Doctor Who Fan Fiction ❯ Dr Who – Martha and Ten The Inbetweens and Backstories ❯ Chapter Seventeen ( Chapter 17 )

The Doctor was standing at the console, studying the monitor. 'Ah, right, the TARDIS is heading for the early twentieth century. Oh, brilliant, I'm going to be a teacher in a boarding school.'

'What about me?' Martha asked him.

'Er, we need to think of something that'll keep you close enough to keep an eye on me . . . What about my personal housemaid?'

'Gee, thanks,' she said sarcastically.

'Sorry, but early twentieth century Britain didn't have many women doctors, and certainly not from your ethnic background.'

'I suppose that'll have to do then. You're gonna owe me big time for this one Mister,' she said with a smile.

'More than you will ever know,' he said seriously. 'Why don't you go along to the wardrobe, and find some period clothing.'

She made her way out of the console room, and the Doctor operated the recorder on the monitor. 'This working?' he asked himself, tapping the screen. 'Martha, before I change, here's a list of instructions for when I'm human. One, don't let me hurt anyone. We can't have that, but you know what humans are like. Two, don't worry about the TARDIS. I'll put it on emergency power so they can't detect it, just let it hide away. Four, no, wait a minute, three, no getting involved in big historical events. Four, you . . . Don't let me abandon you. And five . . .'

In the wardrobe, she chose a simple, long black dress, with a long, charcoal grey coat, and a purple woollen hat. Putting them over her arm, she made her way back to the console room, where she could hear the Doctor talking in the distance.

'And twenty three, if anything goes wrong, if they find us, Martha, then you know what to do. Open the watch, everything I am is kept safe in there. Now, I've put a perception filter on it so the human me won't think anything of it. To him, it's just a watch. But don't open it unless you have to. Because once it's open, then the Family will be able to find me. It's all down to you, Martha. Your choice . . . Oh . . . and thank you.' Martha entered the room, and dropped the clothes on the jump seat.

'Oh, there you are . . . you found something to wear then,' he said with a forced smile. 'I've recorded a help file for you, for when I'm . . . well . . . not me. These are the controls here.'

He proceeded to show her how to access the messages, and then she had a go herself. She saw a file marked `Emergency Programme One, message for Rose', and couldn't resist activating it. A hologram of a man with short hair, big ears, and a rather nice leather jacket appeared in front of her.

`This is Emergency Programme One. Rose, now listen, this is important. If this message is activated, then it can only mean one thing. We must be in danger. And I mean fatal. I'm dead or about to die any second with no chance of escape'.

The Doctor quickly switched off the recording. 'Not that one,' he said, locking and encrypting the file.

'Who was that?' she asked. It was someone who knew Rose, had Rose dumped the Doctor for this other man?

'An old friend . . . a very old friend,' he replied. 'Right then, time to do it,' he said reluctantly. He gave Martha a long hug, and then put the headset on, smiling weakly at her before the process started, and he started screaming in agony.

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The Doctor walked across the field and up the hill from Joan Redfern's cottage, towards the TARDIS, where he could see Martha standing in front of the doors, waiting for him. This was going to be awkward, because Joan had fallen in love with his human alter ego, John Smith, and John Smith had fallen in love with her (he hadn't seen that one coming).

And then, Martha had declared that he was everything to her and that she loved him, not realising that as John Smith he would remember everything as the Doctor. And as the Doctor, he was already in love with a woman that he would never see again. "Blimey, talk about a love triangle", he thought to himself.

'All right. Molto bene!' he said as he reached her.

'How was she?' Martha asked.

'Time we moved on,' is all he would say, as far as Joan was concerned, he had killed John Smith, the man she had come to love.

'If you want, I could go and . . .' Martha started to offer.

'Time we moved on,' he said more firmly. What Martha didn't know was that Joan had asked him a question that hurt him, and he couldn't answer. “Answer me this. Just one question, that's all. If the Doctor had never visited us, if he'd never chosen this place on a whim, would anybody here have died?”

'Erm, I meant to say back there, last night,' Martha started apologetically. 'I would have said anything to get you to change.' She was referring to her declaration of love for him.

'Oh yeah, of course you would, yeah,' he agreed hurriedly.

'I mean, I wasn't really . . .'

'Oh, no, no . . .'

'Good . . .'

'Fine . . .'

'So here we are then,' she said finally, having dug a big enough verbal hole to fall into.

'There we are then, yes,' he agreed, putting down the conversational spade.

Martha nodded in agreement, and they stood there for a moment in silence, thinking more about what hadn't been said than what had.

'And I never said . . . thanks for lookin' after me.' He opened his arms in an invite for a hug, and she readily accepted.

'Doctor . . . Martha,' a voice called to them, and they released their hug to turn and see who had called them.

'Tim-Timothy-Tim-ah,' the Doctor said in a friendly greeting. It was one of the boys from the school, Timothy Latimer. He had a latent telepathic ability, which had helped him to hear the Chameleon Arch Watch, and keep it safe until it needed to be opened. Without him, the Family of Blood may have found the Doctor, and the watch.

Joan had read John Smiths journal, which was really the Doctor's residual awareness leaking through the disguise, and she had seen that if they had the watch, then it would all end in destruction, that the Family would live forever, breeding and conquering for war, across the universe.

'I just wanted to say goodbye, and thank you . . . because I've seen the future and I now know what must be done.' He'd had a vision from the watch, a vision of him fighting in the trenches, of a falling munitions shell, at one minute past seven. 'It's coming, isn't it . . . ? The biggest war ever.'

'You don't have to fight,' Martha said.

'I think we do.' He may have been just a boy, but his vision had taught him that some things are worth fighting for.

'But you could get hurt,' she told him.

'Well, so could you, travelling around with him, but it's not going to stop you,' he replied. He'd seen the Doctor in the watch, all fire and ice and rage. Like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun, ancient and forever. Burning at the centre of time, seeing the turn of the universe . . . He was magnificent.

Martha smiled at that, what could she say? He was right.

'Tim, I'd be honoured if you'd take this.' The Doctor held out the fob watch.

'I can't hear anything,' he said, there were no more voices whispering in his head.

'No, it's just a watch now . . . but keep it with you, for good luck.' The Doctor knew that the watch had an important part to play in Tim's future.

Martha stepped forward and hugged him. 'Look after yourself.'

Tim was slightly embarrassed when she kissed him on the cheek; after all, he was just a lad. She went back up the hill and stepped into the TARDIS.

'You'll like this bit,' the Doctor said with a knowing smile, before following Martha inside and closing the door. He walked up the ramp and started the time rotor.

'Do you think he'll be alright . . . Timothy?'

'What, young Latimer? Yeah, he'll be fine.' He stopped the time rotor. 'Do you want to see,' he said, smiling and nodding at the doors.

She looked at the doors, and back at the Doctor. 'Really?'

'Eleven o'clock, Sunday November the eleventh, 1990,' he said, as he shut down the console. 'You might want to put on a smart jacket.'

Wearing a suitably smart black jacket, Martha took his arm as they walked through the tranquil Cotswold village of Leadworth.

'Hold on,' she said as they passed a newsagent. She went inside, and came out holding up two red poppies.

'Wouldn't be right without wearing one of these.' She started to pin one on her lapel as they walked towards the village green and the war memorial.

'Martha Jones,' he said with a smile. 'What would I do without you?'

'Die, most likely,' she said without thinking.

They stopped at the edge of the green, and he thought about that as he looked over towards the assembled group of people.

'Yeah . . . but today's a day for remembering, not for dying,' he said with his hands in his pockets. 'Those who have died . . . and those who are no longer with us.'

She started to pin the poppy on his lapel, and looked up into his eyes. She knew who he was remembering, a lost love who was no longer with him.

'So where's Tim then?'

'The chap in the wheelchair; ninety four years old, the last of his company.'

'Blimey, I don't think I'll ever get used to this. Just five minutes ago, I was kissing his fresh faced cheek . . . Oh look, he's still got the watch.'

'Of course, saved his life that watch did.'

'What, did it stop a bullet or something?'

'Nah that only happens in the movies; this was a bomb.' He saw her puzzled expression. 'When the watch was the Chameleon Arch, it showed him when to duck . . . always useful that . . . knowing when to duck.'

They turned to listen to the service being read by the local vicar. 'They fell with their faces to the foe. They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning. We will remember them.'

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'Are you alright?' Martha asked him, as they walked up the ramp to the console. 'When you're a time traveller, can't you go back like that and see the people you've known before?'

He leaned on the console and gave her a sad smile. How he'd love to go back, take Rose's hand, and lead her away from Canary Wharf.

'It doesn't work like that unfortunately. Crossing into your own timeline can have dangerous consequences. That stunt I pulled when we first met was fairly safe, because you didn't really know who I was, if I did it again, the whole of our reality could collapse.'

She blew out a breath. 'And how do you live with that?'

'The same way anyone does, you accept the fact that you will lose people in the course of your life, and live in the moment, trying to make a difference until it's your turn to be lost.'

That left her lost for words as she thought about what he said. He was right of course, even with a time machine, you are born, you live, and you die.

'Anywayyyy, enough of this remembering, let's go make some new memories, what'd you say?'

`Sounds good to me,' she said with a smile. `I'll just go and get changed.'

As she left the console room, she heard him muttering about getting somewhere in time, to save someone from terrible danger. And when she returned from her room, she stood back as the Doctor whirled around the central control console like the cartoon Tasmanian Devil.

She had only been travelling with him for a short time, but she knew that when his behaviour was as frenetic as it was now, the best thing was to stand back and wait until he calmed down.

She had changed in to a tight-fitting T-shirt, slim-cut jeans and boots. The outfit was a practical one, she had found, for racketing about the universe in the Doctor's time-spacecraft.

The Doctor's activities seemed to be coming to an end, as the glowing central column on the console slid to a halt. The deafening hullabaloo of the engines suddenly faded away. The Doctor picked up a handy toffee hammer and gave the panel closest to him a hefty wallop, as if for luck.

Martha frowned and then smiled at this. Sometimes it seemed to her the Doctor operated more by luck than logic, yet still he seemed to get away with it. There was something irresistible about his enthusiasm and general haphazardness that just made her grin.

`Have we got there in time?' she asked him.

He whirled around now and caught her laughing at him. He raised a sharp eyebrow at her and pointed to the dancing lights of the console. `Yes! Just in time! I think.' He stopped. `In time for what?' He ran his hands distractedly through his tangled dark hair.

`I don't know,' she said. `You muttered something about saving somebody, or something. And getting there in time. Some awful kind of danger . . .'

`That's it!' he cried. `I hadn't realised I'd told you so much about it already.' Now he was haring off round the console again.

`Hardly anything,' she protested. `What kind of danger?'

His head popped up over the console and his expression was very serious, bathed in the green and satsuma orange glow of the TARDIS interior. `The Voracious Craw,' he said, very solemnly.

`I see,' she said.

`Ooooh, they're a terrible lot,' he said, gabbling away twenty to the dozen. `Each one is the size of a vast spaceship. They just go sailing about with their mouths hanging open, devouring things. Devouring everything they come across. They look just like, I dunno, gigantic inflated tapeworms or something. Only much worse. If your planet attracts a Voracious Craw into your orbit . . . well. I don't hold out much hope. No sirree. They just go . . . GLLOOMMPP! And that's the end of you. That's the end of everything. They're just so . . . voracious, you see.'

Martha gulped. `My planet? They're heading for Earth?'

`What?' His eyes boggled at her. `Are they?'

`You said . . .'

`Nononononono,' he yelled. `I never said your planet. I said a planet, any planet. You really should stop being so . . . Earth-centric, Martha. I'm showing you the, whatsitcalled, cosmos here, you know.'

`Which world then?' she asked him, quite used to these rather infuriating lapses in his concentration.

A picture of a pale green, frozen world appeared on the scanner screen. `This one,' said the Doctor, jamming his glasses onto his face.

Every single facial muscle was contorted into an almighty frown as he gazed at the implacable planet. `We're in orbit. Around somewhere called . . . ah yes. Tiermann's World. Named after its only settlers. Never heard of it.'

`And this Voracious thing is headed towards it?'

The Doctor stabbed a long finger at a grey blob that Martha had taken to be a featureless land mass. `There it is. Circling the world. Chomping its way through continents.'

`But it's huge!' she cried.

`And, according to the instruments, it's heading towards the only human settlement on that whole planet. They've got about thirty-six hours.' He whipped off his glasses, jammed them into the top pocket of his pinstriped suit and flashed her a grin. `What do you reckon to whizzing down there and tipping them off, eh? They might not even know they're about to be gobbled up by a massive . . . flying tapeworm nasty space thingy.'

His hands were scurrying over the controls again, before she could even reply. The vworping brouhaha of the ship's engines drowned out any thoughts she might have aired at this point. Instead Martha peered at what she could see on the screen of the Voracious Craw, and imagined what it would look like from down on the surface. What it would be like to gaze up into the mouth of a creature that could eat whole worlds . . .

She was jerked out of her reverie by the Doctor tapping her briskly on her shoulder. `C'mon, We've got vital stuff to do, you know. People to warn. Lives to save.' He paused and stared at the console for a moment. Martha wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but the constant burbling noise of the myriad instruments sounded somewhat different.

`Hmmm,' said the Doctor. `She doesn't sound very happy. Too close to the Voracious Craw. It doesn't do to get too close to one of those. They can have some very strange and debilitating effects.'

`Oh, great,' said Martha.

`We'd best get on,' the Doctor said. `The TARDIS will be OK. I hope.'

He patted the controls consolingly, and then hurried out.

Martha followed him down the gantry to the white wooden doors of the TARDIS. She was bracing herself for what they were about to face out there, but at the same time she was exhilarated. Wherever they wound up, it was never, ever dull. Literally anything could happen, once they stepped through those narrow doors and into a new time and place.

The Doctor was striding ahead and she knew that his eagerness was not just about saving the human settlers. He was also quite keen on seeing this Voracious Craw about its terrible work. `They're quite rare, these days, you know, our Voracious pals,' he said, grasping the door handle. `Even I haven't seen an awful lot of the nasty things. Not properly close up, anyway.' He grinned jauntily and stepped outside onto the frozen grass of the glade. `Ah,' he said.

Martha stepped past him. `What is it?'

He nodded at the bulky form of the female sabre-toothed tiger before them. She was ready to spring. Her low-throated growl made the very air tremble. She was baring her fangs and one of them, Martha noticed absurdly, was broken. Her glittering green eyes pinned the time travellers to the spot and there was no malice nor enmity there. Just hunger.

`Whoops,' said the Doctor.