Doctor Du Jour

Dr Who: Doctor Du Jour

By playwrite27

Doctor Who is sole copyright of the BBC.

 

This story is dedicated to my late mother, June Marie Featherly, who loved animals,

and, who also so patiently put up with my Doctor Who fixation for over 20 years.

 

(April 28^th, 2008–1^st draft, unedited)

 

 

NOTE: This Story has only been partially edited, and I apologize for any mistakes you might find.

The Doctor bounded out of the Tardis with his usual enthusiasm. He was dressed in his brown suit and trainers. Donna emerged from the Tardis a moment later. She was wearing a black frilly blouse and an ankle-length burgundy skirt. The Doctor paused to look at her. “Ah, there you are. What took you so long?”

 

Donna opened her mouth to protest, but the Doctor continued, “Anyway,” he rambled on, “I thought we’d pay a visit to an old friend of mine, Sir George Markes. Wonderful naturalist! He found no less than four new species in South America, and two others in the Belgian Congo. Never once took the credit for it though, said he wasn’t doing it for the recognition, but for the simple joy of discovery.” He explained, as the pair of them strolled out of the alleyway where he’d parked the Tardis, and out onto the London street.

 

Walking down the streets on that sunny mid-afternoon, the Doctor continued to enthuse to Donna, but she was only half-listening. She was more fascinated by the sights and sounds of turn-of-the-century London. Her Time Lord friend didn’t even seem to notice though, forging on ahead down the pavement, saying, “And, more importantly, it was Sir George who first raised concern about global pollution affecting the Earth. Pity no one listened to him, though.”

 

Pausing to buy them each an apple from a kerb-side vendor, the Doctor sniffed, “Well, I listened to him, of course, wonderful conversationalist, Sir George. Can’t beat a good cup of coffee and great conversation, I say. We’d sit in the coffee house for hours, discussing science, philosophy, the weather, our favourite knitting techniques…he knit a rather nice scarf for me, once.”

“A scarf?” Donna looked at him askance, “I thought you said he was a scientist?” She paused, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. “Are you having me on again?” Pausing on a street corner to let a horse-drawn omnibus go by, they each took a bite of their apples.  Swallowing, the Doctor raised an eyebrow at her a trifle indignantly. “Well, people can have more than one hobby, ya’know. And, what have you got against knitting, anyway? You don’t have some sort of phobia of knitting needles, do you?” Feeding the remainder of his apple to an old cart horse standing patiently waiting for it’s driver, the Doctor shrugged, “Besides, I needed a new scarf, after the cybermen vaporized the one Madame Nostrodomus knitted me.”

 

Donna opened her mouth to ask about Mrs. Nostro-wotsit, then sighed in resignation. Sometimes she thought the Doctor had her along, just as a the straight man to some cosmic comedy routine. But, then again, she had the feeling that the Doctor didn’t come here just to exchange knitting patterns. Nudging his elbow, she said,  ”Alright, then, tell me more about this knitting scientist mate of yours, Doctor.” As they crossed the street, the Doctor smiled and said, “He’s not only a man of great intellect. Good old George has got common sense as well…an all too rare combination, that. And, a sense of humour! I love a human with a sense of humour, don’t you?”

 

Donna shrugged, ‘Yeah, I suppose I do. I mean, as long as he isn’t the type to play pranks and all that. You know, like dropping water-filled balloons on your head. I don’t care for that.” “Yeah,” he said, sighing wistfully, “it’s a lot more fun when they’re filled with honey.”

 

Donna made a face at him, “Honey?” The Doctor turned and deadpanned, “Yes, dear?” She tilted her head at him. “Very funny, Doctor. Now I’ve heard everything! Are you sure you’re not four, instead of nine hundred and four? Where are we going, anyway?” “Right here, as a matter of fact.” He replied. The Doctor turned down a short, quiet side street, bordered by trees. A row of tidy well-kept houses, fronted by black wrought-iron fences lined the street. Parked next to the last one, was stood a horse-drawn ambulance. The Doctor stopped and stared at it for a moment, and then began running.

 

Coming up on the ambulance, the Doctor found it deserted. The bay horse stood with one leg cocked underneath it and its head hung down. Donna went and stood by its head and looked at it. Apparently it was asleep on its feet. “Not the type of animal I’d choose to be racing to hospital with.” She said.

 

The Doctor crouched down and studied the pile of manure on the ground beneath the horse. He reached down and dipped a finger into it. Donna watched in disgust, as he rubbed the dung-laden finger with his thumb, and then held it up to his nose. “Heaven knows what Rose and Martha saw in you, Doctor.” She snorted, “What with all the stuff you lick and stick your fingers into, I’d not want to hold hands with you–and you can forget about ever snogging me! I’d need a blinking tetanus shot first!”

 

The Doctor merely glanced at her, before bounding to his feet and running up the steps to the house. “By the looks of things, that horse has been out here for quite a while, since early this morning, perhaps.” He shouted to her over his shoulder, as he frantically tried the bell. No one answered. Running his fingers through his hair, he muttered, “Come on, come on. It’s not tea-time yet, where is every one?” Donna stood open-mouthed, as the Doctor bolted past her down the steps and around the side of the house, to the servant’s entrance.

 

As she came up behind him, she looked into one of the windows of the home. The curtains of the wide window had been drawn back, to let in more light. With her face and hands pressed up to the glass, Donna peered inside. It seemed to be some sort of drawing room, apparently empty. But, as she was about to turn away, a young black cat, hardly more than a kitten, came scurrying out from behind the settee. She watched as it leaped up onto the fireplace mantle, its eyes wide open with terror.

 

Donna was puzzled, because she could see nothing for the cat to be afraid of. Through the glass, she heard a loud squawk. It was only then that she noticed a large green parrot sitting on a perch in the far corner of the room. As she watched, there was a blur of movement from the doorway. The blur–about the size of a hedgehog, but much lighter in colour, launched itself at the parrot. With a shriek and a flying of feathers, the parrot was gone. Donna looked down at the floor underneath the perch. There was nothing there but a puddle of blood and a few feathers.

 

There was a movement behind her, and she jumped, crying out. The Doctor’s hand gently squeezed her shoulder. “It’s alright Donna,” he whispered, “it’s only me.” “Doctor, there’s something alive in there. I think it just ate the parrot!” He nodded, “I know.” He said grimly, “I saw it.” Donna looked at the terrified cat. “It’ll be that cat’s turn next, I guess.” She said sadly. “I used to have one just like that, when I was a little girl. His name was Silky. But mum finally made dad get rid of it, said she was tired of all the cat hairs all over everything. I loved that cat.” The Doctor looked at her and gave a resigned sigh. “You would be a cat person. Oh, all right. Let’s go save kitty. I want to see if I can get a closer look at that creature, anyway.”

 

Donna gave the Doctor a look that said she was sure he was ready to be sectioned. “But…what if that thing tries to eat you?” She sputtered. Pulling out his sonic screwdriver, he grinned, “Well, then I’ll just have to make sure that there’s no ‘Doctor du jour on its menu, eh?”

 

With a hum and a blue glow, the sonic unlatched the window. The Doctor hauled his lanky frame up and carefully clambered through. Donna held up her hand to him, but he shook his head. “I’d rather you’d stay here, Donna. At least until I’m sure it’s reasonably safe.” He said in a low voice.

 

Before she could protest, he disappeared. A moment later the Doctor was back, and handing down the frightened cat to her, through the window. “Here, careful he doesn’t claw you.” He whispered. “Ow! Too late for that,” Donna winced, as the cat dug its claws into her shoulder, “but thanks for the timely warning.” She said. “Cheers.” He replied. “Be back as soon as I can, I promise.”

 

Donna waited anxiously for the Doctor. She was petting the cat, which had loosened its claws and was now snuggling against her. The cat looked at her with grateful eyes and, licking her cheek, it began purring softly in her ear. Meanwhile, the Doctor prowled about the sitting room, first examining the pile of feathers and blood on the floor. “Hmmm–that’s interesting, eaten in a single bite, by the look of it. Wow, our little mystery beast’s got one heck of an appetite.” He murmured to himself, “Not to mention, some very bad table manners.”

 

Finding nothing more in there, he crossed the hall into the dining room. On entering the room, he stopped short. Lying on the floor was a bloody skeleton. It was barely recognizable as that of a woman. The dress, what appeared to be the remnants of a maid’s uniform, had been ripped to shreds. Additionally, the body, though intact, had been stripped of every ounce of flesh. Even some of the bones had been gnawed on.

 

Meanwhile, outside the sitting room window, Donna was continuing to hold the cat. Suddenly it stiffened, staring at a second story window. Following the animal’s gaze, Donna saw a curtain move and a noticed a small rabbit-like animal staring down at them through the window. Apparently this friend of the Doctor’s had quite a collection of pets. Strangely, the cat seemed to become frightened again, and the animal scurried from her arms and flew under some nearby shrubbery. Looking back up to the window again, she saw that the rabbit or whatever it was, had gone. She wondered if it had been eaten, as well.

 

Suddenly, Donna became anxious for the Doctor’s safety. If that thing was upstairs, she should warn him. Taking a running leap, she caught the bottom edge of the frame, and climbed through the sitting room window. Trying not to look at the remains of the parrot, she set off to find the Doctor.

 

The Doctor had moved on to Sir George’s study. He had an idea about what was going on, but wanted to see if his friend had left any notes lying around. One wall of the study was lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, all crammed with books. A large mahogany desk stood at the centre of the carpeted room. There were animals and plants in display cases and on the fireplace mantle. Coloured etchings of various flora and fauna lined the other walls, along with a small collection of exotic butterflies framed under glass. The Doctor gave all these things a cursory glance, before moving to the desk. Then he saw what was sprawled out on the floor, alongside it.

 

There on the floor were two more stripped skeletons. This time it appeared to be those of a man and a woman. The woman was sprawled out underneath the window behind the desk, the remains her tattered white dress soaked with blood and in shreds, just like the maid’s garments. The man’s body, or rather what was left of the man’s body, was lying beside the desk, the fingers of the hand still gripping the hilt an old cutlass. Looking down at the body of the man, the Doctor’s eyes grew tired-looking and sad. “I’m sorry.” He whispered mournfully, “I was too late, old friend.” “Oh my God!” came a shocked whisper from behind him.

 

The Doctor turned and frowned at Donna. “Keep your voice down.” He hissed crossly, “I don’t want to attract this thing’s attention–yet.” He moved over to the desk and began flipping through a sheaf notes Sir George had left there. “Anyway, I distinctly remember saying that I’d prefer you to stay outside, where it’s safe. Now, I ask you,” He chided her, pointing his chin in the direction of the gruesome sight on the floor, “does that look safe to you?” What is it with you humans and your selective hearing? I mean, I’ll wager if I said, ‘I’ll give you a hundred pounds if you stay here,’ you’d be like a trained dog in a Barbara Woodhouse video, wouldn’t you?”

 

Donna looked at him with a hurt expression. The Doctor stood unmoved for all of about five seconds. And then he relented, smiling apologetically, “Oh, come on, give me a hand. It wouldn’t be the same without you, anyway.” All the same, he cast a worried glance at the doorway. “What do you want me to do?” Donna asked.

 

Turning back to the task at hand, the Doctor slipped on his glasses and said, “I’m looking for Sir George’s most recent notes. I’m thinking that he may have brought something back with him, from wherever he’d been recently, not realizing what it really was. Perhaps that can give me a clue as to what we’re dealing with here.” Donna looked at the sizeable pile of paperwork covering the top of the desk. “But, look at that mess! We could be here for ages.” The Doctor didn’t look up as his fingers rapidly shifted through the pages of a thick notebook. “Yes, which is why I need you to stop talking and start reading Donna, eh?” He said with mild impatience.

 

After ten minutes of trying to read several pages of Sir George’s cramped handwriting, Donna whispered, “Doctor! I think I may have found something. It seems he’d just brought back a new live specimen from a recent trip to Mexico.” The Doctor was sitting on the edge of the desk, reading though yet another sheaf of notes. He stopped and looked at her expectantly. But, Donna sighed and said, “Oh. No, sorry. This couldn’t be it. It says here that the animal was, to put it in his words, ‘a sweet natured and very endearing creature,’ and, ‘would make a popular pet someday.’ That doesn’t sound much like something that would rip a person to shreds, does it?” “Not necessarily.” He said quietly, “Here, let me see that.”

 

The Doctor reached over and plucked the notes from her hand. “Trust me, Donna. Death can come in all guises and forms. The most benevolent seeming creature can still have the capacity to kill, even if only accidentally.” He murmured, quickly scanning the content. “Hmm–according to this, his latest discovery, which he’d nicknamed, ‘Arthur’–” Looking up, the Doctor tugged on his ear and grinned, “Fancy that! I used to have a horse named Arthur, once. In fact, we almost trampled the King of France. Crashed a party with him–the horse, not the King, well,” he shrugged, “crashed a party and a mirror. Anyway,” he continued, “this next bit gives a general description of the wee beastie. It says here, that it’s the size of a large cat, with a cream coloured, long-haired coat of fur. In appearance, it looks remarkably like a big fluffy rabbit, which is what Sir George thought it was, at first. However, once he’d inspected it at closer quarters, he noted that the creature was highly unusual, in that the shape of its jaw was short, wide and flat. He likens it to a stubby version of a crocodile’s mouth, with the exception that it appeared to have no teeth at all. Well,” The Doctor said forlornly, glancing down at Sir George’s body “on that score, it seems poor George may have got it just a bit wrong. I wonder why?”

 

Just then, Donna remembered the animal in the upstairs window, and how the cat had reacted to it. That’s when she noticed as well, a movement out of the corner of her eye. “Doctor!” she hissed. “Not now, Donna.” He replied tersely. “Doctor, I think now would be a very good time, actually.” Donna said seriously, “That is if you want to see what this thing really looks like.”

 

The Doctor stilled, and cast a sideways glance at the doorway to the study. There on the floor, was sat a small furry creature, just like the one the Doctor had just described. “Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t even breathe too hard.” He whispered. Donna didn’t reply. The creature did indeed look cute and harmless, she thought. Then she remembered the two bodies on the floor, and realized that the Doctor was probably right. One could never truly judge anything by outward appearances.

 

The creature eyed them with a curious gaze in its bright blue eyes. Then, it opened its mouth. The wide, pink mouth was toothless, and Donna started to relax. There was no way that thing could hurt anyone, without teeth and claws. Perhaps this really was only an odd new pet, after all. Not taking its eyes off of the pair of them, “Arthur” began working its jaw, like it had something stuck in there. Suddenly, a set of jagged, needle-like teeth sprang into the creature’s mouth. Then, the cream coloured creature shuddered violently all over, and a set of long, razor-sharp claws sprang out of the creature’s fluffy paws.

 

Still sitting on a corner of the desk, the Doctor’s long fingers surreptitiously slipped the sonic screwdriver from his suit pocket. “Donna,” He whispered, “when I say…” “I know,” she whispered back, “when you say run, run!” The fluffy creature’s two wide nostrils twitched and the ears perked up, as if it was deciding which of them to devour first. Its head raised to peer at them, as it slowly shifted its gaze from the Doctor to Donna, and then back to the Doctor again. They could see it bunching up the muscles of its hind legs, as if it was preparing to spring. At the same moment, the Doctor’s finger gently squeezed down on the sonic device.

 

Abruptly, the room was filled with a deep vibrating sound. The rabbit-like creature gave a piercing shriek of pain. Immediately, the Doctor sprang from the desk and grabbing Donna’s hand, they both bolted towards the door, leaping over the vicious animal as they went.

 

As they ran past the open door to the library, Donna’s foot slipped on something lying on the floor, nearly causing her to fall. It was an open notebook. There was a bottle of ink spilled on the carpet beside it, and a fountain pen. As soon as the Doctor realized she wasn’t there, he whirled around and stared at her. “Come on!” He hissed, “The pain from the sonic will have worn off by now!” Then he noticed the notebook. Scooping it up, he grabbed Donna by the arm and they pelted down the hall to the back door of the house.

 

It was none too soon. For, as the Doctor’s hand turned on the door knob, he noticed a cream coloured blur moving down the hallway towards them, at an incredible rate of speed. “Come on, shift!” He hollered at Donna, frantically pushing her through the door, “Go, go, go, go, go!” Without looking back, he squeezed through after her, and slammed the door shut. Immediately, there was a loud thud as the creature, unable to stop, rammed into the solid wood at full speed. The Doctor stood on the other side of the door, sonicking the lock for good measure.

 

A few minutes later, the Doctor was sat on the seat of the ambulance, reading the notebook. Donna stood by the horse’s head, petting it. The horse kept nuzzling her and pawing restlessly at the pavement. “I think it’s thirsty or something.” She called up to him. “Probably is.” The Doctor said absently. She walked over and stood beside the front wheel. “So, Doctor, is everyone in the house dead, then?” “Probably, yes.” The Doctor muttered, still deeply absorbed in Sir George’s notes. “Find anything in there?” She asked, then added, “And, if you say ‘probably’ again, I’m gonna’ start calling you ‘Polly,’ got that?”

 

The Doctor read a few more lines, before he fully absorbed what she’d said. He looked up, giving her a blank look. “Polly?” He asked quizzically. “Yeah,” she retorted, “as in ‘Polly wants a cracker.’ The blank look remained on his face, so she said, “Oh, never mind. I asked if you’d found anything important in there.” The Doctor nodded and pocketed his eyeglasses. “Oh yes. Untie old Dobbin there, will you? I’ll explain it to you as we go.” Donna was taken slightly aback. “Go where? You’re not going to just pick up and leave with that thing still in there?”

 

Picking up the reins, he patted the wooden seat beside him. “Come on, climb aboard and we’ll get going.” He said, after she untied the horse’s lead rope from the marble hitching post at the kerb. “Don’t worry, Donna.” he murmured as she sat beside him, “We’ll be back here soon enough. I just need to get some things from the Tardis, and I need this ambulance to carry it back here.”

 

They drove halfway down the street and turned into a small park. Coming up to a water fountain, the Doctor drew up on the reins. Letting the horse drink, he leaned back on the seat and looked at Donna. “According to this,” he said, tapping the notebook beside him, “when Sir George questioned the local Mayan Indians, they said that the creature suddenly appeared for the first time almost exactly seven months ago. That’s when many of their animals and people from the fields and villages began to be devoured by the evil beast.”

 

Donna thought about the corpses she’d seen, and shuddered. “But, why didn’t the man listen to what they were telling him? It’s seems rather stupid to bring back something to his home, that he’d been told was deadly.” The Doctor sighed. “Yeah, for once Sir George didn’t seem to be taking this too seriously, did he? At least, not according to his notes. Oh, he didn’t scoff at them, of course. He chalked the deaths up to a jaguar or some other predator.” He shrugged, “Still, I suppose considering this thing’s appearance, his rather blasé attitude wasn’t all that surprising.”

 

The Doctor paused for a moment, watching the horse drink, then said, “The natives claimed that this beast was a curse from the heavens, for some wrong they must have done. The reason they gave Sir George–and this is where it really gets interesting. The reason they say this, is because the animal was thrust upon them by a ‘fallen god from the sky.’”

 

Donna shook her head. “So like, you think some alien came to earth and brought that thing with it? You mean it’s some kind of lost pet from outer space?” The Doctor smiled, and let out the reins so the horse could reach down and crop some grass. “A lost pet? Good thinking! But no,” he frowned, “It’s much worse than that.” Donna sighed, “I was afraid you were going to say that.” The Doctor said, “It’s not good, that’s for certain. But,” he added, taking up the reins and setting horse off at a fast trot in the direction of the Tardis, “the good news–if you can call it good news I suppose, is that I think I can stop this thing before it hurts any more people.”

 

Once they’d arrived back in the alley, Donna held the horse while the Doctor rummaged around the Tardis for the things he needed. He came out moments later, with his arms full of what looked like the contents of a particularly poor jumble sale. Climbing back onto the seat, with Donna beside him, he clucked to the horse and they set off again for Sir George’s house.

 

As the afternoon drew on, traffic on the streets had increased, as pedestrians, mounted horsemen, carriages, cyclists and even one or two steam-driven automobiles, all vied for use of the road. This time they were forced to holding the horse down to a fast walk. Doctor sighed impatiently, and muttered something about the wonderful invention of the emergency hooter.

 

As the horse clopped down the cobblestone street, the Doctor said, “The thing is, Donna, my friend George isn’t–wasn’t, just a naturalist, he was also a very fine pen and ink artist, as well. Based on the descriptions given to him by the Indians, he drew this; the Doctor held up a sketch of a humanoid in what appeared to be a space suit, minus the helmet. The suited figure resembled a modern astronaut, with the exception that it had four arms–two long and two short, and the hands and head of a lobster. A sketch showing a side view, reveled that the humanoid also seemed to have a row of serrated spikes down its back, though it was hard to tell with the suit on.

 

Donna stared at the drawings in fascination. “Looks like something I’d find on my plate at a seaside restaurant.” She said. “What sort of being is that?” “Pwaat.” The Doctor blurted out. Donna said crossly, “Look, if you don’t want to tell me, fine. But you don’t have to be so vulgar about it!” He gave her another blank look. “What?” He asked, dumbstruck. “Why won’t you tell me its name?” She demanded, “Is it some sort of intergalactic secret, or something?” He frowned. “I just did.” “No you didn’t.” She argued, “All you did was make a rude noise.” He sighed, “No, that is really is what they’re called, Donna.” Rubbing the side of his nose, he said, “Although, as names go, it doesn’t always go down well at state social functions. “Ladies and Gents, I announce the arrival of Admiral and Mrs. Pwaaat.” He mimicked.

 

Steering the ambulance around two hansom cabs parked side by side, the Doctor said, “The thing is, the… ” He was about to make the rude noise again, then thought the better of it. “… lobster people, were very much into genetic experimentation, it was sort of a craze they went through for a few decades. Donna raised an eyebrow. “What, you mean like a hobby?” The Doctor shrugged, “Yeah, something like that. It was all the rage on their home planet to go to on off-world holidays collecting different species, and then once back home, crossing them with other species to produce something unique. Just like you humans do, with roses and vegetables. At first it was sort of harmless. But then, it got just a little out of hand, until one day, they produced a species that…” The Doctor’s voice trailed off.

 

Suddenly, he slapped the reins and gave a loud “Gee-yap!” The horse broke into a fast trot again, scattering pedestrians and horsemen out of their way, causing some of them to shake their fists and use rather impolite language. Gripping the side of the wagon, Donna cried, “What are you doing? Is this some early form of road rage?” “Oh!” He shouted, “How could I be so thick!” He steered around an early automobile, narrowly avoiding hitting a nurse pushing a pram across the road. “What are you on about now?” Donna called out. The Doctor rapidly explained, “One of the reasons they finally made it illegal to produce any more genetic experiments, was because one of their experiments nearly destroyed an entire town, some ten thousand of the lobster people, wiped out in a matter of a few days.” Donna shook her head with disbelief. “But, how could something that small, eat so much?” The Doctor gave her a sideways look. “Erm–well, let’s just say it, erm–has some very active bowels.” Her jaw dropped. “You mean it poos—” “Ooah!” The Doctor cried.

 

Donna winced as the Doctor very nearly broadsided a cart full of cabbages. Seemingly unconcerned about the near-miss, he continued, “Very little is known about the experiment itself, because lobster people destroyed most of their records, out of sheer embarrassment. But, rumour has it, that someone got just a little carried away with their hobby. The result is that they had accidentally bred some sort of species that, though it looked harmless, it would devour anything living. They had a breeding pair, and one of them got loose and ate its way through more than half the town, before it was finally destroyed. There’s nothing on record of what happened to its mate, but I’m guessing that perhaps we may have found it. The only thing known is that both of the original species used in the experiment came from the planet Sol Three.”

 

Donna shook her head. “Sol Three? Never heard of it.” The Doctor nudged her with his elbow. “Erm–actually, you were born there.” Donna gave him a look. “You’re the alien, I’m not…oh.” She said as it dawned on her, what he meant. “You mean Earth?” The Doctor nodded. “It’s just a guess, mind you. But, I’m thinking that old lobster head was in the process dumping his ‘mistake’ back where its parent species originally came from.” “But, why would he want to do that?” She asked.

 

The Doctor clucked to the horse again and slapped the reins, urging it into a faster pace. He shrugged. “I dunno’. Maybe he had become attached to the animal and didn’t want to see it destroyed, maybe he saw a potential profit, and wanted to breed some more, or maybe, he couldn’t think of anything else to do with it. Guess we’ll never know now.” “Why’s that, Doctor?” Without taking his eyes off the road in front of him, the Doctor picked up the notebook and passed it to her. She looked at the drawing on the page. It was a sketch of the lobster man, lying on the ground. Or rather, what was left of him, for his spacesuit was now in tatters and he was covered with gaping wounds.

 

The lathered horse came clattering to a halt back at Sir George’s. Not wasting any time, the Doctor jumped down and began unloading the equipment from the back. Donna went over and stood beside him. He handed her a wooden box. “Here, Donna. Take this to the back of the house for me. I’ll be along in two ticks.” She stood there a moment, looking at the box, “What are you going to do with this?” Gritting his teeth as he sorted though a tangle of wires and string he responded, “You’ll see soon enough, now shift! Allon-z! I’ll be right behind you!”

 

Once again at the back door of Sir George’s home, the Doctor set down a cardboard box he was carrying. Then, putting on his glasses, he walked into the garden. With a baffled expression, Donna watched as he circled around and around the base of a large oak tree, staring at the ground. “Did you forget to use the loo before you left the Tardis?” She asked. Not bothering to answer her, the Doctor yelled, “Brilliant!” Bending over, he picked up a sturdy-looking forked stick from the ground. “Oh, this one is perfect!” He exulted, “Just what I was looking for.”

 

The Doctor walked back over to Donna and took the heavy wooden fruit crate from her. Sitting on a bench by the back door, he rummaged through the cardboard box until he found a ball of twine. Donna sat down beside him, watching. Her gaze traveled to the stick, the box, and then the twine.

Suddenly, she realized what the Doctor was doing. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” She gaped at him, “You’re not doing what I think you’re doing?” He glanced at her. “What do you think I’m doing?” She gave him a look. “I know what you’re doing, and I think you’ve finally gone raving bonkers. This isn’t the Boy Scouts you know, and that’s not flippin’ Bugs Bunny in there!”

 

The Doctor grinned at her. “I was in the Galifreyan Boy Scouts, once. For about two weeks.” Measuring out a long length of twine, he gave a lame shrug, “Never could master the secret handshake though–didn’t have the patience for it. It took half the day to complete, and by the time we were done, it was nearly time to go to bed. ”

 

Bounding up, the Doctor grabbed the box and the stick and then pulled a short, brown oblong object out of his pocket. Donna looked at it distastefully. “I hope that’s not what it looks like.” “It’s a blaaat.” He said. Donna frowned, “Did that apple give you indigestion, or is that another one of those stupid names?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Stupid name, I’m afraid. It comes from the same planet as the Pwaat, though. Hence the rude, erm–noises.”

 

Donna looked at the object distrustfully, wrinkling her nose. “It smells disgusting. Are you sure it’s not a…” “Phew,” he said, wafting his hand in front of his face, “No, it’s not. But, it is a bit pungent though, I’ll give you that. Kind of reminds me of Slitheen aftershave.” Donna shrugged, “Okay, come on then. What’s it for?”

 

Standing up, he walked over to the door and said, “It’s a root vegetable that, in the right quantities, also acts as a narcotic. Another one of the lobster people’s genetic experiments, used to feed them to their kids when they were getting out of hand–also handy when the in-laws come to call, ha-ha. The tiniest bite of this, and they’re in la-la land.”

 

Donna smiled at the thought. “I could do with one of those when my mum’s around. Be nice to have a nag-free evening at home for a change.” The Doctor smiled, looking down at the root resting in the palm of his hand. “If you gave her the whole thing, she’d be out for six months. You see, just a few shavings of this will put you to sleep for several hours. Eat the whole thing, and you’re down for the long-term.”

 

Donna nodded. “So you’re planning on drugging the…whatever it is.” “Rabodile.” The Doctor said. Donna cocked her head thoughtfully. “Or,” she mused, “you could call it a crockobunny.” The Doctor thought about that. “Or, using the lobster people’s own language, we could call it a—” He proceeded to make a very rude noise. The Doctor and Donna looked at each other. “Nahh–” They both said simultaneously.

 

Donna gave an apprehensive glance towards the back door. “What will you do with it, once it’s sleeping? I mean, there’s no way I’m traveling in the Tardis with that thing!” The Doctor patted her shoulder. “No worries. Did I ever tell you that I have a veterinary degree? No? Well, Donna, I do. Completed it a few years back, in my fifth regeneration. I trained under a vet named Siegfried. Jolly fellow, lovely sense of humour. Well, except for the time I made that cow explode. Anyway, once our little friend in there is out cold back in the Tardis, I’ll perform a little veterinary surgery and take care of those teeth and claws. Basically, I can turn Arthur the rabodile into a herbivore and render it truly harmless–that is, harmless if you’re not a plant species.” Donna looked at him worriedly. “What then? What will you do with it?”

 

Setting the box down, the Doctor tied one end of the twine to the stick. He stood there was re-checking the long strand, to make sure it wasn’t going to break at the wrong time. “Well,” he said to her, “I happen to know of this uninhabited Class Two planet out in the Moordenair system that would be perfect. No animal species, but plenty of water and plants for Arthur to feed on. I suppose it may get a little lonely, but at least it won’t have to die.” Donna gave him a curious look. “But, it killed your friend. Not only him, but his wife and everyone in the house, and who knows how many of those Mayans down in Mexico. It even killed its own creator. Yet, you’re going to let it live. Why?”

 

The Doctor hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then pocketing his glasses, he put his hand on the door knob. “I’m going inside. Stay out here, that’s an order.” He said sternly. “I’ll be back as fast as I can, but whatever you do, do not open this door, for any reason. I mean it, Donna. Do not open this door. Got that?” Drawing in her breath, she nodded. He smiled and gave her a wink. “Good. See you soon.” With that, he opened the door and slipped inside.

 

The Doctor cautiously crept down the hallway. As the afternoon had drawn on, the house had grown more shadowed. The smell of the dead bodies had begun to give the house a rank, coppery odour, but the Doctor paid it no attention. Passing the door to the library again, he looked in. He hadn’t noticed before, but there were three more bodies in there. The remains of what looked like a butler, and what was probably the two ambulance attendants. He guessed that it was very likely at least one more body would be found in the kitchen, if they had a cook.

 

When the Doctor got to about the middle of the hall, he stopped. Very quietly, he knelt down, and set up the trap. Placing the root vegetable on the floor, he used the forked stick to prop the box up with. Then, he secured the twine to the stick. Slowly walking backwards, towards the back door, he began playing out the twine. Suddenly, as he reached the library door again, the Doctor had the distinct feeling that he was being watched. He stopped, standing absolutely still. Very slowly, he craned his head around. Sitting in the hallway by the back door, was the creature.

 

Still holding the twine, the Doctor hurled himself through the library door, kicking it shut with his feet. Once again, there was a thud as the creature slammed into the door. The Doctor winced. “Oh, that’s gotta’ hurt.” Breathing heavily, he sat on the floor, listening to the creature as it scrabbled at the door with its immense claws. After a moment, there was silence. The Doctor pressed his ear to the door, but after several minutes passed, he heard nothing. He eyed the door distrustfully, whispering, “What are you up to now, Arthur?”

 

Outside, Donna paced restlessly back and forth. There was no indication of sound or movement coming from the house. She told herself that perhaps that was a good sign. She figured that if the Doctor wasn’t making any noise, it probably meant that the creature hadn’t attacked him. Still, it was very hard having to wait, not knowing anything.

 

Just then, she heard a noise coming from the oak tree in the garden. She started, staring up into the leaves. What if that thing had somehow gotten out of the house? With those great claws, could it climb trees? Part of her–the common sense part, told her to keep her distance. But, on the other hand, she was intensely curious. Some leaves high up in the oak trembled, and one of the limbs creaked ominously. A single green leaf slowly fluttered down to the ground. Donna grabbed a shovel that had been leaning against the wall of the house, and she inched forward towards the tree.

 

The Doctor lay with his back to the library door. With the door closed, the smell of blood from the three bodies was much stronger now, and even the Doctor couldn’t help but notice it. “Whew,” he muttered, “you fellows are getting a bit ripe, aren’t you?” He decided that the three corpses really weren’t very good companions. Through the door, he heard another muffled thud. Slowly, his hand reached up and turned the brass door knob.

 

Donna was standing under the oak tree when the back door came crashing open. She jumped and turned around, giving a startled yelp. The Doctor came stumbling down the steps, carrying the wooden fruit crate. Without pausing, he knelt on the ground and gently set the box down. Donna came over and stared down into it. Curled up sound asleep, was Arthur the rabodile. “Shame about that thing being so deadly,” She said to the Doctor, “it looks kind of sweet, when it’s sleeping.”

 

Donna cast a worried look at the Doctor, who was still panting a bit hard. “Are you alright?” He nodded and grinned at her, “Yeah, right as rain. Didn’t have to do a thing, would you believe it? Little Arthur here did it all for me. Got a whiff of the veggie in the box, and was in so much of a hurry to get at it, that he tripped the trap himself! Oh, ‘tripped the trap.’ I like that!”

 

The Doctor reached into the cardboard box, and pulled out a wooden board, a hammer and some heavy duty tacks. He quickly tacked the board over the opening in the box. “There! That should hold her until we get her to where she’s going.” Donna looked at the Doctor strangely. “She?” He nodded, smiling, “Yeah, it’s a female. And, what’s more, I think I know why she’d become so aggressive. She’s pregnant!” Donna frowned. “What are you so happy about? Even if you change her, won’t the babies still have teeth and claws?”

 

The Doctor made a guilty face. “Well, Donna, yes they could. But, the lobster people aren’t the only one’s who can mess about with DNA. Mind you, I am very much against genetic manipulation, except in only the direst of circumstances.” He cast a dark glance in the direction of the house. “And I’d say these circumstances are very dire, indeed. So, while I’m messing about with mum here, I also will do the same thing with the babies. Turn them into one big, happy plant-eating family, put them on a deserted planet, problem solved, easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.”

 

The Doctor looked down at the covered box. “It’s sort of amazing, isn’t it though? Being among the first to witness a brand new species, no wonder Sir George got such a big kick out of it, eh?” Donna nodded. “Yeah, I suppose it is, in a way.” She have him a faint smile, “I’m going to be the only living human to see this, aren’t I? I guess that is pretty special.” A second later, a limb of the oak tree shook again. Donna grabbed the Doctor’s arm. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! There’s something up in that tree there. Do you think it could be another strange creature, Doctor?”

 

Walking over to the tree, they were stood under it, when a tiny, plaintive “mew” came from high above them. Peering down at the Doctor and Donna, were two very scared gold eyes. It was Sir George’s little black cat. “Well, that settles that mystery.” The Doctor said, walking away. Donna grabbed his arm. “But, you’re not going to just leave him there!” The Doctor just stood there and raised an eyebrow. The look on his face made his feelings on the matter quite obvious. He turned and walked away, “Right, Donna. Let’s get Mrs. Arthur back to the Tardis.”

 

Donna stayed put, her arms crossed, in a posture that said that she wasn’t going anywhere. He turned to look at her, feigning innocence. “What?” Donna stared at him expectantly. “What?” He asked again, only slightly more belligerently this time. She gave him a beady-eyed glare, and looked up at the tree, just as the cat’s cries became even more distressed. He shook his head firmly. “Oh, no-no-no. No way, Donna! I’m not a fireman, and I’m not with the RSPCA. I will capture man-eating alien creatures, fight Daleks and Cybermen, walk though fire even, but I am not climbing up a tree to rescue a cat, and that’s final!”

 

A short while later, the Tardis landed in a large city in the far future. The Doctor walked into an apartment block and gently rapped on a door. The Door opened and the occupant stared at him in wide-eyed delight. “Doctor!” She cried, “How wonderful to see you again! What are you doing here?” The Doctor smiled, clearing his throat. “Erm–actually, I have to ask you if you could do me a small favour.”

 

Back in the Tardis, Donna said, “So let me get this straight. You gave a cat person, a cat as a pet?” The Doctor nodded. “Makes sense, really. Besides, Novice Hame needed someone to look after, after the Face of Boe died. In fact, I do believe that it was love at first sight for the pair of them. Now Donna, where should we be off to, next?” He beamed a delighted grin in her direction, and with the flip of a lever, sent the Tardis back into the space-time vortex.

 

END

 

(4^TH May, 2008)