Steve Cole - Doctor Who - The Knight, The Fool and The Dead

‘Welcome, people of Andalia,’ said the image. The voice was slightly synthetic and unnatural to the Doctor’s ears; it was speaking through translation software. ‘As we gather here in the sombre shadow of those magnificent Tombs, we thank you for your attention today. We bring warning of the Kotturuh.’

A low murmuring ran through the crowd as spotlights shone up from the stage. Patterns were projected over the swarm of flies, resolving into images of a sinister fleet. A chill went through the Doctor at the sight of each ship writhing like a many-tentacled monster of metal and crystal, groping through the blackness of space.

‘It’s estimated that more than four thousand worlds have been visited by the Kotturuh,’ the Andalian AI said softly. ‘Where once life endured without end, the Kotturuh have brought limits. They judge and decree how long a race can live … The aged wither and die in a matter of heartbeats, while the young know their time is short. And remember – all that life puts in motion, Death brings to an irrevocable end.’

‘Scare-stories,’ the Doctor breathed, thinking of the old man meditating in the Tombs. The holographic images changed, stirring the Doctor as they showed vast piles of bodies strewn all about a city. He grasped only too well what he was seeing. The crowd did not.

‘These are the dead,’ the AI said gravely. ‘The truth that this pandemic is real is hard for us to comprehend, let alone cope with. On each world they desecrate, the Kotturuh leave behind corpses to be counted in billions. Bodies that corrupt and decay against all rules of nature! And Kotturuh attacks are impossible to predict or prevent. They come from nowhere … attack anywhere …’

As moans and mutterings swelled from the crowds, the Doctor realised that here – to the peoples of this universe – death was a rare accident affecting the tiniest number, not an inevitable fate. How could any population adjust overnight to such a brutal, seismic shift in reality?

‘You will have heard stories, perhaps, of the aftermath of Kotturuh attack,’ said the AI. ‘Some shattered survivors plant their dead in the ground in the hope they will grow again. Or launch them into space in the hope they will some day reach wiser healers than ours. Or preserve them as best they can so as to convince themselves that some form of life endures …’

The crowd was starting to grow restless, upset. Where is all of this going? thought the Doctor.

The images overhead switched off and the AI glowed more brightly. ‘We are here today because we offer a way to escape this anguish.’ The heckling subsided. ‘A way to reject the Kotturuh’s “gift” of death that will allow your lives to go on just as they always have. It is—’

‘Lifeshroud!’ The voice rumbled out from the sky like thunder over a rippling montage of inspiring images – Kotturuh ships vanishing! Bodies of the dead disappearing! Children smiling and looking up to clear and radiant skies!

And while people were looking at the cavalcade of images above, a girl shimmered into existence in the middle of the stage.

The Doctor could tell from the fast breathing, from the sheen of sweat on her sandy-yellow skin, that the girl was real. She stood in a canvas bodysuit, over which she wore a golden chainmail vest overlaid with transparent layers of printed circuits. Connecting cables coiled down her thighs and around her upper arms. On her head, over a mane of hair like wild green seagrass, she wore a sort of golden skullcap, its edges bristling with fibre-optic strands that disappeared into the skin around her face. The girl looked about 15. Her features were sharp and thin except for the owl-like eyes, round and liquid amber.

The Doctor began to push his way through the crowd for a closer look.

‘Lifeshroud can offer YOU salvation,’ the AI declared. ‘Lifeshroud is a unique protective exoskeleton with matter-transmission capability. Its Organo-Dynamic force screens repel one hundred per cent of necrotic actions. While you wear the Lifeshroud, you will endure forever just as nature decreed – because Death Can’t Touch It.’

The slogan striped the seething flies above.

‘Some of you may know of the farming planet, Destran, whose abundance of crops has fed the inner worlds of the Destrel System for centuries. Only two years ago, the Kotturuh brought down death on Destran – leaving both farmer and crop to endure no more than forty summers.’ The AI gestured to the figure quivering on the stage. ‘This is a child of Destran. Her name is Estinee. In a matter of weeks she is condemned to die. It is a death sentence that can only be lifted by the Complete Organo-Dynamic Systems technology of … LIFESHROUD.’

Andalians swapped nervous, hopeful glances.

Estinee spoke, the stage itself amplifying her words. ‘The Kotturuh came to Destran … they took life from everything: people, plants and livestock. Anything older than the life-limits they imposed died.’ She lowered her head. ‘I was touched by a Kotturuh.’

A murmuring buzzed through the crowds, swift as the flies through the air.

‘They marked her for death,’ the AI intoned. ‘But if she wears her Lifeshroud and maintains it correctly, Estinee will go on to lead the life she was meant to – her forever life. Purposeful. Endless. Unstoppable.’

‘How does it work?’ The Doctor cupped his hands over his mouth and raised his voice. ‘I mean, I can stand here and say my coat stops a combine harvester, but until people see proof, why should they believe me?’

‘The gentle-being at the front doubts the efficacy of Lifeshroud! A test is in order.’ The AI held out its hand and a stubby tool with a square nozzle. ‘This is an energy probe, used in heavy industry to separate hard minerals from those with lower melting points. I shall now demonstrate the Lifeshroud’s Complete Organo-Dynamic Systems in action by exposing the child of Destran to the energy probe’s output …’

‘What?’ The Doctor frowned. ‘Wait—’

A beam of intense white light shone out from the probe’s nozzle. Estinee screamed – but then a golden haze haloed about her, deflecting the beam. From the front row the Doctor could feel the heat, and clocked the scorch marks blackening the stage floor. Estinee held out her arms like a gymnast concluding an Olympic routine. Her breathing grew hoarse and ragged. Her skin began to bubble and peel. The gathered Andalians were transfixed, marvelling, jaws hanging slack.

Then the probe switched off and Estinee fell to her knees, groaning with pain. The AI’s voice rose like a preacher’s as it closed the sales pitch. ‘This is the power to cheat the touch of Death in any form!’ it boomed. ‘This is the power of Lifeshroud! We have Lifeshrouds adapted for Andalian physiognomy in stock today! One size fits all. Simply click-scan the symbol overhead with your outer-world trade stamp to make payment and your Lifeshroud will be delivered automatically …’

The symbol in the sky, like a QR code painted by Salvador Dali, flashed and flickered as Andalian hands shot up to scan and buy. Robotic vending machines spun out like drones from inside the stage, speedily distributing Lifeshrouds to those who’d purchased. Estinee was trying to smile through her tears, the gold haze fading from her chainmail now. ‘Lifeshroud saved me,’ she cried, all but adding a Hallelujah! ‘Fully charged, it will save you too!’

The Doctor stared around at the sudden frenzy in the plaza. He felt he’d wandered into the Old Wild West just as a travelling medicine show had come to town, and now everyone was snapping up elixir for its promised health benefits. He looked back at Estinee. ‘Hello. Sorry to interrupt again!’ he shouted. ‘But after absorbing a blast of energy like that you need a medical. And I’m the Doctor!’ He pulled out the sonic screwdriver ready to play it over her.