Chapter 4
Note: Apologies for the severe delay. In the past months we've lost many employees at my workplace, and due to state regulations we must maintain a specific ratio of staff to clients, hence I've been doing 60-70 hour weeks. On the plus side, all the overtime is delicious. We've gotten a new crop of trainees finally ready to go, and so I can get back to the serious business of playing WoW and writing god-awful fic. Keeping with that tradition, here come chapters 4 and 5, which will conclude this story.
The sun hung low and red in the sky of the port-city of Shir'tah. It filtered though the skyscrapers to reach the ground in narrow strips along the dusty street upon which Martha, the Doctor, and the clone now walked. The buildings around them were glossy white and devoid of any decoration save communications equipment, and what the Doctor had insisted was a street appeared more to Martha to be an alleyway, dark and unkempt.
"You'd think they'd invest in some air conditioners for those offices," Martha thought aloud.
"They have – these buildings extend twice their height into the ground, and the hot air is pumped down, cooled, and recycled up." The Doctor grinned. "Never been to Sedona, have you?"
"Been to where?" She asked.
"Only the best place for aliens to relax on Earth in the 21st century. Well, that and Santa Monica."
Martha smiled to cover the fact she didn't get it.
"Although speaking of strange," He said, stopping and peering around the corner, "Here it is."
A grand bazaar stretched out just south of the alleyway. Martha stood on her toes and looked over the Doctor's shoulder, while the clone tipped her head around his waist. The smells were amazing – perfume, spices, fruit, freshly dyed never-worn cloth, to say nothing of the sight of it. Brightly colored canvas stretched over a multitude of stalls as species of every type browsed their goods. The clone too seemed to be interested, staring intently at a stall covered in rich red cloth.
"Whoa!" The Doctor hollered, pushing both Marthas back into the alleyway as a giant foot slammed into the earth where they had been standing. Gazing downwards, the owner of the foot bellowed in distress. He came to all fours, his two trunks and large ears gently grazing the ground.
"I offer you my most humble apologies." It said in a soft, deep baritone. Three large brown eyes considered the three of them.
"Not a problem!" Beamed the Doctor. "I'm the Doctor, and you are?"
"I am E'ran, Fifth Merchant Commander to the Crown Prince. I am here to purchase the monarchy's first set of royal attire." The beast sighed. "I was told the bazaar was not to be missed, but I find it more prudent to miss stepping on my fellow sentient and thus have seen little."
"Well, why don't you come with us then E'ran?" The Doctor offered casually.
E'ran picked his head up and turned his head to appraise the Doctor. "I would be indebted to you." He said, "But will your wife and daughter agree to it? I seek to cause no further disruptions."
The Doctor's smile was frozen comically on his face.
"We'd love you to come along!" Said Martha cheerfully, extending her hand.
"Old Earth customs! Your husband must spoil you with books." Said E'ran, extending a trunk to Martha. As she took hold of it, or rather to say, as the trunk wrapped around her forearm and nearly dislocated her shoulder with the vigor of it's shake, she leaned as close as she could to E'ran's ear.
"I'm not his wife, and it," She said, glancing at the clone, "is of no relation. Just wanted you to know."
"Oh." Whispered E'ran, his ears turning pink. "Thank you for informing me."
"So!" Martha said loudly, bumping the Doctor hard with her shoulder. "Let's go get lunch."
E'ran lifted himself back onto his hind legs, and pointed with a short, chubby finger to the red tent. "That is the only eating establishment which has accommondations for one of my size. They do, however, serve many old earth dishes which you may find of historical value."
"Do they have chips?" Quipped the Doctor, looking hopefully at the stall.
"The starchy root boiled in the fat of animals and seasoned with minerals?"
"When you say it like that," Said Martha, "They really don't sound all that good."
"Well, looks like someone is making the choice for us!" Said the Doctor, walking briskly but choosing a path through the crowd that E'ran could follow. He kept his eyes intently on the clone, who dove into the stall.
The Doctor gestured for Martha to come closer. "I need to follow her, keep E'ran here company." He said, as he ran to the shop. Martha stood, waiting for E'ran as he lumbered forward. Together they entered the stall, and were seated on the patio. Martha craned her neck to look for the Doctor, but she didn't see him anywhere in the restaurant.
"Have you ever," Asked E'ran hopefully, "Eaten something called a banana?"
The Doctor bolted through the back of the shop. The clone was lighter on it's feet than he's anticipated, and following it's small form through the thick crowds was difficult. His trench coat billowed as he dashed around another corner, only to see the clone dive through a wall.
Panting, he pressed his hand to the wall. Solid and smooth, but.. He smiled. Adjusting the sonic, he passed it along a section of wall a few yards off from where the clone had entered. Brushing his hair back and returning the sonic, he walked though the wall.
And into a conference room. The Doctor quickly scanned the room, which was strikingly dull. A large desk surrounded by plain gray chairs, and a file cabinet with a potted plant in the corner. He felt disappointed. Walking up to the table, he noticed two files open, their contents spread out. Grainy photos were clipped to large maps which were covered in blue highlighter dots. Alongside each dot were jotted the time and date in galactic standard, and some reference to magnitude. This was initially also disappointing to the Doctor, until he saw the plans for Satellite 5, covered with reference points. Clipped to it was a map of the greater London area, and the only mark, bright red, was where he had once behaved very stupidly before passing out.
As he hurriedly shifted through the paper on the desk, the Doctor reflected happily on the fact that he was no longer disappointed. He was also, however, worried. He pulled out another map, this one a detailed map of San Fransisco, with two red dots very close to one another. He held the map up to the lighting. Two dots in the same building.
The Doctor replaced the map, and ran his hand through his hair. It was then that he heard voices coming down the hall. Moving swiftly, he pressed his sonic to the wall, and ran out. He adjusted the device and returned the wall to it's seemingly solid state, save one small spot at which he sat and listened. As it turned out, he didn't even need to do that.
The TARDIS was strange looking from such a short perspective, but every critical system had been examined with military detail. The clone poured forth different sequences of interaction between the Doctor and Martha, he and the clones. Each one was presented with tactical commentary on how such relationship were exploitable. At the end of it's report, the imagery vanished. The Doctor strained to hear what was said next.
"The plan is already in motion. Stay away from the sub levels, or else you risk crossing your own timeline. Dismissed."
The Doctor reeled. This was it. He had to get to -
A hand rested on his shoulder. Bone tipped fingers dug through his coat.
"End it." She said simply. He turned to meet her gaze, and saw not the clone, but Martha. He looked again at the hand, which was clearly the clone's. But it was Martha who was standing over him.
"I can't."
"Sever the link mid-transfer. It will only damage the copy, not the original." She gripped his shoulder more tightly.
"Martha, you'll die. I can't let -"
She smiled. "You've seen what working for them is. Do this for me. Please."
The Doctor stood, and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'll save you."
"Yes," She said, "You will." Slowly her image faded, replaced by the clone. Behind her extended a thousand other clones, surrounded by agents of the Time Agency.
"From this." And she vanished.