oOo
If it hadn't been for the pain, the Doctor would have been sure that he was dreaming
If it hadn't been for the pain, the Doctor would have been sure that he was dreaming. The NVI, the force in his mind that he had been struggling against so hard, was gone. The sense of peace left in its wake was overwhelming. The Doctor just wanted to drink it in and stay like this forever. But the pain was nagging at him, a reminder that somewhere something was wrong. That something needed his attention. Like a slow trickle of water, images, like framed pieces of memory, filtered into his mind. At first they didn't make any sense, not when he was safe and warm and at peace, but slowly they morphed into coherent events and the Doctor started to wonder if he wasn't really still buried under tons of ice, dying of hypothermia right now.
Increasing his level of awareness slightly, he was able to take an internal inventory. What he found both worried and reassured him. The presence of a number of fractured bones and internal injuries, albeit all nearly healed, made him wonder just how far he'd fallen. Given his track record with this sort of thing, the damage to his body was reassurance that he was still the same man, in the same body. Whatever injuries he had suffered, they hadn't been severe enough to cause him to regenerate. This body was tougher than he would have given himself credit for. Good thing because otherwise, he'd probably not last another decade. All in all, he seemed to be on the mend. With that assessment he came to the realization, that in order to have this intriguing conversation with himself, he had to be awake and might as well open his eyes.
His eyelids were heavy and it took effort to crack them open. When he finally succeeded and the blurred shapes in front of his eyes merged into a complete image, he was able to attest that he definitely was back in the infirmary of the dome and no longer buried under tons of ice deep down in the tunnels beneath the glacier. Given what happened, it seemed like tempting fate, but he still decided to try and move…just a little. His whole body was sore, but he managed to sit up. The action caused his head to spin and he had to close his eyes for a moment to ward off the dizziness.
"Doctor?"
He opened his eyes, searching for the source of the familiar voice. Dr. Mallory was standing at his bedside.
"Hi, there," the Doctor greeted him cheerfully.
"How am I?"
"I…I'm very surprised to see you awake, at all. You were badly injured when the tunnel collapsed and I didn't think that…but now, you are fine," he finished, obviously finally understanding what the Doctor really wanted to know. "I was just paying back what I owed. The girl and her mother you saved down in the tunnels – they are my daughter and my grandchild. I thought I'd never see them again, but now they've been reassigned, at least for the moment." Dr. Mallory smiled warmly.
"What prompted the change of heart?" The Doctor hadn't thought 'Central' or whoever was really in charge of the mining operations to be the bleeding-heart type.
"I don't know," Dr. Mallory admitted. "I'm as surprised as you are. No one comes back from the tunnels. The order must have come straight from Central. Only they have that kind of authority."
"That's interesting. Hypothetical question, purely hypothetical, nothing but scientific curiosity...," the Doctor began.
"Curiosity is a very dangerous thing around here, Doctor. You have already drawn attention to yourself by saving their lives. You don't want to do anything rash, or you too could end up in the tunnels one day."
"What is really happening down in these tunnels? Why is that crystal so important?"
"Too many questions. I can't answer this one. I don't know myself."
"Looks like I'll have to find out myself. Can you do me another favour, Dr. Mallory?"
"If I can, yes. I owe you. What is it?"
"I might have a plan but it relies on you doing a bit of re-engineering for me. Instead of suppressing my psychic abilities, can you enhance them as well?"
"Theoretically, yes. But I wouldn't do it. It would be dangerous, too dangerous for you. Not to mention that now really isn't the moment to draw attention to yourself. Many people would have been relieved if that fall had killed you. You don't want to do them any favours."
"Never was much of a people-pleaser." The Doctor shrugged. "How did I get out anyways?"
"The emergency transport system, of course."
"Really? And who would be able to authorize its use?"
"Uhm, that could only be Central or the security office," Dr. Mallory answered after some consideration. "Why are you asking?"
"Oh, as I said, I'm just curious." Indeed, the Doctor had many more questions, but he wasn't entirely sure he could trust Dr. Mallory. He knew almost certainly more than he was saying.
"I'll better go and report your recovery then. There is just one last thing. I wanted to give you this." Dr. Mallory pulled the sonic screwdriver from the pocket of his white coat and handed it to the Doctor. He continued in a low voice, "Give me a few days to do some research, I promise I will help you. You are not the only man with a plan, Doctor."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. It was a long shot, but if he couldn't go to the TARDIS, the TARDIS would have to come to him.
oOo
Martha had forgotten all about how cold it really was outside. It hadn't been exactly warm and cosy in their hideout in the building, but the heaters had provided some semblance of warmth that was completely absent outside. Marion and Paul were making their way through the deserted city with apparent ease, but although she almost had trouble keeping up with the pace, at least it kept her reasonably warm. It once again struck her how remarkably Earth-like this world was, at least aside from the hostile climate. As they passed a weathered shop window, she realized something that had been nagging in the back of her mind ever since she'd first stepped out of the TARDIS on this planet.
If the TARDIS was broken, why was it that she could understand Marion and Paul? And the adverts in the shop's window? She had first wondered about that when reading the Doctor's letter, but then again, she had assumed that whatever the Doctor's native language was, he had been around Earth long enough to master the English language of the early 21st Century, and that of most other time periods too probably. But she really shouldn't be able to understand Marion and Paul. To her, they appeared to be speaking English. Martha wondered what the odds were of them having arrived on Earth after all, possibly some time into her future. It was a disheartening thought, that her planet's future could be this bleak, but after having seen the state of things on New Earth, she wouldn't be too surprised. She was thinking about how she could casually ask what planet they happened to be on, when she realized that Marion and Paul were no longer ahead of her. Martha broke into a run. The cold air burned in her lungs as she hurried down the street. They were nowhere to be seen. Out of breath after just a few dozen feet, Martha stopped, bent down, hands braced on her knees and tried to catch her breath. She had to think logically. Martha turned in a circle, once, then again. There had to be something she missed. Despite the pervasive twilight hanging over the streets, the view down the street was unobstructed. When she turned around for the third time, she spotted the narrow gap between two houses to her right. She walked over and saw that it was really a narrow stairwell, presumably leading down to a cellar. She carefully went down the worn steps into the darkness. She couldn't help but wonder if Marion and Paul had lost her deliberately. She didn't really trust them and had gotten the clear impression that they were only reluctantly taking her along. She nearly didn't pick up on it over the howling of the wind, but she now thought she could hear someone down in the cellar. Hoping she would find her acquaintances, she climbed down the last of the steps, now almost in total darkness and inched her way forwards, one hand stretched out in front of her, the other trailing along the wall. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand landed on her shoulder. Martha spun around and was instantly blinded as a light flashed in her face.
"There you are!" It was Marion's voice.
"Where have you been?" Martha asked. Marion finally turned away the light, but didn't answer her question. "Let's go."
Marion turned on her heel. Martha followed her deeper into the cellar, the torch now illuminating their path.
They met Paul in one of the back rooms. It looked like it had been a wine cellar at some point. Most of the bottles were either smashed or simply gone, but the racks lining the walls gave away the former purpose of the room. Now, Paul was standing at the far end of the long and narrow room. There was a doorway in the wall. It had been boarded up, but Paul was already prying away the panels.
"Where does this lead?" Martha asked.
"To the dome," Marion replied. "There are hundreds of these tunnels underneath the city. Most of them have been closed and filled up, but not all of them."
oOo
"This way." Marion looked up from the handmade gizmo she was holding. It looked like a refurbished Walkman, but whatever it was, it seemed to serve as a sort of locating device. Martha followed Marion down the hallway. It felt like they had been navigating the maze of corridors for hours, but when Martha checked her watch, she found it had only been twenty minutes since they had reached the dome.
Martha followed Marion around a bend, down a hallway, around another bend and through a doorway until they finally stepped back out of the building, but still underneath the protective bubble of the dome that stretched far overhead. They had entered what looked suspiciously like the prison exercise yard where the Doctor and Martha had been accorded their daily hour of fresh air less than a week ago. The yard was surrounded by buildings on all sides and there was little decorative about it. What really struck Martha, however, was how quiet it was. There had to be close to fifty people in the yard, gathered at the stone tables or standing around in small groups, but hardly anyone was talking. They seemed to just stand there in silence. Not even Martha and Marion's arrival sparked much more interest than a few disinterested glances. Despite knowing how small the chances were of the Doctor being amongst the group, Martha still found her eyes searching the yard, looking for him.
Meanwhile, Marion had made her way to one of the stone tables. A group of women, although some of them couldn't be older than in their teens, sat there. Now up close, Martha could see that their clothes were worn and rumpled,
"Sina?" Marion asked, her voice trembling slightly. A girl with clear resemblance to Marion looked up at them.
"Marion, what are you doing here?" The girl's voice was toneless and without expression.
"I've come to take you home," she explained, reaching out a hand for her sister's shoulder.
Sina shook her off with a cry. "No you can't!" she yelled. Martha looked around in panic. They were bound to attract attention behaving this way.
"What the hell are you doing?" Martha exclaimed when she saw Marion pull her gun out of the holster. She aimed at her sister and pulled the trigger. Martha lept forward, catching Sina just before she crumpled to the ground. Martha quickly checked her over and found her still breathing steadily.
"She'll be fine," Marion replied coldly, reholstering her gun. "She'll come around in a few minutes, when her NVI resets." Martha didn't understand, but there wasn't time for questions. Unfortunately, they had finally gotten the attention of the other workers. The woman who had been sitting with Sina at the table had backed away from Marion and Martha, standing at a distance, but watching them closely.
"What about everyone else? What about us?" Martha asked, the larger issues in mind. She was used to the Doctor's plans having a habit of not working out, but she wasn't even certain that what Marion and Paul were doing here could be called a plan. It just seemed to be a bad idea from the start. Even if Martha was sympathetic to the idea of freeing these people, no one would benefit if they ended up as part of the involuntary work-force as well.
"Paul should come through any moment," Marion replied, but she sounded tense and worried. Martha couldn't blame her. "He's got the access codes for the transporters that will get us out of here."
Martha doubted that it was as easy as Marion made it sound. While they had managed to avoid running into any security forces on their way in, Martha doubted that Marion and Paul carried their weapons just for show. Marion had not hesitated shooting her own sister and she doubted that Paul would have any calms about using his weapon either.
"What about the rest of them? Surely they don't deserve…" Martha repeated her earlier question. If there was really some sort of transport system that could get them out the dome, then they might be able to liberate at least everyone in the yard.
"It's too dangerous," Marion replied, much to Martha's surprise. The whole operation looked beyond dangerous to her and she was admittedly more than a little bit concerned about a positive outcome. "Even if we got them out of here, most of them are still going to die. It's better for them to stay here."
Martha was about to ask her what she meant when a bell sounded somewhere overhead. The workers suddenly seemed to lose all interest in the intruders and started to neatly file out of the yard.
"Damn," Marion muttered. "What's taking him so long?! We…" she was cut of by a scream. Alarmed, Martha turned, looking for the source of the sound. It had come from the doorway. Something was happening there. Leaving Marion and Sina for the moment, Martha made her way over there to see what the commotion was about.
At first she couldn't see anything. The workers were crowding around the exit. Only when she pushed her way past two girls, she saw that there was an elderly woman lying on the ground. Martha could smell the burnt flesh before she saw the horrific injuries. Third degree burns covered the woman's chest, neck and face. Instinct and training made Martha surge forwards, but a vice-like grip on her arm pulled her back. She stumbled backwards, losing her balance for the moment. It was only from there that she could see why she had been pulled back. It looked a bit like the air on a hot summer day, vibrating with the heat. Except, it was all around them and it was closing in.
TBC