Doctor Who: Shining Darkness (16 page)

‘So you’re a friend of that useless little amateur Boonie, are you?’

‘Oh, don’t underestimate Boonie,’ the Doctor warned. ‘He might be a bit of an amateur, his ship might be falling apart, but he’s a lot smarter than you give him credit for. And dedicated. And an ounce of dedication’s worth a whole load of competence. What’s your name, anyway?’

‘Not that it matters to you, but I’m Garaman – Garaman Havati.’ He looked up at the Doctor superciliously. ‘Ring any bells?’

The Doctor thought for a moment. Someone called Garaman Havati
had
been mentioned in the records that Li’ian had showed him. He pulled a face and shook his head.

‘Not even a tinkle. Should it?’

It clearly annoyed Garaman that Boonie hadn’t mentioned his name – but then why should he have done? According to Li’ian, they had no idea which of the Cultists were on board the ship. Well, apart from one…

‘How’s Mesanth, by the way?’

Garaman’s eyes widened. And then narrowed as he clearly realised that, although Mesanth was important enough for the Doctor to know about him, he, Garaman, wasn’t.

‘You know him?’

‘Only by reputation.’

Garaman’s lips tightened.

‘You’ll meet him soon enough.’

He glanced at Ogmunee and the robot.

‘Bring him to the bridge. I want to find out what Boonie and his little friends know.’

Fearing that his arms were about to be wrenched from their sockets, the Doctor let himself be dragged from the room.

This was getting ridiculous, thought Donna. It was like she and the Doctor were working different shifts and only got to see each other at tea time. And what was more, Boonie’s ship stank.

‘Sorry we lost the Doctor,’ Boonie said. ‘It seems he used that device of his to block the Cultists’ transmat of you but was outside its range himself. At least you’re in safe hands now.’

‘Am I?’ Donna had yet to be convinced. She glanced up at the hulking silver machine – apparently called ‘Mother’ – standing behind her. The blonde supermodels on board Garaman’s ship might have been a bit scary, but this thing was
terrifying
.

‘And what d’you mean, “the Cultists’ transmat”? If you’re the good guys, why was the Doctor so keen to get
away
from you?’

‘Think about it this way…’ This was Li’ian, an elderly woman, who seemed slightly out of place amongst the rest of them. ‘If he’d thought
we
were the bad guys, he wouldn’t have made sure you ended up in our hands, would he?’

Donna had to concede that that made a certain sense.

‘And who are these Cultists? You mean Garaman and Mesanth?’

Li’ian glanced at Boonie.

‘They didn’t tell you about the Cult of Shining Darkness?’ she asked Donna.

‘Why would they?’ sneered Boonie. ‘They’re hardly going to advertise the fact that they belong to a Cult.’

‘No reason why they shouldn’t,’ said Li’ian. ‘They’re not exactly ashamed of who they are, are they?’

Donna raised her hands for them to stop.

‘Look,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ve just come from one ship where everything was more mysterious than a Miss Marple. I’m not about to walk into a Hercule Poirot. Just tell me what the hell is going on!’

She glared, first at Boonie and then at Li’ian. She ignored the slight whine from the robot towering over her. It was giving her a very strange look – well, as strange as a face like a jet-engine part could manage.

‘Garaman and Mesanth are leaders of what remains of a—’

Boonie stopped as there was a grinding, mechanical noise from the middle of the room.

They all turned to see the little robot they’d brought up from Junk, flailing its bendy arms and legs, trying to right
itself
. In seconds it was sitting up on the rusty floor, the screen on the front of its blue, boxy body flickering.

‘Oh my,’ it said in a chipper voice and gave a shudder before turning towards them.

On the screen, the cartoon image of a little man’s face appeared. The mouth moved in exaggerated astonishment as the short pen-strokes of eyebrows went up.

‘Oh my…’

‘Mother…’ Boonie said, gesturing at the robot as it swivelled its upper body to look around the room. In seconds – and with surprisingly little of the earthquake-style ground-shaking that Donna had expected from such a hulk – Mother was at the robot’s side, looking down on it. It tipped back so that it could look up: the sight of Mother, towering over it, must have scared the thing half to death, thought Donna.

‘Oh…’ it said again.

‘Yes, yes,’ snapped Li’ian. ‘We get the point. You’re shocked. Now why were you arguing with the Doctor?’

‘What?’ The face on the robot looked genuinely surprised – but then, thought Donna, that damned paperclip that popped up on her computer when she started writing a letter looked genuinely
helpful
. ‘Who?’ the robot added, twizzling around again. It tried to get up, but Mother’s firm, metal paw came down on its top, pinning it to the floor.

‘The Doctor,’ said Donna grimly. ‘The man you were talking to about my death and what flowers you’d send to my funeral.’

‘The who, the what?’ The robot flailed its arms around,
slapping
them ineffectively against Mother’s hand. ‘Oh my, this is all very unexpected.’

‘Oh, sunshine,’ said Donna, crouching down so that her eyes were on a level with the robot’s screen. ‘You have
no
idea what other unexpected things we can come up with if you don’t start telling us the truth.’

The cartoon face flashed to astonishment.

‘Of course I don’t, otherwise they’d hardly be unexpected would they? Although, of course,’ his face went all thoughtful, ‘events could be both unexpected and yet not unknown, since “expected” could be seen to apply to their timing as well as to their nature, couldn’t they?’

‘What?’ said Donna.

‘I said—’

‘I know what you said. Now look, either you start telling us who you’re working for, or… or…’ Donna floundered around, trying to think of something to threaten the robot with. ‘Or I’ll get Mother here to crush you into a ball of scrap so small that you won’t even be able to get a job as a doorstop.’

There was a sharp intake of breath from just behind her. It was Li’ian. Her hand was halfway to her mouth in an almost comic gesture of concern.

‘It’s just a robot,’ said Donna, rolling her eyes. ‘If necessary, we’ll take it apart, circuit by circuit…’

Donna stopped at the expressions of outright horror on the faces of Boonie and Li’ian. She turned sharply as even Mother joined in with a deep, electronic groan.

‘Barbarian,’ whispered Boonie.

‘Come again?’ Donna still wasn’t getting it.

‘I’m finding it hard,’ said Boonie grimly, ‘to believe that the Doctor spoke so highly of you. How dare you come aboard my ship and start threatening people like that? What kind of a civilisation do you come from?’

‘Threatening people?’ echoed Donna. ‘I’m not threatening people, for god’s sake.’ She gestured at the robot, its cartoon face a picture of amazement – eyes and mouth wide open. ‘It’s. A. Robot.’

Donna sat back on her haunches – how could she make it any clearer? What was wrong with these people?

‘Don’t you want to know who it’s working for?’

‘What’s your name?’ Boonie asked the robot, ignoring Donna.

‘Weiou,’ the robot said.

‘Right, Weiou. Donna here says that you threatened the Doctor. Is that true?’

‘Me? Threaten the who?’

The robot looked around, looking genuinely confused.

‘Just a mo,’ he said, screwing up his cartoon eyes tightly. His screen face went dark for a fraction of a second.

‘What’s he doing?’ asked Donna suspiciously.

‘Connecting to the mechanet,’ said Boonie. ‘Resynchronising his clock.’

Weiou shook his face as though he were clearing away cobwebs.

‘Oh my,’ he said, eyes wide. ‘I’ve been hijacked! I’m missing eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds.’

‘You’re saying you can’t remember what happened to you?’ Donna wasn’t sure whether it was telling the truth. ‘What’s the mechanet, then? Some sort of internet for
robots?’

Weiou nodded.

‘I’m missing eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds,’ it repeated, as if this were the most unbelievable thing ever.

‘Weiou,’ said Li’ian gently. ‘Can you come with me? I can run a couple of diagnostics on you – see if we can work out what happened to you.’

Donna glowered at the woman: she was treating the robot like some sort of dizzy elderly relative when they should have been taking a screwdriver and a spanner to it. There was little she could do – clearly they were more concerned about not upsetting the thing than trying to get the truth out of it.

‘Meanwhile,’ said Boonie, as Mother helped the robot to its feet, ‘we need to get after the Cultists’ ship. Kellique says the Doctor’s modifications to the sensors mean we’re still tracking it.’ He threw a sneering glance at Donna. ‘You’d better come with me,’ he said, turning away and heading for the door. ‘The Doctor clearly sees something in you, although god knows what.’

And before Donna could respond, Boonie swept from the room.

‘Doctor,’ Donna whispered to herself. ‘I hope you’re having as much fun as I am…’

A chair had been brought into the control room of Garaman’s ship, bolted to the floor, and the Doctor tied to it. The blonde robot stood silently at his side.

‘Why did you get yourself beamed aboard our ship, Doctor?’ asked Garaman, hands on hips.

‘Oh, you know how it is – change of scenery and all that. Besides, I’ve been hearing so much about you – you and your little cult – that I thought it was about time I met you face to face.’

At the mention of the word ‘cult’, Garaman’s eyebrows rose and he glanced towards the door that had just hissed open.

‘This,’ Garaman said to someone out of sight, ‘is the Doctor, Donna’s friend.’

‘Garaman,’ sighed a warbly, fluty voice. ‘I’m seriously beginning to wonder about you. Is there any need to tie him up like this? Have you learned nothing from the way you treated Donna?’

Into view came a three-legged, three-armed lizard, its head shaking sadly.

‘I’m Mesanth,’ the creature said, looking at the Doctor with wide, unblinking eyes. They were slate grey, the pupils diamond-shaped.

‘Ahh! The infamous Mesanth!’ said the Doctor, smiling cheerily.

‘Infamous?’ Mesanth looked alarmed.

‘Well, you know what Oscar Wilde said about being talked about…’

‘No,’ Mesanth replied simply. ‘What did he say?’

‘That it was better to be talked about than
not
to be talked about. Pleased to meet you. I’d shake your hand but, as you can see…’ He glanced down at his hands and wiggled his fingers.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Garaman – untie him,’ exclaimed Mesanth. ‘What good is this going to do? Which
bit
are you going to threaten to remove, hmm? How about his head?’

The Doctor felt momentarily alarmed. He was quite fond of his head – and he was pretty certain that if they chopped it off it wouldn’t grow back. Although if it did, maybe it’d be the ginger one he’d always wanted. Go quite nicely with his friend the Ginger Goddess.

‘You deal with him, then!’ spat Garaman, waving his hand dismissively. ‘We’re reaching Sentilli. I can do without the distraction.’

With a bitter shake of his head, Garaman waddled off to the bridge’s control chair.

Mesanth set about untying the Doctor with two of his three-fingered hands.

‘Ahh!’ exclaimed the Doctor, rubbing his wrists. ‘Thank you!’

‘My apologies,’ Mesanth said humbly, waving the blonde robot away. It went to stand quietly near the door. ‘Garaman tends to be a little overeager.’

‘Oh, don’t be too hard on him. I like enthusiasm. And I’m sure he’s got enough on his plate, what with collecting all these segments and finishing off Khnu’s plan – what?’

The look on Mesanth’s face was priceless: his fingers flexed and writhed suddenly, like agitated snakes.

‘How do you…’ began Mesanth. ‘How do you know about Khnu?’

‘It’s all there in the records,’ replied the Doctor. ‘Well, not all. That’s the thing: there’s no mention of what, exactly, she was up to. That’s why I thought it might be good to come aboard and have a chat to the people who’re actually
doing
it, y’know, “living the dream”. So to speak.’

He stretched his arms and looked up at the lizard.

‘So…’ He beamed. ‘Where shall we start?’

DONNA WAS BEGINNING
to wish she’d stayed with Garaman and Mesanth: the former might have threatened to break her little finger, but they hadn’t shown the outright hostility to her that this lot had. And all because she’d tried to get information out of Weiou.

Although they hadn’t locked her up, they seemed to have assigned Mother, the hulking great steel robot, to look after her. Which was as good as.

‘Why do they call you Mother, then?’ she asked, sitting in a room that they laughingly called the cafeteria. ‘Oh, sorry – forgot: you don’t talk, do you?’

It was frustrating: just seconds away from being reunited with the Doctor, they’d been snatched apart again, and now she had to get to know a whole new set of weirdos. The way they talked about the Doctor suggested that they’d gotten on well, but she suspected that whatever goodwill the Doctor had built up with them had well and truly been lost by her. She didn’t understand it: their
attitude
to robots was seriously screwy.