The Doctor's Story
8 Months, 1 Week Later
"I'm sorry it had to come to this Miss Grant… you were the perfect companion."
The Doctor shuddered as the needles pierced the limp form. A pale clear fluid seeped from the wounds and puddled at the bottom of the pod. He closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath. "I'm sorry, but you're the only hope I have left."
The hanger bay around him was massive in scale and echoed with silence. Several flitters and skiffs dotted the lift platforms, but there were no people to be seen. The Doctor kneeled over the small pod, tools and wires dancing in his hands and he cast several furtive glances at the interior doors. Before him, across the expanse of the metal floor, was a backdrop of stars and the mammoth hulk of the Torus- only the invisible semi-permeable force field separated the hanger of the station H.M.S. Faith from the vacuum of space.
"I've locked the inner doors, but there's no guarantee that will keep them out. I'm hoping they don't realize I'm doing anything special- this is simply a standard reconnaissance probe they send into the center of Torus all the time. If they realize something is amiss with probe itself, they may destroy it once it leaves the station- but it's me they want- I think." The Doctor chewed on a bit of wire. "I know this may seem a bit desperate, but there's very little time left."
The figure lay silent inside the pod.
"I don't expect you to answer of course, but I've found that if I talk through a problem as I'm working on it, I make fewer mistakes- and the others- well, I'm not quite sure what's happened to them- I only just made it off the Angelus in time myself. I hope Nyssa-" The Doctor pulled a device from his pocket and began to attach it to the side of the pod. "Even when everyone else deserted me, you've remained at my side, Miss Grant- I hate to have to do this to you, but you see, I didn't realize what Torus was. I've been working with the researchers on the project for months but I couldn't see what should have been so obvious. We spent all our time trying to send probes into the center of Torus, trying to get through to learn what was on the other side of the rift... completely the wrong approach- but I didn't realize- not until I found Nyssa's research in the mainframe about the native Toran life forms." The Doctor waved the little datapack sadly. "If only I'd spent more time assisting her."
There was a muffled bonging sound from the interior door, as if some heavy metal object was rammed against it.
"Ah, yes." The Doctor pulled the toolkit closer and rummaged through its innards. He extracted a small black bowl and placed it by the pod. "This is probably very confusing. Let me start from the beginning: Torus is old. Agonizingly old. But overall, perfectly stable. It wasn't until these idiots decided to mine the poor thing that it got nasty. When they punctured its crust and vented the plasma stream, Torus reacted defensively. It's probably what damaged the TARDIS… poor girl, she must have been scared witless. You see, the Torus is one of the few things in the universe that could damage her…"
The ominus banging on the inner door ceased. The last bong resounded ominously.
"I sent a signal out through the Ripwell months ago for the TARDIS to find us, but I am a bit worried that the old thing hasn't turned up yet."
Klaxons sounded and red lights began to flare, turning the hanger into a giant, deadly discotheque.
"Hmmm…." The Doctor causally reached over and flicked a switch on the upturned bowl that looked for all the world like a spaghetti strainer. There was a momentary globular purple flash that enveloped both the Doctor and the pod. "I was wondering how long it would take them to think of that."
The force field spanning the main door sputtered and died. The air screamed away out through the opening, the precious oxygen dispersing at terrifying velocities. The moisture froze into tiny crystals that raced into space.
The Doctor sucked on a screwdriver, happily protected within his invisible bubble, still chatting away. "Now, let's see where was I… despite all our attempts, we haven't been able to get a probe through the center of Torus; they just pass through the top and out the bottom, but not apparently through the rift itself. They no longer function, but otherwise they're perfectly unharmed. Just like, as far as we can tell, the bodies on what was left of the Angelus that got hit by a tendril. Although they were dead, their bodies were completely intact with no apparent cause of death.
"Now, the virus that was decimating the Torans started at the same time that the drilling operations began- complete coincidence if you listen to the corporate lawyers of course.Nyssa discovered a cure thatI spent all yester day analyzing... this is, of course, when things get interesting."
The red lights stopped flashing and the main lighting dimmed as the hanger force field reactivated and the main ventilations systems resumed pumping in air.
"I'll try to put this in the simplest terms possible- everything has an energy signature, whether it's a cat, a dog, a carrot, salad dressing…" The Doctor waved around him for emphasis. "Everything can be represented by this signature. For instance, you may hear a song, but you can also see the pattern displayed on the average sound system. Energy represented in different forms. Objects can have their patterns represented in the same way. Now, the big question is, why do you like that song and not others? Why do you like certain paintings but not others?"
The hangar was deathly quiet.
"They say that there's no explaining taste, but you see, it's a question of frequency. Since everyone has there own wavelength, a unique signature at a unique point in time that represents them and only them. Other patterns you encounter can conflict, even cancel out- i.e. you will only like things that are on the same wavelength, or on a completely opposite one. Essentially what Nyssa discovered was that the indigenous life forms evolved by feeding off the background energy leaking from Torus. When the miners vented the plasma stream, it altered the energy signature that they fed off, and they began to starve. Nyssa's solution was simple but elegant. She introduced a counter frequency, altering the background pattern into one that that was more compatible with the life forms by using sort of an electromagnetic virus wave form."
The Doctor paused, considering. "I sometimes wonder what I did to deserve her… She sort of just popped up on Logopolis- terribly convenient. It's always bothered me a bit…"
Then he spied the first of the SVE helmets popping over the edge of the outer hanger door. The guards cautiously pulled themselves into the hanger and removed their helmets, primed their rifles and strode across the vast open space towards the Time Lord.
The Doctor overturned the toolkit, scattering the implements across the floor in his haste to find a finklegruber. He contined talking, but faster now. "To beat the song analogy to death, the tendrils lift the music off the page; the paper and the notes are still there, but the sound is gone. The song could be played again of course, but it wouldn't sound exactly the same. That's why none of the bodies were physically harmed; their atoms remained, but their energy was lifted out, leaving nothing behind…. we've never been able to revive them. I suppose you could say it took their 'soul', but I'm not really that sort of person… and it is that signature which is sent through the gateway, through the dimensional rift in the center of Torus. I have a hunch why it would be constructed to do this, but why isn't the important question right now. The mining operations are causing Torus to lash out in self-defense- I fear it is going to send out a final massive defensive pulse of these tendrils, which will suck the life out of everything, well for at least several galactic clusters. It will probably use the Ripwell system to reach other systems- inadvertently, but still catastrophic… I did warn them about positioning a Huxem gravity portal so close…"
The Doctor snapped the final connection in place and started slamming inspection hatches shut as the boots clicked nearer. He ignored the shouting. "We've tried probing into and punching our way through Torus, knocking on the 'door' if you like, but no one's thought of talking to the door itself. I have to convince it not to send out any more pulses- which is where you come in I'm afraid, Miss Grant."
The figure in the pod trembled with the vibrations as the Doctor powered up the pod's thruster cells.
The guards closed in a circle around the Doctor- but they were savvy enough to stand out of the way of the pod's nose cone. One stepped to the perimeter of the Doctor's force bubble and tapped the edge with a device that resembled a meat thermometer. It buzzed quietly as the Doctor continued to apologize to his captive.
"I've used a variation's of Nyssa's cure, sort of a retro-virus. But it only works on organic matter. It's, um, sort of added to your energy signature- piggybacked you with a message. For Torus. To end all this. I only hope it's in an agreeable mood to listen."
The power pack on the Doctor's bubble-field quavered and died as the last of the energy was siphoned away by the guard's equipment.
The suited figures pressed their rifles inches from his face. Their helmets were clipped to their belts; their faces were angry and grim as they glared down at him.
The Doctor looked up at them and smiled a sheepish grin. "It's ah, well it's a bit funny," he began. "You see, I usually have better timing than this."
The rifles emitted an ominous whine as they were primed. Six laser sights painted the Doctor's hearts- both of them- the red dots skittering over the coarse wool of his jumper.
The chanting, when it came, was barely audible, but it brought a huge smile to the Doctor's face. "There she is…" he sighed.
As the soldiers looked around in alarm, the Doctor stared down at his last remaining companion of this regeneration. "Jo would have been proud." He closed the panel and sat back on his rump as the pod's thrusters kicked it forward scattering the guards. "Insulted at first," the Doctor considered as he watched it skip through the hanger and soar through space towards Torus. "But proud. Eventually." The pod shrank to an invisible point in the black void. "Probably."
The rhythm of the giant voices hammered through the hanger, deafening in volume, the same rhythm repeating over and over again, roaring and wheezing and groaning in a familiar sound that the Doctor rarely had the opportunity to hear- only now did he appreciate how wonderful it trulywas.
The sixty-foot Moai statue shuddered into existence in the center of the hanger, towering over the guards, its white eyes glowing, its dark volcanic form dripping blood.
The guards opened fire, their rifles spitting glowing energy bolts that bounced off the form, ricocheted around the hanger and slammed into the flitters and skiffs that twisted and burst in loud, violent, coughing explosions.
The Doctor ran at the guards from behind, leaping and rotating his body ninety degrees at the last second, his chest, legs and feet crashing into the small of their backs, bowling them over. As they sprawled forward onto the floor, the Doctor carried the momentum of his roll and sprinted for the colossal statue.
As the Doctor got closer, the Moai flickered its colors, shifting from black to white, to red to gold to green to yellow, ramping downward to a familiar and solid blue. The shape shrank in stature, becoming thicker, more box-like. More like home.
And as the Doctor threw himself through the TARDIS doors, the tiny probe flew through off into space, skimming above the atmosphere of Torus and curving in an arc that lead straight for the center of the planetary donut.
It rushed headlong into the blue tendril of energy that lashed out to meet it. The fiery blue light slipped through the surface of the pod and scythed through the pod's silent prisoner.
The tiny pod re-emerged on the other side of Torus, its hull intact, but its energy systems were dead. It continued to drift- its lone occupant, a solitary stalk of celery, remained nestled amid a cluster of defunct wires and needles. The pod drifted off into deep space, while behind it the atmosphere of Torus raged in a fierce blue light. The raped plasma fountain geysered outwards in fury towards the mining ships, catching several smaller ships off guard. The larger mining vessels began to veer away- but too late.
From the center of Torus swept a double mushroom shaped blue shcokwave- the energy pulse that would decimate a multi-verse swelled outwards from Torus and boiled with antic light as it headed for the cluster of orbital stations and research vessels- and the welcoming mouth of the Ripwell which would spread the blue fury through the unsuspecting outer systems.