KEEPING TIES

It reminded her of a scene in one of those Indiana Jones movies. Something about a leap of faith.

A deep creavasse which seemed to lead into some sort of fiery pit lay before her, and the only way across was a narrow bridge which looked as though it wouldn't hold the weight of a lemur, let alone a human woman. She had no idea where it led, but it was either onwards or backwards, which didn't seem to lead anywhere.

She stepped toward the edge of the balcony she was on. The front edge gave way a little bit under her weight. She stepped back, heart pounding, glad once again that she was small. A larger person would have fallen to their death. She dug into the messenger bag and found a mesh string sack full of apples that she had stuffed inside. She emptied the apples back into the messenger bag and began to unravel the sack so that she could use the string. She threaded it through some of the tiny screw-holes at the edge of the balcony, then tugged at the railing to make sure it was safe. She tied the the balcony floor to the railing, lacing the string five times before she ran out and had to tie it off. She wasn't sure if string, even five-times reinforced, would hold a person, but its presence, at least, might draw attention to the weak spot, should someone else come through with more girth than she.

She stepped out onto the rickety bridge in her black strappy heels and waiter's uniform, eight sizes too large. Now the shoes bothered her. She retreated back onto the balcony and took a deep breath.

She made the decision just to walk. She would not tiptoe or crawl, she would not prolong the agony in any way. She would walk. She put the messenger bag in front of her around her neck and hung on as a balancing device, and began the journey across.

And then, halfway across, in her peripheral vision, she saw them. The angels could fly. One of the droids was drifting down from above. She swore, but kept her composure and continued walking.

"How are you doing this?" she called out.

"Information," it said. "Air is specially ionised for de-enforcement of gravity."

"Don't you ever give up?" she asked it.

"Information, our purpose is to kill."

"Oh, d'you think?" she said.

"Information," it answered. "Yes."

She realised then that her asking questions was actually distracting it. She assumed it wanted, like before, to push her over the edge. She needed to keep it away long enough just to get across and through the next door.

"What's four times twelve?" she yelled.

"Information, forty-eight."

The thing was coming closer, but she thought she had time if she could keep it talking.

"What's the capitol of Sweden?"

"Information, Stockholm."

Its hands were moving toward its halo. She couldn't turn to look, but suddenly, she formulated quite a grave, grim notion of what was about to happen to her.

But she was almost across! Just a few more steps!

"Which country won Eurovision in 1992?"

It didn't answer. She saw, again, in the periphery, a golden disc coming toward her. Instinctively, she brought the messenger bag, which she had been holding by its corners, up to the level of her face. The gold disc, razor sharp, lodged in its side, saving her jugular from severing. She let out a relieved, stressed cry, then continued her even progress forward.

When she reached the end, she stepped carefully onto the opposite platform. She fell against the hand-plate which should have opened the door, but the door would not budge. She kicked it in frustration, immediately regretting it. The angel was advancing, and she was trapped. Or at least very inconveniently circumstanced.

Then she saw it. A flashing blue light on the wall to her right. "Ionisation de-calibrated," it read. There was a dial with numbers. Martha took a shot. She turned the dial all the way to the left, and the blue light stopped flashing. "Ionisation calibrated," it read. She turned, the angel, hovering above the fiery pit not five feet from her, dropped into the cavern like a stone.

Only then did she realise that she was panting. She fell against the wall with relief as her heart nearly pounded out of her chest. She took a moment to catch her breath, and grabbed the gold disc, stuffing it inside the messenger bag. Then she stumbled back over to the door with the hand-plate and tried again. She guessed that the ionised air was causing an electronic malfunction there as well, or at least the sealing of the door was coupled with trapping people in this horrible space, because the door slid open with absolutely no hesitation.

She threw a metal grate out of the way coming through the door, and sighed. More gears, more ugly under-rooms, more hydraulics and labyrinthine passages and blind corners. The Doctor must have left the mechanical room by now, probably had talked his way out, along with Astrid and a band of misfits or something. She had to admit that she was advancing with no idea now where she was going, only the clear knowledge that she could not stand still with the angels lurking about. And so she pressed on.

"Is that the only way across?" asked Rickston, whining.

"On the other hand, it is a way across," the Doctor replied. He always tried to make humans look on the bright side of things. Too bad he couldn't always follow his own advice.

"The engines are open," Astrid said, looking down into the same fiery pit Martha had looked into, not ten minutes before.

"Nuclear storm drive," the Doctor told them. "Soon as that thing stops, the Titanic falls."

"That... that thing," Morvin shouted, looking nervously at the rickety bridge. "It'll never take our weight."

"You're going last, mate," Rickston shot back, coldly.

"It's nitrofene metal, it's stronger than it looks," the Doctor protested.

"All the same," Morvin said, moving toward the railing. "Rickston's right. Me and Foon should..."

He was interrupted by a creaking sound and a certain instability under his feet. He stopped short and looked down. The front of the balcony had been repaired with string.

"Morvin, move away!" Foon cried out. "It'll go underneath you!"

He took a couple of steps back and bent a bit to examine the makeshift repair job. "Is that string?" he asked.

"Looks like," Foon answered. "How odd. Morvin, you got lucky, sweetheart!"

The Doctor moved in, and the VanHoffs got out of his way. He examined the string as Morvin had. "It's the same string they use to bag up apples in kitchens in the Crawlawn."

"Our food distributor is in the Crawlawn," Astrid told him.

The Doctor said. "Another ten seconds and it would have given way."

The VanHoffs embraced.

The Doctor stood up and looked at them. "It's not luck, Morvin," he said. "Someone saved your life tonight."

Morvin and Foon were thankful, but a sick feeling came over the Doctor. Martha was still a few steps ahead of them, putting out fires wherever she went. She must have felt the balcony give way beneath her feet as well, and tied it up so no-one else would get hurt. But that meant that she was on her own, facing things that she shouldn't have to, things that he should be facing, doing the things they should be doing together.

"We have to move faster," he said. "Come on."

"I rather think that those things have got our scent," Mr. Copper said, his voice shaking a bit.

"I'm not waiting!" Rickston announced, and he ventured out over the bridge. An explosion from the storm drive put him off his feet, and he fell, though caught himself. He became panic-stricken, and the Doctor attempted to talk him across.

"They're getting nearer!" Copper called. They all could hear the chant of kill kill kill coming from the other side of the door.

"I'll seal us in," the Doctor said, sonicking the door and its seal.

"That'll leave us trapped, wouldn't you say?"

"Never say trapped," the Doctor insisted. "Just inconveniently circumstanced."

Rickston reached the other side, slowly, with a cry of triumph. He was followed, again, slowly, by Bannakaffalatta, Astrid, Mr. Copper, the Doctor and finally, the VanHoffs, one at a time.

As they crossed, Rickston cried back, "Doctor, how do we open the door?"

"Try the handprint plate," the Doctor answered, balancing.

Rickston pressed his hand against the plate, and the door slid open. He held it ajar and ushered the others through. The Doctor noticed a flashing blue light beside the door, just before going through. "Ionisation calibrated," it said.

"Blimey," he muttered, going through the door.

"What?" asked Astrid.

"That room has a feature to de-calibrate ions," he said, running his hand through his hair. "Some robotic circuits can be designed to defy gravity in that environment."

"So the angels can fly?" asked Mr. Copper. "I suppose it's in keeping with the traditions of Christmas."

"Yes," the Doctor told him. "That could have been a nasty crossing-over if the angels had flown in while we were on the bridge. Someone recalibrated it before we arrived there."

"It's like we've got a guardian angel," Morvin smiled.

"More like another Doctor looking out for us, a few steps ahead," Astrid commented absently.

"Almost a doctor, yes," said the Doctor. God, he needed to find her. Easiest way was to get to the bridge, which is what he had planned all along anyhow. And the most effective way to do that? Find out what the hell was on deck 31, the sinister home-base of the host.

And then he gave everyone a task. They needed to get back to the banquet room, because there, they had the transport console. Mr. Copper knew how to use it, so he charged the old man with sending out a distress signal. He left the sonic with Rickston to open doors.

Reluctantly, the small red spiky alien admitted, "Doctor. Must confess. Bannakaffalatta cyborg."

"Really?" the Doctor asked, rather embarrassed not to have noticed.

Bannakaffalatta nodded. "Bannakaffalatta boost storm drive. Titanic not fall."

"I could help," offered Morvin. He pointed to himself. "Robotics, remember?"

"Worth a shot. Do you know your way down?" the Doctor asked.

Morvin chuckled. "As well as you do, I'd wager."

The Doctor smirked. "Fair enough. Be careful."

"One more thing," Bannakaffalatta said before exiting. "Take this." He pulled his tuxedo up, revealing the cyborg panel. He extracted a device from his stomach that looked a bit like a torch.

"This is your backup source," the Doctor said. "You'll need that."

"Flash short-circuit angels," Bannakaffalatta said.

The Doctor studied it. He was right. "All right, but the minute you feel yourself losing power, you stop! You need to give yourself time to re-charge. You have no power feed now!"

"Bannakaffalata promise."

"I'll keep an eye on him, Doctor," Morvin said earnestly. With that, he kissed his wife, exited the room and Bannakaffalata followed.

The Doctor handed the backup source to Astrid. "Go with Rickston and Mr. Copper," he said. "It'll take out a host within fifty yards, but then it needs sixty seconds to re-charge, got it?"

"You talk like you're not coming with us," Astrid commented, beginning to sound and feel just a bit panicked.

"Deck 31," he said, winking, firing up a comm unit.

The report from the bridge stated that they had eight minutes until the storm drive lost power and fell to Earth, wiping out life. The Doctor sprung into action as always, and promised Midshipman Frame that he'd get to the bridge, somehow.

"Doctor!" Astrid called after him. "There's an old tradition back on Sto."

"I've really got to go!"

"This will only take a moment!"

She grabbed a first aid kit and ran toward the Doctor, and laid the box at his feet. She was a small woman, and he was a tall man. Moreover, he knew the traditions of Sto – much like those of Earth.

He took her by the shoulders. It was weird to see eye-to-eye with her. "Astrid. I have to go."

She looked crestfallen.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I made a promise to someone. She has saved our lives at least twice tonight, and..."

She looked momentarily surprised, as she realised it was Martha who had cleared the stairway, left the food, laced up the balcony and de-ionised the air to stop the angels flying. And then her face reverted to disappointment. What had she done to win the Doctor's affection or respect?

"I understand," she whispered. She looked up from under her blonde curls. "But it's just a kiss – and she won't even know."

"I'll know," the Doctor insisted. He turned and left her standing, looking after him. To the casual observer, she might have seemed disappointed, but she was actually feeling something else entirely.

Dizziness spreads like black ice. Warm light is replaced by a creeping crackling of cold dark, and there is usually nothing one can do to stop it.

And so, Martha sat. Perched on a beam that had fallen sideways in the collision, she bent and put her head between her knees, and began to breathe deeply. She thought about the adrenaline rush she had just experienced. She had almost died in at least three ways, just in that one room. If she had been heavier she'd have fallen from the balcony. If she hadn't found the messenger bag and packed it with food, she have had her jugular severed. If she had lost her concentration for one second, she'd have fallen into the fiery pit. Thank God her mother had taught her how to walk properly in heels or she'd be dead.

By the time the three angels came into the room, she'd had just enough time to eat an apple. She had found it surprisingly refreshing.

Good thing, because now it was time to think fast again. Initially, she was slightly crippled, backing against the mechanical door, unsure, terrified, and wondering "What would the Doctor do?" But he wasn't here. And then the angels all reached up, in eerie mechanical unison, for their halos.

If anyone sentient had been nearby, they would have seen her face light up, and would have heard the joy in her voice as she said, "Oh, ho!" She extracted the razor-sharp halo from the messenger bag and prayed for a Christmas miracle. She hurled the thing at one of the angels, and it richocheted off into another, and then another.

"Information," the first angel said. "Internal attack. Engage."

"Information," the second angel said. "Internal attack. Engage."

The third one followed suit two seconds later. It was like listening to Hal the computer singing in the round.

The hurled halo had been enough to confuse the angel bots, and they began attacking each other. The projectile had registered as a hostile attack from one of their own, and they had now lost interest in Martha.

That was the good news.

The bad news was that there were now four halos, designed to decapitate, flying about the room in a pattern that was totally unpredictable to Martha. And if that weren't bad enough, the door behind her opened. She jumped and gave a little scream.

"Astrid!" she cried, clutching her chest. "God, you gave me a fright!"

"Martha!" Astrid cried back. They hugged desperately. Martha was so glad to come into contact with another feeling being, she almost cried. She'd been Die Harding for an hour, in lethal conditions, all on her own. Doing so without a nine-hundred-year-old time traveller is not recommended.

"Where's the Doctor?" she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Never mind that!" Rickston cried out from the other side of the threshold. "What the hell is happening in here?"

"Never mind that," Mr. Copper insisted. "We just need to get out!"

"Right," Astrid said. "Leave it to me." She stepped forward and held out Bannakaffalatta's energy reserve device, and the whole room flashed with blue light. The angels stopped short and fell, bent at the waist, and the halos fell to the floor with no-one to catch them. The host were spent, but this lot had no idea for how long.

And so they ran.

"Astrid! Where's the Doctor?" Martha yelled, sprinting down a corridor.

"He's gone down to deck 31," she shouted back.

"What does that mean?"

"It's...." Mr. Copper attempted to answer. He was winded. "It's where..."

Astrid stopped and looked back. "Oh, Mr. Copper, we're sorry," she said. "Let me give you a hand."

"No, no," he insisted as she took him by the upper arm. "I'm fine. Just a bit... well, old."

Martha examined his eyes. No dilation – he had not yet over-exerted himself, but Astrid was right. At his age, they needed to slow down. She had to remind herself that she wasn't on her own anymore, or running with a hyper-energetic Time Lord with crazed hair.

"Mr. Copper," she said, walking alongside him. "I'm Martha Jones. Can you tell me where deck 31 is?"

"I don't exactly know," he told her. "But I know it's where the host are headquartered."

"The host?" she asked, panicking. "Are you talking about those angel things?"

"Yes," he responded.

"No!" she screeched, clenching her fists. "Has he completely lost his mind? What am I saying? Of course he has. Does anyone know how to get to him? He'll throw himself to the wolves to save the Earth, and I'm not going to let that happen!"

No-one said anything, for a minute, and then Astrid piped up. "I might have an idea!" She began to run, and Rickston followed. Martha kept pace with Mr. Copper, keeping the other two in sight.

Within a few minutes, they had reached the passenger-frequented areas of the ship, and Martha was less lost. In fact, she was beginning to recognise the way back to the banquet room where this had all begun.

The four of them burst through the doors, and Astrid filled the room once more with an instantaneous, bright blue flash, and all of the angels within went dormant. She ordered, "Rickston, seal the doors, make the room secure."

Martha heard the familiar buzz of the sonic screwdriver. She stomped up to Rickston, feeling tall in her heels, and demanded, "Oi, mate! What're you doing with that?"

Rickston looked at the thing as though he wasn't sure how he'd got it. "The... the Doctor gave it to me so we could open doors. I don't even know what it is!"

"Right," she said. "I'll take that." She held out her hand.

"Gladly," he said, and did not hesitate to give up the device. "Mind you, he told me not to lose it, and I'd not cross that one if I were you, missy. Actually, I think he's a bit mad."

Taking his place securing the doors, Martha said, distractedly, "Not a bit, sir."

"Wait, do you mean..."

But she had already moved on to the next door and was busily securing the room as Astrid had asked. She heard Astrid say, "Bridge, this is Reception One." Martha turned. Astrid was speaking into the microphone on the transport console, and she was wearing a glowing teleport bracelet.

"Who's that?" asked Frame, from the bridge.

"Astrid Peth," she said. "I was with the Doctor... now I'm here with his... friend, Martha. Tell me, can you divert power to the teleport system? I need to get to deck 31."

"No way, I need everything I've got to keep the engines going."

"Astrid, what are you doing?" Martha asked, already knowing the answer. "You're mad! This is..."

But Astrid interrupted her. She looked squarely at Martha, but spoke into the microphone to Mr. Frame as she said. "He's gone down there... on his own. And we... we can't just leave him."

Martha grabbed desperately for another bracelet. She pursed her lips with determination as she slid it over her hand. She and Astrid looked at each other, and then joined hands, their knuckles shining white.

After a pause, Frame said. "Giving you power." In less than five seconds, they found themselves in a dark, industrial-looking room. Switches and buttons and lights pulsated, almost with life, all around them. Hundreds of dormant host angels stood about, totally still, looking dead, and also dangerous.

Somewhere far away, Martha heard the Doctor's voice. Her heart leapt into her throat and she threw herself against a door, and listened. Astrid joined her. As usual, the Doctor was busy talking himself out of some situation or other, but then they heard another familiar voice. A raspy, campy voice said, "My name is Max."

Astrid gasped, and dragged a crate over to the door and opened the peep-hole. "Oh my God!" she squeaked. "He's a cyborg!"

"Who is?" Martha asked.

"Max Capricorn," she answered. "It's just his head... attached to a machine!"

"Let me see," Martha insisted, and Astrid moved for her. "Astrid! The angels have the Doctor! You failed to mention that bit."

"We've got to get rid of him, Martha," Astrid said, pacing now. "We've got to find a way to... I don't know. Kill him? He's a machine – it won't be easy."

"What's on the other side of that railing?" asked Martha, still peering through the hole at the Doctor's steadily heating conversation with Capricorn.

"The nuclear storm drive," Astrid said. "It's what powers the ship."

"Hm," Martha said softly, silently contemplating how to push Capricorn into the heart of a nuclear explosion. And why not? The more she listened, the more clear it became that he had every intention of doing the very same thing to them. And for what? For revenge... to retire to a place where the women love metal? Ugh.

Astrid scurried into the shadows, and Martha heard a great booming to life of some machine, just as alarms began to sound.

"Engines failed," Martha cried out. "What are you doing?"

Astrid came out of the corner, mowing down several still host in the process, driving a forklift. Martha couldn't help but laugh. "That's daft!"

"Yeah," Astrid said, coming to a stop. "But it might work. I am so over this company. I'm going to push my boss into a nuclear storm, how do you like that?"

"It would be a great idea," Martha said. "Except the weight of his machinery on the front of the forklift coul pull you over the edge with him."

"Yes, it could."

"Can't let you do it."

"I'm not asking your permission, Martha."

Martha wasn't sure what to say. The Doctor wouldn't let Astrid do it, why should she?

A moment of silence passed between them, and Astrid broke eye contact with Martha. Suddenly she looked sad.

"Martha, I want to tell you something..."

The tone of her voice alarmed Martha. "Astrid stop it. I know what you're doing... and stop. You're not going to die, so stop saying goodbye."

"Just let me talk, will you?" Astrid requested, with no urgency.

Martha fell silent.

"I just want you to know how lucky you are," Astrid said. "And I need to cleanse my soul. The Doctor wouldn't kiss me." She let out a deep breath she seemed to have been holding.

Martha felt like saying, so what? Welcome to my world. But she refrained. She didn't see what this had to do with her being lucky or Astrid's murky soul, so she waited for more information.

"I tried to get him to..." Astrid confessed. "Even though I knew he was with you, I tried to get him to kiss me because... well, because..."

"It's okay, I get it," Martha said, truthfully. She didn't need the because, she knew the why better than anyone.

"But he wouldn't do it," Astrid said. "He said that he'd made a promise to someone, and that someone had saved our lives. So... I wanted to say... know that you're lucky, Martha. Know that he cares and appreciates you. And know that I do too. Thank you for everything you did."

"You're welcome," Martha answered. But the whole thing made her very uneasy, and she said so. "But Astrid, stop with the doom and gloom. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, all right?"

Now it was Martha's turn to disappear into the shadows. She had noticed a metal cage off to the left when they'd been teleported in, and she'd noticed some practical tools inside. The door remained ajar, so she went inside, and when she emerged, she was lugging a huge coil of rope.

The argument was mounting between Capricorn and the Doctor. Martha couldn't understand them now, but she knew things were reaching critical mass – she could tell by the tone, the pitch and cadence of the Doctor's voice. She didn't need words from him, only emotion. And it was killing her.

She handed one end of the rope to Astrid and instructed her to tie it very securely around her waist. She did the same for herself at the other end.

"I'd do it myself, only I don't know how to drive a forklift," Martha said, smiling.

"You've done enough, Martha," Astrid told her. "This one is mine."

And from the outside, they heard very clearly above the clamour of the ship, above the alarms and the hum of the forklift, Max Capricorn's voice exclaiming, "Kill him!"

With that, Martha threw open the giant door, and Astrid called out, "Mr. Capricorn! I resign."

Astrid threw the vehicle into high gear and burst forward, the prongs at the front of the forklift heading straight for the undercarriage of Capricorn's machinery. Very briefly, the Doctor glanced her way, and Martha made eye contact, but there was no time to waste with furtive glances. She threw the door firmly shut, and braced herself against the door and the wall. When Astrid fell, she had to make absolutely sure she had a firm hold.

The Doctor clearly hadn't noticed the rope. The scream he emitted as the forklift went over the edge made that much clear. But when Martha had screamed out for him, begging him to pull Astrid up because she couldn't move, he understood immediately.

He cursed at not having the sonic, but Martha produced it from her trouser pocket, at which point the Doctor raised an eyebrow and said, "Blimey, what are you wearing?"

"Can we focus please?"

"I liked the dress, it looked good on you."

"Well, it's gone."

"I found it crumpled on the floor."

"Did you?"

"Yes, it looked good there, too."

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. Here, take this."

He set the sonic and instructed Martha to go back to the banquet room and try to route power from the transport console back into the ship's engines. The two girls backed into a corner along with Mr. Copper and Rickston as they all prayed for another Christmas miracle. And they got one – Titanic was saved, along with six billion people on planet Earth. Bannakaffalatta with his power panel, Morvin with his robotics and Martha with the sonic had been able to boost the storm drive enough that the ship dipped into the Earth's atmosphere, and the Doctor on the bridge pulled her back up into space. Not bad for a long day's journey.

Everyone thanked the Doctor and Martha and each other. There was hugging, a little bit of crying, and some goodbyes. Astrid promised to see the universe, and Bannakaffalatta resolved to relocate to a different solar system to try to find a wife. The VanHoffs were laughing about going home to pay off their phone bill (whatever that was about). Rickston, he mused about how rich he was, and Mr. Copper sighed over the idea of having to talk to investigators. The Doctor gave him a bracelet, took one for himself and activated the one Martha was already wearing, and the three of them suddenly found themselves standing in London on Christmas morning. Mr. Copper walked away to make a fresh start, and the time travellers returned to the TARDIS, parked in an empty field covered in snow.