CHAPTER 14

"Absolutely piss weak," Doyle chided from behind his desk. "You didn't just hand them a bargaining chip; you served them a global asset on a silver platter."

Madison and Martha stood with their hands clasped behind their backs, akin to students facing a stern Headmaster during after-school detention. Madison defended, "The Doctor was cornered."

"A dead asset protects UNIT better than a living one under duress," Doyle corrected.

Madison aired her disgust, "We would have walked away empty-handed if it weren't for the Doctor."

Martha supported Madison, stating, "We now have evidence that Hirst was drugging her guests through the ventilation systems," referring to the glass canister on Doyle's desk.

Doyle reminded Martha, "None of us can predict the Doctor like we can a UNIT-trained operative. We are on borrowed time."

"The Doctor wouldn't have acted on a whim," reasoned Madison, gesturing at the canister. "Our plan is to study it."

Doyle asked hesitantly, "Do we have a location of engagement for a rescue operation?"

Madison smiled confidently, "We do. On two counts, in fact. I tracked Hirst's vehicle to a remote location. In addition, our team is currently tracing the Doctor's communication pin. My money is that he will be where Hirst is located. If all else fails, UNIT had a helicopter following Hirst's yacht. It shouldn't be long before we know where it's moored."

Doyle spun in his chair, "While that does sound promising, we need to act fast." He nodded, "Proceed with your tests and trace Hirst's location. Keep me informed. Don't bugger this up, Lu."

Internally, Madison quipped about being able to do her job once the men zipped their pants of privilege but knew that now wasn't the time to verbalise as such.

MEANWHILE

The unknotted tendrils of the Doctor's black bowtie dangled beneath his white formal shirt collar as he was escorted from a black four-wheel drive parked outside a dockside warehouse.

A chilly evening sea breeze whispered onto his exposed clavicle through his unbuttoned top two shirt buttons.

Two guards held a door open, behind which Hirst stood observing the Doctor as he approached.

"I hope my staff were accommodating, Doctor," she greeted.

"Headphones would have been nice given how much of their yapping I had to suffer," he jibed.

"New face, but your enduring superiority complex remains. It's the best and worst of your brother in a single breath," she appraised.

"A fitting sentiment given that love and hate are never opposites."

"That sounds less philosophical than it does a justification for the blood on your hands," Hirst said as she turned, leading them toward her inner sanctum.

He juxtaposed his morality alongside Hirst's, "Nobody here is innocent."

They both entered a black door leading to a Japanese-inspired inner sanctum.

"Nobody who survived the Time War walked away with clean hands," she said, ascending a grand staircase.

He asked, "Did you fight?"

"It was never my war, I'm not Gallifreyan. I'm Huix."

While Hirst spoke, he reflected on human history – their future, specifically.

Entering a corridor internal to an inner sanctum carved from bluestone, he mused, "The Huix. Humanities last gasp for survival."

"You share your brother's knowledge of the Huix?"

"Like all of Gallifrey, really. The Timelords have always been keen observers of humanity's development. Around Earth's year of 4,000,000, the last surviving humans relocated to Durakin, the Ruix's fourth colony."

Hirst focused ahead, staring at a thick wooden door at the corridor's end. "Correct."

The Doctor continued, "Humans migrated, reproduced with the Ruix, and then the Huix was born."

"Yes, but not just out of an arbitrary need for mating, Doctor. The Ruix were embroiled in a prolonged and bloody war against the Setha who fought using virus-based weapons. That is until first contact was made with the last remaining Earthlings."

The Doctor stopped in the corridor, narrowing his eyes, "Elaborate."

Hirst stopped, "The Huix developed a natural immunity against the Setha's biological weapons. Think of it as a byproduct of reproduction."

"Human blood," the Doctor mused.

Hirst nodded, "AB negative blood. It changed the landscape of the Setha war. We never truly won. The Ruix's losses tolled to the billions since it took a near century of reproduction."

"Impressive. A shield born out of reproduction alone."

Hirst resumed their stroll toward the head of the corridor, "That's one interpretation. Others choose to see it as a victory by genocide. In any event, the Faction Paradox weren't' shy in their interest."

"Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse."

"Oh, Doctor, please. Are their trophies of Timelord skulls so different from your own unique brand of skulduggery through time?"

He remained silent before backtracking on their subject of discussion to avoid discussing a topic of greater discomfort. "The Huix didn't kill the Ruix. Not remotely. It was an evolution, not an execution."

"It was a sacrifice."

He declared, "That's all war can ever be, sacrifice. Senseless and bloody. That's why I decry it."

"You clearly lack your brother's empathy."

They both arrived at the door, the Doctor frowning, "He ran. I got my hands bloody."

Hirst placed her hand on the door's brass handle, "Then you hardly knew your brother. He helped us win the war."

"How did you become acquainted?"

"He was my lover."

The Doctor felt the blood circulation in his body slow and chill.

But what he saw in the next room froze every nerve in his body - a TARDIS console with a built-in rotor.

MEANWHILE

"Watching you control these medical gadgets makes me regret not taking maths and science more seriously at school," Madison remarked, walking around the lab bench.

Both women were still dressed in their fancy attire from earlier that evening.

Martha's eyes were fixed against a digital microscope as she adjusted its focus. "If you calculate every minute of your life spent partying compared to those I spent studying, you'll regret nothing," Martha answered, grinning wryly.

Madison watched a twenty-inch screen built into the lab bench as a series of molecule images came into focus from a blurred, muddied mess of colour. She pointed at the screen, "I take it these dots are," she shrugged, "I don't know? The active ingredients?"

"API," Martha clarified.

"What's an API?"

"Active Pharmaceutical Ingredient."

"Clearly, I was way off," Madison chided sarcastically. She stubbed her boot heel against the floor. "So, this API is what caused the people to faint?"

Martha gazed at the screen, "It is. But without knowing its properties, I'm just speculating." She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the bench. "It's obviously engineered, but what's the programmed target?"

Madison asked, "What about that guy we evacuated?"

"Derek? What about him?"

"Maybe his medical record could tell us something."

"It's late at night. I doubt his GP would answer a call. How is he?" Martha asked.

"I think he pulled up fine. I'm pretty sure he's still in sickbay."

Martha tapped her thumb against the bench. "Let's chat to him."

MEANWHILE

The console room interior was illuminated by candles in gothic chandeliers suspended by gold chains.

Stone archways led into other rooms of the TARDIS, resembling an Edwardian library.

Between each archway sat a series of six-foot-high bookshelves held thick, leather-bound tomes, their surfaces gathering dust.

The Doctor approached a brassy-coloured console adorned with yellowed levers, buttons coated in worn paint, dials showing signs of use, and blinking CRT screens, each emitting a faint, nostalgic glow.

Hirst stood aside, watching him while she reached the back of her dress. "As Arch Druid, I was a head researcher of human physiology and what made it so resistant against viral weapons. Your brother was instrumental in his research. We learned that AB-negative blood provided an ideal antibody against the Setha's weaponised pathogen."

The Doctor traced his hand along the console while circling around it, staring at Hirst through the rotors. "That doesn't sound like him. The human race was a constantly evolving species. Interfering with their development, whether slowing or accelerating, would violate the laws of time."

"We travelled together." Hirst unzipped her dress and stepped toward the console. "Places far beyond the stars. He swept me off my feet. I nearly abandoned them, you know? But Braxiatel wouldn't have a bar of it. He insisted I support the front line with my research. The Time War had obviously gotten to him."

He silently clicked his fingers by his side as he paced, hanging on Hirst's every word. "The Arch Druid and the Time Lord," he muttered, "It's almost poetic."

"Miracles do happen, Doctor. You're too battle-torn to recognize it. I had a connection with your brother. I loved him."

The Doctor folded his arms, "What happened?"

"He was killed," she reached behind her, releasing the hook and eye from the dress.

The Doctor scoffed, "Humans breathe oxygen, by the way. Come on."

"We had made a breakthrough in the war. The tide had finally turned. There was a double agent in our ranks who knew about Braxiatel's true identity as a Timelord, along with his TARDIS. He was a student of Braxiatel's for some time. Until one day, he shot him in cold blood."

The Doctor shook his head, "Did he not regenerate?"

"The assassin knew Timelord's biology well. He had shot him through both hearts using repeat rounds," Hirst's hand quivered while wiping a red tear from her eye.

"I cheated. Not only did I murder your brother's assassin, but I took control of the TARDIS. I used the TARDIS so I could prevent his murder."

The Doctor leaned into the console, watching Hirst closely through the parted rotor, "What happened?"

"The TARDIS went off course and catapulted me to Earth in the 20th century."

He nodded sarcastically, "That simple?"

Hirst's stare was merciless. "Your pomposity prevails ahead of empathy for the need to tell some narrative. I don't know what yarn you're weaving, but your threads are thinning."

Now that her dress was loosened, she shook it from her body and let it drape onto the floor in a heap.

It bundled in a ball up to her calves.

She slid her feet from her heels, now only wearing latex lingerie.

The Doctor leered at her belly area.

Hirst menacingly walked around the console until she was facing him.

Her lips parted into a commanding grin rife with macabre lust.

His expression was petrified by what he saw next.

A patch of skin on Hirst's belly parted into an orifice, and a worm-like creature with sharp teeth jutted. She stood before him, stroking his cheek with her right hand, whispering sensually, "You will be like us. You will find our conversion practices quite soothing."

The Doctor swallowed, "I think you're long overdue for a deworming."

Hirst's right hand swatted across his left cheek with a high patch clap, and the edge of her fingernails incised three faint cuts along the same area.

A ringtone from behind Hirst sounded.

Hirst rasped, "I want Braxiatel's TARDIS repaired by the time I return."

MEANWHILE

Martha sat at a table opposite Derek in UNIT's café area.

Derek rested his elbows on the table in a physically exhausted state after what had transpired that evening.

He was still dressed in his black suit.

Dragging his hand through his straws of grey hair flopped forward over his forehead, he answered Martha's question, "I don't remember much. Like I said, I just collapsed while having a drink."

Martha held a mug before her lips with her left hand. Taking notes with her right hand, Martha asked, "Before you passed out, did you smell anything unusual?"

Derek shook his head, "No."

Martha tapped her pen against a notepad as she sipped her coffee. She asked, following a

mouthful of coffee, "Do you have a history of low sugar or high blood pressure?"

"No."

"Had you recently donated blood?"

"No."

Martha sat back, sipping more of her coffee, then it struck her. Blood.

Setting her mug down, she sat forward, "Do you know your blood type?"

He nodded, "AB negative."

"I had a feeling you would say that!" Martha took a moment to think, "Before I ask you, this is strictly voluntary. You can opt out. Would you be willing to give a blood sample?"

Derek shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "I dunno. Why?"

"We think your fainting was induced with a specific blood type in mind."

"AB negative?"

"Exactly." Martha waved an assuring hand, "No pressure. You can go home. My word. We'll destroy your blood sample after our tests are complete. All sample data is anonymous. I can arrange that commitment in writing. My personal oath."

Derek scratched his jaw, considering her request, "No, that's fine. You can take a sample."