Dr. Who - BBC New Series 25 (5 page)

‘
I have never seen a man look so angry and so sad before,’ Gopal said.

The Doctor’s eyes flickered to regard him. For a long moment he didn’t speak. Then he said, ‘I’ve seen more suffering in my life than you can possibly imagine. But that doesn’t mean it ever gets any easier. Sometimes I can’t help thinking I’ve lived too long.’

‘But you are just a young man,’ Gopal said.

The Doctor didn’t reply.

They were walking through the camp, through crowds of exhausted, emaciated people. Many were sitting around fires, talking quietly or muttering in prayer or simply staring into the flames. Some were sleeping on the open ground, using nothing but their own hands as a pillow. A few were eating, taking their time over their small

portions of food.

The Doctor felt someone tugging at his jacket. A small boy was staring up at him with big brown eyes, hand outstretched.

The Doctor crouched down. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’

If the boy was surprised to hear the Doctor speaking in his own language he didn’t show it. ‘Jivraj,’ he said shyly.

‘Right then, Jivraj,’ the Doctor said, reaching into his jacket pocket, ‘let’s see what we can find.’

He produced a satsuma and handed it to the boy. Jivraj grinned. Then he produced a pair of chattering wind-up teeth and showed Jivraj how they worked. Jivraj laughed delightfully, and ran off to show the gifts to his family.

‘There are hundreds of boys like Jivraj in this camp,’

said Gopal. ‘If only we had food for all of them.’

It took several minutes to reach the trio of medical tents that had been set up in the centre of the camp. When they arrived, Gopal asked a young Indian orderly where they could find Dr Morgan and was informed that he was in the isolation tent.

‘Isolation?’ said the Doctor.

‘A number of people have arrived at the camp this week with symptoms that are proving most mysterious.’

‘Mysterious in what way?’

When Gopal told him, the Doctor raised an eyebrow and tilted his chin back. ‘I think you’d better show me,’ he said.

Gopal led the Doctor to the tent at the end of the row, holding open the flap so that he could enter.

There was a woman in the tent, tending the sick, a well-dressed English woman in her early twenties, her chestnut hair tied in a bun. She turned to see who had entered, wafting at the flies above her head. Her eyes widened when she saw the Doctor.

‘Hello, Gopal,’ she said, though her gaze remained fixed on the Doctor, who was looking around, taking everything in. ‘Who’s your friend?’

‘This is… the Doctor,’ Gopal said.

‘Well, we can never have enough of those,’ said the woman. ‘Have you come to help us, Dr…?’

‘Just Doctor,’ the Doctor said, flashing her a smile.

‘Very mysterious,’ said the woman.

‘Like a lot of things round here.’ The Doctor nodded at the muslin partition. ‘I gather the “special” patients are through there? Mind if I take a look?’

‘Well, I… er… perhaps we ought to clear it with Edward first.’

‘Clear what with Edward?’ said a voice at the entrance of the tent.

The Doctor turned and saw a young man in a grubby doctor’s coat, who looked as if he had barely slept or eaten in days.

He sprang across, hand outstretched. ‘Dr Morgan!’ he exclaimed. ‘Pleasure to meet you! Brilliant work you’re doing! I was just saying to… er…’

‘Adelaide,’ said the young woman.

‘… to Adelaide here that I wouldn’t mind taking a quick squiz at the special patients. In fact, that’s why I’m here. Dr John Smith, Royal College of Surgeons, Rare and

Tropical Diseases Unit.’

With the hand that wasn’t vigorously shaking the bemused Dr Morgan’s, the Doctor dipped into the pocket of his jacket and produced his psychic paper, which he flashed to each of them in turn.

Gopal said, ‘You are a man of continual surprises, Dr Smith.’

‘Aren’t I just?’ said the Doctor. ‘Never hurts to keep people on their toes, that’s my motto.’

‘But… how did you find out about our patients?’

Edward asked. ‘I’ve only just…’

‘Information superhighway,’ said the Doctor quickly, and clapped his hands together. ‘Right, let’s get cracking.

Time and tide, and all that.’ He crossed to the muslin partition and reached out for it. Then abruptly he cried, ‘Ah!’ and spun back round, causing Edward, Adelaide and Gopal to jump back.

‘First things first. My friend Donna’s not here, is she?

Long red hair? Shouts a lot?’

Edward and Adelaide exchanged a glance. Both shook their heads.

‘Ah well, never mind,’ said the Doctor. ‘I’m sure she’ll turn up. Come on then. Allons-y.’

He swished through the partition before anyone could advise him to wear a face-mask. He walked along the row, looking at each of the patients in turn. Finally he whipped out his sonic screwdriver, pointed it at the nearest patient and turned it on.

‘Whatever is that device?’ asked Edward, astonished.

‘Diagnostic wand,’ said the Doctor. ‘It’s a new thing.

Still in the experimental stage. All very hush-hush, so don’t tell anyone.’

He held the sonic up and appeared to sniff it. Suddenly his face went very serious.

‘What is it?’ asked Adelaide.

‘Cellular disruption. This is very bad. There’s only one thing which can have caused this.’

‘Which is?’ asked Edward.

‘Zytron energy. But that’s impossible. It won’t be discovered on Earth for another three thousand years.’

Edward, Adelaide and Gopal all looked at each other.

Tentatively, Edward said, ‘How can you possibly—’

‘Shush,’ said the Doctor, holding up a hand. ‘I’m thinking.’ He stared into the middle distance, tapping the now silent sonic against his bottom lip. ‘So who uses unshielded zytron energy in the twentieth century?

Whoever they are, they’re not from round here.’ His gaze scorched across the confused trio standing in front of him.

‘Anything else happened recently? Any odd occurrences, strange rumours, peculiar lights in the sky?’

Adelaide said, ‘Well—’ but Edward cut her off with a scowl.

‘Let’s stick to facts, shall we, and not muddy the water with silly stories.’

The Doctor glanced at him. ‘Oh, it’s amazing how many facts you can find hidden in silly stories. Go on, Adelaide.’

A little self-consciously she said, ‘About a week ago, there were strange colours in the night sky. We all saw them – you too, Edward.’

‘Atmospheric disturbance of some kind,’ Edward said grumpily. ‘Nothing supernatural about that.’

‘Maybe,’ said the Doctor, ‘but what
caused
the disturbance, eh?’

Gopal, who had been silent for a while, said, ‘Some people say they saw a shooting star fall to earth that night.’

‘Do they?’ said the Doctor, as if this was significant.

‘What else?’

Adelaide felt uncomfortable at the inference that they were holding back. Still scowling, Edward said, ‘What you must understand about India, Dr Smith, is that these are volatile times and, for all the advances that have been made in the past few decades, the majority of the population remain poor, uneducated and highly superstitious.’

‘Thank you. I’ll bear that in mind,’ the Doctor said flatly. ‘You were saying, Adelaide?’

Adelaide wasn’t aware she had been saying anything, but under the Doctor’s scrutiny, she found herself blurting, ‘A great many people have gone missing recently, Dr Smith. Undoubtedly, most of them have fled, or have even been killed by their fellow countrymen—’

‘Their bodies are thrown into the river for the crocodiles to dispose of,’ added Gopal, earning a disapproving glance from Edward.

‘But nevertheless,’ Adelaide continued, ‘the city has recently been rife with talk of “half-made men”, who come in the night and steal people away. A lady called Apala, whom I spoke to only yesterday, is adamant that

her husband was abducted by these creatures. She claims she saw them, clear as day.’

‘Does she now?’ the Doctor murmured. Edward snorted.

‘Wild stories,’ he said. ‘Arrant nonsense.’

‘Oh yeah, bound to be,’ said the Doctor airily. ‘Even so, I wouldn’t mind a quick chinwag with Apala. I mean, without knowing that she knows, she might know something that’ll help us, and there’s no knowing without asking. Right, Gopal?’

‘Er… yes,’ Gopal said.

‘Lovely jubbly,’ said the Doctor. ‘So what are we all standing around jabbering for? Adelaide, you come with me. Edward and Gopal, you go and make people better.’

He swept out of the tent, Adelaide hurrying after him.

She could only remember roughly where Apala had set up her shelter, and it took several minutes of searching before they found her.

She was sitting crosslegged outside her lean-to, feeding a carefully swaddled baby by using her finger to scoop what looked like semolina from a small wooden bowl. Her sari, a shimmering blue edged with gold trim, might once have been grand but was now dull with wear.

Apala’s face was thinner and more angular than it should have been. Hunger had sharpened her cheekbones.

The Doctor squatted down and smiled at her. Back in the tent, his dark gaze had been unsettling, but Adelaide was now struck by how warm and gentle his smile was.

‘Hi, Apala,’ he said, ‘I’m the Doctor. What’s your daughter’s name?’ He stretched out a long index finger

and the tiny baby curled its fist around it.

The woman seemed too weary to be surprised that the Doctor was speaking her language. ‘Manu,’ she said quietly.

‘She’s beautiful,’ said the Doctor, and Apala’s face broke into a smile. In the same quiet voice he asked, ‘Will you tell me about the half-made men, Apala? About how they took your husband away?’

The smile slipped from her face, but after a moment’s hesitation she nodded. ‘My husband and I were sleeping,’

she said. ‘I heard him cry out and I came awake at once.

In the moonlight shining through the window I saw him struggling with two men. I called out his name, but before he could respond all three of them vanished, like morning mist.’

‘And what did these men look like?’

Apala raised a hand, bracelets jangling on her bony wrist, and touched her shawled head. ‘They had no hair.

And their skin was completely white, like salt.’ She shivered. ‘And where their eyes should have been, there were only shadows.’

‘Thank you,’ the Doctor said gently, ‘you’ve been a great help. And I promise you, Apala, I’ll do everything I can to get your husband back.’

He stood up.

‘What did she tell you?’ asked Adelaide.

‘Enough to make me suspect that my stay will be longer than I thought. I should have brought my jimjams.’

Just then a ripple seemed to go through the crowd, a palpable wave of excitement. One by one, people began to

stand up, to crane their necks, to point into the darkness.

The murmur rose into a buzz of chatter, which then became a chant. The chant was weak and ragged at first, but it was quickly taken up, until eventually people were clapping their hands and shouting with gusto.

‘What’s happening? What are they saying?’ Adelaide asked, looking around in puzzlement.

A slow grin was spreading across the Doctor’s face.

‘They’re saying “Bapu ki jai”. It means “Long live the Father”. Look.’

He pointed towards a moving knot of people in the centre of the crowd. Adelaide narrowed her eyes, trying to focus through the fire-lit darkness. At the head of the crowd, walking towards them, was a little, bald, bespectacled man wrapped in a simple white robe and carrying a gnarled walking stick.

‘My goodness,’ Adelaide said, clearly a little awestruck, ‘is that who I think it is?’

‘Oh yes,’ said the Doctor, his grin widening.

‘Mohandas “Mahatma” Gandhi, as I live and breathe.’

‘Wee dram, sir?’ said Captain McMahon, holding up a bottle.

Major Daker settled back into his favourite chair in the officers’ mess. ‘Don’t mind if I do, McMahon.’ He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

‘Been a tough one today, sir,’ McMahon said.

Daker grunted, removed his peaked cap and wiped sweat from his brow. ‘You’re telling me.’

McMahon poured the drinks and brought them across.

‘Your good health, sir.’

‘And yours.’

They each took a sip, reflecting on the day’s events.

For a few moments all was silent apart from the lazy swish of the ceiling fan overhead and the soft chorus of insect sounds drifting through the wire-mesh screens across the open windows.

Eventually Daker stirred and said, ‘I don’t mind telling you, McMahon, I’ve just about had it with this country.

The writing’s on the wall for the British in India now. The sooner we can all go home and leave the Indians to it, the better.’

‘Couldn’t agree more, sir,’ McMahon said. He noticed Daker wince and touch a spot behind his left ear. ‘Are you all right, sir?’

‘Touch of heatstroke,’ Daker said. ‘Either that or I’ve been bitten by something.’ He snorted. ‘Another reason for looking forward to going home, eh, McMahon? The good old British weather.’

‘Oh yes, sir,’ said McMahon. ‘Can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to the Highland rain.’

The two men chuckled. But no sooner had they raised their glasses to their lips again than the peace of the night was disturbed by shouting. Next moment they saw several men run past the window, most dressed in the British Army’s regulation nightwear of white singlets and shorts.