Numbered Days

Please be aware, before you read it, that this is an unfinished Doctor Who story. I wasn’t going to include it, but changed my mind purely on a whim. I was unable to finish this one, as I had become extremely ill at the time I left it off, and when I was reasonably well again, several weeks later, I found that I’d lost the thread, and essentially had a bad case of writer’s block. Still, I kept it in on the premise that one day I’d get my ideas back, and finish the blasted thing. Hasn’t happened yet, but one lives in hope. This story has never been edited. I apologize for any errors.

Doctor Who: Numbered Days (unedited)

By Nancy G.

12^th Jan. 2008

Doctor Who © BBC

CHAPTER ONE

The wizened old man in the non-descript gray coveralls was gasping for breath. He was near the end of his time, he knew, but just for once in his life, he wanted to breathe the air of freedom. The concrete tunnel he was stumbling down seemed to have no end. The tunnel was musty and wet, the only light coming from a few dim blue globes, recessed into the roof. The old man plodded on. He held the torch out in front of him, like a knight entering the lair of a dragon. For all the man knew, there may truly be dragons out there. Seeing a glimmer of bright light ahead, he let out a hoarse cry of joy, and broke into a shambling run.

Without warning, a figure in purple robes materialized from nowhere. He pointed a wand at the old man, who sank to his knees, too weary to even plead for mercy. From the wand, a wavering golden light spread out, and enveloped the old man’s body. With a strangled cry, his body slowly evaporated into nothingness, leaving only a pile of dust to show he’d ever existed. The robed figure strode over to the dust, and toed it dispassionately. He coldly spoke into a communications device that was strapped to his face. “Number Four Million Three Hundred Seventy-eight has been rubbed out.” After the robed man vanished again, a rat came out of hiding, and nosed the ashes on the ground. As it wasn’t food, it wandered off, uninterested.

Martha Jones was seated on the chair in the Tardis’ console room, with her arms crossed. She was having a little sulk. Martha knew she was probably being childish, but she didn’t care. Standing at the Tardis console, the Doctor too, was in a bit of a huff. His stiff back was facing Martha, and silently, his hands listlessly twiddled the controls. She broke the silence first. “You didn’t have to say it, you know.” The Doctor didn’t answer, but his hand had paused over the peculiar array of instruments on the console, hovering indecisively.

Martha was still wearing the outfit that she’d cobbled together, for a dude ranch adventure in Arizona. Her jeans were belted on with a carved leather belt with silver conchos, and the bottoms were tucked into a pair of tan cowboy boots. She’d also added a denim blouse embroidered with a Native American motif, and had completed the look with a pale blue neckerchief, and a straw cowboy hat. This was because her mum’s American friend, Clara, had invited them all to her dude ranch for the week. Martha had talked the Doctor into going along–just for the weekend, even though she knew how he and her mum felt about each other, which is to say, that neither of them were exactly thrilled to be together. It seemed there was no topic of conversation that was safe for discussion. They’d even argued about the weather, which was silly, because they were in the desert, where it hadn’t rained for ages. Well actually, now that Martha thought about it, mostly her mum had argued, and the Doctor just stammered a lot.

But, generally speaking, things had gone fairly smoothly, until

late Saturday morning. Her brother and his family had gone on a tour of the Grand Canyon, while Clara had arranged for Martha, the Doctor and her mum to go on a horseback ride to see the ranch. The Doctor was already astride a pretty golden palomino cow pony, wearing what he said was some authentic cowboy togs that Buffalo Bill Cody had lent him.

Martha had to force herself not to giggle at the sight of the Doctor. He was wearing a fringed and beautifully embroidered buckskin shirt, which came with matching gloves, an oversize dark blue kerchief, and tall boots with fancy stitching. The big spurs on his boots had little dangling tear-dropped shaped bits of metal on them–“jinglebobs” he’d called them. Whenever he walked, they clanged against the pointed rowels, which caused them to make a ‘ching-ching’ sound. It somehow reminded Martha of the gunfight scenes in the old western films, only she knew that, instead of a gun, he’d most likely whip out that futuristic screwdriver of his, and sonic his opponent into submission. Over his blue jeans, the Doctor wore a pair of brass-studded wide leather bat-wing chaps. These had the effect of making him walk kind of funny, like he’d done something unpleasant in his pants.

Most comic of all, though, was the enormous wide-brimmed, high-crowned white cowboy hat perched on his head, hiding his tousled brown hair. He may have appeared in age, to be in his mid-thirties, but his freckled face was, at the moment, cracked into a delighted boyish grin. The effect made him look like a kid who was being given his first ride on a pony.

Gazing at him, Martha shook her head in wonder. The Doctor still amazed her; there he was, an ancient, wise and powerful alien, yet he always seemed delighted with the world around him. How could you not love someone like that? Mrs. Jones’ voice, as she walked towards the corral with Clara, shook Martha from her reverie. She turned and waved at them.

Martha’s mum had also gotten into the cowboy spirit. Like Martha, she’d bought an outfit from a western wear shop during their trip to the nearby town of Globe, Friday night. Her mum entered the dusty corral, wearing a pair of red low-cut boots, black jeans, a flat-crowned burgundy cowboy hat and a turquoise coloured blouse. Martha watched her instructing the wrangler on how to hold the horse. She’d had a hard time convincing her mum, whom had never ridden before, that the big brown and white gelding that she’d been given to ride, was perfectly safe. But, her mum relented at last. Only, when she’d placed her foot into the box-like wooden stirrup to mount, her horse had sidestepped suddenly. Losing her balance, Mrs. Jones had fallen on her bottom, right into a steaming fresh horse pat.

It would have been alright, but then, when her mum had gotten up, fussing over the mess, the Doctor had looked down at her from his horse and said, brightly, “Don’t worry Mrs. J, you look just as lovely as ever.” Martha knew (or liked to think, at any rate) that he’d meant it as a complement, but that wasn’t how her mum had seen it. Martha tried to smooth things over, but to no avail. It all had ended up with her mum calling the Doctor something rather rude, and storming back to her room.

As the corral gate slammed shut behind Mrs. Jones, there was the Doctor, still sitting on his horse, looking utterly dumbfounded. “What was that all about?” He shook his head. “You know, even with ten regenerations under my belt, you humans still have the capacity to baffle me, sometimes.” He then looked at her with a disappointed pout. “Are we not going riding then?” He asked innocently. Still standing outside the gate, Marta just sighed and leaned her forehead against a fence rail.

Dismounting and turning his horse back over to the wrangler, the Doctor announced to her crossly that the whole family holiday thing was ‘too domestic’ for him. Martha stood open-mouthed, as the Doctor stalked off, saying that he’d decided to leave for a while. He was going for a look at some ancient Native American ruins at a place called Mesa Verde.

Marching through the open doors of the hay shed where he’d parked his ship, the Doctor unlocked the Tardis door and went inside. Martha had asked him pleadingly to stay, but it did no good. The Doctor just poked his head out of the door, and said that he’d pick her up on Monday morning. He then slammed the door, and disappeared in a groan of alien engines.

Now, here it was on Tuesday. The Doctor said he’d just lost track of the time, but that was hard to buy into, considering that he was a Time Lord. Martha sighed. “Look, I know you meant it to be nice, but, trust me, no woman on the planet would think that she looks lovely with fresh manure smeared on her bottom.” Still not looking at her, the Doctor petulantly muttered something that sounded like, “Rose wouldn’t have had that problem.” She decided to change the subject. “Did you really know Buffalo Bill? I bet that was exciting.”

The Doctor had long since changed back into his familiar crumpled brown suit, and had exchanged the high-heeled cowboy boots and jingling spurs, for his scruffy white trainers. Now he appeared to be studying them intently. “Wasn’t it?” Martha asked, hoping to draw him away from his pout.

Almost instantly, the Doctor’s head came up and he flashed Martha a big grin. “Oh yes! He was a fascinating man. Mind you, his life wasn’t quite the way the dime novels and his sister Helen had painted it, but still…” the Doctor smiled in remembrance, “I must say he did lead an interesting life. There was this one time, he and I and a wrangler named Billy Finn had a roping contest. But then, Billy accidentally roped the ambassador to Belgium, and nearly caused a major diplomatic incident. But, in the end, I managed to smooth things over by talking Buffalo Bill into teaching the ambassador how to play seven card stud. Bill Cody was one heck of a card player ya’know. I remember how the four of us, Annie Oakley, Buffalo Bill, Sitting Bull and I, spent two nights sat in a poker game in Paris–do you play cards, Martha?””

Martha shook her head no, and grinned back at him, relieved to see the Doctor his old self again. Somehow his silence made her uncomfortable. Maybe that was because she was so used to hearing him gabble on a mile a minute about everything. “Do you think I could see it?” The question seemed to puzzle the Doctor. “See what?” She frowned, “Hello! What have we been talking about? Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show! Could we go and see it? Just think,” She enthused, “real cowboys and Indians and all, just like they were, not actors or anything like that, but the genuine article. How amazing would that be?” Indicating her attire, she added, “After all, I am dressed for the occasion.”

The Doctor seemed to hesitate for a long moment, then, looking at Martha’s expectant face, he sighed. “Oh, alright, you’ve twisted my arm. Let’s see, how about…” he said thoughtfully, “the command performance for King Edward in London? Best show they ever gave, and” he added mischievously, “you won’t have to worry about being held up or scalped–well, unless it’s by the ticket sellers on the street, they’ll scalp you every time.” Throwing her a good-natured grin, he began his usual running around the console, banging and pressing and cranking away at the weird assortment of controls.

The central column stopped moving. His coat was lying draped over one of the Tardis’ support struts, and the Doctor shrugged into it. Taking off the hat, Martha donned the short, fringed leather jacket she’d purchased in Arizona, and fixed her hair. The Doctor opened the door. It was cold and foggy and silent. Martha decided instantly, that it was far too quiet to be London, even turn-of-the-century London.

CHAPTER TWO

Looking around them, all they could see were rocky cliffs and heaps of black, glistening stones. Martha raised an eyebrow at the Doctor. “They performed their show in an old quarry?” The Doctor shurgged, “Well, great place to stage an Indian raid, I suppose.” Without another word, he’d slipped back into the Tardis, Martha trailing behind him. “It is the right century, isn’t it? Or is this London before civilization or something?” She asked. The Doctor looked at the console monitor intently. “Yeah, this isn’t quite London, I’m afraid. Sorry.” He said, scratching the back of his head. “Got it a bit off, this time, it seems.” He added apologetically.

Martha raised an eyebrow and looked at him disapprovingly. “This time? Try every other time, Doctor!” He gave her his sad puppy dog look. Martha sighed. “Okay, okay, so it’s not that bad. But, just how off is off, exactly?” He looked sideways at her. “Well, erm–not that far off. Sort of, I mean, only by about a few hundred thousand…erm–light years.” He admitted lamely. Now she raised both eyebrows. “You mean, we’re not even on the right planet?”

The Doctor beamed a delighted smile at her. “Nope. As a matter of fact, I don’t have a clue where we are. Isn’t that brilliant? I mean, we may actually be going where no one has ever gone before.” Martha rolled her eyes, but followed him outside begrudgingly, muttering under her breath, “Just my luck to be traveling with an anorak. Knowing how these plots usually go, I’ll be the anonymous crew member that gets eaten by the monster.” The Doctor turned inquiringly. “Did you say something?” Martha merely shook her head and, smiling at him, pointed forward. “Let us boldly go, Captain–I mean, Doctor!”

Squelching through the mud, Martha was glad she was still wearing her boots. But, the Doctor didn’t even seem to notice it. There was no one about, not even a bird or any insects, just wisps of fog drifting through the cold, flinty landscape. As the two of them rounded yet another pile of stones, they came to what seemed to be the remnants of an old road. Martha stopped and gently poked the Doctor in the ribs, “Well, there goes your theory of going where no one has ever tread.” She chided. He merely gave her one of his looks.

Just then, something shifted the mound of rocks, and little pebbles began raining down, pelting her. The Doctor grabbed Martha by the arm. “Look out!” He pulled her out of the way, just in time, as a stone the size of her head dropped down on to the spot where she’d just been standing. In seconds, the whole lot had cascaded down, completely blocking the open space they’d just passed through.

Martha looked at the mess despondently. “Thanks. Only, it looks like we’re stuck here until we can find a way back to the Tardis.” But the Doctor wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he was looking at rubble. “Now, I wonder what caused it do that?” He asked curiously, tugging on his ear. Martha shrugged, “Minor earth tremors? The wind,” she grinned, “or, maybe it’s the little people, you know, the wee folk?” The Doctor looked at her funny, “Midgets?” Nah, don’t think so. Not the wind, either, nor was it a tremor–that was a good guess though. No, I would’ve felt that.” He tugged his ear again. “Although, I suppose it could be, you know, midget miners”. He grinned, “Maybe even seven of ‘em, singing away, like in that old American cartoon. Oh, that’d be amazing!”

Martha rolled her eyes, praying that he wasn’t going to suddenly burst into that song from the cartoon. “I was talking about gnomes, Doctor!” He nodded sagely, “Ohhh, them!” Then, he gave her another odd look, “Why would you think it would be gnomes?” There was another stirring of stones from behind some rocks. The Doctor instinctively pushed Martha behind him, as he crept forward to look. Nearing the rocks, he motioned with his hand for Martha to stay back. Very slowly, he walked towards a tall boulder and then stood about six feet in front of it. After a few seconds, he spoke quietly, “It’s alright. You can come out if you want to, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

A full minute passed in silence, and then a small head peeped out from one side of the rocks. The Doctor turned to Martha with a surprised grin, “You were right! It was midgets!” The head darted back behind the rocks again. Looking back at the rock, the Doctor shook his head sadly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Careful to make no sudden movements, the Doctor backed up a few paces. His back to her, he took off his coat and handed it to Martha. Then, he crept forward again, one step at a time, and squatted on his heels beside the boulder. He paused, and then reaching into his suit pocket, the Doctor pulled out a little packet of hard candy. He put one in his mouth, sucking on it with relish. “Mmm–butterscotch. Oh, next to jelly babies, I do love a nice piece of buttery butterscotch. Would you like one?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

The Doctor unwrapped another piece of candy and placed it in his hand. He then leaned forward, with his palm outstretched. “Here, have a sweet. Nothing better for breaking the ice and making new friends, than sharing a sweet, I say. Well,” he conceded, “I don’t actually say that all that much, but still, sweets are a nice thing to share, ey?”

Another few seconds passed, then, a small, grubby hand reached out from behind the rock, and snatched the candy away. A moment later, the Doctor’s acute sense of hearing picked up a slight trace of sucking noises. “You know, I wouldn’t like being all alone out here. I’d much rather be hanging with my mates, like my friend Martha, over there.” He turned briefly and smiled at her, “Oh, she’s brilliant! We have quite a lot of laughs together, we do.” He frowned, “Except on holidays with her mum, though. That’s a bit of a nightmare.”

Martha good naturedly stuck her tongue out at him, causing the smile to return to his face. “But,” he continued, turning back around to address whomever was hiding behind the rock, “being friends is more than having a laugh and doing things together, isn’t it? I mean, friends care for each other. They are there for you when you’re hurt or feeling lonely, or afraid of something.” He hesitated, briefly remembering the moment when he was possessed by a living sun, and nearly gave it the power to destroy life, for perhaps hundreds of years. Then, he added gently, “There’s nothing better than having a friend by your side when you’re scared. Don’t you agree?”

Not waiting for an answer he continued, “Martha and I would like to be your friends. I mean,” he said almost shyly, “if you want us to be, that is. If not, well then, we’ll just go on about our business, leave you alone…” He drew in a breath, adding with pointed emphasis. “…all on your own out here, no one around for miles.” The Doctor waited, but nothing happened. So, he slowly stood up, and, motioning to Martha to stay still, he made as if he was going to walk away. “Will you really be my friends?” came a small, possibly male, voice from behind the rock. The Doctor turned and, smiling warmly said, “Yes, of course we will. Won’t we, Martha?” She nodded and said encouragingly, “Yeah, that’d be great! I love making new friends.”

Slowly, a diminutive figure emerged from behind the tall boulder. It was hard to tell what it was, at first, because the clothing he was wearing blended in so well with the fog. As he got closer though, Martha’s eyes widened in surprise. It wasn’t a gnome, a midget miner, or even an alien. It was a small boy, about ten years old. And, judging from the tracks upon his muddy face, he’d been crying.

The boy was wearing a pair of dirty gray coveralls, and had what seemed to be an ordinary pair of work boots on his feet. His tousled brown hair looked as if it hadn’t seen a comb for a while. ‘It’s a bit like the Doctor’s hair.’ Martha thought. The boy just stood there, and looked at the Doctor and Martha with a sorrowful face. Suddenly, Martha had to fight the urge to run up and hug the poor child. But, the Doctor beat her to it. Still crouching, he held out his hand. The boy took it, and the Doctor scooped him up and hugged him. At first, the boy stiffened with fear, yet the Doctor just held the child warmly, saying nothing.

After a moment, the boy began to softly sob into the Doctor’s shoulder. “There now, see? No one’s going to hurt you.” He whispered, patting the boy’s back. “We’ve got you. Whatever’s wrong, Martha and I will help you get it sorted, never fear.” The Doctor let the boy go, and slipped back into his coat. From one of the pockets, he produced the oversized blue cowboy scarf he’d worn in Arizona, and gave it to the boy. “Here, dry your tears, and let’s go have a little talk, ey?”

Then, taking him by the hand, the Doctor led the child over to some small boulders, and sat down. Martha sat beside him. The Doctor grinned, “Before we do anything, though, I think it might be nice if we knew your name, don’t you think? I mean, we couldn’t just say, ‘yo, whats-yer-rname,’ now could we? Well,” he sniffed, “not if we’re friends. That’d just be rude. So,” he asked quietly, “what does your mum call you, when it’s time for dinner?”

The boy looked at the two of them with big, soulful eyes, and then whispered, “I’m Four Billion One Hundred Eighty Seven.” Martha shook her head and looked at the boy quizzically. “What? You mean that’s your name? But, that’s just a number. Surely you must have a name, like Fred, or Bob, or Dave, or something like that.” The boy shook his head. “On–only the E-Elites have na-names.” He stammered. The Doctor’s eyes narrowed with anger, when he heard this, but he decided to let the boy talk. Looking down at the ground, the boy mumbled, “I’m just an Ordinary. We aren’t allowed.”

Martha glanced at the Doctor. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked at her gravely and shrugged. “Right, well, you don’t look very ordinary to me. In fact, if you’re brave enough to come out of hiding and make friends with the two of us, I’d say you’re rather special indeed.”

Smiling reassuringly, the Doctor looked down at the boy. “Okay, so, tell me, you and your mum and dad, when you are all just sitting around on the sofa in your lounge, big happy family, watching telly together, and your dad wants you to bring him the remote and the Radio Times, what does he call you?” The boy wiped his face and, still sniffling a little, hung his head and said, “My mum and dad died last year. They used to call me Hundred Eighty-seven.”

Martha and the Doctor both looked at him sadly, and the Doctor touched him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry.” “Yeah,” whispered Martha, “Me too.” The boy looked on the verge of tears again, so the Doctor put his arm around him protectively. Martha, as part of her medical training, had spent some time in the pediatrics ward, and it gave her some experience with distressed kids. She decided what the child needed, was something else to talk about. “So, Hundred Eighty-seven, why are you way out here, wherever here is, all alone? Did you get lost or something?”

The boy shook his head, and suddenly, looking into the Doctor’s kindly eyes, the words just came tumbling out. “I’m not lost, not really. I was looking for my grandfather. He went down into the tunnels early this morning, and never came back.” Hundred Eighty-seven looked hopefully at the Doctor. “My gran is worried about him, and I really miss him, he’s my best friend. I just have to find him. Grandfather’s been sick, and I’m afraid he might be lying helpless somewhere, and the grindles might get him.” The Doctor crouched down and looked the boy in the eye. “Look at me. If he’s out here, Martha and I will help you find him, I promise.”

The Doctor straightened up and tugged on his ear. “You know though, this whole Hundred Eighty-seven thing, worries me just a little. Don’t get me wrong, if you have to have a number instead of a name, that’s a marvelous number. The thing is though, if we were to get ourselves into trouble, it’s too long. I mean, by the time I shout, “Hundred Eighty-seven! Look out behind you,” it’d be too late, wouldn’t it? You’d be dead as a doornail. If doornails were ever dead, that is. Anyway,” he said with a mischievous smile, “how about I call you…” the Doctor sized up the child and thought hard, “erm–let’s see, what about Bill? Or even Billy? That’s not only short, sweet, and to the point, it’s a good, strong name, as well. Some of my best mates have been named that.”

Hundred Eighty-seven’s eyes went wide with a mixture of fear and wonder. “You mean a real name, like the Elites? I always wanted a real name. But,” his head dipped down fearfully, and he whispered, “they’d execute me, for having a real name.” The Doctor and Martha once again exchanged looks, this time of shock. “What?” Martha exclaimed in disbelief, “They’d like, murder a little boy, just for having a proper name?” The boy nodded. The Doctor said sternly, “Not while I have anything to say about it, they won’t.” He stood and took the boy by the hand. “By the way, we are we anyway? I mean, does this planet have a name?” Billy nodded. “It’s got two names. My grandfather said that our people used to call it Ballthar.’”

The Doctor’s eyes sharpened when he heard that. Billy’s arm pointed across the quarry. “My mum told me once, that all of this used to be a great forest. She said that it had flowers, and meadows, and birds that sang in the trees. But after the dark times, after they took away our names, and we went sent to live in the Underground, the Elites decided that they didn’t like our planet’s name anymore. They re-named it, I’m not sure why. They call it Avris.’” The Doctor looked down at him thoughtfully. “Do they? Now that’s very interesting.” He smiled and started off walking. “Alright Billy, come on. Let’s go and see if we can find your old granddad.”

The boy pointed the Doctor in the direction of the tunnels. As they walked down the furrowed, muddy road, Martha stopped. She touched Hundred Eighty-seven, or ‘Billy,’ as the Doctor now insisted on calling him, on the arm. “Hold on a minute, Billy.” She said, “You said something before, about grindles. You were worried they might get your granddad. We’re not from around here, so what, exactly, is a grindle?”

The Doctor looked at Martha with an expression on his face that told her that he was rather impatient to get to where they were going. So, maybe he knew what they were, and wasn’t telling her, or, perhaps he was so caught up in his outrage at the injustice of killing a boy for having a name, that he simply wasn’t overly concerned about it. Billy looked at her wide-eyed. “You mean you’ve never heard of a grindle?”

Martha shook her head and looked pointedly at the Doctor. “I haven’t, no.” She got her answer when he looked away. That wasn’t good. So these things must be bad. “Why?” She asked, trying to seem unconcerned, “Are they famous or something?” Billy looked around and then whispered, “They say they are dragons!” Martha snorted. “What, you mean like fire-breathing dragons? Like Saint George, wizards, damsels in distress, those types of dragons?”

Before Billy could answer, there was a roar in the mist. Out of nowhere, a burst of flame stabbed the air over their heads. The Doctor ducked and grabbed Billy’s hand. “Yeah,” He said to her guiltily, “exactly those types of dragons. I guess I should have mentioned that to you earlier, shouldn’t I? Sorry.” Another roar, much closer now, and Martha gave a started cry. They all jumped as a burst of flame scorched the mud near their feet, and sent up a cloud of steam. “Run!” The Doctor yelled unnecessarily, as they pelted down the rutted track.

CHAPTER THREE

Through the fog, some cliffs hove into view. They were jutting out of the barren landscape, like the prow of a ship. Martha ran until she thought her lungs were going to burst. Even the Doctor was starting to look a little winded. Struggling to keep up with him and Billy, she began envying the Doctor in his choice of footwear. No wonder cowboys were always on horseback, Martha thought, as she ran. The pointed toe boots she was wearing, were never meant to be used as running trainers. She felt a definite blister forming on the back of her right heel. A burst of flame, striking the ground near to her, right put an end to all thoughts of pain.

They found themselves facing a little cave that eons of weather and time had carved out of the cliff face. It wasn’t very deep, but there were rocks in front of it that formed a sort of barrier. “Quickly, this way!” the Doctor shouted, ushering them inside. Martha and Billy scampered over the rubble in front of the cave, while the Doctor scanned the murky sky for the grindle. An orange jet of flame shot out of the mist, barely missing him, as he leapt over the rocks, to join his friends.

Ushering the boy and Martha to the rear of the cave, the Doctor shoved them behind him. He looked out anxiously, as a deep roar filled the cave. The three of them leaned back against the crumbling dry rock walls, as the blistering heat from yet another jet of flame reached them. Fortunately, they were well enough back, that, even with its long neck, the grindle could only just stick its snout into the cave. This was because the little cave narrowed as it deepened. There came another roar, this time sounding of frustration, as the creature began clawing that the rocks in front of the cave. “Hungry little beggar, isn’t she?” The Doctor murmured. He turned to Billy. “Don’t they feed these things?” He asked, half-jokingly.

Billy turned very pale. “Y-yes, th-they feed them, sometimes.” He stammered. The Doctor lost his smile. He crouched down and placed a reassuring hand on Billy’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? What is it?” The Doctor asked. He was afraid he knew the answer, but he asked anyway. “What do they feed them, Billy?” Billy looked down at the stony floor of the cave. “Criminals, mostly, and sometimes…” Billy’s voice suddenly choked, and he looked on the verge of tears again. The Doctor placed both hands on the boy’s shoulders. “It’s alright, Billy.” He smiled, and said kindly, “In your own time, it’s alright.” The Doctor waited patiently, as Billy screwed up his courage to talk about whatever was bothering him.

Martha cast an anxious glance outside. The creature had stopped clawing at the rocks, but she could still hear its heavy snorts. Billy sniffed, and said haltingly, “They s-sometimes feed Ordinary’s to the grindles too, if an Ordinary says anything bad about the Elites. My da-dad, one night at teatime, was sh-shouting at mum. He was m-mad at his boss, because his boss to-told him that he was going to reduce the worker’s food vouchers, to save the company money. The ne-next day, when I came home from work training,” Billy took out the blue bandana and blew into it, “m-um and dad were gone. That morning, during assembly at my Ord-ordinary school, the headmaster to-told ev-everyone, that the Elites had taken them away, They fed my mum and dad to the grin-grindle, for being ba-bad.” Martha gasped with shock, but the Doctor merely sighed sadly, and pulled Billy into his arms. “It’s alright, Billy, you’re a very brave lad.” He whispered kindly, patting the boy on the back, “I know it hurts. It’s alright to cry if you want to, just let it go.” The words seemed to act as a release, as Billy suddenly started sobbing into the Doctor’s coat.

The Doctor looked up as Martha touched him on the shoulder. “Doctor,” she whispered, “I’m sorry to bring this up, but, that dragon or grindle or whatever it is, is still out there, and I don’t fancy being the guest of honour at its barbecue.” She looked around at the close confines of the cave. “How are we going to get out of here? Can’t you use the sonic on it, or something?” Still comforting Billy, the Doctor turned the boy’s head away, so he couldn’t see. He shook his head somberly, and Martha’s eyes widened with fear. She took a deep breath to calm down, because the expression on the Doctor’s face clearly told her, that there was nothing he could do. They were trapped.

The Chairman leaned back into the plush chair. He looked out across his highly-polished black desk, his eyes roaming the office. There was the long, ultra-modern Perspex conference table, with its built-in computers. There were all of the board members seated at it, at present, looking at him expectantly. ‘Let them wait.’ He thought. Lining the gleaming white walls was a variety of expensive artwork, most of it, stolen from museums on other planets. Out of the windows of his office tower, he could see the lights coming on, in the domed Elite City. All of the Execs would be coming out of their offices, and flocking to pubs, cinemas and shops for a night of relaxation. No doubt his fellow board members would like to be doing the same. In the Underground, most of the Ordinary’s would be slogging home to gray concrete hovels, after completing their mandatory twelve-hour shift. He was glad he never had to see them. Though necessary to the running of the well-ordered Elite Kingdom, he found Ordinary’s disgusting, and he loathed even looking at them on a tele-screen. The Chairman was both tall and lean, his dark brown hair was neatly barbered and his harsh gaze looked out on the world, from a pair of expensive designer eyeglasses. The man was wearing a custom-made midnight blue, double-breasted suit, which was neatly tailored to show off his figure to its best advantage. One had to keep up appearances, when one was Chief Executive of the Elites.

Without warning, he bolted upright and thumped the desk with his fist. The board members, both men and women, jumped. “What I want to know,” he said sarcastically, “is how that old man managed to slip through your brilliant security measures, and got out of the Underground, and, even more importantly, where that blue box came from!” He pointed at a large screen on the wall. On screen, was a camera shot of the fog-shrouded Tardis, sitting smack in the middle of the old quarry. He sneered, “I don’t know how that got there without any of you…Ordinary rubbish, noticing, but I want it here, for our scientists to study. There’s no telling what it contains, but it may be of use to the Kingdom. If we can profit from it, I want to know.” He stood and leaned across the desk threateningly, saying, with his usual calm menace, “Do it now, or you’re all fired. You’ll be working alongside the Ordinary’s in no time flat.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis. “Oh yes. Every last one of you will lose your posh flats, your grand off-world holidays, and your pension schemes–even your names. Disappoint me, and you’ll be just another number. Am I making myself clear?” He watched in silent satisfaction, as the board members all nodded their heads in unison. Then, they began frantically punching buttons on their individual computer stations.

Suddenly, there was a hurried knock at the Board Room door, and a flustered secretary bustled in. The Chairman scowled at her, and she shrank back. “What is it?” He yelled. “I’m-I’m s-sorry, sir,” She whimpered, “but the head of security is here, he says it’s rather urgent.” “If it’s so important, why didn’t he just page me on my mobile?” The Chairman growled. “Be-because he says that it’s too serious a matter to tr-trust to a phone call, sir.” She stammered. “Very well, after the board members leave, send him in.” With a careless gesture, the Chairman silently waved off both the secretary and the board members. A moment after they all left, a man appeared. It was the same man who’d dispatched Billy’s grandfather in the tunnels. With a rustling of his long, purple robes, the man swept in and stood at attention in front of the Chairman’s desk.

The Chairman ignored him for a full minute, while he scrolled through some reports on his computer. He looked up at the security man and said brusquely, “Yes, what is it, Cornelius?” The man in the robes cleared his throat. “Well sir, it seems that our mysterious blue box arrived with some passengers. They are not from this planet, either. I’ve checked all of the records–twice.” The Chairman raised an eyebrow, “Oh yes? Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He looked down at his computer screen, saying dismissively, “Not sure why you bothered me with this, Cornelius. Dissenters are your department. I trust you will dispatch them in your usual effective manner.” The security man thrust a small portable video device under the Chairman’s nose. “There’s a slight problem, sir. One of the…visitors, well…see for yourself, Chairman.” The Chairman looked casually at the small screen. His eyes widened, and he snatched the device out of Cornelius’ hand. There, on the screen in miniature, was a photo of the Doctor and Martha. Biting his lip thoughtfully, the

Chairman looked at his security chief. “Have you shown this to anyone?” Cornelius shook his head, “No sir, I decided this was something for your eyes only.”

The Chairman leaned back, and murmured, “Good, Cornelius, that’s very good.” He looked at the screen again and said distastefully, “What is that with him?” Cornelius shrugged, “It looks like a young female Ordinary, sir, but I’ve never seen one that colour before. She must be some kind of mutant, or an alien or something.” The Chairman pursed his lips. “Yes, well, you know best how to deal with freaks.” He paused looking over the top of his glasses at Cornelius. “Bring me the man, though. I’m rather intrigued by him. And, he could prove useful–or dangerous. I’d like to know which–and say nothing about him to anyone, that’s an order.” Cornelius clicked his heels and saluted. “Very good, sir. Is there anything more?” Receiving only a headshake in the negative as a reply, the security chief departed quietly. Removing his glasses, the Chairman rose from his seat and walked over to the windows. Looking out into the night, he saw the twin moons rising over the clear dome of the city. His refection stared back at him in the window pane. The man in that reflection was the spitting image of the Doctor.

In the cave, Martha peered out nervously. The grindle once again was clawing and roaring at the entrance. The occasional gush of flame, though it did not reach them, was making their cramped confines hot and close. The three of them were sitting down at back of the cave. The Doctor had his eyes closed, deep in thought. Martha sat with her arm around Billy, trying to be upbeat and reassuring. She heard the creature franticly gouging the outside of the cave with what she imagined were its massive claws. It roared wildly. Without warning, the roof of the cave began to crumble. Quicker than she thought possible, the Doctor bounded up and dragged them to the centre of the cave.

Martha stared at him, as if he’d suddenly gone bonkers. “What are you doing?” She shouted, “We’ll be flame broiled if we go any closer!” The Doctor nodded his head impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, I know!” He exclaimed, “But, judging by the type of rocks above us, and their formation, this is the most structurally sound spot in the cave. We won’t have to worry about old Puff out there, if we’re buried underneath ten tons of rock.” Another roar, even louder this time, caused more stones to rain down. “Yeah, but..” Martha began, but the Doctor’s expression silenced her. He gestured to the roof, and then in the direction of the grindle. “Your choice, Martha, Billy. Ten tons of rock, or being nice and toasty warm, take your pick.” He waited expectantly, as a shower of dust and stones started raining down in the back of the cave. Martha glanced at the avalanche, and slowly raised her hand. “I vote warm and toasty.” Billy nodded. “Yeah, me too, I guess.” The Doctor smiled and hugged them, but his worried eyes were looking away, towards the grindle.

“Look out!” Martha yelped, as a gout of flame scorched the air, about a dozen meters from them. They stepped back, only to be pushed forward again, as more stones started dribbling from the roof. By now, their faces were dirty, and grimy with sweat. Martha couldn’t help but notice that the Doctor was looking more than a little apprehensive. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her staring at him, and reaching over, he gave her a comforting squeeze. All of the sudden, there was a weird, warbling sound. It was so high-pitched, that Martha and Billy had to cover their ears, and even the Doctor winced a little. Just then, the whole roof of the cave began to give way.

The Doctor wasted no time. “Get out! Now!” He yelled. So they ran, dodging falling debris, as they leapt over the rocks at the entrance. The Doctor hoped that the creature was dim-witted enough, that they could get past the grindle before it noticed them. He didn’t fancy ending his nine-hundred and three years of life, as the main course for a dragon. Yet, as they came out into the open once more, the Doctor and his friends simply stood there, astonished. The creature was gone, vanished without a trace.

CHAPTER FOUR

The Doctor and his companions stared unbelievingly into the misty landscape, ready to duck and run at a moment’s notice. But, only the sound of the wind, moaning through the glistening rocks, greeted them. Suddenly, a harsh voice shouted, “Freeze!” They stood stock still, immobile in their confusion. Then, the Doctor muttered, “From the barbeque to the freezer. Can’t this planet make up its mind?” He looked over his shoulder. “Is this some new party game? I do love party games.” A man in purple robes, flanked by two other men who looked to be armed policemen, stepped into view from behind an outcropping of rock.

The robed man gestured to the Doctor. “Take him!” The two policemen grabbed the Doctor by the arms. “You are a criminal, and are being placed under arrest by the laws of the Elite Kingdom.” The Doctor struggled, but the policemen held him fast. Cornelius looked at the Doctor disdainfully. “You may be of some use to us, but these others,” He gave a careless gesture, “are worthless.” He cast a disgusted glance at Martha. “Look at the way the female’s dressed…like some kind of freak, she is.”

Indignantly, Martha opened her mouth to protest, but the Doctor beat her to it. “She’s not the freak here, believe me! In fact, the universe could do with quite a few more like her. And, more importantly she’s my friend!” He hissed angrily, “Whatever it is you’re up to, I’m warning you, leave her alone. Leave them both alone.” Cornelius ordered the policemen to step away. Breathing heavily, the Doctor watched him warily. From up his sleeve, the robed man produced a wand and waved it in a swift ‘X’ pattern. Abruptly, out of thin air, some golden ropes of light appeared and swiftly wrapped themselves around the Doctor’s arms, pinning them stiffly to his sides. He struggled to free himself, but knew it was useless. The Doctor could still walk and speak, but he was otherwise immobile.

Cornelius walked a short way off. In a low voice, he began speaking to someone on his headset com-link. The brief conversation ended and he looked at the policemen. “It’s settled then. I shall personally take this man to a secure area. You are not let anyone know that you have seen him, and, on the slim chance anyone asks, you will deny his existence. Your lives depend on that, is that clear?” They nodded and gave a salute. “Hail to the Elites!” The Doctor raised an eyebrow when he heard the robed man’s orders, and he gave Cornelius a brooding look. One of the policemen gestured to Martha and Billy. “Sir? What about the others?” Without looking at them, Cornelius shrugged, “Tie them up and leave them to the grindle. The repellant call drove her off, but she’ll soon be back. She seems much hungrier than usual, these days.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened with horror when he heard this. Panicking, he lunged forward. “No! You can’t do that!” The Doctor was so filled with apprehension for his friends that he forgot to look where he was going, and fell to his knees. Cornelius merely smiled. “On the contrary, as head of security for this planet, I can do whatever I like.” With that, he grabbed the Doctor and hauled him bodily to his feet, leading him away.

Gritting his teeth, the Doctor looked behind him, and saw a guard roping his two companions together. Martha shouted, “Where are you taking him?” She was about give another shout of protest, but was silenced by a sharp cuff from one of the policemen. The Doctor gave a frustrated groan, and strained against his bonds. “Leave her alone!” He suddenly felt helpless, and it wasn’t something he was used to. “Martha!” He called, “I’ll be back for you, I promise! Marth–“ The Doctor’s last words faded into thin air, as a transmit beam formed around him. In the blink of an eye, he and Cornelius shimmered out of existence.

Having bound their arms and feet, the policemen shoved Martha and Billy into a sitting position, then spoke into their com-links. Sneering at Martha, one said, “I know it’s a little chilly out here, but don’t worry. You’ll both be warm enough, real soon.” Nudging each other, they laughed. And then, they were gone, just like the Doctor and Cornelius. “Don’t worry, Billy. We’ll get out of this somehow.” Martha said encouragingly. “Ma-maybe the grindle went far away.” Billy murmured. Martha nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I mean, it’s a big planet, isn’t it? I bet that old dragon’s miles away by now.” A distant roar reverberated against the rocky cliffs of the quarry, tearing that hope to shreds.

Martha struggled with her bonds. There was a young man she had dated briefly, when she first began her medical training. To earn extra money, he used to perform at local festivals as a magician and escape artist. He told her once, that the trick was, when being tied, to tense up, distending the muscles of your arms or legs. That way, the ropes wouldn’t be so tight, once you’d relaxed. Martha had remembered his advice, and, squirming about, she realized that he’d been right–up to a point. The slack in her ropes was minimal, but, if she kept trying, Martha thought she might be at least able to move her arm, a little.

Just then, she sliced the side of her finger on something sharp. Martha winced, and looked down. A thread of hope returned to her. It was a piece of shale, which, if memory served her, she knew could be razor-sharp, sometimes. “Hold tight, Billy. Unless this rope is made of some alien metal or something, I think a can get us free. But you have stay perfectly still. I don’t want to cut you accidentally.” She said. Carefully grasping the wafer-thin piece of rock between her thumb and forefinger, Martha began sawing at the ropes which bound Billy’s arms. Another bellow cut through the fog, closer now. Martha took a deep breath. She needed to stay calm, but as the menacing cries of the beast got closer, Martha knew that time was running out for them.

The room was dark, but the Doctor could tell, even with the lights off and the blinds drawn, that he was in someone’s office. Able to see in the dark better than the average human, the Doctor looked at the desk with idle curiosity. There was a small modern sculpture, a mug with a photo of a dog on it, a desk calendar featuring pictures from a popular holo-film, and a greeting card with a drawing of a cruse liner, reading ‘Bon Voyage.’ “Hope it wasn’t the Titanic,” the Doctor murmured. At the edge of the desk, there was also a photograph of two smiling men in tuxedos, holding hands. The Doctor shifted uncomfortably, as the circulation in his arms was slowing, making his fingertips numb. He was still bound with the glowing rope of psyco-kinetic energy waves.

On materializing into this room, Cornelius had simply deposited the Doctor into a chair, and left, locking the door behind him. Closing his eyes, the Doctor tried to get into a more comfortable position. He had a feeling this was going to be a long wait. Many of those in positions of power tended to like to make people wait unnecessarily. Presumably, the purpose behind this, was to put them at unease, to throw people off-balance. For some reason, that tactic seemed to give some authority figures a little ego boost. Well, when he was in his early hundreds, the Doctor learned that patience was the sword that sliced through the chinks in many an ego-maniac’s armor. That, he reflected, and also making it abundantly clear to those who thought themselves above everything, that one was totally unimpressed with them. That got them every time.

The Doctor’s thoughts returned to his friends. He hoped Martha and Billy could hang on, until he could find a way to save them. Martha was not only smart, but she had loads of common sense, as well. He had a lot of faith in her. The Doctor knew that right now, she was probably trying her best to escape.

CHAPTER FIVE

A mighty roar crashed against the rocks. Martha had finally cut through the ropes on Billy, and was now frantically trying to free herself. But, it was taking too long. She’d worn through two pieces of slate, cutting her finger again in the process. The third piece of stone she’d found, was a bit duller than the others, which meant, she knew, that she might not get away, this time. She looked at Billy. “Billy, I know it’s hard, but if anything happens to me, if we get…separated. Find the Doctor. He’ll do everything he can to help you, trust me.”

Billy was about to say something, but she shushed him. “Billy,” she said seriously, “It’s what the Doctor would want. Listen, I want you to go back home and hide. If you get a chance to get to the Doctor, tell him…” Her voice trailed off, and then she smiled. “Tell him I said that I’m glad I met him.” Billy shouted, “No! I won’t leave you!” But, still sawing at the ropes, Martha shook her head. “Okay, look. Which way are these tunnels of yours? When I get free, I’ll do my best to join your there, if I can. I promise.” Billy, trying hard not to cry, gave her directions. Martha grinned at him, and said gently, “Alright, Billy, now, go. And, be careful, yeah? The Doctor and I would never forgive ourselves if anything happened to you. I’ll do my best to get back to you as soon as I can–but if I don’t, just promise me you’ll stay safe, okay?”

Billy nodded, and looking back at her, he reluctantly trotted off. Martha watched him go, and stopped her sawing motions. While she’d been talking to Billy, the thin piece of stone had crumbled into pieces. Searching around the ground near her hand, all she could feel were smooth pebbles. A gush of flame rent through the fog, about a quarter mile to her left. Martha shifted over to another spot, desperately searching for another sharp stone, but could find none. She looked anxiously over her shoulder as the sound of heavy wings flapping and bestial snorts drew ever nearer. “I just hope that thing doesn’t slather me with barbecue sauce, I hate barbecue sauce.” She said aloud, her fingers swiftly discarding stone after stone. Martha shook her head. Gosh, she hardly knew him, but she was already starting to sound like the Doctor.

The office door opened and a light snapped on. The Doctor merely cranked open one eye, automatically assuming a nonchalant expression on his face. That expression changed to astonishment, when he saw who it was. The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Nice suit,” he said casually, “saw one just like it at Asda.” The Chairman was not amused. He closed the door and stood, looking down at the Doctor. His calculating eyes roamed over the long coat and ill-fitted brown suit, the muddy trousers and scruffy trainers. But, his eyes lingered longest on the Doctor’s disheveled hair and dirty face. After a moment of silent scrutiny, the Chairman said, “You will speak only when spoken to.” The face might have been the mirror-image of himself, but the Doctor noted that the timber of the man’s voice, his body language, his accent, even his facial expressions, were somewhat different than his own. “You must be a lot of fun at office parties.” The Doctor replied lightly, “Except maybe charades. Do you play charades?”

The Chairman responded by pulling a small device, much like a remote car starter, out of his pocket. He clicked a button, and a pulse rippled through the Doctor’s glowing bonds. The Doctor gave a painful grunt and stiffened. The Chairman smiled. “I am firm believer in showing over telling. It is much more effective, you see. My underlings know well, by now, that I only tell someone something once. I do not like to repeat myself. It makes me very unhappy.” The Doctor smirked, “Well, I don’t recommend that you eat a lot of spicy foods, then.” He saw that his joke was lost on this well-groomed doppelganger, and knew it for certain, when another jolt surged through his body.

Billy crouched down behind some boulders outside of the entrance to the tunnels. The fog was beginning to lift, only now a few pattering drops of rain had begun to fall upon the rocks, many the size of a large coin. He shivered in his dirty coveralls, and stared fretfully in the direction where he’d last seen Martha.

Without warning, a hand was clamped down upon his shoulder. Billy stifled a scream, and froze in place, terrified that it was the police. Or, even worse, that it was that terrible man in the purple robes, again. “There ya’ are, Hundred Eighty-seven!” A deep, gruff voice spoke, “Thank the World Maker I found yer! Yer gran’s been frantic all mornin’!” Billy breathed a sigh of relief, and looked over his shoulder. There, standing over him, was Two-nineteen, the grizzled old caretaker that looked after his gran’s dormitory hall. “What’cha think yer doin’, way out here? The Elite’s wouldn’t think twice about feedin’ ya’ to the grindle, if they found ya’ here. It’s an automatic death sentence to leave the Underground, ya’know that as well as I do.” As he said it, the balding, gray old man fearfully scanned the skies above them. “Yer gran’s a good woman, boy, too good to lose a husband and a grandchild, all in the same day. That’s why I decided ta’ take the chance and come and find ya’.”

The old man reached down and took Billy by the hand, but Billy pulled back. “No! We have to wait! She still might come.” Two-nineteen shook his head in puzzlement. “What? Ya’ mean yer gran? You know she’s not well enough to make the trip through the tunnels.” “No,” sniffed Billy, “I mean my friend. She’s still out there. I have to wait for her.” Two-nineteen cocked his head curiously. “What? Yer mean there’s another Ordinary out there?” Billy shook his head. “She’s not an Ordinary. She has a name. It’s Martha, and she’s really, really nice.”

Two-nineteen’s face suddenly turned beet-red, and his brow was furrowed in anger. He pulled Billy to his feet roughly. “Don’t ya’ dare tell me that you’ve been chattin’ up an Elite, boy. They’re no good, the lot of ‘em. All they’re good fer, is to chew the likes of us up, and spit us out agin’.” He shouted. “In fifty years, there ain’t been an ordinary been friends with an Elite! Them that killed yer very own mum and dad! “E were my friend, yer dad, a better man never lived. I’m ashamed of ya’, Hundred Eighty-seven. It’s like yer betraying everythin’ yer dear ol’ dad stood fer.” Billy hung his head, mumbling, “But, she’s my friend, and besides, she’s not an Elite. She’s from off-world, somewhere. They told me. She comes from a planet far away, called Earth, where everyone has a name. Her friend even gave me a name. He called me ‘Billy.’”

Two-nineteen’s head came up, and a fearful look came over him. “What did ya’ say? These people ya’ met, they gave ya’ a name? Young man, don’t ever tell that to anyone. Why, ya’d be killed outright, if the Elite’s ever got wind of tha–” He stopped, a quizzical expression on his face. “Wait, now. Did ya’ say Earth? Are ya’ sure?” Billy nodded. The old man shook his head doubtfully. “But, Hundred Eighty-seven, that’s just an old legend. Everyone knows that. My grandad used to tell me tall tales of the place.”

The old man smiled in remembrance. “I remember every one of them stories, mind. He’d tell me how everyone had their own names, and could learn to read and write, and could wear anything they wanted, and say what they like about what was goin’ on in the world. My favourite story was how them folks on Earth had something they called holidays, where they all had a day off from work.” He laughed, “Sometimes a whole week! “ He slapped his leg with glee. “Oh, I liked that one, when I was a nipper, yes I did.”

After a moment’s pause, his face sobered and he leaned down and ruffled Billy’s hair kindly. “Only, well, they were just bedtime stories, lad, that’s all. A story, just something nice to dream about while yer sleepin’, there’s no such place as Earth. Now come along, you have to get to yer work training, and I have my own job to do. We’ll be docked a whole day’s food, if we’re even one minute late.” Standing resolutely, Billy crossed his arms and pouted. “But Martha said that’s she’s from Earth, and I believe her.” A voice said, “Believe what?” They turned, and there stood Martha, smiling down at Billy. Two-nineteen just stood and gawped at her. Then he mumbled something and made an odd sign over his heart with his fingers, as if to ward off evil. After a moment, he breathed, “Wait, don’t tell, me. Yer the one the boy here, calls Martha, and yer from the planet Earth.”

In the cramped, airless office, back in Elite City, the Chairman towered over the Doctor’s lanky frame, slumped in the chair. The man’s cold, dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “I know you aren’t an Ordinary. None of them would have the brains to think beyond their next tea break–if they had a tea break, that is. No, and they’d never be so clever as to slip past our defenses and wander about the wastelands on their own. The Ordinary’s certainly wouldn’t have the ambition to build a big blue box, marked, ‘Police.’

The Doctor’s head was down and his breath was coming in short, laboured gasps. Yet, he cranked open an eye over that last statement, his brow furrowed with worry. The Tardis was his home, his last connection with his home world of Galifrey. To lose it, would like losing his very heart and soul. A residual twinge of pain shuddered up the nerves in his left arm. The Chairman had spent several long minutes, playing with that little device in his palm, hurting the Doctor purely for the fun of it. The Doctor’s head throbbed, and it felt like a lead weight on his shoulders. He closed his eyes again, and concentrated on a technique an old hermit once taught him, of convincing his mind that the pain wasn’t there. As another spasm shook him, he decided that his meditation techniques were getting a bit rusty, these days.

The Chairman slipped off his glasses and tapped them in the palm of his hand. He squatted down in front of the semi-conscious Doctor, and sneered. “You may look like me, and have the presence of mind to come up with some witty remarks, and, you certainly have guts, I’ll give you that. But,” He added, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “I’m not so sure you could pull off being my replacement, though. You look too soft.”

The Chairman gave an unpleasant smile. “I wonder…could you order the deaths of dozens, even hundreds, of Ordinary’s–including women and children? Would you be able to sleep at night, have the fortitude to carry on, knowing that you may have to order the torture or death of someone who worked for you, someone you might even be fond of? Somehow, I rather doubt that.”

Unseen by the Chairman, for just a second, the Doctor’s mask of dullness slipped. His face became somber, his eyes, icy and remote. The Doctor knew the Chairman was wrong. He was the one who, in order to defeat the Daleks, had deliberately caused the destruction of his own planet. He had drowned the Empress of the Rachnoss’s children and condemned the Family of Blood to a living death. And, it was he who had sealed the final gap into a parallel world, trapping Rose there, forever. The Chairman had no idea, just what sort of being the Doctor truly was. If he did, he’d probably have killed the Doctor outright.

The Chairman straightened, and once again was stood over the Doctor, looking down critically, at his unruly hair. He laughed and kicked the Doctor in the leg. “Nah–you won’t do, you know. Look at you! I wouldn’t be caught dead dressing like that. I mean, who was your barber? A blind Ordinary? Did you get that suit from a charity shop?” The Doctor didn’t answer. He remained mute, staring down at his filthy trainers. Despite the torture, the Doctor’s mind was as sharp as ever. But, he kept his own council, because, as far as the Doctor was concerned, his captor had said little worth paying attention to–yet. The Chairman snorted. “What’s the matter? Did you run out of witticisms?” He sighed. “My word, you are dull. Far too dull to pull off pretending to be me, at any rate. That’s what you’re here for, presumably. My rivals planted you near the tunnels, to sneak in and stage a coup. How terribly clever of them. Oh, it’s not how I would have done it, but a nice try. I’ll give them four marks for effort.”

The Doctor’s face twitched. He was developing a terrible itch at the end of his nose. He wished the Chairman would stand a little closer, then he could rub it on the man’s trouser leg . The Chairman leaned on the edge of the desk. “No one,” he snarled, “gets the better of me. I’ve got a network of spies that would make the old Earth KGB look like a bunch of cartoon characters.” He absent-mindedly picked up a pencil from the mug with the dog on it, twiddling it between his fingers. “I knew all about you, see, before you even got here. I know what my rivals are going to do, before they even think of doing it.” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. Now, that was just plain fibbing–not that the Doctor was beyond a little fib himself, now and again. The Chairman leaned forward threateningly. “Alright, I’ll tell you what, scruffy.”

The Doctor raised his other eyebrow. Scruffy? The Chairman leered at him, “I may just let you live–if you cooperate, of course. I might have some use for you. While my position here is rather secure, it is, unfortunately, only a seven-year tenure. Then, I shall be forced to hand over the reins to someone else.” The chairman’s eyes narrowed, as he snapped the pencil in half. “That’s one part of the Elite Charter that I don’t happen to agree with. You see, I have developed a taste for this lifestyle, and I’d like to make it a…permanent arrangement. A little security for my old age, you see.”

The Doctor frowned. He had only just noticed that there was at a small hole developing in the top of his right shoe. The Chairman’s attitude wasn’t news to him, really. Most tyrants, when you stripped away their veneer of power, were terribly insecure people. The Chairman cleared his throat. “Well, what’s your answer, scruffy?” Abruptly, the Doctor’s head shot up, and he beamed a smile at the man. “Oh yes! I think I’m up for the job.” Pulling a face, he said, “Only, could you not call me, ‘scruffy? You make me sound like some shaggy-haired little dog.” The smile returned to his face. “I’m the Doctor.” He added smugly. The Doctor wasn’t sure what his evil twin had in mind, although he was pretty positive that it wasn’t going to be anything nice. But, the Doctor thought, if this man had his Tardis, then he was going to stick to him, like a burdock on a saddle blanket.

CHAPTER SIX

Martha trailed behind Billy and Two-nineteen, as they slowly crept along the dimly lit tunnel. They came to an alcove with a small iron door on the left, and the old man signaled them to stop. “This here,” he whispered, “leads to an alley next to our dorm.” Martha looked at the door. “You say that you live Underground, what do you mean? Why don’t any of you live on the surface? Is it because of the grindles?” Two-nineteen shook his head. “Nah, it’s not that. We just aren’t allowed, that’s all. Only the Elite’s live up above, in the domed city, and we ordinary’s must stay in our concrete dorms, in the Underground. We do all the work, you see. The only time one of us is allowed above, is when something needs to be cleaned, or repaired. And, some of us work as servants, of course–though them of the servant class, do sometimes gets a bit above themselves, if’n ya’ ask me, bein’ in the Elite’s homes, and suchlike. Get real snooty, some of them.” He sniffed. Martha frowned. “But, don’t you have any say about what can or cannot do? Why do you let them do this to you?”

Two-nineteen just gave Martha a look. ““Because the Elite’s own us, and we have to do what they tell us to, or else.” Billy piped up. The old man looked around and, leaning towards her, he said in a hoarse whisper, “They’ve got cameras everywhere, ya’ see, and police. Can’t even spit or tie up your boot lace, without one’a them,” He pointed towards the roof, “knowin’ about it. There’s talk that they want to inject us all with some sort of monitoring chip, but that’s just a rumour–at least, we hope it is. Wouldn’t like that, someone monitoring me, every time I go to the…erm, well, ya’know.” “But,” Martha asked, “if that’s the case, then how did you get down here, without being seen?” He grinned. “Well, they ‘ave cameras alright, but cameras can’t see into every little nook and cranny. There’s a blind spot, you see, in the alley, right where this door is. No one ever uses the door, either. It’s long been forgotten.”

Smiling proudly, Billy said, “My granddad found it, when he was a boy. But,” the smile faded, “he never could get up the courage to use it, I guess, until he found out he was dying. He said he wanted to see the sky, just once, before he died.” Billy hung his head, muttering sadly, “But, I suppose that he would have been disappointed, anyway. It’s gray out there as well, just like everything else here. Mum used to tell me that the sky was blue. I guess she was wrong.” Martha crouched down and smiled at him. “No, Billy, your mum was right. “When the sun is shining, the sky can be a marvelous blue–so deep, you feel like you could swim in it.” She smiled. “But, the rain and fog can be nice, sometimes. They help things to grow, you know? Like the flowers and trees, and they are very beautiful. Those things your mum told you about, really do exist, Billy, believe that.” She was gratified to see a smile tug at the corners of Billy’s mouth.

Touching Martha’s shoulder, the old man admonished Martha to wait there. “First, I ‘ave to get One Hundred Eighty-seven back, before he’s missed at school. Then, I’ll come back for ya’.” He looked at Martha sideways. “No offence Martha, but we don’t ‘ave anyone in the Underground, wot dresses like that.” Martha looked down at her western attire. “I take it none of you have ever heard of Buffalo Bill or the Lone Ranger, then?” The old man looked puzzled. “The Lone Stranger? Never heard of either of them, sorry. Are they friends of yours, like this Doctor fella’?”

He gave an apologetic shake of his head, and pointed upwards. “Their all suits and ties, them that lives up in the dome. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone dressed like you, far as I know–not that you look all that bad. Anyways,” Two-nineteen sighed, “I’m going to have to think up a way to disguise ya’. So, hang tight, and I’ll try and get back here, soon as I can.” She knelt down and gave Billy a big hug. “You mind your gran and Two-nineteen, okay? And,” she smiled, “don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Take care of yourself, Billy.” The old man hissed and gave her a warning look. “Oh right.” Martha nodded. Ruffling his hair, she winked at him and said, “I’ll see you soon, One Hundred Eighty-seven.”

As the door clanged shut behind them, the closeness of the place seemed to only magnify the silence that followed. Martha was stood looking around the gloomy, dank-smelling tunnel. Rubbing her arms, she shivered. There was a rustling noise somewhere further down from her, something moving in the murky shadows. Martha tensed, expecting…what? She was alone, on some distant planet she didn’t even know the name of. There was no telling what could be down in these tunnels. “Stop it!” Martha whispered to herself. Then she remembered her mobile.

Before leaving the Tardis, she’d shoved it into the pocket of her fringed jacket. It at least could provide a little more light, if she needed it. Too bad the Doctor didn’t carry one, that way, she’d know if he was alright. She knew he could take care of himself, but he did have a way of getting into some very tight spots.

Martha smiled. Good thing he was so skinny, then. Leave it to him, she thought. He always had on him, his sonic screwdriver and physic paper, everywhere he went. But, he never seemed to consider carrying a mobile, so they could keep in touch, if separated. Now she was left alone with her worry. It wasn’t just that she’d be stranded in the future, light years from Earth. It was the idea of losing him that was unthinkable. Even though she knew he only thought of her as a friend, she loved him anyway. So often, in the Tardis, she longed for the Doctor to hold her in his arms, to murmur in her ear and stroke her hair.

Of course, she resolutely kept those feelings to herself. Martha had to be content with friendship, when she really wanted so much more. But, she cared about the Doctor enough, not to push him–though a few times she was tempted to throttle him. Sometimes, it seemed like he thought of her, as merely some kind of exotic pet, a passing fancy. Sometimes, she thought that the Doctor just kept her around, so he wouldn’t end up talking to himself like all the time, like some lonely old hermit. Martha wanted him to be happy, and if that meant only friendship, so be it. Still, she felt that there were times her heart would break, from the longing trapped inside her. Suddenly, she heard a noise again.

The rustling sound was nearer this time, shaking Martha out of her reverie. There was the sound of skittering, practically beneath her feet. She gave a yelp and jumped back, only to see that it was just some sort of rat. The blue rodent paused, blinking its dark, beady eyes up at her, and then it scurried past. Martha rolled her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad the Doctor wasn’t around to see that. Face down a gang of vicious pig men and some homicidal Daleks, and then be terrified by a harmless little rodent? That would be simply far too embarrassing. She heard another sound, and turned, hoping that the rat didn’t have a mob of mates trailing after it. Martha gasped with surprise. It was the man in the purple robes. With a scornful look, he slowly extended an arm, pointing his wand at her chest.

The Doctor’s arms were growing numb. He coolly watched the man who called himself the Chairman, as he paced up and down the small, windowless office. He could tell that the Chairman’s pacing was partly for show, designed to make him think his captor was pondering whether to have him killed or not. He knew, however, that the Chairman very probably had already made up his mind. But also, just in the short time he’d been around him, the Doctor had an idea that the man’s lift didn’t quite go all the way to the top floor. That meant he was going to be very careful, when choosing which of the Chairman’s buttons to push.

A blip sounded from the man’s suit pocket. He reached in and pulled out a small palm communicator. “Yes, what is it, Cornelius?” He asked tersely. “Sorry to disturb you sir. It’s that man’s friend, Chairman, the dark girl. She and the boy escaped, somehow.” The Doctor felt elated, when he overheard that. “We’re still searching for the boy, but I’ve got the girl here with me, now. She was hiding in the tunnels.” The Doctor’s eyes widened, his face suddenly creased with worry. This didn’t sound good. The security chief’s next words, though, chilled the Doctor to the very marrow of his bones. “Should I rub her out?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Before the Doctor could open his mouth to protest, the Chairman tilted his head, and said thoughtfully. “No, I think not. There may be some profit in this. Put her in a secure holding area for now. There’s an auction of criminals, at the Elite City Community Centre tomorrow night. Perhaps we could sell her to some collector or off-worlder, or someone needed some cheap…entertainment. And,” he said, giving the Doctor a calculating glance, “keeping her alive, may guarantee my…guest’s, good behaviour.”

Though he kept his face carefully neutral, inwardly, the Doctor heaved a big sigh of relief. His eyes were dark and he seethed with anger, thinking of how they were treating his friend. But, at least, by the sound of it, Martha seemed to be unharmed. And, he learned long ago, where there was life, there was hope. Unless, of course, the situation was completely hopeless–if you were already dead for instance, then that was another matter. But, it wasn’t, in this case. He was still alive, and so was Martha.

The Chairman turned his attention back to the Doctor. He pulled a little device from out of his trouser pocket. “Is that a physco-kinetic controller in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” The Doctor smirked, as he perceptively braced himself for another round of shocks from the glowing rope. Instead, with a press of a button, the glow slowly faded, and the rope disappeared. The Doctor shifted in his seat, wiggling his fingers to return the circulation in them. “I think,” the Chairman said, “it’s time for you and I to have a little talk.” “I hope you’re not going to tell me that you’re breaking up with me after only the first date,” the Doctor said. “I’ll be heartbroken.” The Chairman leaned on the edge of the desk, his arms crossed in front of him. “Are you quite through with your little jokes, Doctor?”

The Doctor paused, as if seriously considering the question. “Well, I was going to tell you the one about the two Cyberrmen and the Scotsman, but…meh–,” he shrugged, “I suppose it can wait.” Then, he, too, crossed his arms, and matched the Chairman, look for look, attitude for attitude. “Let’s cut to the chase, and get right to the bottom line then, shall we?” He leaned forward, “Alright, you say that you’ll allow me to live. That’s all well and good. But, I too, have become accustomed to a certain…lifestyle. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no point in living, if you’re going to turn me into an Ordinary.” He said distastefully.

The Doctor held out his hands and flexed his fingers. “These clever little digits of mine were never meant to be wasted, emptying someone’s rubbish bins!” He exclaimed. “They can play a piano concerto, make a Rastafarian omelet, fly a kite, write poetry, or…” he suddenly added, in a deadly serious tone, “they can destroy an entire planet.” Pausing for effect, the Doctor gave the man a calculating stare. “So, Chairman, before I agree to anything, I need to know.” He said, leaning forward and fixing the Chairman with a steely gaze. “Exactly what’s in this for me?”

The robed man had backed off some distance away, and was murmuring into his communications headset. Martha couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but she did definitely hear the question, “…rub her out?”

Rub her out? Incredulous, Martha raised her eyebrows. She’d only heard that expression in old American gangster films. What kind of weird planet was this, anyway, where the policemen dressed like Harry Potter fans, and spoke like Al Capone? She noticed that the man had ceased talking. Walking forward, he was stood in front of her again, with his wand outstretched. Martha closed her eyes and braced herself, not sure whether she was about to die, or be teleported, like the Doctor had been. She felt her body tingle, and opening her eyes, suddenly found herself in a barred cell. Martha sighed with relief. So, they had decided: not dead then, merely a prisoner.

The Doctor had been secretly teleported to the Chairman’s penthouse suite. He’d then been instructed to strip out of his muddy suit and trainers. Bathed and carefully barbered, he was now wearing an identical suit as the Chairman had on. Examining himself in the long bedroom mirror, the Doctor frowned deeply. He was closely shaved and his hair was neatly combed back, plastered down with whatever passed for hair gel on the planet Avris. He looked down at his feet and frowned even more. The Chairman had insisted that the Doctor put on some socks, and a pair of fashionable, highly polished dress shoes. The Doctor decided that this whole posh look wasn’t him at all. “But, the Master would love it.” He muttered, as he straightened his silk tie.

The Doctor never was one who cared for dressing posh, merely for the sake of making an impression. He felt that too often, it seemed a mindless act to him, a case of follow-the-leader. That’s not to say he never did dress posh. There were times when it was a necessary evil, such as when he was Lord President of the High Council on Galifrey, and times when it was actually a pleasure–like when he wore his tux to Lord Borusa’s birthday bash. Now, there was a Time Lord who knew how to party. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, when he thought of Martha’s reaction to the tux, the night of Lazurus’s reception. The Doctor didn’t like to think that he was vain in any way. But, he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he’d rather enjoyed it ,when Martha compared him to James Bond.

But, in the end, he found that many species tended to go overboard with this dress-to-impress stuff, particularly humans. Perhaps it was a throwback to some primitive behaviour, he mused. Many centuries ago, the Doctor found that, when it came to his attire, that he preferred to make his own paths to follow. As difficult as it could be at times, the Doctor felt that life was much more interesting, that way. He was shaken out of these ponderings, by a hand upon his shoulder.

Looking into the mirror, the Doctor saw a double image of himself. Despite being around for nine-hundred some-odd years, he still found the idea of another him–well, another him that looked identical, not one of his past or future selves, rather unnerving. Standing behind him, the Chairman nodded in satisfaction. “Well, you certainly look the part, but that’s only half the battle. Now, you have to learn to behave like me and be briefed on certain goings-on within Elite City.”

The Doctor turned to face him. “To what end? So I can become a party piece at one of your office do’s?” Closing one eye and tilting his head, he added, “Or, my guess is, that you have something a little more unscrupulous in mind, hmm–?”

The Chairman clasped his hands behind his back and paced a few steps. Stopping, he turned abruptly and said, “I’m scheduled to appear at the auction tomorrow night. However, I’ve had wind that one of the board members has scheduled a little meeting with a certain financial genius, in a secluded area of Elite Park, that very same night. Word is, that this financier has proof that a certain research lab, which has been showing very poor profits of late, is about to make a spectacular break-through. However, the new development will not be announced until next week. Therefore, the person who possesses this knowledge beforehand, stands to make millions of credits. Now, very likely, this board member will have the area thoroughly scanned for any eavesdropping devices. So, the only way for me to get that information, is to go there myself, in secret. I dare not trust anyone else to get this information. They’ll think I’m at the auction, so they won’t even suspect that I am there.” He pulled a wand like the security chief’s, out from the inside of his suit jacket. “I’ll even be armed, so if by some odd chance I’m discovered, no witnesses. Brilliant plan, don’t you think?” The Doctor could see that the Chairman was obviously very pleased with himself.

Frowning deeply, the Doctor stuffed his now well-manicured hands in his suit pockets. “So, what happens to the board member and the genius, afterwards?” The Chairman shrugged, saying casually, “I’ll have Cornelius rub them out, naturally, before they can make any moves on the market.” The Doctor gave the man a hard stare. “Is that what you’ll do to me, when I’ve outlived my usefulness?”

Again, the Chairman merely shrugged. “Perhaps, then again, perhaps not. It all depends, you see. I could, if I find your, erm–services, essential, arrange for a little cosmetic surgery. I could change your looks so you no longer resemble me. You seem unusually astute. There’s a chance, if you play your cards right, that you could become my right-hand man.” The Doctor nodded, “Or, there’s an even better chance, that I could wind up having my atoms scattered all over the cosmos.” The Chairman smiled–it wasn’t a very pleasant smile. “Ah, yes. As I said, you’re very astute.”

TO BE CONTINUED???