Two-parters take a while. That last chapter was an epic one, but as I said, this is the last "copy episode(s)" I'll be doing until The Lodger. So hang on tight.
"Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood." -Marie Curie
W'P
The Poet was sitting outside; crossed-legged in the cool, damp grass. She was waiting for the Doctor to come back, as he had gone back inside the church to check up on the humans and inform them of their guest in the crypt. She fiddled with her sonic screwdriver in the meanwhile, the little blue light turning on and off as she set it to different-pitched waves. After a few minutes of this, the Doctor came bouncing down the steps.
"So, I think I've met these creatures before." He concluded as the Poet stood. "Different branch of the species, mind, but still, all the same. Let's go see if our friend has thawed out." They went inside the crypt and began going down. "Now, I need you to talk to her alone, not me this time."
"Okay, right." The Poet paused. "Wait, why me?"
"You're female, she's female. You'll connect better." The Doctor frowned and glanced back at her. "I think. Women work that way, right?"
"In my experience, yes." They lowered their voices as they came to their guest's "room"—it was really more like a cell. "Are you sure?"
"Ah, there's no one I'd trust more." The Doctor smiled and pointed up the way they came. "I'll be over there. Good luck."
The Poet took a quick breath, straightened her bowler, dusted off her jacket as best she could, and put on a friendly expression as she stepped down into the room. "Hello," She greeted quietly, but pleasantly. "I'm the Poet. It's okay, I'm just here to talk."
The woman crawled out of the corner, poised on her fingertips and the balls of her feet. There was a mask covering her face, but bright green scales and ridges could be seen behind the gray reptilian mask, which had exaggerated features like a curling, thin mouth and huge, black eyes. She wore what looked like armour, but lighter and more suited for fighting or scouting. A faint, defensive hissing could be heard as she edged warily forward, still crouched.
The Poet held her hands up to show she had no weapons. "I'm going to remove your mask now." She said, and crouched down in a similar manner so the two women were eye-level with each other. The female thing hissed as the Poet reached forward, but did not fight or pull away as the Time Lady gingerly removed the mask, and then smiled. The woman had angled, pleasant features, all covered in scales like a lizard, though looked really rather human.
"You are very lovely." The Poet complimented, and set the mask aside. "A remnant of a bygone age on planet Earth. And by the way, that's a great mode of travel. Geothermal currents projecting you up through a network of tunnels." She grinned hugely and nodded in approval. "Would you mind if I sit?" She stood and grabbed a chair from off to the side and sat down where she had previously been crouched, and took off her hat.
"Now," She began, leaning back comfortably. "Your people have a friend of mine. I want her back." The reptilian woman said nothing. "Why did you come up to the surface?" Still, no response. "What do you want?" The Poet paused, thinking, after more silence, and decided to try a different approach. "Would you mind telling me how many more of you there are?"
"I am the last of my species." The woman finally replied. Her voice was dry and soft, though defensive and clearly hiding anger.
"Really?" The Poet's eyebrows shot up for a moment, but then she smiled knowingly. "Ah, the Klempari Defence. Clever, but I'm afraid it's been used much too often as an interrogation technique to fool someone like me at this point. Now, could you please answer the question honestly?"
"I am the last of my species." She insisted.
"No, you're really not." The Poet's voice had gained the slightest edge, her green eyes somewhat steely. "Because until very recently I believed I was the last of my species, and it turns out there are still only two of us. So, don't insult me." The Time Lady took a breath and smiled again. "Let's try this once more. Could I have your name?"
The woman paused before hissing, "Alaya."
"How long has your tribe been sleeping under the earth, Alaya?" There was, once again, no response but cold silence and an even colder glare. "It's not difficult to work out, you're three hundred million years out of your comfort zone. So, what woke you up now, of all times?"
"We were attacked." Alaya snarled.
That one took the Poet a second. "The drill."
"Our sensors detected a threat to our life support systems." Alaya went on. "The Warrior Class was awoken to protect us from the threat. We will wipe the vermin from the surface and reclaim our planet."
"Oh, do you have to say 'vermin'? They're really quite nice." The Poet defended quietly.
"Primitive apes."
"Extraordinary species. You attack them, they'll fight back. But," The Poet leaned forward. "We can achieve peace, here. I can help you."
"This land is ours." Alaya said, voice shaking. "We lived here long before the apes."
"I'm afraid that doesn't give you the rights to it now." The Poet rebutted, letting her hand fall down on her hat. "The humans won't give up their home."
"So we destroy them."
"You underestimate them."
"You underestimate us!"
"One tribe of homo reptilia versus six billion humans?" The Poet asked. "How do you like your odds?"
"We do not initiate combat," Alaya said indignantly, standing. The Poet stood with her, donning her hat. "But we can still win."
"Alaya, I admire your bravery, and I can tell you are a very courageous woman." The Poet said. "But my conditions stand; I want my friend back. Give us back the people who were taken."
Alaya smiled, almost—just the slightest manipulating grin at the corner of her mouth. "No."
The Poet sighed, and buttoned her jacket. She picked up her chair and moved it back to where it had been. "I will not let you incite a war, Alaya. There will be no battle here today."
"The fire of war is already lit." Alaya snapped as the Poet began walking to the door. "A massacre is due."
"Not while I'm here."
"I'll gladly die for my cause." Alaya growled. "What will you sacrifice for yours?" The Poet did not reply, and instead continued walking up to the surface. The Doctor was waiting outside, and stood as she approached.
"So, how did it go?" He asked.
"Ah . . . it went well, and then not so well." The Poet recounted the interrogation, as word-for-word as she could get, as they walked back around the church, and finished just as they reached the entrance.
"Well, that settles it, then." The Doctor said, opening the door. "I have to go down there and negotiate with them myself."
"Wait, what did you say?" Alistair had been standing nearest the door, and everyone else gathered around the Time Lords as they entered.
Once everyone was listening, and he had explained the basics of what the homo reptilia were and who was down there, silence had encompassed the room. "I'm going below the surface, to find the rest of the tribe, to talk with them." The Doctor repeated. "She is only one of many."
"You're going to negotiate with these aliens?" Ambrose asked with disgust, as though the very idea were repulsive.
"They're not aliens!" The Doctor corrected loudly. "They're earthlians. Once known as the Silurian race, or, some would argue, Eocenes. Or, homo reptilia. Not monsters, not evil! Well, only as evil as you. The previous owners of the planet, that's all."
"Look . . . from their point of view, you're the invaders." The Poet continued, her tone reasonable. "Your drill was threatening their settlement. Now, the creature in the crypt." She looked around at all of them. "Her name is Alaya. She's one of their warriors."
"She's my best bargaining chip." The Doctor picked up, pacing around again. "If she lives, so do Elliot, and Mo, and Amy, because I will find them." He paused, looking around at them all, before continuing in a lower voice. "While I'm gone, you four people, in this church, in this corner of planet Earth, have to be the best of humanity. Sorry, Poet."
"Not a problem."
"And what if they come back?" Tony asked. He sounded different than before—on edge, or angry or something along those lines. "Shouldn't we be examining this creature? Dissecting it? Finding its weak points?"
"No." The Doctor's voice rose again. "No dissecting, no examining. We return their hostage, and they return ours. No one gets hurt. We can land this together! You are decent, brilliant people. Nobody dies today." He stopped again to look at them, all nodding a little bit in agreement. "Understand?"
Nasreen burst out in applause, which no one joined her in, and she quickly stopped with a kindly look from the Poet. The Doctor started off out the door, and the Time Lady followed him. He quickly caught on, and turned around to stop her.
"No, no, no." He shook his head. "Not this time, not again. You have to stay here. Keep an eye on them." The Doctor smiled his cheeky little smirk at her, as though he already knew he had won the argument. "Give them someone to look up to."
The Poet opened her mouth, then closed it, and then actually spoke. "Oh, they didn't lie. You're good."
The Doctor grinned widely and grabbed her hand to peck the back of it. "The best. Be back before you know it."
"You better be." She called, and walked back to the others inside. Nasreen jogged after the Time Lord, who was quickly followed by Tony. The Poet clapped her hands together and looked around at Alistair, Rory, and Ambrose, who were still sitting around, as though waiting for instructions. A few minutes later, Tony came back inside, looking dejected.
"I know what you all are thinking." The Poet said to them. "And we can, as long as you let me do the talking. I'm the only one she's had a conversation with so far."
"What if she attacks you?" Ambrose snapped. "Then what? We have to attack back."
"For starters, that won't happen. And, if it does, you are not ever to attack her, understand?" They nodded again. "Okay. Follow me."
Not long after, the group found themselves in the crypt, piling after the Poet as she led on. They edged into the room, and the Poet waved and smiled. "Hello, Alaya. I thought you would like to know who else is here with you." The Poet stepped further into the room, letting the four others in the doorway with her.
"We're going to keep you safe." Rory assured her.
The Poet nodded in agreement. "We are going to get our hostages back from your tribe, and in exchange, we will return you to your people."
"No." Alaya snarled defiantly, and marched up to them. The shackles on her wrists stopped her from going further, but that sneer was on her face again. "Shall I tell you what's really going to happen, apes? One of you will kill me. My death shall ignite a war, and every stinking ape will be wiped from the surface of my beloved planet."
"We won't allow that to happen." Tony rumbled confidently.
"I know you apes better than you know yourselves." Alaya almost laughed, but she grew somber once again. "I know which one of you will kill me. Do you?"
The Poet looked around and began ushering the humans out. "Come on. Go, I'll talk with her." She turned back to Alaya once the others were out of earshot. "Don't start a fight when there is no need to, Alaya. We don't want war."
The Silurian smirked. "Stupid she-ape. Why would you think I desire peace?"
The Time Lady shook her head and walked out of the crypt, the sound of Alaya's shackles clinking in her ears like chimes. When she emerged on the surface, Alistair was waiting for her. "So, what's the plan?" He asked, pushing himself off a grave too worn to read the engraving of to follow her back to the church.
"Well, Alaya wants to kill everyone on the surface, including me, even though she knows I'm not human." The Poet summarised. "So, the plan now is, wait for the Doctor to conclude diplomatic relations with the homo reptilia."
"That's it? Wait? Ah, well. We've followed worse plans."
The Poet laughed. "That's true, unfortunately." She looked over at her companion. "Donovan, I don't think I've ever asked you if I kidnapped you away from anyone back in 2018."
Alistair raised a ginger eyebrow at her. "If that's an invitation, you're not really my type." He said. "I mean . . . two hearts?"
The Poet laughed again, but a real big laugh from her belly. "Oh, dear, of course not. I'm a bit old for you anyway, by about eight hundred and eighty years. I was just wondering, now that war with Earth and the Silurians is imminent. In your future."
Alistair chuckled. "Ah, yeah, good reason, I suppose." He thought for a moment. "Yeah, there was someone. We were a bit on-again-off-again." He nodded as the Poet held the door open for him. "Engaged once, but things got complicated and we ended it."
"Oh, I'm sorry." The Poet sympathised. "What happened, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Ah, there was a conflict of interest regarding our families, one could say." Alistair shrugged. "The normal things. It was a bit archaic, but I wish we could have eloped or something. Maybe I could visit. I mean, it's only two years in the future."
"I could take you back, you know." The Poet sat down in a big, white armchair, an Alistair in the chair across from her. "If you really want me to."
"And stop running around the Universe?" He laughed. "No, I wouldn't give that up. Not even for him." At the Poet's mildly surprised look, he gave one to her in return. "All this time travelling together? I thought you knew I was gay."
"Sorry, didn't occur to me to ask. I don't define people by sexual orientation or race or all those other things humans seem to be so preoccupied with." The Poet waved a hand. "Such fleeting fancies for me. I've changed both of those between regenerations."
Ambrose hurried in a moment later with Tony, who was looking very sickly. The Poet stood up to let him take her seat, and Rory rushed over with a first aid kit. Ambrose, after seeing that he was taken care of, turned and walked determinedly away. The Time Lady present moved aside the collar of Tony's shirt to see a very bad looking sting mark on his neck. The veins around it were swollen and green, showing through the skin, which was coated in sweat and burning hot.
"Can you take care of him?" She asked Rory.
He nodded. "I'll try my best."
"Thank you." The Poet turned and began walking toward the door, but stopped at a sudden, very loud and agonised scream from the crypt. She, Rory and Alistair took off sprinting, fearing the worst. Even Tony wrenched himself from the chair to run with them. Upon arriving, it was clear the worst was true. Alaya was on the floor, her breath coming out in horrible weak wheezes, her hands clenching the air in pain, her limbs convulsing periodically. Ambrose was backed into a shelf, aiming a taser at Alaya's body like a gun.
The Poet fell to her side, scanned her body quick with her sonic and peered at it. Her expression darkened as Rory knelt beside them both. "S-she kept taunting me about Mo, and Elliot, and you." Ambrose stuttered pathetically to Tony.
"Shh, shh, it'll be okay." The Poet murmured to Alaya. "Please, please, let us help you!" She begged.
"I knew this would come," Alaya breathed, her voice coming out even more quietly than before; it was hardly audible, now. "And soon, the war . . ."
"It's okay, we can save you. I'm not going to let you die, not today!" The Poet assured her. "Please, what can we do to help?" She stopped talking as Alaya twitched horribly again, her breath hitching up high, before she was still. After several moments of the Poet shaking her head in disbelief, she reached slowly up and respectfully removed her hat. Suddenly, as though coming to an abrupt realisation, she clenched her jaw and stood, whirling on her heel to face Ambrose. The woman flinched a little at the dark look she was being given.
"You," The Poet started lowly, dangerously, and Alistair took a cautionary step back. He had heard her talk like that before. "You were supposed to be the best of humanity."The last words were quiet, but deathly calm. It would have been better if she were screaming. "This is not the best you could offer." She stepped aside to show Alaya's body.
"I-I just wanted my family back." Ambrose said weakly.
The Poet took a deep breath, her tone still a furious murmur. "Well, that may not happen now because of you." Turning around and tossing her hat to the side, the Poet shrugged off her jacket and placed it over Alaya's face. As she stood back up, the power flickered and wavered before going out completely, and then popping back on again. The computer monitor in one of the boxes by the shelving was now on, without it being plugged in. Alaya was looking out at them from it.
Or, at least, she certainly looked like Alaya. The Silurian on screen was clearly a different woman, but must have come from the same gene pool. There were waves of red scales down the sides of her face, and a scar across her eye. The Poet crouched down, putting on a calm exterior, and managed to smile a little. "Hello!"
"Who is the ape leader?" She asked. The Poet quickly took a step back.
"It can't be me." She whispered to them.
"What? Yes, it has to be!" Alistair argued.
"No; I'm not human. Humanity must speak for itself."
"Who speaks for the apes?" The Alaya look-alike demanded again.
"Just do it, she'll never know the difference!"
"Oh!" The Poet threw up her arms and walked back over the screen. "I speak for the humans, though, just for the record, I am not one of them."
"Do you know who we are?" The woman asked.
"Yes, I do."
"Then you should know that we have ape hostages." The view of the woman panned out, and the humans behind the Poet rushed forward as they saw their loved ones, and the Poet was not immune to this reaction.
"Amy!"
"Doctor. . ."
"Mo! Mo, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, love." The husband replied from on screen. "I've found Elliot, I'm bringing him home!"
"Amy, I thought I'd lost you." Rory breathed.
"What, 'cause I was sucked into the ground?" The camera moved over to show the redhead with a smile on her face at the sight of her fiancé. "You're so clingy."
"Doctor, I expect you to be back before dinner." The Poet sighed.
"Of course!" He gave her another cheeky grin, but was still clearly worried. "And, ah, not to interrupt, but just a quick reminder to stay calm."
"Show me Alaya." The camera moved back to the original homo reptilian woman. The humans and Time Lady looked at each other, hesitating. "Show me! Release her or we will kill your friends one by one."
"No!" Ambrose pushed through the others to kneel in front of the monitor. Tony tried pulling her back, but she shook him off. "Get off me, dad! We didn't start this!"
"Let the Poet deal with this, Ambrose!" The Doctor called from the screen.
"We are not doing what you say any more." The mother continued, ignoring the warnings. "Now give me back my family!"
There was a pause, only a few seconds total, but it seemed to last a very long time, as the woman who looked like Alaya seemed to actually consider this, tilting her head to the side and staring at the screen, out at them. The five people breathing on the surface side of the conversation sounded as loud as the ocean breaking against the rocks.
Finally, the woman came to her decision. "Hmm . . . No. Execute the girl!" The camera snapped over to a horrified Amy, who began struggling desperately against the bonds that held her to the column.
"No!" Rory yelled, out, shoving aside Ambrose to get to the screen. "No, no! She doesn't speak for us!"
"There's no need for this!" The Doctor cried, as Amy was ripped from the column by a couple Silurian guards and four with weapons aimed their guns at her.
"No, we'll do anything you want!" Rory's continued protests were in vain as the monitor went out, the black screen flashing with lines of white. The Poet smacked the side of it, even brought out her sonic and tried turning it back on, but the other side needed to be working, as well.
"I've got to get down there." Rory said after a pause, and turned to leave when the monitor interrupted him.
"Rory, hello!" The Doctor waved at them, smiling. "Oh, good, the Poet's with you, too."
"Where's Amy?" Rory asked urgently.
"She's fine!" The camera zoomed out and wobbled over to show the young woman.
"Keepin' you on your toes!" The redhead called, as the group on the surface side sighed with relief that no one was dead.
"No time to chat." The camera moved back to the Doctor. "Go to the drill store room. There's a large patch of earth in the middle of the floor. The Silurians are going to send transport discs, to bring you back down, using geothermal energy and gravity bubble technology. It's how they travel, and frankly, it's pretty cool. Bring Alaya, we can land this. It's all going to work out, promise! Got to dash, hurry up!" He gave them all thumbs-up and the screen went out again.
"The moment we get down there, everything will fall apart!" Tony exclaimed.
"No. No, we have to bring Alaya back." The Poet turned to the others, nodding. "It's the least we can do. We owe them that much."
"Here," Alistair grabbed a bright orange blanket from a shelf. "We can wrap her in this." The Poet picked her jacket up from the ground and put it back on, as Rory and Alistair wrapped Alaya's body in the fabric. Tony picked her up, and they all started off toward the drill store room.
Once there, it turned out that there was, indeed, transport already waiting for them. There were six perfectly circular platforms, about an inch deep in the floor, still steaming from their journey up.
"So, we just get on these and they take us down through the earth?" Tony asked skeptically.
"Geothermal gravity bubbles." Rory nodded, looked over at the Poet's raised eyebrow and shrugged a little "O-or something."
"They sent six." Ambrose observed, her voice shaking as she realised there were only five living people present. "She was our only bargaining chip."
"We have to give her back, Ambrose." The Poet said. "It's our responsibility."
"Wait!" The woman gasped. "Before we go down, there's . . . there's something I've got to do. Dad, I need your help."
"Okay, well, don't take very long. We've a meeting to attend." The Poet sighed and pinched the bridge of her noise and gestured to the other two. "Please, help me position her on her platform." The men nodded at each other and picked Alaya up, carefully positioning her so that her body fit on the circle between the two. The Poet took her place on the end, next to Alistair.
"Ready, Alistair?" She asked with a slight smirk.
The ginger sighed and tilted his head, the joints in his neck cracking. "Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose. Ever travelled like this before?"
"Can't say I have." She looked over at the two, both of whom seemed very apprehensive. The Time Lady sighed, and glanced over her shoulder as Tony and Ambrose came back in. "When we get down there, it's vital that you show your utmost humility and respect for them."
The other two, just arrived, stepped onto their platforms, and they were plunged into darkness. The Poet's stomach felt as though it had leaped up into her throat. Warm air rushed past her, flinging locks of hair up to cling to her hat. Distantly, and maybe she had imagined it, she could hear Ambrose's short scream of fear. And then, as quickly as it had started, they came to a gentle halt. The circles hissed as they lowered to the ground. Alistair, next to her, stumbled a little bit. The Poet stepped calmly from the glass chamber that they had landed in, though was actually trying her best to not let her knees wobble.
"Okay," She whispered, and gestured at Alaya, who was still wrapped in the orange blanket. "Tony, are you strong enough to carry her, please?"
"Yes." He picked the Silurian woman up, and, Poet leading, they all started off down the hall in the most obvious direction, as there was only one. The hall looked as though it had been carved out of stone. It was slightly humid, and vines and moss clung to the stone corridors. The Time Lady turned into the only room there, and stepped into a massive hall. Stadium seats were on either end, though empty, and not far off in the middle was a long conference table. Amy and Nasreen sat there, but were both standing upon seeing the Poet. Mo and Elliot stood off to the side, looking on anxiously.
The Doctor held up a hand in greeting, which the Poet mirrored half-heartedly, and walked in a few more paces. Alistair and Rory were right behind her, followed by Ambrose and finally, Tony.
"Mum!" Elliot ran over to his mother and hugging her around the waist.
"Rory!" Amy greeted, and grinned at him.
"Hello, Poet . . ." The Doctor trailed off, and his smile fell as Tony walked in, further than the others, and began to set Alaya down. "No. Don't do this. Tell me you didn't do this." The Doctor crouched down, breathed out through his nose, and flipped the blanket away to expose Alaya's face. He only looked at her for a moment before covering her again.
"What did you do?" The Time Lord asked, accusingly, at Tony, who bowed his head in shame.
"It was me." Ambrose said, holding up her head. "I did it."
"Mum . . ." Elliot said, incredulous.
"I just wanted you back." Ambrose tried to explain, but Elliot pushed her hands away and walked back over to his father. The Doctor walked over to murmur something apologetic-sounding to the robed Ailurian, when Ambrose spoke up yet again. "This is our planet!" She cried, distressed. "Leave us alone!"
The Doctor was up in her face in an instant. "We had a chance here. In future, when you tell people about this, say you had a chance, but say that you blew it because you were so much less than the best of humanity."
Before anyone could think of anything to say, there was a clanking sound from down the hall, and no less than three dozen armed soldiers marched into the hall, blocking the exits in two neat, long lines of guns and armour.
"My sister!" The Alaya look-alike with the scar and red scales marched in with them, clearly leading. She looked at the orange-blanketed figure, and stepped over to kneel at her side. When she lifted the blanket, the noise she made was something the Poet never hoped to hear again. A quiet whimper, hoarse with sorrow, and a moan of utter loss that was almost physically painful to hear. The woman put the blanket back over Alaya's face.
"And you want us to trust these apes, Doctor?" She asked, voice contorted with grief and rage, as she looked up at said Time Lord.
"One woman." The Doctor held up a finger. "She was scared for her family. She is not typical."
"I think she is." The woman snarled, standing and twisting to look at Ambrose. She didn't even glance at the Poet; it was like through instinct, she knew.
"One person let us down," The Doctor was still trying to salvage the situation, pacing around a little as he spoke with passion. "But there is a whole race of dazzling, peaceful, human beings up there." There was a pause, and no one said a word. The expression of hopelessness on the Doctor's face as he knew the situation was lost, was heartbreaking. "Come on! You were building something here!"
"It's too late for that, Doctor." Ambrose cut in, voice wavering again. Tony ran a hand over his balding scalp, and this was not something the Poet missed.
"Why?" She asked them, dark brows furrowing. "What is it you've done?"
The human mother glanced with guilt at the Poet before responding. "Our drill is set to start burrowing again in," She checked a stopwatch, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Fifteen minutes."
"What?" Nasreen voiced everyone's thoughts in a single word.
"What choice did I have?" Tony rasped. He was looking really very ill now; his skin was pallid, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was sweating like mad. "They had Elliot."
"Don't do this. Don't call their bluff." The Doctor insisted, looking around the room.
"Let us go back." Ambrose pleaded, her bargains directed at the Alaya woman. "Let us go back and promise never to come to the surface ever again! We'll walk away, leave you alone!"
The woman made a guttural, snarling noise at the back of her throat. "Execute her!" She roared, and all hell broke loose. The soldiers fired at Ambrose, but missed as the Doctor dashed forward and pulled her out of the way. The other humans ran in all directions. The Poet hurriedly ushered Alistair, Mo and Elliot to a doorway, taking out her sonic as she did so. She reached past the Doctor, and the Silurian's guns sparked wildly and dropped to the ground, whole rows being disarmed as both Time Lords fought off the approaching force.
"This is a deadly weapon; stay back!" The Doctor cried, and ducked around the Poet to get the soldiers behind them. They began backing toward the exit.
"Doctor, come—woah!" The Poet ducked as one of the Silurians had crawled along the stadium seats, and her reptilian tongue shot out to narrowly miss the Time Lady. "Come on!" He nodded, and they took off at a sprint down the corridor.
"Take everyone to the lab!" The Doctor cried, as he dropped back. Lasers shot them from around the corner, harmlessly dissolving into the wall. The Doctor stopped completely, his sonic still out.
"Doctor!"
"Go on, I'll cover you." At the Poet's stubbourn look, he waved her on urgently. "Go!"
"Come on, let's go!" She turned and waved Mo and Elliot along the corridor. They continued running until they reached the lab, a relatively small room. There was a crescent-shaped console near the back, and several areas that looked as though they had been meant for human dissection. "Nobody get comfortable!"
The Doctor came jogging in a moment later, and quickly soniced the door shut. "Elliot, you and your dad keep your eyes on that screen, let me know if we get company." He pointed to a screen that displayed different areas in the Silurian complex. "Amy, keep reminding me how much time we've got. Poet, you're with me." He tossed the woman the stopwatch, which she caught, and gestured for the Time Lady to follow him.
"Okay!" Amy peered at the clock. "Um, ah, twelve and a half minutes 'til drill impact."
"Tony Mack." The Doctor stepped over to the man, who was now breathing heavy and sitting, and tapped his head. "Sweaty forehead, dilated pupils. What are you hiding?" Tony opened his shirt to reveal that the green veins near his neck had now spread to all across his upper chest.
"Alaya's sting." Tony gasped. "She said there's no cure. I'm dying, aren't I?"
The Doctor peered at the results of his sonic, and moved over to the console to look at a small screen. "You're not dying, you're mutating."
"How can I stop it?"
"Decontamination program. Might work, don't know." He turned to the robed, elderly Silurian. "Eldane, could you run the program on Tony?"
"Doctor, shedload of those creatures coming our way!" Mo called from across the room. "We're surrounded in here!"
"So, question is, how do we stop the drill, given that we can't get there in time?" The Doctor asked, pacing around. "Plus, also, how do we get out, given that we're surrounded? Nasreen, how do you feel about an energy pulse, channeled up through the tunnels to the base of the drill?" The Poet casually looked over Amy's shoulder to check the time.
"To blow up my life's work?" The woman in question asked him.
"Yes. Sorry. No nice way of putting that."
"Right, well," Nasreen swallowed, as though the next few words were going to be hard to say—and they probably were. "You're going to have to do it before the drill hits the city."
"Which is in . . ."
"Eleven minutes, twenty seconds." Amy replied, her tone a strange mix of worried and snarky.
"Yes!" The Doctor clapped his hands together, now grinning from behind the console, down at the rest of the group. "Squeaky bum time!" The Poet snorted, but laughed and nodded all the same.
"Yes, but the explosion will collapse all the surrounding tunnels, so we'll have to be on the surface by then." Nasreen explained.
"But we can't get past Restac's troops."
"I can help with that." Eldane stepped out from one of the decontamination chambers where he had hooked up Tony. "Toxic fumigation. An emergency failsafe meant to protect my species from infection. A warning signal to occupy cryo-chambers. After that, citywide fumigation by toxic gas. Then, the city shuts down."
"You'd end up killing your own people." Amy realised quietly.
"Only those foolish enough to follow Restac."
"Eldane, are you really sure about this?" The Poet asked him seriously.
"My priority is my race's survival." He said to her. "The earth isn't ready for us to return yet."
"Ten minutes." Amy said quietly.
"No," The Doctor said suddenly, regarding Eldane's statement. "But maybe it should be. So, here's the deal. Everybody listening." He got down from behind the console and began walking around the room. "Eldane, activate the shutdown. I'll amend the system, set your alarum for a thousand years' time. A thousand years to sort things out, to be ready. Pass it on, as legend or prophecy or religion. Somehow, make it known." Here he turned to look pointedly at Ambrose. "This planet is to be shared."
"Yeah." Elliot said bravely, looking up at him. "I get you." The Doctor snapped and pointed at the boy, smiling before turning back to the console.
"Nine minutes, seven seconds." Amy warned.
"Poet, lend a hand?" The Doctor bounced up to the console, and they both began flicking coloured buttons and setting dials. "Yes, fluid controls, my favourite! Energy pulse, timed, primed and set."
"Ooh, before we go, better cancel out the energy barricade, quickly." There was a faint whirring as the Poet pointed her sonic screwdriver at the console, and one of the small screens showed the barricade vanishing.
"Fumigation pre-launching." Eldane informed them, as Rory jumped up to stand next to the Time Lords.
"There's much time for us to get from here to the surface, guys." He told them worriedly.
"A-ha!" The Doctor and Poet looked at each other and grinned. "Super squeaky bum time!" They said in unison, and then he Doctor spoke again. "Get ready to run for your lives. Now . . ."
"But the decontamination process on your friend hasn't started yet." Eldane pointed out, and everyone looked over to Tony, in the little chamber.
"Well, go!" He grunted, pushing himself off the platform he was laying back on to wave a hand at them. "All of you, go!" Elliot ran forward, and the family said their tearful goodbyes. The Doctor nodded at Eldane, who put his hand against a sensor pad. The lights went out, then back on, a green light flashing above them somewhere. An automated voice informed them of the imminent toxic fumigation, and for all the Silurians to return to their cryo-chambers.
"They're going." Amy said, looking at the screen. Everyone clustered over at the door, with the Doctor in front and the Poet picking up the caboose.
"Look for a blue box!" The Doctor said, and soniced open the door for everyone, before pushing his way back to talk to Eldane.
The Poet, seeing as no one was moving, clapped her hands a few times. "Go, go, everyone! Come on!" They took off at a sprint, tearing through the low corridors, past Silurians rushing to get in their cryo-chambers. Amy and the Poet, both of whom were in the back, noticed the Doctor wasn't coming. Amy turned, but the Poet shook her head. "No, go, Amy! I'll get him." The Time Lady went running back the way they had come.
"Doctor!" She gasped, skidding to a halt and taking a few gasping breaths. "Come on!" Said Time Lord was talking with Nasreen, who was looking at him a bit sadly.
"Thank you, Doctor." She said to him.
"The pleasure was all mine." The two hugged tightly, and the Poet spying him glancing at his watch. The Doctor pulled away, patted her shoulder, and started back with the Poet.
"Come and look for us." Nasreen called to them. The Gallifreians nodded at her, and then tore off once more through the tunnels, which led them, twisting and turning, out onto a long bridge of stone. Alistair was running at them, and even though she was sprinting, the Poet still managed to slap a hand to her forehead. After a few more seconds of running, they came to a small chamber, where a most welcome sight greeted the Poet—the Doctor's police box TARDIS.
"No questions, just get in and yes, I know it's big. Ambrose, sickbay up the stairs left, and left again. Get yourself fixed up. Come on!" He ushered all the humans into the TARDIS. "Five minutes and counting. Poet, could you help them out?" He asked, but began to trail off as the Time Lady hopped inside the TARDIS. She ran right into Mo's back, as he had stopped in shock, but quickly ushered them all along.
"Yes, yes, it's bigger on the inside, now let's get you up to sickbay." She made a beckoning gesture and started up the stairs, leading the awestruck family up. "Alistair, you can go relax in my TARDIS if you don't want to come to sickbay with us."
"That would be great, thanks!" He called gratefully up to her as they made the first left.
"This is so cool." Elliot said in amazement.
"What is this place?" Ambrose asked, looking around them as they turned into sickbay.
"It's a TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space." The Poet said, gesturing for Ambrose to have a seat. "The machines that travel in time and space. Really, very brilliant in my opinion." She grinned at Elliot, who smiled back, as Ambrose took a shaking breath.
"But this isn't possible!" She gasped, still looking around the room.
"Oh, it's very possible." The Poet looked up as the TARDIS began whirring and shuddering. "You just haven't seen it yet." She grinned at the family and jumped up to sit on a table. "Questions?"
Elliot raised his hand, and the Poet pointed at him. "Um, why do you have this machine but no one else does? Are you from the future?" The last question was asked with a sort of childish excitement.
"Ah, yes and no." The Poet said, realising that the parents were listening as well. "I travel in time a bit, you see. Well, more than a bit, but, you know."
"What are you?" Ambrose asked, her tone almost accusatory, but also too weak to be taken seriously.
"I'm a Time Lord. Well, Time Lady." The Poet gave a little bow from where she sat. "Very old, very experienced, and a very good golfer."
"Very old?" Mo asked. "Why, you can't be more than in your—gah!" Everyone was thrown around a bit as the TARDIS came to a rough landing. The Poet jumped up from the floor and put her hat on, grinning at them.
"Land, ho!" She said, and they all dashed back the way they'd come.
"I have seen some things today, but this is beyond mad." Mo said to no one as they walked back down the stairs.
"Doctor, Poet," Amy said, looking at them. "Five seconds 'til it all goes up." There was a pause, and then everyone quickly scrambled to the door, falling outside just in time to see the drill, now far in the distance, explode with ground shaking force. A small ball of flame formed as the machinery crumbled apart, black smoke billowing into the air.
Alistair came stumbling out a few minutes later, as they started walking around the graveyard. He looked to the Poet, then to the column of smoke in the distance. "Aw-w-w!" He whined, and followed weakly after the Time Lady. "I missed the explosion, didn't I!" He sombered up as they walked along, and seemed to be thinking. He looked down at her feet, and then up a little at the graves.
"So, that's that, then!" he said, suddenly cheery, and leaned over. "Was the explosion good?"
The Poet laughed, then thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, it was a pretty good explosion. Though, to be fair, that was the complete demolition of someone's life's work, so." She shrugged. "Take that as you will."
They meandered around the church, and Alistair stopped for a moment to talk briefly with Amy. The Poet joined up with the Doctor, and they starting walking back to the TARDIS. "So, what now?" The Poet asked him.
"Rory . . ." He started, and looked over his shoulder to make sure Amy was otherwise occupied. "Rory got absorbed by the pure time energy from the Byzantium."
The Poet frowned and lowered her voice. "Just like that? The same crack and energy?"
The Doctor shook his head. "Restac survived the gas, followed us. She killed Rory, and the energy took him after that."
"Does Amy . . .?" The Poet's half-question was answered by a simple shake of the head. The Poet sighed, and then looked sharply over at the Time Lord next to her. "You better be very, very nice to her."
"Of course I'll be!" The Doctor said defensively. "I'm always nice to her! I'm nice to everyone."
"Oh, of course you are." The Poet smiled at him. "I'm going to let you two do that yourselves. Alistair needs a break after this, anyway."
"You're leaving?" The Doctor asked as they reached the TARDIS, the blue phone box weirdly out of place.
"Not forever, Doctor." The Poet assured him. "Can't lose you now I've found you! I'll be back soon." She winked at him as she entered the TARDIS, Amy and Alistair catching them up. "Stay in touch, and don't have too much fun without me!" She sang as she jumped into the box. "Come along, Donovan!" The Poet danced across the TARDIS lobby and jumped inside of her wardrobe, smiling at the sight of her beloved machine.
"Poet," Alistair started, but couldn't finish.
"You know, I think we should try for Venice again!" The Poet called, cranking levers and stabbing little buttons with her little finger. "Or, did you say Greece? That sounds good, too! How about—"
"Poet!" Alistair snapped, and then sighed. "I want to go home."
The Poet's shoulders slumped a little; her green eyes lost their glimmer of the promise of travel. "I understand."
"Oh, not forever!" Alistair chuckled and walked up to the console, sitting in his usual chair. "I just . . . I think you should meet somebody."
I am on a ROLL! Great things next chappie!
