Title: Beyond the Sea
Author: E.A. Week
E-mail: eaweek at hotmail-dot-com
Summary: For most of her young life, Jules Paxton's world had revolved around football. That all changed the day a loony git in a blue box crash-landed in her mum's garden. Second of three chapters.
Category: Doctor Who. Slight crossover with the movie Bend it Like Beckham.
Distribution: Feel free to link this story to any Doctor Who or fanfic site, or distribute on a mailing list, but please drop me at least a brief e-mail and let me know you've done this.
Feedback: Letters of comment are always welcome! Loved it? Hated it? Send me an email and let me know why!
Disclaimers: Copyrights to all characters in this story belong to their respective creators, production companies, and studios. I'm just borrowing them, honest! The story title is stolen from the song written by Charles Trenet and Jack Lawrence. The tile for Part II is stolen from Kate Bush.
Story rating: This story is rated M for language, sexuality, and adult themes.
Possible spoilers: This story takes place after the fourth season of the new Doctor Who series.
Part II
A Sea of Honey
If Paula had ever met Maxwell Orion, there wouldn't have been any living with her. Right away, she'd have been on her daughter's back to catch his eye, chat him up. And Jules had to admit: not bad. Maxwell stood maybe five-nine, slim and athletic, clad in very ordinary, practical gear: cargo pants, a short-sleeved shirt halfway buttoned over an undershirt of some type. On his left wrist, he wore a leather cuff, like a gauntlet.
He had a nice face, Jules thought: small, the features almost delicate, all framed by a thatch of luxuriant dark brown hair. Beneath thick brows, his eyes were wide and very blue. Despite his wary caution around these two strangers, she could sense kindness and intelligence to him.
"We've listened to some of Delilah's journal entries," the Doctor said. "She was on a research mission here."
Maxwell nodded. "She was trying to have Nelumbo Minor designated as a Category Epsilon planet," he said.
Folding his arms, the Doctor said, "Why? Was she working for someone?"
"Delilah didn't work for anyone but herself," Maxwell bristled. "She was a scientist, an environmental biologist. This mission was her idea." His voice made Jules think of beautiful wooden furniture, and at least now it didn't sound so desperate, though it did make Maxwell seem younger than his probable age of perhaps twenty-five.
"Why now?" the Doctor asked. "Any special reason? Nelumbo Minor's been here for a while."
"She didn't tell me," Maxwell said. "I got back to Aldrovanda Seven after a mission of my own, and she was already gone. Nobody at the university seemed to know where she was. That wasn't like her, being so secretive. I finally tracked down the people who'd accoutered the Nereus for this mission, and they said she'd wanted provisions for tropical expedition." Maxwell shrugged his slender shoulders. "Nelumbo Minor is the only remotely tropical world within easy travel of Aldrovanda Seven, so it seemed a logical first place to search."
"Why would she keep something like this from everyone?" the Doctor asked.
"I don't know," said Maxwell. "She was usually so open about everything."
"Was she worried someone might try to stop her?" the Doctor said. "Or at least object to what she was doing?"
Maxwell said, "No, nothing she did was controversial. She was respected among her peers, but she was hardly an intergalactic authority."
"Did she tell you a lot about her work?" asked Jules.
"We're always in touch," Maxwell said. "Until now, I've never gone more than a fortnight without hearing from her."
"Did you know much about her work?" the Doctor asked. "What was her standard procedure? Would she have set up a camp or a field site away from the ship?"
"Only if she was observing an animal population and needed to habituate them," said Maxwell. "I didn't know the fine details of her research—I'm an engineer. We met five years ago when I did some repairs on the Nereus." Something wistful crept across his face.
"Were you friends, or more than that?" asked Jules.
"We were lovers for a while." He spoke with candor, not a trace of self-consciousness. "That ended a year ago. We still keep in touch. I worry about Delilah—her concentration is apt to wander. She's had attention problems since she was a child. It's not unusual for her to focus on one thing to such an extent that she neglects her own safety and health."
"She might've switched off her om-com," the Doctor said.
"Why?" asked Maxwell, baffled.
"If she's trying to habituate an animal population to her presence, she wouldn't want the noise upsetting them."
"She can set it to vibrate."
"Some species can pick up vibrations."
Maxwell sighed. "And she might've had an accident in that swamp somewhere—bitten by a snake, stung by an insect—"
"She was a field scientist; she'd have had a med kit with her," the Doctor said. "Which includes a universal antivenin."
Maxwell looked at the Doctor more closely. "You know a lot."
"I'm a scientist. It's my job to know a lot."
"What're you doing here?"
"Exploring," the Doctor said. "I travel all over, but I've never been to Nelumbo Minor before. Jules and I found the ship, and we were trying to learn what happened to Delilah when you teleported in."
Maxwell still looked suspicious. He raised his arm and a flap on his wrist band opened up. Inside was some kind of device with tiny buttons and blinking lights.
"What's that?" asked Jules.
"Bio scan," the Doctor said. He didn't sound happy
"What?" laughed Jules.
"Your DNA is ancient!" Maxwell stared at Jules, mouth agape. "Where are you from?"
"Earth," she said.
"According to this…" Maxwell tapped a button. "Your DNA is over three thousand years old!"
"You're off your trolley!" scoffed Jules. "I'm only eighteen!"
The Doctor murmured, "It's the fifty-first century, Jules."
"Yeah, right!" Then she remembered the Doctor's ship could travel in time. "Are we… in the future?"
"Yes." The Doctor told Maxwell, "Jules is from Earth in the twenty-first century."
Maxwell was scanning the Doctor, and he seemed to have forgotten Jules. "What are you?" he said. "You have no species designation."
"I'm a Time Lord."
"Time Lords are extinct," Maxwell said, his suspicion deepening.
"I'm the last one."
Maxwell lowered his arm. "Oh, please. Do I look like an idiot?"
"I wouldn't joke about something like that."
Jules glanced at the Doctor. God, he looked so serious and old all of a sudden.
"All the Time Lords were wiped out in a war…" Maxwell faltered. "Oh, God," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. You must… you must be…"
"The only survivor," the Doctor confirmed.
Jules stared at him openly now. "Why didn't you say something before?"
"You might have told her that before you copulated with her," Maxwell shot, glaring at the Doctor. "She has your DNA in her vaginal tract."
Jules hauled back and smacked him across the face so hard he staggered and fell against the console.
"Jules!" the Doctor reproached.
"Mind your own bloody business, you pervvy tosser!"
Max straightened up. "Sorry," he told Jules. "I thought you should know—"
"Never mind what you think!" Jules said. "I'm eighteen; I can decide for myself who to trust!" She squeezed the Doctor's hand. "I'm sorry about your planet," she said. "That's so terrible."
A dozen expressions warred on his face: grief, guilt, embarrassment, discomfiture. She could tell he'd rather have told her about his planet in private, without an audience.
"Right," he said, wrenching the conversation to another topic. "Delilah. We should try to find her."
"There's only four landmasses of any substance on this planet," said Maxwell. "They're pretty small. It shouldn't take long to search them."
"Do you have a ship?" asked the Doctor.
"In orbit over the planet," said Maxwell, relaxing by a fraction.
"I thought as much," the Doctor nodded. "Short-range teleport?"
"Yeah."
"What's that mean?" asked Jules.
"He can teleport between here and the ship but not between here and another planet."
"That is so wicked," said Jules. "An actual teleport?"
"She's never seen one before?" asked Maxwell.
"It'll be a couple of centuries on Earth before teleports are developed," the Doctor said.
Maxwell stared at Jules. "How do you get around, then?"
"Walk, drive, take the Tube," she laughed.
"Incredible."
"Well, come on, let's go above," the Doctor said. "It's a bit chilly down here for me and Jules."
They climbed the ladder to the hatch. Out in the bright sunlight, Maxwell scanned the sea around the vessel, shading his eyes.
"It's hot," he said.
"Tropical," the Doctor nodded.
"What's that?" Maxwell pointed.
"A dugout," said Jules. "Leonidis loaned it to us."
"Who?"
"Leonidis, the king of the local tribe."
Maxwell looked gobsmacked. "Nelumbo Minor is inhabited?"
"Yes!" the Doctor laughed.
"But—all our intelligence and data suggest—"
"It's a small population, and technologically not very advanced," the Doctor said. "Very easy for them to slip under the radar."
"I wonder if Delilah had any contact with them."
"If you want, you're welcome to go through her journal entries, but it's too cold down there for us," the Doctor said. "Or, we can go ask Leonidis. That might be faster."
"No, I'm going to scan her journal entries," Maxwell said. "It shouldn't take long. Why don't you two wait out here?"
"Works for me," said Jules, glad to be out in the warm air. Her feet had turned purple.
She and the Doctor left the hatch open, sitting on the top of the ship and soaking their feet in the tepid water. Maxwell went below, and after a few moments, they heard the lisping murmur of Delilah's voice.
"What do you think happened to her?" Jules whispered.
"There's no telling, but it's very odd for a scientist to abandon her ship without reporting back," the Doctor said, also keeping his voice down. "She might be out in another archipelago, observing animals in the field, but if so, why not move her ship closer to where she was working?"
"Could she teleport, too?"
"Yes, but I don't think she'd risk having anyone in the tribe stumble across the ship," the Doctor said. "Look how easily we found it today. It's possible something might've happened to her—even someone so experienced could've had an accident or fallen ill, and there wouldn't have been anyone to help her."
"You think Maxwell might want to… I dunno, look for her body?"
"After four months in the steaming tropics, I can't imagine there'd be much left of her body to find," the Doctor said.
"Eew." Jules wrinkled her nose.
"Something about this whole business feels very off," the Doctor said. "Delilah was working on an ordinary research project, but for some reason she didn't want anybody else to know about it."
They sat on the ship for a while longer, and after perhaps thirty minutes, Maxwell climbed up and joined them.
"Nothing," he said. "She spent four months making notes on the flora and fauna—underwater, in the air, on land. It was all a bit mind-numbing, actually. She did make a note of the humanoid tribe, but she didn't say she'd communicated with them. I think she observed them without letting them know she was there—she was good at things like that."
"What'd her last entry say?" the Doctor asked.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Maxwell reported. "She planned to make some more observations of the bird species, to see if any of them migrated among the landmasses."
"In that case," the Doctor said, pulling himself up into a crouch and swinging a leg into the dugout, "we should talk to Leonidis. Captain Orion, why don't you come with us?"
"Are they hostile?" he asked.
"No, not in the least," the Doctor said. Jules had climbed in behind him, and he said, "Come on… there's room for all three of us."
(ii)
The arrival of yet another outsider sent the Nelumbians into a tizzy of excitement, but Leonidis remained calm, inscrutable.
"She didn't come here," he said after listening to Maxwell's story.
Alena looked displeased, her girlish round forehead puckering into an ugly frown.
"She was spying on us?" she asked.
"Observing you," the Doctor said.
"What, like a flock of birds? I don't like this, you people coming here in your strange machines and looking down on us like we're fish, or a nest of snakes!"
Maxwell offered, "She meant you no harm. Delilah had utmost respect for the beings of other worlds. She wouldn't have wanted to intrude on your privacy and autonomy."
Alena made a scornful noise, indicating she didn't believe any of it.
"We're sorry we can't be of any more help," said Leonidis. Something in his tone of voice made it clear that he considered the matter closed.
Maxwell stared around the inside of the rock fortress as if expecting Delilah to materialize out of the walls. Jules felt sorry for him—she sensed that his love for Delilah still persisted.
"Thank you, Your Excellence," he finally responded.
"Will you join us for the evening meal?"
"No, thank you," said Maxwell. "You're very kind, but I want to search the other islands before I leave Nelumbo Minor."
"Very well." Leonidis didn't seem upset that Maxwell had refused the invitation.
Jules and the Doctor followed the young man out to the beach. Nearby, some children were at work, skinning and gutting fish, and they looked up with big, curious eyes at the strangers. Jules thought that they'd probably never seen someone wearing so many clothes.
"If by some miracle she turns up here, have her send me a message from her ship," Maxwell asked the Doctor.
"I'll do that," the Doctor promised. "Good luck. Will you come back here?"
"No, I have the distinct feeling I'm not welcome." Maxwell barked a short, nervous laugh. "I'll check the other islands, and if I don't find anything, I'm going home. Maybe if I file a missing persons report on Aldrovanda Seven, that'll shake up one of her colleagues enough to tell me what she was doing. If they even know."
"Good luck," Jules told him, sorry to see him leaving. For all her earlier anger, she still felt a great deal of sympathy for him, anxiously searching for a woman who might well be dead.
"Thank you, both of you, for your help," said Maxwell.
"It was our pleasure," said the Doctor. "I just wish we could've given you more."
With a last smile and a nod, he touched a button on his wrist strap, vanishing in a blue flash that took away Jules' breath.
"Wish I had one of those," she said. "I could get home for the holidays a lot faster when I'm at uni. It's like forever from London to Santa Clara. Will they really have those on Earth, someday?"
"Far into your future," the Doctor nodded. "In your great-grandchildren's time."
"If I even have kids," laughed Jules. She stared at the firepit, heaving a hungry sigh. "God, I hope they hurry up and finish cooking," she said. "I'm starving."
(iii)
Dinner consisted of exactly the same food, and Jules wondered how these people could bear eating the same fish and plants day after day. The Doctor didn't seem to mind at all, laughing and talking to the Nelumbians about the best way to build a dugout and bragging about some fish he'd caught somewhere on another planet.
Jules had just begun to feel mellow—and a bit randy—when a loud mechanical noise shattered the peace on the beach.
"What's all this, then?" The Doctor jumped to his feet, scanning the skies. Jules had come to recognize that he had two modes: light-hearted on one hand, but serious and competent on the other. He called to Leonidis.
"Back—everyone get back!"
The king had risen to his feet also, and now he gestured everyone away from the water.
"What is it?" screamed Saba, clapping her hands over her ears.
"A ship is landing!" the Doctor shouted.
The Nelumbians huddled together, terrified. The high-pitched noise rose, and then a deafening explosion rocked the island, a concussive blast that knocked everyone off their feet.
"What's that?" Jules yelled.
"Sonic wave!" the Doctor yelled back. "From the ship hitting the planet's atmosphere!"
"So, why didn't they notice when Delilah's ship landed?"
"She was more subtle about it!" the Doctor said, almost screaming to make himself heard.
Jules could see the ship now, a silver-black oblong in the sky, growing bigger with every second.
"Who are they?" she said. "That can't be Maxwell's ship!"
"No, he'd never make a landing with so little finesse," the Doctor scowled.
As the ship dropped from the sky it began to slow—Jules could see air shooting at high pressure from the ship's underside to slow the vessel's descent, churning the ocean into a froth. Then, light as an incongruous feather, the ship touched down on the water's surface and floated there. It stretched as long as a city block: not sleek and beautiful like Delilah's little cruiser, but dreary, industrial-ugly, utilitarian.
A hatch in the side opened, and a smaller vessel emerged, some kind of motorized boat.
"Landing party," the Doctor murmured. He strode toward the shore, Jules beside him. A moment later, Leonidis and Alena joined them.
As the motor boat neared the beach, a man inside held up one hand. The vessel stopped, and he leapt out, splashing through the surf to the dry sand.
"Good grief!" he shouted. "There's people here!" Staring at the foursome, he said, "Who in blazes are you?"
Leonidis stepped forward. "Leonidis, King of Nelumbo Minor."
"King?" the newcomer sputtered. "Nelumbo Minor is uninhabited!"
"Not so much," the Doctor said dryly. "And you are—?"
"Driscoll Blaine," the man told him, offering a hand. "Captain of the Tobriner, and Commander of the Aldrovanda Nine Royal Mineralogical Expedition Force."
"That's quite a mouthful," the Doctor smiled.
With an ironic roll of his eyes, the man said, "Well, I must observe official protocol. Just Driscoll, please. And these are my crewmates—Lavena, my first lieutenant; Riona, my chief geologist; and my navigator, Ferrell."
Jules found herself staring, fascinated. Lavena was black. For some odd reason, Jules hadn't expected to see black people in outer space. Then she told herself not to be stupid: there must be people of many skin tones all across the universe. Riona, the second female, was much lighter, middle-aged and tough looking. Ferrell had caramel-colored skin, and he wore his long silver hair in a careless tail.
Driscoll was perhaps forty, sandy-haired and blue-eyed, his eyelashes white, like a redhead's, features roundish and almost doughy. He was shorter than the Doctor, perhaps five-ten, but broader through the chest and shoulders. His clothes were indistinguishable from those of his subordinates: a hip-length silver tunic over black trousers and heavy black boots. They all wore thick black tool belts around their waists, and Jules didn't miss the formidable-looking guns that each one carried.
The Doctor said, "Driscoll, then. I'm the Doctor, and this is my companion, Jules Paxton. And might I introduce King Leonidis of Nelumbo Minor, and his lovely wife, Queen Alena?"
The Tobriner's crew all made a deep bow in the king and queen's direction. "My apologies for the rough landing," Driscoll said. "We didn't think anyone lived here."
In his deep voice, Leonidis asked, "Why have you come to Nelumbo Minor?"
"We're on an exploratory mission from the royal family of Aldrovanda Nine," Driscoll announced. "Scans from orbit have revealed vast amounts of atillax in the planet's crust. We're here to make a closer examination, extract some samples, and if the data support the preliminary tests, to begin mining operations."
Jules glanced at the Doctor, dismayed.
"Your permit will need to be re-negotiated," the Doctor told Driscoll, "to take these people's welfare into account."
Driscoll ran a frustrated hand through his thinning hair. In a low voice, he muttered, "Doctor, I don't have loads of time, here—I'm on a very tight schedule."
"There are intelligent beings on this planet," the Doctor argued. "They have a say in the future of their own world. You can't just start drilling without first assessing the risks to their lives—Article 203 of the Shadow Proclamation."
Driscoll studied the Nelumbians, his facial muscles tight, eyes worried. Jules guessed that the Doctor had caught him on some legality. Driscoll turned his gaze back to the Doctor.
"Who are you?" he said. "You're not local; anyone can see that. You must be from off-world."
"I'm a traveler and a scientist," the Doctor said. "Jules is my assistant, and we've been examining the planet's wildlife."
"Are you authorized to speak on behalf of these people?"
"They speak for themselves, but I feel it's my responsibility, as a scientist, to warn them of the potential risks involved with drilling, and to advise them of their legal rights. I'm sorry, Driscoll, but you can't drill here without their permission." Even skinny and almost naked, the Doctor's words carried unmistakable moral weight.
An uncomfortable silence followed. The Doctor turned to Leonidis. "As the leader of the planet, this decision is yours."
Leonidis told them, "I'll make my decision after I've heard what both of you have to say. Come with me."
They followed him back to the rock fortress. Leonidis dismissed everyone except the Doctor, Jules, Driscoll, and his party. They all sat cross-legged the floor, Alena at her mate's side. Leonidis nodded for Driscoll to begin.
"Your Excellence, I'm on a fairly serious expedition from Aldrovanda Nine," Driscoll opened. "The Aldrovanda System consists of twenty-one planets around its sun, three of which are inhabited—Aldrovanda Three, Aldrovanda Seven and Aldrovanda Nine." He opened his wrist strap, showing a hologram of his solar system in miniature. Alena gasped out loud, but Leonidis didn't even blink.
"Sorcery!" the queen said.
"It's just an image, a picture in the air," the Doctor reassured her. "There's nothing magical about it." He peered at the hologram, squinting. For one instant, Jules thought he looked unbearably sad. A moment later, his expression became more neutral.
Driscoll said, "As you can see, Aldrovanda Nine is a fair distance from the sun. Most of the population is clustered around the equatorial region because the regions near the two poles are too cold to sustain life." Jules took a closer look, seeing that the planet appeared very large, blue-gray in color, with thick, white caps at either pole. "Our main source of fuel has always been atillax—it burns cleanly, and it's versatile. We use it to power everything."
"I see," said Leonidis. Jules wondered how much of this he really understood.
"But we've exhausted all our natural stores of it," said Driscoll. "We've been looking elsewhere for a while—Castor was a good source. But five years ago, the sun of Castor went supernova, and the planet was burnt to a cinder."
"I see," Leonidis said again, nodding.
"We've conducted scans of other planets in the star systems nearest the Aldrovanda System, and Nelumbo Minor is our best option. Until today, we didn't realize the planet was inhabited."
"What is this… atillax?" asked Leonidis.
"It's a mineral, a sort of… a soft rock, usually deep beneath the surface." Driscoll patted his hand on the rough stone floor. "You'd have to dig pretty far down to find it. It burns easily, without releasing any dangerous atmospheric gasses." Eyes bright, almost pleading, he said, "Your Excellence, the government of Aldrovanda Nine would be prepared to give you anything you need, anything you want, in exchange for drilling rights on this planet."
Leonidis told him, "There's nothing we want from you. Everything we need, the ocean provides."
"The royal family is very wealthy."
"Maybe that wealth has meaning for people of Aldrovanda Nine, but it's nothing to us. Riches won't make the fish leap into our nets any faster." Leonidis turned his head. "What are your thoughts, Doctor?"
"There's a lot of risks associated with digging for anything," the Doctor said. "Especially because Driscoll's crew would need to drill underwater. That would disturb the seabed, and the food chain in the ocean could be disrupted. Even if the drilling is done on the other side of the planet from here, there'd be an impact. And if hazardous chemicals leak into the water, your whole food supply could be poisoned."
Driscoll interrupted, "Our techniques are very safe, Doctor! There hasn't been a major accident—"
"Yeah, right!" scoffed Jules. "Isn't what they always say? Tell that to the oil companies on Earth that dump a tanker full of crude into the ocean!"
Driscoll pulled himself upright. "We have an excellent safety record. We could set up a hundred drilling stations on this planet, with minimal impact to its ecosystem."
The Doctor shook his head. "The web of life is very delicate here. Even one drilling station would have an effect, and the damage would be irreparable. These people don't have any other resources to fall back on."
"The people of Aldrovanda Nine don't have anything to fall back on, either!" Driscoll shot. He was pleading openly now. "Our fuel sources are so low that within five years, people will start to freeze and starve to death—13 billion of them!"
Jules asked, "Have you looked anywhere else? There's a lot of other planets in this solar system, innit?"
The geologist, Riona, spoke up. "This is the only planet with atillax in its crust," she said. "It needs the rights combination of temperature and pressure to form."
The Doctor asked Driscoll, "Your ship is hardly state-of-the-art. And the older the ship, the greater the risk something will go wrong."
"It was completely overhauled and upgraded just last year." Driscoll projected a hologram of the vessel.
An expression passed across the Doctor's face, so fleeting that Jules couldn't read it. Dismay? Sadness? Shock?
"The Tobriner?" he said. "A gamma-class ship? Crew of what, seventy, seventy-five? Small-scale drilling capacity? And when you find a substantial source of atillax, you'd send for the bigger, omicron-class rigs, the ones that can mine thousands of tons in a month?"
"The Tobriner may not look like much on the outside, but the inside is pristine," said Driscoll. "It's never been involved with a single drilling mishap."
"And you'll have vats of chemicals on that ship for processing the atillax," the Doctor said. "Hundred of thousands of gallons on the bigger ships, caustic enough to burn through solid rock. If any of that leached into the water…"
"It wouldn't happen."
"You can't guarantee that," the Doctor maintained.
"So, what's everyone on Aldrovanda Nine supposed to do?" asked Driscoll. "Freeze to death?"
"I'm sorry," the Doctor said. "This is what happens when you become too reliant on one source of energy."
"Do you think we've never tried to develop other sources?" Driscoll asked. "We've tried everything, Doctor. We're too far from the sun to make solar energy feasible—we barely get enough sunlight to grow crops, and we're already importing food from off-world. All our nuclear reactors are working at full capacity, and they're still only providing a fraction of the planet's needs. We've tried everything—thermal power, wind power, hydrogen-based fuels—and the results are limited at best. It'll be decades before any of them can be developed into large-scale use, and we don't have decades. We need to find a solution, now."
"And sacrificing these people's lives is part of that solution?"
"Every effort will be made to—"
Leonidis decided he'd heard enough. "No effort will be made," he said. "My apologies, Captain Driscoll, but I can't allow you to poison our waters."
Lavena, Driscoll's first lieutenant, said, "Would relocation be possible? It's such a small population here—they could be moved to another planet if Nelumbo Minor became uninhabitable."
Jules couldn't believe the woman's caviler mentality, but then she thought that if Earth were in similar dire straits, she'd do anything within her power to allow the survival of humanity.
"Look at them," the Doctor said. "They've evolved to this world, to one specific environment. Name one planet within traveling distance where these people could thrive."
Driscoll's crew looked taken aback.
Driscoll asked Leonidis, "Won't you at least consider…?"
"No."
A look passed among Driscoll's crewmates.
"Right." The captain hopped to his feet, unholstering his gun. Before Jules and the Doctor could react, the other three had done the same. "We came here under a peaceful pretext, not even imagining this world was inhabited, and our attempts at negotiation have been rebuffed. We have authorization to conduct mining operations on this planet, a royal charter granted by the government of Aldrovanda Nine. I'm sorry, Doctor, but your interference here forces me to arrest you and your companion as enemies of the state."
"On your bike!" Jules shouted, but Ferrell and Riona had grabbed her arms, shoving their cold guns against her spine. "Doctor!"
"Leave her out of this!" the Doctor said, struggling angrily against Driscoll. "I only brought her along with me—she's done nothing."
"We're sorry, but you're both interfering with the business of the crown," said Driscoll. "Under the statutes of Aldrovanda Nine, you'll both be executed at dawn tomorrow."
"No!" yelled Jules. "That's not fair!"
Lavena had seized Alena. She told Leonidis, "Warn your warriors not to try anything stupid. The queen is our hostage until the executions tomorrow. Any interference on your part, and she'll die with them."
Alena shot her captors a murderous look, but she was powerless as the four Aldrovandans prodded their captives from the cave out to the beach and into the motorized boat.
(iv)
"If we weren't being executed tomorrow, I'd kill you myself."
"Jules—"
"You sodding great prat!" Jules exploded. "I trusted you! I went with you cos I trusted you! And now I'm gonna die, and it's all your bloody fault!"
"Jules, I'm sorry."
"Oh, save it!" She seethed, folding her arms and sinking down into a corner of the cell. The dreary little containment area measured maybe six meters square, with a small sink and toilet its only amenities. Driscoll had tossed in a blanket: there was no bed.
The reality of the situation began to sink in. Jules was going to be executed on spurious, trumped-up charges, and there was nothing she could do about it, no higher power to which she could appeal. She was going to die here on an alien planet, without ever seeing her parents, or Jess, or Joe, ever again.
Jules began weeping in great, convulsive gasps. "Oh, God, why'd I ever go with you?"
She felt his hands on her shoulders, and he sat beside her. "Shh, Jules, come here."
She smacked his arm. "Piss off!"
He wouldn't be deterred, enfolding Jules in his arms with soft murmurs of comfort. Jules struggled wildly, then relaxed into his embrace, crying all over his shoulder.
"I'm eighteen; I don't wanna die!" she bawled.
"Shh. Does your head hurt?" He was massaging her temples.
"I don't—" Jules jolted when she felt the Doctor, incredibly, inside her mind.
Jules listen to me, he said.
What? she thought. What're you doing in my head?
The cell's probably monitored, he said. This is safer than talking. Jules, it's all right! You're not going to die, I promise you that!
How d'you know?
Because there's something I know that Driscoll doesn't.
What's that?
Tomorrow, he promised, and removed his fingers from her temples.
Jules raised her head and stared at him.
"Better?" he smiled.
"Erm… I guess," she said.
The Doctor picked up the blanket wrapped it around both of them.
"Good," he said. "Try to get some sleep. Here, lean against me."
Jules didn't want to sleep—after all, despite the Doctor's reassurances, this might be her last few hours of life—but there was so little to do, she realized, she might as well rest and hope that the Doctor knew what he was doing. She curled into his warmth and much to her amazement, fell into untroubled slumber.
(v)
Whatever the Doctor had planned, Jules felt it would be best not to seem too complacent.
"Executin' us without a trial, or even any bloody evidence," she grumbled at Riona, who was leading them out to the beach.
"Actually, we do have evidence." Driscoll came striding up alongside them, his face decidedly unfriendly. "We found the Nereus not too far from here," he said. "You're in league with that infernal do-gooder, Delilah Delamere."
"We are not!" yelled Jules.
"How else could you have gotten to Nelumbo Minor?" Driscoll demanded. "We didn't find any other ships. You're all scientists; you must be working with her! Flying about the cosmos, declaring everything she finds off-limits to development! She's the worst kind of pacifist—she'll put the life of any mollusk over the lives of billions of people!"
"Yeah, well if everyone on Aldrovanda Nine's like you lot, who can blame her?" Jules sneered.
Ignoring the insult, Driscoll said, "And that's all the evidence I need that you're interfering in state affairs. The punishment is death."
The Doctor and Jules were made to stand with their backs to the water. Nearby, the Nelumbians huddled, shaking and terrified. Lavena, Riona, and Ferrell formed a firing squad, facing the two condemned prisoners. Jules fought to keep her legs steady.
"Excuse me," the Doctor said. "I believe we're entitled to a last request."
"You're entitled to nothing!" Driscoll snarled.
"Actually, according to Article 1087, Subsection C of the Shadow Proclamation, all condemned prisoners are entitled to one last request."
"And Clause One of Subsection C states that last requests exclude a stay of execution," Driscoll retorted.
"Oh, yes, quite," the Doctor said. He radiated the calm serenity of a man fully prepared to meet his demise. "It's nothing I want for myself. In fact, it's something I want for you."
Driscoll stared at him, his pugnacious chin relaxing as his features took on a look of complete befuddlement. "Come again?"
"For you," the Doctor smiled. "If you could do just one thing for yourself before we die."
"And what's that?"
"Check your news feeds from home."
"What?" Driscoll sputtered.
"That's my last request," the Doctor said. "For you to look at the news feeds from Aldrovanda Nine."
"Right off his rocker, that one," Lavena muttered.
"Seems harmless enough a request," Ferrell chuckled. "Maybe he's hoping Queen Mairead has granted a universal pardon."
Driscoll sighed, rolling his eyes slightly, but whatever this Shadow Proclamation was, he seemed reluctant to disregard it. He motioned to his three subordinates.
"At ease," he said, and then he flipped open his wrist gauntlet. Jules watched, holding her breath, as a hologram of a computer screen was projected into the air. She could see lines of text scrolling across it. Driscoll began reading, then his face froze, his breath rushed out in a wheezing gasp, and he stood immobilized, staring at the image of the blue screen.
"Driscoll? What is it?" asked Lavena, her voice urgent.
"No," he whispered. "No, it can't be possible."
The Doctor reached out and took Jules by the hand.
"There's been a coup." Driscoll's voice shook. "Queen Mairead and the entire royal family have been assassinated. The government's been overthrown and is now in the hands of rebels."
"Declan's rebels?" asked Riona, blanching. "But how… he's… he was dead!"
"All servants of the crown are now considered wanted criminals," Driscoll said. "There's a price on our heads. Declan's bounty hunters are looking for us." He turned accusing eyes to the Doctor. "You knew about this!" he exploded. "You must be in league with them! How else could you have known this?"
"I know your history," the Doctor said. "The history of the Aldrovanda System."
"History? It's happening right now!"
"It's history to me," the Doctor said.
"Traitor!"
"Time Lord."
"You expect me to believe that?" sneered Driscoll. "The Time Lords are extinct!"
"There was one survivor," the Doctor said. Steel edged his voice, and his habitual joie de vivre had fallen away, revealing something ancient and powerful and terrifying: not a god, but a monster. "Only one survivor, Driscoll, and you're looking at him! The man who wiped out the entire Dalek race! You really think I'd let a two-bit space pirate like you slow me down?"
Driscoll didn't answer. He aimed his deadly-looking blaster straight at Jules. The Doctor leaped in front of her, but she held her breath, wondering if this would, in fact, be the end.
Nothing happened. A funny, hollow clicking noise echoed across the beach, and Jules dared to peek around the Doctor's shoulder. Driscoll and his subordinates were staring at their guns, which appeared to not be working.
"Oh, dear," the Doctor smiled. "Seems like someone's disarmed all your weapons, doesn't it?"
"How could you… you've been locked up for the past twelve hours!" Driscoll shouted.
In a shimmering blue flash, Maxwell Orion materialized on the beach. Addressing Driscoll he grinned, "Hullo, old friend." He told Jules and the Doctor, "I was on my way back to Aldrovanda Three when the Tobriner blinked on my radar screen, and I knew this bastard couldn't be up to any good."
"Orion!" Driscoll snarled.
"The pigeons've come home to roost, eh Driscoll?" Maxwell had a look of jubilation about him. "I'd get moving if I were you—Declan's men are on the hunt for the Tobriner. A crew of seventy-five will bring in a fat bounty. And there's someone who could very easily tip them off about your current location."
"You piece of shit," Driscoll breathed. "You're in league with Declan!"
"The people of Aldrovanda Nine had no choice!" Maxwell shot. "Either they revolted, or they waited for death while the royal family and the bureaucrats holed themselves up in a fortress with the planet's last resources! The people's biggest mistake was waiting too long for the queen and the government to save them! They should've acted sooner—a lot sooner!"
"You'll pay for this!" Driscoll hissed.
"I don't think you're in any position to make threats," Maxwell told him. Everyone on the beach watched the two men, riveted. "And as much as I'd like to watch Declan's men make you suffer, I'm willing to bargain with you for one thing. Tell me what happened to Delilah Delamere, and if she's still alive, I'll give you a head start out of this system."
"We found Delilah's ship," said Driscoll. "There was no sign of her. We have no idea where she is."
"Liar!" said Maxwell. "She opposed Queen Mairead's plans to exploit any world within traveling distance! Why wouldn't you kill her?"
"We didn't kill her," said Driscoll through gritted teeth.
The Doctor spoke up. "Actually, Maxwell, the Tobriner only landed yesterday. I doubt if Driscoll's crew had anything to do with Delilah's disappearance—she's been missing for four months."
But Maxwell ignored this; he seemed to be teetering on the edge of nervous hysteria. He shoved Driscoll, demanding, "Where is she? Where is she? What've you done to her, you thieving, murdering swine?"
Enraged, Driscoll swung his fist, clocking Maxwell in the jaw and sending him staggering to the sand.
"Stop it!" the Doctor shouted. "This won't solve anything!"
Driscoll turned to the nearest Nelumbian guard, yanking the boy's spear from his hands.
"Max, look out!" screamed Jules.
Maxwell had clambered to his feet, and he stared up, horrified.
"No!" the Doctor yelled. "No, don't!"
Driscoll cocked back his arm and threw the spear like a javelin. The weapon shot through the air and took Maxwell square in the chest. He fell back into the sand, blood gushing everywhere.
"Doctor, help him!" sobbed Jules.
Maxwell stared up at the sky, feeble hands clutching the shaft that impaled him through the chest. Jules saw him mouth the word "Delilah" before his head lolled to one side.
Jules turned her glare to Driscoll. "You monster," she whispered.
In a twinkling, Leonidis and his men had Driscoll's crew surrounded, spears at their necks.
"Don't," the Doctor said. "Please, don't."
Eyes burning like green embers in his face, Leonidis asked, "Why should we let them live?"
"Because they're not worth having blood on your hands." The Doctor said, "Lavena, go to the ship and fetch Queen Alena. When she's safely back here, we'll let you go. You'll be exiles for the rest of time. Now, go."
Lavena knew better to argue with that voice, that expression. On shaking legs, she went to the motorboat and returned to the Tobriner. Less than seven minutes later she returned, the queen beside her, unharmed.
The Doctor told Driscoll, "Go. I don't care where you and your crew take refuge, but don't ever set foot on this world again."
Numb and silent, Driscoll and his subordinates returned to their ship.
"Everyone, get back," the Doctor said. "Cover your ears."
With a mighty, thunderous explosion, the Tobriner lifted off. The sea churned wildly as the vessel rose into the air, but then calmed as the ship gained more altitude. It shrank as it grew further and further away, until it was a tiny speck in the sky, and then, with a rumbling echo of thunder, it was gone.
(vi)
Maxwell's body was burned on a pyre at the tip of a long spit of sand. The Nelumbians waited until low tide to ignite the kindling. Jules, exhausted and fretful, didn't understand the delay until the Doctor explained it to her.
"When the tide comes back in, it'll wash the ashes out to sea."
"Oh." She was torn up with grief, too numb to feel much besides a dull interest.
"You should get some rest," the Doctor said kindly, looking up at the sun.
"Can't we just go home?" asked Jules.
"Not yet," the Doctor said. "The festival is tonight. We should stay through that, at least, to be polite."
They walked along the beach together, alone, not far from where they'd first discovered Fauna with her injury, when all this had started.
"So, you know Aldrovanda's history?" asked Jules after a pace.
"Yeah." The Doctor's arms were folded, and he was hugging his elbows. Days in the bright sun had brought out a lot of freckles on his face and back. When he inhaled and exhaled, Jules could make out the faint ridges made by his ribs. "I'd forgotten about it, but when Driscoll showed me the hologram of the Tobriner, it all came back."
"So, what happened on Aldrovanda Nine? Did the coup solve anything? Who was that Declan bloke they were all going on about?"
"The coup didn't solve a thing. It was a last, desperate act by desperate people. Declan wasn't just any rebel; he was the queen's bastard half-brother. He wasn't interested in saving the people or the planet, only in his own personal vendetta."
"Oh, no!"
"He seized power and put the planet under martial law. He had no political skills at all and mismanaged the planet's remaining resources. Within two years, people began dying—first by the hundreds, then by the thousands and millions. Aldrovanda Nine became a cold, dead wasteland."
"And Maxwell was working for Declan? Didn't he know?"
"I think Maxwell was sympathetic to the plight of the people on Aldrovanda Nine, and he naïvely believed that Declan could solve the planet's problems. You can hardly fault him for having compassion, even if his judgment was lacking."
"So, what'll happen to Driscoll's crew?"
"They'll take refuge on the planet Muscaria," the Doctor said, "and spend the rest of their lives as exiles. Lavena will be the last survivor."
"And none of that can change? You couldn't have warned Driscoll yesterday?"
"Fixed points," the Doctor said. "Nothing can stop it. It would've been wrong of me to interfere—that might've had serious repercussions."
"But you said before that time was in flux here," said Jules.
"It still is," the Doctor told her. "That hasn't changed. The fluctuation is still around one point, and I haven't found what that point is—yet."
"So, that's why you wanna stay here," Jules realized. "Not cos you'd bite your arm off for more of that fish."
The Doctor laughed. "Tomorrow morning," he promised. "If I haven't found the fluctuating point by tomorrow morning, I'll take you home then."
"Good," Jules responded. "Nothing against fish, but I'm starving. I've been daydreaming about scones."
"Carbohydrate craving," the Doctor said. "Why don't you kip until dinner?"
Jules was tempted to take him up on that suggestion, but she asked, "So, are you gonna look around for your fluctuating thingamabob?"
"It seems like a good way to pass the time until the festival starts."
"Right, then," said Jules. "In that case, I'm coming with you."
(vii)
"One thing I don't get."
"What's that?" asked the Doctor.
They sat together on woven mats, watching the sun sink down over the horizon, a glorious panorama of red and purple. In the east rose three moons: one very large, the other two smaller.
"How come everyone here speaks English?"
"They don't," the Doctor said. "You're just hearing English in your mind. The TARDIS translates everything for you."
"Cor!" said Jules, rubbing her forehead. "Seriously? In my head?"
"Mmmhmm," he smiled. "That's usually the first question people ask."
"Guess I'm a little slow on the uptake," laughed Jules. She used a twig to draw patterns in the white sand, watching the Nelumbians around them, cleaning up after the meal. Jules suspected that this festival normally would be more boisterous, but given recent events, nobody felt much like celebrating.
Leonidis sat apart from the others, seemingly lost in thought. The threat to Alena's life hadn't brought the king and queen any closer together; she sat at some distance from her mate, surrounded by her usual coterie of females. Around the adults, children played in the sand, more resilient than their elders, but a pall of sadness hung over the entire group. Their idyllic innocence had been shattered. Perhaps Leonidis looked so grim because he knew he could never protect his people from the rapacious greed of men like Driscoll.
As twilight deepened, the adults began pairing off. The Doctor looked at Jules and smiled, running his fingertips lightly down the inside of her arm. She was surprised to feel herself respond: the day had been long and exhausting. But this was her last night in paradise; might as well make the most of it. The Doctor stood, tugging her to her feet, and they strolled the length of the beach, beyond the stone fortress, until they reached a secluded spot, away from the sight of the others, then they lay together in the sand.
In the mellow afterglow, Jules almost fell asleep, until the Doctor nudged her back to awareness.
"What?" she mumbled.
"Get dressed," he murmured. Already he'd donned his swimming trunks.
"Why?" Jules sat up, brushing off sand and grabbing for her bikini. Without being consciously aware of it, she was checking the sky for signs of disturbance. "Is something wrong?"
"No. Just be ready to move."
The sat waiting, the Doctor's gaze fixed on the strip of beach in back of the fortress. A few moments later, Jules saw something, a shadow in the dim light. Even from this distance, the singular shape of Leonidis could not be mistaken.
After a quiet splash, Jules whispered, "Evening swim, then?"
"To what purpose, though?" the Doctor whispered back. "Come on."
They raced toward the water, and they climbed into a dugout that had been dragged up onto the sand. "In you go," the Doctor said.
"After him?"
"We'll never catch him by swimming," the Doctor grinned.
All three moons had risen now, providing more than enough light. The Doctor had no difficulty keeping track of Leonidis, following the tiny shape of his dark head as it bobbed to the surface from time to time, but even paddling in a dugout, Jules and the Doctor could barely keep up with him.
"Where's he going?" asked Jules.
"I'm hoping he'll lead us to the point that's in flux," the Doctor said.
It looked to Jules as though Leonidis had taken a route that led around the outer edge of the archipelago; she and the Doctor hadn't explored this far. Over the wind, she could hear the faint cries of night-dwelling creatures in the mangrove jungles. The waves were stronger out here, too, away from the shoreline. Jules hoped that she and the Doctor would be safe. She kept her focus on paddling, though she would have liked to study the three moons: the biggest one was a pale yellow, the smallest was a kind of dusky gray, and the third made her think of a ripe apricot.
The Doctor must have noticed her looking, because he said, "Every fifty-two months."
"What?"
"The three moons are only full at the same time every fifty-two months."
"Is that important?"
"It's a special night to the Nelumbians. They say any child born at the Three Moons festival will be blessed with good luck."
They rounded a bend where the last island trailed into the ocean, a lonely promontory jutting out into the waves.
"There!" the Doctor said, pointing to a dark patch.
"What's that?"
"A cave." They turned the dugout with effort, fighting against the current. "Allons-y, Jules!"
Her arms were shaking with exhaustion by the time they drew up onto a precariously narrow beach. They hauled the dugout onto some rocks, above the high water mark. As they tossed the paddles into the vessel, they heard a horrible cry from deep within the cave.
"What's happened?" Jules gasped.
The Doctor had drawn out the sonic screwdriver, using it as an improvised torch. By its faint illumination, Jules saw that the floor of the cave was sandy, descending steeply, then veering to the right, a natural cavern, much like those in the stone fortress. Jules saw the orange flicker of firelight.
She and the Doctor burst in on a scene straight out of a nightmare. On the floor, lying on a blood-soaked straw mat, was a naked woman, her belly enormous and distended. Her legs were apart, and Jules could see something grotesquely wrong with her private bits. She knew she shouldn't stare, but she couldn't avert her gaze, either.
Beside the woman knelt Leonidis, face contorted with anguish. "Why won't it be born?" he whispered.
The Doctor took immediate stock of the situation. "The baby is breach," he said, kneeling at the woman's other side and checking her vital signs. Jules realized then what she was seeing, an infant's foot, tiny and blue.
From the king's blank expression, he had no idea what this meant.
"Breach—the baby's coming feet-first!"
"Don't they always?"
"Not human babies!" The Doctor took the woman's head in his hands, fingers on her temples, just as he'd done with Jules. He spoke out loud.
"Delilah? Delilah, can you hear me? If you can, just blink."
Incredibly, the woman's eyelids fluttered. She was exhausted beyond measure—God only knew how long she'd been in labor—and given the blood loss, she might be very close to death. But she was still cognizant, still aware of her surroundings.
"Good! Listen to me, Delilah—I'm going to push the baby back inside you, turn it around, and help you deliver it. You'll feel some pressure, but not any pain. When the baby's facing head-first, I'll need you to push it out. Can you do that? Just blink to say yes."
The eyelids flicked again. Delilah's breath was coming swift and irregular, and Jules worried she wouldn't live long enough to deliver the baby.
"Right." The Doctor shut his eyes, fingers pushing into the woman's temples.
"What're you doing?" whispered Jules.
"Blocking pain receptors, putting her into a kind of trance." The Doctor eased Delilah's head back to the mat and turned his attention to the distressed newborn. He put one hand low on Delilah's abdomen, eyes closed again, the other hand on the infant's foot. Then, incredibly, the tiny limb began to disappear into its mother.
"That's right," the Doctor murmured. "Back you go."
Jules was torn between watching him work and watching Leonidis. Several mysteries had been solved, but even more questions had been raised. So this was where Delilah had been hiding—but had it been her idea or that of Leonidis for her to deliver the baby in the cave rather than in the cleaner, better-equipped Nereus? Leonidis must have been having an affair with Delilah—almost certainly he was the baby's father—which explained Alena's hostility toward her mate. And Delilah's contact with Leonidis explained why the arrival of subsequent newcomers on the planet hadn't surprised him, and why he'd been so quick to dismiss Driscoll's mining plans.
The bigger question, to Jules, was what had these two seen in each other? Whatever had drawn two such vastly different people together; what kind of bizarre love had they shared? Looking at Delilah, Jules wondered, She really let Leonidis shag her? But then she had to scold herself, You're a great one to talk, shagging an alien bloke. And another question had been answered: the humans on Nelumbo Minor were genetically compatible with humans from other worlds, certainly enough to produce offspring.
"All right!" the Doctor said, shifting his hands further up Delilah's belly. "Now, to get this little one turned around." Jules watched him probe with his fingertips.
"What're you doing?" she murmured.
"Looking for its head," the Doctor responded. "Ah-ha! There you are!" He shut his eyes, pressing fingertips into two spots on the upper part of Delilah's belly.
"Can you feel it? Is it all right? What's going on in there?" Jules babbled.
"Shh," the Doctor said, eyes still closed. "I'm engaging its reflexes… there… there you are! That's right, just give me a lovely little somersault… head over heels; that's right!"
Amazed, Jules watched a ripple of movement across the pale, taut skin as the baby rolled itself inside its mother's womb.
"And there it is!" the Doctor gasped, leaning back. "All right—Leonidis, get behind her and prop her up into a squatting position."
The king was too stunned to argue. He shifted Delilah up and leaned her weight against him, wrapping his long arms around her ribs.
The Doctor put his hands on Delilah's temples again. "I need you to push," he said. "Just a few times, that's all it should take, and you'll have your baby. All right?"
Delilah blinked, taking a deep breath. Then, for one crazy moment, she almost smiled. Her hair was a tangled mess, matted to her scalp with sweat; she was so weak she couldn't support herself, but somewhere in the pain-addled depths of her mind, she found some joy, some small ember of hope. For an instant, Jules saw the color of her eyes, a lovely, clear hazel.
Delilah tried to start pushing, but it was obvious that her prior exertions had left her muscles as limp as banana peels. She did her best, gasping and straining, but the baby was just too big.
"Help her, Jules!" the Doctor said.
"How?"
"Push! Put your hands on the baby and push!"
"Like this?" Jules put her hands on Delilah's belly, finding a bump that might have been the baby's backside.
"Right! Now—Delilah, Jules is going to help you. When you push, she'll push with you. Just give me a little more, all right?"
Delilah mouthed the word, "Yes."
"All right, then. One—two—three—push!"
Delilah's face screwed up with the agony of her effort, and Jules pushed down on the infant's rump. Incredibly, she felt something giving way beneath her hands.
"That's it! I can see the head now! Keep going!"
The two women kept working, and the Doctor reached between Delilah's thighs, grasping the baby's head in his hands as it emerged. With one last straining heave, the infant popped out completely, and Delilah sagged back against Leonidis. A pulpy blob that must be the placenta followed the baby, oozing out in a gush of dark blood. Jules went to the Doctor's side, eager to see the newborn, but she froze, horrified: the Doctor was smacking the baby's bottom, to no avail. No breath, no cries, nothing: the infant was cold and still and blue in his hands.
"Oh, no," whispered Jules. "No… it can't be."
The Doctor cleaned mucus from the baby's face and began breathing into its mouth.
"What happened?" whispered Jules, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It was alive just now—you turned it around!"
The Doctor didn't answer, continuing his desperate efforts to revive the baby, breathing into its mouth and smacking its bottom. Nearby, Leonidis knelt, head bowed and eyes closed. The posture of surrender enraged Jules: she didn't want the past hours of bloodshed and upheaval to end without at least one small spark of redemptive hope.
"Come on!" she scolded the infant. "Come on, don't just give up! Fight!"
The Doctor took a long, deep breath, his entire chest expanding, then he exhaled into the baby's mouth. Jules saw the tiny body jolt.
"Oh, my God, it's moving!"
The Doctor smacked the baby's bottom again, and with a violent start it drew in its first breath, exhaling a loud, gasping wail.
"It's alive!" screamed Jules, almost beside herself with happiness. "Doctor—it's alive; you did it!"
The baby continue to howl, its skin turning from blue to purple to violent red as life-giving oxygen flooded its system.
"Oh, yes!" the Doctor cried, knotting the umbilical cord in two places and cutting between the knots with his sonic screwdriver. "A new, healthy little human boy! Leonidis," he said, "Leonidis, you have a son."
The king didn't respond. Jules turned to look at him.
"Oh, no," she whispered.
The Doctor turned his head and looked also, making a noise of dismay. Delilah's last breath had left her, perhaps just as her child had drawn its first. Jules reeled from the impact, from the realization that life and death could dwell together as such intimate bedfellows.
Still cradling the baby in one arm, the Doctor knelt beside Delilah, checking her vital signs, but it was too late: she was dead as clay. Her hazel eyes were still open, though, staring up at nothing. The Doctor reached down and lowered the lids with his fingertips.
"Here," he said, holding up the baby to Leonidis. "He's yours."
The king stared at the infant, grief-stricken and baffled.
"He's your child," the Doctor said, trying to explain. "Your flesh and blood, as much as Delilah's."
Leonidis shook his head. "How can he be? Children are the creation of women." He pointed to the infant's hands and feet. "It's not one of us."
Jules looked at the baby, noticing for the first time its tiny digits: two joints, not three, and no webbing.
"But he's your child," she said. "You made love to Delilah; you started the baby growing inside her! He might not look exactly like you, but he's still yours!"
"Jules," the Doctor murmured. He said to Leonidis, "As Delilah's lover, you still should have some say in the baby's fate. What would you have us do with him?"
Voice muffled with grief, Leonidis said, "Take him to Delilah's kin on Aldrovanda Seven. Perhaps they can raise him."
"All right, then." The Doctor stood, the baby boy cradled in his arms. "If you send him away now, you'll never see him again."
"What difference does it make if his mother is gone?" Leonidis touched Delilah's frizzy brown hair. Without looking directly at the Doctor, he said, "Please leave."
Jules had all she could do not to physically pummel him. The Doctor saw her angry expression and shot her a stern warning with his eyes. With a jerk of his head, he motioned for her to follow him, and they left the king alone with the body of his dead love.
"Doctor how could you just let him—"
"Shh!" the Doctor scolded. "Jules, what's he supposed to do, go back to the tribe and ask Alena to raise the bastard half-breed son he fathered with a woman from another planet?"
Put that way, even in such blunt, crude terms, Jules recognized the truth of the situation. "Shit," she muttered.
"He's too human to be raised here," the Doctor said. They'd reached the mouth of the cave, and by the light of the three moons, they could see that the tide had stopped running, the sea very still and calm. Jules dragged the dugout down to the water's edge. The Doctor followed, saying, "Here, you hold him and I'll paddle."
"Can you manage by yourself?" asked Jules, clambering into the dugout. The Doctor put the baby in her arms. The newborn had stopped crying, and now he slept, oblivious to the dramatic circumstances of his birth. "Be sure to support his head," the Doctor said.
"Oof," said Jules, carefully shifting the child's weight. "He's awfully big, innit?"
The Doctor got into the dugout and began paddling them away from the cave. Jules stared around in a daze, trying to drink it all in and impress it upon her memory forever. Beneath the light of the three moons, the sea had turned the most extraordinary shade of lapis blue. In the distance she could see the dark smudge of the trees, the pale sand of the beaches.
The Doctor didn't return them to the island where the Nelumbians lived, instead angling the craft toward the island where they'd left the TARDIS. Jules was startled to see it there, like something from a half-remembered dream.
She and the Doctor left the dugout and paddles high up on the beach, trudging through the soft sand. The bright lights and cool interior of the time machine came as a shock after the warm, tropical night air. With the baby still in her arms, Jules turned and stared out over the sea, wishing for a photo or some token the child could carry with him, some memento of his homeworld. Then she was back inside the ship, the metal grating cold beneath her bare feet.
"Will he be lucky, d'you think?" she asked.
"What?" the Doctor asked, startled.
"Well, he was born when the three moons were full. You reckon he'll be lucky?"
"Who can say?" the Doctor said. "Time's in flux."
"Around him?" Jules stared down at the child, unremarkable apart from his size.
"That's our fluctuating point, right there. Him."
"Cor!" said Jules. "Seriously?"
"That's why I couldn't find the point… he was still inside his mother." The Doctor turned to the console. "Hold on," he said, throwing a lever. "We're off to Aldrovanda Seven, to see if we can find him a home."
Jules held on to a support post with one arm, the baby in her other arm, its head resting on her shoulder. Wondering what this next alien world would be like, she told the infant, "Not even half an hour old, and you're already having an adventure."
To be continued…