Chapter Two: Unscheduled Stop
A lifetime away from the orbiting Tardis, night had fallen across the Ranx. A planet wide prairie of scorched grassland and gasping oceans at either pole. By the 50th Century, Ranx had evolved a unique fauna of veracious giant birds and giant herding tortoise like creatures--- and now a fledgling human colony. The humans had arrived a hundred years before with one intention profit. The main driving force behind any human expansionist policy was of course to find a territory steeped in a natural resource and exhaust it in as little time as policy then move on from the husk to the next ripe peach of a landmass. Or in these times of interstellar travel-- star system. It was this mentality on which the great and bountiful human empires had been forged, ballooning out from planet earth across four galaxies, picking up civilisations and species along the way and sending the wealth back along the line to the foggy blue gem in the solar system. Ranx was the newest edition to the earth collective and a frontier civilisation had established itself in little under a century to mine the planet hollow. The greatest achievement of these great cosmic cowboys was the pinnacle of all infrastructure in the empire--- a railway that ran around the planets equator, a tribute to robotic construction teams. The planet was tamed in under a decade. And now, from the space port riding through the blazing blue night was the midnight train of this hemisphere packed to bursting with pioneers recruited from over packed worlds who had been caught up in the ministry of colonisations propaganda campaign to go off and forge a new society and wreak the rewards from the untouched soil. These hopefuls were a blend of the species under earth occupation though primarily human (for all their evolutionary faults, human beings were the best species in the universe for using a pick axe) and in his own private car the new governor of the mining town Ambition.
A great, fat southern states dandy with an immaculately white suit by the name of Chester Chilvester lay back in his seat and sipped from the cocktail that had been stored away for his honours presence onboard the train. It was odd how regional and national inflections had survived this far out into space; and as such the Governor Chester Chilvester who had never been on earth in his sixty years of life let alone the southern states of America was accompanied by his quasi-reptilian and apparently Glaswegian manservant Jivvers. Jivvers was tall, slender and not as human as the purer and aristocratic group of earth emigrants that Chilvester was a part of would have normally socialised with. In these mature days of human expansion into space the purity of the homo-sapien gene pool was consider a social calling card. As such those such as Jivvers who suffered from no mainstream prejudice could find no better job among the blue bloods (an ironic enough terminology) than as a servant-- although the money was good he was not allowed the luxury of a first name.
The train thundered along its reinforced track, its powerful steam whistle sending a flock of the huge carnivorous birds running and shrieking as the black iron body powered its way along the tracks. It would reach Ambition by tomorrow afternoon. Chilvester was the grandson of Walter Chilvester, an old earth aristocrat who had been one of the founders of the Ranx colony project. Now, a hundred years later Chester was carrying on the work and had even designed and named one of the new mining towns. His vision was sturdy to say the least, even if the name lacked imagination. However, the town was running behind schedule and Chilvester didnt care for the sheriff at all-- so he had left his cushy home on Tolios Alpha and his harem of young men to come and bring Ambition into line. In the hundred years they had been out here the colonists had become excitable. The miners often talked about seeing ghosts down in the pits, and at night people claimed to see pale giants roaming in flocks across the prairie. Superstitious labourers. What they needed was fresh blood. So the fat man had loaded a shuttle with strong young men and women and brought them to his own little nest egg. These were the people who were going to dig up his retirement fund. He was a careful investor.
He shifted his flabby rump into a more comfortable nook of his chair and read the newspaper. It was four days out of date and was the last thing he had sent Jivvers to retrieve before they had set off to the Ranx but it was something to do before tiredness and the alcohol in his flabby blood sent him into a deep and rasping sleep. Speaking of
Jivvers old boy, he said in the sort of southern drawl that brought to mind rocking chairs on porches and whiskey distilleries on hot nights. He waved the empty cocktail glass at the young green tinted man. Be a sport will you and fill up this glass for me theres a good boy He was charmingly patronising. Jivvers smiled a smile that had certain imminent mutinous qualities about it. He took the glass in a delicately clawed hand.
As you wish governor, the Glaswegian said. Shaken or stirred sir?
Surprise me he grimaced, although it may have been a smile. His doughy jowls and dense white moustache and mutton chops made facial expressions difficult to interpret. Jivvers dutifully refilled the glass and half heartedly shook it. Chilvester leant back and looked out of the window at the blurring scorching plains of the Ranx. Staring into his own reflection he rubbed his knuckles on his second and third chin. I say Jivvers, he said. What do you make of all this ghost business?
Jivvers turned from the cocktail bar and gave the glass to his employer. Ghosts sir? I wasnt aware there were any The small gold clock started to chime-- 1 oclock in the morning.
Well of course there are no ghosts boy, he snapped as though his patience had been slowly whittled away. But these confounded miners are babbling on about them. Cant have superstition getting into them. Ive got a hell of an investment riding on these people Jivvers, I aint letting no ghosts real or not affecting it. He turned, surprised to see Jivvers stood there with two large pink pills in his open palm. What the hell is this?
Its one oclock sir, said Jivvers. Time for your medication.
Chilvester grunted and fit both of the pills into the dank pit of his face, slurping them back with his cocktail. Jivvers didnt bother to tell him that taking pills with alcohol wasn't a good idea, even if these pills were the only thing stopping the fat in his blood stream turning completely solid. Chilvester didnt like being told what to do. He came from a world where how much money you had decided how right you were in situations.
Its the principle of the thing, always said it always it will, he wiped his fat lips with a pasty hand. Discipline is what these peasants need. Spare the rod spoil the the er
Child sir.
Chilvester turned slowly and glared at his manservant with utter contempt.
Did I ask for your o-pinion Jivvers? He grumbled.
No sir, sorry sir.
Chilvester grumbled some racial insult under what little breath he had and glared out of the window. To him it wasnt a sun baked prairie-- the whole planet was a big silver dollar and he had just put it into his pocket. He smirked greedily and drained the last of the cocktail from the glass. From outside there rose a terrible screeching, the whole train buckled and lurched and in a moment the speeding machine had been brought to a complete halt. Sparks flew up past the window as burning wheels gripped against cold steel track. Chilvester, unfortunately for him, was still travelling when the train unexpectedly stopped and now lay on his back about five feet from his chair. Jivvers, unfortunately for him, had to lift Chilvester off of the floor.
Get off of me! The fat man barked, waving his servant away and struggling to his overwhelmed legs. What in the name of hell is going on here?! He looked around, his face turning purple with rage, desperately looking for someone to blame. He turned on Jivvers very, very quickly. Well dont just stand there you stupid half-breed! Get off this fucking train and see whats happening! The anger in Jivvers right now was unsurpassed even by his foaming employer. He could have killed him there and then and never have regretted it. But he had debts that desperately needed to be paid off-- and the old man would die anyway if he wasnt around. He needed his money. So, nodding dutifully, he opened the door and hopped out of the train and onto the prairie.
The warm night air shocked Jivvers system as he dropped to the arid grassland, batting the dust from his knees. The train was letting off steam, the engineers had leapt out of their cab and tried to understand what had happened to the train. The brakes had closed and fused themselves to the wheels. Liquid iron had ran across the wheels and the track. The locomotive had been melted to the track. As they stood there, the boiler inside the cab exploded-- and a mass of superheated steam, water, coal dust and blistered metal spat out onto the prairie. With nowhere the go the steam pressure ripped the inside of the locomotive apart. The doors of the carriages popped open, and the colonists hopped out to see what had happened.
In the middle of the night, a cluster of nearly two hundred human colonists stood around, tired and travel worn and becoming increasingly wary about their position. They were utterly exposed. And though it sound ridiculous to say, there was a feeling in all of those gathered that there was something infinitely more sinister than a horrendous malfunction. There was... an aura about the scene. Something in the eerie quiet of the prairie, the smell of burnt tin in the air, and the formal nature of the train's damage. There was something altogether routine about it. Machine malfunctions were often vicious, more violent than this. It was uniform, rehearsed. Planned. The thought sent a shiver down Jivvers and the colonists shared his worry. There was quiet amongst them.
It all happened so quickly. The ground jalted as a lift jalts onto the ground floor. The air was filled with a sweet smelling orange powder and standing there were the ghosts. The colonists screamed and scattered. Jivvers stood horrified, falling backwards against the train and gawping. There was nothing else that could be done. There was nothing else to say about them. Ghosts. Giant, pale ghosts, round hollow eyes, porcelain limbs and faces blank of any expression or individual features. In a matter of seconds the group was surrounded by two dozen of the baron fiends. Light sprang up from nowhere illuminating them all. The ghosts advanced, chasing the colonists back towards the train. No, not chasing-- herding. It had been a trap. Jivvers didn't know how but someway the ghosts had halted the train. They're limbs outreached, they were little more that silhouettes of the human form. Eight feet high, all identical, pure white. Jivvers had never been so scared. He couldn't think. He couldn't move. He sat slumped against the melted wheel of the locomotive and quaked.
He shrieked when it caught him. Ice cold, vice like hands gripped his shoulders, wrenching the joint out of socket as he tried in vain to jerk away. Strength impossible for a real creature. They were other worldly. The creature hoisted him up and dragged him kicking and shrieking into the tight ring of screaming colonists. Chilvester was there, a handsome blow on his skull and a dazed look on his fat face. He was babbling.
So much for superstition you fat fuck.
Jivvers' head span, he had never known terror before. They had set a trap. Dear god in heaven they had set a trap. Claustrophobia strangled his heart, he couldn't breath. It was merciless. It was so quick. It was inhuman. From this close proximity the ghosts, if they were that, seemed so much more solid. As the colonists were packed tighter and tighter together by the ring of advancing white giants--- the creatures looked almost as if they were made of metal, but no metal could act so alive. And then one of the creatures spoke. A deep, reverborating voice that came from every part of the creatures body. When it spoke, some passed out, Jivvers half imagined he heard one man go insane with terror:
"You belong to us. You will be like us..."