Evil Waters

                                                                                     EVIL WATERS

 

 

New story, 12th Dec. 08 NOTE: this is the rough (1st) draft, printed as written, and as such it has not been edited yet.

 

 CHAPTER ONE

Bertha and Harry Twobigg were sitting beside the placid canal, fishing lines dangling in the water.

 

“What I don’t understand, Harry,” said Bertha between mouthfuls of a cheese and pickle sandwich, “is why you sold the boat.”

 

Harry took an unlit pipe out of his mouth, looked at his slightly rotund wife, and replied, “Weren’t catchin’ no fish.” Bert snorted, casting a wry glance at her chubby husband’s fishing creel, which was sitting beside him, filled with bottles of ale.

 

“Well, ya’ aren’t doin’ that now, either.” She shook her head, at him and added, “I don’t figure you, Harry.”

 Harry gave her a blank look, “What’s that dear?”

 

 Bert sighed. “You buy a boat so you can fish right out in the middle of the canal, and then spend your all your time out there, casting your line towards the berm. Then, you sell the boat, and now all you do is sit on the berm, casting your line towards the middle of the canal. It don’t make sense!”

 

Harry merely grunted, and slipped his pipe back into his mouth, muttering, “If you were a fisherman, it would make perfect sense to you, sweetheart.”

 

 His wife snorted, “Oh sure, Harry. The day you catch somethin’ big in there, will be the day that some alien will fall out of the sky and land smack in your lap.”

 

 Suddenly, Harry felt his line jerk. His eyes popped open with surprise. “Well dear,” he told his wife with a happy grin, “looks like we might be havin’ some fish with our tea, after all.”

 

Suddenly, Harry was almost yanked off his feet, as the line dipped deep below the surface of the water. Then, Bert looked on in amazement, as the surface of the water began to bubble and roil. Harry pulled back on his line with all his might, leaning way back, as the pole bent almost double. “’ere now, help me woman!” He gasped. “Don’t wanna’ lose ‘im, do we?”

 

But, just as Bert went to reach for the pole, Harry cried out, and was abruptly dragged into the canal.

 

 Bert screamed as Harry thrashed about, sputtering and waving his hands in the water—then, he went under, and was gone. His wife leaned over the edge of the canal bank, whimpering his name. There was one last big bubble that came to the surface, this time with a deep crimson tinge to it…and then the water became dead still. Bert sat down on the edge of the berm, looking out into space, her face white with shock.

 

 A few moments later, a dark, oily looking blob, shot out of the water, and landed on her ample lap with a squishy plop. The middle aged woman stared down at the horror. It was almost like a cross between an octopus and a squid. It had a round body, slightly smaller than a football, and short little tentacles that seemed to end in miniature hands. It was coal-black, and slimy cold. Bert was paralyzed with fear and couldn’t speak or move. Then, the thing opened it’s single eye, glaring at her malevolently.

 

Bert screamed again, a terrified high pitched shriek, which was cut off abruptly, followed by a tremendous splash. . The crows in the trees behind her, croaked in protest, flapping heavily away, as the woman’s arm slowly sank beneath the surface of the canal.

 

 The canal path was quiet in the late afternoon. It was slightly overcast, and a faint breeze stirred the trees. The narrow boats tied up near the edge of town rocked gently in the water.

 

 Just then, the peaceful scene was marred by a wheezing and groaning sound, like a metal file being run back and forth over some piano strings. An old blue police box appeared beneath some trees. The door opened with a creak of protest, and a young man with mussy hair, wearing a long brown coat and burgundy trainers appeared.

 

 Closing the Tardis door behind him, the Doctor stood and sniffed, gazing about. “You there!” A gruff loud voice behind him bellowed.

 

The Doctor whirled around, astonished. “Who me?” He said, with wide-eyed innocence, pointing at himself.

 

The man he faced was a young and burly looking bobby. He was accompanied by another policeman, wearing a safety vest and cycling helmet, astride a mountain bike. “Don’t see anyone else about, do you sir?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the two policemen.

 

The officer with the bicycle sighed. “Besides the two of us, he means sir.” The Doctor took a moment to glance around. “Erm—no, but, is anybody really here?

 

 The burly policeman narrowed his eyes. “Two people, a man and wife, disappeared yesterday. An hour ago, someone found a piece of bloody clothing belonging to the husband, floating in the canal.” He looked pointedly at the Doctor. “Are you carrying any weapons, sir?”

 

The Doctor raised his other eyebrow. “Just my mind—and, my words. A good friend of mine once said that ‘words are loaded pistols..” He said quietly.

 

 The policeman snorted. “Words, a weapon?” He looked at his mate and murmured, “better check with the mental hospital, and see if anyone’s turned up missin’.” The bicycle officer turned aside and quietly spoke into his radio. The burly young officer turned back to the Doctor and smiled politely, “I see then sir, soo—you think you can harm people with words?”

 

 The Doctor caught the word ‘missing,’ and becamesuddenly serious, “Have others gone missing then? When was this?”

 

The policeman seemed skeptical. “You mean you don’t know, sir? It’s been all over the tele and the papers this morning. Where have you been? And, while we’re at it, just what were you doing in the old police box, over there? Maybe we should take a look, yeah? What do you say?”

 

The Doctor didn’t like the turn of the conversation. He glanced worriedly at the Tardis. The Doctor preferred to keep a low profile and he knew that wouldn’t last long, if either of the policemen got a look inside. On sudden inspiration, his hand dived into his coat pocket for his physic paper.

 

Alarmed by the sudden movement, the policeman reached for his pepper spray and sprayed the Doctor full in the face. The Doctor merely sneezed. “Oh, that cleared the ol’ sinues, thanks…” but then fell over, having been given a sharp rap on the head with the other officer’s baton.

 

 The two officers looked down at the unconscious Doctor, the big young officer nodded to his partner, “You’d better call in for the van.”

 

                                                                                                             CHAPTER TWO

The officer with the mountain bike was speaking into his radio, when a strange buzzing noise sounded, and the transmission went dead. The two officers looked at each other with puzzled expressions, and then down at their prisoner.

 

The man was fully conscious and sitting up, holding out a device rather like a thick pen, with a blue glowing tip instead of a ball point. He grinned cheerily at them, and then he said, “Not that I wouldn’t like a tour of your police station, constable, but you now how it is; places to go, things to see, planets to save…” Then, without further preamble he sprang up and took off down the canal path.

 

With twin shouts to halt, the two officers hotfooted it after the Doctor.

 

 As he ran, the Doctor spied a bicycle lying against a tree near the canal, which one of the narrowboat owners had just left. Grabbing the bike, the Doctor climbed on and began peddling for all he was worth. The policeman on the mountain bike pedaled furiously after him. Sparing a quick glance over his shoulder, the Doctor noted that the man was gaining on him, then he looked forward again—almost too late, as a jogger with a big dog on a lead came at him down the narrow path. The Doctor had no choice but to slow down, having no desire to injure an innocent person.

 

The policeman was just a hair’s breath behind, reaching out with one hand to grab the flying tails of the Doctor’s coat, when a bridge loomed up on the left, the doctor quickly rode across the bridge, and onto the pavement of the town. Pedaling back towards the direction he’d come from, the Doctor dodged moving cars, shoppers and strollers, still with the policeman hot on his coat-tails.

 

 Just then, a police car, lights flashing and siren wailing, pulled out from a cross street, blocking the Doctor’s path. Without hesitation, the Time Lord hung a hard right into a narrow alleyway. Which, as it happened, turned out to be a dead-end. The Doctor, breathing heavily, whinged, “Oh, now that’s just not fair!”  Then, he noticed a fire escape on the left side of a crumbling brick wall. It was blocked off by a wire gate, and lot of the steps on the bottom half were missing, but it seemed to be the only way out.

 

 The policeman on the bike turned into the alley, and saw his suspect leaping over the short gate and shimmying up the thin edge of the fire escape, on the edge of the former step supports, only an inch or two wide.

 

The Doctor, using the handrail as a support, did his impression of a highwire act, quickly but carefully placing one foot in front of the other, inching his way towards the crumbling iron platform halfway up the side of the building.

 

 Ditching his bicycle, the policeman cursed under his breath, and followed the Doctor.

 

Gaining the platform, the Doctor used his long legs to their full advantage, running up the rest of the staircase to the top of the building. He’d just reached the top of the old fire escape, when with a metallic groan of protest, the step gave way!

 

 For a long few seconds, the Doctor hung there in space, his burgundy trainers dangling in the air, coat-tails fluttering in the breeze. Three stories below him was a strip of concrete pavement, littered with broken glass, bits of discarded machinery and other rubbish.

 

Then, the Doctor got a better grip with his fingers on the edge of the building, and with a mighty heave, flung himself onto the roof, rolling away from the edge. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, and giving a sigh of relief. The Doctor didn’t dawdle though. He quickly sprang up, and was off again, dashing across to the other side of the roof.

 

 The next building over was adjoining the roof, so it was only a matter of jumping down a meter or so, to the next roof. Below him, the Doctor caught a glimpse of policemen and pedestrians, staring up at him, gesticulating excitedly. He ran from roof to roof for a few minutes, then…ran out of roof.

 

 The Doctor looked down, worried, as there seemed to be no way off the roof of the last building on that particular row. There was no door and no ladder. The police were closing in on him again.

 

Just then, a tractor hauling a trailer piled high with hay slowly rumbled by on the street below, and taking a deep breath, the Doctor jumped down. Burying himself in the straw, he comfortably rode a ways down the street, but, then noticed a road block up ahead. Looking carefully around, the Doctor swung down from the hay bales, and slipped down to the pavement once again.

 

 Hearing shouts getting closer, The Doctor knew he had to escape and soon. He was standing by the canal, when he noticed a ladder leading down to the water, with a rowboat tied up to it. Flinging himself down the ladder, the Doctor picked up the oars and rowed for all he was worth to the other side of the canal, ending up only about ten meters from the Tardis.

 

 Clambering up the bank, the Doctor sprinted for his machine—but, before he could get there, an old man grabbed him, yanking the Doctor nearly off his feet. The Doctor looked around wildly at the man, “Wh-what?” He stammered, in sheer disbelief that after all that, he’d been caught by some old man.

 

 The old man shook his head, “It’s alright mate, I saw the whole thing, they’s nowt they’ve got on yer, they was just lookin’ to beef up their arrest record, most likely. I saw yer arrive in that funny box, don’t reckon you had nowt to do with no murder.”

 

The Doctor looked at the old man, as he allowed himself to be lead towards a nearby narrowboat. The man was short and wizened, wearing an old jumper and baggy trousers. He lead the Doctor down the stairs and sat him down on a bench. The old man admonished his guest to stay there, and left. A few minutes later, the Doctor heard the engines start up, and in seconds the boat was underway, headed down the canal.

 

 After a short time passed, the boat’s engine cut out again. The Doctor heard movement on deck, as the old man tied the boat up again, a few miles down the canal from the town. The man came back down to the little cabin, bearing two mugs of tea in his hand. “My name’s John, this is my boat.”

 

The Doctor took the mug.  “Thanks.” He said. Then, he held out his free hand. “Hello John, I’m the Doctor.”

 

The man shook his hand and then sat down. “Yes, I know.” He said dryly. “Only one man in the universe has a space ship that looks like a police box, can’t be anyone else.”

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

The Doctor had been about to sip his tea. Now, the mug hung halfway between the table and his lips, as his eyes widened in surprise..and wariness. “Come again?” he asked, for once truly taken aback.

 

The old man eyed the Doctor knowingly over his tea mug, “You are the Doctor, aren’t you?” he asked in a completely new voice, this time, with a slight Scottish burr.   ”At least I hope you are, or I’m going to sound like a right git, talking about space ships and police boxes” He smiled reassuringly. “I’m with Torchwood’s Scottish branch. Well,” he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “I am the Scottish branch, actually.”

 

Sipping his tea, the Doctor raised an eyebrow, and his expression grew warier still. This didn’t go unnoticed by John. “Relax, Doctor.” He winked, “believe it or not, I’m on your side. I never did go along with that Doctor paranoia of Torchwood, thought it a bit rubbish, ma’self.”

 

The Doctor set down his mug and returned the smile—only to become wary again, at John’s next words, “Mind you, Doc, you are still a very dangerous man. You have an alarming tendency to bring about death and destruction wherever you turn up.”

 

The Doctor was silent for a moment, his eyes suddenly seeming ancient and sad. John sensed this, and looked at the Doctor through sympathetic eyes. “Yet, I know quite well, that if you didn’t turn up,” he continued softly, “the death and destruction would be absolute, and mean the end of us all. Unfortunately for you Doctor, Captain Jack’s predecessors didn’t share my view.”

 

The Doctor was silent and brooding for a moment longer. Then, he pushed his chair back, and stretched out his legs. “What’s going on here, John? Why are people going missing? What has gotten the police so stirred up?”

 

 Setting down his tea mug, John said, “It all began eight months ago, near Loch Lomond. A bright light was seen by some of the locals, low over the hills near Millarochy Bay, burning across the sky. Then, it disappeared into the loch—or at least that’s what some of the witnesses claimed.

 

The Doctor folded his arms and leaned forward, suddenly interested. “And then what happened?”

 

The old man’s face grew sober. “People began disappearing. At first it was only several over a period of a few weeks, just the odd fisherman or rambler.”

 

The Doctor nodded. “And no one thought to question that, I suppose.” He stated matter-of-factly. John shrugged and replied, “People assumed they were merely accidents. A few more weeks went by, and a few more people went missing around the loch, and the authorities tried keep people calm, telling them accidents often come in batches, people get careless and there was nothing to worry about, these things happen. You know, all the usual standard issue clap-trap.”

 

John rose and stretched, stood staring at nothing on the wall. The Doctor took a sip of his tea, waiting patiently for the old man to continue with his story, which he did; “But, Torchwood knew different. They’d tracked that shooting star, Doctor. Only it wasn’t a shooting star—it was a space ship, and it didn’t crash into the loch…it landed.”

 

 The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “And they’d sent you to investigate?” He asked.

 

John turned to him and smiled, “From what I gather, Captain Jack and his team were having something of a weevil problem down to Cardiff, so being that my base of operations is in Glasgow, I was the obvious choice.” He shrugged, “Well, the only choice really. They didn’t want to get U.N.I.T. Involved. I’m sure you know how trigger happy that lot can be.”

 

The Doctor looked on curiously, as the old man stood over the table, rummaging through his trouser pockets. “Then, a few weeks ago, a boater pulled a man out of the water. He was in shock and babbling incoherently about monsters in the loch, claiming that his friend had been eaten by one. I visited him in the mental hospital, put him under hypnosis, and got a rather good description from the man.”

 

As he spoke, John pulled out an assortment of items from his pockets: a package of licorice All-sorts, a pocket knife, a small electronic gadget which the Doctor recognized as a monolysis fission capacitor, two pence, a piece of string, the stub of a number two pencil…and finally, a folded up piece of paper. Looking at it with a grunt of satisfaction, he carefully unfolded it and handed it to the Doctor.

 

Slipping on his glasses, the Doctor eyed the paper, frowning at what he saw there. It was a crude drawing of a blob-like creature, with a single eye, and tentacles ending in miniature, almost humanoid digits. “Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” He said simply.

 

Sitting down across from him, the old man asked, “You know what it is, then?”

 

Pocketing his glasses, the Doctor reached over and snagged the box of licorice, popping one into his mouth. “Oh yes,” he said, chewing, “I’m rather afraid I do.”

 

John looked at the Doctor expectantly. “Well?”

 

The Doctor blew out his cheeks. “The Umvots.”

 

“Who’s what?” the old man asked. “Never heard of them.”

 

“No, and you don’t want to.” The Doctor said ominously.

 

The Doctor stood morosely, jammed his hands into his coat pockets, and stared down at the drawing lying on the table. “They’re a species from the Gamovar system, long thought to be extinct.” He tugged on his ear, “They were supposed to have perished in a war with the Daleks, over a thousand of your years ago, back before I was born. Apparently, some of them must have escaped the slaughter.”

 

John bit his lip, not liking the sound of this. “What do you think they’re after, Doctor?”

 

The Doctor shook his head, “Dunno’. As you may have surmised, they are a rather blood-thirsty lot. Intelligent carnivores. They’ve got a dual breathing system, a combination of gills and buccal pumps, which allow them to live in water or on land. They usually prefer the water, because that’s their origins really. The Umvots evolved from oceans similar to those on earth—which may be why they have landed here. Could be, that they’re just using the Earth as a supermarket—Loch Lomond is basically like their version of Sainsbury’s.”

 

John grunted, “I prefer Tesco’s ma’self.”

 

Just then, the boat rocked violently. “Attention!” A man’s voice amplified by a bullhorn megaphone, called out. “This is the police. Stay where you are.”

 

The Doctor moved to the entrance of the boat. “Oh dear.” He said again. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.”

 

John snorted, and reached picked up a mobile phone from a nearby table. “I take it you’re not talking about a herd of deer, Doctor. Guess I’d better place a little call to Captain Jack.”

 

The Doctor watched as a policeman climbed from a small powerboat onto to the narrowboat. Then, as he got almost all the way up the side, the man cried out, looking behind him. A second later, he fell into the water with a splash.

 

The Doctor ducked as shots were fired towards the narrowboat’s cabin. He didn’t see a black, oily looking creature, climbing over the rail and slithering across the deck towards the cabin door.

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

 

As the creature slowly slid across the deck towards where the Doctor was standing, the Doctor didn’t see it. He was crouched down, facing John. “We need to get out of here!” John whispered hoarsely.

 

“Yes, I know that.” The Doctor whispered back ironically. The old man clutched the mobile phone and started punching the buttons frantically. Suddenly, the phone lit up with a strange greenish glow.

 

The Doctor had turned back towards the deck, and spied the Umvot inching towards him. Without hesitation, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. Eyes narrowed, the Doctor stretched out the hand holding the sonic. He was about to press the button, when John yelled, “Doctor! Stop!”

 

Without fully taking his eyes off the creature, the Doctor turned his head slightly, puzzled. “What?”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John standing over him, with an old army revolver in his hand. The Doctor frowned and returned his attention again to the creeping Umvot. “You don’t need that, John. I’d rather you put that away, if you don’t mind.” His hand once again, began to squeeze the sonic.

 

Only to freeze motionless, when he felt the cold, solid shooting end of the pistol being pressed against the back of his head.

 

The Doctor eyed the creature stalking him, his face showing mild anxiety now. The creature was almost within striking distance. “Erm—John, it’s not me you have to worry about.” The Doctor tried to reassure him.

 

“Silence!” the old man croaked woodenly. “We must have contact. A Time Lord will give us knowledge we need.”

 

 

Something clicked in the Doctor’s mind, he wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but obviously John was under some kind of alien influence…or maybe he was an alien, taking human form. It had been known to happen, once or twice. He felt the small round end of the pistol press harder into the back of his skull.

 

The Doctor briefly wondered how his next regeneration would go, with part of his brains missing. “Listen to me,” he hissed, “I can help you, you don’t need to do this. Whatever it is you want, whatever it is you need, I can help.”

 

There was a moment’s pause, as whatever it was that had taken over John, seem to ponder the Doctor’s words. Yet, the Doctor’s thread of hope was quickly severed. “We need….you.” John said flatly.

 

While he’d been talking, the Doctor’s right hand had been fingering the controls of his screwdriver. “Sorry,” he said cheekily, “I think you’re confusing me with Captain Jack. And, well, I’m afraid I need me more than you need me, at the moment.”

 

 At the last word, he whipped out the sonic and back handed, he aimed it at John. The light flashed on blue, as a high-pitched whine filled the little cabin.

 

Suddenly, John dropped the pistol, cried out and collapsed onto the floor. Staring down at the old man, the Doctors eyes seemed ancient and sad. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I’m so, so sorry, John.”

 

Glancing up through the open door, he saw that the Umvot had disappeared. Possibly back into the water again. Just then, a tiny blipping noise began emitting from the man’s mobile phone. The Doctor winced and muttered crossly. “Ah no, not that. What did you have to go and do that for?.” He stared down at John’s prone body, and gave a tired sigh.

 

 On the shore by the canal, the police had been ordered to back off. Two officers in a rowboat had retrieved what remained of the dead constable’s body from the water. Fifteen minutes had passed. They were now tied up to the shore, handing the body up to two waiting paramedics with a stretcher, as other officers stood by silently watching.

 

The policemen all ducked, as without warning, the colourful little narrowboat abruptly exploded into matchwood and flames.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

Spluttering and blinking water from his eyes, the Doctor clung to a small iron ring set into the canal wall. He was temporarily sheltered from the eyes of the police, by the flaming debris from the boat. But, he knew that time was running short. Another boat was pushing away from it’s moorings, apparently trying to get away from the fiery wreck.

 

The Doctor looked at it worriedly. In skirting around the damaged boat, the vessel coming towards him was holding close to the side of the narrow canal…too close.

 

Swallowing hard and frantically looking for a way to climb up the wall, the Doctor could see no way out,  nothing offered itself. He would have to duck under the water, and pray that the propellers wouldn’t chop him up into fish food…if he wasn’t crushed by the boat, first. Taking a deep breath, the Doctor prepared himself to do a quick, deep dive.

 

Yet surprisingly, the oncoming boat slowed and moved slightly away from him, the pilot coming neatly alongside, within inches of the Doctor’s body. A hand reached down from the boat. The Doctor let out his breath in an astonished gasp, as a vaguely familiar voice said, “Come on, then! Quietly now, don’t want them lot on shore to get wind of what I’m doing.”

 

Soaking wet, his suit clinging tightly to his skinny body, the Doctor stiffly clambered over the side. He then rolled out of sight, crawling into the cabin. Within seconds, the boat slowly glided on its way, down the canal. Minutes later, the door to the cabin opened, and the Doctor got a better look at his latest savior. He stood there gaping, open-mouthed. “Wilfred?” He stammered, “Bu-but that’s…that’s impossible!”

 

The Doctor’s face suddenly became alarmed, and he glanced nervously around the cramped cabin. “Donna’s not–?”

 

Donna’s grandfather shook his head, “No Doctor, she’s not here. She’s off in Canary Islands with her mum.” He sighed and smiled sadly,. “Last I heard she was para-sailing or something of the sort. Always after trying something new, our Donna.”

 

Nodding sagely, the Doctor said, “Good, good. She’s off living her life, then.”

 

But, for just a flicker of a moment, Wilfred could see that the Time Lord’s face was sad and lonely. He put his hand on the Doctor’s arm. “She’s alight, Doctor, she’s safe. That’s the main thing, isn’t it? She didn’t die, because of you—and the universe was saved and all of us are alive today, because of her. None of that would have happened, if she hadn’t of met you. Isn’t that right?” He said hopefully, trying to console his friend…for he had come to think of the Doctor as a friend.

 

 Shoving his hands into his dripping suit, the Doctor nodded again. “Yeah, Yeah. You’re right, of course you’re right, Wilfred. It’s just…” His voice trailed off, as the Doctor stared absently at the cabin wall. Then, without warning, he abruptly whipped out his sonic screwdriver. “You don’t mind if I just do a little check on something, do you Wilfred? No, of course you won’t mind, didn’t think so.” The Doctor rattled off, “’cos you see, Wilfred ol’ son—if you are Wilfred…I just had a rather nasty encounter with a pseudo-human, so think it would be safe to say that I’d be rather amiss if I didn’t do some double-checking from here on out, ey? Make sure I’m speaking to the genuine article, so to speak.”

 

The grizzled old man backed up slightly, puzzled. The Doctor pointed the sonic at him, and pressed down…only to be rewarded with a fitful buzzing. The Doctor frowned, held the sonic screwdriver to his ear, and shook it.

 

Wilfred crossed his arms and waited. “Are you finished playing with that thing? ‘Cos if you are, I’d like to get us out of here, some time today..get you some dry clothes before you catch your death of cold. Your lot do get colds, don’t they? I never know with you aliens.”

 

The Doctor looked at the screwdriver, momentarily stunned. “But…it’s…it’s supposed to be waterproof!”

 

The Doctor stood gaping at his dysfuctional screwdriver, as Wilfred threw him a towel and went back to outer door, to pilot the boat down to the next lock. “There, use that, Doctor! You can dry you and that little gadget of yours off while I get us to the next town.” he called through the open doorway.

 

His face creased with an annoyed frown, the still-dripping Doctor had dried his hair and was sitting on the cabin’s floor. After wiping off his glasses, he’d put them on and was now fiddling with the sonic screwdriver. 

 

 Wilfred shouted, “So what’s all this about then? Exploding boats, pseudo-wotsits, police everywhere…there’s  no mistaking when your’re around, Doctor.”

 

The Doctor looked up long enough to raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, I suppose not.” He conceeded dryly, then shot Wilfred a puzzled look. “What are you doing here, anyway? How come you’re not on holiday with the rest of your family?”

 

Wilfred stuck his head through the half-open cabin door, “I asked you first.”

 

Holding the sonic upright and pressing down, the Doctor smiled happily as the feelble buzzing stopped and the sound become stronger. H got up and  started to slip the screwdriver back in his wet suit pocket, but instead thought the better of it, and put on the seat of the chair, which his coat was drapped over the back of, drying. Walking over to the door, the Doctor sighed and said, “it’s a long story, Wilfred.”

 

Wilf grinned and replied, “Way I see it, it’s gonna’ take me at least a half and hour to get to the next lock, so I’ve got plenty of time…and, you are a Time Lord, you’ve got all of eternity.”

 

The Doctor beamed at the old man and winked. “Ah. You’ve got me there, I’m afraid.”

 

After explaining about the deaths, the police and the Umvots, the Doctor said, “The’ve always been agressive, but I’ve never heard of them going after humans before. Of course,” he shrugged, “that could be, because they’ve never encountered humans.” He scratched the side of his cheek, “still, they are carnavores, so perhaps anything is fair game with them.” He sighed, “But what do they want? Why are they turning out human doppelgangers…and how do they know about Torchwood…?” The Doctor pondered, biting his lip thoughtfully.

 

Wilfred shook his head. ‘I dunno’ half the things you talk about, Doctor. But, it’s a good thing I happened by. A friend of mine offered me the use of his boat for the weekend, and well, an old sailor like me, how could I resist. So, I told the girl’s to go on their ol’ holiday without me. Quite frankly,’ Wilf leaned down and said in a conspirial tone,” I could do a break from the nagging and the gossip, if you must know.”

 

The Doctor chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

 

Getting up, Wilf went back to steering the boat to the next lock on the canal, looming in the distance. Suddenly he reached down and tugged on the Doctor’s suit sleeve. “Uh-oh, Doctor. We’ve got trouble ahead!”

 

The Doctor had an idea what that trouble might be. “Police?” he asked.

 

 The old man grunted. “Yeah, you could say that. About a dozen of ‘em, by the looks of things. And no where for us to hide, out here in plain sight like this. And, once we enter the lock they’ll be no place to run, they’ll have us trapped like rats! We’re the only boat on this stretch of the canal, and–”

 

 His sentence was cut off by bullet, which thunked  into the wood above Wilfred’s head, and another which flew through the cabin window, narrowly missing the Doctor.

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

 

 The Doctor crawled over to a window. “Nine-hundred and Fifty-Four years old,” he muttered crossly, “and I’m still crawling around on my hands and knees like I was four.” Another bullet crashed through the window on the opposite side of the boat, blasting the wood above the Doctor’s head into splinters.

 

 A voice amplified through a bullhorn was ordering the boat to slow and come into dock. “So you trigger-happy cowboys can get a better fix on us through your gun-sights?” The Doctor heard Wilfred say to himself, “Not bloody likely, is it?”

 

Just then, the Doctor spied something in the woods near the canal bank.

 

Even though Wilfred had already cut the engine, the boat was still slowly gliding forward with the current. “Wilfred?” The Doctor asked, “It’s a nice day, I don’t suppose you’d care for a swim?’

 

His eyes met the old man’s, and he saw Donna’s grandfather frowning at him. “All those years at sea, and this is the first time I’ve ever had to abandon ship.” Then he gave a resigned shrug and grinned, “Ah well, there’s a first time for everything,  isn’t there, Doctor?”

 

 The Doctor returned the grin. “Oh yes! Why do you think I keep traveling all the time?”

 

After Wilfred had rigged the boat’s steering to keep it on a reasonably straight course, retarting the engine and leaving it on dead slow. Then,  the two men slipped into the water–the Doctor managing to keep the screwdriver dry this time,  and managed to crawl onto shore, the Doctor helping wilfred along. Using the brush as cover, they made it into the woods without seeming to have been noticed by anyone.

 

The Doctor and Wilfred wound their way into the woods, slipping cautiously from tree to tree. Pausing for a moment, the Doctor looked down at his dripping suit. “Well, one consolation, I won’t be needing to wash this suit for a while.”

 

Wilfred looked at the Timelord. “Where are we going, anyway?” Not far off, they could hear shouts from the direction of the canal. It seemed that their little ruse had been found out, and the search for the Doctor was once  again afoot.

 

The Doctor smiled and nodded towards his right. “Oh, I have a plan.”

 

Wilfred looked in the direction the Doctor had indicated, and spied  an old lorry, parked next to a wooden shed that was seemingly being used to store firewood. When they got there, the Doctor looked around carefully, then slipping  on his eyeglasses, and taking out his sonic screwdriver, he opened the door of the lorry. But, smiling broadly, he saw that he didn’t need the sonic key, because the lorry’s owner had thoughtfully left the keys in it.

 

As Wilfred climbed in beside him, the Doctor turned the engine over. It started on the first try. He gave a boyish grin of delight, and said in an American voice, “Breaker-breaker good buddy, let this trucker roll, ten-four.”

 

Wilfred just looked at the Doctor, and shook his head. “Let’s just get out of here, good buddy, ey? Before they nick us for stealing this lorry!”

 

  The Doctor sighed. “Now I know where Donna gets  it from.” He muttered good-naturedly.

 

“What was that?” Wilfred asked.  

 

The Doctor rummaged in his pocket, and pulled out a soggy packet of candy. “Erm–would you care for some gum?” he improvised. 

 

Wilfred shook his head no.  ”Why are they shooting at us?” he asked. “We had nothin’ to do with them deaths in the canal.”

 

The Doctor sighed. “Human nature, I suppose. I mean,” he answered, “if someone told you a squishy alien blob had just killed one of your mates, would you believe them? Or, would you find it easier to believe that some mysterous stranger had just done for them?”

 

 The old man grunted. “Yeah, I guess I can see what you mean. But you never know about them aliens.” He said, then realizing who he was with, he added, “No offense, Doctor.”

 

The Doctor smiled and nodded, “None Taken, Wilfred.”

 

The lorry bounced and jounced along a rutted track, finally coming out onto a narrow lane. “Where are we?” The Doctor asked his friend.

 

Wilf shrugged, “Dunno’ for certain, but we were headed for Chapel Vale.”  He said. “If we’re headed south, that would be in the right direction for that.”

 

The sun had made a brief appearence, and the Doctor looked up it through the windscreen. “Nope, sorry. We’re going north.” Wilfred sighed, “Well, then, that would mean we’re headed back the way we came.”

 

They’d just come to a cross-roads, when all of the sudden an unmarked black police van, lights flashing, pulled out from a farm lane behind them.  Taking a hard right, the Doctor changed direction. But the police car followed, in hot pursuit. Shifting gears, the Doctor floored the petrol, but the lorry seemed slow to respond.

 

As the police van pulled up closer, the Doctor’s  hand jabbed at the shifter. “Where the hell is third gear on this thing?” He shouted frantically. But, the old lorry’s gears didn’t quite seem to be up to the task of a high-speed chase.

 

The flashing lights came closer in the lorry’s rear-view mirror, as the Doctor tried to wrestle with the stubborn gear-shift. In disgust, he shouted at Wilfred, “Here! Grab on to the steering wheel!”

 

Then, without further ado, slipped out his sonic screwdriver, as the startled older man grabbed onto the wheel. “Are you daft?” he shouted at the Doctor.

 

The Doctor, meanwhile, was aiming the sonic at the engine. “Ummm–no. I’m a genius, I’m never-ever daft.” He said, pressing down on the screwdriver. It glowed blue and gave off a low him.

 

Suddenly, the truck jerked into life, and speeded up, the engine  sounding more like a race car, than a lorry. The Doctor quickly grabbed the wheel back from a startled Wilfred. But, it was too late. Another car, a Land Rover this time, was blocking the road ahead. 

 

The Doctor had no choice but to slam on the lorry’s brakes–only, the vehicle, apparently, didn’t have any. It kept going, right at the Land Rover. “Oh dear. That’s not good, is it?”  The Doctor muttered, disconcerted. There was nowhere to go, either, as one side of the road was flanked by a dry stone fence, the other by a deep drainage ditch.

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

As the they sped on towards the Land Rover, Wilf gripped the dashboard with white knuckles, staring ahead as if mesmerized. He yelled, “Stop! You’ll get us killed!”

 

Not sparing him a glance, the Doctor tried pumping the brakes and shifting the protesting gears, whinging, ‘Doing my best! I may want us to stop, and you may want us to stop, and the driver of that car up there may want us to stop, but I’m afraid this old lorry doesn’t–so hang on!”

 

Donna’s grandfather merely shook his head, and whispered, “And what good will that do?”

 

The lorry was about to broadside the Land Rover, the Doctor muttering, “Come on, come on, what are you waiting for? Move out of the way!” At the last possible second, the car blocking the road gunned forward, turning a hard right and speeding off, in front of the lorry.

 

Both the Doctor and Wilf heaved identical sighs of relief. The Land Rover stayed in front of them, keeping pace with them without slowing down. It seemed to be escorting the Doctor and Wilf.

 

The sirens of the pursing police cars faded into the distance, as the Rover turned left off onto a dirt track. His curiousity aroused, the Doctor decided to go along. “What’s he playing at?” Wilf asked.

 

Gripping the steering wheel tightly as they bounced over the rough dirt road, the Doctor merely gave an elaborate shrug. “Dunno’.  He flashed Wilf a delighted grin. “Isn’t that great? I love surprises.”

 

The old man only rolled his eyes and grunted. “Well at least one of us is happy.”

 

As the Land Rover slowed to a halt, the Doctor rolled the lorry to a stop, coming to rest against a hedge on the left side of the track.  He and Wilfred waited in silent expectation, watching the door of the Rover swing open. A woman got out, and when the Doctor saw who it was, he raised an eyebrow.

 

“Who’s she, then?” Wilf asked.

 

“Well—” the Doctor sighed, “I reckon she’s either the Seventh Cavalry…or a Souix War party.”

 

The old man gave the Time Lord an odd look. “Ey? What’re you on about?”

 

The Doctor looked at Wilf askance. “Don’t you ever watch westerns? I like westerns, especially Gene Autry films, he had this great horse called Champion–and, what a wonderful yodeler, Gene was…did you know he wrote Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer?”

 

Wilfred just shook his head. “Aliens watching cowboy films, why am I not surprised?

 

 The Time Lord shrugged, “Yeah, Ronald Reagan loved ‘em. He used to download westerns to his home planet, all the time.”

 

By now, the woman had approached the lorry. Wilfred got out, but cautiously stood to one side, using the lorry as a shelter, just in case things took a violent turn again. The Doctor opened the door and slid out from behind the wheel. He and the woman stood there, eyeing each other for a full minute, before the Doctor gave a delighted smile, and opened his arms to give her a warm hug. “Gwen Cooper! It’s good to meet you at last! Jack’s told me a lot of nice things about you!”

 

A short time later, the Land Rover was speeding its way down the tarmac, back towards the little town by the canal side where the Doctor had left his Tardis. Seated beside Gwen, with an anxious Wilfred in the rear seat behind him, the Doctor grilled her. “Now, exactly how long have you lot known about the Umvots? Where’s the Captain? How did you happen to know where I’d be?  What’s Torchwood’s stake in all of this, ey?”

 

Gwen didn’t seem the least phased by the Doctor’s insistant questions. “Who’s your friend?” She queried in turn.

 

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed at her refusal to respond to his urgent need for answers, and he lapsed into a stony silence.

 

After a full minute had passed, Gwen shook her head and smiled. “I will answer your questions, Doctor, but some of the answers are…sensative to national security.”

 

Before the Doctor could respond, Wilf piped up, “I’m Wilfred Mott, madame.” Formally of the Royal Navy, and Donna Noble’s grandfather.” he said proundly, “And, if you need me to, why I can just cover my ears and hum a tune or something. I would never do anything to compromise Her Majesty’s government, not me, not in a million years!”

 

Breaking into a laugh, Gwen smiled and said. “Oh. Well. That’s good enough for me, Wilfred! Being as there’s water involved, I guess we can always use the support of the Royal Navy.  And,” she said more soberly, “I suppose being that you’re in cahoots with the Doctor, you might as well hear this, too.” Gwen glanced at the Doctor,  “We’ve first tracked the Umvots some time back. You met our Scottish operative.” She frowned somberly. ”Or rather, if Jack was right, what was left of him, after these creatures took control of his mind and body.”

 

Keeping her eyes on the road, Gwen sighed. “We’ve been a bit busy at Torchwood lately, Doctor. The rift activity seems to be fluctuating considerably of late. Jack wanted to be here, but he and the rest of the team had other, equally urgent matters back in Cardiff. For some reason, the weevils seem more active than usual. It seemed to have coincided with activity within the rift. Jack doesn’t believe that it’s related to the arrival of these creatures. Still, he wasn’t sure, so he sent me here to investigate, and to keep an eye on them.”

 

Gwen threw a glance in the Doctor’s direction. “He had a feeling you might show up, so he told me to keep a look out for you, as well. That’s how I happened to track you down. I think we’re going to need all the help we can get, dealing with these creatures. What do you know about them?”

 

After the Doctor explained all that he knew, Gwen pulled the vehicle to a stop outside the town. They were parked beside the waters of the canal,  the streets of the town on the opposite side of the canal, seemingly quiet. She reached into the purse on the seat beside her, and removed a pistol.”

 

“Don’t you dare!” The Doctor said sternly. “I don’t do guns. Never. As in, not ever.”

 

Gwen merely raised an eyebrow. “I was only going to ask if guns would be any protection against these creatures. I’d rather not end up as that thing’s main course, if it’s all the same to you.”

 

The Doctor shook his head. “No, their outter skin is tough as steel, like an eel’s, only much, much stronger. Bullets would just bounce off.”

 

 Gwen sighed. “Yeah. That seems to be quite common with aliens, doesn’t  it?” Which is why,” she said, putting the gun aside and reaching into her purse, “I brought this.” 

 

The Doctor looked at the small handheld electronic gadget she now held in her palm, and it was his turn to raise an eyebrow.  “What’s that? thing, then?” Wilf asked, peering over the seat back. 

 

The Doctor glanced at him, tugging on and ear, “Well, unless I miss my guess–and I never do…well, hardly ever..well, only rarely ever…that thing there, is a solar magnetic porthole manipulater.”

 

Wilf gave the Doctor a look. “What’s that in the Queen’s English then?”

 

The Doctor frowned. “It’s very dangerous, that’s what it is, hideously dangerous, end-of-the-world dangerous.” Snatching the device from her palm, he glared at Gwen, and for a second she phsyically shrunk back in her seat. “What’s a human doing with this device? What hell is Jack thinking? I thought he changed Torchwood, and was going to protect the Earth. One little mistake with this thing, and this whole planet gets pulled into the sun!” The Doctor spat out angrily.

 

 

Regaining her composure, Gwen started to retort that Jack had throughly trained her in its use–and potential dangers, but just then, with a mighty “plop!”  the dark blobby shape of an Umvot sailed out of the canal and landed on the windscreen.

 

Gwen and Wilf both gave startled yells. For a full thirty seconds, they stared at the heaving, dripping creature, it’s mouth suckered to the glass, needle-like teeth moving hungrily. 

 

 ”Out! Out!” shouted the Doctor, and the doors of the lorry burst open as the three of them scrambled to escape the Land Rover.  The Umvot attacked, shattering the windscreen and showering them with chunks of broken glass.

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 Moving in front of Wilf, the Doctor eyed the creature, which was now sitting on the driver’s seat of the Land Rover. Breathing heavily from his increased adrenilin, the Doctor looked over at Gwen. She was seperated from him by both the Umvot and the bulk of the Torchwood car, standing near the edge of the canal. He held out his hand, indicating with his fingers that she should come to him. “Slowly.” He mouthed to her.

 

As Gwen started to move away from the canal towards the Doctor, she heard a sucking noise. Standing stock still, she looked down. There, on the dead leaves and grass on the edge of the embankment, was another, smaller umvot.

 

There was a trail of wet goo, showing where the creature had crawled out of the water only moments before. Gwen shuddered involuntarily. The Doctor looked at the new arrival with a mixture of curiosity and concern, whispering to himself. “Oh, look, it’s brought a friend…or is that…?”  

 

Wilf  interrupted him, fretting over Gwen’s danger. “We can’t let that thing get her, Doctor!” He whispered hoarsely, “Can’t you use that screwdriver of yours?”

 

The Doctor nodded. “Quite right, Wilf ol’ son!” Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the car, palming his sonic screwdriver as he went. He looked through the open door at the Umvot sitting motionless amid the broken glass on the seat, it’s one eye staring back at the Doctor, unblinkingly. “I request a parley in complience with the Shadow Proclaimation.” He said sternly.

 

For the space of ten seconds, nothing happened. Then, the eye blinked. The Umvot reared up slightly, showing the Doctor a mouth with its multiple needle-like teeth.  A smooth silibant female voice said, “The Umvot Confederation does not recgonize the Shadow Proclaimation.”

 

Without a further word, suddenly, the Land Rover’s engine started up.

 

The Doctor stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh, now you’re in trouble.  The Judoon will be after you for that, driving on Sol Three without a license. The penalty is  a five-thousand credit fine, followed by instant vaporization…not to mention the the huge fee the the space clampers will charge you,  for towing your vehicle back for evidence.”

 

 Wilf stared helplessly, worried for his friends. “I know I don’t have to tell you this, Doctor,” he called out,  ”but I’m gonna’ say it anyway– be careful, yeah? Somehow I don’t think that thing is planning on taking us for a drive in the country.” 

 

“No, Wilf,” the Doctor said, “neither do I—” He was cut off, when the Land Rover suddenly gunned backwards, backing up and turning towards the Doctor and Wilf, it’s tyres spinning on the soft ground, throwing up clods of dirt.

 

Not wasting a second, the hand holding the sonic screwdriver stretched out towards Gwen. He pressed down on a button, causing a loud vibrating sound to emit from the device. At the same time, he nimbly dodged out of the way of the oncoming Land Rover, shouting, “Get back Wilf!”

 

As the sound waves emitting from the Doctor’s sonic reached it, the smaller Umvot on the shore started to quiver uncontrollably. Gwen didn’t waste time, but sprng away from the creature, running towards the the two men.

 

The Doctor had his own problems, however. The Umvot-controlled Land Rover had reversed again, then once more came barrelling forwards towards him. The Doctor stood his ground, wide-eyed, no where to go. At his back lay a dense thorny tangle of brush, as effective a blockage as  any stone wall.

 

Just as the Rover was about to mow the Doctor down, a rock sailed through its open door, smacking the larger Umvot right on top of its head. The distraction caused the Rover to veer off course enough, to slam full-force through the wall of brush.

 

 Puzzled, the Doctor looked towards Wilfred, who stood, breathing heavily and warily watching the car, a second stone clutched in his fingers. The Doctor broke into a grin. “Brilliant!” he chortled. “Splendid attacking shot, Wilf! Sir Donald couldn’t have done it better himself! And I ought to know,” he added smugly, “ ’cos I taught him everything he knew about cricket .”

 

Gwen came up to the Doctor, then, glancing at the Rover. It was sitting in the bushes, buried up to its axles in the muddy ground, the engine running. There was no sign of the Umvot, however. “Jack’s gonna’ kill me.” She said. The Doctor looked at her inquiringly, so she explained, “That’s his brand new car. He loaned it to me because mine was in the garage.”

 

Panting, Wilf joined them The Doctor placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder and smiled warmly, “Thanks, by the way.  Donna would be very proud.” Wilf only nodded. “Never mind that, Doctor. I was thinking of Slyvia’s reaction, if them aliens started going around, driving cars all over the place. Donna’s mum is a right terror on the motorway.”

 

The three of them stood glancing around at the track and bushes, but as suddenly as they’d arrived, the Umvots were both gone. Gwen looked to the Doctor, “What now? We can’t simply stand here waiting for those things to attack us again.”

 

Wilfred touched the Doctor on the sleeve of his coat. “What about that  thing you took from Gwen, that alien do-dad? Can’t you use it to get rid of them things, before they decide to nosh on us–or someone else, for that matter? I’m tellin’ ya’ Doctor, I don’t  fancy ending up as monster kibbles.”

 

The Doctor’s face turned grave, as he fingered the electronic device in his pocket. “Don’t you see?” he said, slightly frustrated and angry, “I can use the porthole manipulator yes, but…” he groped for the right words to explain a feeling that was buried deeply in his soul, “…that would make me no better than the Umvots. I have to try and give them a chance to change their minds. I have to give them a choice. I can’t just murder them in cold blood.”

 

 Gwen gaped at the Doctor. “Murder? I think you have it the other way around! Those things are trying to murder us–they’ve already killed at nearly a dozen people.”

 

The Time Lord rounded on her, scrunching up his face in anger, “Yes, I know! Believe me, I am too painfully aware of death, Gwen Cooper. I have millions of deaths….” and, he ran out of steam, his breath heaving, the young middle age face suddenly seeming to be very old and tired.

 

As abruptly as he stopped, the Doctor visibly shook himself like a dog shedding water. He determinedly strode forward towards the canal bank. “Right. First things first, then.”

 

Wilf and Gwen exchanged surprised glances. “Now where are you going?” Wilfred asked.

 

The Doctor stopped and whirled round on them. “Stay here! Both of you. That’s an order.”

 

“But,” Gwen called, “What are we supposed to do?”

 

 Wilfred added, “Besides staying out of trouble, she means, Doctor.”  

 

Already turning and stalking away, the Doctor called back, ” I won’t be long. Maybe you can rustle up some sandwiches.” 

 

Gwen and Wilf looked at each other and shrugged, “Sandwiches?” She echoed.

 

“Yeah, maybe some roast beef or tuna fish and mayonnaise. Oooh–and some cheese crisps, too,  that’ll be lovely. And don’t forget the lemonade.”

 

Again, Gwen and Wilf exchanged puzzled glances. “This is a strange time for you to decide that you’re hungry.” Gwen called out to the retreating Doctor’s back.  Turning, he shouted at her, “It’s not for me.  ”I’m going to invite our slimey friends for a little picnic, chat them up a bit.”

 

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

The Doctor quickly picked his way carefully along the slippery banks of the canal. About a quarter mile from where he left Gwen and Wilf, he paused. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, the Doctor frowned. “Reckon this is far enough.”

 

So saying, the Doctor palmed his sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the water. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he said softly in a child-like sing-song voice. The sonic gave off a low, vibrating hum, and the waters of the canal rippled. The sonic disturbance in the water had the desired effect as a black, oily looking blob shot out from under the surface, and landed with a bloated plop, virtually at the Doctor’s feet.

 

Taking a quick step back, the Doctor glared at the thing quivering like jelly on the canal bank. “Nice of you to drop in.” He said caustically.

 

Back at Captain Jack’s damaged Land Rover, Gwen paced restlessly up and down, while Wilf was rummaging through the vehicle’s back seat. Gwen paused and stood looking at the old man through the open door. “What are you doing in there?” She asked.

 

Wilf grunted as he straightened his back. “Thought I’d have a look around, see if there was any food packed away in here.”

Gwen tilted her head at him. “What for? You picked an odd time to be hungry, Wilf.”