The Doctor moved forward steadily, fighting the urge to run. He knew that he needed to exercise caution; whatever was waiting for Rose could prove even more dangerous if threatened. He directed the torch's beam ahead. It shone down the tunnel, twenty meters at least, but he could not see what it illuminated, as the passageway sloped downward. However, he could use his other senses to obtain some information about what lay ahead.
The smell grew stronger by the instant. It was an odd amalgamation of cloying sweetness and fusty decomposition. He was reminded for a moment of the Amorphophallus titanum, the Terran plant whose blooms seemed to reek of fleshy decay.
Finally he could see what lay ahead, at the end of the tunnel. He stopped, frozen for a moment as he took in the sight. A massive plant filled most of the shaft. Its viney branches stretched upward and out across the ground. The nearest tendril was less than a meter from his feet, and the long, sharp thorns were easily visible.
The main portion of the plant was much denser, with vines coiled tightly and heavy leaves clustered around half a dozen large pods that sat just above the root ball. The vines protected all but two of the pods, and Rose knelt before one of them. A man dressed in coveralls sat near the other one, and three other men lay among the vines, near the wall. There was something inside each pod, something light-colored. The Doctor directed the beam to the pod before Rose, but her body blocked the light. He shifted his hand to aim the torch at the other pod.
He took a few steps forward to be certain that he could see clearly, hoping that his eyes were mistaken—but he knew, with a rare pang of regret at his Time Lord arrogance, that they were not. In the pod lay the body of a man, pale and lifeless. The man's stomach, however, was dark, stained with something that stood out against the waxen skin.
He had to get closer to see the other pod. He took another step, and he felt something tug at his ankle. A glance down was all it took to realize that the tendril had coiled around his leg, its wicked thorns pressing against his jeans. He pulled his leg back, but the vine tightened. For an instant he understood how Rose must have felt when her entire body was wrapped in the plant's cruel embrace.
Looking about quickly, he spotted a heavy pick and silently thanked whatever miner had dropped it. It occurred to him suddenly that the miner had not abandoned his pick out of carelessness but rather out of duress. The Doctor lifted the tool and brought the point down upon the part of the vine that lay on the ground. It was made of tough plant fiber, and he had to strike it hard several times before he could sever it. And still the portion around his ankle clung on.
He used the end of the pick to pry it off, finding it less tenacious now that it was separated from the plant. Yet even as he flung the piece away, the vine was slithering toward him. He dodged it with a few neat steps as he moved closer to the pods and Rose.
He was close enough now to see the man and the contents of his pod clearly. His hissed in disgust when he realized that the stain on the body was blood and entrails. Something had ripped a hole in the man's abdomen, either to reach inside or to claw its way out.
"Rose!" he cried, hopping to the side to avoid the clutch of the tendril. A second one was wavering in the air, stretching up as a cobra stands to mesmerize its prey. In an instant it had leaped toward him, reaching for his arm. He propelled himself back, just out of its grasp.
"Rose!" he called again. "Come here!"
But she did not seem to hear him. He saw no response from her. Now he had to keep moving, hopping and jumping to avoid the tendrils that writhed toward him. He used the pick to strike at them, which seemed to deter each one for only a few seconds. He had to get to Rose, to pull her away from the pod. Instinctively he knew that whatever lay inside would harm her.
As he feinted to the side, he was able to shine the beam into the pod before Rose. He was not surprised to see that a body lay inside it. What shocked and appalled him was that the body had Rose's face. And, unlike the other pod's body, this one had no marks upon it; the skin was pristine and flawless.
"Rose! Get back!" he yelled, but still she did not respond. She seemed transfixed by the body in the pod.
As he watched, its hands lifted and its eyes opened. It began to uncurl itself, stretching its arms and legs out then shifting to sit up. Rose was swaying toward it, reaching out her arm to take its hand. Her other hand was pressed over her stomach, fingers spasming in pain. Her mouth was moving, and he realized that she was moaning, a bizarre sort of sound made up of both agony and ecstasy.
He had kept his eyes on Rose for too long; a tendril swept up around his calf, and another twined around his left hand. A lantern hung near him, suspended from the wall by an iron hook. Quickly he reached into his pocket for a match, whipping his hand up to light the wick. He held his breath for an instant until the flame sprang up, illuminating the shaft.
"Damn it!" he spat out, slamming the torch against the nearest vine. "Leave me alone already!" He stabbed and hacked at the vine on his hand, trying to pull his free leg away from a third vine rapidly approaching it. When he had cut the stalk, he ripped it away from his hand and bent to deliver a blow to the sinuous tendril that held his leg.
Finally freeing himself, he swung the pick at the several vines that were almost dancing around him, hopping out of reach of them and moving closer to Rose. His eyes flicked to the miner, and he watched for a moment in disgust as the man reached into the open, gaping abdominal cavity, thrusting his hand deeply inside. A faint glow emanated from the massive wound, surrounding the man's hand with a gentle light. The blank expression on the miner's face changed, and he seemed to notice his surroundings for the first time. His head rotated to look at Rose then back at the Doctor, and he began to stand.
The female body was now sitting fully upright in the pod, pulling Rose toward it. She did not resist, despite the Doctor's repeated pleas for her to step back, to move away. He hacked at the vines twisting and twitching all around him, trying to prevent him from reaching Rose.
She turned half-way, and he could see her face. It was convulsed with pain, but a strange pleasure seemed to shine in her eyes; her mouth was open slightly in an expression of awe. The female body held her wrist in one hand, and Rose grasped her shirt with the other, lifting it up, exposing her stomach.
"No, Rose, no!" the Doctor cried, watching in repulsion as the skin of her abdomen undulated and bulged, three knots rising then coalescing into one in a strange and oddly coordinated rhythm.
The female pulled Rose closer, pressing a hand over Rose's belly, over the protrusion. The face, so precisely like Rose's in its features, was blank.
"Rose!" the Doctor yelled, "look at her face!"
Rose had tilted her head back, eyes closing half-way. Her arms hung down limply at her sides. The hand against her stomach was moving, fingers curling as though it would grasp something.
One particularly tenacious tendril had wrapped around the Doctor's leg, reaching up to his thigh. He threw the torch to the ground then gripped the creeper in his hand, not even feeling the thorns stabbing into his flesh, and gave it a furious tug. It broke off in his hand, and, freed for the moment, he rushed at Rose.
He grabbed her shoulders, prepared to wrench her away, but when he tugged she remained where she was. He glanced down to see that vines were wrapped around her feet and ankles.
"Now this is just gettin' ridiculous!" he growled.
The female's fingers were pressing into Rose, into her flesh, clamping over the bulge that seemed to rise up to meet her hand. Small rivulets of blood ran down Rose's stomach as the woman's nails dug into her. He had to get her away. He wrapped his arm around her chest and pulled her back, twisting her to the side as the hand drove forward with such force that the body fell from the pod.
It landed on the mass of vines, and they stopped writhing, loosening their hold on Rose's ankles for a second or two. The Doctor yanked her up upward, one arm clamped over her chest as the other swung down to pull her legs out of the grasp of the vines.
Suddenly she seemed to snap back into full awareness. "What're you doin'?" she rasped out. "Let me go!"
She hit at him with her fists and clawed at the arm across her chest. He was side-stepping the vines, trying to hold her as he did so. But she was twisting and kicking, desperate to free herself. She began to slip from his grip.
"Stop it, Rose!" he commanded, voice booming out and echoing against the stone walls.
"Let me go!" she cried again. "I have to go. I have to—"
And her arms were reaching out to the female who tottered before her, naked and white, eyes glassy and hands stretching out to Rose.
"Look at her, Rose!" the Doctor ordered, setting her back on the ground. He took a moment to lift his hand to her face, turning her head so that she stared straight at the figure in front of her. "Rose! Look!"
She blinked, and she stopped struggling. "Oh my God."
"You have to run, Rose. Get out of here as fast as you can. Go down the tunnel until you reach the ladder—"
Rose was frozen, staring at the twin in front of her. "No," she said slowly, hand caressing her belly once more, "I have to give it to her. She needs it."
"Rose!" he was nearly screaming. He took her arm, hard, and flung her away. "Go!"
Still she paused, mesmerized. More tendrils were moving toward the Doctor, and the miner was lumbering at him as well. The Time Lord muttered a string of curses then lifted the pick. He swung it up then brought it down in a wide arc, catching the miner in the chest. The man stumbled then opened his mouth, blood welling up and burbling out over his lips. As the Doctor pulled the pick from him, he crumpled to the ground.
"You killed him!" Rose cried. "He was part of it, part of me!" She ran at him, fury etched in her face, but he lifted a hand and slammed it into her forehead, forcing her to stumble back. She cried out in pain, wrapping her arm around her stomach.
The woman's fingers were twitching, clasping as she reached out again. Rose was crying, hands pressing over the moving flesh in her belly.
"She needs it," she sobbed. "She has to have it—"
"No, Rose, she doesn't." The Doctor's voice was firm yet icily calm as he caught the woman's hair in his hand, pulling her head back to hold her firmly. Her face—Rose's face—was inches from his own, and for an instant he hesitated, wanting to spare her, hating to do this to the thing that looked exactly like his friend.
Rose was pummeling him with her fists, screaming in rage and pain and frustration. The woman's hand shot out again, and the Doctor jerked her to the side, bringing up the pick to catch her just beneath the sternum. The tool slid into her, deeply, and her mouth opened in a reflexive response.
Rose shrieked then froze, watching in horror as her twin began to fall. The Doctor pushed the body back, and it landed next to the pod, crushing a heavy cluster of vines. The tendrils stilled for a moment. A sweet scent permeated the air, stronger than it had been before, and the Time Lord noticed the flowers blooming on this part of the plant for the first time.
When Rose gasped, he turned back to her. She was staring at her stomach, at the bulge, as though she realized finally that it should not be there. "Oh my God, oh God," she murmured. She looked up at him. "Get it out!" she pleaded. "You have t' get it out!"
He took her arm, preparing to run as the tendrils began creeping upward again. But something among the flowers had caught his eye, and he spun back, pushing the woman's lifeless body away and tearing at the vines. Beneath them he found a quivering, unctuous mass of roots. He still held the pick, and he lifted it high in the air. Vines had wrapped around his legs, and a quick glance back at Rose showed that she was similarly ensnared.
He swung the pick with all his strength, hitting the center of the ball. The vines around his legs tightened for an instant then grew slack. He stepped out of them and hacked at the root ball until it lay in shreds. He grabbed the lantern, pouring kerosene over the pieces then lighting the mass with a match.
He stepped back, surveying the massive plant, finally seeing the dozens of decomposing bodies that lay wrapped in the vines all along the walls. He felt nauseous; he had to draw a deep breath to keep from vomiting.
Rose was still sobbing, and he hurried back to her, taking her arm gently and leading her away as the fire grew and consumed the remnants of the roots. It began spreading up the stalks, filling the chamber with smoke.
The Doctor put his arm around Rose and hurried down the passageway. She was still crying, still gripping her stomach, but he didn't dare to stop. He ran, dragging her along, until they reached the ladder at the ventilation shaft. He lifted her, but she was still clutching at her stomach, her eyes glazed in shock and fear. She could not grasp the ladder on her own, so he stepped up to the first rung, keeping a firm grip on her arm. He climbed up, pulling Rose behind, knowing that he should be careful with her but also realizing the urgency needed to escape the mine. Smoke was already rising up the shaft, and he couldn't be certain that he had killed the plant.
When he reached the top, he managed to pull himself out with one strong arm while still holding Rose. Then he hauled her up, drawing her back from the shaft entrance several meters before collapsing on the ground. She lay next to him while he caught his breath.
After a few moments he sat up. She was still crying, but softly now, and her hands continued to grip her stomach.
"Rose." He touched her face, brushing the hair away.
She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Get—it—out," she gasped.
Gently he moved her hands away. The gouges left by her twin's fingernails stood out on the pale, silky skin. He pressed his hand over her belly, softly at first then with more pressure. She was panting; he could feel her muscles moving as she inhaled and exhaled, and the pulse in the mesenteric artery was pounding, but her abdomen was smooth.
"It's gone," he said, relief flooding through him.
"No, it was there—it was tryin' to get out," she countered, sitting up and staring at her stomach. She began prodding her abdomen, kneading deeply with frantic fingers.
He took her hands, pulling them away. "I can't feel anythin' now. It's gone."
"But it can't be—"
"I think when I destroyed the root it was destroyed, too."
She was blinking at him in disbelief, shaking her head. Her hands, still clasped in his, were shaking. "It was in me," she began.
But he took her in his arms and held her, stroking her hair with his hand. She trembled against him, sobbing again. After a few minutes he helped her to stand then led her across the rocky plain, back toward the TARDIS.
Epilogue
Rose sat curled in an armchair, a mug of hot cocoa warming her hands. She took a sip and permitted herself a small smile when she realized that the Doctor had put tiny marshmallows in the chocolate. Her eyes wandered up to the lofty arches of the console room ceiling.
The Doctor had wanted her to remain in the infirmary, even after he'd completed the tests, but she felt safer here, more comfortable. She still had a bit of a chill, and she pulled the blanket around her shoulders.
When the Doctor entered a few minutes later, his expression told her that his news would be positive. Still, she needed to hear it.
"There's no sign of anythin' foreign in your body," he said. "An' there's no organ, vascular, or muscle damage, either."
Rose nodded, glad for the words but still confused. "I don't understand. There was somethin' in me. I could feel it, an' I could see it—hell, Doctor, you saw it, too."
He sat on the arm of the chair, pensive for a moment. "Yeah, I did." He looked down at her, traces of anxiety still on his face. "I think it was energy—a mass of energy that was drawn from the energy in your body's cells. The only unusual thing I found in your tests was a slight disruption in your cells' ability to produce energy. It was almost as if they'd been drained temporarily."
"Drained?"
"Yeah. But don't worry—they're recharging even now. There shouldn't be any long-term effects." He reached for her hand. "How're you feelin'? Still cold?"
"Just a little. The chocolate's helpin'."
He nodded. "That's the shock, mostly. I still wish you'd let me give you somethin' for it—"
She shook her head. "I'll be okay."
"Yeah." He squeezed her hand softly.
She was quiet for a time, then she spoke again. "D' you know how it all worked? How that thing—that thing that looked like me—got there?"
"It was cultivated from your DNA," he replied. "Thorns poked you, an' they extracted your DNA from the tiny bits of skin and blood that were stuck to them."
"So it was like cloning, yeah?"
"Just about."
"But it was so fast! It was only a day—"
"Time, Rose, can be relative. It may have been much longer for the plant."
Rose considered this. "Yeah? Weird. An' that thing in me—I know you said it was energy, but what exactly was it? Why was it there?"
"The thorn that punctured your stomach—the one that went in the deepest—left somethin' in your abdominal cavity, some little bit of energy that was able to draw more energy from your own cells an' grow into what you felt and saw. The clone needed the energy to be fully animate; it had your DNA, but it didn't have your life force. It needed that from you to be able to function at more than a rudimentary level. An' because the energy came from the plant, it was able to draw you back."
"The miners, Doctor…" She paused, vaguely recalling what she'd seen in the plant's chamber. "They were clones, too, weren't they?"
He nodded gravely. "The plant must've attacked them while they were working, when it was tryin' to gain strength an' expand. Once it had extracted their DNA, it used their bodies for food. There was probably a cycle—make a clone, digest the original body, then digest the clone. An' if the clones could go out an' find more bodies, even better." He shook his head in disgust.
"I think," he continued, "the dead bodies were stored in the pods after each clone was animated—it was easier for the root cluster to begin its absorption that way—then the bodies were moved out to the vines after the roots had finished."
"So the man in the pod—that was one of the miners."
"Yeah."
"Don't plants take in their food through their roots, though? How could the vines soak up nutrients?"
"Good question, Rose." He smiled his approval at her thinking. "You actually answered that yourself when you asked me about the plant needing sunlight. This plant thrived on the elements found in the human body—it didn't require photosynthesis. It absorbed what it needed directly from the bodies, probably through the thorns. Now that I think of it, maybe plant isn't the right term for it at all—"
He was lost in thought until Rose spoke again.
"Wha' about the other miners? The ones at the other mines? Did it get them, too?"
"I don't know." He stood. "But I'm gonna send a message back to the planet. If they have any functioning receivers—an' the scanners indicate that they do—they'll pick it up."
Rose nodded. "I hope it'll help."
"Me too."
He walked to the console and began typing at one of the keyboards. After he'd finished, he turned back to her. She was growing sleepy, her body finally giving in to the effects of the terrible experience. He saw her eyes closing half-way. The blanket had slipped, so he went to her and tucked it back around her shoulders.
"Mmm—" She opened her eyes. "What about the pork?" she asked sleepily.
He smiled, for once not even tempted to correct her. "Guess I forgot to mention that porquarnium was the other element the plant used for nutrition. There were traces of it in the leaves and thorns I had on my clothes. I should be able to extract enough to fix the sonic screwdriver."
Her eyelids were lowering again, but she jerked up for a second, looking at him with half-dazed eyes. "You had to kill me," she murmured.
He sighed, wishing that she hadn't remembered that dreadful moment. "It wasn't you, Rose," he said softly.
"But she looked just like me…" She yawned.
"Yeah, she did." His voice held sadness and regret.
"Hey," she said, words slightly slurred in her half-sleep. "You saw me naked."
He couldn't help but smile. "Told you, Rose, it wasn't you."
"Close enough," she sighed, then her eyes closed all the way, and her head sank back against the chair.
He bent and slid an arm under her legs and the other around her back. He began to lift her.
"What're you doin'?" she mumbled, eyes still closed.
"Putting you to bed."
"Mmm, no. Wanna stay here."
"You'll rest better in bed."
"Uhn…better… here with you."
He settled her back into the chair and watched her for a moment as her breathing evened out and her body finally relaxed into deep slumber.
"Yeah," he said, voice barely a whisper, "better here with you, too."
