Eight: Burden of a Time Lord
Summum ius, summa iniuria, [summa crudelitas]. (Law applied to its extreme is the greatest injustice [and the greatest cruelty].) – Cicero
April, 2009
The next morning, the TARDIS crew gathered round the kitchen table. "So, where are we going today?" Donna wondered. She was the only one at the table nursing a coffee – everyone else was having a spot of tea.
"Well, usually, it's first one trip into the past, then one in the future and outer space to see how you handle it," the Doctor thought out loud. "Given our usual track record, trouble will show up more often than not, and it can be harrowing."
"I had seven months of no trouble until yesterday, so I think it's up to Donna," the Walker agreed. "Any place, no matter which time period, you've always wanted to go?"
Donna considered the offer, still a little dazed from the entire experience. It had turned out that the Doctor's ship really liked her, only second to the two pilots (and some people she hadn't met yet) themselves, and had promptly expressed that by providing her with the most luxurious suite she'd ever seen in her life, including a giant walk-in wardrobe and a bathroom that reminded more of a spa. And then "Idris" had gone and unpacked her luggage. "Well… I told you when we met the first time; I would like to walk the dust so to speak, how about going to some time and place when it wasn't dust yet?"
"Ancient Egypt?"
"No thanks, tried that. Hmm…"
"What about Rome?" Martha suggested. "Never have been to Rome before either. Especially Ancient Rome."
"Sounds good. What do you think, Donna…?" The way Donna beamed at them said everything. "No need to ask. The Roman Empire in the First Century, the Sacra Aurea is it then. Dress comfortably, and meet us in the console room."
"Oi! Don't get distracted!" the ginger warned jokingly as she left.
Both blinked, and then laughed. "Hard to. It's the reason we're dressed already," the Walker giggled. "Although…"
"Don't start things you cannot finish, lairelai," he warned playfully, cleaning up the table. Together, they quickly managed everything back to gleaming perfection, earning themselves a grateful hum from Idris. "You're welcome old girl. And nice suit, Walker."
"You said to choose something with many pockets so we can make them dimensionally transcendental. I took the liberty and went ahead," she answered on the way to the console room. Said suit took a few pages from the one both the Doctor and his mother advertised, only in dark red with black trousers (no pinstripes), and a bronze shirt. "Besides, my old outfit was a bit impractical if it comes to storing my screwdriver and some other medical stuff."
"You are aware you're practically wearing your House colours?"
"Really? I haven't noticed," she joked, echoing his words from long ago. "Just proves Scaltata have great taste."
"No protest from me. Unfortunately, my own are a bit… obvious."
"What's obvious?" Donna walked in, now in a multi-coloured tunic and black trousers.
"Lungbarrow House colours. His family colours – they went and wore stark white as main colour," the Walker answered. "Trimmed black and blue."
"Okay, that is a little obvious."
"We're a mountain clan, Donna, Walker. As in, big tall mountain with blizzards. And one day, you're going to be wearing it, lairelai. Anyway. Off we go," he announced, having finished setting the coordinates.
Grinning, the Time Lady pulled the handbrake. "You haven't denied it."
"Why should I? I am what I am."
8
The landing was surprisingly smooth, but then again, it was done in a rather tight spot. Putting on his coat, the Doctor opened the TARDIS doors and pushed aside a curtain they'd hidden her behind. "Here we are. Ancient Rome!" The spot turned out to be a small alcove in the middle of a busy market road as the trio stepped out into the sunshine. "Well, not for them, obviously. To all intents and purposes, right now, this is brand new Rome," he rattled down to the dazed Donna.
The ginger didn't quite know where to look first, and, for all her lip, was sufficiently speechless. "Oh, my God. It's, it's so Roman. This is fantastic!" she whispered, hugging the pair. They laughed – Donna's enthusiasm was as boundless and infectious as their own. "I'm here, in Rome. Donna Noble in Rome. This is just weird. I mean, everyone here's dead."
"Well, don't tell them that," the Doctor joked.
Suddenly, Donna frowned, having spotted a vendor's barrow with a sign on it, stating, 'two amphorae for the price of one'. "Hold on a minute. That sign over there's in English. Are you having me on? Are we in Epcot?"
Whoops.
Pretty much. I forgot too. "No, no, no, no. That's the TARDIS translation circuits. Just makes it look like English. Speech as well. You're talking Latin right now," the Walker explained.
"Seriously?"
"Hm-mm."
"I just said seriously in Latin," she realised, dazed. "What if I said something in actual Latin, like veni, vidi, vici? My dad said that when he came back from football. If I said veni, vidi, vicito that lot, what would it sound like?"
"Not sure. Never tried that before," the Doctor frowned. "And she doesn't translate higher-dimensional languages like Gallifreyan and Antarian unless asked or she wants to, so usually people don't understand us when we go native. You have to think of difficult questions, don't you?" He shook his head, chuckling.
"Maybe. I'm going to try it." Donna went to a fruit vendor on the other side, and soon found out that for some reason, her Latina ended up sounding Welsh of all things, probably since English didn't exist yet.
"Well, we learnt something new…" the Walker mused as they walked off. "Speaking the actual language ends up having the opposite effect. Which makes me wonder what kind of hybrid translation matrix The Professor has installed in Arara."
"Probably top of the line. Strangely, most of the greatest technology of Gallifrey is not younger than 8.000 years," the Doctor answered, shrugging. "Those old enough to remember attribute it to the Great Dispute and isolation."
Meanwhile, Donna still had a hard time deciding where to look first, and took a good look at their style of dress instead. "Don't our clothes look a bit odd?"
"Nah. Ancient Rome, anything goes. It's like Soho, but bigger," the Doctor assured her, declining.
"Also, first rule of space and time travel, just walk about like you own the place," the Walker added. "Learnt that on my first trip. As long as you act as if you have every right to be there, people won't notice you even half as much as if when you are all awkward."
"You've been here before then, Doctor?"
He led them through the narrow pedestrian streets. "Mmm. Ages ago. Before you ask, that fire had nothing to do with me. Well, a little bit. But I haven't got the chance to look around properly. Coliseum, Pantheon, Circus Maximus. You'd expect them to be looming by now. Where is everything? Try this way."
They ended up on a piazza intersecting two main roads, and a big, bare-headed mountain looming over the entire city. "I'm not an expert, but there are Seven Hills of Rome, aren't there? How come they've only got one?" Donna wondered. Just then, the ground started shaking – which apparently was so commonplace to the inhabitants that some said things along the lines of 'here we go again' and reached for wares and precious things to hold. "Wait a minute. One mountain, with smoke. Which makes this–"
"Pompeii," the Walker breathed.
"We're in Pompeii," the Doctor confirmed, the dark eyes wide in shock as suddenly spatial-temporal prompts snapped in place with what he knew. "And it's volcano day."
As soon as the earthquake stopped, Martha shook her head, trying to sort out the same sensory overload the Doctor was having trouble with. "Volcano Day. Translation, let's get the hell out of here."
"Yeah. Coordinates were off it seems." They raced back… only to find that their coral friend had disappeared as the Doctor pushed back the curtain.
"You're kidding. You're not telling me the TARDIS has gone," Donna moaned.
"Okay."
"Where is it then?"
"You told me not to tell you," he gave back, just as dazed.
"Oi. Don't get clever in Latin," she reprimanded him, causing the other woman to giggle.
"Well, she's not taken off, from what I can sense," the Walker answered. "So someone must have moved her."
"Yeah, same here. Hold on." The Doctor went to the fruit vendor from earlier. "Excuse me. Excuse me. There was a box. Big blue box. Big blue wooden box, just over there. Where's it gone?"
"Sold it, didn't I?" the man answered smugly.
"But it wasn't yours to sell," the Doctor protested.
"It was on my patch, wasn't it?" he corrected. "I got fifteen sesterces for it. Lovely jubbly."
"Who'd you sell it to?" the Walker interrupted.
"Old Caecilius. Look, if you want to argue, why don't you take it out with him? He's on Foss Street. Big villa. Can't miss it."
"Thanks."
As they walked away, Donna voiced everyone's thoughts. "What'd he buy a big blue wooden box for?"
"No idea. Let's split up and find the TARDIS. Stuck in pyroclastic debris once was enough," the Time Lord grumbled.
"Right. Let's meet on the piazza in half an hour."
8
As the vendor had promised, Caecilius' villa was a rather hard to miss building, no surprise as the Walker found out that the owner was a marble vendor and occasional sculptor. "Ha. I've got it. Foss Street's this way," the Doctor announced as they met again.
"I have one up on you, I found Caecilius' villa," the Walker answered.
Unfortunately, it had finally sunk into Donna's brain what this specific day meant to Pompeii… "No. Well, I found this big sort of amphitheatre thing. We can start there. We can gather everyone together. Maybe they've got a great big bell or something we could ring. Have they invented bells yet?"
The whole thing got the alarm bells ringing in both Time Lords. "What do you want a bell for? You're not planning to warn everyone, are you?" the Walker asked carefully.
"Yeah. Start the evacuation. What time does Vesuvius erupt? When's it due?"
"It's 79 AD, twenty third of August, which makes volcano day tomorrow," the Doctor answered, stressed.
"Plenty of time. We could get everyone out easy."
"Except we can't," the Walker interrupted quietly before they could go off on a short fuse. Inside, she was torn – the human in Martha felt the tragedy of Pompeii as strongly as Donna, not to mention the Doctor, but the Time Lady in the Walker remembered the call of Time Eternal and knew there was nothing they could do.
"Donna, we can't."
"But that's what you do. You're the Doctor. You save people." The ginger was confused.
"Not this time. Pompeii is a fixed point in history. What happens, happens. There is no stopping it." The Time Lord sighed.
"At least not without the most dire of consequences."
"What?"
"A fixed point cannot be messed with. Unless you want to cause a paradox and bring down Reapers on Pompeii. Which would amount to the same end, everyone dies, Donna. And the damage…" the Walker shook her head, "is horrible."
"Since when are you two in charge of these things?"
"TARDIS, Time Lords, yeah," the Doctor confirmed roughly.
"Donna, human, no. I don't need your permission. I'll tell them myself!" she yelled at them.
If we had more time, it would be a good thing to explain to her what we see, Theta.
You think so?
The Professor did that to Joan Redfern, and from what I know, it helped.
Fine, later. But really, later. "You stand in the marketplace announcing the end of the world, they'll just think you're a mad old soothsayer. Now, come on. TARDIS. We are getting out of here," he growled, walking in the direction of Foss Street.
"Well, I might just have something to say about that, Spaceman," Donna shouted after them, following at a distance.
"Oh, I bet you will."
As they reached the lavish villa, another earthquake threatened to throw a marble bust of Caecilius' grandfather to the ground, which the Doctor caught just in time. "Whoa. There you go."
"Thank you, kind sir. I'm afraid business is closed for the day. I'm expecting a visitor," Caecilius said.
"But that's me, I'm a visitor. Hello."
"And who are you then?"
"I am…" he rattled down a list of possible Celtic names, just for the kick of it, "Brennus. And this is my sister, Boadicea."
"Really. Your father must have a peculiar sense of naming to use that particular name for her."
"He was an odd one, that's for sure," Donna answered, subtly elbowing the Time Lord. Boudicca? The Rebel Queen of the Iceni? Are you insane?
"And finally, my betrothed, Asha," he finished, taking the Walker's hand. He shot Donna a look, as if to say, sorry.
"Pleasure. I'm sorry, but I'm not open for trade today," the Pompeiian replied, shaking his head.
"And that trade would be?"
Caecilius straightened. "Marble. Lucius Caecilius Iucundus. Mining, polishing and design thereof. If you want marble, I'm your man."
Quick as ever, the Doctor seized the opportunity, flashing his psychic paper. "That's good. That's good, because I'm the marble inspector."
Metella, Lucius' wife, was a little shocked, and hastily poured away the wine of her wayward son. "By the gods of commerce, an inspection. I'm sorry, sir. I do apologise for my son."
"Oi!" Quintus protested.
"And this is my good wife, Metella. I must confess, we're not prepared for a–"
"Nothing to worry about. I'm, I'm sure you've nothing to hide. Although, frankly, that object looks rather like wood to me." He pointed at the TARDIS and walked over.
"I told you to get rid of it," Metella hissed.
"I only bought it today," Lucius defended, a little embarrassed.
"Ah, well. Caveat emptor."
"Oh, you're Celtic. There's lovely. Should have guessed with these names."
"I'm sure it's fine, but I might have to take it off your hands for a proper inspection." He frowned for emphasis.
Nice one.
That's the second time she got sold as modern art. I really should ask janayi to repair the anchor module.
"Although while we're here, wouldn't you recommend a holiday, brother?" Donna interjected.
Damn. Obviously still dead-set on it, Walker.
Damn straight. And stop it, you see the same things as her too.
I know! "Don't know what you mean, Boadicea."
"Oh, this lovely family. Mother and father and son. Don't you think they should get out of town?"
"Why should we do that?" Lucius was confused to say the least.
"Well, the volcano, for starters," Donna shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"What?" Obviously, not for Caecilius.
"Volcano."
"What ano?"
"That great big volcano right on your doorstep."
"Sister, for shame. We haven't even greeted the household gods yet," the Doctor scolded, taking Donna aside.
"What's going on?"
"Donna, they don't know what it is. Vesuvius is just a mountain to them. The top hasn't blown off yet. The Romans haven't even got a word for volcano. Not until tomorrow," the Walker explained gently.
"Oh, great, they can learn a new word as they die," she snarled. "Listen, I don't know what sort of kids you've been flying round with in outer space, but you're not telling me to shut up. That boy, how old is he, sixteen? And tomorrow he burns to death."
"And that's my fault?" the Doctor hissed.
"Right now, yes!"
"Stop it, both of you," the Walker stated firmly. "That bickering only belittles all of them."
Just then, Rhombus, the keeper of the household announced the entrance of the actual visitor – Lucius Petrus Dextrus, "…Chief Augur of the City Government."
"Quintus, stand up," Metella hissed as the augur entered.
Said augur was a middle-aged man of a rather portly built, indicating wealth and a lavish lifestyle, far less active or healthy than that of Caecilius. Oddly enough, he covered his entire right side with a cloak despite it being mid summer.
"A rare and great honour, sir, for you to come to my house," Caecilius greeted, but as he tried to shake his hand, Dextrus didn't react.
Instead, he started to give an augury. "The birds are flying north, and the wind is in the west."
"Quite. Absolutely. That's good, is it?" Caecilius answered, trying to suppress a feeling of dread. Not again.
"Only the grain of wheat knows where it will grow," Dextrus continued.
"There now, Metella. Have you ever heard such wisdom?"
"Never. It's an honour," Metella assured them. And meant it.
Every Antarian néone child has more wisdom than that.
No surprise, Theta. Time Lords are clever – Antarians are wise.
"Pardon me, sir. I have guests. This is Brennus, Boadicea and Asha," Caecilius introduced the three time travellers.
"A name is but a cloud upon a summer wind."
"But the wind is felt most keenly in the dark," the Doctor shot back.
"Dark. But what is the dark, other than an omen of the sun?" Dextrus wondered.
"We concede that every sun must set," the Walker added.
"Ha."
"And yet, the son of the father must also rise," she finished, waving at still-hung over Quintus.
"Damn. Very clever, sir, madam. Evidently, you are both people of learning."
"Oh, yes. But don't mind us. Don't want to disturb the status quo."
"He's Celtic," Caecilius whispered.
"We'll be off in a minute." The Doctor waved in the direction of Idris.
"It's ready, sir," the marble merchant announced proudly.
"I'm not going," Donna protested stubbornly even as they dragged her off.
"You've got to."
"Well, I'm not!"
"The moment of revelation. And here it is." With a flourish, Caecilius drew a cover from a slab of marble… which turned out to be carved as a circuit board as they reached the TARDIS.
"Exactly as you specified. It pleases you, sir?"
"As the rain pleases the soil."
Circuitry? From stone?
Fuck. That's the first time since the war I wish I had taken the job janayi had offered when I was 127. "Oh, now that's different. Who designed that, then?" The Doctor asked, walking back.
"My Lord Lucius was very specific," Caecilius explained.
"Where'd you get the pattern?"
"On the rain and mist and wind."
"But that looks like a circuit." Donna frowned.
"Made of stone." The Doctor nodded.
"So this came to you, in a dream?" the Walker wondered.
"That is my job, as City Augur."
"What's that, then, like the mayor?" Donna was a little confused.
"Oh, ha. You must excuse my friend, she's from Barcelona." He took her aside to explain, sotto voce. "No, but this is an age of superstition. Of official superstition. The Augur is paid by the city to tell the future. 'The wind will blow from the west?' That's the equivalent of ten o'clock news."
Just then, the daughter of the house entered, swaying and pale, but the eyes bright and brimming with knowledge. "They're laughing at us. Those three, they use words like tricksters. They're mocking us."
"No, no, I'm not. I meant no offence," the Doctor assured hastily.
"I'm sorry. My daughter's been consuming the vapours." Metella rushed over to Evelina.
For some reason, the sight of his older sister sobered Quintus up on the spot. "Oh for gods, Mother. What have you been doing to her?"
"Not now, Quintus," his father shushed him.
"Yeah, but she's sick. Just look at her."
"I gather I have a rival in this household. Another with the gift," Dextrus remarked.
"Oh, she's been promised to the Sybilline Sisterhood. They say she has remarkable visions," Metella explained, full of pride.
"The prophecies of women are limited and dull. Only the menfolk have the capacity for true perception," the augur scoffed.
I know of a lot of people amongst ours who would protest against that.
I know. The last Visionary of Gallifrey was a woman too. He sighed mentally, squeezing her hand. She predicted my life to be one of struggle… and the end of Gallifrey when Rassilon was resurrected.
Oh. I bet the Professor didn't like the former.
I think her trying to make me a Valeyard came from that. It would have made many things easier, that's for sure.
"I'll tell you where the wind's blowing right now, mate," Donna interjected.
Just then, the earth shook briefly. "The Mountain God marks your words. I'd be careful, if I were you," Dextrus advised.
"Consuming the vapours, you say?" the Walker wondered.
"They give me strength."
"It doesn't look like it to me," the Doctor contradicted, shaking his head.
"Is that your opinion… as a Doctor?" she asked, surprising them.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Doctor. That's your name," the girl repeated. "And you, you call yourself Walker."
"How did you know that?" the Time Lady demanded.
"And you. You call yourself Noble," Evelina continued, turning to Donna.
"Now then, Evelina. Don't be rude," Metella scolded.
"No, no, no, no. Not at all." The Doctor shook his head.
"You all come from so far away," the initiate whispered.
"The female soothsayer is inclined to invent all sorts of vagaries," Dextrus sneered.
"Oh, not this time, Lucius. No, I reckon you've been out-soothsayed," the Doctor mused.
"Big time," the Walker agreed.
"Is that so? Children of Gallifrey."
"What?"
"The strangest of images. Your home is lost in fire, is it not?"
"Doctor, what are they doing?" Donna wondered.
"She is not just a daughter of Gallifrey," Evelina cut him off. "Like the other, she is also a daughter of… London."
"What does she mean? How do they know that?" Donna was positively bewildered by now, as were her Gallifreyan friends.
"This is the gift of Pompeii. Every single oracle tells the truth," Dextrus declared proudly.
"That's impossible," the ginger whispered.
"Doctor, she is returning," the augur continued.
"Who is? Who's she?" The Time Lord stared at him, steel-eyed.
"And you, daughter of London. There is something on your back."
In reaction, Donna reached up to her shoulder. "What's that meaning?"
But it was Evelina who won the competition. "Even the words Doctor and Walker are false. Your real names are hidden. They burn in the stars, in the Cascade of Medusa and the Seven of the Pleiades themselves. You are Lords, sir, madam. Lost Lords of Time."
Wow. Scary.
I'd say, Martha. I mean, Skasiel, okay, but she's Antarian and has a schism at hand, but a human?
Just then, Evelina fainted from the exertion, falling into her mother. "Evelina!"
8
While the women tended to Evelina, the Doctor turned to investigation mode after Dextrus left. "Consuming the vapours?" he asked his host. It had become evening, and both him and the Walker had left their long coats behind in the TARDIS.
"Yes. From the hypocaust," Caecilius confirmed, leading him to the elevated box of stone.
With a quick flick, the Time Lord removed the grate and sat down. "Different sort of hypocaust?"
"Oh, yes. We're very advanced in Pompeii. In Rome, they're still using the old wood-burning furnaces, but we've got hot springs, heated from Vesuvius itself," the marble vendor explained proudly.
"Who thought of that?"
"The soothsayers, after the great earthquake, seventeen years ago. An awful lot of damage. But we rebuilt."
"Didn't you think of moving away? Oh no, then again, San Francisco."
"That's a new restaurant in… Naples, isn't it?"
A dull roar resounded up from the hypocaust shaft, causing the Doctor to bow over it. "What's that noise?"
"Don't know. Happens all the time. They say the gods of the Underworld are stirring."
"But after the earthquake, let me guess. Is that when the soothsayers started making sense?"
"Oh, yes, very much so. I mean, they'd always been, shall we say, imprecise?" Caecilius mused in a conspiratorial tone, earning a small hidden smile from the Time Lord. "But then the soothsayers, the augurs, the haruspex, all of them, they saw the truth again and again. It's quite amazing. They can predict crops and rainfall with absolute precision."
"Haven't they said anything about tomorrow?"
"No. Why, should they? Why do you ask?"
"No, no. No reason. I'm just asking," he denied quickly. "But the soothsayers, they all consume the vapours, yeah?"
"That's how they see," the Pompeiian explained.
Putting on his glasses, he reached into the hypocaust. "Ipso facto."
"Therefore," Caecilius translated.
"They're all consuming this," the Doctor finished, holding up a portion of the "vapours", grinding the material in between his thumb and index finger to fall back into the hypocaust.
"Dust," his host breathed, shocked.
"Tiny particles of rock. They're breathing in Vesuvius," he concluded after taking a taste of the stuff.
"Why then… this is too much. It's late. As I said earlier, you are welcome to stay until tomorrow." Closing the grate, the merchant picked up the lamp.
"Thank you." The Doctor bowed respectfully, and took the bench as Caecilius left. This just doesn't make sense. None of these people is trained as a visionary, yet they can predict the future and see the past with the precision of a full prophet. And this… Leaning back, he studied a piece of rock he had retrieved from the hypocaust. It was different he could tell, different from what Vesuvius should be, but he couldn't tell how. Something's very wrong here. Wrong enough for us to be drawn here.
Just then, Donna and the Walker came back, both the picture of worry. "Seventeen years old, and her arm is turning to stone," the ginger recounted the chilling experience.
"All the soothsayers of old Pompeii can predict the future, yet none of them can see tomorrow," the Doctor mused.
"Even if we can," the Walker added, earning a nod. "What's that?"
"Piece of the hypocaust. Check it out, it's wrong."
The Time Lady stared at it and sighed. Its timelines were a mess. "I can see that. Have you listened to it yet?"
"I have. Doesn't make sense."
"We're staying," Donna concluded.
"Yeah," they confirmed simultaneously.
The Doctor rolled up into a sitting position and pocketed the rock. "We should look into what Dextrus is doing with a marble circuit."
"Good idea. This is somewhat familiar…"
"Did The Surgeon encounter something like it?"
"I think so, I just can't remember where or when exactly," the Walker answered.
"I'll look after Evelina," Donna offered. "Maybe I can find something out why she can't see anything about tomorrow."
"Good idea." He nodded. "So, are we in agreement then?"
Donna nodded. "Yeah. Good luck you two."
Bribing Quintus into showing them around night-time Pompeii, they made it to a back window of Dextrus' house. "Don't tell my Dad," the teen begged.
Jumping up to the window and opening the shutters, he muttered, "Only if you don't tell mine," and helped the Walker through the window.
"Pass me that torch," she ordered after seeing that the only light was from the glowing hypocaust, and, after looking behind and tearing down another curtain inside the room, she quirked an eyebrow. "Now that looks familiar indeed."
Quintus had followed them inside, and at the sight of the six marble tiles carved as circuit boards, he gasped in anger. "The liar! He told my father it was the only one."
"Well, plenty of marble merchants in this town. Tell them all the same thing, get all the components from different places, so no one can see what you're building." The Doctor turned to his beloved. "How familiar?"
"It needs some rearranging, mister engineer," the healer replied, the agile mind working overtime.
"So what is he building?"
"A–"
"The future, Doctor, Madam Walker," Dextrus cut her off, entering together with a pair of guards. "We are building the future, as dictated by the gods."
"Really?" the Walker scoffed. "I hate being interrupted you know. And let's see what your dream tiles make. Hold that please, Quintus." She gave the torch back to the teen, and, together, the Chronarchs started rearranging the boards. "It looks like some parts of a genetic fusion matrix, Theta," she whispered in Gallifreyan.
"What?" he hissed in the same language, picking up another board.
"Well, it reminds me of one. Parts of the Chameleon Arch look like that. Under the microscope."
"Which part?"
"You'll see. That part is pure engineering, at which you are definitely better than me."
"I wonder sometimes what kind of knowledge title my uncle had. I know janayi is a titled Polymath of the Academy right and proper, but this is crazy," he muttered, getting to the last tiles. "Put this one there. This one there. Err, keep that one upside down, and what you got?"
"Enlighten me," Dextrus scoffed.
"What, the soothsayer doesn't know?" he mocked.
"Wow, that's a new one. Can you see it though, Doctor?"
"Oh, I do, Walker. I do, and the soothsayer doesn't, that's fun."
"The seed may float on the breeze in any direction," Dextrus answered flatly.
"Yeah, I knew you were going to say that. But it's an energy converter," the Time Lord finished.
"An energy converter of what?"
"I don't know exactly. Isn't that brilliant? I love not knowing." He grinned excitedly before walking over, turning serious. "Keeps me on my toes. It must be awful being a prophet without control about it, waking up every morning, is it raining? Yes, it is, I said so. Takes all the fun out of life. But who designed this, Lucius, hmm? Who gave you these instructions?"
"I think you've babbled enough, heretics."
"Lucius, really, tell me. Honestly, I'm on your side. I can help."
"Is that wise?" the Walker hissed, using Gallifreyan again.
"We need to know what the hell he needs the equivalent of the output of a Mark VIII ion/fusion drive for, and this is the quickest way I think."
"I have a bad feeling about this."
"You insult the gods. There can be only one sentence. At arms," Dextrus ordered, causing the guards to draw their swords.
"Oh, morituri te salutant," the Doctor muttered.
"Celtic prayers won't help you now."
"But it was him, sir. He made me do it. Master Dextrus, please don't," the teen begged.
"Come on now, Quintus, dignity in death. I respect your victory, Lucius. Shake on it? Come on. Dying man's wish?" As Dextrus didn't react to the Doctor's plea, the Time Lord lunged forward… and broke off the right arm of the augur with an audible crack.
"Ungh…"
Quintus was shocked. "But he's…" Said right forearm in the Doctor's hands was completely made of brittle volcanic stone.
"Show us," the Walker ordered, glaring.
Dextrus threw his cloak aside, revealing that he his entire right side had petrified. "The work of the gods."
"He's stone," Quintus breathed, horrified.
"Armless now, though. Whoops." Throwing the stone arm, he jumped back on the commode, followed by Martha.
"Quintus!" she yelled, causing the boy to follow after throwing the torch. Aiming their screwdrivers at the circuit boards, they knocked them over and jumped out. "Run!"
8
Reaching an intersection leading to Foss Street, they stopped. "No sign of them. Nice little bit of allons-y. I think we're all right."
"But his arm. Is that what's happening to Evelina?" Quintus' voice was stuck somewhere between bewildered, worried and plain scared.
"I think so–" The Time Lady was cut off as a single heavy rumble resounded under them. "What was that?"
"The mountain?" Quintus suggested.
"No, it's closer," the Doctor denied, and as he noticed that they were rhythmical, his eyes widened in shock. "Footsteps." Things started to fall over as the ground shook, closer and closer to them.
Now Quintus was definitely frightened. "It can't be."
"Footsteps underground," the Walker confirmed.
"What is it? What is it?"
"Run!" On their way back to the villa, every hypocaust grill was blown off as they ran, and ran straight into a midnight gathering of the Caecilius family. "Caecilius? All of you, get out," the Doctor ordered, a little winded.
"Doctor, Walker, what is it?" Donna asked, now dressed in a dark blue stola with short sleeves.
"I think we're being followed," the Time Lady grimaced.
In that moment, the hypocaust grill flew off. "Just get out!" the Doctor yelled, but predictably, nobody was listening. Instead, everybody stood and stared as the ground around the hypocaust cracked.
A creature made of stone and fire climbed up out of it, and as it stood, it nearly reached the ceiling. "The gods are with us," Evelina whispered.
"Water. We need water. Quintus. All of you, get water. Donna!" the Doctor yelled, causing both to scurry for water.
"Blessed we are to see the gods," Rhombus said dazed… and then, his "god" incinerated him on the spot, breathing fire.
"Talk to us. That's all we want. Talk to me. Just tell us you are. Don't hurt these people," the Time Lord implored. "I'm the Doctor."
"I'm the Walker. Just tell us who you are," Martha joined him, Time raging a small storm in her ears. History has been altered.
On a fixed point no less. Rassilon, I hate my life!
Just as the creature took aim to attack the Chronarchs, Quintus and a servant returned, scooping water from the fish pond and throwing it at the thing. "Take that!"
Two bucket-loads of cold water, that was all it needed for the creature to be stopped and crumble into big chunks of rock as it tried to move. "What was it?" Caecilius asked, still reeling.
The Walker had knelt down by the side of the remains, checking them. "Carapace of stone, held together by internal magma. Silicon-based life. Not too difficult to stop, but I reckon that's just the foot soldier. Pass me that rock from the hypocaust." Wordlessly, the Doctor did as asked.
"Doctor, Walker, or whatever your names are, you bring bad luck on this house," Metella accused.
"I thought your son was brilliant. Aren't you going to thank him?" The Doctor lifted an eyebrow, causing the woman to give her son a heartfelt embrace. Turning around, he knelt down beside Martha. "What is it?"
"The rock from the hypocaust, and that creature. Taste it. It's the same," the Walker explained, frowning.
Doing as asked, he closed his eyes in thought. "It just keeps coming."
"Someone's messing with history."
"I don't know. If there are aliens at work in Pompeii, it's a good thing we stayed." They got to their feet. "Donna? Donna? Donna!"
Donna was gone.
Donna Noble found herself in a rather typical position for a companion of a Lungbarrow – captured – in a somewhat untypical variation. "You have got to be kidding me."
The variation consisted of her being tied to the altar of the Sibylline temple, the vice-priestess Spurrina standing over her with a knife. "The false prophet will surrender both her blood and her breath," she declared.
"I'll surrender you in a minute. Don't you dare." If Donna's glares would have been daggers, all the sisters would have been a dead and bloody mess by now.
"You will be silent."
"Listen, sister, you might have eyes on the back of your hands, but you'll have eyes in the back of your head by the time I've finished with you. Let me go!" Donna thundered.
"This prattling voice will cease forever!" Spurrina raised the knife…
"Oh, that would be the day," the Doctor interrupted, leaning nonchalantly against a pillar. "At least in the library."
Shocked, Spurrina whirled around. "No man is allowed to enter the Temple of Sibyl!"
"Well, that's all right. Just us girls…" The Walker grinned crookedly from another pillar. "Well, kind of…"
"Do you know, I met the Sibyl once. Yeah, hell of a woman. Blimey, she could dance the Tarantella," the Doctor pondered aloud. Slowly, they made their way to both ends of the altar. "Nice teeth. Truth be told, I think she had a bit of a thing for me. I said it would never last. She said, I know. Well, she would. You all right there?"
"Oh, never better," Donna joked.
"Nice toga," the Walker complimented her.
"Thank you. And the ropes?"
"Yeah, not so much," the Doctor conceded. Simultaneously, they drew their sonics and cut her loose.
"What magic is this?" Spurrina demanded, only to snap back at a glare beyond her years… beyond her world.
Meet the Oncoming Storm, the Walker thought smugly.
"Let me tell you about the Sibyl, the founder of this religion. She would be ashamed of you. All her wisdom and insight turned sour. Is that how you spread the word, hey? On the blade of a knife?" He glared ice at them.
Spurrina had found her footing again, unlike the others, and lifted the knife again. "Yes, a knife that now welcomes you–"
"Show me this man," a voice rasped from the back of the temple, stopping the Sisters.
"High Priestess, the strangers would defile us." Spurrina, as the eldest, was the only one standing, the others had fallen into ceremonial bows on the floor.
"Let me see. These ones are different. They carry starlight and the ages in their wake," the High Priestess rasped from behind her curtain.
"Perceptive."
"Very perceptive. Where do these words of wisdom come from?" the Doctor asked.
"The gods whisper to me."
"They've done far more than that. Might we beg audience? Look upon the High Priestess?" the Walker wondered.
Two Sisters drew the veil aside to reveal that the High Priestess was living stone. "Oh, my God. What's happened to you?" Donna gasped.
"The heavens have blessed me," the High Priestess declared.
"If I might?" the Walker asked, and the priestess held out her arm for her to touch. "Doesn't it hurt?"
"It is necessary."
The Doctor frowned. "Who told you that?"
"The voices."
"Is that what's going to happen to Evelina? Is this what's going to happen to all of you?" Donna shouted.
Spurrina came forward, showing her petrified forearm. "The blessings are manifold."
"They're stone," the ginger whispered, shocked.
"Exactly. The people of Pompeii are turning to stone before the volcano erupts," the Walker summarised.
"But why?" the Doctor demanded to know.
"This word, this image in your minds. This volcano. What is that?" the priestess asked back.
"More to the point, why don't you know about it? Who are you?" he continued.
"High Priestess of the Sibylline!"
"No, no, no, no. We're talking to the creature inside you. The thing that's seeding itself into a human body, in the dust in the lungs. Taking over the flesh and turning it into, what?" the Walker cut her off, giving an impressive first attempt at a Time Lord glare.
"Your knowledge is impossible!"
"Oh, but you can read our minds. You know it's not. I demand you tell me who you are," she insisted.
Suddenly, the High Priestess spoke with two voices, one of them lower, raspier – and taking over. "We are awakening!"
"The voice of the gods," Spurrina whispered, causing a frightening reaction in the other sisters: Sitting back on their heels, they rocked back and forth, chanting, Words of wisdom, words of power. Words of wisdom, words of power, and so forth.
"Name yourself. Planet of origin. Galactic coordinates. Species designation according to the universal ratification of the Shadow Proclamation as specified by The Founder and recorded in the Antarian Military Archives!" the Doctor demanded.
"We are rising!" The priestess got to her feet.
Angry now, the Chronarchs joined hands, and chose to speak as entity. "Tell us your name!"
Finally, the creature relented, gasping, "Pyrovile!" and ripped off its hood. Immediately, the chant switched to the species name.
"What's a Pyrovile?" Donna asked.
"Silicon-based life form. Essentially, living stone, home on the hyper-volcanic planet Pyrovillia," the Walker recalled.
The Doctor added, "And the thing growing inside of her is one. She's a halfway stage, surface and limbs petrified completely."
"What, and that turns into?"
"The thing in the villa, that was an adult Pyrovile," the dark-skinned Scaltata explained.
"And the breath of a Pyrovile will incinerate you, Doctor," the High Priestess/Pyrovile hive mind declared. "All of you!"
Pulling out a clear yellow water pistol, the Doctor yelled, "I warn you, I'm armed. Ladies, get that grille open."
"What the…?" Donna wondered, bewildered.
The Walker dragged her off. "Just do it."
"What are the Pyrovile doing here?" the Time Lord demanded to know.
"We fell from the heavens. We fell so far and so fast, we were rendered into dust."
"Right, creatures of stone shattered on impact. When was that, seventeen years ago?"
"We have slept beneath for thousands of years."
"Okay, so seventeen years ago woke you up, and now you're using human bodies to reconstitute yourselves. But why the psychic powers?" the Walker called from the hypocaust.
"We opened their minds and found such gifts!"
"Fine, right. So you force yourself inside a human brain, use the latent psychic talent to bond. I get that, we get that, yeah," The Doctor was still threatening them with the water pistol. "But seeing the future? That is way beyond just psychic. You can see through time. There's no schism, no rift in Pompeii, and not one of them has the perceptive capacities to be trained as a visionary. Where does the gift of prophecy come from?"
"We got it!" Donna called, having finally managed to open the hypocaust.
"Now get down."
"What, down there?"
Much to her shock, the Walker prepared to jump down without hesitation, sitting on the edge. "Yes, down here, come on."
"Why can't this lot predict a volcano? Why is it being hidden?" the Doctor inquired rapid-fire mode.
"Sisters, I see into his mind. The weapon is harmless!" Spurrina called.
Caught, the Doctor pulled a face which could only be described as 'whoops'. "Yeah, but it's going to sting." Squirting rapidly water at the High Priestess, he yelled, "Get down there, now!"
The priestess screamed in pain, leaving the sisters to tend to her, and the time travellers free to jump down the hypocaust. "You fought her off – with a water pistol. I bloody love you," Donna declared.
"That. Was freaking awesome," the Walker agreed.
The Doctor looked down one of the passages. "This way."
"Where are we going now?" the ginger wondered.
It clicked for the Walker. "We're heading into the volcano, aren't we?"
"No way."
"Yes way." The Doctor whirled the water pistol around his finger. "Have it your way."
Pale sunlight streamed into the atrium of Caecilius' villa as he blew out the candles. He went back to Metella, knelt down and took her hand, shaken. "Sunrise, my love. A new day. Even the longest night must end."
"But the mountain's worse than ever," Quintus whispered.
"We killed a messenger of the gods in our own house." Metella was frightened to say the least, and turned to her daughter. "Sweetheart, can you see? Tell us. What's going to happen?"
"Just leave her alone." Quintus couldn't hold it in any longer and stood up; the way his mother pushed his sister's advancement had left her a shell of her former self, and he wouldn't stand for it.
Evelina closed her eyes to concentrate. "I can see."
"What is it?" her mother asked.
"A choice. Someone must make a choice." She opened her eyes again, filling them with tears. "The most terrible of choices."
Stumbling after the two Chronarchs – it was somewhat a mystery to her how the Walker kept up with her tall fiancée – Donna called, "But if it's aliens setting off the volcano, doesn't that make it all right for you to stop it?"
"Still a part of history," the Doctor denied.
"I don't think they are the ones setting off Vesuvius, Donna," the Walker added. "This whole mountain, it vibrates with pent-up energy. We're not Antarians, but we can tell."
"But I'm history to you. You saved me in 2008. You saved us all. Why is that different?"
"Some things are fixed, some things are in flux. Pompeii is fixed," he explained.
"How do you know which is which?"
The Doctor stopped and turned around, his face the picture of distress. "Because that's how we see the universe, Donna. Every waking second, we can see what is."
"What was."
"What could be."
"What must not," the Walker finished sadly. "This is the gift, the burden and the duty of the Time Lords."
"And there are not many of us left," the Doctor sighed, defeated.
"How many people died?"
"Stop it." The Doctor turned away.
"Doctor, how many people died?"
He whirled around, trying the hardest not to yell at her. It's not her fault. "Twenty thousand," he ground out.
"Is that what you can see, both of you? All twenty thousand? And you think that's all right, do you?" she accused.
The Walker, knowing both perspectives, cut them off. "When Time is violated, we are bound to right it. Try to understand. Do you really think we want them to die? Donna, we can hear their histories ending." She paused. "I'm a healer, a doctor. I'm sworn to help people. I can hear their timelines snapping, and yet… I know there's nothing we can do. Vesuvius will blow, one way or another, no matter what we try."
"But…"
"Donna, until about eight months ago, I would have wholeheartedly agreed with you. But Martha Jones, medical student, found her end at the hands of a petty excuse of a Time Lord willing to risk all of Time for a Paradox and universal domination," the Walker explained, the shoulders slumping. "And The Walker was born, her eyes opened to the universe. And I will not, absolutely not become like the man who shot me and thought he was greater than Time herself."
"Walker…" The Doctor slung an arm around her, knowing what kind of nightmare she was going through. Coming eye to eye with a negatively connoted fixed point in time for the first time was always a harrowing experience, and the one they had ended up with was a major one. Its effect was the same as being in the presence of a major predator – fight-or-flight, with flight being the only option. "Donna. It's like she said. It is not a matter of what we want, but of if we can, and the answer is no, we can't. Not this time. For all we know, we could be a part of the eruption."
Not even fiery Donna could argue with that; more importantly, she could see their anguish at not being able to help. "I'm sorry, it's just…" She lowered her hands in a gesture that conveyed all their helplessness.
"Yeah, we know–" A dull roar interrupted them. "They know we're here. Come on," the Doctor urged, pushing onwards, both the Pyrovile and the women hot on his heels. Sneaking through crevasses and more tunnels, they finally reached a great cavern, populated with quite a few adult Pyroviles. "It's the heart of Vesuvius. We're right inside the mountain."
"Right under the top. They must have hollowed it out," the Walker concluded.
"There's tons of them," Donna breathed, shocked.
"What's that thing?" the Walker wondered, fishing out a pair of sleek electrobinoculars to check a small structure in the middle of the cavern, a move copied by the Doctor with a simple monocular.
"Where you get these?" He shot the electronic (and hard to destroy) imaging instrument a slightly jealous look. At least it proves one thing, her pockets are bigger on the inside already.
"The Professor gave me the latest version. Reckoned I'd have a use for them."
"Oh, you better hurry up and think of something. Rocky IV is on its way," Donna stopped them, hearing the approach of their Pyrovillian pursuer.
"That's how they arrived. Or what's left of it. Escape pod? Prison ship? Gene bank?" he mused, putting the tool away.
"Escape pod, if the files on this thing are right," the Walker confirmed, putting her own back in her pocket. "And a very resistant one."
Donna frowned. "Okay. But why do they need a volcano? Maybe it erupts, and they launch themselves back into space or something?"
The Doctor furrowed his brow in thought. Volcano, Plinian eruption class, energy converter of a genetic fusion matrix, volcano… yes, why a fricking volcano of that magnitude? "No, I think it's worse than that."
"Having the same fears I do, lairelai?" Why an energy converter and a damn volcano?
"I think so…"
"How can it be worse?" Donna whispered breathless. Another roar. "Doctor, it's getting closer."
"Heathens!" Dextrus (without his dexter) stood on the other side of the cavern on a ridge. "Defile us. They would desecrate your temple, my lord gods," he thundered.
Grabbing the hands of the women, the Doctor got to his feet, scrambling down the ledge. "Come on."
Donna stared at him incredulously. "We can't go in."
"Err, we can't go back either, Donna," the Walker answered.
"Crush them. Burn them!" Dextrus demanded. In answer, a Pyrovile reared up in front of them, so the Doctor splashed it with his water pistol, causing it to flinch. Quickly, they ran to the escape pod. "There is nowhere to run, Doctor, Walker, and daughter of London."
Brandishing his water pistol in an almost comical copy of some James Bond films (almost since water was the weakness after all), the Doctor turned around to address their enemies. "Now then, Lucius. My lords Pyrovillian, don't get yourselves in a lava. In a lava? No?" Donna shook her head at the insanely lame pun, and the Walker smiled embarrassed. "No. But if I might beg the wisdom of the gods before we perish. Once this new race of creatures is complete, then what?"
"My masters will follow the example of Rome itself. An almighty empire, bestriding the whole of civilisation," the augur declared.
"But if you've crashed, and you've got all this technology, why don't you just go home?" Donna was a little confused.
"The Heaven of Pyrovillia is gone."
"What do you mean, gone? Where's it gone?" the Doctor wondered.
"It was taken. Pyrovillia is lost. But there is heat enough in this world for a new species to rise!"
"Sorry to remind you, it's seventy percent water out there," the Walker pointed out. Where the hell is the Watcher?
"Water can boil, Walker. And everything will burn!"
Shix.
My thoughts exactly, Walker. "Then the whole planet is at stake. Thank you. That's all we needed to know. Donna." They got into the escape pod and he locked the hatch behind them.
"Could we be any more trapped?" Donna wondered. In that moment, the interior heated up as a Pyrovile breathed fire on the shell. "Little bit hot."
"You had to ask," the Walker muttered, the eyes on the completed circuit. "Oh. That's what they need a Plinian eruption for. I was right, it's a genetic fusion matrix. Why do I have to be right?"
"You're a Scaltata. Bound to be right when you don't want to."
"What does it do?" Donna asked. "I…"
"Don't apologise, Donna, this is not your field after all," the Doctor reassured her. "The energy converter takes the lava, uses the power to create a fusion matrix, which welds Pyrovile to human. Now it's complete, they can convert millions."
"But can't you change it with these controls?"
Distressed, the Doctor nodded his head from side to side. "Of course I can, but don't you see? That's why the soothsayers can't see the volcano. There is no volcano. Vesuvius is never going to erupt. The Pyroviles are stealing all its power. They're going to use it to take over the world."
"But you can change it back?"
They stared at her from both sides, wide-eyed and… frightened, that was the word. "We can invert the system, set off the volcano, and blow them up, yes," he whispered frantically.
"But, that's the choice, Donna. It's Pompeii or the world," the Walker finished, just as horrified.
"Oh my god…" Donna was shocked.
"If Pompeii is destroyed, then it's not just history, it's us. We make it happen," the Doctor said, strained. Nonetheless, they went to work, starting to reverse the system.
"But the Pyrovile are made of rocks. Maybe they can't be blown up," Donna worried.
"Vesuvius exploded with the force of twenty four nuclear bombs. Nothing can survive it," he ground out as he finished the sequence. "Certainly not us."
"Never mind us." Donna shook her head.
"I don't…"
"It never ends, Theta. Our dream never ends," the Walker denied.
Shaking, he put his hands on the main lever. "Push this lever and it's over. Twenty thousand people," he whispered hoarsely.
The Walker put her hands on top of his, interlacing their fingers. Theta. I'm here, lairelai. Not hesitating, Donna joined them, and they pushed.
Around them, Vesuvius awakened from its long slumber to rage destruction on everything.
The capsule turned out to be exactly what the Walker's electrobinoculars had stated, an escape pod, as it was launched on top of the eruption column, ending on an old lava flow somewhere between the edge and the city, and while the two rather traumatised Gallifreyans just wanted to get the hell out of there (especially since the fixed point was in full swing, occupying most of their temporal senses), Donna tried in vain to get people to flee to the hills, away from the oncoming pyroclastic flows that would bury Pompeii in less than 20 hours, all the while following the pair. Finally, they reached Caecilius' home, where the terrified family was cowering in a corner. "You can't save us, Doctor!" the merchant accused.
Shaking it off and running on autopilot, the Time Lord rushed to the TARDIS, the shaken Walker on his heels, and they started the engines. "No! Doctor, you can't. Doctor!" Donna had no choice: She ran inside the vessel. "You can't just leave them!"
"Don't you think we've done enough? History's back in place and everyone dies," he snapped.
"Donna, please," the Walker pleaded. Her mind was on overload, filled with the sound of countless timelines snapping, coming to an abrupt end. She was barely able to set the coordinates for the Time Vortex.
"You've got to go back. I am telling you, take this thing back. It's not fair!" she shouted at them.
"No, it's not," he conceded quietly, his anger at himself simmering under the surface.
"But your own planet. It burned," she pleaded tearfully.
"That's just it. Don't you see, Donna? Can't you understand? If I could go back and save them, then I would. But I can't. I can never go back. I can't. I just can't, I can't," he retorted almost brusquely, the eyes filled with anguish, drawing comfort from the mental caresses both Idris and Martha sent him.
Donna, while still underestimating herself, was far from stupid, and knew he was not exaggerating. How many times were you forced to choose like this? I'm asking not just for myself, please… "Just someone. Please. Not the whole town. Just save someone," she begged.
He looked up, surprised. Donna?
I don't think she's asking for the sake of Pompeii. And she's right, it would count as a cheap trick at the worst. "Let's do this." Switching the controls, the Walker set the TARDIS to rematerialise inside Caecilius' villa.
8
Pluto, have mercy on us. Lucius Caecilius had already resigned himself to his fate as the strange blue wooden box of the Doctor reappeared, and its apparent owner came out. Great Gods, what is this now? Offering his hand, the Doctor spoke, "Come with me," and with facing certain death otherwise, he took the hand, following the stranger.
8
They landed Idris on the hills above Pompeii, to the northwest, out of reach of Vesuvius' rage, and watched together with the Caecilius family as the second pyroclastic flow raced down the flanks of Vesuvius the next morning. "It's never forgotten, Caecilius. Oh, time will pass, men will move on, and stories will fade. But one day, Pompeii will be found again. In thousands of years. And everyone will remember you," the Doctor retold, soothing the surprised and shocked Lucius.
Donna, who stood with the teens, turned to the Sibyl-to-be. "What about you, Evelina? Can you see anything?"
Evelina closed her eyes to focus, and shook her head, surprised. "The visions have gone." She turned to the Doctor in a wordless question, having seen the Time Lord in all his glory back then.
Acknowledging it, he started an explanation. "The explosion was so powerful it cracked open a rift in time, just for a second. That's what gave you the gift of prophecy. Worked just like a regular schism for Visionaries. It echoed back into the Pyrovillian alternative."
Sensing the same as her betrothed, the Walker finished, "But not any more. You're free. Free to live your life." At that, the girl smiled in thanks.
"But tell me. Who are you, Doctor, Walker? With your words, and your temple containing such size within?" Metella was completely at the end of her wits.
"Oh, we were never here. Don't tell anyone," the Doctor whispered conspiratorially.
Stepping forward, Lucius Caecilius Iucundus stared down at the fiery destruction of what had been his home for more than 20 years, overwhelmed with fear, wonder, and horror. It reminded him of… "The great god Vulcan must be enraged. It's so volcanic. It's like some sort of… volcano," he whispered, sobs sneaking into his voice as he pulled his wife into a hug. "All those people." Together, they cried, mourning the loss.
In front of them, the black, burning avalanche of ashes, gas and rock buried the former jewel of Italia, behind them, their secretive saviours disappeared into the TARDIS.
Donna watched the two distressed Chronarchs as they moved Idris into the Time Vortex with strictly controlled movements. "Thank you."
The Walker shook her dark head. "No Donna. Thank you."
Taking his position, the Doctor looked at her, wear and defeat on his face. But there was also something else, mirrored on the face of the Time Lady: gratefulness. "You were right. Sometimes we need someone, especially not to lose sight of the details. Welcome aboard." He smiled, a little strained and subdued, but it was there nonetheless, and was joined by the others as he pulled the handbrake.
8
Later, as Idris hung safely in the Vortex – nowhere and no-when – the Doctor practically fled the control room, disappearing in the depths of the ship. "What was that?" Donna wondered.
"Are you really asking that?"
Slowly, the ginger shook her head. She herself felt like she'd been put through the wringer. "No. I'm going to take a bath and make dinner if you don't mind."
"Do that and find us then, thank you." The Walker found him in their room, on the balcony with the study, frozen like a statue. He was facing the Artron/Chronon-doused copy of his family's portrait, but the young Time Lady got the distinct feeling he didn't really see it. Numbness filled the air, chilling them to the bone, but she knew that what she felt was, for once, nothing compared to the storm brewing in her beloved. Hugging him from behind, she said softly, "Theta? Lairelai?"
The Doctor flinched visibly, a shudder running slowly through his slim body. Breathing heavily, he struggled to contain his feelings. It was for naught, though: Too similar was the choice which was none. It was The Moment all over again. Shaking her off, he couldn't hold himself any longer: Letting out a yell, he broke to his knees and started to sob, the very image of anguish and powerlessness. Hammering on the floor, he wailed inarticulately in Gallifreyan, cursing his life and Time Eternal, all the while begging for forgiveness.
Eih, lairelaiue. Going down to her knees on the thick plush rug, she reached out tentatively, putting a hand to his shoulder. "Theta."
He froze again, looking up at her. "Martha…" And, much like that fateful day two and a half years ago under a purple sky and the Professor, he suddenly launched himself at her, clinging to her body and presence like a shipwrecked man out at sea clung to floating wood as not to drown, screaming in frustration and his entire being shaking with his sobs. "Why me? Why does it always end with me?!"
"Ke, krre," she soothed, crying silently and rocking back and forth with him. "I wish I knew, lah lairelaiue. Lords of Time they call us. But you know… I think it's the other way around."
In their minds, Idris sung mournfully to them and with them: a funeral song of Gallifrey, so old that even Rassilon had known it as a boy.
Together, they mourned, a lament for all that was no more.
The next trip of the wayward trio was, as promised to Donna, into the future and outer space, but again, it ended to be harrowing. How so? Let's see… Set controls to random and roll around with the TARDIS to have fun, check. Land on an ice planet to see a rocket crash (and have their human companion need a heavy coat), check. Discover a dying Ood with a cryptic message, leaving them to investigate, and find a new low in humanity (Enslavement and lobotomising an entire species); check, check, double-check. Getting Donna to question her own race and wanting to go home, check. Free the Ood from slavery and hear them start a new song, hell yes, check. Getting their nerves stretched to the point of breaking, check. And as if that wasn't enough, Ood Sigma had a rather annoying parting message for them (seriously, he was the 5th to tell them that)…
Standing before Idris' doors, the three time travellers listened in delight to the new song of the Ood sphere. "The message has gone out. That song resonated across the galaxies. Everyone heard it. Everyone knows. The rockets are bringing them back. The Ood are coming home," the Doctor summarised, smiling for the first time since coming to this world.
Sigma bowed while the other Ood stood in circles, still singing. "We thank you, Doctor Donna and Walker, friends of Oodkind. And what of you now? Will you stay? There is room in the song for you."
The Doctor chuckled, sensing the others of his House deep in his soul. "I have sort of got a song of my own, thanks."
"I think your song must end soon," the senior Ood replied.
"Meaning?" Okay, that's a new one. Neither Kaletiel nor Skasiel said something like that, nor did the Visionary when she was still around… still, listen first, dismiss later.
"Every song must end. Even though, a new one is beginning, just like the old symphony having entered your song again, your current song must end."
"Yeah. Tell that the old symphony." Well, that is more cryptic than listening to Lady Skasiel. And can be taken so wrongly… does he mean I will regenerate soon or what? Or does he mean my oh so sunny and useful attitude from two years ago? Well, if it's that, it would fit with the second part: 'Old symphony'. If that's not janayi, I don't know a thing about prophecy. And Donna… Rassilon, jayethielai Donna. So much like us, honoured sister. "Err, what about you? You still want to go home?" he asked the ginger he and the Walker had welcomed as an older sister after they all had grieved Pompeii together.
"No. Definitely not. You're not getting rid that easily of me, Spaceman!" Donna declared.
"Then we'll be off," the Walker smiled.
Ood Sigma nodded, having expected as much. "Take this song with you, to watch over you like the stars that watch you."
"We will." Donna nodded.
"Always." I am so going to send a message to Lady Skasiel. I am sick of being given prophecies without commentary.
"And know this, Doctor Donna Walker. You will never be forgotten. Our children will sing of the Doctor Donna Walker, and our children's children, and the wind and the ice and the snow will carry your names forever," Sigma promised as they took off.
8
The first thing the Doctor did in the vortex was exactly that – he put in an interpretation request through to Skasiel for Sigma's prophecy, knowing the Cherubim to be as blunt as a bull in the china shop and obsessively perfectionist if it came to her work, the second, pulling the parking brake to keep them in the vortex. "Did I mention I hate prophecies, Walker?"
"Tell me about it," the healer groaned.
"Why do you?" Donna wondered.
"Jayethi, if your entire life is dictated by words a near-divine entity made thousands of years before you were even born, and it would be reinforced whenever you meet someone with the skills or training of a visionary, you'd hate them too," the Doctor moaned, leaning back against the captain's chair.
"That bad?"
"You have no idea." Shaking his head, he entered the coordinates for Kesh'at. "Shopping, Ladies?"
In answer, the Walker removed the parking break, yelling, "Allons-y!"
AN: Coming up next, a guest appearance from our favourite group of bisexual alien hunters – Torchwood!
