THE CHOSEN CURSE
Chapter 1 "Doctor?" Donna said, crouched down on the floor, tapping the Doctor on the bottom of an exposed foot. "I know you're having fun playing with your TARDIS, but you've been under there for the past four hours. Am I going to have to pull you out of there by your ankles?" Donna was eying the Doctor's brown pinstripe encased legs, like she was quite serious. He grunted something, but otherwise seemed to be ignoring her as he lay flat on his stomach amid a tangle of wires and cables. She noticed that his shoes looked more dark gray than white. "You really should throw those trainers in the wash, you know." She nagged him. "They look like something you found while out bin diving." Donna frowned when she thought she heard the Doctor mutter something that sounded suspiciously like a sarcastic, 'Yes, mother.' Having noticed something wrong with the TARDIS' navigational circuits, the Doctor had stuck his trusty sonic screwdriver in his mouth, and shimmied under the console deck's grating to sort it. Leaving Donna to rattle about the old space-time ship on her own. She'd gone into the library. Wandering the stacks, Donna sighed, deciding that she didn't feel like reading. Leaving the library, she went for a walk to the TARDIS' various recreational areas. Only to find that the squash courts, roller coaster simulator, karaoke room and the swimming pool's virtual surfboarding instructor, held no attraction for her. Although she did sit for a while beside the pool, admiring the 3-D image of the instructor. He reminded her of one of those blokes on Baywatch. Having made herself some tea, and changed outfits several times—she finally settled for dark tan trousers with an embroidered turquoise blue blouse under a tan jumper vest, Donna was getting seriously bored. And that in itself was quite a feat, she thought, considering where she was. Which is why Donna was presently staring down the hatchway at the Doctor's dirty trainers. "Doctor? I don't suppose you could drop me off at some nice intergalactic shopping centre somewhere, could you?" Donna asked, peering under the grating, trying to see his face. She chose to ignore his arse. It wasn't that she didn't like looking at men's bum's, but this was a skinny alien bubble-shaped bum. Definitely not her type. "I mean, do they have anything like a Tesco's in other parts of the universe? Or is that only an Earth thing?" Donna wondered. Heaving a sigh of resignation, the Doctor set the sonic down and turned to look at her. "Look Donna, if you don't want to hang about while I fix this, I could always drop you off home to have a nice visit with your mum." The Doctor suggested. "Eh—no. It's fine. I guess I can go make some more tea. Or coffee. Or...something." Donna said hastily. She felt a twinge of guilt. While she missed her mum Sylvia, she didn't miss Sylvia's constant nagging. "Thank God I'm not like that!" Donna thought. To the Doctor she said, "You really shouldn't spend so much time in that position. You'll get muscle cramps." The Doctor only grunted. Shrugging, Donna turned and went towards the kitchens. "Want anything?" She called out. "No. Thank you. Donna." The Doctor said shortly, in a voice that clearly said, 'go away'. The Doctor had pulled himself up through the hatch, and was sitting cross legged on the metal deck, holding a pair of cables in his hand. It was important to him that his companions have a good time while traveling with him, and a bored Donna was an unhappy Donna, and an unhappy Donna was very loud. Slipping on his glasses, he was using his sonic screwdriver to fix the coupling on one of the cables. Suddenly, the end of the cable blew up in a shower of sparks. Giving a startled yelp of pain and snatching away his burnt fingers, the Doctor dropped the cables. He was immediately flung backwards as the ship suddenly sprang to life and abruptly keeled over. Donna had thankfully been near the handrails, and held on for dear life, as the TARDIS began pitching and tossing through space like a rudder-less ship caught in a November gale. The central column glowed bright green and began a strange pulsing, as it moved up and down. "What the...? What? What!" The Doctor exclaimed, still sprawled on the floor, staring at the control console in disbelief, "She's taken herself out of park and is flying on her own. That's...impossible! I left her in emergency parking mode! The TARDIS isn't supposed to do that." "Well, apparently that's what it's doing, spaceman. Question is, what're ya' gonna' do to stop it before I get TARDIS sick?" Donna shouted, just before a particularly violent wrench of the ship made her lose her grip on the handrail. She sprawled on the floor, nearly falling on top of the Doctor. "If you get sick on my trainers, you're washing them." Was all he said, helping her to her feet . They both went staggering towards, then nearly crashed into, the ship's controls, as the TARDIS gave another violent lurch. "Where are we going?" She asked, gripping the edge of the console for dear life. "Erm—haven't a clue." He answered, looking at her with a perplexed expression on his face, which had a strange blue-green cast to it, a reflection from the brightly lit central column. He flashed her a delighted grin, saying, "Isn't that brilliant?" It was a broad green land, with only a few scattered patches of forest, and flanked by rocky hills. The valley appeared peaceful and deserted, watched over by a benign yellow sun. A large eagle-like bird with red and gold plumage soared overhead, searching for its dinner. It circled higher and higher until it became a minute speck in the sky. Its keen eye spotted movement in a ravine below. Flipping its wing tips up, the eagle swooped downward at a sharp angle, a maneuver which would have made any dive-bombing pilot jealous. At the last moment though, the bird realized that he was seeing a predator instead of prey, and shot back up into the sky. Sergeant Nazene took a sip from his aqua carrier to wet his dry throat. He pushed back his black helmet, wiping his sweating forehead with the sleeve of the dark green battle suit he was wearing. The thin pale-skinned man watched the eagle approach, then fly away in a hurry. He nodded his head in approval. "Clever bird, that. Sometimes I wish I had a set of wings." He said to the man next to him. "Anyway, he's got more sense than we do. We're sittin' swampbills out here." "If you don't mind me saying so sir, that's the kind of talk that'll get you shot for treason, Sergeant." Corporal Fapter told him. The chubby young soldier was sat next to his sergeant, with his back against the side of the ravine, his laser-rifle lying across his lap. "At least, as long as Commandant Ringstaff is around to inform on you to the Emperor." "The emperor!" Nazene snorted. "Tell you what, corporal? The man should of had his brains melted down into soap. I mean, it's not like he's using them, is it? "Yeah, but who'd buy it? It'd probably be all minging." Fapter chuckled, glad he had a regular bloke like Nazene beside him, and not some imperial officer who'd bought his commission. Sliding wary, sidelong glances around him to be sure no one was listening, the corporal leaned over and added in a whisper, "Truth to tell, sarge, I don't much like this place. Had bad dreams about it last night, I did." "That's probably just from the dried bladder root you had for dinner, corporal. That would give anyone nightmares." Nazene joked. But he wasn't smiling. He was experiencing an ominous feeling, as well. "This whole firing squad thing's' pretty daft. At least, right now it is." "What d'ya mean, sarge?" Fapter asked. "Well, not to put too fine a point on things, corporal...here we are, nothing between us and the enemy but this here ditch, outnumbered, with half our weaponry lost or broken, and all the best generals dead. Threating to shoot us for talking out of turn, while waiting to be shot or blown to kingdom come by the enemy, isn't exactly what you'd call a threat, is it?" They were holed up in a shallow crevice that ran along the floor of the valley, probably made by the runoff from winter rains. Part of the tired and battle-weary remnants of the army of Emperor Yenhir, which were scattered over a large swath in the bottom of the valley. Some of the soldiers rested or checked their equipment, while others were anxiously looking towards the west facing hills, whence the enemy was expected at any moment to appear. The emperor's soldiers were there, waiting to fight and perhaps to die, all because of one man and his lust for power. A series of civil wars on their home world had finally resulted in the son of a noble family, named Yenhir, assuming the role of leader of the planet Torsaaga. This man, the dull-witted drug-addicted, pub crawling black sheep of the family in his youth, had, in his adult life, lead a lazy and largely unremarkable political career. Yenhir, through a mixture of outright bribery, adept lies and condemnation of anyone opposing his views as being a traitor, united the planet's city-states, and ended the civil wars. He somehow managed to convince the majority that he was a strong leader, and, over the course of thirty-five years, gradually rose up through the political ranks. Eventually, he convinced the planetary parliament to declare him emperor of the entire planet. There was a great ceremony celebrating this, where the now gray-haired and dignified looking Yenhir, wearing the long dark green and black robes and crimson sash of his new office, was presented with a silver and ruby crown. However, when certain of the more free-thinking nobles started to publicly voice their doubts about him, and talked of producing proof of his mis-deeds, Emperor Yenhir realized that he needed a major diversion. What bigger diversion, he thought, than declaring war on the neighbouring planet of Dacana? And, while he was at it, he also had those troublesome nobles discreetly executed. The vid-media on Torsaaga was manipulated by the Emperor and his staff, quite effectively. Their unrelenting propaganda campaign, was based entirely on disinformation and false evidence. Yenhir and his political cronies railed against the leader and people of Dacana, driving public opinion against the Dacanese. The emperor declared that the Dacanese president wanted take over Torsaaga, so that he could spread their alien impurities and immoral culture throughout the entire planetary system. The humanoid dog people who lived and ruled on Dacana sent diplomats to sue for continuing peaceful relations. Torsaaga refused to allow any of their ships permission to land. On a beautiful spring morning, Emperor Yenhir announced on national vid-media that they were going to war. The Torsaaga people greeted this news with raucous cheers, as if it were an announcement of a pending football match between two rival teams. For the Dacanse, it was not such a happy occasion. The following year brought them nothing but death, torture and mass destruction wrought by the emperor and his army. Ten thousand Dacanese children perished, along with their families. Even though the emperor's forces had ten times the firepower and five times the troops, somehow the Dacanese fought on. The two armies had clashed in several mighty battles, and Torsaaga had been the victor in each one. Yet, it was at a very great cost to itself in decimated troops, lost firepower and quickly dwindling resources. The emperor was virtually emptying his planet's coffers over a trumped up war with an innocent party. Now, the troops of the emperor were scattered about a valley most of them didn't even know the name of, and probably couldn't pronounce properly anyway, waiting for the what looked to be the final battle to begin. Unlike all the other battles, this time it was they who were greatly outnumbered. Sweating under his helmet, Sergeant Nazene gripped his laser-rifle, and waited for the signal to advance. He didn't have long to wait. Over the brow of the hills came nearly the entire Dacanese army. The green-clad, black helmeted soldiers in the ravine instinctively ducked, as the first of the arrow-rockets began to fire upon them, from the Dacanese chariot-ships. Hours later, it was obvious to even the greenest private, that the battle was going badly for the emperor's forces. Somehow, the emperor's auxiliary troops, which were put into place to protect the backs of the soldiers down on the front line, had been misdirected to the wrong part of the battlefield. The emperor's soldiers were left unprotected in the rear. Swiftly taking advantage of this error, the humanoid-canine Dacanese sent a brigade of flying fox-warriors armed with laser goggles. These were weapons which fitted to the eyes, with a special glove with a firing button fitted to the paw-hand, allowing soldiers to aim and fire simultaneously. Swooping down from the hill behind the emperor's troops, they decimated the already dwindling Torsaaga lines. Sergeant Nazene had seen young Corporal Fapter die, his body blown to bits by a rocket-arrow. Fighting his way through the smoke and bomb blasts, he found himself on a small knoll, which was partly hidden from the enemy's view. As a little of the smoke cleared away, Nazene gasped. There in front of him was the emperor himself, surrounded by a few of his most loyal guardsmen, and some very nervous support staff. Commandant Ringstaff was there as well, directing what he termed a 'strategic retreat' of their few remaining troops. To Nazene, it looked more like a bloody mess. The dark haired, bearded C The commandant's black-braided, dark green and gold layered Cossack style tunic was pressed and spotless. His matching green trousers with gold trim down the sides of the legs, were likewise immaculate, as if he had just stopped off at Mrs. Golightly's Happy Traveling University and Dry Cleaners, on the way to the battle. The man's black patent leather boots were so shiny, he could probably use them as a mirror to trim his beard with. His tall black furry hat with the dark green feathers spouting out of the side and shiny brass chin strap, was perched on Ringstaff's head like a hunting trophy. The whole outfit looked obscenely out of place to Nazene, after all of the dirt and gore he and his fellow soldiers had just wallowed through. Nanzene wondered how Ringstaff managed to stay unmarked in the middle of a long battle, when even the emperor was looking worse for wear. He sadly watched from his vantage point as little pockets of resistance were being systematically picked off by the Dacanese forces. There seemed to be no escape for them, and by the distressed look on the emperor's face, Nazene could see that their leader knew this. "Where are the support ships? What happened to my auxiliary force?" The emperor yelled, red-faced with outrage. He looked far less splendid now, his official robes tattered and stained. Even his crown was askew on his head. The emperor gazed wildly at the skies overhead, as if expecting rescue ships to appear out of thin air. But there were no more rescue ships. Some unknown command had ordered them back to the Torsaaga home world, on the pretense of protecting it from further attack. "I'm sorry Emperor Yenhir sir," said one of his aides nervously, "but as you were told earlier, all of the support ships are gone. We're on our own. I'm afraid, ah—you may have to consider surrender, my lord emperor. There is hope that the Dacanese will offer us equitable terms, despite everything." With a shout of rage, the emperor grabbed an astonished Nazene's rifle out of his hands. Aiming it at the unfortunate aide de camp, the emperor shot the man dead. Nazene stared at the emperor, but the others in the group didn't even turn a hair. They seemed to believe that nothing untoward had happened. 'Is this what the emperor is truly like?' Nazene wondered uncomfortably. "Traitor!" The emperor screamed, kicking the dead aide's body. "This what happens when I surround myself with liars and weak-minded fools!" the man said. "What I wouldn't give to see a ship for home, right now. Dear Torsaaga, my home, my life, whose forests shimmer like green silk in the summer sun, whose skies are lit by a thousand thousand stars, dancing like torch flies in the ebony night." 'Wow', thought Nazene, 'that's beautiful. The emperor could've been one helluva' poet. Too bad he's not. Might have saved so many lives and grief, had he chosen that path.' He kept his thoughts private though, which he deemed prudent, considering the dead body at his feet. He didn't know that the emperor was only quoting a poem he'd seen written on the back of a patriotic-themed crisp packet once, down to the local pub. Nazene picked up his rifle, which the emperor had dropped on the floor of the knoll. He watched the emperor rant and rave, pacing back and forth, his little cluster of guards and aides giving him a wide berth. "Oh, please gods if I could only see a ship right now!" Yenhir moaned in despair, "I'd give up everything, even my planet, for sight of one friendly ship!" As if in answer to the emperor's wish, there came a wild wind blowing the dust and grasses of the knoll into the faces of the emperor and his aides. It was accompanied by a wild groaning noise. All of them gaped at the sight of a tall blue box with a flashing light atop, materializing out of thin air. The door creaked open, thin wisps of white smoke trailing outside into the air. The emperor and his entourage stepped back in alarm. Was this some new Decanese weapon?
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