Doctor Who_ Legacy Part 2

Sherak's original foe grunted at him and turned towards the a.s.sembled group by the crevice. It roared, louder than before and they slowly turned and went back in.

'You saved me, monster. You protected me. Why?' As if in answer, the creature stepped towards him, staring at the double-bladed sword. Sherak noted that the sunlight glinted off it every time he moved, almost rhythmically.

The creature seemed fascinated by the light. Sherak kept twitching the sword, making sure that the light reflected back into the creature's small eyes. Instead of roaring, it seemed to almost purr and settle down in front of him. Gingerly, Sherak reached out with his bloodsoaked hand and touched the creature's accidental injury from the spear. As his blood touched the creature's, Sherak felt a thrill go through his body.

And he realized his quest was over.

He had tamed the savage beast. They had protected each other and were now some kind of simplistic blood brothers.

After a few moments, the beast stirred. It looked up at Sherak and he momentarily wondered if he had been wrong. Had it let him lower his guard only to strike him down?

No. The creature lurched away, licking at its wound. Just as it reentered the crevice it turned back and roared. After it vanished, Sherak settled back on his haunches, looking at his two weapons.

A rustle behind him made him swing round. He winced as his ribs reminded him of his injuries. Munching at the gra.s.s was his equinna, saddle intact.

'You found a route down? There is no doubt that Peladon animals are more intelligent than their masters.'

Slowly he remounted, strapped his blood-tainted weapons to his back and let the equinna return him to the Citadel.

Sherak's return had been magnificent. Crowds had flocked to see him, cheer him and praise him. Two medical men had attended his wounds and once he was comfortable, he returned to his throne room to rest - one place where he could determine who could and could not disturb him.

He s.n.a.t.c.hed a piece of parchment and quill and began to sketch out an image of the monster's face. His protector. No - the Royal Protector. He glanced at the drapes adorning the plain throne room. Yes, the face would be savage but a reminder of his humbling but exciting victory over legend.

He called for Uthron.

Moments later the old man hobbled in.

'My Chamberlain - I succeeded. And I have brought back a new love for the people. Something for them to revere as I do. The Royal Protector and Sacred Beast of Peladon.' He held the sketch up to Uthron.

The old man took the picture. Aggedor! You have seen the legendary beast?'

'We are blood-brothers, Uthron,' said Sherak and retold his adventure.

At the end he clasped Uthron's shoulder. I want that put everywhere. On doors, on sculptures, within our garments and drapes. It will be a symbol of the unified Peladon.'

It will be done, my King.'

Sherak sat back, wincing slightly at his wounds. 'So, where is my father?

Where is the king's champion? Why is he not here to help celebrate his son's victory over legend and the G.o.ds?'

Uthron swallowed and straightened himself up. 'He is gone, Your Majesty.

Shamed at his outburst, he packed his belongings and left the Citadel shortly after you rode away.'

'We must find him!'

'Your father is a great warrior and a proud man, my liege. He has left the mountain altogether and no one knows where he is. He does not wish to be found. Or shamed any further.' Uthron paused, waiting for a response.

Instead, Sherak stared at the floor, mute and . . . sad? Angry? Uthron could not tell. After a moment, the king looked back at Uthron, the blue eyes again having turned cold as steel. 'So be it, old man. Take that parchment and do as I requested . . . ordered.'

Uthron bowed low and left the throne room. As he stood outside the double doors to catch his breath, he thought he could hear laboured sobs from within. Clutching the parchment tightly, he sighed and went to see the palace sculptors and painters.

Sherak, First King of Peladon, died aged sixty-five - a good age. He married a beautiful maiden, a distant relation of Uthron's, and bore five children, including two boys. The eldest died in his teenage years after an accident in the caverns and so the younger boy adopted his father's crown.

The new king never met Gart, his grandfather, but was filled with tales of the champion's bravery by his father. All records of Erak's pretence to the throne were wiped from history - he was just remembered as an evil baron defeated by the young King Sherak.

Aggedor went on to become a legendary beast and protector. To invoke his name was the ultimate praise and to blaspheme it was punishable by death. A high priest of Aggedor was appointed to all subsequent royal courts. These could also trace their lineage back to Uthron, making a vaguely incestuous but compact royal bloodline.

Many generations later, a new young king sat on Peladon's throne. He was Kellian and his throne room was forever occupied by two older men. Both brown-haired, in long flowing capes of burgundy and silver, their burgundy hair stripes were also picked out in their beards. Cousins; Torbis was the king's chancellor whilst Hepesh was the high priest of Aggedor. Kellian valued both men's friends.h.i.+p above all else, although he had been heard to comment that Hepesh's interest in Aggedor verged more on the obsessive.

When the strange lights in the sky came, Hepesh said it was a portent of doom - Aggedor would one day rise to smite his enemies and these lights were that enemy. Torbis was more rational and offered to take a party out to see where these lights had landed.

Kellian agreed and Torbis set off. It was rumoured that pots of iron could be found where stars crashed, but no one had yet proven this. Maybe Torbis would be the lucky one.

The prize Torbis returned with was not a pot of iron but something far more precious to the young king. She had short blonde hair, large watery blue eyes and a broad, ingratiating smile. Her robes were tattered and bloodsoaked, but she still carried herself with an air of n.o.bility: 'My name is Ellua, Princess of Europa. I am from a planet called Earth, many light-years from here.' The words meant little to Kellian - perhaps she was what she said, an alien. Perhaps she was an emissary from the G.o.ds. Either way, her beauty and charm were worth far more to him than pots of iron.

It transpired that her s.h.i.+p and two escorts had been caught in an ion storm and lost their way. They were heading for the Galactic Federation base on a.n.a.lyas VII when they were caught in Peladon's forceful orbit. 'Your three moons are a very strong deterrent for low-level shuttle flying, my liege,' she said at one point. One of her escort s.h.i.+ps had gone too low and the other two had come in to try and mount a rescue. All three had ultimately plummeted to the ground arid although the s.h.i.+ps were wrecked. no lives had been lost, but one pilot was severely injured.

If we don't get him to a.n.a.lyas VII urgently, he will die.' Kellian had been struck by her pain and anguish over the man's well-being.

'But surely he is only a servant. A courtier? Is his life really worth that much to one such as you?'

It was the only time Kellian ever remembered Ellua getting angry. 'His position is irrelevant! He is a man like you. A living person. Of course his life matters. All life is sacred - it's not to be decided on royal favour!'

Using their communicators, Ellua's entourage contacted a Federation support s.h.i.+p and so received help. They took away the wounded man, who was later reported to have made a full recovery. Kellian and Ellua, however, never strayed from one another. She told him of the many worlds in the heavens, of the evil and the good. Of the Federation and what it could do to help his planet.

She married him a year later - Torbis acting as regent although Hepesh refused to bless the couple; another less xenophobic priest married them.

Within six months Kellian had applied for Federation aid and members.h.i.+p.

A diplomatic team arrived to a.s.sess the planet and quickly departed, suggesting that Peladon was still needing to establish its own social structure before the Federation would interfere. They a.s.sured the king and queen that they would return in about twenty years to rea.s.sess. Ellua alone was made aware of one other thing about Peladon - the Federation were very interested in the natural trisilicate that lined its caverns. Peladon would have a great economic future if the Federation could one day mine that trisilicate. Only as the twenty-year deadline neared would Ellua tell her husband that. To announce that now would encourage him to risk Federation involvement too early. She knew that the Federation were right - Peladon needed further social development and, as queen, she could help foster that.

Another year later, a son was born. Kellian wanted to use a traditional royal name, pa.s.sed through the generations. It would be appropriate as he will be king when we join the Federation. The name Sherak has long been beloved of our people and a symbol of change for the better.'

Ellua disagreed. I think the best name would be the one that would announce him on other worlds with great flair and flourish. A memorable name. He should be Peladon of Peladon!' Over the next few years Kellian and his wife, aided by Torbis and, to a small extent, by Hepesh, educated the boy.

The old men would place Peladon on his father's knee and tell him of Aggedor. Of his planet's history. Of the Federation and of all the great things each could bring to the other.

One day Hepesh and Torbis quietly placed him upon the actual throne. He was twelve years old.

I cannot sit here, my friends. Rightfully, it can only be my father's place!'

Hepesh cleared his throat and with a brief glance of disdain at Ellua, stared straight at Peladon. 'Though the blood that flows in your veins is mingled with that of strangers, yet you shall be Peladon of Peladon. Greater than your father. Greater than any past or future king.'

Ellua knelt down beside him. 'My son, your father has been taken from us.

A hunting accident. You are now the Prince Regent. Torbis and Hepesh will teach you and guide you. They shall do this until you are of age, whereupon you will be anointed as king.' Ellua took Peladon's right hand and placed it in Torbis's. She then took his left and placed that in Hepesh's hand.

Ellua then went to the front of the throne where her bewildered son sat.

She sank onto one knee and placed her right arm across her chest. 'May 1 have permission to address the king?' Peladon of Peladon burst into tears.

He was only a boy.

But he was a prince. And he would grow into a wise king and lead his planet into a new future . . .

It was a graveyard in s.p.a.ce.

But unlike traditional graveyards, it was not full of people buried beneath the ground, but a sector of deep s.p.a.ce, dotted with s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps. Hundreds of s.h.i.+ps, scattered aimlessly around as if put there and forgotten over aeons. s.h.i.+ps from a hundred different planets and civilizations from thousands of years of their respective s.p.a.ce travelling. It was like a vast b.u.t.terfly collection, a s.h.i.+p from every race and of every design imaginable.

Placed there by beings of immense power.

A short way beyond these wrecked hulls was something completely different, something in full working condition. A vast, dark s.p.a.ce station, so ma.s.sive it could almost be mistaken for an entire city hovering in s.p.a.ce.

Ovoid in shape, its centre was dominated by a huge communications tower, tapering upwards, tiny lights blinking on and off around the spire.

Smaller towers and pyramids dotted the rest of the surface, jutting outwards in every possible direction, more flickering lights sparkling on each protuberance. Every so often, raised circular platforms were s.p.a.ced out, so dark that despite the nearby lights they could hardly be seen. It was as if the platforms sucked the light in, replacing it with an eerie total blackness, like a series of black holes. Suddenly one of the platforms split into four even triangular parts which rose up and outwards. Instantly a fierce, bright column of light shot into the blackness of s.p.a.ce, sending light reflecting off all the nearby wrecks. The column of light was almost like a living thing, searching out a victim like a cobra seeking prey. It latched onto something: a plain white rectangular box, totally uninteresting and bland to look at. It pulled the box downwards, the column of light shrinking as the box neared the gaping hole. As the box went through the platform, the light vanished and the four triangular sections snapped closed, restoring total darkness to the surface of the station.

Inside the station, two men stood watching the arrival of the white box. On a station big enough for hundreds of thousands, they were the only occupants. Neither of them knew the history of the station; whoever had built it had long since faded into obscurity. Its original purpose was lost in the annals of history. But these two men were regular visitors to it - a fact kept completely secret to their peers, superiors and lessers. Their reasons for being there were even more secret.

A third man walked out of the box. The door slid shut behind him, a seamless join.

'My apologies, gentlemen. My TARDIS is in need of an overhaul.' He ran a hand through his blond hair. Blue eyes glistened with remarkable intelligence.

'Perhaps you should start to use the new Time Rings. I am informed that they are now working most effectively.' The eldest of the three nodded his balding head to the newcomer. He, like the other two, was dressed in a white tabard with black piping along the sleeves and round the shoulders. It was not his normal clothing - as the Chancellor of the High Council of the Time Lords upon the distant planet of Gallifrey, he would normally wear long heavy brown robes and a high collar. Here, however, he and his fellows were equals.

'Well,' said the newcomer, 'what happens now?'

'My Lord Goth,' replied the shorter, dark-haired one. 'I have examined the possible time lines. Each of them shows Peladon having a part in the future of galactic harmony via this Federation. However, l would bring your attention to one very important event. In seventeen years, King Peladon of Peladon requests representatives from the Galactic Federation to see if his planet can enter the alliance.'

'As we hoped it would,' said the chancellor.

Goth nodded. 'Indeed, Chancellor, but let us hear what our learned colleague has to say on the subject. Please proceed.'

The younger-looking man nodded. 'One of the delegates is from the Arcturan system. As you know, the most probable outcome is that Arcturus will at this point become intertwined with the fledgling terrorist force known grandly as Galaxy Five. Arcturus sees an opportunity to stir dissension within the Federation and orders its delegate to sabotage the proceedings.

As events transpire, the Alpha Centaurian delegate is killed by Arcturus's naive Pel agents and the Martian delegation is blamed. War breaks out and the Galactic Federation falls into disarray and galactic peace is thwarted forever. Needless to say, the Daleks, currently hatching plans revolving around a time destructor and their army on the non-affiliated world of Kembel arise and take dominance over this entire galaxy. One of the ironies is that the primary Arcturan homeworld is totally vaporized in the first minute of hostilities.'

'Not an encouraging picture,' Goth commented.

'Indeed not,' agreed the chancellor.

'We do have a solution,' the darker Time Lord offered. The other two looked interested. 'As you know the renegade, the Doctor, was found guilty of crimes and sentenced to exile on Earth. Recently some of our esteemed . .

. a.s.sociates sent him to the planet Exarius to defeat the Master and his use of the fabled doomsday weapon.'

'So?' said a cautious Goth.

'Well, it would not be difficult to manipulate the Doctor once again, this time ensuring Peladon has the future we require for it.'

The chancellor held up a hand. I don't think we could allow this abuse again. There were severe ramifications after the Exarius business. It blatantly contravened our policy of non-intervention. We are supposed to observe. And that is all.'

I agree,' said Goth smoothly. 'However, we also know rules are there to be broken. And who better to break them than us?' The dark Time Lord smiled. Indeed. By being here, on this station, we are not officially recording this action. Therefore we have not officially acted.'

The chancellor thought about this. I neither like nor approve of the Doctor.

Nor do I like using him in this way. However, if you are convinced it is necessary, Goth . . .?'

I think that is the case, Chancellor.'

The chancellor shrugged. 'This conversation has not taken place, gentlemen.'

Of course not, Chancellor,' said the other.

The chancellor rearranged his tabard, as if shrugging away the station's existence. 'The Time Lords have high morals and we cannot be seen to disregard them on a whim.'

'No one ever doubts the wisdom and morality of our Time Lord a.s.sociates,'

said the dark Time Lord slowly.

Goth held his hands up. I think this discussion is over, gentlemen. Shall we return to Gallifrey?'

Immediately,' said the other Time Lord. He walked to a box similar to Goth's and pushed on its side. A fierce yellow light blazed out of a newly formed gap, elongating his shadow, and he stepped through. With a loud wheezing and groaning sound, the box faded away. Goth and the chancellor went to their respective boxes. Goth waited as the chancellor's TARDIS vanished and then activated his own. Unlike his comrades, Goth's TARDIS was surrounded by the column of fierce light and he left the station the same way he had arrived.

The station hung in s.p.a.ce, its lights now off. Around it the wrecked s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps hovered, silent observers to one of a select few Time Lords'

darkest secrets. A s.p.a.ce station where their grimiest, nastiest plots and subterfuges were created, away from Gallifrey and a long way out of the High Council's jurisdiction. Or interest.

Interlude 1

Pakha: 8394.774 (old calendar)

'Power! Victory! It's all mine!'

Vor'r'na, chief gatherer and elder forager of the Pakhars, stood defiantly in front of the tall, bedraggled form of the alien interloper. Proudly pulling himself up to his full one-metre height, he scooped up a handful of pebbles in his paw. Carefully he took a step back towards the Wavis Ravine.

Momentarily it flashed through his rodent mind that legend claimed it was bottomless. Just as quickly he dismissed the thought - a recollection as inconsequential and petty as the form his mind was housed in. He deserved better!

As if daring the alien to crawl closer he drew back his lips, revealing a snout packed with vicious-looking incisor teeth, saliva drooling between them, long gobs of it splattering to the rocky ground.

The alien knelt up, about five metres away from Vor'r'na. He slid his hand through his shock of white hair and wiped dust from his beaky nose.