Night Of The Humans Page 3

'Sollog,' said another, drawing a battered-looking sword from its scabbard.

  'Er... Who... or what is Sollog?' asked the Doctor, but nobody answered him.

  There was another splash, and now he heard something else. Something guttural and animalistic, almost like a belch, or the sound of a bullfrog.

  Another splash. And then another.

  The human with the sword was turning now, searching desperately for the source of those sounds, his expression one of outright terror. His hands shook as he gripped the weapon's handle and his jaw was trembling.

  'What's Sollog?' the Doctor asked, more 37

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  insistently now, but the human didn't answer him. He was looking over the Doctor's shoulder, his eyes growing wide and his mouth opening for a scream he'd never start.

  The creature that leapt on him was at least a metre long, the trunk of its body like that of a monstrous slug, and its eyes jutted out on slimy stalks. Unlike a slug, it propelled itself on eight long and spindly legs, which protruded from its sides.

  It struck the human with such force that it pushed him down under the water in a split second, its legs wrapped around his head and upper body. The stricken man thrashed around under the surface of the swamp, but nobody would help him.

  More of the creatures, the Sollogs, were emerging from the fetid green waters of the swamp. They climbed the plastic tubes and propelled themselves along with terrifying agility.

  One of the humans hit one with a shot from his crossbow, but was then taken down when another of the creatures leapt onto his back; its gaping maw filled with circular rows of sharp teeth opening wide above his head.

  Without a moment's hesitation, the humans began running further into the swamp, the plastic tubes chiming around them.

  The Doctor ran as best he could with his hands still tied, but then he heard a heavy splash. He turned round and saw the human who had nudged him along with a spear

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  lying face down in the water.

  Crouching, and with a great deal of difficulty, the Doctor grabbed the human by the arm and turned him over. The human coughed up a mouthful of water, wriggled free of the Doctor's grasp, and began searching in the swamp for his spear.

  The rest of the group were far away now, still running through the forest of plastic tubes, their yelling and screaming getting quieter by the second. The Doctor and his captor were alone, but for the Sollogs, which were drawing around them in an ever-tightening circle.

  'Cut the rope,' said the Doctor, holding up his bound wrists.

  The human shook his head.

  'Cut the rope or we are going to die,' insisted the Doctor.

  The human looked around at the seven or eight Sollogs that were crawling and slithering from one pipe to the next. He turned to the Doctor and, drawing a small knife from his belt, proceeded to hack through the rope, freeing the Doctor's hands. The Doctor reached inside his jacket, and the human flinched, holding the blade a little closer to his face.

  'Easy... easy...' said the Doctor, drawing out his sonic screwdriver.

  Close by, one of the Sollogs let out a terrifying hiss. The human jumped, but the Doctor remained

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  calm, grabbing the nearest plastic tube, and placing the tip of the screwdriver against its corrugated shell. As the device chirruped into life there came, from the open mouth of the pipe, a deafening, bass-heavy drone. The Doctor pulled down the pipe, holding it under his arm as if it were a gun, and aimed it at the Sollogs. The throbbing sound pulsated out of the pipe, causing everything in its path to quiver and shake, and the Sollogs began screeching and mewling, before scurrying away from them.

  The Doctor let out a brief, almost nervous laugh, as if amazed his plan had worked. Then, when the Sollogs were a safe distance away, he grabbed the human by his wrist, and dragged him off across the swamp.

  'What was that?' asked the human, breathlessly.

  'That was improvisation! the Doctor replied. 'And all things considered, I think it went rather well.'

  Eventually they were clear of the swamp and racing across a glittering white desert. Behind them the Sollogs clung to the swaying plastic tubes, but they came no further. Turning on his heels the Doctor watched them massing at the edges of the swamp, hissing and screeching. Why weren't they still chasing them? He looked down at the crunchy white crystals at his feet.

  'Salt,' he realised. 'It's a salt plain.'

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  He would have smiled with relief were he not thinking about Amy. Amy Pond, who was somewhere, far beyond the swamp and the canyon. Alone on a world as dangerous as this.

  He had to get back to her, somehow, but his thoughts were interrupted as he felt his wrists pressed together, and the all-too-familiar sensation of rough rope being tied around them. The human he had just saved was binding them together once more, and had the tip of his dagger pointed towards the Doctor's face.

  'Oh, well that's just charming,' said the Doctor. And I thought we were friends.'

  'You are not my friend,' grunted the human. 'You are my prisoner. Now start walking.'

  They made their way towards those who had escaped from the swamp moments before them. In the distance, beyond the rest of the group, the Doctor saw a dark shape rising up against the perpetual night, an enormous hulk that shimmered at first, like a mirage. Only as they drew nearer did he recognise it as the wreckage of a spaceship.

  Though it was half buried in the surface, it rose up a quarter of a mile from the ground, like an iron finger pointing at the sky. Along its side was painted a single word, GOBO, and next to it the image of a cartoon clown with bright blue hair and a crimson, rictus grin.

  As they neared the hulk, the Doctor heard the 41

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  sound of drumming and saw blazing torches lined up along fortified ramparts. All around the wreck there were makeshift buildings: tin shacks and huts; ramshackle turrets and cobbled-together shelters - a city made of junk. A fanfare of discordant, atonal horns greeted them from the watchtowers along the city's outer walls, and the doors of an immense iron gate groaned open. The drumming grew louder still as they approached, passing through the gate and into the city, and then the doors slammed shut behind them with a heavy clang.

  When they saw him, the humans in the city began to hoot and bellow, jumping up and down and beating their chests. A small child, its eyes glowing with feral intensity, ran up to the Doctor and kicked him in the leg. Another threw a clod of dirt at his head, narrowly missing him. His captors shooed them away with their spears, and took him further into the city.

  The buildings that surrounded them looked impossibly ancient and run-down, as if they had been fashioned as emergency shelters in a crisis, many centuries ago, but had since fallen into disrepair. The rooftops were rusted and sagging, columns bowing beneath their weight. The whole place stank of smoke and rotting food.

  They came at last to the upturned hull of an old deep-space shuttle. Its shell, which would once have been white and emblazoned with the livery

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  of whichever space agency had sent it, was now painted, from end to end, with primitive graffiti. Over and over again, the Doctor saw a childish interpretation of the clown's grinning face.

  A door in the shuttle's hull swung open with a gasp, and a human climbed out: a short man with long, greasy black hair cascading down his hunched back like a river of tar. One side of his face was tattooed with tiger patterns and his features were pinched and rat-like. He walked with the assistance of a gnarled black staff, at the top of which was a human skull. On seeing the Doctor he laughed in a series of short, staccato cackles, clasping his hands together with glee. His fingernails were long, brown talons.

  'Ah, Sancho...' he rasped. 'What do we have here?'

  'We have a prisoner, Tuco,' said Sancho, the human soldier who the Doctor
had saved. 'We caught him.'

  'Yes. A prisoner. Yes,' hissed the tattooed human. 'Yes. Tuco likes this very much. Yes. A prisoner.'

  Tuco approached the Doctor now, inspecting him from head to toe. He reached out, dragging one of his claw-like fingers the length of the Doctor's face, from his forehead to his chin, and the Doctor followed the course of his finger with his eyes but remained stoic.

  'Ha ha!' cackled Tuco. 'He has a funny face! But 43

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  he's not Sittuun, no?'

  'He was with the Sittuun! said Sancho.

  'With Sittuun? With Sittuun. Yes. With Sittuun. Are you a friend of the Sittuun?'

  The Doctor shrugged. 'Well... I'm quite easy to get along with, I think. So... Tuco...'

  Tuco recoiled, as if he had been stung. He frowned at the Doctor.

  'He speaks!'

  'Yes, I speak. So... Tuco, as I was about to say before you had your little... ah, moment there... How long have you guys been here?'

  The humans looked at one another, frowning.

  'What does he mean?' asked Sancho.

  'Yes, stranger. Yes. Tuco would like to know. What do you mean?'

  'Well... This place. How long have there been humans here? When were you shipwrecked? That's assuming you were shipwrecked, and you didn't come here by choice. I mean, I love what you've done with the place, really, but still... It's not exactly a holiday resort, is it?'

  'Silence!' Tuco roared. 'He speaks the heresy!'

  The humans gasped, clasping their hands over their ears.

  'I'm sorry! said the Doctor. 'Did I just say something?'

  Tuco leaned close to him now, his dark green eyes glowing with intent.

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  'We have always been here! he snarled, baring his yellow, misshapen teeth. 'There is no shipwreck.'

  The Doctor was gazing up now, at the broken hull of the GOBO ship.

  'Er... Excuse me?' he said. 'But... Where exactly do you think you are?'

  'This! said Tuco, grinning ominously, 'is Earth. And you, stranger, are a heretic.' He turned to the Doctor's captors. 'Take him away! he hissed. 'Django will decide his fate.'

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  Chapter

  4

  'But... I saw those things... They weren't human.'

  Amy was following Charlie along one of the Sittuun ship's corridors, though she had no idea where he was going.

  'They were! said Charlie. 'I'm sorry.'

  'But what happened to them?'

  They came at last to a control room lined with banks of monitors. Charlie sat at one of the consoles and started typing.

  After a moment he paused, turning round in his chair.

  'We don't know how long they've been here. It could be thousands of years. They're most likely the descendents of a crew who were shipwrecked here. They've forgotten everything.

  Their technology, or most of it. Their history.'

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  'But they don't even look human.'

  'Well, they do,' said Charlie. 'If you're Sittuun, I mean. Most of you kind of... well... you all kind of look the same, really.'

  He frowned and shook his head. 'I'm sorry! he said. That's really racist, isn't it?'

  Amy couldn't help but laugh. 'Well, yeah... Kinda.' Her expression became more grave. 'But what about the Doctor? If they've got him... What will they do to him?'

  Charlie shrugged and hung his head. 'I don't know,' he said.

  "They killed three of our crew when we first landed, and they captured another three a few weeks back. We haven't seen them since. There were eleven of us. Aisha... she was our chief navigator... She died after being bitten by one of the Sollogs.

  So now there's just us four.'

  'And how long have you been here?'

  Charlie closed his small black eyes and sighed. 'One hundred and eight days,' he told her. 'We've been here a hundred and eight days. We're trying to salvage one of the raft ships, but the Gyre has scrambled all of the ship's navigational programmes. Even if we could get one of the rafts to fly - and we can't - it could send us anywhere. We could be floating in deep space for centuries.'

  Amy sat down at the console next to Charlie and put her head in her hands. When she looked up at him again it was with a quizzical scowl. 'But

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  what I don't understand is, why didn't you just fire a great big missile across space to blow this place up? Why did you have to come here?'

  The Gyre! Charlie replied. 'It's strange. It's like it has a mind of its own. Like it's conscious. It causes all kinds of problems.

  The only way to destroy it was to do it up close.'

  'And there's just you guys? And just the one bomb? Why isn't there a whole fleet of ships with lots of bombs out there?'

  Charlie laughed. 'A whole fleet?' he said. 'With lots of bombs? Nanobombs aren't cheap, and the one on this ship is the largest that's ever been manufactured. It took the combined funds of eight planets in the Battani system, with emergency aid from another fifteen worlds to buy just one bomb. That's why today is our last chance. And so far, it's not looking good.'

  'But the Doctor...' said Amy with a troubled look. 'If he was here he'd know what to do.'

  She could feel an anger rising up from the pit of her stomach.

  'If you hadn't kidnapped us, we could have helped you.'

  'What do you mean?' asked Charlie.

  'His ship. The TARDIS. It can take you anywhere in the universe. We could have got you out of here. But the Doctor's the only one who can fly it, and now he's gone.'

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  Charlie sat back in his chair, covering his face with his hands. He uttered something in Sittuun, something blunt and guttural.

  'Did you just swear?' asked Amy.

  Charlie nodded. 'We didn't know,' he said. 'You both looked like them. If we'd just brought you back here, and you'd offered to take us away in that DARTIS-'

  TARDIS.'

  'Sorry... TARDIS. If you'd come here and told us that, my father would never have believed you. He really doesn't like humans. Many Sittuun don't.'

  Amy was surprised. In her lifetime she had heard people say insulting things about women, Scottish people and redheads, and sometimes she would take offence. She'd never imagined feeling offended on behalf of her entire species.

  'Why not?' she asked.

  'Because,' Charlie said, trying to sound as tactful as he could, 'humans are superstitious, unpredictable and violent.

  You were an apex predator on Earth, and you spread it around wherever you go. Back on our home world, before humans turned up, there were no predators. Can you imagine that? Not a single carnivorous life form on the entire planet. Quite rare, apparently. But do you know something? It means we evolved without fear. Without fear, there is no superstition. We have no myths, no religions, no monsters in our

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  closets. But humans... You're scared of absolutely everything.

  And look where it's got you.'

  'And what's that supposed to mean?'

  Charlie turned away. "The first three... the ones they killed!

  he said, his voice a little softer. 'They went to the human city to warn them about the comet. We were offering to save them. And the humans... they just didn't care. They didn't want to know, or listen. They hung the bodies at the city gates for us to see, and then they came for us. We've been hiding out here ever since. So if you want to know why my father doesn't like humans... well... there's your answer.'

  Amy nodded, feeling a sudden sympathy for Charlie and the others, and a terrible fear for the Doctor.

  'We aren't all like them,' she said, sounding almost apologetic.

  Charlie smiled at her. 'I know,' he said. 'I know.'

  'So what can we do?' asked Amy. 'I can't just sit here and do nothing. Those humans have the Doctor. God know
s what they've done to him...'

  'There's nothing we can do,' said Charlie desolately. 'In a few hours Schuler-Khan is going to crash into the Gyre. We either sit here and wait for it to happen, or we detonate the Nanobomb and get atomised. Sorry, Amy... There's no fairy-tale happy ending.'

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  He was looking at her again with a soulful expression when, from beyond the control room, they heard hurried, clanking footsteps. The door crashed open, and Ahmed burst into the room, skidding to a halt. He braced himself with both hands clasping his knees and gasping for breath, his cheeks flushed a strange shade of turquoise.

  'Come quickly!' he said, still breathless. 'We've got an incoming ship. Looks like an Earth vessel.'

  Amy and Charlie looked at one another and were on their feet and running in a fraction of a second, following Ahmed down the corridor to the bridge. Captain Jamal and Dr Heeva were waiting for them.

  'Look!' Ahmed said, pointing up at the sky.

  Sure enough, streaking across the sapphire-coloured skies above the Gyre was a single, small spacecraft. Its hull was a vibrant yellow with a single red stripe from its nose cone to its tailfins. It looked, to Amy, more like the kind of spaceship she had seen in cartoons when she was younger than the industrial and functional ships she had encountered in her travels so far.

  The yellow ship banked sharply to its left, and they could hear its rockets shuddering and wheezing. It was heading straight for them.

  'It's going to hit us!' cried Dr Heeva.

  The Sittuun all hit the deck, and Amy followed suit, covering her face with her hands and squinting 52

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  up at the windows through the gaps between her fingers. The ship was corning closer, bearing down on them but, when it was only a hundred metres or so away, it stopped very suddenly.

  Turning slowly on its axis, the yellow craft shook in mid air, clouds of black smoke belching out of its vents, and slowly began its descent.

  Amy and the others got to their feet and watched as it landed with a heavy thump in a dense cloud of dust.