POISON SCREAMERS
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."
John Ray
It had been a crazy few weeks, but also some of the best of Hartley's life.
They'd fought ghosts with Charles Dickens and battled Slitheen in Downing Street with future Prime Minister, Harriet Jones. Hartley began to get into the swing of things, she was growing more and more physically fit with every passing day, all the running doing her a world of good.
It surprised her when she got hurt. It wasn't too bad; a graze here, a sprain there. Travelling the universe sure as hell wasn't as glamorous as it had seemed in the initial pitch.
And yet it was so much better.
She'd never considered herself a thrill seeker, but as she survived explosions and dodged energy weapons and helped solve problems where the safety of a planet was at jeopardy, she found herself feeling more alive than she had ever before, than she could imagine any human had ever felt, ever.
It wasn't all danger and mayhem. The Doctor took them to flea markets on moons and olympic triathlons on space stations. Hartley loved the art galleries the most. If she'd thought Earth art was impressive, pieces from planets like Karpoloron or Gahenrika's 2nd moon absolutely took her breath away.
The Doctor never let them stay long when there was no trouble for him to get into – in other words, he grew bored fast. He had the attention span of a small child, but she supposed it did grow endearing over time.
Rose was much the same, but she was polite about it as she followed Hartley around the rooms, watching her stare in rapture at the metal sculptures and neon-coloured portraits. The Doctor probably wouldn't take them to any at all if Rose didn't insist that everyone got a turn to decide where to go.
For her friends' sakes, Hartley didn't always choose places she knew they'd find dull. Sometimes she picked the 'random' setting, something the Doctor liked very much. He would grin madly, yanking on the appropriate lever and sending them into the vortex at the TARDIS' mercy.
It was on one such day that they stepped out of the doors only to be met with tall, glittering pink grass and foliage a stark white. Hartley smiled at the magical, alien sight, tipping her face up into the warmth of the alien sun above them.
"Ooh," Rose murmured, zipping up her pink jacket as a cool breeze brushed them by. "This is a pretty planet."
"Where are we exactly?" Hartley asked the Doctor, pulling her beanie further down her ears before tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans.
"This is the planet Ulka," the Doctor responded cheerfully, reaching over to pluck a white leaf from an overhanging branch. "We're in the Cigar Galaxy – as your lot call it."
"Ulka?" Rose repeated, the word strange in her mouth.
"Ulka," he confirmed with a grin, sniffing the leaf before letting go, allowing it to flutter down to the pink grass below.
"Why's the grass that colour?" Hartley asked curiously, bending down to run her fingers over the pink meadow, surprised by its softness. "Something in the soil?"
"Ten points to Gryffindor," the Doctor chirped.
Hartley grinned widely at the words. "I'm a Hufflepuff," she corrected him cheekily, "but continue."
"They have a nutrient in the soil that you don't have on Earth – they call it Tryphosea. It's all over this solar system, comes from a gas that lingered in this quadrant of the universe back in the time of its formation. In its natural form, it's red, and their grass is naturally white, so together..."
"...they make pink," Hartley nodded, inhaling softly. She detected the faint smell of sugar carried on the wind, and it seemed to warm her from the inside. The scent of it made her hungry, her sweet-tooth flaring to life. She could have really gone for some hot chocolate, or a caramel tart, in that moment.
"Shall we?" Rose prompted them, already starting forwards, heading in the direction of a large metal structure positioned at the base of a hill. Its sharp angles and hard, shiny surface were a massive contradiction to the soft pink grass and gentle, sloping hills of the land. It looked wrong and out of place, like it shouldn't have been there at all. It was, simply put, an eyesore.
"Do you know much about this planet?" Hartley asked the Doctor curiously, reaching out to run her fingertips along the soft stalks of tall grass that were growing along the side of the path. "Who're the native species?"
"No idea," the Doctor answered her cheerfully, blue eyes focused on Rose as the blonde stopped to pull off a snowy white leaf off a branch, holding it up to the bright sun and squinting at its rough, see-through surface.
"You're the worst tour guide in the universe," Hartley jested, and the Doctor pulled his attention away from Rose long enough to roll his eyes at her in exasperation.
They made their way up to the large, unnecessarily ostentatious building, approaching the frosted glass doors at the ground level with minimal caution, as per usual. They stood there for a moment, wrongly assuming the doors would open automatically. When nothing happened, the Doctor cleared his throat, like he was trying to get someone's attention.
"Identification badges?" an automated voice asked, seemingly from nowhere. It was so sudden that it startled both Hartley and Rose. They jumped, squinting up at the doors in shock.
The Doctor was quick to pull out his psychic paper, holding it up to the doors, letting whoever – or whatever – was in charge scan it.
Nothing happened for a full minute. There was no sound other than the breeze blowing through the surrounding trees. Then finally, just as Hartley was going to suggest they walk around some more to explore the landscape, a figure appeared through the frosted glass, running towards them as fast as his short little legs could carry him. He dragged a card through the scanner and the doors opened without a sound.
"Good rise, Inspector," the tiny alien greeted them, reaching up with a stubby little hand to shake the Doctor's, then his two companions after. "We weren't expecting an inspection for another three weeks."
The little alien looked a lot like how Hartley imagined a real-life goblin might. He was short, the top of his head barely reaching her hips, and his skin was a murky brown colour, crinkled and folded. A large, hooked nose was the most prominent feature on his squished face.
"The Doctor's fine," the Time Lord said casually, going along with the goblin's words, grinning at the alien in the tiny lab coat broadly before he gestured to the girls. "That's Rose, and she's Hart," he relayed succinctly, pointing to each woman in turn.
"Your...assistants?" assumed the goblin hesitantly, and the Doctor didn't stop for a moment, nodding his head in agreement.
"They certainly are," he said brightly, grinning a toothy grin. Neither Hartley nor Rose were pleased by this title, but the Doctor was oblivious to the annoyed frowns they sent in his direction.
"My name is Jaggle," the little man introduced himself with an awkward smile, revealing a mouth full of sparkling, pointed teeth, much like those of a shark. His voice high and squeaky, utterly unthreatening. It was a stark contradiction between how he looked and how he sounded. Hartley found it strangely endearing. "Please, come inside, wouldn't want to get stuck in a Screamer riot," Jaggle told them with a tiny burst of laughter, as though he'd attempted a joke.
None of the trio got it, but they followed him inside the sleek, modern, out of place building obediently.
"Screamer?" Rose echoed with a confused blink.
"She's new," the Doctor said dismissively, giving a wave of his hand. "First day on the job."
Jaggle paused a moment, eyeing them with slight suspicion as the doors silently shut behind them, sealing them all inside the building. The room was climate controlled, the air warm against Hartley's human skin. "So, I can assume you're all up to speed, then?" Jaggle asked as though he didn't quite believe they were.
"Of course," the Doctor lied with a practised ease.
"But, for the sake of the inspection, why don't you tell us about it – in your own words?" Hartley suggested quickly, thinking on her feet as she realised they needed to know more about what was happening and where, exactly, they were.
The Doctor glanced over at her with raised eyebrows, but she didn't return the look, instead watching Jaggle with carefully blank, patient features. The small, goblin-like alien hesitated only a beat before nodding and beginning to lead the trio down a long, glistening hallway. The floor itself sparkled like it were made from recycled crystals, she felt almost guilty for tracking her dirty shoes across its pristine surface.
"Well, this is outpost D47 from the Galactic Wildlife Appreciation and Research Department, or, as it's affectionately known – GWARD," Jaggle explained as they walked. The three travellers nodded like they already knew this, and Hartley made sure to send him an encouraging smile, letting him know he was on the right track. "We're here researching the newly discovered species inhabiting this planet."
"And that would be?" Rose asked, playing along.
He narrowed his black little eyes at her for a beat, before his expression smoothed and he continued on walking. "The Poison Screamers, milady," he answered her, and the blonde's lips pursed in intrigue.
They certainly sounded intimidating – Poison Screamers. The name was more than a little unsettling. How exactly had they come to earn this name? She hoped she wasn't going to have to find out first-hand.
"Tell us more about these Poison Screamers," the Doctor said, but the words were an order, not a request.
"Well, they're a primitive species, barely beginning their journey of evolution. They don't even have a means of verbal communication; as far as we can tell, they seem to be mentally linked."
"And how can you tell?" he pressed.
"We've yet to record any form of conversation, but they're able to organise in a way that suggests higher intelligence and communication."
Jaggle paused by a set of thick double doors and pulled a card out from around his neck, sliding it through a scanner on the wall. He stepped back as the doors swung open, revealing an immaculate research lab. A large screen on the far wall was showing live security footage from outside the building, and work stations dotted the room, various scientific instruments and vials full of colourful liquids sitting on top.
A handful of people filled the room, all of them wearing what appeared to be lab coats, only they were a shade of deep magenta instead of the typical white that Hartley and Rose were so familiar with.
Jaggle shuffled forwards, heading straight for a tall blonde woman standing at a computer in the corner. The Doctor and his companions hesitated by the door, taking in the scene with interested eyes. The people filling the room looked up from their work at their entrance, eyes alight with curiosity.
Jaggle was murmuring with the blonde lady, who had bent over almost comically to speak with him in undertones. She had a stern demeanour, and shot them narrow-eyed looks while Jaggle spoke into her ear, before finally forcing her face to smooth out into a neutral expression as she stood up straight, now towering over Jaggle like a skyscraper. She adjusted her lab coat, tilted her chin up like she were heading into battle, and approached.
"Doctor, is it?" she asked, striding forwards, her tall, nude high heels clicking against the shiny floor. Hartley thought it was a miracle she didn't slip and fall.
"That's right," he nodded cheerfully, utterly unruffled. "Rose and Hartley," he introduced the girls again, and the woman smiled with forced politeness.
"I'm Professor Janet Kingsley, I run this facility," she began, her voice the sort that commanded respect and attention. "That's Zimmerman," she pointed to a young woman with buzzed red hair and lips the colour of blood. "Dip," she nodded over at another goblin-like man standing on a high stool, allowing him to reach the keyboard of his computer. "And Cole," a man of average height with thick dreadlocks and piercing eyes. A wide, friendly smile sat on his lips.
"And you're the research team looking into these 'Poison Screamers', then?" stated the Doctor plainly.
Janet – as they now knew her to be called – shot them a scathing look that intimidated Hartley, though she wouldn't admit it. "Shouldn't you already know that?" she challenged him, voice dripping with suspicion, but the Doctor took it all in his stride.
"We like to pretend we don't know anything – it starts us all off on the same level," he told her merrily, straightening his leather jacket and casually wandering over to the large screen, observing the graphs and charts flashing across its surface every few moments. "Tell us more about this native species, then."
Janet hesitated. "Aren't you more concerned with how efficiently we're running?" she asked, her perfectly maintained brows pulling down into a frown. "Jaggle can pull up the daily reports for you to review," she offered auspiciously.
"That won't be necessary," Hartley said confidently, smiling gently at the somewhat anxious woman. She could only imagine what it was like to run a scientific research centre in the middle of nowhere, having an unexpected 'inspection' interrupting her day. "We prefer a much more hands-on approach. We want to see you all in action," she told her with another comforting smile.
"I'm afraid you've come at a bad time," Janet told them rather flatly, retaining her cool exterior. "It's a slow day – we're focusing on stock count and temperature readings."
Just as she finished speaking, the one she'd called Dip slammed his hand down on a red button, and the room suddenly rang with sharp alarms, making everyone else flinch. "What the sunshine, Dip?" the handsome one – Cole – shouted over the alarms, frowning across the room at the much smaller alien.
"The cameras are showing dogs one through four returning, but no Gibson in sight," the other goblin reported in a crackly voice, typing furiously at the keys before him, beady little eyes flickering over the screen before him in concern.
There was a pause. "Looks like it might not be such a boring day after all," the Doctor declared with a wide, excited grin.
"Who's Gibson?" Rose spoke up before Janet's scowl could fully form, glancing over at the screen in interest.
"Head of our field team," the centre's leader told them with a worried frown, hurrying back over to her desk and beginning to type away at the keys, her long, perfect nails tapping loudly against the plastic. "When did he last check in?" she asked Dip sharply, never lifting her eyes from the screen.
"Seven minutes ago," he answered her shortly, wrinkles growing deeper with his frown.
"Locator chip?"
"Still transmitting."
A map of what was clearly the immediate area popped into sight, one lone red dot blinking on the screen. The map wasn't easy to read, Hartley unsure what the strange symbols meant. They weren't a language, just part of the map which the TARDIS didn't see fit to translate.
"Cole," began Janet in a bark, but the large man was one step ahead, already shedding his laboratory coat to reveal a rather Indiana-Jones-lookingensemble underneath. "Tranquillisers only," she told him as he unlocked a large metal cabinet on the far wall, pulling out a large tranquilliser gun followed by a set of fluffy grey earmuffs, slipping them over his dreadlocked hair to securely cover his ears.
He looked rather ridiculous with them on, but he didn't seem to care, winking at Hartley playfully when she grinned in vague amusement.
"What do you need a tranquilliser gun for?" demanded the Doctor. "Maybe this Gibson bloke just got lost. I'm sure there's no need for violence."
"You don't know these things like I do, Doctor," Janet replied crisply. She turned back to Cole, who was shoving spare darts into his pockets. "Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Stay on channel eight, and take the dogs back with you."
"You got it, Boss," Cole said as he secured a small walkie-talkie to his jacket, turning and bolting from the room with wide strides of his long legs. The doors slid shut after him, and the trio of travellers turned back to Janet, whose expression was pinched in a withheld consternation.
"Tell us what's happening here," demanded the Doctor, the earlier buoyancy gone from his voice. Things had certainly taken an abrupt turn – Hartley got the feeling this adventure was not going to be of the happy-go-lucky variety.
"Zimmerman," barked Janet, and the younger woman with the buzzed red hair scurried towards them, a frown on her freckled face. "Answer their questions, will you?" she said in a snap. "I have more important things to do."
She turned around, striding from the room with the elegant clicking of her towering heels, disappearing out the doors and around the corner. This left the trio of friends alone with Dip, Jaggle and Zimmerman. Jaggle and Dip were huddled beside a small computer, muttering between one another as they worked. Zimmerman was staring up at the three travellers with a small smile.
"She's kind of a grump," she said with a huffing laugh, hugging a large stack of papers to her chest. "But you get used to it."
"Why don't you explain things from the start?" suggested Rose kindly, and Zimmerman nodded her head, shuffling over to the large screen on the far wall, using the controls to pull up the relevant information.
"This planet was discovered two years ago by galactic explorer, Leonid Lucas," she began in a voice much like that of a history teacher. "Unfortunately, this was the last planet he ever found. He was killed by the Poison Screamers only a week after arriving."
"Killed how?" asked the Doctor, leaning towards the screen where the image sat of a round man in khaki clothes, stood beside what looked like a dead sabre-toothed tiger, hanging beside him. He was holding a rifle and grinning at the camera with greying teeth. Immediately Hartley knew she loathed him, and she felt sick looking at the poor creature dead at his feet. Zimmerman didn't answer his question, so he tried a different tactic. "Why're they called Poison Screamers?" he asked curiously. "Bit of a funny name for a species, don't you think?"
"That was what Leonid called them in his last transmission to the Empire," Zimmerman explained patiently. "We continue to call them that in his honour." There was a pause, and the young woman looked like she were taking a moment of silence for the fallen explorer. Hartley tried not to let her grimace be too obvious. "The Empire wanted to exterminate the indigenous population in retaliation, but GWARD stepped in, made a huge fuss and eventually got them to agree to send a team down to study them – ergo, us."
"Study them how?" pressed the Doctor impatiently, growing eager for answers.
"Observation, mostly," she told him with a perfectly straight face that then evened out into a small smile. "Gibson's not just our field officer, he's also our linguist. He's trying to teach them to communicate verbally so we can talk to them, but it's been slow going."
"How long have you been here?" asked Hartley curiously.
"Seven months, two weeks, three days and eight hours," she replied without flinching.
"That's awfully specific," murmured Rose.
Zimmerman suddenly looked very tired. "You'd count the days too if you were stuck here without access to fresh coffee beans or the movie channels on your TV, with only these guys for company," she said, jerking her chin at the pair of goblin-like aliens muttering to one another at the monitor in the corner.
"That's fair," Hartley nodded, thinking back to Janet's scowling face. Being stuck in close quarters with that woman would probably be enough to drive anyone to insanity. "What do you do here?" she asked curiously.
"I'm a biochemist," she revealed, reaching up to tug at the impressive stretchers hanging in her ears.
"But why are they called Poison Screamers?" asked the Doctor again, it not having escaped his noticed that the question had so far gone unanswered.
"They possess a rather...unique ability," Zimmerman replied, turning back to the controls and fiddling with them for a moment before a video began to play across the large screen before them. It was a man, round and balding, holding out a small device that looked an awful lot like a calculator to Hartley's untrained eyes.
There was no sound to the footage, all was silent as they watched a small creature dart out from the cover of the tall, dead grass.
It was humanoid in shape, though its hair looked to be made out of the same grass it nested in. Its eyes were a complete, solid black. It had high, angular cheek bones and pasty white skin, which was unexpected due to the exposure to the sun, with lips just as colourless. It wore a grass skirt, and a top that looked like it was made from dry mud and leaves, most of it pink, blending in almost seamlessly with its surroundings.
The man began talking, judging by the moving of his lips, but the creature did nothing, only staring. The man then reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bar of something, probably food, offering it to the creature in a show of peace.
Finally it began to edge forwards, fingers tipped with tiny pointed claws held out to gingerly grasp the proffered food. The moment it was close enough, the man lurched forwards, attempting to swipe at the alien, tag it with the small device he held in his hand. It leapt backwards, opening its mouth in what they could only assume was a scream.
The human stumbled backwards then collapsed to his knees, dropping what was in his hands and holding them up to his head in apparent agony. He was shouting out, crying in pain, and finally the alien darted back into the tall grass, immediately disappearing from sight.
The man on the ground recovered slowly, pulling back his hands to reveal blood had poured from his ears, staining his hands red.
The footage ended with a blink, going back to the home screen, an aesthetically pleasing picture of a double sunset on some unnamed alien world. Hartley gaped at the screen in shock, struggling to process all she'd just witnessed. Rose was similarly stunned.
"We had to mute the sound," admitted Zimmerman grimly. "Even a recording is enough to evoke the same reaction."
"How does it do that?" asked Rose, swallowing her shock to look at Zimmerman in bewilderment.
"Frequency manipulation," she replied matter-of-factly. "But on a much larger scale than anything man could ever create. It quite literally turns your brain to mush."
Realisation struck Hartley, and her jaw dropped open in horror. "You mean that wasn't blood coming out of his ears?" she breathed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"It was brain matter," confirmed Zimmerman grimly, and feeling like she were about to be sick, Hartley had to turn away, running a hand through her long hair, the pull at her scalp grounding her.
"This Gibson bloke," began the Doctor, his sharp mind never stopping for anyone or anything. "Is he the first to go missing?"
"We don't know that he's missing," argued one of the goblin-like aliens from behind them. Hartley remembered that Janet had called him Dip.
"Do you know where he is right now?"
"...No."
"Then he is, by definition, missing," the Doctor deadpanned.
Dip was disgruntled by this retort, but he didn't dispute its accuracy, turning back to his tablet with a muted humph.
There was a crackle of static as their high-tech walkie-talkie devices flared to life, and Zimmerman fumbled to pull hers from her pocket, pressing the button on top and holding it to her lips. "Cole? Where are you?"
"Just leaving HQ now," Cole's deep voice washed over them, tinny through the device's speaker. "Got dogs Three through Seven with me," he said, and over the line they could hear the faint barking of dogs.
"Roger that," replied Zimmerman, a concern frown pulling at her shapely brows.
"What's his plan?" asked the Doctor, hands folded in front of him, coming off a lot more polite than he actually was.
"Find the location of Gibson's locator chip, hopefully finding Gibson in the process," Zimmerman answered him, utterly candid.
"That happen a lot?" the Doctor pressed curiously. "You find the chip but not the owner?"
Zimmerman winced. "It may have happened to a few dogs, in the past," she admitted warily, and the Doctor's answering frown really said it all.
"Zimmerman, you there?" Cole's voice reappeared, and Zimmerman just about dropped her communicator in her zealous to answer it.
"Here, Cole," she replied, sidestepping the hovering Doctor and making her way over to her own computer, beginning to tap away at the keyboard, bringing up what Hartley could only assume was the security feed from the surrounding area. "Status?"
"Heading into the fourth quadrant now," he told her, and a second later he appeared on the screen. He looked just as big on the monitor as he had in real life, walking steadily along the path carved from the tall, pink grass.
Everyone in the lab watched as he moved across their vision, four large, black dogs surrounding him in a perfect square, their noses held to the ground.
"You're going to want to take a sharp right, Cole," Zimmerman told him, wincing as she said it. On the screen, Cole came to a stop. He seemed to lift his shoulders, giving Hartley the impression he was gathering his courage.
"I'll see you on the other side, Zimm," he said, but the hint of anxiety in his voice felt amplified in the stifling silence of the laboratory.
"Keep in contact," she replied, the anxiety mirrored in her own voice. With only another beat of hesitation, he stepped into the pink grass. It was taller than even the tall Cole, and he disappeared completely from view.
"Where'd he go?" asked Rose with a frown, stepping closer like she might be able to get a better look.
"No way to see through the grass," Zimmerman told her, shoulders tight with her worry.
"No drones?" the Doctor questioned.
This time Zimmerman hesitated, an uncomfortable look on her face. "The Poison Screamers took them all down," she finally revealed. The Doctor certainly didn't look thrilled by this news.
"Took them down how?" he pressed firmly.
"With a scream on a localised frequency that brought the mechanics to a standstill."
The trio were silent as they processed exactly what this meant. "You're telling me this is a race with the ability to melt brains and stop engines from working with a single scream?" the Doctor asked, cold and careful.
Zimmerman looked uncomfortable again. The crackle of her comm was a saving grace, and she picked up the small device with a relieved look on her face, holding it up to her ear as Cole spoke. "I'm not seeing anything, guys," he told them, voice calm but holding just a hint of uneasiness. Hartley could only imagine what he was feeling, trapped in that tall grass with zero visibility, knowing that at any point, the native species could kill him, should they so wish it.
"You're about twenty yards off," Zimmerman assured him. They all watched as his little red, blinking dot slowly moved closer and closer to the other, stationary dot.
Cole's dot came to an abrupt stop about halfway to his goal. The group watching all frowned in confusion, waiting nervously until the walkie-talkie device crackled with activity. "Zimm?" came Cole's voice, suddenly sounding more wary than they'd yet heard.
"Cole? What's wrong? Do you see Gibson?" asked Zimmerman quickly, gripping the edge of her desk, knuckles turning white.
"Something isn't right," he replied, but it was said in a whisper, like he was afraid someone might overhear.
"What do you mean?" Zimmerman pressed.
"Zimm," replied Cole. "Zimm, I'm not-" he cut himself off with a loud shout of abject terror, and then the transmission ended with that same crackle of static.
"Cole," cried Zimmerman into the device, eyes wild with panic. "Cole, talk to me," she ordered, and Hartley swallowed around her suddenly dry throat.
"Look," the Doctor muttered, and all the women looked away from where they'd been staring at the comms device, as if peering at it might somehow make Cole respond. He gestured to the computer screen where the two red dots remained blinking, each signifying a missing person. The signals had moved closer together, and now both dots were occupying places beside one another.
As far as they could tell, Cole had succeeded in finding Gibson. But then why wasn't he responding? And what had scared him so?
"Cole, come in," demanded Zimmerman, her voice rising in pitch. "It says you're with Gibson now. What's going on?!"
The girl was quickly becoming distraught, and Hartley was the first to act, slipping closer and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay," she told the upset biochemist soothingly. "We'll find him. It'll be okay."
"What the sunshine is going on here?" Janet's sharp tone barked from over by the doors, which closed behind her with that mechanical whirr.
"Cole isn't responding on the comms," Dip informed her factually, no feeling whatsoever in his voice.
"Why not?" demanded Janet coldly.
"Well, if they knew that, there probably wouldn't be a problem," said Rose in dry humour, and despite themselves, Hartley and the Doctor smirked.
Janet looked less than amused by the comment, shooting the younger blonde a disapproving glower before turning to the monitors, attempting to take control of the situation. She ripped the device from Zimmerman's hand with enough force that the woman with buzzed, red hair flinched back, nearly toppling over Hartley in the process.
Janet held the comm to her perfectly painted lips, barking into it with force. "Cole. Cole do you read? Cole, answer me, or so help me angels..."
There was no reply other than the sharp static of the comms. Whatever had happened to Cole, he was officially unreachable. The people filling the room fell into a stony, heavy silence. The weight of the unknown sitting on all of their shoulders. Was Cole okay? Was he even alive?
"The dogs just returned," said Dip grimly, and the monitor suddenly showed all four dogs darting back to the facility, tails between their legs. "They're alone."
"What now, Janet?" asked Jaggle carefully. Before their leader could answer, the comms flickered to life once more.
"Cole?" asked Janet eagerly, and nothing happened for one long moment, and then the room was suddenly filled with the single worst thing Hartley had ever heard.
It was a high-pitched screech, something no earthly creature could possibly make – which was fair, she supposed, considering they weren't actually on Earth. It was almost a tangible thing, a bullet shooting through the air, stabbing each person directly through the head. They dropped like flies, collapsing to the floor in agony.
Hartley felt like somebody was trying to twist a screw into her brain. She curled in on herself, covering her head with her arms like it might prevent the pain. It didn't, the sound filling her every atom, her body humming with the pitch of it.
Then, just as suddenly as the noise had started, it ended. It took them all some time to recuperate, most remaining on the floor, panting from the aftereffects. Hartley finally raised her head to see that Janet had smashed the comms device against the desktop, breaking it and ending the dangerous transmission.
"Blimey, that was intense," Rose was the first to speak, her voice tense from the lingering pain. "How'd they know to do that?" she asked, climbing unsteadily to her feet. The Doctor was already standing, and he reached down, taking her hand and helping her up. Hartley began to stand as well, and the Doctor extended a hand, kindly helping her to her feet. She smiled at him in thanks, but he turned away without acknowledging it.
"We told you," said Janet in a cold voice, staring down at the broken communicator grimly. "They're intelligent."
"You've been here for eight months," began the Doctor. Everyone in the room turned to look at him, and Hartley knew this was it; this was when he took charge. "Why are they only attacking now?"
"What do you mean?" asked Zimmerman mildly, painted features pulled together in confusion.
"They've had eight months to do something, but according to your records they've been peaceful up until now – the very first encounter notwithstanding."
"What are you saying?" pressed Janet flatly.
The Doctor didn't rise to the bait, merely staring back calmly. "I'm saying that they've been provoked, and I want to know how."
Janet's expression grew dark, the irritation obvious in her stormy eyes and pursed lips. "What right do you have to come in here and accuse us of-"
"Two of your people have been taken hostage," the Doctor interrupted her, no time for games. Janet's expression wavered, the severe truth of his words an unwelcome shock. "And right now I'm your best bet to get them back unharmed."
Janet didn't look convinced.
"We don't even know if they're alive," interjected Dip grimly. "The locators are just that; locators. They don't show life signs. For all we know, they could already be dead."
"I bet you're fun at parties," muttered Rose, turning to roll her eyes at Hartley, who smiled in spite of herself.
"Chances are, they're still alive," the Doctor said, taking the time to meet each and every one of their stares. "But until we know for certain, we have to operate as if they are. This has become a rescue mission."
"And who exactly put you in charge?" asked Janet icily. It was clear that she wasn't going to relinquish control easily.
"I'm your best bet for getting everyone through this with their brains still intact," he replied without so much as a blink. "So if I were you, I'd start listening to me." Janet didn't move, staring back, a war of indecision waging behind her eyes. "Or, if you'd rather, we could just leave – getting a bit hungry, to be honest. We could always go get pizza in Italy?" he directed this to his companions, but they knew better than to take him seriously.
Hartley knew he'd never abandon the people here. Not even for a moment was he actually contemplating leaving. He would see this through, making sure every last living thing on this planet was safe from harm.
But Janet believed his bluff, the battle behind her eyes coming to an end, her shoulder hunching as she accepted her decision – the right decision, whether she believed it or not. "What do you suggest we do, then, Doctor?" she asked, voice tense with reluctance.
The jovial glint to the Doctor's eyes abruptly vanished, replaced by a steely resolve as he slid effortlessly into save-the-world-mode.
"First of all, tell me why this building is safe," he began, voice as serious as his expression.
"What do you mean?" asked Zimmerman in confusion.
The Doctor looked like his patience was already failing him. "Those lifeforms out there could level this building with a single good scream," he reminded them tightly. "So what's stopping them?"
Janet pulled herself up to her full height as she turned and began to tap away at the computer with perfectly manicured fingers. "Just a simple forcefield. Nothing extraordinary," she answered just as tightly. Schematics of the building appeared on the big screen, showing a sort of second skin clinging to the outside of the building, like the walls themselves held their own aura.
The Doctor moved forwards, stepping in between Janet and her computer, taking control himself. The director of the facility looked like she had a few choice words to say about his manners, or lack thereof, but wisely kept her painted lips sealed shut.
"Brilliant," the Doctor was saying cheerfully from his perch. Rose and Hartley turned to look at the screen, trying to figure out what he was so happy about. "Absolutely brilliant."
"What is?" prompted Rose eagerly.
"It's sonic!" he exclaimed, turning to shoot his companions a jolly grin.
"What is?" Hartley repeated with careful patience.
"The forcefield," he huffed, as though disappointed they hadn't immediately known. "It's sonic. That's why the impact of the Poison Screamers can't reach the building. The whole thing is emitting a low level buzz. It's subtle, but still powerful enough to cancel out the effect of their screams."
"Like white noise?" Hartley guessed, and the Doctor beamed at her with more enthusiasm than she'd yet to encounter from the enigmatic alien.
"Bingo," he praised her in that crisp Northern accent, bright eyed as he turned back to his furious typing.
"And this helps us how, exactly?" asked Janet skeptically, eyeing him through narrowed eyes.
"Dunno yet," he replied, utterly cheerful. Janet looked extra unimpressed by this admission. "But I'll figure it out in the end," he added, somehow reassuring and distant in the same moment. The rest of the group didn't seem particularly convinced, but Rose and Hartley knew him well enough by now to know they could trust it. He did his best work under pressure.
There was a moment where only his continued tapping resonated through the room, and Janet shifted uneasily. "What are you doing now?" she asked anxiously.
"Nosy, aren't you?" he responded effervescently. "Bit of a control freak?" Janet looked positively scandalised by his blatant call out, but he kept talking before she could give him a tongue lashing. "Jaggle, you're up," said the Doctor over his shoulder. The small alien winced as the attention was brought to him.
"What – uh, what do you need, sir?" he stammered, the pressure of the situation getting to him.
"I need three biological current distributors," the Doctor ordered him, never lifting his eyes from the screen.
"Uh, well, I'm not even sure we stock-"
"It says right here that you have four of them just sitting there in Storage Two," he cut him off sharply. Jaggle closed his mouth and gave a quick nod. "Go get them. Quick as you can."
"Right," he muttered, turning and scurrying as quickly as he could from the room. With legs that short he didn't seem to be able to go very fast, but he was trying his hardest, and Hartley sent him a kind smile as he shuffled by.
"What are they for, then?" asked Zimmerman curiously, her hands twisted together in front of her stomach anxiously. Hartley realised she must have cared about Cole a lot to be so torn up over his disappearance. Then again, she couldn't imagine she could be cooped up on a planet for nearly eight months with the man and not form a strong connection.
"I've figured it out," grinned the Doctor, the expression dopey in a way only he could pull off.
"What does a...biological...current...thingy, even do?" asked Rose, too confused by it all, stumbling over the unfamiliar name.
"Distributes a charge through a body's natural current," explained the Doctor haphazardly, eyes flickering over the screen. "In this instance, a sonic charge – or, as Hartley put it, a source of white noise."
"Acting to repel the screams of the Screamers," Rose finished with a proud grin on her face, tip of her tongue just barely poking through her pearly white teeth.
"Exactly," he confirmed, smiling in that goofy way he sometimes did.
"What's the plan, then, Doc?" Hartley asked, trying to piece together the coming endeavour.
The Time Lord shot her a disgruntled look for the still-unapproved nickname, but otherwise launched into the specifics of his master plan.
"Hartley, Rose and I will go out, get to and save Gibson and Cole. Then we'll reason with these Screamers, try and get some kind of a peace treaty set up."
"We don't need a peace treaty," said Janet, snide and derisive.
The Doctor shot her a look that could only be described as flat. "They've taken two of your people hostage, and tried to melt our brains over the comms not five whole minutes ago," he countered, utterly deadpan.
Janet winced uncomfortably under all the eyes focused on her. "Fine," she bit out, lips pulled back in a contemptuous sneer. "If you want to go risk your lives, that's your prerogative."
"We're going out there to save your men," Rose snapped back, no time for her attitude. That was what Hartley liked about Rose, she didn't just take things like that lying down. She herself, on the other hand, was something of a doormat when it came to these kinds of situations. "You could at least act like you appreciate it," Rose continued strongly.
"So that's what this is about?" Janet hissed, and Hartley began to think she was going just a bit overboard. "Gratitude? You want to be labelled as heroes?" her face twisted into an ugly sneer.
"That's the furthest from what we want," interjected the Doctor, calm in the face of her irrational behaviour. "We're going to save those men and those Screamers, just because it's the right thing to do; because it's what anyone with a heart would do," he paused, thoughtful, "and, considering I've got two, I'm more so inclined than most."
The others looked terribly confused by this comment, but they had no time to question it. The doors slid open, Jaggle shuffling into the room as his top speed, sweat coating his goblin-like face, puffing loudly from the run.
"Here you are, sir," he coughed with all the force of a long-term smoker, making Hartley briefly wonder exactly what it was he did in his spare time. But her musings were cut short as Jaggle handed over what looked like three shiny, silver coasters.
The Doctor took them and held them up to the light for a moment before smiling to himself and immediately crossing the room to where a long bench ran along the wall. Atop it sat all manner of scientific equipment, and Hartley thought that the Doctor was suddenly very much in his element, nestled among beakers and hunks of wire, blowtorch in hand and – why did he have a blowtorch?
"Is the fire really necessary?" asked Janet in a long-suffering tone of voice.
"I suppose you were the one who taught Nikola Tesla everything he needed to know to build the first radio, then," the Doctor said conversationally, his fingers and eyes never moving from the little discs in front of him, "oh no, wait, that was me."
The director of the operation looked like she was seriously contemplating hitting him over the head with the microscope sitting only a few feet to her right. Hartley jumped in, stepping between them before Janet could follow through with the voluntary manslaughter.
"Do you know the area where they've taken the men?" she asked the facility's director quickly, if only to serve as a distraction. "Is the territory mapped out?"
Janet pursed her lips into a thin line, jerking her head at Zimmerman who leapt into action, moving over to the computer and beginning to expertly tap away.
"This is a digital model of the terrain," Zimmerman began, reaching up to idly scratch at her buzzed hair. "Visibility is low because of the grass, but the land's flat and relatively easy to traverse."
"Do they have weapons of any sort?" pressed Rose, stepping up beside her with a frown.
"Bows and arrows," Zimmerman replied. "They're mostly a primitive species, but they've mastered basic prehistoric weaponry and defence."
"They've got bows and arrows, and they can melt our brains using only their voices?" Hartley asked, suddenly feeling much more wary about the whole thing.
"Once I've got these up and running, the only part you'll need to worry about are the arrows," the Doctor piped up from where he was standing, hunched over the workbench toiling away at the devices that were meant to keep their brains safe.
"That makes us feel loads better, Doc, thanks," Hartley drawled with the utmost sarcasm, but the Doctor remained oblivious, tossing a wide smile over his shoulder before returning to his work.
Rolling her eyes, Hartley looked over at Rose who grinned back, the pair finding a shared amusement in their travelling companion's antics. "And how long is this supposed to take, exactly?" asked Janet in what was sure to be her most derisive tone of voice. "You realise the longer we spend in here, the longer those things have the chance to kill my employees."
"Employees," Hartley repeated lowly. "Huh. You guys must be real close."
Janet shot her a glare that dripped with unimpressed apathy. Pursing her lips uncomfortably and regretting opening her mouth at all, Hartley turned back to the Doctor, pushing herself up onto her toes in an attempt to see the progress he was making from over his broad shoulders.
"It's relatively easy to override the main function of these distributors – they're a version 8.1 – which is good for us, because they're the easiest to hack-"
"You're hacking my equipment?!" Janet shrieked, but the Doctor continued on regardless.
"-Of course, it is a delicate system, and considering they're going to be wired into our spinal cords, it's not the type of thing you want to rush. But still, I'm better than your average Joe, so they should be finished right about..." he put down his tools, spinning around on his toes and presenting the three small discs with a tiny flourish, "...now."
Rose snorted a laugh, but Hartley knew she was more than impressed by his genius.
"Hang on," said Hartley before she could be distracted. "Did you say those were going to be wired into our spinal cord?"
"That would be correct," he replied jovially. "Don't worry, it's totally safe."
"Is it?"
"No, not really," he deadpanned. "It was a lie to make you feel better. Is it working?"
Hartley could only stare back at him in pure disbelief. He could be so alien sometimes that it was truly shocking. She decided not to dignify the question with an answer, but this seemed to suit him just fine.
"Turn around and hold up your hair," he ordered her shortly, but Hartley hesitated. It wasn't that she didn't trust him – because she did, implicitly – it was just that the thought of some kind of modified alien tech being hardwired into her nervous system made her feel vaguely ill.
There was a small beep from across the room, and she remembered with a jolt that this wasn't about her. This was about those two men being held captive. She couldn't just allow her fear to override her actions. She knew what was right, and she was going to do it, regardless of her apprehension.
Decision made, Hartley turned on the spot and lifted her long, strawberry-blonde hair off of her neck. She sloppily piled it on top of her head, securing it with the spare band around her wrist, then took a deep breath to ready herself.
There was an agonising beat, and then she felt something sharp bite into the skin at the top of her spine. Flinching but then forcing herself still, Hartley closed her eyes against the unpleasant sensation. It was over quickly, the pain replaced by the cold press of metal to her sensitive skin.
"Rose, you next," the Doctor said, rather unceremoniously telling her it was over. Huffing, Hartley adjusted her shirt, pulling the jacket tighter around her body to combat the new chill of the device. If she listened closely she could pick up a strange humming noise. She wasn't hearing it in her ears but rather in her entire body. Her whole body was buzzing with the white noise that was meant to keep her safe.
From beside her, Rose gave a hiss of pain but otherwise didn't speak, and Hartley knew she'd been connected also.
Turning, Hartley watched as the Doctor shoved the last remaining small disc into his own spine. He didn't even wince, making her briefly wonder what had hardened him so.
"You'll need some weapons," began Janet flatly, waving her hand at Dip, who scrambled to get off the chair he'd been sitting on.
"Thanks, but no thanks," said the Doctor blithely. "I don't like weapons."
"You don't like weapons?" Janet echoed him dubiously. "Are you telling me you're going to march out there without any form of protection whatsoever?"
"Yeah, pretty much," he grinned back with all the confidence in the universe, teeth on full display, sky blue eyes crinkled at the corners.
The director of operations looked like she was contemplating manslaughter once again, so Hartley took it upon herself to intervene. "We should get going, yeah?" she asked, voice raised slightly over the hum of white noise in her body.
"It's your funeral," muttered Janet, stepping aside and waving them towards the doors. "Jaggle, show them out," she said primly, smoothing her hands down her crisp magenta lab coat, picking invisible lint from the cuffs, silently telling them exactly how little she valued them and the risk they were taking.
"We'll be back," Rose said, like a reminder, eyes narrowed at the tall scientist in obvious distaste.
"I'm sure you will," she replied patronisingly, anything but convinced.
Hartley frowned at her but otherwise didn't comment, turning when the Doctor did, following him out of the room and back into the hallway they'd entered through. The sound of Rose following behind her was comforting. She may have been about to step out into incredible danger, but she had her friends by her side, and what else did she need?
It was hot without the air conditioning to keep them cool, and the moment they crossed the threshold out into the harsh environment of Ulka they were hit with a wave of uncomfortable heat. It was a sharp contrast to when they'd first arrived, the air having been so cold it was nearly frigid. Pulling at her collar, Hartley tried not to wince as the door closed after them, clicking shut with a note of terrifying finality.
"Where to, then?" asked Rose curiously, bringing up a hand to shield her eyes from the double suns' glare, spinning around in a semicircle in an attempt to gain her bearings.
"Cole's chip says he's located due west," said the Doctor, eyes moving from the small tablet in his hand to the direction of the signal, eyes narrowed up at the twin suns.
"Off we go then, I s'pose."
They set off to the west, the annoying but necessary buzz still vibrating through her body, protecting her from the screams of this primitive but dangerous race.
"What do you think they want?" Hartley asked, unable to stem her curiosity. There had to be a reason, some kind of catalyst that had made these 'Screamers' attack. Was it their appearance? Had their visit somehow triggered it?
She didn't see how this would be the case, but it was her only working theory.
"Could be anything," said the Doctor flippantly. "Could be they think GWARD is trespassing on their land. Could be they've been somehow offended. Could be they're particularly hungry today."
This thought made the girls' skin scrawl, but they soldiered on, knowing there was no space for fear on this adventure turned rescue mission.
"What're the chances of them still being alive?" asked Rose, her voice quiet and tentative, like she were afraid someone – or maybe something – would be listening.
"Dunno," replied the Doctor, borderline cheerful despite the situation they found themselves in. That was just his baseline, Hartley supposed. Cheerful to the end, never minding the circumstance. Or maybe it was a sort of 'if you don't laugh, you'll cry' type of thing, in which case she found herself understanding it more than she'd expected to.
"What do we do if they aren't?" Rose pressed, and finally the Doctor's happy-go-lucky expression dropped into something more serious. He didn't answer, however, opting to remain silent as they continued their journey through the tall grass.
It was like something from a Dr Seuss book, Hartley thought, reaching out a hand to trail her fingertips over the soft material of the tufts of bright pink grass that surrounded them like the walls of a maze.
She'd never liked mazes. As a kid, she'd had a recurring nightmare about being trapped in a labyrinth. She could still remember the feeling of the walls closing in on her, not knowing where she was, or how to get home.
"Are we getting close?" she asked the Doctor anxiously, and he looked back down at his borrowed tablet, eyes narrowed as he read it carefully.
"It says we should be on top of them any second now," he replied, and all three companions came to a sudden stop, eyeing the gaps between the brightly coloured grass. Hartley suddenly had the unfortunate feeling they were being watched.
"Does anyone else feel like we're being watched right now?" asked Rose cautiously, head tilted to the side as her eyes swept the grass, searching for the source of the sensation.
"Yup," responded Hartley slowly, hands tugging at the hem of her teeshirt, more of an anxious tick than anything else. "Why d'you suppose that is?" she asked carefully, spinning in a slow circle, eyeing their surroundings critically. She couldn't see anything, but that didn't mean there wasn't anything there.
"Probably because we are," said the Doctor, utterly unbothered. He wasn't even looking at the grass, but rather focused on whatever was showing on the tablet in his hands, fingers expertly tapping away at the screen.
"Well, that's comforting," muttered Rose sarcastically, and Hartley had to agree.
There was a rustle of the bright, rosy grass, and all three snapped around to stare at its source. A figure appeared, seeming to suddenly materialise from nowhere, its camouflage so good.
It looked identical to the creature they'd seen on the monitor before. Humanoid but incredibly short, with hair and clothes the colour of the grass but skin a chalky white and eyes a deep, inky black. The expression it wore was set, not so much as a twitch of its lips giving anything away.
"Hullo," the Doctor greeted it like he might greet an old friend, grinning wide and easy. Hartley was beginning to learn that he wasn't so easily intimidated as any regular old human might be. "I'm the Doctor. I'm here to help."
The creature pulled back its waxy lips to reveal rows and rows of sharp, jagged teeth, like a shark opening its jaws before it bit you. It didn't scream, not yet. It just stared, seeming to be just daring them to take a step closer.
"Why are you doing this?" pressed the Doctor gently. "The people back in there are very worried about their friends. Are they okay?" he asked with boundless patience.
It only curled its lip back some more, a silent but serious threat.
"I can't help if you don't communicate. Can you understand me? I know every language, so I'll know what you're saying if you speak back. Or can you write something down?"
The creature didn't move, but the pink, grass-like hair on its head began to bristle, almost trembling as its haunches slowly rose.
"It's okay," the Doctor kept insisting, hands held out placatingly, but then he made the mistake of stepping forwards. His shoe pressed onto a particularly crunchy leaf, the sound echoing around them, and both girls behind him gave near identical winces at the noise.
It was enough to break what little truce they'd created, and the creature before them opened up its mouth further and let out a piercing scream. It hit the trio in a tidal wave of sound, but almost immediately that sound was combatted against by the white noise in their bodies growing, to the point where Hartley's whole body seemed to vibrate with the force of it.
Still, she hunched over as though to try and protect herself from the attack. The Doctor was still shouting, begging the Screamer to listen, to communicate and talk. But it didn't, it only screamed. A few moments passed, and still none of them had died. The Screamer shut its mouth, little black eyes narrowing in frustration as it realised that its scream hadn't worked.
"It's okay, we're wearing white-noise forcefields to keep us safe. We're not going to hurt you!" he was trying to tell it, struggling to convince the little guy of their good intentions.
The Screamer curled back its lips, preparing to scream again.
"Please!" Hartley stepped forwards, hands held up in surrender. "Please – you have our people, we just want to know why, and if they're okay." The Screamer didn't move, watching her closely. She focused on looking as innocent as humanly possible. "Are they all right? Are they hurt? Please, they have families."
She wasn't sure if this part was particularly true, but hopefully it would help humanise them just that little bit more – she'd read a book on negotiation techniques once, back in university. She never thought it would ever be something she'd need to apply to a real-life situation.
The Screamer's hackles slowly began to drop, its stare cool and calculating. Then it opened its mouth and screamed, but this one wasn't an attack. It was short, and in amongst the sharp, piercing shriek of it, the three of them could hear a single word.
"Hostages!" it screeched, simple and to the point.
"They're your hostages?" the Doctor leapt onto the communication instantly, hope gleaming in his eyes. "Why? Why do you need hostages?!"
The Screamer eyed him with obvious malice, but it made no move to attack. It seemed to be thinking something through, they could practically see the cogs turning away behind its inky black stare. "Return ours!" it finally shrieked, the sound so loud and blaring it nearly threw Hartley off her feet. She grabbed ahold of Rose's arm for balance.
"Return what?" pressed the Doctor. "What do we have that's yours?!"
But the Screamer wasn't in the mood for chatter. It curled its lips back a final time, letting out a scream even louder than the one before. The white-noise in the back of Hartley's head began to flicker in and out, and slowly she felt her brain begin to burn from inside her skull.
"Doctor!" Rose cried out in the same instant, hands pressed over her ears, panic in her eyes.
"The fields are failing!" he shouted, barely audible over the Screamer's deadly cries. "Go – run!"
They didn't need to be told twice. Without pause they bolted, sprinting back in the direction of the base, the only place other than the TARDIS where they knew they'd be safe.
The doors opened as they approached, and they dove inside, the scream dying away into nothing as the door shut after them, sealing off all sound beyond the base's walls.
The trio groaned, slowly rolling onto their backs and blinking up at the pristine, white ceiling. A familiar buzzed head popped into view, and then Zimmerman was standing above them, eyes wide.
"What happened?" asked the younger woman, one hand anxiously tugging at one of her stretchers, the other cradling a tablet against her middle. "Did it say something to you? It looked like you were speaking, on the video."
"You couldn't hear?" Rose asked, watching as the Doctor stood, then held out a hand to help them both up. Hartley smiled gratefully, taking it and letting him pull her to her feet.
"No sound to the feed – for safety reasons," Zimmerman explained.
"Besides," said the Doctor, grabbing ahold of the device at the top of his spine and tearing it off, tossing it aside like junk, "even if she could hear, she wouldn't understand. Only reason we could understand what he was saying was because of the TARDIS translation circuit."
Hartley took it to mean she could do the same, gingerly tearing off the device plugged into her body. It stung as she ripped it out, like getting something pierced, but then the pain faded and she felt fine again, tossing it over in the corner with the Doctor's.
"Wait, so – what happened?" Zimmerman asked, confused by what she hadn't understood.
The Doctor didn't answer, turning and storming over to the far wall. It was panelled, but the Doctor seemed to know how it worked, because he slapped the centre panel once, and like something from an old spy movie it flipped around to reveal a wide touch-screen computer.
"Hey – you can't access that," said Zimmerman anxiously. "Janet will have your head," she hissed, glancing over her shoulder, paranoid she'd get the blame if her boss magically appeared.
"Let her try," the Doctor waved her off, tapping away at the screen like an expert. Information was flying across the screen faster than Hartley could track, but the Doctor didn't seem to struggle, scanning it all without so much as a blink.
"I have to tell Janet you're doing this," Zimmerman warned, her sense of self-preservation winning out.
"Do what you have to," the Doctor said casually, and Zimmerman frowned as she began typing something out on her tablet.
"Doctor, what're you doing, exactly?" Rose asked, leaning around him, trying to make sense of what was on the screen.
"Looking for whatever it is they don't want me to find," he replied easily, hands moving so fast they began to blur. Rose still looked confused, but suddenly Hartley pieced together what was happening.
"That Screamer out there said these people have something of theirs," Hartley murmured, crease appearing between her brows as she frowned.
"Yup," the Doctor replied in his crisp accent. "And I intend to find out what it is."
The sharp sound of high heels clacking against the floor rang out through the flat, crystallised surface of the hallway. Rose and Hartley looked up from the screen, eyeing Janet as she walked towards them as quickly as she could without it being considered 'undignified'.
"And what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Janet snarled like a dragon, her nostrils flaring. Hartley wouldn't have been surprised if she started spitting fire.
"Oh look," the Doctor replied blithely, "a sealed door with no name that isn't on the official schematics." He jabbed a finger at the screen, which was now frozen on an image of a door labelled 'Authorised Personnel Only'. Janet had suddenly gone bone pale, gaping at him in pure outrage. "Wonder what's hiding in there?" he mused, turning to his companions. "Wanna go take a peek?"
"Love to," replied Rose coyly.
"Sounds like fun," Hartley agreed, taking a moment to glare at Janet through narrowed eyes, a warning. If she didn't like what she found, this woman was in for a whole lot of hurt.
"You – you have no right!" cried Janet from behind them as they turned and casually began to move down the large hallway. Zimmerman was standing silently off to the side in an attempt to stay out of the warpath, folded in on herself as though trying to make herself a smaller target. "Wait a minute, you're not really Inspectors from GWARD, are you?" Janet finally hissed, eyes like fire as she finally put two and two together, clicking after them in her towering, impractical heels.
"You don't say..." Zimmerman muttered around a snort, the words laced with sarcasm. Luckily for her, Janet was in too much of a state to hear it.
"Maybe we are, maybe we're not. Doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, though, does it? Two of your men are in hostile territory. They aren't responding to communication and now I'm your only chance at getting them both back alive."
Janet was quiet for a moment, staring at the Doctor like she was suddenly seeing him for the first time. "You're military, aren't you?" she finally asked, the words accusatory. The Doctor's expression went blank, like a mask being shuttered into place. "I see it now. You couldn't be anything else but a soldier."
The Doctor was less than pleased by her words, grimacing as though she'd offended him, and Hartley wondered why that was. Was being seen as a soldier a bad thing? She always thought there was something to be respected about soldiers – but then, she'd grown up with an ex-military man as a father.
Despite the Doctor's irritation, his stride never once faltered. He kept on walking, leading them through the facility like he'd been navigating the monotonous corridors his entire life, with extra, laser-like focus on his destination.
"Stop – I order you to stop this instant!" shrieked Janet like some kind of overworked banshee, the pitch almost sharp enough to rival that of the Screamers outside.
None of the trio stopped walking, and Jaggle and Dip toppled from the lab they'd been in earlier, drawn out by Janet's panicked squawking.
"Dip! Jaggle! Restrain them at once!" Janet ordered them, growing desperate.
Hartley smothered a snort, casting the two tiny scientists an amused look, watching as they glanced at one another helplessly, wondering how they were meant to do anything to stop even one of them, let alone all three.
Janet let out a wail of frustration, but nobody paid her a lick of attention.
"Here we are, then," announced the Doctor, coming to a stop outside of a tall, unassuming door with 'Authorised Personnel Only' written across the front, just like in the image from the computer. He turned, spinning on his heel to look Janet directly in the eyes. "Anything you want to tell me before I open this door?" he asked, voice friendly for the most part, like he were offering her a biscuit and not a chance to come clean of her deadly string of lies.
"I – I, I don't-" she stammered, eyes darting at the exits like she was preparing to make a break for it. Hartley wasn't sure where she thought there was to go, but she had the right idea; the only place more deadly to be than outside was in the Doctor's way.
Running out of patience, her chance to own up to her mistakes gone, the Doctor pulled out the sonic screwdriver. It buzzed, the keypad lighting up in its blue glow, before the door itself beeped and the lock clicked open.
Zimmerman's eyes were wide as she practically drooled over the sonic, but Hartley knew there wasn't time to let her gush about it. The Doctor shoved the door open, walking straight into the room beyond.
Rose and Hartley glanced at one another, sharing a split second of doubt – what would they find within? Would it be dangerous? Illegal? Scary? – before as one they followed the Doctor into the room.
They entered a large room full of monitors and equipment. The walls, however, weren't the shiny, pristine whites and glass of the rest of the facility. Instead they were dark, black as night, and made out of a foamy kind of material that took a moment for Hartley's to place.
When she did, she frowned in confusion – it was soundproofing foam, the kind used in music studios and sensory deprivation rooms. But why did they need it here? What sounds were they trying to muffle?
At the opposite end of the room was a large sheet of glass, but beyond that was only more blackness. It was a room, but the lights were off. The Doctor made a beeline for the glass, realising its significance before either of the others did. He reached for a switch on the wall, flicking it on, and suddenly the room beyond the glass was lit with harsh, fluorescent lights, revealing something that made Hartley sick to the stomach.
A Poison Screamer was tied down on a table, its little hands and feet bound. There was a large muzzle-type contraption on its face, and it looked screwed into its jaw, keeping it shut and rendering it virtually harmless. It was completely naked except for a small cloth covering its pelvis, and they could clearly see a huge, thick incision running down the length of its abdomen. They'd been dissecting the poor thing – like it were some kind of science experiment.
Hartley gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth in pure, unadulterated horror. Rose's eyes were wide in shock, hands held over her queasy stomach. Hartley had never seen the Doctor look more deadly, the furious, icy look in his eyes made a shiver run down her spine, even though it wasn't aimed at her.
He shoved open a door to the right that Hartley hadn't even realised was there, pushing his way into the room and moving over to where the Screamer lay helpless in the middle of the room.
Hartley followed, then Rose a moment later, the pair of them swallowing around the lumps of disgust in their throats, horrified by what they were seeing.
"Is she alive?" Hartley asked as she and Rose gingerly approached the alien. She wasn't sure how she knew it was a girl, but she just had a feeling. The little thing was staring dazedly up at the ceiling, not even blinking.
"Barely," said the Doctor, the words spat with no small degree of contempt. He pulled a stethoscope from the pocket of his jacket, slipping the ends into his ears and pressing the end against the little thing's scarred, chalky chest.
Hartley shuffled closer, heart in her throat, and bent down to the Screamer's level. She peered into her eyes, noting how foggy and distant they looked. "She's been drugged," she said without thought, reaching out to press a hand against her arm. Her skin was cold, but Hartley got the feeling that wasn't a natural part of her physiology.
The Doctor stopped assessing the Screamer, assured she was alive – for the moment, at least – pocketing his stethoscope and turning to face Janet and her small group of colleagues.
Hartley kept her hand on the Screamer, but turned enough to get a look at the four of them and their expressions. She was surprised by what she found.
Janet looked resigned yet angry, her perfectly manicured hands balled into fists at her sides. The other three, however, looked on in pure shock. Hartley knew immediately that they hadn't known about this. Whatever had happened in this room before now, they hadn't been a part of it. But how did Janet pull it off alone?
The Doctor didn't even need to say anything, he just stared at Janet, who seemed to have broken out into a nervous sweat, perfect skin damp with anxiety. Janet quickly cracked, spurting excuses without so much as a single prompt.
"Do you know what this type of ability could be used for?!" she exclaimed, straightening her spine to look taller in an attempt to intimidate them. It didn't work. "The applications are numerous – and invaluable."
"Invaluable enough to resort to torture?"
"Yes!" she cried, heavy with conviction. "You're a soldier – you understand –" she tried to say to the Doctor, but it was the wrong course of action. If anything, it only made him angrier.
"You did this for the military applications?" he growled furiously.
"To defend the interests of the Colonies!" she shouted back, growing desperate.
"That's what they all say," the Doctor spat in disgust. "You say it's for defence, only it never stays that way. This kind of power, in the hands of the military? You might as well start signing off civilian death certificates now."
"And anything you have to torture someone else to get usually isn't something you have a right to in the first place," Hartley interjected, unable to keep quiet any longer.
"It's barely even considered an animal," hissed Janet defensively. "One Screamer doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things!"
"That's where you're wrong," Rose said, voice colder than Hartley had ever heard it. "It does matter. This Screamer alone is worth ten of you."
Janet's expression twisted at the insult, but the Doctor continued on before she could reply.
"You're the reason those men have been taken," he said, sharp and accusing. "Don't you see? You have one of their people hostage – so they took some hostages of their own."
Janet seemed to – if possible – get even more pale. "They're not smart enough for that," she said, struggling to stay dismissive.
"How could you have been studying them for so long and still know nothing about them?" Hartley asked in pure bewilderment. She couldn't understand how such a large group of brilliant minds couldn't see what was right in front of their eyes.
"People don't see what they don't want to see, Hartley," said the Doctor, his stare never breaking from Janet, who swallowed nervously under his dangerous, stormy gaze. She was struggling to keep her composure, eyes watering. Not with sadness, but rather a crushing despair. She was scared – just as she should have been. But she deserved whatever was coming to her, of that Hartley was certain.
Janet turned away, breathing deeply, seeming need a moment to gather her wits. But Hartley couldn't wait any longer – the Screamer didn't deserve to be locked up like it was. It deserved to be free. Not just for its own sake, but for the sake of the men its people had taken hostage. She leaned down to undo the straps, but before her fingers could so much as brush the leather restraints Janet had whipped back around and the loud whirring sound filled the small, metal room.
Flinching in surprise, Hartley looked up to see Janet had a weapon aimed at them. It was a futuristic sort of gun, dark blue and glinting in the low lights dangerously. It shook in her trembling hand, but her glare remained deadly.
Zimmerman let out a small yelp, bringing her tablet into her body and hugging onto it like a little girl might hold onto a teddy bear in bed at night. Jaggle moved quickly, slamming his little spine against the wall behind him, eyes wide with panic. "Janet!" exclaimed Dip, simply aghast.
Hartley stepped away from the table, hands held up in surrender. Rose moved with her, gaze laced with caution as she eyed the weapon aimed directly at them. The Doctor didn't move so much as a muscle, staring back at the wild-eyed, gun-wielding woman, perfectly composed.
"Think about what you're doing, Janet," he said evenly, the cadence to his Northern accent calm and controlled. "You can come back from this – it doesn't have to end this way," he told her, making Hartley wonder whether he'd read the same books on negotiation tactics that she had. It certainly sounded as though he had.
"You don't understand," cried Janet, finally losing her grip on that composure that she'd prided herself on. "This situation isn't black or white, Doctor!" she added harshly.
The Doctor gave a waning smile. "It never is."
"We're fighting a war," Janet told him. "The Colonies – they need all the help they can get!"
The Doctor frowned, struggling to follow. "What year is this?" he asked, and Janet's terrified expression gave way to a flicker of confusion at the odd question.
"What?" she asked, almost defensive, like the question were somehow a threat.
"The year, what is it?" he pressed, unrelenting.
There was a beat. "6685," Dip finally answered him, voice small and shaking from where he remained pressed beside his colleagues, watching the spectacle before him carefully.
The Doctor's spine straightened as he lined up the dates in his mind. "You're fighting the Empire," he said with a note of realisation.
"The Empire?" Hartley asked, perking up at the familiar name.
"It isn't like Star Wars," he replied, shutting her down immediately. A little freaky, how he knew what she was thinking without so much as a word.
"It sounds a little like Star Wars," she argued, unable to help herself.
"Those movies are fiction, Hartley, no matter how much you wish they weren't."
"I'm just saying, it's a hell of a coincidence-"
"Guys!" Rose shouted, and both companions flinched, turning to look at her in surprise. "You wanna save it for later, when there isn't a gun being pointed at our heads?" she asked, voice tight with frustration.
Properly chastised, both Hartley and the Doctor returned their attention to the matter at hand, ignoring the looks of pure bemusement on the faces of the scientists before them. "Look, shooting us won't do you any good," the Doctor began again, much more straightforward than he'd been before.
"It won't?" asked Janet, whose emotional spike seemed to have passed. Instead she stared back at them, borderline impassive, the gun in her hand no longer shaking. And somehow Hartley knew that was worse.
"It's against Galactic Law to reap any part of an underdeveloped ecosystem; that includes lifeforms. We already sent a beacon to the Shadow Proclamation," he told her confidently. "They'll be here within the hour."
That last part was a lie – he can't have possibly had the time to do such a thing. Hartley had been by his side throughout this entire debacle, she would have noticed.
"No," Janet gasped, but the Doctor ploughed on ahead, heedless of the gun now aimed directly at his twin hearts.
"Yes. So put the gun down, and I'll convince them to give you a light sentencing." As he spoke, he slowly took step after step closer and closer to the wild-eyed woman, hands held out towards her weapon. "It'll be okay."
The gun began to shake once again as her eyes filled with tears. "I was just trying to do what was best for the colonies," she said sadly, gaze distant, like her thoughts were a million miles away.
"I'm sure you were," Hartley said gently from where she was stood, compassion fierce in her gut.
Janet had been right, it wasn't black and white. Yes, she'd done the wrong thing, but she'd done it for – what she'd thought – were the right reasons. And that made it difficult to simply pin her as a bad person. Because what was your value, if not your intentions?
A tear escaped Janet's eye, trickling down her face and making a line in her perfectly applied makeup. The Doctor used the opportunity to gently pry the gun from her hand, and the moment it was free he tossed it behind him. Rose plucked it from the air, holding it out in front of herself gingerly, like she were afraid it might go off by accident.
The Doctor then did something even more unexpected; he brought Janet into an embrace. She cried into his shoulder, overcome with emotion, perhaps guilt over what she'd done. The Doctor mimed for Rose to take her, and she did so reluctantly, moving closer and beginning to pat the older, crying lady rather awkwardly on the back.
"Call the Shadow Proclamation," the Doctor said to Jaggle quietly. "Tell them to come right away."
Jaggle's small face scrunched in confusion. "I thought you said-"
"I lied," he replied, succinct, and Jaggle nodded back grimly.
"Do you think we need to restrain her?" he asked, casting a still-crying Janet a distrustful side eye.
"No," the Doctor assured him quietly. "She'll go willingly."
Jaggle didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue, nodding his head and swiftly leaving the room. Now that she was free to do so, Hartley moved over to the Screamer on the table, beginning to undo her restraints.
"Careful, Hartley," said the Doctor, appearing by her side. "She might be drugged, but there's still no telling how dangerous she could be."
"We can't leave her tied up," she argued in a low hiss. "Look at her wrists – they're rubbed raw." And they were, the chalky white skin around the restraints now blistered and red. It looked painful, and Hartley felt a flare of contempt for Janet, who was still sitting by Rose over in the corner, tears marring her perfect face.
She didn't feel bad for her, not now. Nothing condoned torture – not even good intentions.
The Doctor moved over to the cabinet in the corner, rifling through it until he finally produced a long, thin cylinder full of some kind of purple liquid. Gently as he could, he injected it into the Screamer's arm, and she fell asleep instantly, relaxing back against the cold, uncomfortable table and letting her eyes slip shut.
"Just a sedative," he assured her, throwing the minimalist syringe into the bin and moving to begin untying the Screamer's feet.
Hartley hurried to loosen the ones at her wrists, wincing in sympathy as she eyed the angry welts on her snowy skin. She was tiny, about the size of a small, skinny, ten-year-old girl, and the Doctor had no trouble lifting her in his arms. He was gentle about it, like he was carrying a baby.
"What now?" she asked him gingerly, one hand gently soothing back the sedated Screamer's pink, grassy hair. It felt like straw under her hand, completely alien, although somehow not unpleasant.
"Now we go make the exchange," said the Doctor quietly. "Her for the two humans."
Hartley frowned, the prospect of going back out into the pink surface of the planet not an appealing one. The Screamers, innocent as they may be, were still extremely dangerous. "Should we put those sonic forcefield things back on or something?" she asked, one hand still thoughtlessly carding through the injured Screamer's straw-like hair.
"No, we'll be fine," the Doctor told her. "Rose, stay with them, someone will need to be here when the Shadow Proclamation arrives," he called back to Rose.
"But –– but what do I tell them?" she asked, startled by the order.
"The truth," he replied, simple and succinct. She still looked wary, but he left no room for argument, turning and heading from the room. "Hartley, with me," he said, and the strawberry-blonde companion shot Rose a sympathetic look before hurrying after him, knowing better than to keep him waiting.
Outside was just as scolding hot as it had been before, and they'd barely taken five full steps away from the building before Hartley felt a sweat break out down the length of her spine.
"How do you know they won't just kill us on sight?" she whispered as they walked, the suns bearing down on them, hot and unyielding.
"They're smart enough to know an exchange when they see one," he replied, holding the sedated Screamer close to his chest, blue eyes scanning the tall grass, looking for any hint that they weren't alone.
"But how do you know?" she pressed, unable to stem her trepidation.
"I don't," he said, simple and honest. "I just have to hope."
She wanted to be angry that he'd brought her out into danger with nothing to fall back on other than hope, but she knew the Doctor well enough by now to know she had to trust him. She didn't like to admit it, but he did usually happen to be right, more often than not.
A rustle of the straw-like grass alerted them to the other Screamers' presence, and they came to a sharp halt, meeting the eyes of the pair across from them. Their black, beady little eyes stood out against the chalky whiteness of their skin, and their grassy hair stood up in the air, like a cat with its fur on end.
"We're here to trade," said the Doctor in a clear, authoritative voice. "Yours for the two of ours."
The Screamers glanced at one another, communicating silently for a moment before turning their attention back on them. Everything was silent for a few long moments, before finally the Screamers turned, stepping back into the tall grass, this time at a slower pace.
"What now?" Hartley whispered, confused.
"I think we're meant to follow them," the Doctor murmured back before starting after the pair of Screamers, completely confident. Heart beating just that little bit faster with anxiety, Hartley swallowed back her nerves and followed.
They walked for a few minutes, the silence surrounding them almost as suffocating as the muggy heat. The Screamers stayed within eyeshot, pushing aside the magenta grass and walking calmly to their destination. They didn't seem to be wary, or at all concerned by the two people following after them, the unconscious body of one of their own in their arms.
Hartley wanted to speak, if only to break the silence that draped over them like a blanket. But she didn't dare say a word, too scared it might break the unspoken peace treaty they'd just achieved with the Screamers.
The grass suddenly opened up to a small clearing with some rotted tree stumps dotting the ground. Revealed was a small army of Screamers, all of them with their beady little eyes narrowed at the pair of them, hackles raised in defence. And finally, tied to the largest stump in the clearing, was the familiar figure of Cole, all dreadlocks with caramel skin. Beside him was a small, stocky man with green eyes. Both were gagged, and clearly knew better than to try and make a sound.
"Let them go," the Doctor said, voice loud and clear.
The Screamers all bristled at the order. "Let ours go," one near the front said in a piercing scream that made Hartley's ears ring. He was slightly taller than the rest of his brood, just that little bit more threatening.
The Doctor hesitated only a moment, and Hartley watched carefully, wondering what was going to happen. Finally he moved, taking a step towards the large group of aliens. They all bristled again, as though anticipating an attack. But the Doctor didn't stop, taking two more steps forward until he reached the middle of the clearing, where the Screamer in charge stood, its grassy hair pointing up at the sky.
"I'm sorry for what happened," he said, the words genuine and sincere. He leant down, depositing the smaller Screamer into this one's arms. He took her, holding her close, and suddenly the beady little eyes that Hartley had before thought were full of only contempt were now softened and warmed with love. "These people were wrong. They'll leave in peace."
The Screamer looked back up at the Doctor, eyes narrowed in consideration, before he turned his head and screamed a sharp note at one of his people. They hurried forwards, cutting the ropes that restrained the human scientists.
Cole and the one they called Gibson rushed to yank their gags free, scrambling to their feet and stumbling over to the Doctor and Hartley's side. Cole looked hardly worse for wear, if only a little bit shaken, but in comparison Gibson was a mess, eyes glistening with tears, hands shaking from the shock of his ordeal.
"Thank you," the Doctor said, voice full of a genuine respect.
But the lead Screamer looked hardly impressed. "Leave now," he shrieked at them, leaving no room for argument, and as though commanded the rest of his people began to melt into the tall grass, disappearing from sight. And just like that, there work there was done.
Hartley was admittedly surprised that it had ended so peacefully. The Shadow Proclamation came to take Janet away – its officers being large rhinoceros-looking aliens (that the Doctor told her were called Judoon) cuffing the trembling older woman and taking her away.
"What about us?" Zimmerman had asked, one hand soothing down Gibson's arm, the poor guy still shaking like a leaf. "What do we do now?"
"Send for an extraction team," the Doctor had told her and the rest of her team, cheerful despite their lost, forlorn expressions. "Tell them what happened here. Make sure GWARD lists this as a protected planet. The Screamers are to be left alone."
And then they'd left, the girls giving everyone hugs in farewell, before they followed the Doctor back to where they'd parked the TARDIS. He pulled out his key, slipping it into the lock and pushing open the door.
The three of them stepped inside the ship, which gave a low hum, as though welcoming them home.
"Where to now?" the Doctor asked, heading for the console and dematerialising the TARDIS with that wonderful wheeze-groan. "Anyone else peckish? I could go for some of that pizza I mentioned – how about you two?"
But Hartley and Rose weren't as able to move on so quickly. There was still so much left hanging in the air. "What's gonna happen to Janet?" Hartley asked the question on both of their minds.
The Doctor's bright expression dulled, replaced by something more subdued. "She'll get some prison time, I s'pose," he told them, eyes on the console, "and GWARD will definitely fire her. Her career's over."
"Good riddance," said Rose, a little callous, though certainly not undeserved. She looked over at Hartley, possibly searching for agreement, but instead she found her frowning, confusion and indecision swimming in her dark blue eyes. "What?" she asked her, not understanding the expression.
Hartley chewed on her tongue, considering her words carefully. "I don't condone what she did," she began, slow and steady. "But Janet had a point, didn't she?" she asked. "The situation isn't black or white."
"Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons is still the wrong thing," the Doctor said, tone leaving no room for interpretation. "The ends don't always justify the means. No matter what's at stake."
Hartley pursed her lips, a very famous quote coming to mind. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions," she said softly, the words echoing in her soul.
"It is indeed," the Doctor agreed, the light in his eyes dulled.
The three friends stood in silence a moment longer, considering the words, considering the morality of the situation, and where they stood on the spectrum. Until finally, the Doctor broke the quiet with a clap of his hands.
"So, pizza?"
Hartley looked over at Rose, who smiled, and as one they nodded. "Pizza it is."
A/N: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed! Not getting very much of a response to this story yet, dunno if it's because it just hasn't gained any traction or because it's just not good? Be sure to send me a review, letting me know I'm on the right path. I wanna know people are as keen to read the next chapter as I am to write it!
Either way, I love you all, and even just the fact that you clicked on this story is a huge honour. Thank you! xo
