Their Rigfennid's been planning this for years.
You see, I don't just show up on the day of the massive climax and go charging right on in to do God alone knows what untold damage in pursuit of a quick fact, like I'm going to be able to solve everything on the back of this one thing. It never works and he does it every time, and that's why we have the phrase, 'things always get worse before they get better'.
Sorry, what was I saying?
No, no, you see, I prepare. I've been here for a week. And I don't just announce myself either like everybody should bow down and make me tea just by virtue of my name. I work at it. Hence the horse and the get-up. He thinks I do these things to annoy him, but that's just his own natural arrogance. He needs me, you know. Doesn't know it, wouldn't ever admit it, but he does. Who do you think fills in all that background knowledge on the Tardis mainframe?
And what do I get? Birthdays out and the odd Sunday. Me, complain? Never. Things you do for love, and all that.
God, again. Sorry.
In short, I've been using the Morrigan as a cover to spy on the Tir for the last week. And to keep Jessica company. She's been scared and there's no one to talk to except the one that kidnapped her. Understandably they're not exactly joined at the hip just yet.
The Rigfennid has those people. When he talks, they listen. Most of them don't even understand it yet, but that is the most dangerous thing of all. When he talked to them about being happy, about reaching out to humankind again, they were happy. And their world grew. The place and the people are one, genetically and psychically. When they dreamed of reaching out, and the power was there to support them, the gardens grew right up through time itself. Afterward, Jessica slept for a day and a half. Couldn't rouse her at all.
So what now?
What now when humankind would seem to be cutting them out again?
What happens if the Rigfennid calls the people together and speaks again, and this time calls them up to hate?
I'm there to see the first casualty. Wish I wasn't.
It's a couple. Lanky types, him with his hair in his eyes and her with her feather earrings brushing her shoulders. Just about kids. I like them at first; they're doing a bit of my job for me. I've been going about driving a sword through tanks of pesticide, which is good fun, but they'll work to replace them.
They haven't started spraying here yet, down on Grafton Street. Molly's still standing with her great big clams on display, and her fish too, completely uncontaminated by organophosphate complexes as yet, and these two are why. They're holding hands around the tree, we-shall-not-be-moved, no chemicals, chemicals are sacrilege.
The council boys are waiting for the police to come and remove them.
The Tir are quicker than the police.
This couple, these two barely-adults with the world at their feet and maybe the brass to enjoy it, they grabbed hold of the tree. And now the tree grabs back. One branch either side. Winding once around the waist. Now, the boy is bit more cautious, but the girl laughs, calls it a miracle, calls the council boys over to look. Gets all defiant. Glows with it.
And then, while all the crowd look on, while her boyfriend just starts to relax into it, while I can do nothing but watch, that same little branch curls back at its finest end, like a snake, and drives home hard into her heart. Boyfriend's not far behind.
Any other branch near a human reaches out, and as they run the roots lift right up through the pavement to trip and snare.
I have the horse trample as much as it bloody pleases on my way to those first two victims. I try tugging, but I can tug as much as I please. Those little tendrils are wrapped about their hearts, strangle-tight, they're not coming out.
Under my breath, I apologize to Jessica. Raise up the sword and lop them off. Too late, though. Far too late.
And what can I do? I can clear these people out, yes, but by the time I get to Trinity, to the Bridge, how many will have been taken? And how many will be taken here when I am gone?
Executive decision time.
Every ticking second, more are dying, having the life drained out of them, down through those trees. And he's down there, you know, the Doctor. Probably found Jessica, by now, so he sees this, he knows this is happening.
I know what he'd do, if he were here. He'd fight it here. But that's only because he couldn't bear the hurt. He wouldn't watch this.
Not that it's easy for me. Every ticking second, more are dying.
Every ticking second.
That's it. I spur the horse. Not to scatter the crowd or warn them at any other place, but back to the fountain, to the crossover.
It's quicker to end this. I could stop and fight but the longer I leave it, the worse the retaliation from Earth is going to be. What I'm bearing in mind is that, while they'll be retaliating against the Tir, they'll be attacking Jessica. That's not going to go down well with the Doctor and the last thing we all need is him kicking off in Tirinnanoc. No, I have to stop this from the source, and stop it now.
I can hear them screaming behind me, all the way from Trinity.
He'd forgive me for this. He would.
