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Broken Toys by Alligatorade [Reviews - 5]  Author's Notes: This was written for a donation made by ghost2 to the "livelongnmarry" campaign on LiveJournal to support marriage equality in California, and she asked me to post the story here as well. Thank you for your donation, ghost2! | |
“Broken Toys”
The suns were high overhead, casting pale blue light over the planet of Shachulon. In the capital city’s largest park, resplendent with blue ferns and daisy-bearing evergreens, two small figures sat with their legs dangling off one of the planet’s tall pedestal benches.
“I give it a nine on flavor,” said the smaller of the two. She crossed and uncrossed her ankles as she thoughtfully took another sample from the small dish in her lap. “But low marks for texture. The cinnamon taste is spot on, though. Quite impressive for a planet that’s never seen a cinnamon tree in its entire existence.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” said the taller, and fished a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket. “Terribly lacking in creaminess. Let’s see, that puts Shachulon fourth on the list, after Morff, Gengi-gengi, and of course Wisconsin.” He added a note to the scrap paper. “It’s a good thing we didn’t bring K-9 along this time, I shouldn’t like to clean ice cream out of his internal intake processor again. All right, Romana. Where would you like to go ice-cream-analog tasting next?”
“I don’t know, Doctor.” Romana slid off the edge of the bench and dropped neatly to the ground. “Have we been to — oh!”
“Pew pew pew!” shouted a little girl, shoving the business end of a bright blue plastic toy rifle in Romana’s face, and pumping the trigger button repeatedly. “Pew pew!”
“Oh! You got me!” Romana gasped, playing along. She flung a hand up and dropped dramatically to a sit. “Doctor, help! I’m hit!”
“If you’re dying,” he retorted from his seat up on the pedestal bench, “do be quiet about it and and let me enjoy my ice cream in peace.”
“Hmph,” said Romana, and crumpled the rest of the way to the ground. She cracked one eye upon to peer up at the little girl.
The girl, in turn, was holding the rifle up in one hand, resting it on her shoulder but ready to swing it down again in case of another “attack”. She was giving Romana a quizzical — almost slightly disgusted — look. With her free hand, she pressed two fingers to her headset and said quickly, “Seven-gamma-four to one-alpha-nine, Grappum Park has been cleared of ogres, repeated, Grappum Park has been cleared.”
“Ogres!” said Romana indignantly, and sat up. “Now there’s something I haven’t been called before.”
“I regret to report that I cannot say the same,” said the Doctor, and dropped to the ground beside Romana (although with rather less grace than she had done). The little girl sneered at them both, and scurried away across the park. The Doctor and Romana watched as she ran up to another group of five youngsters and conferred briefly with them. The whole group looked over their shoulders at the Doctor and Romana, shouldered their matching set of plastic rifles, and trotted off in a miniature phalanx formation.
“Hmmm,” said the Doctor. “Most interesting. Romana, are you familiar with the Ellst system?”
“Home of the famous Wailing Gardens?” She shuddered. “Yes, I’ve seen holovids of it. And heard them, unfortunately. Why do you ask?”
The Doctor frowned at the place where the children had been. “I was just thinking that those weapons remind me of those used by the Kiint military — that is, the dominant nation on the Ellst homeworld.”
“Doctor, that’s absurd, said Romana. She climbed the rest of the way to her feet, and folded her arms. “Ellst is eight thousand light years away, and shouldn’t make first contact with humankind for two centuries. Also as far as I know, there isn’t a single military in the galaxy that manufactures weapons out of blue plastic.”
“Not the color, the mere material,” he said irritably, and tugged on his scarf. “I’m looking at the outline and the very build of it.”
“Now that you mention it …” She cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. “The design was very strange, for the time period. That looked like a chamber built to contain a Gauss-gun oscillator — humans shouldn’t have a stable design for that for several years yet. Why would they have what seems to be a technologically correct toy model so long before making the real thing?”
“My thoughts exactly.” The Doctor tapped her forehead. “Worryingly exact, in fact. You’ve been spending too much time around me.”
“Impossible,” she said with a grin. “But as to the problem at hand — what do we do about it?”
“We ask nosy questions, of course. Follow me!”
Romana trotted after the Doctor as he headed out of the park and up to a street vendor. “Sausage in a biscuit for the pretty lady?” asked the vendor, peeping at the pair of them over the tops of her dark red glasses. “Cheesy noodles? Iced sorka beans?”
“Just had some, thanks,” interrupted the Doctor. “Tell me: those charming toy guns I’ve seen all the children around here playing with! My niece would love to have one. Where can I buy them from?”
The vendor scrutinized Romana. “Aren’t you a bit old to be playing with toy guns?”
“Oh, no,” said Romana with a practiced deadpan, “his other niece.” The Doctor glowered.
“Oh, I see. Well, I’m not sure where you’d find one now, to be honest. The Mayko people — they own the toy store around here, you see — gave those out to all the street children of the town. Free samples, you see; I guess they’re meant to inspire some goodwill, and yes, to get other children interested in the merchandise before the main product line gets brought out for Christmas next month.” She shoved her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose. “Free toys for street orphans, isn’t it lovely?”
“Deeply lovely,” said the Doctor without smiling. “Of course, one might find it even lovelier to give orphans food and housing before toy guns …”
“And who are you to criticize their generosity?” demanded the vendor.
He looked mildly offended. “Why, I’m the Doctor.”
“Hmph,” said the vendor, and slammed her cart’s window shut.
“Well, that was exceedingly clever,” Romana reprimanded the Doctor as they walked away. “Now how are we going to find out where this company is based?”
“The same way as always.” The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and began tinkering with it. “With my massive intellect, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Hmm. And … yes, I think that will do it.” He held up the implement and waved it slowly back and forth; it lit up with a pale blue glow when he pointed it off to his left. “I’ve just tuned my sonic screwdriver to the bandwidth most often used by Kiint military communications departments. It should lead us directly to their headquarters!”
Romana raised an eyebrow. “Not the one in Ellst, I hope?”
“Don’t be silly, we’re far too distant for me to pick up the radiation from their homeworld. The radio waves won’t make it here for another eight thousand years.” He began moving away down the street, calling out to his companion as he examined the glow from the screwdriver: “Colder … colder … warmer!”
…
It was half an hour before they came across a big, brightly-painted storefront with piles of stuffed animals and sports equipment. By now the light from the screwdriver was a bright, piercing blue — the Doctor pulled up in front of the shop and raised his eyebrows at Romana.
“What,” she said, and grabbed his hand to drag him to the top of the steps up to the shop, “you’re not expecting a reward just for getting us here, are you?”
“A word of acknowledgement might be nice from time to time,” the Doctor informed her, and shoved the shop door open.
“Good afternoon! Can I help you?” asked the thoroughly made-up shop matron behind the counter.
“No, I think not!” The Doctor gave her a jaunty wave as he strolled through the shop, pausing only long enough to turn his sonic screwdriver on the keyhole to the door that blocked off the back room.
“I beg your pardon!” the woman shouted, and chased him and Romana through the door. “Guests are not allowed in the back room!”
“You mustn’t think of us as guests, then, we’ll make ourselves right at home.” The Doctor strolled up to one of the iridescent gray lockers along the back wall and bent to examine one of the combination locks. “I can never remember — is it left, right, left? Or right, left, right? Ah well.” He flicked the sonic screwdriver and all the lockers swung open in unison.
“Oh my,” said Romana, and lifted a heavy black-and-silver repeating Gauss-gun with polarizing oscillator and twenty-gram ferromagnetic rounds. “It looks like the real deal, Doctor.”
“You’re too late,” the shopkeeper informed them. She laughed and swung her elbow into a rough patch of drywall on the nearest wall. It shattered easily, and before Romana or the Doctor could react, she’d pressed the orange button hidden on the other side.
“Funny,” said the Doctor, and scratched his chin, “it’s almost always a red button.”
“What have you done?” Romana asked furiously. “What does that switch do?”
“The usual.” The shopkeeper folded her arms. “It calls in the cavalry.”
“Hut-two! Hut-two! Hut-two!” The voices were faint, approaching the store, but it was easy enough to tell how high-pitched they were, how youthful. Two by two, children double-timed it into the backroom, snatched weapons down from the lockers, and dropped into place with their sights trained on the Doctor and Romana.
“Wondefully done,” cooed the woman. “My little warriors.”
“Orders, ma’am?” asked a young boy in grass-stained trousers and a t-shirt with the name of the local football team.
“Restrain them and interrogate. I must know who they are, where they came from. How they recognized us for what we are.”
“And what is that, exactly?” the Doctor asked politely. “Ouch,” he added reproachfully, as a Gauss-gun barrel was jabbed into his back.
“Drop the weapon, grandpa,” said the little girl behind him. “Now.”
“Weapon.” The Doctor sniffed haughtily, and clutched his sonic screwdriver closer. “This is nothing so primitive — it’s a tool and nothing more.”
“A dangerous tool. Drop it already.”
The Doctor looked irritated, but he stepped closer to a nearby counter and set the screwdriver lovingly down on it before being urged away by the young soldier. The girl grinned broadly at her small success.
“Things are moving faster than I’d planned,” the shopkeeper said to her soldiers, as they shoved the Doctor and Romana against a wall. She began pacing briskly across the room. “But I think we are ready enough to initiate the Miri Plan, if need be.”
“Squad Delta Delta Five is ready, ma’am,” said the boy who’d asked for orders, with a sharp salute. “I’ve spoken with the other squad leaders as well, and they are all eager for action too, ma’am.”
“Thank you, sergeant.” She turned back to the Doctor, a frown crossing her face. “So tell me. How did you two know what was going on?”
The Doctor shrugged. “I’ve been to Ellst, years and years ago. Still a bit of martial law going on there, I take it? When I was there, there was a Gauss-gun on every copper’s shoulder, and a copper on every corner. Hard to miss, really.”
“Impossible!” she gasped. “We picked this world because it was too primitive to visit Ellst for centuries yet. You lie!”
The Doctor lifted his chin and looked down his nose at her. “It’s terribly rude to make assumptions about one’s guests, you know. What makes you think we’re from this world?” He kept eye contact with the shopkeeper, and the soldiers were so very focused … only Romana noticed the small iron soldier toy, discarded in the back room some day before, scraping slowly across the floorboards away from the counter.
“Where?” the shopkeeper demanded. Her composure was slipping, and with it, her disguise — dark, greasy lines were running down the sides of her face now. “Where are you from?”
“Why, isn’t it obvious? Aren’t we fabulous enough?” The Doctor shook his head. “Romana, I told you, you should have worn the pink number.”
“Too frilly, Doctor. I do hate to be itchy when I’m eating ice cream.”
“Where?” shouted the shopkeeper again.
“Gallifrey, of course. We’re Time Lords.”
The shopkeeper shrieked, and the now-limp face mask fell away. Underneath was a pale, lumpy, eyeless mass — tentacles shook themselves free, grasping for space and air, as the rest of the human costume slithered free of the Kiint
Romana found herself surprised at the children’s complete lack of surprise. “Look at her,” she called to them, as the former shopkeeper writhed and roared. “You need to warn the adults! These aliens are trying to invade you!”
But the children only exchanged knowing grins. “Oh no, Sanni!” exclaimed one boy in a mocking falsetto. “An invasion! Let’s go tell mummy and daddy! Oh, wait.” And they all burst out laughing.
“Romana,” said the Doctor gently. “I think you’re revealing the plan to the planners.”
“That is correct,” the Kiint said, drawing itself up to its full height now. Its voice was deeper than the shopkeeper’s had been, thick with anger and not a little tentacle slime. “These warriors — my warriors — are not unwitting dupes. They have a stake in this, as much as I do.”
“We’ll run the city, when the Kiint have built their colony. They’re giving us this whole city,” said the youngest girl, her eyes glowing with delight.
“More than anyone else has given us,” said the sergeant, and spat at the Doctor’s feet.
“Trained so well,” purred the Kiint, “and all under the guise of a wonderful, inventive game. Aren’t they clever, so creative, said the adults, as the little orphans played at clearing streets and answering to alien overlords. They’ll see ‘creative’ when our ships land and these so-called street rats lead the first charge!”
Romana shook her head. “But you must realize that some of you will die! Are you willing to do that, to help her enslave your whole planet?”
“Well, yeah,” said a boy in a bright green stocking cap, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh,” said Romana, and wrapped her arms around herself. Was that a slight whirring noise she heard?
“I think that we are still able to proceed, my warriors,” the Kiint said, weaving her way around the back room. “Time Lords are not known to travel in groups, and we have separated this pair from their travel device. They will not interfere now.”
“Me? Interfere?” The Doctor looked offended. “I never interfere. I merely tweak.”
“In fact, if we destroy your ship, no one will ever know you were here.”
“Well, that’s not strictly true,” Romana pointed out. “You’ll still know. And so will we.”
“Yes, but my warriors would never tell.” Tentacles flicked and quivered — a Kiint laugh. “And neither will you, for you will never leave this room. Squad Delta Delta Five! Fire!”
The shrill noise of Gauss-guns firing shattered the air. Romana cringed into the Doctor, twisting her fingers into his coat, waiting for those iron rounds to shred her apart - could she regenerate, torn into a thousand pieces …?
But the rounds made a Doppler shriek as they arced sideways, narrowly missing the two Time Lords. Instead the far wall was ripped to shreds — the bullets tore apart the storage boxes, shredding stuffed bears and expensive electromagnetic equipment alike.
“Ah,” said the Doctor. “That will be my magnetic field going into effect.” The children gaped at him as he trotted over to the counter and retrieved his sonic screwdriver. “Good timing, that, don’t you think?”
“I rather do!” Romana exclaimed. “Good calibration, too — that wall must have contained all of her communication and transmission equipment! Pity about the bears, though.”
“No,” moaned the Kiint, and staggered on stubby legs toward the destruction. “I’ve lost contact with the homeworld — they’ll think I’ve failed!”
“And with no new Kiint hardware to rebuild with …” The Doctor clucked chidingly. “Why, they’ll think you’ve failed in your mission!”
“But I can’t fail!” she wailed. “I’ll be exiled!”
“You are exiled,” Romana pointed out.
“Now, now, I can be very magnanimous, even to those who’ve threatened me,” the Doctor said consolingly. “I’d be willing to take you back to Ellst, where you can face the Kiint court for yourself. I’m sure they’d be very forgiving, once you present your case. And plus you have us as witnesses!”
The tentacles drooped. “Exile could be okay,” the Kiint said weakly.
“Excellent! And, yes, while I’m thinking of it …” The Doctor aimed his screwdriver at the squadron of children, who flinched. One by one, the coils of the Gauss-guns sprang open and unwound, rendering them useless. He finished by doing the same to the remaining weapons in the lockers. “There! Much better, yes?”
“I hope you’re happy,” snarled the sergeant. “You’ve taken away everything we were looking forward to.”
“Maybe you should look forward to better things than destroying your homeworld,” Romana said, frowning. “We’ll talk to the mayor, before we go — see about getting you homes, families, perhaps some less disturbing toys–”
“We don’t want that stuff!” yelled the youngest girl. “We had what we wanted, and you took it away!” With a grunt, she hurled her broken Gauss-gun; it landed at the Doctor’s feet with a hollow ringing sound.
“Romana,” said the Doctor quietly, “I think we’d best go. There are those who don’t know what they want, or what’s best, and those who refuse to take what they need when it’s freely offered.” He took her by the elbow. “I, however, would like a quiet evening in the TARDIS with you and K-9 and a game of chess. I shall even let you feed him more ice cream if you promise to clean up after him yourself this time.”
And go they did, edging toward the door as the Kiint gathered the stone-faced children close to itself. “Oh, my warriors, my children … I am still here for you. I am still here.”
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