Doctor Who | Things Best Left Unseen (1/2)
Dec. 2nd, 2007 12:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eponymous_roseTitle: Things Best Left Unseen (1/2)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eponymous_rose
Rating: PG (violence)
Warnings: Spoilers for the Fifth Doctor’s audio adventures, up to and including Nekromanteia.
Genre: Humour, Action/Adventure, Drama
Word Count: 5,587
Author’s Notes: With sincere apologies for the terrible delay, and a million thanks toimsanehonest for the brilliant beta! An entry in the Big Finish Audio Ficathon, for castrovalva9.
Summary: Immediately after the events of Nekromanteia, the Doctor, Peri, and Erimem find themselves at a twenty-first century exhibition of Egyptian artefacts, where the illustrious Professor Snow is poised to reveal his most prized archaeological treasure. But who are the ominous-looking men in dark suits and terribly impractical sunglasses, and why are they so convinced that they’re about the pull off the greatest heist in the planet’s history?
It was a quiet night in London, despite the roaring of cars off to late-night encounters, the shouts of drunken students stumbling home, the plaintive wailing of sirens in the distance, the argument in the house down the street, the dogs barking madly, and the strange whirring sound accompanied by flashing lights in the sky-
Well, perhaps ‘quiet’ was overstating the point. All things considered, it was a rather noisy night in London when the spaceship finally came in for a landing.
Its wholly ineffective cloaking device flickered slowly into being, like an afterthought, then gave up the ghost and switched off again. It being something of a noisy night, nobody much noticed the hunk of mangled machinery and little flashy lights that settled itself awkwardly into an alleyway, shifting the dimensions of the houses around it until it fit just so.
There was a moment of silence, a pulling-out of keys from the ignition, and then the lights stopped flickering and the machine gave a satisfied grunt. The hatch on the front of the mechanical monstrosity opened slowly, dramatically, with the hissing of depressurisation and a sudden rush of air as a ramp lowered itself to the pavement.
Two figures in dark suits stood in the shadow of their craft, staring out at the street, the city, the planet beyond. One was considerably taller than the other, and almost obscenely skinny, perhaps based on the assumption that humans were created from a limited mass that could only be moulded like putty. The other was shorter, but gave the distinct impression of hovering over his companion from some great height. While this could conceivably have been owing to some presence of character, some imposing inner strength, it was more likely due to the fact that this particular alien hadn’t yet mastered the limits of human perspective.
Both were wearing sunglasses.
The taller of the two took a step forward, then another, until he was off the ramp and standing boldly on the surface of the new planet, ready to face whatever challenges would lie ahead.
He took another step, tripped over a rubbish bin, and fell flat on his face.
“You can be such a klutz, Larthza,” sighed his associate, walking more slowly down the ramp. “How’re we supposed to carry out our mission if we’re tripping over our own feet, I ask you?”
The alien called Larthza rubbed his face irritably and stood up, replacing the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose with careful deliberation. “Gravity’s different ‘ere,” he muttered. “Lighter, like. Don’t know me own strength. And it’s bleedin’ dark out ‘ere, Kryl!”
“It is, at that,” Kryl murmured thoughtfully, then adjusted his sunglasses to stare up at a guttering streetlamp nearby. “But would you look at that? Artificial lighting systems to compensate for the periods when this part of the planet no longer receives direct sunlight. Not such a backward little planet, this Earth!”
“Hm,” Larthza agreed, casting a nervous look at the bin that had tripped him.
“Oh, it’s not going to bite you,” Kryl said. “Save your anxiety for the more intelligent beings on this planet.”
“These humans-“ Larthza deliberately pronounced the word ‘hoomans’ to annoy his compatriot. “-really could’ve done all this, then?” He tapped a hand against a nearby brick wall. “Pretty sturdy workmanship, that.”
“Isn’t it?” Kryl said good-naturedly. “Good on them. Rising above their baser nature and-“ He paused, waved a hand expansively. “Building things. It’s very nearly admirable.”
Larthza pondered the brickwork for another moment, then turned to his companion. “Kryl,” he said, “are you sure this god of theirs is somewhere nearby? Only if we’ve botched the job and wound up on the other end of this whole city-o-Londer place? Wouldn’t look good, I mean. Not the first time, either.”
“It would, however, almost certainly be the last, given our esteemed employer’s temper lately,” Kryl noted with a shiver. “And yes, Larthza, I wasn’t just flying the ship blindfolded and with my fingers in my ears while you were navigating. We’re where we’re meant to be.” He tapped a finger against the brick of the wall to their right, and the ramp of their spaceship slowly folded itself back in, the hatch sealing the hunk of machinery with a resounding clang. “Precisely where we’re meant to be.”
In the darkness, the two aliens stepped out onto the streets of London, all dark suits and sunglasses. And if one stumbled from time to time, and if the other wasn’t quite any height that physically made sense, nobody paid much mind.
Humans are, after all, exceptionally good at pretending not to see.
*~*~*
“Well, Doctor?” Peri leaned against the console. Erimem winced instinctively as her friend’s arm brushed against an important-looking button, but when the console very considerately refrained from bursting into sparks or anything so dramatic, she relaxed.
Over the course of her travels, Erimem was slowly growing used to the idea that the TARDIS was a living thing – after all, the Doctor had assured her that it was little more than a complicated sort of horse. And horses were scarcely likely to run into a dangerous situation unless spooked; what could this great machine possibly have to be frightened about?
Sometimes that idea was a little less than reassuring.
“Well?” The Doctor was staring down at a line of squiggles and dots that he’d once assured Erimem were extremely important coordinates. At the time, Peri had ventured the whispered opinion that he was usually just making it up – and, watching the Doctor scowl down at the display as though to change it through sheer force of will, Erimem was reluctantly inclined to agree.
“Well,” Peri parroted, “are we on Earth or what?”
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Well,” he began, then raised a hand before Peri could come up with a sarcastic retort. “It seems very likely that we’ve-“ He paused, gave the console another intense stare, then cleared his throat. “Well, it seems possible, at least, that we’ve landed on Earth. Or somewhere in its immediate vicinity.”
“D’you think you could try to be a little vaguer, there?” Peri grinned, and Erimem ventured a nervous smile. She wasn’t yet entirely comfortable with this teasing rapport – after all, she’d seen mere hints of the Doctor’s power and despite his unassuming nature it seemed somewhat unwise to push him too far. Dangerous, even.
But although the Doctor took on a decidedly pouting attitude for a moment, he eventually glanced up with a smile. “I can but try, Peri. Come on, now. Let’s see what’s out there.” He reached across the console to the button that opened up the scanner, that strange little window to the outside world.
“If it is Earth,” Peri added as he flicked the switch back and forth, “you owe Erimem a new cat.” The Doctor gave an irritable snort, but he followed it up with a guiltily apologetic glance. Erimem smiled reassuringly and turned her attention to the viewscreen.
She’d been deeply impressed, on several occasions, by the strange subtlety the Doctor’s vessel possessed. It had landed so often in the midst of chaos, and yet made its arrival so impossibly inconspicuous that nobody seemed to notice its presence.
It came as a bit of a shock, then, when the screen flickered reluctantly into focus on a glittering room full of people wearing all manner of finery, and clutching wine glasses, and eating small canapés. It would have appeared to be quite an elegant affair, except that all eyes were wide and staring, wholly startled, at the arrival of the big blue box in their midst.
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Um,” he said.
Peri squinted at the startled partygoers, who had taken up a worried murmur. “Is that guy – the one in the back – wearing a monocle?”
“Yes, well, not anymore. It appears to be in his snifter of brandy,” the Doctor noted; Peri giggled helplessly, and he rolled his eyes.
“But why should the TARDIS make such an obvious entrance?” Erimem queried.
“Early twenty-first century, I should think. Hm?” For a moment – just a brief one – Erimem had the distinct impression that the Doctor had forgotten she was there. She felt suddenly cold and pulled her borrowed cardigan closer around her shoulders, though the unfamiliar fabric provided little in the way of comfort. “Oh, the old girl’s probably just being temperamental.”
“Ah, but in these cases-“ Peri raised an eyebrow. “-I think the pilot can take more than a bit of credit.” The Doctor made an inarticulate reply, Erimem smiled despite herself, and Peri patted her shoulder. “That’s better,” she said. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we left-” She paused, then finished, lamely: “Since we left.”
“Have I?” Erimem ran a hand back through her hair, nervously, then remembered that Antranak had always tried to break her of that habit, protesting that it wasn’t like a pharaoh to give in to anxiety. She stilled her hand, let it drop back to her side. “I am sorry, Peri. It wasn’t an intentional slight.”
The Doctor had moved away from them and was peering intently at the display. Peri rolled her eyes. “He thinks he’s being subtle,” she muttered, “giving me time to talk to you alone.”
Erimem found herself grinning again. “He seems about as subtle as the TARDIS.”
Peri laughed, but it seemed forced, and Erimem recognised the concern in her eyes. “Really, though. You went through a lot, and I’m not totally convinced you’re completely recovered from what that Harlon jerk did to you. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Of course,” Erimem said, and felt herself straighten to her full height. She had, after all, been taught that a pharaoh could never admit weakness – it had seemed a silly rule back when she’d been a child in Thebes, but now it was a defence, a shield to ward off unwanted questions. “I’m quite all right, Peri.”
Peri seemed unconvinced; she crossed her arms, then rolled her eyes. “You’re stubborn, is what you are,” she sighed. “As an ox. And other things besides.” She patted Erimem’s shoulder again, awkwardly. “Don’t worry.” She paused, then added: “You know that the Doctor’ll get you a new cat if we’re on Earth, right?”
Erimem made herself smile. “That would be very nice.” She raised an eyebrow. “And I’m sure he’ll appreciate that immensely.”
Peri grinned. “You’re all right, Erimem. It’ll all be fine. You’ll see!”
“This is extremely strange,” the Doctor called from the screen.
Peri exchanged glances with Erimem. “Well,” she amended, “it’ll probably be all right.”
“Possibly,” Erimem corrected with a smirk.
“There’s a faint chance.”
“Positively minute.”
“Really, you should probably come see this,” the Doctor called. “If you’ve quite finished wisecracking, that is.”
“He thinks he’s good at being sarcastic,” Peri stage-whispered to Erimem as they crossed to the viewscreen. “I haven’t the heart to burst his bubble.”
The Doctor ignored her. “Look at this. In the corner, right there.” Erimem leaned forward as he pointed to the screen, to a man standing off to the side. He was whispering to his companion – the only overt motion in a room otherwise deep in shock – and both were wearing peculiarly dark shading over their eyes that seemed at odds with the dimly-lit room. One was considerably taller than his companion, who in turn towered over-
She blinked and looked again, wincing as she attempted to measure them up against the pattern of the wallpaper behind them, without success. “What-?”
Peri gave a low whistle and nudged the Doctor. “Looks like you’re not the only alien crashing this party.”
“Terrible disguises,” the Doctor noted. “Sunglasses are the true mark of an amateur. If they’re an invasion force, they’re not exactly being subtle about it!”
Erimem cleared her throat. “But I was given to understand, Doctor, that your own garments are out of place except at some sort of sporting match.”
There was an awkward silence, and then Peri burst out laughing. The Doctor gave a long-suffering sigh. “If nobody else manages it first – and there’s rather a lot of competition for the privilege – you two are going to be the death of me.” He stared at the monitor for a long moment, then held out his hand. “Now, Peri, pass me your handkerchief – we’ve a party to attend.”
*~*~*
“I don’ like this, Kryl,” Larthza muttered to his companion, squeezing between two startled businessmen to eye the big blue apparition with some suspicion. “Seems funny, like.”
Kryl was picking at a tiny hors-d’oeuvre. “Oh, everything about these humans will seem funny to us, Larthza. One might call it an occupational hazard, if one were so inclined. Take this refreshment! Do you know, I think it actually contains singed flesh?” He glanced up. “Mind you, everyone else seems to be rather put off by this apparition as well. That’s odd.”
“Is this their god, then? D’you think?” Larthza shifted from foot to foot. “Seems kinda heavy to carry all the way back to the ship, don’ it?”
“I could get a wheelbarrow.” Kryl scowled and adjusted his sunglasses. “No, no. Does it look like they’re prostrating themselves before it? Offering sacrifice? This is something else.”
There was a sort of mechanical hum and the door creaked open, revealing a white handkerchief waving feebly at the end of a brolly. “Um,” said a voice from within. “Hello!”
“There’s someone inside!” exclaimed a woman beside Larthza, breaking the stunned silence.
“Perhaps,” Kryl muttered, “these primitives worship their deity by stating the patently obvious.” Larthza cast him a puzzled look.
A man poked his head out the doors with an agreeable grin. “Oh, hello,” he repeated, then added, delightedly: “You’re not shooting at me!” He paused, then cleared his throat, embarrassed. “No, of course you’re not. But still, it never hurts to be sure.” Nobody moved. He tossed the brolly back inside the box, then leaned against the doorway, awkwardly. There was a long silence.
After a few attempts at reassuring smiles, the newcomer cleared his throat, apparently realizing that he’d have to do all the talking. “I do apologize for, uh, barging in on your-“ He glanced quickly across the room, and eventually caught sight of the banner overhead. “Ancient Egyptian… exhibition thing.” He paused, and a grin crept over his features. “Now that is quite a coincidence.”
“How’d you do that, then?” a man in front demanded, now more annoyed than awestruck. A few conversations started up in the back of the room, hushed but no longer afraid.
“Oh, you know,” the stranger said vaguely. “Smoke and mirrors.”
A woman’s voice echoed from behind him, in the box. “Calls himself a bit of a magician but he’s really not that good. Budge up, Doctor, let’s explain to the nice folks, hey?”
The man held the door open for two young women, and Kryl leaned forward, craning his neck to catch a glimpse inside the box. “Well,” he said softly, and exhaled. “That’s a bit of a shocker.”
“Wasn’t jus’ me, then?” Larthza murmured. “It’s really bigger inside?”
“It certainly appears that way. I think we may want to hasten our search for the god. Come on.” It took Kryl a moment to realise that Larthza was still staring at the newcomers. Rolling his eyes, he pulled his companion closer to the exhibits on display.
“D’you really think they’ll just leave it sitting out?” The bigger alien started wringing his hands. “I mean, it doesn’t seem likely that it’s even here at all-“
Kryl scowled. “Are you a Model VI Compscanner, Larthza?”
Larthza wilted. “No, Kryl.”
Kryl leaned forward, staring at a sarcophagus until his breath fogged up the glass partition in front of it. “And do you have the Patented Compscanning Ability that enables you to pick out Fresh Retail Opportunities from light years away in just three easy steps?”
“No, Kryl.”
“Then shut up and help me look. The Compscanner said it was around here, somewhere. We should be able to make a fortune on this one – can you even imagine how much our illustrious employer would be willing to pay for a true god?”
If Larthza had any misgivings, they were drowned out by a sudden peal of laughter from the corner of the room that now housed the blue box. A heavily made-up woman was laughing, patting the newcomer on the shoulder with enough force to send him stumbling into his companions.
“I say, Professor Snow!” she boomed to a harried-looking man by her side, who looked very much as though he wanted to sink into the ground at the sudden attention. “This one’s a fine magician! Such a face on him, too!”
“Well,” the stranger said shakily, “thank you, I suppose.”
“We really didn’t mean to make such a fuss,” one of the girls said hastily. “Just wanted to make a dramatic entrance.”
“Not this dramatic,” added the other, helpfully.
Kryl sniffed and turned his attention back to the sarcophagus. Larthza shoved his hands into his pockets – true to form and despite his slow start, he seemed to be adjusting nicely to his new body. And he would, Kryl reflected sardonically, take to wandering around looking like a stupid ape, like a Marthram to Squeemian Argjuice.
“What’re we even lookin’ for, Kryl?” Larthza muttered.
“We’ll know when we find it,” Kryl snapped.
“I do hope so. I’m rather curious about it, myself.” Kryl jumped at the intrusion; the newcomer was now standing directly behind them, peering with some interest at the display. “I’m the Doctor, by the way,” he added without looking up. “Who exactly are you?”
Behind him, Larthza was pulling his hand from his pocket with great purpose, but Kryl shook his head. This Doctor seemed innocuous enough, all vapid smiles and silly questions. Perhaps he really was just a magician – and while Kryl was not generally one to balk at violence, he’d once fancied himself a bit of an illusionist and had developed what could only be described as a soft spot for his fellow thaumaturgists. After all, it was such a bother coming up with all those tricks by oneself-
“Salutations,” he said, gritting his teeth in what he hoped was a pleasant manner. “I feel that I should comment on the fact that prevailing meteorological conditions seem to be rather fortuitous.” He paused, gauging reaction, and then added, just to be sure: “Or perhaps not.”
The Doctor finally looked up from the sarcophagus; Kryl found himself staring at the piece of vegetable matter on the man’s lapel, and then wondered whether that might be considered rude. The Doctor, however, seemed to take no offence. “Oh, indeed.” He straightened, and smiled blandly. “We had a spot of fireballs earlier this week, but now it seems as though the sun will be blue for a good long spell yet.”
“Good, good,” Kryl said, hoping to inject the right amount of cheer into his voice. “That sun, eh? Never blue when you need it to be, and always going off when you least expect it.”
They shared an amiable laugh, and Kryl felt a surge of annoyance at having to go through these inane human pleasantries – but it did the job of distracting the nosy Doctor, who mentioned something about seeing to his friends and blended back into the crowd with a parting wave.
“Kryl, this sun’s not blue,” Larthza protested in a whisper.
“Idioms, idiot,” Kryl shot back. “Metaphors. Humans are always muddling the meanings of words. They tend to think it makes them look clever. You should have studied them more carefully before we arrived!”
“Oh.” Larthza did not sound convinced. “Only I know there’s a blue moon, right? Songs about it an’ all.”
Kryl sniffed and moved to the next artefact, a chunk of stone with hieroglyphs inscribed across it. “If there’s a blue moon, it stands to reason that there’ll be a blue sun to go along with it.”
“If I could have your attention, please!” The meek looking man, who had been so vigorously introduced to the room as Professor Snow, stood on a raised dais, hands in the pockets of his wrinkled trousers. He looked genuinely startled when everyone turned their attention to him, but seemed to regain his composure as he warmed to his topic.
“Er, yes. Thank you all very much for coming to this unveiling of my collection of Egyptian artefacts. It is not, I think, the most complete private collection in Great Britain, but it is certainly one of the most heartfelt. My mother was an archaeologist, you see, and-“
“I don’t see,” Kryl murmured to Larthza, “why humans feel the need to say so little in so many words. It seems eminently wasteful.”
“For effect,” Larthza said solemnly. “Stretches out the mood, like.”
Kryl rolled his eyes. “Don’t you go getting attached, Larthza. It’s bad enough that we have to interact with these primitives at all. I’m certainly not going to stand for travelling with one!”
“-in the hopes of someday returning to London,” the Professor was saying. He cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses. “And I am pleased to announce that my most recent acquisition is a very special one indeed. I will be unveiling it in one hour’s time, for everyone to appreciate together.”
Larthza elbowed Kryl. “D’you think that’ll be it?”
Kryl was staring up at the dais curiously. “You know, I think it just might be.”
“It is,” Professor Snow continued after an appropriately dramatic pause, “quite a remarkable specimen. The engravings that accompanied this artefact were rather specific, and heaped praises on this most holy of holies.”
Kryl was vaguely aware of a prickling feeling at the back of his neck, right where the Bodily Shapefunction Shifter was implanted. Larthza was rubbing his shoulder irritably. There was an energy to the air, a feeling of something hovering just at the edge of perception.
For a moment, the meek, mousy Professor looked powerful, strong, his face cast into grim shadow by the dim lighting. “Though it may be difficult for us to comprehend its value, its very nature, the fact remains that this is, undoubtedly, a god.”
At his words, there was a burst of brightness, and then a tremendous crash. The lights flickered in the room, and the heavily made-up woman gave a scream that was a few seconds too late to be anything but theatrical.
Kryl snatched Larthza by the arm. “Don’t panic,” he snapped, then realized that Larthza was staring at him blankly. “Oh,” he said. “Well. Just a minor electrical discharge associated with the storm above us, I should think.”
Larthza considered this for a moment. “A fireball, yeah? Like the Doctor said?”
“Oh, shut up, Larthza.”
*~*~*
“This is,” Erimem said to nobody in particular, “very strange.”
Peri was inspecting a small model of a granary. “You can say that again,” she said in a low voice, pointing to the crude mock-up. “Someone’s school project, d’you think?”
Erimem leaned over her shoulder and couldn’t help wincing at the signs of wear on the small wooden figures. “Before my time, Peri, it was common to bury these models of everyday life with the dead.”
“Before your time?”
Erimem gave an undignified snort. “Many generations earlier. You saw what it was like in Thebes when I was to be pharaoh – the decorations of a tomb tended to be much more religious.”
With a grin, Peri made a show of looking around. “We’re not gonna find anything in your image here, are we?”
“I never quite attained godhood, though, did I?” Erimem crossed her arms, mock-angry. “And whose fault was that?”
Peri crossed her hands before her as though to ward off some evil spirit. “Oh, spare me your wrathful vengeance!”
In spite of her attempts to regain her godlike composure, Erimem couldn’t help laughing. It was all so impossible, like a bizarre sort of dreamworld; her entire life and history, ancient and crumbling, was spread out haphazardly in a brilliant ballroom for the idle rich to peruse. She resisted the urge to touch the silly little model granary, the only real thing in sight…
Peri had been laughing along with her, but must have stopped some time ago and was now staring at her in some concern, and Erimem suddenly realised that she was on the verge of hysteria. “I’m sorry,” she said, choking off her laughter with some effort.
“This sure isn’t easy for you, huh?” Peri put an arm around Erimem’s shoulders and pulled her into an awkward half-hug. “I’m sorry, Erimem. I shouldn’t have joked-“
“It’s quite all right, Peri!” Erimem said hastily, then lowered her voice as a few of the nearby partygoers glanced over. “I appreciate the levity, really – it makes everything seem that much less surreal.”
“Yeah,” Peri said uncertainly, and then jumped as thunder boomed around them. “This is such miserable weather!”
Erimem recognized the change of subject and seized the chance of a distraction. “Where did the Doctor disappear to, anyway?”
Peri nodded to the other side of the room, where the Doctor was balancing three wine glasses between his fingers. His progress back towards them was being hampered by a boisterous woman who seemed intent on conversing with him – and, by the none-too-subtle looks she was giving him, perhaps a little more besides. The Doctor, while undoubtedly carrying on a polite conversation, looked downright desperate.
“I think he might be in need of rescuing,” Peri grinned. “Beats fending off the usual crop of bug-eyed monsters, anyway.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Erimem said, eyeing the woman critically. “She could probably do some considerable damage with that purse.”
Peri was scanning the room, attempting to determine the least circuitous route to the Doctor, when she paused, startled. “Speaking of aliens in disguise,” she murmured, “I wonder where those two are off to.”
Erimem followed her gaze in time to see the two men of extremely indeterminate height, the ones the Doctor had guessed were aliens, slink through a doorway at the back of the room. “That’s certainly suspicious,” she noted wryly.
“And I’ll bet you anything that’s where Professor Snow’s got his prize exhibit stashed,” Peri said with a hint of glee. “C’mon, Erimem – let’s hold them off at the pass.”
Erimem was about to suggest that they liberate the Doctor first, when a man stepped into their path, nearly bowling both of them over.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” Professor Snow raised a hand to steady each of them, then jumped a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet in his anxiety.
“No problem,” Peri assured him, and they made as though to pass.
“Er,” Professor Snow said, awkwardly stepping back into their path. “I couldn’t help overhearing-“
Erimem and Peri exchanged nervous glances.
“-your comments on the model granary over there, young lady.” The professor rocked back on his heels, smiling at Erimem. “You seem to be very well-educated, and your Doctor friend tells me that you’re rather an expert on the subject!”
“Thank you,” Erimem said automatically. “I suppose I am. Sort of.”
“Writes reports on it for school and everything,” Peri said with a certain urgency. “Now, if you’ll excuse-“
“How utterly delightful,” Professor Snow beamed. “It’s so rare for our youth to take an interest in the far distant past. Seems such a shame – so many interesting stories to be told.”
Erimem grinned suddenly, thinking of battles and poisons and the Doctor in the middle of it all, and borrowed one of Peri’s odd phrases: “You don’t know the half of it!”
He looked baffled for a moment, then gave a good-natured laugh. “Quite so, my dear. I don’t expect any of us ever shall!” He adjusted his glasses, and Peri took a breath as though to excuse them, but he continued. “I would enjoy the opportunity to discuss some of these artefacts with you – it’s so rare to have a willing audience.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Everyone here is only really here to be seen by the right people, to chat and eat my food and drink my wine. Even the academics in the room are only interested in fulfilling social obligations to me. And yet there’s so much wonder to be seen, if they’d only pay attention…“
Erimem straightened up, ignoring Peri’s exasperated sigh. “It is a very stupid thing to ignore history, Professor,” she said solemnly. “These men and women must truly be fools to ignore the treasures you’ve displayed here.”
He seemed taken aback at her vehemence. “Yes, well,” he said. “Aren’t you a serious one.”
Peri gave Erimem a little push from behind. “Sorry, Professor, but I think I see someone we know. You and Erimem can reconnoitre later, right?”
Professor Snow gave a little bow and stepped back to allow them to pass by. “I look forward to it,” he said.
Erimem smiled at him as they hurried off – there was something utterly refreshing about his ordinary kindness, something pleasant and familiar even this far into the future. It took her a few moments, then, to remember what she’d been meaning to mention to Peri; she stopped short, scanning the room for the familiar head of blond hair.
Peri turned. “What’s up?”
“I think we should find the Doctor before-“ Erimem paused. “Peri, can you see the Doctor anywhere?”
Peri scanned the room. The bombastic woman who’d been monopolizing the Doctor’s attention earlier was now chatting to some other poor unfortunate – and the Time Lord himself was nowhere to be seen. “Wanna bet he’s already trying to confront the aliens by himself?”
Erimem sighed. “It seems like the sort of thing he would do.”
“C’mon. Let’s go get him out of trouble.”
*~*~*
The Doctor squinted into the dark storage room, crouched behind a pile of boxes, and weighed his options.
First off, he could confront these aliens angrily, demand to know what the devil they were up to, go through the whole rigmarole and maybe manage to intimidate them slightly before they transmatted away and left him looking every inch the suspicious thief. And that was disregarding the fact that they were very likely armed – every time there was a particularly loud laugh in the ballroom, they’d stop fumbling through the boxes and crates and simultaneously reach into their pockets. All things considered, though, he was getting so tired of being falsely accused of all sorts that the prospect of getting shot almost seemed a pleasant alternative.
So much for the first option.
Option two wasn’t much better. He could dash out and warn the Professor about the potential danger to his collection and come back with more people, all of whom would certainly be put into danger and used as hostages. And there was still the potential problem of a transmat.
The Doctor sighed and straightened up. He’d generally found that blundering in without a plan had worked out fairly well for him in the past, and who was he to argue with tradition?
“Oh, hello!” he said cheerfully, stepping out from behind the crates.
The taller of the two aliens whipped around, some sort of flashy and dangerous-looking bunch of machinery in his hand. “No, Larthza,” hissed the other. “Calm down.”
“Terribly sorry to startle you,” the Doctor grinned, very considerately ignoring the weapon. “Come to sneak a peek at the artefact before the unveiling, eh?”
The shorter one squinted up at him, considering. “So what if we have?” he said at last. “Just curious, that’s all.”
“Oh, I’ve always been rather curious, myself,” the Doctor said, crouching down beside them and running his fingers along the words on the crates. “Which one do you think it is?” When the others didn’t reply, he looked back at them, affecting a hurt expression. “Come on, now. All aliens together, right?”
The Doctor was, on the whole, exceptionally good at calculations. He could run complicated sums through his mind without difficulty, work out logistical problems in the blink of an eye, pinpoint the location of a technical fault before the universe imploded, with full milliseconds to spare.
But now, staring up at the two aliens who had suddenly cornered him in the dark room, the Doctor had the distinct impression that he’d made a terrible miscalculation.
A powerful scent of shoes and some sort of detergent assailed him, and it took him a surprisingly long time to realise that this was because his nose was currently in contact with the carpet. He sneezed, and the pain that rocketed through his head was enough to make him wish he’d passed out.
“Why’d you hit him so hard, Larthza?” someone exclaimed, indignantly.
“Didn’ mean to,” another someone muttered. The Doctor, now vaguely aware of a trickle of blood somewhere in the vicinity of his left earlobe, was somewhat less than placated.
“Well, now we’re-“ The voice cut off abruptly. “Wait. See that box, just behind him?”
“This one? I don’-“ There was an appreciative whistle. “Oh. You mean this one.”
“Who could’ve thought it would possibly be so easy?” the first voice crowed.
The Doctor, now more annoyed at the needlessly suspenseful conversation than anything else, opened his eyes slowly and turned his head. Just before he came to regret that particular motion very much, he caught sight of what everyone was on about.
It was a small wooden crate, old by the looks of it, but not covered by quite as much dust as everything else in the room.
Across the front, neatly printed, was the word “GOD”.
Part 2
Author:
eponymous_roseRating: PG (violence)
Warnings: Spoilers for the Fifth Doctor’s audio adventures, up to and including Nekromanteia.
Genre: Humour, Action/Adventure, Drama
Word Count: 5,587
Author’s Notes: With sincere apologies for the terrible delay, and a million thanks to
imsanehonest for the brilliant beta! An entry in the Big Finish Audio Ficathon, for castrovalva9.Summary: Immediately after the events of Nekromanteia, the Doctor, Peri, and Erimem find themselves at a twenty-first century exhibition of Egyptian artefacts, where the illustrious Professor Snow is poised to reveal his most prized archaeological treasure. But who are the ominous-looking men in dark suits and terribly impractical sunglasses, and why are they so convinced that they’re about the pull off the greatest heist in the planet’s history?
It was a quiet night in London, despite the roaring of cars off to late-night encounters, the shouts of drunken students stumbling home, the plaintive wailing of sirens in the distance, the argument in the house down the street, the dogs barking madly, and the strange whirring sound accompanied by flashing lights in the sky-
Well, perhaps ‘quiet’ was overstating the point. All things considered, it was a rather noisy night in London when the spaceship finally came in for a landing.
Its wholly ineffective cloaking device flickered slowly into being, like an afterthought, then gave up the ghost and switched off again. It being something of a noisy night, nobody much noticed the hunk of mangled machinery and little flashy lights that settled itself awkwardly into an alleyway, shifting the dimensions of the houses around it until it fit just so.
There was a moment of silence, a pulling-out of keys from the ignition, and then the lights stopped flickering and the machine gave a satisfied grunt. The hatch on the front of the mechanical monstrosity opened slowly, dramatically, with the hissing of depressurisation and a sudden rush of air as a ramp lowered itself to the pavement.
Two figures in dark suits stood in the shadow of their craft, staring out at the street, the city, the planet beyond. One was considerably taller than the other, and almost obscenely skinny, perhaps based on the assumption that humans were created from a limited mass that could only be moulded like putty. The other was shorter, but gave the distinct impression of hovering over his companion from some great height. While this could conceivably have been owing to some presence of character, some imposing inner strength, it was more likely due to the fact that this particular alien hadn’t yet mastered the limits of human perspective.
Both were wearing sunglasses.
The taller of the two took a step forward, then another, until he was off the ramp and standing boldly on the surface of the new planet, ready to face whatever challenges would lie ahead.
He took another step, tripped over a rubbish bin, and fell flat on his face.
“You can be such a klutz, Larthza,” sighed his associate, walking more slowly down the ramp. “How’re we supposed to carry out our mission if we’re tripping over our own feet, I ask you?”
The alien called Larthza rubbed his face irritably and stood up, replacing the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose with careful deliberation. “Gravity’s different ‘ere,” he muttered. “Lighter, like. Don’t know me own strength. And it’s bleedin’ dark out ‘ere, Kryl!”
“It is, at that,” Kryl murmured thoughtfully, then adjusted his sunglasses to stare up at a guttering streetlamp nearby. “But would you look at that? Artificial lighting systems to compensate for the periods when this part of the planet no longer receives direct sunlight. Not such a backward little planet, this Earth!”
“Hm,” Larthza agreed, casting a nervous look at the bin that had tripped him.
“Oh, it’s not going to bite you,” Kryl said. “Save your anxiety for the more intelligent beings on this planet.”
“These humans-“ Larthza deliberately pronounced the word ‘hoomans’ to annoy his compatriot. “-really could’ve done all this, then?” He tapped a hand against a nearby brick wall. “Pretty sturdy workmanship, that.”
“Isn’t it?” Kryl said good-naturedly. “Good on them. Rising above their baser nature and-“ He paused, waved a hand expansively. “Building things. It’s very nearly admirable.”
Larthza pondered the brickwork for another moment, then turned to his companion. “Kryl,” he said, “are you sure this god of theirs is somewhere nearby? Only if we’ve botched the job and wound up on the other end of this whole city-o-Londer place? Wouldn’t look good, I mean. Not the first time, either.”
“It would, however, almost certainly be the last, given our esteemed employer’s temper lately,” Kryl noted with a shiver. “And yes, Larthza, I wasn’t just flying the ship blindfolded and with my fingers in my ears while you were navigating. We’re where we’re meant to be.” He tapped a finger against the brick of the wall to their right, and the ramp of their spaceship slowly folded itself back in, the hatch sealing the hunk of machinery with a resounding clang. “Precisely where we’re meant to be.”
In the darkness, the two aliens stepped out onto the streets of London, all dark suits and sunglasses. And if one stumbled from time to time, and if the other wasn’t quite any height that physically made sense, nobody paid much mind.
Humans are, after all, exceptionally good at pretending not to see.
*~*~*
“Well, Doctor?” Peri leaned against the console. Erimem winced instinctively as her friend’s arm brushed against an important-looking button, but when the console very considerately refrained from bursting into sparks or anything so dramatic, she relaxed.
Over the course of her travels, Erimem was slowly growing used to the idea that the TARDIS was a living thing – after all, the Doctor had assured her that it was little more than a complicated sort of horse. And horses were scarcely likely to run into a dangerous situation unless spooked; what could this great machine possibly have to be frightened about?
Sometimes that idea was a little less than reassuring.
“Well?” The Doctor was staring down at a line of squiggles and dots that he’d once assured Erimem were extremely important coordinates. At the time, Peri had ventured the whispered opinion that he was usually just making it up – and, watching the Doctor scowl down at the display as though to change it through sheer force of will, Erimem was reluctantly inclined to agree.
“Well,” Peri parroted, “are we on Earth or what?”
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Well,” he began, then raised a hand before Peri could come up with a sarcastic retort. “It seems very likely that we’ve-“ He paused, gave the console another intense stare, then cleared his throat. “Well, it seems possible, at least, that we’ve landed on Earth. Or somewhere in its immediate vicinity.”
“D’you think you could try to be a little vaguer, there?” Peri grinned, and Erimem ventured a nervous smile. She wasn’t yet entirely comfortable with this teasing rapport – after all, she’d seen mere hints of the Doctor’s power and despite his unassuming nature it seemed somewhat unwise to push him too far. Dangerous, even.
But although the Doctor took on a decidedly pouting attitude for a moment, he eventually glanced up with a smile. “I can but try, Peri. Come on, now. Let’s see what’s out there.” He reached across the console to the button that opened up the scanner, that strange little window to the outside world.
“If it is Earth,” Peri added as he flicked the switch back and forth, “you owe Erimem a new cat.” The Doctor gave an irritable snort, but he followed it up with a guiltily apologetic glance. Erimem smiled reassuringly and turned her attention to the viewscreen.
She’d been deeply impressed, on several occasions, by the strange subtlety the Doctor’s vessel possessed. It had landed so often in the midst of chaos, and yet made its arrival so impossibly inconspicuous that nobody seemed to notice its presence.
It came as a bit of a shock, then, when the screen flickered reluctantly into focus on a glittering room full of people wearing all manner of finery, and clutching wine glasses, and eating small canapés. It would have appeared to be quite an elegant affair, except that all eyes were wide and staring, wholly startled, at the arrival of the big blue box in their midst.
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Um,” he said.
Peri squinted at the startled partygoers, who had taken up a worried murmur. “Is that guy – the one in the back – wearing a monocle?”
“Yes, well, not anymore. It appears to be in his snifter of brandy,” the Doctor noted; Peri giggled helplessly, and he rolled his eyes.
“But why should the TARDIS make such an obvious entrance?” Erimem queried.
“Early twenty-first century, I should think. Hm?” For a moment – just a brief one – Erimem had the distinct impression that the Doctor had forgotten she was there. She felt suddenly cold and pulled her borrowed cardigan closer around her shoulders, though the unfamiliar fabric provided little in the way of comfort. “Oh, the old girl’s probably just being temperamental.”
“Ah, but in these cases-“ Peri raised an eyebrow. “-I think the pilot can take more than a bit of credit.” The Doctor made an inarticulate reply, Erimem smiled despite herself, and Peri patted her shoulder. “That’s better,” she said. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we left-” She paused, then finished, lamely: “Since we left.”
“Have I?” Erimem ran a hand back through her hair, nervously, then remembered that Antranak had always tried to break her of that habit, protesting that it wasn’t like a pharaoh to give in to anxiety. She stilled her hand, let it drop back to her side. “I am sorry, Peri. It wasn’t an intentional slight.”
The Doctor had moved away from them and was peering intently at the display. Peri rolled her eyes. “He thinks he’s being subtle,” she muttered, “giving me time to talk to you alone.”
Erimem found herself grinning again. “He seems about as subtle as the TARDIS.”
Peri laughed, but it seemed forced, and Erimem recognised the concern in her eyes. “Really, though. You went through a lot, and I’m not totally convinced you’re completely recovered from what that Harlon jerk did to you. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Of course,” Erimem said, and felt herself straighten to her full height. She had, after all, been taught that a pharaoh could never admit weakness – it had seemed a silly rule back when she’d been a child in Thebes, but now it was a defence, a shield to ward off unwanted questions. “I’m quite all right, Peri.”
Peri seemed unconvinced; she crossed her arms, then rolled her eyes. “You’re stubborn, is what you are,” she sighed. “As an ox. And other things besides.” She patted Erimem’s shoulder again, awkwardly. “Don’t worry.” She paused, then added: “You know that the Doctor’ll get you a new cat if we’re on Earth, right?”
Erimem made herself smile. “That would be very nice.” She raised an eyebrow. “And I’m sure he’ll appreciate that immensely.”
Peri grinned. “You’re all right, Erimem. It’ll all be fine. You’ll see!”
“This is extremely strange,” the Doctor called from the screen.
Peri exchanged glances with Erimem. “Well,” she amended, “it’ll probably be all right.”
“Possibly,” Erimem corrected with a smirk.
“There’s a faint chance.”
“Positively minute.”
“Really, you should probably come see this,” the Doctor called. “If you’ve quite finished wisecracking, that is.”
“He thinks he’s good at being sarcastic,” Peri stage-whispered to Erimem as they crossed to the viewscreen. “I haven’t the heart to burst his bubble.”
The Doctor ignored her. “Look at this. In the corner, right there.” Erimem leaned forward as he pointed to the screen, to a man standing off to the side. He was whispering to his companion – the only overt motion in a room otherwise deep in shock – and both were wearing peculiarly dark shading over their eyes that seemed at odds with the dimly-lit room. One was considerably taller than his companion, who in turn towered over-
She blinked and looked again, wincing as she attempted to measure them up against the pattern of the wallpaper behind them, without success. “What-?”
Peri gave a low whistle and nudged the Doctor. “Looks like you’re not the only alien crashing this party.”
“Terrible disguises,” the Doctor noted. “Sunglasses are the true mark of an amateur. If they’re an invasion force, they’re not exactly being subtle about it!”
Erimem cleared her throat. “But I was given to understand, Doctor, that your own garments are out of place except at some sort of sporting match.”
There was an awkward silence, and then Peri burst out laughing. The Doctor gave a long-suffering sigh. “If nobody else manages it first – and there’s rather a lot of competition for the privilege – you two are going to be the death of me.” He stared at the monitor for a long moment, then held out his hand. “Now, Peri, pass me your handkerchief – we’ve a party to attend.”
*~*~*
“I don’ like this, Kryl,” Larthza muttered to his companion, squeezing between two startled businessmen to eye the big blue apparition with some suspicion. “Seems funny, like.”
Kryl was picking at a tiny hors-d’oeuvre. “Oh, everything about these humans will seem funny to us, Larthza. One might call it an occupational hazard, if one were so inclined. Take this refreshment! Do you know, I think it actually contains singed flesh?” He glanced up. “Mind you, everyone else seems to be rather put off by this apparition as well. That’s odd.”
“Is this their god, then? D’you think?” Larthza shifted from foot to foot. “Seems kinda heavy to carry all the way back to the ship, don’ it?”
“I could get a wheelbarrow.” Kryl scowled and adjusted his sunglasses. “No, no. Does it look like they’re prostrating themselves before it? Offering sacrifice? This is something else.”
There was a sort of mechanical hum and the door creaked open, revealing a white handkerchief waving feebly at the end of a brolly. “Um,” said a voice from within. “Hello!”
“There’s someone inside!” exclaimed a woman beside Larthza, breaking the stunned silence.
“Perhaps,” Kryl muttered, “these primitives worship their deity by stating the patently obvious.” Larthza cast him a puzzled look.
A man poked his head out the doors with an agreeable grin. “Oh, hello,” he repeated, then added, delightedly: “You’re not shooting at me!” He paused, then cleared his throat, embarrassed. “No, of course you’re not. But still, it never hurts to be sure.” Nobody moved. He tossed the brolly back inside the box, then leaned against the doorway, awkwardly. There was a long silence.
After a few attempts at reassuring smiles, the newcomer cleared his throat, apparently realizing that he’d have to do all the talking. “I do apologize for, uh, barging in on your-“ He glanced quickly across the room, and eventually caught sight of the banner overhead. “Ancient Egyptian… exhibition thing.” He paused, and a grin crept over his features. “Now that is quite a coincidence.”
“How’d you do that, then?” a man in front demanded, now more annoyed than awestruck. A few conversations started up in the back of the room, hushed but no longer afraid.
“Oh, you know,” the stranger said vaguely. “Smoke and mirrors.”
A woman’s voice echoed from behind him, in the box. “Calls himself a bit of a magician but he’s really not that good. Budge up, Doctor, let’s explain to the nice folks, hey?”
The man held the door open for two young women, and Kryl leaned forward, craning his neck to catch a glimpse inside the box. “Well,” he said softly, and exhaled. “That’s a bit of a shocker.”
“Wasn’t jus’ me, then?” Larthza murmured. “It’s really bigger inside?”
“It certainly appears that way. I think we may want to hasten our search for the god. Come on.” It took Kryl a moment to realise that Larthza was still staring at the newcomers. Rolling his eyes, he pulled his companion closer to the exhibits on display.
“D’you really think they’ll just leave it sitting out?” The bigger alien started wringing his hands. “I mean, it doesn’t seem likely that it’s even here at all-“
Kryl scowled. “Are you a Model VI Compscanner, Larthza?”
Larthza wilted. “No, Kryl.”
Kryl leaned forward, staring at a sarcophagus until his breath fogged up the glass partition in front of it. “And do you have the Patented Compscanning Ability that enables you to pick out Fresh Retail Opportunities from light years away in just three easy steps?”
“No, Kryl.”
“Then shut up and help me look. The Compscanner said it was around here, somewhere. We should be able to make a fortune on this one – can you even imagine how much our illustrious employer would be willing to pay for a true god?”
If Larthza had any misgivings, they were drowned out by a sudden peal of laughter from the corner of the room that now housed the blue box. A heavily made-up woman was laughing, patting the newcomer on the shoulder with enough force to send him stumbling into his companions.
“I say, Professor Snow!” she boomed to a harried-looking man by her side, who looked very much as though he wanted to sink into the ground at the sudden attention. “This one’s a fine magician! Such a face on him, too!”
“Well,” the stranger said shakily, “thank you, I suppose.”
“We really didn’t mean to make such a fuss,” one of the girls said hastily. “Just wanted to make a dramatic entrance.”
“Not this dramatic,” added the other, helpfully.
Kryl sniffed and turned his attention back to the sarcophagus. Larthza shoved his hands into his pockets – true to form and despite his slow start, he seemed to be adjusting nicely to his new body. And he would, Kryl reflected sardonically, take to wandering around looking like a stupid ape, like a Marthram to Squeemian Argjuice.
“What’re we even lookin’ for, Kryl?” Larthza muttered.
“We’ll know when we find it,” Kryl snapped.
“I do hope so. I’m rather curious about it, myself.” Kryl jumped at the intrusion; the newcomer was now standing directly behind them, peering with some interest at the display. “I’m the Doctor, by the way,” he added without looking up. “Who exactly are you?”
Behind him, Larthza was pulling his hand from his pocket with great purpose, but Kryl shook his head. This Doctor seemed innocuous enough, all vapid smiles and silly questions. Perhaps he really was just a magician – and while Kryl was not generally one to balk at violence, he’d once fancied himself a bit of an illusionist and had developed what could only be described as a soft spot for his fellow thaumaturgists. After all, it was such a bother coming up with all those tricks by oneself-
“Salutations,” he said, gritting his teeth in what he hoped was a pleasant manner. “I feel that I should comment on the fact that prevailing meteorological conditions seem to be rather fortuitous.” He paused, gauging reaction, and then added, just to be sure: “Or perhaps not.”
The Doctor finally looked up from the sarcophagus; Kryl found himself staring at the piece of vegetable matter on the man’s lapel, and then wondered whether that might be considered rude. The Doctor, however, seemed to take no offence. “Oh, indeed.” He straightened, and smiled blandly. “We had a spot of fireballs earlier this week, but now it seems as though the sun will be blue for a good long spell yet.”
“Good, good,” Kryl said, hoping to inject the right amount of cheer into his voice. “That sun, eh? Never blue when you need it to be, and always going off when you least expect it.”
They shared an amiable laugh, and Kryl felt a surge of annoyance at having to go through these inane human pleasantries – but it did the job of distracting the nosy Doctor, who mentioned something about seeing to his friends and blended back into the crowd with a parting wave.
“Kryl, this sun’s not blue,” Larthza protested in a whisper.
“Idioms, idiot,” Kryl shot back. “Metaphors. Humans are always muddling the meanings of words. They tend to think it makes them look clever. You should have studied them more carefully before we arrived!”
“Oh.” Larthza did not sound convinced. “Only I know there’s a blue moon, right? Songs about it an’ all.”
Kryl sniffed and moved to the next artefact, a chunk of stone with hieroglyphs inscribed across it. “If there’s a blue moon, it stands to reason that there’ll be a blue sun to go along with it.”
“If I could have your attention, please!” The meek looking man, who had been so vigorously introduced to the room as Professor Snow, stood on a raised dais, hands in the pockets of his wrinkled trousers. He looked genuinely startled when everyone turned their attention to him, but seemed to regain his composure as he warmed to his topic.
“Er, yes. Thank you all very much for coming to this unveiling of my collection of Egyptian artefacts. It is not, I think, the most complete private collection in Great Britain, but it is certainly one of the most heartfelt. My mother was an archaeologist, you see, and-“
“I don’t see,” Kryl murmured to Larthza, “why humans feel the need to say so little in so many words. It seems eminently wasteful.”
“For effect,” Larthza said solemnly. “Stretches out the mood, like.”
Kryl rolled his eyes. “Don’t you go getting attached, Larthza. It’s bad enough that we have to interact with these primitives at all. I’m certainly not going to stand for travelling with one!”
“-in the hopes of someday returning to London,” the Professor was saying. He cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses. “And I am pleased to announce that my most recent acquisition is a very special one indeed. I will be unveiling it in one hour’s time, for everyone to appreciate together.”
Larthza elbowed Kryl. “D’you think that’ll be it?”
Kryl was staring up at the dais curiously. “You know, I think it just might be.”
“It is,” Professor Snow continued after an appropriately dramatic pause, “quite a remarkable specimen. The engravings that accompanied this artefact were rather specific, and heaped praises on this most holy of holies.”
Kryl was vaguely aware of a prickling feeling at the back of his neck, right where the Bodily Shapefunction Shifter was implanted. Larthza was rubbing his shoulder irritably. There was an energy to the air, a feeling of something hovering just at the edge of perception.
For a moment, the meek, mousy Professor looked powerful, strong, his face cast into grim shadow by the dim lighting. “Though it may be difficult for us to comprehend its value, its very nature, the fact remains that this is, undoubtedly, a god.”
At his words, there was a burst of brightness, and then a tremendous crash. The lights flickered in the room, and the heavily made-up woman gave a scream that was a few seconds too late to be anything but theatrical.
Kryl snatched Larthza by the arm. “Don’t panic,” he snapped, then realized that Larthza was staring at him blankly. “Oh,” he said. “Well. Just a minor electrical discharge associated with the storm above us, I should think.”
Larthza considered this for a moment. “A fireball, yeah? Like the Doctor said?”
“Oh, shut up, Larthza.”
*~*~*
“This is,” Erimem said to nobody in particular, “very strange.”
Peri was inspecting a small model of a granary. “You can say that again,” she said in a low voice, pointing to the crude mock-up. “Someone’s school project, d’you think?”
Erimem leaned over her shoulder and couldn’t help wincing at the signs of wear on the small wooden figures. “Before my time, Peri, it was common to bury these models of everyday life with the dead.”
“Before your time?”
Erimem gave an undignified snort. “Many generations earlier. You saw what it was like in Thebes when I was to be pharaoh – the decorations of a tomb tended to be much more religious.”
With a grin, Peri made a show of looking around. “We’re not gonna find anything in your image here, are we?”
“I never quite attained godhood, though, did I?” Erimem crossed her arms, mock-angry. “And whose fault was that?”
Peri crossed her hands before her as though to ward off some evil spirit. “Oh, spare me your wrathful vengeance!”
In spite of her attempts to regain her godlike composure, Erimem couldn’t help laughing. It was all so impossible, like a bizarre sort of dreamworld; her entire life and history, ancient and crumbling, was spread out haphazardly in a brilliant ballroom for the idle rich to peruse. She resisted the urge to touch the silly little model granary, the only real thing in sight…
Peri had been laughing along with her, but must have stopped some time ago and was now staring at her in some concern, and Erimem suddenly realised that she was on the verge of hysteria. “I’m sorry,” she said, choking off her laughter with some effort.
“This sure isn’t easy for you, huh?” Peri put an arm around Erimem’s shoulders and pulled her into an awkward half-hug. “I’m sorry, Erimem. I shouldn’t have joked-“
“It’s quite all right, Peri!” Erimem said hastily, then lowered her voice as a few of the nearby partygoers glanced over. “I appreciate the levity, really – it makes everything seem that much less surreal.”
“Yeah,” Peri said uncertainly, and then jumped as thunder boomed around them. “This is such miserable weather!”
Erimem recognized the change of subject and seized the chance of a distraction. “Where did the Doctor disappear to, anyway?”
Peri nodded to the other side of the room, where the Doctor was balancing three wine glasses between his fingers. His progress back towards them was being hampered by a boisterous woman who seemed intent on conversing with him – and, by the none-too-subtle looks she was giving him, perhaps a little more besides. The Doctor, while undoubtedly carrying on a polite conversation, looked downright desperate.
“I think he might be in need of rescuing,” Peri grinned. “Beats fending off the usual crop of bug-eyed monsters, anyway.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Erimem said, eyeing the woman critically. “She could probably do some considerable damage with that purse.”
Peri was scanning the room, attempting to determine the least circuitous route to the Doctor, when she paused, startled. “Speaking of aliens in disguise,” she murmured, “I wonder where those two are off to.”
Erimem followed her gaze in time to see the two men of extremely indeterminate height, the ones the Doctor had guessed were aliens, slink through a doorway at the back of the room. “That’s certainly suspicious,” she noted wryly.
“And I’ll bet you anything that’s where Professor Snow’s got his prize exhibit stashed,” Peri said with a hint of glee. “C’mon, Erimem – let’s hold them off at the pass.”
Erimem was about to suggest that they liberate the Doctor first, when a man stepped into their path, nearly bowling both of them over.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” Professor Snow raised a hand to steady each of them, then jumped a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet in his anxiety.
“No problem,” Peri assured him, and they made as though to pass.
“Er,” Professor Snow said, awkwardly stepping back into their path. “I couldn’t help overhearing-“
Erimem and Peri exchanged nervous glances.
“-your comments on the model granary over there, young lady.” The professor rocked back on his heels, smiling at Erimem. “You seem to be very well-educated, and your Doctor friend tells me that you’re rather an expert on the subject!”
“Thank you,” Erimem said automatically. “I suppose I am. Sort of.”
“Writes reports on it for school and everything,” Peri said with a certain urgency. “Now, if you’ll excuse-“
“How utterly delightful,” Professor Snow beamed. “It’s so rare for our youth to take an interest in the far distant past. Seems such a shame – so many interesting stories to be told.”
Erimem grinned suddenly, thinking of battles and poisons and the Doctor in the middle of it all, and borrowed one of Peri’s odd phrases: “You don’t know the half of it!”
He looked baffled for a moment, then gave a good-natured laugh. “Quite so, my dear. I don’t expect any of us ever shall!” He adjusted his glasses, and Peri took a breath as though to excuse them, but he continued. “I would enjoy the opportunity to discuss some of these artefacts with you – it’s so rare to have a willing audience.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Everyone here is only really here to be seen by the right people, to chat and eat my food and drink my wine. Even the academics in the room are only interested in fulfilling social obligations to me. And yet there’s so much wonder to be seen, if they’d only pay attention…“
Erimem straightened up, ignoring Peri’s exasperated sigh. “It is a very stupid thing to ignore history, Professor,” she said solemnly. “These men and women must truly be fools to ignore the treasures you’ve displayed here.”
He seemed taken aback at her vehemence. “Yes, well,” he said. “Aren’t you a serious one.”
Peri gave Erimem a little push from behind. “Sorry, Professor, but I think I see someone we know. You and Erimem can reconnoitre later, right?”
Professor Snow gave a little bow and stepped back to allow them to pass by. “I look forward to it,” he said.
Erimem smiled at him as they hurried off – there was something utterly refreshing about his ordinary kindness, something pleasant and familiar even this far into the future. It took her a few moments, then, to remember what she’d been meaning to mention to Peri; she stopped short, scanning the room for the familiar head of blond hair.
Peri turned. “What’s up?”
“I think we should find the Doctor before-“ Erimem paused. “Peri, can you see the Doctor anywhere?”
Peri scanned the room. The bombastic woman who’d been monopolizing the Doctor’s attention earlier was now chatting to some other poor unfortunate – and the Time Lord himself was nowhere to be seen. “Wanna bet he’s already trying to confront the aliens by himself?”
Erimem sighed. “It seems like the sort of thing he would do.”
“C’mon. Let’s go get him out of trouble.”
*~*~*
The Doctor squinted into the dark storage room, crouched behind a pile of boxes, and weighed his options.
First off, he could confront these aliens angrily, demand to know what the devil they were up to, go through the whole rigmarole and maybe manage to intimidate them slightly before they transmatted away and left him looking every inch the suspicious thief. And that was disregarding the fact that they were very likely armed – every time there was a particularly loud laugh in the ballroom, they’d stop fumbling through the boxes and crates and simultaneously reach into their pockets. All things considered, though, he was getting so tired of being falsely accused of all sorts that the prospect of getting shot almost seemed a pleasant alternative.
So much for the first option.
Option two wasn’t much better. He could dash out and warn the Professor about the potential danger to his collection and come back with more people, all of whom would certainly be put into danger and used as hostages. And there was still the potential problem of a transmat.
The Doctor sighed and straightened up. He’d generally found that blundering in without a plan had worked out fairly well for him in the past, and who was he to argue with tradition?
“Oh, hello!” he said cheerfully, stepping out from behind the crates.
The taller of the two aliens whipped around, some sort of flashy and dangerous-looking bunch of machinery in his hand. “No, Larthza,” hissed the other. “Calm down.”
“Terribly sorry to startle you,” the Doctor grinned, very considerately ignoring the weapon. “Come to sneak a peek at the artefact before the unveiling, eh?”
The shorter one squinted up at him, considering. “So what if we have?” he said at last. “Just curious, that’s all.”
“Oh, I’ve always been rather curious, myself,” the Doctor said, crouching down beside them and running his fingers along the words on the crates. “Which one do you think it is?” When the others didn’t reply, he looked back at them, affecting a hurt expression. “Come on, now. All aliens together, right?”
The Doctor was, on the whole, exceptionally good at calculations. He could run complicated sums through his mind without difficulty, work out logistical problems in the blink of an eye, pinpoint the location of a technical fault before the universe imploded, with full milliseconds to spare.
But now, staring up at the two aliens who had suddenly cornered him in the dark room, the Doctor had the distinct impression that he’d made a terrible miscalculation.
A powerful scent of shoes and some sort of detergent assailed him, and it took him a surprisingly long time to realise that this was because his nose was currently in contact with the carpet. He sneezed, and the pain that rocketed through his head was enough to make him wish he’d passed out.
“Why’d you hit him so hard, Larthza?” someone exclaimed, indignantly.
“Didn’ mean to,” another someone muttered. The Doctor, now vaguely aware of a trickle of blood somewhere in the vicinity of his left earlobe, was somewhat less than placated.
“Well, now we’re-“ The voice cut off abruptly. “Wait. See that box, just behind him?”
“This one? I don’-“ There was an appreciative whistle. “Oh. You mean this one.”
“Who could’ve thought it would possibly be so easy?” the first voice crowed.
The Doctor, now more annoyed at the needlessly suspenseful conversation than anything else, opened his eyes slowly and turned his head. Just before he came to regret that particular motion very much, he caught sight of what everyone was on about.
It was a small wooden crate, old by the looks of it, but not covered by quite as much dust as everything else in the room.
Across the front, neatly printed, was the word “GOD”.
Part 2
