Menagerie - Martin Day [50]
So, this was the source of the diverse civilizations that now sprawled across the planet. Once the people had left the city it had been built upon and forgotten, until now its very existence had become the stuff of speculation and legend.
The Doctor marvelled at what deceptive progress mankind and nature could achieve over a millennium or three.
And yet the lines of the place, its austere minimalism, worried the Doctor. This was no neglected colony, but neither was it a harsh penal institute or correction centre. Its very form, and the frequency of the bunkers and rusted military vehicles, hinted at a hawkish conformity, balanced by occasional concessions to comfort and the needs of the family.
As this thought passed through the Doctor's mind the spiny foot of the creature that carried him stamped down on a toy ark, upended in a gutter choked with dust and dirt. The wood, made brittle by the passing of time, splintered, spilling out a few plastic animals.
The Doctor had previously thought that the Menagerie of Ukkazaal, if it existed at all, would perhaps be the underground city's zoo. He had expected to find little more than the faintest impression of old corpses, still locked within sorry cages and cracked vivaria. But the very existence of these moth-creatures indicated that large numbers of animals had existed here, enough to found a bestial civilization of their own. And the fact that the city was so clearly a military research area was more worrying still.
What had caused the humans to leave this place? Was it biological warfare, nuclear radiation, or something more mundane? Perhaps a period of galactic contraction had left them stranded without supplies. Perhaps some war had spilled over on to the planet's surface, with most of the population taken away as prisoners or executed and thrown into mass graves.
The Doctor was puzzled by the twilight that gently coloured in the outline of the buildings and streets. Surely, this far below ground, everything should be dark. Either there was some fissure that let in a glint of the surface's dull grey light or . . . The Doctor craned his head around slowly, trying to ascertain the light's source.
Eventually he saw it. A mile or so in the distance was an unremarkable squat building, a few radio masts and chimneys gathered together at its rear. Uniquely among the buildings of the old city its rooms and doorways spilled yellow light, although the Doctor could detect no figures within. Its lights cast little slivers of brightness through the gloom and up towards the artificial sky half a mile or so above his head. Whoever was breathing life back into the machinery and buildings of the city had no idea of the potential dangers.
The moths on the other hand seemed to be quite content in the dark and, indeed, they were moving in a direction that took them far away from the building. The construction shrank slowly into the distance, a single candle slowly snuffed out in a black and stifling Hell.
Araboam locked the door carefully and kicked off his boots. All the while the young woman watched him carefully. She smiled as he turned to her. 'I thought the knights' thoughts were always on the Higher,' said Kaquaan.
'Maybe,' grunted the knight. 'But sometimes we feel the call of our baser instincts. Sometimes I think we are not more civilized than the bulls and cows I watched in the fields when I was young.'
'Situation has meant that I rely on such instincts,' said Kaquaan.
'I'll make sure you're paid,' said Araboam harshly. 'Think of me when you repent and beat the evil out of yourself.'
'I'm sure I will.'
Kaquaan watched as the knight began to pull off his armour, making a neat pile of metal and leather towards the bottom of the small bed. The rest of the room was bare and unremarkable. A