The Story of Martha

  But it was the screaming that truly shocked Martha. The creatures screeched in appalling agony, clutching their heads, reeling drunkenly against the icy walls.

  Another brilliant flash.

  This time, Martha’s vision had cleared enough for her to see the man who stood in the entrance of the shattered building, wrapped in heavy snow gear and wearing thick tinted goggles. In his hand was a snub-nosed black tube that he aimed at the nearest creature. He fired. A flash of bluish light spat from the smoking muzzle. The creature’s body twitched rigid, its skin flaring, bubbling like a photograph burning in a flame, then crashed to the ground, utterly senseless.

  ‘Don’t just stand there,’ the man’s voice barked. ‘They’ll be up in about thirty seconds!’

  The Doctor grasped Martha’s hand and they raced after him out into the snow. As the wind began to strengthen, it whipped the snow into a whirling frenzy.

  ‘There’s a storm coming. We should get inside. My place is that way.’ The stranger gestured with a gloved hand.

  Martha could just make out a tower in the distance, only thirty metres or so tall, but rising imposingly from the desolation at the centre of the city.

  As they drew nearer, Martha spotted a light at the top of the tower, pulsing slowly and regularly, like it was keeping time with a heartbeat. It’s a lighthouse, she thought, it’s a stupid lighthouse!

  Moments later, they rushed into the base of the tower. The stranger wheeled round and slammed a heavy metal door behind them. Inside it was cool and dark as a cave, but the relief from the wind was welcome. A shaft of light skewered the centre of the room from a tightly curved stairwell, and for a moment that was all that Martha could see. And, then, her eyes began to adjust.

  Brushing the snow off his clothes, the man pulled back his hood and tore off his goggles. He was the oldest man Martha had ever seen. His face was gaunt with tissue-thin skin hanging delicately from his cheekbones and the thinnest, whitest hair covering his head. But it was his eyes that shocked Martha: youthful eyes, burning full of passion, deep and beautiful.

  The Doctor took the man’s spindly hand in both of his, and shook it warmly. ‘I don’t know who you are but we – Martha and me, that’s Martha just there – we are so grateful! Thank you. I’m the Doctor, by the way.’

  ‘Hi!’ Martha gave a little wave.

  The old man just stared at them, gaping, smiling.

  Martha shuffled uncomfortably.

  The man finally spoke. ‘People? You’re actually real?’

  ‘Real as they come, that’s me!’ the Doctor laughed.

  ‘It’s a pleasure. Truly a pleasure. My name is Waechter. Please forgive my manners out there. Those things don’t take much notice of decorum. But you’ll be safe here.’

  The old man turned and began to lead the way up a set of concrete steps.

  Martha chased after him. ‘We’re really grateful, and all that. But, how did you find us?’

  ‘I knew you were coming,’ Waechter said, tapping the side of his head. ‘I knew where to find you. I’d almost lost hope. I didn’t think anybody was coming. Ever again.’

  Waechter led the Doctor and Martha up four flights of gloomy stairs to a small, dark room. The room was primitive in the extreme, lit by faintly glowing hexagonal cells strung in a zigzag across the ceiling. A narrow bed occupied one corner of the room. The walls were slick and black with mildew, and the stench was sickening.

  Waechter gestured for Martha and the Doctor to sit on the bed.

  ‘What are those creatures?’ the Doctor asked after a moment, his eyes darting round the room, taking in every last detail.

  ‘They came through the wormhole,’ Waechter said. ‘At least, that was the commonly held belief. At the beginning. There’s no one left to hold any kind of belief now. Except me. One by one my people vanished. Gone. All of them. Those things took them.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Martha whispered.

  Waechter dragged a wooden chair over to the edge of the bed and sat down, his joints creaking. ‘You’re lucky I knew you were out there,’ he continued, ‘or they’d have had you too!’ He waved the snub-nosed black tube. ‘They steer clear of me, by and large.’

  ‘So, what, you’re the… last human… on Agelaos?’ Martha said.

  ‘Mm,’ Waechter nodded. ‘I’m the guardian.’ He pointed a thin finger skywards. ‘I keep the Beacon going.’

  The Doctor catapulted off the bed. ‘The warning was you?’

  Waechter tipped his head, slightly, a thin smile etched across his face.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘It’s my job. Maintenance. Chosen by our government. Before they vanished… This beacon was set up to warn people against coming here.’

  The Doctor stopped suddenly. ‘This beacon’s ancient. Surely you haven’t been here all that time?’

  Waechter looked up at the Doctor, and then pulled down the collar of his sweater to expose his neck. Looking like it had almost grown out of his skin was a small electronic circuit. Tiny wires spread out from the circuit just under the surface of his flesh. A minute green light pulsed softly in the centre of the chip. Waechter tapped the circuit and laughed.

  ‘This stops me from dying. Holds my metabolism in check. I don’t get older. I don’t get ill. And I don’t get to leave. I’m connected to the Beacon. I can’t leave. And on bad days, this thing really messes around with my psychic ability. Like I said, this is my job. For the rest of time.’

  The Doctor put his glasses on and leaned in close to examine Waechter’s neck, squinting ever so slightly.

  ‘Aw, it’s a beautiful piece of work,’ he said. ‘Beautiful, but wrong.’

  His hand delved into his coat pocket, and he pulled out his psychic paper, flipping it open like an id card. Waechter just stared at the paper, and then turned to the Doctor.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Tell me what you see.’

  Waechter leaned in slightly, squinting at the paper. He reached out a spindly hand, taking it from the Doctor. And then Martha jumped as the old man’s body tensed, as if he was having a seizure. He cried out, a hollow and haunting moan.

  Suddenly he hurled the psychic paper away, and it slid across the dusty floor.

  Martha grabbed the Doctor’s arm. ‘What happened?’

  ‘It’s only a guess,’ the Doctor said, ‘but I think the paper bounced back his own psychic ability. Isn’t that brilliant? What did you see?’

  Waechter looked at him, his eyes cold. ‘My future.’

  ‘We can help, if you want us to?’

  Waechter peered into the Doctor’s eyes. ‘Yes. You could, couldn’t you?’

  For a moment, the Doctor felt a pang of vulnerability – Waechter had, just for a second, seen into the Time Lord’s future, seen everything.

  ‘You know what it’s like to live for ever, don’t you?’ Waechter whispered. ‘The passing of eternity with no end in sight. The comings and the goings. And the losses. But on your own it all fades somehow. You hide it away. Once, it was a struggle to forget; now it’s a struggle to remember.’

  There was a moment of silence.

  ‘You had a family once, Doctor.’

  The Doctor struggled with the memory, swallowing hard.

  ‘And now they’re lost,’ Waechter’s eyes misted over. ‘Lost to the inferno. In a lake of fire—’

  ‘That’s enough,’ the Doctor said.

  ‘Can you take me away from here?’ Waechter studied the Doctor’s face. ‘In your… ship. Take me home, to Earth. Get rid of this damn stupid thing in my neck? And just leave me by the sea. It’s been frozen here now for almost five centuries. I want to remember what it felt like – the warmth lapping against my skin. Please? Let me die.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Martha asked, as the Doctor leapt to his feet.

  ‘To help him. I’m going to look at this Beacon. Give him his life back.’ And then he was gone, bounding up the stairs and out of sight.

  Martha gently manoeuvred Waec
hter over to the bed, and sat him down.

  ‘You’re lonely too, aren’t you?’ Waechter suddenly said. ‘I don’t have to look inside your mind to know what you want. It’s plain for the entire world to see. He’s not “the one”, for what it’s worth.’

  Martha smiled gently, but her eyes betrayed the doubt she felt deep inside, ‘So you really seriously think you have, what – a gift?’

  Waechter laughed, a hoarse, rasping chuckle. ‘Oh, I’ve got a gift, all right. The only problem is, I didn’t want it. It wasn’t asked for.’

  There was a silence between them. And then he spoke, matter-of-fact, out of nowhere.

  ‘Do you want to know how you’re going to die?’

  ‘Y… yes, I do.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ His eyes penetrated deep into Martha’s soul.

  ‘No one can see the future,’ she said, a surge of panic rising in her. ‘That’s just not possible. No way. The future’s not happened yet, none of it is written. It just… happens. You’re making it up.’

  Waechter nodded sagely, looking away from Martha, and down at his hands. He rubbed his thumb across his palm, as if scratching at an annoying itch. ‘How could I see the future if it didn’t already exist?’

  Martha crossed to a tiny window, pondering, and rubbed away the condensation. She pressed her nose against the glass, craning to look down at the blasted cityscape below. Dark, twisted figures were just standing there, sheltered in doorways, staring up at the tower. And they seemed to be weeping.

  ‘What are they doing?’ she asked.

  Waechter looked round at her, ‘Maybe they’re lonely too?’

  The Doctor bowled back into the room, clapping his hands together. ‘Right, then! Allons-y! All done.’

  ‘What’s done?’ Martha asked.

  ‘A bit of jiggery pokery. Well, more jiggery than pokery. Aaaaanyway! Mr Waechter, how do you fancy going home?’

  Waechter’s face brightened, his eyes welling with tears.

  ‘I’ve disconnected the servo relay from the Beacon. You’re free.’

  Waechter bit his lip, trembling. Martha gently squeezed his shoulder.

  ‘Oh my,’ he said, at a loss for all other expression.

  Martha picked up the weapon off the bed, and handed it to the Doctor. ‘There’s a crowd of those things outside. You go first. Distract them with this. I’ll bring Waechter once the coast is clear. Meet you at the TARDIS.’

  He took the tube from her, perplexed. ‘Will it hurt them?’

  Waechter smiled. ‘Not as much as I’d like it to. Vicious brutes. It’ll sting, though. Nasty headache. No more.’

  ‘Marvellous!’ The Doctor headed for the door, stopped, and spun round on his heels, his sneakers squeaking on the floor.

  ‘Coming?’

  Seconds later, he bounded out into the storm. As he disappeared into the swirling gloom pursued by the shuffling creatures, Martha, with a gradually weakening Waechter at her side, stepped out into the snow.

  Martha was somewhere in the dark. There was a break in her memory. She remembered the Doctor stalking towards her through the storm, talking to her, and then nothing. On the other side of the break, she was looking up at the Doctor as he lifted her from her fallen position in the snow. And for now she was content to drift in and out of consciousness, knowing that she was completely safe. Even when she seemed to recall the creatures attacking, and blinding flashes of light bursting from the Doctor’s hand, she didn’t feel threatened.

  But gradually everything became clear and sharp. The Doctor had managed to drag her and Waechter steadily towards the TARDIS. Finally the rectangular blue shape emerged from the slashing snow. With a last desperate push, stumbling to her feet, Martha reached out, gratefully caressing the wooden sides of the police box. The Doctor took one final look behind him at the desolate ice floe. A series of dark, shuffling shapes emerged from the storm in the distance, their bodies crusted with ice. He tossed Waechter’s weapon over his shoulder and stepped into the ship.

  Inside at last, Martha helped Waechter up the ramp to the central console, guiding him to the two pilot’s seats.

  The old man’s head swung wildly around, taking in every detail of the cavernous expanse – the coral-like columns that seemed to grow out of the floor, and push up high into the domed ceiling; the rusted railings wrapped in padding, secured with duct tape. ‘This is… is… unbelievable,’ he stuttered.

  ‘You’ll get used to it,’ Martha said, as she sat him down.

  The Doctor stalked up to the console, throwing off his overcoat.

  ‘Last chance to say no,’ he said.

  Waechter took a deep breath, and grasped Martha’s hand.

  ‘What are you saying damn fool things like that for?’ he said. ‘You sound like you want me to change my mind.’

  The Doctor laughed, and flipped a switch upwards with an expansive gesture.

  Within seconds, the grinding and wheezing sound of the TARDIS engines filled the console room, and Waechter stared in wonder at the rising and falling of the central column.

  ‘This machine is incredible—’ he began, and then broke off as he clutched at the circuit in his neck and let out a wail of terrible pain. He crumpled to the floor, crackles of green electricity dancing and sparking around his neck and face.

  ‘He can’t die here,’ Martha shouted. ‘It shouldn’t happen here and now, like this!’

  ‘We’ve got to go back,’ the Doctor raced to the console, slamming levers down frantically.

  The TARDIS juddered and shook, and within seconds the central column stopped moving as the craft landed once more.

  ‘I thought you’d disconnected him?’ asked Martha.

  The Doctor raced over to Waechter, plucking out the sonic screwdriver. He waved it across the chip in the old man’s neck, and then examined the readings.

  ‘Oh, I’m so stupid!’ He smacked his forehead with the flat of his hand. ‘It’s a two-way mechanism. If the Beacon fails to hold him here, then the chip kicks in as a back-up. That’s so elementary. Why didn’t I think of that?’

  Martha drew the Doctor to one side. ‘Can’t you just turn it off?’

  The Doctor frowned, his face a mask of concentration. ‘It’s not that simple. That thing is hard-wired into his biology. I might kill him. No, I’ve got to be clever about this.’

  Spinning on his heels, the Doctor tore over to the console, and his hands began flashing across the dials and levers, occasionally scanning something with his sonic screwdriver.

  Martha sat down next to Waechter, holding one of his fragile, bony hands in hers. ‘Trust him,’ she said.

  Waechter looked at her. ‘I’m stuck here, aren’t I?’

  Martha shook her head. ‘He’ll find a way.’

  The Doctor suddenly leapt away from the console and ran to Waechter’s side, waving the sonic screwdriver.

  ‘You’re in the company of a genius, did you know that?’ He beamed. ‘I can jam your circuit’s link to the Beacon, and once it’s jammed I can deactivate it.’

  Waechter looked at Martha, seemingly for reassurance, and then back at the Doctor. ‘And then you can take me home?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ The Doctor leaned in close to Waechter’s neck. ‘This might sting a touch,’ he warned.

  Martha knew immediately that ‘sting a touch’ meant it would hurt like crazy, so she gripped the old man’s hand tightly.

  The buzzing blue tip of the sonic screwdriver hovered over the centre of the chip, and the surface electronics began to shimmer and vibrate. Waechter screwed his eyes up as he began to feel waves of heat pulsate out from his neck. Suddenly a shower of sparks erupted from his neck, but the Doctor kept on working, his tongue poking between his lips.

  As Martha held Waechter’s hand she began to feel it swelling in her grip, and she looked down. As she unfurled her fingers she realised in horror that she was holding not an old man’s hand, but something that resembled a claw bristling with tough, spiny hairs. She drop
ped it and backed away.

  ‘Doctor,’ she whispered.

  The Doctor looked over, following the direction of her gaze. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Now that’s not fair!’

  Waechter, his face still contorted with pain, looked at his hand. ‘What’s happening to me?’

  His face grim, the Doctor’s shoulders sagged with realisation. ‘Of course! It’s a new brain I need, Martha. This one’s getting tired! I know what’s happening!’

  Martha looked up at him, confused.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ He was bursting with energy. ‘Oh, lazy, lazy brain, Doctor! I know what this is all about.’

  Martha, frustrated, snapped, ‘What?’

  ‘It’s the curse of this planet.’ The Doctor straightened up. ‘You were wrong, Waechter. The inhabitants haven’t gone anywhere, they’ve not been murdered. They’re still here. They’ve evolved into these alien creatures.’

  Martha looked on in horror as Waechter’s arm began to twist and elongate, transforming into something horribly similar to a spider’s leg.

  The Doctor, fascinated, popped his glasses on. ‘It’s got to be the influence of the wormhole. Not only has it given the inhabitants incredible psychic powers, it’s also irradiated their bodies with who knows how many thousands of types of alien DNA that have passed through the Vortex.’

  Waechter cried out in agony, his right arm cracking and splintering as it doubled in length. ‘Please, help me!’

  ‘It’s the chip,’ the Doctor said. ‘His humanity was being held in check by the chip. That was what was stopping him from turning into one of those things. There’s got to be something I can do!’ He turned on the sonic screwdriver again, and the circuit rippled and spat sparks. ‘I can do this!’

  Waechter screamed once more, his face contorting in agony. His jaw suddenly began to mutate, distorting into two separate mandibles.

  ‘I am not one of those things!’ Waechter spat.

  ‘You’re making it worse!’ Martha shouted.

  The Doctor turned off the screwdriver. ‘No! No! No!! Why can’t I do this?’