Doctor Who_ Combat Rock - Mick Lewis [38]
‘Och, I don’t believe in ghosts any more, and nor should you,’ Jamie butted in. ‘Look, we’re on your side; we always fight against tyranny, don’t we Doctor?’
The Doctor sighed. ‘Yes, Jamie. If we’re given the chance.’
There was a slight commotion from behind them. The strange party halted to find out the cause. Ussman had tried to make a run for it upon hearing the leader’s pronouncement over their possible fate. One of the guerrillas had caught him and the blade of the machete he was shoving under the trader’s chin was leaving a trickle of blood that was already changing the pattern on the Indoni’s florid shirt. The leader barked something in Papul, and Ussman was pushed forward. His face was contorted with fear. ‘Doctor!’ he shouted, ‘Sabit will not listen to their demands. He will never be swayed by the lives of a few tourists. He has too much stake in Papul.’ The guerrilla guarding him pulled his head back by the hair to silence him, but the leader ordered his man to let the Indoni speak.
‘Sabit not only has control of a thriving tourist industry,’
he gasped, ignoring the blood trickling freely down his neck,
‘he also knows Papul is rich in valuable minerals that are currently being mined by Indoni and even some offworld companies. He will never relinquish such financial boons.’ He turned his attention away from the Doctor and addressed the leader now, his intelligent face eloquent with the desire to impress upon him the inefficacy of the rebel’s plan. ‘Sabit will not care if we live or die. We are of no use to you as hostages.’
‘Then you will die,’ the leader said simply. ‘As we have died. Suffering is nothing new to my people.’
He had an audience now, there on the jungle trail as the leaves drip-drip-dripped away the last of the afternoon rain.
Santi and Wina were huddled together under the rustling vines purely through the need to seek out mutual female company, although still continuing their arrogant disdain for each other even in the face of such adversity; Drew, standing beside them, face bland with all the characterlessness of the morally weak; Budi, small and handsome, a fisherboy caught up in a terrible drama beyond his experience, face pale nevertheless from awareness of the seriousness of their plight; Ussman, eyes no longer dancing with their habitual mischief, but clouded by despair; Kepennis and Wemus, silenced by fear or maybe feelings of shame; Jamie, brow furrowed with concern over Victoria’s fate and their own; and then there was the Doctor, listening carefully to the man wearing the black fur balaclava as he spoke of blood, evil and tragedy on a huge scale.
‘We driven away from our spiritual homes: our holy mountains raped by the invader in search of ore. Our villages bombed, our men tortured, our women raped, because we resist...’ His naked chest was rising and falling as his passion peaked, spurred on by Ussman’s admission of Sabit’s disinterest in the Papuls’ fate. His fury, building for many, many months, many, many years, had found an outlet at last, and inevitably it broke. He marched forward, snatching Wina by the arm and pulled her to him, machete blade resting under her breasts. She struggled gamely, seemingly more worried about losing her almost regal composure in front of Santi than by anything the guerrilla might do. Her face was angry and contemptuous, as if outraged at being so rudely manhandled by someone she obviously considered to be her inferior.
‘How you like to see your women treated like this?’ the guerrilla hissed, addressing Ussman and Budi.
The Doctor and Jamie moved forward as one to rescue the Indoni girl, and promptly moved back as one as a rifle and a machete, respectively, were thrust towards them by guerrillas.
Drew broke the tension. ‘What are you talking about?
These whores are treated like that all the time!’ He was laughing at his own seedy little joke. Wemus had seen and heard enough. He shoved Drew out of his way, and ignoring a machete that lifted to intercept him, seized Wina by her free arm and twisted the girl free of the leader’s grip. He held