the chamber.

  ‘Ouch!’ he winced through his teeth as it rolled loose and slammed over onto its side.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry,’ said Li’ian. ‘Half of that is probably just protective packaging.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ replied the Doctor, not at all convinced.

  They watched as the Jaftee dragged it into place along with all their other religious bits and bobs in the centre of the chamber and then backed away, sinking to their knees again in supplication as Donna and her two accomplices descended to the floor.

  ‘The Ginger Goddess,’ announced Donna, sounding gracious, ‘is pleased.’

  ‘Why d’you never have a camera when you need one?’ sighed the Doctor. ‘I wonder who the other two are – the tripedal one: would that be Mesanth? He was mentioned in some of those records you showed me.’

  Li’ian nodded.

  ‘The other one, I think, is Ogmunee. Tactical specialist, if I recall correctly. What’s happening now?’

  Li’ian shuffled closer to the edge to see.

  Donna stood proudly at the edge of the platform at the centre of the chamber, Mesanth and Ogmunee behind her, like faithful acolytes.

  ‘You’ve done well,’ Donna was saying, waving her hand magnanimously at the collected relics. ‘The Ginger Goddess will now take them away to the heavens for…’ she gestured theatrically towards the ceiling ‘… for… disposal.’

  ‘She sounds like she’s clearing asbestos out of someone’s attic, doesn’t she?’ the Doctor grinned. ‘Good old Donna!’

  ‘There’s no need, Oh Illustrious Ginger One,’ said Enchikka with a little bow of the head. He spoke loudly so that the rest of the Jaftee congregation could hear. ‘It is our honour, our duty, to serve the Ginger Goddess by destroying these false relics for you.’

  ‘Oh-oh,’ said the Doctor.

  For a moment, Donna’s face was a picture.

  ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘No, really.’

  ‘Please,’ simpered Enchikka – although there was an edge to his voice that didn’t bode well. ‘Allow us to demonstrate our devotion to the Mighty Ginger One by destroying them here, before Her eyes.’
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  ‘The Ginger Goddess appreciates your offer,’ Donna said – and the Doctor saw her glance nervously back towards Mesanth and Ogmunee who were starting to look very worried indeed. ‘But you have already shown yourselves to be worthy followers.’

  ‘But not worthy enough,’ countered Enchikka, ‘if you will not allow us to perform this duty for you.’

  Donna smiled a tight, slightly less than deific, smile.

  ‘I am your Goddess,’ she pointed out.

  ‘You are indeed, Oh Ginger One. But as you yourself have said, there shall be no other Gods besides you.’

  Enchikka gestured with a paw, and, after a moment’s pause, the assembled throng of Jaftee – probably about two hundred of them, the Doctor reckoned – rose from their knees.

  ‘I suspect that you have duties in the Heavens that will take you away from us soon,’ Enchikka said. ‘And that you may not return. If we are never again to lay our unworthy eyes on Your Flaming Beauty, then we must insist we perform this last duty for You. We will destroy false relics and false gods alike in Your Name.’

  ‘Sorry?’ said Donna, forgetting her character for a moment. ‘False gods?’

  Enchikka dipped his head again and made a little gesture with his paw. Suddenly, two or three dozen Jaftee began to move, encircling Donna and the other two.

  ‘You have no need to fear, Oh Ginger One,’ Enchikka said. ‘It is those two – the gods whose position You have usurped in our hearts – that are false. Together with the false icons…’ He paused for effect. ‘They will burn!’

  One minute they were worshipping at her feet, thought Donna, her heart plummeting, and the next they were planning to turn Ogmunee and Mesanth into Joans of Arc.

  ‘No!’ she shouted, raising her hands.

  For a moment, the Jaftee paused. But it was only for a moment. Seconds later, they began moving again, drawing closer with a weird mixture of awe and ferocity in their eyes.

  ‘The thing,’ hissed Donna over her shoulder. ‘Use the thing – the augmenter.’

  ‘Not close enough,’ said Mesanth, his voice wobbling and warbling all over the place. ‘No!’

  At this last cry from Mesanth, Donna turned to see that Ogmunee had pulled out his shiny little gun and was aiming it at the encroaching Jaftee.

  ‘We’ve no choice,’ grunted Ogmunee, although Donna could see a malicious glee in his eyes. For once, though, she couldn’t argue with his line of reasoning: they were about to be killed by the Jaftee. She could hardly blame him for pulling a gun on them.

  Unfortunately, even though the Jaftee probably didn’t know what the chromed tube in Ogmunee’s hand was, they clearly had a good idea that it wasn’t something good; because before Ogmunee could fire it, something hurtled out of the crowd and knocked it clean from his hand. It went tumbling away into the throng where some of the Jaftee pounced on it.

  ‘The false gods must be destroyed!’ cried Enchikka. ‘It is the Will of the Ginger Goddess!’

  Donna opened her mouth to cry out that no, it wasn’t the Will of the Ginger Goddess; that the Will of the Ginger Goddess was that they all just cleared off and let the Ginger Goddess get on with stealing the Sacred Artefact.

  But it was too late: enraged by Ogmunee’s mysterious silver wand, egged on by Enchikka, the Jaftee began to swarm towards them, a murderous, religious zeal in their eyes. And Donna had a horrible feeling that once they’d killed Mesanth and Ogmunee that they might well decide they were bored with their Ginger Goddess and do the same to her. Weren’t religions supposed to be about love and peace and extra Bank Holidays?

  Suddenly, away across the other side of the chamber, Donna saw something move – high up on the ledge. A little dark shape, ducking out of sight before she’d even got a good look at it.

  And then there came a mighty grating and grinding.

  All eyes turned to look: the Jaftee, Mesanth, Ogmunee… all of them were looking up to the ledge. And then, out of nowhere, a massive block of sandy stone came into view, as if pushed from behind. It reached the edge of the ledge, sand and dust drifting down into the Jaftee amphitheatre as it paused – before continuing to slide out and over.

  It teetered on the brink – and then, almost in slow motion, it tipped and plummeted to the ground with a huge crash, a cloud of dust, and a rain of chippings that Donna could feel pattering against her skin. None of the Jaftee seemed hurt – they’d all been over on her side of the chamber. But it set them off screaming and chattering and wailing, running this way and that. They jumped up and down, trying to see what had happened.

  ‘Quick!’ hissed Donna, taking advantage of the distraction. ‘Come on!’

  And with that, she bounded across the platform to the pile of religious knick-knacks. Ogmunee was right behind her, but Mesanth seemed frozen into immobility by the falling block of stone.

  ‘Mesanth!’ bellowed Donna, rolling her eyes. ‘Move!’

  But the Jaftee had seen them, and, forgetting about the mysterious falling stone, began to scamper towards them again, Enchikka standing there looking like he might explode with the excitement of it all.

  Mesanth, trying his best not to panic, was doing exactly that: shivering and shaking, he was frozen to the spot, scared to stay, scared to move.

  ‘The thing,’ urged Donna. ‘Get it out! Come on!’

  She pointed to his shoulder belt, which seemed to galvanise him, giving him something to think about other than the encroaching Jaftee. He flapped about, pulling it from its pouch, as he suddenly sprang along the ground. The weird, dancey way he ran seemed to throw the Jaftee for a moment – and it was just enough.

  As he reached Donna and Ogmunee, up against the mountain of icons and costumes and tat, he squeezed the augmenter in his three-fingered hand.

  And as Donna felt the familiar tingle of the transmat, she glanced up at the ledge from where the stone block had fallen.

  Peeking over were a familiar pair of eyes and a very familiar shock of hair. She grinned – and then everything flared white.

  Disappointed though he was that he hadn’t been able to examine the segment, the Doctor could at least take comfort in the fact that Donna was alive and well. Better than well, if her performance as the Ginger Goddess was anything to go by. He grinned at the recollection, but reminded himself that until he had her back and by his side it wasn’t really a laughing matter.

  Boonie, for his part, was just glad that the three of them hadn’t been spotted. He’d started to have a go at the Doctor for risking revealing his involvement, until Li’ian had pointed out that, without the distraction that he’d engineered, the third segment could well have gone up in smoke. She had a smart head on her shoulders, thought the Doctor, and it was clear that she had more influence on Boonie’s plans and strategy than Boonie would probably admit.

  The Cult’s ship had wasted no time in leaving Karris, and The Sword of Justice had no difficulty in following it, thanks to the Doctor’s work on the sensors.

  The Doctor had yawned hugely, stretched like a cat, and said he thought he’d have a little nap before they arrived at their next port of call, wherever that was.

  Li’ian disappeared to do whatever it was that Li’ian did and Boonie got into a deep conversation with Kellique, so the Doctor asked Mother if she could show him back to his room since he’d quite forgotten where it was.

  Of course, the Doctor didn’t need a nap, and he knew full well where his room was. But he wanted a quiet chat with Mother. In private.

  ‘You’d think,’ said the Doctor to Mother – although he suspected he wouldn’t get a reply, ‘that Boonie’d be grateful to me, wouldn’t you? I mean – super-boosting the sensors and the transmat. You’d pay a fortune to get that done normally.’

  Mother said nothing, walking silently ahead of him.

  ‘And I couldn’t help noticing your response to the dead robot back there,’ he said casually as they arrived at his room. ‘I’m so sorry that we couldn’t help it. For all Li’ian’s professed c
aring for machine-kind, I’d have expected a bit more… well, a bit more emotion.’

  The door hissed open and the Doctor stepped in, Mother staying in the corridor, looking down at him with her fiery eyes.

  ‘You look like a bellboy waiting for a tip,’ the Doctor grinned. ‘Come in,’ he said airily, stepping back from the door; but Mother stood out in the corridor, impassively.

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, I’m not going to hurt you. Come on – come on in. There’s something you can help me with.’

  There was something almost endearing about the cautiousness with which the huge robot entered the room, like a cat sniffing the outstretched fingers of a stranger before letting itself be stroked.

  ‘Here,’ said the Doctor, tossing something through the air. Mother’s massive, claw-like hand snapped out almost as fast as the eye could see and caught it perfectly. She tilted her head and examined it: it was a chunky brass cube, etched on all six surfaces with a pattern of circuits and connections.

  ‘It’s the memory core from the robot we found down on Karris,’ said the Doctor casually. ‘But I don’t suppose you need me to tell you that.’

  Mother raised her head and looked at him.

  ‘Why have I got it?’ the Doctor guessed at her unspoken question. ‘Well… The robot – sorry, is “robot” all right with you? Would you prefer “machine intelligence”? “Mechanical”?’ Mother nodded her head the tiniest of amounts. ‘Ah, right – mechanical it is. The mechanical had clearly only just been killed, so I thought that there was a good chance that its non-volatile memory would still be accessible, and that, maybe, some of its personality constructs would still be there.’

  He watched Mother carefully as she turned the gleaming cube over in her hands. What was she thinking?

  ‘Now,’ he said, with an exaggerated sigh, ‘all I need is a way of accessing it, see if we can do anything with it – maybe transplant any consciousness there into another mechanical. It might give us a clue as to what these Cultists are doing. It might even allow the mechanical to live again.’ He paused. ‘What d’you think?’

  Mother examined the cube again, before suddenly sinking to her knees before the Doctor. Even in this position, her eyes were still a good six inches above the Doctor’s, and he realised quite how powerful this mute robot was.