Not of This World chapter ten: 'The Doctor Is In'.
"Who are you."
"I'm help." (S02E11)
Disclaimer - I don't own Doctor Who
Chapter 10 - The Doctor Is In
"Wait!" Myra said, quickly, putting up her hands, looking around her, "Please, wait. We mean you no harm."
There was a long pause. "Who are you."
Shivers went up her spine, reflexively, and she firmly forced them back down, "We mean you no harm. I'm Myra Hull, and this is Jack Harkness."
"Captain Jack Harkness."
She shook her head, "Okay, fine, Captain Jack Harkness." She looked around her again, slightly edgy at having no-one to speak to, "We're Thals. Thals from Skaro."
"But you speak Spiridonian." Another voice, this time. Higher. Maybe female.
Myra adjusted her gaze to where she thought the voice came from, thinking very quickly, "Yes. We... we were sent here by... the Shadow Proclamation. We were selected because we had knowledge of Spiridonian."
The Spiridon paused, thinking, "Why are you here. Why has this Shadow sent you."
"We... we were sent to find someone. To track a particular man - a man who has fled to this planet. A human. White. Tall. Brown haired." She addressed each of her words to different parts of the undergrowth, "Might you have recovered him?"
Another pause. "We have recovered a man regarding this description, yes. But he is not of human origin. Our preliminary scans revealed a binary-vascular system. He is something new."
She nodded, hastily, "I... beg your forgiveness - when I said human, I meant humanoid. This sounds like the man we are looking for, has he given a name?"
A rustle as one seemed to move closer to her, "As far as I know, no. What is his species? Our scanners have been unable to work it out."
Spoilers.
She heard the word in the Doctor's firm, carrying voice, telling River Song why her knowledge about the TARDIS was wrong.
You can't tell them. They can't know. And if he hasn't given a species or his name... maybe he's reconsidered. Maybe he doesn't want to change things at all.
Myra fought for words as the silence echoed, "He's a... he's... He's... Twi'lek."
"Twi'lek?"
She nodded, fervently, "Uh-huh. Born on Ryloth in the Outer Rim. Heard of it?"
"No."
"Well. He's a long way from home." She hesitated a moment, and then started again, tentatively: "If you could take us to him...?"
Shuffles, rustling, the sound of footsteps on leaves, and then, suddenly, a warm hand on her shoulder, "Of course. We will need to ask you some questions, as well."
"Thank you." Then she sank a little, "Wait a minute, am I being placed under arrest?"
"That depends on what you consider as being 'placed under arrest'."
"I consider as it being taken somewhere against my own free will and locked up until someone who knows more than they're saying comes in and asks me lots of awkward questions."
"Ah. Then you are not being placed under arrest."
"How so?"
The hand pushed slightly, guiding her, "Because you want to find this man. You are not against your own free will."
"And if I refused?" she asked, slowly.
The Spiridon paused, "Then I suppose you will have to rethink your definition of being 'placed under arrest.' Come."
"Fine." She turned, glancing at Jack. He was looking at a place on his shoulder, uneasily, and she was sure one had taken hold of him too. "Jack." He glanced up at her, his eyes showing the question. She nodded, slowly, "Let's go."
As they moved them further out of the jungle, the two humans started walking together, and Jack leaned down to her ear, "Twi'lek?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, questioningly.
She gave a furtive grin, "Let's just say I'm not just a Doctor Who geek. C'mon."
"This is... this is..."
"Exactly."
The Doctor looked at the beds all lined against the wall. And the Spiridons in them. He shook his head again, his hair now completely mussed where he'd rumpled it so often in his bewilderment, "This is wrong."
"Yes. Nothing like this has ever been seen before on this planet."
"Nothing like this has ever been seen before on any planet, this... shouldn't... be."
He looked almost helplessly back at the nearest bed, and the thing on it. The humanoid shape was just about recognisable. The whole body shimmered in and out of visibility. A strange, glowing light pulsed around it, a bright, ethereal blue, like an ultraviolet radiance. And the body itself... it was twisted, blackened, and somehow... He turned his head, but the image was burned into his mind. The flesh was... slack. Like it had been... loosened.
"They're still alive." He said, his voice dull and numb.
There was no reply. He looked at them again, "But... I can see them."
"Yes. Spiridons do not become visible until after death." There was a pause, and he seemed to shake his head, "We are not sure of what this means."
The Doctor nodded, slowly. His eyes followed the beds. Each one getting closer was in a worse state, the infection at a further stage, whatever that meant. The one furthest away from him he wouldn't have even seen if it weren't for one, long black smear hovering over the plastic sheets. They got worse, and worse, some of the creatures writhing, as if pulling against bonds, and, then, right at the front, the seizures had stopped, and the creatures were still as the infection laid waste their bodies.
The Doctor turned back to the Spiridon behind him, forcing the thought of out his mind, "What is this. How did it happen, when did it start." He was aware that he sounded angry. He was also aware that this man might not realise it was part of his coping mechanism. But he couldn't bring himself to care.
"We do not know."
"You must have some idea."
Vari gave a small, frustrated sigh, "No. One by one, it took them. There was this... light."
"Light?" he repeated, immediately, "What kind of light."
"I don't know how to describe it. Like... I don't know."
"That kind of light?" he asked, nodding his head at the strange, glowing auras cloaking the decaying bodies.
"I guess so. Yes. Different. Brighter."
"What did it do."
"It passed. From person to person. One brother would go down as if in a fit. Another would grab him, try to help him... and the light would pass onto him. When the light left... they were like this."
"How many."
"Sixty-eight. So far."
The Doctor swept a vague hand across the room, "All of them?"
"Yes. We quarantined all of them as soon as we saw what was happening. But... it's still spreading."
"And it's not something from the plants? The poison?"
"No. We have tried every medicine we have, every remedy. Nothing works. We are unaware of why, or how, the disease spreads. It could be physical contact. Do not touch them."
He shook his head, immediately, "Oh, trust me, I won't."
He turned back to the nearest bed, and moved over to it. He forced up the scientific approach that he knew would let him examine them without feeling. He crouched down beside the bed, balancing himself by placing his fingertips on the edge. He flinched slightly as a small jolt of static electricity jolted through his fingers, and frowned at the offending metal for a moment before turning his attention back to where it was needed. He hesitated for a moment, looking at the twisted body, fighting back images of fire and pain. Then he shook his head, and pulled the stethoscope out of his pocket, placing it hesitantly on the Spiridon's chest.
He paused for a moment, and then frowned, glancing back at the invisible man, "Do Spiridons have a decentralised heart?"
"No. Singular, in the chest, right side."
He nodded, vaguely, moving the amplifier over to the other side. He listened, carefully. He frowned. He pushed the amplifier closer, careful not to touch the skin. Then he moved his eyes back onto the spot where Vari had been, "But... they're dead."
"No."
"There's no life signs. No heartbeat, no pulse. No breathing."
"Wait."
He waited. He shifted slightly, trying to figure out what the Spiridon thought was going to happen.
One-two.
The Doctor almost flinched. He yanked the stethoscope off him, putting it down on the table, leaning on it for a second, "How often."
"Once every two minutes. Usually. It slows down as the infection progresses. We call it Living Rot, because, whilst they are living... their bodies are going into a state of decay. That's... that's all we know about it."
"Do they all die?"
There was a pause, "I know of no survivors."
The Doctor allowed the momentary silence that followed out of respect. But he was itching to continue, and straightened up, turning his attention back to the infected Spiridons, "Right. Now. This light..."
"It occurs at the beginning of the infection, they all have it."
He nodded, slowly, rummaging around in his pocket, "Hm. It's an altered electraura. I've never seen one this... Hang on, let me just..." he managed to retrieve his sonic screwdriver and flipped it onto the right setting, deftly, scanning the flickering body in front of him, "Now. What did you call this illness, Living Rot?"
"That's right."
"Okay. Well, funnily enough, the decay of anything organic produces phosphine and methane, which, when oxidised, can produce a sort of glow, like this."
"Phosphine?"
He didn't even glance at him, "If you don't understand, don't ask. No offence. I'm not talking to you."
He didn't seem to take offence, "Then... who are you talking to?"
"I don't know. Myself, probably." He fiddled with the controls again, holding the sonic up to his ear, "After all... that way... I get the answers I want, right?"
The Doctor went back to the patient, quickly, "Now. The light pulses. But not in time with the fading of the Spiridon's invisibility. If it's the oxidised form of phosphine and methane it should be pale yellow." He crouched back down again, leaning under the table to scan the other side of the body, noting that an echo of the glow appeared even under the hospital bed, "This is blue. For it to be blue there'd have to be another component. But what." He stayed still for a moment, tapping his screwdriver against his lip, unconsciously. Idea flickered through his head, each immediately being rejected or labelled 'possibility'. None could be confirmed.
He let out a low, frustrated sigh, straightening up a little, "Vari, you've gotta help me, was there anything you've done, anything you've seen, anything that could have triggered for this, like... any odd signs, any... meteorite crashes... weather changes... strange visitors...?"
"None save you."
The Doctor bolted upright. Hands grabbed his wrists again, and yanked him away from the beds, dragging him back.
"Think about this," he objected, fiercely, not fighting their grips directly but not allowing them, either, "Whatever you've got going on in here, I can help. I can help you, don't you understand, these men are dying, let me help you!"
His voice changed rapidly between frustration and anger and something close to panic, but the Spiridons behind him were seemingly having none of it. They wrenched him back towards the door, ignoring his continued protests, ignoring his struggles. They stopped when they reached the corridor, and the Doctor quickly counted the hands on him. Six. Could mean three, could mean only three were restraining him. There could be so many more.
There was a movement, a struggle, and a bang as if someone had been slammed against the wall, "Brother, you have betrayed us."
"He is a doctor!" another replied, fiercely, and he instantly recognised the voice as Vari's, "He could help, he could help with the infection, let him help!"
"He is a stranger. An outsider. We have no idea of what he could do. He is the cause of this, not the cure."
"Let him explain! He knows nothing about this! He was as shocked as we were!"
"He will be imprisoned." The lower, gruff voice replied, firmly, "And, as for you, Brother... you will be dealt with."
"No!" the Doctor said, ferociously, anger and an old, strange pain flashing through him like lightning, "He is not a betrayer! He was trying to help! Don't you dare -"
A hand was forced over his mouth, stopping his protests, "Silence, alien. Take him."
They started dragging him away. He fought with the holds, ferociously, but there were too many of them. He shook his head, giving a low, frustrated snarl, and then shook his head again, "Vari! Vari, listen to me -"
"I said silence!"
He ignored them, fighting with hands, "Vari, quickly, tell me - this light, this, this light thing, the thing that caused the infection, what did it look like?" No reply. A hand was forced over his mouth again but he shook it off, viciously, "Vari, tell me! What did it look like?!"
"Fire. It... it looked like fire."
The Doctor paused for a second, "Thank you."
Then the hands dragged him back down the corridor, back towards his cell.