Chapter 6: Plan C
It couldn't end like this. It shouldn't end like this. Not strapped to a guillotine. Not with a five-stone blade hanging over his head. Not without being able to say goodbye to Rose. Not several decades and hundreds of miles from home.
His hands clenched into fists as he screwed his eyes shut. He heard someone walking towards them, but he didn't want to open his eyes. Any second now. Any moment. He'd hear the lever being pulled. Any...
"Rose?" the Doctor asked and he opened his eyes.
Sure enough, just to the side of the guillotine he was tied to and the Doctor's, was Rose. She was okay. She was brilliant. She was the best thing that he'd ever seen in his life.
"Doctor!" She made as if she wanted to move toward the Time Lord, but after a furtive glance at the guards, she stopped. "I'm here as one of the mourners."
"Mourners?" he asked and he was gratified that she did turn to look toward him for a moment before returning her attention to the Doctor.
"Yeah. They pay some of the women of the city to come in here and mourn those people who're about to be killed. I managed to get in an'-"
"Rose, you shouldn't be here," the Doctor interrupted, but he could tell that the other man was glad she was. One last time to see her. One last time to say goodbye.
Goodbye.
What a final word. Sort of like death when it came down to it. Oh, no. Not death. 'Serenity'. Whoever came up with that load of bollocks should've been shot. Then again, they probably had been. Or beheaded.
"Yes, I should. If you think I'd jus' let you…let both of you…" Her voice was shaky, as if she were about to cry. He felt horrible for doing this to her and it wasn't even his bloody fault. He was going to die, and she was going to see it, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
"Rose," he began, but she shot him a quelling glance. That was when he noticed that the guard by his guillotine seemed interested in their conversation. After a few moments, the man returned to his post, apparently satisfied with what he'd heard.
"You've got to get out of here, Rose. There isn't enough time. I don't want you to see this. Please, just go."
Hearing the Doctor's words, he suddenly realised the truth. He'd been holding onto a grain of hope that either the Time Lord or Rose would be able to save the day. Save their lives in just the nick of time. Something, anything, that would result in a different outcome.
There was no other outcome than 'serenity'.
"No," Rose said, shaking her head. "I'm not leaving you." She glanced toward the gaol, almost as if she were waiting for something in particular.
"Rose, I jus' wanted to say I'm..." Mickey searched for the words to continue, but, as he looked at her he realised that something was different about the way she was holding herself. Not as if she were convinced that this was the last time she'd see either of them alive again. Sure, she was scared, but there was more to it than that. Much more.
That was, of course, when the wall on the opposite side of the courtyard promptly exploded.
An explosion?
An explosion! Yes! That could mean only one thing. There was a rebellion and Rose had found them. Oh, brilliant. Beautiful. Fantastic.
Plan C had worked after all. Ha!
He'd dance for joy were he not tied to a guillotine. Ah. Right. That still posed a particularly tricky problem. They had an explosion, and he had Rose, but he was still stuck.
Rose was crouched beside him, her hand shielding her eyes from the dust. When she turned to look at him, she moved her mouth as if she was speaking, but he couldn't hear her. Ah, of course. The explosion had been close enough to cause temporary damage to his ear drums. He'd be deaf for a short while, just long enough to be annoying, but nothing permanent.
She seemed to be saying something else, but he had a hard time clearly reading her lips. The dust and debris from the explosion had yet to settle and he found himself distracted by the movement of other figures through the dust cloud behind Rose. He knew there must be shouting, but, judging from the lack of coordination, they were as deaf as he.
Rose shook her head violently enough to catch his attention. Without looking at him, she stood and moved out of his line of sight. Not that he'd be of much use if one of the guards tried to attack her, but he could try. He could do something. Even if it was just to shout uselessly at them.
Anxiety began to build within him. Where was she? Why wouldn't she come back? But he couldn't call out to her as temporary deafness still had him gripped in a too-silent world.
Where was she?
That was when he became aware of movement behind him. Something touched his hand for a moment – Rose? – before the shackles that bound him to the guillotine fell away. He winced as his arms immediately fell forward, the sudden inrush of blood to his extremities leaving a tingling pain in its wake.
Forcing himself to move through the discomfort, he used his arms to push himself away from the guillotine. Death by beheading was not his favoured way to go by any means. Especially since that would forfeit the rest of his regenerations as effectively as a Dalek ray.
He wasn't finished with living yet and, knowing himself as well as he did, he never would be.
When he stood, he noticed that Rose had already released Mickey and was helping him to stand. Good. Everyone was all accounted for.
And then she was facing him, her expression asking if he was all right. He answered her with a smile, then reached for her. One quick, intense hug before she pulled away. Right. They had things to do.
Time to go and sort the mess history had made of Nova Paris.
Well, there was that, then. The Doctor and Mickey rescued. Well, as rescued as she could get them at the moment. But the distraction wouldn't last long unless Dorothée had something else planned.
No, she couldn't have any other explosives. She'd just seen a couple and surely one alone couldn't've caused that much destruction.
Right?
She suppressed a niggling doubt of the explosive's force. She didn't want to think about having been that close to something that powerful.
"All right, then?" she asked them both, but Mickey only stared blankly at her while the Doctor shrugged.
Obviously, they were both deafened by the blast. Her hearing had returned shortly after the dust began to settle, but she'd managed to get down before the concussive force reached the two guillotines that had held her friends. The Doctor and Mickey hadn't been as lucky.
Right then. She'd just have to try sign language.
Holding her pointer finger and her thumb together, she tried to ask each of them if they were 'okay'. Thankfully, they nodded. Good. That was that. Time to get out of the gaol.
However, first things first. She couldn't let the other people – the poor innocent people – tied to the other guillotines remain where they were. She had to let them go. Motioning for the Doctor and Mickey to get out of the gaol, she raced toward the next guillotine in the line.
She could use Dorothée's sonic screwdriver to undo the locks one at a time. There were about fifteen other prisoners tied to the guillotines. Right. She cast a glance at the dust cloud that hid her movements from the guards. It was beginning to settle, which meant it'd only be a matter of time before her actions were noticed.
No time.
The words echoed the beat of her heart as she fumbled with the lock on the prisoner's shackles.
No time.
The sonic screwdriver was a comforting weight in her hands as she aimed the device at the lock. The shackles fell away.
Then she noticed that someone was at her side – the Doctor – who then helped the man get to his feet. She should've known. He wouldn't be able to leave these poor people any more than she could.
No time.
She moved down the line. It became a routine. She'd unlock the shackles with the sonic screwdriver and then either Mickey or the Doctor would help the newly released prisoner get their bearings.
And then time ran out. As she was fumbling with the sonic screwdriver to release the last prisoner, she became aware of a sudden silence in the courtyard. No more rain of debris, no more shouting, no more anything beside her own harsh breathing and that of her friends.
A menace lay over the gaol, and, when she looked up, she realised the problem.
They'd been discovered. Guards approached them from all sides, their faces marred with dirt, blood, sweat, and fierce anger.
She straightened her posture, sensing, rather than seeing, the Doctor and Mickey do the same.
Diktar pushed his way in front of the guards and glared at the three of them.
"What have you done? This was a peaceful city, a peaceful people, until you came. And then you do this! Trying to escape, setting free the worst criminals our society knows, and destroying half of the gaol! You leave me no choice."
He turned and motioned for his men to move forward. "Grant them serenity."
And, as she stared down the barrel of one of the guard's weapons, she felt a frisson of fear.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. They were supposed to have escaped.
Now all three of them were trapped. There was no escape.
Wicked! Oh, how she loved it when a plan came together.
The explosion had gone off without a hitch and Rose should be well on her way to getting the Doctor and her friend freed from the guards' clutches. Which meant it was time for the next part of her plan.
Great thing about prisons was that it gave people time to think. She'd had enough time while she'd been in the city to find out what type of gaol this was. It was a prison for those who disagreed with the government. Sure, those who disagreed the most vehemently were killed. As were those who started asking questions or started dreaming about a better way of life.
That wasn't, however, the only way to rebel. Some had undoubtedly tried to work within the system. And, when they were caught, they'd end up here. The government couldn't kill them – they hadn't done anything wrong. But they could lock those people into the gaol and promptly forget about them.
Which meant something else. There already was some unrest out in the streets. Rose had seen it. She'd seen it. Give them enough of a nudge in the right direction and that unrest could change the world.
And, here she was, surrounded by the best sort of push a girl could ask for.
Rebels.
The whole lot of them.
And, if she were in their place, she'd be itching for the chance to get back at the government that had turned its back on her.
She grinned as she darted down the hallway, opening cells as she went. "Come on out, you lot! You're free!"
A few of the prisoners took her at her word, moving without delay into the hallway behind her. However more remained within their cells. They probably figured it was nothing more than a faint dream. This had been all they'd known. Sad, really.
"Oi! I'm telling you the truth. You're free! So come on out here and do some good. Or are you overly fond of the crappy meals and no-star accommodation of this place?" She poked her head into one of the cells, meeting the eyes of its lone occupant.
The prisoner was a tall, gangly man – more limbs than body. His thin, bony face and torso spoke of malnourishment. The burns on his skin spoke of torture. "Freedom?" he croaked, his voice obviously disused. "There is no such thing. Not here. Freedom is a dream that is forbidden."
"Not anymore," she said. "You can change that." Somehow, she sensed that this man was crucial to the success of her plan. If she could persuade him to come out, to go and give the populace of Nova Paris a good nudge, that would do it. That would fix history.
"How can one man affect something that ingrained? How can one man bring back a dream?"
"A man can move a mountain," she replied, remembering something the Professor had once told her. "All he needs is a long enough lever."
The man laughed bitterly. "And you have such a lever?"
She shook her head. "No, but you do." With one hand, she motioned back toward the cell entrance where some of the other freed prisoners were peering inside, obviously curious.
The prisoner looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. "You speak wisely, mademoiselle. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you're not. But we never learn if we don't try, no?"
"Exactly," she agreed, her grin widening all the more as he stepped out of his cell. As if this were the catalyst, the other prisoners left their cells.
The man introduced himself as Jean-Louis Vignes. He'd been a minor accountant in the governmental palace before he'd asked a question regarding a receipt. That fateful question had resulted in a permanent residence in the gaol.
"That," he explained, "was five years ago. It is time to fight back." He seemed to have regained his strength, adopting a proud posture that belied the apparent weakness of his body.
She knew they would have to face the guards at some point, as did Jean-Louis. However, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. By now Rose, the Doctor, and her friend would be long gone from the gaol.
Ahead, she could see the start of the damage caused by her bomb. Sunlight had begun to trickle in, defused by the dust remaining in the air.
Dawn had broken on a new day in Nova Paris. The prisoners were free.
When she reached the still-standing portion of the damaged wall, she paused to peer into the courtyard. There were the guards, of course. But why were they aiming their weapons at...?
Oh, cruk. They were pointing their weapons at Rose, the Doctor, and her friend.
"CRUK!" she cursed, wincing when Jean-Louis put his hand on her shoulder.
"What is it?" he asked.
"See for yourself," she replied, mentally categorising what she had in her pockets that might be of some use. She had a few more bombs, but those would cause too much damage. She had her gun, but that was far too anachronistic for this time period. Twenty-sixth century weaponry had no place in the twenty-second. Damnit all to bloody hell! She had to be able to do something.
Jean-Louis stepped around her and, upon seeing the scene in the courtyard, motioned for the other prisoners to move forward.
"It is time," he repeated his earlier words. "We cannot let this continue. They cannot keep us quiet any more. Come!"
And, with a roar of approval and barely suppressed anger, the freed prisoners swarmed through the opening, climbing over rocks and debris on their way into the courtyard.
To be continued...
