Chapter 5 – Bubble Burst
Ooo---oOo---ooO
Niveus Astrum, Research Outpost 2, Day 25, Late Evening A.S.T.
"Pass me that spanner Mik – no, not that one, the other one. Sorry, wait, no, the first one."
Nineteen-year-old Mikael Schrieber rolled his eyes good-naturedly and passed the tool into Iris's waiting hand. They had been working on installing the stabilizer into the monitoring systems for the better par of three hours, and after the nerve-wracking shuttle flight from Advica to the Outpost, his body was finally catching up to his exhaustion. It was all he could do to stifle a yawn.
It didn't go unnoticed by the busily tinkering Time Lady, who arched an eyebrow in the teasing manner she seemed to reserve for Mikael, and smiled sympathetically.
"Why don'tcha shut your eyes for a quick kip there, Mikky? We're almost done here, I can get me own tools for a while. Ye prolly ain't used to this much excitement in one day."
"No Ms. Wildthyme."
"Iris," she stressed, shaking the spanner at him in a scolding manner that was only slightly undermined by her impish grin. "You make me feel every one of my centuries, kid; it's enough to give a girl a complex."
Mikael blushed and climbed to his feet from the mutually shared floor, massaging his fingers into his neck to ease the stiffness from the muscles with a groan. "So this stabilizer, if it works right, it'll catch the…chemical imbalance?" He hesitated, and received a nod from the preoccupied Iris before continuing. "Before it becomes too serious, and rebalance it with a bombardment of neutrons to the molecular structures, thus preventing the planet from doing this…supernova thing you said was going to happen?"
"Exact-a-mundo my darling Mikky, top marks," Iris beamed, reaching for a pair of pliers and twisting something inside the casing. "Course, it can't really be called a supernova – only stars can do that. But it seems a fairly accurate representation for the scale of the explos – Wait, what do you mean 'if it works right'?"
Mikael began stammering out an apology, trying to rectify his slip of the tongue. "S-sorry, sorry, I didn't mean it like that Ms. Wildthyme – Iris, I mean, uh, there's always some margin for error in these things, any malfunction wouldn't be your fault directly, I mean, uh, um – oh dear…"
Iris laughed and waved him off, turning back to the device and pushing a connective band into place. "Calm down Mikael, for heaven's sake. You're babbling. And stop apologising," she added quickly, as he'd automatically gone to say 'sorry' yet again. He snapped his mouth shut and blushed deeper.
Iris beamed and leaned back, dusting off her hands as she replaced the panel and grabbed the young scientist's hand as she hauled herself to her feet. "Mikky-boy I think we're in business at last. You there, plug it into the power systems." She gestured to one of the research scientists who had been, for the most part, left standing around with nothing to do but watch in curiosity for the past four hours. Flustered, he turned to the wall and switched on the power. For a moment, nothing happened, and Iris' face fell.
"Well if that just don't bugger all…" she groaned, before the low buzz of the systems began thrumming through the room. Perking up with a hopeful grin, she dashed to the computers, and studied the readouts their contraption was already feeding into the databanks.
"It's working! It's worked! Ha-ha!" She crowed delightedly as the rest of the scientists burst into relieved chatter, and grabbed the startled Mikael, planting a joyous kiss on his forehead. "Mikky it's actually worked!"
"B-brilliant," he stammered, with an uncomfortable but elated grin, looking just as relieved that they weren't all going to be incinerated. Iris laughed and glanced up through the pallid gray roof to the sky, smiling in relief.
Mission accomplished, Lady President. Lord I hope it helps.
She didn't remember much after the room was engulfed in white.
Ooo---oOo---ooO
Venustas, Advica City Central Hospital, Day 26, early morning
The painkillers provided a soothing sort of buzz in the back of his brain, but he could still feel the bandages swathing the burns on his palms, and the tingle of the stitches that decorated his temple where the roof tile had struck. They were unnerving reminders of the previous night's horrors. Mikael couldn't shut his eyes to rest, though he knew he should. He couldn't erase the images from his mind.
Couldn't wash her blood from his hands.
He'd tried. He'd really tried to save her. Iris had caught the brunt of the explosion in the lab. Shrapnel from the computers had decorated the tile floors a burnt orange-red with her blood. Alien blood, but he didn't think on it. It was just as warm, just as life-giving as his own blood, and it had soaked through his jumper as he tried to staunch the flow, urging her to hold on till the medics arrived. And she had dazedly muttered about bananas and that…"It'll be ok Mikael, I'll be alright. Don't worry about me…"
And then she'd changed. Before his eyes, her face, pale and listless, had illuminated in a soft white glow, and her wounds had healed beneath his hands. He'd shielded his eyes against the radiance, and when it had faded, she opened her eyes, no longer emerald green but pale as sapphires, and she'd smiled at him with a mischievous smile, as if it were all a big joke. "Lens vivo aliquantulus diutius," she'd said in Venustan. Gonna live a little longer. And then she'd promptly fainted.
Mikael sat now outside the sterile white room where they kept the stasis chambers, her jacket hugged close to his chest. The spotted fur pattern of the coat was warm and soft, and had been spared the stain of blood and soot, left behind in the shuttle. It smelled like her, all cedar-wood and the rich aroma of aged bourbon. For some reason it was comforting.
Iris had died for his planet's safety, and been reborn before his eyes into a new woman. A woman who now lay in a deep coma, dressed in white, suspended in temporal stasis in the tank behind the glass, because the Healers didn't know what else to do for her.
If ever there had been such thing as an angelus before, he was certain Ms. Wildthyme was one. The young scientist hugged the coat closer, and shut his eyes, whispering a prayer for his angel of time.
Ooo---oOo---ooO
Bitter chill, looming metal monsters. No, darkness spiralling, a deep haunting laugh. The taste of blood and tiredness, bone deep. Falling through space, endless. Poisoned, hearts beating slower, slower, no, time moving faster, in and out. The bite of bullets beneath a haze. Burning, screaming, pain they'reallgoneallgoneallgone – burning from the inside, don'tstopdon'tgodon'tlet-
I bring life…
"Jack! Can you hear me Jack? Harkness, wake up!"
Jack gasped as he bolted upright, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
"Jack! Thank god, I was worried that you'd never come round," Martha said with heartfelt relief, sitting back on her haunches. "How do you feel?"
His head was aching and his mind was buzzing with that odd euphoria it was always left with when the Powers-That-Be resurrected his immortal body. Had he died, again? No, he didn't feel as if he'd died. But yet he did. He had a nasty suspicion that whispered of the twisting of alternate timelines in the back of his thoughts.
"Like the morning after a drinking contest with the Doctor. What happened?"
"Well, as far as I can tell, the radiation alarms went off, all of the Eye was turned into a nuclear wasteland in the blink of an eye, a giant dinosaur tried to eat the TARDIS, and then everything went weird." Martha shrugged, and Jack noticed that a cut above her left eye had already been butterfly-bandaged. How long had he been out?
"Where's the Doc?" He asked, scrambling to his feet, and immediately regretted it as the room spun. He grabbed onto the console, and waited for things to realign before he dared letting go. Martha pointed over to a prone figure lying sprawled on the grating floor, and grabbed Jack's arm, helping him over to the unconscious man. The Doctor looked pale but unharmed . . . and to Jack's surprise, he saw the Time Lord appeared to be using his bundled duster as a pillow.
"He collapsed after the room snapped back into focus. That was about half an hour ago. As far as I can tell there's no physical damage, but I'm not really skilled in xenobiology." She frowned, His pulses were erratic for a little while but they calmed down, and he just seems to be…asleep."
"No time to sleep on the job. I have a nasty guess that we might've been caught in a time corridor of some kind. I've got memories in my head that ain't mine." Jack said grimly, and touched the Doctor's chest. "Doctor? Doctor, naptime's over. Can you hear us? Wake up."
The man's eyes fluttered slightly, and he groaned imperceptibly. "Bother…I've got the worst headache…Turlough, tell Tegan we've landed…"
Jack and Martha exchanged a bemused look, and Jack shook the man's shoulder. "No, Doctor, it's us, Jack and Martha."
The Doctor's eyes open grudgingly, but Martha frowned. They were unfocused, and he didn't seem to really see either of them.
"Look, I know you two don't get along very well, but if we're going to travel together in the TARDIS, the least you can do is –"
Martha blinked. "Is it just me," she hissed to Jack, "or is his voice different?"
Jack shrugged helpfully, and shook him again. "Doctor? Wake up, Doc!"
The Doctor blinked, and focused his gaze in confusion at the two faces peering down worriedly at him.
"You're not Turlough," he said, blinking rapidly.
"Nope," agreed Jack amiably. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness, and this is Martha Jones."
As though a switch had been thrown, the light came on in the Doctor's face.
"Jack? Martha? ….What's going on and why am I on the floor?"
His companions exchanged a look and Martha helped him sit up. "We were hoping you could tell us, Doctor. You collapsed. It looks like some sort of mental attack."
He winced and pressed his hands into his eyes. "Oh. Cripes that smarts. No, no, no…wasn't a mental attack. Afraid that's what happens when you shred time to bits."
"Doctor, if you start getting cryptic again, I'll hafta thump you."
"First things first, Martha." He stressed, grabbing Jack's arm and hauling himself to his feet. He wavered for a moment in his companion's grip as the room spun, waiting for it to settle, before he stumbled into the console and grabbed the video screen. "We've got to find out where we are, and When. Emergency dematerialization is rather like knocking a cricket ball into the trees, you can never find it again; too much space to search."
The video screen flickered with static for a moment before coming to life. As the eye in the light of the Police Box panned around the room, Martha was rather reminded of the pictures of historical museum holographs she'd been treated to in school trips. "It looks Roman. Could we have been knocked back in time and space to Rome?"
"Hardly," Jack jabbed a finger at the screen. "For one, those guys have energy weapons."
This was said with the arrival of a contingent of about six armed men in uniform, who had appeared from a corridor and surrounded the TARDIS. A seventh, tall and dark-haired with a military air, stood waiting behind them, glowering at the ship.
"This is Commander John Rhys of Advican Security Force Squadron Alpha! Whoever you are, however you got here, I am ordering you to surrender yourselves without resistance!"
Jack looked at Martha.
Martha looked at the Doctor.
The Doctor looked unwell.
"Doctor," Martha said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "Didn't you say this was impossible?"
The Doctor ran his hand through his hair, looking rather worried. "It's supposed to be. Unless –" He halted. "The backlash. Yes, yes of course! The energy shockwave that rewrote the Eye of Orion, it must've reached a climactic axis just as we were dematerializing. The resulting pressure must've shot us into and through the Vortex like a cork in a champagne bottle!" He clapped his hands together. "And time ripped itself to pieces…" he trailed away. "Something Iris must've done here, now. It upset the balance of the universe. I thought she was the cause of the original cataclysm, but now…"
"How could what she have done on Venustas have any affect on the Eye of Orion?" Martha demanded, feeling very perplexed. Jack, however, had begun to glare at the Doctor.
"The Eye of Orion," he said, his voice holding every ounce of the annoyance in his eyes. "That's what you meant about 'the future's been written'!" He shifted his glare to Martha, who was still looking lost.
"Venustas doesn't exist anymore, but the planet that it was had to have been rediscovered and renamed. We were standing on it! We haven't jumped through space, just been thrown back a few thousand centuries. We're transgressing our own timeline! The Eye was Venustas!"
"I know." The Doctor scowled. "And I'm sorry for not telling you but this was never supposed to happen. But somehow, some way, Iris did something that drastically altered the course of history. And now that we're here, I've got an obligation to set it right."
Martha stared at him. "You mean we have to let them burn?"
The Doctor shared a gaze with her, his eyes darkened, face sombre. "I don't like it any better then you, Martha." He said softly.
"So…what's the plan?" Jack asked with a troubled tone.
He heaved a deep sigh. "We find Iris. And what better way then to ask the help of her dear friend Commander John Rhys?" He grinned manically, rubbed his hands together and grabbed his duster from the floor, pulling it on. The Katseye disappeared into his pocket from its place on the console, and he beamed at them reassuringly as he walked down the ramp.
Ooo---oOo---ooO
Commander Rhys wasn't a sceptical man. Nor was he often phased by the odd and out of place. However, had someone come to him several fortnights before, and told him that he would be faced with the potential end of the world, and that he would meet a woman, made of such eccentricity, which claimed to be the saviour of mankind, he might've scoffed the idea off as nonsense.
Iris Wildthyme had the effect on people to make them start believing in such things. Like the way a two-level red automobile transportation device could materialize out of the thin of the air.
Or how a tall blue box with no physical signs of any ability to move on its own could wind up in the centre courtyard for the Advican Capitol Building. It was still enough to make his superiors very nervous.
"I repeat, this is Commander Rhys. You have landed your…craft…in a restricted area." He barked hesitantly, frowning. It gave him a very serious expression, with his dark hair and his brown eyes that made him a man you didn't want to mess with. "You have a thirty-count to reveal yourselves or we will break down the doors by force. Triginta. Viginti-novem. Viginti–duodeviginti. Viginti –"
The uniformed shuffle of fabric as his men tensed heralded the opening of the door on the strange blue box. From the interior, a man stepped out, hands raised halfway with a cheerful yet wary smile on his face. He was dressed as eccentrically as his craft, with a smart brown suit pinstriped with blue, white trainers, a collared navy shirt and a tie wrapped loosely around his neck.
"Ah, yes, hello Commander John Rhys of Advican Security Force Squadron Alpha," he greeted in an odd accent, eying the energy weapons pointed at his chest. "Do hope we're not intruding on anything."
"It depends; what would you call landing a craft in the middle of the Capitol's courtyard, overlooking the fact your…box has no distinguishing features to register it for any sort of travel, let alone flight?" Rhys replied sternly, waving his hand to ease his men down. "If you'll please sir, ask any companions with you to step out of the box as well."
The stranger hesitated. "Who says I've got companions?"
"You said "we." You will not be harmed if you provide us no trouble."
The man grinned sheepishly. "That I did. My mistake." As Commander Rhys' gaze continued to glare at him, he sighed, and glanced over his shoulder, not lowering his hands. "You heard the man, Captain Jack. Come on out."
Commander Rhys blinked in surprise as another man stepped out onto the polished marble floor, his hands shoved casually in the pockets of a large, militaristic great-coat. He looked rather unfazed by the weapons pointed at him, but sighed and raised his hands in the air at a look from his companion. "Ten minutes planet-side and already we're being arrested. I think that's a record, Doctor."
The Doctor though, seemed to be occupied trying to discretely shut the doors behind the captain. To the Commander's surprise though, a slim brown hand snaked out of the entrance, and held them open.
"I think he managed five minutes, once. Remember Krimulon-19?" replied a woman, with rich cocoa skin and dark eyes, stepping through the crack she had left, and shutting the doors behind her. The first man ran a hand through his hair and rolled his eyes. She glanced a bit apprehensively at the guards as she hung back behind her two friends.
"That was fifteen minutes, thank you Martha," The first man called Doctor replied shortly, looking a bit ruffled for a moment, and slightly irritated. "And how was I supposed to know the local regime had outlawed bananas? I mean, honestly, bananas are brilliant – good source of potassium, tasty to boot, and you can do all sorts of fun with a toothpick and a bit of trickery – now, Commander," He suddenly turned his gaze on the officer, completely serious. "We need to see Iris Wildthyme. At once, on the double, pronto-presto. If you please."
A ratchet of weaponry safety-locks being uncocked, and a simultaneous whine of energy packs charging, was the reply. Rhys stepped forward, glaring darkly at the Doctor, who had taken a hurried step back, looking rather mystified. "Did I say something wrong? Don't tell me bananas are outlawed here as well."
"I do not know what these…bananas are that you keep babbling about. But you lot are coming with us. We've got some questions to ask you."
The Doctor blinked. "Certainly, delighted to, always happy to chat." He lowered his hands into his pockets as he ventured forward. "Out of curiosity, what about?"
"You can start walking," said Rhys impatiently. "Hands on your heads, and move out!"
"You remind me of a man I used to know," complained the Doctor, returning his hands to his head. "Terrifically British, he was too. Always handy in a scrape, but hopelessly military. And no good at answering questions, infuriating like that. He always liked to keep his cards very close to his chest. Never could see past blowing things up, either, and far, far too security conscience. If you're going to run a top-secret military base, you should expect some security leaks."
"Doctor," said Martha long-sufferingly. "As much fun as it is listening to your trips down memory lane, I rather think the Commander has been trying to read us our rights for the last minute and a half."
The Doctor looked sideways to find himself under the gaze of the Commander.
"Sorry," he apologised, "you were saying?"
Rhys raised one eyebrow in a manner very reminiscent of the Doctor's old friend.
"Firstly," he commented, "you should probably start moving, before I'm forced to conclude that you're resisting arrest."
The Doctor looked at the very large, very shiny weapon strapped to the Commander's side –and started walking. Martha and Jack exchanged looks and followed.
"Secondly," said Rhys from behind Jack, "you are peregrinus, foreigners. You have no rights."
"Why does that sound ominous?" asked Martha, sounding slightly alarmed.
"Probably because that's what everyone tells us," Jack replied with a grin.
"Oi!" the Doctor tried to turn his head, found having his hands on top of it was hampering that movement, and gave it up. "It's not my fault the entire galaxy is trigger-happy, is it?"
"It is when you insist on dancing round doing everything but singing "shoot me, shoot me," muttered Martha rebelliously, and Jack had to stifle a laugh.
"Come on," Rhys was caught rather flat-footed by the unexpected stream of conversation, and prodded Jack in the back with his weapon, and turned them in to the main building. Jack, to his credit, managed not to stumble, and shot the Commander an indignant look.
"Hey there's no need for that. You still haven't answered the Doc's question – why are we being frogmarched to Interrogation?"
"You're here to answer some questions. We'll start with who you are, how you got here, and what you want with the late Lady Wildthyme," snapped the irritated officer, as the time travellers were pushed into a bleak white cell in the detention area. As the bars slid shut over the doorway, and the crackle of the energy barrier hummed to life, the two humans glanced worriedly at the Doctor.
"What did he mean by "late"?" Martha asked. "We know she's alive, we heard the message."
"In the previous timeline, perhaps," The Doctor replied grimly. "But who knows what gingerbread concoction has been rewoven by her meddling now."
Translations for the Latin phrases and words used in this chapter:
"Lens vivo aliquantulus diutius" – To live a little longer.
"Angelus" – angel
"Triginta. Viginti-novem. Viginti–duodeviginti. Viginti..." – Couting backwards from 30.
"peregrinus" – wanderers
A Note for those picky evil nitpickers, language evolves, so naturally Venustan!Latin won't be the exact proper sameness as Roman!Latin. And that's my loophole for bad grammer and usage. X3
