PLEASE FORGIVE ME IF I HAVE FUDGED THE FACTS ABOUT ENGLISH GEOGRAPHY A BIT, AND/OR THE PROCESS OF ACQUIRING ANTIQUES IN THE INTERNATIONAL MARKET. I'M NEW AT THIS.


TWELVE

Martha used her Friday morning before David's class to call Dr. Finbury. Just as she and David had suspected, the good doctor thought Professor Simm's methods were shoddy, that his ethics were questionable and that his science had been fudged in order to justify quicker production of the Augmenter. After class that day, she delivered the rough transcript she had typed out to David.

"Martha, you are brilliant," he said. He looked through the pages. "This is beautiful. Now we can proceed as planned."

Once again, she followed him up to his office. As they walked, he said, "Hey, thank you for inviting me to lunch the other day. Just to clarify, you aren't trying to fix me and John up, are you?"

She laughed out loud. "No! God no! What would make you think that?"

"I don't know," he said, self-consciously. "You were sort of vague about why you were introducing the two of us, and... he looked at me kind of funny. God, I sound like a homophobic schoolboy."

"Well, I noticed you looking at him kind of funny too," she said. But she was quick to assure him, "But I was pretty sure it wasn't because you fancied him."

"No, it was because..."

"What?"

"Oh, he was just so familiar to me," he answered. "I can't place him for the life of me."

"Well, I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression, and I'm sorry if I was being all strange and vague. Really, it's because, well, John didn't think it was a good idea for me to be your research assistant and I thought if he met you, it would be easier for him to accept. And look: it worked."

He stopped in the doorway of the office and looked at her seriously. "But really, Martha. You should have told me about the coma. Why didn't you?"

"Because I don't think it's relevant to what I'm trying to do with my life now."

"Fair enough," he said. "But if you get tired, you feel any sort of..."

"I'll stop, I promise."

"Okay."

They proceeded into his inner sanctum of police memorabilia.

"Week-end plans?" he asked, sitting down behind his desk.

"That depends upon what you're about to ask me to do," she told him, sitting across from him.

"I'd like you to get in touch with the physics department at East Kent," he told her.

"Find out about the construction of that thing?"

"Yep," he said, popping the P. "And while you're at it, it wouldn't hurt to ask some of the same questions of the physicists as you asked of Finbury."

"I'll have it for you Monday."

"No, no," he said. "Take your week-end to do as you'd like. Have you got a boyfriend?"

She thought of Tom. "No," she said, looking down at her hands in her lap. "Not anymore."

"Good," he said.

"Why good?" she asked, flushing all over.

He began to stammer. "Oh, I didn't... I, er... Sorry..."

She laughed.

"I meant to say 'oh'. Not good, just 'oh.'" Then he smiled uneasily.

"Okay," she said. "You? Girlfriend?" She felt it was the right, polite question to ask, even though she knew he wouldn't have a girlfriend.

"No," he said, no hint of sadness. "Not in a long, long time."

"What are your week-end plans?" she asked.

"I'll be reading up on lymphoblastic leukaemia, and if I'm lucky, I'll get to an antique auction in Oxford," he told her.

"Er, would it be too forward of me to ask to come with you?"

"To Oxford?"

"Yes."

"You like antiques?"

"Well... no. But I'm curious about this hobby of yours."

"Well, I'd love the company," he said, smiling widely. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

"Just phone me with the details."

"That reminds me," he said, opening a drawer. He pulled out a still-wrapped Virgin mobile phone. "This is yours. I'm the only one with the number, all right?"

"Gotcha."

"I'll ring you tomorrow."

"Good."


On Sunday, a silver car pulled up in front of the Jones residence at eight in the morning. David got out of the car and waved at a second floor window where he could see Martha looking out. She gestured that she'd be down in one minute.

"Martha, your date is here," her mum called up the stairs.

Martha rolled her eyes as she came downstairs with her backpack. "Mum, he's not my date, I told you."

"I don't know if I approve of you going on a trip with one of your professors. It just reeks of..." Francine shivered exaggeratedly.

"It's not a trip, it's an hour's drive to an antique sale."

"Why can't he take someone else?"

"I don't think he has anyone else, mum. Besides, if I'm going to be his research assistant, I need to get to know him."

"Yeah, well, you just be careful. Don't drink any alcohol, it'll lower your defences."

Martha rolled her eyes again, then kissed her mother on the cheek. "Duly noted. I'm going now."

They approached the front door, and her mother looked through the little curtain and saw David leaning against the car, staring down the street.

"Oh please, Martha! You think I was born yesterday?"

"What?"

"Look at him! Not a date, my eye!"

"I know, I know," Martha said. "But being good-looking doesn't make him not lonely, mum."

Martha had seen that disapproving look a million times over, but it had never ceased to bother her. Nevertheless, she said, "Bye, mum. I'll be back tonight."

"Right," her mother said.

Martha shut the front door behind her and came down the front stairs with a big smile. "Hi!" She noted that his clothes were a bit different from what she was used to. Dark blue dress shirt with a maroon t-shirt showing underneath, with jeans and his usual Converse. She liked it. It didn't freak her out like the other cast of characters and their odd costumes.

"Hi!" he called. "What's in the backpack?"

"Oh, just some snacks, rain gear, a couple books on antiques..."

"Wow, you've done homework?" he asked, opening the passenger door for her.

"A bit."

He shut the door and came round. As he slid in, he said, "Well, as your teacher, I have to say I heartily approve."

She giggled.

The drive was pleasant enough. She learned very little about David, because David seemed to know very little about himself. Born somewhere in Scotland, not sure where because he'd been orphaned and raised in institutional care outside Edinburgh. He'd always wanted to be a doctor, never been married, no children, no long-term relationships to speak of...

But that was okay, because her goal was to implant information. She gave him lots of details about her family, including that her sister had once worked for Richard Lazarus. "I've heard of him," David said. She told her life's story, implating little clues to jog David's Doctor memories. It was working, she could see, but she could also see that he was still pushing away those thoughts, and at least consciously, dismissing them as passing fancies.

The antique auction was much more informal than Martha had expected. They found themselves in an old glass factory on the way out of town to the west. It had been out of commission for at least two hundred years, but had been used since then for various functions like this, also as a hospital, as storage for the adjacent woodworking factory and as squatter's territory for vagabonds. Some bleachers had been wedged into the space, and perhaps fifty people were already there when David and Martha arrived. They took their seats in a very small rectangle of space in the front row. The front bleacher was about twelve inches above the ground, and Martha chuckled at seeing David fold himself in half in order to sit down without pushing his feet past the velvet rope.

They were squeezed together with no daylight between her right arm and his left. It was the closest she had been to him since finding him again. She found that it made her heart beat faster just to be able to feel him. For the second time in a week, she admonished herself for these feelings. She still considered herself "taken," even though Tom was clueless, and the path of love for the Doctor went nowhere, as she well knew. She took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down.

"Oh, that's beautiful, isn't it?" she heard him say. But more importantly, he had unconsciously reached his left hand over her, probably just to get her attention. His arm was crossing her body, and his hand was on her calf. She looked up at him. He was totally absorbed in what he was seeing, absolutely not aware of what he was doing. "Eh?" he said, waiting for a response.

She looked at the auctioneer. He was displaying a small frame, an under the glass was a group of United States postage stamps from the 1970's which featured different law enforcement themes.

He was saying, "They were only in circulation for twelve weeks during the summer of 1972, and only about two thousand were printed. These are unused and would make a fine addition to any philatelic collection. Shall we begin the bidding at one hundred pounds?"

"Yeah, they're great," Martha said, distracted.

David's left arm moved into the air as he bid. He seemed totally unaware of how he had touched her.

"That's what I came here for," he whispered to her. "I've been following those stamps since they came up for sale in California a few months ago. None of the philatelists in America wanted them – too busy clamouring for the limited edition Elvis stamps. All the better for me."

David wound up winning the bidding war, at five hundred thirty-five pounds. He whispered, "Come on." He took Martha's hand and they left the disused factory by the front door. He led her around the back where there was a little room with a table set up, ready for the buyers to come and claim their wares. He wrote a cheque and then took her hand again as they watched a woman pack his new acquisition carefully in a box and padded it with tissue.

"What will you do with it?" she wanted to know.

"Don't know," he shrugged. "Hang it on the wall of my office with all the other stuff."

"You're going to need a bigger office pretty soon," she laughed.

David's mobile rang in his pocket. He exhaled, annoyed. "Sorry," he muttered to Martha. "Hello?"

Martha listened to one side of a conversation. "Oh, hey, Catherine. What? Really? Blimey, what an idiot. What time is this happening? Okay, does Finbury know? I don't know... forget I asked. What, now? I'm in Oxford with Martha. Yes, Martha. We're at an antique auction, why? No... no, stop it. I won't, I promise." He let out a great sigh. "Goodbye, Catherine."

"What?" Martha asked.

"Well, she's warning me not to, you know... develop a reputation. You know, like Simm and Billie."

"My mum said the same thing this morning!"

"Because everyone knows that going to antique auctions always leads to sex?"

Martha laughed. "Yes, it must be that really hot, fast-talking auctioneer."

David cleared his throat. "She rang to tell me that Simm has set up a demo for tomorrow," David told her. "He's recruited one of the doctors from East Kent to do a lecture with him on augmenting lymphocytes, and then the two of them are going to demonstrate the Augmenter on themselves."

Martha remembered what Raj told her. Above and beyond the risks of lymphocyte augmentation, the machine was really meant to turn human beings in to walking Dalek hybrids. Humourless, emotionless, ruthless.

"Well, David, we have to stop him!" she cried out.

He sniffed. "Why? It's his funeral. Besides, it might actually be good for our research," he told her.

Martha knew that the Doctor would want to save the Master from this fate, in spite of what David said about Professor Simm. She mentally searched for a reason why they needed to stop this from happening, a reason that David would understand.

"Because!" she shreiked. "Because, if they... if they do this lecture, and get a bunch of students to buy into it, and get publicity, it will spark... a debate! Outside of our school! All over the country. And when there's a debate, there's always a big push for advancement, and then people will be lining up to do it without having all the facts... Simm will be able to control the information... we can't let it happen David, we just can't!"

"Okay, okay, calm down, Martha," he said, his hands on her shoulders. "I'm glad that you're so passionate about this."

"Sorry," she said. "This thing just makes me angrier than I would like."

"Okay," he sighed. "Okay. You may be right. Maybe any kind of attention on this thing right now would be bad... maybe he is going for publicity..."

"See? Exactly."

"All right. It's still early. Let's get back to London, and we'll go to Professor Simm, and we'll try to talk him out of it."

"Thank you," she said, relaxing.

"While we're on the move, let's give Dr. Finbury a ring and see if he would be willing to help," David suggested.

They piled into the car and headed back the way they had come. Unfortunately, the expressway back to London was undergoing repairs, and was therefore hopelessly jammed. Luckily, David knew some side-roads that would get them there – not as fast as the expressway, but faster than waiting for the repairs to finish. They found themselves on little used, elapsed roads alongside towns that time had left behind. Martha had forgotten how lovely the English countryside could be – it had been a long time since she'd thought about it, or seen it at such slow speed.

When they were well on their way, Martha dug Finbury's number out of her purse and dialled. His voice mail answered. "Dr. Finbury, it's Martha Jones. We weren't sure if you knew about this, but we've just received word that Professor Simm and one of your colleagues from East Kent are planning on lecturing tomorrow about the Augmenter, and then they're planning on demonstrating the process on themselves. We sort of think it's a bad idea, without more research. We're in Oxford now, and we're headed back to London and we're going to see if we can talk him out of it. We wondered if you had anything to add, or if you'd like to join us in London, maybe, or... I don't know. Anyway, ring me back, or my cooperating professor, at the number I gave you before. Thanks."

They drew up a rough plan. David would go back to the university and get into the database to find out where Simm lived. He hoped that the East Kent doctor would be there as well so that he could address both of them, and if Simm (who was stubborn and proud) wouldn't relent, perhaps his partner-in-crime would. Martha's job was to go to find out which lecture hall was being used, and try to appeal to the building supervisor and/or whomever booked special events on the campus. Afterwards, they would meet up for dinner to talk again, and to draw up plan B if necessary.

Martha was agitated – more so than was David. He did not understand the gravity of what would happen if the two men had a chance to use the Augmenter. Her legs were crossed, and the top foot was bouncing nervously.

"Why are you so nervous?" he asked her.

"It's just that..."

But she did not have a chance to finish her thought because at that moment, they heard a loud 'pop,' and the next thing they knew, the car was spinning out of control. Martha lost consciousness just after the car turned upside down in a narrow plain beside the deserted road.