Doctor Who Page 5

  ‘It took me a long time to uncover the truth – although, to be honest, I suspected it from the beginning,’ Rigel told the twins. ‘My friends helped me to escape Levithia before your uncle could have me executed. I could only return to Levithia in disguise, so I had to work in secret.’

  ‘So who did kill our father?’ Ella asked.

  ‘I spoke to his physician,’ Rigel explained. ‘He is a good man, and he too was keen to find out the truth. Of course we could only meet secretly, but he told me that your father had been poisoned and the sort of poison that was used. It was a rare concoction, but eventually I managed to track down the source. Your father was much loved, so I was fortunate to have help. Just a few months ago, I discovered the identity of the man who provided the poison.’

  ‘And killed our father,’ Asher said. His face was dark with grief and anger.

  Rigel shook his head. ‘No. This man did not know who the victim would be. He was horrified when I told him, and only too happy to identify the man who had bought the poison from him – although he was scared, he did provide a sworn statement. I have had to tread carefully, though,’ Rigel went on, ‘because the man who bought the poison and murdered your father was his own brother – your uncle, Lord Grath.’

  Asher and Ella were both shocked by this news, but in truth neither of them was much surprised. They all walked on in silence for a while.

  ‘There are some other things you need to know,’ Rigel said at last. He sat down beside the twins on a fallen tree on the banks of a fast-flowing stream before he went on. ‘Firstly, the council has pardoned you both. They know you did not kill your father.’

  ‘How do they know that?’ Asher asked.

  ‘The emperor’s physician was able to prove when the poison must have been administered. Your father was away from the palace at the time, and neither of you was anywhere near him. So the council issued a posthumous pardon – they believe, of course, that you are both dead, blown up in the obliteration module.’

  ‘They don’t know it went wrong?’ Ella said.

  Rigel pulled a leaf from a nearby plant, and twisted it round his finger. ‘It didn’t go wrong,’ he said quietly. ‘It was sabotaged.’

  Ella and her brother looked at each other, then back at Rigel. ‘By you?’ Asher asked. ‘Is that how you knew we were here?’

  Rigel nodded. ‘It was the best I could do. I reprogrammed the onboard computer to crash-land here rather than detonate the explosives.’ He looked around. ‘Of all the planets within range, this one seemed to offer the best chance of survival. And,’ he added, ‘the people here have no interest in getting involved in the affairs of others. They watch and they analyse, but they rarely interfere.’

  ‘We’ve been happy here,’ Ella agreed. ‘Although we would rather be at home.’

  Rigel stood up, dropping the twisted leaf. ‘Then home is where we shall go.’

  ‘Really?’ Asher and Ella said together. Ever since Rigel had first told them – in his disguise as the hooded stranger – that he would take them away from this place, they had barely dared to hope that they might truly be able to return home to Levithia one day.

  ‘Really,’ Rigel replied firmly. ‘I have a statement from the man who sold the poison to your uncle. This statement, along with other evidence I have collected, proves beyond a doubt that Lord Grath assassinated the emperor. Your uncle is a cruel ruler, and not loved as your father was – the council will welcome any excuse to depose him.’

  ‘Then why haven’t they already done it?’ Ella asked.

  ‘Because there is no one to take his place – or so the council believes. But now you are both of age, and you have been pardoned of any crime – rightfully, you are the rulers of Levithia. When you return, the council will depose Lord Grath and have him arrested. I have already arranged for the captain of the Palace Guard to move quickly when the time comes.’

  ‘Then it’s true,’ Asher said quietly. ‘We can go home.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ella said, taking Rigel’s hand. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘Will you advise us, when we are emperor?’ Asher asked. ‘We may be of age, but neither of us knows how to rule an empire.’

  Rigel smiled. ‘I shall be happy to do whatever I can to make your rule long and filled with wisdom. But there are two things you have to do yourselves before I can truly help you.’

  ‘Tell us,’ Ella said. ‘What must we do?’

  ‘Since you have been pardoned, when you return to the palace, you both – as the rightful rulers – will immediately assume your role as emperor. The council will support you, and your uncle will be forced to step aside. Your first act as emperor must be to command the captain of the Palace Guard to arrest Lord Grath – this must be done before your uncle can rally support or attempt to seize power by force.’

  ‘And what is the second thing we must do?’ Asher asked.

  Rigel smiled. ‘I am still sentenced to death, although I swear to you I had nothing to do with your father’s murder. Before I can return to the palace and become your advisor, I would welcome an imperial pardon.’

  Asher nodded. ‘I’m sure we can arrange that.’

  ‘Of course we can,’ his sister said.

  And so the new rulers of the Levithian Empire walked back through the wood with their newly appointed advisor. They collected what few belongings they had from the cottage that had been their home, and said goodbye to the animals that had befriended and helped them. Then they climbed aboard Rigel’s small shuttle and headed back to the palace where they had grown up, and from which they would now rule their empire.

  Once, long ago, when the Sontarans and the Rutan Host had only been at war for a few centuries and their conflict was still young, there was a battle in the Klovian Cluster. The Sontarans drove their enemy back through the cluster, but the Rutans made a counter-attack and gained the upper hand – or rather the upper tentacle, for the Rutans are gelatinous, blobby creatures with tendrils and tentacles instead of hands or arms. The Sontarans were forced to retreat, their fleet in disarray and their battle plan in tatters. The Rutans, too, suffered heavy casualties. What had been a mighty battle across a vast area of space became fragmented; on planets across the cluster, Sontarans and Rutans faced one another in small groups, each side hoping to gain a strategic advantage.

  On one of these planets, a Sontaran legion fiercely fought a Rutan battalion. They fought in the hills and the valleys, on the plains and in woodland, through deserts and in icy polar regions. The battle lasted for months, until there were just three Sontarans left alive, opposed by a single Rutan.

  ‘We must establish defensive positions,’ the first Sontaran said to the others. His name was Marshal Vrike and he was a veteran of several campaigns against the Rutans. ‘We shall have the strategic advantage if we force the enemy to the offensive.’

  ‘If we split up into separate fighting units,’ the second Sontaran, Major Kyre, said, ‘we shall stand a better chance of success.’

  The third Sontaran, Commander Starn, agreed with Major Kyre. Out of all three Sontarans, and despite his relatively low rank, Starn had fought in the most battles. He had a deep scar down one side of his face that differentiated him from his otherwise identical comrades – it was an injury he had received off the rim of Landseer in the glorious retreat from Hastagart.

  Humans had once colonised the planet the three Sontarans now found themselves on, although the humans had long since left. The decaying and abandoned remains of their time here still littered the planet, however, and the Sontarans had made their headquarters in the ruined shell of an old power plant that was built high into the side of a steep valley. The main structure was largely intact and the walls were strong.

  From the power plant, the three Sontarans surveyed the landscape in front of them. They knew the surviving Rutan was located on the other side of the valley, and debated the route it might take to get to them. It would have to pass through an area of woodland.

  ‘We
should lay ambushes in the woodland,’ Vrike decided. ‘Major Kyre and I will wait in hiding for the Rutan pest.’ He turned to Starn. ‘You may watch our inevitable and total victory from here. There is a good view down into the valley.’

  If Starn was disappointed not to be involved in the ambush, he was disciplined enough not to show it. Instead he saluted, fist to chest, and said, ‘I look forward to it, sir.’

  As soon as the other two Sontarans had departed to set their trap, Starn set about securing the power plant. His superiors might be confident of victory, but Starn had survived thus far by planning for every eventuality, however unlikely. While the other two set their ambushes in the woods, Starn would make the power plant into a trap of his own, just in case …

  Marshal Vrike took the forward position in the woods, as befitted his superior rank. He doubted that he would need the help of Major Kyre to destroy the enemy Rutan; he intended to finish the creature off himself, not just to enhance his own reputation but also for the greater glory of the Sontaran Empire.

  ‘Sontar-ha!’ Vrike chanted as he set about creating his ambush. He had decided that surprise was key so, rather than build a strong defensive position, he fashioned a camouflaged area where he could conceal himself and watch for the approaching Rutan. Vrike tore down leaves and branches, and wove a dense screen of foliage that he positioned between two sturdy trees. He ensured that there was a gap to see through, positioned so as to give him a good view of the woods ahead. When Vrike was satisfied that he could see but not be seen, he settled down behind his screen to wait. As ever, one three-fingered hand was on his impulse blaster; the other never strayed far from the scissor grenade attached to his belt.

  Vrike did not have to wait long. He soon saw the pale green glow that meant the Rutan was approaching. It was a tiny point of light at first, glimpsed through the trees, but it gradually grew brighter and larger as the creature approached. Vrike had only once fought a Rutan face-to-face – or, more fittingly, face-to-gelatinous-mass, given the Rutans have no head as such. As Vrike well knew, the Rutan’s glow came from the electricity that filled its blobby green body. One touch from a Rutan’s tentacle packed enough charge to kill – if it got close enough to touch you, that is. Vrike did not intend for the Rutan to get anywhere near him.

  He aimed his blaster through the gap in the screen of foliage, and trained it on the approaching green glow. Not long now – he would just let it get a little closer and then he would discharge the blaster’s entire power pack into the hated creature.

  At that moment, the glow faded and vanished. Vrike frowned; he had been about to fire. Where had the Rutan gone? Surely it could not have just disappeared. He lowered his blaster, and peered more closely through the gap, looking from side to side and searching for any hint of the telltale green glow. But there was nothing.

  Vrike’s mind raced through the possibilities. The Rutan could not have retreated or he would have seen it. If it had changed direction, and started to head away from his ambush, then he should have seen that too. The only reason he could think of that he was no longer able to see the glow was because it was hidden behind or beneath something. The Rutan must be hiding.

  In that case, Vrike decided, he merely had to wait for the enemy to emerge from its cover. It made sense that the Rutan was being cautious; it knew there were Sontarans in the area, just as they knew that it was here. Vrike tried to put his mind in the place of the Rutan, to think as it might think. What would it do? What would he do in the same situation – entering unknown and possibly dangerous territory where the enemy might be concealed?

  In his confidence of victory, Vrike had foolishly overlooked one of the most basic tactics of the Rutans. The Rutans were cold in every sense, coming as they did from an icy world, but they knew the Sontarans were warm-blooded. The Rutan might well have scanned for a heat trace, and, if so, then it knew where Vrike was concealed. But that still did not explain why the glow had disappeared. How could the Rutan have possibly concealed itself?

  Vrike looked around for inspiration. His deep-set eyes settled on the dense undergrowth that grew close to the ground. Could it be that simple? Had the Rutan ducked down beneath the foliage? Was it even now forcing its way through the undergrowth towards his position? Vrike let out a snarl of rage and reached for his blaster – but he wasn’t quick enough.

  To the side of Vrike, a whole area of vegetation was suddenly uprooted and lit from beneath by an eerie green glow as the Rutan burst from its hiding place. Vrike turned to train the blaster on the creature but a long, pale green tentacle had already snatched the gun from his grip. Another wrapped suddenly round him. A massive charge of electricity jolted through Vrike’s armour and into his body. Smoke poured out from the point where his helmet joined the collar. His body convulsed, then fell lifeless to the ground.

  Further up the valley, Major Kyre heard the sizzling discharge of power. It was a sound he knew all too well, and he knew what it meant. He paused in his work and took a moment to pay silent tribute to his fallen comrade. But, even in death, Vrike had given Kyre an advantage – Kyre now knew where the Rutan was.

  Kyre’s own plan was more or less the same as Vrike’s had been. However, while the Marshal had concealed himself behind a thin screen of vegetation, Kyre’s defences were altogether more robust. He had found a small clearing that had been created by several large fallen trees. Whether this was due to some weakness in the trees or the soil, or because of a storm or some other natural event, Kyre neither knew nor cared – it was the trees themselves he was interested in.

  Using his osmic projector in cutting mode, he sliced through the massive trunks and fashioned crude planks of wood from the trees. These he lifted easily into position, securing them with wedges cut from smaller fallen trees. Before long, Kyre had fashioned a wooden stockade at the edge of the clearing.

  The disadvantage, he knew, was that the Rutan would see where he was. The advantage, though, was in the strength of his defences. He would let the Rutan reveal itself and then, as his enemy wasted time, effort and resources assailing the wooden walls, Kyre would launch his counter-attack.

  Kyre had been positioning the planks that formed the last of the walls when he heard Vrike’s death. The Rutan was not far away, but Kyre was almost ready. He lowered the final planks into position from inside so that he was completely enclosed within the stockade. In order to see out, he had left small holes in each wall, and a section of one wall could be swung away from the inside so that Kyre could emerge to battle the Rutan when he deemed the right moment had arrived. For now, he watched and he waited.

  The planet’s sun was starting to dip behind the ridge where the old power plant was located. In the fading light, the green glow of the approaching Rutan was even more evident. Kyre watched it grow brighter and closer. Soon, he thought with satisfaction, battle will be joined. He knew there could be only one victor. Kyre would wait until the Rutan was attacking the opposite wall – which he had made deliberately weaker than the others so as to lure the Rutan to it – then he would sneak out through the small door and circle round to attack the creature from behind. His blaster fire would rip through the inferior Rutan, and its green light would fade as it died. Simple, but effective.

  Except that in battle things rarely go exactly as planned.

  The glow of the Rutan reached the edge of the clearing and Kyre watched it move fluidly across the ground – half rolling, half flowing – towards the stockade. Kyre could have stepped out from cover then and shot at it, but he knew from experience that it would take several sustained blasts to destroy the Rutan. Also, it would be expecting an attack, and be ready to loose one of its deadly tentacles. The moment Kyre stepped out from his cover, he would be dead. No, it was better to wait until he had the advantage of surprise, until the Rutan believed it was in control and close to victory.

  Kyre watched with eager anticipation as the Rutan approached the stockade. It inspected each of the walls in turn; there was a moment when K
yre thought it might have spotted the door, might try to prise it open, but the creature moved on. Soon it was back at the opposite wall, having concluded – as Kyre intended it would – that this was the weakest point and therefore the best place at which to make its incursion.

  Kyre did not look out again to check what the Rutan was doing – there was a chance, if only slight, that it could weave a deadly tentacle through one of the peep holes. Instead, Kyre listened. He could hear the bubbling, hissing sound that all Rutans made. He could hear it squelching against the wall. There was something else as well – a grating, rubbing sound he could not identify. No matter. Whatever the Rutan was doing, its demise was fast approaching and inevitable.

  Confident of victory, Kyre eased open the hidden door. He made his way quietly round the stockade, his blaster fully charged and levelled. When he reached the corner of the wall where the Rutan was working, he waited a moment, then leaped out, ready to blast the creature.

  But there was nothing there. The Rutan was gone.

  Kyre turned quickly, afraid it might have heard him coming, but there was no sign of the Rutan behind him or in the woodland nearby. He glanced upwards, checking it had not climbed to the top of the wall. Still nothing. Had Kyre looked down at the ground as well, he might have survived.

  Instead, he retreated to the safety of his stockade to assess the situation. As soon as he had closed the door, he stopped, silent and still. He could still hear the bubbling, hissing sound of the Rutan, as well as the unfamiliar scraping. Cautiously, he risked a look through the hole in the wall. But no, there was still no sign of the Rutan outside. In fact, Kyre realised, the sound seemed to be coming not from beyond the wall, but rather from somewhere lower down – as if the Rutan was underneath him.

  Too late Kyre realised what the Rutan was doing. It had avoided the obvious strategy of coming through the wall; instead, it was coming under it.