PART TWELVE

The Doctor and Martha stumbled into the console room, and turned on the comms. The view outside did not reveal anything of use, simply a gigantic triangle formation of spaceships, all with their noses aimed straight at Dionumah.

"I don't recognise the fighting cruisers," the Doctor muttered. "I have no idea what this is about. I mean, I at least like to have some idea of what the problem is before I go barrelling in."

Martha asked, planting her hands on her hips, "Well, I'm no expert, but it seems to me that they're in a holding pattern of some sort, like they want something from Dionumah. Do you think the TARDIS can intercept their communiqués?"

The Doctor looked at her with earnest surprise. "Blimey, when did you get so battle-savvy?"

"Er, technically my suggestion is more like wartime-espionage-savvy."

He dashed to the console. With a few key strokes, a message was booming through the TARDIS' sound system: "...engaged in a ground war from seven thousand sides, against which you will be defenceless. Counting down from fifty."

"Hm," the Doctor commented.

And then the message seemed to pause, then start again. "Attention, Congressional Councils of Dionumah. You are being held hostage by the hundred-and-eighth battalion of the Allesminta. Recent intelligences tell us that a Nosaminta parasite, the last of its kind, was murdered on your planet. This is a grave crime, and a grievous error on your part. However, in the spirit of interplanetary courtesy, we are only interested in the party or parties involved in the killing. If you turn said party or parties over to us, we will spare your planet. If not, your planet will be engaged in a ground war from seven thousand sides, against which you will be defenceless. Counting down from forty."

The Doctor cursed under his breath, and then stepped back from the console, burying his hands in his hair. "Allesminta," he mused, eyes wide. "I never made the connection! How did I never make the connection?"

"What connection?"

"The Allesminta are a highly diverse race of... well, basically malevolent worms."

"Highly diverse... worms?"

"Yes," he answered. "Their genetic variation is actually staggering if you look deeply at their DNA. But they're intelligent, so I guess that's why I didn't realise. The Nosaminta is a parasite, not long in the book-smarts department. Basically just burrows... well, you saw. I suppose it's considered, perhaps, a lesser member of the Allesminta. Good to know they're so indignant about this."

"Good to know?"

"Well..."

"...counting down from thirty," came over the sound system.

"Er, Doctor, we're running out of time," Martha warned. "What do we do?"

"Let's see, seven thousand sides means seven thousand ships, and judging by the size of each ship, I'd say they're manned by a crew of thirty to forty."

"So Dionumah is about to be invaded by roughly a quarter-million angry worms?"

"Most likely, just the capitol city of the Third Sector."

"Will they be defenceless, like the Allesminta say?"

"Not entirely," the Doctor shrugged. "But the Allesminta do have the element of surprise on their side, so the first few hours will probably be a pretty nasty bloodbath."

The sound system came alive with a different voice. "Allesminta fleet, hear us now! This is the President of Sector Three, the largest continent of the planet Dionumah, and I have been elected to speak for my planet. We are terribly sorry to hear of the extinction of the Nosaminta parasites, and deeply regret that the last of their kind was killed on our planet. But our Congressional Councils were not aware of any operation to that end, and thus, we do not know who is responsible. As such, please do not hold our entire planet responsible, including innocent children, for this singular transgression."

The reply came, "Counting down from twenty."

The voice from Dionumah tried again; same message, worded slightly differently.

"Well, that's enough of that," the Doctor muttered, just before throwing a switch. His voice thundered across the comms, "Allesminta! If you want the man who killed the last of the parasites, here I am! Come get me!"

With that, the familiar gear-grinding of the TARDIS began to drum up, and Martha could tell they were materialising someplace. The Doctor strode calmly down the ramp toward the door, and opened it to look upon a triangular fleet of seven thousand ships, spread out before him.

Martha joined him, eyes wide in disbelief. "Have you gone completely mental?" she whispered.

"Long ago, love," he responded without looking at her. He maintained his defiant gaze upon the army that had come to collect the Nosaminta's murderer.

And in the next twenty seconds, something remarkable happened, and Martha Jones could barely believe what she was seeing.

The entire fleet, almost like a school of fish, seemed to turn all at once, still in its formidable triangular hold, one-hundred-eighty degrees. Then, they all flew off.

Seven thousand ships, a quarter of a million troops, threatening to invade a planet, turned and fled at the sight of the a tiny blue Police Box.

"What... just happened?" Martha breathed.

"They left."

"Why?"

He turned and looked at her. Stared at her, really. Those penetrating brown eyes dug into her like knives, and they said, "You know why."

"You just..." She was having trouble catching her breath. "You just faced down an army? And they turned and ran?"

"You were there," he said, almost inaudibly. "You saw."

She stepped back from him a bit, and steadied herself on one of the railings. She took another moment. Then, "So... what, have you taken them down before, in a hideously clever manner?"

"Nope," he answered, his fists beginning to clench.

"They dealt with the Time Lords?"

"Nope," he continued, his breathing having grown just slightly ragged.

"This is all... reputation?"

"I assume."

"Oh, my..."

"You all right?" he asked, his voice reverberating through her like a double bass.

"Fine, fine," she assured him, not convincingly. "Just a bit..."

The fact was, she was more than just a bit...

"Hello?" came over the sound system. "Who's that? Who else is on the system? Hello?"

"President of the Third Sector?" asked the Doctor, never taking his eyes from Martha.

"Yes! Who is this?"

"This is the Doctor."

"The Doctor? As in, The Doctor?"

"The The himself," the Doctor answered.

There was silence on the sound system for a moment as the Doctor and Martha surveyed each other, and thought they might actually combust.

"What of the Allesminta?"

"Turned and ran," the Doctor answered.

"Did you really kill the parasite?"

"Yes," he confessed. "It was burrowing beneath an opera house, not to mention leaving an interplanetary wake of destruction. So we gassed the little bastard."

Another silence ensued. Then, "Doctor, a full sized battleship is deploying from my sector now, will you be so kind as to meet up with it?"

"To what end?"

"We need your help."

"Will you be on-board, Mr. President?"

"Yes."

"Fine, I'll see you in a few moments," the Doctor agreed.

A click on the sound system signalled that the Doctor and his Companion were once again alone with each other and their thoughts in the console room.

"Fancy a jaunt aboard a Dionumah battle cruiser?" he asked her, never having moved, nor broken eye-contact with her. His voice was low, insidious.

She knew that tone well, and it gave her a white-hot chill.

"No," she breathed. "But I'll do... whatever you want."