Doctor Who Fan Fiction ❯ Donna and Ten - The Inbetweens and backstories ❯ Chapter Eight ( Chapter 8 )

`No,' the Doctor said, speaking quickly now to the Jal Karath alien, `you don't understand. You really can't do this. Listen to me, Darac-7. You wanted to know what species I was? I'm a Time Lord. The last of the Time Lords. The only survivor of the Last Great Time War. And as a Time Lord I'm telling you that you can't put Mohandas Gandhi into that filthy machine. If you do, you'll tear the timelines apart. You'll plunge this planet, this whole galaxy, into a new Dark Age.'

 

There was a pause. The young local boy Ranjit stared at the Doctor wide eyed. Finally Darac-7 murmured, `Is that so?'

 

`Yes,' said the Doctor firmly, `it is. So here's what I'll do. I'll make a deal with you. Take me. Take the boy even. But spare Gandhi. For the sake of the planet, let him go.'

 

There was a long pause. Then the Jal Karath said, `No.'

 

The Doctor's eyes widened. `What do you mean, “no”?'

 

`I mean no, Doctor. I will not accept your terms. What do I care if this galaxy is torn apart?'

 

`But . . . you'll be caught up in it,' the Doctor said desperately. `You'll die along with everyone else.'

 

`I'm not an idiot, Doctor. We both know that the effects of the time disruption will not be felt immediately. It will spiral slowly down through the causal nexus, unravelling history as it goes. By the time it impacts on this axis point I will be long gone.'

 

`But . . . your harvest. Your precious warrior army.' The Doctor was referring to the thousands of humans that Darac-Poul-Caparrel-Jal-7 had kidnapped, and would convert into an army of mindless gelem warriors.

 

The quivering motion that rippled through the weed like body of the Jal Karath was the equivalent of a shrug. `There are other worlds, other galaxies. Millions of them.' Raising its voice it said, `Place the old man in the machine.'

 

`No!' the Doctor yelled, struggling wildly against the iron grip of the gelem. `No, Darac-7, you can't!'

 

`Don't concern yourself, Doctor,' said Gandhi as he was led, unresisting, to the cabinet at the back of the room. `I am not afraid to die. Fear of death makes us devoid of valour and faith.'

 

`But you're not meant to die now,' said the Doctor, still struggling hopelessly.

 

Gandhi smiled. `If God says I am, then I am. Everything is in His hands.'

 

Gandhi walked across the room, his back straight and his head held high, and stepped into the machine. His face remained serene as levered metal arms swung inwards from each of the four corners of the cabinet and clamped together in the centre, sealing him in.

 

Instantly, with a rising whine like an accelerating engine, the machine powered up, coloured lights beginning to flow over Gandhi's white-clad form. The Doctor slumped in his captive's immovable grip, his hair flopping over his face as his head drooped forward.

 

The high-pitched whine of the extraction machine climbed and climbed, building to an ear-splitting crescendo . . . and then suddenly there was a loud bang. A huge shower of sparks erupted out of the top of the cabinet, followed by a thick black cloud of smoke.

 

The machine itself began to judder, the high-pitched whine to deepen and die as the power seeped away. Inside the machine, apparently unharmed, Gandhi looked around with an expression of mild interest.

 

The Jal Karath started to thrash and writhe in its web of technology. `What's happening?' it screamed. `I feel . . . pain.'

 

As though their command link had been cut off, the gelem warriors suddenly released the Doctor and Ranjit and stood motionless, their hands dropping to their sides. Slowly the Doctor straightened up and raised his head. There was a grim, knowing look on his face.

 

`Thought that might happen,' he said quietly. `I did warn you, Darac-7.'

 

Whatever fault had caused the extraction machine to overload now seemed to be having a knock-on effect on the rest of the ship's systems. Things were sparking and burning-out all over the place. Thick black smoke was filling the room.

 

`What did you do, Mr Doctor?' Ranjit asked, ducking as a shower of sparks burst from what looked like a melting metal box close to his head.

 

`Me? Nothing,' said the Doctor. `It was Mohandas. He's just too good.'

 

The levered arms which had clamped Gandhi into the machine now sprang apart, releasing him. Stepping out, he overheard the Doctor's words. `Good in what sense, Doctor?'

 

The Doctor was already darting from one of the ship's failing systems to another, apparently looking for something. Suddenly he exclaimed, `Aha. You know what this is?'

 

Both Gandhi and Ranjit shook their heads.

 

`It's an energy inversion module. And if I just refine the search parameters and set it at maximum . . .' His fingers danced over an array of complex-looking controls, then he stepped back with a satisfied grin. His head whipped round and he stared at Gandhi. `Sorry, what were you saying?'

 

`You said Bapu was too good, Mr Doctor,' Ranjit reminded him.

 

`Oh yeah, he is. Too good, too nice, too pure of heart. You see, the extraction machine works by sucking all the badness out of people, like the juice from a lemon, and storing it to be used later. But now and again someone comes along who hasn't got any badness in them - a genetic anomaly, or just someone with such incredible strength of mind that they've literally willed it away. When that happens - and we're talking . . . ooh, one out of every billion people here - the machine can't cope. It's like trying to boil a kettle with no water in it. Only problem for Darac-7 is that his kettle is linked to every other kitchen appliance, which in turn are linked to him . . .'

 

They ducked as an almighty explosion to their right scattered burning debris across a wide area. The Jal Karath screamed in pain.

 

` . . . and I'm afraid that his warranty has just run out,' concluded the Doctor. `Follow me.'

 

With the alien craft collapsing in flames around them, the Doctor ran across to the TARDIS. He unlocked the door, bundled Gandhi and Ranjit ahead of him, and then leaped inside, slamming the door.

 

 

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

 

 

Donna opened her eyes and concentrated on trying not to be sick. On all sides of her people were staggering about, looking around in disbelief. Some screamed or burst into tears, unable to cope with the sheer impossibility of instantaneous travel.

 

Nurse Adelaide Campbell appeared at her shoulder, looking pale. `Am I dreaming?' she said faintly. `Or are we really outside?'

 

Donna looked at the pink and purple sky, beneath which the hills loomed black and forbidding. People were streaming from the cave openings like ants from a disturbed nest, many not even stopping when they were out, but simply running down the rocky slope as if demons were after them.

 

It would be impossible even for the Doctor, Donna thought, to round all these people up and take them home. She wondered what would become of them, and consoled herself with the thought that at least a long walk back to Calcutta was better than a lonely, terrifying death on a planet millions of miles away.

 

`Yeah,' she said. `Yeah, we're outside.'

 

Adelaide looked at the disc in Donna's hand with an expression of awe. `What is that device?'

 

Before Donna could tell her it was a matter relocator that the Doctor had removed from a deactivated gelem, Adelaide's father Sir Edgar appeared with his wife in tow. `I say,' he said, `where the devil are we?'

 

Donna shook her head. `I've no idea.'

 

`But how do you propose we get back to Calcutta?' Mary Campbell demanded querulously.

 

Donna scowled. `I dunno, do I? Walk, I suppose.'

 

`Walk?' squawked Mary. `It could be miles. And it's getting dark. There might be snakes. Perhaps even robbers.'

 

Donna's temper suddenly flared. `Yeah, well, if they had any sense they'd run a mile if they saw you coming. I mean, what do you honestly expect me to do, lady? Call a cab? Give you a piggyback? Wave a magic wand?'

 

Mary looked as if she had stepped into a sudden gale force wind.

 

`I hardly—' Sir Edgar began, but his voice was drowned out by the familiar wheezing grind of ancient engines.

 

Donna whirled round, grinning, as the TARDIS materialised. The door opened and the Doctor stuck his head out.

 

`Anyone need a lift?'

 

 

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

 

 

`This vehicle terminates here,' the Doctor announced. `Will all passengers please disembark.'

 

They had already dropped the Campbells off at home. Now they were about to deliver Gandhi, Ranjit and Dr. Edward Morgan back to the camp. For the few minutes duration of the short double trip, the TARDIS had been busier than Donna had ever seen it.

 

The Doctor also dropped off Gopal, the Jal Karath who was really Veec-Elic-Savareen-Jal-9, had been hiding on Earth to avoid persecution by the corrupt Jal Karath leaders of the eleven hives. He saw no reason why this peace loving alien shouldn't receive political asylum.

 

The Doctor had spent the journey circling the TARDIS console, checking readings and adjusting things and generally being a bit aloof from all the astonished goggling and incredulous chatter going on below. Donna suspected that the Doctor didn't like having so many people in the TARDIS, even if it was just for a few minutes. She knew that once a job was over he generally preferred to slip quietly away, to move on with as little fuss as possible.

 

When the Campbells had departed moments earlier, he hadn't got involved in all the hugs and handshakes and goodbyes, but had remained standing at the console, from where he had simply stuck up a hand and shouted a cheery, `See ya.'

 

Now they had materialised at the camp, and Donna wondered whether his goodbyes here would be just as perfunctory. However, as soon as he pulled the lever to open the doors he leaped down from the console platform and, tilting his head at Donna as an indication that she should join him, followed his passengers outside.

 

The TARDIS had landed between two of the medical tents, out of sight of the majority of refugees. The group from the TARDIS looked out across the camp, which, despite the devastation caused by the gelem warriors, was already returning to normal. With nowhere else to go, the homeless of Calcutta were slowly filtering back to their makeshift shelters.

 

Everywhere Donna looked, she saw repairs being made to the flimsy dwellings, fires being lit against the chill of the night. Two small children spotted Gandhi and their eyes widened in wonder. When one of them murmured, `Bapu,'

Gandhi gave them one of his familiar, near toothless grins and ambled across to talk to them.

 

`Just want to double-check something,' the Doctor muttered to Donna and followed Edward and Gopal into the nearest medical tent. Instantly the few staff that had remained behind and had managed to evade the clutches of the gelem warriors crowded around them.

 

`It's a miracle, Dr Morgan!' one of the staff said excitedly.

 

`They are cured! They are all cured!' exclaimed another.

 

Edward held up his hands, looking flustered. `Please,' he said, `one at a time. Will someone kindly explain what you're talking about.'

 

The half-dozen auxiliaries looked at one another, and

as if at some unspoken agreement a young, bespectacled Indian man stepped forward.

 

`The patients in the isolation tent, Dr Morgan,' he said, trying to contain his excitement, `they are all better. Even the most advanced cases are no longer displaying any symptoms of their illness.'

 

Edward looked stunned. `But . . . that's impossible,' he spluttered.

 

`Nah,' said the Doctor, `that's energy inversion. I rigged the Jal Karath ship so that it would hoover up and neutralise every zytron particle within a thousand mile radius when it imploded.'

 

He looked round at the crescent of blank faces regarding him, and sighed. `Look, all you need to know is that I did something incredibly clever and now everyone's better.'

 

Abruptly he clapped his hands. `Right, back to work. There are still plenty of sick and hungry people out there, you know.'

 

As everyone got back to work, the Doctor looked at Donna and jerked his head towards the exit flap, indicating that they should leave.

 

Outside the tent they found Gandhi sitting cross legged on the ground, still talking quietly to the children. As the Doctor and Donna approached, the little man jumped nimbly to his feet.

 

`Right, Mohandas, we're off,' the Doctor said briskly. He held out a hand, and then, thinking better of it, abruptly stepped forward and embraced the little man. `It's been a pleasure and a privilege,' he murmured before stepping back, uncharacteristically lost for words.

 

Gandhi beamed. `And for me too, Doctor,' he said. `Where will you go now?'

 

`Oh, you know,' said the Doctor vaguely, `other times and places.'

 

`See you, Mohandas,' Donna said. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. `You look after yourself.'

 

Gandhi winked at the children, who were watching the exchange with interest. `You see,' he said drily, `even at my advanced age I have not lost my touch with the ladies.'

 

`You old rascal,' Donna said as the children giggled. `Goodbye. And good luck with . . . everything.'

 

She and the Doctor walked across to the TARDIS, stopping at the door to wave one last time before going inside.

 

As the Doctor busied himself at the console, Donna looked at the image of the little man on the scanner screen.

 

`What happens to him?' she asked.

 

The Doctor looked at her for a moment, sadness on his face. Softly he said, `On 30 January next year, he'll be assassinated. Someone will step out of a crowd of well wishers and shoot him in the heart.'

 

Donna put a hand to her mouth. Tears sparkled in her eyes. In a wavering voice she said, `Who would do that? Why would anyone want to kill someone like him?'

 

The Doctor shrugged. `There's always someone who doesn't agree with what you're trying to do,' he said simply.

 

Donna continued to stare at the serene face of the little man on the screen, too upset to speak. The Doctor sidled up and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

 

In a quiet voice he said, `His last words as he lay on the ground were “Hey Rama”, which means “Oh God”. Witnesses say that as he died his face wore a serene smile and his body was surrounded by a halo of divine light.'