Fic: Solid Skies, Chapter 14
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, from Plague to politics, on a planet full of caves.
14. Twenty Hours
Martha tried to ask the guard again and again what was going on, but she got no answer. They ran through tunnels, taking random, sudden turns, calling to mind Martha's earlier escape attempt with the Doctor, in the City of Lights. At times, when they reached busier streets, they'd slow down to avoid drawing attention. They seemed to be headed out of the city centre - there were less and less people around them, and less doors in the walls. They'd been going up and down so many stairs that Martha had no idea how far they were from the First Level.
Eventually, they reached a tunnel almost as verdant as the one they'd seen after the train crash. There, the guard opened a door half hidden behind tall, hanging plants, and ushered Martha inside.
It was a small apartment. Martha could see three rooms from where she stood, and that seemed to be all there was. The place looked abandoned, all the furniture and the decorative cloths and carpets covered in dust.
"The grandfather of a friend of mine used to live here, but he moved away when the Plague struck. This neighbourhood is right next to the quarantine barriers. No one lives here anymore. We should be safe for at least a few tenths," the guard explained, still sounding anxious.
"Safe from what?" Martha asked. "What's going on?"
"Sorry. I really do owe you an explanation. My name's Meg," the guard said. "You remember me, right?"
"I do. I'm Martha."
"Pleased to meet you, Martha, and thank you, once more," Meg said. She placed her hands on Martha's shoulders, in the Khiandrian equivalent of a handshake. Martha returned the gesture.
"So, I've been in Maze City on sick leave since the train crash," Meg went on. "Around half a tenth ago, Khif called me, and asked if I could help you. You see, they've issued a warrant to arrest you and your friends, suspected of illegal activities, most importantly co-operation with the Sentients."
"Who? I've never even heard of them!"
"They're one of the more violent Bright extremist groups, very pro-alien. An obvious scapegoat to pick. I know you have nothing to do with them, and so does Khif. That's why we're here."
"But I still don't understand..." Martha began, and fell silent, biting her lip, as realisation dawned. "Contrast! I asked Neir about it. She must've decided that I'm a threat - but that can't have been much more than an hour ago - right, half a tenth, just like you said! They're fast. Do you know about it, then? Contrast, I mean? The conspiracy?"
It was Meg's turn to be at a loss. "What's Contrast? I just know that someone's trying to frame you, someone with lots of contacts. I don't know why."
"I'll explain - I'll need to explain it to Khif, too. Can we call her from here?"
"Sure, the terminal should work, even though it's a bit old."
"Can they trace us or something? Listen in on us?"
"They'll locate us eventually, but it's going to take some time, when they've got no idea where we are. It shouldn't be a problem yet."
The terminal's age only showed in the quality of the hologram: unlike the very life-like images Martha had seen earlier, this one was hazy and blurry and transparent. Meg complained that the sound was horrible, too, but Martha couldn't even tell the difference. They asked the handsome AI to contact Khif, and to Martha's relief, she answered right away.
"I've been expecting your call," Khif said, in the manner of a greeting. "Now, I know there's something very odd going on. I looked into things, like you asked, and found several strange, covert operations related to the Plague, as well as unexplained, classified files - and now there's this warrant, which just came out of nowhere, all of a sudden. What's happened? What have you found out?"
Martha took a deep breath, and started from the beginning, speaking so fast that she wondered if they'd catch half of it. She told them about the Doctor's discovery, that the Plague was a deliberately manufactured thing, and then, her own theory about Contrast.
Khif listened intently, her face grave, nodding now and then. "Contrast," she repeated, as if testing the word. "So, that's the name of these scum. Everything you've said matches my findings all too well."
"But it can't be true!" Meg cried out, looking from Martha to Khif's hologram like they'd both lost their minds. "Why? Why would anyone do anything like this?"
"I've been asking the same question," Martha said.
"They're royalists," Khif said thoughtfully. "What's changed since the Plague struck?"
"More violence and extremist attacks?" Martha suggested.
"The Emergency Laws. Practically no aliens on the planet. Tighter control in everything. More power to the government and the guards," Meg listed.
"Exactly. They want the old times back, and with the paranoid atmosphere, that's where we're headed," Khif said. "I wonder if they're planning on an actual coup, or if they hope to get there through less direct means..."
"We've had it backwards all along," Martha muttered. "We thought the Plague was a natural disaster which was turned into a political thing, but it's the other way around. Politics came first."
"What are we going to do?" Meg asked, her voice flat. "What can we do? There's only three of us, against who knows how many Contrast conspirators! How do we even know who we can trust? What if the whole government is in on this?"
"They're not," Khif said soothingly. "The Chairperson and a majority of the ministers are Dusks. I'm sure they don't know anything about this. If Contrast already had the government in their pocket, they wouldn't have needed the Plague."
Martha really had no idea what to do about the conspiracy, but she was sure the Doctor would think of something - and every second she wasted sitting here might be his last. She stood up. "Before we do anything else, I've got to get to the Plague research centre. The Doctor may not have much time left. Are we far from there?"
"We're right below them, actually. Go four floors up and you're almost in their backyard," Meg answered. "But you can't go there. They'll capture you - they may harm you, even kill you!"
Looking at the two guards, Martha knew exactly what she was going to do. Not just how she could get to the research centre safely, but also how she could make sure that if Contrast had any way of curing the Plague, they'd use it to save the Doctor.
"They won't," she said. "Not when I've got you as insurance."
**********
Instead of Martha, the Doctor's current guard showed up, a girl as young as K'iem, with a haircut exactly like Gaer's. "I thought you'd be lying in bed," she said, sounding only mildly surprised and suspicious.
"I was. I tried to get up and found I couldn't," he told her. He didn't need to act to make his voice suitably miserable. He simply allowed himself to sound as bad as he felt.
The girl took pity on him. She entered the room through the airlock door, wearing a smart fabric suit, and helped him to the bed. She lingered for a while, but luckily, didn't look too closely at the computer. Finally, she left, and the Doctor could get back to work.
And he worked, and he worked, concentrating hard on his task to keep his mind from the fact that he barely had enough strength left to stand, leaning on the wall with a hand on both sides of the computer screen - both hands now crystal-coated - guiding the AI to try countless improvements to the original cure, until he simply couldn't stay upright any longer.
He slumped to the floor, and relied on the AI to describe everything to him. Even speaking felt painful, as the cold, barbed fingers of the Plague crept up along his throat. It was like drowning in some sub-zero liquid.
He almost didn't understand the words when the AI announced, "Result of this simulation: one hundred percent elimination of the target organism."
Finding new strength in his unexpected success, he struggled to his feet. It was incredibly difficult, when he was barely able to bend his knees at all, but he really needed to see this. He reran the simulation, and witnessed with his own eyes how the compound he'd designed practically wiped out the Plague organism.
He'd done it - but he didn't feel the least bit victorious. He was running out of time, and he still had no idea how he'd be able to get this very complicated and so far purely theoretical cure actually manufactured.
"It's magnificent," a voice said behind him. He hadn't noticed anyone enter the room. He half turned, half fell to sit on the floor, facing the force field, and saw Gaer standing behind it.
"You really were telling the truth when you said you know a lot about these things. Seems I made the right call when I decided to let you mess around with our files - you see, the system alerted me the instant you accessed the classified documents. Thank you very much, Doctor. I'm going to start the empirical testing right away. If this cure really works, you've solved a major problem, and saved many lives. I'm afraid yours isn't among them, though. May your spirit's path to the afterlife be easy," Gaer said, without a hint of emotion in her voice or on her face. Just like that, she turned around and walked away.
The Doctor tried to shout after her, but the crystal now covered his mouth, his lips literally sealed. He struggled to get up from the floor, but he was simply too exhausted and too cold to force his stiff, numb limbs to move. Nothing he could do, then.
So, was this it? The idea was so surreal that he didn't even feel like panicking. This couldn't possibly be how it was all going to end. Something would happen, something would change, Gaer would change her mind, K'iem would show up, Martha would return...
As the crystal crept over his nostrils, he tried to find solace in the thought that even though he had failed to save himself, at least no one else would have to die of this thing. He had no idea how long he could last without air in his current state - or how long it would take for the Plague to move on to Phase II and start gnawing at his skin. He really hoped he wouldn't be conscious enough to actually feel that.
He closed his eyes, and ever so slowly, the solid, icy tide rose to cover his ears and his eyelids, leaving him blind and deaf, except for the echo of his hearts hammering against his crystal-covered rib cage.
15. Twenty-One 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, from Plague to politics, on a planet full of caves.
14. Twenty Hours
Martha tried to ask the guard again and again what was going on, but she got no answer. They ran through tunnels, taking random, sudden turns, calling to mind Martha's earlier escape attempt with the Doctor, in the City of Lights. At times, when they reached busier streets, they'd slow down to avoid drawing attention. They seemed to be headed out of the city centre - there were less and less people around them, and less doors in the walls. They'd been going up and down so many stairs that Martha had no idea how far they were from the First Level.
Eventually, they reached a tunnel almost as verdant as the one they'd seen after the train crash. There, the guard opened a door half hidden behind tall, hanging plants, and ushered Martha inside.
It was a small apartment. Martha could see three rooms from where she stood, and that seemed to be all there was. The place looked abandoned, all the furniture and the decorative cloths and carpets covered in dust.
"The grandfather of a friend of mine used to live here, but he moved away when the Plague struck. This neighbourhood is right next to the quarantine barriers. No one lives here anymore. We should be safe for at least a few tenths," the guard explained, still sounding anxious.
"Safe from what?" Martha asked. "What's going on?"
"Sorry. I really do owe you an explanation. My name's Meg," the guard said. "You remember me, right?"
"I do. I'm Martha."
"Pleased to meet you, Martha, and thank you, once more," Meg said. She placed her hands on Martha's shoulders, in the Khiandrian equivalent of a handshake. Martha returned the gesture.
"So, I've been in Maze City on sick leave since the train crash," Meg went on. "Around half a tenth ago, Khif called me, and asked if I could help you. You see, they've issued a warrant to arrest you and your friends, suspected of illegal activities, most importantly co-operation with the Sentients."
"Who? I've never even heard of them!"
"They're one of the more violent Bright extremist groups, very pro-alien. An obvious scapegoat to pick. I know you have nothing to do with them, and so does Khif. That's why we're here."
"But I still don't understand..." Martha began, and fell silent, biting her lip, as realisation dawned. "Contrast! I asked Neir about it. She must've decided that I'm a threat - but that can't have been much more than an hour ago - right, half a tenth, just like you said! They're fast. Do you know about it, then? Contrast, I mean? The conspiracy?"
It was Meg's turn to be at a loss. "What's Contrast? I just know that someone's trying to frame you, someone with lots of contacts. I don't know why."
"I'll explain - I'll need to explain it to Khif, too. Can we call her from here?"
"Sure, the terminal should work, even though it's a bit old."
"Can they trace us or something? Listen in on us?"
"They'll locate us eventually, but it's going to take some time, when they've got no idea where we are. It shouldn't be a problem yet."
The terminal's age only showed in the quality of the hologram: unlike the very life-like images Martha had seen earlier, this one was hazy and blurry and transparent. Meg complained that the sound was horrible, too, but Martha couldn't even tell the difference. They asked the handsome AI to contact Khif, and to Martha's relief, she answered right away.
"I've been expecting your call," Khif said, in the manner of a greeting. "Now, I know there's something very odd going on. I looked into things, like you asked, and found several strange, covert operations related to the Plague, as well as unexplained, classified files - and now there's this warrant, which just came out of nowhere, all of a sudden. What's happened? What have you found out?"
Martha took a deep breath, and started from the beginning, speaking so fast that she wondered if they'd catch half of it. She told them about the Doctor's discovery, that the Plague was a deliberately manufactured thing, and then, her own theory about Contrast.
Khif listened intently, her face grave, nodding now and then. "Contrast," she repeated, as if testing the word. "So, that's the name of these scum. Everything you've said matches my findings all too well."
"But it can't be true!" Meg cried out, looking from Martha to Khif's hologram like they'd both lost their minds. "Why? Why would anyone do anything like this?"
"I've been asking the same question," Martha said.
"They're royalists," Khif said thoughtfully. "What's changed since the Plague struck?"
"More violence and extremist attacks?" Martha suggested.
"The Emergency Laws. Practically no aliens on the planet. Tighter control in everything. More power to the government and the guards," Meg listed.
"Exactly. They want the old times back, and with the paranoid atmosphere, that's where we're headed," Khif said. "I wonder if they're planning on an actual coup, or if they hope to get there through less direct means..."
"We've had it backwards all along," Martha muttered. "We thought the Plague was a natural disaster which was turned into a political thing, but it's the other way around. Politics came first."
"What are we going to do?" Meg asked, her voice flat. "What can we do? There's only three of us, against who knows how many Contrast conspirators! How do we even know who we can trust? What if the whole government is in on this?"
"They're not," Khif said soothingly. "The Chairperson and a majority of the ministers are Dusks. I'm sure they don't know anything about this. If Contrast already had the government in their pocket, they wouldn't have needed the Plague."
Martha really had no idea what to do about the conspiracy, but she was sure the Doctor would think of something - and every second she wasted sitting here might be his last. She stood up. "Before we do anything else, I've got to get to the Plague research centre. The Doctor may not have much time left. Are we far from there?"
"We're right below them, actually. Go four floors up and you're almost in their backyard," Meg answered. "But you can't go there. They'll capture you - they may harm you, even kill you!"
Looking at the two guards, Martha knew exactly what she was going to do. Not just how she could get to the research centre safely, but also how she could make sure that if Contrast had any way of curing the Plague, they'd use it to save the Doctor.
"They won't," she said. "Not when I've got you as insurance."
**********
Instead of Martha, the Doctor's current guard showed up, a girl as young as K'iem, with a haircut exactly like Gaer's. "I thought you'd be lying in bed," she said, sounding only mildly surprised and suspicious.
"I was. I tried to get up and found I couldn't," he told her. He didn't need to act to make his voice suitably miserable. He simply allowed himself to sound as bad as he felt.
The girl took pity on him. She entered the room through the airlock door, wearing a smart fabric suit, and helped him to the bed. She lingered for a while, but luckily, didn't look too closely at the computer. Finally, she left, and the Doctor could get back to work.
And he worked, and he worked, concentrating hard on his task to keep his mind from the fact that he barely had enough strength left to stand, leaning on the wall with a hand on both sides of the computer screen - both hands now crystal-coated - guiding the AI to try countless improvements to the original cure, until he simply couldn't stay upright any longer.
He slumped to the floor, and relied on the AI to describe everything to him. Even speaking felt painful, as the cold, barbed fingers of the Plague crept up along his throat. It was like drowning in some sub-zero liquid.
He almost didn't understand the words when the AI announced, "Result of this simulation: one hundred percent elimination of the target organism."
Finding new strength in his unexpected success, he struggled to his feet. It was incredibly difficult, when he was barely able to bend his knees at all, but he really needed to see this. He reran the simulation, and witnessed with his own eyes how the compound he'd designed practically wiped out the Plague organism.
He'd done it - but he didn't feel the least bit victorious. He was running out of time, and he still had no idea how he'd be able to get this very complicated and so far purely theoretical cure actually manufactured.
"It's magnificent," a voice said behind him. He hadn't noticed anyone enter the room. He half turned, half fell to sit on the floor, facing the force field, and saw Gaer standing behind it.
"You really were telling the truth when you said you know a lot about these things. Seems I made the right call when I decided to let you mess around with our files - you see, the system alerted me the instant you accessed the classified documents. Thank you very much, Doctor. I'm going to start the empirical testing right away. If this cure really works, you've solved a major problem, and saved many lives. I'm afraid yours isn't among them, though. May your spirit's path to the afterlife be easy," Gaer said, without a hint of emotion in her voice or on her face. Just like that, she turned around and walked away.
The Doctor tried to shout after her, but the crystal now covered his mouth, his lips literally sealed. He struggled to get up from the floor, but he was simply too exhausted and too cold to force his stiff, numb limbs to move. Nothing he could do, then.
So, was this it? The idea was so surreal that he didn't even feel like panicking. This couldn't possibly be how it was all going to end. Something would happen, something would change, Gaer would change her mind, K'iem would show up, Martha would return...
As the crystal crept over his nostrils, he tried to find solace in the thought that even though he had failed to save himself, at least no one else would have to die of this thing. He had no idea how long he could last without air in his current state - or how long it would take for the Plague to move on to Phase II and start gnawing at his skin. He really hoped he wouldn't be conscious enough to actually feel that.
He closed his eyes, and ever so slowly, the solid, icy tide rose to cover his ears and his eyelids, leaving him blind and deaf, except for the echo of his hearts hammering against his crystal-covered rib cage.
15. Twenty-One Hours