Jenny Colcan, page 10
First the orchestra played their most stirring music – and if you have never
heard 3,000 violins play in harmony, I recommend it – then due to some clever atmospheric tweaking, the sun suddenly set above our heads in a million
glowing shades of pink and purple streaking across a golden sky. As the stars popped out above us, thousands and thousands of tiny candles lit themselves, until the amphitheatre was a glittering fairyland and a collective ‘ooo’ could be heard from the crowd.
I realised we were holding hands, but we weren’t running.
A man brandishing a huge sword ran onto the floor of the amphitheatre, holding up his weapon. He looked tiny down there. Then behind him came more
and more and more; as the orchestra beat the drums, an entire army emerged, standards raised, marching in perfect unison to the music; it was oddly stirring, as thousands of them lined up, displaying their marching skills. Then the music changed, and lots of women ran on too, with long plaits and beautiful embroidered garments, and the entire arena erupted into a victory war dance around the campfires which sprang up suddenly.
Then just as we were lulled into the display, a single person, dressed in furs, tore onto the floor. He could have been an interloper, except for his sword, and he shouted loudly about a dragon, a dragon coming this way, whereupon the actors dissolved their dancing and made a huge line; brought out their weapons which all burst into huge lines of flame above their head, and the music changed to something ominous and scary.
There was a long pause and then a great noise, like a huge metal foot striking the ground.
‘Oooh!’ said the Doctor. ‘What’s that?’
There was another sound, then another, then another from near the entrance.
The crowd of performers shrank back, and so did the audience. And when the burst of flame appeared, everybody jumped. It was immense; we could feel the
heat from up in the box.
‘Whoa!’ said the Doctor.
Then BOOM you could just see, entering the arena, one huge metal claw.
The ground shook. Then another, then another; clang clang clang. The Doctor was gripping me in excitement. Then there was a huge cloud of smoke across the arena and when it cleared, the creature was there, at least four storeys high; a genuine metal monstrosity, shaped like a dragon, with huge bright red glowing eyes. It opened its sharp jaws wide to the sky and an enormous roar and a billowing flame erupted.
The beast rampaged around the stadium floor, causing the performers to cower in terror; occasionally approaching a bank of the audience. At one point it reached out a surprisingly delicate claw and lifted a hat off someone, to vast
applause.
Then the mood darkened again; the people on stage cowered, and in another
puff of smoke, from the entrance appeared a man – a huge man, blond of hair and beard, incredibly over-muscled ( some might say), dressed in chainmail and a loin cloth, with a hammer the size of me, marched into the arena to a huge and overwhelming standing ovation from the audience.
‘Why do I never get one of those?’ came the voice to my left.
‘Sssh,’ I said. ‘It’s just getting interesting. He’s very oily.’
‘Fierce and mighty dragon!’ shouted Thor, amplified throughout the arena.
‘Face me in combat!’
The dragon turned round, its red eyes blinking, smoke puffing from its giant
nostrils. With a roar it pawed the ground and prepared to charge. Thor stood his ground. It looked a ridiculously uneven fight, as the dragon backed the man into a corner, whereupon Thor struck the weapon with an almighty clank, and harmless green sparks showered the first ten rows. He swung it round with some rather unnecessary pyrotechnics, then whacked it straight into the head of the dragon, which staggered backwards, then regrouped to run at him again. But now Thor was a blur of motion; spinning and hacking; at one stage seemingly cornered, then rolling out from underneath the creature; temporarily losing his sword, but not before he’d hacked off a great sharp-needled toe from the dragon and was fighting him off with his own pointed nail, etc. It was all very stirring stuff; the dragon veered almost but not too dangerously close to the crowd; just at the last minute, the flames wouldn’t quite reach, or the claws would draw back, as the audience screamed.
Thor was gearing up for the very last charge; the audience in a frenzy. He had escaped near-death several times now and the crowd was absolutely ready for the kill. He advanced slowly on the puffing, bucking, crazed animatronic beast.
And then something strange happened. The tail of the dragon went over the
side of the barrier, and knocked an entire row off their seats. A great screaming broke out. The huge beast wobbled and wavered as if about to topple over, and absolute panic broke out in the stands. We both stayed watching closely, neither of us sure whether or not this was all part of the act; perhaps that section of the audience were stooges, to make the experience more intense for the spectators.
Then the Doctor grabbed my arm.
‘Look,’ he said.
The dragon was now twirling around, its robotic limbs flailing everywhere,
and it had inadvertently scooped up a figure from the stands.
It was a child; the same child we’d found earlier, wandering free from its parents. It had clearly been wandering free again, and had got onto a very dangerous path.
The dragon lurched, holding the tiny child – who looked even tinier in its claws – as the audience screamed and gasped.
‘Quick…’ I said, turning, but of course the Doctor had already gone.
There must have been a control room somewhere, because the dragon lurched to
the left and to the right as there was a frantic struggle for control. And as people started to dangerously cram themselves towards the exits in panic, and the actors vanished, I saw a lone lanky figure down on the floor of the amphitheatre, waving his arms.
The beast was a robot of course, it had no independent thought at all, but it responded to movement and noise. I ran down the steps towards the stage and clambered over the barriers. Security had vanished, which was a tad disappointing. Perhaps all that smiling had tired them out.
The Doctor was trying to get close to it, but every time he approached, the
dragon would drop its head and make a lunging noise, just as it was programmed to do so with Thor, who was, I noticed disapprovingly, huddled in a side entrance, pressed against the wall, terrified. He’d left his hammer discarded in the middle of the stage.
‘I’ll distract it!’ I shouted, hoping the hammer would have a trigger effect on the robot, which it did. I couldn’t lift it, but I could waggle it from side to side.
The robot turned its mighty head towards me.
‘Give him one of your looks,’ came the Doctor’s voice as he charged round
the back of the great beast and tried to grab it by the tail, which lashed furiously.
The child was screaming, but seemed to be being held quite securely. I didn’t have a hope of reaching up there, and wished I still had my trusty lasso. Instead, I glanced around. There were stones on the ground, surrounding the facsimile campfires. I picked them up and tried to figure out where to throw them that wouldn’t hit the howling boy. I aimed for the knees, which seemed to work; the creature started to unbalance slightly, leaning, then overreaching.
‘Again!’ shouted the Doctor.
I let loose and the great tail came crashing down for long enough for him to
grab hold of it. He clambered up it, carefully, as I stopped throwing stones – I didn’t want the beast to fall with the two of them on it, and instead ran
underneath, trying to work out where best to place myself if I had to catch the child.
The Doctor was now hoisting himself up the underside of the creature’s tail,
so it looked as if he were hanging off a giant branch, and was pulling himself hand over hand.
‘Help!’ the woman was screaming from the sidelines. ‘GET MY BABY!’
I watched the Doctor and the boy anxiously, adrenalin pounding, as the Doctor shouted, ‘Right! On my count, River, be ready!’
And with an almighty lunge, he let go with both hands, with only his legs clinging on to the rampaging creature’s tail, and hurled himself backwards. The creature lurched, the leg I’d damaged moving up in the air – then, crack, there was the noise of a great switch being flicked, and the huge beast froze.
So did everybody fleeing for the exits. A momentary hush descended. But not for long.
There was an ominous creak. I held my breath. And the great four-storey creature twitched, just a little. And the leg I had whacked with stones started to tremble. It was like watching a tree being cut down.
The great stampede of people turned tail yet again and fled for the exits. We, on the other hand, could do nothing but stand and watch.
I drew a deep breath and stood as tall as I was able. Then I shouted at the child:
‘Mure! Mure! Can you jump?’
The kid gazed at me with terrified eyes, shaking his head tightly.
‘Jump to me,’ I said. ‘Come on, sweetie. You can do it.’
He shook his head mutely. The beast’s leg trembled again. Inside there was a
twisting noise of crunching metal. Something was going terribly wrong in there.
‘You have to!’ I said. ‘Come on, Mure. You have to. Just do it!’
He shook his head again.
‘Come on!’ I shouted desperately. ‘Come on! You can do it!’
The little boy edged slightly closer to the edge of the creature’s great claws.
‘That’s right!’ I said. ‘Come on! I know you’re very brave, and I’m going to
catch you!’
He inched forwards a tiny bit more, and I smiled encouragingly.
‘Come on!’
He was ready, his hands going up.
Suddenly his mother was by my side.
‘MURE!’ she screamed. ‘GET DOWN HERE! GET DOWN RIGHT NOW!’
This had the opposite effect. The child shrank back into himself straightaway.
‘NOW!’
The headshaking had recommenced. I glanced at the beast. Yes, the creaking
was getting louder. The beast was starting to lean further and further over. I held my hands out even higher for the child.
‘Mure. Please,’ I said. It was such a long drop, and he was such a small child.
‘ River! Use this!’
The Doctor was sliding down the creature’s tail, which had the unavoidable
effect of unbalancing the beast completely. As he did so, he hurled his sonic high in the air, and it curled over the dragon’s flanks and flew straight towards me.
I caught it in my left hand, and switched it up; the fireworks began to dance lightly from the end.
‘Look, Mure!’ I said. ‘Look!’
And the huge beast began to topple, just as the little boy gazed at the fireworks, and shouted ‘Lights!’, and the Doctor leapt first, and was there supporting me, just as Mure leapt into my arms, as the robot landed on the arena floor with a crash that shook the earth.
Mure propelled us both back onto his mother, who took more than the brunt of
it, but neither of them cared; she grabbed the child and smothered him in a mixture of hard hugs and kisses. The huge robot lay motionless and lifeless, half a section of seats completely squashed beneath it.
‘Thank you, River and Doctor, for saving my baby,’ said the Doctor pointedly.
‘You’re very welcome, polite and attentive parent,’ I said, dusting myself down. ‘You know, I think I’m going to leave it to you to retrieve the screwdriver.’
Outside, there were people screaming and rushing for the exits. We marched through them, looking for the Command Centre. We found it behind another beautiful village square, with its thatched roofs and half-timbered tumbledown houses and picturesque blondes performing an apparently traditional dance which involved quite a lot more exposed flesh that one would expected that far up in a planet’s northern hemisphere, but that’s a post-Earthly fantasy paradise for you.
If you crept round the back of the town square, though, there was a high thicket of trees, facilities for a variety of biologies; and a very small, unsignposted path. We looked at one another and nodded.
The Command Centre was an unobtrusive grey bunker, without windows,
and several control panels on the roof. There was a keypad by the door and as we approached, several dark-suited people marched sharply up towards it and keyed it open, and we simply slunk in behind them.
Inside was a vast space down a flight of stairs; it must have extended underneath the park. Which made sense. Indeed as I looked around the huge underground control centre I saw, amongst myriad screens and working computers – and a big smiling 3D picture of Thor exhorting the staff to ‘FIGHT
WIN SMILE!’ – were long tunnels, careering off everywhere, with little white travel cable pods, moving at remarkable speeds, delivering Vikings, dancers, cleaners, catering staff, who waited for the subway system like oddly dressed commuters, presumably so nobody had to watch Thor queue for the toilet. It was quite a sight.
‘Who are you?’ said an unfriendly voice. I looked up. The voice belonged to
a species I didn’t recognise, but looked a bit like a beaver. It was humanoid size though, and stood on two stilt-like legs, it was kind of cross and cute-looking all at once.
‘Hullo!’ said the Doctor. ‘We’re on the VIP tour! This bit’s great!’
‘No you’re not,’ said the beaver. An outbreak of shouting was taking place
over by a bank of monitors. ‘Now, clear out, this is a restricted area.’
He folded his tiny paws, not very impressively, although his expression was
serious, as was the blaster tucked into the pocket of his frankly adorable beaver overalls.
‘Out!’
The commotion got louder.
‘Did you see those guys on the screen?’ came a voice. A smaller, greyer creature – more mole-like, although with the same augmented limbs – came clattering over. ‘They saved a kid in the crowd! We should give them an award or something. Actually, you know what, boss, having an event that almost goes horribly wrong and then comes good at the last minute… that might be an idea
you know. Might add a good level of jeopardy to the crowd…’
HIs voice petered out as he took us in standing in front of him.
‘And here you are!’
‘It’s a small world, after all,’ said the Doctor.
‘Well done, you guys.’
The beaver scowled and reviewed the monitors. ‘Was that you?’
‘Saved the day!’ said the Doctor. ‘Where were security, by the way?’
The beaver frowned. ‘Helping people towards the exits. Preventing a panic.
Exactly what they’re meant to be doing.’
The beaver, the mole and I peered round the cavern. People were yelling and
dashing around.
‘Glad to see there’s no more panic… I’m the Doctor, by the way.’
‘And I’m the Professor,’ I said, smiling politely.
‘So. What happened to your dragon?’ asked the Doctor.
The beaver sniffed. ‘I’m Caius Roose. Park Director,’ he said. ‘And it’s nothing to worry about. Small mechanical failure. All fixed now.’ He glanced at me. ‘Are you one of the Brunhildes?’
‘Enough of that.’
‘Cause you sound just like her.’
The Doctor looked around. ‘Are you going to close the park?’
Caius shook his head. ‘Naw, just a minor technical issue. No one got hurt.’
‘We should close it,’ said the mole. ‘Double-check everything.’
‘I agree,’ said the Doctor.
Caius scratched his head. ‘We can’t,’ he said. ‘It’s our busiest time in the year. We close the park, we lose our profits, then next thing you know word gets out we’re dangerous, and before you know it everyone stays away and we’re out of business.’
‘Maybe that’s because you are dangerous,’ I said.
‘It’s one mechanical failure,’ muttered Caius again.
‘We should still failsafe,’ said the mole.
Caius turned on him. ‘Postumus Fearne!’ he said, exasperated.
‘I’m just saying!’ said the Mole.
‘How many kids you got at home, Postumus?’
‘Eleven,’ said Postumus fondly.
‘Right. And what are they going to eat when they find out Daddy’s lost his
job?’ Caius turned back to us. ‘There’s 76,000 people work in Asgard™.’
He gestured a paw towards the long lines of people queuing for the subway
trains, scooping them away, another tired-looking horde alighting as the cars stopped.
‘It’s a major source of employment in a very depressed part of the galaxy.
And I’m responsible for them.’
‘And for them,’ said the Doctor, showing the screens that covered all of the park. Everywhere were happy youngsters out strolling with their families; with horned shaped balloons; babies in buggies; people having wonderful days in the sunshine.
‘That’s right,’ said Caius. ‘And look: there’s no panic. Because everything is fine. And we’ll investigate the mechanical fault and then everything can carry on just as it was.’
