Doctor Who

~ The Necrocite Plan ~

by Ghost Scribe

~ Chapter Four ~

The Trinity of Tula

The Doctor hurtled along the narrow gangway. Right now, toppling over the edge and into the precipice below was not his primary concern. He glanced behind at the seething, bubbling metal walkway that melted like molten wax just behind him. The bridge would be gone in seconds – as would the aperture in the giant spacecraft ahead of him. That opening was his only chance of survival, and with liquid metal falling away beneath his feet, he dived for the hole.

He landed heavily, sliding several feet along a polished floor before coming to a stop, just as the iris hatch sealed itself behind him. He dragged himself to his feet, hearts racing but apparently undamaged.

Ahead was a narrow ramp, made from the same living metal as the bridge that had just melted beneath him. On either side was a high wall. There was little doubt that he was expected to ascend this walkway. At the far end he spied a tantalising amber glow. Even if he had no other way out, he could never resist something as enticing that.

The Doctor, after a minute of climbing, emerged into what appeared to be the ship's bridge. It was a large triangular space, around fifty feet across at its widest point with banks of elegantly designed control panels lining the three walls. The interior of the ship, like its exterior, looked like it had been grown, as if these controls were a living part of the vessel. And he knew now that this was precisely how they had been created.

The source of the light he had seen from the bottom of the ramp was instantly apparent: there were three figures in the control room. They appeared to be identical. All were female, unutterably beautiful and completely hairless. Their golden skin glowed with a rich incandescence. And all were completely naked. Except for the tone of their skin, they looked almost human. Except for the third eye positioned in the centre of the forehead, and the third breast.

'Oh hello!' he said brightly.

'Greetings,' said the central figure. 'Welcome to the Skitarius.'

'Well,' the Doctor said, looking around with wide-eyed appreciation, 'this is quite some ship you have here.' He walked over to one of the wall panels and held his palm to it. The panel glowed with a soft, radiant amber. 'Tactile interface. And I'm guessing it has a psychotronic interface as well. Am I right?'

'That is correct,' the figure said.

'Black hole converter warp space drive system, standard pyramidal configuration of a Tula heavy cruiser, which must make you,' he extended a finger and swung it round to point at each woman in turn, 'the Trinity of Tula.'

'We are pleased that you know so much of our people.'

'Oh yes, always heard stories of the Trinities of Tula. Never met any before though. Identical triplets, highly respected on your world. Almost the stuff of legend. Still, a lot of us can say that. Anyway... This does leave us with a big, stinking question: what are you planning on doing with a great big, heavily armed Tula battle cruiser?'

'We harvest the expired humans,' another of the women said, her sultry voice as smooth and rich as liquid chocolate.

'Ah, I'd noticed that. Now you know I can't let you continue to do that. You can't just come to a pre-contact planet and steal their dead.'

'It is necessary,' the third woman said in the same, velvety tone.

'But it has to stop. I hate to sound like an aging celebrity trying to get a table in a busy restaurant but do you know who I am?'

The woman in the centre stepped forward, her skin shimmering as she moved with the elegant grace of a puma. She gestured to her two companions. 'Leave us, sisters.'

Without a word, the two other women disappeared in a golden glow of energy.

'That's a neat trick. Personal teleports as well.'

'You are the Doctor; last of the Time Lords and slayer of the Daleks in the last great Time War.'

'Then if you know who I am, you also know I can't let you continue with this. These people deserve more respect than to be harvested in this way.'

'It is necessary. You fought your war, Doctor. For you it is over, but for those of us for whom time is linear it continues.' She walked slowly around him as she spoke. 'Do you know how many worlds fell during your war, Doctor?'

'Too many,' he admitted.

'Ours is one such world. Tula has been ravaged by the Skaro Degradations. We need fresh warriors to fight, and these humans have proven quite resilient and adaptable. You are the cause of this, Doctor. We never sought this war.'

The Doctor felt the anguish and torment of the Time War. It had been the greatest conflict in history: the final battle between the Time Lords and the Daleks. Toward the end, both races had descended into madness, with the very fabric of the universe threatened by larger and more terrible weapons. It had been he who had ended it. With one final act, he had wiped two great races from the cosmos. And he hoped no one would ever have to make such an awful choice again.

But a war of that magnitude would never merely be between the two antagonists. Other worlds and races were drawn into the conflict. Innocent species like the Tula had fought, and fought well. He felt for these people, empathised with them, but he had a duty to the people of the Earth. They were ill-equipped to face another enemy. In the Earth year 1941, they had enough problems of their own.

'I am sorry,' he said at last. 'I am truly sorry for what has happened to Tula, but that does not give you that right to plunder this planet's dead.'

'You Time Lords walked this galaxy like gods, Doctor,' she said, a golden finger tracing an invisible line around him as she continued to circle. 'Yours was a magnificent and noble race. But the Time Lords are gone. You represent the last of their breed. And now the younger races must assume their mantle.'

'Then fight this war yourselves!' the Doctor said with a hint of exasperation. 'Stop this harvest. War is a bloody and ugly business. You need to do this for yourselves, not plunder the human dead.'

'Doctor, I don't think you appreciate the grandeur of this mission,' the woman said, waving one arm lazily toward the rear wall. A single pin prick of light appeared in its centre, rapidly growing to form a large, elliptical window.

The Doctor's jaw, quite literally, dropped. The main body of the ship – over ninety per cent of its total volume – was hollow. It was filled with chambers, each large enough to hold a single human being. They stretched off into the distance, the furthest too small to make out clearly. Thousands upon thousands of these caskets filled the giant space, aligned in neat rows and columns.

He stepped closer to the window, surveying the magnificent scene. 'There are thousands of them. Hundreds of thousands.'

'Over one million units,' she corrected him. This is the first such ship.'

'The first? You need more than a million? How many ships in total?'

'Two thousand,' she replied evenly.

'Two thousand? But that's enough to...' Finally, he realised what this meant – and what the Tula plan was. 'Two thousand ships. Each carrying a million Necrocites. That's two billion people. The entire population of the planet!'

'Correct.'

'You're not just harvesting their dead; you're commiting genocide.'

'Correct.'

The doctor tore his eyes from the awesome view and strode up to the woman. 'You have already killed a friend of mine, someone I liked very much. This ends here; do you understand?'

'The Necrocite plan will proceed.'

He fixed her with a cold, penetrating stare. 'I will give you just one warning. End this now, or I will stop you.'

She laughed. 'How do you propose to do that? You are but one man. A quite extraordinary man, I concede, but one man nonetheless. We have hundreds of Necrocites active, and thousands more who can be activated by the merest thought.'

'This is your last chance,' he said, his gaze unwavering.

There was the sound of footsteps and he finally allowed his eyes to move from those of the Tula. Necrocites were entering the control room, spreading out from the top of the ramp and depriving him of his only exit.

'As you see, Doctor, I think it is you who should be concerned about your current situation. I suggest you make your peace with whatever gods the great Time Lords revered.'

He glanced around the bridge, just to ensure there were indeed no more exits. He was completely trapped and as soon as she gave the word, her Necrocites would descend upon him.

'This is your absolute last chance,' he said. 'Whatever happens from now on, remember that I gave you this opportunity to pull back.'

She smiled, the satisfied smile of a victor about to vanquish its prey. 'Goodbye Doctor. I cannot help but feel a little disappointed. I confess I had expected more from a man with your reputation. Alas, your life will end here, in this great starship on its noble quest.'

'Well,' he said, 'it was worth a shot. But I suppose you're right. And since you're using human bodies to kill me, perhaps its fitting that I use a human gesture to say goodbye.'

He proffered his hand, wiggling his fingers to urge her to reciprocate. She did, and he shook her hand enthusiastically.

'Necrocites,' she began, but the Doctor held up his hand.

'Oh, just before you do that,' he said, walking over to one of the consoles. 'Would I be right in thinking that this is a site-to-site teleport?'

'You would,' she said, that smile tugging at her lips again.

'And that it's genetically coded to only accept Tula commands?'

She nodded, but the smile dissolved from her lips.

'Now you're getting it,' he grinned. 'You really shouldn't have let me do that genetic transfer just then. And now I only have one more thing to say to you.'

He slammed the palm of his hand down on the console.

'Allons-y Alonso!'

In a flash of electric plasma, he disappeared into thin air.