Doctor Who BBCN16 - Forever Autumn (13 page)

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At first the Doctor thought an alarm had been triggered by his prod-ding the vine. Then he realised what it really was.

‘Someone’s happy,’ he said. ‘Had a little feed, have you? A little power boost?’

The Doctor’s face was grim. Although he had never personally encountered the Hervoken before, he knew exactly what sort of power they used.

He pressed on, and eventually the tunnel branched out into two tunnels, then three, and then into chambers which sometimes contained as many as six burrow-like exits. He marvelled at the whole tentacular, subterranean system, imagined it stretching the length and breadth of Blackwood Falls, with all the townspeople living on top of it, like tiny parasites on the back of a giant crab. The deeper he went, the less featureless the tunnels became. Nodular growths bulged in greater profusion from the walls and floors, some of which looked like boulders, whilst others resembled twisted columns or lightning-blasted trees.

Green light was bubbling and burping and flickering all around him now, though even with the boost it had just received the Doctor could tell that the system was barely ticking over. Although he didn’t know his way about, he was following his nose, or rather his tingling skin and itchy teeth, to what he guessed would be the control centre. Etta’s house might be drenched in residual energy because it was bang on top of the bit of Hervoken technology closest to the surface, but the real power, the real heart of the place, lay much deeper.

It didn’t surprise him that he didn’t encounter any Hervoken on his journey. Theirs was a species based more on the cerebral than the physical. Unlike humans, they didn’t need to scurry about from one place to another; they didn’t need to see and smell and touch and taste and feel everything they came into contact with. They were not an emotionless race, but they were a profoundly insular one, and therefore callous, oblivious to the desires and feelings of others. If they needed to do something that was necessary to their well-being, then they’d do it, no matter who or what might suffer in the process.

Even in ancient times, before they were banished, the Hervoken had 86

lived in a different realm, with different values and concerns to most of the rest of the universe.

It took the Doctor about fifteen minutes to reach the central chamber. As soon as he felt he was getting close, he switched off his torch and put it in his pocket. His teeth were itching unbearably now and he was trying to ignore them. His hair was standing straight up on his head and his skin was sensitive to the touch. The tunnel he was currently walking along was bathed in light that pulsed greener and brighter than anything he had encountered so far. The light came from a vast arched opening at the far end. He crept up to the arch and peeked around the corner.

He saw a huge space, not quite cathedral-like, but not far off. There was lots of ‘equipment’ in here, though dominant among it was a central dais, attached to the walls on either side by loops of sinewy black vine, and topped by a kind of claw-like tangle of roots. In the middle of the roots nestled what the Doctor guessed was the book that Rick and his friends had dug out from the earth at the base of the tree. Over on the right, standing so motionless that he knew she’d been immobilised, was Martha, looking a bit stressed, but not too worse for wear.

He took a few moments to observe and admire the Hervoken, drifting dreamily about the place like vast, spindly wraiths. They were magnificent creatures, he thought. Striking and enigmatic.

Crouching low, he slipped into the chamber and behind a big bulbous black thing growing out of the floor. Although the black thing looked like nothing but a whacking great pile of congealed dung, the Doctor knew it was actually a very sensitive piece of equipment, and he was careful not to touch it. He waited patiently for his moment, then slipped from the ‘dung heap’ across to another black thing that looked like a sort of half-melted bouncy castle. From here he was directly opposite where Martha was standing. He waited until all the Hervoken were facing away from him and then he rose up from behind his hiding place and gave her a little wave.

She spotted him immediately and he saw her eyes widen a fraction.

He guessed she couldn’t react any more than that, which was prob-87

ably a good thing. It would pretty much have ruined his element of surprise if the Hervoken had caught her gawping at him.

He grinned and winked, then ducked back out of sight again. He sat for perhaps thirty seconds, thinking hard, and then, as he always did, he came up with an idea. Thinking how glad he was to be an ideas man, even if occasionally they turned out to be rubbish, he rooted in his pockets. Thinking also how glad he was to be a man with well-filled pockets, he eventually found what he was looking for, and held it up with a silent
voila
!

It was a safety pin, one of the big old-fashioned kind. The Doctor unfastened it and, without hesitation, jammed the point into the ball of his thumb. Instantly a thick dark bead of blood welled from his punctured skin. Glancing quickly around, the Doctor scuttled from his hiding place over to the wall and smeared the blood onto the nearest writhing vine. He watched in fascination as the vine glowed green and his blood was absorbed. Then he crawled back to his hiding place and started counting.

He had reached eight when the vine convulsed. The convulsion set off a chain reaction, which radiated outwards in all directions, like ripples on a pond. Within seconds, the entire intricate complex of roots and vines was out of control, thrashing in apparent distress.

And, as the Doctor had guessed (or at least hoped) they would be, the Hervoken were affected too. They were clutching their heads and weaving from side to side, a mournful crooning emanating from their beanpole bodies.

The Doctor scrambled to his feet and peered over the top of the bouncy castle thing. On the other side of the chamber, Martha had realised that the Hervoken influence over her had been broken and that she could move again. She stretched and stamped her feet, then took a hesitant step forward. The Doctor ran across the chamber, dodging in and out of the beleaguered Hervoken, and grabbed her hand.

‘What did you do?’ she shouted.

‘I’ve given the system a touch of indigestion. My blood’s a bit rich for its palate.’

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‘How long will it last?’

‘Not long. We should be making tracks.’

Hand in hand they ran back across the chamber.

‘Like the hair by the way,’ Martha said. ‘Very Sonic the Hedgehog.’

The Doctor grimaced. ‘I was hoping for more of a Sid Vicious vibe.

Hang on a sec.’

Instead of heading straight for the exit, he dragged her over to the dais, on top of which sat the book. The tangle of roots holding it in place were clenching and unclenching involuntarily like a hand or a claw. The Doctor waited until its ‘fingers’ were fully extended, then he reached in and snatched the book.

‘He shoots, he scores,’ he cried, brandishing his prize in triumph.

‘Now let’s skedaddle.’

He grabbed Martha’s hand once again and they fled through the writhing corridors.

Abandoned, that was how Etta felt. Abandoned and forgotten.

She’d woken up an hour earlier in a strange bed, wondering where the heck she was. It was only when she sat up and saw the green mist outside that she remembered about the Doctor and Martha and her cats.

She was splashing water on her face within a minute and downstairs within three. Eloise Walsh, perched behind her desk like a giant scrawny crow, arched an eyebrow at her.

‘Hear you’ve made yourself some new friends, Etta,’ Eloise said, in such a way that she could only be insinuating something.

‘So what if I have?’ Etta retorted, puffing herself up.

‘So nothing,’ Eloise said acidly. ‘Just making conversation is all.’

‘Hmph,’ said Etta. She was about to saunter out without another word when it struck her that her new friends might have left her a note or a message. Deciding that it was worth swallowing just a tea-spoon of pride in order to find out, she marched over to the desk and asked.

Eloise smirked at the question and said airily, ‘The young lady
did
say something about coming back soon, but that was some while ago.

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I dare say she’s found something more diverting to occupy her time.

You know what young people are like.’

‘And the Doctor?’ asked Etta.

‘Oh, he left
hours
ago.’

‘Did he?’ said Etta curtly. She offered Eloise a grudging thank you and plodded towards the main doors.

‘Oh, Etta,’ Eloise called after her.

Etta clumped to a halt and turned stiffly. ‘Mm-hmm.’

‘I hope he didn’t manage to gain access to your house.’

‘Who?’

‘Your prowler from last night. Wasn’t that why you were here?’

Etta stared at Eloise for a good twenty seconds, then gave a noncommittal ‘Mm’ and turned away again. She didn’t look back.

All the way home she thought about her cats, and hoped that what the Doctor had told her last night was true and that they would be back to normal this morning. She wondered if she’d seen the last of the spaceman and his young friend, whether the two of them had simply vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared. She hoped not. Despite the fact that she’d had to run for her life twice last night, thus exerting her old body more than was probably good for her, she couldn’t remember when she had last felt more alive! Men from space, creatures made of leaves, possessed cats. . . It all made a welcome change from cocoa by the fireside and a book before bedtime.

Even so, she was relieved to find her dear old pets back to normal, just as the Doctor had promised, when she arrived home. If they hadn’t been she didn’t know what she would have done – run for her life for the third time probably. She put down food and milk for them, and was just about to fix herself a coffee, when she heard a peculiar rumbling sound. Next moment her crockery began rattling on the shelves, prompting several of her cats to abandon their breakfast and dart away with yowls of protest.

What on earth was happening now? Was this the mother ship descending from the heavens? Was the ground about to split asunder and swallow them all whole? She went to the window and looked out. Over her rear fence she could just make out the black tree loom-90

ing through the mist. She was astonished to see it shuddering and jerking, as if in the grip of a giant hand. She was even more astonished to see sparks of green energy skittering along its branches, and then the ground crack open beneath the pressure of a squirming tangle of thick black roots.

One of the roots, or several, caused her fence to buckle and partially collapse. Etta was still gaping at the black writhing mass, wondering what was going to happen next, when she heard thumping footsteps coming from the direction of her hallway.

She hurried from her kitchen just in time to see her basement door fly open and the Doctor come bounding out. Martha was a few steps behind him, flustered and rosy-cheeked.

Although she had been hoping to see the two of them again, Etta’s first response was one of indignation. ‘What were you doing in my basement?’ she demanded.

‘Salt!’ the Doctor yelled at her.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Got any salt?’

Taken aback, Etta could only gesture vaguely. ‘Yes, it’s in the –’

‘Kitchen!’ the Doctor shouted. ‘Course it is!’ He bounded past Etta, raced down the corridor and hurtled through the kitchen door.

Martha flashed Etta an apologetic look and ran after him. When Etta entered the kitchen herself, five seconds later, it was to find the Doctor emptying a tub of salt onto her dining table. She watched as he grabbed a handful and rubbed it all over the front cover of the book he was carrying. He gave the spine and the back cover the same treatment, then opened the book seemingly at random and chucked a fistful of salt inside before slamming it shut.

Only then did he allow himself a split second to relax. He expelled a deep breath and said, ‘There you go. That’ll stop ’em nicking it back until we can get it to the TARDIS.’

‘Stop who?’ asked Etta.

‘Questions are good, but I’ve only got time to answer relevant ones,’

said the Doctor bluntly. ‘I’m working to a deadline here.’

‘Why is the book so important?’ tried Martha.

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The Doctor grinned. ‘It’s their starter motor.’

Etta gave him one of her no-nonsense stares. ‘Whatever are you babbling about?’

The Doctor snatched the book off the table and waved it in the air. ‘This is their starter motor, and that thing out there,’ he pointed towards the back of the house, ‘is their spaceship.’

Etta blinked at him. ‘Do you mean the tree?’

‘The tree,’ he confirmed.

‘What rot,’ she said.

The Doctor stared at her for a moment as if he couldn’t believe she had contradicted him. Then he said, ‘Do you know, you’re right.

You’re a hundred gazillion per cent right. Because that’s not their spaceship. That’s just the nose cone of their spaceship. No, not even that. That’s just the tip. . . tippety. . . tip bit.’ He tapped the end of his nose with his finger and swung to confront Martha. ‘What’s that bit of your nose called?’

She shrugged. ‘The tip.’

‘Oh, you’re no use,’ said the Doctor rudely. ‘Call yourself a doctor?

Come on!’ Abruptly he ran back out of the kitchen, sweeping past Martha and Etta, the book clutched in his hand.

‘Where now?’ Martha shouted, hurrying after him.

‘The TARDIS!’ he yelled.

‘See you later, Etta,’ Martha called back over her shoulder. She slammed the front door after her, and suddenly the house was silent again.

Etta stood in the dusty aftermath of the whirlwind that was the Doctor, and turned to Orlando, who had emerged from hiding now that the ‘earthquake’ had stopped.

‘It’s true what they say about the Brits,’ she told him. ‘Mad as hatters, the lot of them. Even the ones from outer space.’

The TARDIS was encased in a crackling, flickering dome of green energy. The Doctor stopped dead when he saw it, then muttered, ‘Right,’