Doctor Who BBC N03 - Winner Takes All

by Doctor Who

  Rose’s head turned. The Doctor was obviously searching for the other player. And she could see him now.

  No – her.

  The other player was a woman, a pretty black woman in her thirties, wearing a scarlet trouser suit. Her eyes were wide with terror. Rose wished she could call out something reassuring, let her know it was going to be OK, that she’d soon be out of here, but her mouth was still pouring out lefts and rights and straight-ons into the phone, and Rose could say nothing of her own volition.

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  The woman was getting closer and closer. ‘That’s Mrs Nkomo,’ Rose heard herself say. Mrs Nkomo was getting closer still.

  ‘Whoops,’ said Mickey’s voice in her ear, as Mrs Nkomo, eyes darting from side to side in alarm, ran straight into Rose.

  The two players stared ahead as they were carefully positioned facing each other. Rose’s hand found the sonic screwdriver and held it out in front of her. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Nkomo,’ she found herself saying, the very words she’d wanted to force out. ‘We’ll soon get you out of there. Rose here is going to disconnect a few things, then we’re going to lead you out. Half an hour, tops, it’ll all be over. Oooh, here comes someone else.’

  Rose swivelled round. Approaching down a steep slope behind her was a middle-aged white man. ‘Apparently that’s a Mr Johnson. He’s been gone hours. Lucky man, the Mantodeans must’ve missed him.

  Come on, Rose,’ said Rose, ‘let’s get on with it.’

  She was turned back to Mrs Nkomo, and the sonic screwdriver began its work.

  Robert watched the map as two little white lights headed towards the outside. That left four white lights, apart from Rose, and six blue lights. No – five. Another blue light had gone out, another player had been found by the Mantodeans. He was trying not to think. . . Trying not to hope. . .

  Not that he didn’t have enough else to think about. Robert was calling out routes to the Doctor, as the Doctor, keeping his eyes on Rose, relayed them to someone called Mickey on the other end of the phone. Mickey, the Doctor said, used to go out with Rose, so Robert hated him.

  ‘That’s it!’ Robert said. ‘Both of them are out!’ Mrs Nkomo and Mr Johnson were safe – well, safe-ish – at last. Thank goodness. Five white lights now (including Rose), five blue lights.

  Suddenly there was a buzzing on the sort of intercom thing. Robert jumped. His mind was so full, so busy, so concentrated on the ten remaining tiny specks of light-life, that he’d almost forgotten where they were, that they were in a scary room in monster HQ.

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  ‘This is Frinel,’ said a voice. ‘Gerdix, the carrier appears to no longer be approaching the centre of the Mantodean stronghold. Why is this?

  You will report immediately.’

  Robert looked at the Doctor, hoping against hope that he had a plan.

  What had they said before? Something about Robert being there to keep the Doctor in line. He had a feeling the Quevvils didn’t bluff, either. If they came in and found what had happened, it would be goodbye, Robert.

  But the Doctor seemed just as taken aback as Robert was. He jumped up, giving the control pad to Robert and telling him to keep an eye on things – and hurried over to the door. There was some sort of alien lock on it, but the Doctor didn’t bother with that. Instead he began pushing cupboards and benches and anything he could find in front of it.

  ‘Gerdix!’ said Frinel’s voice again testily. ‘Gerdix, answer immediately!’

  The Doctor’s actions had only just been in time. The door rattled as someone tried to open it from the other side.

  Frinel spoke again through the intercom. ‘Herryan reports she is unable to gain access to you. If I do not hear from Gerdix in the next thirty seconds, we will assume he has been overpowered. Extreme force will be deployed. All humans will be killed. Thirty.’

  The Doctor and Robert exchanged glances. ‘I’m not human!’ grumbled the Doctor. ‘I have already told them that.’

  ‘Twenty-eight,’ said Frinel.

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  Mickey was still flustered. The panic stations of a few minutes ago had passed: Jason and Kevin had guided their players out of the Mantodean stronghold, and everything was plain sailing from then on. The Doctor had stopped giving him directions via Rose. But everything else had stopped too. Anil had stopped trying to persuade this guy to play the game the way they wanted, because he’d stopped responding to his messages.

  There had still been a couple of consoles left untested, and Mickey had been itching to try them, fully aware that any delay could mean the difference between life and death for the person at the other end, but he’d had to wait for Jason or Kevin to get their player in place.

  Kevin got there first, and Mickey yanked out the connecting lead and plugged in the first of the remaining games. No go. He’d tried the next. The same. No stored game.

  And so it had stopped, for now, until it was time for the last stage of the Doctor’s plan. But he still had people’s fates in his hands, which was hugely unfair. If he’d wanted that sort of responsibility he’d have become a doctor or a soldier or something. But he hadn’t. Nobody had asked him if he’d wanted this. Rose had chosen to get mixed up 147

  in all this stuff, he’d just got caught in her slipstream, and they all expected him to just get on with it. Well, actually the Doctor probably expected him to fail miserably. But no one had given him a choice.

  Ask, ‘Mickey, do you want to get involved in this saving the world stuff, yes or no?’ and he’d say no. Who would? But when you’re already involved, when you’re in the middle of stuff, no decent human being could walk away. It really wasn’t fair at all.

  ‘Is that it then?’ asked Kevin. ‘Can we go home now?’

  Mickey shook his head. ‘Nah. We’ve got the real work ahead of us now.’ But as he sat there, flustered and thinking desperately, he hadn’t a clue how they were going to do it.

  ‘Twenty-four.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ yelled Robert. ‘That thing –’ he gestured at the Quevvil called Gerdix – ‘can’t answer. It’s frozen!’

  The Doctor looked at Gerdix. Then he looked at Robert. ‘Control box!’ he said suddenly.

  Robert grabbed the silver control box, and passed it to the Doctor.

  The Doctor started poking around in it at top speed, speaking very fast at the same time. ‘This has roughly the same function as the control pad, and if I could modify that I can modify this. Wish I had my sonic screwdriver. . . There!’

  ‘Fifteen seconds.’

  The Doctor waved the box at the Quevvil. It gave a faint shudder.

  ‘Reorganised the connections, like I did with Rose,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘I expect it’s quite unpleasant. Poor Rose. Come on, come on. . . ’

  ‘Eight seconds.’

  The Doctor kept jabbing away at the controls. Finally, after at least three lifetimes, the Quevvil responded.

  ‘Five seconds.’

  Gerdix sprang over to the intercom with a grace that seemed totally inappropriate in a giant porcupine.

  ‘Four seconds.’

  The Doctor kept manipulating the controls. The Quevvil reached up a paw and hit a button.

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  ‘Three seconds.’

  The Doctor did something that looked extremely complicated.

  Nothing happened.

  ‘Two seconds.’

  ‘Ah! I forgot. . . ’ The Doctor twisted a knob.

  ‘One second.’

  ‘Frinel, this is Gerdix.’

  There was a snort from the other end. ‘Gerdix! Why have you not responded before? Why could Herryan not gain access?’

  ‘There was a. . . a power surge. We temporarily lost control of the communicator. And the door locks. And the controller was unable to command his carrier. All power is now restored. All functions will revert to normal.’

  Robert waited with bated breath. Would it work?

  Frinel replied, ‘Very well. We are anxious
to see the carrier continue.

  You will proceed as planned.’

  Robert grinned, and gave the Doctor a thumbs-up. The Doctor dropped the silver control box on the floor, and sighed deeply. ‘Making me sink to their level,’ he muttered angrily. He thumped the chair arm, and kicked out with a foot, knocking the control box away. ‘This is too much! Making people dance around like puppets, making me take away every scrap of dignity of my best friend. . . I can tell you now, she won’t be loving it. But I don’t have a choice. Only way to get everyone out of there.’

  Robert thought he was going to start smashing things again, even though the Quevvils were watching them. But instead the Doctor suddenly snorted, and Robert was surprised to see he was almost laughing. ‘Hark at me,’ he said. ‘If I wanted to feel good about myself, go to bed with a little moral glow every night, then I’m in the wrong business. Come on, we’ve got work to do. Where’s everyone at?’

  And Robert looked back at the plan, and saw to his horror that there were only four blue lights left. The Mantodeans had claimed another victim.

  Anil had, amazingly, been able to track down two more of the peo-149

  ple who were actually playing the game now. He’d been coming up with some pretty convincing cover stories, and in one case someone’s girlfriend had seen his messages while she was browsing the Internet, waiting for her boyfriend to ring her, and had texted him, only to find out he’d been playing Death to Mantodeans for the last hour. Someone else had popped online to check their emails, and found one of Anil’s fake news stories that had been forwarded on by a friend. Mickey had his own mobile to one ear, and Jason’s to the other, and was relaying the Doctor’s instructions from one to Anil, back at the youth club, via the other.

  Then Mickey had collected the lads’ own console and the ‘live’ one they’d found earlier, persuaded (blackmailed) Jason and Kevin to go with him, and they were about to do something that wasn’t sensible at all.

  He hadn’t been able to resist glancing up at Rose’s windows again as they left the youth club; his eyes were irresistibly drawn there. But there were still no signs of life. He didn’t know why he’d half been expecting to see something. Jackie was still in hospital, as far as he knew, and Rose was. . . elsewhere. But when someone had a time machine, you couldn’t help thinking they might turn up even when you knew they were somewhere else. . .

  But there was no blue box standing around. Rose and the Doctor –future Rose and the Doctor, or even past Rose and the Doctor – weren’t here at all. It was all up to him, Mickey.

  He knocked on the door in front of him. Jason and Kevin shuffled their feet behind him. They’d taken some convincing. Mind you, Mickey was nervous, even though he knew it should be safe.

  After thirty seconds or so, he knocked again, louder. ‘Keep the noise down!’ came a voice from somewhere above. ‘Some of us are trying to sleep!’

  Mickey raised his hand to knock again, but then he heard something, someone shuffling towards them.

  The door was opened a

  chain-length, and a wrinkled face peered at them through the gap.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Pye,’ said Mickey. ‘D’you mind if we come in?’

  ∗ ∗ ∗

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  Once they’d got over their panic about what Darren’d do if he came home and found them there, Kevin and Jason had seemed pretty impressed at the way Mickey had persuaded Mrs Pye to let them into the flat. They’d been even more impressed at the way Mickey had com-mandeered the half-dozen or so tellies they’d found in a back room, especially as he’d even got Mrs Pye to point out power sockets where they could plug them all in. He’d then uncovered Darren’s stash of games consoles. There were dozens of the things – he must have been round the whole area – and they’d gone through every one of them.

  And then he’d heaved the biggest sigh of relief in the world, because they’d found four more saved games.

  ‘There’s only six left to find,’ the Doctor had said. ‘Four saved games, and two more live ones.’

  So, just the two live ones to go now. Mickey knew one of them was the bloke who wouldn’t stop playing, but he wasn’t able to tell the Doctor that. Anyway, though, that meant they’d found everything except one person still out there playing the game. Strange as it seemed, Darren Pye had actually done them a favour by collecting up all these games. He’d probably got more of them with threats than Rose would have done with pleas, and that meant that most of the games were in one place.

  Anyway, four more people were on their way out of the Mantodean stronghold. And that meant that maybe, some time soon, Mickey would get to go home and go to bed.

  Rose had been busy with the sonic screwdriver. She had no idea how it was working – she had no idea if it even was working, but she hadn’t heard any explosions, so she was hoping for the best.

  She met up with another middle-aged white man – Mr Snow, she’d been told – who had a sort of glazed look in his eyes, not as if he was scared, just as if he was refusing to believe this was really happening.

  She’d worked the Doctor’s magic on Mr Nkomo, someone called Anne something or other, someone called Tim Breeley, and a Japanese girl who must have been there for ages because the Doctor said his friend Robert didn’t recognise her at all.

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  One more person was heading her way, her own voice had told her.

  And she hoped against hope that this was nearly it, that she could get the rescuing stuff over with, so that someone could get around to rescuing her.

  There were only four lights now, including Rose; the rest had left the stronghold. Robert was worried the Quevvils would realise what was happening, but the Doctor said even if they realised people were getting out of the place, they’d just think they were getting blown up.

  Now the last blue light had turned back to white – and Robert couldn’t help himself from spinning round every few seconds to look at the screen. Now it was approaching the white light that was Rose.

  Now – turn around – there was a blur in the distance that might just be a person. Now – turn back to the map – it was getting very close to Rose. Now – turn around again – it was nearly there, any minute now he’d be able to see –

  It was a woman. It was. . . It was Rachel Goldberg. Robert forced himself to smile. ‘Mr Goldberg will be so happy,’ he said. ‘And she was really nice too.’

  He worked out the route to get Rachel out of the stronghold, and the Doctor relayed his words, through Rose, to this Mickey back on Earth. Robert kept a close eye on the remaining two non-Rose lights, but they showed no signs of doing the little jumping-around thing that the Doctor had worked out as a signal. The Doctor had Rose sever the connection to Earth, telling Mickey he’d call back when – if – they were needed.

  ‘Rose,’ said the Doctor, speaking out loud the words he was creating through her, ‘there’re still two other people in there, playing the game.

  I hope Mickey’s trying to find their controllers, but we’re running out of time. I’m going to send you to intercept them if I can. Maybe you can carry them out or something. But somehow we’ve got to get everyone out of there. I’ve got a plan.’

  Robert inwardly cheered. The Doctor still had a plan!

  ‘But everyone’s gotta be out of there. We –’

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  ‘Gerdix! The carrier is not following the correct path! Have you had further power problems?’

  Robert jumped as the voice boomed out of the intercom. ‘Quick!’

  he cried to the Doctor. ‘You’ve got to make him answer again!’

  The Doctor was scrabbling on the floor, searching for the silver control box. ‘I dropped it about here. . . ’

  ‘You kicked it away,’ Robert reminded him.

  ‘Must be somewhere over here. . . ’

  ‘Gerdix! Answer! If you do not answer within thirty seconds. . . ’

  ‘Here we go again,’ said the Doctor. ‘Ah! It must’ve gone under that workbench.�
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  Robert grabbed the game control pad and took charge of watching the screen for Mantodeans, while the Doctor crawled across the floor on his hands and knees.

  ‘Twenty-five seconds. . . ’

  ‘No – where is the blasted thing? Aha!’

  A Mantodean came on the screen. Robert instinctively pressed the button to fire at it. He imagined Rose’s arm shooting up, her finger on the trigger of a gun. . . The Mantodean barely staggered as the laser beam hit it, it certainly didn’t fall. Guns had pretty much been useless against them, Robert remembered from his own days playing Death to Mantodeans. He jabbed at the controls, hoping that the Doctor’s improvements would help him out here. ‘Doctor, she’s being attacked!’

  he called.

  As the Doctor threw himself back upright, silver box in one hand, Robert made Rose execute a pretty impressive karate kick on the insect monster.

  ‘Twenty seconds. . . ’

  Robert passed the controls back to the Doctor. ‘You’ve got to get her out of there!’ he said.

  ‘Looks like you were doing a pretty good job on your own,’ the Doctor said. On the screen, the Mantodean had reeled away; the kick had been effective. ‘I think it’s time for Rose to run, though. . . ’

  The Doctor guided her through a narrow gap, and set her running at top speed. ‘Right, you take over again,’ he said to Robert, passing 153

  back the pad.

  ‘Ten seconds. . . ’

  The Doctor pointed the silver control box at Gerdix the Quevvil.

  Nothing happened. He shook the box. It rattled. ‘Something’s come loose!’ he said.

  ‘Can you repair it?’ asked Robert, dizzy with the adrenalin of having saved – did he dare call it that? Yes! – of having saved the life of the perfect girl. Of even now being in control of her destiny. Of being in charge of her. . .