Doctor Who: In the Blood

by Jenny T. Colgan

  Donna felt a grin spread over her face. ‘Well, both of those we can deal with.’

  Asha was shaking her head in disbelief. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ she said, unbuckling the bed restraints. ‘It just calmed him right down.’

  ‘It’s diluted the Rempaths in his blood,’ said Donna. ‘Hopefully it’s got rid of them altogether. Yay!’

  Wilf was blinking in his normal benign fashion. ‘Can I have a biscuit?’ he said, sitting up.

  ‘You should have a biscuit,’ said Asha to Donna. ‘You need all the sugar you can get.’

  ‘Finally, an upside,’ said Donna.

  Asha’s beeper went off.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘They’re still coming in. But now we have something to fight it with.’ She looked at the two of them. ‘Blood transfusions?’ she said again, wonderingly. ‘Aliens?’

  Donna nodded. ‘It’s science,’ she said. ‘Honest.’

  Asha smiled and whipped round, her plaited hair bouncing behind her as she slipped through the curtain and was gone.

  Wilf looked at Donna. ‘I don’t know what happened,’ he said. ‘But I think you made it better, am I right?’

  Donna tried to look modest and failed. Inside her heart was leaping though. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It was all me. I am awesome.’

  Wilf smiled. ‘Stay a while,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll call Mum,’ said Donna.

  Wilf sighed as if that wasn’t quite as good. ‘Donna,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’

  ‘What, though?’

  ‘I was . . . I was just going to say. Can you stay a while, before you call your mother? But I know, I know. I’m just a selfish old man. I didn’t want you to get married . . .’

  ‘Well, that’s lucky, cause I didn’t.’

  ‘I didn’t want you to move out from living at home . . . or find some chap to take you away from everything . . .’

  ‘Can you stop just generally listing all the ways I’ve failed as an adult? Thanks, Gramps.’

  Wilf leaned over and took her hand. ‘You’ve never failed me Donna. You’ve never failed at all.’

  Donna blushed bright red. ‘You’re my granddad, though. You have to think that.’

  ‘That’s not why.’ He squeezed her hand. And they sat for a while. Then he let it go.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Off you go. I’m heading out too. I’m not staying here a moment longer than I have to, but I can hear Nurse Ratchett’s footsteps in the corridor. And don’t you have some kind of a . . . some kind of an odd skinny fellow to save? So. Off you pop.’

  Donna smiled. ‘That’s not usually how it works.’

  ‘Course it is,’ said Wilf. He lay back on the pillows. Donna kissed him gently on the forehead and slipped out of the side door of the ward; away from the hubbub and back into the silent, eerie corridors of the main hospital, before she had to talk to anyone else.

  Chapter

  Forty

  The icy wind blew across the jungle floor. It was a peculiar sensation. The Doctor advanced cautiously. The normal rainforest chattering had fallen quieter; no birds, or monkeys, not even a cricket. He moved forward, completely alone. It was total and utter silence.

  His phone rang.

  The Doctor tutted and felt in his inside jacket pocket. He pulled out the old phone and dragged the aerial out of it, despite the fact that he knew full well the aerial didn’t do anything, even before he’d sonicked it. He didn’t really like thinking of himself as a creature of habit.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Have you been mis-sold PPI?’ came the voice.

  He paused for only a second.

  ‘Donna! Is that you?’

  ‘Of course it’s me, four eyes!’

  They both beamed, ten thousand kilometres apart.

  ‘You sound cheerful. And slightly offensive. Cheerfully offensive.’

  ‘I did it! I fixed Gramps!’

  The Doctor blinked. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes! Who’s your doctor now?’

  The Doctor smiled, but his face was still puzzled. ‘Well that’s . . . Are you saying he’s better? That you made him better with a blood transfusion?’

  ‘Completely. Sitting up and asking for the latest copy of “Trout Fishing Monthly”. And they gave me a biscuit.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Amazing,’ said the Doctor. ‘I truly didn’t think that would work. Well done. Can you come and fetch me?’

  ‘Is that it?’ said Donna excitedly. ‘Have I solved it all and saved the world through my being brilliant and everything? Do you think I’ll get a prize? I want a prize. A Noble prize. Geddit? Are we done?’

  The Doctor looked up. Ahead of him, in the middle of the great green jungle of deepest Brazil, a boa constrictor lazily hanging from a distant tree, was a huge, incongruous, unscalable wall of sheer thick white ice; a castle, an impossible shimmering cathedral of white.

  ‘Not quite yet,’ he said.

  Chapter

  Forty-One

  Fief was standing at the door of the hospital, waiting patiently. Which made him stand out in itself, on a cold overcast day when he was wearing sunglasses. He wasn’t fiddling with his phone or texting or checking Facebook. He was just standing. Waiting for her. As if he would until the end of time.

  In a funny way – and Donna told herself sternly that he was a cold-blooded killer who actually had cold blood, which was probably yellow – he was reassuring standing there.

  Donna had cheerfully left Asha barking orders and marking up instructions on the white board and looking entirely in control.

  ‘Are you ready?’ asked Fief as she stepped out of the door, hanging up the phone. She knew it was just his usual, bland way of speaking but in her good mood it sounded gentle; kind, even. She was projecting.

  ‘Yes!’ she said, happily. ‘So. Are you ready to kick some coffee-makers’ weedy hipster arses? They won’t be able to chase us too far, their beards get tangled up in their braces.’

  They walked together up the Chiswick High Road.

  ‘I need to ask,’ said Donna. ‘When the Doctor finds this guy – whoever he is – that’s responsible for this. What are you going to do to them? And then us? But first them?’

  Fief shrugged. ‘Immobilise the threat,’ he said.

  ‘You mean kill them? Without remorse?’

  Fief thought about it. ‘Yes.’

  Donna shivered. She remembered again the young steward on the train. She couldn’t forget how dangerous this creature was. The moment they had fixed everything, he would kill her. Without a second thought.

  ‘You talk about it like it’s a war,’ she said.

  They passed a young woman who was screaming into her phone; really screaming at it. Something about pictures being posted online without her consent. Her eyes were wild; her face completely and utterly devastated.

  ‘I’ve been told that it is,’ said Fief.

  ‘And you’re a loyal soldier.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Fief. ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m not a soldier!’

  ‘You do his bidding.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ said Donna. ‘Anyway, that’s not the point. We help people.’

  ‘So does my boss,’ said Fief. ‘He wants to liberate them from this foul disease.’

  ‘Yes, but the Doctor doesn’t do it by killing people.’

  Fief looked surprised. ‘So people don’t get killed when he’s around?’

  Donna didn’t answer that. She didn’t even really like to think about it.

  The coffee outlet was busy and still doing great business. They had to stand in a queue.

  ‘Do you drink coffee?’ said Donna.

  Fief shook his head. ‘After the honeyed waters of Cadmia, I find other drinks somewhat lacking.’

  ‘You’re disappointed!’ said Donna. ‘That’s an emotion! Something makes you feel different to something else! You’ve got one!’

 
‘I have a preference,’ stated Fief. ‘That’s not an emotional state. It’s a biological predisposition, nothing more.’

  ‘All emotion is a biological predisposition, you nitwit,’ said Donna. ‘There’s definitely something! Something in there! Coffee makes you sad! So, so sad. Can I see a big yellow tear?’

  ‘I have no feelings about coffee!’

  ‘Compared to “honeyed waters” you do!’

  ‘Not really,’ said Fief, but Donna simply gave him a look.

  ‘One jumbo very hot caramel macchiato with three extra shots and a biscotti,’ she said as she approached the first bearded man. ‘Then, you have to get the hell out. And I’ll take my coffee as rent.’

  The man squinted. ‘Oh, I recognise you,’ he said. ‘The supposed police box owners, right? Well, you are. Dunno what you’ve done with the wimpy one.’

  Donna looked at him. ‘That is actually our police box,’ she said. ‘And you know how the last bloke was completely opposed to violence of any kind and believed in an equal democratic solution to everything?’

  She took a sip of her coffee. It was absolutely delicious. She gestured towards Fief.

  ‘Well, this one ain’t.’

  Fief kicked over the coffee table stand as if it was made of paper. The hipsters yelled. The taller one came at him with some jerky martial arts moves. Fief simply put out a granite fist and let the man run on to it. He dropped like a sack of sand.

  ‘Sorry!’ said Donna to the hipsters. ‘I really am sorry. Please. Please don’t go on the internet and complain about me. I mean that!’

  The hipsters weren’t anything like as brave as they’d first appeared. Both of them, as soon as they saw Fief split the salvaged vintage wooden countertop in half with one quick chop, made a run for it.

  ‘Call the police!’ shouted one.

  ‘They’re busy,’ said Donna. It occurred to her that she could still hear the noise of sirens on the air. The news obviously hadn’t got through yet; the fact that she had discovered the cure. Maybe they’d call it the Donna Noble cure. She liked the sound of that.

  The other customers had filmed everything on their phones, but now the fun was over they were dispersing. Donna wondered if it would appear online. Everything did eventually, didn’t it? Pain going on and on and on; pain and violence.

  She thought again of poor old Wilf, straying into the wrong argument at the wrong time. She hoped Asha could hurry up, get the news out.

  She glanced at Fief.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t what?’ said Donna, pulling out her TARDIS key. It glowed, happily, in her hand, pleased to be back where it belonged.

  ‘Don’t think about trying to leave me behind.’

  ‘Why would I do that? You’d just hunt me down and kill me.’

  ‘I would do that. But you might think it was worth it if it gave the Doctor a chance to get ahead, and I want to tell you that it would not.’

  Donna blinked. ‘I had no intention of leaving you behind.’

  ‘Good,’ said Fief gravely.

  Donna turned the key, which slid in happily, and popped the lock.

  ‘Is this your ship?’

  ‘Kind of. You know. Yeah. Probably. I’m on the insurance,’ said Donna cheerfully, opening the door. ‘Ta-da! I like this bit.’

  Fief walked through the door. Donna followed him. She pressed the console centre button, and the innards lit up warmly and started to move. Donna stood back, grinning.

  ‘Cool huh! Pretty impressive, don’t you think?’

  Fief glanced around, completely impassive.

  ‘Come on. You can’t be an emotionless joy void about the TARDIS!’ She leant against one of its carved wooden struts. ‘You can’t! Not really. Look at it. Isn’t it gorgeous?’

  Fief took off his sunglasses and blinked his yellow eyes in the light.

  ‘Come on,’ said Donna. ‘Say something nice. It’s awesome, right? If you like you could take your earpiece out and enjoy it!’

  Fief still didn’t say anything. He touched his earpiece briefly though as if to double-check it was safe. ‘I don’t want to,’ he said.

  Donna nodded. ‘I see,’ she said. Thrilled to be back, she moved across and patted the console top. ‘He doesn’t appreciate you like we do,’ she said quietly, and the console glowed happily back.

  ‘Can we leave now, please?’ said Fief.

  ‘Yup!’ said Donna. ‘Let me just . . . Why don’t you go and have a look around? Just head straight down to the end of the corridor . . .’

  Donna knew without a map, plus a little extra – a little internal guidance – someone would get lost in the TARDIS straight away. It wasn’t possible to find your way through it alone; it was an infinity of itself.

  Just long enough, surely, for her and the Doctor to sort this out. By themselves. The way it was meant to be. Then they’d go find him and set him free. Somewhere far away. They might even give him a lift home to Cadmia. She totally wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  ‘It still smells of coffee in here,’ she said approvingly. ‘I like it. Right, go freshen up you. It’s four corridors to the left, then take the corridor loop.’

  ‘And we’re leaving?’

  ‘I’m programming the coordinates now,’ said Donna, taking out her phone.

  Chapter

  Forty-Two

  The Doctor walked around the perimeter. There wasn’t a single gap in it. It was a completely impregnable kilometre-round wall of solid unbroken ice towering above him. The fact that it was gloriously beautiful didn’t detract from its imposing form. It wasn’t a palace: it was a fortress

  But there had to be a way in. Because this was where the epicentre was; where everything was emanating from. The end of the tunnel that began in the gardens of Korea. Just one little Rempath in the system, multiplying everywhere, then, finally, triumphantly, zipping through the online world, everyone connected to everybody else. Infecting the world. Overrunning them all. There would be billions of casualties. Unless he stopped it.

  A fine and fruitful harvest; perfect sowing conditions, straight into the very heart of the worst of an overcrowded population. The Silk Road. The dark web. Unleash a few onto the darkest roads in the darkest, most furious minds of the world – of a teeming, paranoid, over-busy, over-connected world. And let the worst of the internet meet the worst of human emotion and bang: the rest would happen all by itself. Provide a through route; a collection pipe to send the harvest out into the universe. And there you were. A perfect self-propagating business.

  It was revolting. And as soon as they had taken everything from this world – as they would; as populations became more and more fearful, as they were doing already; their fear would turn outwards eventually, and the rage would take hold of everyone – they would simply move on to another, leaving what remained of the Earth wallowing in filthy blood. The meek would not inherit it. The meek felt as fearless and consequence-free behind their faceless computer screens as everybody else.

  He blinked. Well. Not if he could help it. He took out the sonic and, very carefully, started to carve a small set of footholds in the ice.

  It was painstaking tedious work, but he threw up vines to help him pull himself up.

  He knew he was being watched, of course. He had felt it. This was precisely where the ladies of the spa would have delivered him. This was where he was wanted all along. But at least he was here on his own terms.

  The ice burned his hands as he crawled, slowly, desperately trying to kick with his feet against the slippery surface.

  He was concentrating so hard on not falling down, he didn’t even notice his telephone slip gently out of his pocket, and slither down the icy slope of the wall. Within seconds, a beautiful bird of paradise had flown past his head, braving the cold territory they normally avoided, to pick up this useful piece of nesting material.

  Chapter

  Forty-Three

  Donna programmed the coordinates carefully and threw the large
lever triumphantly. In seconds they would be back with the Doctor, saving the world. She smiled happily.

  Nothing happened.

  Chapter

  Forty-Four

  The Doctor crouched on top of the wall, looking down in consternation. There was a rocket down there, but a small one; clearly not built to convey a person, or anyone person-sized. It was a transportation pod, small, hardwearing and very, very fast.

  There were two main buildings, both built with open sidings. One was simply a processing factory, with one or two men working within it.

  But the other was odd. It was a stunningly lovely perfect example of a colonial mansion: wooden sidings; venetian blinds, in natural wood. It was very beautiful. The Doctor wondered if it had been built or simply annexed. Everything in it seemed authentic, down to the veranda running around the second floor. It looked like a hunter’s lodge. The Doctor hmmmed. And from downstairs, inside, there it was, as he had known it would be: the same blue glow he had last seen in the garden in Korea.

  The other end of the tunnel. The tunnel that contained the fastest filaments on Earth. Straight through the centre of the world. That transported the internet one way, providing super-fast speeds and services straight into computers . . . and the Rempaths straight out the other.

  It looked so harmless; no bigger than a manhole cover. It was a masterpiece of efficiency.

  It sickened the Doctor to see the Earth being destroyed so thoughtlessly; this was simply a by-product of somebody else’s problem, somebody else’s conflict. The Earth was just raw material for mining; nothing to be thought of, nothing to be mourned.

  ‘Not on my watch,’ he thought, crouching there, feeling the cold air swirl around his feet even as the warm jungle air seemed to reach out to meet it, the cold and the warm together; the heat of the servers; the cool of the ice within.

  The wall beneath him sloped outwards, bulwarked like a mediaeval fort with supports for the external walls.

  He looked once more between the two buildings. Then he simply sat down on his coat, and slid down the ice wall.

  He landed with a bump, stood up, and was immediately surrounded.