Doctor Who Forgotten Suns Chapter Fourteen

Jamie looked glumly at the small rectangular briquette nestled in the palm of his hand, sighing a long-suffering sigh. As he began tentatively peeling back the silvery, crinkly wrapping, he philosophically mused that he shouldn’t really be hungry anyway. Although he had not personally had to take part in the gruesome task of collecting the dead - thankfully their fellow troopers were dealing with that - Jamie thought that he would never become accustomed to witnessing violent death.

At least, he hoped he wouldn’t.

They may not have been Clansmen, they may have looked like lizards, and they may have been attacking him: but the blood was just as red here as it had been at Culloden. He hadn’t been aware that he was bleeding himself, until that Palasar lassy had taken him away from the carnage to clean him up.

She had led him back into the other section of corridor, and bade him sit by a pile of equipment, most of it pretty incomprehensible to Jamie. While she sorted through the pile in search of something to treat him with, he surreptitiously studied her, comparing her to other ‘Oortelians’ in this section. Those not actively engaged in recovering the bodies had been very still and quiet. They had looked, Jamie thought, as if a rug had been pulled out from under their feet, only to reveal that they were standing over a bottomless chasm. He honestly couldn’t tell them apart other than by size.

Palasar had found what she wanted and set about cleaning the blood from Jamie’s face. It was only when the strange fabric contacted his face that he realized that his nose was throbbing quite painfully. This was lessened considerably when, after instructing him to close his eyes, Palasar had squirted him with something that hissed and spread a cool moistness over his face. He had thanked her immediately on opening his eyes again, but found himself unaccountably relieved to see her return an oddly shaped instrument to her bag.

And then he had decided to throw caution to the wind.

“Can I ask you a question, Palasar?”

“Of course, Jamimikron, I too have many questions. You may go first!”

“Actually, you can just call me Jamie - if ye’ like…”

“Jay-Mee?” She had asked cautiously. It sounded nice, the way she said his name, slightly odd and musical. Jamie couldn’t help but smile as he agreed, so was startled when she had reared back a little, pale green lines flashing briefly across her face. “Did I say it wrong, Jamimikron? Have I upset you?’ He was just about to reassure her when she relaxed once more, saying, ‘Oh! I forgot! Thadokta told me that your people ‘smile’ when you want to be friendly! Um… Amongst my people the baring of ones teeth is a sign of anger or aggression, Jay-Mee. You may want to remember that. Now, what was your question?”

Jamie had originally intended to ask Palasar if Oortelians told each other apart by size, as he was unable to tell the men from the women himself. On consideration, he decided that he had made enough of a fool of himself already, so grasped at the first thing he saw. “Well, if it isnae rude to ask - why are you wearing that funny helmet? I notice that only a few of your people have them, er…” He trailed off as a bewildering pattern of colors once again chased around her face, and she snatched the helmet off.

After saying something that must have confused the Tardis’ magic - it sounded like ‘Cheepychirpchorp!’ - Palasar had placed the helmet carefully on the deck. Jamie had the uncomfortable impression that she was expecting it to explode at any moment. “Forgive my language, Jay-Mee, I had totally forgotten that I was wearing that thing! I think it would be best if I just put it aside for the moment.

‘Are you hungry, Jay-Mee?”

The change of subject had startled the young Scot, who was still eyeing the dangerous headgear suspiciously, but he had been surprised to realize that he was actually quite peckish! His untouched ‘Haggis’ was probably still lying in the dispensing slot of the Tardis’ food machine. Swiftly a spare ‘ration’ had been located in the bag, and Palasar had tossed it to him saying. “I will be back shortly, Jay-Mee, I need to consult with my First now.”

So Jamie finished unwrapping the ration and took a cautious sniff. One eyebrow raised in surprise, he took a tentative bite, and then, as the flavor hit his tongue, began chewing enthusiastically. “Hey!’ he cried, to no-one in particular, ‘this tastes like chocolate!”

After the hatch slammed shut beneath him, Faramandar had tried to puzzle out just what he had just seen and heard.

Due to his angle of view, the Ghost First had naturally lost sight of his troopers, until they had approached the aliens below. The operation had appeared to be going smoothly, even with one of the targets struggling, until Atanalis and Ixtapol had abandoned it. They appeared to have been distracted by something out of Faramandar’s line of sight.

Suddenly, they had both leapt towards whatever they had seen, apparently panic-stricken!

Both troopers were shouting out for instructions but, even though they were now almost beneath his vantage point, Faramandar had trouble understanding them. It wasn’t just the distance, he just didn’t believe what he was hearing! Then a loud burst of incomprehensible gibberish had nearly deafened him: his troopers drew their weapons and began firing into the air, and something huge had blurred past, obscuring the view. Having reared back in surprise, Faramandar was unable to make out much more than a flurry of massive movement, accompanied by the sound of more weapons fire.

He had just started to move back, intending to actually lean out through the hatch for a better view, when it had closed violently.

Trying not to dwell on how narrowly he had just avoided parting company with his head, Ghost First Faramandar looked around at his patrol. Exetrallus had come to stand nearby, waiting patiently for him to speak, so he held up his hand in a ‘wait’ signal. The rest of his troopers were also waiting on him, as they should be, but he continued to mull over Ixtapol’s words. Had she really said ‘giant monster’, or was he losing his mind?

As everyone waited quietly for their patrol leader to lead, he knelt down again and gave the hatch’s opening mechanism an experimental twist. Even though he was above it, and could therefore bear down on it with all his weight - there was not the slightest trace of movement. He nodded to himself, and stood once more to address his troops, noticing as he did so that everything was beginning to seem unnaturally bright. “Everybody, disengage optics.’ He ordered, realizing that the ship’s own lighting level had increased. ‘This hatch is now locked. We may have to adopt a different mission profile, but before I make that decision, I need options for getting off this level.

‘Third’s, take your half-patrols and check every hatch you find for the next three sections, floor and ceiling. Decide which direction to take between yourselves. I want to know if they too have somehow been denied to us, but do not - I repeat - do not leave this level. Make it fast. Go. Now.’ As his instructions were efficiently carried out, Faramandar turned to his Second and beckoned her closer. ‘What did you hear, Exetrallus?”

“The same as we all heard, I should imagine, Sir. A loud, strange, roar, that I could not understand - and our own trooper’s weapons being fired.”

“Hmm… I concur. I think that we can safely assume that those soldiers are dead. There is something else on this ship… something very, very big. That is really all I can tell you about it, I’m afraid.

‘For a derelict, this ship seems to be rapidly becoming overly populated… I believe that we have two options. Either we attempt to run surveillance on this ‘giant monster’, to get some idea of what it actually is…

‘I refuse to believe that it could be a surviving Ancient, so don’t even suggest that. However, this far exceeds our original mission parameters…”

“And the second option, my First?”

“We abort. Find a way back to our airlock and report to the Clade Commander for new instructions.”

“Does that not risk us being seen by the official exploration team?”

“I hardly think that is a consideration any more, Exetrallus. Either they are already dead, if that thing down there found them, or they will find the bodies of our troopers. If they are alive, we must make ourselves known to them, despite my brother’s orders. This may even turn out to be a rescue mission.”

Exetrallus nodded, but found that she had nothing to say on the matter. Instead, she asked,

“Faramandar… are you absolutely sure it wasn’t an Ancient?”

Not for the first time, Quetzlepod found himself grateful that he had long ago decided not to acknowledge his given name.

Most addressed, indeed knew him, only as ‘First’: closer acquaintances called him Q, as he had always stipulated. In any military situation he found his true name embarrassing, but under these circumstances, rank was much more appropriate anyway. His patrol were just finishing up the collection of the four unfamiliar troopers, treating their remains with as much respect as possible.

The soldier with the head wound, if so tame a description could be applied to such catastrophic injury, had been the messiest to deal with. The one further up the corridor had been cleaner, with very little blood loss. Apparently he had died from appalling internal injuries. It was the remaining two that were proving the most problematic.

Quetzlepod had seen similar crush damage before, many years ago.

He had been part of the emergency team tasked to recover the body of an archeologist: a victim of his own stupidity. The man had, despite the warnings of his colleagues, ventured too far underneath some artifact he was studying.

On seeing the size of the thing, Q and his squad-mates had expected to find little more than a smear of jelly.

But the Oortelian body is remarkably resilient, they had discovered.

When the lifting gear had finally removed the huge slab of rock to a safe distance, Q had found an apparently undamaged corpse. It was only as they attempted to move it that they discovered the truth. The civilian must have indeed been crushed flat, but his body had sprung back into approximate shape when the weight was removed.

But it was only an Oortelian shaped bladder-gourd of liquefied pulp, and when they had attempted to lift it away…

Q didn’t really like to think about it, but he had recognized that these two troopers were in a similar condition. He didn’t want their bodies to split open and spill their contents across the deck, so he had prevented any of his patrol from touching them.

Now those corpses were being very carefully eased over onto the survival blankets that he had ordered.

It was an unpleasant task for the troopers responsible, the Oortelianoid form was not supposed to squirm and ripple like some aquatic invertebrate. Fortunately, they treated their less than fortunate comrades with such tender care that, just as he noticed Specialist Palasar’s approach, they were sealing the remains away safely. “We are done here, Specialist,’ he informed her, then politely asked, ‘have you considered my advice?”

“I have, First, and I thank you for the courtesy of continuing to pretend that I am in command of this mission! Naturally, I defer to your judgement as to the deployment of your troops. I concur that the wisest course is for most of this party to return to the Flame, for now at least. But I intend to stay and - if it is possible - I would like to request the assistance of any augmented troopers in your patrol.”  She gazed at him steadily as he considered her anew.

When the Sub-Commander had briefed him on this mission, Q had got the impression that he would be minding a child: one still sporting her egg tooth, even!

Specialist Third Palasar had surprised him, and he was no longer inclined to dismiss her out of hand. He took her to one side, allowing his soldiers to carry their sad burdens over the threshold. “Augments?’ he asked curiously, ‘I take that you have some kind of plan to propose?”

Palasar nodded. Q noticed that she no longer wore her helmet just as she began speaking again. “I have been talking some more with Jay-Mee, the friend of Thadokta. You heard him claim that he can speak the language of the Ancients: I am willing to believe him - it seems doubtful that even Oortelian is his own language.’

Q gestured his agreement, inviting her to continue. ‘His friend Zo-Eee was taken by the Ancient. It seems reasonable to suppose that she, also, has this ability with languages - perhaps it is a defensive skill of their species? Regardless, it seems to me that we have been given an opportunity! If these two aliens can translate for me, I propose to attempt to communicate with the Ancient. What if this encounter has just been a tragic misunderstanding up to this point?”

“And you think that Thadokta’s friend will be willing to help you?”

“I think that it would be necessary to render him unconscious, to prevent him from going after his other friend!”

Choosing to postpone comment on that, Q instead asked. “You requested augmented troopers, Specialist. Could you tell me exactly what you have in mind?’ He stopped her reply with a gesture, adding, ‘but I must tell you this. I selected my patrol personally - specifically because they do not have implants of any kind. I was led to believe that there were good reasons for this, at the time.”

The young woman seemed to deflate slightly. “Then what is the point of telling you what I was hoping to use them for?”

“Hmm… I would like to speak with this Jay-Mee myself. The three of us can discuss the feasibility of your proposal while my troops evacuate this vessel. If your plan looks like a workable option, we will all return to the Flame, and seek the Clade Commander’s approval. At that time, the personnel you require can be allocated easily enough.”

“But what about Jay-Mee? I do not think he will want to leave without Zo-Eee!”

“I do not believe that rendering him unconscious will present any difficulties.”

Palasar looked as if she was about to present further arguments, but stopped herself and said. “Yes, I think it is only fair to discuss this with Jay-Mee himself - but please, don’t hurt him, First…’ She paused as another thought occurred. ‘These dead troopers, First… Have you any idea yet what they were doing here?”

“Apart from being killed?’ Q responded without thinking, then hastily made a gesture of conciliation. ‘No, I take that back, Specialist Palasar - that was uncalled for, and I apologise. My anger is not directed at you… I just don’t appreciate being kept in the dark.’ He cast a venomous glare all around the corridor, now fully lit. His gaze was arrested for a moment by a dark red smear high up on one bulkhead. ‘To answer your question, Specialist. No… I do not. I want to know very much, but speculation in the absence of accurate information… Well, it is not something that I choose to indulge in.”

“We are not being overheard, First… I left my helmet in the other section. It struck me that what we have just seen must be causing chaos over on the Flame, particularly amongst the enclaves…’ She looked at him searchingly, then drew closer. ‘It also occurs to me, that this could well be the only opportunity that we may have to speculate - will you indulge me, just this once?”

Q studied her for so long that Palasar began to shift uncomfortably, and there was genuine regret in his voice when he replied. “I am sorry, Specialist, I will not. I can only believe that there were sound reasons for placing another patrol on this ship ahead of us; and sound reasons why I was not informed. I may not like this, but I will not question it. Besides,’ he added encouragingly, ‘it would only be guesswork, would it not? I am sure that you are capable of guessing as well as any of us!”

“Very well, First, I do understand,’ Palasar replied, making no attempt to hide her disappointment. ‘Then perhaps you should get the evacuation of your soldiers underway. Once that is arranged to your satisfaction, please join me with Jay-Mee.” She then briskly hopped up over the door-seal, and strode off into the next section.

Q was about to follow her to arrange the order of evacuation, when he stopped with one foot on the seal. He turned his head back to face the far end of this corridor section, taking a moment to stare at the door though which the Ancient had departed.

He wondered just how long they had before it came back…