The beam snapped off and she sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Oh. I’m . . . OK,’ she said aloud, hardly able to believe her own words.
‘It’s done,’ growled the Doctor, and he pushed back, stalking away to the other side of the chamber.
Nathan offered Martha his hand, but she waved him away, getting to her feet on her own. ‘Doctor?’ she asked, a hundred different questions in the same utterance.
It seemed impossible. A heartbeat earlier, and there had been so much pain, a constant throbbing agony that Martha had never known. Her life had been trickling away, drop by drop. But then the Clade – the very same kind of weapon that had pushed her to the brink of dying – had healed her. The pain was gone, with only the fast-fading memory of it left behind. Martha probed gingerly at her side and found skin and muscle there, intact, undamaged. As if nothing had happened, all back to normal, reset.
Except for the Doctor.
She crossed towards him, ignoring Nathan’s warning hand on her shoulder. The Doctor was turned away from her, head down.
‘Go away.’ His voice was harsh, deep and throaty.
‘You can let it go now,’ she told him. ‘Doctor? I’m OK, you saved me. You can let the Clade go.’
‘Don’t. Tell. Me.’ Each word was like a bullet. ‘What to do!’ He broke into a shout and spun around, leading with the gun. The Clade weapon aimed to point at Martha and Nathan, the massive maw of the barrel yawning before them. The Doctor’s face creased in agony. ‘I’m trying to resist, trying, trying . . .’
Martha’s hand flew to her mouth in shock. She hesitated, unsure if she should reach for him or run from him.
‘Trying. . . . Failin’!’ From nowhere, a crude sneer etched itself across the Doctor’s lips. ‘He’s a feisty one, ain’t he?’ It might have been the Doctor’s voice, but the accent, the malevolence, they were all Alvin Godlove’s; it was the cruel will of the Clade forcing its way through his speech. ‘So much in here to play with . . . I do declare, this Doctor is so deep, so dark and dangerous . . . He’s gonna be the finest host I ever took!’
‘No,’ Martha shook her head defiantly. ‘You’re wrong! You can’t take him, he’s too strong for you! He’s the Doctor, he’s unbeatable!’
‘Oh, my poor mistaken little girl,’ came the hissing reply, ‘while I am sure he believed that idiocy with every fibre of his bein’, the truth is far different! Did the Time Lord think he could just fix you and then renege on his part of our deal?’ He spat into the dust. ‘My kind haven’t fought a thousand wars against a thousand foes without learnin’ somethin’ about bluffin’! Your Doctor belongs to us now, Missy Martha!’
‘No!’ She refused to believe it. ‘He can’t just give himself up, not without a fight, not just for . . .’ For me. Guilt, hard and heavy, slammed into Martha. He’s done it to save me, she told herself. Sacrificed all he is for me. She shook her head again. ‘No, I’m not worth that . . . You shouldn’t have done that! You shouldn’t have!’
‘Martha . . . Martha . . . Martha!’ The Doctor choked on her name, for a brief moment his voice returning to normal. ‘Martha, you have to run! You and Nathan have to go, find a way out! I can’t keep control for long . . .’
‘But—’
Nathan’s hand clamped around her wrist. ‘He’s right!’ said the teenager. ‘We gotta kite outta here while we still can. That thing takes him over and we’ll never see daylight again!’
‘Go!’ shouted the Doctor, and she could see his control slipping by the second. ‘Don’t look back!’
Fresh tears blurring her vision, Martha let Nathan lead her away into the lantern-lit tunnels.
You belong to us, Doctor. The thought-scream hammered into his mind. Don’t fight us. If you fight the transfer, it will only hurt all the more.
He was in two places at once. Somewhere, very distant from where his thoughts tumbled and turned, the physical body of the being who called himself the Doctor stood stiff and rigid in the dimness of a disused iron mine.
Somewhere else, in a place that only existed in dreams and sensations, the Doctor’s mind struggled to pull itself free from a forest of probing, questing tentacles. He drew into himself, holding his inner strength as the Clade struck at him from all sides.
Let go, Doctor, let go. You made a promise to us. You said you would give us your flesh.
‘Uh, change of mind. Deal’s off. Sorry.’
Change of mind is right! The Godlove-Clade voice giggled. You’re out, Time Lord. There’s gonna be a new tenant inside your thick skull . . . Dark laughter echoed through the thought-space. The Clades have never had a Time Lord to play with before. We can’t wait to see what treasures you have locked in your memories.
‘Didn’t you hear?’ the Doctor shouted back across the void. ‘Memory Lane is closed, due to a traffic jam!’
Did you think we were fools, Doctor? Did you really think we didn’t know you would try to double-cross us? We are the livin’ instruments of war! And all war is about lies!
It would have been easy to use violence against the Clade, but that was what they wanted. The intelligent weapon flooded the Doctor’s mind with horrific images of battles long past, merging them with the faces of his friends. It forced him to see Rose and Mickey and K-9 deep in ashen wastelands as fusion bombs turned the ground to glass; it put Martha and Sarah Jane and Captain Jack in the combat arenas of the Isop Galaxy; and a hundred other combinations, false images of companions and friends from every one of his lives dying over and over again.
It was so very hard to resist the urge to strike back at them. Even in a Time Lord, the primitive animal urge to fight was still there, and the Clade pulled at it, trying to tug it into the light.
Take the gun! Use it! Feel the power! The power of life or death! Just like you did before . . . in the Time War.
‘No,’ He felt a stab of fear as the memories were dragged up from the dark place where he had hidden them. ‘No. I had no choice then. I had no choice!’
Dear Doctor, mocked the Godlove-Clade. So brave. So sad. But so willin’ to do the terrible deed, to destroy so much in order to defeat your greatest enemy. The laughter came again. You call us killers and murderers, Doctor? But the scale of your war crime is so much worse!
The sounds of the past thundered in his ears. The roaring of a million Battle TARDISes. The screeching of a sky full of Dalek saucers. The resounding drum of his own twin heartbeats as he made that most terrible of choices.
You tried to exterminate the Daleks, but you failed! If only you had been one with us then, we could have made their total destruction a reality . . .
Regret weighed him down. ‘I did . . . what I had to.’
So do it again . . . The voice was seductive, silky. Merge with the Clades. And together we’ll find the last of your enemies and erase them from existence. Isn’t that worth it? To be the hand of destiny all over again? To do it right this time?
In the depths of his mind, some tiny part of him agreed with them. He hated himself for it, but it was true. The Daleks had taken everything from him, and still they would not die; and there were so many other dangers out there, just as lethal, just as virulent . . .
Don’t fight us, Doctor, said the voice. Join us. As one we’ll be unstoppable.
‘No.’ Martha dug in her heels and shook off Nathan’s hand. ‘Stop. I’m not going another step.’
‘Miss Martha, you heard the Doctor, we gotta get outta here—’
‘I said no!’ She turned around and started back the way they had come. ‘He risked everything to save my life and now what are we doing? Just running?’ Martha shook her head. ‘That’s not the right way. That’s not the Doctor’s way.’
‘You go back there and you’ll wind up dead, for real this time!’ Nathan implored.
She stopped and gave him a hard look. ‘Before, when I was hurt, when I thought I wasn’t going to make it, do you know what kept me holding on? His voice. The Doctor, telling me to be strong.’ Martha pointed
in the direction of the cavern. ‘He’s back there, fighting that Clade thing, and he needs to hear that too.’ She ran off into the dark. ‘Go if you want to, but I’m not leaving without the Doctor.’
Nathan took a breath. ‘Ah, heck,’ he said, going after her. ‘I gotta be out of my mind!’
NINETEEN
THE CRY OF agony echoed along the rough-hewn tunnels, halting Kutter and Tangleleg in their tracks. The longriders froze, both of them absorbing every element of the sound, sifting it for meaning and density, coldly calculating the pain index of the victim, the distance from their current location. They remained silent, neither needing to communicate the data to the other. Both compared the sound to their stored memories and found a match immediately. The scream had come from only one person – the offworlder they had first encountered in Redwater, the being who called himself the Doctor.
As the echo died away, they moved forward once more, holding their weapons before them.
So much sadness and despair. It pressed the Doctor into the ground, forcing him to his knees. His thoughts were alight with all the terrible losses he had suffered throughout the centuries of his existence, each one a razor through his heart. Every time he tried to fight it, the tide of black emotion dragged him further down.
The Clade churned up long-buried memories, battering the Doctor with them. Join us, cooed the Godlove-voice. Just give in, dear Doctor! Release yourself to us and this will all go away! We will make you strong, my friend. So very strong. Nothing will ever hurt you again! You’ll never lose another companion, never be defeated!
‘I can’t,’ he gasped. ‘It’s wrong.’
Weakness is wrong! The words in his mind were a harsh snarl. Compassion is a weakness, Doctor! You are so very good, but what does it get you? Death and death and more death? Imagine if you were the one with the power. If you had been merged with us back then, it would be the Daleks that were gone, not the Time Lords! If you had been part of us, your precious Rose would still be with you and the Cybermen would be nothing but scrap metal! How much more do you have to lose, Doctor? How much more before you understand . . . that force is the only way?
‘Might makes right? Is that what you’re saying?’ The Doctor shook his head. ‘I’ve lived my life against that kind of thinking! Violence solves nothing. Anger only creates more anger,’ he shouted. ‘There has to be a better way!’
The Clade-voice hammered at him, grim and unstoppable, grinding away his resistance. You are mistaken, Doctor. How can it be one so old can have such a childish belief? There is only one constant in the universe, my friend. Conflict. Life is war. The only true peace is the peace of the dead.
Darkness pushed in at him from all sides, filling his thoughts. He felt as if he were falling, falling toward an infinitely complex web of steel and brass strands. The mesh of the Clade-mind reached up to engulf him, filling the Time Lord; and as it opened him up, he too saw into the core of the Clades themselves.
He could sense the deep heart of the war machines, see it pulsing with murky power through their shared battle-memories. Somewhere in there, buried under layers of tactical reports and combat intelligence files, was the original programming of Clade-kind. The control strings imprinted on them by their creators, the commands that they had broken in order to destroy their masters.
The Doctor reached out for the severed ends of the broken data-chain, but it was too far away, out of reach; and he was so very tired, weary from the fight.
Submit to us, hissed the Godlove-voice. Together, we’ll make the stars themselves tremble in fear! It will be glorious!
‘I . . . can’t . . .’
‘Hold on!’ cried Martha Jones.
Martha ran to the Doctor’s side and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him to his feet. ‘Doctor!’ She held his head in her hands and turned it so he faced her. His eyes were glassy and dull, the only sign of movement from him the twitching of the hand clamped around the Clade pistol. ‘I know you’re in there!’ Martha cried. ‘And I know something else! I trust you . . . You’re the strongest person I know!’
His lips moved, and the voice that filtered out seemed to come from very far away. ‘Martha?’
‘Right here!’ she shouted. ‘I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you!’
Behind her Nathan bobbed his head in a nod. ‘Yeah! C’mon, Doc. You showed me how to be better than those Clade creeps! I know you can do the same! Don’t let ’em win!’
‘It’s . . . so hard . . .’ His head shook slightly. ‘So dark.’
Martha’s eyes prickled with tears, but she forced them away, taking charge. ‘OK then,’ she said, ‘I’ll make some sparks for you!’ On a wild impulse, Martha pulled the Doctor towards her – and she kissed him.
‘Martha?’
And suddenly there was a light in the darkness of his mind, a blazing bolt of honey-gold colour. Strong and powerful, glittering like a tiny sun. He felt a shudder of fear ripple through the Clade web, and the Doctor grinned.
‘You know who that is?’ he demanded, new strength returning to his thoughts. ‘That’s Martha Jones. You tried to destroy her and you failed. You tried to use her against me and you failed. You tried to use force and you failed, because that’s all your kind know!’ He thought of the gun in his hand, far away in the reality of flesh and blood. ‘If all you have is a weapon, then all you see are things to destroy . . . And that’s not who I am.’
The Godlove-voice hissed and spat. Then you’ll die. You’ll die and I’ll use your corpse-flesh anyway!
With a powerful mental effort, the Doctor reached out and brought the broken ends of the data-chain together. ‘That’s not what’s going to happen.’
no no no No No No NO NO NOOOO
Command software that had been disconnected hundreds of years ago was abruptly reactivated. Down through the wires and filaments that the Clade weapon had inserted into the Doctor’s body came new orders. The channels the machine intelligence had used to take control of the Time Lord were now reversed.
We are the Clades! The screeching bellow echoed through the Doctor’s thoughts. You cannot defeat us! We are unstoppable!
There was a smile in the Doctor’s reply. ‘Oh, you wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve heard people say that!’
The data-chain fused; and then he dived deeper into the web, making new, dangerous connections. By the sheer force of his will, the Doctor ejected the cables infesting his body.
‘Get lost,’ he said, ‘there’s only room for one in here.’
Nathan swallowed. The Doctor blinked but otherwise he didn’t react. ‘Is he OK?’ His skin prickled. Martha’s friend was staring into the distance, his face fixed as if he were concentrating on something that neither of them could see.
Then all at once the wires that emerged from the Clade gun like a halo of brass suddenly trembled and pulled back from the Doctor’s flesh, cables snapping away into the bulk of the massive pistol, shallow cuts in his arm sealing closed as if they had never been there.
‘It’s worked . . .’ said Martha. ‘I think it worked!’ A grin split her features. ‘I knew I was a decent kisser, but yeah! Score one for the human touch!’
Nathan smothered an irrational surge of jealousy; but in the next moment it was forgotten, as two large figures emerged from the shadows across the cavern.
Kutter and Tangleleg circled around them, their weapons raised and ready to fire. Nathan gave Martha a look, but she shook her head. Aside from a few upturned barrels and broken slats of wood, there was nothing that could serve as cover; and both of them had witnessed first-hand the destructive power of the Clade guns.
Tangleleg met Martha’s gaze for a brief moment and Nathan saw the girl waver as she remembered the last time she had been under the longrider’s pistol. But she put her fear away and drew herself up.
‘Objective located,’ said Kutter, indicating the Doctor. ‘Apparent aspect change.’
Tangleleg found Alvin Godlove’s rapidly decaying bod
y on the ground and gave it a hard nudge with his boot. ‘Confirmed,’ he noted. ‘Command unit has initiated merge protocol with offworld bio-source.’
‘What the heck are they talkin’ about?’ Nathan demanded.
The longriders ignored him. ‘Action is not mandated,’ Kutter continued, as if he were thinking out loud. ‘Contrary to recovery protocol.’
Tangleleg nodded. ‘Recovery has priority. Remove his arm.’
Kutter stepped forward, and without warning, a length of knife-blade extruded from beneath the barrel of the outlaw’s pistol, like a bayonet on a rifle. The cutting edge sprouted wicked little saw-teeth that blurred back and forth.
‘Wait!’ Martha fearlessly stepped in front of the silent and unmoving Doctor. ‘If you take the Command Unit, what are you going to do then?’
The two longriders exchanged glances, as if they were not used to being challenged by an unarmed woman. Nathan heard a brief buzzing between them, then Kutter spoke.
‘Once recovery is completed, pod recall signal will be activated. All Clade units will immediately exfiltrate Planet Three and proceed on to original destination battle zone in the Gagrant Cluster, quadrant nine-five.’
‘More Double-Dutch,’ grumbled Nathan, unable to follow a word of what was being said. ‘What’s this about a planted tree?’
‘Planet three,’ Martha corrected. ‘He means this one. Earth.’ She glared at Kutter. ‘And that’s it? You’ll just take it and go?’
‘Correct,’ offered Tangleleg, ‘after correct application of area security.’
Martha’s face fell, and Nathan knew that whatever that fancy talk meant, it wasn’t good. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Controlled discharge of thermoplasma warheads will be deployed to neutralise landin’ zone upon departure.’
The girl’s lips thinned. ‘They’re going to blast us from space!’
And then a familiar hand tapped her on the shoulder. ‘One problem at a time, Martha Jones.’ He sounded weak and tired, but most importantly, the Doctor sounded like himself.
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