Until We Burn | Dr Who

Chapter Three: Honest To Gods

"Go to your room."

There is a heavy pause.

"Go to your room!" Each head simultaneously tilts to one side, all blankly watching the Doctor. "I mean it," he insists, "I'm very, very angry with you. I'm very, very cross. Go... to... your... room!"

For a mom I am certain that it won't work. And then, slowly, they shuffle back to their beds. Silence falls once more.

Releasing the breath that I had been holding, I feel Jack's hand gently squeeze mine.

"I'm really glad that worked. Those would have been terrible last words."

I can still sense the anger radiating off of the Doctor as Jack and I sit by one of the desks. Rose stands by one of the beds, nervously peering down at one of the patients. "Why are they all wearing gas masks?"

"They're not. Those masks are flesh and bone."

"How was your con supposed to work?"

Jack meets the Doctor's questioning stare, his guilt managing to slip through the cracks of his confident façade. "Simple enough, really. Find some harmless piece of space junk, let the nearest Time Agent track it back to Earth, convince him it's valuable, and name a price. When he's put fifty percent up-front, oops, a German bomb falls on it, destroys it forever. He never gets to see what he's paid for, never knows he's been had. Buy him a drink with his own money and we discuss dumb luck. The perfect, self-cleaning con."

"Yeah. Perfect."

"The London Blitz is great for self-cleaners," he continues. "Pompeii's nice if you want to make a vacation of it, though. But you gotta set your alarm for Volcano Day." His amusement doesn't last long, his grin fading once he realises that nobody else finds it funny. Not even me. "Getting a hint of disapproval."

The Doctor scoffs, "Take a look around the room. This is what your piece of harmless space junk did."

"It was a burnt-out medical transporter. It was empty."

"Rose."

Sending us a passing glare, she hurries after her friend. "Are we getting out of here?"

"We're going upstairs."

Jack looks to me for help, letting out a chuckle of disbelief. "I programmed the flight computer so it wouldn't land on anything living. We harmed no one! I don't know what's happening, but I had nothing to do with it."

The Doctor comes to an abrupt stop in the doorway. "I'll tell you what's happening. You forgot to set your alarm clock. It's Volcano Day!"

Another wail of the siren echoes through the halls. Rose stares anxiously up at the ceiling. "What's that?"

"The all-clear," Jack says.

"I wish."

We race after them but I freeze under the Doctor's gaze. Jack collides into me, cursing under his breath. "You got a blaster?" the man asks.

"Sure."

The Doctor stands by a metal door. Each time he looks at us I can feel the heat of his anger. "The night your space junk landed, someone was hurt. This is where they were taken."

"What happened?"

"Let's find out. Get it open." The gun buzzes, a faint beam of blue glowing in the shadows. "Sonic blaster. Fifty-first century. Weapon factories of Villengard."

My eyes widen at his words. "You've been?"

"Once."

"They're gone now," Jack adds. "Main reactor went critical, vaporised the lot."