InsidersEpisode 3 |
|
|---|
It hardly seemed possible to fall asleep in such danger, but Sarah Jane was still feeling the effects of the sedative, and with her body paralyzed from the succinylcholine, she drifted back to the dark sea of confusion that she had known before.
She came back much later, and she knew from the throbbing under the floor of the TARDIS that they were traveling. Liz Shaw, she realized, had exited safely, believing that all was well, and so that thin veil of human protection was gone, taking with it the other young woman. But the Doctor---was he still alive and aware inside his own body? When he had been untouched and Sarah Jane had been invaded, he and Liz had given her only two minutes before the parasite---whatever it was---would take her over. How long would it take the parasite to take him over, and what did that mean?
She used her eyes to scan the room, and she saw with a slight shock that he was at her head, looking down at her. She met his eyes with hers, and she also noted that he had set up an IV drip. No doubt he was maintaining a slow supply of either the paralyzing agent or the numbing sedative.
"We normally enter those who have just died," he said to her. "But now I understand human cell chemistry better. It's advantageous to enter before the person is dead. We can use that life energy, suppressed, to maintain the body, so that we can enjoy it longer." He rested two fingers on the very center of her forehead and carefully rubbed the spot in a slow circle against her skin. "But there is far more to understand about you, and he has a vast laboratory here."
With the back of his hand, he stroked her cheek, and then he produced an empty syringe from his jacket pocket, intending, she realized, to take a sample of her blood. He would have simply taken it from her neck, the readiest source of her blood to his uneducated understanding.
He reached forward with the syringe, but his hands were trembling more severely, and the trembling increased violently as he would have pressed the needle to its target. She couldn't move, and so she could only watch his face. He was surprised at his body's refusal to obey him. Clearly against his will, his arms flexed back, withdrawing his shaking hands from her neck. He strained against this, but the arms slowly but relentlessly retracted from her.
"You can't keep this up," he gasped, but not to her. "I can keep her here for weeks. Are you going to fight me for that long? I'll exhaust you."
But sweat broke out on his forehead, and his arms would not extend to her. The syringe dropped from his fingers. He leaned forward, not far, but sharply, as though his stomach cramped.
"All right," he gasped. "So you can learn, too. But I'll deal with you."
As he backed away from her, his trembling became much less, and he was able to stand up straight again. Clearly, the Doctor was fighting him, and with precision, letting him have his way with anything except Sarah Jane herself. She took a deep breath, for suddenly she felt the presence of the Doctor more clearly than if he had spoken to her from his prison.
"We'll see," he said, but again not to her. He strode away, and she heard the door open and close. She took in another breath and made herself refrain from shedding tears, at least until she could move well enough to lift her head. If the Doctor was fighting him, then she had to fight him, too, even though she was paralyzed. A mental battle, a battle to out think him.
She had to take stock of her strengths. What could she do? How potent was the solution going into her? When the Doctor and Liz Shaw had intubated her, they had administered the drug to prevent a gag reflex and allow the ventilation tube, fearing that the shut down of her immune system would stop her ability to get oxygen from the air. Was the parasite's administration based on their method? She clenched her eyelids closed and opened them. She took a deep breath and exhaled it. She tried to make a fist with her right hand. It didn't work, not very well.
The drip was running into her left hand. But now she was more aware of the pressure of the tap into the back of her hand. She had not felt that before. Surely, some of the effect of the drug combination had made this monster think she was under a deeper paralysis than might be maintained by a single drug alone.
She grit her teeth, suddenly realized that she could grit her teeth again, and flexed her left hand. She could not bring her fingers together into a complete fist, but a manic stinging in the back of the hand told her that she was stressing the point of insertion of the drip tap. That was something.
She took another deep breath, calmed her mind, and flexed the fist, trying to push it forward. It moved less than a quarter of an inch, but the muscles tightened at her will, and that was encouraging.
She was suddenly dizzy. The chemicals had other effects that she had not yet negotiated. She rested and unexpectedly slipped into a long doze again. When she woke again, she was hungry. Her facial muscles had more sensation. The bag was still dripping at a slow rate into her hand. But the fluid level was low. He would be back soon.
She grit her teeth and flexed her left fist again. She flexed it forward, and the stinging was much more severe as she slowly bent it so that the needle point of the tap was eased out of her flesh. There came a point where the pain brought tears to her eyes, but she could not move her hand any further forward. The drugs were still influencing her, restricting her ability to move at her own will.
She heard the door open. "Now he's subdued," the parasite said through the Doctor.
Sarah Jane tried to say that she was hungry, but the finer motor skills of using her lips were still impossible to her. He noticed the bag, hanging limply on its hook over her, and abruptly strode to the wall. She heard him pull a door open, a cupboard built into the wall.
He came back to her, a clear bag of water in his hands. "I was imprisoned in here for three years," he said. "I know every inch of this room, and every function of that control panel."
He would have lifted the draining bag to exchange it for the full one, but suddenly his hands began trembling again, violently. This, once again, startled him, and now it infuriated him. She realized that, whatever he had done while absent from the room, he had thought it had successfully terminated the Doctor's interference. And the Doctor had fooled him. Good for you, Doctor! She thought.
"No!" he exclaimed. "I set up the bag before. It's nothing! Be still!" In part, he was successful at mastering himself. He flipped the draining bag off of its hook, and Sarah could not resist a sound of pain as it fell to the floor and the tube pulled at the tap in her hand. But the tap was further dislodged from its insertion depth. And the tape that held it in place was pulled loose.
He tried to hang up the full bag, but the renewed trembling of his hands would not allow him to do so. It was a long struggle, and he was very determined. But in the end, he could not lift his shaking hands high enough to hang up the bag.
"She's going to suffer anyway. If she fights, I'll hurt her. This protects her!" he exclaimed. "It prevents her from fighting me!" But the trembling became more and more pronounced, and his arms retracted at the elbows. He finally dropped the full bag, unable to keep hold of it.
"Do you want to see me hurt her? I will! I'll make her pay for your defiance!" And he lurched towards her and would have simply slammed himself onto her with his forearms, but his legs faltered, and he doubled over again in pain.
This bout of pain was quite severe. "Stop! Stop! All right!" he exclaimed. He slowly went to the floor, out of the line of her vision. But as his breathing became more regular, she realized that the Doctor had let up on the pain. What did it cost the Doctor, she wondered, to inflict pain like this on his own body? Surely, he felt it, too.
"You kept me in here for three years," he said. "Drove me from the home that was rightfully mine. She killed herself! What kind of a barbaric race brings back the dead! The dead belong to me! To us! And you imprisoned me in her! I didn't commit a crime! That female was dead!"
He was panting, still too weak to stand.
"Yes," he said out loud. "This one's alive. She'll live for as long as I say. She'll pay me back for my three years. I'll beat you down yet, and when I'm good and ready, I'll take her for myself if you make me. I don't have to stay inside of you. I'll enter her. I'll bring her to the point of death and have my way with her."
She heard him struggle to his feet. "We'll just see. I know lots of places where humans can die slowly. It won't be difficult."
She heard the door close as he staggered out. She realized that, at first, very slight movements had been the only possible movements for her, but now it felt probable that she would do better by using large muscles rather than delicate muscles. And all she really needed to dislodge that tap was a good roll away from it. She might be able to pull against the weight of the bag on the floor now that the tape was loosened. She took a deep breath and tried to roll to her side. She moved so little that she gave it up. To jerk her hand free of the insertion tap, she would have to move suddenly.
She experimented with rocking on her hips. In a few minutes, she got the rhythm of how she would have to roll, and she rocked back and forth to build up momentum. She rested, and then she experimented with rocking again. After a few more sets of this exercise, she felt able to do a good roll. She built up her momentum, and then she rolled abruptly away from the bag and tube, keeping her left hand steady and flexed. The sharp tap slipped from her flesh. She groaned with pain as it jerkily slipped out, and she realized that she could move her lips and jaw slightly more. She came to rest awkwardly, almost on her face, but not completely face down. Most of her weight was resting on her right shoulder, right hip, and her forehead.
But lifting herself would be impossible. If he came back, he would easily overpower her.
But only if he overpowers the Doctor first, she thought. The Doctor's helping me all he can. I've got to work with him. He wants me to escape, too.
Dizziness, a new nausea, and hunger washed over her. She couldn't bring up her knees to ease the stomach cramps. But she panted quickly, filling herself with oxygen, until the nausea subsided again and her vision cleared.
He can starve me in here if he locks me in, she thought. But then she pushed that thought away with another that was more optimistic: There are bags of water in the cupboard. I can survive in here, at least for a while.
She suddenly feared that he would enter again and see what she was attempting. But then she pushed the fear back. If he came, he came.
She waited, breathing deeply and slowly, forcing herself to exhale each breath completely before slowly drawing in the next. She focused her mind on her feet.
It's like that transcendental stuff I tried, she thought. You've got to picture the air going all the way down, carrying the energy.
Her mind was instantly transported back to the lanky young man, his dark black hair pulled back into a pony tail, his long white shirt hanging like a tunic from his thin frame. "The universe must breathe through you. Breathe through you. Bre-e-e-e-athe thro-o-o-o-o-ugh you."
She had thought him full of rubbish and marijuana at the time, but now she tried the concept.
Let the universe breathe through me---the quiet, silent, breathing universe. Join my breathing to the breathing of the universe, so that I am breathed.
Whether or not there were any factual truth in her thinking, it calmed her, and she was able to focus on her feet again. She tried several times before she felt any assurance that she could actually wiggle her toes.
It was time for a more daring effort. She rocked at the hips again and then rolled off the stretcher, getting her feet under her as she slid off.
This plan did not work quite so well as she had hoped. She did get her feet under her, but her legs could not support her, and her hands were useless at grabbing hold of anything to slow her. The result was a fall to the floor that knocked the wind out of her and bruised her side and left shoulder.
She took the pain as a setback, a sign of her body's stubborn helplessness. The fall even hurt her feelings slightly. But the pain was also a good sign. She was coming back.
She had first supposed that the IV had been feeding the paralyzing agent to her, but now that another wave of doziness swirled her mind and vision, she realized that it had been something to make her sleepy, a sedative.
She was helpless as her dozing overtook her. With her face down on her arm, she dozed off. When she came around, she was dry mouthed, even more hungry, and now very thirsty. It panicked her. She had to get to water. She could not stand even then. And she had no idea how much time had passed since she had fallen. She rocked her hips and upper legs and succeeded in lifting herself to hands and knees.
Laboriously and unsteadily, she crawled towards the open cupboard in the wall. Her mouth was so dry that her throat felt like it was closing. Her sinuses were dry, and her eyes were dry and burning. This dryness, she thought, was likely an after effect of one of the drugs.
She toppled over a couple times before she reached the wall. And she had to make several attempts before she could reach her right hand up to the lowest shelf of the cupboard. The cupboard was built right into the wall, its door still hanging open, and so there was no danger of pulling anything onto herself.
She gripped the shelf and tried to lift herself, but her legs would simply not bear her weight. Just when she would half rise, her sense of balance would defeat her, and she would topple back. She became frantic, and she made several attempts to pull herself up, but each time she fell. Finally, she was too bruised to try again.
She crawled back from the cupboard and sat down, then looked at it to see how difficult it would be to reach one of the bags of water.
The sight was not encouraging. The bags were stored three shelves up. She would have to stand full length to get them, and she knew that she could not do this.
In spite of the dryness and thirst that was now torturing her, she gave herself over to tears. And yet, again, just when she seemed too miserable to fall asleep, the insistent dozing overtook her. She had to put her head down to the floor before she dropped over, and within a moment, she was swirling away. The transcendental meditation teacher was talking to her, but she couldn't understand him. He had a magic lamp in his hand, like Aladdin's lamp, and he was trying to explain that if she only knew the right words to say, the lamp would pour out an inexhaustible supply of water to her.
But she must have at least thought the correct words, for suddenly the lamp tilted up in front of her, and she tasted cool, clear water. She swallowed, and the first swallow was painful as her dry throat came together, and then there was only the moistness of it, deeply into her cells, washing the nausea out of her stomach, washing away the burning of her eyes. She drank and drank.
Now, she thought, I can let the universe breathe through me. You need water so it doesn't dry you out. I can breathe like he said. It's all a perfect flow.
These seemed like the greatest, wisest words she had ever known, and she knew that she must ponder them very deeply.
But instead she opened her eyes. She felt a hand at rest alongside her head, and she realized that she was lying with her head cradled in the crook of an arm, and one of the water bags had been torn at a corner so that it formed a narrow tube that allowed water into her mouth.
She jerked her head away, and the stream of water spilled down her neck.
The hand around her head started slightly as somebody woke up, and then the Doctor quickly pushed aside the water bag. He grasped it together at the top corner and lifted it away. Then he looked down at her.
She was still too weak to fight or even run, but she felt a moment's uncertainty. His hands were not trembling. Had the parasite won out, or had the Doctor won out?
"He's gone dormant inside me," the timelord said. "He's been learning things about me, and now he's gone dormant."
"Who are you?" she asked in a small voice.
"I am the Doctor, Sarah Jane." His big hand passed across her forehead, a gentle caress. "He's winning, slowly but surely. When I invited him in, I was fully open to him. He understood more about me than I thought his species could do."
"What are you going to do?"
"Unless somebody intervenes, I'm going to come under his full control."
"But you said he's dormant."
His eyes were weary. "Yes. It was my trick, you see: go dormant inside him so that he thought he had full control over me, and then suddenly lash out with all my will and try to take control again. It worked for short periods. I stopped him from hurting you, anyway."
She nodded. His eyes were still grim, and he looked unhappy and defeated. "So now it's what he's doing to me. He's started to block off pieces of my memory. I fought him there, too, but I'm losing. I can't navigate the TARDIS. I don't remember how to operate the navigation system."
"We're trapped?"
"I must get you out of here."
She became more alarmed---for his sake. "And then what?"
"I'll go completely dormant, once you're out of harm's way. I'll let him have full reign, but I'll close off my own mind from him. Eventually, he may become weary and come to terms with me."
"He'll just escape you, and once you leave the TARDIS, he'll re-enter you again."
The Doctor shook his head. "He cannot leave me unless I let him, or unless I die." His eyes were rueful. "And I won't let him leave me. He's a danger, now. I kept him imprisoned for three years, and he's become a malevolent, vengeful creature." But he passed his hand across her forehead again. "You must be protected from him. If he becomes frustrated enough, he'll seize you for himself, using my body. Eventually, he might be able to finish me off and then cause you enough harm to put you into a state where he could take you."
She realized what he was saying. "So as long as I'm here, he really can't lose."
His eyes were sober, and he did not directly answer this obvious conclusion. "As long as you're here, you cannot be made safe from him. But I cannot get you off the TARDIS. Can you sit up, now?"
He helped her, and she was able to sit up. She had regained her sense of balance, and her strength was better.
"This is all my fault---" she began.
For the first time, his impatience showed. "All right, then. We have to figure out what to do now!" And his voice was gruff. "There may be a place in the TARDIS where you can fortify yourself against attack. Where he won't be able to get you. Or perhaps I can lock myself away."
"How long will he stay dormant?"
"I've no idea. Oh!" And his face suddenly registered surprise. "He's coming back." An idea seemed to strike him. "Look, my body fights infection in a rather strange way. I can put myself out---unconscious. Like a coma. Get away from here. Hide in the TARDIS. And if you can get out the doors to a safe place---go!"
"But how long will you go unconscious?" she asked.
"Sarah Jane, for once just do as I say!" A sudden tremor ran through him, and Sarah Jane jumped to her feet, for she knew what that tremor meant. For an instant, his eyes became the eyes of her enemy, and then surprise registered on his face, and then he simply slumped down, unconscious.
"Doctor!" she exclaimed. But the Doctor did not respond. She started to kneel down to check him, but then she stopped. If the parasite should have control of him, it would be madness to get within its reach. And she really could not help him in this struggle.
The timelord's body remained slumped and still, his eyes closed, his face relaxed. She backed away from him, found that her legs were steady enough, and then she slipped out of the room.
She did not know if he would revive quickly, and there was a fear in her mind that the parasite would force him awake, and then the pursuit of her would begin. She had traveled in the TARDIS, and she knew where the Doctor's stores were kept. Quickly, she ran to the pantries, found a rucksack that was kept hanging nearby, and began stuffing it with ration packs and cartridges of water. She wanted to be able to hide for long periods, and her one bout of thirst had warned her that being prepared would be crucial to winning.
She filled the sack until it was just heavy enough so that she could still manage it. She slung it over one shoulder.
Sarah Jane came out into the main corridor, and she considered the best place to hide. Suddenly she heard the last thing that she expected: the sound of the TARDIS doors opening. The hope of a dash to freedom pushed her forward, but then she made herself become cautious. He might be out there, waiting for her, enticing her with the sound of a promise of freedom.
She crept up the corridor, all the way to the arched doorway that led to the control room, and peered around the interior. The doors were, indeed, open. A whiff of fresh but dry and warm air reached her, and she saw a vista of dull rock before her. In the distance, a long, low ridge arched up, almost like a great ramp. It ran out of her line of vision, blocked by the framework of the doorway.
But the interior of the control room appeared to be empty. Sarah Jane cautiously stepped forward, keeping one hand tight on the shoulder strap of the rucksack. Nothing disturbed her, and nothing blocked her way.
The scene outside the doorway did not seem hostile, though it was not an especially inviting sight. The atmosphere of the place was rather reddish, like earth during a sunset, but only a very florid sunset, the kind that a person would see only once or twice in a lifetime.
She sniffed the air as it traversed the front room. It was dry, and very faintly acrid. She crept forward, still listening.
At last she reached the doors, and she paused. She considered her options. Had the Doctor exited the TARDIS? If so, would he be bringing back something positively dreadful to do the parasite's will?
But just then, from the back rooms of the TARDIS, a long, drawn out scream cut the silence. It froze her in place for a moment. It was the Doctor. He was still back there, resisting the thing, but now agonized by it.
The scream was repeated, even more drawn out, and then his voice cried out, "Sarah Jane! Run! Hide!" And he cried out again in pain, and this scream was abruptly cut short.
To her horror and amazement, a great, shimmering light seeped into the corridor, and it advanced towards her. The doors began to close, as though they had been set on a timer, which was now elapsed.
She would be trapped in the control room with it. Without another thought, she plunged through the closing space between the doors.
It came after her. It exited just after she did, and the doors firmly closed.
"No!" she exclaimed. She turned back and tried to open them, then pounded on them. The TARDIS began its familiar noise of straining drive engines and power build up. It suddenly disappeared, leaving her on the barren landscape with the shimmering parasite.
Click here to go to Episode four
Click here to go back to Jeri's Dr. Who Fiction page
What did you think? Send me mail! Click here! or write to jeriwho@pipeline.com I live for feedback and welcome criticism on my writing and story development.