Doctor Who: Shining Darkness (10 page)

‘She’s impersonating a goddess,’ said Li’ian with disbelief in her voice.

‘Must be something about travelling with me,’ the Doctor said with a grin. ‘They’re always doing it.’

‘Shouldn’t we go and find the segment? I thought that was what we were here for.’

‘Let’s see what happens here, first. If she persuades the Jaftee to go and fetch the segment, we might get caught
while
we’re poking at it. And I’m not sure the Jaftee can cope with another set of gods, just at the moment.’

Enchikka’s little heart almost burst with excitement.

To be honest, he hadn’t been all that impressed with the Chicken of the Apocalypse. It had kept the Jaftee busy for a couple of weeks, but there was only so much mileage you could get out of a bird’s carcass – only so many ways you could arrange the bones, only so many headdresses you could make from the feathers.

No one had expected the Gods of Shining Whatsit to reappear – they’d been visited by gods from the stars twice before, and none of them had left anything behind and none of them had returned. So they weren’t really expecting these new ones to come back either. Although, mused Enchikka, if they’d thought about it for a few moments, it might have been obvious: people – gods, particularly – don’t usually dump something as big as the Sacred Artefact on you, ask you to look after it, and then clear off never to be seen again. Until the Ginger Goddess had spoken, Enchikka would have been just as pleased if the Gods had stayed away. He wasn’t sure what shape their Sacred Artefact would be in, and he suspected that if it had been broken or battered that they might not be too happy.

But this Donna – this Ginger Goddess… Now she was something new! And she had hair a bit like the Jaftee. Not
quite
like the Jaftee (it was darker and curlier) but close enough. The Jaftee were going to get some mileage out of this particular Goddess!

‘The
what
?’ gasped Ogmunee, echoing the Doctor’s disbelief way across the other side of the Jaftee amphitheatre.

‘Sssh!’ hissed Mesanth. ‘Look! They’re bowing down – they’re swallowing it.’

And indeed they were: as Mesanth and Ogmunee watched, the Jaftee began to chant. Gently at first, it built up slowly, more and more voices adding to it as the other Jaftee picked up on it.

‘All hail the Ginger Goddess!’ they sang. ‘All hail the Ginger Goddess!’

The priest, Mesanth noted, was whispering to the other Jaftee – the one with feathers in its hair. It pulled them out, threw them to the ground, and rushed out of the chamber.

Donna would never have admitted it to anyone, but she was actually getting quite a buzz out of this deification business. How many people, she thought, got to be goddesses? Especially
ginger
goddesses. She’d spent her whole life laughing thinly at ginger jokes and comments; occasionally, she’d shouted back (or even, on one occasion, slapped a guy for comparing her to a Duracell battery). But she’d never really been happy with it. As a child, her hair had been brighter – almost as coppery as the Jaftee – and she’d been teased relentlessly. Her mum had told her not to be so sensitive (way to go, Mum!); her dad had told her that ‘red-haired’ (he never used the g-word) children were special. Quite how, he’d never explained, but Donna had appreciated the effort.

But now here she was, on an alien planet, being
worshipped
for her gingerness. If only her dad and gramps could see her now – see how special her hair had made her! And for one silly moment, she even wished her mum could be there to witness it. Maybe Mesanth had a video camera in his shoulder belt…?

The chanting was getting ridiculously loud by now: ‘All hail the Ginger Goddess!’ they were shouting, over and over. David Beckham, eat your heart out!

It was all well and good, Donna realised as she heard Mesanth cough politely behind her. But she had to find some way to turn it to their advantage, to get hold of the precious segment that they’d come here for.

She raised her hands in what she hoped was a goddessy gesture and the chanting began to fade away.

‘My people!’ she shouted, bringing the amplifier closer. ‘My faithful people!’

There was more cheering. This was becoming a bit embarrassing. She glanced back to see Ogmunee rolling his eyes.

‘My first commandment!’ she called. ‘My first commandment is that thou shalt have no other gods!’ Talking in that cod-Biblical way sounded a bit naff. This
was
the twenty-first century after all. She cleared her throat. ‘You will have no other gods,’ she said – although it didn’t sound any less silly. She wondered if she were about to be struck by lightning for blasphemy.

‘No other gods!’ the Jaftee began to chant. ‘No other gods!’

Donna raised her hands again. This was going to take for ever.

‘All your religious bits and bobs,’ she said, wincing a bit at the words, ‘all the stuff from your previous religions. It must be cast out!’

‘Cast out!’ they chanted. ‘Cast out!’

She nodded.

‘Bring everything here – all of it! I must see it before I destroy it! Bring it now!’

‘What’s she playing at?’ she heard Ogmunee whisper.

‘Oh,’ said Mesanth in a low voice. ‘Donna is clever. I was right to bring her down with us. She knows what she’s doing.’

Too right I do, mister
, Donna smiled to herself.

‘Go now!’ she called to her followers. ‘Go now and bring all the blasphemous articles to me – all of them!’ She widened her eyes in what she hoped was a mad fury kind of look.

There was a brief flurry of activity down below, and – backing away from her – the Jaftee began to stream out of the chamber.

Narucchio eventually found it mouldering away at the back of a storeroom full of chipped stone statues, silly costumes and paintings of things with one eye, or dozens of them. They were all the relics, the props, from previous religions. Occasionally, some Jaftee or other would get it into their head that they should have a jolly good clean-out and get rid of them all; but then some older and wiser Jaftee would point out how things inevitably went in cycles, and that if they binned everything the chances were that within a couple of years they’d need them all again to celebrate
some
new belief system.

Once she’d found the Wheel of Shining Thingummy, she got a crowd of Jaftee to roll it, quick-sticks, out of the chamber and along to the meeting pit.

‘I’m impressed,’ said Mesanth in a very flutey voice. ‘You handled that like you were born to it, Donna.’

Donna grinned and gave an imperious little bow.

‘Goddess Donna,’ she corrected him before catching sight of Ogmunee’s scowl.

‘Do you ever smile?’ she asked him. ‘I could get them to make you smile, you know. In fact,’ she added, narrowing her eyes evilly and pushing her face right in front of his, ‘I could probably get them to tear you limb from limb and flush the bits down the loo if I wanted. My people,’ she paused hammily, ‘will obey
my will!
’

‘Don’t push it,’ said Ogmunee. ‘Let’s wait until we have the segment before you get too smug.’

Donna just raised an eyebrow and turned back to the chamber. The handful of Jaftee left – including Enchikka – were staring up at her.

‘Ginger Goddess!’ called Enchikka. He’d let down his hair and was trying to muss it up into an approximation of Donna’s own, but it wasn’t working very well.

‘Yes, oh faithful – um, what was your name again?’

‘Enchikka, oh Ginger Goddess.’

‘Yes, oh faithful Enchikka?’

‘May I humbly crave that you descend to be amongst your people?’

Donna pulled a face.

‘Don’t see why – um,’ she’d forgotten the amplifier, which was probably as well, considering how she’d forgotten to do the voice. She lifted it up again. ‘The Ginger Goddess sees no reason why she should not come amongst you.’

She covered up the amplifier and glanced back at the other two.

‘We’re going to have to go down there to get the segment, aren’t we?’

Mesanth nodded hesitantly.

‘OK then – you two better shush, though. It’s me they’re worshipping. Don’t want you two spoiling it.’

She glared at Ogmunee in particular, fluffed up her hair again, and set off along the ledge towards where she could see a flight of steps leading down to the floor of the chamber.

Behind her, Mesanth and Ogmunee followed.

‘What’s she doing?’ asked Li’ian, pulling herself closer to the rim of the ledge.

‘I think she’s getting ready for panto season,’ the Doctor muttered. ‘I hope she knows what she’s doing.’

‘We’re not going to get a close look at the segment, are we?’

‘I don’t think so – not close up, no.’

Li’ian sighed.

‘Maybe we should just get back to the ship, then.’

The Doctor shook his head.

‘Not yet. I want to make sure that – oh! Hello! Look!’

He gestured down to the floor of the chamber. Through the doorway, a whole host of Jaftee were dragging an
assortment
of costumes and props and bits of wood and metal.

‘There’s more junk down there than in my pockets – ahh! There it is!’

Bringing up the rear of the bizarre little procession, at least a dozen Jaftee were rolling the segment along on its edge, bumping and banging it as they went. It was the biggest artefact they had by far. Although at this rate, thought the Doctor, it might be one of the smallest by the time they got it to the centre of the chamber.

‘Ouch!’ he winced through his teeth as it rolled loose and slammed over onto its side.

‘I wouldn’t worry,’ said Li’ian. ‘Half of that is probably just protective packaging.’

‘Let’s hope so,’ replied the Doctor, not at all convinced.

They watched as the Jaftee dragged it into place along with all their other religious bits and bobs in the centre of the chamber and then backed away, sinking to their knees again in supplication as Donna and her two accomplices descended to the floor.

‘The Ginger Goddess,’ announced Donna, sounding gracious, ‘is pleased.’

‘Why d’you never have a camera when you need one?’ sighed the Doctor. ‘I wonder who the other two are – the tripedal one: would that be Mesanth? He was mentioned in some of those records you showed me.’

Li’ian nodded.

‘The other one, I think, is Ogmunee. Tactical specialist, if I recall correctly. What’s happening now?’

Li’ian shuffled closer to the edge to see.

Donna stood proudly at the edge of the platform at the centre of the chamber, Mesanth and Ogmunee behind her, like faithful acolytes.

‘You’ve done well,’ Donna was saying, waving her hand magnanimously at the collected relics. ‘The Ginger Goddess will now take them away to the heavens for…’ she gestured theatrically towards the ceiling ‘… for… disposal.’

‘She sounds like she’s clearing asbestos out of someone’s attic, doesn’t she?’ the Doctor grinned. ‘Good old Donna!’

‘There’s no need, Oh Illustrious Ginger One,’ said Enchikka with a little bow of the head. He spoke loudly so that the rest of the Jaftee congregation could hear. ‘It is our honour, our duty, to serve the Ginger Goddess by destroying these false relics for you.’

‘Oh-oh,’ said the Doctor.

For a moment, Donna’s face was a picture.

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘No, really.’

‘Please,’ simpered Enchikka – although there was an edge to his voice that didn’t bode well. ‘Allow us to demonstrate our devotion to the Mighty Ginger One by destroying them here, before Her eyes.’

‘The Ginger Goddess appreciates your offer,’ Donna said – and the Doctor saw her glance nervously back towards Mesanth and Ogmunee who were starting to look very worried indeed. ‘But you have already shown yourselves to be worthy followers.’

‘But not worthy enough,’ countered Enchikka, ‘if you will not allow us to perform this duty for you.’

Donna smiled a tight, slightly less than deific, smile.

‘I
am
your Goddess,’ she pointed out.

‘You are indeed, Oh Ginger One. But as you yourself have said, there shall be no other Gods besides you.’

Enchikka gestured with a paw, and, after a moment’s pause, the assembled throng of Jaftee – probably about two hundred of them, the Doctor reckoned – rose from their knees.

‘I suspect that you have duties in the Heavens that will take you away from us soon,’ Enchikka said. ‘And that you may not return. If we are never again to lay our unworthy eyes on Your Flaming Beauty, then we must insist we perform this last duty for You. We will destroy false relics and false gods alike in Your Name.’

‘Sorry?’ said Donna, forgetting her character for a moment. ‘False
gods
?’

Enchikka dipped his head again and made a little gesture with his paw. Suddenly, two or three dozen Jaftee began to move, encircling Donna and the other two.

‘You have no need to fear, Oh Ginger One,’ Enchikka said. ‘It is those two – the gods whose position You have usurped in our hearts – that are false. Together with the false icons…’ He paused for effect. ‘They will burn!’

One minute they were worshipping at her feet, thought Donna, her heart plummeting, and the next they were planning to turn Ogmunee and Mesanth into Joans of Arc.

‘No!’ she shouted, raising her hands.

For a moment, the Jaftee paused. But it was only for a moment. Seconds later, they began moving again, drawing
closer
with a weird mixture of awe and ferocity in their eyes.

‘The thing,’ hissed Donna over her shoulder. ‘Use the thing – the augmenter.’

‘Not close enough,’ said Mesanth, his voice wobbling and warbling all over the place. ‘No!’

At this last cry from Mesanth, Donna turned to see that Ogmunee had pulled out his shiny little gun and was aiming it at the encroaching Jaftee.

‘We’ve no choice,’ grunted Ogmunee, although Donna could see a malicious glee in his eyes. For once, though, she couldn’t argue with his line of reasoning: they were about to be killed by the Jaftee. She could hardly blame him for pulling a gun on them.

Unfortunately, even though the Jaftee probably didn’t know what the chromed tube in Ogmunee’s hand was, they clearly had a good idea that it wasn’t something good; because before Ogmunee could fire it, something hurtled out of the crowd and knocked it clean from his hand. It went tumbling away into the throng where some of the Jaftee pounced on it.