Doctor Who Fan Fiction ❯ Dr Who – Martha and Ten The Inbetweens and Backstories ❯ Chapter Nineteen ( Chapter 19 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

More scenes from Wetworld, a whistle stop tour as mentioned in Wishing Well BY TREVOR BAXENDALE, which includes a reference back to The Stone Rose novel by JACQUELINE RAYNER, and a bar with dolphins mentioned in The Many Hands BY DALE SMITH.

Non Anime: Doctor Who Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.14.2016 | Pages: 14 | Words: 5.3K | Visits: 384 | Status: Completed

Martha stared, puzzled, unable to understand what she was looking at. What was the poison dart shot into the Doctor's leg, doing to the tentacles of the swamp creature?

Cloudiness began to spread along the tentacles from the area of the Doctor's head, like a wave, radiating outwards. It spread down as far as the Doctor's feet, still protruding, almost comically, from the alien flesh.

And then, with a horrid ripping sound, the creature's tendril burst, showering her with warm, slimy goo, and the Doctor fell heavily to the ground, gasping and choking.

Professor Ty Benson was at his side instantly, with the teenaged colonists Orlo and Candice just a second behind, pulling the stuff from his face and out of his mouth. Martha just knelt there, stunned, as he coughed the alien muck up.

Behind him, the massive bulk of the swamp creature's tendril had flopped to the ground, thrashing and writhing. It smacked against the side of the building, spattering it with dark slime.

Martha watched as the wave of frostiness continuing to spread out over its surface, back towards the creature's body, hidden in the water; more and more of the alien's body fluids pumped out across the soil, like an out-of control garden hose.

There was a dull thud beside her, and she turned to see Chief Councillor Pallister's body sprawled out on the ground like a discarded toy: the tendrils that had supported it had burst, and greeny-black ichor was gushing everywhere.

Then Candy was beside her, helping her to her feet, and Orlo and Ty were dragging the Doctor away from the dying alien. When they were clear of the spurting, bubbling fluid, Ty and Orlo lay the Doctor on the ground. Martha rushed to his side and cradled his slime-covered body in her arms.

He coughed in her ear and tried to push her away. But Martha was having none of it. She held onto him until Ty gently prised her away.

`I'm not sure which was worse,' the Doctor choked, trying to sit up, wiping his face with his hands. `Being smothered by slimey, or being smothered by you.' He looked up at her and grinned stupidly. `Actually,' he said. `It was no contest. Hello, Martha - you don't half look different through green glasses, you know.' And then he fainted clean away.

`But why didn't the poison kill him?' Martha said as she finished wiping the slime from his face.

`It wasn't a poison,' Ty said, tossing the tranquilliser gun to the ground and fixing it with a look of disgust.

`But it killed that thing - didn't it?'

`Actually,' said the Doctor muzzily, opening his eyes. `I'm rather afraid you'll find that I killed it.'

`So what was in the dart?' Martha was confused.

`A rather clever little solution of RNA.' He sat up and rubbed the back of his head - before examining the goo on his hand and pulling a disgusted face. Before Martha could stop him, he sniffed his hand and gave it a lick. `Ew!' he said. `Needs more salt.'

`Stop it,' Martha chided, slapping his hand away from his face.

`What did you do?'

`Well it all seems a bit obvious now.'

`Not to me it doesn't. Stop being smug.'

He peered past her to where the remains of the creature were nothing more than a huge, dark stain on the ground. Shreds of greeny black flesh lay all around like the tattered pieces of a burst balloon.

`Slimey, there, controlled other organisms with proteins - injected them into them along with RNA to transfer memories and images. So it occurred to me that it might work the other way round: if I could get the right proteins and RNA inside it, I might be able to, well, mess about with its metabolism a bit.'

`I told him it was dangerous,' insisted Ty, like a mother telling off a naughty child and trying to absolve herself of some guilt. `I warned him.'

`She did,' the Doctor admitted. `That's why I couldn't tell you, Martha - I knew you'd stop me.'

`So this RNA . . . I mean . . .' Martha was at a loss for words. This was all coming too thick and too fast. `How?'

`The marvellous Doctor-o-tronic!' he beamed up at her. `I told you I was the best biological computer around. I had to make direct contact with the creature to be able to work on its metabolism - that's why I offered it the TARDIS.'

His expression became suddenly more serious as he thought about the leader of the Colony. Chief Councillor Pallister had been drowned by the alien and used as its puppet. `I knew it wouldn't be able to resist and that it would try to take control of me like it did poor old Pallister. But I had to give it the option. There always has to be a way out. Just a shame that people don't take it when it's offered.'

He shrugged. `Ah well. Anyway, it's had so much practice now that it knew exactly what to do with me. Well, it thought it did. It started to invade my body, and when it did. I invaded its body and reprogrammed the RNA string that Ty injected into me to destroy its outer membranes.' He grinned again, back to his jokey self. `Didn't they teach you anything at medical school?'

`He couldn't have injected it into himself earlier,' Ty said. `In case it broke down too quickly - or the creature detected it and neutralised it. It had to be at the very last minute.' Ty sighed and shook her head. `I'm sorry I frightened you Martha, honey, really I am.'

Martha shook her head. If it hadn't worked . . .' You ever do that again,' she said sternly to him, `and you really will need a doctor. Believe me.'

`Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, Miss Jones,' he smiled. `But you're getting there. One day you'll make a great doctor.'

`With you about,' said Martha, shaking her head, `who needs another one?'

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`And I take it, Professor Benson, that there's going to be no more capturing and caging the jubjubs?' the Doctor said as they walked back to the colonist's settlement.

`The what?' said Martha.

`The otters,' said Ty firmly, referring to the semi-intelligent, indigenous life forms that had helped them defeat the swamp creature alien.

The Doctor pulled an I-give-up face. He thought humans had more imagination than to just give a new species a name because it looked like something similar.

`No, there isn't,' Ty finished, in answer to his question. `If I'd known they were as smart as that, I'd never have done it in the first place. And talking! How come I never heard them talk before?'

The Doctor threw a glance at Martha. `Blame us for that one,' he said. `You might find that when we're gone, they're not quite so chatty.' Without the TARDIS's influence, the otter's words would just become chattering noises again.

`But there's nothing to stop you from trying. Come up with a completely new language, something you both can understand: imagine how that'd go down in the history books. You could call it Tyrellian. Or Ottyrellian.'

He paused and pulled a lemon-sucking face. `Nah. Maybe not. Just show them a bit of respect - after all, they were here first - and who knows . . . ? This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.'

`Something you know all about, eh, Doctor?' Martha caught Ty's eye as she said it, and smiled.

`Oh yes,' said the Doctor breezily. `Beautiful friendships. You can never have enough of those, can you, Martha?'

`No, Doctor,' said Martha dutifully, returning Ty's smile, `you can't.'

Martha and Ty fell back a little as Candy and the Doctor strode ahead.

`High maintenance,' Ty said, indicating the Doctor.

Martha laughed. `You said it.'

`But worth it, honey.'

`You reckon?' Martha said. “Not with the ghost of his ex still haunting the TARDIS” she thought.

Ty pulled a face. `You don't?'

Martha could only shrug, smiling.

`Trust your instincts,' Ty said. `Isn't that what the Doctor told Candy? Just trust your instincts. That's all any of us can do.' And striding into Sunday City, Martha felt Ty's arm across her shoulders in a motherly fashion.

The group arrived at the TARDIS, and they said their goodbyes. Ty caught Martha's eye and subtly nodded at the Doctor with a smirk. The Doctor had spotted the gesture and was giving Martha a quizzical look.

Martha blushed and looked down at her feet, before looking back at Ty and shaking her head in resignation. Martha did trust her instincts, and they'd kept her alive this long. And although her instincts told her that she was in love with the Doctor, her instincts also told her that he was still in love with Rose.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows in amusement, thinking this was some kind of woman-gossiping-kind-of-thing, before opening the door of the TARDIS and stepping inside. Martha strolled up the ramp behind him, looking down at the weird, shapeless orange kaftan thing, loaned to her by Ty.

`Not quite the elegant gown I started with, is it?' He beautiful gown had been ripped and ruined when the swamp alien had pulled her out of the TARDIS.

`Because we didn't get breakfast at Tiffany's,' the Doctor said as he sent the TARDIS into the Vortex. `I think that we should have a day of whistle stop tours.'

`What, like they do on those river cruises, stopping off at each town on the way?'

`That's the idea, what d'you think?'

`Sounds good to me,' Martha said with an expectant smile.

He fiddled and twiddled the controls in his normal flamboyant style, as Martha made her way to her room to freshen up.

Their first stop of the cruise was breakfast in Rome. The year was 1510, and they were in a 16th century version of a street cafe in the Piazza de San Pietro in Vincoli. The Doctor had brought Martha here deliberately, because he knew that a friend of his called in for breakfast before starting work around the corner in the Sistine Chapel.

She had dressed in a peach coloured period gown, and was enjoying a 16th century version of a cappuccino and a 16th century version of a croissant. It might not have been Tiffany's, but being in renaissance Rome was certainly glamorous.

'DOTTORE!' a young, dark haired man called out from across the street. 'I thought it was you.'

'Mike? Mike Landzelo!' the Doctor exclaimed, jumping up from his seat and hugging the man. 'Long time, no see . . . it has been a long time hasn't it?'

'It must be three years now since you used my workshop to sculpt that statue of the goddess Fortuna. How did that go, did the client like it?'

'What was not to like?' the Doctor said with a grin.

'Sì, whoever the model was, she was a belle donna.'

'Goddess Fortuna?' Martha said, rising from her seat with a bemused look on her face.

'Oh what dark beauty do we have here?' Michelangelo said, taking her hand, giving an extravagant bow, before kissing her knuckle. 'Your next model no doubt.'

'Mikey, may I introduce my travelling companion, Martha Jones. Martha, this is Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, but you might know him as just Michelangelo.'

'Michelangelo? You are SO kiddin' me.'

'At your service my ebony goddess.'

'Er, pleased to meet you,' Martha said with a shy smile before whispering to the Doctor. 'Has he ever met Will Shakespeare?'

'Nah, that doesn't happen for another 70 years or so,' he whispered back. 'So Mikey, how's the interior decorating business?'

Michelangelo joined them at the table with his own cappuccino and pastry, and started chatting. Martha learned that the ceiling of the chapel was about half done and would take another couple of years to finish.

She also learned, with some cajoling, that Michelangelo had tutored the Doctor in sculpting a marble statue. The Doctor reluctantly informed her that it was a previous adventure he'd had in Rome. She didn't need to be a genius to work out who the model was.

Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor set the coordinates for the Vega Opsis system for elevens's and lunch. The Doctor advised Martha to wear her normal clothes for this planet hopping trip, as transparent clothing was the height fashion at the moment on the worlds of Vega Opsis.

Fortunately for Martha, there was plenty of beautiful, futuristic architecture to look at, so that she didn't keep ogling the well fit male inhabitants in their see through clothing. They had coffee and biscuits in a Vega Opsis version of Starbucks, and Martha had to admit that the green, transparent uniform the barista was wearing really complimented her figure.

They went to the top of one of the beautiful spires for lunch, where the restaurant revolved slowly, showing the city below. The Doctor noticed that Martha was really enjoying the view. And to be fair, she was enjoying the view, mainly to stop herself staring at the rather well endowed waiter who was serving their table.

Next, to cool Martha down a bit, they visited the Frozen Castles of the Ice Warriors for afternoon tea. Martha was reminded of the pictures she'd seen of the Ice Hotel in Sweden.

'I know where we can go next,' the Doctor told her, sipping his tea. 'You can meet the dolphin people of Io; not the moon Io, the planet Io. I know this really neat bar, a sort of "Cheers" in outer space.'

'Dolphin people?' Martha asked, thinking this was one of his tales again.

'Yeah, everyone who works in the place is a dolphin, walking around with the aid of sleek mechanical legs and talking with a calm, Stephen Hawking-style electronic voice.'

"Yep, definitely one of his tall tales", Martha thought to herself. When they walked into the really neat bar on Io (the planet, not the moon), her mouth fell open.

'Oh you have got to be kidding me. You . . . you . . . you are just unbelievable.' Sure enough, everyone who worked in the place was a dolphin, walking around with the aid of sleek mechanical legs and talking with a calm, Stephen Hawking-style electronic voice, just as he said they would be.

After a thoroughly enjoyable session of drinking and being chatted up by an amorous dolphin bar tender, Martha decided that the day could best be rounded off by a traditional English cream tea in a quaint, countryside village.

`With scones,' the Doctor announced with his customary enthusiasm. `We must have scones, with strawberry jam and clotted cream! I know just the place.' And so he'd sent the TARDIS hurtling through the Time Vortex again.

Martha held on and whooped as the TARDIS swerved and swayed its way to their destination in the Peak District.