CODE: S2/S4
Episode Four
Greg Miller
The Sword of Honour
Night fell over Senate Square.
In Federation Internment Camp 5486, Vlaash led Xzalnyr and his troops in prayer. Before the assembled company, the hologram of the sword was projected. Vlaash was pleased to note the increased reverence the image of the holy object brought to the group.
When the prayer was over, Xzalnyr came to the front to address the honour guard. “Today has been an unusual day in our long imprisonment. It has brought us news that the sacred Sword of Tuburr has fallen into alien hands. This is something which we cannot accept. It besmirches the honour of every Martian. It falls to us, long shunned by our kinsmen, to restore the Sword of Tuburr to the Martian Empire. No one, not Nick, not this Doctor, will stand in our way.”
He switched off the hologram. “Tonight, these walls that have sheltered us will cease to be our prison. Tonight, we liberate the Sword of Tuburr from alien bondage. Tonight, we write our names on the pages of history!”
* * *
The Doctor sat by himself at the kitchen table. He looked up fondly at Falex, curled up asleep on a couch under the window. There were plenty of rooms in the combined shop/residence, but somehow the kitchen, the hearth, had become his favourite place.
In any case, it made things easier for Nick, who was still having problems with the non-Euclidian geometry of the unique space-time event that was now their home. Wherever Nick was in the place, all he had to do was follow his nose to find the kitchen.
He gathered together the playing cards that were strewn over the table and began to shuffle them. These cards were one of the few things he still had from the TARDIS, and their link back to the life he once enjoyed was always reassuring.
Time to try to get in touch with his own subconscious. A simple tool, like a deck of cards, could allow a skilled user to rummage around in the hidden depths. Back on Earth, people used to believe that the future could be revealed at the turn of a few cards, but then humans were always seeing patterns and connections that weren’t really there.
A simple spread… The first two cards spoke of people - the King of Clubs, a true and faithful friend who could be relied upon in times of hardship, and the Eight of spades, false friends or traitors. Examine relationships closely. Hmmm. Shuffle the remaining cards and… Nine of Diamonds, an adventure or change of scenery, and the Ace of Spades, the death card or just plain bad news.
Shuffle again and… Oops! That card shouldn’t have fallen out. The Ten of Diamonds, a cloud of red specks falling to land on the Ace of Spades. Money or maybe greed, possibly tied into the bad news? One last card… Two of Spades. A complete or sudden change, maybe a death. Two death cards, not a good sign.
So what were the cards pointing at? The future he saw on Alpha Mondas, that was a complete change with far too much death tied up in it. True and false friends, adventures, bad news and money… He glanced up at Falex. If there was any truth in what the cards, and hence his subconscious, were hinting at, some arrangement to ensure the lad had a place of safety when the Doctor had to deal with more dangerous matters needed to be made. Perhaps EnalcKarnip could help?
But that was something for tomorrow.
* * *
The alarm sounded unexpectedly in the control centre.
“This control panel shows that the entry to the confinement area has been breached!” trilled Blooradab.
Hir colleague strode over, gently but firmly moving the hexapod aside. “I’m switching the camera to the interior of the holding area. I count ten Martians, apparently engaged in some ceremony. Do you concur?”
The Alpha Centaurian peered over the Draconian’s shoulder, hir single eye blinking rapidly. “I agree. But if the Martians are all there, then who or what has broken the door?”
“I’m switching to the door camera,” said Vishkalaar. “No sign of anyone there either, though the door is plainly removed from its housing. Who was on duty today and were there any visitors?”
“It was Alf. One moment… Her records show that a being called Nick visited, but he left many hours ago. Could he have planted a bomb of some kind? Alf is not very experienced in her duties here, and I have even heard that she is a secret Greeny-lover!”
“Idle gossip and uninformed speculation waste time. Since there is no one in this facility that shouldn’t be here, the prisoners are accounted for. And officer Alf has shown herself to be both loyal and capable in performing her duties. I will go and find out what has happened.” The rebuke inherent in Vishkalaar’s words caused the hexapod to blush turquoise with embarrassment.
The Draconian strode over to the interior door and indicated to his colleague to open the door. Turning to the opening, he felt something clamped his throat in a vice-like grip. The last thing Vishkalaar saw before he slumped unconscious to the floor was the prisoners in the hallway behind the door.
“Do not move, do not touch the control panel!” Xzalnyr’s commanding presence cowed the other guard, who stepped back from the control panel. “We do not wish to hurt you, and will not unless you act against us.”
“But, but, but…” Blooradab pointed first at the screen and then at the Martians who now occupied the room, “how can you be here and still in the common area?”
“You should not believe everything your eye tells you. Now, we need some information…”
* * *
The Doctor stood in the kitchen, putting away the last of the clean crockery. The only thing that needed cleaning now was the espresso machine. Nick had to learn that a good cup of coffee needs well maintained equipment!
As he removed the coffee grounds holder, the Doctor heard a sudden crashing noise from the front of the shop. Looking up, he saw that Falex was no longer where he had been sleeping.
“Falex?” The Doctor moved towards the shop area, concerned that the noise he had heard was much louder than the lad could have caused without some substantial physical damage, possibly even to himself…
Silhouetted in the doorway were several bulky forms, the limited light flashing red from their eyes. Ice Warriors. The Doctor’s blood ran cold. Had they gotten hold of Falex?
Stepping back quickly and quietly behind the wall between the shop and the kitchen, the Doctor thought quickly. If Nick had trouble with the layout of their new home, surely these creatures would be no better off. That could buy him time to find Falex and get the boy to a place of safety.
The Doctor headed up the stairs and into his bedroom. The room had an aquatic ambience invoked by the blue lava lamp on the bedside table.
Also on the bedside table was his datacom. Snatching it up, he thought furiously. Security forces? No, if the Warriors had Falex, he might be injured in the battle. Nick! He’d had some dealings with members of this race earlier, he’d put Falex’s safety first and he was a good man in a hard situation.
Calling up Nick’s contact details, the Doctor crouched down out of sight.
Come on, Nick, answer!
* * *
Amazing!
Nick had found that the different races on Alpha Centauri tended to socialise within their own species. As the only human on the planet (or, it now seemed, one of two), he was neither rejected nor particularly welcome at the venues he visited on his nights out on the town. He just got some very odd looks.
Tonight, as a lark, he had decided to try a night club of the natives of this planet. The Alpha Centaurians look so ungainly and awkward on the surface of the planet, but this ignored the fact that the hexapods were originally aquatic.
So here he was, kitted out with a transatmospheric buffering circlet around his forehead, in the underwater club. The transformation of the clumsy natives to graceful undersea dancers was startling! The music pulsed through the water, making the experience a lot more physical than in an above-water venue. The lighting was also quite different , and visibility faded across the length and breadth of the venue. The dark areas were enhanced by the vibrant colours that flowed through the Alpha Centaurian skin in tune with their emotions, much as their tentacles writhed rhythmically in tune with the music.
The virtual weightlessness… Fantastic!
In fact, this night was nothing less than the mutt’s nuts. A place to visit again!
And as Nick danced the night away, he was totally oblivious to the beeping, flashing and vibrating of his datacom in the cloakroom.
* * *
The Doctor glared at the datacom. No help there. He pocketed it and headed back towards the darkened corridor, conscious of rasping breath and heavy footsteps getting closer.
Damn.
Pulling the wardrobe door open, the Doctor slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind himself.
Lumbering across the room, the Martian scanned the contents as he passed. There appeared to be no hiding places, except for the wardrobe against the far wall. He reached for the door…
* * *
Xzalnyr waited impatiently as his men carried out the search. It appeared that the human who had visited them earlier was not present in the dwelling tonight. In many respects, that was a good thing. Unwittingly, the one called Nick had provided the information that necessitated this nocturnal raid. He did not deserve to be punished for it, and his absence ensured this would not occur.
“Commander!” Vlaash pushed into the room excitedly, carrying the broken Sword of Tuburr. “It was in some kind of workshop out the back…”
“The fools have hot harmed it, have they?”
“No, Commander. It appears that the sacred sword was being stored there for reasons I cannot readily ascertain.”
“Then all is well, Vlaash. Or will be when the sword must be removed from this planet and returned to New Mars. Whatever our brethren there have done in turning against the Federation, it is still the place where the sword most belongs.”
“You forget, Commander Xzalnyr, that the place the Sword of Tuburr most belongs is our original home planet, great Mars itself.”
“Until we have a weapon of great power, we cannot wipe the vermin from our true home. To try to do so would mean that we become extinct and we would never reclaim Mars. But with the Sword of Tuburr in our possession...”
Vlaash bowed to his leader. “Undoubtedly your knowledge of matters martial far exceeds my own.”
“I will take three of our troop and head for the spaceport. You and the others must ensure that whoever is in this place cannot raise the alarm.”
* * *
In the Doctor’s bedroom, the Warrior concluded his brief but pointless search of the wardrobe. Aside from a number of garments, it was empty. As the Martian lumbered out of the room, the wardrobe door closed by itself.
After a brief period, it opened again and the Doctor emerged. He imagined the sequence of events would have looked like something from an old movie. But, more importantly, he’d been right. He’d imagined the way it had felt before - the feeling of falling and of nausea - and had managed to project himself a brief period of time into the future, long enough to avoid the searching Ice Warrior. It hadn’t felt so awful this time.
And that gave him an idea…
* * *
The Doctor stared into the air before him, concentrating on the feeling that had saved him earlier and on Falex. And there he was, asleep on the couch in the kitchen. The obvious thing to do was to reach out and pick him up.
But that raised the question - how had Falex vanished in the first place? If someone else had grabbed him, to do so now would change history. But if he didn’t pick up Falex, he might also change history. What to do to preserve the web of time? A paradox of any size could attract the unwelcome attention of the Dommervoy.
A hard question with an easy answer. He reached forward and drew Falex to him. At least he would be safe, and any consequences can be dealt with later.
“Doctor?” The boy awoke suddenly, obviously unsure of his whereabouts. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Shh, lad.” The Doctor pressed his finger to Falex’s lips. “I need you to keep quiet. We have intruders and you need to stay here and attract no attention.” Even in the blue half-light, Falex’s eyes were attentively wide-open. “Here, behind the bed. Don’t move and don’t make a sound until I come back for you.”
* * *
Creeping down the corridor, the Doctor could hear the heavy tread of one of the Martians before him. Given enough time, he could try to create some kind of solar weapon, like the one that had been so successful when he’d encountered the Warriors on the moon. But time wasn’t available, so his best option would be lure the intruders out and away from Falex.
Avoid the creaking fourth step and… The kitchen appeared to be empty. That’ll make things much easier - unless the Warrior upstairs suddenly decided to come back down.
Crouch down by the door and… Why were the Warriors in the shop area sitting together? Almost like they were waiting for something.
Now, what can we see? They didn’t appear to have their wrist-mounted sonic disruptors, although it looked as though their armoured wrists are designed to hold them. Nick had said the Ice Warriors in the interment camp were disarmed, and it was too much of a coincidence for another squad of Martians to be here so soon after Nick’s visit.
Damn. It was a big risk, but it would clarify matters quickly…
The Doctor rose to his full height and stepped into the shop area. “Are you gentlemen here on business, or just browsing?”
Somewhat alarmingly, the five scaled creatures immediately approached him. Stepping back, the Doctor prepared to turn to the back door… And found himself held fast by the sixth Warrior, who had crept downstairs with surprising quietness.
* * *
Arse!
Having been underwater for some time, Nick surfaced for a drink - he’d heard that Ossoban Soul Killer was an experience not to be missed. But in his holdall, Nick found a text message on his datacom that the Doctor had tried to call, but no voice message. The datacom was something that he carried more because it might one day be useful than because he had a use for it. And the first time someone had called him, he didn’t even hear it.
OK, just call him straight back. It may have been important. Come on, answer, answer…
“Hello?” Falex’s voice unexpectedly burst into his ear.
“Falex mate? It’s Nick. Is the Doctor there?”
“He’s gone downstairs. He told me to stay still and quiet, that there were intruders, but I answered your call because I thought it was too noisy…”
“OK, look Falex, I want you to do what the Doctor said - stay quiet and don’t go anywhere else. I'll be back as soon as I can.” Still dripping, Nick hailed a gyrocab.
As the cab began to climb, Nick continued to talk to Falex. “What happened after the Doctor went downstairs?”
“It was quiet for a while, but now there’s noise coming from downstairs. It sounds like things crashing together.”
“What?! Can you see anything… No, cut that! Don’t go looking, stay in the room. I’m on my way now…”
Bollocks. Bollocksbollocksbollocks. Why was the nightclub so far from home?
* * *
The gyrocab landed a few doors down from Honest Doc’s 2nd Hand Curio Shop. Surprise might be of the essence against whatever had ripped the door off its hinges.
Scanning the street ahead for anything able to be used as a weapon, Nick cautiously approached his home. A piece of pipe, a stone, a bottle, anything… One bad thing about living in the political capital of the Federation - the streets were kept real clean! No weapons to be had.
For whatever reason, the shop was lit at this time of the night - his experience at creeping across it in the dark wouldn’t be much use tonight.
Moving in low to minimise the chance of being seen in the doorway, Nick was prepared for anything… Anything, that is, but the sight of the Doctor and Vlaash engaged in polite conversation while another five Ice Warriors were eating salad from the Doctor’s best bowls.
“And this is an automatic pineapple, which is useful for… What are you doing down there, Nick?”
Typical! Trust the Doctor to be the first to notice. Nick climbed to his feet, brushing some muddy dusty from his knees. “Um, hi. Doctor, what is going on here?”
“You appear to have missed a night of misunderstanding, my boy. It appears that the sword that was in that box… But I should let good Vlaash here explain things.” The Doctor held a hand out towards the Martian, nodding genially.
“Greetings again, Nick. It is my sad duty to advise you that, earlier today, Commander Xzalnyr instructed me to keep some information from you. I advised you that the sword was an heirloom blade of one of the great houses. It was, in fact, the battle blade of Tuburr, the first great warrior king of Mars. It holds a unique place in our history, and it needed to be recovered immediately. Due to our being imprisoned, Xzalnyr felt that stealth and guile were required.”
“Although, of course, I’d gladly have handed back such an important artefact,” interrupted the Doctor.
“But we were not to know that,” continued the Priest of Oras. “Xzalnyr’s plan was simplicity itself. Using the holoprojector you left with us, we recorded an image of our troop at worship…”
This time Nick interrupted. “And tricked your guard into the chamber and overpowered them. I hope you didn’t harm Alf!”
“Shsurr Alf was not present at the time. However, you are incorrect about the plan. What the Federation does not understand is that our role was largely ceremonial. As such, the enhancements to the bodies of our warriors were running on the lowest power. By increasing the power levels, the armoured barriers proved to be ineffective against us. The hologram simply concealed our departure, and allowed us to get close enough to render our guards unconscious.”
“Your telling us you could have escaped at any time?” Nick’s head tilted to the side with puzzlement. “If that’s the case, why haven’t you escaped before now? Why wait fifty years?”
“Our troop swore an oath to protect the Federation headquarters. When New Mars broke away from the Federation fifty years ago, our overriding duty was to that oath. We had hoped that the Federation and New Mars would heal the rift between themselves, but this has not yet happened. In the meantime, we wait. It was not until the Sword of Tuburr that we had a reason to do otherwise. Information the Doctor has obtained shows that a small space ship was stolen, presumably by Xzalnyr. The sword is safely journeying to New Mars.”
Nick shook his head in disbelief. “Now that you are free, what will you do?”
“We are not free, Nick. We are still bound by our oath. We will be returning to the internment camp. In the morning, which the Doctor has suggested is best.”
“Less opportunity for misunderstanding your return as escaped prisoners sneaking around in the dark,” confirmed the Doctor.
Nick looked from the Martian to the Doctor and back again, shaking his head in confusion.
“It’s their way, Nick. We have to accept it.”
“OK, whatever.” A beat. “Where’s Falex?” Nick ran across the shop to the kitchen, and found the young Taurean seated at the table, a bowl of ice cream and the accounting text in front of him. The pattern on his face flared a particularly excited shade of red. The boy jumped up, wrapped his arms around Nick and held on tight. “Come on, mate. Come outside with me. These guys won’t hurt you.”
* * *
The night passed.
The Doctor had taken Falex upstairs and put him to bed.
By the agreement between the Doctor and the Martians, no word was passed on to the authorities. Xzalnyr must have his opportunity to get the sword away.
Nick found himself in conversation with Vlaash, trying to understand what could possibly motivate the Martians. They seemed so alien, and yet their approach to life was commendable. It would bear further examination. When things settled down a bit, he could visit Vlaash and try to suss it out. And maybe he’d see Alf some more, too.
* * *
The sun crept slowly over the horizon, painting the sky through shades of indigo, blue and azure. A new day was dawning over Senate Square.
At Federation Interment Centre 5486, the Doctor and Nick were untying Vishkalaar and Blooradab. Vlaash and the remaining five Martians stood quietly to one side, awaiting their return to custody.
There would be many explanations to be made, and bridges to be rebuilt. But in the area of Senate Square, and over Alpha Centauri generally, a good day was dawning.
It wasn’t the last good day that the planet would see, but the bad days were coming.
Coming soon.
* * *
Epilogue: two days later.
Ishkavaarr watched the Doctor as he worked the hyper-relay device. “Hello? This is a call from Ambassador Ishkavaarr of the Galactic Federation to New Mars, are you receiving me? New Mars - this is a call from Ambassador Ishkavaarr, please respond.” The bearded Gallifreyan scrutinised the equipment, nodded to himself, and turned to the Draconian. “It appears that the hyper-relay is working, and the signal is reaching New Mars, but no-one at that end is replying.”
“Ignoring us? This is grave news indeed, Doctor.”
“Well, exactly why they don’t respond I can’t say. It may be that something has happened to prevent a reply. It may be that something in the close proximity of New Mars is intercepting or blocking the signal. It may be any number of things but, I must say, that your suggestion is probably the most likely.”
The ambassador stroked his beard, staring off into the middle distance. “What are they doing? And what is that sword?”
* * *
In the Imperial Palace of New Mars, a ceremony was underway.
Rank upon rank of Martian warriors stood in formation, facing towards a wide walkway that led to the raised dais of the Emperor himself, who sat patiently on his throne.
A series of harsh notes sounded, and the massed warriors turned as one to the entry, and watched with deceptive impassivity as the immense stone doors opened. Flanked by an honour guard of ranking lords, Xzalnyr proudly strode down the processional carrying the broken Sword of Tuburr with the reverence it was due. As he approached the dais, the Martian horde turned to keep the sword always in their sight.
Trailing a short way behind Xzalnyr and his honour guard were the three warriors who had accompanied him from Alpha Centauri.
As the group approached the dais, the Emperor rose to his feet. “We welcome the return of the Sword of Tuburr and also of Commander Xzalnyr, to whom fell the honour of bearing the sword on the last leg of its journey.”
Xzalnyr assumed a position of obeisance, dropping to one knee and raising the sword over his head, its hilt facing the Emperor. “I pass the stewardship of the Tuburr’s Sword to his heir, our puissant Emperor, Izlyr.”
Izlyr reached forward, grasping the hilt of the sword. The sword inscribed a dazzling arc in the air as the ruler of the Martian Empire swept it above his head. Turning his back on the might of New Mars, he placed the sword on the Martian throne.
Izlyr stepped back onto the ground before the dais, and dropped to the same posture as Xzalnyr. Behind them, the Martian legions followed suit.
For several minutes, silence held sway over the court of New Mars.
Izlyr rose and, turning to face his people once more, felt the profoundest satisfaction. “Let the stars tremble in the firmament, for the return of the Sword of Tuburr means that we can reclaim our homeworld, and lay waste to any who stand in our way!”
Next Episode:
Shadows
CAST
Brian Blessed as The Doctor
Nick Pereira as Nick
Toshiro Mifune as Xzalnyr
Anton Glanzelius as Vlaash
Miles Richardson as Vishkalaar
Stuart Fell as the body of Blooradab
Ysanne Churchman as the voice of Blooradab
Patrick Stewart as Ambassador Ishkavaarr
Greg Miller as Emperor Izlyr
and
Haley Joel Osment as Rahlena Falex
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