CORMELLE

CORMELLE

PART ONE: "- ANOTHER COUNTRY"

CHAPTER ONE

The Doctor leant back against the bole of a tree, closed his eyes and relaxed, sitting cross-legged in a yoga position. From here, a knoll slightly higher than the surrounding jungle, he could see for miles in every direction, should he care to open his eyes.

The only reason he might have wanted to do so would have been to check on the presence of his young female companion. Not for fear of her personal safety; the largest form of animal life living here were small lizards, barely a foot long, that thrived on insects and other, smaller animals. No poisonous plants or insects, good weather, no people.

No, he wasn't worried on that account. He did wonder how long she would feel happy, given her urban upbringing. At least she'd left the radio in the TARDIS, and they'd been here a couple of days already, which marked progress of a sort. Once she got restless, however, there was no telling what mischief she might get up to. Sometimes her ability to find trouble rivalled that of his own –

A long roll of thunder came echoing from the south, causing the Time Lord to frown and open his eyes. Bad weather? Not here at present. The skies overhead were serenely blue, or purple if you saw into the ultra-violet. He closed his eyes again and started a little formal contemplation, glad that there were no distractions.

They were both here as a method of getting away from their recent past, and an epic struggle with the Daleks in London. Never happy at witnessing conflict, let alone being part of it, the Doctor had nevertheless found himself manipulating human beings into what he termed "damage-limitation", and being positively Machiavellian about it.

Here was a long way from London, both in terms of space and time. The date was the year 2500 AD, and the place was a planet known as Hargreave's Fall. He'd heard it termed "Paradise in search of a population", and finally decided to have a look at first hand.

It was indeed an unspoiled and idyllic planet; lush tropical jungles, giant raging rivers, rolling grasslands, vast canyons and a riot of colour everywhere. A person could spend a lifetime exploring and never see another human being, since there weren't any there.

Yet. His memory about the settlement was rather hazy, but he knew that humans settled here eventually, as they did anywhere remotely inhabitable.

The Doctor sighed. Humans! A likeable species, but they did have their downside.

For another hour he sat, looking like a man asleep, thinking, until a shadow fell upon him.

'Wakey-wakey!' said a sing-song female voice.

'I wasn't asleep,' the Doctor gently chided.

'Could have fooled me,' said the girl. 'Blimey, aren't you hungry yet, Professor?'

The Doctor stood upright from his cross-legged position in a manner that a normal person, or a human being, would have found impossible.

'Champing for a bacon butty, eh?' he joked. 'Come on, and I'll show you how to fish with an umbrella.'

He stuck out an arm and Ace took it, allowing him to lead them to the small brook that ran near the TARDIS.

'Why is this place called "Hargreave's Fall"?' she asked over dinner, taking time to spit bones out into the campfire, where they sizzled briefly. 'I don't see any sign of Hargreave, falling or anyotherwise.'

The Doctor delicately nibbled at the fillet in his hands. In addition to the fish, he'd grilled what looked like dark green tomatoes, and had even managed to dig up some tubers that looked like potatoes.

'Captain Johnathon Jacob Hargreaves, famous interstellar explorer. Since he discovered this planet, he had the privilege of naming it, even if his logic in adding the "Fall" part of the name is lost. Actually, I think he's distantly related to you.'

'Cool!' mouthed Ace, around her pseudo-potato. 'Mmm, these are nice. Kind of yammy.'

Once again the distant sound of thunder came echoing up from the south, making both of them look to the skies.

'You'll need that brolly for keeping the rain off,' remarked Ace, noticing a frown crease the Doctor's brow for a moment. Then the black look was gone, so quickly the young woman wondered if she'd imagined it.

'Yes. Yes, I suppose I will. Now, since we have satisfied the inner man, how about a walk? Helps the digestion.'

Which, Ace ruefully reflected, was probably about the closest her travelling companion ever got to referring about her weight; not that she was bothered, really, seriously. She stood up and brushed blades of grass off her black denims.

'Come on then. Think we'll see more of those brill lizards again?'

'Only if we're quiet!' cautioned the small man, putting a finger to his lips. He struck out down the knoll, into the wall of jungle vegetation that ran back to distant mountains. Chirping insects chorused alongside their trail, in a twilight world where occasional sunbeams were the main source of light. Under the triple canopy it felt much cooler than it had on the knoll, and Ace found her vision took time to adapt.

Not heading anywhere in particular, their path took them towards the sound of running water, until they emerged after an hour on the banks of a wide, deep and fast-running river that rushed over scattered rocky outcrops in mid-stream. A short distance away came an incessant rolling rumble, where spray and rainbows were visible.

Curious, the Doctor strolled carefully along the riverbank, where animal tracks had worn a path. Ace amused herself by skimming stones across the river.

Their investigation was rewarded by an awesome sight when they reached what had been a fault-line across the landscape: the mighty river on their left plunged over the lip of a waterfall half a mile high in a ceaseless torrent, generating a spray that hung over them like clouds. Unable to go any further, they stood and examined the chasm in front of them, as impressive as the Niagra Falls, but festooned on all sides with jungle that softened the harsh outlines of solid rock.

A strident bird, squawking madly and trailing a plume of bright feathers, erupted from bushes ahead of them, seemingly angry at the alien intruders.

'This is way cool!' enthused Ace, having to speak loudly over the waterfall's noise.

She meant it: of course, she realised, eventually the thrill of a new world would pall and she'd want to get back to civilisation, electricity, cornflakes and running water, but in the here and now the sheer novelty of an unspoilt paradise filled her with wonder.

After getting quite damp from airborne spray the pair decided to move on, getting back into more jungle and eventually finding a clearing where the twin suns overhead helped to dry and cheer them. By then Ace was feeling the first delicate twinges of hunger, which led her to make a few subtle hints. The Doctor, of course, immediately understood what she meant.

'We can head back to the TARDIS now. Let me think, what did we have in the larder?'

Ace sighed and shook her head. One problem she had with the Doctor was telling the difference between his joking and his being serious. He really might have forgotten that the fridge was empty, or he might be gently mocking her focussing on food and the less-than-ethereal contemplation of a fully-stocked kitchen.

'Haricot beans. I know I left them to steep overnight. Did I scarify the quelmeuce?'

'The what?' replied Ace, trying her best to keep her trouser cuffs out of the dirt.

' "Quelmeuce". Gallifreyan savoury vegetables. Delicious hot or cold – er, that is, if you remember to scarify them first.'

With a roll of the eyes and a toss of the head, Ace consigned Quelmeuce to the History Bin. Scarify?

'You're not making these up, are you?' she asked, that old, old fear of being mocked coming back temporarily.

'Ace!' chided the Doctor, his Scottish brogue coming across particularly clearly. 'Have I not written a book on Time Lord cuisine?'

For a second she had to concentrate on hauling herself up a selection of vines, at a point where their non-existent path traversed a hillside. A full minute passed before she could reply.

'Eh? Professor, I have no idea!'

'Or have I?' he replied. 'Is that yet to come?'

In fact the TARDIS had a fairly full larder, and Ace pigged-out on a plate of beans-on-toast, with scrambled eggs and Marmite made up as a drink. They were outside, sat under a marquee that had been dragged from the depths of the TARDIS; adorned with embroidery, in the shape of swords and shields, it had an air of faded grandeur, as well it might have, being a relic of the seventeenth century Polish court.

The Doctor busied himself with the dirty plates, allowing Ace to sit back and feel both satisfied and full. Having stuffed herself with food, she felt more able to sit back and look at the skies, where one sun had already set, and the second was close to the horizon. The shadows thus created were strange, and the not-quite-dusk felt equally as odd, with a set of semi-nocturnal insects now buzzing about.

She cocked her head instinctively, leaning to one side to hear better, since one particular buzz sounded unusually metallic and artificial. Was it a peculiar insect? It seemed to be coming from a long way off, which implied either strange acoustics or a big noise in the distance – which is when she noticed the distant purple glow, faint and fading, way off to the south. By the time the Doctor reappeared, the glow had gone, and she didn't think it important enough to mention.

Whilst the novelty of Hargreave's Fall hadn't worn off yet, the next morning brought excitement enough to keep Ace bubbling.

The half-dawn (as only one sun was in the sky) had been interrupted by a whiplash that made the ground shudder. Since the Doctor was shaving, Ace had darted out of the TARDIS, still wearing pyjamas, to see what the commotion was.

In the cobalt sky above, a needle-nosed spaceship with the angular and deadly lines of a hornet tore overhead, heading south and leaving a trail of sonic booms in it's wake. The young woman stared at it in a combination of appreciation and disbelief – who said this world was uninhabited?

'Wicked!' she muttered, before realising that the skies above were now no longer empty. What could only be described as an armada of spaceships were now spiralling down on trajectories that would take them to the northern hemisphere. Ace gave up after counting twenty of the sleek black shapes.

'Er – Doctor?' she called, uncertain about the nature of what she was witnessing. 'Doctor!' she called again, louder and with more feeling.

'What is it?' grumbled the Time Lord, still washing his face and reluctant to interrupt his ablutions.

'You need to come and see this,' called Ace, without specifying what "this" actually was.

Patting his face dry with a towel, the Doctor emerged into daylight and whistled in surprise at the metal-filled heavens. He twirled his hat and made it roll up his arm before flipping it onto his head.

'Colonists,' he explained. 'Ten, twenty, forty, eighty three. Eighty three ships.'

Ace couldn't manage to count more than a dozen as the glinting shapes flitted north and out of sight.

'Temporal slippage,' muttered the Doctor, staring at the ground. 'Must be.' He patted the TARDIS's side. 'You need a tune-up, old girl.'

'Have we arrived later than you expected?'

'Yes, by about six or seven years. Oh well, the peace was nice whilst it lasted.'

'Who are that lot, then?'

'Colonists, Ace. Oh – I see what you mean. Your kith and kind: humans.'

Roger Cormelle gripped the twin control columns, trying to keep the shuddering spaceship in the optimal green zone for attitude and altitude.

'Should we be shaking this much?' asked his second-in-command, looking and sounding worried.

'I don't know!' snapped Roger. 'This – sorry, hon.' His second-in-command was also his wife. 'We've only been on the simulator and this is real life.'

Captain, mission inspirer and pilot, Roger told himself. As much of a pilot as ninety days training could make you.

The big attitude monitor showed the spaceship orientation shifting close to the amber zone, forcing him to wrestle the controls again, and there wasn't any poetic licence about "wrestle". A lot of the technology here was ancient because of cost and redundancy and some controls were still fly-by-wire.

The ship shuddered again, then abruptly flew straight and level.

'Clear air turbulence,' muttered Roger to himself. 'Evan, send out a general call to the rest of the ships and warn them about it.'

As lead ship, he'd be generating turbulence himself, which would buffet every single ship coming behind.

Damn! He silently cursed. Real life was completely different from the simulators!

Evan, the communications technician, hastily sent out a terse warning to the other ships, then turned back to give Roger a thumbs-up.

'I've got the landing signal from the beacon, ten by ten. ETA is three minutes.'

Roger's mood immediately lightened. Three minutes! Excellent!

His wife sighed in relief.

'Thank the heavens above and below. I had visions of the ship falling apart in mid-air.'

Roger gave her a warm and knowing look.

'Give the Chinese a bit of credit! That only happens when we land.'

Roger dialled through to the central tannoy system, speaking to the passengers.

'Your attention, please, this is Roger – Captain Cormelle – speaking. I shall only be a pilot for about two minutes longer. We are coming in to land!'

The cheer that went up from the revived passengers could be heard even up on the bridge.

Sixty seconds from landing, with predictable atmospheric conditions and that same atmosphere to work against, the big colony ships began to go into automatic, pre-programmed landing routines. Roger saw the green lights on his instrument panels start to flash, telling him that he had now surrendered control to the ships AAI. This part of the whole exodus was one of the most dangerous, with big vessels having to manoeuevre in close proximity. Roger felt more confidence in the computer-controlled systems than his own piloting – he was, after all, a product of the QVL Course (Short), which qualified him as the lowest form of Starship Pilot – Conversion Class.

The final descent, laying the ship horizontally, consumed too much of the fuel remaining and they dropped for at least ten centimetres, coming down to earth with a rending crunch.

No – not "earth", Roger corrected himself. Hargreave's Fall!

'Hoooray!' he yelled, leaning back in his contoured acceleration chair and shouting at the ceiling. 'Home!'

Once that incredible realisation had dawned, the colonists had only begun to nibble at the edges of an enormous task.

Yes, they had landed. From that, they had to begin their colonisation effort, which owed little to adrenaline and everything to organisation. Firstly, only seventy four of the colony ships were the Chinese Han-Sho Conversion Class vessels. The remaining nine were Green Line cargo hauliers, massive vessels of sixty thousand tonnes deadweight that carried the expedition's heavy plant. The Han-Sho could be left where they landed; the cargo hauliers had to be accorded take-off paths.

For Roger, the first breath of air on their new planet had a special savour – he inhaled a small fly and coughed, spluttering, for nearly half a minute. Red-eyed and rasping, he nevertheless managed a huge smile for his bridge crew, who were assembled at the side of the descent ramp.

'Ola Halola! That was embarrassing! People, welcome to our new world, and everything that goes with it. Suns, moons, landscape, wildlife and opportunity.'

His wife silently offered a bottle of water. With good grace, Roger took a sip and carried on.

'We have made landfall here, at an appropriately selected spot, and are going to make this part of the Fall our Original Site. People in decades to come will make a pilgrimage to this spot to see where Earth's pioneer's landed.'

Unworthy, but he felt like adding a memo about the expense of getting Earth's pioneers out here, at the cost of his entire (and very considerable) fortune. He strolled down the ramp, looking out across the gigantic campsite, which measured two kilometres across.

Already, the Conversion starships were being broken up from the inside. From huge ramps at the bows of the hauliers, streams of mechanical plant were being landed. Autonomous technology – the High-Function Design, Mechanised – made their way across the alien landscape to begin altering it in the pursuit of human endeavour.

With only a twinge of regret, Roger turned to look at the Han-Sho. In keeping with the transient nature of the vehicle, it only had a number, not a name: Number 1. They hadn't wanted to feel any attachment to their spaceships.

'No losses en route,' remarked one of the communication officers from a haulier, his voice coming over on Roger's belt mike. 'You and your fleet did surprisingly well, Mister Cormelle.'

Not completely true: a few dozen people had either died in suspension or upon being revived. There had been a statistical risk, nought point nought nought nought five per cent, which the colonists accepted as a consequence of their interstellar travel. The UN back on Earth had worried that they might lose whole ships en route, which had been a concern. That still left almost eighty thousand colonists, who were now marshalling themselves. For the great majority, all those who had been in suspension, their first hours were going to be spent in calisthenics and exercise, building themselves up to get used to gravity again. Acclimatising to the heat would take weeks, if not months. Meanwhile –

'Let's not stand around, there's work to be done. Hon, can you see to drilling? We need water as soon as possible for us and the livestock. Evan, co-ordinate with the hauliers, because I want to guarantee that plant goes where it's needed. Miles, you and Dean can supervise the revived.'

Evan went back inside the ship to disassemble the communication suite. Roger's wife, Cally, checked which haulier had the mobile drilling rigs and headed over that way, escorted by Roger.

'Don't you trust me to do the job?' she teased.

'Why certainly! I just want to get the senior staff together.'

'You could just use your belt-mike.'

'I could, but I want to see everyone face-to-face. It's important to emphasise that our lifestyle and our mission are only beginning.'

By this time they had made it to the lee of Number 4, which cast a shadow in the light of twin suns overhead. Remembering that this was an alien world was easier when you witnessed strange double shadows on the ground.

And the ground! Roger parted company with Cally and stooped to dig fingers into the turf. Dark black humus, good agricultural growing land. They had chosen well, given the lack of detailed information from the computerised satellite scout.

'Roger! Out and organising already?' came a female voice from behind, as a hand slapped him on the shoulder. He stood and found Mary Wong, one of the American colonists. Captain of the Number Four. No – ex-Captain, he corrected himself.

'You bet,' he replied. 'I want to address the senior staff altogether in the passenger hall on Number One.'

Mary pointedly looked at his belt mike.

'You wanted to get out and walk the land, didn't you?'

He laughed at her perceptiveness.

'Guilty! Yes. Yes I did. We chose well for a settlement.'

Mary looked over the landing zone, now dotted with landed spaceships. The landing zone itself had to be capable of taking the physical weight of landed Conversion Class starship; it had to be fertile; it needed to be in the temperate zone; it had to be level or with minimal undulations; it needed to have water-bearing geology; it had to allow for expansion in the future; it had to be safe. That last one was a guess.

'Okay, I'm off to the passenger hall.'

It took Roger an hour and a half to get round the landed ships and instruct their seniors to head over for his vessel, but he wanted to do this in person, quite besides looking over their site. He was the most senior senior, who hadn't seen any of these people in the flesh for the nine months they'd spent in space. Nor would it hurt to remind them who was in charge here, after all.

Tents were being pitched when he walked back to his ship; shower stalls were being erected, and latrines, too. Life would be fairly basic until more, larger structural components were removed from the Han-Sho's.

'You're doing well, quick work. Keep it up!' he encouraged a group of people digging and pitching and hammering. They were revivees, getting used to physical activity. He was impressed at how rapidly they had gotten back to normal.

A giant beetle-like machine moving slowly between the landed hulls paused to let him pass by.

'What model are you?' he asked, forgetting which it was.

'AUTONOMIC LAMINATE LAYER MISTER CORMELLE,' the robot replied. 'SURVEYING FOR SUITABLY FLAT AREA OF SUFFICIENT SIZE FOR HELIPAD.'

'Carry on,' he joked.

Ah, yes, their helochopters. They had only two – at ten million nemmies each the colonists simply couldn't afford any more, even if their logistics planners had wanted at least a dozen. A dozen! They would be needed for fetching and carrying, and surveying. The satellite scan only came to seventy-six per cent of the planet's surface. You couldn't settle on a world and remain in ignorance of almost a quarter of the biosphere, not if you wanted to survive. Besides that, the UN refused to permit any non-governmental expeditions to any planet not surveyed to at least sixty per cent coverage.

Outside Number One – no, he would need to give it a name now. Headquarters. Very well, outside HQ, Evan had set up his communication suite on a piece of flat panelling to give it stability. Next to it lay a large piece of inner-wall lining plastic, sheeting to be used to cover the equipment from the elements.

Even looked up from the display panels, tapped his throat mike to turn it off and gave a thumbs-up to Mister Cormelle, as he always thought of the Canadian. The big, grey haired leader pointed at the plastic sheeting.

'To keep the rain off?'

'Yes, Mister Cormelle, though to look at the skies we're not going to get any. The hauliers report everything going smoothly so far. They're going to be off-loading the motor transport next.'

'By the way, since we're now strictly confined to the ground, I've decided to christen this ship – or ex-ship – "Headquarters". Pass the word around.'

'Yes, sir,' replied Evan as the other man walked up the landing ramp, making him pause.

'No, Evan. I'm not a captain any more. Plain old "Mister", thank you.'

Whoops! thought Evan. The mission leader had a casual air of command that confirmed his status as a captain of industry, a billionaire, the man whose drive, money and initiative had gotten them here. He asked pleasantly and politely, but he expected his wishes to be done, no messing.

'Got it – Mister Cormelle. Oh, every one of the seniors have arrived.'

Roger nodded and walked back into Headquarters. Revived passengers gave him smiles or nods of acknowledgement on his way to the passenger hall as they went about pre-arranged and scheduled removal and off-loading work.

What would he tell them? The unalloyed truth, he supposed. Tie in their background on Earth and what they'd left behind.

The passenger hall, empty of passengers, still looked crowded with all the assembled senior crew. All shapes, colours and sizes: humanity's latest thrust into outer space.

Cally had gotten one of the suspension "coffins", disconnected it and turned it onto one side, creating an impromptu platform. Roger climbed up and started straight away.

'Okay, things seem to be running according to schedule. I'm pleased with that. Let us make no mistake, however: this is the easy part of our mission, a matter of logistics. We will face unforseen challenges in the future, which we have to overcome. Let me emphasise that: have to! Earth is over two hundred light years away and the UN won't send help for anything less than imminent destruction of the Fall. That's not about to happen. So we are on our own. At present we cannot pretend to be a democracy, either, despite our longer-term plans.'

Having been blunt and insistent, he mellowed a little.

'However! You can walk outside without needing a filter. You can drink the water once it's boiled. You can see the sun. Sorry, suns! No terrorism. No emergency inocculation programmes. No medical emergencies. No pollution alerts. Any time you or your passengers get antsy, remember what we left behind.'