When last we saw our heroes, they had dived into the timeline of Davernus, a tall, yellow man with ceremonial tattoos. Each saw a different, blissful moment in his life, but the Doctor experienced a collapse of events. What's that about? And how exactly does the Pleasure Vortex work? Oooh... read on!

Enjoy!


EIGHT

A Time Lord, a former Time Agent, and a tough-as-nails medical student all sat at the kitchen table inside the TARDIS, silent, and waiting.

Actually, only the latter two were waiting. The Doctor was sitting in a chair, body bent forward, his head buried beneath his arms. He had adopted this position after Jack had finished telling the story of what he had seen. He had then, in a muffled voice, asked Martha to tell her story, which she had done.

And now, Jack and Martha stole glances at each other while their tea got cold, and the Doctor seemed to cogitate over the whole business.

Suddenly, he sat up straight, rather startling his companions.

"You're sure you both saw the Drasah guy from Nomdar, the one with the yellow skin and the tattoos?" he asked.

"Yes… yeah… sure…" Jack and Martha answered.

"Speaking of which, Doctor," Jack said. "What's with the ménage à trois with the furniture? I had heard that Nomdar has furniture that's alive, but…"

The Doctor groaned. "The planet has this natural living flesh that sort of grows on its own in the wilderness – it is attuned to life on the planet – its body and energy can commune with that of other bodies and energies originating on Nomdar, so it's been made into living furniture."

"That doesn't sound humane," Jack commented, nose scrunched.

The Doctor answered, "I've never looked into where it comes from, why it's there or whether what they're doing is cruel or illegal. I just know that it is said to be a mind-blowingly intense experience to make love on one of the living beds. The furniture feels your pleasure, makes its own pleasure, so you feel its pleasure and so on, and it mounts until it all goes kerplooey, and… well…"

"Okay, now that part is kind of cool," Jack decided.

"I'm having, shall we say, mixed feelings," Martha added, with a frown.

"Are you sure it was the same guy we saw… the suicide victim?" the Doctor asked Jack. He closed his eyes and tried to fight off the memory of seeing the Drasah's brain and skull splattered all over a hotel room. "Blimey, was that just yesterday?"

"I'm sure it was him. Seemed like his wedding night."

"I think you're probably right," the Doctor agreed. "Martha, you saw the same man – Davernus, you said his name was – being initiated as a cantor of the Drasah tribe. It's a proud day for them, and the experience of their first public chant is a high point of their lives. They get their tattoos, become a recognisable member."

"I must have seen him a bit later, since he already had his tattoos," Jack said. "That's how I knew it was him."

The Doctor nodded. "They cannot be married until they are initiated. It's one of their religious bylaws."

"And we both saw the creepy guy," Martha said. "You called it a particular chosen moment. It's like he was soaking up the most blissful moments of the man's life…"

She trailed off, and began thinking. The Doctor could guess what she was thinking about, namely, why the man had particularly chosen the moment earlier today when they had all exited the TARDIS to fixate upon Martha. But he opted not to discuss it just now – it was a conversation for another day. He hoped.

"I think that's exactly what he was doing, Martha," the Doctor told her. "Soaking up the blissful moments."

"Did you see him too?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," the Doctor answered, groaning just a bit, harried by the memory. He described what he had seen – Davernus as an older man, holding his grandchild for the first time, and singing to him or her, with the talent of an initiated, experienced cantor. He also described the scene blinking in and out, the thunder, lightning, collapsing of time debris, quakes in the fabric of reality, cracks in existence, the sickness, and having to leap for the TARDIS over a chasm in time…

"Holy shit," Jack commented.

"I was going to say… well, not that," Martha said to Jack. "But yeah, that sort of sums it up."

"Yep. It does. Not my favourite slice of life," the Doctor whispered, gulping hard.

"Do you think that the incidents that Martha and I witnessed might have been equally unstable, and Martha and I just couldn't perceive it?" Jack wondered.

"I couldn't say for sure, but I honestly don't think so," the Doctor said. "I think that what I saw was collapsing because, well… we already know that Davernus killed himself as a young man. We saw the whole thing on video, saw the body in living colour."

"Oh..." Jack groaned, starting to get it.

"I think he was initiated to the tribe, got married, then came to Parafron at some point not too long after that – maybe even on his honeymoon – did the Pleasure Vortex experience, and died a few days later. He will never get to be a grandfather. He will never hold that child, nor have that particular bit of bliss."

"Oh my God," Martha groaned.

"It was stolen from him," the Doctor whispered. "Having the staring man there negated it – made it not exist. They took the pleasure of that moment, channelled it into the Pleasure Vortex, just like all the other moments, wrenching it away from him forever."

Martha's eyes went wide. With these words, a picture began to form in her mind, slowly, but surely. "Whoa," she mused.

Jack was having a similar epiphany. "Oh… no."

"Yeah," the Doctor whispered.

"You first thought that the energy signature thing was to tailor the pleasure to the person… but it's not, is it?" Jack asked.

"Not in the way that I had thought. This is so, so much worse."

For a long time, there was silence, while they all contemplated the implications of what they had learned.

At last, Martha said, "So these Pleasure Vortex people are reading a quantum fingerprint off people who come in for the experience, with that thingie."

"Ipographus Lector," the Doctor said. "It reads energy signatures, yes."

"Yeah, that. And they're using that fingerprint – energy signature – to locate the person in the time vortex."

The Doctor nodded. "And lucky for them, the more emotional the experience, the more energy is given off, the easier it is to find them."

"So, they're using the vortex manipulator to quite easily zero-in on the most blissful moments of these people's lives, soaking up the pleasure somehow and firing it at them all at once, to create an intense experience that actually is everything they advertise!"

"Yep," the Doctor said. "Drug-free, and non-addictive. Equivalent to a hundred of the greatest days of your life, a thousand of the little moments of pleasure…"

"Orgasms and donuts," Jack mused.

"It's equivalent to all of that, because it is all of that," Martha said. "Didn't you say there were potentially hundreds of spots on each energy signature's timeline?"

"Yes, I did," the Doctor answered. "And it answers the question of why it can't be repeated. You only do the Pleasure Vortex once, because once you've done it, most of the pleasure is gone from your existence – they've got nigh on nothing left to give you. If you drain dry the wellspring, then…"

"And if they've really drained it well," Jack added. "Especially the bliss slated for your own future, then you emerge from it deflated, heartbroken, depressed… and you begin to realise you'll never feel pleasure again, and decide that death is preferable."

"Which explains the rash of suicides," Martha concluded. "Bloody wonderful."

The Doctor sighed. "I wonder if the Parafron people understand, at all, the connection. I mean, we know they've noticed the correlation, but do they see the causation? What if they do?"

"Do we need to find out?" Jack wondered.

"Maybe after we stop the Pleasure Vortex," the Doctor said. "Maybe we'll encounter them as we proceed – won't that be fun?"

"One question, though," Martha said. "How does the creepy man in the corner suck the pleasure out of a moment, just by looking at it? I mean, it seems like if we could stop him, just him, we could stop the whole thing."

"Assuming he's the only one they have, doing that job," the Doctor said. "Who's to say there isn't a staff of them, hopping about in people's lives?"

"Although, with time travel being what it is, it could just be the one guy, logistically speaking," Jack said. "It seems like it could only take a minute to do what he does. He could suck one person's life dry in a couple of hours if he's efficient. Totally doable, assuming the Pleasure Vortex only gets, say, one or two clients per day."

"True. Unfortunately, Martha, I don't know the answer to your question. We don't know anything about him… whether he's alone, or even what species he is," the Doctor told them. "We just need to find out more."

Jack said, "Okay, granted. But I think Martha's onto something – if we can stop him, or them, we can stop the whole thing. There's a good chance that's true."

"Wait," Martha said, absentmindedly grabbing the Doctor's wrist. "I just realised… that man is following me, isn't he? We saw him staring at me earlier today, plus last night when I was falling asleep. I was feeling pretty relaxed, and sinking into sleep, happy to be here, with you, taking a breather… I didn't see who it was, but I think it's safe to say it was him."

"Yeah," the Doctor told her, flatly, not surprised by anything she was saying.

"But I'm not a Pleasure Vortex client! So what's happening?"


What ensued was another row over whether Martha would stay in the TARDIS or not, while the Doctor and Jack attempted to take down the Pleasure Vortex operation. Someone was clearly grooming her timeline for that very operation – entering the fray would put her in danger.

"Yeah, you're right," she mused, exaggeratedly, exerting a huge amount of effort to keep her voice from raising. "I can't handle danger. I've never been kidnapped or attacked by Daleks. Or had my heart stopped by an outer space witch."

"What?" Jack asked, delighted. "An outer space witch?"

"Martha…" the Doctor began.

"If I had ever been shot-at by a humanoid rhinoceros, or been in a building running out of oxygen, set to blow up and fry half the Earth at any second, then I could see taking me with you."

Jack smiled widely, and leaned against a railing to watch. "Wish I had popcorn," he muttered to himself.

"If I had ever proven myself to you, maybe by taking care of your sorry arse for three months while shape-shifting scavengers scour the vicinity for a container that has your time-and-space wielding soul in it, and try to blow up anyone who gets in their way…"

"Oh, God," the Doctor breathed.

"You know, it's really too bad I haven't walked all the way round my planet, all the while dodging these spherical things that want to kill me, as well as highly trained military operatives instructed to find me at all costs, bring me in, and shoot anyone who tries to protect me," she sighed. "Wouldn't it be cool if I had some experiences like that under my belt?"

Jack laughed out loud.

"That was different," the Doctor told her, unconvincingly.

"Why? Because half those times you've been helpless and had no other choice?" she asked him, both hands on her hips, one foot stuck out angrily.

"For a start, yeah!"

"No, no, this is rubbish. You've put me in harm's way a hundred times before – what's changed?"

"I know the answer!" Jack piped up, with one hand in the air like a schoolboy. He reckoned that if Martha could calm down for thirty seconds and think about it, she'd realise it, too. Not that it was a good reason to keep her confined to the TARDIS.

"Jack, back off," the Doctor warned, for the umpteenth time since they had come to the resort.

"I don't care what the answer is," Martha insisted. "You can't ask me to stay with you, and then keep me in the TARDIS, like a cat in a carrying case. Not gonna happen. If nothing else, we now know that at some point they get my energy signature – it's probably today, don't you think? That means it's meant to happen. Now, what's our first step?"

The Doctor sighed heavily, giving in. "Well, honestly, my first instinct is to go in through the back, dismantle their equipment, steal their vortex manipulator, and take off. It would be nice if we could get in, get out, with them none the wiser, and unable to repair the damage."

"That doesn't sound like you," Jack said.

"No, because, damn it, I have to give them a choice. End this now, because it's the right thing to do, or I'll end it for you, and you won't like it. Blimey, when did I become such a hippie?"

"So, what, we walk in through the front and make a stand there?" asked Martha.

"No, I still think we should go in through the back," the Doctor answered. "Get caught, do a lot of big talking, tell them to stand down or else."

"And if they don't?" Jack wondered.

"I can confound their Lector and their manipulator remotely, using the sonic," the Doctor shrugged.

"So, we're just going to stand there and ruin their equipment and walk away?"

"No, because they have caused thirteen deaths, and they need to be held accountable," he answered. "Not to mention the damage they're doing to time itself. So, Jack, go and see if you can find the resort security team, and get them to give you the surveillance tapes of any suicides they might have, including information on who these people are. It shouldn't be too hard – the local police already know you, and think you're with forensics. Just make sure the intel adds up – how do they know who is in the video, who cleaned up the body and identified it, what are the circumstances of the suicide, et cetera. If they've fudged any of the facts, we've got a conspiracy on our hands."

Jack saluted. "You got it."

"Martha, you're the frontwoman," he said adjusting the settings on the sonic screwdriver.

"So, it turns out you do need me," she lilted.

"Of course I do," he confirmed. "Although, if it meant keeping you safe, I'd hazard all of it without you. But that's not happening, so…"

"Good man," she told him.

Then, to her surprise, he handed her the sonic. "When we get caught skulking, you'll have to do the talking, and the sonicking."

"Why me?"

"Because I'm going to be hacking their computers, trying to find their records. If their records match up to the surveillance footage and info that Jack gets, we will be able not only to stop these people, but also make sure they're imprisoned for quite some time. So, that setting should put almost any electronic device on the blink – including the Lector. The vortex manipulator will take a bit more finesse, but you can scare them good, and slow them down hard, just by aiming that at the trapezoid control thing, and pressing the button. It should render them incapable of reading an energy signature for a while. But don't use it unless you have to."

"Okay. Understood," she said, with a quick nod.

"Shall I come and try to find you when I'm done with my bit?" asked Jack. "You might need backup."

"I guess so, but be stealthy," the Doctor said. "No plundering in."

"My entrance will be plunder-free."

"Are we good? Shall we do this?" asked Martha, shoving the sonic screwdriver in her pocket, heading for the door.

The men both nodded, but didn't say anything – they merely followed.

The trio walked out of the TARDIS, through the storage space, then into the hallway and found the lift. Once inside the lift, Martha, who was standing between her two friends reached out and grabbed the both of their hands, to steady herself. "Whoa," she breathed.

"What?" he asked, concerned. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to have something like extreme vertigo. And after about five seconds of her squeezing his hand, he could feel it himself – a certain instability radiating from her, giving him a milder form of the same vertigo. "Oh! That's weird… I can feel… what's… why… Martha, talk to me."

She turned her head to look at him. "You can feel it?"

"Yes – it's dizzying," he said.

"We're in a lift," Jack reminded them. "It's moving under your feet. This is how it's supposed to feel."

"Jack, I know what a lift feels like," the Doctor snapped. "This is something else. Martha's sick… or no, not sick, but…"

"Wait – you can feel her sickness? Or whatever it is?" Jack asked, incredulous.

The Doctor nodded, and shut his eyes. "Something is not right, Martha. How do you feel?"

"Like you said... dizzy," she said, still not letting go of either of them. "Just… dizzy. And faint. Like I might…"

She trailed off, and the Doctor's eyes flew open. He was concerned about why she had stopped talking, to be sure, but he was also surprised because the vertigo seemed to pass. "That's so bloody odd."

"Yeah… it's gone. Can you feel that it's gone?" she asked.

"I can."

"What's going on with you two? Have you been… you know… interfacing somehow?" Jack wondered, his eyebrows cocked unevenly. "Swapping DNA or something? I mean that in the least-icky way possible."

"No," the Doctor said, letting go of her hand. "If I can feel dizziness, nausea, instability, frailty radiating off of her, it must mean…"

"Oh God," she groaned. "Something's wrong with my timeline. Or my timey-ness. Or something."

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Well, shit," she said, surprisingly calmly. "This just gets better and better."

The lift door opened, and the three stepped out.

"All right," the Doctor said. "Nothing's changed. Except, now Martha's prone to bouts of whatever-the-hell-that-was, but it seems to pass quickly. Jack, you're still police surveillance guy, I'm still vortex-records guy, and Martha, you're still sonic-screwdriver-face-of-the-operation gal. If you feel faint – and I daresay you will, the second you walk in there – take deep breaths, eyes high, try to be strong, and remember: I'm waiting for you on the other end of all this. Okay?"

She nodded, worry colouring all of her features, her eyes supplicating, but fully trusting in the Doctor. "Okay."


Okay folks, tell me what you think! Almost no feedback on the last chapter means I'm wondering if I've confused everyone beyond redemption? Leave a review, let me know what you're thinking/feeling/wondering. I live for these moments (needy, yes!).

Thank you for reading, as always!