Phantom Ch. 07

Chapter 7: The Fiend Known as Samaraa

The Doctor, Alanna, and Alyssa were in Fallujah, Iraq. Sophie was not present.

When they had returned to the Dome on the Isle of Man, the Doctor had inputted the known psychic DNA strands of the Penguin into his databases under Alanna's watchful eyes and searched for likely matches. Since they only had partial DNA information on the Penguin, all the matches they had were partial ones. But one of the best they had was in Iraq. Alanna agreed and they booked passage there.

But the Doctor made Sophie stay behind.

"Why can't I come?" she asked.

"Iraq is no place for a young girl," said the Doctor firmly.

"But you'll need me," she said, pressing her firm Dutch breasts against him as she hugged him tightly. "Let me come, please, Doctor!"

The Doctor was very much aware of Alyssa's eyes on them, and was equally aware of Alanna's monitoring. Suddenly, he felt embarrassed. He gently pushed Sophie away, and winced when he saw the hurt expression on her face. "Listen to me, Sophie. Iraq is filled with zealots who follow Laquinta, the God of Blood. Do you want to wear a black burka in 100 degree heat?"

"No," said Sophie.

"Do you want to get whipped for the most minor infraction? Do you want to enter a culture where women are sold off into sexual slavery at the blink of an eye?"

"Well... not when you put it like that," said Sophie.

The Doctor hugged her again. "You stay here and take care of things. Someone has to feed the crocorabbit, right?"

Sophie nodded glumly.

Alyssa chose this moment to speak. "Doctor, I'm not surprised but I am saddened that you're filling this poor young girl's head with your own Laquintaphobic tendencies."

"Laquintaphobic tendencies?" said the Doctor. "Don't tell me you're going to deny how women are mistreated there."

"Of course there are scattered abuses, but no more than in western societies," said Alyssa. "The average American male has twice the unconscious aggression towards women than the typical Laquintan, according to a recent study from the Guttmacher Institute for Women and Girls-"

"I'm sure," said the Doctor. He got a gleam in his eye. "Yes," he said finally. "You know, I'm glad you're coming with us. You can help dispel all my... Laquintaphobic misperceptions."

"I know that you mean that sarcastically, Doctor," said Alyssa. "But when we get there, you will see for yourself what a kind, warm, loving people the Laquintans are."

*********

It was a hot, 100 degree day when they stepped off the stratoliner onto the tarmac in Baghdad. Alyssa, dressed in dark pants and a long sleeve shirt, encountered more than her fair share of hostile stares on the plane from women in burkas and large muscular men. But when she stepped off the plane, a jeep full of big bearded men wearing dark turbans drove straight for them. Evidently, the pilot had alerted the Basajis, the Laquintan religious police.

"Who are you? What are you doing here, dressed so scandalously?" their leader declared. He had a blaster at his hip and a curved sword in his belt.

"Scandalously?" said Alyssa. She had been careful to wear modest clothing, covering nearly every part of her body.

"Do not act the fool, infidel!" the man snapped. "Your neck! Your wrists! Your face! All are exposed! What are you, some kind of whore?"

"Whore? You mean a sex worker? Why, I've always spoken out for the rights of-"

"Passports!" the Basaji roared, as his deputies fingered their weapons.

The Doctor handed over his passport, as did Alyssa. He could sense the tension in her body.

Tell Alyssa to stay calm, Alanna thought.

"The ghoul says to stay calm," said the Doctor. He took a bag out of his pocket. "Would you like a girl ball?"

Alyssa made a curt gesture with her head.

"Then I'll have one for the both of us," said the Doctor. He fished out one, but it was a blonde, and he wanted a brunette. He always found brunettes more soothing. He fished out another, but it was also a blonde. Shrugging, he put it in his mouth and started sucking.

The man with their passports looked up. "It says here you are from London! Are you British spies?"

"British spies? No, my good man," said the Doctor. "We're with the World Government Committee to Fight Laquintaphobia. Here are my credentials." He activated his Pad, and holocredentials bearing the familiar hammer and sickle of the World Government appeared.

The Basaji glared at him. "Your credentials are accepted. But your female must dress appropriately, not like a wanton whore!"

"I am not his female!" Alyssa cried.

The Basaji moved forward as if to strike her, but the Doctor moved between them. "I'll make sure my female is properly dressed. And I will discipline her myself, if it pleases you."

"See that you do!" said the Basaji, climbing back into his grav jeep. It roared away, even as the Basajis gave them hostile stares from within.

The Doctor stared at them thoughtfully, then turned to Alyssa. "I'm beginning to realize you're right. All my Laquintaphobia is fading away... and seeping into you." Giving her a toothy grin, the Doctor turned away and walked towards the terminal.

You enjoyed that, didn't you, Doctor?

Didn't you? You told me how you were slaughtered by Laquintans. Isn't that why you're a ghoul?

I'm more concerned for Alyssa. She's a good girl, but a little... naïve.

Well, I sense there's going to be one great teachable moment after another for her here.

********

When they exited the spaceport, Alyssa was dressed from head to toe in a black burka. There was a narrow slit for her eyes. The blackness of the burka absorbed the terrible beating heat of the sun.

The Doctor looked down at her. "I must say, I've never seen you looking better."

"Alyssa, are you all right in there?" Alanna asked, through the Doctor.

"I'm fine. Just a little hot," said Alyssa, tugging at her collar under her burka.

"We'll get you some water," Alanna promised. "Won't we, Doctor?"

"Yes," the Doctor promised. "As well as a cute little bowl to drink from."

*********

Sophie missed the Doctor. She stood in front of a holomirror, wearing her tightest shirt and tightest short shorts. Somehow, dressing sexy always made her feel better, a little. She stared at her figure sideways, at her fine Dutch breasts jutting out from one side and her firm ass cheeks from the other. She remembered when she first started growing breasts. The Doctor had taken her to a clothier and whispered something to a saleswoman. Before she knew it, she was in a dressing room with a complete stranger who was telling her to take off her shirt. Sophie reasoned it must be all right, since the Doctor sent her there, but she still felt uncomfortable complying... which she did.

As soon as her shirt was removed, the saleswoman gently but firmly fit her for her first breast control collar, and Sophie grew red as the woman collapsed her into it. Suddenly she realized what had happened. The Doctor had noticed her growing... breasts! He had noticed it so much that he had brought her here to be fitted with a breast control collar! But quickly shame turned into pride. She was becoming a woman. And so when she left the changing room, and stood before the Doctor, she was aware of her new look. She had large coconut cups sticking out of her shirt! She looked even more womanly than before. "How do I look, Doctor?"

The Doctor reddened and mumbled "Fine," even as he turned away.

As the years passed and Sophie's fine Dutch breasts grew larger, this was the Doctor's typical reaction every time he noticed that she noticed him looking at her breasts. He would redden and turn away.

After she had lived with the Doctor for a few years, she had come to think of him as her father. Not that she ever called him that; she always called him Doctor. But when she turned 16, she also started to see him in a different light, as a man, a single, lonely, sexually mature man. The Doctor was only 38 years old at the time.

Sophie started doing things, some of them conscious, some of them not. She would speak in a low, musical tone when she talked to him. She would give him flirtatious smiles and look at him from the corner of her eye. She would brush against him when they walked, let her hand play over him at odd times.

And then when Sophie had modeled a sexy new bathing suit for him, something happened. "What do you think of this, Doctor?" she had asked, showing him a brilliant one piece which accentuated every curve. She had just turned 18, and her fine Dutch breasts were quite prolific and prominent. Father down, the material of her suit clung ever so tightly to the crack between her legs.

"It looks... it looks....." The Doctor seemed to be at a loss for words.

"It looks like what?" Sophie teased, bouncing up to him as she grabbed his arm.

Suddenly, she looked down, and saw a lump forming in his pants. As she watched, it got bigger.

The Doctor, seeing where she was looking, followed her gaze and reddened.

"It looks fine," he said, turning hastily away.

It was the following day when the Doctor asked, no, insisted, that she start dating men. He was totally deaf to her complaints about how boring other men were. But he forced her to go out on date after date. Sophie went on a few dates, until she had the inevitable one with the Lemure; after she dispatched him, the Doctor no longer insisted she see other men quite so vocally.

And now the Doctor was gone, to someplace or other in Iraq. Sophie worried for him. She didn't trust Alanna. However nice she seemed, Sophie had never met a good ghoul before. Ghouls had killed the Doctor's family as well as her own. Ghouls were not to be trusted.

Sophie tried to contact the Doctor, but there was no answer. She paced back and forth inside the Dome, and even fed the crocorabbit. Finally, to relieve the stress, she took a walk in one of the many small forests on the Isle of Man.

********

The Earystane Plantation was one of the many plantations which had been converted to forests on the Isle of Man. It was uncommon to find visitors walking through it, but Sophie never went out without her Infinite Infinity Repeater. Her IIR was designed with her needs in mind. The Doctor could hide his IIR behind his voluminous dark coat; Sophie, who wore very tight outfits, didn't have that option. So the Doctor had made her IIR invisible, as well as the holster.

Sophie had been grateful, but then she had asked, "But how do I aim an invisible gun?"

"With practice, my dear," said the Doctor.

And so Sophie had practiced, and learned to aim it by the way she held it, and eventually she grew quite skilled at firing an invisible gun. Eventually, however, the Doctor found a way to make it visible after she drew it, which made things much easier for her.

And so Sophie wandered aimlessly among the scrubby bushes and trees of the Earystane Plantation, vaguely worrying about the Doctor.

********

His name was Jack.

As in Jack the Ripper.

Jack was notorious for having carved up a number of prostitutes and lower class girls in 19th century London, but really, everything started for Jack with a higher class girl, the daughter of an Earl named Jenny Smoothstone.

He was an orphan, and lucky to find a job in the Earl's home, washing dishes and doing errands in the kitchen.

Jenny, who was two years older than him, noticed him and smiled at him, calling him "cute." Over the years, they gradually became friends. Jenny would sneak into the kitchen at odd times and corner Jack and share secrets with him. Over time Jack developed an affection for her, and, he thought, she for him. As he got older, he even started to harbor the belief that maybe something romantic could develop between them, despite their class differences.

Then, when Jenny turned 18 and Jack was 16, she came to Jack with exciting news. She was going to marry Roger Blake of Wimbledon.

"Roger Blake of Wimbledon?" said Jack disbelievingly. "But you barely know him!"

"I know he's handsome. I know he's wealthy," said Jenny smugly. "My father arranged it all. Isn't that fabulous?"

Jack didn't believe it was fabulous. "What about us?" he said.

"Us?" said Jenny. "What do you mean, Jack?"

And with that simple question, Jack's fantasy of spending his life with Jenny, the fantasy he had dreamed of every night for the past two years, went up in smoke. He realized then that Jenny had never loved him, not ever; that she had just used him, toyed with him like a plaything, and led him on until something better came along. Suddenly, he realized that Jenny was a whore. Technically, she hadn't prostituted herself in any way; Jack hadn't had sex with her, and he certainly hadn't paid her anything; and yet, in his mind, the first word that came to him when he thought of Jenny now was whore. She had taunted him, teased him, played with his affections, and then discarded him, and so in his mind, she was no better than a common whore.

Jenny was his first victim; he strangled her, and then hung her by a hook in the meat closet. And then he ran off to London to begin his reign of terror.

Jack died in London at the tender age of 31; the police never caught up to him; he was always too canny to be caught. No, he died from drowning, from getting drunk and then slipping and falling into a canal.

But so great was his rage at women that Jack could not bear to stay dead, and so he came back as a kalak, but not just any kalak; he came back as the most powerful of the malign kalaks, more powerful than a Shade or even a Fiend. For Jack was a Poltergeist. He could take control of people's bodies, but he himself could also generate a body of his own, of any appearance. He had stalked Sophie in several different bodies and she had never noticed a thing.

The Penguin had hired him to eliminate everyone the Doctor love, and obviously Sophie was high on the list. With the Doctor travelling elsewhere, and Sophie all alone, now Jack would have his chance. There was just one troubling thought nagging him....

********

Sophie walked listlessly down the narrow forest path. As she did, she saw a young man, sitting on a log.

She stiffened instinctively, her hand casually falling on her invisible Infinite Infinity Repeater. Her IIF had a number of settings, some of which were quite effective against physical flesh. The Doctor had trained her well; not all perils were of a spectral nature. Some even travelled on two legs.

But the young man looked perfectly harmless. She judged him to be perhaps in his early 20's, just a few years older than her. He was thin, had dark hair, and a charming smile.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello," she said back to him. She saw he had an open bottle of wine and a glass. He was probably just a hiker, like her, taking a break.

She had almost passed him when he remarked, "It really helps, doesn't it?"

Sophie stopped in her tracks. "What helps?"

"To take a walk, to get out in nature to clear your mind," said the young man.

Sophie blinked. That was a very astute observation. "Yeah... yeah, it does."

"Why don't you sit down and talk with me, just for a minute?"

Sophie looked doubtful.

"I'd love the company," said the young man, and he was so sincere, in the way he said it, that Sophie felt compelled to sit down.

"That's better," the young man smiled. He held out a hand. "Jack," he said.

"Sophie," said Sophie, shivering as she shook his hand. Suddenly she realized he was really quite handsome. "What brings you here, Jack?"

"I'm pining over a love I can never have," said Jack ruefully. "You?"

"I...." Sophie was suddenly at a loss for words. "The same," she said, with an embarrassed grin.

"Some wine?" said Jack, holding up his glass.

Sophie hesitated. Jack was a complete stranger. But there was no way Jack would have poisoned his own cup, would he? "Sure," she said. But even as she reached for his cup he pulled it back, and then pulled a second cup out of his knapsack.

A second cup, as if he had been expecting a visitor.

Immediately the complexion of the situation changed, as Jack poured her a drink and handed her the second glass. "Here you go," he said simply.

Sophie took the glass in hand, wondering how she could gracefully decline, if she should decline, if she was being paranoid-

Jack waved his hand in front of her. "It's really quite delicious. Have a try."

Sophie immediately put the cup to her lips and drank. The wine felt heavy and thick, but sweet. Jack smiled as he watched it go down her throat.

"How is that?"

Sophie felt the warmth of it going into her belly.

A strange tingling sensation!

Sophie took a deep breath, as she felt the wine moving inside her.

Then another.

Jack was still looking expectantly at her.

The wine! It was... it was....

"How is it?" Jack asked again.

"The wine? It's nice... it tastes really nice," Sophie decided. She drank some more. It did taste fine. Smooth.

Jack nodded, and smiled. They talked for a while. As time went on, Jack realized how easy it would be to end her life. He could kill her right here, and right now, and nobody would even notice. He could hide the body and it would be days before it was even found.

Or he could fuck her first. It would take very little persuasion. She would even think it was her own idea. Jack could fuck her behind the trees, right over there, and she would love every minute of it.

Then he could batter her to death. In this remote forest, she could scream freely. He would cover every inch of that beautiful body with even more beautiful black and blue marks. Then he would strangle her with his own hands, strangle a woman with the double satisfaction of knowing that she carried his seed, deep within her.

For all women were sluts. They all deserved death. This Sophie was no different.

And yet... as they talked, Jack saw it again, in her face.

She looked exactly like Jenny.

Like his Jenny.

He was far from certain, of course; it had been several hundred years since he had last seen Jenny, right before he hung her on the hook in the meat locker. But Jack thought it was her; she had the same eyes, the same pert nose, the same slender face, the same thick black hair, the same smile... even the voice sounded similar.

And so as the sunlight waned Jack was very surprised to find out that he had decided not to kill Sophie, nor even to fuck her and kill her, as he had originally planned. He would do it, all right, but he would leave her for last, after all the others had been dealt with. That wasn't what the Penguin wanted; but this was no longer solely about what the Penguin wanted, but what he wanted.

And so Jack waved his hand slightly and Sophie snapped out of it, as if she had been bespelled. "Oh my goodness, what time is it?" she checked her chrono. "We've been talking all afternoon! I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time." She abruptly got up.

"The pleasure was all mine," Jack assured her.

"Yes," said Sophie, wetting her lips. She waited a moment, leaning on one foot or another, waiting for the inevitable, for Jack to ask for her contact number.

But Jack merely smiled and said, "I'm sure we'll see each other again."

"Yes... yes, I'm sure we will," said Sophie, and she made her goodbyes, and sauntered off. When she had walked a hundred feet or so, however, she turned around and noticed that Jack was gone, backpack and all.

*********

It was a grand celebration.

The Iraqi Department of Health had just completed a brand new four billion dollar credit sewage treatment system for the city of Fallujah, funded entirely by the World Government and western donors, of course. Iraq could not be expected to fund its own basic needs, because the territorial government was still suffering from the impact of colonization six centuries ago and the Laquintaphobia that lingered long thereafter.

The Iraqi Minister of Health, Abdul Azziz Husseini, was there to celebrate with local dignitaries, including the Governor of Fallujah, Mohammad Nawaf. Everyone was most impressed with Husseini, who was a canny politician; no one could ever remember anything of this kind having been done in decades. Usually, aid money was carefully diverted into untraceable bank accounts on Ramada. But somehow, Husseini had been honest enough, and canny enough, to actually get the new sewage system built.

Husseini's integrity was not actually the cause of the project's success; for that one would have to look to the kalak controlling him like a meat puppet, a very powerful kalak named Samaraa Jihadi.

********

Samaraa Jihadi was born in the small village of Kubaysah, northwest of Baghdad, some 54 years earlier. She was earnest about studying her prayers, eager to absorb the teachings of the Book of Blood. She would listen to the speeches of Imam Herendi every Sunday, to his calls to arms against the heretics and infidels, and she decided at a young age she wanted to join the fight. One day after services she appealed to him to join the war effort.

But Herendi had only chuckled. "You are only a girl, and a young girl at that. You should be at home in your tent, bearing the next generation of Laquintan warriors to fight the godless white men."

"No, I want to fight too, Imam!" Samaraa Jihadi had said. "It is in my very name!"

But Herendi had only chuckled some more and turned away.

The war with the infidels did not go well. It never did. Somehow, whatever they lacked in piety they seemed to make up for in technology or sheer killing force. It was a great mystery why the God of Blood let the infidels win time and time again. Imam Herendi said it was because followers of the Great Book were insufficiently pure and devoted.

Finally, when the infidels won, they sent spies and agitators into the Laquintan community, with phony names like "health care workers" and "women empowerment educators". Once again, Samaraa prevailed on Herendi to fight the infidels.

Finally, he relented. "You want to fight?" he said, staring at her with his one good eye. His other eye had been cut in a fight with a rival Imam years ago. "You can fight. There are some very bad people in the World Government compound. They are giving what they call vaccines, but these vaccines are filled with cat meat."

Samaraa gasped. She knew how unholy and dirt cat meat was. According to the Great Book of Blood, anyone who ingested or was buried with cat meat forfeited their chance to earn an eternity with 69 virgins in the afterlife.

"Surely not?" Samaraa said.

"Surely so. They are wicked, and must be eliminated."

And so, before Samaraa fully knew what she was doing, she was given a suicide belt and sent into a compound run by an infidel organization called the Guttmacher Institute. The Infidels claimed they were there to vaccinate children and to help women and girls, but the Imam had informed her that they were really here to upset the natural order of things, to teach women to enslave men and become their masters.

And so Samaraa had entered their compound, and stepped into a classroom full of people listening to a lecture about small, rod shaped devices attached to belts around the waist with mysterious purposes, when she triggered her detonator and blew everyone up in the room. Including herself.

********

It was only after she died that she realized how angry she was. Angry not just as the infidels, who were trying to corrupt true followers with their heretical ways, but at Imam Herendi at well. He had never really valued her as a soldier of Laquinta; he had simply used her like cannon fodder to murder some infidels... along with herself.

And yet she was not dead. She was not quite alive either, but something in between, something that others might call a Fiend, an extremely powerful kalak. Samaraa discovered she had a non-corporeal form, though she wouldn't have recognized the word if it had been spoken to her. She had never spent a day in school and knew nothing of such things. But she quickly discovered she could enter bodies, male and female, and influence and control them.

She suddenly realized that she had been spared by the Great God of Blood, spared in order to kill infidels... as well as corrupted Imams.

Imam Herendi was her first victim, impaling himself on his own sword. After that, Samaraa roamed through northern Iraq, murdering infidels as well as Imams who were insufficiently pious. She chose her targets most carefully, but the more she observed an Imam, any Imam, the more she would typically discover that he was not a true believer.

And so Samaraa wrecked a path of devastation across northern Iraq, a path that was barely noticed, because followers of Laquinta were busy killing each other, until the day the Great Idea came to her. She did some research, and realized it was certainly possible, and, if achievable, would cause her other great achievements to look like child's play by comparison.

And so she took over the Iraqi Health minister, a waste of skin who was simply collecting what graft he could, and with some force of effort turned him into an honest civil servant, and focused him on completing the Fallujah sanitation tunnel. The World Government had poured billions of credits into it for years with little to show for it; but they kept sending the money, year after year. The World Government was like that. But were they surprised when the Health Minister, Abdul Azziz Husseini, actually developed a change of attitude and got that sewage tunnel built!

And then, after two years of hard work, just when it was almost completed, Samaraa had a visitor, in her offices in the Grand Hall Martyrs in Fallujah, where she was working out the final details for the upcoming celebration.

********

"I've heard about your good work," said the man who called himself Penguin.

Perhaps man was too hasty a word. Samaraa sensed the half white, half black freak in front of her was not a man. Far from it. Still, she sensed he was powerful.

"Yes," she said simply, inside Husseini's body. "What do you want?" she said bluntly.

The Penguin smiled. "Only to destroy the world." He explained what he was trying to accomplish. He still needed a second kalak to activate the Nova Missiles and destroy the world.

Samaraa licked her/his lips. To destroy the world. She had been having similar thoughts, but using an entirely different methodology. "I have had dreams of late."

"Kalaks don't have dreams," said the Penguin bluntly.

"I do. Or call them visions," said Samaraa.

"Visions?"

"From the God of Blood. He has communicated with me, and given me a special task."

"You mean this sewage tunnel you're building?" the Penguin had researched her, thoroughly, before approaching her.

Samaraa shook her head. "This is only a minor project. My main concern is with Laquinta. The God of Blood is trapped."

"Trapped?"

"On another planet."

"On another planet," said the Penguin hollowly.

"When this task is done, I must go there and free him," said Samaraa. "Then he will return to Earth and cleanse the world."

"Let me see if I understand this properly," said the Penguin. "Your God... the God of Blood... is trapped on an alien planet."

"Yes."

"And you are going there to free him."

"When I am done here, yes."

She was a fanatic, the Penguin could see. There was no reasoning with her. Still, he had to try one last time. "Couldn't you just blow up the world with me?"

********

A week later, Samaraa, in the body of the Health Minister Abdul Azziz Husseini, was at the Grand Hall of Martyrs in Fallujah, feasting on roasted lamb and pilaf with other dignitaries, notably the Governor General of Fallujah, Mohammad Nawaf. There was to be feasting, dancing, prayers, and of course, several obligatory executions, all for the Greater Glory of Laquinta!

*********

The Doctor, Alanna, and Alyssa had only been in Iraq for several hours before Alyssa Kleinberg received her first taste of the lash.

It seems that Alyssa had been a little too free with her arms as they walked from their hotel to the Grand Hall of Martyrs in Fallujah, the place where the Doctor said that the Penguin's psychic DNA strands had apparently been detected from one of his orbiting sensors. They were stopped by another roving patrol of Basaji's. The Basaji religious police seemed to be everywhere, roaming the streets in their grav jeeps. One came to a screeching halt in front of them, and large heavily bearded men wearing dark turbans came piling out.

"Identification!" their leader roared.

The Doctor gleefully showed their ID's.

The Basaji leader stared at the Doctor as if he would very much like to kill him. Then he turned to Alyssa, staring up and down at her as if she were a farm animal. "Why is this whore dressed this way?"

"I-" Alyssa began, before the Basaji slapped her in the face.

"I did not address you, whore!" the Basaji roared.

The Doctor interposed himself between the Basaji and Alyssa. "Is there a problem?"

"Have you no eyes?" said the Basaji. "Look at her," he said pointing to Alyssa. "Just look at her!"

The Doctor looked at Alyssa. She was covered from head to toe in black. What was the problem?

"Her wrists, man! They are all exposed! They're practically an invitation to fornication!" the Basaji growled. "I must give this one ten lashes!"

"Ten lashes?" said the Doctor. "My good man, we are here under the auspices of the World Government anti-Laquintaphobia program-"

"I am a pious man!" the Basaji said, shaking his head. "I will give her five lashes instead of ten, but the punishment must begin immediately!"

And so the Doctor watched helplessly as Alyssa was bent over the front of the grav jeep. The back of her burka was pulled up. But the Basaji roared and his eyes grew wide when he saw what was underneath the burka.

"She wears the clothes of a man!" he roared, looking at her dark pants. "No... no.... I cannot let this stand! She gets the full ten lashes!"

And so the Doctor, and Alanna, were forced to watch as Alyssa's pants and panties were pulled down, and she was given ten lashes on her anus. The Basaji who whipped her pulled his arm back with each strike, and brought it down on her ass as hard as he could. Each time the whip landed, Alyssa flinched and cried out.

Alanna felt terrible for her friend. It reminded her all too well of the Laquintans who had stormed the embassy on Ramada, taking her prisoner, raping her and killing the embassy children. But what infuriated her the most was that each time the whip came crashing down, she sensed more than a hint of vague satisfaction from the Doctor.

How can you be enjoying this? she hissed in his mind as the black whip made a red stripe on Alyssa's ass.

How can I not? The Doctor thought. Here is a typical liberal western defender of Laquinta, getting some real life experience with the true nature of Laquintaphobia.

This will traumatize her forever.

She'll forgive them immediately

No she won't.

Yes she will. Watch.

After it was done, the Basaji told them that this was only the "first offense warning" and they had better "keep that whore's wrists out of sight, if they didn't want to stir the wrath of the Great God of Blood again". And then he and his men piled into their grav jeep, and headed off.

"Alyssa, are you all right?" Alanna asked through the Doctor.

"Yes," said Alyssa. She rubbed her sore ass. "It certainly hurts, though."

"Alyssa, I am so sorry-"

"Don't be," said Alyssa. "It wasn't your fault. And it certainly wasn't theirs."

"What?" said Alanna.

"They've suffered from centuries of Laquintaphobia. It's only natural for them to take out their aggressions on westerners. What they need is more education in the community. I'm not angry with them; I'm angry with the entire system for failing them," said Alyssa.

I told you. Pay up! the Doctor thought.

Alanna was remarkably silent all the way to the Grand Hall of Martyrs.

********

The mood was celebratory in the Hall of Martyrs. Musicians played the pipes while lamb and pilaf flowed like a river. A fat man in traditional white pajamas befriended the Doctor. He introduced himself as Sheik Barberi, and didn't seem bothered by the fact that the Doctor was a westerner. Not at all.

"We welcome infidels, even here, to witness our great achievement," the Sheik boomed.

"How very open minded of you," said the Doctor. "But what great achievement is that?"

"The completion of our grand sewage tunnel," said the Sheik. "When it launched tomorrow, no longer will sewage be dumped into the Euphrates untreated. Instead, it will go to our brand new sewage treatment plant!"

"How impressive," said the Doctor.

"Indeed," said Barberi. "And it is all the work of that man," he said, pointing to the Health minister.

"Him?" said the Doctor.

"Abdul Azziz Husseini. The first honest Minister of Health we've ever had. Actually, the first honest minister of anything. See him, the tall thin man talking to Mohammad Nawaf, the Governor of Fallujah?"

"I see him," said the Doctor calmly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alyssa stiffen, and her eyes went wide.

"Enjoy the festivities, my friend. There will be dancing, there will be benediction, and there will even be executions."

"Executions?" said the Doctor.

Sheik Barberi waved a hand dismissively. "Heretics, who deny the will of the Great God of Blood. Stay and watch! It can be a great... what do you in the west call it... a great teachable moment!"

"Oh, I'm sure it will," said the Doctor, noticing Alyssa stumble slightly. He made his goodbyes and escorted Alyssa away.

"What did you find out?" he asked.

"They're going to execute those men-"

"What did you find out?" said the Doctor, shaking her arm.

Alyssa turned to Abdul Azziz Husseini, the Minister of Health, and Mohammad Nawaf, the governor of Fallujah. "Both of those men... I think they have kalaks in them!"

*********

"How reliable is she?" the Doctor asked, feeling for his Infinite Infinity Repeater inside his coat.

Reliable. Alyssa can't always detect a kalak, but when she does, it's certain. Ask her if either of them is the Penguin.

"What?"

Ask her-

"Are either of them the Penguin?" the Doctor asked, wondering how Alyssa would know if they were.

"No... I don't think so," said Alyssa.

"Why not?" the Doctor asked.

"For one thing, I think the kalak inside the Health Minister... I think she's a woman!" said Alyssa. She concentrated, reaching out with her mind as she looked at the two Laquintans talking to each other. Alyssa had not been born with the ability to sense kalaks; it was something she had gradually acquired over time, after Alanna had ridden her for some years. She had grown able to sense presences around her... sometimes.

"And the other one?"

"The other one... no, it couldn't be," Alyssa whispered.

"What?" the Doctor demanded.

Alyssa looked at the Doctor. "Alanna, I think it's Mustafa!"

Mustafa Ali.

The Center of the Circle of Kalaks.

*********

More than once Alanna had regretted supporting Mustafa to become Center. She could have claimed the post herself, as one of the few fully charged Phantoms in the Circle.

But she had felt guilt, guilt over what she had done to a certain village of semi-innocent Laquintans years earlier, a guilt she felt could be partially expiated by supporting followers of Laquintans like Mustafa. Mustafa was a reformed Laquintan; he didn't hold to the intolerant and xenophobic views that his living counterparts did on Ramada and in the Middle East.

But once he became Center, Mustafa opposed her on nearly every issue she felt was important. It was Mustafa who had insisted that the Doctor be executed after this assignment was concluded.

And now here he was at a feast in Fallujah, where two people were about to be executed.

"He's involved with them," said the Doctor.

Not necessarily, Doctor. Remember our Three Laws.

Your three theoretical laws? The ones you violate with me every day? Yes, I remember them.

We take the three laws very seriously, Doctor, except in exigent circumstances like yours.

How convenient for you.

To recap, the three laws state that a kalak may not make his presence known, he may not interfere with a host, and he may not cause a host harm.

So?

Mustafa may not be violating any of the three laws. If he is simply riding inside of the governor, without interfering, he is in violation of no laws the Circle is aware of.

But to be inside a body... a body watching the execution of people....

I agree, it is irregular.

And what if he is interfering? For all we know, he ordered this execution to take place!

We have no proof of that, Doctor. And aren't we getting a little distracted? We're here to locate the Penguin, remember? And Alyssa has just confirmed that neither of these two kalaks are the Penguin. So what are we doing here?

My satellite readings are very precise. The place where your precious Penguin was detected was 400 feet in that direction, and four floors up. I suggest we go there and take readings.

And so they went to the lift, and went to the offices above the hall. It was a simple matter for the Doctor to deactivate the locking and security system, and soon enough they found themselves in the Minister of Health's office, a smaller satellite version of the one he had in his Baghdad ministry.

The Doctor took out his hand scanner, the one with the one inch range.

I still don't understand why your scanner only has a range of one inch.

I've just never been able to get it to work farther out. I kept getting false positive readings. Sophie claims she's been able to get it to work properly, but I think that's fanciful.

Are you detecting anything?

Yes. The Penguin, or someone with remarkably similar psychic DNA to the sample you provided, was here.

How long ago?

Perhaps... a few days, a week.

A week? (Dismay.)

It's must better than the sample you provided, which I believe was over two weeks old. I'm detecting a bunch of psychic DNA strands that haven't degraded. The problem is that I'm detecting strands from more than one ghoul, and it's hard to tell which is which.

More than one... the Penguin must have been talking to the kalak inside the Health Minister.

Yes, I wonder what he wanted. Perhaps we can inquire?

Somehow I don't think we're going to be able to have much luck interrogating him in a room full of 500 armed Laquintans.

Then what do you suggest?

I want to get out of here, Doctor.

Why?

I don't want to be here when the main event occurs.

But they were too late. When they arrived back in the ballroom, the main event--the execution of the heretics--was well under way.

There were two of them. Nabil Al-Jabbar, and Hoosein Malkeri. Nabil had been caught drawing an illustration of Laquinta. Drawing an image or likeness of the God of Blood was punishable by death.

Nabil never intended to draw the Great God of Blood. Like everyone else on the planet, he had no idea what Laquinta looked like. No one did. Instead, he was drawing a picture of a random person, from his mind.

Unfortunately, Nabil had drawn the ire of the Imam of his local mosque. He didn't attend services, not even once per day, and he told people that people should hold Laquinta in their hearts, not in their mosque. That was blasphemy, and so the Imam resolved to rid the world of Nabil. When he saw him drawing on the streets he knew he had found a way. He called the Basaji, and told them that Nabil was drawing the Great God of Blood. Nabil protested his innocence when they came for him, but his word was a flyspeck compared to an Imam of the Great God of Blood.

Hoosein's crime was different. He was caught having Ass Sex with another man. In the Great Book of Blood, Ass Sex was punishable by stoning, or dropping from tall places, or beheading. Hoosein's partner in crime had already been dropped from the 20th story of the Bazaari Tower, to cheering crowds. And now it was Hoosein's turn.

There were three components to a proper Laquintan execution.

1) The execution must be public. The heretics must set an example to others.

2) The atmosphere must be festive. The execution of heretics should be viewed as a joyous event.

3) The heretics' wives, if they have them, must participate, to show they reject their husbands' misdeeds.

And so, as Nabil and Hoosein's heads were positioned on the chopping block, Nabil's wife Benazir and Hoosein's wife Fatima were dancing. Completely nude. They wiggled their bodies up and down, fondling their breasts and pubis as they stood by their husbands and their husbands' executioners. Men with long black whips stood behind them, ready to encourage them if they did not dance enthusiastically enough... or even smile enough.

"Fatima, forgive me!" Hoosein cried, as his head was made to lay on the chopping block. Fatima had long suspected that Hoosein enjoyed Ass Sex. It was bad enough to find out that he was being spelunked by another man, but to be publically humiliated like this was almost more than she could bear. Still, she loved her husband, even if he risked giving her the dreaded Ass to Mouth Disease, and didn't want to see him die for his ass follies. She tried to speak, but got a lash on her back for her effort.

"No talking, slave!" the man with the whip shouted.

In the front row, Health Minister Abdul Azziz Husseini, who was occupied by Samaraa, sat with Mohammad Nawaf, the Governor of Fallujah, who was occupied by Mustafa Ali, the Center of the Circle.

Samaraa was actually looking forward to the execution. For her, this was but the smallest of smallest appetizers of the death and destruction which was about to come.

Mustafa, however, had more mixed feelings about it.

********

Mustafa Ali had been born in Jedda, Saudi Arabia, nearly 140 years earlier. He had been brought up to believe in the God of Blood, and he hoped to be an Imam someday. It was not because he was particularly religious, though he did believe in Laquinta; but rather because Imams were men of authority, men who were respected, men who helped the community with advice and counsel. He wanted to be such a man, so he went to study in his local Mosque.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. Mustafa was felled by a fatal case of Ass to Mouth Disease, from a falafel vendor who didn't take basic precautions, an all too common form of death in Laquinta majority populations where spiritual cleanliness was viewed as much more vital than the actual kind.

To his surprise, Mustafa didn't die, not entirely. Instead he became something else. He was still alive, but in another form. He quickly determined that Laquinta had another purpose for him. Over time, a long period of time, he realized that his narrow minded devotion to Laquinta had been mistaken, and that he should be more open and tolerant of other perspectives. That is how he found his way to becoming Center of the Circle of Kalaks.

And yet... his burning desire to be an Imam, or at least a man in a position of authority never faded. And so, as permitted by the Circle, Mustafa rode inside of prominent Laquintans, never making his presence known. Occasionally he would whisper small suggestions to them, but this was only a tiny violation of the Second Law, one that no one would ever notice; his hosts were even unaware that the suggestions came from him.

And now he was at a grand festival where he was the senior dignitary; or at least his unknowing host, the Governor of Fallujah was. The Health Minister had made a generous donation to the city treasury, to smooth things over, and was a welcome guest at the festivities. Mustafa looked up at the beautiful wives dancing. There was nothing more sexy than watching an emotionally distraught woman dancing in the last moments of their husbands' lives. The expression on their faces, the movements of their hands, they were so lively, so vivid! On one level Mustafa knew the executions were wrong, but at the same time, he found the prospect of them so... arousing. He had to remind himself that he himself was not ordering the execution. He was simply... observing. As any proper kalak would.

*********

"And now we come to the main event!" boomed the voice of Governor Nawaz. "The death of the infidels!"

A cheer went up from the crowd.

Alanna looked for the exits. They were too far away. "Alyssa, avert your eyes!" She cried through the Doctor's mouth.

"What?"

"Look away!" Alanna yelled.

Alyssa was just turning her head when the first blade came down. There was a meaty thunk, and a scream from one of the wives. And then the second blade came down, and another scream.

And then the Doctor did something she would never forgive him for. He turned his head and actually looked, and Alanna was forced to see it.

The two headless bodies lay on the stage, with blood spurting out of their necks. Their nude wives screamed in agony. But even as they were splattered in blood, they were still dancing furiously, gyrating their hips and rubbing their hands suggestively over their breasts and in their pubis, all in an effort to avoid the lash-

And suddenly Alanna was transported back in time and space to the embassy on Ramada where, as a newly minted kalak, she had watched the execution of the school children she had grown to know and care about. She was screaming as a little boy was shot in the head. She cried out as a little girl was decapitated. She screamed and screamed but nothing came out-

********

Awareness came back to Alanna in splotches. She was outside the Grand Hall, breathing in the cool evening air. She must have blacked out... but she was a kalak. Kalaks couldn't black out.

"I felt something odd in my head," said the Doctor.

Odd?

"Kind of a fading. You're still there, right?"

Right.

"What a relief," said the Doctor dryly. "For a moment, I thought you had decided to leave me."

So did I.

Mustafa had been clapping. Memory of it came back to Alanna. Mustafa had actually been clapping when the beheadings took place. She was suddenly filled with rage. No. She had to focus now, focus on the primary mission.

********

On their way back to the hotel, they were stopped again by the Basaji. This time Alyssa was guilty of a different crime--not walking five paces behind the Doctor, as required by Laquintan law.

She was sentenced to five lashes on the spot, increased to ten when the Basaji discovered she was still wearing pants underneath. She should have removed her pants last time!

As Alyssa was laid over the front of the grav Jeep, and her pants and panties were lowered, the Basaji noticed her fresh scars. "I think this one has felt the wrath of Laquinta recently, no?" he said, breaking out in a toothy grin.

The Doctor and Alanna said nothing. They watched helplessly as Alyssa received another ten stripes. These were more painful than the first ten because of the already tender state of her ass. As each stroke came down, the Doctor wondered if Alyssa would be in such a forgiving mood this time.

After it was over, Alyssa was sobbing, and wiping tears from her face.

The Doctor said, "Take off your pants."

"What?" said Alyssa.

"Pants off," said the Doctor. "We're still a few minutes from the hotel. Do you want another extra five lashes if we get stopped again?"

And so Alyssa removed the trousers she had on underneath her burka. As she undressed, careful to keep her legs covered by the burka, the Doctor asked, "So, how do you feel about Laquintans now?"

"They are obviously undereducated," said Alyssa. "They need more education in the community. I'm not happy about what they did to me, but I don't blame them for it. They're trapped by the cycle of ignorance, poverty, and discrimination."

Alanna felt a little sick. She knew that Alyssa had different views about Laquinta than she did. Alanna had never forgiven the Laquintans for what they did to her. But then, she had never forgiven herself for what she had done to them, either. But Alyssa's "turn the other cheek" attitude, after her second whipping of the day, made her feel ill at ease.

********

They got back to the hotel without incident. Alyssa went to the bathroom to bathe her wound and to apply a salve they had bought from a camel merchant (who sold such things for riders with sore bottoms, an occupational hazard in his industry). In the meantime, the Doctor noticed his Pad was blinking. He activated it.

A smile instantly broke out on his face as the holographic image of Sophie appeared. "Hello Sophie, my dear!"

"Doctor, are you all right? I've been trying to reach you!" she said.

"We've... mostly fine," said the Doctor, casting a glance towards the bathroom.

"Alyssa?"

"She's a bit worse for the wear. Let's just say that it was a good idea that you didn't come. How are you?"

"Lonely," she said simply. That young man she had met in the forest had been... intriguing... but when she returned to the Dome, she realized she missed the Doctor more than anything.

"You have the crocorabbit to keep you company," said the Doctor.

"The crocorabbit isn't very good company, Doctor. He tries to bite my hand."

"That's because you've never taken the time to really get to know him," said the Doctor.

"Doctor, when are you coming back?"

The Doctor took a deep breath. "Soon, I think. Why?"

"I... I got a sending."

A sending? What is that?

"Sophie has the ability to receive messages from... well, actually, we don't know where they are from, do we, Sophie?"

"No," said Sophie. "Wait. You're speaking out loud to explain things to her, right?"

"Right," the Doctor sighed, seeing Sophie frown.

"So she's still inside you?"

"Afraid so," said the Doctor. "Out with it, Sophie, what was the sending?"

"Otis," said Sophie.

"Otis?" said the Doctor.

"O-t-i-s. When I felt the urge, I put my hand over my Pad keyboard, as I always do. Those are the letters I typed."

"Otis. Otis otis otis," the Doctor frowned. "No, that doesn't mean anything to me. Alanna, do you know anyone named Otis?"

No, Doctor. She suddenly realized that this was the first time he had ever called her by her name.

"It must mean something," said Sophie.

"Of that I am sure. Your sendings are always invaluable, Sophie. Listen, dear, I need to have a talk... with myself."

"You mean her, don't you?" said Sophie, sounding jealous.

"Yes, I mean her. Listen, I'll be back as soon as I can. Remember not to feed the crocorabbit without tongs, and get to bed at a reasonable hour."

"I will, Doctor," she sighed. She was about to say something else, but felt inhibited, knowing Alanna was listening. "Goodbye."

"Goodnight, Snookikins," said the Doctor, smiling.

Snookikens? Alanna thought, as Sophie's image faded.

"Do you have something constructive to add?" the Doctor demanded.

She's attracted to you.

"Don't be ridiculous. She's like a daughter to me," said the Doctor.

She's like a daughter to you, but she's attracted to you.

"You're mistaken. It's just admiration for a father figure."

She told you she was lonely, Doctor. Is that the thing one says to one's father figure?

"Do you have anything constructive to add?" the Doctor asked again.

At that moment, Alyssa came out of the bathroom.

"Alyssa, how are you feeling?" Alanna asked, using the Doctor's voice.

"Sore," said Alyssa, tenderly rubbing her ass. "But I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry you had to see that terrible spectacle," said Alanna.

"What do you mean?" Alyssa asked.

"The execution of those people," said Alanna, again through the Doctor.

"Yes, that was awful," said Alyssa. "At least we can be comforted by the fact that such things are rare."

"What do you mean?"

"Followers of Laquinta are generally gentle, loving people," said Alyssa, dabbing her wet hair with a towel. She moved to sit down, then thought better of it, as her ass was covered in camel rider salve. She lay on her side instead on one of the beds. "This execution we saw... it was criminal... something very rare... mainstream Laquintans don't do such things."

Alanna felt a rage building within her again. "What do you mean, Alyssa?"

"Well," she said, as she continued to dry her dark, curly hair. "This was the act of a few extremists. We shouldn't paint the entire Laquintan religion in this way. That would be Laquintaphobic."

"No, Alyssa," Alanna said strongly, through the Doctor. "Did you see how many people there were in the room? At least a few hundred, including local sheiks and tribal leaders. This was as mainstream as you get."

"But... but... even if it was, the root cause was America and Europe. They have put pressure on Laquinta for centuries. The good people here are struggling under the burden of centuries of Laquintaphobia."

"No, Alyssa!" said Alanna, in a voice so loud that it startled the Doctor as well. "Laquintans have been executing people for heresy or ass sex or many other reasons since the seventh century, even before there was an America or Europe." The images of the children in the Embassy being executed, one by one, flashed in front of her eyes.

Alyssa took a deep breath. "They... they just need more education in the community."

Alanna recoiled with horror inside the Doctor.

"You can't get through to her, you know," said the Doctor. "She's been programmed."

"I am not programmed," said Alyssa.

The Doctor ignored her. "Even after being whipped, even after seeing it first hand, she'll never assign responsibility or blame."

I have to calm down.

"Yes, you should," said the Doctor.

Alanna was startled. She hadn't realized she had consciously thought that to the Doctor. She spoke through his mouth again. "Doctor, what have we learned from our trip to the Grand Hall?"

"Well," the Doctor held up his hand scanner. "I have collected a few more psychic DNA fragments which might belong to the Penguin... or the ghoul he was talking to. But I'm more concerned about what's going on here. Why would a ghoul be so interested in building a sewage line here in the middle of nowhere?"

"My thoughts exactly," said Alanna, through the Doctor. "Would you like to check out this sewage pipe, Doctor?"

"Very much so," said the Doctor.

"I'll get dressed," said Alyssa.

"No," said the Doctor. "You stay here."

"What? Why? You might need me," said Alyssa.

"The Doctor's right," said Alanna. "Alyssa, you should stay here, for your own safety."

"My own safety?"

"You've been whipped twice since we've come here. This is not a safe place for women, for western women, to roam around freely," said Alanna, remembering what had happened to her when she had come to Ramada, all those years ago.

"She's right," said the Doctor. "For once I agree with her."

Thank you, Doctor.

*********

Shortly after the Doctor and Alanna left, there was a buzzing at the door.

Alyssa frowned.

Did the Doctor forget something? But then, he already had a room key-

Alyssa opened the door, to see an unfamiliar man standing there.

"Hello there," he smiled pleasantly.

*********

Alyssa was nude. One of her hands was fondling one of her breasts, while the other traced the line of her labial lips, nestled in her pubic bush. As she fondled herself, the man took a length of rope, and threw it over a horizontal beam in the ceiling just above a chair. At the end of the rope was a noose.

The man watched Alyssa masturbating herself and smiled. She was by no means attractive, with her sagging breasts, but who said that all whores had to be attractive?

"You're a good girl, aren't you?" said the man.

"Yes, Master," said Alyssa.

"Then stand up on the chair."

Alyssa stood up on the chair.

"Now put the noose around your neck."

Alyssa obeyed.

"And now you may thank me."

Alyssa looked confused. "Thank you, Master? For what?"

"For taking your life, of course." He waved his hand in front of her.

Alyssa broke out into a broad smile. "Thank you, Master."

"You're quite welcome," said the man, kicking the chair out from under her legs. In the man's mind, what happened next could only be described as fabulous.

*********

The Doctor and Alanna were racing into the desert in the middle of the night. They had started at the sewage treatment plant where the Doctor located the brand new giant concrete pipe, perhaps 20 feet in diameter, which emerged from the plant. Then he returned to the grav car and tracked it with his sensors. They started following it.

The Doctor noticed something wrong immediately. "This sewage pipe is supposed to more securely collect sewage from homes in the Fallujah area. But the pipe is going away from inhabited areas, north, into the desert."

"Into the desert? Why would a sewage pipe go into the desert?" Alanna asked.

"I don't know," said the Doctor. "But we're about to find out." He gunned the grav car faster, even as he kept an eye on his Pad, which was tracking the relative location of the pipe that they were driving parallel to. There was no road here, so they were driving over the desert, a bumpy ride, even in a grav car.

"Reality hit your friend in the face, and she never blinked," said the Doctor, saying what they both were thinking.

"Alyssa... Alyssa was raised to believe that the West was the cause of all the problems in the world, that the Laquintans are gentle, virtuous people," said Alanna, through his mouth.

"But they're not, are they?" said the Doctor, looking into the rearview mirror.

"No, they're not," said Alanna quietly. "Well, some of them are. But the ones who believe and enforce the tenets of their religion can be quite... formidable."

The Doctor nodded. As he drove, he could see from the headlights that they were coming to a valley in the desert. They passed a sign which read "The Valley of Moktar." The Doctor frowned.

"What is it?"

"I feel like I know this place," said the Doctor. "The Valley of Moktar. That rings a bell, somehow." Suddenly he brought the grav car to a stop. "We've reached the end of the sewage pipe."

They got out. There was darkness all around them, illuminated somewhat by the nearly full moon. The Doctor felt the cool desert air brush over his face. He walked over to the pipe, the top of which was above ground. "Good, there's an inspection hatch here."

Taking out a light bar, the Doctor opened it, and entered.

The inside of the pipe was big and spacious, 20 feet in diameter, a brand new construction line that ran south as far as the eye could see. It obviously hadn't been used yet. To the north, the Doctor saw an earthen wall, a wall with holes bored into it.

"This makes no sense," said the Doctor. "This pipe doesn't come from any sewage sources. Instead it comes from the sewage treatment plant. And then it just ends here, in the middle of nowhere." He took a girl ball out of his pocket, a dark brunette, and started sucking it as he paced back and forth. "What does it mean? Any ideas?"

No, Doctor.

"Where are we?" The Doctor looked at his Pad. "The Valley of Moktar, the Valley of Moktar....." Suddenly he stiffened. "No. It couldn't be."

What is it, Doctor?

"Do you know anything about Laquintan history?"

A little.

"Learn more," said the Doctor harshly, as he sucked on his girl ball. "This was the sight of a famous 9th century double massacre."

Double massacre?

The Doctor nodded. "You know of the schism between the Schiars and the Suttis, yes?"

Somewhat.

"Followers of Laquinta broke off into two factions in the early 8th century, Schiars and Suttis. Schiars believed prayers should be held five times a day, Suttis six. Schiars said that Imams said that people should bow down to Laquinta before services began, and Suttis said they should bow after services ended. Differences in ideological interpretation like these resulted in sectarian violence for centuries as each side branded each other as heretics and attempted to wipe each other out. One of the earliest and bloodiest confrontations was here in the Valley of Moktar in the 9th century. Sutti militiamen started slaughtering Schiar families. In response Schiar militiamen slaughtered Sutti families. This set of a chain of bloody massacres. When it was over, an estimated 20,000 men, women and children were killed."

How terrible. But what does that have to do with-

"They were never buried, not properly," said the Doctor. "Their bodies were simply dumped in the sand, here."

And this sewage pipe-

"Is designed to send tons of sewage into the ancient burial grounds of 20,000 Laquintans. They must think that by desecrating the dead, they'll raise an army of angry ghouls."

"Very good, Doctor," said a new voice.

The Doctor turned around to see the Health Minister, Abdul Azziz Husseini, flanked by a half dozen armed guards, all carrying blaster rifles.

"Yes, I know who you are," said Husseini. "You didn't really think you were unnoticed at the Grand Festival, did you? The only white man in the crowd? How did you enjoy the festivities, by the way?"

"Who are you?" the Doctor demanded. Even though he was outgunned six to one, his hand strayed inside his coat.

The Health Minister smiled. "My name is Samaraa. And may I say, I have looked forward to meeting you. Your reputation precedes you, Doctor."

"My publicist will be pleased," said the Doctor promptly. "But let's talk about you. Why are you doing this?"

"Isn't it obvious?" said Samaraa. "In a very short time, when raw sewage comes down this pipe is going to be absorbed into the valley. The dead will be desecrated. Their spirits will rise in rage. The dead will live again."

"Live again to kill, you mean," said the Doctor.

"And why not?" said Samaraa. "Death is a purifier, a greater glory for Laquinta."

The Doctor raised his voice. "You men listening to this. Does this strike you as sane?"

"Don't concern yourself with my men, Doctor," said Samaraa. "They are completely loyal to me."

"What's going to happen now?"

"In a short time, the sewage will begin to flow down this pipe." Samaraa pointed at him and smiled. "But you, Doctor, will be the first to see the results."

"I will?" said the Doctor.

"Yes. Because we are going to leave you tied up inside this pipe. You will be drowned by a river of excrement." Samaraa smiled. "Who knows? Perhaps you'll become an angry kalak, just like me."

"If I do, plan on being hunted for eternity," said the Doctor.

Samaraa gave a laugh. "Take him," she said to her men.

At that moment, several things happened.

The Doctor reached for his Infinite Infinity Repeater, but he was having trouble moving his arm

No, Doctor!

The Doctor, still struggling, fell onto his back.

And then a glowing figure emerged from the Doctor's body, and sped towards Samaraa.

"No!" Samaraa cried, just as Alanna entered her. Samaraa's body went through convulsions, as if a war was being waged inside of her. Her body jerked left, right, up and down. Samaraa's men looked at her as if she had gone mad. A glowing, shadowy figure with red eyes emerged from the body of the health minister, shrieking in pain. It stared at them for a moment through hate filled eyes, and then fled through a wall of the pipe.

The health minister, Abdul Azziz Husseini, was suddenly calm again, but his guards were staring at him with fear in their eyes.

"What are you doing just standing there?" he snapped. "Get back to base."

They just looked at him.

"If I don't see movement by the count of three...."

The Health Minister's guards got out of there, each racing to see who could leave the pipe first. In moments, they were gone.

The Doctor groaned and sat up.

"Are you all right, Doctor?" Alanna, in the body of Husseini asked as she squatted in front of him, with a concerned look on his face.

"Why did you stop me?" said the Doctor, slowly getting up.

"There were six armed men, Doctor. You didn't have a chance," said Alanna.

"And what have you accomplished?" said the Doctor. "You let her escape."

"I couldn't let you get killed, Doctor," said Alanna.

The Doctor stared at her for a long moment. "No, I suppose you couldn't. You still need me to find the Penguin." He glared at her for a moment. "Will it really work? Will desecrating the burial site of 20,000 Laquintans cause them to become ghouls?"

"Doctor I... I don't know," said Alanna.

The Doctor gave her a hard look. "Come on." He started for the access hatch.

"Where are we going?" Alanna asked.

"To the sewage plant, to stop it from filling the tunnel with sewage!"

"Wait," said Alanna, baring his way. "We have something to do first." Her ghostly shape started to emerge from the Health Minister's body.

"No... we don't have time for this," said the Doctor, taking a step back.

"We have to, Doctor," said Alanna's glowing kalak. She started to move into his body.

"No, I won't!" said the Doctor, fighting back. "Not again, I tell you! I won't!" He struggled fiercely. This was different from the first time Alanna had entered him, when he hadn't really resisted her. This time it felt like struggling to hang on to a tornado. The Doctor's body twisted and contorted, even as Alanna settled into him. "I won't, I won't.... arrrgh!" he cried, as Alanna finished moving into him.

He rested against the wall of the pipe, catching his breath. The Doctor's eyes blazed with anger. "You fucking bitch. This is worse than rape, do you hear me? What you're doing to me is just like what those Laquintan bastards did to you in the embassy!"

The Doctor's words stirred a mixture of anger and resentment and embarrassment and shame in Alanna. He was right. Taking a host against his will was... savage. Unthinkably cruel. And yet, the circumstances required it.

The Doctor glared at no place in particular. "I'll kill you if it's the last thing I do. I swear it!"

When this is over, Doctor, you can try. But right now we have more important things to do.

********

Abdul Azziz Husseini was confused as they drove as fast as they could to the Fallujah Sewage Treatment plant in the dead of the night. Things had happened... he had done things... but some of them had been someone else's idea.

"Never mind that," said the Doctor. "Get on your comm and tell the sewage plant to shut down all operations, effective immediately."

The Health Minister attempted to raise the plant on his comm. But there was no response.

When they arrived at the plant, they heard the roar of machinery. They could see millions of gallons of semi-solid waste streaming into the tube.

"Abduela, what is going on here?" Husseini demanded of his night supervisor.

"We have started the new line, just as you ordered," said the sleepy looking technician.

"I gave no such order!" said Husseini. "Shut it down!"

"But sir-"

"Shut it down now!"

It's too late.

Alanna was right. By the time they had shut it down, several million gallons of raw sewage had been sent down the pipe.

********

The dead started to rise in the Moktar Valley. Some were merely apparitions, without form or substance. Some were ordinary kalaks. But many more were shades and fiends. The kalaks of Schiars were filled with anger at the Suttis. They quickly sought out Suttis in nearby villages and made them kill each other. The kalaks of Suttis did the same, inhabiting the bodies of Schiars and forced them to massacre each other as well.

Husbands stabbed wives, fathers stabbed children, children stabbed parents, friends stabbed friends, and eventually themselves. It was a bloody massacre even on the scale that Laquintans were accustomed to. And as people died, some of them in turn became kalaks.

But on the Doctor's holographic display they saw none of that. All they saw was the readout of massive psychic energy in the Moktar Valley, a massive blob that was getting redder and redder as more and more kalaks formed.

Doctor, we have to do something.

"I quite agree," said the Doctor. He started typing rapidly on his Pad. Then he sat down on a hard bench in the sewage treatment plant and took out his bag of girl balls. "Care for a girl ball?" he asked no one in particular.

Doctor, people are dying.

"Yes, they are," said the Doctor. He took out a blonde girl ball, frowned, put it back, and fished around for another. "Why do I always get the blonde girl balls? I hate the taste of blonde girl balls, and yet, even if the bag is half filled with brunettes, somehow I always pull out a blonde." He pulled out another. It was blonde. "See?"

Doctor, what are you doing?

"Sucking," said the Doctor, making a face as he put the blonde girl ball in his mouth. "Are you sure you don't want a girl ball?"

Doctor!

The Doctor's Pad pinged. "Ah, it's done," he said, picking up the pad.

What's done?

"Look," said the Doctor. He showed her the real time satellite scan of the Moktar Valley. All the red, indicating psychic energy, was... gone.

What happened to them?

"They're gone," said the Doctor. "I took care of them."

What does that mean, Doctor?

"I told you that I have 63 miniature satellites in orbit, scanning for psychic signatures."

Yes.

"Well, one of those miniature satellites is just a little bigger than the others," said the Doctor.

Alanna slowly figured out the implications of that statement. A doomsday weapon?

"A doomsday weapon for you," said the Doctor. "I call it my Ghoul Hammer."

You have a weapon in orbit that can wipe out kalaks in any location on the globe?

"Yes," said the Doctor.

Alanna's mind raced to figure out the implications of this. The Doctor could kill kalaks at any place on the globe. And he knew the location of the Circle. He could wipe out their leadership any time he wanted to. The Circle had been right. He was a threat. After the Penguin was eliminated, the Doctor would have to be as well.

"You're being remarkably silent," said the Doctor. "Don't tell me you grieve for all those bloodthirsty ghouls."

No. Most of those who were created by this... desecration were probably Lemures and Shades and Fiends. But it's a tremendous power you wield, Doctor.

"Yes, it is. Best not to get me angry, then," said the Doctor darkly.

*********

They returned to their hotel room, where they found Alyssa Kleinberg hanging from a rafter, totally nude.

CUT HER DOWN!!!!! Alanna screamed in his head.

The Doctor raced forward and rapidly undid the noose. Alyssa's nude body flopped down on the floor. The Doctor raced to touch her neck, to feel for a pulse, but Alanna already knew what he would find. She could feel it through his probing finger.

Alyssa was dead.

ARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!

Alanna's screams were so loud that the Doctor involuntarily put his hands to his ears. But it didn't help.

Alanna wept inside the Doctor's head. The Doctor looked pained, as he examined the body. "It looks like she's... she's been dead for a few hours. Whatever happened, happened shortly after we left. And... what's this?"

He held up a little figurine.

A figurine of a penguin.

********

Orderlies from the Fallujah's Martyrs Hospital took the body away. They were told that she would be given full burial honors as an obedient servant of Laquinta. Alanna had thought to protest this--she knew that Alyssa believed in the She-Goddess Aura, and had wanted her remains to be cremated and spread far and wide at a local Women's Community Study Center--but the objection stuck in her throat as the body was carted away.

Alanna's cries were softer now, as the Doctor lay in bed on his back, his eyes looking to the ceiling. "I understand your pain."

You understand it? You hated her!

"I disliked her. That didn't mean I wanted her dead," said the Doctor.

This... it's all happening again.

"Again?" said the Doctor

Somehow Alanna found herself telling him about Gerard, her lover, and how he had been lost and presumably killed by the Penguin.

"You ghouls can love each other?"

Yes.

"I'm sorry for your loss. For your losses," said the Doctor.

Alanna continued to cry, in his head.

"Tell me about the first time you met her," said the Doctor.

Why?

"Just tell me."

And so Alanna recounted the first time she had finally made her presence known to Alyssa. It had been after Alyssa had spent days mourning her mother, and Alanna had been comforting her from afar. But when Alanna finally revealed herself-

As Alanna got lost in her story, she realized she was no longer crying. The Doctor was obviously listening; whenever she paused, he asked questions, to keep her going. When she had finished telling him how she met Alyssa, the Doctor kept her talking: he asked about good times she had had with Alyssa, things they had enjoyed doing together.

Quickly it became obvious what the Doctor was doing, but Alanna let herself fall into it. After an hour of chatting nonstop, she realized she had stopped crying. Alyssa's death was still painful, very painful, but Alanna felt more stabilized, more able to bear it.

As if he could sense her thoughts, he said, "Feeling better?"

A little. Why... why did you ask me all these questions about Alyssa? You didn't care about her.

"No, I didn't," said the Doctor. "But you did."

Thank you, Doctor.

"You're welcome."

Alanna suddenly felt overcome with good feelings towards him. Doctor. I'm sorry for what I did earlier to you.

"You mean, entering my body by force."

Yes.

"You're not sorry," the Doctor declared. "You did it before and would do it again."

Yes, but... I'm sorry for the discomfort I caused you. I had to do it, but didn't like how it impacted you.

"A ghoul with feelings. Well, that is a first," said the Doctor dryly.

For what it's worth, Doctor... when this is all over, I'm going to release you. I promise. After which I may just have to kill you, Alanna thought to herself.

"Thanks so much," said the Doctor. Alanna couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.