Review Replies:
Kreek: well I tend to spend a lot of time thinking about my stories before I actually write or post them so I do hope that the plot will hold together and that my patience has paid off, but that's ultimately you lot's opinion. Thanks for the review : )
Syreene: trust me, without Martha, the Doctor might not even be alive in this fic (slight spoiler there, people, soz). That moment will arrive soon…
Chapter 3: Wounded
"I'm telling you, Martha, you would not have believed how cheap it was, I mean fifty pounds for a pair of high heels from Marks & Spensors, that must be the bargain of the century."
Martha nodded and smiled at her sister's remarks for the tenth time within the last hour. Traffic jams has never seemed so slow. And whenever she thought about the adventures that would have happened round about this time of year if the Doctor had failed, it made her want to actually listen to her sister once in a while. Which was a terrible sign. "You know, its funny, of all the planets I have been to, not one of them even had a Marks & Spensors." She smiled with sarcasm written all over her face, "How could they have ever survived?"
Her sister snorted and gazed out of the window and for a while all that could be heard was the soft purr of the engine. It wasn't usually this difficult for Martha to endure another rush hour, stuck in one spot for seemingly eons whilst her passengers whined on and on about their need to find a bathroom. But since her visit to the very far future of New Earth, every minute she spent in her car reminded her of that possible destiny for the human race had the Doctor failed to find out the truth; spending years of their lives in a mobile house, chatting to people in other cars and slowly reversing the evolution chain. It made her sick just thinking about it.
From across the packed street came four little Santas with plastic masks and a large hole on their permanently smiling faces to provide air for the person inside the costume. Martha remembered how she used to love seeing those ridicules costumes when she was still a kid, when she was still young enough to believe in Santa during Christmas times. Funny how she was the first person in her class to point out why there were multiple Santas walking around the streets when there was only supposed to be one. "Did they clone him, sir?" She used to ask whilst everyone laughed at her. Ten years later though, they seemed to be no more than lonely people dressed in plastic outfits and badly woven red hats, desperate to earn some extra money and maintain a living. How she pitied them. And yet as she sat within her small hatchback with the heaters on maximum, she could swear that those four were looking at her in a somewhat disturbing way…
The Barcelonans has always been known for their artistic lifestyle, whether it was their architecture, sense of fashion or their fine cuisine, these majestic individuals could always find art within virtually anything. Of course the Terrians has changed all that. Since their mysterious departure, the Barcelonan's home planet has been forced to withstand centuries upon centuries of abuse from nature and space looters looking for easy money and whilst the rest of the galaxy did all they could to keep the planet secure, it was ultimately like trying to keep a rotting elephant carcass safe from flies with nothing but a piece of A4.
Just as the Doctor has suspected, occupation on Barcelona was illegal due to a contract signed by the great civilization and every other sentient beings from all corners of the galaxy millennia ago but what he didn't know was that it wasn't as though the rest of the galaxy didn't care about what was happening, they simply didn't have a choice.
Long-term protection of Barcelona without actually landing on the planet itself was expensive and impractical, not to mention ineffective as the criminals and looters continued to 'visit' and 'leave' the planet with minimal need of effort. For a while the rest of the galaxy had no choice but to watch as its most prized planet was almost picked clean. But that all changed when the Terrians arrived. Desperate and starved of supplies, the travellers simply had no where else to go and whilst many races set up various charities to aid the dying explorers, there was simply no way could they have sustained themselves. That was when the chief of the band of travellers offered their 'service' to the rest of the galaxy; they will claim permanent occupation upon Barcelona, and in return they will maintain what's left of the ruins and provide constant protection against looters or any other type of invaders likely to try their luck. It would have been their home planet, after all.
This act would have betrayed every single one of the legislations and contracts set up by the galaxy centuries ago but within a few days, the government saw no other alternative. And thus Barcelona was no more, and Terra was born.
Of course, the Doctor would have known all of this, and he would have reconsidered his views upon the Terrians if he had the chance. But by now, he was beginning to wonder if the natives were going to give him that chance at all. Laser beams flashed by his head as he raced at full pelt towards the hill where the Tardis was. Cries of war and calls of excitement rang for miles behind him as one after the other, Terrians came after him with weapons of all shapes and sizes; guns, axes, home made maces, some simply ran after him with their teeth bared. All in all, the Doctor was simply not welcome around here anymore.
Another battle cry came from within the massive mob as yet more beams of deadly light burned into the surroundings, filling the atmosphere with the smell of burning plants and molten rock. A few yards away from him, the Tardis glowed with all its beauty, as if already prepared to vanish into the time vortex the moment the Doctor reached inside. Just a few more yards, he kept telling himself, keep running and soon you'll be laughing about all this.
Out of seemingly nowhere, the platoon of policemen raised their cloaks and opened fire upon the Doctor, their weapons were deadly by all means but their accuracy was poor. With no cover in sight, he had no choice but charge onwards as beam after beam was fired in his direction, only to shine past his head and burn a hole into the chest of one of the mobs behind him. Enraged, the police growled and charged at him, if the blasters were to fail then perhaps it would be best to simply use brute force. The dozen or so plump and out of shape policemen ran as fast as they could and bared their large bulk upon the Doctor, who suddenly smiled at what he saw. With a quick and effortless flick of his legs, the Doctor slid under the rampaging men and emerged unscathed at the other side. Nothing stood between him and the Tardis as the men struggled to turn around and continue the chase. It was too easy.
They say that during times of great stress, one has the ability to withstand even the greatest of pain. The Doctor put that theory to the test. It wasn't until after he staggered into the familiar control room and pulled hard on the lever did he realise that he was shot. Whilst the crowd outside fired beam after beam at the blue box to no avail until the scrapping of the Tardis drowned it all out, he collapsed onto the floor and stared at the branched pillars and pot holed texture that was his only home and tried all he can to hang onto the image. But it was too late, too late for him in this state anyway.
"Time to move on, old man…"