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locker_monsterTitle: The Boy Who Waited (25/49)
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta
punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.
The torch was the only source of light for miles. They had come far enough that the trees had thinned out until it was mostly arid landscape dotted with rocks and boulders and scrub grass. Without the trees to hide the light, Rory felt like they were holding aloft a beacon telling every nearby person and thing to come attack them.
Not that he and Yamada couldn’t defend themselves. He had taken the time to put his armour back on and Yamada had borrowed Inaba’s katana, so he had a sword strapped to either hip. Rory held the flaming torch, allowing the samurai to keep his hands free just in case they encountered any trouble. So far, all was well. The track left behind by the Pandorica was easy to see in the dry dirt. It seemed odd that the thieves had made no attempt to hide their retreat, leading Rory to suspect that this was another attempt to guide them in a certain direction. He didn’t really care if it was an obvious trap. He had promised Ichiro he would find Kasumi and he wasn’t about to lose the Pandorica yet again.
It was starting to feel like they would have to walk straight across Australia to achieve their goal, though. Two hours had passed, at the very least, but it felt like they had barely made any progress. They had set off without any supplies. The heat here wasn’t that bad, so it wouldn’t be a repeat of the Gobi Desert for Rory, but as tough as Yamada seemed, he still needed to eat and drink.
He approached the samurai. “Yam-”
Yamada put out his arm, stopping Rory in his tracks. The samurai didn’t look back. Instead, he surveyed the surrounding hillsides, a slight frown pulling at his lips.
Rory knew that look. Someone was out there. He turned to his right, sweeping his gaze across the dry plains as he raised the torch higher, casting the halo of light as far as he could.
Later, when he had time to reflect back on this moment, he regretted using the torch. It really was a beacon.
It came out of nowhere, striking Rory in the neck, right in his Adam’s apple. Had he been human, it probably would have broken his windpipe the blow was so violent. As a plastic Roman soldier, though, it hurt and he sputtered as his breathing was interrupted, but that was it. Still, he fell to his knees, unaccustomed to taking a blow in such a vulnerable spot. The torch tumbled out of his hand and the flames flickered in the dirt. Thanks to the torchlight, he saw what had hit him in the throat.
Above him, Yamada drew both swords and he stood protectively over Rory. He looked around wildly, trying to anticipate where the next blow would come from.
“Wait,” rasped Rory. He held his hand to his throat though the flesh wasn’t swollen. He reached up with his free hand, trying to grab Yamada’s attention. “Stand down.” It hurt to talk but the pain was already starting to pass.
“We are under attack,” insisted Yamada.
“Stand down.” Giving up on getting Yamada’s attention, Rory reached out and picked up the object that had struck him. He had seen a lot of pictures of these things, but he had never held one before. With his other hand, he picked up the torch and stood up.
“What is that?” asked Yamada, noticing him from the corner of his eye.
“It is called a boomerang and if they were going to attack us, they would have done so by now. Put the katanas away.”
With obvious reluctance, the samurai slid the swords back into their scabbards. He eyed the boomerang critically, probably assessing its deadly potential. Rory could easily assure him that it was deadly. To him boomerangs were toys, not weapons. With a hard enough throw, the one he held could kill a small animal.
Rory tossed the boomerang onto the ground, but he kept the torch. He and Yamada didn’t exactly look non-threatening, but it was the best they could do and it wasn’t as if the Aboriginals didn’t have any qualms about attacking them. If the boomerang had been aimed at Yamada instead, the samurai might have been critically injured or even dead.
They only waited a moment or two before their stalkers emerged from the shadows. To Rory’s eye, it was like they were part of the darkness and they slipped out as though parting a veil, moving silently as ghosts. Six men circled around them, armed with boomerangs and spears. They looked exactly like the pictures of Australian Aboriginals that Rory had seen in magazines and textbooks. The dark brown skin, the high foreheads, the dark bushy hair. White paint covered their faces, chests, and arms, each man sporting a unique design.
One Aboriginal, slightly older than the others as marked by the grey in his hair, stooped down to pick up the discarded boomerang. He approached Rory, taking slow, careful steps. Rory stood still, not wanting to make any sudden moves. When there was only a few steps between them, the Aboriginal peered at Rory’s throat, examining it from every angle. Rory resisted the urge to swallow.
The Aboriginal suddenly gave a shout and he spoke eagerly to his kinsmen. Unfamiliar words were exchanged in a flurry of excitement.
“Do you understand them?” asked Yamada. He looked as stiff as a board. The sight of the spears had put him off.
“Not at all,” admitted Rory. This wasn’t like the Romantic languages where some words sounded similar and he could guess the meaning. The language being spoken was completely alien to him.
The older Aboriginal grabbed Rory by the arm. For a second, it looked like Yamada might lose his cool, but Rory shook his head. He wasn’t being attacked. The man was just telling him through a gesture that they should walk with the group. The other Aboriginals clamoured excitedly around Yamada before the samurai could decide otherwise.
“Let us see where they take us,” said Rory as he was guided away. “They could be taking us to the Pandorica and Kasumi.”
He certainly hoped they weren’t being led to their deaths.
The Aboriginals didn’t seem to care that Rory couldn’t understand a single word they said. They chatted amicably to him and for all he knew they were talking about the best way to get rid of him and Yamada. Rory just smiled and nodded as he tried to think back to history class and whether Captain Cook encountered any hostilities when he met the natives.
They walked on for maybe an hour before they came to a rise. At its peak, they paused and Rory found himself looking down into a small valley. He spotted a campfire with numerous people gathered around it. Sitting just outside of the halo of light was the Pandorica, with numerous ropes tied around its middle.
He had wondered how the Aboriginals had been able to move the Pandorica so quickly. Sheer numbers seemed to be the answer.
They descended into the valley and when they were within earshot of the group, the older Aboriginal called out. Whatever he said caused a great clamour and soon everyone, perhaps twenty in total, swarmed around Rory and Yamada. He and the samurai were barely able to walk forward; it seemed like everyone wanted to touch him. He didn’t get it at first, but then he saw the older Aboriginal gesture to the boomerang and then to Rory’s throat.
Ah, yes. He had survived a killing blow. That would impress people. He just hoped they didn’t think he was a god. He had seen The Man Who Would Be King; he didn’t need a mob throwing him down a bottomless pit.
Thanks to the hubbub, Rory couldn’t see Kasumi and whether she was tied up or unconscious or even if she was with the Aboriginals. He tried to push his way out of the group, but the resistance was too great and he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He switched to another tactic. “Kasumi!”
“Heavenly Warrior?”
He craned his neck over the outstretched hands. A lone figure sat at the fireside but they were already uncurling to rise to their feet. Raven black hair caught the red glow of the flames. Rory breathed a sigh of relief. Kasumi looked fine, from what he could see. She bore no bruises or cuts nor did she have any troubles moving.
“Are you all right?” he asked, speaking over the heads of the gathered Aboriginals. Yamada, showing less concern than Rory over the well-being of the group, used his larger bulk to clear a path. He caused a few people to stumble, but no one protested. Rory took the opening and dashed forward. It wasn’t the smoothest exit though; he tripped over someone’s foot and practically sailed the last few steps into Kasumi’s arms.
She deftly caught him and when he looked up, she was trying to hold back a smile. “I am fine. What are you doing here?”
“We thought you might need rescuing, but I am glad to see that is not the case.”
Kasumi’s hands were still around his waist, but they quickly fell away. “Oh.”
Rory had seen that look before. Amy used to give it to him all the time. That wounded look, like he had just said something horrible to her when in actuality he had been trying to give a comment. “No, that is not what I meant!” His face felt hot even though he didn’t have any circulation. “I wanted to rescue you, but you are not in any danger, so you do not need any rescuing…” He hadn’t felt this flustered in centuries.
Kasumi looked up at him with her big brown eyes and he knew instantly that she was just having a laugh at his expense. She could have jumped in at any point to stop his rambling. Amy used to that all the time to him, too.
He looked past to the Pandorica and then back at the Aboriginals. They stood in a group, patiently waiting. Or they were cowering in fear. Yamada stood next to Kasumi, his arms crossed over his massive chest. He didn’t scowl, but his looming presence was menacing enough.
“Do you know why they took you?”
“They did not take me. I left willingly. For the safety of the camp,” added Kasumi, before Rory could ask why. “They could not stop looking at the Pandorica. I was worried they might kill us and take it. Instead, I gathered up some rope and helped them to drag it back to their settlement.”
Had Rory been faced with the same dilemma, he doubt he would have offered up the Pandorica so freely, but he had to praise Kasumi’s ingenuity. “But what happens now? They cannot keep the Pandorica.”
“I am sorry. I did not plan that far ahead.”
He sighed softly. “It’s not your fault,” he muttered in English. It was likely the Aboriginals thought that the Pandorica was theirs now. How was he going to break it to them that it wasn’t their property without a common language between them?
He turned, looking back at the group. The older Aboriginal, clearly the leader, stood up straighter, sensing Rory’s attention on him. A murmur passed through the crowd, passing from one person to another like a bolt of electricity. He’d have to try something. He wasn’t about to leave the Pandorica on the other side of the world.
Throwing his shoulders back, he strode towards the Aboriginals, looking as authoritative as he could. Rory had spent a lot of time in the Khan’s court and he had watched a lot of deals be made. Getting what you wanted didn’t just rely on being firm about your position. If you were going to take something, you had to be willing to give something back, too. He just wasn’t sure what they could offer to the Aboriginals that could match the importance of the Pandorica.
He stopped in front of the older Aboriginal. Various thoughts how about to communicate ran through his head. Glancing back, he saw that Kasumi and Yamada had hung back but they were still within earshot.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Rory said to himself in a whisper. He smiled encouragingly at the Aboriginal leader. “Centurion.” He pointed to himself. “Centurion.”
The leader cocked his head to one side, like a confused dog.
“My name is Centurion.” Rory spoke in English, stressing each syllable. “That’s the Pandorica.” He pointed to the stone box.
His name seemed to fly over the Aboriginals’ heads, but they perked up when he pointed at the Pandorica. He repeated the word, saying it slowly.
“Pah…” The Aboriginal leader’s brow furrowed with concentration as he tried to mimic Rory. “Pah…an…dor…eh…ka!” The man grinned in triumph as the word left his lips.
“Yeah.” Rory held back a smirk. It was like listening to a young child speak. They had no idea what they were saying, but they still had fun.
The leader spoke swiftly, gesturing to the Pandorica as he did. When his hands moved in a circular motion, Rory got the impression that the man was talking about the circular designs carved into the sides of the stone box.
“I don’t understand.” Rory spoke even though he knew that it wouldn’t get him anywhere. “The Pandorica is special, but it doesn’t do anything.”
The leader stopped talking. Rory’s confusion must have been obvious. The leader thought for a moment and then he turned to the group. He said something and soon they were spreading out, arranging themselves into smaller groups of fours and fives. They all stood side by side, their shoulders touching. The leader pointed to the groups and then to the Pandorica, echoing Rory’s earlier attempt to communicate.
He looked back between the box and the Aboriginals. He had no idea what the man was trying to convey. The circular designs didn’t look like anything…
Rory blinked. Wait. He took a step back.
Each man and woman had designs painted on their skin. He thought it was just decorative, just a random pattern, but now he could see it was more than that. There was an order to the designs when they were put together, an order he recognized.
He approached one group and knelt down in the dirt in front of them. With his finger, he drew an outline. An hourglass shape with three dots running across the middle like a belt. A stylized representation of the same shape was painted on the men’s skin, stretching out across the four of them along their chests.
Orion.
Stars.
The Aboriginal leader let out a whoop. He clapped his hands down on Rory’s shoulders and gave him a good-natured shake.
“What is going on?” asked Kasumi. She approached cautiously, glancing around at the smiling Aboriginals as though she expected them to suddenly leap out and accost her. She peered down at the drawing in the dirt. “What is that?”
“A constellation,” said Rory. He felt slightly giddy. He got it now, why the Pandorica had intrigued the Aboriginals so much.
“I do not understand you.”
He rose up to his full height and turned to her. “Constellation. It is a word in English.” He looked up at the empty night sky. Empty of stars, but they weren’t forgotten. The Aboriginals had remembered them by painting them onto their bodies. To them, the swirling designs on the Pandorica were something similar; a story detailing something long since gone.
“Ing…glish?” The Aboriginal leader heard Kasumi’s attempt to pronounce the word. He looked just as perplexed and intrigued as the young woman.
Rory rested his hands on their shoulders and he smiled. “I will teach you.”
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta
punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49
The torch was the only source of light for miles. They had come far enough that the trees had thinned out until it was mostly arid landscape dotted with rocks and boulders and scrub grass. Without the trees to hide the light, Rory felt like they were holding aloft a beacon telling every nearby person and thing to come attack them.
Not that he and Yamada couldn’t defend themselves. He had taken the time to put his armour back on and Yamada had borrowed Inaba’s katana, so he had a sword strapped to either hip. Rory held the flaming torch, allowing the samurai to keep his hands free just in case they encountered any trouble. So far, all was well. The track left behind by the Pandorica was easy to see in the dry dirt. It seemed odd that the thieves had made no attempt to hide their retreat, leading Rory to suspect that this was another attempt to guide them in a certain direction. He didn’t really care if it was an obvious trap. He had promised Ichiro he would find Kasumi and he wasn’t about to lose the Pandorica yet again.
It was starting to feel like they would have to walk straight across Australia to achieve their goal, though. Two hours had passed, at the very least, but it felt like they had barely made any progress. They had set off without any supplies. The heat here wasn’t that bad, so it wouldn’t be a repeat of the Gobi Desert for Rory, but as tough as Yamada seemed, he still needed to eat and drink.
He approached the samurai. “Yam-”
Yamada put out his arm, stopping Rory in his tracks. The samurai didn’t look back. Instead, he surveyed the surrounding hillsides, a slight frown pulling at his lips.
Rory knew that look. Someone was out there. He turned to his right, sweeping his gaze across the dry plains as he raised the torch higher, casting the halo of light as far as he could.
Later, when he had time to reflect back on this moment, he regretted using the torch. It really was a beacon.
It came out of nowhere, striking Rory in the neck, right in his Adam’s apple. Had he been human, it probably would have broken his windpipe the blow was so violent. As a plastic Roman soldier, though, it hurt and he sputtered as his breathing was interrupted, but that was it. Still, he fell to his knees, unaccustomed to taking a blow in such a vulnerable spot. The torch tumbled out of his hand and the flames flickered in the dirt. Thanks to the torchlight, he saw what had hit him in the throat.
Above him, Yamada drew both swords and he stood protectively over Rory. He looked around wildly, trying to anticipate where the next blow would come from.
“Wait,” rasped Rory. He held his hand to his throat though the flesh wasn’t swollen. He reached up with his free hand, trying to grab Yamada’s attention. “Stand down.” It hurt to talk but the pain was already starting to pass.
“We are under attack,” insisted Yamada.
“Stand down.” Giving up on getting Yamada’s attention, Rory reached out and picked up the object that had struck him. He had seen a lot of pictures of these things, but he had never held one before. With his other hand, he picked up the torch and stood up.
“What is that?” asked Yamada, noticing him from the corner of his eye.
“It is called a boomerang and if they were going to attack us, they would have done so by now. Put the katanas away.”
With obvious reluctance, the samurai slid the swords back into their scabbards. He eyed the boomerang critically, probably assessing its deadly potential. Rory could easily assure him that it was deadly. To him boomerangs were toys, not weapons. With a hard enough throw, the one he held could kill a small animal.
Rory tossed the boomerang onto the ground, but he kept the torch. He and Yamada didn’t exactly look non-threatening, but it was the best they could do and it wasn’t as if the Aboriginals didn’t have any qualms about attacking them. If the boomerang had been aimed at Yamada instead, the samurai might have been critically injured or even dead.
They only waited a moment or two before their stalkers emerged from the shadows. To Rory’s eye, it was like they were part of the darkness and they slipped out as though parting a veil, moving silently as ghosts. Six men circled around them, armed with boomerangs and spears. They looked exactly like the pictures of Australian Aboriginals that Rory had seen in magazines and textbooks. The dark brown skin, the high foreheads, the dark bushy hair. White paint covered their faces, chests, and arms, each man sporting a unique design.
One Aboriginal, slightly older than the others as marked by the grey in his hair, stooped down to pick up the discarded boomerang. He approached Rory, taking slow, careful steps. Rory stood still, not wanting to make any sudden moves. When there was only a few steps between them, the Aboriginal peered at Rory’s throat, examining it from every angle. Rory resisted the urge to swallow.
The Aboriginal suddenly gave a shout and he spoke eagerly to his kinsmen. Unfamiliar words were exchanged in a flurry of excitement.
“Do you understand them?” asked Yamada. He looked as stiff as a board. The sight of the spears had put him off.
“Not at all,” admitted Rory. This wasn’t like the Romantic languages where some words sounded similar and he could guess the meaning. The language being spoken was completely alien to him.
The older Aboriginal grabbed Rory by the arm. For a second, it looked like Yamada might lose his cool, but Rory shook his head. He wasn’t being attacked. The man was just telling him through a gesture that they should walk with the group. The other Aboriginals clamoured excitedly around Yamada before the samurai could decide otherwise.
“Let us see where they take us,” said Rory as he was guided away. “They could be taking us to the Pandorica and Kasumi.”
He certainly hoped they weren’t being led to their deaths.
The Aboriginals didn’t seem to care that Rory couldn’t understand a single word they said. They chatted amicably to him and for all he knew they were talking about the best way to get rid of him and Yamada. Rory just smiled and nodded as he tried to think back to history class and whether Captain Cook encountered any hostilities when he met the natives.
They walked on for maybe an hour before they came to a rise. At its peak, they paused and Rory found himself looking down into a small valley. He spotted a campfire with numerous people gathered around it. Sitting just outside of the halo of light was the Pandorica, with numerous ropes tied around its middle.
He had wondered how the Aboriginals had been able to move the Pandorica so quickly. Sheer numbers seemed to be the answer.
They descended into the valley and when they were within earshot of the group, the older Aboriginal called out. Whatever he said caused a great clamour and soon everyone, perhaps twenty in total, swarmed around Rory and Yamada. He and the samurai were barely able to walk forward; it seemed like everyone wanted to touch him. He didn’t get it at first, but then he saw the older Aboriginal gesture to the boomerang and then to Rory’s throat.
Ah, yes. He had survived a killing blow. That would impress people. He just hoped they didn’t think he was a god. He had seen The Man Who Would Be King; he didn’t need a mob throwing him down a bottomless pit.
Thanks to the hubbub, Rory couldn’t see Kasumi and whether she was tied up or unconscious or even if she was with the Aboriginals. He tried to push his way out of the group, but the resistance was too great and he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He switched to another tactic. “Kasumi!”
“Heavenly Warrior?”
He craned his neck over the outstretched hands. A lone figure sat at the fireside but they were already uncurling to rise to their feet. Raven black hair caught the red glow of the flames. Rory breathed a sigh of relief. Kasumi looked fine, from what he could see. She bore no bruises or cuts nor did she have any troubles moving.
“Are you all right?” he asked, speaking over the heads of the gathered Aboriginals. Yamada, showing less concern than Rory over the well-being of the group, used his larger bulk to clear a path. He caused a few people to stumble, but no one protested. Rory took the opening and dashed forward. It wasn’t the smoothest exit though; he tripped over someone’s foot and practically sailed the last few steps into Kasumi’s arms.
She deftly caught him and when he looked up, she was trying to hold back a smile. “I am fine. What are you doing here?”
“We thought you might need rescuing, but I am glad to see that is not the case.”
Kasumi’s hands were still around his waist, but they quickly fell away. “Oh.”
Rory had seen that look before. Amy used to give it to him all the time. That wounded look, like he had just said something horrible to her when in actuality he had been trying to give a comment. “No, that is not what I meant!” His face felt hot even though he didn’t have any circulation. “I wanted to rescue you, but you are not in any danger, so you do not need any rescuing…” He hadn’t felt this flustered in centuries.
Kasumi looked up at him with her big brown eyes and he knew instantly that she was just having a laugh at his expense. She could have jumped in at any point to stop his rambling. Amy used to that all the time to him, too.
He looked past to the Pandorica and then back at the Aboriginals. They stood in a group, patiently waiting. Or they were cowering in fear. Yamada stood next to Kasumi, his arms crossed over his massive chest. He didn’t scowl, but his looming presence was menacing enough.
“Do you know why they took you?”
“They did not take me. I left willingly. For the safety of the camp,” added Kasumi, before Rory could ask why. “They could not stop looking at the Pandorica. I was worried they might kill us and take it. Instead, I gathered up some rope and helped them to drag it back to their settlement.”
Had Rory been faced with the same dilemma, he doubt he would have offered up the Pandorica so freely, but he had to praise Kasumi’s ingenuity. “But what happens now? They cannot keep the Pandorica.”
“I am sorry. I did not plan that far ahead.”
He sighed softly. “It’s not your fault,” he muttered in English. It was likely the Aboriginals thought that the Pandorica was theirs now. How was he going to break it to them that it wasn’t their property without a common language between them?
He turned, looking back at the group. The older Aboriginal, clearly the leader, stood up straighter, sensing Rory’s attention on him. A murmur passed through the crowd, passing from one person to another like a bolt of electricity. He’d have to try something. He wasn’t about to leave the Pandorica on the other side of the world.
Throwing his shoulders back, he strode towards the Aboriginals, looking as authoritative as he could. Rory had spent a lot of time in the Khan’s court and he had watched a lot of deals be made. Getting what you wanted didn’t just rely on being firm about your position. If you were going to take something, you had to be willing to give something back, too. He just wasn’t sure what they could offer to the Aboriginals that could match the importance of the Pandorica.
He stopped in front of the older Aboriginal. Various thoughts how about to communicate ran through his head. Glancing back, he saw that Kasumi and Yamada had hung back but they were still within earshot.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Rory said to himself in a whisper. He smiled encouragingly at the Aboriginal leader. “Centurion.” He pointed to himself. “Centurion.”
The leader cocked his head to one side, like a confused dog.
“My name is Centurion.” Rory spoke in English, stressing each syllable. “That’s the Pandorica.” He pointed to the stone box.
His name seemed to fly over the Aboriginals’ heads, but they perked up when he pointed at the Pandorica. He repeated the word, saying it slowly.
“Pah…” The Aboriginal leader’s brow furrowed with concentration as he tried to mimic Rory. “Pah…an…dor…eh…ka!” The man grinned in triumph as the word left his lips.
“Yeah.” Rory held back a smirk. It was like listening to a young child speak. They had no idea what they were saying, but they still had fun.
The leader spoke swiftly, gesturing to the Pandorica as he did. When his hands moved in a circular motion, Rory got the impression that the man was talking about the circular designs carved into the sides of the stone box.
“I don’t understand.” Rory spoke even though he knew that it wouldn’t get him anywhere. “The Pandorica is special, but it doesn’t do anything.”
The leader stopped talking. Rory’s confusion must have been obvious. The leader thought for a moment and then he turned to the group. He said something and soon they were spreading out, arranging themselves into smaller groups of fours and fives. They all stood side by side, their shoulders touching. The leader pointed to the groups and then to the Pandorica, echoing Rory’s earlier attempt to communicate.
He looked back between the box and the Aboriginals. He had no idea what the man was trying to convey. The circular designs didn’t look like anything…
Rory blinked. Wait. He took a step back.
Each man and woman had designs painted on their skin. He thought it was just decorative, just a random pattern, but now he could see it was more than that. There was an order to the designs when they were put together, an order he recognized.
He approached one group and knelt down in the dirt in front of them. With his finger, he drew an outline. An hourglass shape with three dots running across the middle like a belt. A stylized representation of the same shape was painted on the men’s skin, stretching out across the four of them along their chests.
Orion.
Stars.
The Aboriginal leader let out a whoop. He clapped his hands down on Rory’s shoulders and gave him a good-natured shake.
“What is going on?” asked Kasumi. She approached cautiously, glancing around at the smiling Aboriginals as though she expected them to suddenly leap out and accost her. She peered down at the drawing in the dirt. “What is that?”
“A constellation,” said Rory. He felt slightly giddy. He got it now, why the Pandorica had intrigued the Aboriginals so much.
“I do not understand you.”
He rose up to his full height and turned to her. “Constellation. It is a word in English.” He looked up at the empty night sky. Empty of stars, but they weren’t forgotten. The Aboriginals had remembered them by painting them onto their bodies. To them, the swirling designs on the Pandorica were something similar; a story detailing something long since gone.
“Ing…glish?” The Aboriginal leader heard Kasumi’s attempt to pronounce the word. He looked just as perplexed and intrigued as the young woman.
Rory rested his hands on their shoulders and he smiled. “I will teach you.”
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