Doctor Who_ The Tomorrow Windows Part 16

Charlton looked at the Doctor. The unit sending the signal had been destroyed the signal to the Gabak satellite on the other side of the world would stop detonating the electromagnetic pulse bomb the pulse bomb would destroy the Aztale city the signal from the Aztales to their satellite would stop detonating their electromagnetic pulse bomb and, in the second it took the Doctor to look back at Charlton, the effect of the bomb was felt. Each of the monitors blasted outwards. The control desks were ripped apart as every circuit and every transistor blew. The gas lamps toppled from their brackets, spilling their flame. The overhead pipes grumbled and hissed.

The Ceccec vanished, shrinking to a dot like a switched-off television.

The Gabaks slumped forward in their seats, fumes pumping from their bodies. Their chair batteries melted and the flex of their wires dripped. Their 86 faces tightened and, as the flesh roasted, the skin crept back to reveal metal skulls.

Galvakis twisted towards the Doctor. 'The Aztales have been eradicated!'

he snarled. 'We have '

The circuits inside his skull blew.

' won,' finished the Doctor.

A creaking came from above. It sounded as though the ceiling might be about to collapse. Charlton's stomach sank.

The bunker thickened with smoke. The control panels continued to whip out plumes of sparks. Monitors crackled with fire. Steaming water dribbled from the pipes and seeped across the floor.

'Doctor,' said Trix. 'We have '

A door slid open in thin air, revealing a tranquil beach and Fitz spread-eagled upon a deckchair, a lime-coloured drink in one hand. He waved to them. 'My turn to rescue you!'

Charlton felt the Doctor's hand on his arm, and he allowed himself to be dragged through the tele-door. Trix followed.

And the roof of the bunker collapsed with a deafening crash.

'So, in many ways, the experience of Valuensis is a salutary tale. My name has been Deg Kerrigan. Goodnight.' been Deg Kerrigan. Goodnight.'

87.Minuea They had once been great s.h.i.+ps, ploughing the bejewelled ocean. Hulks of timber, studded with iron, their sails swollen with the breeze.

They had once been great s.h.i.+ps, echoing to the thud of cannon, the rumbling of barrels and the whack of sword upon sword. Sailors had thrust themselves up the rigging, sinews bulging, dirks clenched in teeth.

They had once been great s.h.i.+ps, reeking of tar, toil and goats, rolling ever forward, a caw of gullbatrosses in their wake.

Now they were no longer s.h.i.+ps. They were cities.

Pirate cities!

As the seas had risen, the lubber-towns had tumbled beneath the waves.

Their inhabitants had fled to the mountains, but still the seas surged ever forward. In desperation, they built huge arks laden with grain and livestock.

And, as the last spires were lost to the froth, a hundred or more such vessels sailed forth, in search of land, in search of the day when the seas would recede.

They were rich pickings for the pirates.

The lubbers didn't know the ways of the sea. The fools! Their s.h.i.+ps had raised anchor unarmed they had no cannon. As naked as babes! And they were sluggardly no match for the fast and sleek pirate caravels.

Pigboy Caroon, the first mate of the Thieving b.a.s.t.a.r.d Thieving b.a.s.t.a.r.d, reminisced as he watched from the crow's-nest. He could still hear the crack of gunpowder and the women's screams. The bodies somersaulting overboard, their guts sc.r.a.ped out of their chests. The sea had writhed with oily, razor-toothed creatures the porphins, the snapes and the snoogles.

He could still remember the celebrations. The las.h.i.+ngs of rum and the las.h.i.+ngs of the prisoners. The hornpipes, the dances, and the shanties. Long shanties, recounting sagas and legendary pirates and epic battles. Some of the shanties had lasted days. Indeed, many of the shanties went on for longer than the battles they described. Some even incurred more casualties.

But the shanties had dried up with the rum. The arks were becoming scarce, so the captain of the b.a.s.t.a.r.d b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Emmanuel Bloater, had ordered that they should try to conserve what remained. Rather than sink the lubber-s.h.i.+ps, they would be lashed together, to form one great vessel. A city at sea!

88.Now the b.a.s.t.a.r.d b.a.s.t.a.r.d was dwarfed by the dozen boats that cl.u.s.tered around it. was dwarfed by the dozen boats that cl.u.s.tered around it.

Mooring ropes hung in a lattice between them, creaking. Gangplanks rattled under boots.

The sea-city, still called the Thieving b.a.s.t.a.r.d Thieving b.a.s.t.a.r.d sailed but slowly. The breeze tugged at the hundreds of improvised sails that hung between the boats like was.h.i.+ng-lines. sailed but slowly. The breeze tugged at the hundreds of improvised sails that hung between the boats like was.h.i.+ng-lines.

The order had been given to catch the wind. Ahead, little more than a dot in the haze of the horizon, Caroon had spotted another pirate city, consisting of three or four boats. That was two days ago. They'd given chase, gaining maybe two hundred yards a day.

Caroon looked up. The pirate moon hung in the evening sky. They called it the pirate moon, though it was no use for navigation. It had first appeared in the skies twenty years ago, and had increased in size with each pa.s.sing month.

Tonight it resembled a lopsided crescent it was rarely the same shape two days running. According to their astrologer, the pirate moon would soon leave their skies forever. As the arrival of the moon had coincided with the rise of the oceans, many hoped that its departure would herald the return of land.

Caroon returned his attention to their prey. To his trained eye, something was odd. The pirate city had grown larger. As though it had set a course directly towards them Lifting his eye-scope, Caroon peered closer and scanned to the left. Another pirate city. And another. And another.

Caroon grabbed a rope and swung himself out of the crow's-nest. The rope unravelled and he dropped to the deck with a thump.

The crew halted in their work. Emmanuel Bloater strode towards Caroon and spat. His lips drew back to reveal the stubs of teeth.

'Cap'n,' gasped Caroon. 'They be a-comin' for us!'

'What be you sayin', young Pigboy?'

'They be a-comin' for us, cap'n. Four of 'em!'

'The measly curs!' shouted Bloater, hurling his words across the deck like the bodies of his victims. 'Men, we'll be eating yellow bellies a'for sun-up!'

'We bain't be turnin' tail, cap'n?' ventured Caroon.

'Nay, boy,' snarled Bloater. 'We bain't be turnin' tail, we bain't be no giddying toadies. We be pirates pirates, and the smell of blood be. . . ' he faltered, searching for a simile, 'in the blood! There'll be killin' a-plenty tonight!'

He thrust his sword into the air and hurrah-ed. His crew hurrah-ed in response.

It was at that point that a shaft of pure, twinkling light decided to plunge down from the sky and illuminate a small round section of the deck. Within the glow, a figure appeared. A muscular man seated upon a throne of the most fantastic jewels Caroon had ever seen.

89.'I am your G.o.d!' bellowed the figure.

Bloater gave a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. 'Nay,' he gruffed. 'I be the cap'n 'ere.'

The figure's head revolved to reveal the face of a fish. 'I be be?'

Bloater brandished his cutla.s.s. 'I. Be. Cap'n. 'Ere!'

The figure let out a patronising sigh. 'For goodness' sake, if you're going to speak in the present tense all the time, at least use the proper construction. "I am am the captain here".' the captain here".'

'Nay,' said Bloater. 'I be.'

'I am am.'

'I be be,' repeated Bloater.

The figure raised one arm towards Bloater and a bolt of fire flowed from its fingertips. The air s.h.i.+mmered around the captain and he froze, his mouth gawping in surprise.

'Your captain captain,' enunciated the figure, 'has just given you the order to attack.

He intends to lead you all to a certain death!'

The crew looked at each other, then at their immobile captain, then back at the figure. 'Aye!'

'That he be!'

'"Yes he is", not "that he be"!' said the figure. 'There is another way. You don't have to follow his orders. You can decide among yourselves!'

'Eh?'

'You each say whether you want to fight or flee, and whichever side has the most people in favour, is what you decide to do.'

'You mean,' said Caroon. 'We be choosin'

'Yes.'

'I bain't be sure 'bout that,' said one of the pirates. 'I thinks the cap'n should decide.'

'Aye,' said another. 'After all, he be in charge. He 'as the qualifications.'

'An' the experience!' said another. 'I be the bloke that deans the goat. I bain't be thinkin' I should 'ave a say in the 'portant stuff. I be as ignorant as a pig!'

'I likes followin' orders!' said another pirate. 'I bain't want to waste me time 'avin' to think up the orders too. Tha' be the cap'n's job!'

'If it's all same to you,' Caroon addressed the figure. 'We'd sooner we sticks as we are. We thinks decidin' best be left to them tha's in charge, rather than the likes o' us, 'cos we just be arguin' all the time, bain't we, boys?'

'Aye! Always arguin' 'bout somethin'.'

'Never agree.'

'Aye. Ver' true. Never agree on anythin',' they concurred.

90.'This is not a difficult concept to grasp,' said the figure. 'It means you all have an influence in your own destiny.'

The crew glanced among themselves. 'Not sure I likes the sound o' that.

Can't all be cap'n, can we? That be mutiny.'

'We likes likes the cap'n,' Caroon explained. 'He's never let us down. . . 'cept that time he led us into battle when the cannons wasn't workin'.' the cap'n,' Caroon explained. 'He's never let us down. . . 'cept that time he led us into battle when the cannons wasn't workin'.'

'An' that time when we was all under the scurvy an' he rationed the rum.'

'An' that time he had us flogged for singing that shanty-medley.'

'An' that time when he made us fight the giant squid.'

'An' said it wasn't poisonous when it was.'

'I'm going to give you one more chance,' said the figure, pointing its gloved fingers at the mast. 'Either you pay attention, or. . . I be going to sink the b.l.o.o.d.y boat!'

91.

Chapter Six.

Changing Planets

The sea strokes up and down the glistening sand. Its gush and draw soothes my ears, and I nestle into the deckchair, the fibres warm against my shoulders.

Through my sungla.s.ses I watch the ocean twinkle. Laughter rings in my ears.

Apart from me, Fitz, the Doctor, Charlton and a short, chubby robot called Zwee, not a soul is in sight. The villas that shoulder up against the promenade are deserted. They're not the source of the laughter.

No, the short chubby robot called Zwee has a.s.sured us, the sound comes from hidden speakers. He mutters in an electronic sing-song as he trundles back and forth, handing out refreshments, erecting windbreaks and umbrellas.

'The sound is merely to create the right ambience, sir,' continues Zwee as Fitz helps himself to another pina colada. For some reason, Fitz is wearing a brand new pair of shoes. 'Would you like to change it?'

'What are the options?' asks the Doctor. In deference to the heat, he has taken off his waistcoat. Fitz is bare-chested and Charlton's The Darkness The Darkness T-s.h.i.+rt stretches across his mound of belly. T-s.h.i.+rt stretches across his mound of belly.

'Options include,' pipes Zwee, '"tropical paradise", "loco in Acapulco", "surfin' safari", "Weston-Super-Mare" and "D-Day".'

'D-Day?' says Charlton.

'The profoundest delight to indulge you, sir.'

An explosion rattles my orange juice. Chub-chubs echo across the sky. Men bark orders in American accents. Aeroplanes scream. Gunfire rattles.

'Zwee,' shouts the Doctor. 'Can we have it on "mute"?'

'An absolute pleasure to cater to your wishes, sir.'

The battle cuts off, leaving nothing. No bird song. Not even the sound of the ocean.

We've been lying on this beach all afternoon. Waited on hand and foot, with nothing to do but wait.