Doctor Who: Shining Darkness
Read Doctor Who: Shining Darkness Online
Authors: Mark Michalowski
Contents
About the Book
For Donna Noble, the Andromeda galaxy is a long, long way from home. But even two and a half million light years from Earth, danger lurks around every corner…
A visit to an art gallery turns into a race across space to uncover the secret behind a shadowy organisation.
From the desert world of Karris to the interplanetary scrapyard of Junk, the Doctor and Donna discover that appearances can be deceptive, that enemies are lurking around every corner – and that the centuries-long peace between humans and machines may be about to come to an end.
Because waiting in the wings to bring chaos to the galaxy is The Cult of Shining Darkness.
Featuring the Doctor and Donna as played by David Tennant and Catherine Tate in the hit series from BBC Television
.
Also by Mark Michalowski
Doctor Who: Wetworld
Being Human: Chasers
Recent titles in the
Doctor Who
series:
WISHING WELL
Trevor Baxendale
THE PIRATE LOOP
Simon Guerrier
PEACEMAKER
James Swallow
MARTHA IN THE MIRROR
Justin Richards
SNOWGLOBE 7
Mike Tucker
THE MANY HANDS
Dale Smith
GHOSTS OF INDIA
Mark Morris
THE DOCTOR TRAP
Simon Messingham
For Dave and Steve – good luck in Scotland!
‘Two and a half billion light years,’ said Donna Noble, her eyebrows raised and a gentle smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, ‘and you’ve brought me to an
art gallery
?’
‘Two and a half
million
light years,’ corrected the Doctor, pulling Donna back out of the path of something that resembled an upright anteater, studded with drawing pins, trundling down the street, ‘and it’s not
just
an art gallery.’ He sounded almost hurt.
‘If you’re going to tell me it’s “not
just
an art gallery” because it’s got a shop that sells fridge magnets…’
‘It might,’ replied the Doctor, glancing away guiltily and tugging at his earlobe.
‘You,’ laughed Donna, ‘are
so
transparent, you know that?’
‘And you,’ cut in a deep, buzzy voice that sounded like a talking chainsaw, ‘are
so
in my way.’
Donna turned: right next to them, smack bang in the middle of the broad pavement on which they stood, was
a
robot. Although it took Donna a few seconds to work that out. From the waist up, it was like a bronze version of some Greek god, all bare metal muscles, jawline and attitude. From the waist down, however, it was a different story: instead of legs it had caterpillar tracks.
Donna’s first reaction to it was that it was an ordinary person (well, as ordinary as you could get, looking like someone had vandalised something from the British Museum with a can of metallic paint) who’d lost his legs in an accident and had half a JCB grafted on.
‘Sorry,’ she said automatically.
‘I should think so,’ buzzed the robot – and only then did Donna realise that it wasn’t a creature of flesh-and-blood. The eyes were cold and glittering, and she realised the skin wasn’t skin at all, but a curiously fluid metal, reflecting back, madly distorted, her own face. ‘If you’re going to stop to converse, I suggest you move over
there
.’ And it raised an imperious finger and pointed to the other side of the pavement.
This was too much for Donna.
‘Well,’ she said, drawing herself up.
(‘I wouldn’t,’ she vaguely heard the Doctor whisper.)
‘If you’re going to be
quite
so rude,’ she continued, ignoring him, ‘I’d suggest that
you
move over
there
.’ She pointed to the centre of the street, where four lanes of traffic were whizzing by at stomach-clenching speed. ‘Mate.’ She added for good measure.
(‘I really wouldn’t,’ added the Doctor.)
The robot raised a haughty eyebrow and looked Donna up and down.
‘Organics!’ it spat, sneerily.
‘That meant to be some sort of insult?’ retorted Donna. ‘Cos where I come from, sunshine, that wouldn’t get you on
Trisha
, never mind
Jeremy Kyle
.’
(‘Donna…’)
‘Your words are gibberish,’ said the robot dismissively.
At this point, the Doctor cut in, grabbing Donna by the arm and pulling her to one side.
‘Donna! When in Rome…’
‘Sure you don’t mean Pompeii?’ she replied, acidly. ‘Who does he think he is?’
‘He probably thinks he’s a local who’s just come across two offworlders who don’t know the rules and regulations for using the streets, is what he probably thinks.’
Donna saw the Doctor flash a bright, apologetic smile at the robot.
‘Don’t smile at him – a simple “excuse me” would have done. No need for all that attitude.’
‘Perhaps in the future,’ said the robot wearily to the Doctor, revving up its gears as its base rotated (although its top half stayed facing them), ‘you could train your pet better?’
Donna’s mouth fell open but, before she could say anything, the Doctor put a firm arm around her shoulder and moved her out of the path of the robot – which, without another word, roared off down the street.
‘Pet?’ she gasped.
‘Pets are very highly thought of round here,’ said the Doctor quickly – but without much conviction.
‘
Pet
?’ Donna shouted after the creature, but it had
vanished
into the crowd. She turned back to the Doctor, open-mouthed. ‘Can you believe that? You said you were taking me somewhere civilised and sophisticated. I’d get more sophistication and civilisation at West Ham on a Saturday.’
The Doctor gently moved Donna back against the building, out of the path of the crowds streaming around them.
‘For once, I’d like to meet a
nice
robot,’ she said, still fuming. ‘There must be some. Somewhere. I mean, with the whole universe to choose from you’d think there’d be
one
…’
‘Remind me to take you to Napir Prime,’ the Doctor said. ‘The perfect hosts – well, that’s what it says in
The Rough Guide to the Isop Galaxy
. Never been myself, but I’ve heard good things.’
Donna raised a sceptical eyebrow.
‘From the robots I’ve seen so far, the strike rate’s pretty low.’
‘Don’t judge a whole class of beings from just three examples,’ the Doctor chided, checking out the monumental skyscrapers that lined the street. ‘Remember how you were when you saw your first Ood…’
‘That was different. They weren’t robots – they just looked a bit…’ She smiled at him, hoping to defuse the tension a little. ‘Ood.’
‘That’s probably what they thought when they saw you.’
He gestured at a glossy, dark green building just a few yards along.
‘Come on – let’s see if there’s any robot art in here. Might give you a new perspective.’
‘Not me that needs a new perspective,’ Donna grumped as she followed him through doors that said a cheery ‘Good afternoon’ as they opened.
‘Art,’ the Doctor began, sounding ever-so-slightly-pompous, ‘is a window on the human soul. Or the Andromedan soul, obviously,’ he added with a tip of the head.
Donna raised an eyebrow.
A creature a little like a squishy bedside table, with a crown of glinting, metallic eyes, paused in front of them, apparently to observe the slab of dull, grey marble in a glass case that the Doctor was also peering at. Although, Donna realised, it might have been observing
them
. She gave a tiny, awkward smile. Just in case. Having already offended, however unwittingly, an Andromedan, she thought she ought to err on the side of the caution with any new ones she came across.
‘If you’d prefer,’ the Doctor whispered, ‘I’d be more than happy to take you somewhere filled with danger, excitement and death. Your call.’
The bedside table ambled off, making a chuckling, coughing sound.
Donna held out her hands, palms up, weighing up the options.
‘Danger, excitement and death?’ Her hands moved up and down. ‘Art gallery?’
‘Philistine,’ grinned the Doctor. ‘We could combine
the
two and visit the Third Stained Glass Empire of – ooh, hang on!’
And suddenly, Donna was standing on her own, watching him dart across the black mirrored floor of the art gallery towards a large display case. With a sigh, she trudged after him. She loved art. Really, she did. She’d had a copy of that sunflowers picture on the wall at home. That was art. Proper art. Not just bits of stuff stuck on a board and sprayed with grass cuttings. Or half a Mini coming out of the floor. Or a slab of grey marble.
She caught up with him, almost colliding with a trio of tall, painfully skinny blonde women who’d just entered this particular room in the gallery. They looked awkward and stilted, their faces impassive.
‘Sorry,’ she whispered, skirting around them. They watched her go silently.
The Doctor was leaning forwards, his nose squidged up against the display case inside which, on a slender glass spike, sat something that looked like a rusty truck wheel, encrusted with fragments of diamanté.
‘Donna!’ whispered the Doctor, beckoning her forwards. ‘What d’you make of this?’
She peered at it.
‘You’re going to tell me that it encapsulates the eternal struggle between
The Pussycat Dolls
and
Girls Aloud
, aren’t you?’
‘That’s next door,’ he said. ‘No – this is much better.’
‘Go on then, Sister Wendy, what is it?’
‘Well, I don’t actually know what it
is
, but whatever it is, it’s a bit more than just art.’
‘Is it?’ Donna tried to stifle the yawn that she could feel bubbling up. The three supermodels – or whatever they were – had separated and were all standing around the exhibit that was so fascinating the Doctor, although he didn’t seem to have noticed them. There was something slightly odd about the trio, though: something measured and shifty. Like burglars casing a house, figuring out the right time to nip in and steal the DVD. Never mind the fact that, as far as she could tell, they were all identical.
The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, activated it, and waved it around near the case. Seconds later, he pulled a puzzled face and popped it back in his pocket.
‘Just wait here,’ he said, looking around. ‘I’m going to find the gallery’s owner.’
‘Couldn’t you just read the brochure?’ asked Donna.
‘I have. It’s rubbish. Back in a sec.’
One of the supermodels, dressed in a plain grey trouser-suit with creases so sharp you could cut yourself on them, glanced at her. She smiled back.
‘Art,’ she said vaguely, uncomfortably. ‘Great, isn’t it? Window on the human soul. Or Andromedan soul,’ she added for good measure.
The supermodel just stared at her – and then at her two companions.
Art-lovers
, thought Donna.
Don’t you just love them—
The thought was cut off as she spotted the greasy patch on the glass that the Doctor’s nose had left. In the pristine, snooty environment of the gallery it looked horribly out of place, and Donna was tempted to leave it there.
But she was an ambassador for Earth, wasn’t she? She
didn’t
want the locals going around saying what mucky pups humans (and Time Lords) were, especially with these three women paying such attention to the exhibit. So, whipping out her hanky, she stepped forward to give the glass a bit of a clean – at the very same moment that a wave of prickling static swept across her skin, and the whole room flared brilliant, snowy white.
