Title: Harvest Time
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13/T for dark themes and a bit of gore
Characters: Ten, Donna, a bunch of space pirates and a bad man
Summary: The Doctor and Donna come across a string of ships with dead crew and missing organs. The trail leads them to a man who discovers the Doctor's unique physiology and decides he simply must have it.
Word Count: 9,770
Disclaimer: No infringement intended whatsoever.
"Whatcha think of this?" asked Donna, appearing from the corridor and into the console room of the TARDIS in a monochromatic tunic and pants set.
The Doctor glanced up and then back down at the console where he was making some adjustments. "Looks like the last one...or two. Maybe three."
Donna sighed, throwing up her hands. "Well haven't you got anything 44th century in that wardrobe? I'm trying to fit in."
"Fit in?" repeated the Doctor, a confused look on his face, "Sounds awful. What would you want to do that for?"
"That last party we went to they all looked at me like I was in fancy dress," she said. "That's even worse than being out of style."
The Doctor chuckled, flashing a big smile, "Its way, way, way out of style. So out you're in again!"
"Very funny, Spaceman," said Donna. "It's all right for you, you couldn't blend if you tried, but I just thought I should find something a bit more current if we're going to be here a bit. Maybe I should try the blue one again."
The Doctor looked up again and squinted, "I thought that was blue."
She carried on, ignoring him, "...or the one with the tassels. They all seemed to be wearing tassels. I've got a hat with tassels..."
She was interrupted by the sound of an alarm. The TARDIS gave a small shudder as if in response.
"Ooh, what's this," said the Doctor, eyes wide, delighted over the new and, with all respect to Donna, far more interesting diversion, "a distress call."
Donna forgot her clothes crisis for the moment and joined him, but to her the monitor looked like it always did – full of strange spinning dials and graphics in the Doctor's native language. Funny how the TARDIS translates everything else, she wondered, but not its own controls. Maybe that's to keep anyone but a Time Lord from flying it.
"What is it?" she asked him.
The Doctor pressed a few more buttons before answering her, changing the image on the screen. Now Donna could see a small spaceship. It was dark and appeared to be suspended in the starry blackness surrounding it, unmoving.
"It's adrift," said the Doctor. "The SOS has been playing on a loop for the past three days. Well, three of your days anyway. Seventy two hours, relatively speaking."
"No need to get all technical, I get it," said Donna. "Can we go over there and help? Maybe they've just got engine trouble."
The Doctor entered the coordinates and pulled the hand brake. "We'll soon find out."
~*~
"The ship is still running on emergency power. There's minimal life support but we should be all right for a short while," he explained as he chose a spot to set the TARDIS down.
The TARDIS materialised and the Doctor nudged her aside gently, leading the way. Donna picked up on his body language and could sense the tension. Normally it was Donna that went out first, eager to experience the discovery of wherever and whenever they had found themselves. But here they were walking into an even greater unknown. The Doctor was being protective, making sure they weren't stepping right out into danger. Even the way he opened the TARDIS doors was tentative and slow, lacking his usual bounce and enthusiasm, as if he could tell already that whatever was out there was bad.
For her part, Donna knew the moment the doors were fully open and the smell struck her. The Doctor reared back, as though he had been struck, almost knocking into her.
"Whoah!" he cried.
With one hand to the Doctor's back to stop him and the other flying up to her nose and mouth, Donna said, "What is that horrible smell?"
"Donna maybe you should wait here," the Doctor said warily.
"Why, is it something contagious?" she asked.
"No," he said, "The TARDIS would protect us from that anyway. But you may not like what we find."
"You can tell already can't you?" she asked him.
In addition to having sharper senses than humans – it was no wonder the smell nearly bowled him over, she thought, while to her it was merely offensive -- the Doctor also seemed to have some indefinable sixth sense that could tell when something was not quite right. She supposed it was similar to a human's intuition only much stronger and it was rarely wrong. She looked over his shoulder and out into a silent grey metal corridor with flickering, failing emergency lights. If she stayed here she would only jump at shadows and worry about the Doctor at the same time, accomplishing nothing. If she went, there was at least the possibility that she might be helpful.
She made her decision. "I'm sticking with you, sorry."
The Doctor gave her an apologetic look but didn't argue. "Come on then," he said and started down the hall.
To Donna's great disappointment the smell only grew fouler as they moved along. It was like a month's worth of kitchen scraps mixed with soiled nappies and left out in the sun, only a thousand times worse. And there was something else, something that smelled like metal, but strong enough to taste. The Doctor appeared to have adjusted to it and now seemed less bothered than Donna, who was less successful at toning down her senses. He walked with slow, careful steps, listening out for signs of life.
At the end of the corridor they reached a hatch door. The Doctor grasped the wheel but looked at Donna before turning it.
"You ready?" he asked her.
"Ready for what?" asked Donna, her heart thumping.
Instead of answering, he turned the wheel and pulled open the hatch. Turning his head away quickly with a grimace and a groan, he left Donna with an open view of the habitation space beyond. Her brain tried to come up with words to describe it, some way to make sense of what she saw, but she could only think of one thing.
It looked like a slaughterhouse.
Immediately she knew where the smell had come from. After seventy two hours, the bodies strewn about the room had begun to decompose. On top of that, their open chest cavities were releasing gases and odours all on their own, producing a grim cocktail of death. The floor was awash in blood, pooling in spots, drying in others. There was even some on the walls and a bit on the ceiling. All of the bodies looked as though they had been eviscerated, and a few were missing their eyes. To get her mind off the sight, Donna quickly counted the bodies and came to nine in all.
The Doctor in the meantime had recovered himself and stepped through the hatch door. Choosing a corpse at random to examine, he crouched down beside it, mindful of the blood on the floor. Donna stayed back at the thresh hold and struggled to keep her stomach contents down. It wouldn't do to add to the smell and the mess, she told herself. The sight combined with the thin air made her dizzy, and she closed her eyes and leaned against the door frame, breathing as deeply as her offended nose would allow.
The Doctor turned round to see her, "Donna, are you all right?"
"Yeah, fine," she said, lying through her teeth, "I just need a minute."
"Take your time," he said, removing his sonic screwdriver from his inside pocket and returning his attention to the victim.
He scanned the body. "This one's human, so I expect they all are. It looks like their organs were taken while they were still alive -- lungs, heart, liver, kidneys, all gone. That's odd, since judging by their hands there're no signs of a struggle, no weapons nearby. Maybe they were drugged?"
While the Doctor rambled on, Donna felt stronger and took one cautious step into the room and another even more careful glance at the nearest corpse.
"Their organs, do you reckon they were stolen or... eaten?" she asked.
The Doctor ceased his examination and looked at her with a curled lip, "You're morbid today, aren't you?"
"Well do you have a less morbid explanation?" she asked.
"It wasn't an animal I can tell you that," he said, "the work is neat, almost surgical. There are no scratches or bite marks anywhere else on their bodies. Whoever did this got what they wanted. Apart from that I have no idea."
"I hate it when you say that," she said.
"Why?" he asked her. "What you want me to know everything for? Take all the fun out of it."
Donna rolled her eyes. "Oh, by all means Doctor, let's make this fun."
"That's the spirit," he said, "Chin up, Donna, we'll work this out."
She looked down at the body beside her with the missing eyes and swallowed, fighting back against the burning sensation in her throat. "I'd rather keep my chin on, thanks very much."
The Doctor stood up with a frown, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's find the bridge and check the ship's logs, see who their last visitors were."
A walk through the ship revealed what Donna had feared; the nine weren't the only victims. As they moved along, they found more bodies scattered here and there like abandoned, mutilated toys. There was one in the next corridor, five in the engine room, several more in the crew's quarters and four on the bridge. Whoever had done this had been all through the ship, and they had done it so quickly the crew had little time to react. By the time they reached the bridge it was clear there were no survivors.
Stepping over the bodies at the controls, the Doctor sat down at the main computer console, popped his glasses on and began to scan the records.
"This was a transport vessel, the Orion, heading for the Natura system to pick up building supplies for nearby colonies. It had a crew of twenty seven," he read, "The last log entry says they were being attacked by Groose pirates. When their defences went down and the pirates boarded the ship, the captain sent the distress call."
"What, there are pirates in space? Like Blackbeard?" asked Donna.
"Not exactly. These are your basic criminals for hire, mostly," the Doctor explained. "No rum, no Jolly Rogers, no parrots...well, possibly the occasional peg leg and maybe an earring."
"Never mind that, what do we do now?" asked Donna.
The Doctor typed and brought up some more information. "There's a faint energy signature leading away from the ship. If I can boost the signal we can follow it in the TARDIS."
Donna looked sadly at the bridge crew, "What do we do about this lot?"
The Doctor answered her as he typed, "I'm changing the SOS to alert the nearest planet in the Natura system to come and retrieve the vessel. They'll notify the families, take care of the rest."
After a few minutes the Doctor rose. Donna was standing still and pale, her gaze fixed on the dead around her feet, her eyes moist. The Doctor stepped closer and took her by the shoulders.
"Hey, there's nothing more we can do here, Donna," he said to her, "but we can stop them doing it to anyone else. Okay?"
She nodded in resignation and followed the Doctor back the way they had come, but she knew she wouldn't truly feel better until they had done just that.
~*~
"Oh no," said the Doctor when he realised where the trail had led.
It wasn't a Groose ship. It was another small freighter, which meant they were too late. The pirate ship had likely come and gone and the freighter was full of more corpses. So far their plan to prevent the next massacre wasn't coming to fruition.
This time Donna was prepared when the Doctor opened the TARDIS doors, though she still felt her stomach lurch at the sight of the six crewmembers. They looked just like the Orion crew, dissected, littering the floor like discarded empty peanut shells. A quick scan of the vessel revealed no life forms apart from themselves so they spared themselves the horror of searching the ship. Instead, the Doctor had cleverly put the TARDIS down right on the bridge so they could check the logs and be off.
"This is like some kind of gruesome treasure hunt," said Donna with a shudder over the Doctor's shoulder. "Instead of gold I expect we'll find a trunk full of kidneys in the end."
"At least then we'd know we found the end of the trail," he replied as he typed, "There's another trace. This one's stronger. The next ship's not far. Let's hope we're not too late this time."
They returned to the TARDIS, followed the trail and this time they were rewarded with not one but two ships -- a civilian freighter and a Groose battleship.
"There was weapons fire but they've stopped. They must be boarding the freighter now. If we're in luck we might still find survivors," said the Doctor, preparing to materialise the TARDIS in a quiet spot on the freighter with no life signs so they could exit unnoticed.
But as with all best laid plans, the Doctor opened the TARDIS door and nearly had his head blown off.
The beam from an energy weapon hit the outside of the TARDIS with a high pitched whine. The Doctor dropped to the floor with Donna right behind. He chanced a look up, and was about to shut the doors again when he realised they were not under fire. The room they were in was empty; the beam must have been a stray shot that had come from the corridor outside. No one knew they were there.
The Doctor got up slowly and listened, giving Donna a hand up. The gunfire was moving further away now, down the hall, but there were other sounds. There were screams, terrified screams from a dying crew and the heavy thud of boots on metal deck plating.
"Are we going out there?" asked Donna, hoping the Doctor had a better plan.
The Doctor crept to the doorway and paused, weighing their chances out in the ship. If they kept away from the sound of the gunfire they might find some crew still alive, and he could get them out. He looked left and right, listening, and decided left was their best option. He took Donna's hand and they started off, clinging to the bulkheads as they went. They reached the end of the corridor and turned left again.
"The shooting," said Donna, "It's getting quieter. I can hardly hear the screams anymore. Does that mean they're far away?"
"No," said the Doctor grimly, grasping her hand tighter, "It means they're winning."
When the sounds came to a complete stop, the Doctor contemplated turning back, sensing a lost cause, when a young man in a tan jumpsuit came around the corner and ran straight into him. The Doctor caught him in his arms and held on. It was a human crewmember. He looked to be no more than twenty, trembling and hysterical.
"Help me!" he sobbed, "They've killed everyone! I hid, I'm the only one left."
"It's all right, you're safe now," said the Doctor, "What's your name?"
"Jass," said the man.
"Come with us Jass, I've got a ship, we can get you out," said the Doctor.
"I think I'm being followed," said Jass, "one of them saw me leave the cupboard."
At his words the Doctor heard the pounding of boot steps.
"Run!" he shouted.
Turning back the way they came, the Doctor led the way, with Donna and Jass close behind, running back down the corridor in the direction of the TARDIS. As they took the first bend, Donna chanced a look over her shoulder and wished she hadn't.
The enormous creature chasing them wore heavy black armour. He had piercing dark eyes, mottled skin, long fangs and a ring through his nose, through which came heavy snorting sounds as he ran. She turned back and increased her speed when the pirate drew close enough to draw his weapon.
"Doctor!" she cried, as the Groose took a shot.
The three all ducked as the shot sailed over their heads. They continued on, turning the next and final corner. The TARDIS was just at the end of the hall now, in the last room on the right. When they got there, the Doctor already had his key out but knew they would lose precious seconds getting the door open. He turned the lock in a swift motion, pushed open the door and ushered Donna inside with Jass on her heels.
Then the pirate appeared in the doorway and fired.
It was a direct hit on Jass, square in his back. The young man gasped and fell, with the Doctor standing beside him in the TARDIS thresh hold. The Doctor froze and for a split second took in the sight of Jass on the floor, still and vacant, eyes to the ceiling.
The Groose snorted, pointed his weapon at the Doctor and prepared to fire again.
"Wait!" yelled the Doctor, furious.
Surprisingly, the pirate paused. Now that the Doctor had his attention, he could try to get some answers. There was nothing to be done for Jass, but while he had him talking, at least this warrior wasn't off killing anybody else.
"Who are you working for?" the Doctor asked him with all the authority he could muster.
The pirate tilted his head, but said nothing.
"Why are you killing these people?" he tried again, more forcefully.
The Groose just snorted heavily, sizing up his opponent, and then came to a conclusion.
He raised his weapon again and squeezed the trigger.
The Doctor turned and dove inside the TARDIS. Arms outstretched, he landed flat onto the walkway, flipped over and kicked the door shut with his feet. The energy blast made contact with the closing door and bounced harmlessly off. The Doctor lay still for a moment, catching his breath, his chest aching from the impact, taking advantage of his position of safety inside the TARDIS with the pirate outside.
Donna appeared at his side. She knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her.
"That didn't go so well," he told her.
"No, it didn't," Donna agreed.
"He wouldn't tell me anything," said the Doctor, getting up, "Now that I think on it, I'm not sure Groose's can talk, which makes them great for taking orders. Rubbish for information though."
"I'm sorry we couldn't save Jass," said Donna, "What do we do now?"
The Doctor strode to the console. "We need to get over to that pirate ship, while it's still here. Maybe we can disable it, stop them from reaching their next destination or even better find out who they're working for."
~*~
As unhappy as Donna had been to tour the flying tombs the small ships had become, she was even less enthusiastic about landing the TARDIS directly on the Groose vessel. Thinking back on that grunting, merciless mass of creature, she thought the Doctor was mad to choose to walk unarmed right into their midst. The Doctor had a gift of talking his way out of trouble, but when your opponent was unable or unwilling to converse, that gift only went so far. It had failed him once already, and Donna didn't much like their chances at facing down an entire crew of pirates who shot first and asked questions never.
Still, she trusted him, and despite everything, the Doctor always made her feel safe. If he said this was the right thing to do, she would have to follow him, wherever he went, if for no other reason but to pluck him from the fire if need be. She thought of all those poor defiled souls, ripped apart and left for dead, and she knew she had to do something.
The Doctor studied a diagram he had pulled up of the Groose standard battle cruiser on the TARDIS monitor.
"We've got no chance of sneaking onto the bridge," he explained, "but while the crew are busy working we may find some officer's quarters empty and could access computer files from there."
The Doctor performed a scan of the crew quarters. "Ah, the Captain's quarters are empty, and it's closest to storage unit four, which as luck would have it, is also empty. Brilliant! I can set her down there."
The TARDIS appeared in the storage area and they exited, creeping carefully out into the hall. Luck was still on their side and the coast was clear as they went along. They reached the Captain's quarters unseen and the Doctor used his sonic screwdriver to unlock the door. Then they quickly slipped inside and he locked the door behind them.
Donna listened out for sounds in the hallway while the Doctor searched the computer files for any details on the Groose's current business arrangement.
"They may not be big on ethics but they're meticulous about paperwork," the Doctor told Donna, "Their lack of verbal skills means all agreements are in writing. If there's a contract it will be here, with every detail spelled out. The Groose don't trust anyone."
After ten minutes Donna was getting decidedly jumpy. She was anxious for the Doctor to find what they were looking for so they could get off this ship. She couldn't imagine their luck holding out for much longer. The more time they spent in that room, the less likely a clean getaway seemed possible.
"What if it's the end of a shift?" asked Donna from the door. "Someone could turn up any minute."
"Hang on, what's this?" said the Doctor, reading the screen. "They've contracted to collect humanoid organs and corneas to be sold for transplant."
"Transplants for sale?" asked Donna. "Has the 44th century done away with the NHS?"
"Actually no," he replied. "It's been expanded. But I'm looking at a list of customers. These aren't people dying of illnesses. Those are taken care of by the Human Empire's Global Health Service. These organs are for people who fall outside the health service's requirements, people with naturally aging bodies that only wish to prolong the inevitable."
Donna came over and looked over his shoulder at the information on the screen. She noticed something and pointed, "Those names there are repeated. They look like multiple recipients, returning again and again until nearly every part has been replaced like an old motorcar. That bloke alone has had five cardiac replacements."
"You humans," said the Doctor bitterly, "always trying to live forever. You should be careful what you wish for."
"Oy," said Donna, offended. She never liked being lumped in with the Doctor's criticisms of the human race. "Well I hate to say it, but obviously business is good if they're collecting organs in such large amounts before people are done with them. It's like they're struggling to keep up with demand."
"Yes, but who are they working for," asked the Doctor, searching deeper, "Who's the client? The name of the other party has been encrypted everywhere it appears. If I could just break the encryption code..."
They were both so engrossed in their research that they had forgotten that Donna was supposed to be listening out at the door. A light grunt was the only warning they had that someone was approaching. Donna jumped and gave the Doctor's arm a squeeze. He stood, quickly pocketed his specs and looked left and right for a hiding place. They got only three steps from the computer when there was the sound of a lock disengaging and then the door slid open.
The Groose Captain, upon seeing intruders in his quarters, quickly drew his weapon. Before the Doctor could react, the Captain fired at Donna. Awash in a blinding light, she cried out and fell to the floor lifeless.
"Donna!" screamed the Doctor in horror, as he ran to her.
He was just a step away from her when the Captain fired again. The Doctor gasped as an ice cold chill ran through him. He felt his hearts skip and then went entirely numb. He fell to the floor awkwardly with no ability to break his fall.
His limbs were no longer functioning.
He lay there, alongside Donna, and like her apparently lifeless apart from the fact that he was still conscious. He was aware of everything around him but was unable to move a muscle. His first thought was elation that Donna was not dead but only immobilised like him. Clearly they had been shot by a paralysis weapon.
Once that realisation had dawned the fear set in.
He remembered his earlier finding on the Orion -- that the victims there had been alive when their organs were taken. It was then that he realised that Jass hadn't in fact been killed but was paralysed, and the Doctor had left him behind. He felt horrified. All of the victims on Jass' ship were not only alive but aware when they were being dissected, and he might have saved them from that fate if he hadn't assumed they were all dead.
Was this his punishment, he wondered. Was the same thing about to happen to Donna and him? He felt sick over the thought of them being cut open alive. He couldn't move his head but it was already turned slightly and he could just see Donna lying next to him, looking as frightened as he felt. Her fingers were a hairsbreadth from his. He tried with all his might to reach out to her but it was as if his hands were no longer connected to his body.
His motor functions were stilled but his senses and autonomic responses still worked perfectly. He felt his hearts racing like two bullet trains, smelled the dry, rancid air of the ship and watched as a single tear escaped out of the corner of Donna's eye.
Donna, I'm so sorry, he thought, knowing she was so close yet beyond his reach in every single way imaginable. His priority now had to be to keep her alive for as long as he possibly could.
It was this thought that caused him to wonder where the Captain had gone. Seconds later his answer came when he saw the Captain return to the room with two others.
There were three of them now, crouched alongside them, grunting to each other. Besides the Captain, there was one that held a long, thin silver knife and another that began scanning the Doctor and Donna's bodies with some handheld device. The Doctor tried to get his mind off the knife and concentrated instead on the scanner.
They're checking our physiologies, the Doctor realised, making sure the parts are all there and in working order. Well, they'll be in for a surprise. And maybe, just maybe, they won't know what to do...
The Doctor was banking on the fact that these pirates were bred to follow orders and little else. Anything out of the ordinary and they would need to seek counsel. The pirate with the scanner looked at the readout, and then scanned the Doctor a second time, his face lined in confusion. Then the pirate showed the scanner to his Captain.
Yes, the Doctor thought, that's it, I'm unusual. You don't know what to do. Take me to your client. Don't cut me open now.
His relief over their hesitation was short lived, when the pirate then scanned Donna. She would certainly turn out to be a typical human with no reason for delay. The Doctor's eyes went back to the one with the knife. The pirate was turning the blade around in his fingers, looking at Donna, eager, with bloodlust in his eyes, awaiting the results.
No, no, no, don't you dare, thought the Doctor.
And then he had an idea.
If their verbal skills were this undeveloped, then the Doctor hoped that the Groose had at least a crude telepathic ability for his plan to work. The Doctor's own was limited at best – ordinarily he couldn't communicate or suggest anything to a non-telepathic being without touching them – but if the pirates had even the slightest power of telepathy, and he concentrated, really concentrated...well, it wouldn't do much but their abilities combined might just give the Doctor enough power to plant a seed, to nudge them onto the right train of thought, unaware of his interference. He chose the pirate with the scanner and locked his gaze.
You need to keep the female alive, the Doctor thought as he looked at him, You need her intact. She could be useful. Take us both to your client.
The pirate ceased his scan and conferred with the other two with more gestures and grunts that the Doctor was certain was not a language. Then he waited, shifting his attention to the one with the knife, determined to stop him too if necessary.
The armed pirate caught him staring and must have taken it for a challenge. He lunged forward and thrust the knife in the Doctor's face, pressing down on the skin just below his eye. He couldn't have flinched if he wanted to, so he kept his gaze fixed, glad to at least have the focus back on him and away from Donna.
In the end it was the Captain who reached over and slapped the other pirate's hand away angrily. The rebuke set the three off to arguing with furious hand motions and guttural sounds. Somehow, at last, the Captain made his point and the other two pocketed their instruments and implements alike.
Reaching down, the pirates took them both by the ankles. They were not at all gentle. The Doctor and Donna were dragged down the hall like sacks of flour, back to the storage unit where there stood a waiting shuttle.
The hold was open and Donna was lifted first and tossed inside the hold. The Doctor heard a disturbing thud and he was picked up next. The last thing he saw before he too was thrown into the ship was the TARDIS on the edge of his vision, her presence veiled by the perception filter, unnoticeable to all but him.
As the Doctor landed inside the shuttle, his head smacked hard into the decking. He felt a sharp flash of pain and was aware of nothing else for the remainder of the journey.
~*~
The Doctor awoke from a dull, heavy sleep, his body leaden and unresponsive. After a moment, his memories flooded back and with a bit more effort he was moving his fingers experimentally, then his arms and legs. Sitting up, he carefully probed his head for the large bump there, his normal healing process slowed by the temporary paralysis.
His temporal sense told him he had been paralysed for over six hours. Neat trick, he thought, long enough to harvest your organs and then allow you the pleasure of bleeding to death. A gun would have been more merciful.
Yet in spite of everything he was in fact grateful that he was still in one piece. After checking and rechecking every limb for functionality he finally stood, using the nearest wall for support. When he was upright he began to assess his surroundings.
He was in a tiny cell, alone, with three concrete walls and one made of thick glass. He checked his pocket for his sonic screwdriver but it was gone, so there was little chance of breaking out. But what concerned him most was that he had no idea where Donna was.
"Donna?" he called out, hoping that she was in an unseen neighbouring cell.
There was no response. The image of Donna lying cut open somewhere and bleeding to death invaded his thoughts and he started banging on the glass, hoping to either shatter it or at least get someone's attention and get some answers.
His hands were bruised by the time the door opened to the outside chamber and a Groose guard entered. The pirate opened the door, grabbed the Doctor roughly by the arm and marched him out.
"I hope you're taking me to someone with vocal chords," complained the Doctor. "With you lot around this place is as quiet as a monastery. I want some answers!"
"I think you'll find here that information is a two way street," came a voice as they reached their destination and entered a large circular control room.
"Now that's better and well done too," the Doctor told the guard, "I never even saw your lips move."
"You may leave us," said the voice again.
The pirate deposited the Doctor in the centre of the room and left. It was only then that he noticed the man standing at the wall, looking out a large window onto the vastness of space. He was tall and broad shouldered, wearing a richly embroidered waistcoat and silk shirt. His hands were adorned with gold jewellery and they were clasped behind his back.
"As a gesture of good will, please allow me to begin the exchange," said the man, turning to face him for the first time, "my name is Enos Rotwin."
He was not young, but he had strong features and a head full of thick, wavy dark hair. The Doctor could tell he must have been quite handsome in his youth. He cut a commanding presence by just standing there as though he owned the place, which clearly he did. But the Doctor had seen his sort many times before, and he was less impressed.
"Not quite the information I was looking for," said the Doctor angrily, "What have you done with Donna?"
Rotwin ignored the question and stepped closer, "That's a very interesting physiology you have, two hearts and a most peculiar but highly efficient respiratory system. What species are you?"
"Oh, I'm nothing special," said the Doctor.
"On the contrary," said Rotwin, pacing around him in a wide circle, looking him up and down, "you are really quite valuable."
"I'm going to ask you this one more time Rotwin, where's my friend?" the Doctor demanded.
Rotwin continued strolling casually until he came to a computer console. He reached over and activated a large screen above their heads. The Doctor saw a CCTV view of Donna in a cell similar to his own, sitting very still, arms crossed as though she were cold. He was about to call out to her when Rotwin turned it off again.
"You really have no right to interfere you know," said Rotwin, "I am in control of the sale of human organs for this entire sector of space. The market is fed by people that are desperate to survive at any cost. They demand and we supply."
"They aren't meant to live forever," said the Doctor.
"And who decides that? You?" asked Rotwin.
"If I have to," he replied.
Rotwin studied him more closely. "How old are you?" he asked, "You appear young but with a dual cardiovascular system I imagine your species lives quite a long time."
The Doctor stared back with eyes of cold steel, "Let us go."
Rotwin turned back to his controls and activated something. At once a blue light surrounded the Doctor and began performing a complete body scan, similar but on a larger scale to what the Groose pirates had done earlier. The Doctor tried to move but he was caught like a fly in amber, held in place by the strobing light. After about a minute the scan was completed and the blue light turned off again. Rotwin looked at his console and read the results.
"A self replicating cell structure and an approximate age of nine hundred years," he recited. "Impressive. A naturally regenerative system that never needs replacing."
"Yeeeah, but it would put you out of business wouldn't it," the Doctor pointed out.
"Oh, this is not for my customers, you are quite right," said Rotwin. "But my rivals have been threatening to take control, scheming to expose me as weak. They say I am an old man and they will someday outlast me. I must be invincible to withstand them. I will have it."
"No, you won't," replied the Doctor.
"I will or we will remove and sell off every last bit of your friend," said Rotwin.
The Doctor felt a surge of anger. "You'll do that anyway won't you, as soon as you're done with me. So really, what's my incentive to do anything but stop you?"
"Fair enough," said Rotwin, "although, I had rather hoped you would have at least been a gentleman and volunteered to go first."
Rotwin opened a communications channel and said simply, "Lowell. Proceed."
Then he reached over and turned on the screen again and at once his threat was spelled out. The Doctor saw a white coated assistant enter Donna's cell pushing a tray of surgical tools. Donna stood at the sight of him coming towards her and backed herself into a corner. Her lips moved. There was no audio but he didn't need any to know that Donna was pleading for her life.
"Stop it!" said the Doctor, "I'll give you what you want, just get him out of there! Leave her alone!"
~*~
Donna had never felt so scared in her life. First she'd been shot by some gun that paralysed her and then she woke up in a dank cell all alone. She wasn't thick; she had seen what those pirates had done to all those people. She knew full well what they had planned for her. Her only question was why hadn't they done it yet?
Back on the Groose ship, the pirates had seemed more interested in the Doctor than her. She had been terrified when one of them had lashed out and threatened him with a knife for some unknown reason. But instead of cutting him open, they were both taken on some ship and brought here. They were needed for something -- perhaps they were even more valuable than she had thought. The Doctor was one of a kind after all, she knew that, and it was quite possible that their captor was working that out right now.
When she had awoken and realised she could move again she had pulled herself up to sit on a rough wooden bench and shivered. It was freezing in here, or was that just stress, she wondered.
Where was the Doctor, thought Donna, hoping he was still alive because as long as he was, there was hope.
She sat that way for a long time, very still, and tried to think. What would the Doctor do? He would be looking for an opportunity to escape and then he would find a way to stop these people. She wasn't the Doctor, but she could play to her strengths and keep her eyes and ears open for opportunity as well as anyone else. Eventually, one would present itself.
She didn't know how much time had passed but eventually she had a visitor. When the outer door opened Donna's heart jumped and she stood, and then collapsed at the sight of the small bespectacled, balding humanoid man in a lab coat. She had stupidly hoped it might be the Doctor, coming to her aid, but the lack of the sight of him made her realise more than ever that he might require hers.
The white coated man opened the glass door and came inside, pushing a trolley. Donna was focused on his face at first so she hadn't even noticed what he had brought. The tray was full of stainless steel surgical tools, all gleaming, sterile and quite sharp, several hypodermics, some tubes and a blood pressure monitor.
Donna backed up to the furthest point she could, which happened to be a corner. She kept her eye on the open door behind him and judged her chances of success if she went for it. Not bloody likely, she concluded, with the trolley blocking her path.
"Get the hell away from me!" she shouted. "I'm warning you!"
The man actually shrank a bit from her verbal assault, surprising her. He glanced down at his shoes in a way that was almost contrite.
"I need to take some tests to check your species, blood type, that sort of thing. I'm sorry but it is necessary," he said quietly.
His meek response emboldened her. "Where is the Doctor? Is he still alive?" she asked him.
"The Doctor?" he repeated, confused. "Oh, you mean the one who was brought in with you? He's er...with Mr. Rotwin."
"And who's this Rotwin when he's at home?" she asked, determined to keep him talking. It was what the Doctor would do.
"We work for him," he explained. "He's in the organ trade. It's just business you see."
Donna was surprised that the man was willing to share information with her so easily, but when combined with his demeanour, she sensed something else -- reluctance. He clearly was in no hurry to begin his tests on her, and was looking for an excuse to delay. This man had doubts, Donna realised, and maybe she could use that to her advantage.
The first step was to humanise herself, to make him see her as more than just a pile of body parts.
"My name's Donna," she began, "What's yours?"
The man looked at her, taken aback by the question he had clearly never been asked before. "Lowell," he said. "And I really am sorry but I need to get on with this. It's my job."
He turned to the trolley and took up the blood pressure band. Donna decided to go along for now, as long as he wasn't ready to take up the knife. Maybe he would relax and talk more if he didn't think she was trying to stop him. She offered up her arm and Lowell secured the band around it. He pumped the bulb and Donna waited until he had finished counting.
"Have you thought about what you're doing," she asked him, "and if it's right? I mean, you seem like a decent bloke, why are you doing this?"
"Mr. Rotwin has been good to me," he replied, filling out the results on a chart, "If it weren't for Mr. Rotwin I'd have been dead a long time ago. I owe him my life."
"But what about my life and the Doctor's?" she asked, hoping she wasn't going too far. Lowell fussed with the tray, clearly listening. "The Doctor has saved my life," she continued, "he's saved whole planets and species, and you're going to put an end to that. What you're doing is wrong, you're killing people..."
"To save more lives!" Lowell shot back, as though it were an argument he had made many times before. It seemed to give him new resolve, and Donna was afraid she had messed up. "For every one dead we can save at least five," he argued, "Isn't that worth it?"
"Maybe you'd better ask the dead ones that," said Donna.
Lowell stared back for a long time.
"I'm only the assistant," he muttered finally, picking up the syringe and some rubber tubing. "I need to take some blood."
Instead of offering her arm again, Donna pressed on, "So is that why Rotwin's doing it, is he a humanitarian, or is he just making money?"
"Can't he do both?" asked Lowell, the syringe forgotten again. "The money helps us run the business."
"Yeah you keep telling yourself that mate," said Donna, "maybe it helps you sleep at night."
~*~
Shortly after Rotwin turned off the monitor, the white coated assistant from Donna's cell joined them.
"This is Lowell," said Rotwin, introducing him, "He has been my assistant for eight years. When he met me his heart was failing. Since coming under my employ he has received three hearts, two livers and a lung transplant as payment for his services."
"Really?" replied the Doctor in mock surprise, "Sounds to me like you're short changing him. Doesn't he even get holiday pay? Well, I suppose he's got fair disability, that's something. Still, I'd file a complaint if I were you Lowell, I think he's just trying to avoid taxes."
"Rotwin has promised me I need never die," said Lowell in his boss's defence.
"Well, what's the fun of living if you don't," asked the Doctor. "Eternal life's not all that, trust me."
"We're helping people," Lowell said weakly.
"Yeah you're really helping me, I appreciate it," said the Doctor, "I haven't had a proper physical in a long time. Not only that but I've been on three ships and I've seen all the help you've dished out. Have you seen it Lowell, the mess, the blood, the death? What about those people?"
"That's enough," said Rotwin, "We're ready to begin."
At his command the blue light encircled the Doctor again, holding him in place, but this time he was also lifted up and tilted back as though he were in an invisible chair. Alongside him, Rotwin himself stood in a similar circle of light and commanded it to activate, much as the Doctor's had done. Lowell turned to the machinery that stood behind the Doctor and flipped switches, turning on monitors and testing equipment. According to the screen the Doctor's pulses were racing madly. Lowell turned to him, stepped up close and bent down as if to check the force field.
"You're worried about your friend," Lowell whispered, head down.
The Doctor perked up. He found it interesting that the assistant obviously did not wish for Rotwin to overhear them.
"Yes I am," said the Doctor quietly in return.
"I saw her," he said, "Donna. She's fine. I didn't harm her. She was worried about you too."
"Well, that's what friends are for eh?" the Doctor replied, gauging the assistant's reaction to his words.
"You're called the Doctor," he said, "She told me."
"What else did she tell you?" the Doctor asked.
"I rather liked her," he muttered, glancing carefully over at Rotwin who lay still, relaxed, awaiting the procedure, "She was nice to me."
"She's brilliant," the Doctor agreed.
Really brilliant, he thought, she and Lowell must have had a little talk in that cell. He's having second thoughts. Well done, Madam.
Lowell reached over and removed the Doctor's jacket uninhibited by the invisible bonds that held him in place. Then he rolled up one of his sleeves.
"What are you doing?" asked the Doctor.
"Well, er...to begin, I have to draw some blood and inject it into Mr. Rotwin," explained Lowell.
The Doctor's eyes went wide. "No, you can't," he said. He looked over to Lowell's boss in the next chair, addressing him loudly, "You're making a mistake, Rotwin. My system is incompatible with yours. It will kill you."
"Thank you for your concern," said Rotwin flatly, "but you would say anything to save yourself wouldn't you?"
"I'm not lying!" he said.
"Actually," Lowell interrupted, explaining, "I've developed a system of DNA transfusion to overcome any incompatibility problems in transplants. Mr. Rotwin's body would essentially mimic your DNA. It's good for business you see, no customer refused."
"You may wish you'd refused this one, Rotwin," said the Doctor, calling over to him again. Then he turned back to Lowell and tried another tactic, "Why do you want to live so long anyway Lowell, only to work for someone like him?"
Lowell took the syringe and carefully drew the Doctor's blood, trying to ignore him. Walking over to Rotwin, he emptied the needle into his boss' vein and then flipped some switches at Rotwin's machines.
The Doctor pressed on, "What makes life worth living for you, eh? Do you have family, friends, someone to worry about you, someone to care?"
The Doctor had to listen very carefully to hear Lowell's muted response as he walked back.
"No. They're all gone," Lowell admitted.
"Then why?" he asked him.
"I help people," Lowell told him, "I do. I make them happy."
"Are you sure about that? You're a customer, Lowell," the Doctor pointed out. "Are you happy?"
"You will cease talking," commanded Rotwin, "Lowell, anaesthetise him now. Let's begin."
The Doctor looked at Lowell sadly, trying to reach out and make contact with whatever shred of humanity the man had left, knowing it was his last chance.
"I can't be anaesthetised," the Doctor said to him, "It won't work, you'll kill me."
"Enough!" shouted Rotwin, "He is lying. Lowell, you will follow my command!"
Lowell looked at the Doctor, matching his sad expression, conflicted.
"I'm sorry," Lowell said.
Lowell turned away and flipped a switch on the machinery, letting loose a flood of anaesthetic gas into the blue light. It should have taken only a few seconds but after several minutes the Doctor was still alert, the sedative having no apparent effect.
"Increase the levels!" ordered Rotwin.
Lowell did as he was told but still the Doctor would not be sedated. His hands shook at the machine. For the first time he wondered whether the Doctor was telling the truth. He was unfamiliar with his species, and that made him uncomfortable enough performing the procedure. It was irresponsible. What if he was right and the sedative did not induce sleep but was in fact toxic?
Would Rotwin listen to him when his boss was willing to go to any lengths to obtain the Doctor's hearts? The Doctor was going to die anyway, Lowell reasoned, so Rotwin wouldn't stop the procedure to save the Doctor, but he might possibly do so to save himself. Lowell now wondered whether the Doctor's earlier warning was also true, and Rotwin was in grave danger.
I should stop this, Lowell thought, I can tell Rotwin that I was concerned about his vitals...that they were spiking. I can't do this, I can't kill Donna's friend.
"Mr. Rotwin, there's a problem...it's your blood pressure, it's..." Lowell began.
As he spoke he reached for the power switch and stopped the gas, and then his attention was snared by the shrill tone of an alarm. The Doctor's heart monitors were displaying two flat lines. Lowell spun and rushed to the Doctor's side and found him unconscious, in cardiac arrest. He placed his fingers on his neck. There was no pulse. He was too late.
"Lowell!" screamed Rotwin, sensing the imminent loss of his healthy organs. "Take his hearts, quickly!"
Lowell heard his boss's order but it was as if he too was trapped by invisible bonds. He froze, unsure of what to do, while Rotwin's frantic orders became background noise, unheard. All he could think about was how he was responsible for this. As he remained trapped by his own indecision, something happened that Lowell couldn't possibly explain.
The Doctor's body began to glow.
It began as a gentle golden light that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep inside. Lowell stepped back, out of the circle. Then the Doctor exploded, literally exploded as the light grew and burst out from his body, as if he were on fire. The light filled the blue circle and remained trapped inside, building in intensity until it was almost white. Concerned it would destroy the equipment Lowell ran to the machine and disabled it, allowing the strange light to escape.
The force field deactivated and the Doctor was brought back to a standing position with the lowering of the invisible chair. Much to Lowell's surprise, he remained upright while bursting with a nuclear glow.
"Mr. Rotwin!" he cried to his boss, transfixed by what he saw, "What do I do?"
Up until minutes ago Rotwin had been shouting commands, but now he was silent. Lowell looked at him. A similar glow began to emanate from him, as if in response to the Doctor's own. Rotwin looked down at his body in horror. The light intensified, giving him an almost heavenly aura, lifting into the air around him like rolling mist off the ground.
The two lights from the Doctor and Rotwin swirled in the air, searching until they found one another and connected. The Doctor then turned towards Rotwin and bent low, head and arms pointing, as the energy was siphoned off the strange alien and into Lowell's boss, surging through Rotwin's blue containment field as though it weren't there. Rotwin let out a terrible scream as the fiery mass engulfed him.
Lowell brought his hands up to his ears but he couldn't tear his eyes away. He watched as his boss spontaneously combusted and was consumed, burning to ash and cinder inside the container of blue light.
Lowell turned back to the Doctor. The glow had completely dispersed. The Doctor had fallen to the floor the moment the last of the golden light left him, but was now pushing himself up to stand with some effort, breathless but uninjured. He unrolled his sleeve, retrieved his jacket and noticed his sonic screwdriver on the console table behind him. Slowly, he put the jacket on and returned the sonic to his pocket, avoiding the sight of Rotwin, smouldering on the floor.
"I'm sorry," he told Lowell.
"Wha...what...what are you?" asked Lowell, terrified.
"I'm a Time Lord," said the Doctor wearily, "Now show me where Donna is."
"I'll take you to her," said Lowell, awestruck.
The Doctor followed Lowell down the corridor to a room across from where his own cell was. Neither men spoke, though Lowell's head was full of questions over what he had witnessed. Lowell quickly unlocked the cell door and Donna stood waiting. As soon as she was freed she threw herself into the Doctor's waiting arms. Lowell stepped back, smiling as they embraced, noticing how truly happy the Doctor appeared for the first time.
Donna pulled free and considered her friend. "You look like you've run a marathon," she said, "Are you all right?"
"Oh yes," the Doctor said, clearly tired but grinning, "I can't say the same for Rotwin though. I did warn him. Time Lord and human, it's a lethal combination."
Donna smiled back, taking his hand, "Isn't it just?"
The Doctor turned to Lowell, "It's time to shut this business down. Pay the Groose and release them from the contract and then close your doors."
"I will," said Lowell, "I promise. And thank you. Rotwin granted me a long life. I'd like to do something more with it now."
Donna went to Lowell and gripped his arm, "You will, I just know it."
~*~
Lowell did as he had promised but before releasing the Groose he asked that they escort the Doctor and Donna safely back to the pirates' ship where the Doctor's own vessel was waiting. They made their goodbyes, and Lowell bade Donna a special farewell with a gentlemanly kiss on the hand. The Doctor teased Donna about it during the shuttle ride back.
"I think you have an admirer, Donna," he told her.
"Oh stop it," said Donna, "He did the right thing in the end. I hope he has a better life from here on out."
"How did you get through to him anyway?" the Doctor asked.
Donna thought back to her conversation with Lowell in the cell. "I dunno," she shrugged, "I could tell he was unhappy. I suppose I recognise loneliness when I see it."
They exchanged smiles and rode in comfortable silence the rest of the way.
Returning to the shuttle bay and storage unit four, they found the TARDIS exactly where the Doctor had left it. He greeted his trusty blue box like an old friend.
"Ah, there you are," he said with a stroke of the frame, smiling.
Removing his key, he unlocked the door and they entered, waving cheekily to the Groose before closing the door again. The pirates just stared, surprised to find the vessel standing there so plainly now, as they hadn't noticed it before.
"I don't think I want to be in the 44th century anymore," said Donna as the Doctor prepared to depart. "Let's go somewhere magnificent with royal courts and balls and beautiful clothes..."
She stopped talking when she realised the Doctor had also stopped. His hand hovered over the handbrake, as he gazed off into the middle distance. He had been all smiles and jokes earlier, but now that they were alone in the TARDIS and the dust had settled, well... it was just his way. She knew that look.
"Come on then, what is it Spaceman?" she asked softly.
He looked up at her thoughtfully, "When Rotwin took my blood he sealed his own fate. The infusion of Time Lord energy attaching itself to the nearest DNA match killed him instantly. The thing is...I could have stopped it, could have controlled it better...but I didn't. I didn't want to change, so I let it happen."
He paused, mulling over his words and Donna waited. He had explained to her earlier what had happened but she still didn't claim to fully understand it.
"I killed him to save myself didn't I? Does that make me a hypocrite Donna?" he asked, troubled.
Donna shook her head, "He would have killed himself in any case. You said the transplant wouldn't have worked. You even warned him. It was his own doing."
He considered her words and nodded. "Maybe he was right about one thing though," the Doctor replied, "here I am telling everyone it's natural to live a finite life and look at me. I can struggle to survive with the best of them, carrying on and on."
"You're a Time Lord," she reminded him, "You can't help what you are. Humans aren't meant to live for centuries. Anyway, I don't think you're telling people they should be happy with a short life, I think you're telling them to make the most of it, to take what they're given and not ask for more but make it matter. That doesn't make you a hypocrite. It makes you wise. Rotwin may not have gotten that message but Lowell did."
The Doctor smiled. "So how does 18th century Vienna sound? We can meet Mozart."
"Perfect," said Donna, "Off we go then. We've got living to do."
With a mad laugh he bounced off, spinning around the console as he set the controls. Finite or infinite, they would make the most of their time together, and they would enjoy every minute of it.