Dead Men Tell No Tales

Martha

Amy had been right about one thing at least: the trees were too wet from rain to burn. That hadn't stopped the campsite being engulfed by an exploding bag of sugar, however; the dried-up driftwood and bits of shipwreck caught fire very well. She, Donna, Clara and a semi-conscious Rose were already on their way towards the dark mountain by the time the flames got extreme, but they were far enough away by that point. The air stank of smoke, but the fire didn't exceed the boundaries of the campsite, the sugar and alcohol stashes burning too quickly. It was very strange smelling smoke, too – sickly sweet. Like choking on hot caramel.

"We should stop, wait for Amy to catch up," Martha said. Meeting 'towards the mountain' wasn't as specific a plan as it had seemed ten minutes ago, she soon realised, but they had to take care not to get separated. Lucky the three soldiers were too busy trying to save their belongings to chase them out, and they hadn't necessarily seen them leave. Too distracted by Amy and her lighter.

"That lighter was new," Clara muttered as they stopped, leaning against a tree.

"Maybe you should quit smoking. It's a sign," Donna said.

"If I'd quit smoking you wouldn't have even had my lighter to use," she argued right back, then sighed. "Getting almost eaten by cannibal sailors is exactly the situation that pushed me to start again. Nothing takes the edge off near-death situations like tobacco. Except maybe drinking myself into a coma." She looked very pointedly at Rose, oblivious to the fact she'd almost been eaten, when she said that. Donna was holding Rose up, and then Rose looked up at Clara, squinted, and vomited into the grass. Donna let go of her, disgusted, leaving Martha to go to her aid. She'd seen worse in A&E on New Year's Eve, anyway.

"Just try and throw it up," she told Rose, helping her lean forwards. Clara came over to help with her hair, obviously no stranger to drunk women.

"I almost preferred it when she was singing," Clara said, "Now she's just… mindless. Jesus."

"On the bright side, there's nothing else for her to drink here."

"No, not even water," said Donna.

Amy came staggering through the trees, sweaty and panting and covered in ash from the fire. Nobody was in pursuit of her, though, so that was something. But they had to wait for Rose to finish puking to carry on.

"Couldn't get your lighter back, sorry," she apologised to Clara, "I think it's melted, or something."

"It's fine," Clara sighed, "Someday I know my wife's going to get me a very nice silver one."

"That's something," said Donna, "We definitely can't die if Clara's wife's going to give her presents in the future."

"Not dying isn't much of a plan, though," said Martha, rubbing Rose's back. She gagged again and almost got some of her sick – which was entirely liquid, a mixture of rum and seawater – on Martha's shoes.

"No, listen, they said something after you got out of there," Amy began, "They said that no matter how much of their stuff I burned, there were things a million times more valuable on this island."

"So?"

"So, this is the island. The Forgotten Island, or whatever they called it. Calico Jack and Blackbeard. And we're here."

"Meaning the Queen Anne's Revenge is probably here too," Martha pointed out.

"And so is whatever mysterious force is stopping our powers from working. All we have to do is get our powers back and Rose or Donna could get us home. At the very least I could just order all the pirates to leave us alone," Amy said.

"Who made you the leader?" Donna questioned.

"Who cares?" Clara said, "None of us have a better plan, including you. And aren't you supposed to be half the Doctor, or something?"

"Amy came up with the whole plan to free you three," Martha said, "So let's not fight, okay? We're better than that. And she's right about the powers."

"How sure are you that this is 'the' island?" Donna continued.

"Well… it's an island," Amy shrugged, "What else are we supposed to do? Sit here and hope for the best? Those soldiers are going to start looking for us as soon as they put out their fire."

"And your plan is to just go towards the mountain?"

"We'll get lost if we try to go anywhere else, walk in circles. We can see the mountain. And if worse comes to worst, we'll climb it and light a beacon. If all the pirates in the Caribbean are trying to find this island, somebody will get here. We just convince them that we have money somewhere and that we'll pay them a fortune if they take us…" she didn't have an answer for what this mysterious destination would be, they couldn't exactly sail back to the TARDIS. Hopefully by that point though, someone on the TARDIS would realise the five of them were missing, and they'd launch a search operation. Martha was sure all the minds on the TARDIS – which included Oswin, most notably, as well as all their significant others – could find out where they'd got to if they put their heads together.

"Whatever, let's just go," Martha said, and the group began to walk, she and Clara relegated to leading the drunken Rose around like a mule.

"Surely the Tenth Doctor's looking for her about now?" Clara said as Rose stumbled through the darkness. The shadowy mountain was embossed against the moonlight and the inky sky; Amy was right, they certainly couldn't miss it.

"Yeah, but what's he gonna find?" said Donna, "Unless she wrote a note saying she was going to abduct the five of us to go on a random 'hen party' in the Caribbean in the 1700s, there aren't any clues. Can't just check the TARDIS records."

"Maybe the TARDIS can just… find her?" Martha suggested.

"But could it find her without her powers?" said Amy, "Without her powers, hasn't she basically lost connection to the time vortex?"

"What about artron energy?" Clara suggested, "We're all drenched in that stuff. The TARDIS can definitely track and lock onto it."

"There's artron energy all over the place," said Donna, "There's no way he could work out which area with traces of artron energy is where we are, and he wouldn't go looking that way, anyway – the risk of crossing his own timeline, past or future, is too great. And if he doesn't know that we don't have our powers… why would he come looking for us this quickly? We've got a better chance of your sister deciding to look for us."

"Yeah," said Martha quickly, "Surely Oswin would be able to do something? She must have a way to track you."

"I wouldn't put it past her, but I don't know what's messing up the mind patch," said Clara. "Although…"

"What?" the others all prompted her.

"Well – there's this device she made me, for my birthday the other week-"

"Did you have a birthday?" Amy asked.

"Yes, it's November 23rd."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five – look, that's not important, what's important is she made this device that uses my blood to track and monitor the emotional states of all the Echoes. Maybe she could do something with that, though it doesn't activate for her. She's probably got some way to trick it, though, or build something similar… and I don't think any technology could eliminate the emotional thing."

"What emotional thing?" Amy persisted.

"They've got an empathy bond," Martha explained.

"What? You and Oswin? You've bonded?"

"No, gross, I barely even know what that means."

"I think you know very well what it means," said Amy. Clara glared at her.

"It's not an incest thing, I have it with all the Echoes, it's just strongest with Oswin because I spend the most time around her. And if it transcends, you know, biology, to still affect her when she's a hologram – and it does work two-ways – well, she probably could find me. Or even build something to detect where Rose has gone, she must leave some… residual energy trace, or whatever."

"Maybe if the Doctor digs out the timey-wimey detector…" Martha mused.

"Urgh," said Amy, "Look at us. We all sound like him."

"I feel like he'd definitely have more of an idea of what's going on, though," said Clara.

"Probably be too busy trying to shag one of us to actually think about- EURGH!" Amy shrieked. She'd walked slap-bang into some dark object, looking over her shoulder to address Clara – lumped at the back half-carrying Rose, with Martha – and not paying attention to exactly where she was going. She practically leapt backwards away from it, but it took them all a few moments to realise what had caused Amy to react with so much horror.

Grimly, though, Martha soon saw that it was yet another hanged corpse. Just like those ones in Nassau, only somehow even more brutalised than those ones. Its skin was purply and blotchy, the veins burst and unable to heal themselves. The head was the colour of beetroot and swollen, fat, black tongue lolling out of the mouth. Leaving the semi-conscious Rose in Clara's hands, Martha approached to examine the body, heavily flogged before its demise. It also had fingers missing and its shirt was ripped open, so that one word was clearly visible having been carved into its chest: THIEF. Its eyes had long-ago been pecked out by birds, already partially desiccated.

"I, uh, think we're definitely in the right place…" said Martha, "He's been dead for about two weeks, or thereabouts. It's hard to tell without a proper light, and in jungle conditions decomposition will be accelerated, with the heat and humidity." Predictably, Martha was the least squeamish around the body, hardly bothered by it at all – even by its smell. But it was lucky she did take the time to examine it closely, because otherwise she mayn't have spotted something hidden in the pocket of its torn-up coat. Carefully she withdrew the object and unfolded: a cloth-like sheet of paper, with writing and markings on it.

She turned to show it to them all.

"That looks like a treasure map," Amy said immediately. That had been Martha's first thought, too, a crudely-drawn rendition of the island they were on – including the horseshoe bay and ominous mountain – with one telling addition: a big X. "X marks the spot, after all. Although, I'm ninety-percent sure that no pirates ever actually left treasure maps leading to buried treasure marked with Xs like that."

"Apart from these ones, clearly," said Clara. "What are we going to do? Follow it? It's just sort of near the base of the mountain, it can't be that far away."

"I don't know, isn't it more likely we'll run into pirates again if we go looking for the same treasure?" Donna said.

"But we've got the map," said Amy.

"How do we know it's still there? The body has 'thief' scratched into it," Clara pointed out, "Maybe he already took it, following the map, and whoever it belongs to caught him and did this?"

"He's a pirate, they're all thieves," said Amy, "Anyone could have done that. I say we follow the map to the X. Who knows, maybe there's a device buried there which is the very thing inhibiting our powers?" Martha couldn't lie, Amy had a point, but she also shared Clara's reservations about following an eerie map they'd found on a strung-up corpse. They really were caught between a rock and a hard place.

"I wanna find the treasure," Rose slurred behind them.

"She doesn't speak for all this time and that's what she says?" Clara commented.

"Treasuuuure," Rose whined.

"Yes, alright, fine," Martha said.

"Maybe we could trade her with the pirates for our own freedom," said Amy.

"Trade her for our freedom!?"

"Like, if it comes down to it. Worst case scenario. And it is all her fault we're even here." Martha shook her head, really hoping it didn't come down to it.

They all stepped carefully around the body, continuing on almost the same route.

"We should really carry more survival tools," Martha decided.

"Speak for yourself, I had a lighter," Clara pointed out.

"Don't any of us have, like, a compass? Or a Swiss army knife? Even a watch, or a waterproof torch?"

"In our defence," Donna began, "We didn't know she was going to teleport us out here."

"So, um," Clara said, attempting to change the subject as she hauled Rose through the undergrowth, "When's the baby due?" It took Martha a moment or two to realise Clara was talking to her. "Martha?"

"Oh, right. I don't know, I don't even know what the date is."

"Is December 10th," Rose mumbled.

"Then I guess it's due sometime in July or August."

"That'll be nice," said Clara, "Summer birthday."

"Bad weather to be heavily pregnant, though," Martha muttered. She was not looking forward to the later stages of pregnancy; she was already getting morning sickness on-and-off.

"Do you have any names yet?" asked Donna.

"I already asked her that," said Amy.

"She's naming it after me," Rose mumbled.

"I'm definitely not going to name it after you."

"Rose Jones…"

"Have your own baby and name it after yourself," Martha snapped at her. 'Rose Jones' – there was no way that was what the baby was being called. "Mickey wants to call it Ruth if it's a girl."

"Oh, you can't name a baby Ruth," said Clara, "That's like naming a baby 'Ethel', or 'Doreen.'"

"Or 'Clara'," Amy quipped.

"Ha, ha. What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just a bit of an old lady name. Like Ruth."

"Is not," argued Clara. "It's not like Amelia is the pinnacle of youth."

"Lots of people are called 'Amelia', it's very common," said Amy, "Just the other day, we met Amelia Earhart, didn't we?" Donna mumbled something affirming this.

"You what!?" Clara exclaimed.

"Did you actually?" Martha asked, "Where was she?"

"Crash-landed on a tropical island," Donna said, "Only the first of many tropical islands visited this week, apparently…"

"So – you rescued her?" Clara asked.

"No, she sort of… died," Donna explained, "Sacrificed herself to kill this massive, killer plant."

"Wow…" said Martha.

"I'm named after her," said Amy.

"So, you admit you're named after an old lady?" Clara challenged.

"This is why everybody thinks you're annoying."

"Give it a rest, she's barely said anything," Martha told her off.

"She's said enough." Clara rolled her eyes. Rose stopped walking and threw up again, making Clara jump away from her and leave her staggering on her own.

"Some warning would be nice!" Clara argued, watching Rose puke.

"This has got to be one of the lowest points of my entire life," said Martha.

"The lowest point of my life is actually very similar, I think," said Clara after Rose had just about finished, though she stayed leaning against a tree for a while longer, "Apart from getting eaten and shit out by a giant, alien worm, that was also quite bad…"

"I'm going to regret asking, but what's the lowest point of your life?" Donna asked.

"Oh, like I said, very similar. Also involves a girl throwing up on me. I think it's more… what she was doing when she threw up."

"Which was…?"

"I'm not inclined to say."

"Then why bring it up?"

"Let's just say we were both drunk and she had her mouth in a very compromising location."

"Eurgh…" said Amy.

"I was right," said Donna, "I definitely do regret asking."

Clara shrugged, "To be honest, I think it was more embarrassing for her. And she did lend me the money to buy new bedsheets, so I can't complain."

"I think you definitely can complain, if she threw up on your…" Martha said.

"That'd be cruel, though. She didn't do it on purpose."

"You are way too forgiving. And you have too many gross sex stories."

"You're a doctor, you live for gross stories."

"I live for helping people."

"What's the grossest thing you've ever seen?" Clara challenged her, "Apart from that awful story about the person who cut off their own legs."

"Oh, thanks for reminding me about that…" Amy muttered.

"I don't know – I once saw an old man with dementia aggressively wank at all the nurses who came to help him."

"That's… not as fun as I thought…" said Clara.

"That's your future, mate," Amy told her, "Aggressively wanking at women while you piss through a tube."

"Thanks. What a great image to put in my head."

"You did ask for gross medical stories," Martha shrugged, "What were you expecting?"

"Stop talking about that, I think we're here," Amy automatically lowered her voice. They all paused in the trees as she, their self-designated 'leader', took the first brave steps out into a clearing. Donna approached next once Amy beckoned to the rest of them, leaving Martha, Clara and Rose to go last. And right there, made out of the fallen branches of various trees, was a gigantic X. "Wow. I don't even think we needed the map."

"This is ridiculous," said Donna, "A massive X? A treasure map?"

"Well, maybe everything history says is a myth about pirates has more of a basis in fact?" Clara suggested. Nobody answered her.

"Right, then. Who's going to help me dig?"

Ultimately, it was down to all of them – well, four of them, Rose was still out of action – to kneel down and start digging through the mud and dirt with their bare hands. It was not the sort of thing Martha saw in her future when she decided to go to medical school and become a doctor. There was a bit of an issue with the mud from the rainstorm, making it quite hard to actually scrape anything away that far, and they all wound up absolutely covered in filth in a matter of minutes. It was too exhausting to really hold a conversation, either, and Martha just found herself thinking about how easy it would be with their superpowers. Not that they'd need to go treasure hunting at all if they had their powers.

But finally their fingers scraped against something hard and wooden about a foot down. Well, she could hardly be surprised at it not being buried deeper when it literally had an 'X' over it and a map leading straight to its location. It was quite possibly the most unsecure treasure Martha had ever seen. Treasure it certainly was though, a treasure chest no less, exactly like you'd see in films. They managed to pull it out after another few minutes of digging; it was heavy, but there were four of them, and it wasn't so large – two feet long and one foot wide. They heaved the chest out, dumping it in the mud next to the fresh hole and found it didn't even have a lock, just latches.

"…Should we just open it?" Clara asked, "What if it's a trap? We did find it very easily."

"What kind of trap?" Amy asked. Martha had been thinking the same thing; it was almost like that treasure wanted to be found. "Couldn't be a bomb, I don't think, not in this era."

"It could have a… mounted gun in it, maybe?"

"A mounted gun?" Martha questioned.

"We'll just angle it into the trees when we open it then," said Amy. "We can't just not open it."

"To hell with it," said Donna.

"No!" they all protested, but she didn't listen, she lifted both the latches and flipped open the treasure chest, the others all ducking out of the way of this mounted gun Clara had suggested. Perhaps predictably, however, it didn't contain a gun. What it contained was a very generous amount of gold; gold coins, jewellery, gem stones, some very genuine treasures. But there was something else most interesting indeed, which Amy went to pluck from the bed of treasure it lay upon.

"What is that?" Martha asked.

"It's… I think it's a… ticket reel?"

"What?"

"Look, it's tickets. They all say 'Admit One' on them," Amy said. And so they did, it really was a bright blue ticket reel, in there among the gold.

"To think the sea wasn't the end of ye scurvy dogs!" boomed a voice behind them. They all scrambled to their feet, Amy trying to hide her ticket reel, when a troop of leering, glowing ghost pirates stepped out from between the trees. And they were led by none other than the eerie Blackbeard. There were half a dozen of them, surrounding the girls, all with their swords drawn. "Trying to claim out treasure?"

"No, you can have the treasure," said Amy quickly, "Seriously, be our guest. We don't need the money, none of us, we're all, uh…"

"Household staff," Clara interrupted, "We're her maids and servants and whatnot," she indicated Rose, almost passed out against a tree on the ground, "She doesn't look it, but she's very rich. If you don't kill us, we'll tell you who her fiancé is. He'd pay any ransom to get her back."

"I did hear something of the like when I got that rat Calico Jack in my quarters. Before I cut his throat," said Blackbeard.

"Could you just not kill us? Please? We'll pay you, more than this treasure's worth."

"Aye, but the treasure isn't the most interesting thing in that there box."

"Oh, really?" asked Amy uneasily. Blackbeard pointed at one of his men with his sword and ordered him to go and search through the box. Standing just behind him they were able to watch as he rifled through the gold, dumping the coins and valuables out into the mud. To their surprise, however, he wasn't looking for the unusual ticket reel Amy had taken, there was something else in there: a sheet of paper. But not any paper-

"Is that laminated!?" Clara exclaimed, "Laminators definitely don't exist yet." It was laminated, nestled right in the base of the treasure chest. And it was also another map, pointing them back towards a mountain and what looked like a cave entrance. It was only slightly less crude than the map they'd found on the hanged corpse.

"It is an object of great wonder," said Blackbeard.

"Could we, uh, see where it leads? Maybe? Please?" Amy asked, "We did, sort of, go to all the trouble of digging it up for you?" He laughed coldly at them and the rest of his ghostly crew joined in.

"The power this points towards is too much for the fragile mind of a woman. By all means, sign your own death warrants. If the ladies want to be our prisoners, they shall be our prisoners," he cackled. "Even if you survive the wonders of the Forgotten Isle, you certainly won't survive a voyage on the Queen Anne's Revenge." Neither had any of them apparently, Martha thought, seeing as they were all ghosts. "Avast! The treasure shall be ours!"