Fic: Solid Skies, Chapter 10
Title: Solid Skies
Author: Veldeia
Series: Sequel to Hollow World
Fandom: Doctor Who
Warnings: WIP
Characters/Pairings: 10th Doctor, Martha Jones, OCs. Gen.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If you've seen it on TV, it isn't mine.
Summary: After surviving one big cave, the Doctor, Martha and a caving team from the Sixties find themselves in even more trouble on a planet full of caves.
Author's Note: I actually did a post explaining the pronunciation of Khiandrian names. Not that this stuff is in any way relevant to reading & understanding the story, but it was bothering me. Because I'm geeky like that, and because no, the apostrophes are not random.
10. Four Hours
Martha was in the backyard with Khel's son and the cavers when they heard the news. The "yard" was an enclosed space, a cave chamber larger than any of the actual rooms of the apartment. The floor and a part of the walls were covered in mosses and grasses. They'd been watching Taer climb around the chamber, even across the ceiling. Brian had tried to join in, but his skills were no match to the young Khiandrian.
Khel ran to the backyard, looking like she'd just seen a ghost. "Your guard friend just called to let us know that the Doctor has been found," she said. Her tone made it clear that something was badly wrong. "I'm sorry. It was too late."
"I - I don't understand," Martha stammered. "He can't be dead. It's just - it's not possible!"
"He's not, but within a cycle, he will be. He has the Crystal Plague."
Martha remembered Khif's words after the train crash - 'They were sending you a message: you brought it, you should suffer for it.' The extremists had said they'd taken the Doctor where he belonged. "They took him to Nest Town," she said softly.
"I'm afraid so," Khel said.
"Can I see him? Where is he?"
"At a research centre, just outside Nest Town's West Entrance. I've already looked up a tram."
Less than an hour later, they, minus Taer, were standing in a white isolation room with bright, white lights. The room was split into two sections by a transparent force field, the larger part of it only accessible through an airlock door in one of the walls. It was furnished with a computer screen set into the back wall, a small table, and a low bed, where the Doctor sat. He didn't really look mortally ill, just a little paler than usual. He stood up and waved at them with his left hand. His right arm hung limply by his side, the hand covered by a strange, translucent crystal growth, which seemed to continue under the cuff of his shirt.
"Doctor," Martha said, pressing her palm against the invisible wall between them. It felt to her as if he'd been gone for far longer than some hours, no less so because those hours had changed the situation completely.
"Martha! Cavemen!" he greeted them. Was she imagining it, or did his smile look a bit strained? "How nice of you to come."
The three cavers returned his greeting sombrely. The way they were acting - a little awkward, unsure of how to behave toward the Doctor - was something Martha had seen before, whenever people were faced with someone who was incurably ill.
"So, how was the trial?" the Doctor asked, his tone casual.
"Jess got what she wanted. We're free, and she's still in custody, facing a load of charges," Brian told him glumly. "Does - does that hurt?" he asked, eyeing the crystal covering the Doctor's hand.
"A little," the Doctor admitted. "And it's really cold. What T'ig said, that the Plague turns you to crystal, that wasn't entirely right. At first, it only covers the skin. It soaks up body heat, and it may even be able to utilise other easily available forms of energy. It's very adaptable. Quite an extraordinary thing."
"Soaks up body heat - so, hypothermia as a cause of death?" Martha said.
"Yes. Either that, or suffocation, when the growth wraps itself around the chest or over the face, preventing normal breathing. Once the host is completely covered, the organism starts feeding on tissue," the Doctor went on, speaking in a detached, even fascinated manner, like he was giving a lecture about some curious natural phenomenon, instead of a deadly disease that was trying to eat him alive. "Eventually, it'll turn the entire body into a mass of fragile crystal, which falls apart easily. The dust goes on to infect others - it spreads easily and is highly contagious."
Martha placed both her hands against the force field, feeling so appalled that it made her nauseous. The Plague didn't just kill its victims. It obliterated them. "How long?" she breathed.
"Well, for Khiandrians, it takes about a cycle, but I'm a little more resilient." The Doctor brought his left hand to his right shoulder and felt it gingerly, apparently checking how far the crystal growth had progressed. "It's been four hours since I got infected, and it's taken about ten percent of my total body surface area," he said. Martha recognised the measure usually used when talking about burns. "So, that'd give me about thirty-six hours before it's covered me entirely. Two tenths short of two cycles. Of course, that's just an estimate, and there are lots of factors I don't know. Anyway, Time Lords can deal with hypothermia and lack of oxygen better than most other life forms."
"Besides, you'll be able to cure it, right? Stop it before it even gets there?" Martha said, hearing a hint of desperation in her own voice.
"Well, it's not going to be easy, but of course I will. I'm very clever, after all." He stepped closer to the force field, raised his eyebrows at the humans, waved at the cavers with his good hand, and brought his thumb and the other fingers together in a gesture indicating talk.
"Huh?" Grant said, puzzled by the Doctor's mime.
"Keep talking," Martha whispered. She had no trouble interpreting him. He was afraid they were being listened to, and wanted the cavers to cover whatever he was about to say.
"I do hope you'll fix it soon, so that you can finally take us home," Joseph said, his voice a little louder than normal.
"Yes, the caves are great, but I miss home, too," Grant joined in.
"No - not when Jess is still in prison!" Brian exclaimed.
While the three men went on arguing loudly, the Doctor leaned against the force field to talk right into Martha's ear, his voice so low she could barely hear him. "Something's not right here. Imagine you were a Khiandrian Plague researcher right now. What would you do?"
"I don't know," Martha said, surprised by the question. "I'd be curious, I guess. Hopeful, even, because you're a unique case, of a different species. I'd want to run all possible tests, and..."
"And that's it, Martha Jones. That's exactly it. They're not curious. I was completely expecting to become their guinea pig. Instead, they don't seem interested at all, and they won't let me do any research, either."
"What?" Martha said incredulously. "Why?"
"I'm practically a prisoner here. It might be just because I'm an alien, but I don't think so. I think there's something dodgy about this all. Since I'm stuck here, I need you to find out what that is."
"I will," Martha promised.
"I'll get you back home, if it's the last thing I do," the Doctor suddenly raised his voice to comment to the cavers' moaning. "In the meantime, I want you all to be very careful. Whoever took me might strike again."
"They're called the Deep," Grant said. "The extremists that took you, that is."
"Do any of you remember anything of the assault?" the Doctor asked.
"Not really, no," Joseph said.
"We were all fast asleep," Martha said. "Do you remember something, then?"
"Yup. I had a little talk with a man and a woman in black. Well, they had a talk, and I listened in. They were Darks, obviously, all anti-alien," he said, and made a discreet gesture at the cavers that they should go on talking again. "And," he went on in a whisper to Martha. "There's this detail I overheard. I think they were working for someone else. I thought the word was 'contract' at first, but it wasn't. I'm pretty sure it was 'contrast'. It might mean something."
No matter how many mysteries he wanted her to solve, Martha would've preferred to stay with the Doctor all through the local "night", until the trial. Unfortunately, the young Khiandrian woman who had showed them to the Doctor's room returned barely half an hour after they'd arrived, and asked them to leave, claiming that the Doctor needed rest.
The Doctor rolled his eyes at that. "That's exactly the one thing I don't need," he commented. "But, I guess you should be going, then. Bye. Say hi to Jess from me." He raised his eyebrows at Martha. "And don't forget what I said. It could be very important."
Once they'd returned to Khel's place, Martha took over the terminal. As the local Internet, it seemed like the best place to start looking for information, but where to begin? The one question she really wanted to answer was how to cure the Plague, but that was also the one question she was sure she wouldn't be able to answer on her own. What the Doctor had asked her to do, to figure out what was dodgy about the Plague Research Centre, wasn't the simplest of questions, either.
Martha asked the AI about the NTPCRC. It gave her some basic data: the location, which she already knew, the amount of people working there, the history of the Research Program from its earliest days, when they'd thought the Plague only affected petromites, through the frenetic period when they'd fought to contain the epidemic, to the current status quo. It was all very interesting, but not in the least dodgy.
She tried looking for information about the researchers, but the public profiles that the AI recited didn't tell her much. At best, she got some personal details, a resume and contact data, at worst, nothing at all. Some of the people with more data available were Darks, but the majority seemed to be Brights, including Gaer, the head of the program.
She inquired the AI about the publications of the Research Program so far, and the titles appeared in front of her, floating in the air in front of the hologram girl. Martha eyed them through. There were only a handful, and those were all about the Plague's effects on petromites and people. There was very little about the structure of the organism, let alone about any possible cures. Was that dodgy? Maybe not. They'd only been working on it for half a year. As far as Martha knew, that wasn't a terribly long time for something like this.
She sighed, and leaned back in the chair. She was looking for a needle in a haystack without the slightest idea of what the needle looked like, or whether it was in fact a needle at all. The Doctor had given her one sort-of specific clue, the word 'contrast'. She ran it by the AI, and found encyclopaedia and thesaurus entries describing the common noun, as well as a ridiculous amount of articles and conversations where the word had been used. Even if there was something suspicious among those, finding it would be well nigh impossible.
Disappointed in her progress, or lack of, so far, Martha decided to change tactics, and called Khif.
"I'm really sorry about the Doctor," Khif said. "He was such a lively and friendly person."
"And he's still going to be one once we've sorted this out," Martha stated almost angrily. "Which is something where you may be able to help."
"I don't see how. I'm only a guard. I barely know anything about the Plague."
"No, but I bet you've got access to more data than I do, all sorts of classified things and so on. There's something weird going on at the research centre where the Doctor is - it's almost as if they don't want him to get better."
"Some Darks can be like that," Khif said unhappily. "I'm truly sorry about it. I hope you understand that not all of us are like that."
"It's not that. There are lots of Brights working there, too, and they're no better. The Doctor would be able to cure this thing if only they let him work on it properly, but they won't. So, if there's anything you can do, anything at all..."
"Of course, I'll do what I can. Just don't expect too much. Martha Jones, I don't want to sound unkind, but - I know people who have lost friends or relatives to the Plague. I've seen what it's like. They were always hoping, always thinking that a cure might be found, until the very last moments. Sometimes they went on hoping even after they'd heard the news, thinking that there had been a mistake, an error in the data stream, that the person was actually still alive in Nest Town and just unable to reach the Network. I'm not sure if you truly appreciate how deadly the Crystal Plague is. There are no survivors."
"No Khiandrian survivors," Martha said, refusing to feel disheartened. "The Doctor's of an entirely different species - and he's brilliant. We're going to figure this out."
Khif looked at her, the sadness in her eyes making it clear that she found Martha overly optimistic. Nevertheless, she said, "We'll do our best, as always."
11. Seven Hours
Author: Veldeia
Series: Sequel to Hollow World
Fandom: Doctor Who
Warnings: WIP
Characters/Pairings: 10th Doctor, Martha Jones, OCs. Gen.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If you've seen it on TV, it isn't mine.
Summary: After surviving one big cave, the Doctor, Martha and a caving team from the Sixties find themselves in even more trouble on a planet full of caves.
Author's Note: I actually did a post explaining the pronunciation of Khiandrian names. Not that this stuff is in any way relevant to reading & understanding the story, but it was bothering me. Because I'm geeky like that, and because no, the apostrophes are not random.
10. Four Hours
Martha was in the backyard with Khel's son and the cavers when they heard the news. The "yard" was an enclosed space, a cave chamber larger than any of the actual rooms of the apartment. The floor and a part of the walls were covered in mosses and grasses. They'd been watching Taer climb around the chamber, even across the ceiling. Brian had tried to join in, but his skills were no match to the young Khiandrian.
Khel ran to the backyard, looking like she'd just seen a ghost. "Your guard friend just called to let us know that the Doctor has been found," she said. Her tone made it clear that something was badly wrong. "I'm sorry. It was too late."
"I - I don't understand," Martha stammered. "He can't be dead. It's just - it's not possible!"
"He's not, but within a cycle, he will be. He has the Crystal Plague."
Martha remembered Khif's words after the train crash - 'They were sending you a message: you brought it, you should suffer for it.' The extremists had said they'd taken the Doctor where he belonged. "They took him to Nest Town," she said softly.
"I'm afraid so," Khel said.
"Can I see him? Where is he?"
"At a research centre, just outside Nest Town's West Entrance. I've already looked up a tram."
Less than an hour later, they, minus Taer, were standing in a white isolation room with bright, white lights. The room was split into two sections by a transparent force field, the larger part of it only accessible through an airlock door in one of the walls. It was furnished with a computer screen set into the back wall, a small table, and a low bed, where the Doctor sat. He didn't really look mortally ill, just a little paler than usual. He stood up and waved at them with his left hand. His right arm hung limply by his side, the hand covered by a strange, translucent crystal growth, which seemed to continue under the cuff of his shirt.
"Doctor," Martha said, pressing her palm against the invisible wall between them. It felt to her as if he'd been gone for far longer than some hours, no less so because those hours had changed the situation completely.
"Martha! Cavemen!" he greeted them. Was she imagining it, or did his smile look a bit strained? "How nice of you to come."
The three cavers returned his greeting sombrely. The way they were acting - a little awkward, unsure of how to behave toward the Doctor - was something Martha had seen before, whenever people were faced with someone who was incurably ill.
"So, how was the trial?" the Doctor asked, his tone casual.
"Jess got what she wanted. We're free, and she's still in custody, facing a load of charges," Brian told him glumly. "Does - does that hurt?" he asked, eyeing the crystal covering the Doctor's hand.
"A little," the Doctor admitted. "And it's really cold. What T'ig said, that the Plague turns you to crystal, that wasn't entirely right. At first, it only covers the skin. It soaks up body heat, and it may even be able to utilise other easily available forms of energy. It's very adaptable. Quite an extraordinary thing."
"Soaks up body heat - so, hypothermia as a cause of death?" Martha said.
"Yes. Either that, or suffocation, when the growth wraps itself around the chest or over the face, preventing normal breathing. Once the host is completely covered, the organism starts feeding on tissue," the Doctor went on, speaking in a detached, even fascinated manner, like he was giving a lecture about some curious natural phenomenon, instead of a deadly disease that was trying to eat him alive. "Eventually, it'll turn the entire body into a mass of fragile crystal, which falls apart easily. The dust goes on to infect others - it spreads easily and is highly contagious."
Martha placed both her hands against the force field, feeling so appalled that it made her nauseous. The Plague didn't just kill its victims. It obliterated them. "How long?" she breathed.
"Well, for Khiandrians, it takes about a cycle, but I'm a little more resilient." The Doctor brought his left hand to his right shoulder and felt it gingerly, apparently checking how far the crystal growth had progressed. "It's been four hours since I got infected, and it's taken about ten percent of my total body surface area," he said. Martha recognised the measure usually used when talking about burns. "So, that'd give me about thirty-six hours before it's covered me entirely. Two tenths short of two cycles. Of course, that's just an estimate, and there are lots of factors I don't know. Anyway, Time Lords can deal with hypothermia and lack of oxygen better than most other life forms."
"Besides, you'll be able to cure it, right? Stop it before it even gets there?" Martha said, hearing a hint of desperation in her own voice.
"Well, it's not going to be easy, but of course I will. I'm very clever, after all." He stepped closer to the force field, raised his eyebrows at the humans, waved at the cavers with his good hand, and brought his thumb and the other fingers together in a gesture indicating talk.
"Huh?" Grant said, puzzled by the Doctor's mime.
"Keep talking," Martha whispered. She had no trouble interpreting him. He was afraid they were being listened to, and wanted the cavers to cover whatever he was about to say.
"I do hope you'll fix it soon, so that you can finally take us home," Joseph said, his voice a little louder than normal.
"Yes, the caves are great, but I miss home, too," Grant joined in.
"No - not when Jess is still in prison!" Brian exclaimed.
While the three men went on arguing loudly, the Doctor leaned against the force field to talk right into Martha's ear, his voice so low she could barely hear him. "Something's not right here. Imagine you were a Khiandrian Plague researcher right now. What would you do?"
"I don't know," Martha said, surprised by the question. "I'd be curious, I guess. Hopeful, even, because you're a unique case, of a different species. I'd want to run all possible tests, and..."
"And that's it, Martha Jones. That's exactly it. They're not curious. I was completely expecting to become their guinea pig. Instead, they don't seem interested at all, and they won't let me do any research, either."
"What?" Martha said incredulously. "Why?"
"I'm practically a prisoner here. It might be just because I'm an alien, but I don't think so. I think there's something dodgy about this all. Since I'm stuck here, I need you to find out what that is."
"I will," Martha promised.
"I'll get you back home, if it's the last thing I do," the Doctor suddenly raised his voice to comment to the cavers' moaning. "In the meantime, I want you all to be very careful. Whoever took me might strike again."
"They're called the Deep," Grant said. "The extremists that took you, that is."
"Do any of you remember anything of the assault?" the Doctor asked.
"Not really, no," Joseph said.
"We were all fast asleep," Martha said. "Do you remember something, then?"
"Yup. I had a little talk with a man and a woman in black. Well, they had a talk, and I listened in. They were Darks, obviously, all anti-alien," he said, and made a discreet gesture at the cavers that they should go on talking again. "And," he went on in a whisper to Martha. "There's this detail I overheard. I think they were working for someone else. I thought the word was 'contract' at first, but it wasn't. I'm pretty sure it was 'contrast'. It might mean something."
No matter how many mysteries he wanted her to solve, Martha would've preferred to stay with the Doctor all through the local "night", until the trial. Unfortunately, the young Khiandrian woman who had showed them to the Doctor's room returned barely half an hour after they'd arrived, and asked them to leave, claiming that the Doctor needed rest.
The Doctor rolled his eyes at that. "That's exactly the one thing I don't need," he commented. "But, I guess you should be going, then. Bye. Say hi to Jess from me." He raised his eyebrows at Martha. "And don't forget what I said. It could be very important."
Once they'd returned to Khel's place, Martha took over the terminal. As the local Internet, it seemed like the best place to start looking for information, but where to begin? The one question she really wanted to answer was how to cure the Plague, but that was also the one question she was sure she wouldn't be able to answer on her own. What the Doctor had asked her to do, to figure out what was dodgy about the Plague Research Centre, wasn't the simplest of questions, either.
Martha asked the AI about the NTPCRC. It gave her some basic data: the location, which she already knew, the amount of people working there, the history of the Research Program from its earliest days, when they'd thought the Plague only affected petromites, through the frenetic period when they'd fought to contain the epidemic, to the current status quo. It was all very interesting, but not in the least dodgy.
She tried looking for information about the researchers, but the public profiles that the AI recited didn't tell her much. At best, she got some personal details, a resume and contact data, at worst, nothing at all. Some of the people with more data available were Darks, but the majority seemed to be Brights, including Gaer, the head of the program.
She inquired the AI about the publications of the Research Program so far, and the titles appeared in front of her, floating in the air in front of the hologram girl. Martha eyed them through. There were only a handful, and those were all about the Plague's effects on petromites and people. There was very little about the structure of the organism, let alone about any possible cures. Was that dodgy? Maybe not. They'd only been working on it for half a year. As far as Martha knew, that wasn't a terribly long time for something like this.
She sighed, and leaned back in the chair. She was looking for a needle in a haystack without the slightest idea of what the needle looked like, or whether it was in fact a needle at all. The Doctor had given her one sort-of specific clue, the word 'contrast'. She ran it by the AI, and found encyclopaedia and thesaurus entries describing the common noun, as well as a ridiculous amount of articles and conversations where the word had been used. Even if there was something suspicious among those, finding it would be well nigh impossible.
Disappointed in her progress, or lack of, so far, Martha decided to change tactics, and called Khif.
"I'm really sorry about the Doctor," Khif said. "He was such a lively and friendly person."
"And he's still going to be one once we've sorted this out," Martha stated almost angrily. "Which is something where you may be able to help."
"I don't see how. I'm only a guard. I barely know anything about the Plague."
"No, but I bet you've got access to more data than I do, all sorts of classified things and so on. There's something weird going on at the research centre where the Doctor is - it's almost as if they don't want him to get better."
"Some Darks can be like that," Khif said unhappily. "I'm truly sorry about it. I hope you understand that not all of us are like that."
"It's not that. There are lots of Brights working there, too, and they're no better. The Doctor would be able to cure this thing if only they let him work on it properly, but they won't. So, if there's anything you can do, anything at all..."
"Of course, I'll do what I can. Just don't expect too much. Martha Jones, I don't want to sound unkind, but - I know people who have lost friends or relatives to the Plague. I've seen what it's like. They were always hoping, always thinking that a cure might be found, until the very last moments. Sometimes they went on hoping even after they'd heard the news, thinking that there had been a mistake, an error in the data stream, that the person was actually still alive in Nest Town and just unable to reach the Network. I'm not sure if you truly appreciate how deadly the Crystal Plague is. There are no survivors."
"No Khiandrian survivors," Martha said, refusing to feel disheartened. "The Doctor's of an entirely different species - and he's brilliant. We're going to figure this out."
Khif looked at her, the sadness in her eyes making it clear that she found Martha overly optimistic. Nevertheless, she said, "We'll do our best, as always."
11. Seven Hours