Doctor Who - 01 - Past Future Continuous

15. A Leap of Faith

The transmat, as usual, scrambled his brain. He hated teleports. He got up heavily and pocketed his sonic screwdriver. He was surrounded by large objects covered with plastic sheets; most probably spare parts of some machinery, or maybe parked vehicles. The air stunk of oil and micropetrol. And something else. The Doctor wrinkled his nose at that striking, mechanical stench.

He crept slowly between cramped objects and looked out at the open space of an enormously huge hall. All shades of rust, black smears of grease and rainbow-hued puddles of spilled fuel – the usual scenery of space travel; not enough data to ascertain even the century – similar spaceships / shuttles / rigs were used by people and other humanoids for ages, and sometimes they attracted newer decks, constructions and machines, which were slowly covering the hub with new layers of settlement, just as the rock gets covered by coral, remaining forever in the centre of expanding colony. Just like the Tower of London.

There were maybe fifty insectiforms in the hall, almost indistinguishable from each other for a human eye – slim, tall, and covered in chitin, clicking with long extremities, very alien. They were neither alien nor indistinguishable for the Doctor's eyes. With muffled sigh of irritation he stepped back behind the tarpaulin's fold. The insectiforms. Maybe they did not inspire the greatest terror in the galaxy, but they were efficient soldiers nevertheless. If he counted on his gob, he suddenly lost all confidence. The insectiforms answered only to the Queen, and he could not expect Her to be onboard this rusty old wreck of a ship.

"Yeeeah," he whispered to himself. "And that would be the shortest escape ever."

He thought about the TARDIS, probably still parked on the hill in Ogmore-by-the-Sea. He had no idea why Adam had not taken the box, but was sure she was not in this part of the universe. The Doctor still hadn't fitted a remote control for his ship, but he perfected methods of finding the TARDIS with his sonic. Recently she was getting lost far too often.

He put his hand into a pocket and with his fingertips he stroke a metal body of the little, mechanical deck cleaner. Faint smile appeared on his face. Time was an answer and a rescue. The past time and the future time. Time, coiled into a rubbery ball of something stretchy, meandering, changeable and not utterly definable. And he knew what he really needed.

He found it after a while – a metal gate of the transmat. Insectiforms were pushing crates and packages through the gate. Crates and packages were dissolving into nothing in the gateway of a commercial teleport, to re-materialise in some other place, onboard other ships, or maybe on a neighbouring planet / moon / asteroid. Leaning out of his hideout, the Doctor pointed the sonic at the gate. He shook the screwdriver, put it to his ear for a moment and, brows knitted, started changing settings. It would have been nice to know where the teleport led before he jumped in its field.

When he looked up from the screwdriver he saw Adam standing in front of him.

"Ingenious," said a man in an insect's body. Old eyes scrutinized the Doctor with merciless amusement. "I won't even ask where did you hide it."

He outstretched his hand (or rather an extremity armed with sword-like outgrowths), as if he expected the Doctor to give up his sonic screwdriver. Five insectiforms standing behind Adam were pointing their laser guns at the Doctor.

"Screwdriver," Adam demanded.

The Doctor straightened up and five insectiforms shifted from one extremity to the other. A wry smile flashed through the Time Lord's face.

"I'll lay it down if they lay down their guns," he said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Adam snorted. "I say a word and you'll turn into dust and steam."

"Hmmm..." The Doctor considered it for a while. "What would your Lords say about it?"

"They've given me a free hand."

"I don't think so."

"You don't even know who they are..."

"I can guess. I have the sense of who they are and what they want. You see, the nature hates vacuum; power vacuum breeds the storm; and you are nothing but an ant in the eye of the tornado, Adam Mitchell. You want to kill me, oh yes, I know you want to kill me, but you won't dare to do it. You can escape your Lords, but you can't escape time. Your eyes are so old."

"Enough! Take him!"

"Wait-wait-wait!" The Doctor quickly raised his hands and insectiforms hesitated, fixing their gaze on the sonic screwdriver, humming quietly and emitting blue light. "You don't get it. I'm giving you the last chance."

"You're in no position..."

"Adam Mitchell, ex-human being, citizen of the Earth," the Doctor laughed. "You are facing the only person in the entire universe; no, in all universes; who can understand you, and who can save you. You have only one moment; just one moment in all the time. Think about it."

He turned towards the insectiforms. Although his words seemed agitated, his face froze in an expression of grief.

"Adam called me a killer of billions, a genocide. Not without a reason. I am a killer of billions, an Oncoming Storm, a Queen of all Swarms."

Barrels dropped even lower.

"Take him, damn it!" yelled Adam, pushing forward the closest insectiform. "These are just words, stop listening!"

The sonic screwdriver twirled in the Doctor's hand, humming continuously and glowing blue.

"I determine the time of day and night, of leaving the hive and of homecoming. I reward deserts and punish faults; I deal awards and retributions. To me you bring your harvest and your loot; for me you dance your eternal dance..."

Insectiforms parted suddenly, letting him pass between them. One of them restrained Adam, who was shrieking with fury. All insect shapes in the hall seemed to sway to the rhythm of the Doctor's words. He walked deliberately towards the teleport, a sonic screwdriver in his raised hand resembling a torch lighting up the darkness. He walked across the gigantic hall filled with exoskeletal creatures, observed by dozens of faceted eyes, listening to the rustle of wings hidden under chitin elytra shields, smelling striking, alien odour of insects' pheromones. He walked slowly (just ten steps left, just nine), never breaking the monologue.

"...You dance, you rub each other, you inhale each other's scent and you listen to my music..."

"Damn!" Adam broke free from insectiform's grip. "It's the sonic! It's this sound! You bloody cheat! You..."

"The Queen Mother's Song," said the Doctor, turning to him for a moment. "Know your enemy."

He clicked the switch and continuous hum of the screwdriver ceased. Instantly, the Doctor pointed his sonic at the teleport door. The insectiforms reacted slowly, as if waking up from a pleasant dream, but Adam already run towards the gate. He opened his chitin elytra and unfolded his glorious silver wings, which raised him above floor, giving him impetus and speed.

"No! No! No!" he screamed. "No! No! No! No!"

The space in the teleport gate glimmered as if covered by an oily, rainbow-hued film. The Doctor tossed his sonic screwdriver and caught it in the air.

"YES!" he yelled. "HA!"

He was already in the transmat range, when something tore through his shirt, suit and coat. Surprised, he looked down at the chitin blade protruding from his chest.

The image inside the teleport glimmered and burned white. The Doctor disappeared in the flash of transmat's beam.