Doctor Who Fan Fiction ❯ Donna and Ten - The Inbetweens and backstories ❯ Chapter Seven ( Chapter 7 )

Donna made her way into the kitchen, after a very comfortable nights sleep in her new bed. The Doctor was sitting at the table, drinking tea, and poured her a cup as she entered.

 

'Morning . . . I haven't made breakfast yet, because I wasn't sure what you liked.'

 

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. 'I normally just have some toast and a cup of tea.'

 

'Well that's the tea taken care of; I'll put some bread in the toaster.'

 

'Oh, I can do it,' she said awkwardly, not wanting to be a burden.

 

'I know, but it's your first morning in the TARDIS, and there'll be plenty of time for you to find your way around the kitchen later.'

 

So he made some toast, and they ate it with marmalade, and butter, and jam. When they had drunk their tea, and put everything in the dishwasher, they went through to the console room.

 

'So, where do you want to go today then?' he asked her with a smile.

 

'I have absolutely no idea,' she said with a laugh. 'Talk about bein' spoilt for choice. When you are confronted with a choice of any place in the whole universe, yer mind goes blank.'

 

'Okay, I can relate to that,' he told her. He adjusted the controls, and the TARDIS started to gently rock and sway as it made its way through the Vortex.

 

'Set the controls to random. Mystery tour. Outside that door could be any planet, anywhere, anywhen in the whole wide u . . .' He noticed that she looked really nervous. 'Are you all right?'

 

'Terrified. I mean, history's one thing but an alien planet?'

 

Ah, so that was it, she was in culture shock. Rose had half a dozen journeys into Earth's past and future, before she went to an alien planet. Martha's second journey was to New New Earth, but that didn't really count as it was a human colony.

 

'I could always take you home,' he offered.

 

'Yeah, don't laugh at me,' she said in annoyance.

 

'I know what it's like, everything you're feeling right now. The fear, the joy, the wonder?' he said intensely, and then raised the pitch of his voice. 'I get that.'

 

'Seriously? After all this time?' she said excitedly.

 

'Yeah. Why do you think I keep going?'

 

'Oh, all right then, you and me both, this is barmy.' She stopped halfway down the ramp and turned to face him. 'I was born in Chiswick. I've only ever had package holidays. Now I'm here. This is so . . . I mean it's . . . I don't know, it's all sort of . . . I don't even know what the word is.' She turned around and ran to the door, pulling it open and stepping outside.

 

'Oh, I've got the word . . . Freezing,' she said as she looked at the frozen landscape.

 

'Snow!' the Doctor shouted as he stepped out behind her. 'Oh, real snow, proper snow at last . . . That's more like it, lovely, what do you think?'

 

'Bit cold,' she said quickly as she started to shiver. She was only wearing a thin sleeveless top with her black trousers.

 

'Look at that view,' he said, looking at  massive icicles hang from bridges of rock, spanning vast ravines.

 

'Yep . . . Beautiful . . . cold view,' she said between chattering teeth.

 

'Millions of planets, millions of galaxies, and we're on this one. Molto bene. Bellissimo, says Donna, born in Chiswick. All you've got is a life of work and sleep, and telly and rent and tax and takeaway dinners, all birthdays and Christmases and two weeks holiday a year, and then you end up here.' He chatted away as he wandered down the gentle snowy incline. 'Donna Noble, citizen of the Earth, standing on a different planet. How about that Donna?' he said, turning to look at her, but she'd gone.

 

'Donna?' What was the matter; didn't she like snow? He loved it, all white and fluffy and . . . well, cold.

 

She came out of the TARDIS in a big winter coat with a fur lined hood. 'Sorry, you were saying?'

 

'Better?' he asked sarcastically.

 

'Lovely, thanks,' she said with a happy smile.

 

'Comfy?'

 

'Yep.'

 

'Can you hear anything inside that?'

 

'Pardon?' she said with an enormous grin.

 

Oh yes, very clever. 'All right, I was saying, citizen of the Earth . . .'

 

He was interrupted by a red rocket ship gliding gracefully over their heads.

 

'Rocket,' she said in awe. 'Blimey, a real proper rocket. Now that's what I call a spaceship.' She slapped his chest. 'You've got a box, he's got a Ferrari. Come on, lets go see where he's going.' She set off enthusiastically in the direction of the impressive ship, leaving the Doctor with a look of rocket envy on his face.

 

'I bet his isn't bigger on the inside,' he said under his breath as he set off after her.

 

 

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The Doctor and Donna watched as the head of the Ood Operations base, Klineman Halpen transformed into an Ood in front of them, having just saved the Ood from being slaughtered by the Ood Operations Corporation security staff.

 

'He has become Oodkind,' Sigma Ood told them. 'And we will take care of him.'

 

Donna shook her head, trying to get her thoughts straight. 'It's weird, being with you. I can't tell what's right and what's wrong any more.'

 

'It's better that way . . . People who know for certain tend to be like Mister Halpen,' the Doctor told her.

 

There was a beeping sound from the other side of the handrail. 'Oh!' he exclaimed, he'd forgotten about the explosives that had been rigged to blow up the Ood brain in the pit.

 

He leaned over the handrail and deactivated the timer. 'That's better.' He ran along the walkway and turned to Sigma Ood. 'And now, Sigma . . . would you allow me the honour?'

 

'It is yours, Doctor,' the Ood said with a bow.

 

'Oh, yes!' he shouted with glee, turning to the control panel. 'Stifled for two hundred years, but not any more. The circle is broken. The Ood can sing.' He snapped the switch with a flourish, and the blue electric lightning stopped.

 

'I can hear it!' Donna laughed with joy as a beautiful song of hope, peace, and freedom filled the very air itself.

 

'Come on,' he said with a smile. 'Let's go and see.'

 

They made their way up to ground level, and exited the building, where armed guards were lowering their guns and looking around in amazement as they heard the song. It was a hymn . . . a prayer, and it would be sacrilege to defile that beautiful song with violence. The Ood were standing in a circle with their arms raised in salutation.

 

'That's more like it,' the Doctor said. 'Ood and man, together in peace, as equals.' He had an enormous grin on his face as they strode out into the snow, heading towards the TARDIS. He didn't have days like this very often, and it went some way to make up for not being able to save the citizens of Pompeii.

 

'The message has gone out . . . that song resonated across the galaxies, everyone heard it, everyone knows,' he said to Sigma and the handful of Oodkind that had come to wish them farewell. 'The rockets are bringing them back . . . the Ood are coming home.'

 

'We thank you, Doctor Donna, friends of Oodkind. And what of you now? Will you stay? There is room in the song for you,' Sigma told them.

 

'Oh, I've, I've . . . sort of got a song of my own, thanks.'

 

'I think your song must end soon,' Sigma said, a hint of sadness in his electronic voice.

 

'Meaning?' he asked, not liking the menace implied in that statement.

 

'Every song must end,' Sigma said enigmatically.

 

'Yeah,' he said with a frown. He turned to Donna 'Uhm, what about you? You still want to go home?' he asked quietly. She had been upset when she found out that humans in the second great and bountiful human empire of the forty second century were no better than the humans in the twenty first century. They may have spread across three galaxies, but they could still be barbaric.

 

'No . . . definitely not.' She'd heard the Ood song, she had felt the forgiveness of Oodkind, and she had seen the guilt and regret of the humans in the warehouse; it renewed her belief that despite the few bad people around, goodness and decency would prevail.

 

'Then we'll be off,' he said to the Ood.

 

The Ood raised their hands and began to sing again. 'Take this song with you.'

 

'We will,' Donna said, touched by their kind offer.

 

'Always,' the Doctor said.

 

'And know this, Doctor Donna, you will never be forgotten. Our children will sing of the Doctor Donna, and our children's children, and the wind and the ice and the snow will carry your names forever.'

 

The Doctor smiled, and gently guided Donna up the slope to the TARDIS, neither of them realising that Sigma Ood was only referring to one of them when he said Doctor Donna.

 

Donna walked up the ramp, humming the Ood song of freedom, when she noticed it was echoing in her head.

 

'Hang on,' she said, turning to look at the Doctor, who was walking up the ramp behind her. 'Can you hear that, y'know, the tune in your head?'

 

He smiled at her. 'Yeah, it's the TARDIS, she's tuned in to the Ood, picked up the telepathic song, and is relaying it to our thoughts.'

 

Donna tilted her head to one side and listened to the internal choir of millions of Ood, all harmonising and singing harmonics. It sent a shiver down her spine, and brought tears to her eyes.

 

'It's so beautiful.'

 

The Doctor started the time rotor and put the TARDIS into the Vortex. The voices started to fade, but the song lingered in their subconscious.

 

`Where now?' the Doctor said. He was like a kid at a funfair, trying to decide which ride to go on next. He stood poised, waggling his fingers, his face glowing green in the light from the TARDIS console.

 

Donna thought he looked like a string bean in a blue suit. A string bean with trainers and sticky-out hair. `Dunno about you,' she said, `but I could do with a breather.'

 

`A breather!' he said, aghast.

 

`Yeah, we're not all Martians, you know. Us humans need a little sit down and a nice cup of tea every so often.' All at once her eyes widened. `You know what I'd really like?'

 

`Astonish me.'

 

`A curry.'

 

`A curry?'

 

`Yeah, I could murder a curry. I'm starving.' She realised that apart from a bit of toast at breakfast, she hadn't eaten all day.

 

The Doctor looked at her as if she was a prize pupil who had handed in a sub-standard piece of work. Then inspiration struck him, and he was off again, bouncing round the console, slapping and poking and twiddling things.

 

`Curry, curry, curry,' he muttered. `If I can just . . . yep, there we go.' The grinding bellow of the TARDIS's engines started up and the Doctor straightened with a grin. `Donna,' he said, `prepare yourself for a taste sensation.'

 

In a narrow alley between two tenement blocks, dust began to swirl. The trumpeting groan of ancient engines rose out of nowhere, and as they built to a crescendo the faded outline of an old blue London police box began to solidify.

 

`Come on, Donna,' the Doctor shouted as he stepped through the narrow door. `You were the one who couldn't wait to stuff your face.'

 

`And you were the one who said I should dress for a hot climate,' she retorted, emerging from the TARDIS in a flowery long-sleeved sundress, sandals and a wide brimmed hat. She looked around. `Where are we?'

 

`Calcutta,' he said, `1937. Brilliant city, full of bustle and colour. Still ruled by the British Raj, but it's the heart of India. Centre of education, science, culture, politics—'

 

`What's that smell?' She was wrinkling her nose.

 

The Doctor sniffed the air. `That,' he said, `is the scent of burning cow dung. Bellisimo. Come on.'

 

He strode off, Donna hurrying to catch up. She looked around at the shabby tenements with their peeling shutters and corrugated iron roofs. The ground was hard-packed earth. Flies buzzed around her head.

 

`Not exactly salubrious round here,' she said.

 

`Well, we don't want to be ostentatious. Don't want to frighten the goats.'

 

He grinned and she smiled back, linking her arm with his.

`So where you taking me?'

 

`Select little eatery. Belongs to an old mate of mine - Kam Bajaj. Helped him out once with an infestation of Jakra worms.'

 

`Wouldn't have thought pest control was your kind of thing,' Donna said.

 

The Doctor shot her one of his sidelong, raised eyebrow

looks. `Jakra worms are from the Briss Constellation. They're eight-foot-long carnivores. Imagine a Great White Shark sticking out of a hairy wind sock and you've pretty much got it. Anyway, old Kam said any time I fancied a free dinner . . .'

 

`Oh, charming,' said Donna. `Cheap date, am I?'

 

`That's one advantage, yeah,' the Doctor said, smirking, `but the food is out of this world. Macher jhol that melts in your mouth, beguni to die for, kati roll, phuchka. And the puddings . . . caramba! Rasagolla, sandesh, mishti doi . . .' He kissed his fingers like a chef.

 

`Chicken korma and a poppadom'll do me,' Donna said.

 

`I'll pretend I didn't hear that,' he replied.

 

He kept up a constant jabber about Calcuttan life, one second talking about the August monsoons, the next about how he was once voted man of the match at the Calcuttan Polo Club. As they passed a group of silent men, some of whom brandished staffs or simply thick branches stripped of leaves, the Doctor raised a hand and called, `Hello there!'

 

None of the men answered. One spat on the ground close to the Doctor's feet.

 

`Probably just shy,' the Doctor muttered as Donna took him by the arm and led him away.

 

`Blimey, for the biggest genius in the universe you can be incredibly thick sometimes,' she said.

 

`Oi!' he protested, then asked her more reasonably, `What do you mean?'

 

`Just look around you. Even a mere earthling can tell that something's about to kick off here. You can virtually smell the testosterone in the air.'

 

The Doctor's eyes darted around. `I suppose the atmosphere is a bit tense,' he admitted.

 

`Maybe we ought to head back to the TARDIS,' she said, `settle for the Taj Mahal on Chiswick High Road.'

 

`Kam's place is only a couple of minutes from here. It's a lot closer than the TARDIS.'

 

Two minutes later they were standing outside Kam's place, looking up at it in dismay. It had been gutted by fire, the interior nothing more than a burnt-out hollow. Face grim, the Doctor placed his hand on a door frame that was now just so much charcoal.

 

`No residual heat,' he said. `This happened a while ago.'

 

`Two weeks,' said a cracked voice to their left.

 

Donna looked down. An old man was squatting on his haunches in the shaded doorway of the building next door. He wore nothing but a turban and a pair of loose white cotton trousers. His skin was lined and leathery, and an unkempt grey beard covered the lower half of his face.

 

The Doctor darted across and squatted beside him. `What happened?' he asked softly.

 

The old man shrugged. `When men fight,' he said, `their judgement becomes clouded. They bombard their enemies with stones and kerosene bombs and beat them with clubs. But if they cannot find their enemies, they simply destroy whatever is close by. They claim they fight for a just cause, but when the madness takes them they don't care who they hurt.'

 

`Yeah,' the Doctor murmured, `I know the type. But what about the people who lived here? Kamalnayan Bajaj and his family?'

 

`They are gone.'

 

The Doctor's eyes widened. `You don't mean . . .?'

 

The old man shook his head. `No, no, they are alive and well. But they have fled Calcutta. I don't think they will return.'

 

`Not to this address anyway,' said the Doctor ruefully. `But this can't be right. I know for a fact that Kam was here in 1941. I came for Navratri. I brought fireworks.'

 

`What's Navratri?' Donna asked.

 

`Hindu festival. Lots of dancing.' Thoughtfully he said, `So either someone's mucking about with time or . . .' He turned back to the old man. `What year is this?'

 

`1947,' the old man said.

 

`Forty-seven!' the Doctor exclaimed, and jumped to his feet. `Well, that explains it.'

 

`Does it?' said Donna.

 

`Course it does. Think of your history.'

 

`Believe it or not, I wasn't born in 1947.'

 

`Not your personal history,' said the Doctor. `Earth history. Didn't they teach you anything at school?'

 

Donna gave him a blank look. `I only liked home economics.'

 

The Doctor made an exasperated sound. `Remind me to buy you a set of encyclopaedias for your next birthday.'

 

`Only if you remind me to punch you in the face,' Donna said.

 

The Doctor carried on as if she hadn't spoken, talking rapidly, almost in bullet points. `Last year there was a famine in India. The people got desperate and angry. When the British Raj did nothing to help, the population rioted. Now the Brits are about to give India home rule, but instead of solving the problem it's only making things worse. Different religions are fighting amongst themselves about how to divide up the pie, and Calcutta is at the centre of it. At this moment it's one of the most volatile places on Earth. Thousands have been killed, many more made homeless. It's a massive human tragedy, and I've landed us slap-bang in the middle.'

 

He looked so anguished that Donna felt compelled to say, `Well, nobody's perfect.'

 

He smiled sheepishly. `The Taj Mahal on Chiswick High Road, you say?'

 

She nodded. `There's a pay and display across the road, if you need somewhere to park.'