Chapter 9

They burst through the door of the tower and flew down the hallway, the echo of their steps pounding off the walls. Skidding to a stop in front of the door to the library, Alexa grabbed the handle and threw it open, dashing inside.

The king stood, a bottle in his hands, staring into it, his gaze dark and hard.

Alexa smacked the bottle from his hands and it fell to the floor with a crash, rolling to a stop in the doorway. "You murderer!" She raised her hand as if to slap the king, and then lowered it. "You killed him! You killed my brother! You absolute—"

He whirled, rage flaring across his face. "You lie!" he roared, taking a single step towards her, his shadow seeming to swallow her up. "You little—who are you to touch me, to speak to me! You are an enemy of the watery spirits! You liar! You—peasant."

"Liar?" Her voice was so hot it could have sliced metal. "Tell that to the dead body that's laying by the canal."

He stumbled backwards as if he had been slapped. "No—you're lying." It was as if he was desperate to cling to the words—as if saying them enough, with enough passion, would make them true. "There cannot be a body. They cannot—they are not killers."

"You want proof?" She closed her hand around his wrist and yanked him forward. "Well, come with me. You're going to have proof, and you're going to listen you—you killer."

Rey reached forward. "Alexa—please—"

The Doctor caught her hand and pulled her back. "No," he said, and his voice was low. "Let her. Let her show him. He needs to see."

Rey looked away.

And her eyes landed on the bottle, which had rolled nearly to her feet.

For a moment she stared at it, and then, taking a slow step forward, she lifted it from the ground. The sound of footsteps faded down the corridor as she turned it over in her fingers, slow realization of what she was seeing dawning on her and making her eyes go wide.

It was a schematic.

A schematic of something shiny, silver, cylindrical—

The core. This was a schematic of the core of the island itself. The thing that grew the ground beneath her feet.

Her fingers tightened on the bottle and she felt her pulse pounding in her ears. Why had the king been reading it? Did he know the language of the watery spirits? Did he know how the island worked?

How many secrets did he hold?

She stared into the bottle. The whorls and spirals of water formed themselves into images in her mind. She still wasn't sure she understood how it worked but—well—it was handy. So she'd keep it for the moment.

She was afraid that if she really tried, really thought about it, she could resist it. Eject it from her mind like the messages of the nanotransmitters and the psychic paper.

You're a genius, Rey…

She shook the thought from her mind and forced herself to focus on the bottle. The diagram plunged into the core like a hologram zooming in. It was simple—some sort of manufacturing device which then pumped out material—the soil that formed the island. With a whoosh that sent her head spinning, it zoomed out again, out, out, out, until she saw the core from above, floating in a vast mass of water. Like a time-lapse record, she saw as the core pumped out more and more material until it formed a mass of land, which grew, faster and faster, until—

She sucked in a sharp breath. What was this? The image—some sort of simulation, she guessed—zoomed in and she saw that the soil was bubbling, watery creatures emerging from it like a flock of tiny creatures hatching from their eggs.

Hatching.

She shook the bottle, staring harder. No—no. Her mind refused to acknowledge what she was seeing. Hatching—spawning material. The words formed themselves in her mind as clearly as if they had been written with paper and ink.

She nearly dropped the bottle, stumbling backwards, her gaze riveted on the images inside. The creatures leaped through the sea like dolphins, trailing their spawning material behind them, planting it on another land mass, and another—she watched it spread, until every continent was converted—

For a moment she just stood there, trying to process what she had just seen—trying to understand—

And then it all registered with a force that nearly knocked her backwards, and she was running, the bottle clutched in her hands. The Doctor—she had to find the Doctor.

"Look, your majesty." Alexa's eyes burned with white-hot fire as she stared up at the king. "Or should I even call you that? Do you even deserve the title?"

"No one—no one—returns from the realm of the watery spirits." He stepped forward, placing his hand on Elias's shoulder as if the sight of a human was strange to him. His voice had a strange, strangled quality to it. "My father told me. They have told me. No one returns."

"Returned? You call this returning? You absolute monster—"

"Alexa." The Doctor set a hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him for a moment, her face flaming—and then she crumpled, her head buried in her hands. A sob hitched in her throat and she slipped forward, burying her head against Elias's chest.

"Look what you've done to her." The Doctor fixed the king with a steady, hard gaze. "You've killed her brother—and you've killed her too. I know what it feels like to lose your family. It feels like dying. But oh, you didn't know, did you?" He circled the king, his gaze never leaving him. "You just thought they took their prisoners to some utopian world under the sea, did you? Well, your majesty. Let me teach you something about humans." He stopped, stepping closer. "They can't survive under the water." For a long moment he paused, letting the words bury themselves in the king. "And you think they didn't know that? You think these godlike creatures that fell from the sky didn't know what they were doing? And you know what else they knew? They knew you're not a killer."

Alexa looked up, her face tear-stained, her voice hot. "Doctor!"

"Ooh, I'm right, aren't I? I can see it in your eyes. You're no killer. You haven't got it in you. You want to know why that tower is so tall, why they hid their cells at the very top? So the people couldn't hear their screams." His gaze seemed to pierce the king's soul. "So you couldn't hear their screams."

The king turned away, his face hooded, staring out over the houses that spread across the island. The Doctor stepped closer, his voice softer now, his gaze just as piercing.

"They'll listen to you. The people. Just say the word, and they'll turn against the creatures. They respect you, Alastor."

"No!" He turned, his eyes flashing dark. "They do not respect me! They fear me! As well they should." He turned to the canal and took a stumbling step forward. "Strike me down for my folly," he said, and his voice wavered. "Take me, not my people."

"No!" The Doctor grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to turn. "Listen—will you just listen? A single word from you and they'll ride out in force against the creatures. Don't you understand? Don't you see? You can sit here moping about what a horrible person you are—or you can do something! We can do this together—"

The king looked up, and something flashed across his face—something certain, and something dark. And then it was gone, and he turned away again. "Doctor—"

"Doctor!" A voice echoed across the sand and the Doctor whirled to see Rey flying towards them, a bottle clutched in her hand. She skidded to a stop in front of him and shoved it into his hands. "Doctor—the island—spawning ground—growing—for them—" Her breath came in short gasps. "That bottle—schematic—"

He whipped on his glasses and stared at the bottle. His eyes widened and he stared at it, his fingers clenching around it. "Oh. Oooh. That's bad. That's very bad." He looked up, the bottle in his hands. "I will speak with—" He began, but cut himself off. "That'll never work," he muttered, and then he whirled towards the canal, holding the bottle forward. "Look at me, I've discovered your little secret! And you know, I might just consider telling it to every single person on this island. You want to stop me, you're going to have to come and get it!"

Rey drew in a sharp breath. Doctor! Of all the crazy schemes—

A creature swirled from the surface of the canal, and rushed towards the Doctor. He dodged backwards at the last minute, tossing the bottle behind him and letting it roll along the ground. It bumped into Rey's feet and she reached down and snatched it, gripping it so tightly she thought she would smash the glass.

"I knew you'd listen to that!" The Doctor sauntered forward, his hands in his pockets and his gaze fixed on the creature. "Now that you've fallen so nicely for my little delusion, I'd like to have a little talk with you. A business talk, as it were. Wherever your home planet is, I can get you back. You don't have to be stuck here—"

"WE HAVE NO HOME PLANET." The voice seemed to come from all parts of the creature, like booming, crashing waves. "WE TRAVEL AND SPAWN UPON WATERY PLANETS SUCH AS THIS. THIS PLANET WILL BE OURS. WE CANNOT BE STOPPED."

"You're nothing but squatters! Planet squatters! Now, that's really rather clever when you think about it. But cannot be stopped? That sounds suspiciously like a challenge." He pulled the matchbook from his coat pocket. "And there's obviously something you've never learned." He struck the match and faced the creature, the tiny flame flickering between his fingers. "Never challenge the Doctor. Because the Doctor will always accept!"

Something jolted beneath her feet and Rey started and looked down. Water bubbled from the ground and swirled about her feet.

A little gasp caught in her throat.

"Doctor—the spawning process—it's—"

And over the beach there roared a sound like a thousand thunderstorms. Alexa stumbled backwards with a little cry, clutching Rey by the arm and clinging on. The canal exploded into a mass of swirling water and foam as more creatures rose from the waves, shooting upward like fountains, roaring and billowing.

And laughing.