In the previous chapter, the Doctor had finally begun being honest with Martha about why he and Donna had come to Mallorca, and told her the truth about Clive's fighting incident. But, almost as soon as he opened up, he shut down again, and she called him on it. The last we saw of her was walking away from the pool area, after having told him of her strong feelings on the topic of being swept aside, and kept in the dark.
Fair warning: this chapter is weird. Things get slightly nuts! But it's all going somewhere...
Hope you enjoy!
TEN
The Doctor and Donna entered the TARDIS together, as day-two in Mallorca came to a close.
"She's expecting you," Donna said, in sing-song, almost mocking fashion.
"So you've said. Three times, now."
"She'll be hurt that you didn't go after her."
"Donna, I have nothing of comfort to say to her right now. I'd just be evasive and creepy and make things worse. Tomorrow, I'll try and talk to her properly, with all of my ducks in a row."
"I don't know what that means."
"I don't quite yet, either," he said. Then, "Okay, so… something semi-traumatic, either denied or forgotten. At the very least, the reaction to said semi-trauma is totally inappropriate for the person, totally out-of-character. And this is all, presumably, while the Epidromeas is in control."
"The Epi- what?"
"Epidromeas," the Doctor said. "The alien species we're dealing with."
"Oh. Since when do you know that?"
"Since Martha told me about her mother, and the bus incident. A handful of species or civilisations could infiltrate the TARDIS' standard defences, an overlapping smaller handful could infiltrate a human consciousness. Only one among those can hop bodies."
"Epidromeas?"
"Yep."
"What's it doing?" she wondered.
"My current hypothesis is that it's going through them each one by one, trying to work out which one is Martha. The Epidromeas won't have any idea of male or female, won't understand nuances of personality (obviously), and will perceive all humanoids as looking alike. So it will have to worm inside, and scan the memories of the person it's affecting."
"Could that be why they don't remember the trauma? Memories being messed-with?"
"Certainly could be," he said. "Though I wouldn't know, at this stage, how that actually works. But, in any case, the neurological implications can't be good. Ugh, if only we could tell Martha what's going on… I could use another set of eyes."
"I'll assume you mean that you could use the eyes of a medic," Donna corrected.
"Yes, of course."
"Of course."
"And because we don't know what this will do to the victims, or hosts, in the long-run, we should probably run the alien out of here as quickly as possible. Trouble is, we never quite know where it is. It can't be in one of the Joneses all the time, could it?"
"I dunno! You tell me!"
"Maybe, maybe not. I have no idea exactly how long it was affecting Clive. It could have been anywhere from two to twelve hours. But based on what Martha said, if I'm understanding correctly, Francine seemed to be free of it, after just a few hours. And, if it does, on occasion, leave the Joneses alone, where does it retreat to? Does it have a spaceship parked on the premises, just like we do?"
"Are you seriously asking me?"
"No, just… ruminating."
"All right, so, you'll need to work out a sure way to know whether Martha is being affected," she said.
"Martha or Tish," the Doctor said. "Or Leo, or God forbid, Keshia. Maybe even Nadine, though, she's not a blood relation. I wonder if it would attack her, just because she's spending time with the rest of them? It might even go after Clive or Francine again… who knows?"
"Well, I might be able to help with that," Donna offered. "I could invite Tish to do something tomorrow, and maybe her mum. I could pay close attention to what's being said, and watch out for memory loss."
"You mean like, if they forget something about the conversation you've had?"
"Yeah."
"I don't think that will work. Remember, it has to be trauma, for us to be certain. Something a human would definitely remember. Humans forget pieces of conversation all the time."
"Oh yeah."
The Doctor then fell into a certain stupor, staring, narrow-eyed, into the wall beyond Donna.
"Hello?" she asked.
"Something's bothering me."
"Well, I can see that much."
"The Epidromeas invaded Gallifrey several centuries back."
"Gallifrey could get invaded?"
"Yes," he shrugged. "Not necessarily always successfully, but… it was known to happen. Most famously by the Daleks, literally right before the planet fell."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Sorry."
"For the Epidromeas, it was a technology scavenge," the Doctor said. "It's the reason I know about them. They distracted the Council by launching a physical attack on one of the major cities, but the real goal was the computer moles they'd sent into the planet's main server. Infiltration is their M.O., I'm telling you. They did it to steal our technological secrets."
"Like what?"
"Like, how to dismantle our standard defence systems, for one."
"Well, that explains a lot."
"Indeed. But they also gained the codes to our Temporal Timbre Tracking system."
"Your what?"
"It's a way of recognising time stamps," he said, still staring fixedly at the wall. "Or, the residue of time anomalies."
"Okay…"
"Now that I think of it, Donna, when they came to Earth, it probably wasn't specifically to find Martha. They came, scanning for time-anomaly deposits clinging to the humanoid population."
"Oh! I see! They reckoned that you spend a lot of time on this planet, and if they scanned for someone who's been travelling through time, they'd find you, no problem."
"Yes, but they found a certain concentration of it here in Mallorca because Martha, Tish, Clive and Francine are here. The four of them have a big dollop of time-scum on them from being a part of the Year That Never Was. Martha has it more than anyone, because she travelled with me for a year before that…"
"But it got here," Donna reasoned. "Found four people with the 'scum' on them, and reckoned one of them must be you."
"Yep. And now that I'm in the mix… well, it just hasn't found me yet, because it thinks all humanoids look alike. Right? I mean, it has looked right at me and not recognised me. So it's jumping from time-stamped body to time-stamped body, still searching."
"But, Doctor, now that you are in the mix, isn't it just as likely that the thing will infiltrate you or me, as Martha or Tish?"
He finally looked at her squarely. He almost seemed surprise. "Yeah. It is."
"And I'm one thing, but you're another. If it gets you, then what? I mean, what are we doing? What is actually at stake, here?"
He exhaled hard, through pursed lips. "If it gets me, it gets access to most of my memories. Access to the TARDIS. Access to all of time and space. The trust of the Shadow Proclamation, and UNIT. The trust of anyone who knows me."
"Ew."
"Which means, it could go literally anywhere, heavily influence intergalactic law, mess with defence systems on this planet, and dozens of others. It could call in unreasonable favours with about a thousand rulers all across the cosmos. The TARDIS would likely reject it, but it could eventually override the protocols with the knowledge it would get from me, and manipulate the vortex…"
"Okay, so… bad."
"Yeah. Very bad. Frankly, it would have the potential to take over the universe, if it acted quickly enough."
"Well, do you have any idea what its plans are?"
"None whatsoever."
"But wait. If it can scan the memories of the person it's possessing, then why doesn't it know you're the Doctor? Wouldn't it have picked that much up from Clive?"
The Doctor shrugged. "I'm not sure about that, Donna… I guess, it's all part and parcel of the all humanoids look alike, phenomenon. Or maybe it's because Clive doesn't have a particularly strong response to my presence. Francine or Martha would be a different story… maybe it will find me, once it gets under Martha's skin. Or, maybe it's scanning the brain specifically for knowledge of time and space and the TARDIS, all other memories are incidental, and it's not properly tuned into the fact that humanoids have interpersonal relationships, so faces and connections fly under the radar. Or a combination of all those things."
"How are you going to protect yourself? And me? Is there any way you can give us each, and Martha and Tish, some kind of extension of the TARDIS' hard defence system to walk about with, while this thing unfolds?"
"Sorry, no," he answered. "Not in short enough order, and not without being wicked conspicuous."
"So, no prevention, only awareness of infiltration."
"Yes. Possibly. Hopefully."
"I guess that's better than nothing."
"Yes, definitely better than nothing."
"Right, then," Donna said, seeming to have come to some sort of decision. "You know those nutters who jump into freezing lakes in the dead of winter, wearing nothing but, like, Speedos?"
"Yeah."
"Can you take us to one of those events?"
"What? Are you kidding?"
"No. Just take us to one of those things, and then when we're done, bring us right back. Here and now, no harm, no foul."
"Why?"
"Just trust me."
"Trust you?"
"Yeah. You do trust me, don't you?"
"Yes, but…"
"I've worked out a way to be able to tell if one of us is affected by the Epiglottis," Donna announced.
"Epidromeas."
"Whatever. And to do it, you're going to have to take us to a place where barmy, mostly-naked, Russian men are throwing themselves into cold water. What say you?"
"How…?"
"Just do it!" she shouted. "It won't work if I tell you any more!"
He sighed. "Okay," he said, in a way that let her know he was reluctant, and suspected he'd regret agreeing to this. He went to the controls, looked something up, using the console's computer system. He uttered, "7th February, 2009, Lake Labynkyr, Siberia, 9:00 a.m." He made a few adjustments, and threw the TARDIS into gear.
True to form, after about twenty seconds, the vessel stopped making its signature grinding noise, and they knew they'd reached their destination.
"All right, Spaceman," she said, loudly, grabbing him by the hand. "Allons-y."
"Oh, God," he groaned as she dragged him down the ramp and out the door.
They opened the TARDIS door onto what looked to be a frozen tundra, on a snowy, windy day. There were about a hundred people gathered there, none of whom seemed to notice them or the TARDIS, and about ten of whom were dressed in swimming caps, flip-flops, and terrycloth robes. These ten were standing at the edge of a pier, while the spectators stood on the lake's bank. The lake was not frozen, but was still, undoubtedly, unbelievably cold.
There was some sort of countdown, and the men on the pier shed their robes.
"Come on," Donna said, dragging the Doctor down the pier.
"No! No way!" he said, pulling back.
"It looks as though we have some late arrivals!" said an announcer. "How delightful! Don't be shy, sir! Join in this time-honoured tradition of our great village of Oymyakon!"
"See? They want us here," Donna said. "You can't back out now!"
"Can't back out? I never… forwarded in!" the Doctor protested.
"And madame? Do we have this decade's only female participant, at last?" asked the announcer.
"Bloody right!" Donna shouted back.
"What? You too?" the Doctor asked, now inching down the pier, at Donna's urging.
The countdown restarted as the participants all welcomed the newcomers to the venue.
"Donna, this is bonkers!"
"I know!"
"Three, two, one!" the crowd and participants all shouted.
With that, all ten men jumped into the freezing water, to great cheers of delight from the spectators.
A second later, Donna shoved the Doctor hard enough by the arm to knock him off balance, and topple him, yelling, into the water.
All eleven men came up shouting obscenities about the cold.
And Donna, she took a deep breath, stripped off the red, short-sleeved blouse she'd chosen on that morning in Mallorca, and tossed it aside.
"Donna! What the hell are you doing?" the Doctor shouted, still heaving breathlessly from the shock, gaping in stupefaction at his Companion, standing on the pier in a pair of black linen shorts, sandals, and her white lace bra.
"Shut up, before I change my mind!" she shouted back, before holding her nose and hurling herself into the water.
The shock was more than anything she ever could have prepared herself for. Her body tensed, and for a few terrifying moments, actually seized up. It felt like knives were penetrating every inch of skin. She had to fight not to scream, hyperventilate, and drown.
But mission accomplished, eh?
Also, a hundred strangers had just seen her with her top off.
A hundred strangers, and one non-stranger… which might actually have been worse.
She felt addled, but regained her focus soon enough. And when she surfaced, she could hear the crowd going wild. When she and the other participants climbed out of the water, and women came toward them with heated towels, the first person aided was Donna. She thanked them, but ran, with the Doctor, back into the TARDIS.
Without a word, the drenched Doctor moved the ship back to a sunny day in Mallorca, five minutes after they'd left.
"That was bloody stupid," he said to her, throwing himself back onto the stool. He began to peel off his suit coat and tie.
"Maybe," she said, heading toward the hallway. Then she turned toward him and opened her towel, revealing her bosom, the white bra clinging to it like cellophane wrap. "But will you forget it, anytime soon?"
And she turned on her heel and headed toward her bedroom. A few moments later, he heard the shower running.
He chuckled to himself. "Okay, Donna. Point taken," he mumbled, though she couldn't hear him anymore.
He headed toward his own room, to warm up under the shower, as well.
She was somewhat aware that she was being juvenile, but no-one was around, so she didn't care. In fact, she rather revelled in it.
Martha was hiding out in her hotel room, watching television, eating pasta from room-service, while her family was out at some beachside restaurant, having the freshest Swordfish in the world. They obviously weren't blind to Martha's inner-workings; they (especially Tish) knew that her sudden onset of withdrawal had something to with the Doctor.
He hadn't really done anything wrong… well, that was always the problem with him, wasn't it? When it came to her, he never did anything. He never took initiative – she usually did the work, friendship-wise. And today, he couldn't even be bothered to follow her away from the pool, when she'd walked off, hurt.
Hurt. Not angry.
She could understand, if she had yelled and screamed, and made a scene, why he wouldn't be keen to go after her. But after he had hurt her, that was different.
And that made it hurt even more.
She had accepted that he didn't love her, but she was having trouble abiding the idea that he cared so little about her. Was he so comfy with her as Guarded Martha, that a bit of honesty, a straightforward emotional response, made their entire rapport go out the window?
But, all relationship nonsense aside, on a practical level, she felt, her own family was at stake, and she had the right to know what was on the Doctor's mind, concerning them. She had worked out straight away that the alien stalking them can jump bodies – it didn't take a genius. But knowing that, shouldn't the Doctor be more forthcoming with information, not less? Shouldn't he tell her every revelation he has, so that she can do everything she can, to protect her family? Because it had already infiltrated her mum, then her dad, next likely was Tish or maybe even…
She sat up straight on the bed, pasta bowl in her lap and said aloud, to no-one, "Oh! Oh, I'm such an idiot!"
She could be next! And the Doctor didn't want to give her any knowledge or reveal his plans, for fear that she was the alien, pumping him for information! And that's also why he hadn't come after her!
She got up from the bed, and began to pace in her pyjamas. She wanted to call him, go find him, see him… to apologise? To tell him she understood? But what good would that do? He'd only withhold from her again (as always?), and rightly so.
She was so tense while she paced, that she literally shrieked when her mobile phone rang.
"Hello, you," she said, knowing very well who it was.
"Why are you out-of-breath?"
"You scared me."
"Oh. Sorry," the Doctor said.
"I'm glad you called," she told him. "I wanted to apologise for being such a child today."
"No need to apologise," he assured her. He wanted to say because you deserve the truth, and have every right to be upset, but he refrained, prudently. "I wanted to apologise for being all mysterious and weird about things."
"It's okay."
"Can I make it up to you?"
"Sure. What did you have in mind?" she asked.
"Fun day on the beach tomorrow… just you and me. Maybe rent a boat?"
She smiled. "Yeah. That sounds great."
When the call was over, Martha began the process (again) of accepting that this little appointment of theirs was not going to lead to anything…
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