Blood of the Medoreei

by MarylandWriter

The 11th Doctor and Amy Pond arrive, by accident, in the trenches of World War One. After the Sonic indicates the presence of dangerous psychic creatures, the pair must stay longer than intended in order to root them out. But there may just be a third race of creatures lurking in the trenches. It's a stand-alone story.

She again woke up to him shouting something indistinct in the distance. He may have actually been singing, in fact. Even within the infinite volume of the time/space craft known as the TARDIS, her companion somehow managed to be loud enough to be heard from her sleeping quarters. And he almost always chose to be that loud while she was asleep.

The distant sound of clanging mixed with his exuberant shouting. Both grew more distinct as she made her way down the winding hallways towards the control room of the TARDIS, where all the noise was being made.

"Ha! Not a chance," he shouted. "I'm way ahead of that. Crackers."

"Crackers" was a new one. Otherwise the shouting and cursing were quite typical. She stood at the top of the stairs leading down towards the control console, around which he fluttered and leapt even as he reached for buttons, pressed pedals, threw switches, turned cranks and generally did the job of six people.

"That's right, meet me halfway, sexy, I know you can."

A loud pop and a shower of sparks ignited a small flame on the control console right in front of him. This elicited from him a sort of "Gah" sound as he removed his worn, brown tweed jacket, and began swatting it ineffectively at the fire.

She sat down on the top step and rested her chin in her hands. Even after all of their time together, the young Scottish woman couldn't always figure out what excited him so. She usually didn't ask anymore. He only sometimes had an answer when she did ask. She'd learned to accept him for what he was most of the time. Her bow-tie wearing Raggedy Man. Her best friend. The Time Lord known as The Doctor.

Having at last extinguished the small fire, The Doctor swung his jacket back on, and absently dusted it off with his hands. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small metallic object with a green glowing bulb at the end. This was the Doctor's ever-present personal tool; the Sonic Screwdriver. As he pointed it at the console, the sonic whirred and clicked, revealing information that only he could understand.

"Using a jacket for a fire extinguisher," she called down to him. "A bit low-budg for a Time Lord, don't ya think?"

The Doctor looked up at her as he turned off the sonic. "Getting in my way awfully early this morning, Pond. What's the matter couldn't sleep?"

The smallest of smiles on his face as he looked back down to the controls and continued flicking and turning things.

"Who could sleep with all of that shouting?" Amy asked as she made her way down the stairs towards the console. "I'm going to have to start sleeping further away from here. Somewhere…" She paused, realizing how normal terms like 'further away' didn't quite apply here. "Say what sort of rooms are on the opposite end of an infinite TARDIS?"

"Weight room," he said, pointing the screwdriver at the console again. "Wouldn't advise sleeping there. It's a terrible mess, haven't cleaned it in centuries."

Amy leaned on the console. "Or used it, I suspect. Been lookin' a bit winded lately, Doctor. Maybe hitting the weight room is just what you need of late."

"I'm not going through all of that again," the Doctor said. "At any rate not even your snark will get to me today, Pond, because I, in my near infinite brilliance…"

"Oh please,"

"Okay, in my totally infinite brilliance I've worked out a few of our little navigation problems." He slapped at the console. "Been working all night on a little subroutine underneath this gorgeous lady, and I'm confident our landings will be a bit less…"

"Backbreaking?"

He pointed at her. "Uneven. But observe."

The Doctor typed into a keypad and threw a few large switches with his free hand, the sonic still in the other. The TARDIS lurched slightly as it changed course. He caressed the console, a broad smile on his face.

"Sort of creeps me out when you do that you know," she said.

"Pay no attention to her," The Doctor told the controls. "Just show her what we've done."

Amy couldn't help but notice that the ride did seem to have fewer bumps, the noise from the engine core softer than usual. "That's not bad," she said, impressed. "Not bad at all."

Just then the TARDIS shook. The Doctor rushed to the brake, applied it, and the familiar, melodic scraping of the TARDIS coming to a halt reached her ears.

"Yes," exclaimed the Doctor. "Here we are, smooth, safe. Almost peaceful."

"And where have we gotten to now?"

The Doctor mussed her hair as he rushed passed her towards the door of the TARDIS. "The Belgian Countryside in spring, right now. Well, in your now that is. Second best beer in the universe."

The Doctor flung open the door and stepped out of it backwards. Gray light and fog pored in behind him.

"Um, Doctor,"

"Off we go, Pond."

"But Doctor."

Soon enough he saw them too; a screaming platoon of mud encrusted soldiers in heavy coats and wide, round helmets came charging towards him. The Doctor spun back around, and slipped in mud that was ankle deep just out side of the TARDIS. He struggled to his feet, a smear of mud across his face and covering the bottom of his trousers. She would have normally laughed at this had he not been struggling to get back into the TARDIS to avoid a small army.

He slipped and slid over the floor of the TARDIS, mud flying everywhere. Just as the group of soldiers reached the threshold, he managed to get the door shut on them. The muffled sound of their banging on the outside could be heard as the Doctor rose unsteadily to his feet, panting for breath.

"And I thought the French were rude to tourists," Amy said.

The Doctor pulled a hanky out of his jacket pocket and wiped the mud from his face.

"We're a bit off target," The Doctor said.

"You think?"

"Not as bad as all that," he said, checking a display screen on the console. "We landed in the exact spot I intended. But while I was going for 2012, we arrived just a bit into 1915. Looks like April."

"What, you mean it's World War I out there?" Amy asked.

"Yes."

"Do you mean to say your new and improved navigation subroutine had us off by almost a hundred years?"

"That's not a big mistake to me. I'm a Time Lord. I've had brunches that lasted that long."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course not. I hate brunch."

The Doctor reached into his pocket. Then another pocket. Then all of his pockets, before looking at her. "My Screwdriver." He looked towards the door.

"Do you think one of those soldier blokes made off with it?"

"Better not have, that's a big no-no. I wouldn't worry, though. It's probably just buried in the mud. You could lose a tank in that stuff. Wait, they actually did that a few times, didn't they?"

"But the TARDIS is safe in it, I assume."

"Are you kidding?" the Doctor asked, wiping the mud off of his shoes on a nearby railing, "We'd be just fine in the middle of a Parellian Mudslide."

With that the Doctor went to the door, thick globs of dark brown mud plopping to the floor of the TARDIS with his every step. He reached for the door handle.

"Doctor, wait," Amy protested. "They have guns, are you just going to talk them out of using them?

"I've done it before." He swung open the door, and a collection of sharp bayonets attached to rifles held by frightened, angry soldiers converged right in front of the Doctor's throat.

"Hello!" he shouted with all of the exuberance of a four year old. Amy winced, but only slightly. He would get out of this somehow. He always did.

A flurry of activity, shouts, and mud spatters as they dragged the Doctor out of the TARDIS. Amy called for him as he swung the door shut behind him just before one of the soldiers almost forced his way in.

"Doctor!"

Muffled, shouts, clinks, banging, and somehow near the end of it all, laughter. The door swung open again.

"Come along, Pond," the Doctor said, stuffing what she recognized as his psychic paper ID card into his pocket. She wondered what sort of ID he'd made appear on it this time. "We won't be reporting this incident to HQ," he hinted to her. "Just a routine medical check, right?"

"Yes," she replied. "Yes, sir."

"I was just telling these fine Canadian gentleman how I seem to have misplaced my trench stethoscope," The Doctor said, as Amy took her first steps into the mud. It came up to her ankles.

"Trench stethoscope," Amy repeated.

"The one with the bright green light on the end of it," the doctor said leaning towards her.

"Yes, of course, the special stethoscope for the trenches. Brilliant," Amy replied, thinking there must have been a better story than that.

"We apologize, Doctor," said a thin man with a fresh cut over his left eye where both blood and mud had caked into one another. "HQ didn't tell us about any medical personnel visits. Particularly British ones."

"Yes, well," The Doctor said, "Cooperation will win the day. And as for the secrecy, well…"

"Didn't want the enemy to know extra medical staff were coming," Amy improvised. "They'd ambush us for supplies, and such." It had to be more believable than a trench stethoscope, she thought to herself.

"Quite right. But now, if we can begin the search," the Doctor suggested. Soon he, Amy, and several soldiers were running their arms up to their elbows in sweeping probes of the thick Belgian mud. Amy for her part had been covered in star-whale vomit and various other unsavory substances, and yet for whatever reason still found that much mud somewhat off-putting as it clung to her arms and hair.

"Here we are," the Doctor called, pulling his arm with some effort out of a nearby mud hole. It emerged with a slurp as he held the Sonic Screwdriver aloft, mud dripping from it. He whipped the device around in the air, shaking off the excess mud. Some of the mud landed on the nearby soldiers, most of whom still appeared dumbstruck.

"Sorry," the Doctor said. He proceeded to wipe the rest of the mud from the Screwdriver onto Amy's shirt…one of the few places the mud had not invaded yet.

"Is it damaged, Doctor?" asked the nearby soldier, a Captain named Perkins.

The Doctor looked carefully at the device, and flicked it on. It whirred to life again.

"Yes, right as rain," The Doctor said, "And now if you gentleman will excuse us…hello."

The Screwdriver beeped then, and Amy watched the Doctor's eyes furrow as he read whatever data was coming through. She couldn't read the Screwdriver, but she could read the Doctor's face, and he wasn't seeing anything good.

"What is it, Doctor?" Amy asked?

"Captain Perkins," the Doctor said, putting the Screwdriver away. "I'm afraid Nurse Pond and I will have to conduct a more thorough examination of this trench and your personnel. We'll just step in here to find some boots I think, yes, boots, and we'll be out in a jiffy. Nurse, if you would."

The Doctor motioned towards the TARDIS.

"What exactly is that thing?" the Captain asked of the TARDIS. "Some sort of mechanized horse they've been using?"

"Right you are," said the Doctor. "Special medical metal horse conveyance…thing. Developed by the police, as you see. All quite hush-hush."

"How did it just appear in the trench then?" the Captain asked.

"My dear fellow," said the Doctor. "If I am to understand you think giant blue boxes are merely appearing out of nowhere, than perhaps I should examine you first and foremost for trench fever of the brain."

"Not at all, no," the Captain said, straightening up. "We're at your disposal, Doctor. I'll post a guard here."

"Jolly good," said the Doctor. "Won't be a tick. Pond?"

Amy pulled her way out of the mud that threatened to engulf her whole leg. With help from the Doctor she slogged back into the TARDIS. Fresh mud from her legs mingled with the already drying mud on the floor that had been left there earlier.

The Doctor wasn't sure if they got here because of his attempt at a subroutine in the navigation circuits, or if the TADIS was once again taking him to where he needed to be instead of where he wanted to be. At this point he knew only that they couldn't leave. Not yet.

"Put these on," he told Amy as he tossed her a pair of boots he'd retrieved from one of the endless closets on the TARDIS.

"Bit clunky, no? But they'll do. But why exactly are we taking a holiday in a World War One trench?"

"It's not a holiday," he emphasized. "Something's terribly wrong out there."

"Um, yeah," Amy said, slipping on the first boot and lacing it up. "Civilized society damn near ripping itself apart in a war spanning a whole continent. I'd agree that's pretty terrible."

"That's not the tragedy I meant," said the Doctor. "Though you're right." He flicked his Screwdriver open and checked the readings again. He placed it back in his pocket.

"What's out there, then?"

The Doctor stepped into his own pair of boots, and began to lace them up. "Hatred. Lots and lots of hatred."

Amy blinked. "Hatred? You mean the emotion, and not some rare element or something?"

"Run of the mill human hatred."

"That thing can detect emotions flying through the air?" Amy stood up and bounced over toward the Doctor.

"Not normally, no," the Doctor said. "But sometimes emotions can be turned into energy, physical detectable energy. And that energy can be used for bad things or good things."

"Who's got the power to do that?"

"Certain sophisticated machines in the universe can do it, but they're the size of small moons. Sensors don't pick up anything like that, so it must be a race of some kind that can do it biologically."

"Why? What's the point?"

"They feed off of it. Off of psychic energy and emotion. For some, sadly, hate is the meal of choice. Either way, they need to be stopped."

"Why not just let them snack away? What the harm?"

"The harm, Pond, is that human aren't designed to simply give up emotion as energy willy-nilly. Even negative emotions are part of what you are. If they get ripped from you, you tend to shrivel up and die."

"Whoa, really?"

"I may have added the shriveling part for effect, but the dying thing, yeah. And given these levels, these creatures, whoever they are could kill everyone here."

"You mean before they would have naturally killed each other?"

She got right to the point as always, he thought. "Yes."

"How do we do it?"

The Doctor stood up. "We follow the hatred."

He rushed to the door of the TARDIS and flung it open. Two unneeded guards offered him some sort of salute. He returned it in kind, his haste making it no less awkward. He pulled out the sonic, stepped down into the mud, and began taking readings. Amy shut the door behind him.

The Doctor climbed up onto the wall of the trench to have a better look.

"Doctor, you mustn't," one of the soldiers called after him. "Not at this time of day. He'll be on duty."

"Who will be on duty?" the Doctor asked.

"Skitzy Fritz," the guard said.

"Skitzy Who?" Amy asked.

"Skitzy Fritz," he repeated. "A German sniper that likes to take pot-shots at anyone he can see during the day. Most of the time the Germans turn a blind eye when one or two of us moves around near the top of the trenches. We do the same, live and let live out here when there's no action. But there's one sniper…we don't know his real name, but he's got a real trigger finger. So we call him that."

"That's interesting," the Doctor said. "I should like to meet this fellow at some point, but first things first. I need to get a better reading of the German side."

The Doctor waved his Sonic towards the German lines over the top of the trench, and shook his head. "I can't from down here. Say, what is your name, soldier?"

"Private Duff, sir," the guard said. He saluted the Doctor, and the Doctor felt uncomfortable right away.

"First things first, Duff, no saluting, no sir, and preferably no questions. Think you can handle that?"

"Yes, sir. Doctor." Duff replied.

"Don't worry Duff," Pond said stepping up to the two of them. "I'll ask all the questions if things go pear shaped. I'm not bashful."

"No indeed," the Doctor said. Of all of the adjectives he could think of the describe Amy Pond in all of the languages he spoke, 'bashful' was nowhere on the list.

"Pear shaped. What do you mean pear shaped? Why would they go pear shaped?" Duff asked.

"Not a thing to worry about Duff," the Doctor told him. "Actually, not quite true, there could be a great deal to worry about. But that's why I'm here."

"Don't you mean you're here because your little navigational subroutine didn't work proper?" Pond asked. Though her question was more of an accusation. He found it best to ignore her, as was so often the case. He did so again.

"Right, Duff," he said, turning towards the soldier. Duff had a look of unadulterated helplessness on his face, "if you could take me around a bit. Show me the sights."

"What did you want to see, then?" Duff asked.

Over the next hour or so, Amy trudged through more mud, following Duff and the Doctor, (who seemed oblivious to it) as he swung his sonic screwdriver in every nook and cranny of the trenches. Her repeated attempts to get him to reveal more had been met most with grunts and nods, and the occasional, "quiet, Pond".

These she would protest, normally. But trouncing through the inches of muddy terrain for that long had made her too exhausted to care. Finally, when she felt she could go on no longer, she grabbed the Doctor by the back of his collar, impeding his motion, (though he still swung the Sonic around a few more times as her jerked backward.)

"Doctor me legs are getting numb," she said. "We haven't found anything, or if you have, do you mind telling us? Either way, I'm having a sit."

She leaned against a mud wall, allowing her body to slink down to the ground.

"Just as well," the Doctor said. "We're getting nowhere here."

"What do you mean?" Amy asked. "Did we go through all of that for nothing?"

"If I may, sir, what is it you're looking for?" Duff asked. "Lice? We've got plenty of those."

"Far worse than lice, Duff, far worse," was the Doctor's reply. "Amy, I think someone, or something else is here. Besides us and them. There are patches of the hatred that look thinner. Like the've been diluted by something else."

"Hatred?" Duff asked. "You're looking for hatred? With a stethoscope?"

"It's complicated," the Doctor said. "But I'd like to get a look at no man's land out there. And I need you to help me, Duff."

The solider checked his watch. "Well, Skitzy Fritz should be off duty by now, you should be able to have a peek."

"No, Duff, I need to get over there, now."

Amy stood back up, ignoring her aching legs. "Over there, to the enemy side? You'll get shot up."

"This isn't my war, I have no human enemies here, Pond."

"And you think their going to just know you're a Time Lord by looking at you?"

"I'm sorry, a what?" asked Duff. "I thought you were from medical core. HQ."

"How do I get to no man's land, Duff? How do I get over there?"

"What are you talking about, you're not going make him go there," Amy protested. "They'll kill him for sure."

"He isn't going," the Doctor said, approaching Duff. "I am. Once he tells me the secret procedure."

"Secret what?" Amy asked.

They'd traveled together to unspeakable worlds across every era of time all over the universe. Through all that the Doctor had taken some amazing risks, some worth it, and in her view some foolish. Maybe it was because the war was such a human moment in history, but of all of his decisions, this suddenly struck her as one of the most ridiculous.

"The secret truces," the Doctor says. "Duff knows. In the Great War, enlisted men had honor among themselves, even with the enemy. When officers weren't looking they were almost respectable to one another, provided they weren't in the middle of blowing one another up. Isn't that right Duff?"

At first the solider closed his mouth tightly, but under the Doctor's gaze he broke his silence after a few moments.

"Sometimes, we let each other know we're just pissing about. Not attacking. Off by ourselves, searching no man's land or what have you. Both sides do it. Like you said, without officers knowing. We'd be court-marshaled. Both sides."

Amy was astonished. She had no idea. She'd heard of a few Christmas truces amongst the armies here and there, but figured those were stories. Exceptions that proved the rule. But codes and signals of fraternity in the middle of a battlefield?

"Sort of live and let live, sometimes," Duff said, looking at the ground.

"How?" the Doctor asked.

Duff sighed. "You have to wait until nightfall," he said. "Nobody sneaks around during the day. Too dangerous. You climb over the wall in a certain section, and light a smoke. You light another and put both in your mouth. Krauts'll leave you alone then." Duff looked away. And then pointed at the Doctor with an index finger. "But not forever, mind. You better be in and out and know what you're doing when your out there."

"I always know what I'm doing. No word from you, Pond."

She was indeed about to say something to challenge his last statement, but was both too tired and too nervous to continue with the taunt.

Later as Amy and the Doctor sat huddled with a few of the soldiers from Duff's unit, she longed for her bed on the TARDIS. And to be away from the mud. The bugs. The stares from the less savory men. (Though a few words from Duff kept them in line.) But somewhere along the hundreds of miles that made up the front, in a trench somewhere, her great grandfather was sitting in the mud too. Feeling terrible. Lost. Possibly lonely. (Though if she remembered the stories correctly, he'd not yet met her great-grandmother.) If he could do it, so could she. She'd told the Doctor as much when he'd insisted she go back to the TARDIS.

"Captain Perkins and the other officers would wring our necks if they knew," Duff said as they sat. "They'd remind us that 'they're the enemy…onward to victory' and other bollocks. But they don't know what's it's like down here."

"They get a roof," said another grizzled solider. Amy hadn't caught his name yet. "Cot. Not much, but compared to this here…" he gestured towards the mud of the trenches, "bit of a paradise for the officers."

The soldier turned his head and spat in the general direction of Captain Perkins' quarters.

"They say Germans build nicer trenches," Duff said. "I believe it, even though I haven't seen them. Doesn't matter. Their enlisted lie in filth, day in day out, just like we do. All because fancy pants people in shirts and ties back home say so. Say it's how you love your country." He leaned against the earthen wall. "I love my country, even if I hate this."

"You got a sweety or anything in this here war, Miss Pond?" asked the unnamed solider.

"I…" she hesitated and than said, "I have family in the trenches somewhere. Far from here. Enlisted, like you. Not sure where exactly."

"What about you, Doctor?" asked the unnamed solider."Have any family in the war?"

"My entire family was consumed by war."

The unnamed solider grimaced, and looked at Amy. She said nothing. The unnamed solider got to his feet, and walked away down the trenches.

"Speaking of which," The Doctor said, more upbeat. He looked up into the sky. "I think it's about time, don't you?"

Duff nodded, and after a few moments, checking to make sure they weren't observed, he gestured in the direction he wanted them to go. When they got there a few minutes later (having dodged one of the officers making rounds) he pulled two cigarettes from inside his jacket.

"Got matches somewhere in here, too, hang on."

"I know how much these mean to you," The Doctor said, holding up the smokes. "Believe me, it's for the best. And anyway, I appreciate it."

Duff discovered the matches. He handed them to the Doctor. "Just be careful out there. Even so."

"We will," said Amy.

"No, I will," the Doctor said. "You're staying here."

"Not likely," she said. "You need another set of eyes."

"I need another set of eyes here," the Doctor said. He leaned in towards her. "I need someone to keep an eye out for others." He looked up towards the sky when he said it.

"Don't think women should go anyway, Miss Pond," Duff said. "Not sure how they'd react to that. We don't have many of those around here, in either trenches."

She wanted to go. Felt she had the right to go. But he was right. She'd do no good for the Doctor. She'd weigh him down. Besides, daleks she could handle. Randy Germans, she wasn't so sure of.

"Just be careful out there," she said. "You better still be the 11th Doctor when you come back."

"Ah, you," the Doctor said. He began to climb the earthen works, after saluting Duff.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amy saw movement. She spun her head around towards a dark, empty part of the trench. Standing there was a short man, in a uniform. One of the officers? For a split second, the man seemed to levitate off of the ground.

"Doctor," Amy called out. Both the Doctor and Duff spun around to look at her. Just as she was pointing, the figure was gone.

"Nothing," she said. "Nerves."

"Take care of her, Duff," the Doctor said. She watched him climb the rest of the way up the wall of the trench, slowly sticking his head over the top.

He took out a match, struck it, and botched the operation, snapping it in half, and dropping it in front of him. Amy suppressed a small laugh as he dug in the box for the next one. Success this time, as the tiny flame spilled light on to the almost totally dark area of the trench in which they stood. The Doctor puffed, and the orange glow of the first cigarette streaked on, his face orange in the tiny glow.

"Give it a few minutes, let the watch see you," Duff called up to him in a whisper.

The Doctor never puffed again on the first smoke, but rather let it sit, hanging somewhat out of his mouth. After a moment, he removed it, placed the second one in his mouth, and struck another match without incident. He puffed and lit the second one. It too now glowed in black-speckled orange. He placed the other in his mouth. He turned his face back down towards them, the two cigarettes looking like the tiny eyes of a creature sitting on the Doctor's face.

"Towards them," Duff said. "Them, so they can see you."

Amy could tell the Doctor nodded, as the two orange ember spots danced up and down for a moment, and then vanished as the Doctor turned his head away from them. A moment later he slid himself over the top of the trench wall, and out of her sight into no man's land.

"They're more patient with medical staff," Duff told her. "He'll be okay. Though he's obviously not from HQ, is he? Bit further up than that, right?"

Amy nodded, and looked up into the now somewhat cloudy night. "Yeah," she said. "Higher than that indeed."

"My family owns sheep and horses," Duff was telling Amy a few minutes later as he was escorting her through the trenches back to the fire. "I like the sheep more than the horses. Everyone makes fun of me for it. Guess I can relate to sheep more." He shrugged a bit, and looked towards the ground.

"I can understand that. Not as much stress with a sheep. Who needs all that neighing and rearing and such eh?"

Duff laughed. "Yes, I suppose so. And sheep..."

Duff eyes crossed and he fell forward towards Amy and landed with a splat, face first into the mud. Behind him the levitating stranger in a uniform she'd seen earlier. He held a pistol.

Amy turned to run, but felt a cold hand grab her shoulder, and another cover her mouth, stifling her screams. She felt the gun against her temple, and stiffened. The stranger began to drag her away, but stopped long enough to roll the unconscious Duff over on his back with his foot. Just in time, Amy thought, as the solider had already began to gurgle through his suffocation in the thick mud of the trench.

"If you move, I will shoot you," whispered a high-pitched, almost feminine voice.

The stranger dragged her with one muscular arm, the other keeping the gun at her head. When they reached a munitions cache built into the wall of the trench, he threw Amy inside. She hit the ground with a painful thud as her attacker shut the thatched door behind him.

"We know you're here," he said to her, pointing the gun at her, and moving back and forth the entire time. He was sweating profusely. He looked ill. "You musn't interfere with our work."

He looked fully human. His uniform appeared to match those of the other Canadian soldiers in the trench. He was shorter than her, bald, but incredibly strong.

"Who are you then?" Amy asked, playing for time.

"I shall ask the questions," her attacker said. He switched the pistol back and forth between his hands in what campfire light crept in through the cracks in the makeshift door. "Who do you represent? What have you done with my partner? What sector are you from?"

"Sector? I don't come from a sector."

"You are not telling the truth," said the stranger, backing up against the door. "I observed you arrive in your craft."

"That's the TARDIS," Amy said. "I'm from the Earth, but in another time. What are you doing here?"

"You must listen," the stranger said. "We will not allow more violence from you."

"We've committed no violence," Amy protested. She sat up more, and the skittish companion froze, and pointed the pistol at her with both hands. "You will not move," he yelled.

Amy put her hands behind her head.

"We're travelers," she told him. "Explorers."

"You are gathering energy to destroy us," he said, "And the native species of this planet."

"You're the ones collecting hate energy."

The stranger pointed the gun at her and cocked his head to the side. "Hate energy? You are trying to confuse us. You are making a weapon. Tell me where it is, or else you will be shot."

The stranger approached her, and pointed the gun at her, pressing it against her forehead.

"Wait, please, we can help you," Amy yelled.

At that moment the door burst open. The noise seemed to frighten the stranger. He leapt forward on top of her, and she screamed as he came at her. In one fast motion he stood up, dragging Amy to her feet, the gun again against her head. He pressed his back up against the far mud wall of the munitions cache.

In the door, silhouetted by the moonlight, was the unmistakable shape of the Doctor, though he was now wearing a large, dish-shaped combat helmet, common among the soldiers in this trench. "Let her go," he said.

"Stay away from me," the stranger said, his voice sounding higher than before. "I will kill her right now."

"No you won't," said the Doctor. "You won't even scratch her if you can help it."

"Do not test me. I will kill her."

Whatever the Doctor was up to, Amy hoped he'd get on with it quickly.

"You didn't kill him," the Doctor said, gesturing his head out of the door back to where they'd left Duff. You turned him over to safe his life."

The Doctor took a step inside, closer to them. The stranger pulled the gun away from her head, and pointed it at the Doctor instead. "Back I say."

"Your finger isn't even on the trigger of that weapon," the Doctor said, taking another step. "And my guess is it isn't even loaded."

How could she have not noticed she was being held hostage by a thug who wasn't even touching the trigger of his own gun?

"Enough," the stranger said. "Show me the weapon, or I will hurt this woman."

"She is incapable of killing you," The Doctor said. His voice calm, and quiet. "By the first law of the Medoreei, you are forbidden to kill her."

Amy heard the stranger inhale quickly, and begin shaking slightly. Then he dropped the gun onto the floor, and released her all at once. She ran to the Doctor.

The stranger slid to the ground, and spoke, his voice softer still. "You are here to stop us."

"No, I'm here to stop them," The Doctor said.

"Them?" Amy asked, understanding even less now than she had earlier in the day.

"Our sensors detected an alien presence in this area," the stranger said. "Massive energy build-ups, we assumed weapons grade."

"I detected the same thing," The Doctor said. "That is why I'm here. Only I didn't know about you." He turned to Amy, "It's some kind of race. Biologically they feed on hateful emotions."

"We are not usually susceptible to such tactics," the stranger said. "There must be special circumstances."

Amy was weary of the conversation. "Just who are you?" she asked. "You took me hostage. I at least have the right to know, don't I?"

She looked at the Doctor, and then back to the stranger. The stranger spoke.

"Your friend is correct. We are the Medoreei. Eons ago, we were a warlike race, inventors and purveyors of some of the most terrible weapons. But one got ahead of us, beyond our control, and destroyed an entire solar system. 12 trillion life forms snuffed out by our arrogance and greed."

Amy couldn't fathom 12 trillion life forms, even after all she had been through. Trying to imagine them all being killed in the blink of an eye was even more ponderous. She looked at the Doctor. He nodded his confirmation.

"From that time," the Medoreei said, "the elders of our planet created a new mission for our people. We evolved to be healers. We renounced all weapons, and pledged not to participate in wars, but heal those injured in them. We travel the universe, looking for war-ravaged civilizations, and comfort the injured. We save lives, as we used to destroy them. And that is why we are here."

The Medoreei closed his eyes, and seemed to labor through his breathing.

"We are not trying to thwart you," the Doctor said. "We're here to stop whoever else is out there."

The Medoreei began to speak, but choked on his words, slumped over. The Doctor crouched down and ran his Sonic Screwdriver over him.

"Is he dead?" Amy asked the Doctor.

"No," he said. "But he doesn't have much time. What little violence he committed on your and Duff has already weakened him."

"What do you mean? How did you know who he was?"

"I didn't at first," he said, looking around the storage room. "All the readings on the German side were just as uneven. I knew it had to be a psychic force acting counter to those hate mongers, whatever they are. I came back here to find you, and saw then I was close enough to identify him on the sonic."

"And the helmet?" Amy asked, rapping her knuckles against the Doctor's latest headwear.

"Yes, well, safety first. And besides, helmets are cool. I've got one for you as well, it's just outside."

"What do I need one of those for?"

"Because we've got to cross no man's land."

"What for? You just got back."

"I'll explain later."

The Doctor led her through the trenches, passed soldier's quizzical looks, and over campfires and gunny sacks strewn about the ground. They came to a small, less defined part of the trenches. At one point he grabbed a helmet that had been abandoned and tossed it to her. This, she knew was one he had "saved" for her, in the sense that he'd just happened to come across it on their travels at that moment.

The Doctor stooped, and cupped his hands together offering her a boost.

"So, we'll just shoot up there into no man's land?" Amy asked.

"We haven't got time for the little cigarette game," he said. "The energy they've been collecting its getting thin. Soon they'll start sucking everyone on this battlefield dry for it. That would not be good." He indicated his cupped hands again. Amy put her foot into it. "Just move along the ground slowly, and stay quiet. For a change."

Before she could protest, she felt herself catapult just to the stop of the earthen works. Once she landed she kept her head low to the ground, and spun around to offer the Doctor her hand. She did her best to remain quiet as she heaved the Time Lord up the hill. With difficulty, he made it, and he signaled with a jerk of his head which way they'd be going.

Amy nodded her understanding, and watched the Doctor crawl his way through the mud and debris further into no man's land. Now she knew why they called it that. They were outside, but it seemed to her there wasn't a noise anywhere. She could see gruesome remnants of others who had died in the quiet area between trenches. Arms, corpses bloated with age. Pieces of clothing. All lit up by a moon that was half-covered by a stubborn cloud that hadn't moved all night.

She thought that hell, if there was one, would be similar to crawling on one's stomach through dead bodies between two armies. Hopefully the Doctor knew what he was doing, she thought for the billionth time since she'd met him.

He was going by memory of what his readings had told him during his first trip into no man's land. He didn't dare turn on the sonic now, however. That much noise and that strange of a light was bound to get them shot by someone in either army's trenches. But he'd navigated the stars, he didn't think navigating a single field in the 20th century should be difficult. After only a 10 minute accidental detour (about which he would tell Pond nothing), they were at last emerging on the edge of the battlefield. Far enough from the front to stand up. His clothes felt twice they're weight with all the mud. He'd need a new bowtie as soon as they were out of there.

"Do you see that shed over there?" the Doctor whispered to Amy. He pointed to a small wooden structure just at the bottom of a little hill.

"What of it?"

"That's where they are," the Doctor said.

"Who?"

"What do you mean who? You know, them. The bad guys."

"You mean the nameless whoevers that are collecting all the hatred of the battlefield."

"Yes, of course," he told her, refusing to lose patience, though feeling like he may at any moment. "They're in there. The Sonic tracked them earlier. I didn't go inside though. We need to draw them out and put an end to this."

"Just walk in there and ask them to stop?"

"Now that would be ridiculous," the Doctor admonished. "We're going to insist they stop, or else."

"Or else what?"

Amy, always with the questions. He could count on one hand the times she had just done what she was told. As a matter of fact, he thought, none of them ever just did what they were told.

"Or else a taste of their own medicine," he told her, looking down towards the shed. "I'm going to try to create a psychic deflector shield with the Sonic. All I need you to do is pound on the door, and get them really curious, so they'll come after you."

"Sod off, I'm not going down there."

"When they try to pull hatred out of you, their own process will be deflected back on them. It'll be like, like breathing air that's gone stale. It will make them sick, and they'll go."

"And what if your little toy doesn't do what it's supposed to do?"

Truth be told, he had no idea if it would work properly. But the Doctor lies, and she knew it. "I have every faith in my ability. Now go."

"Why am I the guinea pig?"

"Honestly, you're human. You're simpler for them to read than I would be. They're hungry and desperate."

A scream interrupted the Doctor. Both he and Amy looked down towards the shed. Coming around the corner, huffing and snorting were short, humanoid forms. They seemed moss covered. They limped about as though on broken ankles.

"Who are they?" Amy asked. " I think I can smell them from here."

"I haven't a clue," the Doctor said. "I haven't had the pleasure. Let's call 'em Mossies shall we? Gotta call them something."

"Mossies? Seriously, if you can't…Doctor, look!"

A human in uniform, an Allied uniform rolled along the ground from behind the shed. One of the aliens kicked the soldier in the stomach. The Mossies appeared to laugh, the solider grunted, and staggered to his feet, his empty hands spread out in front of him.

Another one of the creatures jumped and kicked the solider in the head. He staggered up against the door to the shed, blood running down his nose. But that was all. That couldn't be all.

"Impossible," the Doctor said, pointing his Sonic down towards the shed to get a reading.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Those Mossies are canthio-based life forms. They're in a weakened state, but a blow like that from any of them should have killed a human. Unless…" the Doctor tweaked the Sonic at another angle. He double-checked the readings. "It's him. They've got him."

"Got who?" Amy asked.

"The other Medoreei," he said. "Readings are nearly identical to your friend in the storage room." The Doctor winced as one of the Mossies swung a green arm into the Modoreei's stomach. The Modoreei doubled over and coughed, but did not fall.

"He won't defend himself, will he?" Amy asked, panic in her voice. "He'll just let them keep doing that."

"Some will, but most try not to, I'm afraid," the Doctor said. "But they aren't strong enough to kill him. He's too…"

Two more Mossies came into view, each carrying a hammer, and one of them a bucket. All appeared to laugh again.

The Mossy that had punched the Modereei in the stomach threw his victim back up against the wooden door to the shed. Obviously in pain, he still did not resist, though he appeared a few times to try to run away, only to be slammed back against the wooden door once more.

"They'll get tired of toying with him soon enough," the Doctor said. "There won't be enough hate inside of him to be of use. They are what's weakening all the hatred in the air, you see. There very healing powers…" The Doctor stopped, as he saw one of the Mossies reach into the bucket, and pull out something resembling a railroad tie or a large nail. "No."

"My God, Doctor, are they going to," Amy choked and started again. "Please tell me they're not about to do what I think…"

All in a blinding fast series of motions, two Mossies jumped towards the Medoreei, placed the nails against each of his wrists and hammered them straight into the shed with two unified strikes. The Medoreei screamed in such a way as to prove he was no human.

"No," the Doctor screamed himself down towards the shed. The shrill (and unusual) sound of Pond screaming echoed through the scene at the same time. The Mossies all jumped like possessed frogs to face their direction.

War was war, and he of course was no stranger to it. Survival was a powerful instinct in virtually every creature in the universe he had seen in his thousand years. Even a Time Lord faced with no more regenerations could resort to surprising things to stay alive. But almost never in his travels throughout the cosmos had the Doctor witnessed such vile and purposeless torture of a peaceful being for sheer amusement.

"You mindless, walking, rotting stench of a race," the Doctor yelled down at them. "Try that stunt with me."

The Mossies stood up straighter, and began to run for him. The Doctor took off through the nearby trees away from the battlefield. He knew they'd leave Pond now, she'd barely register compared with the potential psychic feast of a Time Lord. Just as long as he could keep it under control. He wanted to bait them, not feed them.

He ran around the edge of the woods, hearing the grunts of the Mossies behind him at times, but usually smelling them the closer they got. Suddenly one of them sprang up in front of him, having jumped out from a tree.

"Hello, you scummy twit," the Doctor said. He was greeted with a knock from behind. He face-planted at the feet of the Mossy that had jumped in front of him. Just in time to avoid a stomp to his head, the Doctor rolled over, and managed to get to his feet, as one of the Mossies began to glow from green to dark red. All them began to do so as he drew the group away from there, towards the back of the shed. He could hear Amy calling for him; he didn't have much time.

The Doctor skidded to a halt and turned to face the now red Mossies, who glowed like embers in the evening light.

"Let's see how you do it," he whispered to himself. "Come on," he called to them. "You want my hate, come get it."

The Mossies began to grunt louder. As they surrounded the Doctor, particle waves of some kind, red as their skin, oozed out of each of their foreheads. Each beam made contact with his own head, and he felt the world slip out of view for a moment. He could feel the hatred, mostly buried deep within him, get ripped from his consciousness.

It was more powerful than he had expected, but he maintained just enough control over his thoughts to access his memories.

"Let's see if you can find enough hatred buried in ten other lifetimes," he said.

"Doctor, please," Amy called. "I can't help him."

This had to work, or more than just Amy and the boys in the Armies would be in a lot of trouble very soon.

As soon as the Mossies took off after the Doctor, (who hopefully had a plan) Amy rushed to the shed to see if she could help the poor Medoreei. He looked at her, and seemed to register her presence.

His screams were breaking her heart, and she looked around for something, anything that could help get him down. She dumped the bucket of nails upside down, and stood on it. She wrapped her hand in her own shirt, and tried to pull the nail out of his wrist by hand. He screamed when she tried it. She knew it was fruitless anyway…there was no hope of moving it.

The Medoreei made a choking sound and looked down at her. She looked up at him, and he shook his head, "no".

"I'm not giving up on you," she said. "Doctor!" She thought she heard faint screams and grunts from somewhere nearby but she didn't have time to think about it.

She grabbed one of the hammers the Mossies had dropped and ran through the opened door to the shed next to the dying Medoreei. It was dark, and she couldn't see much. She ran her hands carefully over the back of the door the Medoreei had been nailed to, hoping she might be able to hammer the nails out from the other side. They weren't however protruding out far enough. It probably would have been too painful to the Medoreei anyway.

The cloud that had been covering the moon moved away at last as she came out to the front of the shed again. The blood of the Medoreei ran like a black creek of oil down from either one of the crucified man's wrists. Amy could see it continued to pour out of him, trickling down the door like a terrible waterfall glistening in the moonlight.

"Doctor, please," she cried into the night. "I can't help him."

Amy looked up at the Medoreei. It may have been the moonlight, but his skin seemed to be fading into a sort of gray. His uniform, that of a Canadian medical officer, dripped with his blood. She wiped a tear from her face.

Somehow he looked down at her and almost managed a slight grin. He made choking sounds, and seemed to be speaking, but she could make out what he said. Amy climbed up onto the bucket again.

"What is it? Say it again, please. I'm listening."

"Th-thank you," he wheezed. "For trying."

Before she could reply, she heard a rasping scream from nearby, like someone had kicked an animal. She jumped down from the bucket, and moved out further from the shed.

She could see glowing red figures limping their way towards her location. They moved and spoke like the Mossies had, only they had changed color.

"Pond," she heard the Doctor's voice. He too limped into view as he passed from under a tree into the moonlight.

"Doctor?"

"Pond, it's over for me, stay get as far from my body as you can when I begin …"

The red monsters shot some sort of beam out of their heads, each one converging to make a larger beam that struck the Doctor in the back, and knocked him forward onto the ground."

"Doctor? Doctor!"

The beam from the creatures bore into him, and for a moment she saw his face, covered in mud and blood. His clothes were caked in mud and torn in various places. His eyes were closed, his face pale in the moonlight, his hair painted to his face.

He did not answer any of her calls. She ran to him, despite his final instruction to stay away.

"Doctor," she called again. She cradled him in his arms, and called for him again. His Sonic pulsated in his still hand, beeping and whirring without its master. "No," Amy started to cry. A golden light began to emerge from the Doctor's eyes. His body began to feel warm under her body. His regeneration into a new form had begun.

Amy put his head down on the ground, and backed away from him, knowing how dangerous this could be. But the creatures red beam continued to bore into him. It increased in intensity, even as his regeneration energy began to dim, and fade away.

"What are you doing?" she screamed at the creatures. "He can't regenerate, stop it."

Their grunt grew louder, and the red light seemed to burn brighter the longer they bore into the Doctor with their beam.

"I said stop it," Amy hollered at them. "Now." She reached for the hammer she'd dropped from before. The Medoreei made a choking noise, but she ignored him for the moment. She looked down at the Doctor, whose regeneration energy had faded totally away. "You slimy buggers, die!"

As Amy took a step towards them, hammer raised above her head, the Mossies began to grunt and hop up and down like little filthy monkeys. The beam they had sent into the Doctor broke up, and began to converge again, this time in her own direction.

"You want hate?" she asked them through tears. "You've got some."

Amy began to run towards them. Just as the red beam from the Mossies bent and shot towards her, she could see movement from the ground out of the corner of her eye. She looked down and saw the Doctor sit up, Sonic Screwdriver in both hands pointed at her. A beam of its own flashed towards her, and she found her self inside a green, glittering bubble of some kind.

All sounds around her were muted, as though her ears were plugged. The red beam from the Mossies crashed into the bubble, and split into various pieces before bouncing back towards their source.

Even through the bubble, she could hear them scream. A long, hissing scream that seemed to ooze out of their mouths. Each Mossy dropped to his feet, and his color began to fade from glowing red, then into the deep green they had been when she'd first seen them. A moment later, as each creature collapsed face down on to the ground, brown patches appeared on the green skin. She turned from them and looked at the Doctor, who smiled at her through the bubble, and gave her a wave. She turned back towards the creatures, already mostly black. Their bodies now bubbled, and melted into the ground. The force field around her flickered and sparked, and then vanished.

"Doctor," Amy said, wiping the still fresh tears from her eyes. "The Medoreei."

The Doctor's smile vanished as he leapt to his feet and ran for the shed door, Amy right behind him. He passed the Sonic over him a few times, and then over the nails in his wrists.

"He's almost gone," the Doctor said.

"Can you do anything?" Amy asked the Doctor.

"I might be able to slow the bleeding for a while," the Doctor said, moving the Sonic towards the wound. "If we can get him back to his partner."

"No," gasped the Medoreei. "No, please. Can't heal this. Can't heal each other. Can't heal self."

"Let us get you back to the TARDIS," the Doctor said.

The dying alien shook his head. "Too late. Thank you. Please, save Trizen. Save partner."

"I don't understand," Amy said, her tears coming back. "They were attacking you, why didn't you fight back?"

The Medoreei smiled. He began to speak, but his eyes opened wide, and his smile gradually faded off of his face. The Doctor ran the Sonic over him once more, and shook his head. "He's gone."

Amy buried her face in the Doctor's chest and wept at the loss of a creature she'd known for only a few moments in his agony.

"He will be celebrated," The Doctor said. "To the Medoreei, there is no greater honor than to die in the face of violence without committing any."

She pulled away from him, drew back her arm and slapped him across the face.

"Ow!," the Doctor cried. "Non-violence would be a great idea for you too, Pond."

The Doctor worked his jaw back and forth.

"You ass," she said. "You pretended to be dead."

"To save you," he protested. "And, hello, everyone else?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Our friends over there, who now look a bit like giant ink blots, yuck…tried to pull the hatred out of me. That really hurt, by the way. But I let them have access to all my previous generations, and as I hoped, they got confused. Couldn't hone in on anything."

"And then what, for heaven's sake get on with it." He could be dreadfully tedious and rambling at times, she thought.

"I escaped them, ran towards you, and died. Well just pretend of course. I knew the hatred you'd feel at that point would make them hungry…"

"And you were so sure your little magic bubble would work?" Amy asked. "I could have been killed myself. Only we people don't get another shot, you know."

"Believe me I know," the Doctor said. She backed down a bit, but promised to hold this one over him for quite a while.

"Shouldn't we at least bury him?" she asked, trying not to look at the body of the Medoreei.

"That's a terrible insult to his people," the Doctor said. "To move the body from the place of death before the next sunrise. Best leave him here."

"That's vulgar," Amy said.

"Some would say digging a whole and dumping a box filled with a body in it is vulgar. Besides, we haven't time, we've got to get back to the trenches and help the other Medoreei. Shouldn't be a problem to save him now."

Two days later, the Medoreei called Trizen, stood in the control room of the TARDIS, having walked on his own power at last. Amy and the Doctor had brought him back there, amidst protests from Captain Perkins that he had to be a German spy. There he had gotten better, thanks to the Doctor. Amy had read to him in the middle of the night when he had felt ill, while his body's own healing process began.

"I am forever in the debt of both of you," Trizen said, as he stood in the console room of the TARDIS. Both Cret and I could have both died out there."

"I'm sorry I could do nothing for your friend," said the Doctor. Trizen waved him off.

"He shall be missed, but remembered dearly for his sacrifice in the cause of non-violence. I only wish I could have been as brave as he. I must also apologize to you, Miss Pond, for the way I handled you during our first meeting."

"Oh, well," she said, "I've been known to make people a wee bit mad. Just ask him." She pointed towards the Doctor, but warned him to remain quiet once he began to answer in the affirmative.

"What will you do now?" the Doctor asked him.

Trizen sighed. "Find a new partner, alleviate suffering elsewhere in the galaxy," he said. "I can't remain here by myself. Hopefully someone, somewhere will help these poor people."

"They're not so bad," the Doctor said. "Eventually they may even come to embrace peace just as the Medoreei." The Doctor winked at Amy. She nodded. She'd seen the future of humanity with him. They would one day evolve far beyond the need for foxholes and front line trenches.

"Perhaps," said Trizen. "For now, I hope to get a new assignment that doesn't foil some evil race's master plans for destruction and denomination."

"Lot's of worlds out there," Amy said. "Odds are you'll find some."

Trizen nodded. "I must go. Thank you, once again. Both of you. Go in peace."

"Need a lift somewhere?" the Doctor asked.

"My own vessel will suffice. It is hidden in the nearby village. I think I'll walk to it. I've laid down quite enough the last few days. Goodbye."

The Doctor and Amy waved, as Trizen opened the door and stepped out of the TARDIS, and into the trench again. The Doctor had secured his safe passage with Captain Perkins, who seemed to be happy to be rid of the lot of them.

Amy watched the TARDIS door long after it closed. Despite all that happened, she felt uplifted. "Gives you hope, doesn't it? That there are creatures whose sole purpose is to go around space, helping those that suffer."

The Doctor cleared his throat obnoxiously and straightened his bowtie. "Not so unusual, is it?"

"The idea isn't I suppose," Amy said. "This particular example," she walked over and pulled on his tie," quite unusual indeed." She tweaked his nose. "Where to next?"