LEGION

Chapter 13

 

Holding the Doctor's coat over her head for protection from the rain, Donna fought her way through the storm to where the Doctor had left his TARDIS. She was soaking wet from socks to waist Yet, strangely, the Doctor's coat which had protected the upper half of her body, was almost completely dry. Donna was about to open the TARDIS door, when she felt a strange feathery vibration coursing through the nerves of her body.

Something was wrong, but Donna couldn't make her brain tell her what it was. Then, she knew. The same sizzling bolt of lightning which had blinded the Doctor in the box room, had, in that instant, struck the roof of the garage. She knew she had yelped in fright, dropped the key and pressed up against the TARDIS for comfort. Yet, oddly, Donna felt almost as if it was happening to someone else. The resulting clap of thunder had practically shattered her eardrums. All this seemed to occur in long, slow minutes, but in reality, it was only a second.

That was too close for comfort, she thought, emitting a loud, shaky sigh. Funny, but lightning had never scared her before. Even though it hadn't struck her directly, the mild electrical shock from the near-miss left Donna feeling somewhat lightheaded. With panting breath and trembling fingers, she groped in the dark for the lost key.

There came the sharp tang of smoke in the air, mingling with the ozone smell of the lightning. Despite the heavy rain, the garage had caught fire. White smoke billowed up, and small tendrils of flame sought out the rainy night though the eaves under the roof. Donna hoped the TARDIS was fireproof, it being parked less than two meters from the structure's back wall.

Finding the missing key, she breathed a sigh of relief and fled inside the console room. Donna threw the coat over one of the TARDIS' support struts, and went up the ramp to the central console. The Doctor had given her explicit instructions about what he needed her to do.

Donna stood staring at the controls, her hand hovering over an assortment of knobs, dials and switches. Suddenly, she felt panic rising within her, like a stone moving from her stomach to her throat. She stared blankly at the console.

“What was I supposed to do?” Donna said to herself, gazing about at the crazy conglomeration of human junk and alien technology which made up the TARDIS controls. The lightning strike had addled her brain so much, that the details of what the Doctor had told her had completely gone out of her head.

“I don't remember what to do!” Donna shouted desperately, her hands clutching the console in frustration.

As the Doctor's eyes quickly readjusted to the dark after the glare of the flash, he saw that he was not alone in the room. He was, in fact, surrounded. Not by sword wielding ghouls or dish-tossing ghosts, but by the faces of the dead. Alien beings, creatures and humans, all of whom he'd known over the past nine hundred years of his life. Many of the faces were of those whom the Doctor had either directly or indirectly caused to die. There were faces before him which he knew intimately well. Others had been long forgotten, put out of the Doctor's mind, because he had to, if he wished to keep his sanity.

The dead lined the walls of the box room, silent, accusing eyes focused solely on the Doctor. He sucked in his breath and felt a stab of pain in his hearts, when he saw the faces his lost friends, Adric and Astrid Peth. The Time Lord he knew as Castellan Spandrell was there, as was his friend and former companion, the Time Lady Romanavoratnalundar--whom he'd always called Romana.

Enemies too, were also present. Around the walls of the room, the Doctor counted a Sontaran, a Gelth, a Krynoid, an Ice Warrior, Mr. Finch, the jackal-like form of Sutek, a Sea Devil, a Tetrap, a Dalek and at least a dozen more of his former adversaries. The Doctor looked on, horror-struck, as the circle slowly began to advance on him, arms reaching out for him, drawing closer, noiselessly revolving around the room, an ever-shifting whirlpool of the dead.

“I deny this reality. It does not exist.” The Doctor stated flatly, squeezing his eyes shut in profound concentration. “I am a Time Lord, you have no power over me.”

“Oh, but we do, Doctor.” Said the subtle voice of Legion, that hoarse voice of a thousand whispers, that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. “You are not the first Time Lord we have touched. To belong to Legion is a curse many times greater than that of the void, as soon you shall discover for yourself.”

“Oh, I think I've discovered quite a lot, thanks. You just made a very big mistake with me.” The Doctor said, opening his eyes and glaring at the approaching images of the dead. For that was what he knew them to be. Images pulled from his mind. And if there was one thing the Doctor strenuously objected to, it was gate-crashers barging in on his private memories.

“You have no power over me. Because I deny your existence.” The Doctor's face grew taunt with anger. “Oh yes, I know who you are, now. You're not some all-powerful entity of the Dark Times. You're not an ancient myth come to life. You're nothing but some anonymous personal assistant, toadying up to the boss to get an office with a view and a parking place with your name on it.”

There came a willowy cry of frustration. It sounded not unlike a spoiled child, whom was not being given his own way. Suddenly, the dormer window exploded inward. The Doctor had to duck to miss the flying glass. One by one, the dead people surrounding the Doctor threw up their arms--or whatever appendages they had, in distress. Flickering like an old silent film reel, each one winked out of existence, as soundlessly as they had first appeared. But, the Doctor wasn't finished with Legion, yet.

“You take people's souls, the essence of who they are, and you trap them at the point of death in a dimensional time lock. Then you feed on the after-image of their lingering emotions, sucking up memories like some cosmic leech, forcing them to re-live parts of their lives, over and over again, dead, but unable to know death.” The Doctor spoke bitterly, staring around the empty room, seething with barely controlled anger. “That alone is going to get you on my bad side. But, you don't do it strictly for your own gain, which is an abhorrence in itself. Oh no, it's far worse than that, isn't it? Because you are not in control here, are you, Legion? Hmm--? Someone helps you do this, someone who siphons off all of your residual psychic-karyon energy, in order to empower himself to wreak havoc, not just here on earth, but throughout the universe. You're nothing but a slave of the Pantheon Discord.”

The Doctor quietly set the torch on the floor and reached into his pocket for his sonic screwdriver.

“Isn't that right....Trickster?” He asked softly, calmly. Yet, there was a cold, hard menace in back of that voice, one that would make even a Dalek turn and run.

A black-cloaked figure materialized out of thin air. He had a pale, vaguely humanoid face half-hidden by a voluminous cowl. A face which had a mocking mouth full of pointed teeth, but without the eyes or a nose one might expect find there. Rather than be alarmed by this new menace, the Doctor merely folded his arms waited. He looked much like a jaded headmaster, expecting to hear a recalcitrant student's lame excuses for misbehaviour.

“Very perceptive of you, Doctor.” The figure sneered, “You're so much cleverer than your human friends. I often wonder why you bother with them.”

“Actually, you know, sometimes I think it's the other way around. I'm rather amazed that they bother with me.” The Doctor admitted, tugging on his ear. “They keep me grounded and remind me of why I'm still here. Fighting self-serving beings like you, who want to do things the easy way, choosing harm and havoc over caring and compassion. Why don't you go back where you belong, Trickster? Leave this planet and its people alone.”

“You'd like that.” The Trickster said.

“Er--yeah, actually.” The Doctor agreed, rocking on his heels and smiling. “I would be delighted. I'll even sign an autograph for you and let you have your picture taken with me.” Then he frowned and cast a hard stare at the being before him. “But something tells me you aren't going to make it that easy for me, are you?”

”I have been waiting a hundred thousand millennia to capture a Time Lord.” The Trickster told him. “What a victory it would be for my kind, if, by your death, we eradicate your species from the universe, once and for all.”

“Seems to me, Trickster, “ the Doctor said reminisced, “that I remember someone saying something once...what was it? Oh yes. Some American television sports thing, about the thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat. And I have to say, I really think you should start wearing comfy shoes, cos' your feet are about to have one helluva case of bunion burn.”

So saying, the Doctor stepped back and stood with his back to the dormer window. Extending his arm, he pointed the sonic screwdriver towards the floor beneath the Trickster's feet. The tip glowed bright blue and the instrument gave off a high-pitched, warbling whine. Seconds ticked by, and nothing happened.

“Ah. Well...” The Doctor swallowed, seeming more than a trifle disconcerted at the lack of effect his sonic was having.

Back in the TARDIS, Donna was still staring at the console, when she saw a yellow light flashing next to a round flat black button with white block letters on it which read, “PRESS.” She frowned at it for a few seconds, then her face lit up with a big grin.

“Oh yeah!” Donna grinned, “Now I remember!” She put her hand down on the button and pushed.

Outside the TARDIS, a thin, barely discernable glittery yellow beam suddenly shot out from the roof light, going straight up into the roiling clouds and piercing the heart of the storm.

The Doctor blew out his cheeks and shrugged. He looked at the ceiling and hummed a few bars of a Top of the Pops song he'd heard and happened to like. In the back of his mind though, the Doctor fervently hoped that nothing had happened to Donna.

The Trickster said nothing. He merely gave the Doctor an indulgent smile, standing there patiently, with his hands clasped in front of him. Looking at his adversary out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor speculated that if the Trickster had a wrist watch, he probably would have been checking it, by now. Probably tapping his foot impatiently, as well. The Doctor had a pet peeve about people who did that. And people who shouted into their mobiles on trains. And whistled tunelessly while strolling down the supermarket aisle. And went to the ten items or less queue with more than ten items.

With a cold dread which only showed in his eyes, he watched the Trickster. The creature of the Pantheon leisurely raised his hand, ready to consign the Doctor to a fate worse than Hell itself. The Doctor wondered if the storm was interfering with his sonic. What was Donna waiting for?

Then, without warning, there came a blazing flash, as a giant bolt of golden lightning came down from the sky. It shot into the roof of the house, through the box room right where the Trickster had been standing, and all the way down to the ground floor. Before he could utter a sound, the Trickster was instantly vaporized.

After doing as the Doctor instructed, Donna emerged from the TARDIS to see what had happened. She didn't have long to wait. The house was rocked by an enormous explosion. Crying out in alarm, she ducked as the front door flew off its hinges to crash onto the gravel drive, and flames came shooting out of all of the windows.

“Doctor!!” Donna shouted, running for the house.

She hoped she would find him alive and well, but how could anything have survived that inferno? The house burned so hot, that she couldn't stand too close to it, and backed away from the flames. The night was suddenly bright with the two fires, the big house and the garage. Still refusing to give up, Donna looked all around the perimeter of the home, frantically searching, calling his name. There was no sign of the Doctor.

Standing under an ancient oak tree alongside the house, using it as protection from the intense heat, Donna could only look on helplessly, unsure of what else she could do.

“My God, Doctor, what have you done?” She said out loud, leaning against a tree, placing her forehead against the rough bark.

“Oh, nothing much.” Came a voice from above her. “Just blew up a perfectly good house, and sent Legion and its master back to the world between realities, where they belong. Not to mention having to jump from a window into a tree to escape being blown up. Meh,” the Doctor said, “just your typical day for me, really.”

“Doctor! You're alright!” Donna called out joyfully, peering up at the face of the Doctor, who was grinning at her from a tree branch above her head.

“Hello, Donna!” He waved. Donna stood back as the Doctor carefully dropped to the floor. He gave her a big hug and stepped back, all smiles. From far off, they could hear fire and ambulance sirens coming up the valley road. “Thank you.” he said sincerely, “I knew you'd come though for me.”

“What did I do, anyway?” she asked him, as they headed back to the TARDIS. Thankfully, the doors faced away from the burning garage, so there was no danger of getting burned exiting or entering. The Doctor assured her that his ship was indeed fireproof.

“Oh, that little switch I asked you to trigger, reversed the polarity of the helmick regulator, allowing a tiny amount of the TARDIS' residual vortex energy to bleed through, and then the emergency protocols took over, and sent that energy up into the storm. I used the sonic to resonate the molecular structure of the subsoil beneath the house. This in turn, attracted the vortex particles unleashed in the storm, generating a super-charged, timey-wimey powered thunderbolt...which just happened to....” The Doctor paused as it dawned on him that Donna looked slightly guilty. “You forgot my instructions, didn't you?”

“Only for a minute. Or two. Sorry.” She admitted.

“No worries.” The Doctor shrugged. “You're only human, Donna. Which, I might add, before you slap me, is a compliment. Now,” he said, as he unlocked the TARDIS door, “Where to?”

“I do believe I said the words, 'French Rivera' a while ago, Doctor.” Donna nudged him. “And if we end up on the South Pole, I really am gonna' slap you. Twice.”

The End

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