Doctor Who_ The Room With No Doors - Kate Orman [68]
Aoi, the page, was sitting on the ground with his mouth hanging open.
Talker pecked the ground. ‘We are slaves,’ said the bird. ‘We were slaves. We were being transported from our own world, which circles Kapteyn’s Star, to the Caxtarids’ home, the fourth planet of Lalande 21185. They’d been training us as shock troops on the ship, which wasn’t too clever of them.’ The bird squawked and ruffled its feathers. ‘We fought our way free during a Jovian fuel stop, and escaped here in a shuttle.’
Penelope frowned thoughtfully. There was something about the Kapteynian’s explanation that was puzzling her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Still, even if some of the details were over her head, she could follow the gist of it. ‘We have something in common,’ she told the bird. ‘We’re both cut off from our own worlds, in a new and dangerous environment. I propose we assist one another.’
‘What can you do for us, hairy?’ said Talker rudely.
‘I think you know,’ she said. ‘Why else did you bring me here?’
‘We didn’t,’ said Talker. ‘Excuse me.’ The alien squawked, stood up, and laid an egg.
Penelope experienced a moment of intense revulsion, followed by a moment of revelation. She stared at the egg, astonished.
‘Don’t even think it, hair boy,’ said Talker. She picked up the egg in the little hands at the ends of her wings.
‘No,’ said Penelope, ‘I’m female too. You’re a soldier, and you’re female.’
Talker shrugged. ‘Think with one end, lay eggs with the other, no problem.’
She rolled the egg underneath her and sat down on it. ‘I used to be a gardener.
If I ever get back to Kapteyn I’m going to spend a year just pulling worms out of the soil.’
‘Is it going to hatch?’ They both looked up at the page’s voice. His eyes looked as though they were about to jump out of his head.
‘No,’ said Talker. ‘There’s no time for lovey-doving. But sitting on eggs makes me feel better.’ She settled into place. ‘OK, Misht Jate, where were we before I rudely ovulated?’
∗ ∗ ∗
137
Umemi-sama was sitting on a stool in the courtyard castle. The samurai charged up to him, dismounting and bowing, and the Doctor followed suit.
The daimyo gazed down at them for a moment, while the dust settled. He was a good ten years younger than Gufuu, with a thick moustache and a thick waist. His clothes were purple, with white plum-blossoms patterning the cloth. A row of advisers in full armour, one with his face mask in place, sat at right angles. The yard was full of troops, sitting in geometric rows.
The captain said, ‘My lord, we’ve just come from Toshi, where we tried to stop a fire. The blaze was started by a demon with a rifle that shoots flame.
We also found this foreigner, called Isha, who begs an audience with you.’
Umemi took the bizarre report without flinching, which worried the Doctor.
The warlord beckoned to the Doctor, palm down. The Doctor inched forward in the dust.
‘Umemi-sama,’ he said, ‘I’ve come to warn you about a very dangerous object. Very dangerous indeed. It seems as though anyone who comes into contact with it suffers terrible luck.’ The daimyo said nothing, sitting forward on his stool, listening. The Doctor heard the silence around them, the wind softly moving banners. The troops stood stock-still, almost eerily silent. Far away he could hear the calls of men drilling with their weapons. ‘I’ve seen a village destroyed, when they thought the object would bring them luck. The object reached Toshi, and within a day the town was afire.’
The daimyo considered for a moment. ‘What is your advice, Isha-san?’
‘Avoid the object,’ said the Doctor. ‘Act as though it doesn’t exist. Let its curse fall on someone else.’
The portly daimyo shifted back in his seat.
‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘Since I became lord of this