ENEMY WITHIN
Chapter 6 "Oh my god!" Donna exclaimed, staring at the white fog filling the plane. "Is that what I think it is?" "Donna," Marjorie said. "Do you have a mobile on you?" "Yeah. What about it?" Donna asked. "Let me have it, please. I've a couple of operatives stationed in the next hangar. Maybe I can reach them so they can come and open that door." Donna handed the other woman her mobile. But, just as the Marjorie took it, even more of the white vapor seemed to be seeping into the cabin. Both women began to cough and choke. "Both of you, on the double. Get down on the floor and cover your faces! Hurry!" The Doctor urged the two women. Grabbing a pillow from a nearby seat, Donna put it over her face and lay down on the floor on her stomach. Marjorie had taken off the suit jacket she was wearing and covered her mouth and nose with it. She sat hunched over, desperately trying to get through to the other agents. Holding his arm over his nose, Doctor scrambled around the plane, sonicking the vents. Nothing happened. The deadly vapor wouldn't stop. He stood in the middle of the plane, staring around him helplessly. In the enclosed atmosphere of the now locked cabin, and at the rate the gas was filling it, the chances for survival were probably nil. Possibly even for him, if the concentration was high enough. Already it was becoming difficult to see through the billowing vapor. He could hear Donna starting to cough. That was not good. Rushing back over to the two women, the Doctor knelt down beside them. He shook Donna's shoulder. "Donna?" She didn't respond right off, and The Doctor shook her again. She coughed and mumbled something unintelligible. He checked Marjorie. "No!" The frustrated Doctor cried out. Marjorie was already dead. In trying to reach the other operatives, she'd taken the jacket away from her face and breathed in too much of the vapor. "I'm so sorry." he said, closing the woman's wide-open eyes. He saw Donna's mobile on the floor beside her and picked it up. He looked over at Donna. "Doc—doctor." Donna pleaded, raising her head weakly. "Help, Doctor. I can't br-breathe!" The Doctor stood up and paced the now fog-enshrouded cabin, tearing at his hair. "I can't stop this!" He said. Even he was starting to cough a bit, now. T he Doctor wished he still wore that long scarf he was so fond of, seven regenerations ago. He stopped pacing, standing resolute, his eyes face showing hope. "Of course! Decompression chamber!" "Wh-what?" A now groggy Donna mumbled. The Doctor got down on the floor with her. He looked into Donna's eyes. "Donna, look at me." Her fearful eyes sought his. Suddenly, she felt calmer. Donna knew he was trying to help. "You have to trust me, alright?" She nodded her head. "I'm going to put you into a deep trance, slow down your heart rate and breathing to the bare minimum. That will help keep you alive until I can get us out of here. Are you ready?" Donna nodded her head again, and the Doctor sat himself cross-legged on the floor in front of her. He placed his hands against her temples and began to chant. "Ooohmmm!" Within seconds, Donna entered a deep comatose state, her heart slowed and her breathing almost—but not quite, ceased. The Doctor had another scathingly brilliant idea. Jumping to his feet, he ran towards the plane's cockpit. Like the cabin behind, it was filled with white fumes. He started to cough again. Using his sonic screwdriver, the Doctor broke all the windows, letting in fresh air, and causing the vapor to dissipate somewhat. Jumping into the pilot's seat, the Doctor began flipping switches, hoping that whoever had cut the interior lights, hadn't messed with the engines. He was in luck. In seconds, the jet's engines began their high-pitched whine, and the craft vibrated with power. The Doctor flipped the switches for the exterior lights. With relief he saw that they still worked. . Taking the steering yoke in his hands, the Doctor carefully backed the jet away from the portable steps. Which, even for him, wasn't easy to do with only the landing lights of the plane to see by. He continued backing the plane, all the way to the rear of the hanger. Leaning forward, he pointed his sonic screwdriver out of the open window towards the wide hangar doors. Slowly the doors creaked open. Before the they opened all of the way however, they jammed. The Doctor checked the settings and upped the power on the sonic. Nothing happened. The doors weren't open enough to allow for the whole wingspan of the jet to go all of the way through the opening. Whispering a rude word in old high Galifreyan, the Doctor put on the brake, and went back into the cabin. He picked up Donna in a fireman's carry, and carted her into the fresher air of the cockpit. He set her down in the co-pilot's seat. Her skin was pale and cold. The Doctor crouched down beside Donna and snapped his fingers. With a gasp, she woke up. "Doctor? Wha—?" She said, feeling weak and confused. "It's alright now, Donna, everything's fine." He tried to reassure her. There was a uniform jacket lying over the pilot's chair. The Doctor took that and put it around Donna's shoulders. "There ya' go. That'll help keep you warm, 'till I can get us out of here." She started coughing, and the Doctor looked at her with a guilt-ridden face. "I'm sorry, Donna." He said sadly. "I shouldn't have brought you here. I should've left you at the hospital with Wilf." "You wouldn't dare!" She scolded him half-heartedly. Then she smiled. "You do whatever you need to, Doctor. Don't worry about me. If I can handle wandering around inside a volcano, I can deal with a blinking cough." "I'm going to buckle you in, Donna." He told her, strapping her into the co-pilot's seat. "Hang on, this is going to be a bumpy ride." "What are ya' gonna' do?" Donna asked. "Or do I really want to know?" "Erm—maybe you should close your eyes for this bit." He answered, slipping into the pilot's seat and once again powering up the engines. "Tower," the Doctor said out loud, "this is Time Lord Airlines ready for take off." The plane vibrated with power as its twin engines roared to life. Taking a deep breath, the Doctor floored it. The jet shot forward to the front of the hanger. "Right." He heard Donna say, "Closing my eyes now. Very good advice, Doctor." In seconds, the plane crashed through the partly open doors, severing it's wings in half. Worried about any damage that might prove fatal, the Doctor checked the instrument panel. Lights were flashing and a disembodied recorded voice was giving an obvious warning. Fortunately, nothing indicated that the plane was on fire. The Doctor coasted the little jet to a stop on the tarmac a short ways from the hangar. It took a while for the Doctor and Donna to get out of the plane. The Doctor ended up sliding down the nose of the jet, landing nimbly on his feet. He fetched a rope ladder out of the TARDIS, and flung it up to Donna. As she slowly descended the ladder, he noted that her cough seemed to be getting worse. Inside the TARDIS, Donna followed behind the Doctor as he began fiddling with the console. "I need to analyze that vapor. If I can narrow down the point of origin, I may be able to come up with an antidote for you and Wilf." He said. "Oh. That's nice." Donna said indistinctly. "Donna?" The Doctor whirled around. He just in time to catch her, as she started to fall. "Whoa! Let's sit you down for a moment, eh?" He said, shifting her over to the jump seat. Looking tired and drawn, Donna didn't argue with him. Which the Doctor felt said volumes about how sick she truly was. He felt her skin. It felt cold and clammy. Yet her forehead was burning with fever. "I need to do something, Donna. And I'm sorry, really I am. But it's the only way." He told her. "Believe me, this going to hurt me a whole lot more than it's going to hurt you." "Do what?" She asked sleepily, before giving in to a rasping cough. "This." The Doctor said. Grabbing her face in his hands, he gave her a long, drawn out kiss. Out of the blue, Donna's colour instantly returned. Her temperature went back to normal and she was wide awake and alert. Immediately she stood and slapped the Doctor in the face. He rocked back on his heels. "Like I said." He muttered, rubbing his sore cheek ruefully. "Hurts me. More than you." "Let me tell you something, spaceman. If you're thinking I'm gonna' play stewardess with you, you've got another think coming!" A highly indignant Donna shouted at him. "Donna. Listen. It's not what you think. You had contracted the flu. I wasn't kissing you. I was drawing the virus out of your lungs and bloodstream. It wasn't any different than giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation" "Ah. I...ah. Sorry." Donna said, looking sheepish. The Doctor paused, looked puzzled. "Stewardess?" "Oh...never mind!" She gave a big yawn. "Excuse me." She apologized again. "I'm really knackered, Doctor." "No worries, Donna. You're body is reacting to the abrupt change change from sick to well." He told her. "I've some very boring outer-spacey, scientific research to do. Why don't you go for a bit of a kip?" After Donna went to her room to lie down, the Doctor got busy. From a trunk underneath the metal decking, he pulled out a device which looked similar to a policeman's breath analyzer for drink drivers. He was about to blow into it, when out of nowhere he got a case of the wobblies. Gripping the console, the Doctor bent over and broke into a hacking cough. He began to sweat and his skin turned gray. The Doctor was interrupted by the ringing of a mobile from his suit pocket. He picked it up and pressed send. "Hello?" "Donna! Where've you been?" Came Sylvia's voice. "No. Sorry. It's the Doctor." He coughed. "Donna's not here." "Where is she then?" Sylvia demanded. "She's in bed..." He started to say. "I knew it! You two are heaven no wheres, having a some...dirty weekend..." She ranted. "Here we go." The Doctor sighed, muttering to himself, "Don't hate me cos' I'm sexy. "What did you just say?" Sylvia said. "I'm glad you're not here, cos' this place is really messy." The Doctor ad libbed. "Don't go changing the subject, mister. And don't go expecting Donna to be your maid, either!" Sylvia scolded him. "Look. We really are just friends, Mrs. Noble." The Doctor told her, trying desperately to change the subject, "Donna wasn't feeling well, so she's off having a nap." "Is she alright?" Sylvia had a sudden nightmare vision of both her dad and her daughter lying in intensive care. "She's fine. Nothing serious. Only tired. I thought a rest would do her good." The Doctor said. "I see. Well." Sylvia's voice became a little less angry. "Best not disturb her then. Only, when she wakes, tell her that Wilf has been put into intensive care. I thought she'd want to know." "Yes. I'm sure she will.." The Doctor said. "Goodbye, Doctor." Sylvia told him, ringing off. The phone fell from his fingers. The Doctor stared down at it. "Bye." He said, before collapsing to the floor.
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