Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [49]
Maconsa rubbed his brow. ‘All the men except for Liso and his crew, obviously, with whom we have lost contact…’
‘Maconsa…’
‘General Hovv and the whole eighteenth brigade. Ran and that Doctor creature whom I’ve just seen running loose…’
‘Maconsa, I’m sick of your sniping!’ barked Grek. ‘If you’re not happy with my command then just tell me straight. And if you can think of any better ideas then I am extremely open to suggestions!’
Maconsa fell silent but then lowered his head and mumbled. ‘And Priss of course.’
Grek looked up, frightened. ‘Priss?’
Maconsa felt in his pocket and pulled out Priss’s metal name‐tag. He threw it at Grek. ‘This was found in the trench.’
Grek sank down on his knees. ‘Oh God.’
‘If you’d listened to me…’
Grek was suddenly furious. ‘What? What would I have done? How do you suggest we fight this… whatever it is? By praying?’
Maconsa sat down next to Grek. ‘The first thing we have to do is admit we’re in trouble. Pool our resources. Forget about the Cutch and the war. There’s something else out there.’
He put his head in his claws. ‘I think the Faith is right, Grek. The Keth have returned. And if we’re going to save ourselves we’d better start thinking fast.’
‘Too late. Far too late,’ said Thoss, suddenly, blinking his eyes. His lined face was filled with messianic fervour. ‘Betrushia is finished.’
* * *
The Doctor and Ran had made their way out of the dugout and were carefully threading their way towards the jungle. The night air was heavy with electricity and the strange, fevered cries of the jungle’s mammalian inhabitants.
The Doctor was gazing with no little excitement at the glorious display the rings made in the indigo sky.
‘Breathtaking,’ he concluded.
Ran did not look up. ‘You get used to them,’ he said. ‘Now, Doctor, you said you needed my help. How?’
The Doctor shivered in the night air, missing his hat and coat. ‘Ah… yes. Can you lead me back to where I was found? The place where your comrades were going to roast me. It was a kind of clearing.’
Ran frowned and then his twitching face cleared. ‘Yes, I know where you mean, I have a… I mean…’
He faltered momentarily and then said decisively, ‘I know where you mean. Why do you want to go back?’
The Doctor smiled enigmatically. ‘I have some… er… equipment there. I need to do some tests on those meteorites.’
‘Very well.’
The Portrone led the way into the jungle, starlight making his uniform glow dully.
The thick jungle loomed oppressively around them, the sharp electric tang in the air, which the Doctor could only attribute to the planet’s numbered days, blending with the heady fragrances of a hundred different flowers. He gazed around sadly as they made their way through the dense foliage.
‘Here we are, Doctor.’
They had reached the clearing at last. The Doctor trotted up to the TARDIS and gave his ship an affectionate pat. ‘Hello, old thing.’
Ran was looking at the tall blue box suspiciously, his features glittering in the reflected light of the rings.
‘This is where you keep your equipment?’
The Doctor produced his key. ‘Well, yes and no. Strictly speaking, this is my equipment.’
He opened the TARDIS doors and went inside. In an instant he popped his head back around the door. ‘Coming?’
Ran walked slowly towards the strange box. The Doctor’s voice carried back through the still night air: ‘Wipe your feet.’
Ran disappeared inside and the door closed behind him. For a man who had become blasé about the wonders of his own world, he was about to get a very big surprise.
* * *
Grek and Maconsa marched swiftly through the corridors towards the conference room, their impassive faces now bright, now dark, in the irregular light of the gas jets. In one claw, Grek held Priss’s bloodied name badge. Almost knocking the damaged door off its hinges, he powered into the room.
‘How many troops do we have, Maconsa?’ he asked.
The old surgeon, somewhat revived by Grek’s newly confident mood, cleared his throat. But the news was not good.
‘Hard to say, sir. We lost a good