Mad Country

Just a note: I believe this is one of my longest works of fiction, to date.

Doctor Who: Mad Country

(First draft)

By Nancy G.

11^th Feb., 2008

Doctor Who © BBC

This story is dedicated to my good friend–and fellow Whovian, Gary

THIS STORY HAS NEVER BEEN EDITIED, SINCERE APOLOGIES FOR ANY ERRORS YOU MAY ENCOUNTER.

CHAPTER ONE

It was high summer, in the village of Little Tweevale. Nestled on either side of the quiet lane, were two rows of small cottages. The main road lay drowsing in the last vestiges of a dewy mist, the street still glistening from the rain. The violent storm that had drenched the countryside the night before, had blown back to the sea from whence it came, revealing a bright new dawn.

On this morning, it was, without a doubt, a glorious day. The skies were, for once, a lovely shade of cobalt blue, without a hint of clouds. The roses bloomed in the gardens, and birds twittered contentedly amongst the verdant trees and hedgerows. Though still early, the dazzling, golden sunlight promised it would be a warm day. Yet, a gentle breeze made being outdoors at this hour, quite pleasant. In the rear of one of the cottages, old Mr. Green was puttering about in his shed, meticulously cleaning mud from a garden gnome, while the amble bodied and always pleasant Miss Hutchings, two doors down, was busy hanging out her washing.

Miss Hutchings was in the middle of hanging a sheet, when she suddenly felt that something wasn’t quite right. Tilting her head curiously, she paused to try and gauge what was wrong. Then, she realized what it was. The wind had died, and the birds had stopped singing. Out of nowhere, a dark cloud had appeared, obscuring the sun. Miss Hutchings shivered involuntarily. All at once, she felt as if someone had just walked over her grave, as if the end of the world were approaching.

Without warning, an odd crimson glow peeped through the edges of the cloud. Miss Hutchings stared with growing foreboding, as a small glowing object slowly floated from behind the cloud. It drifted lazily downward, until it hovered above the village, directly over Mr. Green’s shed. Dropping the sheet, she watched as the pulsing ball of light–about one and a half meters across in size, slowly began to revolve. The glow intensified for a moment, then faded. Then, the pulsing reddish light drifted away again, behind the cloud once more.

Miss Hutchings cast a glance in the direction of Mr. Green’s shed, then looked back up at the great black cloud…but the ominous cloud with the strange light had vanished. The birds began to sing again, and the wind rustled the leaves, but Miss Hutchings didn’t notice. With a growing sense of inexplicable terror, she’d run into her house and bolted the door.

Mr. Green was contentedly humming away, cleaning the last of the grime from the smiling gnome with a stiff brush. He stood back, admiring his handiwork. The old man frowned when a reddish glow peeped through the cracks of his wooden shed. “Well, the sun seems rather bright today, doesn’t it, my wee gent?” Mr. Green mused. “I hope it’s not going to be too hot, later.” He set down the brush and proceeded to rub the gnome with a rag. “There ya’ are, all nice and clean. It’s a wonder you’re still smiling, what with all the muck that was covering you.”

The pleasure in Mr. Green’s eyes changed to shock. With dawning horror, he realized that the gnome was no longer smiling, but was staring at him with a menacing leer. He shook his head, thinking maybe he’d better go indoors and have a lie down. Dropping the little figure on the work bench, he turned.

The elderly gardener never made it to the shed door. The gnome sprang to life, and jumped on Mr. Green’s neck, his little painted eyes now alive with rage. The old man screamed, trying to tear the creature off of him, crashing into a row of gardening implements. But the gnome hung on tenaciously. With its face hovering over the man’s neck, the little figure opened its mouth, revealing a jagged row of sharp, fanged teeth. Mr. Green let out one last terrified scream, and was abruptly silent. Outside the shed, the breeze stirred the roses, and the birds continued merrily singing.

The Doctor was intently hovering over the Tardis console, fluttering here and there, delicately tweaking the odd assortment of controls. Out of the blue, he leapt across to the other side, grabbed a hammer and slammed it down on one of the controls. Then, as if that had never happened, he calmly strolled back to where he started, and began deftly flipping some switches again.

Donna stood nearby, watching him. She was wearing an elegant emerald green dress which was, like her hair, presently dripping water all over the console deck. She didn’t look very happy. “So, how long before you lose your learner status and actually figure out how to drive this thing?” Donna asked acidly. The Doctor only looked up long enough to wipe his dripping forehead with the soggy sleeve of his brown suit, and to give her a hurt look, before turning his concentration onto the console again.

The central column rose and fell, the machine heaving and groaning like an old man, climbing a steep hill with an armload of shopping. Donna stood with her arms akimbo, glaring. “You were supposed to be taking me to a nice quiet weekend in Palm Springs. Plenty of sunshine, polo matches, drinks by the pool, glamorous movie stars, you said…You were going to introduce me to James Stewart and Cary Grant, remember?” She threw up her hands, “Only, what do I get? Lulworth in November, pouring buckets of rain! I’m probably going to catch my death of cold, now.” She sneezed, and this time the Doctor looked at her apologetically, giving her a half-hearted, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

Donna shook her head angrily, yet held the hint of a smile in her eyes, “Don’t change the subject. You promised me a bit of sunshine Doctor, and I’m holding you to it.” The Doctor suddenly gave her one of his maniacal grins. “Tell you what? I’ll just ask the Tardis to take us somewhere nice and quiet and very sunny, eh?” she sighed, muttering, “Knowing you, we’ll probably wind up in the middle of an Atlantic hurricane.”

Giving her a mischievous wink, the Doctor said, “Awww-where’s your sense of adventure, Donna?” He tapped a few keys on the keyboard, and stabbed a button with his finger. With a skeptical look, Donna watched him flying the ship. The Doctor madly spun what looked like a combination lock, yanked on a lever, and very carefully turned a control–that looked like nothing more than an ugly yellow paperweight, just a fraction to the left. “No worries,” he said, “the safety protocols are locked in, no hurricane’s…or Lulworth, I promise. Just some lovely sunshine and fresh air, and,” he said, while pressing another button with his left finger, and flicking a switch with his right foot, “if there’s a pub about, I’ll even treat you to a lemonade.”

Donna simply crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Hoo-ray,” she said unenthusiastically, “and maybe afterward, as a bit of excitement, we can visit the local confectioner’s, and watch them decorate the cakes.” To Donna’s chagrin, the Doctor seemed to be actually taking her remark seriously. “Oh, I love cake, don’t you? I once met a baker on the planet Prott. He baked cakes that were life-size replicas of people, animals…just about anything, really. Oh, they were marvelous–well, except for his Dalek cake,” he sniffed, “didn’t really care for that.”

Outside the village of Little Tweevale, a lone brown and white pony grazed placidly in a small paddock that was situated beside a murmuring beck. Suddenly, it whinnied and ran off a short way. The serenity of the summer meadow was disrupted by the unique noise of an ancient alien engine. A few moments later, the door creaked open and the Doctor emerged from the interior of the Tardis. Taking a deep breath of air smelling vaguely of new mown hay, he stood about admiring the scenery. “Ohhh–lovely!” He murmured appreciatively. “See, Donna?” He called over his shoulder, “Just what the Doctor ordered, perfect place for a nice, quiet, relaxing weekend.”

Donna came out and stared around her, clearly not quite as delighted as the Doctor. “Oh yeah, it’s very peaceful. But then, so’s your average cemetery.” She said dryly. Donna sneezed again, and the Doctor took a handkerchief from the pocket of his blue suit. Handing it to her, he said, “Bless. I’ve some Sisterhood cold remedy in the Tardis, if you need it.” Donna shook her head. “Probably hay fever. Something I wouldn’t have to worry about, if I were basking in the desert, in Palm Springs.” She grumbled.

The Doctor chose to ignore that reminder of his Tardis’s fallibilities. Puckering his eyebrows, he decided to change the subject. “What took you so long, anyway? I’ve been waiting for you for ages.” He said a tad peevishly.

Although it had only taken him a moment to change into some dry things, the Doctor was still baffled at how long it took human women to do a simple thing like put on a few items of clothing. She looked at him, surprised by the question. “Well, I had to decide what to wear, didn’t I? You may prefer to keep it simple with two suits and a tux, but no woman–not if she’s human, would be caught dead wearing the same three outfits month after month. Besides,” she said, “a person could get lost in the Tardis wardrobe. Have you seen the size of that thing?”

Seeing that they were in the countryside, Donna had also taken the time to change into something more suitable. It this case, she’d opted for jeans, a dark lavender blouse and a comfortable pair of trainers. A white and pink jumper lay draped across her back, loosely fastened around her neck, by its sleeves. The Doctor looked at her attire and shrugged, deciding that women’s fashions was one area of expertise he’d never quite master. ‘Although’, he thought to himself, “once you get used to it, ladies hosiery can be quite comfortable…’

That train of thought was interrupted, thankfully, by a nudge from Donna. “Where we off to, then?” She asked. Looking around, the Doctor said, “Well, we won’t get that lemonade, larking about discussing fashion tips.” Smiling, he offered her his arm, saying, “Shall we take a little stroll through the country?” Walking to the opposite side of the paddock, the pair clambered over a wooden fence, finding themselves standing in a quiet country lane. Shading his eyes, the Doctor noticed chimney pots and slate roofs gleaming through the trees, just down the road.

After a brisk ten minute walk, the Doctor and Donna found themselves in a sleepy village. The two of them stood near a small green, surmounted by a decaying monument to some obscure local event. The closer they’d gotten to the village, the more the Doctor seemed to become uncharacteristically silent.

His face narrowed, as the Doctor’s eyes suspiciously took in their surroundings. Donna looked at the buildings, all of them seemingly deserted. “So, Doctor, what sort people do you think might pass for celebrities in these parts? The woman who invented the tea cozy? Or, maybe the man who first made those little edible ball bearings they decorate cakes with?” She quipped. Yet, Donna felt uneasy, for some reason she couldn’t fathom. Despite the warm weather, she shivered and rubbed her arms. “Not the liveliest place, is it?” She said, “I mean, I don’t think we’re going to find Posh or Macca, downing pints in the local pub.” She frowned, “Where are we, anyway?”

Without answering, the Doctor strode over to the nearest building. The sign outside the door, creaking slightly in the southerly breeze, pronounced that it was the ‘Crown and Thistle, Ian McKenzie, Proprietor.’ He tried the door, but it was locked. Glancing around, the Doctor reached into his suit pocket, and retrieved his sonic screwdriver. After a brief hum, there was an audible click, and he opened the door.

Though the dim interior of the pub made it difficult to see properly, It seemed to Donna as if the place had changed very little, in the last hundred years. She noted the beamed, nicotine-stained ceiling, horse brasses on the wall and the requisite dart board. The only concessions to the modern day seemed to be indoor plumbing, electricity, a fruit machine and the items on the chalkboard menu,. Donna noticed that the lunch specials included shrimp scampi and a cheeseburger with chips, so she guessed it was around her own time period.

The Doctor explored the pub, checking all the doors and even the cupboards. Leaning with his back against the bar, he looked at Donna and shrugged. “No one about, it seems. Sorry Donna, looks like you’ll have to wait for your lemonade.” Just then, the door swung open, and a tall, ginger-haired man barged in. “Here now, what’s this? How did you get in here? We’re shut, ya’know!”

The Doctor waved at the man, “Hello! I’m the Doctor and this is Donna. This is a pub, we opened the door and walked in, and, judging by the empty room, I’m guessing that either business is very bad, or yes, you do seem to be shut.” He smiled at the man, but his eyes were taking in the Scot’s attire. For, if the highland accent wasn’t a dead giveaway of his origins, then his clothing certainly was. He was wearing a short black dress coat, and a yellow tartan kilt. The man was also carrying a bag pipe underneath one arm. Not the usual kit one might expect to see a barman wearing, in the English countryside.

The man frowned deeply. “Well, we are shut. For the funeral, you see. They asked me to play a lament at the graveside. The whole town’s at the churchyard today–those that would leave their homes, that is.”

The Doctor nodded sagely. “Right, the funeral, yes of course…” he cocked his head tugged on his ear. “Erm–excuse me, sorry. What funeral would that be, then?” The man eyed the two of them suspiciously. “You’re not here for the funeral? You don’t look like tourists. What do you want? What are you here for?” He demanded. Donna gave the man an offended stare. “A lemonade, actually. This is a pub, isn’t it?” Looking the barman up and down, she added, “And, the last time I looked, sunshine, Great Britain was still a free country, and a lady could go into the local and order a drink, without getting interrogated by some man with no pants.”

Unconsciously blushing, the bearded man stole a quick glance down at his kilt. Jerking his head up, he looked from Donna to the Doctor, open-mouthed with astonishment. The Doctor crossed his arms and tilted his head towards Donna, “Yeah,” he sniffed, “what she said.”

The Doctor stepped forward and said with authority. “Tell me, this person who died, what happened? What’s got everyone here so scared?” The barman took a step back, uncertainly. “Hold on now, sir. I’ve said nothing about anyone being scared. What makes you think that?” The Doctor’s features relaxed slightly. “I could sense it. There’s something brewing in the air, ‘round this village. Something’s not quite right, and,” he said reassuringly, “believe it or not, whatever it is, I can help.” He was about to turn away, but stopped in mid-stride. “Oh, and if you don’t mind, no more of this ‘sir’ business, eh? We’re all friends here, Mr. McKenzie. I hope.” He said, smiling genially. “Call me the Doctor.”

The Doctor went and took a seat at a nearby table, putting his feet up on a chair. Donna sat beside him. He beamed another disarming smile at Ian McKenzie, and said, “You know, I don’t know about my friend here, but I’m parched. Any chance for those lemonades? Also, I’m feeling a bit peckish, as well. If you could possibly find the time to serve us a spot of lunch, we’d be most grateful.” Leaning back in his chair, he added, “And, I don’t suppose I could entice you to play the pipes for us, later? Maybe Flower of Scotland–wonderful tune.” He smiled. “Always makes me feel like marching in a parade, that one.”

After McKenzie had apologized to Donna for his abrupt manner, he took their lunch order. Setting down his pipes on the bar, the man made them their drinks. After bringing them to the table, he tied on an apron and bustled into the kitchen. Donna leaned towards the Doctor and said, “So, that’s our big holiday in the sun, is it then? Have a couple of burgers in an empty pub in a deserted village, listening to some bloke in a skirt, strangling a cat?”

The Doctor shot her a look. “It’s a kilt, not a skirt, and the bagpipe has a long and honourable history. And,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “look on the bright side. At least we’re getting personalized service.” The Doctor took a sip of lemonade and stared at an old print hanging on the wall, depicting the battle of Culloden. “I had this friend once, Jamie. An excellent piper, as I recall.” He said absently. Donna shook her head, “Not to my taste, the pipes. Give me a Pussycat Dolls concert, any day.” She looked at him. “So why are we really hanging around this place, Doctor? Somehow I get the feeling that it’s not for the charming atmosphere and lively entertainment.”

Letting out a long sigh, the Doctor glanced at his companion with a troubled expression. “I feel there’s something wrong here, Donna.” He whispered. “I can’t explain what, because I simply don’t know. All I can tell you is that this whole village simply doesn’t feel quite right. Whatever it is, it’s making the back of my neck tingle and the palms of my hands itch, something extremely…nasty.” His voice trailed off and the Doctor’s face momentarily took on a dark foreboding appearance, which, despite the warm day, made Donna tremble involuntarily.

CHAPTER TWO

After the Doctor had finished eating his cheeseburger and chips, McKenzie came up to the table, inquiring if the meal had been satisfactory. The Doctor hadn’t noticed, but Donna had barely touched her food. She still felt disturbed, for some reason. Stifling a belch, the Doctor complimented McKenzie on the excellent meal. But, when he leaned across the table, the Doctor seemed a changed man. Suddenly all business, he asked seriously, “So tell me, exactly when did things change, around here?”

Blowing out his cheeks, McKenzie hesitated for a long moment. Then he gave in and decided to reveal what he knew, albeit reluctantly. “It was only three days ago, just this Sunday past…” The man paused, as if unsure that his listeners would believe him. The Doctor smiled encouragingly, “Whatever you have to say, you can trust me. I will believe you.” He said. McKenzie nodded. “Well, I was down in the cellar here, fetching some bottles to restock the bar with, so I didn’t see it myself.” Again, there was a long hesitation. In the back of his mind, the Doctor wondered if the man was stalling for a reason, or if he was merely uncomfortable with talking about something that was simply beyond his ken.

The Doctor gave McKenzie another encouraging smile. “Go on.” The man cleared his throat as if it were suddenly dry. “I’m told that there was this dark cloud that appeared, out of nowhere…” a minute later, McKenzie concluded, “Mr. Green–he’s a widower that lives–I mean, lived, in the last cottage down the lane, he gave a terrible scream. His neighbour, Mr. Porter, found him his shed, stone dead. The paramedic with Emergency Services said it was almost as if the poor man had died of fright.”

The barman’s manner grew even more agitated, as he continued, “What we didn’t know, Doctor, was that what happened to old man Green was only the beginning. Mrs. Hutchings has shut herself up in her cottage, and won’t come out. Says her two cats told her to lock herself in. We’ve not seen her in three days. Well, we thought that maybe she’d just had some sort of fit, or something, but then…”

The man paused, gripping the edge of the table with his long, slender fingers, as his face grew pale. “Then, it happened again Sunday night. Another cloud covering the moon, that dark red pulsing ball of light of light in the sky, and the next day, two more villagers going raving bonkers.”

The Doctor leaned in, “What happened, Mr. McKenzie?” He asked softly. The man shook his head and said, “Mrs. Gladstone, our postmistress, stuffed all of the letters and bills and such from the Royal Mail sacks, into her washing machine and put it through the wash cycle. She, who has been so faithful to her job for more than fifteen years, destroyed nearly a hundred pieces of mail! Mrs. Gladstone later told the constable that she was ordered to do it by Prince Albert, because the post was full of dirty letters.”

On hearing this, the Doctor raised an eyebrow. Despite the severity of the situation, Donna was hard put to stifle a chuckle. “Yeah, at times old Albert could be a really uptight old dude.” The Doctor said, “Except when it came to werewolves, then he was very hip.”

McKenzie gave the Doctor a wary look, but continued on with his story; “Still, even the damaged mail wasn’t the last of it. The very next day, young John Burke, as decent a lad as you’ll ever see, deliberately drove his dad’s brand new Ford Ranger head-on through the window of the church office. He swore he had to do it, because the vicar was using the parish computer to plot the overthrow of the Royal Family. All barking mad, the lot of them,” McKenzie concluded, “No one knows what to make of it, so most of them have shut themselves up in their houses, afraid to come out, lest they see that strange light again, and go mad themselves.”

The Doctor tilted his head thoughtfully and said, “And you say this strange light has a dark reddish glow to it?” The barman nodded. “Aye. As I mentioned, I’ve not seen it myself. That’s only what some of the villagers were sayin’, while I was tendin’ bar, Monday afternoon. I was away you see, Sunday night, at my nephew’s birthday party down to the city. I stayed over, didn’t get back here until Monday morning.” The Doctor sucked in his breath. “And, they say that a dark cloud hid the glowing light, right?”

Before McKenzie could answer, the Doctor bounded up and began manically pacing the wooden floor, running his fingers through his hair. “There’s something familiar about all of this, something I read about once, back in my academy days. But, what was it? Think, Doctor,” he muttered to himself, “Think-think-think!”

The pub owner looked quite alarmed by the Doctor’s sudden change. Looking concerned, he leaned over to Donna, whispering, “Forgive me for asking lass, but is he on any type of medication?”

Hiding a smile, Donna only eyed the frantically pacing Doctor curiously, and took a sip of lemonade. “Do you know what he’s on about, Doctor?” She asked, finally. The Doctor stopped abruptly. His eyes illuminated with discovery, he gleefully shouted, “Yes!” Then, the Doctor’s shoulders sagged, and his face became shadowed with doubt. “No….that’s not–” Almost immediately, his eyes were alight again, with a triumphant look of sudden revelation. “Oh, yes! That’s it!” Apparently, however, the Doctor’s joy was short-lived. He slumped back down into his chair, staring broodingly at the tabletop. Donna smirked at him over her glass. “Well, that was enlightening.”

The smile died on her face, when the Doctor raised his eyes to her again. They contained that same, haunted, dark look she’d seen, when the two of them had first sat down together. “Sorry.” She whispered. Reaching over, she touched his hand. “Whatever it is, I’ve a feeling it’s not good, is it?” The Doctor stared at the scarred wooden surface of the table, his only acknowledgement to her, was a fractional nod of his head.

Sitting down beside Donna, McKenzie’s gaze passed between her and the Doctor, with a confused expression. “What was that all about? What’s bad? Are you haverin’ me?” He threw a worried look at the Doctor, but the Doctor seemed absorbed by some worry of his own at the moment, and did not answer. Donna took the moment to ask the barman, “Where are we, anyway, what’s the name of this place?” “Crown and Thistle lass, just like it says on the sign, outside.” He said stoically.

Donna shook her head, “No, I mean the village, what’s it called?” The Scotsman raised an eyebrow. “Ya’ mean ya’ dinna’ know where ya’ are?” He asked, his accent broadening in his surprise. “We seldom do.” she shrugged, “The Doctor says it’s more fun that way. Personally,” She joked, “I think he’s just your typical bloke, who thinks stopping to ask for directions is an assault on his manliness.” Unseen by them, the Doctor stopped brooding long enough, to let the hint of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

McKenzie leaned back in his chair, and sighed. “Aye, I’ll tell ya’ where ya’ are lass. Let me put it this way, if there was a backside to the middle of nowhere, this village would be the hole at the very epicenter of it. The only thing of note, ‘round these parts, is that mysterious government research centre they recently set up, over at Brookside Manor.” Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, towards the pub’s front door and slightly to the left, he said, “That’s about fifteen miles up the road.”

The Doctor’s head came up, his expression suddenly curious. “Really? Tell me, Mr. McKenzie, what exactly is it about this research centre, which makes it so mysterious?”

McKenzie gave a noncommittal shrug. “That’s hard to say, really. Odd comings and goings in the middle of the night, all traffic halted while they shift whatever it is they are brining in or out–not that there’s much traffic around here at any time, of course. And don’t try to go anywhere near the grounds. You’d likely get torn apart by dogs or shot where you stand! I mean, Doctor, the security around the grounds of old Lord Featherly’s home is a bit over the top, if you were to ask me. I don’t think the Queen herself is so well guarded!”

The Doctor seemed very interested. “But, what is it that they feel needs so much guarding, I wonder?” He muttered. “And, does it have anything to do with this strange light that’s been attacking the village? Or, are they merely a mob of your usual paranoid military types, with more ammunition than common sense?” Just then, from outside the pub, there came a startled yell and a strangled cry for help.

CHAPTER THREE

In a thrice, the Doctor dashed out of the pub, trailed by Donna and the barman. There, they were met by the unusual sight of a middle aged woman wearing a clerical collar, down on the pavement, trying to throttle the life out of a young man. “It’s Mike Hartley, our local shopkeeper!” McKenzie exclaimed, his bearded face frozen in astonishment. “And that’s the vicar! What the devil is going on?”

Not bothering to answer the barman, the Doctor had sprinted over to the two people, wrestling on the ground. As she continued trying to strangle the shop owner, the Doctor noticed something odd. The vicar’s pupils had a pinkish glow to them. Reaching over, three of his slender fingers delicately pressed on the vicar’s temple. Immediately, she collapsed, sound asleep.

Mr. Hartley sat up with help from the Doctor, gasping for breath. Like the barman, the shopkeeper’s eyes were wide with alarm. “Wha–what’s happened?” He asked shakily. “All I said to the woman was, ‘Hello, vicar,’ and the next thing I know, she’s trying to kill me!”

Hartley shook his head in bewilderment. The black man was in his early twenties, dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt. He’d just come from home, after changing from the suit he’d worn at the funeral. Mike Hartley had intended on spending the rest of his Sunday, going to the pub for a drink and later watching the footie on tele. He was walking to the pub, when he’d passed by the vicar. Pounding on him with her fists, the woman had chased the shop owner quite a few yards, before she’d managed to knock him to the pavement.

After recovering his breath some more, he began rambling, “I only came here, because I thought East London was getting a bit too rough around the edges, for a bloke like me. I wanted a nice little shop, in a peaceful little town in the country, and what do I get? More nutters per square mile than the entire city of London combined.”

The shopkeeper looked dazedly at the barman. “I’d heard that this morning, right after the funeral, one of the local farmers set his grain barn on fire! He insisted that it was because there was a giant spider in there the size of a mini, and it wanted to eat him.” Hartley shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I’m telling you, the whole countryside’s gone mad! It’s only a matter of time before someone else dies.”

While the shopkeeper rattled on, the Doctor kept his eyes on the vicar. She lay as peacefully asleep on the pavement, as if she were in her own bed. He was crouched down beside her, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The Doctor looked up at the barman, who was now in the process of helping Hartley to his feet and steering him into the pub. “Come on Mike, I’ll get you a drink to steady your nerves.” The Doctor stood. “Mr. McKenzie. I need to have a word with you, about that research centre.” The man turned inquiringly. “Can’t it wait? Young Hartley’s had quite a shock.” The Doctor’s face was grave, but he looked at the shopkeeper and sighed with resignation. “Yes, I suppose it can wait another minute or two.”

Donna tugged on the sleeve of the Doctor’s suit. “What about her, Doctor?” She asked, “We can’t just leave her there.” She said, indicating the vicar. The Doctor blew out his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes, I know. Can you help me get her inside?” The two of them managed to carry the vicar into the pub. They set her down gently on the floor, near the bar, with her back propped up against the wall. Donna rolled up her jumper as a substitute pillow, and placed it behind the vicar’s head. She noticed that woman had begun to snore gently. “Will she be alright, Doctor?” The Doctor nodded. “She should be, yes. When she comes to, I’ll need to ask her a few questions. Alhough,” he tugged on his ear, “I doubt she’ll be able to tell me anything I don’t already know.”

Donna looked at him sideways. “So, you do know what’s causing this, then?” The Doctor didn’t answer for the space of a few heartbeats. “Possibly,” he sighed, “and I’m not completely sure, mind, it’s just…” He scratched the back of his head, “…you see, Donna, the beings that might be causing this haven’t been…” For once, the Doctor seemed at a loss for words. “What?” Donna asked anxiously.

The Doctor looked at her, as if trying to figure out how to explain it to a human. “More than a hundred billion years ago, before the earth was even rocks and dust, there was a group of creatures living in the farthest reaches of the universe. Well,” he shrugged, “they were sort of creatures. Really, I suppose, they were more like living atoms. Basically, the Amphorons were simply sentient clouds of gas with a highly developed intelligence. However, being a gas cloud had its limitations, as you can guess. So, the Amphorons tended to drift about the cosmos, using whatever other forms of life they encountered to…to play games with.”

Donna didn’t think she liked where this conversation was going. “Play games? You mean like charades and Monopoly?” The Doctor frowned. “Erm–not exactly, Donna. That’s where this gets just a bit ugly. You see, the Amphorons were highly intelligent, yes. But, their emotional capacity didn’t match their brains. Essentially, it was like someone with the brain of an Einstein, having the emotional development of a Telly Tubbie. Being that they had no physical body, to speak of, they didn’t need to eat or sleep. Not once in their entire existence, did these creatures ever create an original work of art or dream up a scientific marvel. They just drifted through space, as gas clouds are wont to do, like a mob of yobs on Saturday night.” His head came up and the Doctor grinned, looking very pleased with himself. “Ah, a mob of yobs! Bet ol’ Tennyson never thought of a rhyme like that, eh?”

Then, just as suddenly, his moody expression returned. The Doctor stared across the table at Donna, absently reaching over and pulling her drink towards him. Thing is,” he said gravely, taking a sip of lemonade, “the thing is Donna, is that these mobs of gas clouds, with nothing creative or productive to do with their lives, well, as you can guess, they tended to get bored rather easily. You might almost feel sorry for them, for having to lead such a meaningless existence. But, in the end, it was their actions made them almost as loathed and hated as the Daleks.”

The Doctor made a face, staring at the glass in his hand, as if the lemon slice inside it had suddenly turned very sour. “You see, to alleviate their boredom, the Amphorons invaded other planets. They used the lives, the very minds, of other living beings as their toys. They reveled in the harm that they caused! It was if they only lived for the suffering and devastation they created.” Donna frowned. “That’s awful.” She said, “Why would they do that?” The Doctor shrugged. “I dunno’.” He replied. “Perhaps it gave them a false feeling of power. Maybe it was because they had no one in authority, to answer to? Maybe no one cared enough to teach them some manners, there’s no way of knowing.”

The Doctor sighed, toying with his glass. “There could be any number of reasons.” He commented quietly. “Or, no reason at all, because despite what philosophers and religions may tell you, some things Donna, no matter how ugly they may be, simply have no reason. They just are there.” He said matter-of-factly, gently slapping the table twice, for emphasis on the last two words.

Donna glanced over at the bearded barman and the young shopkeeper. They were sitting several tables away, both staring morosely into their drinks, saying nothing. The door had been left wide open, and a beam of sunlight streamed into the darkened interior of the pub, causing dust motes to dance and swirl in the feathery breeze coming from outside.

Despite the cheery sunbeam, Donna suddenly felt a slice of coldness passing through her. “So, Doctor, what you’re telling me, is that you think those gas things are here, making people go bonkers, just for the fun of it?” Giving an elaborate shrug, he said, “I’m not sure. You see, I’ve only read about them. Supposedly they vanished into E-space–that’s sort of a parallel dimension, long before my time. After that, all records of them cease. The Amphorons were never heard from again. But, from what McKenzie’s told me here, his description of that mysterious light certainly matches the ancient depictions of their gaseous form. Still,” he sighed, “until can I see this phenomena with my own eyes, there’s no way to tell for sure. And,” He whispered, “Donna, we’ll have to tread carefully here. Very, very carefully.”

Looking up at him suspiciously, Donna whispered back, “Why do I suddenly get the feeling that you’re about to tell more bad news?” Tilting his head, the Doctor smiled, “Because I am about to tell you more bad news?” He quipped. His face growing serious again, he leaned over her and said in a low tone, “You see, the Amphorons not only could control minds, they also could, if they were so inclined, take over another being’s body, as well. Sometimes, the possession was only temporary. More often than not though, they’d just latch onto their victims like leeches, killing the person and using the body as a physical extension of themselves. Later, they’d simply toss body aside, like a discarded banana peel, when it now longer served its purpose.”

Donna looked down at the vicar, still fast asleep upon the floor. “Do you think she’s…” The Doctor tugged on his ear, “Hmm–take more than a few questions to find that out, I’m afraid. I mean, I don’t think it would go over very well, if I flat out asked her, “Excuse me, but are you being possessed by an alien gas creature?’ Although, it would make my job much easier, if I could.”

The Doctor’s face grew suddenly thoughtful. “Donna, I want you to stand behind me for a minute, to block my view from those two.” He whispered, nodding towards McKenzie and Hartley. “I want to try something, and if one of them happens to be under a gas creature’s control, I’d rather that they didn’t know that I’m not human–yet.” Donna looked at him questioningly. “If they find out there’s another alien mind working against them, it might cause them to change their tactics, become more aggressive, and that’s the last thing I want.” He explained. “So, for just a few seconds, Donna, I’m going to ask you to turn into a human hat stand.” He said tartly. Giving him a puzzled frown, she stood up and moved behind him. Whispering over her shoulder, she asked, “What are you going to do?”

Kneeling on the floor beside the vicar, the Doctor slipped in sonic screwdriver from his pocket. “I’m just going to very gently probe the vicar’s mind, to see what’s going on in there.” Keeping her eyes on the men at the table, she said softly, “Isn’t that a bit…impolite? I mean, I know she’s a vicar and all, but still, she might have some dark little secret in there, she’d rather not have anyone know about.” The Doctor scowled. “You’ve been watching too much Jerry Springer!” He looked up. “Although, there was that one show with the trucker from Alabama and his twin sister, who did the most intriguing things with a radiator hose and a some empty beer cans…” Smiling thinly, he gave a deep, tired sigh. “Probing people’s minds isn’t something that I enjoy. Unfortunately, sometimes I have to. Trust me Donna. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t feel that we were all in serious danger.”

The sonic quietly whirred, as the Doctor passed it over the vicar’s body. The Doctor nodded. “She’s still human.” He whispered, “No sign of any change in body chemistry.” Closing his eyes, he laid the tips of his fingers about her temples. The Doctor fell into a trance-like state for about twenty seconds.

Opening his eyes, the Doctor stood. “Well,” he spoke softly, into Donna’s ear, “there are definite signs in her mind, of an alien influence. Her brain chemistry, around the area that houses memory, isn’t quite right. I sensed a lot of confusion. Part of her truly believes that Hartley over there, had plans to blow up the church during services this coming Sunday. However, this same part of her memory has no recollection of how or why she knows this.”

Donna stared at the vicar. “That’s so awful. To think, these people are being made to attack their friends and neighbours. That could destroy this whole town.” She whispered. The Doctor glanced over at the two men, still huddled over the little table, now talking dissolutely. “If you think a whole town is bad,” he hissed, his face etched with intense determination, “Imagine an entire country of madmen. Imagine what’s happening here, spreading out all across the world, to countries with weapons of mass destruction. Whatever it is, it has to be stopped. Because if it isn’t, it will be the end of the world as you know it.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Fifteen miles away, at Brookside Manor, Brigadier Ashbury was seated at an antique mahogany desk, in what had once been the opulent gun room of the late Lord Featherly. The walls were lined with curly maple paneling, imported in the nineteenth century from America. Looking up from his paperwork, the brigadier sighed, and gazed tiredly around his new office.

Although the mounted animal heads were long gone, some framed hunting prints still hung from the walls. Most of the original furnishings had been removed though, and the two enormous gun cabinets attached to the wood paneling, now held only a thick layer of dust. The other decorations in the room were two flags. One was antique Union flag, a family heirloom of the brigadier’s, which had been flown at the Battle of Saratoga. It sat in a glass case upon the wooden fireplace mantle, alongside a framed photograph of the Queen. The other item was an old U.N.I.T. regimental flag. This was attached to a wooden flagpole, which had been mounted into a special stand alongside the desk.

Having no windows, the room was warm and stuffy, and the fan in the corner seemed to be only effective at blowing the papers around, rather than circulating the air. The brigadier tugged at the collar of his uniform, while shuffling through the handful of reports lying on the desk in front of him. He was trying to make sense of the recent happenings being reported in Little Tweevale, since this Sunday past. The trim, middle aged, sandy haired man was new to his command at the research centre. He was doing his best make sure his people stayed alert to any unusual activity in the area.

When he’d first heard of U.N.I.T–the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce, five years ago, the brigadier had scoffed at it. Then, he’d been transferred to U.N.I.T. in 2005, and learned that the organization was no laughing matter. In fact, since encountering the Slitheen, the Sycorax and Cybermen, Brigadier Ashbury tended to take reports of odd happenings, a little more seriously, these days. He’d lost some good friends and colleagues to those alien incursions.

The brigadier paused in the middle of reading another report of a local resident suddenly going mad, when someone knocked on his door. Frowning at the interruption, the brigadier barked out, and “Enter!” A duty corporal came in, and stood at attention. “Yes, what is it?” Ashbury asked impatiently. The corporal handed him a folder containing a sheaf of papers. “Latest reports from Little Tweevale, sir!”

Without looking up, the brigadier took the reports and dismissed the corporal. “Sir!” the man said, saluting smartly and closing the door behind him softly, on his way out. Ashbury picked up the report and with a drawn-out sigh, half-heartedly shuffled through it. Another nutter–this time, the local vicar, it seemed. Reading on to the next page, the brigadier froze in mid-sentence. It made mention of a strange object that had been spotted, less than an hour ago. An old-time policeman’s phone box had mysteriously appeared inside a small paddock. Something rang a bell about a blue phone box, but what?

Brigadier Ashbury got up from his chair and stood stiffly in front of a print of some hunting dogs, trying to dredge up the information from his memory. What was it about the object, which seemed so significant? Where had he seen a reference to it? Then, he remembered. When first joining U.N.I.T., he’d made a point of going through some of the files his predecessors had left behind, to bring himself up to speed about the organization.

There had been several thick folders in a dusty old file cabinet, in the archives. In those papers, there had been considerable mention of a scientific advisor attached to Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart’s command, in the early seventies. Supposedly, this man had possessed some highly advanced technological knowledge, and possibly was a master of disguise, as the only two descriptions of him available, varied widely. Also, the brigadier remembered, he was considered to be the ultimate expert on both aliens and the paranormal. The man must have been a bit of an eccentric, as his M.O. was that he worked out of an old police box. In fact, from what Ashbury gathered from the reports, this scientist or whatever he was, had seemed to be rather attached to the thing. The brigadier snorted. Thinking of it, the man sounded like he was a candidate for being sectioned. He should fit right in with the happenings in the village.

There had been no mention of any proper surname in the files. For some reason, this man was only known by his title, or perhaps a code word, for the sake of secrecy…the Doctor, the brigadier recalled. Abruptly, he made a decision. Reaching over, the man picked up the telephone receiver. “Get me Captain Singh!” He snapped out. As the captain’s voice came over the line, the brigadier’s orders were brief and to the point: “There’s an old police box, in a field just outside of Little Tweevale. I want it brought here, at once. That’s an order!”

McKenzie had gone to his office in the back, to telephone the head of the parish council. He’d said he’d wanted to let him know what had happened to the vicar, so that someone could inform her family. Mike Hartley remained seated at the table. He frowned, noticing that his brand new jeans had dirt ground into them, and that his tan tee shirt–which read, “Applecrumble and Fish,” was torn in two places. Mike sighed, and was staring into his now-empty glass, when he felt a presence standing over him.

It was the stranger in the blue suit. “Are you alright?” The man asked quietly. He seemed genuinely concerned. Mike smiled uneasily, “Yeah, I’ll live, mate. It’s just that…” He shrugged, suddenly unsure of what to say. The man pulled out a chair and seated himself. “Hello,” He said, holding out his hand and smiling genially, “I’m the Doctor.” Mike shook the man’s hand and said cautiously, “I’m not crazy, you know.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, as if this turn of the conversation seemed to surprise him. “No, of course you aren’t, why ever would you think that?” He said quietly. “Believe me, none of you are mad–well, unless you were before Sunday, then perhaps you might be.”

Leaning his elbows on the table, the Doctor asked casually, “So, this light thing. Did you happen to see it?” Mike shook his head. “I slept in Sunday morning. The storm kept me up, you see. Sunday night, I was home, in my lounge, watching the tele with my partner. Thankfully, I was indoors, both times, so I didn’t get exposed to whatever it is.” Pursing his lips, the Doctor said, “Hmm–actually, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I don’t think having a roof over your head is much protection against the,” he cleared his throat, “Well, whatever it is.”

Just then, Donna came up to the table. “I think the vicar’s waking up, Doctor.” Mike shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Maybe I should leave.” He said. The Doctor laid a reassuring hand on his arm, “It’s alright. You’ll be fine, right where you are. Somehow I think that your homicidal vicar has reverted back to a plain old ordinary vicar again. Whomever or whatever had control over her mind, is gone. As a matter of fact,” he said, “she probably won’t even remember what happened, in a few days. She’ll back in the church on Sunday, putting you to sleep, in no time.” Mike glanced at the vicar, who was now sitting upright on the floor, stifling a yawn. “Not that it will matter, I suppose.” He said. The Doctor looked at him inquiringly. “Why’s that?” The shopkeeper shrugged. “I’m not Anglican, I don’t go to her church.”

The Doctor was kneeling beside the vicar. He’d been very carefully asking the woman some questions, but hadn’t been able to get much information out of her. The vicar seemed thoroughly confused and upset. McKenzie had finished his call, and came barging over, demanding that the Doctor let the vicar alone. “If you want to be useful,” he growled, “why don’t you help her back to the vicarage! What the good woman needs most right now, I’m thinkin’, is a nice long rest.” The Doctor gave him a thoughtful look, and then smiled. “Yes, that would be best I suppose.”

Helping the vicar to her feet, the Doctor paused in the doorway. He nudged Donna with his elbow, “Be back in a tick. Oh, and Donna? Would you do me a favour?” He whispered, nodding towards the shopkeeper and the barman, “Keep an eye on those two fellows while I’m gone. Cheers.” Without waiting for an answer, he ushered the bewildered woman outside, into the brilliant sunshine.

The vicarage was simply a small cottage that had been attached onto the church. The Doctor helped the vicar inside, and saw her safely ensconced on the sofa, with a steaming pot of tea and her mobile phone near to hand. He was just leaving, when he noticed that it had suddenly grown rather dark outside.

Sprinting out the kitchen door, into the vicar’s garden, the Doctor skidded to a halt. Looking up, he saw a huge black cloud hovering over the village, on an otherwise cloudless day. It was an odd thing, for the sun still shone all around the gentle rolling hills, but the village itself seemed to be cast inside a black cauldron of shadow. Then, the Doctor saw a crimson light appear from behind the cloud.

The light was formed into a semi-spherical shape. It floated gently from the cloud, until it came to hover, right over the Doctor. Raising his hands to his eyes to blot out the brightness of the glow, the Doctor eyed the object warily. “What’s the matter?” He asked the sphere, “Did even E-space get too boring for you? What you lot need is a good hiding on your bottoms–if you had a bottom, and sent to your room–if you had a room. Why don’t you clear off, find someone else to bother, eh? Because I’ll tell you what, we don’t want you here.”

The sphere hovered closer to the Doctor, forcing him to step back a few paces. “Oh, don’t try threatening me,” he said, giving a derisive laugh. “I’ve been threatened by Daleks, gods and megalomaniacs galore. You’re not even in the same league as them! Look at you! Pootling about the galaxy, making a nuisance of yourselves. I mean, what good is that? You have your intelligence, why won’t you use it? I could help you.”

The Doctor lifted his face hopefully towards the sphere. “Just think, with your mobility, you could go anywhere, be great explorers of the ever-changing universe, welcomed on other planets, instead of feared. You can use your powers to create, instead of destroy. Curiosity, learning, they are wonderful things, they can unlock the doors to worlds you never even knew existed. Don’t you want that? Let me help! I can teach you to go beyond what you are, better and wiser and stronger.”

For the first time, the light spoke. “No! You can’t make us!” The “voice,” was inside his head, high-pitched and vibrant, and it made the Doctor wince slightly. It was a bit like someone dragging their fingernails across a chalk board, echoing through the depths of his brain. “We can do whatever we want. Go where we want. Be what we want.” The voice said petulantly. The Doctor scowled, and his tone became more like a stern parent. “And, what are you, now? I’ll tell you.” He snapped his fingers. “Nothing!” I’m sorry to say, that’s what you’ve chosen to become; sad, mindless little nothings, wandering aimlessly about the universe, all happy slaps and ASBO’s, despised and rejected everywhere you go. Is that really what you want?” In response, the red glow intensified and the sphere began to slowly revolve.

Donna was sitting, talking quietly to Mike Hartley, when she saw him stiffen suddenly. He was staring out the open doorway of the pub, so she stood up and looked outside. It was as if the day had, in a heartbeat, turned into night. And then, the crimson glow appeared. Walking to the doorway, Donna looked up, and saw a black, billowing cloud, hovering over the village. She heard a noise behind her. “It’s started again, hasn’t it?” Mike asked gloomily. Donna turned, “It does seem rather threatening, doesn’t it?”

Looking back at the sky, she was startled to see that it was clear again. It was as if the cloud had never been. “I think I’d better go and make myself scarce.” Mike said. “Don’t want the vicar coming back to finish the job.” Donna shrugged. “It’ll be alright, now. The Doctor’s with her.” He shook his head. “I guess you didn’t notice, then.” She wrinkled her brow, puzzled. “Notice what?” The shopkeeper indicated the church. “That red light thing was right over the vicar’s back garden.” Donna took one look at where he was pointing, and tore out of the door, making a beeline for the church.

CHAPTER FIVE

Brigadier Ashbury stood inside what had once been Lord Featherly’s stables. Hands on his hips, he watched as his best security experts attempted to open the door of an old police call box. Captain Singh stood beside him, shaking his head. “We’ve tried everything we can think of, Brigadier, but nothing works.” The slim young man seemed almost flustered by his team’s inability to unlock the Tardis door. The Tardis had been placed in one of the larger horse stalls. Now, four men with various items of technical equipment, including a blow torch, were huddled beside the door, intent on their task.

Heaving a sigh, the brigadier said, “Alright, Captain Singh, call your men off. Obviously there’s some kind of advanced locking mechanism at work here, which we’ve never encountered before.” Captain Singh saluted, “Sir!” He ordered the security technicians to stand down. After they’d departed, the captain looked at the brigadier expectantly. “What do we do, now, sir? What are your orders?”

Ashbury stared up at the lettering at the top of the box, thinking. “Well, captain, if we can’t open the box, then we’ll have to find someone who can.” Captain Singh frowned. He’d just had some of the best lock experts in the country having a go at it. He couldn’t see anyone else having any better success. “Sir? Who would that be?” He asked. The brigadier gave him a tight smile and said, “The box’s owner, of course! Have your men do a thorough search of Little Tweevale, for any signs of a man that goes by the name of the Doctor. I can’t give you a description, because from what I gather, he can change his appearance rather drastically. If you find him, bring him to me. But,” he admonished, “do it politely. I may need his full cooperation, understand?” Captain Singh nodded. “And, if he refuses? What then, sir?” The brigadier sighed. “Then I’m afraid you’ll place him under arrest.”

Donna burst through the vicarage door, nearly making the woman spill hot tea in her lap. “Where is he?” She asked, breathlessly. The vicar just stared up at her, openmouthed. “Wh-where’s whom? Wh-who are you?” she stammered. Donna instantly realized that she’d probably scared the woman, and forced herself to calm down. “I’m a friend of the Doctor’s. He was just here, with you. Did you see where he went? Please,” she pleaded, “I think he might be in trouble. Where did he go?” The woman pointed towards the kitchen. “He ran that way, out through the kitchen, into the back garden.” She’d barely finished her sentence, when Donna dashed to the kitchen door. Once in the garden, though, she saw no sign of the Doctor.

The garden was very well kept, and there was a dirt path that led to a back gate, which had recently been smoothed over with a rake. Looking down, Donna noticed the imprints of a pair of trainers, going in the direction of that gate. “Well,” Donna said to herself, “unless dead Time Lord’s can walk, at least he’s still alive.” Unfastening the latch on the gate, she went out the back way. The other side of the gate led to a narrow dirt track, bordering some woods.

Donna looked up and down the track, but there was still no sign of the Doctor. She stood irresolutely for a few moments. “Well, I’m not Sherlock flippin’ Holmes, but even I should be able to follow those big old feet of his.” She muttered.

Leaning over, Donna searched the ground for signs of the Doctor’s footprints. After several minutes, she found a trace of a trainer sole, in a small patch of half-dried mud. He seemed to be heading away from town. She paused, frowning. “What’s he up to?” She asked out loud. Coming out onto a paved lane, Donna paused, unsure of where to go next. Up the way, she saw at a fenced field, and had a sudden epiphany; “He’s going back to the Tardis.” She murmured. Her head came up as it dawned on her, the implications of this. “Now without me, he’s blinking not!” Donna exclaimed indignantly, as she pelted down the lane in hot pursuit of the Doctor.

Donna came up to the paddock where the Doctor had parked his Tardis. There was the little piebald pony, staring at her nervously from over the fence rail. But, Donna wasn’t looking at the pony. She was gawping, openmouthed, at the empty space where the Tardis had been. Climbing between the rails, she walked over to the edge of the stream. She could see the square impression of the box, where its ponderous weight had crushed the grass and flowers beneath it. With a sinking feeling, she scanned a grove of trees and shrubs, growing on the opposite side of the little beck.

Donna sighed dejectedly, looking down at the grass beneath her feet. There was no sign of her friend or his ship. Apparently, the Doctor had simply gone off and left her. She was about to turn and head back to the pub, when a dark shadow fell over her right shoulder.

Giving a startled yelp, Donna spun around, half-expecting to see some evil alien thing looming over her. She let out an enormous sigh of relief when she saw that it was the Doctor. “Doctor! Where—.” Before Donna could finish her question, the Doctor had grabbed her roughly by the arms. The glad look on her face immediately changed to one of alarm. “Where is it? What have you done with it?” He hissed, menacingly.

Donna struggled to free herself from his powerful grip, staring into the eyes of a Doctor she’d never seen before. Oh, he had the same freckled, attractive features and tousled hair. Only now, the face before her was marred; twisted with sheer, unfettered rage. Donna was frozen to the spot, unable tear her gaze away from the raw power emanating from the dark pools of his eyes. For a moment, she felt as if she were drowning in the wrathful vortex of a cyclone of derangement.

The Doctor growled deep in his throat. “I can make you talk. We Time Lords can have rather unpleasant ways of getting at the truth, you know. I can get inside that little pea brain of yours, and make you suffer torments you’ve never dreamed of. Now, where is it?” He yelled as he shook her, “Tell me!” Tearing her eyes away from his, Donna gasped, “Where’s what? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Using only his thumb and forefinger, the Doctor gave her an evil leer, and squeezed Donna’s shoulder. She flinched back, crying out in pain. “My Tardis!” He shook a fist in her face and repeated, “What have you done with it?””

When Donna didn’t answer right away, the Doctor grabbed her by the hair, “I’m going to show you stupid humans! I’m going to open the heart of the Tardis, and show you what real power is.” Donna uttered another small cry. “Doctor! Stop, you’re hurting me!” Pulling her face close to his, the Doctor sneered, whispering, “If I am forced to be the last Time Lord, forever forced to walk the halls of eternity alone, then I might as well have a little…fun, along the way, eh? Mess about with time and space, and the lives of you petty mortals.”

Donna shook her head in disbelief. “But, then you’d become everything that you despise.” She panted, “You’d become just like those gas creatures! You’re better than that. You’re a good friend, a man who has the courage to care. You’re Don Quixote, tilting at windmills, not some common intergalactic thug.”

The Doctor wasn’t listening. His eyes seemed to be mocking her. He gave her a malevolent sneer and said, “No! Not a thug, but a deity! I can use the power of the vortex to become truly immortal.” Releasing Donna suddenly, he stepped back, raising his head and opening his arms wide. The Doctor laughed insanely at the open sky. “I shall become a god!” He cried.

CHAPTER SIX

The Doctor had no sooner voiced his intention, when he fell backwards into the shallow beck, with a mighty splash. Donna had used the moment of his revelation to charge into him, like a footballer with a bad attitude. “I think you need to cool off, Martian boy!” She’d shouted. Now Donna stood at the water’s edge, with her arms crossed, glaring down at him. The Doctor sat up, drenched to the skin, coughing up water. He stared up at her, his face a mask of shock and astonishment. “What’d you do that for?” He exclaimed.

Donna merely stood there, watching him warily. “What d’ya think?” She said after a moment, “That I was just gonna’ stand there, and let you turn into some kind of monster, right before my eyes?” Throwing her hands up into the air, she said, “I know you’re this ancient, all-knowing Time Lord,” The Doctor, still sitting on his bottom in the stream, thought about that for a second, then nodded his head. “Still, turning yourself into a god. That’s a bit rich, if you ask me.” She said angrily.

Abruptly, Donna’s expression softened. Crouching down, she asked quietly, “Are you back to your old self again? I mean, are you alright now?” He raised an eyebrow, saying ironically, “Apart from being soaking wet, you mean?” Sighing, He said, “Yeah, it’s me, ta. No worries. The hold they had over my mind was broken when I hit the water.” He looked at her with the hint of a smile, and raised an eyebrow. “Martian boy?”

Donna held out her hand, and said, “Yeah well, ‘pea brain’? The Doctor’s face fell, but Donna understood. “Meh, what’s a few insults swapped between friends? Just be thankful that I didn’t slap you, into the bargain.” She chuckled, and was gratified to see the smile return to his face. “Oh, Donna Noble,” he said with mock horror, “anything but that!” He laughed.

Donna helped the Doctor to stand up. “I hope that suit’s wash and wear.” she said, as the Doctor managed to scramble up the steep, muddy bank, and onto the grass. This was no mean feat, as his drenched clothing was fairly plastered to his skin, making the fit even tighter than normal. As she had helped him out of the water, the Doctor had noticed that Donna seemed to wince slightly, and was favouring her left arm. Now, he stood a little apart from her, looking away remorsefully. The Doctor’s eyes dimmed, when he thought of what he’d just done to his friend. “I hurt you, didn’t I? Donna, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He mumbled, unable to look her in the eye. Donna thought he was about to start weeping. She reached over and gently grasped his hand, smiling tentatively. “It wasn’t really you, though, was it? It was those gas things, they did this. I know you’d never hurt me, Doctor.”

Looking down at Donna, the Doctor gave her a warm smile. “Are you alright?” He asked softly. She nodded. “I’ll be fine, honest–but, you owe me one now, you know. I think besides the jaunt to Palm Springs, a trip to Club Med in on the agenda as well, now.” The Doctor made a face. “Oh, not that! I know, how ‘bout a trip to the first Olympics, instead?” Donna didn’t seem too keen on that, so he added, “Did you know they played most of the games in the nude?” Now she was interested. “Really?” She asked excitedly, “Okay. But only if it includes the wrestling…and maybe the discus throw.” She added as an afterthought.

Tilting back his head, the Doctor gave a big laugh. He held out his arms, and said “Come here, you!” Then, he proceeded to scoop her up into a tender hug, being careful not to bruise her, this time. “You’re all wet!” She protested. The Doctor shrugged. “Erm–yeah, I did kind of notice that, thanks.” Still smiling, he kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.” The Doctor drew away suddenly. He fixed Donna with a quizzical look. “Don Quixote? Do you really think of me like that?”

A squirrel scampered among the leaves of a tree, just across the beck. Pausing to peel off his wet jacket, the Doctor absently watched the little animal hopping from branch to branch. He simply stood there for a moment, with a faraway look in his eyes. ‘Was that what it was like for the Master,” The thought, ‘all that constant emotional turmoil and rage?’ He looked up at the cloudless sky, and unconsciously shuddered.

Donna almost winced at the inner torment the Doctor seemed to be going through. Judging by his solemn demeanor, she wondered if he was thinking about all of the terrible deeds he might have done, if his unbridled madness had been let loose on the universe. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked anxiously. The Doctor sighed, and giving Donna a reassuring look, he said, “I’m fine now, really.” Then, he froze. The Doctor turned and looked around the paddock. Turning back with a baffled expression, he asked, “Donna? Have you seen my Tardis?”

Donna glanced at the square of crushed grass. “No, it was gone when I got here. I’d thought you’d scarpered with it.” The Doctor gave her a blank look. “You know,” she sighed, “did a runner and decided to split up with me. I know how you men feel about long-term commitments.” He next gave her a look that seemed both hurt and genuinely surprised. “I wouldn’t…” he started to say, but Donna interrupted him. “Too right, you wouldn’t! I left my purse in the Tardis wardrobe. All my credit cards are in there.” She gave him a wink. “So, it seems we’re left afoot.” She said, “What do we do, now?” The pony had wandered over, and the Doctor reached out and scratched it under the jaw. “Well, I could use my sonic to hotwire a tractor. Or,” he said, scratching his own jaw, and tilting his head towards the road, “we could ask those very butch men and women with the guns over there, for a lift.”

Donna gave the Doctor a perplexed look, and turned towards the lane. Sure enough, there were half a dozen khaki-clad soldiers there, lined up along the fence rails, all aiming their rifles at the two of them–and the pony. “Oh, I do hope they’re not going to shoot the pony,” the Doctor said, giving the animal a sweet from his pocket, “she’s such a nice pony.”

A slender, compact soldier nimbly vaulted the fence and strode towards the Doctor and Donna. As the soldier neared them, he thought the man seemed rather nonchalant, for someone who had six rifles pointed at various parts of his anatomy. He came up to the two people and saluted smartly. “Good day sir, madam. I’m Captain Singh. I’m looking for a man who calls himself the Doctor. Would that be you, sir?”

The tall man stuck his hands in his suit pockets and looked down at the soldier. “Erm–good question, that. I mean, I’m a doctor, of many things….philosophy, physics, literature, neuru-glyphics, veterinary medicine. By the way, you’re not going to shoot the pony, are you? That would make me rather upset, if you did that.”

The Doctor’s glib manner abruptly changed, and his eyes darkened. “And, I’d really, really, really be upset, if my friend here came to any harm. And believe me, you don’t want to upset me, captain.” He gave the man a hard look. “As it happens, you’re in luck. I am the Doctor, and this is my friend, Donna. And at the moment, we’re rather busy. So, captain, let’s, as they say, get down to brass tacks, shall we?” He cocked his head thoughtfully, “Although, that would be rather painful, I should think.” Resuming his best Time Lord-ish glare, the Doctor demanded, “Now, what is it that you want?”

Facing that unexpected authoritarian stare, Captain Singh involuntarily took a step back. Instinctively, he put his right hand on his holstered revolver. From the fence, Donna could hear the sound of weapons being cocked. She darted nervous glances between the two men. “My commanding officer wants a word with you, about that police box of yours.” The captain said stiffly. The Doctor held up his hand. “Ah, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.” With a hint of a twinkle in his eye, the Doctor said, “You’re here to politely invite me to tea and a nice chat, with whomever’s in charge of U.N.I.T., these days, am I right?” The Doctor grinned imprudently and nudged the soldier, “I’m right, aren’t I? You can tell me.” Captain Singh nodded. “And,” the Doctor continued, a bit more seriously this time, “if I refuse to cooperate, your orders are to chuck the pair of us into the back of a lorry at gunpoint, and place us under arrest. Right again?”

Again, Captain Singh nodded mutely. In his head though, his thoughts ran to something like, ‘Oh no, another eccentric scientist.’ Instead, he stepped back, and pointed towards the waiting troop carrier, “If you and your lady friend would care to accompany me, I’m sure we can sort everything out, and get you back to…” He looked the dripping Doctor up and down, “…whatever it was you were doing.” The Doctor beamed a smile at him. “Yes, quite! Splendid! And, while we’re at it, I’ve a few questions to put to your lot, as well.”

Linking his arm through Donna’s, the Doctor started off towards the lane. As they passed by Singh, he looked over his shoulder, saying jauntily, “Oh, and captain, you might mind where you choose to stand in a horse paddock. Cheers!” Captain Singh stared at the Doctor’s retreating back, and then looked down at his feet. Giving a disgusted sigh, he set off after the pair, with his brightly polished military boots now thoroughly smeared with pony droppings.

About a half an hour later, the Doctor and Donna were seated comfortably on a sofa, in what had once been Lord Featherly’s conservatory. Thankfully, due to the warm day, and the fact they’d been traveling in the back of an open lorry, the Doctor’s suit was mostly dry by now. He explained to Donna that it was made of a quick-drying fabric from the planet Orlon. They’d been shown in, and told to wait.

In the meantime, they really had been, it seemed, invited to tea. “Do you have any chocolate biscuits? I love those.” Donna asked, eyeing the tea cart that a corporal had just trundled in. “I’m starved, after all that hiking about the countryside.” The Doctor took a sip of tea, and raised an eyebrow. “You just had lunch, how can you be starving?” She shrugged, “Wasn’t very hungry, then. Besides, I read where red meat wasn’t all that good for you.” The Doctor raised the other eyebrow. “Nonsense! Good old British beef, can’t beat it. Good for the blood cells, ya’know.”

Just then, the conservatory door opened. Brigadier Ashbury entered the room, carrying a briefcase. At a curt nod from the brigadier, the soldier manning the tea trolley saluted and left, closing the door behind him. “Ah! Speaking of English beef…” the Doctor muttered under his breath. The brigadier stood in the doorway, assessing his guests. “You’re the Doctor?” He asked skeptically. Shaking his head, he opened the door and stood stiffly beside it. “I’m afraid there’s been some sort of error. The man I was looking for would be far older than you, by now. If you’ll forgive…” “My dear brigadier, there’s no mistake, I assure you.” The Doctor burst out cheerfully, crossing his legs and leaning back on to the sofa cushions. “Oh, I’m the Doctor alright, and you’ll just have to believe me, when I tell you that I’m far older than I seem.”

For a fleeting moment, the Doctor’s face darkened. “Sometimes I think a bit too old. Still,” he said, resuming his smile, “considering that I’m nine hundred and four years of age, I must say this regeneration does make me look pretty darn good, ey? Mind you,” He frowned, looking down at his middle, I seem to be getting a bit too fond of chips, these days.” Looking up, he grinned, “So I suppose I should say, goodbye to Mr. Chips.” He nudged Donna, wiggling his eyebrows, “Mr. Chips, get it?” Both she and the brigadier merely gave him a blank stare. “Blimey!” The Doctor exclaimed, rolling his eyes, “Doesn’t anyone watch old films, any more?” Crossing his arms, he pouted, saying, “Remind me never to play charades with you two.”

The brigadier did not look amused. Apparently, Captain Singh had gone out for a scientist, and brought back someone who was obviously overdue to be sectioned. “I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.” He said, painstakingly pronouncing every word. “What?” the doctor murmured with false disappointment, “We’ve not even finished our tea. Oh, very well,” he shrugged elaborately, if you insist.” Getting up from the sofa, the Doctor asked politely, “If you’ll be so kind to show me where you’ve stashed my Tardis…erm–my police box, my friend and I will take our leave.”

As he went to go out the door, the Doctor paused, saying to the brigadier. “Tell me, how are things at U.N.I.T. these days? Been a while, over thirty years, I suppose now. That was back in old Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart’s day. I had some good friends there, you know. Let’s see, there was Captain Yates, Dr. Harry Sullivan, and of course, my assistants, Jo Grant, and then later, Sarah-Jane Smith. I met Sarah-Jane again, you know, not long ago. Bit of bother with some bat people taking over a high school, but we soon had it sorted. Still, I shouldn’t want to bore you with my reminiscing, would I? Dull stuff, ey? All those old stories about the Daleks, the Loch Ness monster, the Ice Warriors and all that.”

So saying, he took Donna by the arm and made as if to go. “We’ll be off then, cheers.” Donna didn’t have a clue what the Doctor was nattering on about, but this colonel or whatever he was, really got up her nose. She was glad they were leaving. As they walked out the door, she whispered incredulously, “The Loch Ness monster? The Loch Ness monster?” “Wait,” came the brigadier’s voice from behind them, as he cleared his throat. “Perhaps I was a bit hasty with you…Doctor.” He said begrudgingly.

CHAPTER SEVEN

With his back turned away from the man, the Doctor made no effort to conceal his smirk. But, when he stopped and faced the brigadier, the smugness was, mostly, off his face, and he was all smiles again. The Doctor stood beside the soldier and said in a friendly tone, “Now, brigadier, perhaps we should have a talk about what’s going on over in the village, ey?” As he breezed through the door and plopped himself back down on the sofa, Donna rolled her eyes and reluctantly trailed after him.

The Brigadier resumed his seat and said, “It isn’t just in the village, Doctor. Seven of my men have had to be put into secure confinement since Sunday. Two soldiers were seriously injured and another is dead, killed by one of his own mates.” The Doctor nodded. “And these men you have confined, they all swear they had good reason to cause harm, yes?” The brigadier agreed. “And, Doctor, it all coincides with this dark cloud and red glow that suddenly appears out of nowhere. I don’t know what to make of it.” “The Doctor’s seen it, in the Vicar’s garden.” Donna piped up. The brigadier seemed interested in that. “And, it didn’t affect you, at all?” The Doctor scratched the back of his neck, “Erm–not exactly. But, I wanted to see it close up, to try and communicate with them.”

Brigadier Ashbury gave the Doctor a surprised stare. “You mean, you deliberately put yourself in harm’s way, just to get a better look at it?” “Oh,” Donna injected, “he does it all the time.” The Doctor shrugged. “What’d you expect me to do, hide behind the sofa?” The brigadier frowned. “You said ‘them,’ just now. So, you do think there’s some kind of alien mind at work here?” The Doctor rubbed his hand across his cheek. “I don’t think it, I know it.” He then began to explain about everything he knew about the Amphorons.

The brigadier stood and poured himself some tea, looking thoughtfully out the windows, at the sunny lawn outside. He turned, “Any ideas on how we can defeat them, Doctor?” The Doctor seemed to be steeped in thought himself, and took a long moment to answer. “Well,” he drawled, “I’m afraid it’s not going to be the usual military solution.” “What’s that?”

The brigadier asked. The Doctor didn’t hide his smirk from Ashbury this time. “Blow it to smithereens, and have done with it. Unless U.N.I.T. has changed drastically, and you ask questions before you shoot, now.” He shook his head as if that was an impossible notion. “Nah, blowing things up is much more fun for you lot, isn’t it? Except that you can’t blow up something that, technically speaking, doesn’t have a physical body, can you?”

The Doctor got up and stood with his hands in his pockets. “And, it’s not likely you’ll be able to defeat the gas creatures by lobbing bottles of Pepto-Bismol at them, or sending them home to mum and dad, with a stern lecture and an ASBO.”

Brigadier Ashbury wasn’t a man who liked to hear that there were no military options to be had. “Doctor, I refuse to believe that there are no choices available. There must be something we can use to defeat them.” The Doctor looked at him. “Oh, but there is. Me! Well,” he shrugged, “me and my Tardis, to be more precise.” Still seated on the sofa, Donna cleared her throat noisily. The Doctor threw her a grin and a wave. “Erm–let me amend that. The three of us–I, my Tardis and Donna, will save the planet–note the excellent grammar, by the way.” He added, proudly.

The brigadier didn’t seem to like this solution, any better. “And what about us, where do we fit into your plans, Doctor?” The Doctor’s grin widened. “Oh, I dunno’. I suppose your lot can stand around, looking very British and very military. Make the locals think that you’re doing something useful.” The Doctor’s right index finger shot up in the air. “Wait! I know! Maybe, if you promise not to get in the way, I’ll let you launch some rockets at the gas creatures, that might impress them–won’t harm them of course, but,” he shrugged, “everyone loves a good fireworks display, even the Amphorons, I suppose.”

Ashbury was about to dress down the Doctor for his impertinence, when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Yes? What is it?” He snapped. A female sergeant came in, and handed the brigadier a sheet of paper. “This just came in from our London base, sir. I thought you should see it right away.” The brigadier scanned the papers, raised an eyebrow and handed the folder over to the Doctor. “It seems our gaseous neighbours have decided to expand their territory.” It took only the briefest of seconds for the Doctor to read the report. His face grew intense, and his eyes glittered with purpose. Grabbing the brigadier by the arm he said, “I need to get to my Tardis! Right now! Where is it?”

The Doctor and Donna were on their way to London. The Brigadier had elected to stay behind, and keep an eye on the village, while staying in touch with his superiors in U.N.I.T.’s main base beneath the Tower of London. Inside the Tardis, Donna watched as the Doctor’s hands once again flew over the controls. “I don’t understand,” she shouted over the groaning of the central column, “what’s going on? Where are we going?” The Doctor stuck his foot up, and used it to pull down a lever. “Our little friends have reappeared over London. Already, there are reports of people going temporarily insane, all over the city–even the Queen. Donna’s face registered genuine shock. “The Queen? What’d she do?” Not looking up, he answered, “Well, according to the report, she’s just decided to abdicate her throne to her favourite Corgi. If I don’t stop this, you and your fellow citizens will soon be seeing pictures of King Woofy on your pound notes.”

The Tardis dematerialized in an out of the way spot, along the banks of the Thames, not far from the London Eye. Donna looked at the Doctor inquisitively. “How are we–I mean, you, going to defeat these Amphoron things?” “Erm…” The Doctor stopped, standing stock still, a blank look upon his face. In a flash, his face changed, and giving her a delighted boyish grin, he said, “You know me Donna, I’ll think of something. I’ll just–” “Make it up as you go along,” Donna injected, with a shake of her head, “I know, I know.”

The pair of them had only just emerged from the Tardis, when a chorus of screams assaulted their ears. The Doctor took a deep breath and looked at his companion. “I think that’s our cue.” He said. They ran up a short flight of stairs, and stood at the top, looking around for the cause of all of the commotion. It didn’t take them long to find out what. People were gathered off to their left, pointing at something towards the Doctor’s right. Seeing two police constables running in the direction of the Eye, the Doctor and Donna turned to look that way, and were greeted by an astounding sight.

A small, single engine aircraft was buzzing around the Eye, circling closer and closer. At the rate the pilot was going, it was certain that would be only a matter of minutes before he crashed into the giant wheel. Watching it, Donna suddenly got an image in her head, of the planes buzzing the Empire State Building, in the King Kong film.

The Eye was still turning, and stopped from time to time, as the operator desperately tried to get the cars on the giant wheel unloaded. But, the famous tourist attraction didn’t move very fast, and there were still quite a few people on there. She glanced at the Doctor. He was standing with his fists clenched, staring helplessly upward. Donna watched along with him, as the little red and white plane made a circle that brought it within a hundred meters of the towering landmark. “First Big Ben, now the Eye,” she murmured, “If they’re going to destroy something big, why not something totally useless, like the Millennium Dome or Heathrow?”

Donna looked at the Doctor again, as he made a frustrated sound and stamped his feet impotently. She knew that, above all things, he hated being a helpless bystander. “There’s nothing we can do, Doctor.” She said kindly, as the plane swooped ever closer, this time narrowly missing one of the observation cabins. She could just make out the people inside them, their faces pressed against the glass. Donna imagined the terrified looks on those faces, even though she couldn’t actually see them. “It’s not like you can teleport the Tardis inside the cockpit, it’s too small and moving too fast.”

The Doctor looked at her, openmouthed. His eyes widened, and he shouted, “Teleport!” Grabbing her and giving her a quick kiss, he said gladly, “Oh, Donna, you’re brilliant!” The Doctor dashed back down the stairway, shouting, “Stay there! I’ll be right back!” In a daze, she just stared at his retreating back. “If I’d of known he’d have that sort of reaction,” she whispered, “I would have said ‘teleport,’ ages ago.”

The Doctor barged into the Tardis and ran up the ladder to the small shelf was over part of the control room deck. There was an antique stagecoach trunk sitting up there, gathering dust in a corner. The Doctor flung it open, and hurriedly rummaged around the contents, which he heedlessly scattered onto the shelf and the floor below. By the time the Doctor had found what he was looking for, the floor of the console deck was strewn with an odd assortment of paraphernalia: an angry-looking Venusian ritual mask, several comic books, a stuffed owl, an American cavalry hat, a deflated football, a ring of jailer’s keys, a half-used bottle of Toilet Duck, and a 25^th century coffee maker all cascaded down, followed by the dual thump of a pair of fireman’s boots. As the Doctor settled down amid the rubbish, a Roman sword clanked to the floor, a magician’s bouquet of flowers landing on top of it.

The Doctor sat on the shelf, pulled out his sonic screwdriver, and feverishly fiddled with an old disused teleport device he’d retrieved from the trunk. “Come on, come on,” he muttered impatiently, “you’ve got to work.” No sooner had the Doctor said that, when he was enveloped in a blue shimmery glow, and disappeared.

The Doctor reappeared in the cockpit of the little four-seater Cessna, next to an older man, who was gripping the controls and staring straight ahead, as if he were in a trance. The man was still circling the Eye. By now, less than a six meters separated the plane from the little observation cabins, a quarter of which were still full. Men, women and children, some crying and hugging each other, some frozen with the realization of their impending death, one or two obviously praying, all awaited their fate.

The man didn’t seem to even be aware of the Doctor’s presence. He simply kept his eyes on the windscreen and mumbled, “Must stop it, must make it stop.” The Doctor leaned over, and said in a low, gentle voice, “What, hmm–? What do you see out there that needs stopping?”

The old man behind the controls replied, “The Wheel of Death. It keeps turning and turning, and all the time people keep dying. But, if I stop it, if I destroy the wheel, no one will die anymore.”

The Doctor whispered gently, “Why? Why must you stop the wheel? Did someone you care for, die recently?” For just a fraction of a second, the pilot’s fingers trembled on the controls. “My wife died. She was the only woman I ever loved. Maggie wasn’t just my wife, she was also the best friend I ever had.” Even though he spoke in a monotone, a single tear rolled down the man’s face. “Drink driver ran her down at a zebra crossing, last month.” He continued, “Forty-one years by my side and then, in a wink of an eye, she’s gone. But, I can make sure no one else ever suffers her fate. I know I can. If I shatter that wicked wheel, I can make sure no one dies, ever again.”

The Doctor nodded, sympathetically. He’d lost too many friends and family that he cared for, Susan, Adric, Romana, Rose…and it never got any easier. He understood the old gentleman’s motive, even if it was the product of alien-induced insanity. Nevertheless, he couldn’t let the man kill innocent people. To that end, the Doctor quietly and calmly leaned over and unsnapped the man’s seat belt. Then, he asked, “What’s your name?” “Bill.” The man answered. The Doctor whispered into the pilot’s ear, “Well, Bill, I’m sure your wife would approve of what I’m about to do.”

With that, the Doctor placed a couple of fingers against the man’s temple, while gently turning the steering yoke away from the Eye, and back over the Thames. A fraction of a second later, the man fell into a deep, hypnotic sleep. However, as he did so, he fell against the Doctor’s arm, causing the plane to descend steeply to the left. The heavy weight of the pilot kept the Doctor pinned against the front passenger seat, as the aircraft nosedived towards the river.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Back at the U.N.I.T. research centre, Sergeant Harry Best gave a mighty yawn and shifted his legs into a more comfortable position. He’d been delegated to the task of guarding the main gate. In such a pastoral neighbourhood, he wasn’t sure quite what he was supposed to be guarding the gate against. “Maybe a disgruntled sheep is threatening to jump the fence and eat the grass.” He mumbled sullenly.

Harry had been scheduled for a day’s leave, today. He’d made plans to visit a nearby town, to watch their local football club in action. But, the soldier originally detailed for today’s sentry duty had been abruptly confined to secure quarters. So, as the next in line on the rotation schedule, the job had fallen to Harry. He stood outside the little guard’s hut, stifling a yawn. He and his mess mates had stayed up late to watch missed episodes of Eastenders on DVD, which one of the men had recorded. Harry absentmindedly scratched a game of naughts and crosses in the hard packed dirt beneath his feet, with the toe of his boot. He scowled. Not only didn’t this help to alleviate his boredom, it also made the polished black boot, turn tan with dust. Some movement made the Sergeant glance up. He gasped with surprise. Without him noticing, a man had appeared outside the gates. He had a trim ginger beard and was dressed in a kilt.

Harry immediately smartened up and came to attention. “I’m sorry sir, but these grounds are off-limits to civilian personal.” The man stepped forward. “I need to speak to whoever’s in charge.” The Scot’s strident burr conveyed a sense of urgency. “It’s of vital importance that I see your commanding officer. I have information about the sudden outbreaks of violence in our village. If you don’t do something, the whole countryside will start going mad, soon.” After a moment’s hesitation, Harry unclipped the Handi-mic from his tunic and spoke. “Sergeant Best reporting. I have a gent from the village here at the gate, says he needs to speak with the brigadier. Says it’s urgent.” A question was asked. “He said it’s something to do with some bother in the village.” There was a garbled response and Harry replied. “Yes sir. Right away.”

Opening the gate, Sergeant Best ushered the barman through. “I’ve been ordered to hold you here, while we wait for an escort to take you to see Brigadier Ashbury.” Clearing his throat in an apologetic manner, he added, “And, I’m afraid that I’ll have to search you, before we can let you in to see him.” McKenzie gave the man an indignant stare. “Wha? Here in the open? Where anyone can see us?”

Harry somehow managed to stifle a laugh, and resisted the urge to say, ‘I assure you, I’m not that kind of a bloke.’ But, he was a professional, if nothing else. So, he gestured to the rear of his little guard hut. “If you’ll come this way then, sir?” After the sergeant was done patting the man down, he nodded to the ceremonial dirk, shoved down into McKenzie’s hosiery top. “I’m afraid I’ll have to hang on to that sir. You can have it back when you leave.”

The Scotsman nodded, and bent over to get the knife. Without warning, he straightened, and plunged the dirk straight into Sergeant Best’s heart. McKenzie smiled, as the soldier’s eyes flew open with shock, and his lips formed a soundless “No!” Harry slumped noiselessly to the ground, dead before his body had even hit the grass. In the pub owner’s eyes, a pink glow appeared, as he hissed in a vibrant, alien voice, “You weren’t much fun. Soon, though, we will have the entire Earth to play with!” The thing that had been Ian McKenzie laughed, as he stooped and wiped the bloody blade clean on the sergeant’s shirt.

Donna watched at the plane continued to circle the big wheel. Shading her eyes, she noticed a bright flash from within the cockpit of the Cessna. Moments later, it had banked sharply downwards, away from the Eye, towards the Thames. In the cab of the plane, the Doctor madly struggled to push the sleeping pilot aside, so he could steady the plane’s decent. He winced as something sharp gouged into his back. Scrunching up his face with the effort, the Doctor grunted, “Donna’s right. Definitely need to lay off the chips.” He’d finally managed to ease his skinny frame around the older man, and grab onto the steering yoke. “Thank Rassilon I’m not in my sixth regeneration, I’d never have been able to pull this off.” He murmured.

Pulling hard on the yoke, the Doctor banked the plane upwards again. After leveling the aircraft off, he was relieved to see that this model had an auto-pilot function. The Doctor set it so that he could shift the pilot over onto the passenger seat, without having to worry about crashing into anything. Still, in the confined space, it took a bit of doing.

The Doctor safely landed the plane in a large, mostly empty car park. Finding a lengthy, flat place to land in a densely packed urban area, was no easy task. From the air, his eyes had picked out this space, which was next to an abandoned warehouse, on the outskirts London. Shutting off the engine, the Doctor looked down at the old man beside him. “Sorry. I’m afraid you’ll have some difficult questions to answer. I’ll see what I can do for you, when I get back to U.N.I.T., maybe I can get them to go easy on you.”

Before getting out of the cockpit the Doctor watched the elderly pilot silently for a moment. “All my love to your wife.” He whispered sadly, “She was a lucky woman.” The Doctor was stood on the wing beside the open door of the plane, looking up at the sky with a distant, unfathomable expression. He could already hear the strident wails of police and emergency services vehicles approaching. Then, returning his eyes to the old man, he snapped his fingers. Just as the pilot started to waken, the Doctor touched the teleportation device, and vanished, going back to the Tardis.

Donna was waiting by the riverside, when she heard the familiar sound of the Tardis, as it re-materialized. The door opened, and the Doctor stepped out, looking very grim. Donna took one look at his face, and asked tentatively, “It’s only a matter of time before lots of people start getting killed, isn’t it?” The Doctor’s expression was, at once, both angry and deeply concerned. “This has to stop. Right now, today! I’m not going to see one more innocent human put at risk for the Amphoron’s petty little party games.” He stalked back into the Tardis. “Come on, Donna, we’re going party crashing.”

Donna grabbed hold of the Doctor’s arm. He turned impatiently, “What is it?” Giving him a reproachful look, she asked, “But, aren’t we going to stay here? London’s in a lot more danger from those things, than some place where the sheep outnumber the people.” The Doctor sighed. “You’re right, of course. But, the thing is, I’ve a feeling that this was only a diversion, to get me away from that research centre.” She frowned. “You mean, the Amphoron’s went to all this trouble, just as some sort of ruse? But…why would they do that?” The Doctor hunched his shoulders and gave another big sigh. “I wish I knew. Still,” he said, as he palmed his Tardis key, “we won’t find anything out if just stand about here, gossiping all day, ey?” With that, he opened the door and went straight to the console.

Following him inside, Donna checked her steps, when she saw the mess upon the console room floor. Raising her eyebrows she said, “Are you planning to invite these Amphoron things to a boot sale?” The Doctor, standing over the console, gave her the same patient look, which a parent often gives an especially inquisitive child. “Somehow,” he murmured, “I don’t think they’re big fans of the Antiques Roadshow.” Donna bent down and picked up the cavalry hat, “What about E-Bay, then?” She quipped, twirling the hat on her finger. Despite the gravity of the situation, the Doctor managed a faint smile. “General Custer gave me that. I told him, ‘don’t go down there, George,’ but…oh, never mind. You humans never listen. Just go charging ahead, heedless of–. He broke off with a quiet, “Oh.” The Doctor suddenly started turning knobs like crazy, as the central column rose and fell with wheezing regularity. “Oh, what?” Donna asked, a trifle apprehensively. He bit his lip worriedly. “I’ve just realized why the Amphoron’s might have put me off the scent. I’ve gone and left the brigadier all on his own. If they’ve taken control of him–or even someone close to him, there’s no telling what sort of senseless violence he’s been plotting, since I’ve been gone.”

The Brigadier was in his element. He was in a vast underground chamber, issuing crisp orders to various lieutenants, captains, sergeants and corporals. As Ashbury paced between consulting maps on a wall, and scrolling through the latest reports on his computer, the chamber bustled with activity. Men and women came and went at a brisk rate. U.N.I.T. was on red alert, putting into action both defensive and offensive plans. They were preparing to attack Great Britain’s latest alien menace.

Ashbury turned to Captain Singh. “I want only a few of our best soldiers, acting as sentries watching the perimeter. The fewer of our people we have exposed to this thing, the better. If the sentries see any signs of that dark cloud, they are to report it at once, but to take no other action, is that understood? I want to know the minute those gas things make another appearance. What I don’t want, captain, is for the gas creature to think of us as an easy target.” Captain Singh saluted and went off to see to his task. But, what the brigadier did not realize, was that Britain’s latest alien menace was already watching every move he made.

CHAPTER NINE

The Tardis landed inside the U.N.I.T. research complex. The Doctor and Donna emerged, to find themselves once again in Lord Featherly’s conservatory. The two of them cautiously opened the door, and checked out the hallway. It was empty. In fact, the entire complex seemed to be deserted. “Where is everyone?” Donna whispered. “You don’t suppose those creature’s have gotten to them, do you?” The Doctor cast a worried glance up the empty hall. “I don’t know.” He hissed, “But, we’d best proceed very carefully.” The Doctor started to walk forward, and then stopped. He placed a hand on Donna’s shoulder, looking down at her with genuine concern. “Maybe you’d better wait in the Tardis, for a bit.” He said quietly.

Donna shook her head. “Not on your life, Doctor. I’m not leaving you to have all the fun.” She said, giving him a determined smile. “I’m gonna’ make sure you make it back here safely, so you can take me to see those naked Greek blokes.” Despite the seriousness of the situation, the Doctor found himself smiling back at her. “Oh, alright, but stay close to me. I don’t want to turn around and find you being threatened by some trigger happy soldier.”

So saying, the Doctor turned a corner and found a pistol in his face, held by a young corporal. “Ah. Very much like that one, you see.” Grinning broadly, he said. “Hello! I’m the Doctor. My, that’s a very nice pistol you have there, might I have a look at it?” Faster than Donna would have ever thought possible, the Doctor quickly snatched the gun from the soldier. Putting the safety catch back on, he popped out the clip and handed the gun back to the stupefied corporal. Casting a look back at Donna, he said, with a twinkle in his eye, “You see, it’s not the size of the gun that’s pointing at you that matters, it’s what you do with it that really counts.” Donna snickered. The soldier merely stood there, mouth agape, staring down at the gun that the Doctor had just placed back into his hand.

The Doctor, still smiling, asked, “Now, perhaps you’d be good enough to tell us where we can find the brigadier, hmm–?” He strode forwards down the next hall, Donna trotting to keep up with him. The corporal was stood there for a moment, and then he seemed to recall himself to his original purpose. “Ere–now, stop! Yer goin’ the wrong way.” The Doctor dutifully did an about turn, and breezed past the soldier, in the opposite direction. “This way then?” He asked politely, without bothering to stop.

The corporal snapped to attention and ran to head off the Doctor. “Halt! I order you to stop!” He yelled–well, really, it came out more like a squeak. The Doctor did stop, but to the young man’s discomfort, he seemed rather more amused than intimidated. Then, the corporal realized why. He was standing there, pointing an empty gun at them. The Doctor wiggled his eyebrows. “Yes, I’ve seen your gun,” he said, as if humouring a small child, who was holding out a favourite toy for inspection, “it’s a very nice gun. But really, I am rather pressed for time, so if you just tell me where…” “The brigadier has ordered your immediate arrest.” The soldier blurted out.

The Doctor threw up his arms, and rolled his eyes in disgust. “Oh, not again! Really, this is getting terribly tedious.” As they continued walking, he turned to Donna. “I don’t know how I ever managed to put up with U.N.I.T., all those years ago. Being marooned on earth wouldn’t have been much of a punishment, if it wasn’t for the fact that I was stuck having to interact with so many thick humans. Oh, it wasn’t always that bad–I had my assistants…my friends. Good friends.” He said, remembering Jamie, Jo and Sarah Jane with a smile. Then, the Doctor stared at the corporal’s back a frown and said, “Yet, sadly, some humans, such as military men, politicians, Southerners…Ozzie, well, no offense, but it sometimes it’s a bit like trying to communicate with a goldfish.” He sighed. “Unfortunately Donna, some human’s minds tend to bear a remarkable similarity to a dull needle, forever stuck on a scratchy record. Imagine being trapped around someone like that, all the time. I don’t care what you say, that, in itself, should be listed as illegal torture in the Geneva Convention.”

After listening to the Doctor’s long tirade, Donna gave him a cautious glance. “What about me?” She asked tentatively. He looked down at her with a surprised expression, and said nothing for a moment. She felt a fleeting pang of hurt, but then, the Doctor flashed Donna a warm smile. Putting his arm around her shoulder, he gave her an affectionate squeeze. “I think you’re a remarkable person, Donna.” He whispered, “And, a good friend,” he added, giving her a wink. Suddenly she knew, that the Doctor really meant it.

The corporal marched the Doctor and Donna to a lift situated in an obscure alcove. After a moment, the doors opened, and a sergeant stood there. The corporal came to attention. “Good, you found them.” The sergeant said. “I have orders to take charge of the prisoners, corporal. The brigadier wants you to go and relieve the sentry at the stables.” “Sir!” The corporal responded. Saluting the sergeant, he escorted the Doctor and Donna into the lift, and left, relieved not to have been questioned about his empty pistol.

The lift started down towards the sub-basement level. Then, abruptly, it stopped. Between floors, the Doctor noticed, tensing slightly. This didn’t look good. It looked even worse, when the man turned his head. The sergeant’s eyes were glowing with a bright pink colour, as he gave the Doctor a sardonic leer. A voice like a child’s, but with the infliction of the devil, echoed inside his head. “Tag! You’re it!” It said.

CHAPTER TEN

The Doctor’s hand flew up, grasping his sonic screwdriver. He held it against the lift controls, making it jerk suddenly upwards, throwing the sergeant/alien off balance and onto the floor. The lift stopped on the same floor they’d just left, and the Doctor pushed Donna out the doors. As he followed behind her, the sergeant, still on the floor, reached out and grabbed the Doctor by the ankle. The fingertips of the soldier began to glow, and the Doctor suddenly screamed in pain, as the bottom of his trouser began to smolder.

Without hesitating, Donna whirled around and frantically pushed the lift buttons, hoping the doors would close. They did. She looked away, deeply sickened, as the hand of the soldier was left behind. It took a moment before she’d realized that the Doctor was holding her. “I–I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she gasped, “really, I didn’t. I was only trying to…” He shushed her. “It’s alright, Donna, it’s alright. You didn’t hurt him.” He said gently, “That soldier didn’t feel a thing, let me assure you.” The Doctor’s voice became somber. “There was no blood. He was dead already. That was nothing more than an animated corpse.”

Donna glanced down at the Doctor’s leg. “Are you alright?” “I’ll be fine.” He said tersely. The Doctor’s head came up, as he heard the lift moving again. “We’ve got to shift, before our wandering cadaver comes back to finish the job.” He pointed towards the conservatory. “Back to the Tardis, I think. We can try and reach the lower levels that way. That’s bound to be where the brigadier is.” They bolted down the white painted halls, towards the room where he’d parked his ship. Only, as they rounded the last corner, they were met by another corporal. This one’s eyes also were glowing. “Not fair! No cheating!” The sibilant` voice said. Then the possessed man gave an oily smile. “You’re still it.”

Without warning the zombie-soldier made a grab for the Doctor, but he quickly backpedaled out of reach. The Doctor frantically glanced behind him, and saw the now handless sergeant advancing towards them. There was a door to the Doctor’s back and he flung it open. To his immense relief, it lead to a set of stairs that had once connected the servant’s quarters to the main hall. The Doctor pushed Donna through, and then slammed the door shut behind him, using the sonic screwdriver to lock it.

Tearing down the creaky wooden staircase, the two found themselves at another door. Carefully pushing it open, they saw that it lead to the former dining hall. A long wooden table, dusty now, took up the centre of the room. The only other objects in the room were some old military arms decorating the wood paneled walls, mostly dusty flintlock muskets and tarnished swords.

The Doctor and Donna started towards a door at the far end of the room, when it burst open. It was Ian McKenzie. He glared at them through glowing eyes. “Oh this is a fun game,” the child-like voice said, inside the Doctor’s mind, “hide and seek they call it, on this planet. I like it! Too bad it’s over so soon.” Without warning, the man that had once been known as McKenzie snatched up a sword from the wall, and swiftly advanced on the Doctor.

The Doctor steered Donna to a corner by the fireplace. “You’d best wait here, Donna.” She started to open her mouth to protest, but the Doctor silenced her with a look. “Stay there. I mean it.” He ordered sternly. The Doctor glanced up at the assortment of weapons above the fireplace and slipped an ivory handled sword from a carved leather scabbard. He turned and faced his opponent.

The voice in the Doctor’s head said, “Ready or not, here I come!” It giggled–well, it sounded like a giggle. The Doctor frowned deeply. That mocking, juvenile tone was seriously beginning to annoy him. His eyes darkened, and he gripped the hilt of the sword more tightly. “Alright, me yobbo, time for a little parental guidance.” The Doctor muttered angrily. Pushing a chair out of the way, the alien advanced, seeming pleased at this new twist to its game. “I always wanted to play a pirate,” it said, “and kill something. Guess what, Doctor? That’s going to be you!” Again, there was that sort-of giggle inside the Doctor’s head, which made him grind his teeth together, and then “McKenzie” made a sudden thrust at the Doctor’s mid-section.

The Doctor leapt backwards, and the creature’s blade harmlessly jabbed the air. Immediately, the creature lunged again, and the Doctor easily parried the incoming blade, and the following thrust, as well. He heard the creature that was McKenzie give what sounded like a whine. The feints and thrusts came quicker now. The pair moved around the table, and the room rang with the scrape and clang of steel upon steel.

The Doctor kept backing up, merely defending, not responding to the creature’s taunting attempts to draw him into the battle more fully. Then, just as “McKenzie” made a feint at the Doctor’s face, the Doctor reared back, catching his foot on the leg of a dining room chair. He fell, hard, upon the flagstone floor.

Donna called out the Doctor’s name, as the creature swept his sword downward for the killing blow. But, with a shower of sparks, the blade clanged harmlessly against the stones. Pulling back at the last possible second, the Doctor used his legs to thrust the chair against McKenzie, upsetting his balance. Then, he performed a quick roll and was up on his feet, once more. The creature was bent over, extricating itself from the chair, when the Doctor came up behind it. He spanked “McKenzie” on the bottom, with the flat of his sword. Grinning sardonically, the Doctor said, “Now that’s something I’ve been tempted to do, ever since I met you.”

“McKenzie” drew back his lip in a snarl, and began the attack anew, this time with a frenzied bloodlust. Around and around the room they went, the Doctor matching the creature, blow for blow. But, the Doctor was tiring. He knew the Amphorons had unlimited energy, and that his arm would fail, long before the creature’s would.

Using one of the chairs, the Doctor suddenly leapt up onto the long table. At the same time, “McKenzie” made an upward thrust at the Doctor’s stomach. But to do so, he had to lean far forward, exposing his upper body. With lightning speed, the Doctor’s blade swept from side to side, neatly cutting off the creature’s head. “I’m sorry.” He whispered hoarsely–not for the creature, which wasn’t actually dead. No, The Doctor felt sad for Ian McKenzie, even though he knew that what he’d “killed” was merely another walking corpse…he looked at his sword. No blood on the blade.

Jumping down from the table, the Doctor dropped the sword and walked over to Donna. She was stood, staring at the headless body. His breath heaving, the Doctor took her by the arm. “He was already dead before he came in here, Donna. The Amphorons killed him. Come on,” He said tiredly, “this isn’t over yet, I’m afraid.” She nodded mutely, and let him lead her to the door. Donna looked up at him. “I’m alright, now. Where’d you learn to fight like that?” He smiled. “Oh,” he said breezily, “you know, I get around. Let’s see, there was Cleopatra’s bodyguard, the court of Louis the Fifteenth, the planet Tara, Zorro films–love those.”

The door opened onto the main entrance hall. To the rear, there was a grand staircase, leading upwards. There was a smaller door below it, set into the paneling beneath the stairs. The Doctor tried that door. It seemed to lead down into some sort of cellar. “Well, that looks promising.” He muttered. He was about to descend the stairs, when the handless sergeant appeared at the bottom, looking up at them. The Doctor made a face. “Oh, that’s not fair.”

Just then, the door to the dining hall slammed open, and McKenzie stood framed in the doorway. The Doctor sighed. “Oh, now that’s really not fair!” Then, the front door opened, and the shopkeeper, Mike Hartley appeared, glowing eyes focused on the Doctor and Donna. He was armed with a large, double barreled shotgun. Donna sighed now. “I know, I know, Doctor. That’s not fair either. What do we do now?” The head under McKenzie’s arm spoke in the Doctor’s head again. “Game’s up. We win.” The Doctor merely raised an eyebrow and stared at the head. He mischievously sang a few bars of an old music hall ditty, “With her head, tucked, underneath her arm, she walks the bloody tower…” Donna nudged him in the ribs. “I really don’t think that now’s the time to be breaking into song, Doctor.” He looked at her, surprised. “No? Everyone’s a critic.” He sniffed. “Well then,” he shrugged, “I suppose there’s the other thing…” She sighed. “Wait. I think I know this one. Run, right?” He grinned, “By jove, I think she’s got it!”

The Doctor and Donna took the only route possible, and that was up the long, winding stairs. They’d reached the first landing–one of three, when at the next landing, two heavily armed soldiers appeared. Behind them, the now headless highlander, still armed with a sword, had begun ascending the staircase. This left the two of them with only one other option.

The landing had a window, which let in light. A large potted plant stood in the corner, soaking up the summer sun. Bending down, the Doctor grabbed onto the stem of the plant, and with an underhanded throw, he heaved the whole thing–pot and all, through the glass. Alarms began going off throughout the building, as the breaking glass triggered the external security system. “Careful!” The Doctor yelled unnecessarily, as shards of glass flew in every direction. He looked down. It wasn’t too far a drop, only about twice his height. The Doctor leapt through the shattered window, and stood outside, catching Donna as she jumped. “Where to now, Doctor?” She cried. The Doctor looked about, and noticed that three more of the pink-eyed soldiers were marching towards them from across the lawn. Breathing heavily, his head darted about, searching frantically for safety in some direction.

In the underground chamber, the brigadier was having his own difficulties to overcome. More than half his staff located above ground had utterly vanished. At the first sign of trouble, he’d had the secure area beneath the research centre sealed off. He’d been keeping in contact with his people above by some high tech communications devices. But now, those devices had suddenly gone dead. For all intents and purposes, he was cut off from the outside world. That wasn’t the only thing that had him worried, though. What really worried the brigadier, was that it meant that he and the others might be trapped down there, with madmen possessed by an alien mind.

Checking for the third time that his gun was loaded, the brigadier kept a wary eye on the personnel with him. He strode over to where several technicians had assembled, trying to fix up some of way of restoring communications. The alien had also somehow managed to seize control of the lift, which was the only way in or out of the secure area. At that thought, Brigadier Ashbury paused. He’d not been here long, and hadn’t had time to completely study the blueprints of the complex, but he found it hard to believe that anyone would build a secure area, without some sort of emergency exit. Although it was possible, he considered. What with all of the sensitive and complex data and equipment stored in there, that the single exit was intentional. If the place was ever invaded, it could be sealed off from the outside world forever.

The brigadier sucked in his breath. That was something he didn’t like to think about. He strode over to Captain Singh. “Captain, I want you to come with me.” The captain followed the brigadier through a series of smaller and smaller chambers, until they came to a cramped, dismal concrete room. It contained nothing but a few horizontal and vertical filing cabinets, a battered wooden desk and two chairs. “Sir?” The captain inquired, “Assuming we’re here to find something in those files, what, may I ask, might that be?” The brigadier sighed. “A way out, I hope, captain.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Standing amid the shattered remnants of the window, the Doctor hissed through his teeth and ran a hand over his face. It would only be a matter of moments before the zombie-like soldiers came upon them. His mind worked furiously, trying to come up with something. Donna was a little winded from all the running. She had to give this new life of hers its due; at least she didn’t have to worry about keeping fit.

There was a small lawn tractor beside some ornamental shrubbery. It had been abandoned by the gardener, when his alien-maddened mind had told him that a pterodactyl was flying overhead. Catching her breath, Donna rested against the tractor’s red bonnet. The soldiers on the front lawn were closing in on them, and now the armed shopkeeper had just rounded the building, as well.

The Doctor glanced at Donna. “Are you sitting comfortably?” He asked. Then, his eyes flew open. “Oh yes! Why didn’t I think of that?” He smacked himself on the forehead. “Ow.” Donna shook her head. “What?” She asked, giving him a blank stare. The Doctor pointed at the tractor where she was sitting. Donna stood and looked down. “What? Is there something wrong with my bum?” Not answering, the Doctor scooted over to the tractor and lifted up the bonnet. “This is a fine time to show an interest in DIY, if you ask me.” Donna said, gesturing to the advancing men. “What about them?” She heard the high-pitched humming of the Doctor’s sonic. “Sorry, no riders. Not safe picking up strangers these days, is it?” His muffled voice replied.

Grinning, the Doctor slammed the bonnet shut and sat down behind the steering wheel. The tractor had a small utility cart attached to it. The Doctor’s thumb flew over his shoulder, indicating the cart. “Climb in, get down and hold on tight!” He shouted. With the sonic, the Doctor started up the engine, which sounded surprisingly powerful for a garden tractor. A moment later, the soldiers and Hartley closed in for the kill, leveling their weapons at the two of them. The Doctor slammed the little riding mower into gear, hit the pedal, and with incredible speed, the tractor shot away. The machine bounced over the grass, flying across the lawn in an attempt to outrun a hail of bullets from the soldier’s guns.

Brigadier Ashbury and Captain Singh were hunched over a battered wooden desk in the concrete bunker, studying a blueprint of the underground complex. The brigadier leaned back against a filing cabinet, tugging at his collar “Hot work, this, could do with a fan in here.” He glowered down at the desk. “That’s the seventh blueprint we’ve looked at, and still no go.” He tilted his head towards the other files. “Are there any more in there?”

Captain Singh shook his head tiredly. “As far as I know sir, this is the last. There may be more,” he added hopefully, “it’s always possible. I noticed that two of the cabinets on the end, don’t lie flush to the wall. There’s a chance, albeit a slim one, that something may have fallen behind one of them.” The brigadier gave the captain a tight smile. “Well, that sounds too much like wishful thinking, for my taste. But,” he sighed, standing and straightening his jacket, “you have my permission to continue the search, Captain. I’m not a man who likes to overlook any possibilities, however improbable they may be.” Singh nodded. “Sir!”

Just at that moment, a wild-eyed lieutenant ran into the room. “I believe that it is customary to salute in the presence of your commanding officer, Lieutenant Evans.” The brigadier drawled peevishly at the newcomer. She skidded to a halt and came to attention. “Sorry sir. It’s just that–“ she was cut off by the sound of a blood curdling scream. The brigadier ran to the doorway, his revolver suddenly to hand. “What the devil was that?” He cried. “It’s Corporal Hicks, sir.” She replied shakily. “He–he somehow found a bayonet from somewhere. He thinks he’s a warrior at the battle of Troy. He murdered Private Smith…I-I don’t know who else he may have just killed or wounded. The corporal is wild, no one can get near him, and we’re afraid to shoot him in the confined space, for fear of hitting someone else.” The lieutenant looked at the brigadier uncertainly. It was one thing to face an enemy on the battlefield, even to fight a mostly unseen alien threat, but…how to you handle a deadly threat from someone you know, someone you’ve seen in the mess hall, everyday? “What should we do, sir?” She asked.

The brigadier’s face was all at once, assured and determined. At last, here was something he could deal with directly. “Right then, lieutenant, what we do, is either figure out a way to contain the corporal, or, as a final resort, we shoot. Wound him if we can, kill him if we must.” He and the lieutenant ran back to the main chamber. Once there, the brigadier saw a young corporal, standing on a chair and shouting incoherently. Waving his bayonet around, the young man seemed to be rallying invisible troops. At his feet was a white-faced sergeant, sitting on the floor. He was valiantly trying to staunch a steady stream of blood, which was flowing from his right leg. Brigadier Ashbury studied the scene for a moment. Then, he holstered his revolver and walked calmly up to Corporal Hicks.

The sergeant started to warn the brigadier, but was silenced by a stern look, and a shake of Ashbury’s head. The brigadier took a deep breath and marched right up to the corporal. The corporal paused in his ranting, as Ashbury stood at attention in front of him. He thumped his chest with his fist, and gave a Nazi style salute. “Warrior!” He barked out. “I bring news from the king!” That caused more than a few eyebrows to be raised, by many of the other soliders in the room. Had their commanding officer turned into a nutter, as well?

The brigadier stood stock still, as the bayonet blade swiped past his nose. Then, the crazed young man seemed to totter for a second. “The king?” He mumbled, confused. “What? You mean Elvis?” “Erm–Yes.” The brigadier replied crisply, not missing a beat. “He sends word that the day is won, victory is ours. He asks that you come before him now, so that he may honour you with the laurel wreath of victory, and…one of those scarves he wears around his neck.” The brigadier added, as a further incentive. “How say you, warrior?” Dropping the bayonet, the corporal punched the air, shouting, “Long live the king! Victory is ours! All hail rock and roll!” The brigadier surreptitiously kicked the blade out of reach. He silently waved to two waiting security officers, and they swiftly dragged the young man away.

Turning to the lieutenant, he ordered, “Get some medics over here, on the double! And, I want you to personally keep an eye out for any more of these…” He trailed off, at a loss for words. Lieutenant Evens saluted. She knew what he meant. “Yes sir!” As she turned to see to her tasks, the brigadier realized he was sweating. He stopped her. “Lieutenant? Why is it so warm in here? Have someone see to the air conditioning.” He got his answer a moment later, when a soldier ran up to him. “Sir!” The brigadier gave an exasperated sigh. “Yes? What is it now?” The man’s face held a faint trace of fear. “Whoever has control of our communications and the lift, has also just turned off the ventilation system. We’re running out of air, sir.”

A late afternoon wind stirred the creaking sign of the Crown and Thistle. In the restless breeze was a hint of damp. The sunshine was weakening, and dull grey clouds were pushing in from the west. The weatherman had predicted a spot of rain later in the evening–just before he took off all of his clothes, and warned viewers to beware of snakes and apples. A few leaves skittered through the pub’s small gravel car park, where the Doctor had left the garden tractor. It was parked next to a sign marked ‘Patrons Only.’

Inside the pub, Donna was leaning against the bar, watching the Doctor, as he almost viciously threw darts at the dartboard. Nearly all of the throws resulted in bulls-eye’s. Except for one, she noted. That had landed on an autographed photo of a former Big Brother housemate, which was pinned to the wall. The feathered end of the dart was protruding from the tip of the minor celebrity’s nose. Donna was silent, for once. It was the Doctor’s look that made her so. His face contained an almost surreal dark and brooding quality about it. It was one of the few times she’d known him to truly appear alien.

As if reading Donna’s thoughts, the Doctor paused in mid-throw. He turned to look at her, and noticed that she averted her eyes. Forcing himself to loosen up and relax, the Doctor smiled faintly and held out a dart. “Care to have a go?” He asked. Donna shook her head and didn’t return the smile. “All those soldiers, McKenzie and the shopkeeper, they are all dead now, aren’t they?” She said quietly. After absently sailing the dart on its way to another bull’s-eye, the Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and gave a drawn-out sigh. “Yes.” He said simply. She continued, “And lots more are probably going to die, and we’re here hiding in a pub.” Donna brought her eyes up to meet his. The look she gave the Doctor wasn’t an accusing one, merely doubtful. Still, inwardly, it made him cringe.

The Doctor walked over beside her, and stood with his back to the bar. He gave another long sigh, and stared at the nicotine-stained ceiling. Suddenly, to Donna, he seemed very tired-looking, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. And, she reflected, perhaps he did. Putting a reassuring hand on his arm, she smiled at him and said, “Well, sitting here brooding isn’t doing either of us any good. Why don’t we go for a walk or something? Just a nice little stroll, as a bit of a change, you know?” She said dryly, “As opposed to running away from those gas brats or a headless swordsman.”

The Doctor put his arm around her and grinned. “Gas brats? I like that! I’ll have to remember that one.” Removing his arm, he walked towards the kitchen, saying, “Alright, Donna. Let’s go out the back way, though, just to be on the safe side. I’ve been thinking…” “Thought I smelled smoke,” she teased, “but I reckoned McKenzie had left a haggis in the cooker. Should’ve known it was you, all along.” The Doctor spun around with raised eyebrows, and then he burst out laughing. “It’s the Time Lord brain, creates a lot of friction.” He responded, with a twinkle in his eye. Holding the swinging door of the kitchen open for her, the Doctor said, “Come on, I think I may have an idea, but first I need to check on some things.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Working their way along the rear of the cottages, the Doctor explained what was on his mind; “From what I understand, this all began the morning following a big storm, last Saturday night, right?” Donna, following along close beside him, skirted a pile of smelly bin bags, and said, “Yes, I suppose. Do you think there’s a connection there? Perhaps it has something to do with water. Maybe, you can use that against them somehow.”

The Doctor shrugged. “I’m not certain. Unfortunately, this isn’t Oz, and I can’t make like Dorothy, and defeat the Amphorons by throwing a bucket of water on them. However, I do think that it’s very likely that the storm may have been triggered by the disturbance caused by the Amphoron cloud, as it entered the Earth’s atmosphere.” He stopped, running his fingers through his hair. “The thing is, even my people hadn’t figured out a way to get rid of these creatures. According to the historical records, the High Council had to resort to a combination of threats and bribery, to send them on their way. And, that’s really saying something. My people may have used threats when necessary, but they never resorted to offering bribes. The Amphorons seem to be the one exception to that rule.” Donna turned to him. “But they were Time Lords. Couldn’t they just shift the Ampohons to some other point in time or space, where they couldn’t cause any real harm?”

The Doctor had paused, and was gently fingering a rose petal. Now he turned his head curiously towards Donna, as if mildly surprised by the perceptive question. “That’s a reasonable solution, I admit. But, sadly, no. It wasn’t that simple, Donna. Because the Amphorons have no real substance, they’re practically indestructible. It’s a bit like trying to kill smoke.” Donna jumped suddenly. She’d felt something brush against her ankle. Looking down, she saw a large ginger and white cat. Bending over and petting its head, she said, “Too bad you can’t just get a big fan and blow them away, then.”

Eyeing the cat distastefully, the Doctor said, “Yeah….” His voice trailed off, as the Doctor’s mind worried with a thought, like a dog with a particularly large bone. “Or, maybe—.” He was cut off in mid-sentence by a shout from the back door of the nearest cottage. “You shouldn’t be outside! What are you doing out there? Get in here, will you?” A hefty, older woman in a faded house dress was standing in the rear door of the nearest cottage, gesturing wildly with both arms.

Donna straightened and glanced up, giving the Doctor a puzzled look. “Come on!” the woman called again. The pair stared down at the cat, thinking she was calling to her pet. But, to their surprise, the woman seemed to be addressing them. “I mean you two. Don’t just stand there, gawking at my Cesar, come in here,” she hollered, looking fearfully up at the sky, “before the bad’un’s get you! And, bring Cesar with you!” She ordered. The Doctor stuck his tongue in his cheek and looked down at Donna, as if asking what she thought. Donna merely shrugged. The Doctor shrugged back, blew out his breath, and stuck his hands in his pockets. He then leisurely strolled over to the woman, leaving Donna to bring up the rear, holding a rather large armful of cat.

The Doctor and Donna were seated in the cottage’s lounge sipping cups of sweet tea, while trying to fend off a very curious white kitten. The enormous cat that Donna had lugged in from outside, now lay sprawled on the back of the sofa, between them, purring contentedly. The Doctor was busy trying to detach the kitten’s playful claws from the sleeve of his suit. He leaned over, to speak to Donna. “Do me a favour, eh? Let me do all the talking. We haven’t much time, Donna. Already they’ve penetrated the military, and London. Soon, they’ll get bored with playing cat–” Cesar’s tail whisked into his face suddenly. “–and mouth width me…” he said, spitting out cat hair and making a face, “bleh–I hope I’ve some hairball remedy in the Tardis–Anyhow, any time now, they may move on to larger targets…America, for instance. I mean, they’ve got enough firepower there to destroy this planet a dozen times over, and they do seem to have a penchant for violence–look at Custer, couldn’t wait to go down into that ravine and wipe out the Sioux. I told him, don’t….” Donna rolled her eyes and put a hand over his mouth. “I know, I know.” The Doctor gave her a reproachful look. She removed her hand and asked, “What were you doing with the 7^th Cavalry, anyway?”

Just then, the large woman breezed in from the kitchen, carrying a teapot. “Now then, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting, I just thought I’d brew up another pot of tea–I do seem to be out of biscuits, sorry to say.” She stopped and looked at her visitors, as if truly seeing them for the first time. “Oh dear, where’s my manners? I’m so sorry, ‘fraid I’m not used to visitors. My name’s Mary. Mary Hutchings.”

Pulling up a chair, she lowered her bulky frame down into it, and smiled. “I know that I must have seemed a little rude, but you see, I was worried about you. I would feel terrible if anyone else was struck down but that…” She shivered, and her face grew suddenly pale, “…that evil thing, whatever it is.” Leaning forward, she whispered to the Doctor, “You know what I think? I think it’s alien. But, don’t tell anyone I said that, will you? I don’t want them wot’s in the village, to think that I’ve gone mad, as well–they already think I’m a bit touched in me head, if you know what I mean, just because I live alone with my little friends, here.”

The Doctor gave her a reassuring grin. “I don’t think you’re mad at all.” He looked around the little cottage, which, although neat and clean, was strewn with little knick-knacks, photographs and other personal mementos. “It seems quite a cozy arrangement, if you ask me.” He said. “Incidentally, I’m the Doctor, and this is my friend, Donna. And, I must say, that you do make a lovely cuppa, by the way.” His face became more serious, and putting his cup down on a nearby table, the Doctor leaned forward, with his hands on his knees. “Now, Mary, I was wondering if you could do something for me.”

The white kitten jumped into Mary’s lap. Sighing, she cuddled it, as if trying to find some comfort in the act of petting its fur. After a long pause, she stated flatly, “You want me to tell you what happened.” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “That would be a start, yes.” He said softly. “You see, I’m trying to find a way to send these creatures packing, but, in order to do that, I need more information. And, trust me. Whatever you tell me, I will believe you.”

Mary looked into the Doctor’s eyes pensively. “Yes, I think you would. You’re an alien, too. But, not like them. You are a very nice alien, I think.” The Doctor drew back a bit at this, both surprised and somewhat pleased, by her comment. “Though,” She continued, “I sense, Doctor, there’s been times when you’ve been forced to do some awful things that you will always regret, hmm–? And, like me, you feel very much alone, sometimes.” The Doctor made no comment. He looked down and pretended to brush a cat hair from his arm. “Still,” she said kindly, “I think you have been blessed with good friends–like Donna.” He smiled faintly, and nodded, but otherwise almost shyly remained silent. “And,” Mary said, “I sense that you are not the type to just sit around on your hands and complain, are you? You’re not afraid to ask questions, or to get busy and do what needs to be done–no matter how unpleasant that may be. Yes, that says a lot about you, that does.” She stated matter-of-factly.

The Doctor looked at her, genuinely touched. “Thank you.” Mary nodded. “I’ll tell you everything I can remember. It all started Sunday morning, when I was hanging out me washing. I suddenly got this awful feeling inside of me, like one of them icebergs had suddenly formed in my insides. Like the end of the world was approaching, see? And then it happened. That awful cloud…”

About a half-hour later, Mary wound down her story. She’d had a lot to tell. Unfortunately, much of it the Doctor already knew, and none of it was good. “In the end though,” she finished, “it’s that cloud that bothers me. Can’t say why, of course, but even the animals and the birds don’t like it. They run and hide.” The kitten left Mary’s lap, and climbed up the Doctor’s arm. He silently petted and played with it for a few moments. “I thought you didn’t like cats.” Donna said. “Only cats in nun’s habits.” The Doctor replied, snatching his finger away from the kitten, before the animal could scratch his hand with its claw. “Other cats are alright–most of the time. I met a cat named Thomas, once. Nice chap. He picked me up hitchhiking on the motorway, in New New York,–although, technically, it was in New-new-new-new-new-new-new New York.” He replied, then, seeing the look on Mary’s face, he added, “Don’t ask.”

Mary took a sip of tea and said thoughtfully, “It’s some sort of presence, that cloud gives off,” Mary said, “like…I don’t know…it’s like something cold and hard and totally malevolent, pressing against my soul.” She shuddered and closed her eyes against the memory. The Doctor suddenly gave Mary a curious stare. Narrowing his eyes, he gently pushed the cat off of his lap, and went over to her chair. Crouching down, he asked intently, “Mary, I need to know, and, forgive me if I’m wrong. But, were you affected by the cloud? I seem to remember it being bandied about down at the pub, that your cats had told you to shut yourself up inside this cottage.”

Mary set down her teacup, and said reproachfully. “Now, you don’t seem to be a fellow who takes idle gossip at face value.” The Doctor smiled, “No, I’m not. Although, some of the things I’ve read in the Sun…” Donna blurted out, “Oh yeah. I read a story last week, about them finding that skeleton of a two meter long rat in the old London sewers.” The Doctor turned to look at her. “Actually, the thing was closer to four meters long, as I recall. Nearly took my leg off. Never did like rats much, after that.”

Mary broke into the conversation. “In answer to your question, Doctor, my cats have never spoken the Queen’s English to me. Oh, you know how some people are. You say something, and the person you’re speaking with, hears half of the conversation, and makes up the other half afterwards.” The Doctor tugged on his ear. “Yeah, that seems to be a problem with you humans, sometimes. Selective hearing.” Mary grinned. “I’m afraid that people ‘round here have this picture in their heads of what kind of person I am, and they can’t be bothered to dig below the surface. You see, it was my cat’s behaviour was keeping me indoors. Animals may not be able to speak words, yet their body language, their attitudes and emotions, these things speak volumes–providing, of course, that one is observant enough to see it.”

Mary sighed sadly, “But, I’m getting off the subject, Doctor. I wasn’t affected by the cloud, because I refused to let it push me around. I’m not always proud of that attitude, mind, but there are times when it comes in handy. One of my little quirks, you see, is that I don’t like being pushed. So, when they pushed me, I pushed back. Blew them off, I did, like a puff of smoke. Those aliens didn’t like that, so they went away.” Without warning, the Doctor’s eyes flew open, and he jumped up, all aquiver with excitement. “That’s it!” He shouted, his finger stabbing the air.

Mary and Donna simultaneously raised their eyebrows at each other. “I expect he takes some getting used to.” Mary said. Donna agreed, “Yeah, but I like to think of it as cheap entertainment.” She said, giving the woman a mischievous wink. The Doctor was oblivious to the two women’s exchange. He was busy pacing the room. He didn’t even notice the kitten, which was following him, batting at a loose shoelace on one of his trainers. “Smoke.” He whispered, to no one in particular. “I’m sorry, Doctor.” Mary said primly, “If you’re in need of a fag, I’m afraid that you’ll have to nip down to the store for it. I don’t care for tobacco. Not good for you, is it?”

The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to face her. “No, it’s not. But, I wasn’t thinking about cigarettes. I’m thinking about the Amphorons. Or, more specifically, what they are made of. That cloud, for instance. If I could analyze it, perhaps I could find a weakness.” Donna tilted her head at him. “You mean, like, smoke is full of carbon particles, right?” “And,” Mary added, “If you can find a way to neutralize whatever substance this alien is made of…” She looked hopefully at the Doctor.

The Doctor’s face cracked into a wide grin. “Right! Problem solved.” His face turned grim, “If I can–and mind you, that is a very, very big if. First, I’d have to find some way get to my Tardis, and then, I’d have to somehow lure the Amphons into close proximity to it, so I can use the Tardis’ equipment to find out what makes it tick, so to speak. And then,–sorry if I’m starting to sound repetitive, I’d have to hope that they don’t take over my mind.” His eyes slid to Donna, “Not the most pleasant of experiences I’ve had.” He muttered bitterly. The Doctor stuck his hands back in his pocket, and resumed pacing again. “All of that, I’m afraid,” he said, “is going to be a very tall order.”

Donna decided that the Doctor needed to brighten his outlook a little. “Then, I suppose, it’s a good thing you’re a very tall man. Should be no problem for you, easy-peasy Japanesy.” She said lightly.

The Doctor stopped pacing. Turning on his heel, he faced to two women. “Really?” He asked, with a somewhat daunted expression. Donna tilted her had and looked at him, incredulously. “What’dya’ think? You’re the one who keeps harping on, about what a genius you are.” The Doctor gave her a sharp look, then relaxed. “Yes, I am, aren’t I?” He said, folding his arms smugly. “Thanks for reminding me.”

The Doctor sat down beside Donna, taking care to sit where Cesar’s tail wouldn’t smack him face. Mary pulled her chair closer, so that she could better hear what her two new friends were planning. “So, what do we need to do first, it seems, is get back to the Tardis.” Donna said.

The Doctor sighed. “Which, Donna, we must do in absolute secret. And, considering that we’re talking about a high security military complex,” he blew out his breath, “well, that is going take some doing.” “Do you mean the late Lord Featherly’s estate?” Mary asked. “Yes.” The Doctor said, “It’s been taken over by a secret branch of the military.” Mary patted the Doctor’s knee. “And, this would be the same Lord Featherly who spent millions of pounds, building underground chambers and miles of secret passages beneath his home?” She asked, with a sly smile.

The Doctor stared at Mary, openmouthed. “My great uncle was chief engineer for most of the projects. I still have his plans stored away in my wardrobe somewhere.” She said. The Doctor appeared stunned. “You have plans? The plans for the tunnels?” He repeated, unnecessarily. Then, he burst into a big grin. “Oh Mary Hutchings, you can travel with me in the Tardis anytime!!” The Doctor exclaimed. And, leaning over, he kissed her. He didn’t see Donna’s slightly disgruntled face, as she muttered, “Well I’m not cleaning out any flippin’ litter boxes.” As if to add emphasis, Cesar’s tail flicked up Donna’s nose.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Doctor was stood over Mary’s kitchen table, unrolling the plans for the underground complex at Brookside Manor. He used the combination of a salt cellar, serviette holder, a coffee beaker and a Coke can, to hold the paper flat while he examined it. Slipping on his glasses, the Doctor bent down and made some indistinguishable mutterings, accompanied by some “Hmmm’s” and “Ahh-ing” noises.

Donna looked on with growing impatience. Mary had gone into the other room, deciding to leave the Doctor to his work. He was presently munching on some cheese flavoured

crisps that she had offered him, and staring at the map. “Well?” Donna asked, “Have you found anything?” “Hmm, hmmm, hm…hm-mm–” The Doctor said. Putting her hands on her hips, Donna retorted, “Are you badly humming God Save the Queen, or was that supposed to be an answer?” He took a sip from the can of Coke, which caused that part of the map to curl up at the edge. Hastily replacing the can, he said, “Sorry. Not polite to talk with your mouth full, is it? Rose was always on at me about my manners. What I said was, ‘very possibly, yes…maybe’.”

The Doctor pointed out a spot on the map, located right in the heart of the village. “There seems to be an entry point to the tunnels, there. But, these tunnels probably haven’t been used since before the Second World War, and there’s a chance that there’s no longer any access to them.”

Donna peered over his shoulder. “Where is that? It looks like it has a cross on it.” “That would be the church, my dear.” Mary said. She had come up behind them, and was curiously regarding the map. “Funny, isn’t it? That there map’s over seventy years old, but nothing’s different from today.” Giving the Doctor a knowing look, she said, “You don’t need a time machine when you visit Little Tweevale, I reckon. Only thing that’s changed, in the last hundred years, are the faces of the people who live here.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “So, Mary, how long have you been physic, if you don’t mind my asking? Is that why you choose to be alone?” She shrugged. “I thought if anyone would, you might spot that. Well, I first noticed it when I was just a teenager. I could sense things, you know? Without really thinking about it, or meaning to. It just came natural to me. It wasn’t all the time, Doctor. Sometimes it was just that I knew what the next number would be at bingo, or maybe I’d know the phone was about to ring, and who it was on the other end of the line. I have no control over it, I can’t just turn it on and off like a water tap. I sometimes go for months, even years, without a sign of it. When it does happen though, usually it’s without warning. Sometimes, it comes in the form of nightmares, Doctor. Omens, I suppose you’d call them. They more or less predict when something bad was going to happen. Well, back then, before I knew any better, I made the mistake of telling a few people about it. Big mistake, that was.” She said cynically. “I was young, and hadn’t realized yet, that people don’t like what they can’t understand. After a while, I simply kept my mouth shut, and learned to away from people.”

The Doctor tugged his ear, and looked at her sympathetically. “Yeah, it’s not always easy for humans, thinking abstractly.” He said. Mary gave him a sardonic smile. “Yes, they fear what their minds cannot readily grasp. And, when some folks are afraid or feel helpless, to make themselves feel better, they instinctively take aim at the nearest mark. And, being the local physic, I’m sort of a walking target.” She said sadly. Donna gave Mary a curious look. “Funny, I always thought that it would be a real gift, knowing the future.” She said, “I should think it would be rather interesting, having a friend who was physic.”

Mary shook her head, sadly. “No, you wouldn’t like that, at all, Donna. Not if it meant that I knew that disaster was about to befall you, or that someone you cared for was about to die. It’s not as if I can predict the winning lottery numbers, or such like. And, even worse, I may know that something bad is about to happen, but, I usually cannot say exactly what that would be. And, even if I knew, there’s no way I could prevent it. It’s not a gift, Donna. It’s a curse.” Donna agreed. “You’re right, that is awful. I had no idea. No wonder you feel that you have to be alone.” Then, Donna smiled and nudged her. “Well, you and I can still be friends, can’t we? I mean, if I can put up with him,” She said, nodding towards the Doctor, “I’d say a lady like you is right up my alley.”

The Doctor walked over and looked down at Mary, his eyes full of understanding. Taking off his glasses, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Well, this time, Mary, you are doing something about it, aren’t you?” Grinning, he winked at her. “With a little help from your friends, that is.”

A short time later, Mary paid a visit to the vicar. She was sat on the sofa, cajoling the vicar into an in-depth discussion about plans for the church’s annual charity fete and jumble sale. Not her favourite topic of conversation, but if it would help her new-found friends, she was willing. Mary’s job was to keep the vicar occupied, while the Doctor and Donna entered the church. The Doctor discovered that the trap door leading to the underground passage was located directly beneath the pulpit. That meant that he had to remove the pulpit, something the Doctor doubted that the vicar would be very keen to have him do.

The Doctor slipped on his glasses, and, kneeling down, began removing the bolts that anchored the carved wooden pulpit to the floorboards. Donna crouched down beside him. “Doctor?” She asked, “Once we get into those tunnels, how can be sure we’ll be able to get access to the manor house?” Removing the last bolt, he took off his glasses and stared at the church’s stained glass windows, pensively. “I won’t lie to you, Donna. This could be very tricky. There’s no telling how stable those passages are, after all these years. In fact,” he said. He gave her a half-smile, “I’ve half a mind to order you to stay here–if I thought you’d listen to me, that is.”

Donna laughed and shook her head. “Nope, I don’t think so. If you tried that, I’d just put my hands over my ears and sing loudly, so I couldn’t hear you.” She said cheekily. He grinned back at her. “Right then, Donna. Well, much as I’d love to hear your rendition of ‘King of the Road’, we are a bit pressed for time. So, I suppose I’ll have to let you come along.” The Doctor stood up, and with a mighty grunt, he managed to push the heavy wooden pedestal aside. Retrieving a torch from his suit pocket, he bent down and threw open the trap door.

In the glare of the torchlight, the space they were presented with was dark and oppressive. There was a wooden ladder leading down to the tunnel, which seemed to have been carved from a combination of solid rock and dirt. The Doctor went down first, carefully testing the solidity of the ladder. He looked around. Dust motes swam into the narrow beam of his torch. The air was stale, and carried the rank smell of damp earth. He reached over with his hand, and tested a nearby wooden support beam. It was quite solid, and seemed to be perfectly sound. No soil or rock particles had trickled down from above, anyway, which was a good sign. “Alright, Donna, it seems to be safe enough.” He called up to her.

Donna stood on the hard-packed floor, rubbing her arms. Looking around apprehensively, she glanced at the cobwebs hanging from the support beams. “I hope there aren’t any spiders down here. I hate spiders.” She whispered. The Doctor shrugged. “You’ve gotta’ keep an open mind, Donna. Spiders can be very helpful creatures, at times.” She shot him stunned glance. “After having one poison me, feed my hubby to her kids and then try to convert London into her own personal abattoir, I can’t say that I’m terribly open-minded on the subject.” Donna spat out angrily. The Doctor saw that there was no point in arguing with her. So, shrugging again, he lead the way down into the tunnel.

Twenty minutes later, they came to a T-junction. Donna sighed. “Okay, you’ve studied the map, which way? Right or left?” The Doctor hesitated, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “Erm–ah, I don’t know.” She stared at him, speechless. “Oh wait!” The Doctor piped up, with a delighted grin, “I’ve a fifty pence piece here, somewhere…Fifty pence piece, try saying that five times fast.” He added with a chuckle. Donna shook her head unbelievingly. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You mean to say you don’t know where we are?”

The Doctor looked at her somewhat guiltily. “Uh, no, sorry. I’m afraid that this junction wasn’t on the map. Maybe it there was a cave-in after the map was made, and they had to dig a new shaft.” Suddenly, the tunnel seemed very claustrophobic to Donna. “A cave-in?” She said anxiously, “That’s not very reassuring, Doctor.” “Oh, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.” He said.

Digging the coin from his trouser pocket, the Doctor handed Donna his torch. He jauntily flipped the coin in the air, catching it on the back of his hand. “Heads we go right, tails, we turn left. Whatd’ya think?” He asked her. Before the Doctor could look, though, a sudden vibration rocked the tunnel. Donna was thrown off balance and she fell against the Doctor, dropping the torch. It went out, and they were plunged into total darkness. The vibrations continued, causing the support beams to creak and groan, as a shower of stones and dirt began raining down on the pair of them.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Doctor fell to his knees, wincing as his right kneecap impacted with a stone on the floor. “Whoa,” he muttered, “that’s gonna’ leave a mark.” The darkness was so complete, that even he, with his slightly superior vision, could see nothing. Blind as a bat, Donna felt disoriented. Having lost her hold on the Doctor when he fell, she had no idea where she was. Hands outstretched, she groped around blindly and found a wooden beam to hold on to. The vibrations stopped abruptly, but a steady trickle of dirt still fell from above. Swallowing her initial panic, Donna called out to the Doctor. “It’s alright, Donna, it’s alright. I’m here. Hang on.” He replied calmly.

Reaching into his pocket, the Doctor grasped the sonic screwdriver and pressed the button. A faint glow emitting from its tip, the light from the sonic barely penetrated the blackness. Grinning, he held it up to his face. “Here I am. See?” He said, “No worries.” Donna was relieved more than she’d admit, to see the Doctor’s smile, bathed with a blue sheen. Holding the sonic low to the floor, the Doctor searched for the torch. He found it, and switched it on. The beam flickered weakly, and then went out. He sighed, and looked towards Donna. “Oh, well. We’ll just have to take it slow, from here on in.”

Getting up, the Doctor went to Donna’s side. “Are you alright?” He asked worriedly. Still sounding a bit shaken, she answered, “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. What do you suppose happened?” Scratching the back of his head, he said, “I dunno’. It’s almost as if someone were drilling. But, there’s nothing down here, that I can tell, that’s worth going to the bother for. Huh,” he shrugged, “very strange.”

Donna tried to brush some of the dirt from her hair. “So, which way do we go, Doctor?” The Doctor paused, thinking. “Well, Donna, I’m rather curious about that noise, so,” he answered, “I think we’ll go to the left, where the vibrations were coming from.” “As I recall,” she chided him, “they say that curiosity killed the cat.”

The Doctor gave her a lopsided grin. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a cat then, isn’t it?” He started to walk down the tunnel, but Donna caught his arm. “Doctor, wait.” He was about to protest, then his attention was caught by the disquieted look on her face. “What is it?” He asked patiently. “What if they start drilling again,” she said, “what if it causes a cave in? What then?” He sighed. “I don’t know. We’ll just have to hope that that doesn’t happen. You insisted on coming, if you’ll remember.” The Doctor admonished her. And then he looked into her eyes and said seriously, “You could still go back you know, and stay with Mary. I promise I’ll come back for you. I give you my word as a Time Lord.”

Donna shook her head apologetically. “No. No, it’s alright, I’ll stay. Sorry. Promise you won’t tell anyone?” She asked. The Doctor seemed a bit confused by the question. “Tell anyone what?” “Well, when I was a little girl,” she confessed, “I used to be petrified of the dark.” He nudged her, winked, and said, “Yeah? Well, back then, you didn’t have me around, did you? And, I promise,” the Doctor whispered, “I won’t tell a soul.” As they walked into the tunnel, he added, “I’ve never told anyone, but when I was a kid, I used to be scared that a Dalek was hiding in my wardrobe.”

The pair of them slowly walked deeper into the tunnel. There was no sound now, but that of their breathing. Even the trickling of debris from the roof had stopped. The soft blue light from the sonic made the rocky passage seem like that of another world. Suddenly, the tunnel took a sharp right hand turn. The Doctor motioned Donna back. Cautiously, he peered around the corner. The Doctor was greeted by a beam of dazzling white light, shining in his eyes.

Pulling back a little, the Doctor squinted, trying to see past the glare. “Who’s there?” A man’s voice demanded. He knew that voice. The Doctor turned to Donna and whispered, “It’s alright, it’s only the brigadier. I’m going to take the chance that he’s not been affected by the Amphorons. But, just in case he has been, keep back. And, Donna,” he hissed, “if there is any sign of it, I want you to run, and don’t look back. That’s an order. Got that?” She agreed, and he said, “Okay, Let’s go–but carefully now. We don’t want to get shot.”

Pocketing his sonic, the Doctor very slowly sauntered forward with his hands in plain sight. “It’s okay brigadier, it’s only us, the Doctor and Donna.” He called out. The brigadier seemed actually relieved to see him. “Doctor, I’m not going to ask how the devil you got here, but the fact that you are here, is very good news.” The Doctor grinned. “Well, it’s nice to be the bearer of good news for a change.” He gave Brigadier Ashbury a puzzled look. Tilting his head, the Doctor asked, “Erm, sorry. What’s good news?”

Walking forwards, Brigadier Ashbury showed the Doctor and Donna the hole the soldiers had made. “Captain Singh discovered that there was a tunnel on the other side of this wall. I know it was taking a big chance,” the brigadier admitted, “but the Amphorons had shut off the ventilation systems, and we were running out of air. It was estimated that we may have another hour or two at the very most. These tunnels were our last hope of escape. I decided that if we did cause a cave-in, it really wouldn’t have made that much difference in the end, would it?” “It would have to us.” Donna grumbled. The Doctor said, “There’s a trap door leading into the church. Just go left, then take a right at the junction, can’t miss it. But first,” he added, bounding through the breech in the wall and scattering a handful of startled soldiers, “I need to see how things are inside here.”

Following in the wake of the Doctor, Donna and the brigadier nearly collided with each other, as the Doctor came to an abrupt halt. Turning around, he asked “Which way’s the lift, brigadier?” The man shook his head. “It’s no good, Doctor. The Amphorons have shut it down. And, there’s no other way to the surface, but the lift, or through that tunnel you and your lady friend just came though. Donna glared at him. “Lady friend?” Just what are you implying, major?

The brigadier cleared his throat. “It’s brigadier, madam.” He said stiffly. “And, I assure you, I am an officer and a gentleman, and I wasn’t implying anything.” “Madam?” Donna said. “Are you calling me a pros–“ “So,” The Doctor interrupted, giving Donna a reproving look, “you’ve been cut off from the main house. I guessed it might be something like that. But,” he grinned, “It just so happens that I have an advantage over the Amphorons.” He said smugly. The brigadier raised an eyebrow. “And what is that then, Doctor?” He asked. “Well, as it happens, I’ve seen the original plans for this place, and they haven’t.” The Doctor said. “Now,” he continued, eagerly rubbing his hands together, “where’s that lift?”

At the Doctor’s instructions, two soldiers pried the lift doors open. Captain Singh brought a chair and placed it in the centre of the lift’s floor. The Doctor stood on it, and reaching up, used his sonic screwdriver to open the hatchway that gave access to the outside. Pulling himself up, the Doctor stood on the roof. Below him, Captain Singh took the Doctor’s place on the chair, and handed a portable lantern and a torch up through the hatch. The Doctor turned it on, and looked up the lift shaft. “There!” He cried. “About a quarter of the way up, there’s a small metal door. If the plans are correct, that should lead to the Late Lord Featherly’s gun room.” The brigadier looked up through the hatch. “You mean my office?” He called up to the Doctor, “I’ve never noticed any special doorways in there. Are you sure?” The Doctor looked down and shrugged. “That’s what the plans called for, when they were drawn up, back in the nineteen twenty-six.” He said. “Whether there’s still access after all this time, I won’t know until I try it. But it would be the best way in, near as I can tell.”

Jumping down again, back into the lift, the Doctor pulled the brigadier aside. “Listen,” He said intently, “I think I can find a way to defeat the Amphorons, but I need to get to my Tardis, to do that. I need you and your men to create a distraction.” The brigadier nodded. “I think we might be able to manage that.” He replied, seemingly pleased at the thought of finally being able to take some action. “What do you have in mind, Doctor?” Laying a hand on the brigadier’s arm, he said seriously, “We need to distract those gas creatures, so I can get to the conservatory. I want you to get your men out of here, and disperse them around Brookside Manor. Then, I want you to start firing on the house; rockets, grenades, bullets, whatever. Just keep the Amphorons occupied. Got that?” Brigadier Ashbury sucked in his breath. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but I can’t fire on this house. You’re asking me to destroy government property. Her Majesty’s government would bust me down to private, if I did that.”

For a moment, the Doctor just stared at the brigadier incredulously. “You what?” He sputtered. “You’re worried about a house? A house?” He repeated, dumbstruck. “May I remind you, Brigadier Ashbury, sir, that it won’t be Her Majesty’s government much longer, if we don’t stop these creatures. It will be His Majesty, King Woofy’s government. That, is, if there’s anything left of Great Britain to even govern, if we don’t stop them.” The Doctor spat out.

The Doctor shoved his hands into his pockets and said more softly, “And my I also remind you, that it will be me who will be inside this house,” Donna gave him a light jab in the ribs. “Ooff–I mean, us, Donna and myself. It’ll be the two of us who will be inside here, playing a game of hide and seek with a mob of armed zombies, while you and your soldier pals will be out there on the lawn, playing with explosives. Trust me, I’m not asking you to do this on a whim,” he said, “on the spur of the moment, maybe. But, I ask you, do I look even remotely whimsical, brigadier?” The Doctor said, as he produced some stick candy from his suit pocket and began sucking on it. Giving the brigadier a delighted grin, he patted the man on the back. “An’, bethides,” the Doctor pulled the candy from his mouth, “Sorry–besides, you can’t tell me that you haven’t been itching all day, to get a crack at blowing something up, eh?”

The brigadier seemed to ponder the Doctor’s suggestion for a moment. Then he straightened, and said, “Very well Doctor, you shall have your distraction. I can have my men and equipment in place in exactly,” he consulted his wrist watch, “one hour from now. Will that do?” The Doctor agreed, “That will be perfect.” He said, “Just make sure your men keep the conservatory intact. As a matter of fact, since it’s only a distraction, you shouldn’t need to hit the house much at all, just enough to convince the Amphorons that you mean business, alright?”

A few minutes later, the soldiers had dispersed into the tunnels, and the Doctor was busy rigging some climbing gear to the access shaft. Donna stood on the chair inside the lift, looking up through the hatchway at the Doctor. She had a coil of sturdy rope looped over her shoulder, ready to feed to the Doctor when he needed it. “I don’t get it.” Donna said to him. “Get what?” He asked. “Instead of drilling into the tunnel,” she said, “why didn’t those soldiers just do climb up the lift shaft like we’re doing?”

The Doctor looked down at Donna and shrugged. “I dunno’. Perhaps they thought it’d be too slow, what with them running out of air.” “And us too, now.” Donna injected. “Or,” the Doctor continued, “maybe, it simply never occurred to them. You know how the military thinks–and most politicians. Overlook the simplest and most reasonable solutions, all so they can get a chance to show off to everyone, how very clever they are.” Using a grappling hook, he tied one end of the rope to it, and then gave it a good swing, tossing it upwards. With a slight clang, the hook caught on a piece of metal. It was projecting out from the small doorway, which supposedly lead to the gun room. Donna handed him the rest of the rope, and then the Doctor pulled her up through the hatch. He stopped short. “Or…” he said, scrunching up his face, as if an unpleasant thought had occurred to him. “Or, maybe,” the Doctor whispered, “there’s a reason they didn’t want to use the lift shaft.”

Raising an eyebrow, Donna said, “Got any other cheery thoughts? I really don’t like the sound of that, Doctor.” The Doctor sucked in his breath and nodded. “Neither do I, Donna, neither do I.” Then he grinned, and said, “Right! Onwards and upwards! We’ve been down and dirty, now I think it’s time we came up in the world, eh?” The Doctor carefully secured the both of them into a pair of climbing harnesses that the brigadier had provided. Little by little, the minutes ticked by, as they scaled their way up the concrete wall. The portable lantern sitting on the roof of the lift, made their shadows do an eerie dance up the sides of the shaft.

Once at the doorway, the Doctor tried the little wooden door, but it wouldn’t budge. Donna was suddenly anxious. “Can’t you shift it?” She asked. “Hang on, hang on, I’m working on it, Donna.” He said impatiently. Slipping on his glasses, the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver, leaned in close, and aimed it at the door. “I’m hoping that it’s just locked. If there’s something heavy blocking the door, though, we’ll have to find another way out.” Suddenly, the whirring of a distant motor competed with the humming of the sonic. The Doctor looked up towards the top of the lift shaft, frowning. “Oh. That’s not good.” He stated matter-of-factly.

Donna stared up the shaft. “What is it–or do I really want to know?” In answer, the lift below them jolted to life, and began to move upwards.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Donna stared in horror as the lift inexorably climbed towards them. “Doctor!” She cried out. “Yeah, yeah, I know!” He shouted back, frantically working on the door. All of the sudden, there was an audible click, and without hesitation, the Doctor threw his entire weight against the wood. With a protesting groan, the door opened enough to allow the Doctor to tumble through.

Donna continued to look intently at the roof of the lift. Slowly, but not slow enough for her taste, it drew nearer, bathed in the glow from the lantern. “Doctor!” She called again. “Yes, I know that’s my name, don’t wear it out,” came the muffled reply. The approaching lift was just inches from the bottom of Donna’s trainers, when the Doctor reached down and yanked her bodily through the partly open door.

Donna lay virtually on top of the Doctor, out of breath, still somewhat overcome with the fear she’d felt in the lift shaft. Then the Doctor’s hand patted Donna gently on the back of her shoulder. With his lips less than an inch from her ear, he asked softly, “Are you alright?” She sighed with relief. “Yeah, I think so, thanks.” “Then how about getting off of me?” He said. “You’re mussing up my hair.” Donna rolled off of him and stood, as the Doctor nimbly sprang up from the floor. Arching an eyebrow at him, she said, “I’ve seen your hair, Doctor. No offense, but you could be the poster boy for the term ‘bad hair day.” The Doctor gave her a look. “Yeah?” he said, “Well, you should have seen my hair during my forth regeneration. All those curls, it took me ages get it to look right.”

Donna looked around the former gun room. The door had apparently been built into a large gun cabinet, which was attached to the wall. The windowless room was dark, and the Doctor had reverted to using his torch. Just then, an explosion rocked the building, knocking one of the pictures from the wall. The torch pointed at the door to the brigadier’s office, just as another explosion, closer this time, sent plaster dust sifting down from the ceiling. Pocketing his glasses, the Doctor glanced at a clock on the wall. “Good old brigadier, right on time.”

The Doctor grabbed Donna by the arm, as two more explosions sent the walls rattling. “Come on, Donna.” He said briskly, “I think it’s time we made our exit. We’ve go to get to the Tardis.” Dodging a large piece of falling plaster, the Doctor threw open the door. There standing in the doorway, as large as life, they were met with the gruesome sight of the headless barman, McKenzie.

The zombie’s head lay tucked into the crook of one arm. Its eyes rolled at the Doctor and the lips formed into a mocking leer. The highlander raised his other arm, which held the razor-sharp sword. “He’s baaack.” The Doctor murmured, as he steered Donna out of the way, behind the open door. The sword came slashing down, and the Doctor barely ducked in time. It was a close enough thing, that the breeze of the blade’s passing stirred the Doctor’s hair. There was no time for the Doctor to do anything but run. He backed up hurriedly, saying, “Oh, not again! What is this, an old Vincent Price film?” Not letting up for even a split second, the headless ghoul followed after the Doctor, slashing and jabbing.

The brigadier’s office was small, and the Doctor soon found himself with his back pressed against the fireplace, and no where to turn. He began to sweat. He could regenerate, certainly, but not without his head. The Doctor saw the thing that had been Ian McKenzie open its mouth and laugh. The blade swung down for the killing stroke. He had no choice but to wait for the inevitable. Then, to the Doctor’s vast relief, McKenzie abruptly tumbled to the floor. The head rolled away, ending up underneath the brigadier’s desk.

While the headless McKenzie had been occupied with the Doctor, Donna snatched up the wooden pole that held the U.N.I.T. flag. As the highlander set himself for the kill, Donna charged him from the side, bending down to swing the pole with all of her strength against the zombie’s bare knees. As soon as the body fell, the Doctor had stepped away. Picking up the sword, he placed it on the fireplace mantle. Then he beamed a smile at Donna, and scooped her up into a big hug. “Thanks for that.” He whispered in her ear. Stepping back, she looked up at him and said, “We make a great team, don’t you think? Like Sonny and Cher, Posh and Beck…” The Doctor laughed. “More like Laurel and Hardy.” He replied. Donna winked and said, “Well, as long as I’m not the fat one, Doctor.”

.

The Doctor walked over and retrieved the head from under the desk. The eyes blazed with uncontained fury, and an unholy growl issued from the throat. The Doctor gave it a bored glance and blew it a raspberry. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell it to the Marines.” He said, dropping the head into the brigadier’s rubbish basket. The body rose to its feet, groping about blindly. The Doctor quietly tip-toed around the headless McKenzie and opened the secret door of the lift shaft, even wider. As the body drew nearer, the Doctor smugly tapped it on the shoulder. It lunged at him, and the Doctor pushed it through the door. “Going down.” He said, “First floor, ladies perfumery, socks, ties and headless Highlanders.”

Entering the hall, the Doctor pointed to a nearby staircase. “That way, I think.” As they ran, a huge explosion hit the building, blowing out several of the windows. Ducking to escape the flying glass, the Doctor said, “That one was a little too close for comfort. Either the brigadier is getting a bit too carried away, or the Amphorons are on to us.”

The two of them ran down a flight of stairs, and through a door leading to a long, wide hallway. Without warning, halfway along the hall, a door was thrown open, and they came to a skidding halt on the polished wooden floor. The shopkeeper, Mike Hartley, stepped right into the middle of their path. He was pointing a double-barreled shotgun directly at the Doctor. Hartley’s eyes glowed bright pink, as his finger slowly began to squeeze both triggers.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Slipping the sonic screwdriver from his pocket, the Doctor speedily adjusted the setting and thrust it in the direction of Hartley. A high-pitched whine came from the instrument, causing Donna to wince. The zombie shopkeeper clutched his head suddenly, dropping the weapon. As it hit the floor, the gun discharged with a loud boom, making Donna’s ears ring. The Doctor winced involuntarily, as a couple of stray pellets passed through the fabric of his right trouser leg. The bulk of the shot hit a potted plant instead, sending shards of pottery and palm leaves flying everywhere.

The Doctor spun around and cast an anxious glance at Donna, who had been standing directly behind him. Grasping her by the shoulders, he looked intently at her. “Are you alright? Have you been hit anywhere?” He shouted. She shook her head. “I–I’m fine. What about you?” she gasped. Ignoring the sting where one of the pellets had grazed his calf, he answered, “Yeah, no worries. I’m okay.” “But what about the shopkeeper, what happened to him?” Donna wondered aloud.

Through the light haze of smoke curling up from the gun, Donna saw that Hartley now lay on the floor, either dead or unconscious. The Doctor also looked at the downed man. “He’s still alive. The Amphorons didn’t bother with killing him, apparently. Trust me, he’ll be fine,” he said, “now come on. Last door on the left is where we’ll find the Tardis.” Grabbing Donna by the hand, the Doctor hurtled down the hall of the old house, towards the door of the conservatory. The walls and windows shook once more, as another of the brigadier’s rockets landed close by.

The Doctor carefully opened the conservatory door. Gazing about, he saw that the room was deserted. For a moment, he was stood there, grinning with genuine delight at seeing his ship again. Taking out his key, the Doctor strolled over and patted the side of the Tardis affectionately, saying, “Hullo old girl! Did you miss me?”

Sighing, Donna nodded towards the broken windows and said, “You can pet the Tardis later, Doctor. Right now I think it might be a good idea if we went inside.” Looking outdoors, the Doctor saw a rank of zombie soldiers marching towards them across the lawn. The black cloud was looming overhead, a crimson glow lining the edges of it. “Ah,” he said, “seems our little gas brats have decided to make an appearance, after all.” Just then, another zombie appeared in the doorway of the room. It was the handless Sergeant.

The Doctor barely spared the soldier a glance. “I’ll have to hand it to you, if you’ll excuse the pun,” he said over his shoulder, “you lot are nothing if not persistent.” Donna smirked. “Maybe he wants us to lend him a hand.” She joked, as the two of them slipped inside the Tardis. His purposeful strides making the metal deck plating rattle, Doctor strode over to the console. “Well, he can’t have mine! That thing’s already caused enough trouble.” He murmured. Putting on his glasses, the Doctor began punching the console’s keyboard. He was hunched over, staring at the results as they scrolled across the monitor screen. “You can stop them, Doctor? Before the Amphorons get control of everything?” Donna asked. “Well,” He said quietly, removing his glasses, “I guess there’s only one way to find out for sure, isn’t there?” Without looking up, the Doctor’s hand stretched out, and he vigorously cranked a lever. The central column glowed brighter. With a grinding wheeze, it began to steadily rise and fall as the Tardis dematerialized.

Out on the grounds of Brookside Manor, the brigadier was having problems of his own. More than half his men had been put out of action, their minds taken over by the Amphorons. Most recently, one of the crazed soldiers had commandeered a rocket launcher, and the brigadier had nearly lost seven men, trying to regain control of it.

Brigadier Ashbury stood in the shade of an ancient oak tree, surveying the wreckage around the main house. The old stable was now a smoking ruin. One of the soldiers, Corporal Bean, had lobbed several grenades at it. Apparently the corporal’s deranged mind thought that the Loch Ness Monster was inside the building. The brigadier snorted. “As if..” He whispered.

Ashbury heaved a great sigh. His superiors would not be pleased, when this was finally over…providing the Doctor could stop those creatures. If, that was, he was even still alive. Several of the rockets had landed very near to the conservatory. The brigadier glanced up at the dark cloud overhead, which was nearly half a mile across, now. It had turned the day into night. He sighed again, and chewed his lip worriedly. The Doctor was right, the brigadier knew. No power on earth could destroy something that had no solid, physical existence. “Where is he?” The brigadier muttered to himself. Almost as if in answer to the question, a raucous groaning noise erupted from beneath the tree. Startled, the brigadier turned. He heaved a sigh of relief, when he saw the Tardis re-materializing.

The Door of the Tardis burst open and the Doctor came breezing out. “Ah, hello, brigadier,” he said, “keeping busy, are we?” The brigadier gaped at him. “Doctor!” He bellowed, “Where in the blazes have you bee–“. “Good, good. Glad to hear it.” The Doctor continued, walking a little way past the brigadier. He stood gazing up at the cloud. With his back still to Ashbury, the Doctor said, “Brigadier, I am about to do something that could be just a teensy bit dangerous. I want you to do me a favour.”

The brigadier thought about it for a second, and then said, “I’ll do what I can, Doctor, certainly.” The Doctor nodded. “Thanks. Now, when Donna comes out of the Tardis, I want you to keep her away from me, is that clear? Neither you nor she must get anywhere’s near me. Don’t ask me why. If things go wrong, you’ll see soon enough, I suppose. But, I really do need you to do this for me, alright?”

Without another word, the Doctor walked out onto the broad, well manacured lawn, and stood beneath the cloud. Donna came out of the Tardis, and waited beside the brigadier, both of them watching the Doctor. “Alright!” Lifting his head towards the sky, the Doctor shouted, “I’m here! And, I’m giving you one last chance. Stop this right now. I will take you in, give you the opportunity to grow and better yourselves. You don’t have to be bored. Even for creatures like you, the universe can be an amazing place. I can take you anywhere you want. All you need to do is to stop bothering these people. They’re not your playthings, leave ‘em alone. Well? What do you say?”

In answer, a crimson ball of light emerged from the cloud. It floated lightly down, until it hovered over the Doctor. “We say, no!” The child-like vibrating voice sounded once more inside the Doctor’s head. “We like Earth. It’s fun! All of these stupid people to play with, why should we stop now?” Gritting his teeth the Doctor said, “But the Earth is not a toy box. You can’t just play with these people and toss them aside when you’re done. They’re alive–living, sentient beings. And, they’re not stupid–well, not all of them. They’re always thinking and creating, discovering and exploring. They have courage and compassion. They love and laugh, cry and despair. More importantly, they care. What you are doing is wrong.”

The voice replied, “It’s not wrong! It’s not! We like playing with the humans. We like playing with you, Doctor.” The dark red sphere of light suddenly glowed brighter, bathing the Doctor’s face in its brilliance. Donna and the brigadier saw the Doctor stiffen. His body twitched violently, and he cried out. He seemed to be fighting off some great inner pain. Donna made to run to the Doctor, but Brigadier Ashbury held on to her. “What are you doing?” She yelled at him, struggling in his grasp, “I have to help him!” The brigadier looked at her sympathetically, shaking his head. “No, Donna, I’m sorry. You can’t help him this time. This is something your Doctor needs handle on his own, I’m afraid.” The brigadier said firmly.

The Doctor had stopped twitching, and no stood perfectly still, his head cocked to one side, as if listening to some inner voice. Then, he smiled. But, Donna noticed, it wasn’t a pleasant smile. “Oh no,” she whispered to herself, “he we go again.”

The Doctor threw his head back and gave a cackle of insane laughter. He turned and faced Donna and the brigadier. They noticed that his wide-open eyes were glowing pink. Suddenly, Donna felt the brigadier relax his grip on her. Stepping away from him, she turned. To her growing horror, his eyes had turned pink, as well. The brigadier’s lips opened, and he began speaking in a sibilant child-like voice. “Start with her, Doctor, your friend. Make her fight with soldiers. Send her into battle, we want to play war.”

Donna shook her head in disbelief. “Doctor, no! Don’t do it!” She shouted at him. But, her cries seemed to fall on deaf ears. The Doctor gave the brigadier a manic grin and punched the air. “Yes! That’s it! With my help, the Amphorons can go anywhere, any time period. I can work out a way to manipulate the vortex! That way, they can change the whole structure of the universe, without destroying it. Every planet, every species will be yours to play with. Want to play war? Cops and robbers? Cowboys and Indians? Time Lords and Daleks? Why not use the real thing, ha-ha! Imagine the fun you can have then.”

The sphere glowed ever brighter, and actually began bouncing up and down, giving Donna the impression of a gleeful child. But, just at that moment, the Doctor’s body seemed to relax. “Except,” He said, resuming his normal conversational tone, “I really don’t want to do that. I rather like the universe–and, my friends, just they way they are, thanks.” The Doctor’s eyes narrowed with anger, as he stared up at the ball of light. “I gave you your chance.” He spit out, “What happens now, is your own doing. You understand? I tried to save you, I tried. But, you wouldn’t listen. You had to have things your own way. Now it’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions.”

The sonic screwdriver was in the Doctor’s hand. He raised it aloft, pointing directly overhead, and pressed the button. As the tip glowed blue, the light on top of the Tardis began flashing. All of the sudden, rings of semi-transparent blue energy pulses, wave after wave of them, spread out from the light. They shot up into the heart of the black cloud. Inside the Doctor’s head, he heard a shriek of terror. For a moment, his eyes became two dark pools of sorrow. “I’m sorry. You gave me no other choice.” He whispered bitterly. Abruptly, the glow of the crimson sphere vanished, along with the dark cloud. The Doctor was left standing alone on the grass, looking sad and tired, bathed only in the yellow-orange radiance of the setting sun.

In the glimmering of the twilight, the little piebald pony dozed beside the beck. Snorting, it pinned its ears back and wheeled away, as the grating wheeze of the Tardis rent the air. Miraculously, the machine re-materialized in nearly the exact same spot as where it had landed that morning. The pony shook its mane, and trotted off, deciding to take its evening nap elsewhere. The door of the Tardis opened, and the Doctor and Donna stepped out.

Seeing where they’d ended up, Donna gave the Doctor a reproachful look. “Tell me, Doctor. How is it that you can land in the exact same spot, in the exact same paddock, twice in the same day, yet you can’t seem to manage landing in Palm-blinking-Springs?” The Doctor pulled a hurt face. “Well, Donna…” “And,” she continued, “how can a man who can make it snow, not find us a nice, quiet, sunny holiday spot?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “It was sunny today.” He said, defensively, “I think the weather’s just perfect.” Donna felt a drop of wetness on the face, as it began to rain.

The two of them heard a hail from over in the lane. There, leaning on the fence rail, was Mary. She had the white kitten on her shoulder. They strolled over to say goodbye to her. “What happened to those creatures?” She asked. The Doctor looked at the ground for a moment, before answering her. “The Amphorons got into my head, but what they didn’t know, is that on a physic level, I am connected with my ship–my space ship. So, I took a chance and decided to try and use my ship’s defenses to imprison the gas creatures. After analyzing their basic atomic structure, I programmed the Tardis to work out some sort of defense against them.”

The Doctor sighed. He leaned on the fence rail and his face held a faraway look. “It’s a very complicated to explain, but I’ll try. Essentially, after they’d entered my mind, my ship fed on the energy being channeled by the Amphorons. Then, it fed it back to them, with a neutralizing agent implanted into the energy waves. The neutralizing agent caused the matter that these creatures were made from, to become separated. On the most basic level, they do actually still exist, but only as individual sub-atomic particles. Together, the Amphorons were all-powerful, and could wreak havoc across the cosmos. Separately, they are completely harmless. Theirs is a group consciousness, you see. Divided from each other, they’re technically still alive, but they have virtually no thoughts, no cohesion, at all.”

Donna reached over and rubbed the Doctor’s arm. “So, in a way, you sort of gave them a time out?” She asked. The Doctor nodded. “A rather long one, I suppose. They’re grounded, each of them sent to their rooms for all of eternity.” Mary smiled at the Doctor. “So, even after all the suffering they’d caused, you didn’t have the heart to kill them, in the end. Did you?” The doctor frowned. “No. But, then again, I’m not sure I was being all that considerate towards them, either.” He said broodingly.

Leaning her head against his arm, Donna said, “Oh, come on. You’re being too hard on yourself, Doctor. You’re the most caring man I’ve ever known, and I don’t say that lightly.” The Doctor smiled at Donna, and he gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Thanks.” He whispered. “What about the people who were affected by the creatures? Mary asked, “The one’s still living, I mean?” The Doctor shrugged. “They’ll be fine, as far as I know. Most of them won’t remember much. It’ll be just like waking from a bad dream.”

The Doctor smiled at Mary. “Well, we’re off. I promised Donna I’d take her to see some naked wrestling.” “Oh, Mary asked, petting the kitten, “you’re going to Club Med?” A few minutes later, she watched the Tardis groan its way out of her particular part of time and space. “Wish I had me one’a those.” She said to the kitten, “Be a lot faster than taking the bus to Tesco’s, on Saturdays.”

END (24^TH March, 2008)