Doctor Who: In the Blood

by Jenny T. Colgan

  The man now sounded beyond rage and into a place far, far beyond.

  ‘I’ll show you!’ he said. But he didn’t explain any more than this. ‘I’ll show you!’ he repeated. But he didn’t explain who he wanted to show things to, or why.

  The plane dipped some more and the warning sirens came on, along with a clear electronic voice from the cockpit saying, ‘Pull up! Pull up!’

  Donna finally looked up, then whipped her head round to find the Doctor, shocked. She fumbled with her seatbelt and moved towards him. ‘What’s happening? Fix it!’

  The Doctor was looking thoughtfully out of the window, as the plane continued to plummet towards the ground.

  The sound it made – not just the alarm, but the push of metal diving at an angle it was not meant to experience, the G-forces straining against it – was almost intolerable. Not to mention the screaming.

  Donna bustled towards him, looking out over the panicking rows of people. ‘Um, excuse me? Want to get a move on? Lots of people’s worst nightmare happening here?’ She turned to them. ‘Everyone stay in your seats!’ she said in what was meant to be a reassuring voice. ‘It’ll be fine! Don’t worry, we’ll fix this. Don’t worry.’

  Out of the window, the lights of Asia down below were shining and tilting as the plane bumped massively downwards through the atmosphere in a great sweeping whoosh; like a bone through skin, the horrible sense of a world gone horribly, sickeningly wrong.

  Things started to fall and drop upwards; shoes, bags, glasses; knives and forks. Someone hit their arm and started to sob in low tones that cut through the screams.

  Everyone on the plane was in a state of total panic; except for one passenger in a seat near the back; a large man, who had not taken his sunglasses off for the entire flight. He nested his head on the inflight pillow, and casually dropped off to sleep.

  *

  ‘Any time you like, please, Doctor?’ said Donna, trying not to let a note of impatience creep into her voice. ‘Yeah, all right,’ she said to a smart-suited businessman who was weeping.

  He reached over, grabbed her hand and muttered something.

  She snatched back her hand. ‘No, I’m not kissing you! You can kiss your wife with gratitude when you get home, thanks! Don’t worry, it’ll be fine . . . Doctor!’

  ‘I think . . . I think I have it,’ the Doctor was saying, still looking out the window. ‘I think I know . . .. it’s in the back of my mind . . . I’ve seen this . . . I’ve seen it. But it gets eaten up, until you think it’s simply rage, or fury, a passing mood that burns itself out . . . but sometimes it isn’t . . . Let me talk to him.’

  ‘What, the madman that’s trying to crash us into a mountain?’ said Donna. ‘Hey, I have an idea: save us all first, talk afterwards, right.’

  ‘He won’t know afterwards,’ said the Doctor grimly.

  The stewardess was walking up the aisle, making sure everyone had their seatbelts on and telling people to brace.

  ‘Amina, what’s his name?’

  ‘Kenneth Phillips,’ said Amina shortly, carrying on.

  ‘Cor, you’re a good stewardess,’ said the Doctor, watching her head down the aisle. ‘Look at you! All helpful and brilliant!’

  Amina turned back, her eyes betraying her fear. ‘Please take your seat, sir,’ she said, with a tremble in her voice.

  With a BANG all the oxygen masks descended at the same moment. There was more sobbing. Lots of people were scribbling notes, or trying to record themselves on their mobile phones. One person was screaming repeatedly. Amina went to comfort them.

  ‘I mean, you’re exactly the type of person we need,’ said the Doctor, looking after her, holding on to the seat back to stop himself toppling down the steep incline. ‘Very impressed.’

  Donna folded her arms. ‘Fine,’ she said in exasperation. ‘I’ll do it.’

  And she whipped his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and hauled herself hand over hand on the seat backs down to the front of the plane.

  ‘Hey!’ shouted the Doctor. ‘Hey! Don’t do that! Don’t ever do that! Don’t touch my . . . Don’t go near my . . . It’s my . . .’

  Donna had got the door open by the time the Doctor caught her up. She whipped round to face him.

  ‘There’s terrified children back there,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Fix this now and figure out the other thing later.’

  The Doctor looked at her sternly. He was, she realised, genuinely cross, and she meekly handed over the screwdriver.

  ‘You don’t get it Donna,’ he said in a low voice. ‘If I don’t figure this out now, there won’t be any later.’

  Chapter

  Eleven

  Inside the cockpit, Kenneth Phillips was leaning over the steering bar. He was still conscious and had it pulled up to its absolute maximum, so the plane was plummeting. He was muttering to himself.

  ‘I’ll show them! I’ll show them all!’

  Somehow, seeing land approaching from the front of the plane – and the nose of the aircraft was nearly directly pointed at the ground now – was far more frightening than seeing it from the side porthole, where you could almost believe that it was disconnected and they weren’t all plunging to their deaths. Donna gulped.

  The Doctor barely glanced outside, simply leaned casually against the pilot’s seat to steady himself. A red light was blinking alarmingly and the alarms were at a high pitch.

  ‘Hello, Kenneth. Ken? Kenny? You don’t look like a Kenny. I like Kennys. They have a tendency to play the accordion. You don’t—’

  ‘Get away from me. You can’t stop me. You can’t.’

  ‘Right, Kenneth. I see.’

  ‘You can’t calm me down.’

  Kenneth turned his red-rimmed eyes on the Doctor. He was completely deranged, way beyond the normal bounds of fury; he seemed to be in a place far, far away.

  ‘I’ll show you,’ he spat. ‘I’ll show you all.’

  ‘What can you feel, Kenneth?’

  ‘I feel furious! I’ve been mistreated and bullied and disrespected for long enough.’

  ‘No, no Kenneth. I’m not asking how you feel. I can see how you feel. That’s fine. I need to know what you feel.’

  The alarms were getting deafening now. ‘PULL UP PULL UP’ was sounding, and the red alarm was flashing round and round.

  Amina entered, and shut the cockpit door behind them. Her face was furious. ‘Straighten up the plane,’ she said, holding the Taser out in front of her like a weapon. ‘Straighten us up!’

  ‘In a minute,’ said the Doctor, waving the Taser away and tutting. ‘I need a minute.’ He moved closer to Kenneth’s ear. ‘What are you feeling, Kenneth? What can you feel? Tell me.’

  Kenneth’s mouth moved in his brick-red face, but no sound came out; he was so horrified by the enormity of what was happening as the huge jet continued to cascade downwards. The noise was unbelievable.

  Donna suddenly felt properly frightened. Normally when she was in a confined space with the Doctor, she felt safe. This was different. He didn’t seem to have the faintest interest in sorting them out. Below them she could make out plains and towns and mountains. She found herself hoping it would be a mountain, avoid a populated area. Her hands were trembling.

  ‘Straighten up . . .’

  ‘Could you . . . just for a moment. Donna. Can you hold her?’ said the Doctor.

  Donna grabbed Amina’s arm. ‘Sorry about this, but can you be quiet?

  ‘But we can be saved!’ Amina’s eyes were wide as Donna clapped a hand over her mouth.

  ‘I am so sorry about this,’ said Donna. ‘I really am. We kind of have to do this kind of trust-y thing. I’m no happier about it than you are. Hurry up, Doctor!’

  There was a bang. Amina started and muttered something under Donna’s hand.

  ‘Engine gone?’ said Donna.

  Amina nodded.

  Donna started to bounce up and down.

  ‘Move yourself!’ she yelled at the Doctor. In doing s
o, she lost her footing briefly as the plane lurched, and Amina took the opportunity to push her hand away and break free of Donna’s grip.

  Immediately there was a huge zapping noise.

  ‘Aha!’ said the Doctor. ‘Stop it! That tickles!’

  Amina zapped him again, and he giggled. ‘Argh, stop! Please. There’s no time. Stop! Hahaha! Argh!’

  He writhed uncontrollably as Donna tried to grab the Taser from Amina.

  Now they could make out topographical features on the ground: fields, plains, a mountain. A mountain right below them.

  The hubbub beyond the doors continued; now there were people banging at the door, men’s voices shouting out in desperation to let them in, for heaven’s sake; it wasn’t too late, it wasn’t too late, let them in . . .

  ‘A finger,’ came a voice, suddenly, almost too quiet to be heard over the noise of everything else that was going on, as the alarms beeped and Donna stared out of the window into the abyss, the unbelievable way the great machine was approaching the earth; the very end . . . in a plummeting jet . . .

  For a fraction of a second nobody moved. Then the Doctor crouched down, still twitching a little.

  Kenneth had spoken.

  ‘What?’ the Doctor said. ‘Say that again.’

  ‘A finger. Icy fingers,’ said Kenneth, as spittle came out of his mouth. ‘Argh . . . Oh . . . It hurts . . . It’s twisting . . . The finger is twisting.’

  The Doctor started nodding, frantically, as the man contorted and his limbs lurched out, then coiled back in on himself again, breathless, unable to speak with the pain; his face no longer red, but the palest, bloodless white. He glanced up at the girls. ‘Take him!’

  And as Donna and Amina pulled the now unconscious man from his seat, he slipped into it.

  The nose of the plane was almost fully tilted towards the ground. Donna could see the rocks on the mountain; the grey stone tipped with snow almost entirely and she couldn’t help it; she would normally have said that she trusted the Doctor 100 per cent. But now she felt it was possibly 99.99999 per cent. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to scream as the rock filled the air and the window grew dark and the Doctor grabbed the controls . . .

  Donna’s stomach lurched as the Doctor pulled the throttle full back, and she lost her footing again as the plane abruptly turned upwards. She could hear Amina clearly repeating: ‘Don’t stall don’t stall don’t stall don’t stall . . .’

  Donna crouched down, and she and Amina threw themselves into trying to resuscitate Kenneth, who was lying on the floor, completely unconscious.

  They banked steeply, and finally, gradually, the aeroplane ascended above the clouds and straightened out.

  The Doctor turned round. ‘Can you hold the plane?’ he said to Amina.

  ‘I can try,’ she said.

  ‘Get back!’ the Doctor shouted at Donna, as he leapt off the chair and down to where Kenneth was lying. He grabbed the first aid box and found some adrenaline. He plunged it into the man’s heart, but it had no effect.

  He tried again and again, but nothing, and when Donna finally looked away she realised that the co-pilot had recovered. They were once more taking on a smooth route, and if it weren’t for the red alarms still flashing and the noisy commotion coming from air traffic control, you might think nothing had happened at all.

  Donna looked down at Kenneth again. His face had gone completely slack and blue; the blood was draining now; everything had left his body.

  ‘More adrenaline,’ said the Doctor. He was still palpitating the man’s chest, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that it was no use.

  ‘Doctor.’

  He couldn’t bear it, she knew. He couldn’t bear to lose even one single tiny prospect of life. The tiniest spark; the meagrest hope.

  But Kenneth was plainly dead. Behind the Doctor, the onboard computer whirred and beeped. Everyone ignored it.

  Eventually the Doctor sat back on his heels, looking down at Kenneth.

  ‘He nearly killed us all,’ said Donna, gently.

  ‘That’s not how it works,’ said the Doctor, his mouth a firm line.

  Amina was leaving the cockpit. The Doctor stood up and turned to her.

  ‘You were totally fantastic by the way,’ he said to the girl, who was still trembling a little. ‘I mean, really amazing. And so useful!’

  Donna folded her arms. It struck home. She knew he didn’t mean it that way, but he was making her feel a bit like Hettie had. And she didn’t like it. ‘I was useful!’

  ‘I mean . . . you can just do so much . . . fly a plane . . . prepare an injection . . . keep passengers calm . . . Taser people at the wrong moment . . .and I bet you’ve never stolen someone’s sonic screwdriver.’

  Amina flushed. ‘Just part of the service . . .’

  ‘Yeah, if we’d been in economy class she’d probably just have left us,’ said Donna, but nobody was listening to her.

  Chapter

  Twelve

  The plane managed to limp into Seoul’s Incheon Airport, even with an engine missing. The traumatised passengers had to wait as officials came on board and hustled off all of those involved with the incident, including the Doctor and Donna.

  ‘We just saw it happen,’ Donna explained loudly to a policeman, who stopped and looked at her. He blinked. The next thing they knew they were locked up in a room.

  ‘Why? Why are they locking us up?’ Donna asked them and the Doctor, who smiled wryly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  The next thing, several uniformed men marched in: a mixture, clearly, of police and army. They fired questions at Donna, who answered as honestly as she could without arousing suspicions by mentioning blue boxes or anything else.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she said eventually ‘What? Why do they keep laughing at me?’

  The Doctor was leaning against the wall not paying attention. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘Yeah, they think you’re a spy . . .’

  ‘What? Why? Me? You know, I’ve always thought I would make an awesome spy. But why do they think . . . Oh.’ She realised.

  ‘Because your Korean is so good.’

  Donna smiled at them. ‘Oh, how kind of you to say! Thank you!’

  The man nodded back, then burst out laughing again.

  ‘I have pointed out to him that there aren’t very many red-haired spies in Korea,’ the Doctor went on.

  ‘Me and my perfect Korean!’ said Donna, ignoring him, and marvelling at herself. She felt the shape her mouth moved as she spoke.

  ‘You know it’s not you doing it,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘Shut up,’ said Donna. ‘It’s nice to feel accomplished. Ooh, I was looking for a phrase to say I’m feeling proud of myself, but I can’t find one. How strange. Korean is really different from English.’

  The Doctor gave her a funny look.

  ‘What?’

  ‘What would ever make you think you weren’t accomplished?’

  ‘You! On the plane! With Miss Perfect Stewardess who’s great at everything. So maybe you should travel with her, seeing as she’s so great at everything.’

  The Doctor frowned. ‘Why would I want to travel with someone who’s great at everything? That would make me look absolutely awful.’

  Donna gave him a look.

  ‘You’re free to go,’ said one of the uniformed men.

  ‘In a minute,’ said Donna. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, we’re about to have a fight?’

  They were quickly ushered out through the terminal doors.

  By the time they hit the city it was lunchtime.

  It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm, and the strangeness of the street food vendors and the sleek cars and the high glass buildings were all novelty to Donna. She was enjoying it all hugely, especially the luxury of being able to speak to people. But she was still cross with the Doctor and didn’t want him to see her having a good time.

  ‘So aren’t you going to ask me what’s happen
ing?’ said the Doctor eventually, as they crossed the great Gwanghwamun Square, with its statues and memorials, and high hotels and offices all around.

  The Doctor would have been embarrassed to admit, given the obvious prosperity of its contemporary citizens, that he had slightly preferred Seoul in the Silla dynasty, and had fond memories of its perfumed fountains and pleasure gardens. He found the constant pushing up of buildings towards the heavens generally an unnerving development.

  ‘No,’ said Donna. ‘I’m going to eat whatever that is . . .’ She walked towards a vendor and picked some up. ‘What is this?’

  ‘Bundegi.’

  It took Donna a moment.

  ‘Umm. Excellent. Deep-fried silk larvae.’

  She walked on, chewing with some difficulty, but again determined not to let him notice she’d made a mistake.

  ‘Well the thing is—’

  ‘I mean, I’m sure Amina would be a really good listener.’

  ‘Are you going to keep this up? Because we don’t have much time. Are those good?’

  ‘Want some?’

  ‘No, you’re all right . . .’

  ‘I always get hungry after I’ve been in a plane crash,’ said Donna. She turned to face him finally. ‘What was it then? That made you make us wait so long?’

  ‘That made you steal my screwdriver?’

  The traffic honked on the incredibly crowded crossing. They strode across, standing out, cross with one another.

  ‘Well. It was . . .’ The Doctor sighed as he looked for the right way to explain it. ‘Well. They were . . . I think. You have an infestation.’

  ‘Me?’ Donna looked dubiously at the silkworms.

  ‘The planet.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I’m hungry any more.’

  They walked on, round the extraordinary glittering metal city hall.

  ‘What kind of an infestation?’

  ‘It’s a parasite. In the blood. From the Rafirax system, generally. You can never take your dog in. Quarantine is thirty years. Wonder how it got here?’

  ‘What does it do? Is that what that guy in the plane had?’

  ‘Yes. But I had to find out from him. It has a tricky diagnostic pathology, because it looks like you’re having a heart attack, or a fit. But no. They’re called Rempaths. They’re tiny organisms, transported through blood. But they’re actually transmitted through . . . well through the internet, here. They travel through technology, looking for living hosts.’