There was a satisfying click and then came the sound of scraping as the handle underneath the circular hatch was turned. Finally, with one final turn, the hatch lifted up, the Doctor’s head emerging from the hole leading into the tunnels.
“Unbelievable,” said Garon, below him. “We’ve spent months down here with no way of escape and then he turns up with a screwdriver.”
“Sonic screwdriver,” said the Doctor, smiling and looking around him.
“Can you see anything?” asked Mary.
The vault was in darkness but the main door was wide open. Nothing had been taken and the only light was coming from the random flickering green emergency lights that dotted the low-hanging ceiling.
“It all looks quiet,” said the Doctor as he hauled himself out of the hole.
A few seconds later Mary emerged, squinting her eyes to make out anything in the darkness. Zeela, Bren, Cobalt and finally Garon followed.
“Are you sure this is safe?” asked Garon.
“I doubt it. Is any war zone safe?” asked the Doctor.
“He’s got a point,” said Bren, nodding to the Doctor.
“I’d rather be out of that hole than in it, Garon,” said Zeela, straightening herself up and feeling her limbs crack. It felt like ages since she’d stretched herself out.
“I suggest you all wait here,” said Cobalt, grabbing he blaster that was still holstered to her belt, “whilst I check that the coast is clear.”
“Not a chance,” said the Doctor.
“Please, I am expendable,” said Cobalt.
“More like guilty,” said Garon, rolling his neck and shoulders.
“Nobody is expendable, Mr Garon,” said the Doctor, rounding on him.
“It’s Mr Tor, actually,” he said. “Garon Tor.”
“Maybe we should all go together,” said Mary, keeping close to the Doctor.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” said the Doctor.
With Cobalt leading the way, the six of them made their way out of the vault and into the corridor beyond. The green emergency lights continued to flicker but still there was no sound. Eventually they reached the doorway that led out of the corridors and into the main banking area.
Zeela gasped when they emerged into the huge hall. It was night and the two moons bathed the room in a silvery-white light. The chequered tiles were cracked or broken and marble pillars lay shattered across the floor. Strew all around were bodies of customers and workers.
“Good gods,” said Garon, casting his eyes to the floor.
“They just shot them where they stood,” said Zeela.
“Brutes,” said Bren, his eyes fixed on the doorways that had been flung open allowing the nighttime air and cold to flow in.
The Doctor glanced across to Bren and narrowed his eyes at him.
“Is there anybody alive?” asked Mary, finding herself less terrified than she thought she would have been considering she had never seen a dead body before.
“Not after so long,” said Cobalt. “It’s been seven months.”
“Look at what your people have done to ours,” said Garon.
“Not my people,” said Cobalt, turning on him. “The government. The government do not represent the wishes of everyone.”
“Listen,” said the Doctor, glancing around, “I think we should split up. Take a look around. It all looks quiet now, but you said you still heard explosions outside?”
“That’s right,” said Zeela.
“Then I suggest we split into three parties. Bren and myself will go outside and see if my TARDIS is anywhere to be seen. Mary, can you stay with Zeela?”
Mary looked at Zeela and nodded.
“I suppose that means I’m lumbered with her,” said Garon, nodding towards an extremely frustrated-looking Cobalt.
“You two need to learn to get along. You two can get Mrs Yaltos’s body out of the tunnel.”
“Joy,” said Garon.
“And what about us?” asked Mary.
“Try and get the computer systems working. We need to try and see if there are any safe areas left on the planet.”
Zeela nodded. “Do you think we’re safe in here?” asked Zeela.
“I don’t know,” said the Doctor, narrowing his eyes again and looking all around him. “Something isn’t adding up here. I feel like I’m missing something.” He looked at Bren and then clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, Bren, let’s go TARDIS hunting.”
A little while later and Cobalt and Garon were in the tunnel again. They had uncovered Mrs. Yaltos’s partially decomposed body from underneath the small pile of burial rocks and were carrying her as best as they could between them. It was proving extremely difficult being on their hands and knees though and they found themselves dragging her for the most part.
“Be careful!” snapped Garon. “We don’t want bits of her dropping off.”
Cobalt frowned and then cleared her throat. “Why do you hate my people so much?”
Garon laughed and shook his head. “I don’t hate your people.”
“Then why do you hate me?”
“I don’t…I don’t hate you, Cobalt.”
“But you don’t like me.”
“Are you bothered?”
“I’d like to think that everyone could try and get on.”
“Tell that to your government.”
Cobalt stopped causing Garon to continue pulling the old ladies body by his self. “Hey.”
“You do realise, Mr Tor, that it’s not just my government, don’t you?” She looked genuinely annoyed with him.
Garon looked back at her. “But your lot are the ones that flew in here and attacked us.”
Cobalt continued to stare at him, her white eyes not even blinking. “You cannot tarnish us all with the same brush.”
“Did your people – your army – discriminate when they attacked my people? No. Did they make sure they only hit military targets and not hurt innocent civilians? No.”
“I’m sorry,” said Cobalt. “But the government is comprised of twelve leaders. Twelve people do not represent an entire planets viewpoint. In the latest polls 67% of my people wanted for the both of our races to unite and - ”
“Spare me the facts and figures, Cobalt,” said Garon.
“What I am trying to say is that we may not get along, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to. If 67% of us can dream to make things better then maybe you should try to get along with me.”
Garon didn’t know what to say. He knew she was speaking the truth. The two races had never really gotten on, but most of that was down to propaganda from the governments of each world. It was all down to one solitary moon. The moon contained Sipher crystals that could be mined and utilised to power hundreds of homes. The two planets had both tried to claim it for their own but neither of them had ever managed to take total control.
“Cobalt, life isn’t always fair and sometimes we don’t get along.”
“Then you and I have to be the ones to change that.”
Garon didn’t respond as they continued dragging Mrs Yaltos towards the exit.
Mary and Zeela were sat beside the still-open doors, soaking in the cool night air. For Zeela it felt like bliss. After being stuck in a stifling tunnel for all of those months surrounded by three other people and a decomposing body it felt wonderful to finally get out.
Mary was sat with her back against the doorframe, staring out. The street beyond was strewn with rubble from the surrounding buildings and more dead bodies lay stretched out as far as the eye could see.
Mary’s eyes remained transfixed on the site in front of her.
“Are you okay?” asked Zeela.
Mary shook her head. “It just…it just reminds me of the war.”
“The war?” Zeela frowned.
“Our war. The one from my planet.” She shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold – it was from the memories. “I never witnessed anything myself, but I saw the film reels. I read the letters from my father and brother. What they must have seen…”
“They went into battle?” asked Zeela.
Mary finally turned to the redhead and smiled sadly. “They were stationed in a big city on my planet.” It still felt odd to Mary that she was talking about herself being from another planet. “The city was heavily bombed and so many people died.” She looked back across the street. “I’m sure they were brave, but I’d hardly call it a battle.”
“A little like this,” said Zeela, nodding at the dead bodies around the street. “These people didn’t go into battle. They were just doing every day, ordinary things when they were gunned down.”
“It’s all so pointless, isn’t it? All this death and destruction. And for what?”
“For what exactly,” said Zeela, narrowing her eyes. “I mean why kill all of these people and not even bother to do anything else.”
“How do you mean?” asked Mary.
“Well were are the Rathtokians? Why haven’t they followed up after their attack?”
Mary nodded. Something definitely wasn’t right.
Before the two women could continue their discussion they were distracted by Garon and Cobalt entering back into the main banking area carrying Mrs Yaltos’s body between them. Garon finally laid her arms down and Cobalt followed suit.
“She was a big lady,” said Garon.
“Be free, Mrs Yaltos,” said Cobalt, looking down at the old lady.
Zeela and Mary walked over, Mary turning away quickly when she saw the partially decomposed body of the old lady.
“Strangely I got used to that smell,” said Garon.
“That’s it,” said Zeela, as if something had just flashed across her mind. “The smell.”
“Beg your pardon?” said Garon.
“The smell, Garon, the smell.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty atrocious, but, you know, it happens to us all when we die.”
”Exactly,” said Zeela. “It happens to us all.”
Mary frowned and then realisation dawned on her. “Wait a minute…”
“Your are right,” said Cobalt, “it does happen to us all.”
Garon sighed, rolled his shirtsleeves up and then sat down on a lump of masonry. “What on Hallean are you three talking about.”
“Think, Garon, think,” said Zeela.
And then it dawned on Garon as well. “Oh my word!”
The Doctor and Bren had made good progress. They had turned off the main road and onto Mintokal Avenue, a once tree-lined avenue with beautiful, grand black and white houses. Now it was rubble-strewn, the leaves on the trees all burnt and the white paint of the houses blackened.
“This used to be a lovely street. Always wanted to live down here,” sniffed Bren.
“Tell me a little bit about yourself, Bren,” said the Doctor, as he consulted the readings on his sonic screwdriver. There was a definite reading out there somewhere, but it was very faint. Wherever his TARDIS was it was being shielded.
“Not much to tell really, matey,” he said. “Dad was a drunk, mother was a prostitute. Ran away from home – little town called Kreel. Lived on the streets since.”
“And you never tried to get yourself back on your feet?”
“Oh, always, sir,” said the Doctor, “but there was always some high-up fella or woman in me path. Always someone trying to put me down further than I had already gone.”
“That’s a shame,” said the Doctor. He shook the sonic, frowned and then pocketed it into his jacket pocket. “I am definitely missing something here, Bren.” He closed his eyes and balled up his fists pressing them against his temples. “It’s this new regeneration.” He opened his eyes and looked down at Bren who was looking a little bemused. “It’s like a new pair of shoes. They fit and you can walk in them but they’re not yet entirely comfortable. They aren’t quite in sync with your feet.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?” he said.
The Doctor’s eyes flicked down to the floor where the body of a pretty, blonde woman was lying, her blank eyes staring up to the heavens.
The Doctor broke into a grin and looked back to Bren, clicking his fingers. “And sometimes the very thing you’re missing just slots right into place.”
He dropped to the woman and touched her cheek. She was pale and cold – lifeless. And also still intact.
“We really should try and get out of here, sir,” said Bren, looking around nervously.
“Why?” said the Doctor. He grabbed the woman’s cheeks and pulled. “I knew it. I knew there was something not right here.”
“Well can you explain to me then, sir?” said Bren.
The bodies. Take a look at the bodies, Bren. They’re strewn around. All over the street and the bank. Everywhere.
“Yeah, it’s horrible. Someone should really help put them to rest.”
“It’s not just that, although the fact that no one has come to clear up the area is strange in itself.”
He got to his feet and turned on the spot. “You said you were in those tunnels for seven months, yes?”
“That is correct, yes.”
“Then why haven’t any of these bodies decomposed.”
Bren simply looked at the Doctor. He didn’t respond, he just frowned.
“None of these bodies have decomposed, and do you know why?”
Again, Bren didn’t respond.
The Doctor smiled. “It’s because none of them are real. These aren’t real people.” He knelt down and tugged at the woman’s cheek again. “It’s good stuff, but entirely synthetic.”
Bren sighed and then looked at the Doctor with sad eyes. “Oh, you’ve figured it out then.”
The Doctor cocked his head to the side and frowned. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve figured it out that not everything is as straightforward as you think.” Bren had suddenly lost his crude way of talking and had a more polished, well-rounded voice.
“Are you feeling quite alright, dear chap?” asked the Doctor.
Bren tilted his head back, grabbed at his beard and pulled. It fell away leaving a smooth chin-line. He then grabbed his hair and tugged. Now he was completely bald.
He went into his dirty old coat and pulled out what looked like some form of blaster.
“Bren…” said the Doctor, backing away slightly. Bren’s eyes narrowed. “You can call me Oberen,” he said, aiming the gun at the Doctor. “And my leaders are not going to be very pleased that you interfered with their little experiment.”
To be concluded...
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