Doctor Who_ Companion Piece - Mike Tucker [3]
She pulled the animals to a halt and hopped down from the plough. The kreekgs shook their heads and grunted as she smoothed their muzzles and cooed softly to them. The roar of the shuttle settled into a low rumble, like distant thunder. Anne-Marie could see it arcing down over the horizon. It was probably heading for one of the prairie cities — Treel or Braak, one of the cathedral cities.
She stared at the fading trail against the blue of the sky, wondering what these strangers from other worlds were like. Apart from the priests and monks and other Church functionaries who mingled freely with the populace, in twenty years no one had ever actually seen an offworlder. They took the grain that was grown, the crops that were harvested, they paid good money to the farmers that worked the fields, but they remained mysterious, almost mythic figures.
The old men in the taverns were always quick to offer their stories about what the strangers were like; that they were tall, blue-skinned giants with flaming hair; that they were so ugly that only the holiest of Church men could bear to set eyes on them. Anne-Marie had heard dozens of different tales since she was a child, and had believed none of them.
One of the kreekgs lowed softly, pawing at the ground with a hoof. Anne-Marie scratched its ears. 'Don't worry. It's just the machines of the off-worlders:
The animal shook its head free of her grasp, its eyes wide with fear. It butted at its companion's side, straining against the straps of the plough. Anne-Marie frowned. The animals had heard the transport noise before, and it always startled them, but they soon quietened down. Now they seemed to be getting more and more agitated.
She caught hold of the reins, trying to calm the skittish beasts. W ith a bellow of fear, the animals reared up, jerking Anne-Marie off her feet and sending her sprawling in the furrowed earth. She scrabbled desperately to catch hold of the reins as kreekgs and plough set off at an oblique angle across the field, the steel blades cutting a ragged swathe through the neat lines of freshly planted crops.
Anne-Marie struggled to her feet. 'I can see me digging out grandmother's old recipe for kreekg stew before the day is out she muttered. W iping her hands on her mud-splattered smock, she set off after the careering animals, boots squelching in the soft soil. She picked her way carefully through the neat rows of seeds, watching every footfall. The kreekgs were prairie animals, better built for haulage than for speed, so she would soon catch up with them. Besides, when they reached the fence, there was nowhere else for them to go.
A strangled whinny of pain made her look up in alarm. Both animals had stopped and were stamping at the ground, thrashing their heads from side to side.
`W hat in the name of God . . . '
Then it hit her. A wave of sickness and nausea that made her gasp out loud. Seconds later, she fell to her knees, grasping at her forehead, pain like white hot needles lancing through her skull. The agonised bellowing of the kreekgs was joined by something else now: a deep, resonant trumpeting, rising and falling. W ind whipped at her hair. Through streaming eyes she saw the air before her start to blur and shimmer, solidifying like curdling milk.
The pain began to build, and Anne-Marie screamed out in agony as, with a shattering roar, a large, silver cube appeared amongst the neat furrows of the field.
Her skull throbbing as if it would burst, Anne-Marie crossed herself clumsily and tried to haul herself to her feet, stumbling away from the strange cube. Bile rose in her throat, and for a moment she thought
that she would pass out.
W ithout warning, one side of the cube started to move, sliding outwards on gleaming metal runners. Blue lightning arced from the open box, tearing at the sky. Puddles of rainwater started to hiss and boil, the field was lit