Dr. Who - BBC New Series 25 (22 page)

‘
Doctor!’ it screamed as the TARDIS faded away.

‘Doctor, come back!’ Have pityyyy!’

Its dying plea blended with the rising screech of its critically overloading systems, becoming a final drawn-out howl.

Ranjit promptly fell to his knees, an expression of shock on his face. Gandhi, on the other hand, looked around the TARDIS in utter delight.

‘Tell me, Doctor,’ he said, ‘is this box of yours alive?’

The Doctor was rushing round the console, twiddling dials, pulling levers and prodding buttons. He halted abruptly and looked over the console at Gandhi with something like admiration. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because it reminds me of the human brain. It appears small and unimpressive on the outside, and yet it holds such wonders within.’

The Doctor’s face broke into an enormous grin. ‘You’re incredible, you know that?’ he said.

‘Private Wilkins, sir.’

‘Yes, Private Wilkins?’ said Samuels, the Regimental Medical Officer. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I just wondered how Major Daker was, sir? The lads are… well, we’re worried about him.’

Samuels nodded curtly, looking up at the young Private from behind his desk. ‘I’m sure the Major will appreciate your concern, Private. Naturally we’re doing all we can

for him, but as yet there’s been no change in his condition.’

As if on cue, a furious shout suddenly came from the sick bay at the end of the corridor, shattering the early evening quiet.

‘What the hell’s going on? Why am I tied up like this?’

Wilkins looked at Samuels. ‘It sounds to me as if the Major is back to his old self, sir.’

Samuels jumped up from his chair, rounded his desk and ran down the corridor. Wilkins hurried after him.

The sick bay was like a smaller version of the barracks in which the men slept – a row of four beds on either side of the room, separated by a narrow central aisle. Only one of the beds was presently occupied. As Samuels burst into the room with Wilkins in tow, the patient raised his head.

Wilkins saw that the Major was indeed back to his old self. When they had brought him in earlier he had been covered in awful black lumps and had been raving and slavering like an animal. Now the lumps had miraculously disappeared, and he was looking alert and… well,
human again.

The only thing that didn’t seem to have improved was the Major’s notorious temper.

‘Samuels,’ he barked, straining at the bonds with which the medical staff had been forced to restrain him, ‘untie me at once. This is an outrage!’

As Samuels hurried forward to comply, a hideous trumpeting sound filled the room. Wilkins looked round wildly, wondering if a herd of crazed elephants was about to crash through the wall. A warm breeze suddenly kicked

up from nowhere, ruffling the men’s hair. As all three of them looked on in astonishment, Daker straining to raise himself from the bed to which he was secured, a tall blue box emblazoned with the word POLICE appeared out of thin air.

There was a moment of utter gaping disbelief, and then the door of the box opened and a skinny man wearing a blue suit emerged. The man looked around with keen interest. ‘Hello, I’m the Doctor,’ he said. ‘Where’s this then? Sick bay?’

Both Wilkins and Samuels nodded mutely.

All at once the Doctor spotted Wilkins and pointed at him. ‘I know you, don’t I? Wilkins, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Wilkins in a weak voice, instinctively standing to attention.

‘At ease, soldier,’ said the Doctor casually. He strolled across to the bed, peering into Major Daker’s ruddy face.

‘And I’m guessing you must be Major Daker?’ he said.

‘I met your horse, briefly.’ Before Daker could even contemplate how to respond to that, the Doctor asked, ‘How are you feeling now, Major?’

‘I’ve… never been better,’ Daker spluttered.

‘Glad to hear it,’ said the Doctor, sounding as if he genuinely was. ‘Have you back on the parade ground, terrorising the troops, in no time, eh?’ Again, before Daker had chance to reply, he continued, ‘Actually you’re just the sort of reliable, no-nonsense, efficient feller I’m looking for. Tell me, Major Daker, how quickly do you reckon you’ll be able to organise a major rescue operation?’

Donna opened her eyes and concentrated on trying not to be sick. On all sides of her people were staggering about, looking around in disbelief. Some screamed or burst into tears, unable to cope with the sheer impossibility of instantaneous travel.

Adelaide appeared at her shoulder, looking pale. ‘Am I dreaming?’ she said faintly. ‘Or are we really outside?’

Donna looked at the pink and purple sky, beneath which the hills loomed black and forbidding. People were streaming from the cave openings like ants from a disturbed nest, many not even stopping when they were out, but simply running down the rocky slope as if demons were after them. It would be impossible even for the Doctor, Donna thought, to round all these people up and take them home. She wondered what would become of them, and consoled herself with the thought that at least a long walk back to Calcutta was better than a lonely, terrifying death on a planet millions of miles away.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Yeah, we’re outside.’

Adelaide looked at the disc in Donna’s hand with an expression of awe. ‘What
is
that device?’

Before Donna could answer, Sir Edgar appeared, his wife in tow.

‘I say,’ he said, ‘where the devil are we?’

Donna shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea.’

‘But how do you propose we get back to Calcutta?’

Mary demanded querulously.

Donna scowled. ‘I dunno, do I? Walk, I suppose.’

‘
Walk?’ squawked Mary. ‘It could be miles. And it’s

getting dark. There might be snakes. Perhaps even robbers.’

Donna’s temper suddenly flared. ‘Yeah, well, if they had any sense they’d run a mile if they saw you coming. I mean, what do you
honestly
expect me to do, lady? Call a cab? Give you a piggyback? Wave a magic wand?’

Mary looked as if she had stepped into a sudden gale-force wind.

‘I hardly—’ Sir Edgar began, but his voice was drowned out by the familiar trumpeting grind of ancient engines.

Donna whirled round, grinning, as the TARDIS

materialised. The door opened and the Doctor stuck his head out.

‘Anyone need a lift?’ he said.

‘
This vehicle terminates here,’ the Doctor announced.

‘Will all passengers please disembark.’

They had already dropped the Campbells off at home.

Now they were about to deliver Gandhi, Gopal, Ranjit and Edward Morgan back to the camp.

For the few minutes duration of the short double trip, the TARDIS had been busier than Donna had ever seen it.

The Doctor had spent the journey circling the TARDIS

console, checking readings and adjusting things and generally being a bit aloof from all the astonished goggling and incredulous chatter going on below. Donna suspected that the Doctor didn’t like having so many people in the TARDIS, even if it
was
just for a few minutes. She knew that once a job was over he generally preferred to slip quietly away, to move on with as little

fuss as possible.

When the Campbells had departed moments earlier, he hadn’t got involved in all the hugs and handshakes and goodbyes, but had remained standing at the console, from where he had simply stuck up a hand and shouted a cheery, ‘See ya.’

Now they had materialised at the camp, and Donna wondered whether his goodbyes here would be just as perfunctory.

However, as soon as he pulled the lever to open the doors he leaped down from the console platform and, tilting his head at Donna as an indication that she should join him, followed his passengers outside.

The TARDIS had landed between two of the medical tents, out of sight of the majority of refugees. The group from the TARDIS looked out across the camp, which, despite the devastation caused by the gelem warriors, was already returning to normal. With nowhere else to go, the homeless of Calcutta were slowly filtering back to their makeshift shelters. Everywhere Donna looked, she saw repairs being made to the flimsy dwellings, fires being lit against the chill of the night.

Two small children spotted Gandhi and their eyes widened in wonder. When one of them murmured, ‘Bapu,’

Gandhi gave them one of his familiar, neartoothless grins and ambled across to talk to them.

‘Just want to double-check something,’ the Doctor muttered to Donna and followed Edward and Gopal into the nearest medical tent. Instantly the few staff that had remained behind and had managed to evade the clutches

of the gelem warriors crowded around them.

‘It’s a miracle, Dr Morgan!’ one of the staff said excitedly.

‘They are cured! They are all cured!’ exclaimed another.

Edward held up his hands, looking flustered. ‘Please,’

he said, ‘one at a time. Will someone kindly explain what you’re talking about.’

The half-dozen auxiliaries looked at one another, and as if at some unspoken agreement a young, bespectacled Indian man stepped forward.

‘The patients in the isolation tent, Dr Morgan,’ he said, trying to contain his excitement, ‘they are all better. Even the most advanced cases are no longer displaying any symptoms of their illness.’

Edward looked stunned. ‘But… that’s impossible,’ he spluttered.

‘Nah,’ said the Doctor, ‘that’s energy inversion. I rigged the Jal Karath ship so that it would hoover up and neutralise every zytron particle within a thousand mile radius when it imploded.’

He looked round at the crescent of blank faces regarding him, and sighed. ‘Look, all you need to know is that I did something incredibly clever and now everyone’s better.’ Abruptly he clapped his hands. ‘Right, back to work. There are still plenty of sick and hungry people out there, you know.’

As everyone got back to work, the Doctor looked at Donna and jerked his head towards the exit flap, indicating that they should leave.

Outside the tent they found Gandhi sitting crosslegged on the ground, still talking quietly to the children. As the Doctor and Donna approached, the little man jumped nimbly to his feet.

‘Right, Mohandas, we’re off,’ the Doctor said briskly.

He held out a hand, and then, thinking better of it, abruptly stepped forward and embraced the little man.

‘It’s been a pleasure and a privilege,’ he murmured before stepping back, uncharacteristically lost for words.

Gandhi beamed. ‘And for me too, Doctor,’ he said.

‘Where will you go now?’

‘Oh, you know,’ said the Doctor vaguely, ‘other times and places.’

‘See you, Mohandas,’ Donna said. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. ‘You look after yourself.’

Gandhi winked at the children, who were watching the exchange with interest. ‘You see,’ he said drily, ‘even at my advanced age I have not lost my touch with the ladies.’

‘You old rascal,’ Donna said as the children giggled.

‘Goodbye. And good luck with… everything.’

She and the Doctor walked across to the TARDIS, stopping at the door to wave one last time before going inside.

As the Doctor busied himself at the console, Donna looked at the image of the little man on the scanner screen.

‘What happens to him?’ she asked.

The Doctor looked at her for a moment, sadness on his face. Softly he said, ‘On 30 January next year, he’ll be

assassinated. Someone will step out of a crowd of well-wishers and shoot him in the heart.’

Donna put a hand to her mouth. Tears sparkled in her eyes. In a wavering voice she said, ‘Who would do that?

Why would anyone want to kill someone like him?’

The Doctor shrugged. ‘There’s always someone who doesn’t agree with what you’re trying to do,’ he said simply.

Donna continued to stare at the serene face of the little man on the screen, too upset to speak.

The Doctor sidled up and slipped an arm around her shoulders. In a quiet voice he said, ‘His last words as he lay on the ground were “Hey Rama”, which means “Oh God”. Witnesses say that as he died his face wore a serene smile and his body was surrounded by a halo of divine light.’

Donna sniffed. Still tearful, she said, ‘He reminds me a lot of you, you know.’

The Doctor’s face was sombre. He reached out and pulled the lever that would propel the TARDIS into the Time Vortex.

‘Oh, he’s far more forgiving than I’ll ever be,’ he said.