"Infinite Darkness" - Part One

 

Part One

            Mandy was not a teacher by any stretch of the imagination, but – being a Time Lord – she did have vast knowledge of the multiverse. Clarence required a tutor while he was traveling with her. An impressionable ten-year-old boy like him needed the proper education every now and then, and Mandy was the only suitable adult for the job.

            Of course, there was also Dr. Peyton Westlake, the newest addition to their little team of travelers, but his unpredictable mood swings (a side effect of his physical disfigurement) automatically disqualified him. That and he seemed preoccupied with perfecting his “synthetic skin” project, which he had more time and supplies with, courtesy of Mandy’s TARDIS.

            Becoming a tutor for Clarence meant establishing a classroom setting, which Mandy organized within the TARDIS laboratory (where Westlake worked). It also meant dressing the part, so she put on the most formal attire she could find in the wardrobe room – a white blouse, a tight black pencil skirt that was knee-length, and black high heels. It was the most conservative she had ever dressed, and it was admittedly uncomfortable.

            It didn’t help that Clarence was so distracted during their lesson on Saturn.

            “Clarence, honey, please pay attention,” she beseeched of her pupil. “This is important stuff we’re learning about.”

            “But I already know Saturn stuff,” Clarence proclaimed. “It’s that planet that looks like a Frisbee with an orange stuck in it.”

            Mandy tried not to laugh at his description. “Yes, but don’t you want to know what that ‘Frisbee’ part is called?”

            “Not really,” Clarence passively (and honestly) answered. “Hey, Mandy, when are we going back home? My mom’s gotta be pretty upset right now. She probably thinks I’ve been kidnapped and gots the police, firemen, and the President of the United States looking for me, which means we could get in a lot of trouble.”

            Mandy didn’t think he would ask this anytime soon. He was having so much fun that it seemed the thought of going back home never would cross his mind. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. “Uh, well…” She struggled with a reasonable answer, so the best she could come up with was “Recess!”

            That was just the distraction she needed. Clarence was so overjoyed with the announcement that he ran right out of the lab immediately, much to Mandy’s relief.

            “So why haven’t you told him the truth?”

            She heard Westlake pry from his workspace across the spacious room. He had been wearing a replica of his original face since he took up residence in Mandy’s ship. This meant dimming the lights more than they already were to accommodate Gizmo, as Westlake’s synthetic skin was photosensitive and would rapidly disintegrate after 99 minutes when exposed to light.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mandy deflected Westlake’s inquiry.

            Peyton scoffed. “Take it from a man who kept a big secret from the woman he loved – about his own face. You’re keeping something from our little friend…and it sounds like it’s pretty big.”

            Mandy sighed. There was no getting past this conversation.

            “I can’t take Clarence back to his world…because it no longer exists,” she confessed.

            This news stunned Westlake. “What happened?”

            Before Mandy could give any details, the cloister bell sounded.

            Anytime that it did, Mandy tried to remain calm, as it usually spelled trouble.

            And trouble was what she, Westlake, and Clarence found when they arrived at the console room. Standing there by the console itself was the purple stone statue of a winged angel in a chiton. Its hands were positioned over the console controls, which had golden energy seeping through the panel and into the angel statute’s fingertips.

            “Did Santa leave us this statue for a Christmas present?” Clarence asked.

            Mandy was frozen stiff. “Don’t…blink,” she instructed her companions.

            “What?” Westlake bafflingly inquired.

            It was at that moment the lights in the console room flickered on and off. As they did, the statue’s form shifted in poses, moving closer and closer towards Mandy, Clarence, and Westlake. Its facial features also changed, taking on more ferocious traits, such as fangs and claws.

            “Gah!” Mandy groaned. “I hate it when they cheat like that!”

            “What is this thing?!” Westlake exclaimed. “How is it moving on its own?!”

            Mandy had no time to explain. She was too occupied in dealing with the sentient angel statue that was only seconds from nearing her and her friends. She aimed her sonic screwdriver at the control console and shut down all the ship’s functions, including the lights.

            It was an idea that worked out better in her head, as they were now unable to see anything, including the angel that they were trapped in the darkness with. The whole point in the plan was to prevent the angel’s manipulation of the lights, which it had used as another form of “blinking.” In shutting them off, Mandy bought them just a short amount of time, but she may have also given the angel a further advantage.

            The only way to know for sure was by triggering the flashlight function of her sonic. To their horror, the angel had pounced right onto them the second that Mandy’s sonic lit up.

            In the blink of an eye, Mandy and her companions were transported out of the console room and in the middle of a desert. The climate was harsher than most deserts, the air was barely breathable, and the heat was intense. The fact that there were three suns in the sky hinted that this was not an Earth-based desert region.

            “What just happened?!” Westlake panicked, his tone bordering on aggressive. “How did we get here?!”

            “That Weeping Angel put us here,” Mandy told him. “It’s different from the others I’ve seen, mostly being purple rather than slate grey.”

            “Mandy,” Clarence whimpered. “It’s too hot…and I’m getting thirsty.”

            Mandy noticed that he was already sweating up a storm. As concerned as she was for her youngest companion, she also had to think of her older one. Exposed to the intense light of more than one sun, Westlake’s synthetic skin was pushed beyond its limits. It was already beginning to bubble.

            Luckily, as her aquamarine eyes searched for any sort of shelter nearby, she spotted what appeared to be a crashed space vessel just a few clicks from their location. “This way,” she instructed Clarence and Peyton, leading them to their salvation.

            Arriving at the crash site, they found survivors.

            “Oh, thank goodness,” uttered one survivor, a young woman with short blond hair drenched in sweat and an outfit that consisted of a sleeveless naval blue top and matching pants. Approaching Mandy, Clarence, and Westlake, she seemed more than relieved. “Other survivors.”

            “Definitely not a scouting party by the looks of them,” another survivor observed. He was a curly-haired man wearing a uniform that had the name of “Johns” printed on it.

            “Which one of you is the captain?” Mandy asked.

            “I am,” the young blonde said.

            “And you are?”

            “The woman who saved all of us,” another woman survivor answered. She was a dark-haired Australian in the accompaniment of an aboriginal man who added to the woman’s response, “She landed what was left of our ship, mate.”

            “Carolyn Fry,” the captain introduced herself.

            “Pleasure to meet you,” Mandy said. “My name’s Amanda – ‘Mandy’ for short – and these are my friends, Clarence Wendle and Dr. Peyton Westlake.”

            “A doctor?” a Muslim man remarked in regards to Westlake. “We could’ve used one much earlier when the first officer was gravely injured.”

            “I’m not that kind of doctor,” Westlake refuted, his impatience rising.

            Noticing the way in which he nursed one side of his face (the side that the synthetic skin bubbled on), Fry inquired, “Are you hurt? Lemme check.”

            “NO!” Westlake viciously reflected. His sudden outburst terrified the survivors.

            Mandy quickly spoke in his defense before whatever comradery developing between the two groups was lost. “He has a bad skin condition. Being out in this heat’s only making it more irritable. Do you have any bandages inside the ship he can use to cover his face?”

            Fry understandably yet cautiously eyed Westlake as she answered, “Very few. Most of the medical supplies were lost.”

            “What about fresh clothes and water?” Mandy added.

            “You can find all the clothes you want,” Johns told her. “As far as water, all we got is booze, courtesy of that gentleman there.” He gestured to a bespectacled survivor who sat comfortably atop one large piece of wreckage under an umbrella with glasses and bottles of alcohol next to him.

            “Can I have some booze, Mandy?” the parched Clarence requested.

            “Most certainly not!” Mandy restricted. “We’ll find you some fresh, clean water to drink, sweetie, I promise.”

            Fry looked uneasily on Clarence before she mentioned to Mandy, “One of the passengers was Richard B. Riddick, so be sure to watch out for him – he’s dangerous.”

            Mandy shrugged. “Who’s Richard B. Riddick?”

            Her question drew curious gazes from the survivors.

            Apparently, this “Riddick” had quite the reputation in this dimension.

---------------------------

            Mandy’s teaching attire was already uncomfortable enough; under the harsh climate of the desert planet, it was downright insufferable. So, upon rummaging throughout the wrecked ship – named “Hunter Gratzner” after the company that owned it, Mandy managed to find clothes suitable for expedition: a black jumpsuit with an adjustable zipper in front, a black cap, sunglasses, and peach-colored tennis shoes.

            After changing, she checked up on Westlake. She was surprised to see that he found himself clothes that were identical to his “Darkman” persona, including a fresh supply of bandages that he wrapped around his entire head. “I’m so sorry,” she lamented to him.

            “It’s alright,” he sighed. “It’s the price I paid for joining you. An endless existence of worlds to explore – none of which I can find peace on. Of course, I’d be no better off in my world. I just hope Julie hasn’t moved on.”

            “You told me that the only purpose you had in returning to your world was getting revenge on the men who disfigured you,” Mandy reviewed. “Is that still your goal? Or have you decided against it?”

            Westlake didn’t supply her with a definitive answer.

            Instead, he averted and asked, “That statue that sent us here…you called it a ‘Weeping Angel’. You’ve encountered one before?”

            Mandy shook her head. “No…but I’ve read about them in ancient Gallifreyan manuscripts. In all my travels through time, space, and reality, whether it was with the Doctor or on my own, I’ve encountered so many bizarre creatures. But the Weeping Angels are on a whole different level.”

            “In those manuscripts you read, did they say anything useful?” Westlake asked.

            “Just a warning in High Gallifreyan with a single translation.”

            “What did it say?”

            “It’s behind you.”

            Suddenly, the sound of gunshots rang, followed by a woman screaming.

            Mandy and Westlake rushed outside to see what the commotion was. They saw Shazza – the Australian woman – crying over the dead body of her aboriginal husband, Zeke. He had been shot dead, evident from the bullet holes riddled over his head and torso. The culprit was still at the scene: a bald man wearing welder’s goggles.

            Mandy guessed this to be the dangerous criminal Fry and the other survivors warned her about.

            Richard B. Riddick.