Night Of The Humans Page 5

  From the other side of the dungeon they heard the metallic wheezing of the main gate being opened, and Manco shrank away into one corner

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  Chapter

  6

  Captain Jamal stared at the outer casing of the Nanobomb. It was a cylindrical drum, almost a metre in length and half that in diameter. It was one of a kind; there was no bomb more powerful in the known universe. Deep inside its core there were a billion Nanites, microscopic robots with one function alone.

  The bomb was designed to disperse the nanites over a radius of almost five hundred kilometres, a wide enough blast to cover the Gyre. The explosion itself, if it could be called that, would last just one-fifth of a second, with some of the Nanites travelling at over a thousand times the speed of sound to reach their destination. Once they had been dispersed, the Nanites would devour everything within the

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  blast radius, whether it be animal, mineral or vegetable. Within four and a half seconds, an object with the size and mass of the Gyre, and everything on it, would be obliterated; a vague grey mist of disconnected atoms floating in the black void of space.

  The Captain couldn't look at the bomb without feeling a tremendous sense of both awe and trepidation. Awe because of its immense power, and trepidation because he knew that very soon he would have to detonate the bomb. Whether they had escaped the Gyre or not.

  Without looking over his shoulder, he felt the presence of another person in the bomb chamber. He turned slowly to see that it was Slipstream.

  'Say, Captain... We're just about ready for the off. Seems the girl is coming with me, and your two young lads. Hope you don't mind. Say! Is that it? Is that the Nanobomb?'

  The Captain nodded silently.

  'Well, isn't she a beaut? Saw one of these go off in the Straits of Copernicus once, you know. Took out a whole mountain range in the blinking of an eye. One minute they were there, the next... pffft! Like that. Gone. Anyway... Thought it best to let you know we'll be going soon. TTFN, as they say.'

  With a wink and a smile, Slipstream left the bomb chamber, whistling a happy tune as he went.

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  His rifle still charging, Charlie sat on the edge of his bed and watched the glowing green bar creep its way slowly along the barrel. He had been alone for no more than ten minutes, and all that time he had waited for a knock, or a voice calling his name, so it was no surprise when it came.

  'Baasim... Can I come in?' It was his father's voice, speaking in Sittuun.

  'Yes.'

  The door opened, and Captain Jamal entered the room. He looked angry.

  'You're charging your rifle?'

  Charlie nodded.

  'Then you're still serious about joining this... Slipstream...

  and going to the human city?'

  'Yes. Yes I am.'

  Captain Jamal shook his head. 'This is insane,' he said. 'It's a suicide mission.'

  'This is all a suicide mission, Dad! said Charlie, getting to his feet. 'The last hundred days have been one long suicide mission. We've got no way of getting off this thing, so we can either wait for the comet to hit us, or we can set off the Nanobomb. Either way, we're dead. I'd rather meet my end knowing I'd tried to save someone, than just waiting for death.'

  His father closed the door behind him and spoke in hushed tones. 'It doesn't have to be that way! he said. 'Slipstream has a ship. A working ship.'

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  'Yes, and he's going to rescue the Doctor. So we're stuck here until he does.'

  'Not necessarily.'

  Charlie stepped away from his father and laughed nervously. What could he mean? He looked at him, trying to read his expression, but Captain Jamal remained stoic.

  'You don't mean...?'

  'Baasim... That ship is in fine working order. When Slipstream and the human girl have gone, we can fly out of here.'

  Charlie started shaking his head. 'No,' he said. 'No, Dad...

  I can't believe you'd even suggest that...'

  'Why not?' asked the Captain. 'The clock is ticking, son.

  Need I remind you that our world is one of those at risk if Schuler-Khan hits the Gyre? A billion Sittuun men, women and children. Our family is at risk. Our home. Three human lives for a billion of your own kind?'

  Charlie fell back onto his bed and put his head in his hands. He knew that his father was, in his own way, right, but he still felt responsible for Amy and the Doctor. If they had only given them the chance, when they had met in the valley, none of this would have happened. Amy and the Doctor might have been able to help them, as Amy said.

  'It's not just three human lives, though, Dad! he said at last.

  'What about those in the human city?'

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  Captain Jamal laughed incredulously. 'Those savages?' he said. 'Have you forgotten that those... those monsters have killed six of our crew? And what is it with you and these humans anyway? I knew we shouldn't have sent you to the Lux Academy. You came back, and everything about you had changed. Calling yourself Charlie... What kind of a name is Charlie?'

  Charlie laughed derisively. 'How many times do we have to have this discussion, Dad? And last time I checked, Jamal was hardly a Sittuun name...'

  'Don't talk to me like that, Baasim. I may be your father, but I'm also your commanding officer, and I am ordering you to stay on this ship. Is that understood?'

  Charlie looked up at his father with an insolent glower, but he knew it was no use. His father wouldn't take no for an answer, and besides, before he had the chance to argue any further, there was another knock at the door.

  'Yes?' said Charlie.

  The door opened just a little. It was Amy.

  'I'm sorry... But Dirk says we have to go. Now.'

  Charlie looked from Amy to his father, and then back again.

  'I'm not coming,' he said.

  Amy's

  face

  became

  drawn,

  an

  expression

  of

  disappointment. She sighed.

  'Really? But-'

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  'I can't,' said Charlie. 'I'm sorry.'

  'Right. OK. Well... I'm going. Thanks for...' She paused, rolling her eyes. 'I don't know... The soup?'

  Then she turned her back and walked away. Charlie could sense her anger. He had been around humans enough to know when they weren't happy.

  'Amy!' he cried out. He made to follow her but, before he could leave the room, his father had grasped him by the arm.

  'You are staying on this ship,' the Captain snapped. 'Don't think I wouldn't go ahead with the plan if you didn't.'

  'Ah, there you are, Miss Pond. Glad you could join us. We're just about ready for the off.'

  Slipstream and Ahmed were in the loading bay, packing provisions onto the buggy. Amy nodded to each of them in turn, but said nothing. She just wanted to leave, to get out of there. Maybe they could rescue the Doctor, and then Slipstream could take them back to the TARDIS, and they could just leave.

  Another moment's hesitation would just be wasted time.

  Ahmed looked past her, to where Charlie was now standing in the doorway.

  'Come on, Charlie,' he said. 'We're going.'

  'I'm not,' Charlie replied. 'I'm staying here.'

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  Ahmed frowned. He looked stung.

  'What? But you said—'

  'I know. But I can't. I just can't.'

  Ahmed turned to Slipstream and then Amy. He looked at the buggy.

  'Well, lad...' said Slipstream. 'What's it going to be then, eh?

  Are you coming with us, or are you staying here with your friend? That's the thing with these Sittuun, Miss Pond. No fear, or so they say. But it takes fear to be truly courageous...'

  Ahmed's expression
changed from one of disappointment to determination. He turned to Charlie.

  'I'm going.'

  Captain Jamal now entered the loading bay, but didn't speak.

  His eyes were fixed on his son with a stern glare.

  'And we're taking Ella! Ahmed added, patting the side of the buggy. 'If that's all right.'

  Charlie nodded, but it was as if he couldn't bear to look at them, his gaze fixed on the ground. Amy caught his glance just once and shook her head, and Charlie looked away.

  'Right-ho!' said Slipstream. 'All aboard. Looks like we're going.'

  Ahmed climbed into the driving seat, then Slipstream sat beside him. Turning her back on Charlie, Amy mounted the back of the buggy, bracing herself against its tubular metal frame. As

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  the engine revved into life, Charlie looked up at her one last time before they drove out, down a long ramp and out into the great, grey expanse of the Gyre.

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  Chapter

  7

  'You know, I've been frogmarched by quite a few people in my time, but you guys really have it down to a fine art. Did you know that?'

  Neither Tuco nor the guards answered him.

  The Doctor sighed. 'Funny word, isn't it? "Frogmarched", I mean. For one thing, frogs don't march, do they? Well...

  Earth frogs don't, anyway.'

  Tuco glowered at him. 'What is a frog?' he snapped.

  'Oh. Right,' said the Doctor. 'Green thing. Likes ponds.'

  'You are not a frog.'

  'No, Tuco... I wasn't saying that I'm a frog, I was saying that... Oh, never mind. I guess some of

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  the more eccentric idioms of the English language have fallen by the wayside with you people.'

  'Be quiet.'

  They were dragging him along one of the subterranean tunnels beneath the human city, past gloomy alcoves in which cowering, bestial humans sat around flickering fires, gnawing at scraps of grisly-looking, overcooked meat.

  They left the tunnel and passed through a large chamber, at the far end of which was a white sheet, suspended from the ceiling. A congregation of perhaps a hundred humans sat before the sheet, watching as the flickering image of a film was projected onto it.

  There was no sound, only the images, and the Doctor noticed that it was a Western. A sheriff in a white hat hid behind a barrel, loading his pistol, while in the distance four gunslingers in black marched purposefully towards him along a dusty street. A human in long black robes stood next to the screen, and spoke in a loud, booming voice that echoed out across the chamber.

  'And Wyturp, brother of Gobo, waited for the servants of the Bad, who had come to Oh-Kaykrall to destroy him.'

  All too soon they had left the chamber and entered another tunnel.

  'What was that?' asked the Doctor.

  'That was the Chamber of Stories,' said Tuco.

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  'So you have electricity? And films? You have films? And Wyturp and Oh Kaykrall... Doesn't he mean Wyatt Earp and the OK Corral?'

  Tuco shook his head and grunted. 'Do you know nothing, heathen?' he hissed. 'They are the stories. The stories of the Olden Ones, given to us by Gobo through his son Zasquez and passed down through generations.'

  The Doctor thought about this for a moment, and then he laughed.

  'Yes!' he said. 'Of course! El Paso! You've been watching Westerns. For thousands of years. And without the sound for most of it. No wonder you're getting the names all mixed up.

  Tell me, Tuco... The man back there. The one telling the story.

  He mentioned Gobo. Is Gobo actually in any of the films?'

  Tuco scowled. 'Of course not!' he bellowed. 'Gobo never appears in the pictures. That is forbidden. The stories of the Olden Ones are about his sons, and his brothers, and the Bad, and the servants of the Bad.'

  'Right,' said the Doctor. 'Of course.'

  None of them had said a word since leaving the Beagle XXI, and they were nearing the far side of the desert of broken glass before Ahmed spoke.

  'It's his father,' he said. 'Captain Jamal. He's the one who got him the job on the ship. He never

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  approves of anything Charlie does.'

  'Yes! sneered Slipstream. Typical Sittuun behaviour, that.

  I've never known a species like them for red tape and high horses. Little wonder they've no time for gallantry. They're too busy crossing Ts and dotting Is.'

  Ahmed glowered across at Slipstream and then returned his attention to the road ahead.

  In the back of the buggy, Amy gazed up at the dark blue skies above the Gyre. There, directly above them, the comet, Schuler-Khan, was still visible. It looked larger now; near enough the same size in the night sky as the moon looked back on Earth.

  Behind its shining orb there trailed a narrow mist of green and purple gas. It looked like a single, colourful and shimmering flame suspended in space. She turned to Ahmed, looking at him in the rear-view mirror.

  'Why does everyone call him Charlie?' she asked. 'His Dad calls him Baasim.'

  'Charlie's just his nickname! replied Ahmed. 'He studied ancient Earth music at the Lux Academy over in Sol 1. Sorry...

  I mean your solar system. Got his name from some saxophone player he really liked. Same as Ella here...'

  He drummed his hands on the steering wheel.

  'Named her after a singer. If you ask me, Charlie's half human, he's spent that much time

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  around them. It's a wonder he hasn't grown a nose and eyebrows. Ha ha...' He looked at Amy in the mirror. 'Sorry...

  That's not very politically correct, is it?'

  Amy laughed. She wasn't sure why she should be offended by someone talking about noses and eyebrows. After all, the Sittuun were the weird ones for not having them. Weren't they?

  When Ahmed noticed her laughing he smiled at her. 'You know something?' he said. 'For a human, you're all right.'

  They had left the desert of broken glass and were now riding up and over one of the scrap mounds, heading back towards the valley where the TARDIS had landed. If only, Amy thought, the Doctor could have given her a driving lesson in that thing before they had come here. As it was, the console of the TARDIS was the most confusing thing she'd ever seen; so many dials and levers, buttons and bells. She wouldn't have known where to start.

  'Say, Ahmed, old chap,' said Slipstream, as they drove on, past towering columns of scrap metal and the rusting remnants of long-forgotten spacecraft. 'I trust you know the way?'

  Ahmed nodded. 'We went there once,' he said solemnly.

  'Just the once.'

  Slipstream gazed out from the buggy at the decaying vistas around them.

  'I'd always wondered what this place would be 81

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  like! he said, his voice sounding suddenly faraway and dreamy.

  'Back when I was a boy.'

  'You'd heard about it then?' asked Ahmed.

  'Oh yes. There were many stories and legends about the Gyre. Many of them fanciful, of course. After all, nobody had set foot on this thing. Well... As far as we knew. That only seemed to lend it a greater air of mystery. It was a truly new world. A world of our own making. There was talk of a great treasure being here, somewhere...'

  'Treasure?' asked Amy. 'What, like gold?'

  Slipstream and Ahmed both laughed.

  'What? What's so funny?'

  'Ha ha... My dear girl. Gold? Gold's worthless. Were you brought up in the outer nebulae?'

  'Why? I don't get it...'

  'Voga and Midas Superior! said Ahmed, sounding far less condescending than Slipstream. 'Gold planets. Midas Superior was solid gold from core to crust. Not much left of either of them now, of course...'

  'Well of course,' said Amy, with a trace of sarcasm.

  'No! Slipstream continued. 'There m
ay be plenty of gold here on the Gyre, but that isn't the treasure. Legend has it that the Gyre was the final resting place of the Mymon Key.'

  Amy was pleased to notice that Ahmed looked as clueless as her at the mention of this name. At

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  least she wasn't the only one.

  'What's the Mymon Key?'

  'Oh, I don't know,' said Slipstream. 'Probably nothing more than a folk story. A fairy tale. They say it was engineered on a distant world, out beyond Cassiopeia's Elbow. A device of unimaginable power. The owner of the Mymon Key could wield the greatest power in the universe.' He smiled and winked at Amy in the mirror. 'Still,' he said. 'Probably just a fairy tale, eh?'

  They had entered a long, narrow gully between two vast and almost limitless piles of scrap, each rising up in sheer cliff faces to either side. With the nearest stars and planets, and the dim green glow of Schuler-Khan cut off, the world around them grew darker and the air a little colder. Amy braced herself against the cold and shuddered.

  With no one in the buggy talking, she was able to just sit and think, and there were so many things to think about; too many things. She was reminded of that feeling when, after a long and heavy night out, it became clear there was no way home. No taxis at the ranks; the last bus having left several hours earlier. They were always rainy nights, those times when she and her friends would find themselves stranded.

  Cold and rainy, almost without exception, and home - warm home and a warm bed - always seemed so far away. She could almost laugh about it now. On those nights, home 83

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  was never more than five or six miles, walking distance, if you were wearing sensible shoes, and yet they'd do anything rather than walk.

  Now home was so far away she struggled to grasp the sheer scale of it, both in miles and years. Looking up into the canyon, at the thin, jagged splinter of dark blue sky above them, she saw just a handful of stars. Could any one of them have been Earth's sun? She wasn't sure. Astronomy had never been her strong point. Even so, she decided to pick one, and make that the Sun.