Doctor Who Fan Fiction ❯ Donna and Ten - The Inbetweens and backstories ❯ Chapter Sixteen ( Chapter 16 )

Midnight is an airless planet in the Xion system, composed mostly of diamond glaciers and mountains whichhad been colonised by humans. The planet's diamond-based geology was active, and diamond falls were a common occurrence, quakes were thought to be impossible though. Midnight even had a Sapphire Waterfall.

 

The planet had been left in silence for millions of years before humanity took over. The planet had no atmosphere and due to the destructive X-tonic radiation of its sun it was thought that no life was possible on the planet, be it carbon-based, hydrogen-based, silicates, gas beings or other.

 

Despite the hostile environment, the Leisure Palace Company turned it into a leisure planet to take advantage of its spectacular views. Since no human could walk on the surface or even touch the planet's diamonds, disk shaped Leisure palaces were lowered from space, with service buildings and garages scattered about underneath the support struts.

 

There was a spa, which had an Anti-gravity Restaurant, and a bus company called Crusader Tours offered sightseeing trips to the planet's picturesque locations, such as the Sapphire Waterfall, which had its own WaterfallPalace. Its other attractions included WinterWitchCanyon and the MultifacetedCoast.

 

The TARDIS landed in a service area of the spa, and they stepped out into a curved, concrete corridor.

 

'Oh very chic,' Donna said sarcastically, looking at the utility corridor.

 

'Hey, every high class establishment has to have services,' the Doctor told her. 'Come on, through here.' He pushed through a fire door and they entered a plush, reception area with comfy leather sofas, low tables, potted plants, fountains, and pleasant xylophone muzak playing in the background.

 

'Now, this is more like it,' she said with a beaming smile, looking up at the domed, glass ceiling, constructed from triangular panels. Outside, she could see diamond cliffs, reaching into the black sky, and reflecting the X-tonic sunlight.

 

They walked up to the reception desk, and the Doctor took out his psychic paper.

 

'Doctor John Smith, and Miss Donna Noble, competition winners for a day at the spa,' he said to the young lady at the reception.

 

She looked at the paper, and saw a complimentary, all inclusive day pass. 'Bad Wolf Entertainment Corporation, I don't think we've had that one before,' she said.

 

'Eh?' the Doctor said, frowning at the paper, to see where Bad Wolf had come from. It must have leaked through from his subconscious.

 

The receptionist smiled, and handed over two complimentary passes, and two glossy brochures. 'There we are Sir . . . Madam, on behalf of Leisure Palace Company; we hope you have a nice day.'

 

'Ooh, this is dead posh,' Donna said.

 

A man in a waistcoat and bowtie, walked towards them with a tray of drinks. 'Would Sir or Madam, like a complimentary glass of Champagne?'

 

'Not `alf,' she said, taking a glass and having a sip. 'Forget Ipanema beach, why didn't you tell me there were places like this out here in space?'

 

'Let's have a seat over there, and we can have a look at these brochures.' They walked over to one of the domed walls, put their drinks on a low, glass table, and plopped themselves down on a sofa, which hugged and caressed them with their luxuriant fabric.

 

After a few minutes of perusing the pages, Donna had decided on an order of events. 'Right then, sauna first, followed by a massage, then a dip in the Jacuzzi . . . What about you?'

 

'Well, there's the crystalarium, with the finest example of single grain crystals in the galaxy, Then a demonstration of X-tonic radiation on complex molecular structures . . . oh, and look, a trip to see the Sapphire Waterfalls,' he said enthusiastically. 'Do you fancy that?'

 

She looked at him as though he had dribbled down his brown, pinstriped suit. 'Let me think . . . No. I'll stick with bein' pampered thanks . . . but if that's what floats yer boat, knock yerself out.'

 

He was momentarily disappointed by her refusal, but then his enthusiasm returned for the crystalarium and X-tonic demonstration.

 

They finished their Champagne, and stood up. 'Okay then, enjoy your pampering, and we'll meet up later,' he said.

 

'See ya later, and try not to get arrested or anythin', I want a nice relaxin' day,' she said with a lopsided smile.

 

He gave her a grin, and a wink, then set off to find the crystalarium.

 

Donna was on a sun lounger by a pool, a glass of pink cocktail on the table beside her. The poolside was all purple walls and marble columns, and very much in the style to which she could easily become accustomed. A waistcoated, bowtie wearing attendant approached her with a purple, cordless phone on a silver tray.

 

She knew who it was, and what he wanted. 'I-said-no,' Donna told him, deliberately emphasising each word.

 

He was on a public phone in the departure lounge of the Crusader Tours garage. Through the glass frontage, he could see the track laying `shuttle' that looked like the fuselage of a small jet aircraft. Passengers were walking past, and entering the arched access tunnel to board the vehicle.

 

'Sapphire waterfall . . . It's a waterfall made of sapphires. This enormous jewel, the size of a glacier reaches the Cliffs of Oblivion, and then shatters into sapphires at the edge. They fall a hundred thousand feet into a crystal ravine.'

 

'I bet you say that to all the girls.'

 

'Oh, come on. They're boarding now. It's no fun if I see it on me own. Four hours, that's all it takes.'

 

'No, that's four hours there and four hours back. That's like a school trip, I'd rather go sunbathing.'

 

'You be careful, that's X-tonic sunlight.'

 

'Oh, I'm safe. It says in the brochure this glass is fifteen feet thick.'

 

'Alright, I give up; I'll be back for dinner. We'll try that anti-gravity restaurant . . . With bibs.'

 

'That's a date, well, not a date. Oh, you know what I mean. Oh, get off.'

 

'See you later.'

 

'Oi, and you be careful, alright?'

 

'Nah. Taking a big space truck with a bunch of strangers across a diamond planet called Midnight? What could possibly go wrong?' he said before hanging up the phone.

 

It was only later, when the return of the shuttle was delayed, and she'd asked at reception, did she find out what could possibly go wrong. There had been an 'incident' apparently, the shuttle had developed a fault, and a second vehicle had to go out and bring them back.

 

'Well, are they alright?' Donna had asked the receptionist.

 

'I'm sure everything is fine Madam. The information we have is that the pilot logged a call that the engine had failed, and they needed a tow back to base.'

 

'You might be sure everything is fine young lady, but you don't know the Doctor. Where can I get more information?' Donna said, now worried that not only might the Doctor be in serious trouble, but also that if he didn't come back, she would be stranded here with no way home.

 

'Updates will be displayed on the information boards over there,' the receptionist said, pointing to a huge, multimedia screen on the wall to the side of the reception desk. 'Please have a seat; I will get one of the attendants to get you a drink?'

 

Hours later, the information board said that the Crusader Fifty rescue vehicle had docked at the arrivals lounge, and the survivors disembarked. A weary looking Doctor walked into the pool area and saw Donna. She walked up to him and gave him a hug, which he returned so strongly that she knew something really bad had happened.

They sat at one of the tables. 'What do you think it was?' she asked, after he'd told her what had occurred.

'No idea,' he said with a distant look in his eyes.

'Do you think it's still out there?' He didn't reply, what ever it was had scared him, and that was worrying. 'Well, you'd better tell them . . . this lot.'

'Yeah, they can build a Leisure Palace somewhere else . . . Let this planet keep on turning round an X-tonic star, in silence.'

'Can't imagine you without a voice,' she said quietly.

He attempted a smile, but it came out lopsided. 'Molto bene.'

'Molto bene,' she echoed.

'No, don't do that . . . Don't . . . don't.'

 

 

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The Doctor and Donna made their way through the throng of guests who were congregating around the reception desk of the leisure palace, trying to find out what was going on. The staff manning the desk seemed to know as much (or as little) as the guests.

 

The official line was that there had been an incident on a Crusader Tours shuttle. Unfortunately, there had been some deaths, and as a precaution the leisure palaces were being evacuated while the Health and Safety Executive investigated.

 

`Evacuated?!' a rather plump, outraged gentleman said. `Do you know how much I paid for this holiday?' There were murmurings of agreement from other members of the crowd.

 

`All guests will be refunded,' a tall man in a sharp suit with immaculate hair announced. `And the Leisure Palace Company will compensate you for any inconvenience and expense incurred.'

 

The Doctor held open the fire door to the service corridor for Donna. She turned and looked around the plush reception area with its comfy leather sofas, low tables, potted plants, and fountains.

 

The pleasant xylophone muzak was still playing in the background, giving the impression of calm normality, whilst unbeknown to the guests, a creature lurked outside in the wilderness, and it could be coming to find them at any moment.

 

The only thing that belied the air of normality was the automated announcement, asking guests to return to their apartments and pack their things ready for departure. Donna looked at the Doctor, her shoulders slumping as she sighed. She walked past him into the corridor and on towards the TARDIS.

 

`I think you need to take a break,' Donna said as the Doctor walked slowly around the pulsating console. He was never one for giving away what he was thinking, but it was obvious to her that he was troubled by his experience on Midnight.

 

`Eh?' he said, giving her a puzzled frown.

 

`Y'know, somewhere safe. Somewhere where you don't have to run from dangerous aliens or risk your life to save a civilisation.'

 

`Somewhere boring you mean,' he said with a grin.

 

`If your idea of boring is when there is no one trying to kill you, then yeah, boring's good.' She thought about boring and raised a finger. `And while we're on the subject of boring, when can we go somewhere where you don't act like a know-it-all teacher on a school trip,' she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

 

`Know-it-all teacher?' he said with the pretence of offence in his voice.

 

`Well, you've got to admit; you do go on a bit. You'll be smokin' a pipe and sewin' leather patches on the elbows of yer jacket next,' she said with a cheeky grin.

 

`Okay, how's about somewhere I haven't been before, so we'll both be seeing it for the first time?' he said with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

 

`That sounds more like it,' she agreed.

 

He went over to the monitor and started searching the universe database. `I've not been to the Andromeda Galaxy much, being as its Two and a half million light years from this one.'

 

`Hmmm,' she said, being non committal.

 

`The planet Uhlala,' he announced. `Apparently it's the height of sophistication and civilisation.'

 

`Now you're talking,' she said more enthusiastically, expecting the Andromedaen version of champagne and cocktail parties.

 

`Two and a half billion light years,' she said, her eyebrows raised and a gentle smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, `and you've brought me to an art gallery?' Now who was being boring?

 

`Two and a half million light years,' corrected the Doctor, pulling Donna back out of the path of something that resembled an upright anteater, studded with drawing pins, trundling down the street, `and it's not just an art gallery.' He sounded almost hurt.

 

`If you're going to tell me it's “not just an art gallery” because it's got a shop that sells fridge magnets . . .'

 

`It might,' replied the Doctor, glancing away guiltily and tugging at his earlobe.

 

`You,' laughed Donna, `are so transparent, you know that?'

 

`And you,' cut in a deep, buzzy voice that sounded like a talking chainsaw, `are so in my way.'

 

Donna turned: right next to them, smack bang in the middle of the broad pavement on which they stood, was a robot. Although it took Donna a few seconds to work that out.

 

From the waist up, it was like a bronze version of some Greek god, all bare metal muscles, jawline and attitude. From the waist down, however, it was a different story: instead of legs it had caterpillar tracks.

 

Donna's first reaction to it was that it was an ordinary person (well, as ordinary as you could get, looking like someone had vandalised something from the BritishMuseum with a can of metallic paint) who'd lost his legs in an accident and had half a JCB grafted on.

 

`Sorry,' she said automatically.

 

`I should think so,' buzzed the robot - and only then did Donna realise that it wasn't a creature of flesh-and blood. The eyes were cold and glittering, and she realised the skin wasn't skin at all, but a curiously fluid metal, reflecting back, madly distorted, her own face.

 

`If you're going to stop to converse, I suggest you move over there.' And it raised an imperious finger and pointed to the other side of the pavement.

 

This was too much for Donna.

 

`Well,' she said, drawing herself up.

 

(`I wouldn't,' she vaguely heard the Doctor whisper.)

 

`If you're going to be quite so rude,' she continued, ignoring him, `I'd suggest that you move over there.' She pointed to the centre of the street, where four lanes of traffic were whizzing by at stomach-clenching speed.

 

`Mate.' She added for good measure.

 

(`I really wouldn't,' added the Doctor.)

 

The robot raised a haughty eyebrow and looked Donna up and down. `Organics!' it spat, sneerily.

 

`That meant to be some sort of insult?' retorted Donna.

 

`Cos where I come from, sunshine, that wouldn't get you on Trisha, never mind Jeremy Kyle.'

 

(`Donna . . .')

 

`Your words are gibberish,' said the robot dismissively. At this point, the Doctor cut in, grabbing Donna by the arm and pulling her to one side.

 

`Donna! When in Rome . . .'

 

`Sure you don't mean Pompeii?' she replied, acidly. `Who does he think he is?'

 

`He probably thinks he's a local who's just come across two offworlders who don't know the rules and regulations for using the streets, is what he probably thinks.'

 

Donna saw the Doctor flash a bright, apologetic smile at the robot.

 

`Don't smile at him - a simple “excuse me” would have done. No need for all that attitude.'

 

`Perhaps in the future,' said the robot wearily to the Doctor, revving up its gears as its base rotated (although its top half stayed facing them), `you could train your pet better?'

 

Donna's mouth fell open but, before she could say anything, the Doctor put a firm arm around her shoulder and moved her out of the path of the robot - which, without another word, roared off down the street.

 

`Pet?' she gasped.

 

`Pets are very highly thought of round here,' said the

Doctor quickly - but without much conviction.

 

`Pet?' Donna shouted after the creature, but it had vanished into the crowd. She turned back to the Doctor, open mouthed.

 

`Can you believe that? You said you were taking me somewhere civilised and sophisticated. I'd get more sophistication and civilisation at West Ham on a Saturday.'

 

The Doctor gently moved Donna back against the building, out of the path of the crowds streaming around them. Having been to West Ham on a Saturday with her, he couldn't argue with her on that one.

 

`For once, I'd like to meet a nice robot,' she said, still fuming. `There must be some. Somewhere. I mean, with the whole universe to choose from you'd think there'd be one . . .'

 

`Remind me to take you to Napir Prime,' the Doctor said. `The perfect hosts - well, that's what it says in The Rough Guide to the Isop Galaxy. Never been myself, but I've heard good things.'

 

Donna raised a sceptical eyebrow. `From the robots I've seen so far, the strike rate's pretty low.'

 

`Don't judge a whole class of beings from just three examples,' the Doctor chided, checking out the monumental skyscrapers that lined the street. `Remember how you were when you saw your first Ood . . .'

 

`That was different. They weren't robots - they just looked a bit . . .' She smiled at him, hoping to defuse the tension a little. `Ood.'

 

`That's probably what they thought when they saw you.'

 

He gestured at a glossy, dark green building just a few yards along. `Come on - let's see if there's any robot art in here. Might give you a new perspective.'

 

`Not me that needs a new perspective,' Donna grumped as she followed him through doors that said a cheery `Good afternoon' as they opened.

 

`Art,' the Doctor began, sounding ever-so-slightly pompous, `is a window on the human soul. Or the Andromedan soul, obviously,' he added with a tip of the head.

 

Donna raised an eyebrow.

 

A creature a little like a squishy bedside table, with a crown of glinting, metallic eyes, paused in front of them, apparently to observe the slab of dull, grey marble in a glass case that the Doctor was also peering at. Although, Donna realised, it might have been observing them.

 

She gave a tiny, awkward smile. Just in case. Having already offended, however unwittingly, an Andromedan, she thought she ought to err on the side of the caution with any new ones she came across.

 

`If you'd prefer,' the Doctor whispered, `I'd be more than happy to take you somewhere filled with danger, excitement and death. Your call.'

 

The bedside table ambled off, making a chuckling, coughing sound. Donna held out her hands, palms up, weighing up the options.

 

`Danger, excitement and death?' Her hands moved up and down. `Art gallery?'

 

`Philistine,' grinned the Doctor. `We could combine the two and visit the Third Stained Glass Empire of - ooh, hang on!'

And suddenly, Donna was standing on her own, watching him dart across the black mirrored floor of the art gallery towards a large display case.

 

With a sigh, she trudged after him. She loved art. Really, she did. She'd had a copy of that sunflowers picture on the wall at home. That was art. Proper art. Not just bits of stuff stuck on a board and sprayed with grass cuttings. Or half a Mini coming out of the floor. Or a slab of grey marble.

 

She caught up with him, almost colliding with a trio of tall, painfully skinny blonde women who'd just entered this particular room in the gallery. They looked awkward and stilted, their faces impassive.

 

`Sorry,' she whispered, skirting around them. They watched her go silently.

 

The Doctor was leaning forwards, his nose squidged up against the display case inside which, on a slender glass spike, sat something that looked like a rusty truck wheel, encrusted with fragments of diamanté.

 

`Donna!' whispered the Doctor, beckoning her forwards. `What d'you make of this?'

 

She peered at it. `You're going to tell me that it encapsulates the eternal struggle between The Pussycat Dolls and Girls Aloud, aren't you?'

 

`That's next door,' he said. `No - this is much better.'

 

`Go on then, Sister Wendy, what is it?'

 

`Well, I don't actually know what it is, but whatever it is, it's a bit more than just art.'

 

`Is it?' Donna tried to stifle the yawn that she could feel bubbling up.

 

The three supermodels - or whatever they were - had separated and were all standing around the exhibit that was so fascinating the Doctor, although he didn't seem to have noticed them. There was something slightly odd about the trio, though: something measured and shifty. Like burglars casing a house, figuring out the right time to nip in and steal the DVD. Never mind the fact that, as far as she could tell, they were all identical.

 

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, activated it, and waved it around near the case. Seconds later, he pulled a puzzled face and popped it back in his pocket.

 

`Just wait here,' he said, looking around. `I'm going to find the gallery's owner.'

 

`Couldn't you just read the brochure?' asked Donna.

 

`I have. It's rubbish. Back in a sec.'

 

One of the supermodels, dressed in a plain grey trouser-suit with creases so sharp you could cut yourself on them, glanced at her. She smiled back.

 

`Art,' she said vaguely, uncomfortably. `Great, isn't it? Window on the human soul. Or Andromedan soul,' she added for good measure.

 

The supermodel just stared at her - and then at her two companions. Art-lovers, thought Donna. Don't you just love them— the thought was cut off as she spotted the greasy patch on the glass that the Doctor's nose had left. In the pristine, snooty environment of the gallery it looked horribly out of place, and Donna was tempted to leave it there.

 

But she was an ambassador for Earth, wasn't she? She didn't want the locals going around saying what mucky pups humans (and Time Lords) were, especially with these three women paying such attention to the exhibit. So, whipping out her hanky, she stepped forward to give the glass a bit of a clean - at the very same moment that a wave of prickling static swept across her skin, and the whole room flared brilliant, snowy white.

 

`Oi!' shouted Donna as the glare subsided, leaving sparkly traces on her vision. `What was—'

 

She stopped as she realised that somehow they'd managed to redecorate the art gallery in the few seconds that she'd been blinded. Instead of a wide, airy space with a shiny black floor and white walls, they'd turned it into a lower, pokier space, all purply-black swirls. The walls around her curved, giving the impression of being inside half a hard-boiled egg.

 

The display case and the supermodels were still there, although the lights inside the display case had gone out, leaving the diamanté truck wheel looking even more like a piece of old junk than it had before. It began to dawn on her that maybe - just maybe - she wasn't in the gallery any more . . .