CHAPTER 3: Night Trap

A sparse white room housed a long dining table of polished wood, upon which a sleeved arm deftly placed a ceramic dish before the Doctor. He looked up to deliver his thanks, but all he could make contact with was a pair of eyes - the surrounding face was obscured by a white cap and a paper surgical mask, matching the pristine buttoned kitchen uniform. Similar service was given to Amy and Rory, sitting to the Doctor's left, and to Joseph at his right, who could only look at the Doctor's plate in equal parts amusement and bewilderment.

"I must say, you're a man of unique tastes," he noted as a small dipping bowl filled with a bright creamy substance accompanied the main dish. "Fish fingers and..."

"Custard!" beamed the Doctor. He plunged a digit into the bowl and licked up a sample. "Just the right amount of yellow, too."

Rory's gaze was trained on the kitchen hands as they softly exited the room. "Why the masks?" he asked Joseph. "Your guys look more like surgeons than cooks."

"Health and safety," he replied. "And... necessity. Any risk of illness must be minimised. Our medical supplies are limited - this far out in deep space, it'd take us months before we could get to anywhere to treat so much as a sniffle."

"You don't seem too concerned," Rory remarked, prompting a swift kick in the shin from Amy beside him. Behave, it clearly said. You're making us both look foolish.

Joseph offered a patient smile. "Sorry, I didn't get your name, Mister 'hubby-to-be'."

"It's Rory. Rory Williams."

"Mister Rory Williams. A most memorable guest who would do well not to let his food go cold so quickly."

Amy awkwardly cleared her throat and curled a length of hair around her finger. "It looks delicious," she mumbled, exchanging daggers with Rory.

"So tell me a bit more about this place," said the Doctor between energetic mouthfuls. "Looks brand new, not to mention expensive."

Joseph smiled. "Well, it wasn't cheap. Let me humbly say that my family is... one of means. I came into this world with more good fortune and opportunity that a person could wish for. It's how I was able to fund my desires to explore the stars, to experience as many of life's fruits as possible. No-one lives forever, after all - why wouldn't you want to make the most of your time?"

"And what does your wife think about all this?" asked Amy.

"Oh, I'm not married," Joseph replied. "Never found time to think about any of that stuff."

"A lone ranger!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Others would dismiss such exploits in order to live their lives, but not you! No, for you, this is living!"

Joseph raised his glass. "Great minds," he smiled. "And yours is truly a great mind indeed. To just appear in a sealed room out of thin air in such a small box... and people thought I was mad when I set off into unknown space."

"Since you mentioned it," Rory interjected, "Any chance we can get back to that box? My fiancée and I have, uh, got some things in there. Important things."

Joseph clasped his hands. "Things that can wait, surely. For reasons that you can no doubt appreciate, the door to that particular room is designed in a rather unique manner. Dozens of violent Ood are herded through it every day - they need to be contained, and we need to be sure that none will escape. That's why the door's controls are linked directly to the room's function - it will only open after it has undergone a full cycle, triggered from the safety of the control booth. A full release and clear. One cannot take place without the other."

"Wait, so you're saying we need to gas the room before the door will open?"

"It's a gas chamber, Mister Rory Williams, not a funpark turnstile. Security and safety are paramount - the controls are one and the same. There needs to be no doubt whatsoever that the specimens put inside are successfully processed before it can be permitted to open. And it's not 'we', but 'I' - the booth is off-limits to all but myself."

Amy looked around, wondering where this revelation put the three of them. "So... will you open it for us?" she asked eventually. "Gassing an empty room is alright in my book."

"I've got a better question," said the Doctor as he leaned in to stare at Joseph. "There's something I don't quite understand. You've not only discovered a planet on the edge of the universe that no-one knows exists, but also a natural energy reserve that duplicates living matter in a heartbeat. Yet rather than thump your chest about it to the media, you set up shop here, alone - your money, your staff, your rules. You've gone to extraordinary lengths to keep your little duplication discovery a total secret. So why in the world are you telling us about it?"

Joseph took a moment to draw a deep breath. "I must confess... I've been less than honest with my motives in asking you to share a meal with me."

"You don't say," noted Rory dryly.

He ignored the interruption and gestured to the Doctor. "You, sir. You said you're a Doctor. Our resources are lacking personnel with skills such as yourself. Despite all our years here we're still no closer to finding a solution to the malfunctioning Ood, yet we need to ensure we can produce consistently flawless copies before we can proceed with our marketing strategy. Clearly I could use your expertise, and you strike me as a man who would revel in the challenge. All I ask is that you examine one Ood body, to determine why they repeatedly reject the duplication process. That's all. Please, help me to understand. I'll ensure you're well compensated for your time.

The Doctor waved a dismissive hand. "Money's of as much interest to me as Henry the Eighth's beard trimmings. You're going to have to offer me a little more than that."

"Like what, exactly?"

"Information. You need to tell me the honest truth about what it is you're doing out here."

Joseph's expression turned blank. "I'm not sure I follow."

"You said so yourself: you're a businessman. You're looking to make money by selling cheap Ood. I get that, but to commit patent infringement in the process? If my watch is right, Ood Operations has held that copyright since 3914 - that's like going up to Lord Drummar of Sarthene and telling him to stop making marwangates because you can do it cheaper. Actually, wait, that hasn't been invented yet. Point is, you're honing in on someone else's racket. What you're doing here isn't strictly legal, is it?"

Awkward silence followed, and Joseph, for the first time, looked genuinely off-guard. "It is true," he began, "that my goals with this project impose upon the interests of another. I paid for my Ood fair and square. And not only do I resent that I had no choice on where that money went, but I also realised that you don't make money by selling to the rich few. You go mass-market, to the common man. To government bodies looking for cheap grunts requiring cheaper training. Yes, I imagine that Ood Operations will take issue at a competing product, but by the time it goes through the tape-filled maze that we comically refer to as 'the legal system', I'll have made more than enough in pure profit to settle any sort of lawsuit as easily as a speeding ticket. And by then I hope to be on to the next stage."

"The next stage?" asked Rory.

"Creating cheap Ood is just the beginning - what about copying animals? World hunger solved, endangered species saved, and more than enough left over to bring back sport hunting of old. Just think of the possibilities! Think what can be achieved with this discovery! Instantaneous duplication of living matter. Surely something this majestic transcends petty human arguments over 'intellectual property' this and 'copyright' that. Doctor, this isn't just a discovery that could change the universe - it could change the very nature of life itself."

Joseph leaned in to meet the Doctor's steely gaze. "And admit it... doesn't that make you curious?"

It was a challenge, a dare, and he let it dangle heavily in the room. With his best poker face, the Doctor weighed up the proposition, but found himself trying to keep it as emotionally distant as possible. Don't get drawn into schoolyard goading, he reasoned. Keep it impartial. The trouble was, he knew the Ood. He knew what part they'd play in future-history. He knew them to be more than just simple cattle or servants - they were intelligent, wonderful beings, and this man opposite him was spawning copy after copy that would live only as long as it took to deliver them to the gas chamber. Was that it? Was it that knowledge, that protective nature, that kept him here? It certainly wasn't the prospect of helping a competitive entrepreneur break the law, which is precisely what his assistance into the matter would achieve - solve the problem, give him working Ood, and he'd be no better than the next corporate fat cat.

But then there was the energy flow. The fact that it was discovered and put to use without knowing the full extent of its effects. The spawning of violent Ood was one thing - but what if it went deeper than that? What was the process doing to the original Ood, the one being copied? What was it doing to any onlookers in the vicinity? The side effects, were they contagious? Was the energy flow really so benign? Could it, in fact, be sentient?

Doesn't that make you curious?

The Doctor took a deep breath. "I'll take a look," he said. "One look." His voice became stern. "But I want your guarantee that you'll abide by my assessment, however damaging it might be to your grand vision. If there's any unacceptable risk to you, your staff, the Ood, or any other lifeform as a direct or indirect result of what you're doing, expect me to intervene."

"Now you're being absurd," grumbled Joseph. "You come in here and expect to tell me what I will or won't do with my business?"

"You wanted my help, I'm offering it to you. But not for the wrong reasons."

"And who are you to decide what the wrong reasons are?"

"Look who the absurd one is now. We were gentlemen not five minutes ago and here we are arguing in the company of others?" The Doctor gestured to Rory and Amy, sitting meekly in the crossfire. "Help me help you, Joseph. I think both of us would like some answers."

A pause, then Joseph cleared his throat. "Fine." he said. "You'll begin first thing tomorrow."

Amy looked at the Doctor. The Doctor looked at Rory. Rory looked at Amy.

"You were right, Doctor. Five minutes ago we were gentlemen, so please, allow my manners to return. It's hardly polite to put a volunteer to work straight after dinner - I'd like to offer all three of you time to relax, to get some sleep. We've got plenty of spare quarters that will be more than adequate for your needs - individual quarters, however. I apologise for their segmented nature, but we don't get many visitors out here, especially ones who would require..." Joseph eyed Amy and Rory. "...co-habitation."

"Wait," fumbled Rory. "You mean we're not...?"

"You want us to stay here?" Amy asked. "For the night?"

Rory leaned over to the Doctor. "Tell me I'm not crazy," he whispered. "First dinner, now this? He's going to hack us up in our sleep."

"Oh, relax," the Doctor said. "He needs us. And let's face it, we need him. The TARDIS is in a room that only he has access to, and we're not going anywhere unless we play along. Besides..." His whisper dropped even quieter. "I am a little curious."

He returned a polite smile to Joseph. "Tomorrow it is, then."

"You do me a wonderful favour, Doctor," Joseph said. "I shan't forget it. When you've finished your meals, my assistants will show each of you to your rooms. Again, I'm sorry that their design separates the three of you, but I trust that their comfort will make up for such inconveniences." He heaved a sigh that could almost be interpreted as one of happiness. "Oh, it's so good to have some new faces around here."

It was no good. Hours later, he still couldn't sleep.

Bathed in darkness, Rory lay in bed and stared up at the piped ceiling above him. He thumped the mattress in frustration - it wasn't right, he fumed. None of it. That Joseph character, he was nothing but sleaze in a suit - he could see it, even if the others couldn't. Well, the Doctor never seemed tuned into that sort of stuff, but Amy? He expected better. Amy. His own fiancée, so easily taken in by a cheeky smile and an inherited wallet. He'd have felt jilted if he didn't miss her so much.

That was the other thing - this forced isolation highlighted just how big a hole her presence filled in his life. Yes, he realised, he definitely missed her. He definitely loved her.

He definitely wanted to be with her.

A moment lingered before Rory threw off the covers and lowered his bare feet to the tiled floor, instantly feeling its cool surface. He padded his way across the room to the door, triggering the handle which caused it to slide open with an almost silent pneumatic hiss. Poking his head out, he was greeted with total emptiness - the hallways of the base were vacant, lit only by a handful of simple caged light bulbs intermittently dotted overhead. The bare minimum of light required, he realised. Dim, but not overwhelmingly so.

Satisfied that he was alone, Rory slipped out into the corridor and silently wandered down its lengths, looking left and right for signs of a room similar to his own. Not knowing where Joseph had set Amy - or the Doctor, for that matter - made things difficult, a fact that dawned on him when each passing doorway looked more or less the same as the one before it. What was he going to do, knock on each one? Blunder into a room that could be anything from the broom closet to an airlock? Or Joseph's own quarters? Now that would be awkward. Door after door, he ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation - no starting points, but plenty of options. Blind luck. The process of elimination. Each seemed just as valid as it was aimless. But he had to do something.

Cautiously, Rory approached the nearest upcoming door and pressed an ear to its surface, listening for signs of life. He held his breath. It was hard to tell through the thick metal, but it sounded like... beeping. Soft, rhythmic beeping. Then, the sound of restless stirring. A cough.

The beeping persisted.

Nervousness was gradually replaced with curiosity, and Rory gently lifted the latch of the door, triggering it to slide open. His eyes slowly adjusted to the near-total darkness within as he stepped forth, studying his new surroundings. The room was of a similar size and layout to his own, but in the middle was a something unmistakable. A hospital bed was positioned amid an array of blinking machines and equipment - the source of the beeps, which continued to emit from one of the devices. Multiple cables snaked from one machine to the next, and various valves and rotors ticked away in continuous motion. A bag of clear fluid hung from a nearby stand, with many others looming overhead. Everything, Rory noticed, was somehow interconnected, linked to work together. To feed information back and forth. And every piece of equipment was in some way plugged into-

He peered inwards, then coiled back. Lying on the hospital bed, covered by a simple white sheet, was a fragile human figure practically pin-cushioned by the many cables and cords that stemmed from each machine. The figure appeared restless, weak. It didn't register Rory's presence as it gasped for air, fighting with each laboured breath. As Rory studied further, he could see wrinkles, liver spots. Patchy grey hair. Stubble. Tumours.

An old man, he realised. An extremely old man. One who looked incredibly sick, and appeared to be dying with each passing second.

Gathering himself, Rory slowly approached the bedside. "Hello?" he ventured. "Are you alright? I can help - I'm a nurse."

The man's movements gradually petered out, sagging him into the bed. Immediately, a flat buzzing tone sounded from one of the machines - a sound that registered to Rory's ears as one of urgent alarm: a flat-lining patient. He looked over to see a blinking red light - on, off, on, off - and another device come to life nearby. Small pistons began to move as some sort of clear liquid was fed through a number of transparent tubes that were burrowed deep into the man's skin, and as it did so, his body made a sudden, violent jolt, his back arching clear off the mattress and shaking the steel framework of the support frame below. The sheet was thrown enough for Rory to see two flat paddles fixed to the man's chest - paddles that he clearly recognised as variants of a hospital defibrillator. Again, the man jerked upwards as currents of electricity - who knew how powerful - were delivered, and dropped down again as they stopped. Suddenly, his eyes bolted open and his mouth gaped in a hollow "O" as his elderly lungs took a sharp intake of air, and then another. He coughed long and deep, and his gasping resumed as the pistons stopped their movements, ceasing the flow of liquid through the tube. The buzzing tone disappeared and the room's sounds fell into a stark emptiness, save for his intermittent laboured breaths and that same, steady machine beep.

Beep... beep... beep...

Rory's gaze was unwavering as he took in the horrid sight before him. What was this? Treatment? Punishment? A bizarre mix of both? Barely allowing himself to blink, he slowly backed away from the machines, from the bed. He inched towards the door and, feeling for the handle, opened it before stowing out into the light.

Ambient light softly fell onto Amy's delicate features as she turned in her sleep. Perhaps it was the sum total of her TARDIS-related adventures, for her body wholeheartedly welcomed the opportunity to relax and recharge. Totally at peace, she stirred only slightly when the door to her room opened from the outside, the intruding light drifting into her consciousness.

Footsteps approached, and she lazily opened her eyes as a dark silhouette strode towards her. It began to register - alertness kicked in, and Amy sat herself up in the bed.

"Hey, what are you-"

She was instantly cut off by a forceful hand that clamped over her mouth, pressing a damp cloth over her airways that smelled strange, almost sweet. Amy's panicked breaths only served to inhale the noxious fumes deep into her lungs, but she struggled against them with furious poundings on her assailant's arms. Red dots began to swim over her eyes and the world seemed to drift into slow-motion, and the slower it went, the more distant she felt from it, like she was observing a faraway place from the bottom of a vast, deep ocean. Deeper, she fell, and as the blackness closed in her body dropped, limp.

No-one heard.

CHAPTER FOUR COMING SOON!