Dr. Who - BBC New Series 28 (20 page)

No, I’m getting away from Ireland as soon as possible. I don’t want to be tied to anything here!’

It was as if someone had ripped everything out of him that mattered and walked all over it.

You’re not the first person to fall in love and be rejected, he told himself rationally.

But he didn’t want to be rational. What was rational about being in love anyway? What was rational about offering yourself up to someone only to be squashed?

And here he was, lost and alone. Everyone had said she wasn’t interested. Everyone had tried to say he was wasting his time. But when you’re in love, you grasp at anything, you believe that one day you’ll wake up and they’ll say, ‘You know what, I’m wrong, you’re right, you are the person for me.’

But that hadn’t happened.

It never happened.

Instead he’d seen the lightning ripping across the night sky as he stumbled along the road, tears mixing with the rain, thinking that all he wanted to do was be home now.

Home.

Ten minutes’ walk, max.

More lightning. Blue, white and purple… Purple?

It struck the ground in front of him, knocking him backwards.

He remembered seeing the little box with the ring vanishing in a sudden conflagration, literally and metaphorically drawing a line under that part of his life.

He felt as if he were on fire, too. All he could see was purple light, surrounding him now, blotting out the

hedges, blotting out the road, the darkness, the rain.

And then the voice. All around. In his head. Coming from the sky and his heart at the same time.

‘It is your time. Callum Fitzhaugh is no longer relevant. Now you have a greater cause.’

The voice stayed with him long after the purple fire had gone, over days and weeks as he willingly gave himself a new purpose.

The next morning he touched the keypad on a cashpoint machine and it spurted out two hundred pounds.

Eight more cashpoints that morning. Then more in different towns. Then he set up an account. He manipulated the online banking, untraceable movements because he fed figures into the computers that erased all traces of his actions.

Within three weeks, he was a multimillionaire. He had buildings all over the world. He owned companies which he then closed or merged and, within a month, MorganTech had come into existence due to the manipulating influence of the voice in his mind that told him how to do it.

Next he had put together the computer system that would change his destiny. Somehow the voice guided him as he built Madam Delphi, felt that voice in his head transfer into the hardware, somehow, creating artificial life on a scale unheard of before now.

‘I need you,’ the voice had soothed. ‘Now and for ever.

I need a human interface, a connection to the world of flesh and blood. An avatar in reality.’

So Dara Morgan had been created.

He remembered coming from a rich family of bankers and investment traders. His parents died in a private plane crash, and MorganTech had passed to him when he was just 21.

He remembered more false memories, events, people, qualifications and parties. None of them real, but each time he imagined a part of the fictional history, it came true. The voice showed him how a society that relied on computers for information, that no longer used paper and ink to keep records, could so easily be manipulated in accepting the history, the lies, the fabrications you told it via the keyboard were true.

He remembered the voice telling him how to develop the M-TEK over a few years, so that the market would trust in it. Trust in MorganTech. This was a long game.

And he remembered seeing her in a street in Dubai one afternoon.

She was with a couple of men, going through a sheaf of documents in a roadside café.

He had listened as the men had explained that they needed to think about whatever deal they were doing and moved away. Then he went to sit beside her.

She looked up, initially intrigued, then surprised and then shocked. Eventually she found her voice. ‘Cal?’

‘Not now,’ he said. ‘Dara Morgan.’

She laughed, a soft, gorgeous, beautiful laugh that brought back all that love he’d felt years earlier.

But the voice in his head hissed, ‘No. Remember the ring. Remember the tears and the pain. Do not give in now, Dara Morgan.’

‘You do look like him, Cal,’ she said. ‘What brings you to Dubai?’

‘Mandragora will swallow the skies,’ he said. ‘Let me show you, Cait.’

He took her hand, and her eyes flashed with violet Mandragora energy. Then she had opened the folders she had been going over with the businessmen earlier. ‘Sign here please, Mr Morgan.’ And he did, because the voice told him to.

Within an hour, MorganTech owned a chain of five-star hotels across the world, and Caitlin had become his first convert.

With a gasp, the Doctor pulled away from Dara Morgan, who immediately collapsed to the floor.

The whole thing had taken less than a second in real time but, to the Doctor, it had seemed like for ever.

He staggered away from Dara Morgan as the rest of the Mandrogara-influenced group turned on him, arms raised, ready to deliver the death blast.

‘No!’ Madam Delphi’s sine waves were bouncing up and down on her screens. ‘No, I need that body. It’s why I have waited these long centuries for the Doctor to present himself. The last of the Time Lords, possessed by Mandragora Helix energy, animated by me!’

The disciples lowered their arms.

And little Joe Carnes wrestled away from his brother and ran to the Doctor. ‘No,’ he yelled. ‘Leave him alone.’

Lukas was at his side in a second, and then Donna and Wilf were there, too.

They stood between him and the Mandragora-possessed computer.

‘Yes, thank you all,’ the Doctor said. ‘But not really necessary.’ He smiled at Madam Delphi. ‘So what a lot of choices. Kids no one would take seriously, an old man with a heart condition who could drop dead at a moment’s notice, his friend Henrietta, an expert on the stars…’

He threw a look behind them all, a look only observed by Donna.

Henrietta Goodhart was still by the door, as if trying to make sense of what was going on.

The Doctor was looking at her with a mixture of sadness and… what was that, Donna wondered. Panic?

Desperation? As if he were willing her to say or do something?

But it was no good. Netty wasn’t with them at the moment.

‘The lights are on, but no one’s driving.’ The sort of thing Donna could imagine her mother saying. A horrible phrase, but one Donna couldn’t disagree with right now.

And it was as if the Doctor thought Netty had let him down, somehow.

‘Donna,’ the Doctor hissed. ‘Your mobile. Now.’

She pushed it into his hand and, keeping an eye on Madam Delphi, he expertly scrolled through her address book.

‘Donna?’

‘Yes?’

‘Why isn’t your granddad’s number in here?’

‘Cos he never turns the bloody thing on. What’s the point?’

‘Oh great. Thanks.’

‘Why are you ringing him? He’s standing here.’

‘His phone is in Essex. I need to call it.’

Donna closed her eyes, imagining her fingers on the keypad and hissed the numbers at him. As she said each number, he pressed the key. When he heard the call go through, he hung up.

‘I hope you’re right, cos if you’re not…’

‘Someone just got a strange call?’

‘And the world will end. But hey-ho, it’s been fun.’ He passed the phone back to her.

‘You won’t get him,’ her grandfather was saying to the computer. ‘This man is brilliant, he’s saved this planet, the whole universe, probably, more times than we’ve had hot dinners. You’ll have to go through us to get him!’

God bless Granddad, but Donna seriously doubted that was going to stop Madam Delphi. The Doctor needed something from Netty, Donna was sure of that. So he needed to be bought time.

‘You want a body to inhabit that’s been round the galaxy, lady,’ she said, ‘take mine. Oh, I might not have two hearts or hair that defies fashion, but this body’s seen a bit of outer space action.’ She pushed the Doctor right behind them now, so he was closer to Netty.

Madam Delphi’s screens pulsed again. ‘Noble by name, noble by nature, is it?’

‘Oh, like I haven’t heard that before. One night when Neal Bailey decided to get frisky at the Odeon, he muttered in my ear, “Now cracks a noble tart, how about a good night sweet Donna.” I clumped him one where it

hurts and walked out. Mind you, I reckoned he knew his Shakespeare and should’ve got Brownie points for originality. My dad didn’t agree and bopped him on the nose down the pub the next week.’ Donna smiled sweetly at the computer. ‘Ever had a bloke come on to you? No, course you haven’t, cos you’re all electrics and wires and stuff. All alone, aintcha? That why you’re doing all this, is it? Looking for love? Should’ve gone for the Lonely Hearts angle, instead of the astrology bit.’

Wilf tugged his granddaughter’s arm. ‘You’ll make it cross.’

‘Really, Granddad? That had never occurred to me.’

She winked at him. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

Madam Delphi pulsed angrily. ‘Wish I could get my head around why the Doctor always surrounds himself with silly humans. I mean, what purpose do you serve?

Other than sacrificial lambs. How many travelled in his TARDIS before you, Donna Noble? And what happened to them? I mean, you reckon you’re going to travel with him for ever. You think you’re the first to believe that?

Course you’re not. But you’re here and they’re not.

Wonder what happened to all of them, then?’

Donna wasn’t going to let this get under her skin –mainly cos that was a question she’d asked the Doctor before and she’d been more than satisfied with his response.

But it clearly struck a chord with her granddad.

‘Sweetheart, that’s a good question.’

‘Really, it’s not right now, is it?’ she snapped back.

‘Is there a churchyard with tombstones, all lined up

with their names on them, d’you think, Donna?’ said Madam Delphi. ‘Got a plot of land saved for you, has he?’

‘Maybe,’ Donna replied. ‘I don’t much care, to be honest. I live for the here and now. And right here, right now, all I can be bothered to worry about is stopping you and your little army of zombies here.’

‘Destroy them,’ Madam Delphi said, so matter-of-factly, so casually, that it took Donna a second for it to sink in.

But sink in it did when the disciples, as one, raised their arms, ready to fire their bolts of energy.

Nothing happened.

‘Destroy them!’ shrieked the computer.

Still nothing happened.

‘Destroy him,’ Madam Delphi demanded, but the disciples did nothing except frown and look around themselves in surprise. It was as if they’d just awoken from a dream.

‘Ah,’ said the Doctor, ‘that’ll be me. Well, actually if I’m being honest, it’ll be a lovely lady called Miss Oladini – never got her first name, very rude of me. Anyway, she’s just knocked your alignment off a bit, cancelled out all the power you have over the descendents of San Martino, en masse.
Clos
,
kaput
.’

‘
Finito
,’ Donna said in a cod Italian accent.

‘And that’s not all!’

Donna looked to her left. Dara Morgan was standing to one side, a laptop in his hands, his fingers flying over the keys as he typed one-handed. ‘I’ve sent out a cancellation signal via the net to the M-TEKs everywhere. As soon as

they are synched with computers, instead of downloading your orders, they’ll install a virus, which will defrag the platform, and erase their memories completely.’ Dara Morgan tapped the return key one last time. ‘And I’ve password protected it.’

‘I’m a megalomaniac supercomputer, linked to billions of electronic outlets throughout the world, you silly little man. You really think you’ve stopped me? I’m disappointed in you, Dara Morgan.’

Dara Morgan shrugged. ‘Stopped you for good? Doubt it, but I’ve certainly slowed you down, so the signal won’t be activated in ten minutes. Probably not for a few days now – plenty of time for the Doctor to stop you.’ Dara Morgan smiled. ‘And my name is Callum Fitzhaugh.’

A deep electronic sigh came from Madam Delphi.

‘Caitlin?’

And the Irish girl, Callum’s beloved who had rejected him nearly ten years before, drew her revolver from her waistband and raised it.

‘Caitlin, don’t,’ Callum yelled. ‘Fight the Mandragora influence. Remember who you really are!’

Caitlin frowned. ‘Cal?’

‘Yes, it’s me!’

Caitlin shrugged. ‘Never liked you then, don’t much like you now.’

And she fired one bullet that went through Callum Fitzhaugh’s brain and out the other side.

He was dead before he hit the carpeted floor.

The newly awoken disciples screamed and yelled in confusion and started to run out of the room.

‘Go with them,’ Donna hissed to the Carnes boys. ‘Get out of here – Lukas, you get Joe home. Don’t stop running till you get there.’ She turned to Wilf. ‘You too.’

‘Blow that, Donna my girl. I’m too old to run and I’m here with you to the end. Told your father I’d look after you, and by God I will.’

It occurred to Donna that the Caitlin woman could have opened fire by now, so she looked to see what she was doing. She had placed the gun on the desktop and now sat facing Madam Delphi’s screens.

The Doctor walked past Donna, almost incidentally easing Netty into Wilf’s arms, muttering, ‘Hold her tight, Wilf. Like your life depends on it.’ He then crouched down beside Caitlin, snaking his hand out for the gun.