THE
PLAGUE
OF
TERMINAL
CITY
By
X5R-731
Disclaimer: Cameron and company owns Dark Angel, while Doctor Who is the property of the BBC. Please, please, please don't sue me.
HOLOCAUSTIt was getting harder and harder for Destrii to breathe. Her once gorgeous, smooth blue skin was turning orange and becoming rough and cracked. The humans had put her in some kind of baking chamber. It wasn't warm enough to harm humans – make them sweat; dehydrate them at worst but nothing more. However, for a being like Destrii who spent thirty per cent of her life in water, it was the equivalent of an incinerator.
Mole was in a similar situation only he'd been locked in a freezer. Being cold-blooded he could feel his body shutting down, going into a type of forced hibernation. Only he doubted it was a hibernation he would wake up from. He tried to keep his blood circulating, stay upright, continue moving but it was futile. His reptilian DNA was the dominant part. He collapsed and felt blackness overtake him.
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"So," the Doctor said. "The petty little war between the Rutans and the Sontarans has swung back towards this harmless little backwater galaxy."
The green glowing cadaver looked at the Doctor in surprise. "You know us?"
"I've had the misfortune of encountering various facets of your Host. Although I must confess I seem to spend more time in the company of those potato-headed cretins you've been pointlessly fighting with for the last couple of eons."
"Not for much longer."
"I seem to have heard that before - from both sides. I presume you are responsible for this disease."
"Yes, we are."
"Not true," Ferrara objected. "I conceived and engineered the virus myself. In my own lab!"
"We supplied the necessary information and adjusted your research to reach the desired results."
"My calculations-"
"Were negligible. You're knowledge of viral engineering is haphazard at best. Your ego would simply not allow you to accept that."
"As much as I enjoy watching a mad scientist's ego being deflated, what is the Host's interest in this world? The war isn't scheduled to swing back this way for another six decades. And why the designer virus – why just target the transgenics?"
"The plan was to sterilize the planet with a lethal pathogen. However we did not foresee the presence of primitive eugenic experiments. We had to observe the effects on the mutates before releasing it upon the general populace. There was a minute chance the virus would not effect the genetically engineered anthropoids. While the virus does not act as quickly, the overall results are acceptable."
"What about the Beastials," the Doctor asked. "Your disease barely touches them."
"The animates are a negligible threat. They will be eliminated by conventional means."
"But why," Senator Tarrison demanded, close to hysterics. "What for? Why are you doing this?"
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Somewhere, far away, Destrii thought she could hear gunfire – or she would have if she wasn't trying to force air through her sand dry throat. It wasn't until the door of her cell was ripped off its hinged, that she was aware of the world again. She looked up to see a familiar silver giant framed in the doorway.
"Kroton," she croaked.
He reached down and dragged her into the hall. He yanked the sprinkler pipes out of the ceiling, flooding the hallway and drenching Destrii. Destrii gasped in shocked surprise as the life-giving element rehydrated and rejuvenated her. Her wrinkled, orange skin regained its original suppleness and healthy blue covering. She crawled to her feet gulping down water as it continued to pour from the ceiling.
While the water healed her, Kroton punched a hole in Mole's cell door and pulled it down. He went inside and dragged the shivering, frost covered homo reptilicus out. Kroton leaned over the almost comatose Mole, his headlight glowing softly. The ice melted off his scales and his shaking subsided.
"Kroton-"
"He will recover."
"Yeah, great," she said dismissively. "How about you? Are you-"
"I am myself again."
"Well bully for you," Mole sneered, getting stiffly to his feet. "Don't think that makes up for killing Joshua."
Kroton grabbed Destrii and Mole and spun them around behind him as the air filled with bullets. Kroton shielded them as the lethal lead pellets bounced off his hide. Destrii wriggled out of his grip and leapt at the armoured Chosen Children soldiers, dropkicking one in the chest. She swept the other ones legs out of from under him. When he tried to sit up Destrii punched him across the face, knocking him out. She stood up, brushing her hands.
"You can get up now."
Mole shook off Kroton's hand as they stood up. Heavy footsteps could be heard approaching. "Sounds like company's coming."
Kroton looked blankly ahead. "The Doctor is in danger."
Destrii rolled her eyes. "Big surprise."
"I must go," he said distractedly. Kroton turned and walked away.
After exchanging confused glances, Destrii said, "So scaly buns, you wanna see how many of these goons we can take out before we get tired?"
Mole smiled with manic glee. "Wish I had a cigar." He snatched up one of the guard's rifles and charged in the direction of the reinforcements.
"No fair using guns," Destrii whined.
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The commotion could be heard in the Senator's office.
"Sounds like trouble," Max said.
"It is of no consequence," the Rutan with Robert Sanford's face stated.
"Robert," Julia said pleadingly.
"Oh I imagine Mr. Sanford was replaced some time ago, wasn't he?" the Doctor enquired.
"The being known as 'Robert Sanford' was substituted five-hundred and thirty-six solar cycles ago."
"Following death by electrocution and a quick exploratory surgery."
"It is procedure."
Tarrison looked beseechingly at her old friend. "But-"
"Oh shut up you stupid woman," Torrance screamed. "Can't you see its one of them! One of those things, those unholy abominations bred in that Satan's crucible called Manticore. You've had one among us the whole time and you didn't know!" He approached 'Robert' full of righteous fury and the Wrath of God. "Demon, devil! The power of Christ compels you!"
"Torrance," the Doctor cried. "Whatever you do don't touch him."
Torrance either couldn't or wouldn't hear him. "In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, I banish you back to the pit from whence you came!"
Torrance slapped the palm of his hand on 'Robert's' forehead. The glowing cadaver remained motionless as several thousand volts of electricity passed from it into this presumptive biped. The minister screamed as every nerve ending in his body burned. He didn't stop screaming until his charred skeleton collapsed to the floor.
"That was unnecessary," the Doctor said angrily.
"We have endured these presumptuous primitive anthropoids, but that one in particular taxed our resolve more than most."
"Why does he keep referring to himself in the plural," Max asked. "Exactly how many are in there?'
"Just one. The Rutans have no sense of self-identity. They are a minor gestalt entity whose sole purpose is to protect and obey the Great Mother."
"How do you know the Great Mother," the Rutan demanded.
"I read a lot – and I travel. But I've never been to Ruta 3, a bit to chilly for humanoid life. Look, do we really need to keep up the pretense? I'm pretty sure everyone's grasped the fact you're not even remotely human."
"Very well."
'Robert' straightened and glowed so bright everyone but the Doctor had to shield his or her eyes. When the light dimmed they could make out a luminous green jellyfish-like creature hovering before them, its tentacles swaying lethally around it.
"There, doesn't that feel better? Now are you in an expository mood or should we guess why an expantionist empire at war is trying to wipe out a species of no threat to it light years from the battle lines."
"This world will be used to end the war."
"How?"
"When the virus has run it course a small contingent will establish itself to lure the Sontarans here. The contingent will be sacrificed to solidify the illusion of this planets importance. When the Sontaran rabble find nothing of value they will leave taking the virus with them."
"Where it will mutate again and spread throughout the Sontaran Empire, am I right?"
"Correct."
"You mean to tell me they're wiping up out just to create a tactical edge," Max ejaculated.
"That's about the size of it.
The office door was smashed open revealing and enraged Cyberman.
"Rutan," Kroton bellowed. "You did this to me! Turned me back into a monster – made me kill again. You will pay for that."
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As the last Chosen Children acolyte fell, Mole looked up at Destrii, surrounded by the bodies of her enemies. Her skin shone with perspiration, a manic smile splashed across her face with an almost orgasmic gleam in her eye. Mole was mesmerized as her bosom heaved with one deep breath after another. This was quite possibly the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. Throwing away his gun, he grabbed Destrii and kissed her brutally. Destrii returned the kiss with equal ferocity. They stumbled around the bodies of their enemies before crashing through a wall, completely oblivious to everything.
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Kroton lunged at the glowing green orb. The Rutan reacted by whipping out its tentacles and wrapping them around Kroton's arms. Legs and neck. It reminded the Doctor of an incident four lifetimes ago when him and Leela were sailing to Easter Island (he couldn't remember what happened to the TARDIS).
Somewhere in the South Pacific they witnessed a struggle between a sperm whale and a giant squid. The squid had its tentacles wrapped around that massive head pecking away with its beak desperately trying not to get eaten. Meanwhile the whale burst from the ocean and smashed back down trying to disorientate its prey long enough to get it in its huge maw. Two titans of the deep struggling to survive. It was the same here: Cyberman's brute strength against Rutan cunning. Kroton tore at the tendrils around him as lethal volts of electricity coursed through him.
"Not … this … time!" Kroton ground out.
He pulled at the tentacles until the glowing green blob was in front of him. A destructive beam shot from Kroton's forehead light, slicing through the gelatinous alien. The Rutan shrieked as it flew backwards, the heat boiling its innards. The stunned humans watched with horrified fascination as the luminescent jellyfish shriveled up and melted, leaving just a puddle of green goo on the floor. Kroton, meanwhile, staggered back into a wall and sank to the floor.
The Doctor approached him cautiously and said, "Kroton?"
"I am myself again Doctor." Kroton pulled himself to his feet and approached Max. "Max, I wish I could express my deep regret and sorrow over the death of Joshua-"
"Save it," Max said, raising a hand. "We got bigger problems right now."
Images of people dying from the disease filled the screens. The way it was spreading there was no way they could synthesize enough of the cure in time to get the contagion under control, cases were already being reported in Canada and Mexico. Suddenly she could hear a dull roar coming from overhead outside. The television screens showed that the sky over Seattle was full of helicopters all marked with a winged globe with the letters UNFHD labeled across it.
"What's that?"
"The cavalry," the Doctor said. "I hope."
The choppers swooped over the city dumping a clear liquid chemical.
"Excellent," the Doctor exclaimed, joyfully. "The chemical should neutralize the disease long enough for medical personnel to administer the anti-toxin. Mr. Cale must have been able to get out my message."
"Not exactly," Kroton put in. "He tried to but was overcame by the virus before he could finish sending the message. I finished his task."
"What?" Max started. The thought of Logan dying from the plague was too much to bear. After everything they'd been through, Logan couldn't die from another disease. "C'mon, we gotta get back."
Just then men in blue and black combat fatigues flooded into the senator's office, rifle's leveled.
"United Nations Foreign Hazard Detail. Everyone remain calm and this will all be over quickly." One of the soldiers announced. According to his nametag, he was identified as Pelago.
Upon seeing Kroton, the FHD immediately trained their weapons on the silver giant. The Doctor jumped in front of them, arms outstretched pleadingly. "No, no, he is a good Cyberman." At their disbelieving looks, the Doctor rummaged quickly through his pockets. "Yes, well, unbelievable as that sounds I have something that will convince you otherwise." After pulling out a slingshot, a pair of spoons and a ball of yarn, he handed Master Corporal Pelago a plastic ID card.
The corporal snapped to attention. "Sir."
"None of that now," the Doctor said, stuffing the card back in his breast pocket. "Doctor will do just fine. The young lady with child and the silver chap are with me. Now, the people you really want to talk to, or at least your superiors will, are the stunned civil servant and the fellow with the broken hand."
"Understood, sir. A way has been cleared for your departure."
"Friends of ours are being held somewhere," Max said. "We're not leaving without them."
Pelago put his hand to his ear, receiving instructions through a miniature radio no doubt. After exchanging some confused looks with his troops, he said, "We just got a report of a naked lizard man and a topless fish girl jumping out of a second floor window. Friends of yours?"
"Naked?" Kroton said.
"Topless?" Max queried.
"Right," the Doctor said quickly, pushing Max and Kroton forcibly out the door. "Time we were off. See you at Terminal City."
The next month and a half was a blur for the denizens of Terminal City. Seattle and the rest of the west coast became a UN protectorate zone under the direct authority of the FHD. Under the command of Colonel Martha Makepeace, the FHD worked with the transgenics and the local medical units to administer the cure and treat the sick. Washington was making a big stink about foreign troops occupying American soil. The United Nations replied coldly that the United States had deliberately allowed a possible pandemic to go unchecked and untreated, and when the virus spread outside U.S. borders it became a global issue, therefore it fell under the jurisdiction of the FHD. In true political style, the president and congress quickly began passing the buck until it landed solely on Senator Julia Tarrison and her cronies. Most of them quickly turned on each other in favour of lighter sentences and amnesty. Either way the good senator was being hung out to dry and was flapping in the breeze. Ferrara was being charged with unethical experiments, torture and illegal research. He was trying to cut a deal but wasn't having much luck.
Amidst the chaos, Terminal City found time to dispose of the dead. Joshua and a few others were respectfully wrapped in shrouds and placed on funeral pyres. Max watched the flickering flamed hypnotically as they consumed the gentle dog man's body, Logan hovering at her side (he'd managed to slip in but had to disappear before daybreak). The Doctor, Izzy and Destrii attended the funeral (Kroton opted not too for obvious reasons). Izzy stood next to Original Cindy wearing a simple black dress, while Destrii had traded her usual gold trimmed two-piece for a subdued one-piece purple swimsuit.
Max's gaze slowly shifted to a small group of geriatric transgenics, for the cures had come too late. When the sickness itself was gone, progeria had set in and was irreversible. Lives that had once been measured in decades now only had days left. They would be cared for, made comfortable in the time they had left, but their bitterness and despair was obvious. Logan slipped an arm around her waist drawing her attention back to the dancing flames.
Kroton sat on a toxic beach as poison waves lapped lazily on the shore. Head bowed, his hands rested on his knees, he appeared oblivious to the approach of Francie.
"Missed you at the funeral." Kroton didn't acknowledge her presence. She continued talking, mostly about nothing for a good half hour. It wasn't until she ran out of breath that Kroton eventually spoke.
"I can't stop my hands from shaking. I've done a full internal scan of my neural net and autonomous functions but can find no tangible reason why I cannot cease their involuntary movement. Also I find myself dwelling on my altercation with Joshua. For some reason my cerebral pathways continue to recount the incident despite my attempts to avoid it."
Francie placed her toxic webbed hands over his trembling metal ones. Not saying a word, she simply sat with him throughout the rest of the night.
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The morning after Joshua's funeral the Doctor was anxious to be on their way but the others insisted on saying proper good-byes. Not being one for good-bye the Doctor waited for the others in the TARDIS while they made their farewells. Original Cindy watched Izzy get dressed from the cot they shared in a guest room. Izzy was leaving and Cindy was sure she was never going to see her again.
Izzy for her part had half seriously thought about staying, this was the most comfortable she had been with another woman since Fey. But she needed to see her parents and only the Doctor could get her back. Sitting at the edge of the bed, Izzy leaned forward and kissed Original Cindy softly on the mouth before leaving.
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Destrii and Mole walked side-by-side through the filthy streets of Terminal City.
"So," Mole said puffing on a cigar. "You're leaving."
"Yep."
"Just as well. We'd only end up killing each other anyway."
"Well, one of us would end up dead."
Destrii gave Mole a smack on his backside as they continued on.
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Kroton was waiting with Francie outside the TARDIS for the girls. The Doctor was already inside the ship, anxious to leave.
"Do you have to go?" Francie asked. She liked having a friend she could touch without worrying about killing them. "You could always stay here."
The prospect of remaining in Terminal City had been an appealing one. To be amongst other outcasts such as himself was very inviting. But after his role in the death of Joshua, that was impossible. Although a tribunal of transgenics had acquitted him, he would never be accepted.
When Izzy and Destrii arrived, they all piled into the ship and before Mole and Francie's disbelieving eyes, watched the battered blue box fade out of existence.
EPILOGUE I: Warmth
Max's back was killing her. Presently she was lying on the floor of her Terminal City digs, doing her stretching exercises trying to alleviate some of the strain to her spine. It wasn't helping much. The last of the FHD forces had pulled out today. Max had to hand it to them, when they said six weeks they meant six weeks. Lieutenant-Colonel Makepeace had even stopped in to say good-bye and Max realized she was actually going to miss the matronly battle-ax. A muscle spasm in her lower back reminded her she was going to have to start delegating her responsibilities. In a month or so she would have to step down altogether.
She really missed Logan. He'd had to leave to avoid awkward questions (like why a member of an affluent family was doing mixing with the likes of Transies). She was looking forward to moving back in with Logan, she missed his cooking for starters, but more importantly she missed that secure warm sensation her immediate family surrounded her.
Max clumsily sat up, rubbing her swelling belly. Maybe now was a good time to talk to Logan about moving. With the new baby on the way, Logan's apartment would get even more cramped, it simply wasn't designed for a family. Maybe Sandeman's house, it was spacious enough and thanks to Logan's bureaucratic finagling, he owned it. The only drawback was that she was a public figure and both her and Logan were very private people and living that far away from Terminal City exposed them to more dangers than the average family had to deal with.
There was a knock on her door.
"Come in," Max said trying to get up and failing miserably, settling for a sitting position.
"Hey." Max looked up into the most famous eyes in Seattle.
"Hey yourself," she beamed, holding out her hands for him to help her up.
Logan just smiled broadly, making no move towards her. "I've got a surprise for you." He swung the door open and a pair of blue-eyed midgets in yelling, "Surprise!"
Jack and Eva rushed into Max's astonished outstretched arms. She clutched them tightly, tears swelling in her eyes as they drowned each other out with stories of what they did at Daddy's cabin. She looked up at Logan and mouthed 'Thank you' before taking his hand and allowing herself to drown in the warmth of home.
EPILOGUE II: Chill
After a quick wash and a change of clothes, Izzy returned to the console room to find the center column had stopped.
"Oh, landed already have we," she said. "So where are we?"
The Doctor said softly, "Stockbridge."
Stockbidge! It couldn't be. It took the Doctor twelve tries to get it right and even then it was usually the wrong time zone.
"December 15, 1996 to be exact." The Doctor continued. "So far as everyone you know is concerned, you've never been away."
She could step out those doors and pick up her life right where she left, no questions, no explanations. "You're sure? I mean it's not really 1996 BC and I'm not going to walk out and be captured and burned at the stake by Druids or anything, right?"
"Technically, the Druids didn't burn their victims and secondly-"
"We tapped into BBC broadcast," Destrii piped in. "It gave us the date."
"Oh," Izzy said. "Well, I guess this is good-bye." She addressed Kroton first, her bi little brother, Scarper perched on his shoulder. "Bye Kroton. Don't be afraid to try and learn more about who you used to be. I guarantee it won't be all bad."
"Izzy," he said tapping his chest. "I detect an … ache … but my internal diagnostics can't find the source."
"Its called heartbreak."
"I no longer have a heart," he said sadly.
"Trust me," she said trying not to choke on her emotions. "If you can feel, you have a heart." Izzy hugged Kroton and he returned the gesture clumsily. When they broke apart, Scarper scuttled down Kroton's arm to the back of his hand and chittered sadly. Izzy smiled and scratched between Scarper's eyes. His antennae clasped her finger in a child-like grip. "Later space bug. Keep an eye on Kroton will ya. He gets into almost as much trouble as you know who."
Then she addressed Destrii.
"Destrii."
"Izzy."
Talking to Destrii was like meeting a one-night stand and trying to pretend nothing had happened. The two of them had swapped bodies and briefly shared each other's deepest secrets and feelings. Destrii was not the person she would have chosen to share her most intimate thoughts with, but like it or not, it had happened and that made them … something.
"Bye," Izzy said.
"Yeah," Destrii replied.
They shook hands very formally before turning to say the hardest farewell of all. The Doctor stood by the console looking infinitely old and sad despite his youthful appearance and smile.
"I wish-"
The Doctor raised a hand and said quietly, "No long good-byes Izzy, you know I'm no good at them. Besides you don't want to keep your parents waiting, it would be rude to make them worry."
"Right. Thank you – for everything. What you've shown me and given me. I'll never forget that."
"Your welcome."
"And if you should come across Fey …"
"I imagine you'll hear from Fey Truscott-Sade one way or another. Good-bye Izzy."
"Good-bye Doctor."
Izzy threw her arms around the Doctor in a bear hug, which the Doctor returned. Izzy eventually ripped herself away from the comforting parental embrace and ran, tears in her eyes, out the doors. Without taking his eyes off the doors, the Doctor reached over and flicked the door switch to close. Izzy didn't turn around as she heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS take off, but instead forced herself to walk straight ahead until she reached a familiar road. Then she heard the distant sound of an antiquated motorbike. She looked up the road to see her first friendly face.
"Max," she called.
Her cries startled the rider into loosing control of his bike and careen off the road into a nearby snow bank. Izzy flinched with embarrassment before rushing over to help him.
Maxwell Edison, paranormal investigator, empath, Chairman of the Bureau of Interplanetary Liaison, and considered by everyone in Stockbridge a harmless lunatic, was a blond, scruffy, marshmallow of a man with thick black-rimmed glasses and a camera around his neck. Presently he was staring up at quite possibly his only real friend, whom he'd just last seen in front of Stobbs back in town.
"How did you-"
Izzy cut him off with a big hug. "Oh boy is it good to see you again. How've you been?"
"Uh, okay."
Izzy stood up and continued running. "Great. Sorry but I've got to get home. Come see me when you get back from Limestone Lane, I want to hear all about it. Bye."
"Bye," Maxwell replied numbly, wondering what the heck had just happened.
The Doctor looked at the console controls trying to will himself to pick a destination. He would miss Izzy. He missed them all of course, but Izzy would find herself in a very special category; the same as Ace, Peri, Adric, Leela, Sarah Jane, Jo, Jamie and Susan. The ones that mattered just a little bit more. It was Destrii who snapped him out of his funk.
"Uh, Doctor-"
"Yes, yes quite right. Time we were on our way. Now after everything we've just been through a holiday is just what we need. Caracalla I think, they have some wonderful sensory deprivation tanks, so I hear. Still if that's not your cup of tea, they cater to all forms of entertainment and life forms be they carbon, photonic, artificial and other. They have magnificent oceans, not as awe inspiring as Florana and Coralee, but you won't get bored. We'll try for the late forty-ninth century, Cybermen have largely become a special elective at snooty university study groups. Right, here we go."
As soon as the Doctor's hands touched the controls, one of the console panels exploded and the TARDIS lurched to one side, spinning wildly. Kroton's lower center of gravity prevented him from falling over, but Destrii wasn't so lucky. She had t grab one of the steel pillars to prevent herself from being battered around the room like dice in a cup. While the Doctor worked furiously to regain control, his companions concluded that wherever they were going, it wouldn't be Caracalla.
EPILOGUE III: Is This Normal?
"Come on Evie, your mother's going to be here any minute, bip, bip bip."
Reagan "Normal" Ronald raced around his apartment trying desperately to tidy up before Gem arrived. Usually, Normal's living quarters was meticulously neat and well ordered, reflecting his conservative, anal-retentive personality. Of course that was before he agreed to look after a transgenic toddler. Now it was cluttered with dirty dishes, piles of laundry, and half-eaten food.
"Uncle Rae," Eve called. "Have you seen Mrs. Dingles?"
"Did you put her away with the rest of your stuff?"
there was a pause. "No."
Normal rolled his eyes, but before he could let loose a long lecture about the virtues of putting things back in their proper place there was a knock on the door. Normal panicked. Gem was early, and he wasn't even dressed yet. Meeting a genetically empowered female in bathrobe, boxers and slippers was probably not the best way to make a good impression. He grabbed a pair of jeans and threw on a sweater, yelling, "Be right there."
Checking to make sure he didn't look like a complete slob, he answered the door with a friendly, "Hi, come on in."
"Hey," Gem smiled. "Evie ready yet."
"Just about. Sorry about the mess."
"Thanks again for doing this Normal, I really appreciate it."
"Call me Rae. Only those lazy ingrates I employ call me Normal. And it's no problem."
"Rae," she tried out the word as she reconciled her first impression and other's opinions about him and the man she'd grown to know. He'd been a small-minded, bigot when she'd first met him, denouncing the transgenics as monsters. However he'd helped her with the birth of her daughter, then aided them in their escape. Then taking in her child knowing the punishment for harboring a possible health hazard. He was still too uptight for his own good, but not inflexibly so.
"Well, thanks again."
"No problem. Anytime you need a babysitter just let me know."
"Rae," Gem said as she turned to leave. "We're having a small party in Terminal City to celebrate the end of the quarantine and remember who we lost. Would you like to come?"
normal was taken aback. He couldn't remember the last time somebody invited him to a party – even if it was a glorified wake.
"What, me … well, I don't … I mean I got … Okay, yes I'd love to. Just let me get a jacket and I'll meet you downstairs."
THE END
Author's Note: And so ends my story and giving the overwhelming lack of response, no one read it. How disappointing. Oh well the next one will be better (I hope).