The Doctor's shoes squeaked on the polished tiled floor of the council building. He sped read as he paced, face darkening with every book he opened. Amongst the lists of purchases, the building legislations and the statements of population were snippets of information, written in code. He had missed them at first, bored with the mundane discussions of lengthy meetings recorded in excruciating detail. It wasn't until he spotted an error, scratched out and overwritten, that he realised there was a secret history, written between the lines.
Snapping shut the latest volume the Doctor dropped the book on nearest bench where it slipped onto a growing pile of discarded material on the floor. A sharp intake of breath at the door caught his attention, and he looked up to find Hadiya stood at the door. Her face was dark with anger and the skin on her fingers made taut by her fierce grip of the tall staff in her right hand. She stepped inside the room and slammed the door closed behind her. The forcefulness of her rage sent a cascade of books toppling from the bench to the floor.
"How dare you desecrate our chambers?" she demanded. Her sandal clad feet slapped on the tiles as she stormed towards him. With her breadth, height and staff combined Hadiya cast an imposing figure but the Doctor, who had faced far more dangerous creatures than her held his ground with his own anger rising.
"You asked for me help," he countered, "Not ONCE did you mention the part you played in this little war."
"It was unnecessary," she hissed down at him, particles of spit spraying from her lips.
"Unnecessary?" he exploded, lifting a book from the bench and shoving it into her spare hand, "Read me the bit about genocide. The bit where you destroyed half of your own kind."
He picked up another and thrust it forward. At the same moment the hall door opened again and Ngozi strode in.
"Or how about the part where you wiped out an entire planet to create a buffer zone between you and your enemy?"
The Doctor's eyes were wide, the veins in his neck protruding as his anger grew. He stepped forward until he was face to face with Hadiya, forced to look up to meet her eyes.
"How many children?" he demanded, "How many?"
"More than we could count." Ngozi answered from behind him, making him turn. "They were dark times, and it was long ago. Tell me, Doctor, would you judge every race so harshly, condemning them for the mistakes of their ancestors?"
The Doctor's anger subsided. It was replaced with a darker, personal guilt. He had killed children. He had killed two entire races to stop a war, destroyed the home worlds of others. The wound was still raw, and he shied away from it.
"Are we so different?" Ngozi inquired. "So different from the other races you have saved? From you?"
Her casual tone made him check his own thoughts. Had she read his mind? His dark eyes snapped up and stared at Ngozi, analysing her inscrutable expression.
"Our enemy spoke to you last night?" Ngozi asked the Doctor, her tone level and free from emotion.
Caution made the Doctor tight lipped. "They didn't say a word."
Neither woman appeared surprised by his response.
"How about you tell me what is really happening here?" The Doctor suggested, "Because right now nothing about this place, or your war, makes any sense at all."
"I have no intention of justifying our actions to you, Time Lord," Hadiya responded, her voice cool and contemptuous. "Your deeds are well known."
The hairs on the back of his hands prickled, and he flexed his fingers trying to displace the tension that was growing inside him.
"You asked for my help," he countered in a measured voice, trying to keep his bubbling rage under control. "And yet you sit there refusing to give me any information that would help. I'm not here to perform party tricks and I'm not a mercenary for hire. If you want my help, then you will have to do better."
Hadiya's golden eyes bore into him but as she opened her mouth to speak Ngozi placed a calming hand upon her arm and interrupted.
"Perhaps, good Hadiya, it would be helpful if I speak with the Doctor. I am well versed in the oral history of our people. It is far more interesting than the accounts of the Elders Council and the retelling would be far less… messy."
There was a long pause before Hadiya nodded and rose to her feet. She walked to the door like a queen, back and shoulders straight, her pace calculated and steady, each step taken with poise and purpose. When she had gone Ngozi took a long breath and let it out in slow measure.
"You must forgive Hadiya," Ngozi told him. "She has served as an Elder for many years and she does not suffer fools. Even those who only pretend to be foolish."
The Doctor was not in the least bit inclined to forgive Hadiya for anything, the woman was secretive, angry and desperate. Every time she spoke he felt as though he was being told half truths. He said nothing in response to Ngozi's carefully phrased apology and instead took a seat on the bench, inviting Ngozi to sit beside him. To his surprise the Elder stepped down and took a position close to the Doctor. She crossed her legs and smoothed the fabric of her orange robe ensuring she maintained an air of dignity.
Ngozi delivered her words with precision, selected by deliberation, not chance. "For 200 generations this place has been our home. We chose a peaceful life and have rejected the scientific developments made by our forebears. What our enemy desires we do not know. We know only that they haunt our dreams and rattles the ground beneath our feet."
"When did it start? You can't have been at war forever."
"I cannot recall a time when it was not as it is now," Ngozi replied. "And I am considerably older than I look."
Another evasive answer. The Doctor rubbed his hand across his face. The headache was back, and a tiredness was growing in his bones.
"How often do the quakes occur?"
"Sometimes daily," she said as she stood, and walked to a shelf on the opposite side of the room. Drawing out a volume that the Doctor had not yet read she turned the yellowing pages until she found the passage she was looking for.
"In the years of peace a man came to this town from another community. He begged the Elders to hear him, and they recorded his words."
She slid the book into the Doctor's lap and pressed a finger to the start of the paragraph, leaving the Doctor to digest the words unaided.
"The shadow stretched over the land, reaching out from the pit that opened in the centre of our town. It was a giant hand reaching out of the earth. Everything it touched turned black, the soil, the trees, the people. It dragged them into the pit. I can still hear the screams as they fell. The town was swallowed, nine thousand souls screaming as they fell. I tried to help them, I tried to save them. But there was nothing I could do, so I ran. For all I know they are screaming still."
"The Elders believed the man lost his sanity," Ngozi spoke with regret, the first real sign of emotion the Doctor had heard. "In no place before had a hole opened as he had described. He had travelled for months before he reached this town and he died within a week, by his own hand."
"When did this happen?"
"Five thousand years ago."
The Doctor nodded, still processing the information. When he spoke it was with a sense of doom.
"And if he is to be believed then this entire town is about to be sucked into oblivion."
Despite the events of the day before Gudrun's shop had survived admirably. The door which the Doctor had pulled from its hinges looked as good as new. With meticulous accuracy the trinkets, oddments and curios that had littered the floor were stacked back into their rightful crates and piled along the interior wall. The shop was still dark and moving through the rows of quirky goods was no easier than it had been the day before. Donna persisted, edging her way through with great caution, keeping her eyes on anything large that might topple and block her path in or out of the store.
Once again Donna felt herself drawn to the back of the shop and she paused in her tracks. What was it back there that had so attracted her? She remembered the desk and the unusual globe she had almost touched when the quake had started. Donna stuck her hands in her pockets and made a promise to touch nothing in the store until she was sure it was safe. Moving sideways like a crab through the narrow doorway that led to the back of the shop she caught sight of an old rocking chair positioned near the desk. In it sat a hunched, petite figure so swaddled in blankets it was hard to see even her face.
"Gudrun?" Donna called, alerting the old lady to her presence.
Gudrun turned her head and Donna glimpsed her pure white hair and wrinkled face in the semi darkness. A withered hand slipped out from between the blankets and beckoned her closer while a tiny voice said something Donna could not make out.
"Hi," Donna gave her best, warm smile. "I don't know if you remember me but I was in the shop yesterday…"
The old lady nodded and smiled. "You are a stranger to these parts, dear Donna. And you are most welcome."
Donna blushed a little, "How are you? I was afraid…."
"That I would die?" Gudrun laughed a shrill little chuckle. Her electric blue eyes glistened with entertainment. "Oh I have survived worse than that in my time. But I am most grateful for your care. It was most pleasing to have a hand to hold while other help arrived. You put yourself at considerable risk for a strange old woman."
Donna smiled, "I'd do the same for anyone. My mother says I'm the patron saint of all souls in distress, lost kittens are my speciality. I once found one up a tree and climbed up to rescue it, only I got stuck and the fire brigade had to get me down."
The anecdote amused Gudrun who chuckled hard enough to develop a cough, and she gasped a little for air. Donna spotted a pitcher and poured water into a nearby glass, handing it to the old lady, steadying her hands as she sipped.
"Thank you," Gudrun patted Donna's hand. "Please, bring up a chair and sit with me for a while. I should like to learn more about you and where you are from."
In the corner of the room stood another wooden chair, not the rocking variety, but a sturdy framed, beautifully fashioned piece with long arms and a carved back. Placing it to the right of Gudrun, choosing a position which still allowed her to see the exit, Donna sat down.
In her new position Donna could not help gazing at the sphere. Today the artifact stood almost inert, the golden swarm inside held motionless at the core. Intrigued, Donna leaned closer, observing the clarity of the glass and noting that her desire to touch it was much diminished.
Gudrun watched Donna through half closed eyes and smiled to herself.
"You have good taste," Gudrun told Donna, breaking her gaze. "I saw you approaching the globe yesterday before our little drama took place. It intrigues you now, does it not?"
Donna nodded, an uncomfortable sense of unease keeping her focused and inquisitive. "You have a lot of unusual items. Everywhere else in this town seems to avoid technology, but you, you collect everything. I don't know what most of this stuff is, but it not from this world is it?"
"Oh you are observant!" Gudrun's delight illuminated her face. "I have collected these items from passing travellers, from bits of debris left from before our time. They fascinate me, and you too I think. My kin sometimes humour me and exchange food for oddments."
"Have many people come here then?" Donna asked, "You know, people not from round here. Tourists? Traders?"
Gudrun shook her head. "Alas, no, you and your Doctor friend are the only visitors we have received in a long time. That is why your presence is so welcomed. It is good to meet new people. You cannot challenge your own existence if there is nothing new in it."
Donna frowned a little, not understanding where the conversation was going. She was getting a headache, it was tightening behind her ears. She reached her hand into her hair and massaged her scalp.
"The Doctor would like talking to you," Donna told the woman.
"And I should very much like to meet him," Gudrun responded. "Perhaps you would join me for supper tonight?"
Donna wasn't sure the old lady was up to cooking. The blanket had fallen away and Gudrun's hands now lay, exposed, on her lap. Both were twisted and deformed from arthritis, her right hand curled in on itself so far that only a walking cane was likely to fit into her palm. She reminded Donna of a great aunt she had met once when she was small. Dolly had been a tiny lady with thick white hair and polio stricken hands.
Once again Gudrun seemed to be one step ahead of her. "Do not let my appearance fool you, I can still rustle up a passable meal, although it will not be to Ebun's standards. She is a fine woman, her food is renowned in this part of town."
"Her stew was delicious," Donna replied feeling a little vague. "We will join you for supper tonight."
"Good, good," a broad smile crossed her wrinkled face.
Donna screwed shut her eyes for a second and refocused her thoughts. She had wanted to find out something from Gudrun, what had it been? The globe caught her eye again and this time she could not look away from it, there was something soothing about the glow.
"Where did you find the globe?" Donna forced herself to ask, still staring at it.
"Beautiful isn't it? I found it here, in this place, when we arrived. It is a strange curios I admit, and no-one wishes to buy it from me, so I keep it here where it attracts many views but no income." Gudrun's voice had become a lullaby, soft and sweet.
"It was different yesterday."
The pain in Donna's head was getting worse, and she was feeling sick. With her insides squeezing tight, and Donna drew a long breath controlling the desire to be sick. This was important, she needed to pay attention.
"Was it?" Gudrun's voice held genuine interest. "Tell me, what did you see?"
"It was swirling," Donna replied, "Like it was alive. I wanted to reach out and… touch it."
A light bulb flicked on in Donna's head. Something was wrong, something was very wrong, and she needed to get out, now. Donna stood up, hanging on to the chair to keep herself stable.
"Donna, dear," Gudrun exclaimed with concern. "Whatever is the matter? You look as white a sheet."
"I have to go," Donna garbled the words. "I'm sorry."
She staggered through the shop knocking an object or two to the floor and fell out into the daylight with her hand pressed over her mouth, desperate not to vomit in the street. A blinding light pulsed through her skull and the grip behind her ears was excruciating. Using the wall of the shops in the street to guide her Donna knew she had to find the Elders' council and find the Doctor.
The Doctor had begrudgingly returned every book to the shelf stacking them on the old wooden shelves in meticulous order under Ngozi's watchful eye. He felt like a reprimanded school boy and wondered if she would either cane his hand or make him write lines for desecrating their heritage. Tidying up was not an activity the Doctor had ever been good at. In fact he was certain every companion he had ever travelled with had, at some point, complained about his general reluctance to clear up after himself. Now forced into putting away the mess the Doctor remembered why it was he did not bother with this kind of task. It was boring, and it slowed him down.
The pieces of the story were fragmented. Though the information Ngozi had shared was plausible he sensed a lie, or an omission at any rate. But no matter how he tried Ngozi would say no more insisting that this was all they knew. He could get no sensible answer to the question of what was said in the dreams. There was no mention in any of the records he had skimmed about where the enemy came from, why it was there, what it wanted or who it was. It was a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing, and no cover on the box. Someone did not want him to put everything together, and he was sure that Hadiya was behind the conspiracy. Ngozi seemed to toe the line but not without her own reservations. If he could meet Ngozi away from the prying eyes of the rest of the Elders, he might discover more.
"It's a beautiful day," he called over his shoulder to the spot where he knew Ngozi stood. "How about you and I take a walk through the town?"
"It is approaching midday," Ngozi replied. "The Elders will meet in a few moments for meditation and the sharing of knowledge. We had wished for you to join us, but that does not seem wise at this point. Hadiya will be unwilling to humour you for quite some time. Your presence will interrupt our session."
The Doctor shrugged. He had placed the last book on the shelf and turned around to look at Ngozi a big grin on his face as he dusted his hands by slapping them together.
"You could do with a cleaner in here, those books are covered in cobwebs."
His attempts to draw Ngozi out of her shell fell on deaf ears. Her face remained impassive and the only sign she had even heard his words was the slight incline of her head.
"You must leave now," she said in a firm but polite way and gestured to the door. "If you wish to speak with us again, I would advise you send your companion, or a messenger."
He was escorted from the building by two male Elders who bowed when they entered the room and moved to flank him on either side. He made a courteous nod to Ngozi as he walked by her his shoes still squeaking on the tiles. Ngozi returned the gesture but avoided meeting his eyes until the last second when her golden pupils caught the edge of his vision. He winked at her and she looked away.
The door to the street shut behind him with a loud shunt of a bolt and the turn of a key. The street was much warmer now, the clay of the buildings absorbing the heat of the sun and holding the heat like giant radiators filling the air with a hot, arid smell. Flaring his nostrils he inhaled, picking up the scents that hung in the still air. A floral perfume wafted down the street from a garden and in one the houses beyond someone was cooking spices on a wood burning stove. The clay smelt hot but most of all he noticed the stale cold stench of fear that emanated from every house in the area. It seemed to come from everywhere, not only the people and the houses they lived in but also the ground, the trees, if he concentrated hard enough he was almost positive that even the sun, at its great distance, exuded the smell. The Doctor's forehead wrinkled in concentration as he began a slow walk along the street.
The sun should have warmed his back but there was an uneasy chill in his bones. He stopped periodically and sniffed again, inhaling the scent of a hanging basket of flowers. Pausing to stoke a stray cat that crossed his path he bent low and sniffed its fur. Even the cat smelt of fear. It was acrid on his senses and it was growing stronger.
A low thud just around the corner interrupted his thoughts. A groan followed, and he broke into a jog. The sand beneath his shoes slid away in a cloud of dust and he skidded to a stop almost on top of Donna's prone form.
"Donna!" he dropped to his knees, checking her pulse and lifting fluttering eyelid to see her dilated pupils. Only a small slither of her usual green eyes was showing through. At his touch she stirred, her eyes trying to focus on his face but unable to do so. Not recognising his shape his companion struggled to free herself from his grasp but her efforts were feeble and her hands dropped to the floor.
"Donna, it's all right, it's me. It's the Doctor," his tone was reassuring whilst his hearts raced. "Can you hear me? What happened?"
There was a flicker of recognition on her face and her hand reached for his arm with a resurgence of strength, her fingers grasping at the fabric of his jacket and refusing to let go.
"Good run," she muttered, adding an incoherent warning, "Gold… sphere… light... bright."
The Doctor looked up and down the street, his face turning hard with anger. There was no-one in sight. There was no sound. The whole town seemed to have fallen silent as if waiting to see what would happen next. He opened his lungs and shouted for help but every door remained shut.
Could he lift her? He suspected he could, but the inn was a long way from there, the Elders were spectacularly unhelpful and no-one nearby would help, if they even existed at all.
"Donna," he pressed his lips close to her ear. "Donna I need you to listen. I need you to tell me what's happening."
Her breathing had grown laboured, chest rising and falling in great peaks and troughs. Unable to speak she fumbled for his hand and he gave it to her thinking she sought comfort, but she pressed his fingers to her face and held them there, his forefinger on her temple.
"It's all right," he said again, trying to stroke her hair, but she pushed his fingers against her face and his eyes opened in recognition. She wanted him to enter open her mind.
He knelt over her, feeling the heat of her body as his leg brushed against her arm, and he realised she was burning up. Pressing both hands to her face and he closed his own eyes for a second, focusing and calming his thoughts.
Entering the mind of a human as not a difficult task, at least it had not been on the times he had tried before, but Donna's mind writhed in agony and it was hard to make contact. He breathed steadily and thought of a place that would make Donna relax. Planet of the hats, he smiled remembering the hat box she had thrust into his arms when she moved into the TARDIS. With painful slowness her mind focused on the most ridiculous hat he could imagine, his mind projecting a witches hat, curled at the end, in a rainbow colours. There were feathers pointing in every direction, a veil, and corks hanging around the rim. Her subconscious thought critiqued the design and he used it as a gateway, opening the door into her mind.
Opening his own eyes the Doctor focused on Donna's screwed up face, watching the signs of strain tense the muscles in her cheeks. He murmured reassuring words and probed the edges of her thoughts.
"Donna, focus on my voice," he said in a low and steady tone, "I am right here with you. Follow my voice. There's a door in your mind Donna that has been forced open. All you have to do is close it and the pain will stop."
Under his fingertips he could feel sweat breaking through her skin, she was fighting hard, but she was listening, he could feel it. Inside her mind he could see a hallway filled with doors of all shapes and size. Most were shut, one or two hung open a fraction, readily accessed memories, happy places perhaps, a tiny door, no bigger than a cartoon mouse hole in a skirting board was open far enough to allow music to ripple through, it sounded like a party coming from inside. Other doors bore large red letters, the words 'keep out' unmissable. Further down the corridor a door, padlocked, bolted and nailed shut made the Doctor hesitate. It was a door repressed memories hid behind and with sadness he wondered what Donna could need to repress with such ferocity. The further he walked down the hall the closer Donna moved toward him. In their joined minds he felt her reach out and take his hand.
A terrible scream rang from the far end of the hall of doors and a beam of brilliant white light blinded them. An attic door, hatch flung open gaped above them, a bolt of piercing light thrusting its way into her mind. Donna recoiled from it but the Doctor held her hand and made her press on. Beneath the hatch the light was unbearably bright. It burnt the cornea of their eyes and the sound of screaming ripped their ear drums like a jack hammer. It was not one voice but of many, so many it was impossible to tell them apart.
"You need to close the door, Donna," the Doctor told her. "You have to do this, it in your mind. I can help but you have to do the hard work."
"How?" she asked, and he felt a wave of relief rush over him.
"Just reach out," he told her. "Reach out your hand and push the door shut."
She whimpered as the pain from the light and sound increased, but did as he instructed. Stepping forward, she reached out her free hand to close the hatch keeping the Doctor's hand clenched in the other. The hatch was stiff and the pain so intense Donna found she did not have the strength and though she raised the door half way should could not complete the task.
"You need to use both hands," he said, trying to disengage himself from her fingers. "I will still be here. You can do this."
Through his open eyes the Doctor saw Donna's face twitch in pain and he willed her to keep going. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw movement on the street and though he wanted to call for help, he knew if he broke contact now Donna might not have the strength to complete her task.
With reluctance Donna released the Doctor's hand and reached for the hatch again.
"That's it," he whispered, "Just a little…."
His words crushed from his chest by the sudden sensation of being rugby tackled to the ground. Thick arms wrapped around his torso and he floundered backwards away from Donna's semi-conscious body and into a heap on the floor. Someone else's hands ripped his fingers from Donna's face and the sudden jolt in the loss of physic contact made him catch his breath in pain. A strong, muscular body held him down and as he fought to release himself he wriggled and squirmed ineffectively, his legs stuck underneath him, and his arms pinned to the floor.
"What the…?" he gasped, his eyes refocussing on his attacker.
Ebun stared down at him, her eyes burning with anger. "You are a fool!"
He shoved her, and she released his arms allowing him to sit up. His face had turned to thunder, a grim mask of anger shielding his fear from her eyes.
"I was helping her!" the Doctor yelled as he tried to reach back for Donna's face. If he could just get back to her, there was still a chance.
"It's a trap," Ebun told him, her words succinct and her tone damning, "Get up. I'll help you get her to the inn."
He sputtered in anger but Ebun's face was grim. Her earnest look was enough to convince him she was trying to help. He nodded curtly and hauled Donna to her feet. Between them they carried his companion through the streets, observed by no-one.