For long minutes after the crash, everything was quiet. The only sound or movement was the steady stream of water flowing from the upturned exit hatch, until at last it was all poured away and that ceased as well.
Then, with much straining and cursing, Jasmine squeezed herself out through the hatch and tumbled helplessly down into the muddy puddle which had formed below. She sat there, utterly exhausted, mouth hanging open, wrist bleeding, soaked, bedraggled hair plastered over her shoulders and forehead, wrapped in the torn and filthy rags which had once been her finest white dress. With an effort, she lifted her head and dumbfoundedly took in the carnage about her.
Her guardian's house, her home, was completely destroyed right down to the foundations. It looked like an archaeological dig. The four Klavite mechanical giants lay crumpled and motionless amongst the rubble. But what stung her to her feet was the sight of the Doctor's house, in which she had seen him take refuge just moments before, lying so ruined she could barely make out where it had stood. Nothing could possibly have survived.
"Oh God," she muttered. "What have I done?"
At a stumbling run, tripping repeatedly over loose bricks, she made her way forward, clinging to the insane hope that he could somehow still be alive. He always knew what to do. He was always in control. It was inconceivable this stupid accident could get the better of him. But there was scarcely one stone still standing upon another. The only thing that seemed to have miraculously remained intact was the mysterious, eight foot tall blue box.
Jasmine advanced on it cautiously. It had been flung aside into a mound of loose earth, but although partially buried had somehow stayed upright. As she drew near, the flimsy looking wooden door opened half way, and the Doctor's head popped cautiously out.
"Jasmine!"
She was so busy feeling the same sentiment herself that she missed the relief in his voice. He flung the door open and ran across to her, placed his hands agitatedly on her forehead, then her shoulders, as if expecting to detect some signs of damage under his fingertips. He felt his way down her arms, then took her hands and turned them over to inspect the gash on her wrist.
"Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
"I'm..." She couldn't express how she felt. "I'm very tired."
He released her abruptly and stepped back.
"That's to be expected." He regarded her for a moment, head angled quizzically on one side. "I can't believe I made you do that, Jasmine. It's a miracle you weren't killed."
"It's all right," she said, her weariness manifesting itself as a kind of mellow feeling that made it impossible to get upset about anything. "I know why you did it."
"Well. I promise not to bully you into doing anything like that ever again."
"And I," Jasmine found herself saying, "Promise not to let you."
He raised his eyebrows, then with a half smile bobbed his head in a kind of perfunctory bow of acknowledgement. The next moment, his eyes left hers and with an air of bemusement he was surveying the wreckage that surrounded them
"Oh my. What exactly happened here? I wasn't watching the monitor."
Jasmine pointed.
"I crashed the saucer into everything."
"Oh, I see." The Doctor eyed the fallen Klavites and nodded approvingly. "They need to recharge from their ship every few hours, so I was just going to hide out in the Tardis and let them wind down. But this is much better. Leaves us free to concentrate on the reason we started all this." He switched his gaze to the battered hulk of the saucer and drew from his coat pocket a silvery metal device the shape and size of a fountain pen but studded with mysterious polygonal attachments at one end. "Let us see if we can find your guardian."
With a stab of shame Jasmine realised she had forgotten they were supposed to be saving Heffer from his imprisonment on the Klavite ship, and she picked her feet up, trying to recover a sense of purpose as she followed the Doctor back to the saucer.
"They couldn't have fitted him down the main the corridor," he remarked, crouching down to gain access to the up ended entrance chamber. "So if he's here this is where he'll be."
Kneeling, Jasmine watched him run the device around the four foot square outline of a hatch that took up most of one wall of the chamber. It emitted a high pitched whine just on the edge of hearing as he worked.
"You can open it?" she asked. "Why didn't you just do that in the first place? I wouldn't have had to all that wriggling around down flooded corridors."
"Now she's criticising," he muttered to himself, then spoke up. "This isn't like one of those flimsy internal doors, Jasmine. It's designed to keep a violent living creature safely penned up so the Klavites can take their armour off in safety. It'll be a few minutes, so make yourself comfortable."
That, at least, was an easy order to follow, and she let her weary, aching limbs go slack as she watched him work his way inch by inch around the hatch, his head cocked on one side listening for she knew not what. Swallowing emptily in her dry throat, she tried not to imagine what she was going to see when this door was finally opened.
There was a clunk. The Doctor placed his palm against the door to hold it closed.
"You might want to stay back."
She shuffled backwards just a few inches, her eyes never leaving the hatch, and he didn't press the point. Carefully he let the door swing open, and Heffer's limp body flopped out to fall heavily to the earth.
The Doctor was crouched over him in a second, heedless of Jasmine's strangled cry, pressing two fingers against the man's throat. He sighed.
"No, he's dead. Neck broken."
Jasmine shoved her way forward to see, and instantly wished she hadn't. Heffer's head lolled at a hideous, unnatural angle on his shoulders, his half open eyes staring glassily into nothing.
"I killed him?" she whispered. "In the crash?"
The Doctor pulled back to give her room.
"No, he's been dead for a while," he said heavily. "I think they must have killed him straight away. Seems they weren't looking for live specimens on this trip."
Jasmine looked down at the body of her guardian, who she had disliked and ridiculed all her life, and who had died to protect her. She laid her fingertips on his cold, clammy white cheek.
"I never knew him."
She felt the Doctor's hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Jasmine."
Then, with much straining and cursing, Jasmine squeezed herself out through the hatch and tumbled helplessly down into the muddy puddle which had formed below. She sat there, utterly exhausted, mouth hanging open, wrist bleeding, soaked, bedraggled hair plastered over her shoulders and forehead, wrapped in the torn and filthy rags which had once been her finest white dress. With an effort, she lifted her head and dumbfoundedly took in the carnage about her.
Her guardian's house, her home, was completely destroyed right down to the foundations. It looked like an archaeological dig. The four Klavite mechanical giants lay crumpled and motionless amongst the rubble. But what stung her to her feet was the sight of the Doctor's house, in which she had seen him take refuge just moments before, lying so ruined she could barely make out where it had stood. Nothing could possibly have survived.
"Oh God," she muttered. "What have I done?"
At a stumbling run, tripping repeatedly over loose bricks, she made her way forward, clinging to the insane hope that he could somehow still be alive. He always knew what to do. He was always in control. It was inconceivable this stupid accident could get the better of him. But there was scarcely one stone still standing upon another. The only thing that seemed to have miraculously remained intact was the mysterious, eight foot tall blue box.
Jasmine advanced on it cautiously. It had been flung aside into a mound of loose earth, but although partially buried had somehow stayed upright. As she drew near, the flimsy looking wooden door opened half way, and the Doctor's head popped cautiously out.
"Jasmine!"
She was so busy feeling the same sentiment herself that she missed the relief in his voice. He flung the door open and ran across to her, placed his hands agitatedly on her forehead, then her shoulders, as if expecting to detect some signs of damage under his fingertips. He felt his way down her arms, then took her hands and turned them over to inspect the gash on her wrist.
"Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
"I'm..." She couldn't express how she felt. "I'm very tired."
He released her abruptly and stepped back.
"That's to be expected." He regarded her for a moment, head angled quizzically on one side. "I can't believe I made you do that, Jasmine. It's a miracle you weren't killed."
"It's all right," she said, her weariness manifesting itself as a kind of mellow feeling that made it impossible to get upset about anything. "I know why you did it."
"Well. I promise not to bully you into doing anything like that ever again."
"And I," Jasmine found herself saying, "Promise not to let you."
He raised his eyebrows, then with a half smile bobbed his head in a kind of perfunctory bow of acknowledgement. The next moment, his eyes left hers and with an air of bemusement he was surveying the wreckage that surrounded them
"Oh my. What exactly happened here? I wasn't watching the monitor."
Jasmine pointed.
"I crashed the saucer into everything."
"Oh, I see." The Doctor eyed the fallen Klavites and nodded approvingly. "They need to recharge from their ship every few hours, so I was just going to hide out in the Tardis and let them wind down. But this is much better. Leaves us free to concentrate on the reason we started all this." He switched his gaze to the battered hulk of the saucer and drew from his coat pocket a silvery metal device the shape and size of a fountain pen but studded with mysterious polygonal attachments at one end. "Let us see if we can find your guardian."
With a stab of shame Jasmine realised she had forgotten they were supposed to be saving Heffer from his imprisonment on the Klavite ship, and she picked her feet up, trying to recover a sense of purpose as she followed the Doctor back to the saucer.
"They couldn't have fitted him down the main the corridor," he remarked, crouching down to gain access to the up ended entrance chamber. "So if he's here this is where he'll be."
Kneeling, Jasmine watched him run the device around the four foot square outline of a hatch that took up most of one wall of the chamber. It emitted a high pitched whine just on the edge of hearing as he worked.
"You can open it?" she asked. "Why didn't you just do that in the first place? I wouldn't have had to all that wriggling around down flooded corridors."
"Now she's criticising," he muttered to himself, then spoke up. "This isn't like one of those flimsy internal doors, Jasmine. It's designed to keep a violent living creature safely penned up so the Klavites can take their armour off in safety. It'll be a few minutes, so make yourself comfortable."
That, at least, was an easy order to follow, and she let her weary, aching limbs go slack as she watched him work his way inch by inch around the hatch, his head cocked on one side listening for she knew not what. Swallowing emptily in her dry throat, she tried not to imagine what she was going to see when this door was finally opened.
There was a clunk. The Doctor placed his palm against the door to hold it closed.
"You might want to stay back."
She shuffled backwards just a few inches, her eyes never leaving the hatch, and he didn't press the point. Carefully he let the door swing open, and Heffer's limp body flopped out to fall heavily to the earth.
The Doctor was crouched over him in a second, heedless of Jasmine's strangled cry, pressing two fingers against the man's throat. He sighed.
"No, he's dead. Neck broken."
Jasmine shoved her way forward to see, and instantly wished she hadn't. Heffer's head lolled at a hideous, unnatural angle on his shoulders, his half open eyes staring glassily into nothing.
"I killed him?" she whispered. "In the crash?"
The Doctor pulled back to give her room.
"No, he's been dead for a while," he said heavily. "I think they must have killed him straight away. Seems they weren't looking for live specimens on this trip."
Jasmine looked down at the body of her guardian, who she had disliked and ridiculed all her life, and who had died to protect her. She laid her fingertips on his cold, clammy white cheek.
"I never knew him."
She felt the Doctor's hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Jasmine."