Happy World Book Day, One And All!

Hello again. Since it's World Book Day, I thought it was about time I posted my Doctor Who short story, The Endless Chain. It was never going to be published, as I don't know the right people (and it's a first draft) (and it's probably not very good), so here it is. I wrote it in an afternoon (specifically October 19th 2009), just to see if I could write a Doctor Who story. If you're not a sci-fi fan, or a Doctor Who fan, don't worry, you don't really need to know anything about Doctor Who except the absolute basics, the sci-fi is minimal, and there's barely any technobabble. Hardly at all. Sorry about any formatting issues; Blogger seems to undo your layout. Hmph. If you have any questions or criticism, don't be afraid to post. Enjoy (I hope):

The Endless Chain

By Ian Hewett

“Can you hear me, young man? Hmm?”

Groggily, he half opened his eyes. He knew his Ma was there, but could make out the unfamiliar silhouettes of three... no, four others, stood at the foot of his bed. Two men, two women. He could feel his throat contracting, his lungs filled with lead. It took him a minute or two to muster the strength to open his eyes fully, but to those around him, it took a visible toll.

“Tad?” His mother... his precious mother. Just hearing her voice soothed him. He had so little left now, he clung onto her love with every ounce of strength he had left in his failing body. “Tad, sweetheart, this man has come to help you.” Her voice wavered; she knew it was a lost cause, but would take any help at all were it to save her boy.

“Did you say 'Tad'?” began the older of the two strange women. “You don't mean...”

“Yes, yes, yes,” interrupted the elderly man, his silver hair catching the small amounts of sunlight that wisped through the heavy drapes. “Time for that later. Now, young man,” he continued, grasping his clammy hand, “I am the Doctor, and these are my friends Ian and Barbara, and my granddaughter, Susan.”

“English?” asked Tad, his voice a weak, raspy quiver. His mind began to drift back to a memory, his brief time the previous year in England.

“That's right,” said the other man with a smile, the one called Ian, his soothing tones a stark contrast to the Doctor's. He noticed him looking to Barbara inquisitively, as her expression of remorse was barely veiled. She seemed to know something, and was reluctant to let it go. Susan... the Doctor's granddaughter. She was about his age, it seemed, and appeared to be on the verge of tears. She had a nice face, from what he could tell, but it was hidden behind her grief. Why did they care so?

“Don't fret, young man, I will do what I can for you.” He harrumphed. His sternness reminded him of his Pa, which relaxed him no end. “I shall need to assess your symptoms. I realise, my boy, that it will be difficult for you to speak, so nod as best you can, hmm?”

Behind the Doctor, Barbara was whispering to Ian and Susan as they huddled. This unnerved him no end, a fact not lost on the old man, who started raising his voice to distract from it. “Headaches? Nausea? Sore throat? Hmm? Hot and cold flushes? Difficulty breathing? Loss of appetite?” Tad punctuated each symptom with a token nod, as instructed. “I see, I see. Well...”

“Oh, grandfather!” cried Susan, accidentally knocking a small vase of red flowers to the floor. “But he's so young!”

“What have you been telling her?” barked the Doctor to an indignant Barbara. “Can't you see what you've done? You've upset Susan, you stupid woman!” Tad coughed, a painful, needling spasm that sent shockwaves through his body. “And the boy! Take her back to the ship at once, and wait until we return.”

Barbara glared at the Doctor, then Tad, then his mother. Remorse flooded across her face. “I'm so sorry,” she said, and guided Susan out of the door, which she closed gently behind her.

“I do apologise, Madam,” offered the Doctor. “She does get a little emotional at times. Now,” he said, pulling a small, leather-bound box from within his jacket, “we shall need to take some samples. Chesterton, if you please.” He pressed a catch on the box, which flipped open, and handed it to Ian, who emptied the contents into his palm. Neither Tad nor his mother recognised what he held, and Ian tried to hide his own bemusement, but he guessed correctly that they were futuristic in origin. One of the slender objects appeared to be a variation on a syringe, but without a needle. It had small, glowing red and green lights, which he tried to conceal, and what appeared to be a miniature digital readout. He rolled another of the items around in his hand; a thin, white plastic rod, with two small flick switches. A third item was far less mysterious in its origins; a clear pill box, containing several small tablets. He didn't know what they were, but guessed that they weren't aspirin. The Doctor took the syringe, and held it briefly to Tad's arm.

Ian held the thin rod-like device up, which the Doctor identified as a sort of swab. “If you could take care of that, Chesterton. That's it, flick the lower of the switches, then take a swab inside his cheek.” He did as instructed, and what appeared to be a cotton bud emerged from the tip. Well, it certainly resembled a swab now. Sort of. Tad opened his mouth, and let Ian complete his task. “Now, the other switch, Chesterton, the other switch!” He did as he was instructed, and a small plastic bubble enveloped the swab, sealing it from the world outside.

“Oh, very clever.”

The Doctor was holding the syringe device aloft, and shaking it slightly. “Most perplexing. Most perplexing indeed.” He looked perturbed. Turning to Tad's mother, he said, “Madam, if I could have a word .” Ian was left alone with Tad in the room for several minutes. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the bedridden youth before him, not much older than the children he taught back at Coal Hill School in his own time. The Doctor had encouraged Barbara and himself to be detached from events as possible, but it was a tall order on occasion.

After what seemed an eternity, they returned, Tad's mother looking shellshocked. The Doctor's own face bore the ambivalence of a man defeated and a man determined. “I have explained everything to Mary, Mrs Lincoln,” he said solemnly, “and we must now depart.”

“That's it?” coughed Ian. “We can't just...”

“I'm afraid we must. There is nothing more we can do here today. But I have made it clear that everything possible will be done for young Thomas's sake. And, though she may not fully understand, I have also told her that... associates of mine will be along shortly. Which reminds me,” he continued, “please make a note of the exact time, Chesterton.”

“Why, it's ten past eight,” he said, spying a grandmother clock in the corner. “Doctor, which associates?”

“All in good time, my boy. Good day, Mrs Lincoln. Goodbye, young man.” He smiled a genuinely warm smile at Tad, as he led Ian through the door, and back to their travels.

The room seemed empty now. Their strange clothes, the accents, the funny little devices... surely it had been some fevered dream? Within moments, there was a knock at the door. Mary edged forward, her hands shaking, and the door was opened.

“Mrs Lincoln! How good to see you.”

Tad craned his head around to see another set of new people. He didn't feel like more visitors. He just wanted to die.

“Doctor?” she said, and he nodded. His whole demeanour was different, but something in his eyes confirmed it. “He... I mean, you... said you'd look different. I don't understand it, but my husband mentioned a man calling himself the Doctor, years ago. Said he met him a couple times, and he looked different both times... sorry, I'm rambling.”

The Doctor smiled a charismatic smile. “I don't think that's happened yet, but not to worry. As promised, here I am!” Mary glanced around at the two young people behind him. “Oh, sorry, yes, the young lady is known as Zoe, and the lad in the pretty skirt is Jamie.”

Zoe giggled, and Jamie took the joke well. The Doctor had briefed them both on the situation, and they knew they had to keep the mood light, for the boy's sake.

“More English?” rasped Tad. “We being invaded?”

“Hoi! I'll have you know I'm Scottish!” Jamie shouted.

“Hence the skirt. Anyway, this is just a quick follow-up visit to see how the lad's doing, and a couple more tests, I'm afraid.” He produced a small circular metallic device from his jacket pocket, and placed it on Tad's forehead. “I've spent some considerable time analysing the last blood sample, and it's quite baffling. Still, I'll get there... in the end.” He took another sample of blood, and removed the metallic disc from Tad's forehead.

“Doctor, how is my boy? Is he going to be okay?”

“It's too early to tell, I'm afraid. Here,” he said, “take one of these.” He produced the pill box he had seen earlier, and removed one of the tablets. “Let it dissolve on your tongue. It should ease the pain a little.” Tad did so, relieved that he didn't have to swallow. His throat still felt engorged. “Sorry it was so brief, but we do have to go now. This may take quite some time to get to the bottom of it, but hardly any time in your case.” He ushered his companions towards the door. “Oh, Zoe, make a note of the time. It's quite important.”

“Half past eight, Doctor.”

As they were halfway out of the door, the Doctor shouted back. “She's ever so good with numbers. I'll be back shortly! Goodbye!”

Mary paced the room, her hand fixed to her mouth. Her husband had let slip a small number of official secrets to her in his time, most related to national security, but some were of a more... colourful nature. He had told her of this Doctor, a man who travels through time; that on the occasions he had met him, he had a completely different appearance, but nevertheless, was absolutely the same man. Different apparel, different persona, same man. It was difficult to believe, but on having just met two of him, she had no reason to doubt it. She looked at her boy, his eyes closed, as he drifted into a restful sleep, the first he'd had in days.

* * * *

“Tad?”

He opened his eyes. For the first time in weeks, it did not hurt to do so. The light did not burn. He sat upright, and realised there was a man sat on his bed. Curly, silver hair sat immaculately atop his head, detracting from his distinguished nose. He clearly had a flair for the sartorial, elegantly dressed in a pristine velvet jacket, frilly shirt and bow tie. “Doctor?”

“That's right. Hello, Tad.” He had a warm quality about him, similar to the last Doctor but... different. “You've been asleep for an hour or two.” He had a slight speech impediment, and Tad could identify with that. His own lisp, though now suppressed, had plagued him for years.

“More tests?” Tad realised that the raspiness had faded from his voice, and his airpipe had cleared somewhat. It must have been that tablet the Doctor had given him.

The Doctor smiled. “No, old chap. I took the liberty of doing that when you were asleep. I actually wanted to have a chat with you.” Tad noticed his Ma in the corner of the room, with a short blonde woman. “Jo,” began the Doctor, “could you take Mrs Lincoln outside for a minute?” Jo nodded and smiled, leading her through the door.

“I'm not stupid, Doctor,” mumbled Tad. “I know about you. People talk around me as though I'm not here, or just a kid, but I've heard everything.”

“I know,” he replied. “It's time people started treating you like the man you are. And I'm not going to sugar-coat the truth about your illness.”

“They say it's tuberculosis, Doctor. I'm going to die.”

“Well, it's not tuberculosis, I can tell you that much, though some of the symptoms are the same.”

“But I am gonna die.”

“I'm going to do my best to make sure that doesn't happen.” He smiled, but Tad couldn't help feeling that the Doctor was trying to convince himself.

“Well, if it isn't what they think it is... what is it?”

The Doctor sighed. “I believe it's a virus of alien origin. I'm not sure where you contracted it, or how, but possibly when you were sailing back to America a couple of months ago.”

“Alien?”

“Not from Earth. From another world.”

Tad held back the tears. This was beyond belief. “I... don't quite understand. But, you're working on a cure, right?”

“That's right. I'm trying to find out its origin, to begin with. Some of its chemical compounds have a habit of shifting around, which is why I, and my predecessors, have taken blood samples each time we visit. I've needed to see how it maintains itself in your system, and... Well, suffice to say, it's a long process.”

Tad didn't understand his words. All he knew was that he was going to die, but this Doctor was doing his best. “Y'know, I wish I'd been better in school. If I understood this stuff more, I'd be less afraid. I'm just one big disappointment.”

The Doctor shifted, and rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke. “I wouldn't worry. It's never too late, you know. I was a late starter. Don't tell anyone I said that,” he grinned. “And I know it's a burden being the son of such a famous man, but it's time you stepped out of his shadow, be your own man. You're only 18 years of age. Make the rest of your life your own.”

Tad nodded, and felt slightly better. The pep-talk had made him feel positive for the first time in years. “You're right. I'm gonna try.”

“That's the spirit, old chap. Now, I really must be going. Take care.” The Doctor viewed the clock, and left the room. Shortly after, Tad's mother returned, noticing her son's posture was different, improved. He had a spark of life in his eyes, absent for so many weeks now. And was that a smile? The pair sat and waited for the next encounter. Minutes passed, until they heard booted footsteps approach.

The entire visit was a whirlwind, and over almost as soon as it had started. A tall man in a long brown coat, and even longer scarf, burst in to an accompanying loud “hello!”. His wild, wide eyes scoured the room. “My apologies for the rude entrance,” he said in rich, silky tones, “but I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'm right in the middle of a spot of bother with... ah!” He pulled a device from his coat, held it at arm's length, and rotated in a full circle on the spot. “Just have to check some of the atmospheric variables, make sure that it isn't airborne.” Returning the device to his coat, he pulled out another, and without warning, shone it directly into Tad's eyes. “Again, I do apologise, I had so looked forward to catching up with you both.” Checking the clock on his way to the door, he exited, poking his head back around the doorframe once more. “Oh,” he said, with the most charismatic toothy grin either of his speechless hosts had ever seen, “goodbye!” And he was gone.

How many of him were there? He was in the room for less than a minute, always looking like he wanted to be in three different places at once, carried out his research, and was out of their lives once more.

The next visit was a little more muted. A polite knock was followed by a tall, sandy-haired man, noticably younger than any of the previous Doctors. A warm smile, a firm handshake, and an introduction to Tegan and Nyssa.

“Why have you brought us here, Doctor?” Tegan whispered a little too loudly through gritted teeth. “We've just lost Adric. I don't want to see another kid die.”The Doctor pretended not to hear her, and hoped that his hosts hadn't heard her either.

The Doctor's smile was broad, but not enough to cover what they had just heard. “I do have some good news,” he said. “The virus isn't yet at the airborne stage of its development, so we do have some time to contain it.” He stood upright, hands in his pockets. “I also believe I've narrowed down the source of the virus to five potentials. Fingers crossed, we'll formulate a solution soon, and I'll be out of your life at last.”

“One way or another,” said Tegan under her breath, as the Doctor, stony-faced, completed his tests, “at least you can regenerate.” Nyssa hushed her friend. There was a shroud of sadness enveloping them. Having lost someone beloved of her own, Mary recognised grief wherever she saw it, but decided not to question it. Everybody has to deal with it in their own way, she thought, not noticing the Doctor holding a stick of celery under Tad's nostrils.

“Right, we'll be off. I shall be back shortly, either way,” said the Doctor.

“Take care,” answered Mary, holding his hand, a sympathetic smile at the corner of her mouth. The Doctor smiled thinly and nodded, noting the time, and led his friends from the room, thinking that his timing could have been better.

Mary and Tad both felt awkward. They had, so far, taken it for granted that the Doctor was there purely for their benefit. He was such a magnificent man, in his many forms, they had never thought he would be subject to grief and loss. But what of all those people he brings with him, different every time? How long had the Doctor been working on a solution for them exactly? They could not get their heads around the concept of moving to and fro throughout time, but there must have been years between visits from his perspective. What had happened to all of his friends? What sort of existence must it be, to outlive every single person you know, over and over?

Within minutes, a knock at the door, and another Doctor. Mary was ready to offer more sympathy, but it proved unfounded, as this new Doctor had an air of arrogance around him. Not in an overly unpleasant kind of a way; it was actually reassuring after the awkwardness of the previous visit. However, this Doctor seemed extremely self-assured.

“Hello, Mrs Lincoln. Hello, Tad. Time for another visit?” He was certainly something to behold; tight blond curls, a multi-coloured patchwork coat, and some kind of metallic pin on his lapel... it distracted from what she knew was a mammoth intellect. “This is my companion, Miss Perpugillium Brown, known as Peri.”

“Hi,” she said, “h-how're you doing?”

“An American at last,” said Tad, the raspiness creeping into the outskirts of his voice.

Peri smiled nervously. Though not famous like his father, she knew very well who Tad was from history classes. She didn't know much about him, presumably because there wasn't much to know, historically speaking, but it was an aweing experience being in the presence of a direct descendent of one of the greatest men her country had ever produced. She continued smiling, backed off slightly, and decided it would be best all around if she didn't speak.

“How are you feeling, Tad?” asked the Doctor, getting straight on with business.

“Fine, I guess,” came the reply, as the Doctor pulled a syringe device from his coat pocket. “My eyes are starting to hurt a bit,” he said, squinting at the Doctor's coat. “Throat's a little sore.”

“Yes, well, the tablet you took earlier would only have been a mild analgesic, not a cure,” said the Doctor with a knowing smile. “I believe that is exactly what I have here, though,” and without warning, injected Tad in the arm.

There was a warm, tingling sensation, followed by a prickly heat. He felt flushed, nervous. “Will this cure me, Doctor?”

“Hopefully,” he said, “providing your virus remains stable for a minute or two. It should be a very expeditious compound.” His face bore an expression of triumph.

“Doctor,” uttered Mary, “I... we just want to say thank you for all you've done. I don't know how long you've been working on this, but we both appreciate it so much.”

The Doctor waved dismissively. “Thanks aren't necessary, Madam. It's been quite an interesting little project for me. If successful,” he said, producing another device from his pocket, “I shall write a paper on it. It should make for fascinating reading.” He held the device to Tad's arm, and his expression dropped. “It's changed,” he said smally, his tone taking on a different form. “It anticipated my solution, and altered itself to fight. Clever little virus.”

“Doctor, don't you think you could be a little more... sympathetic?” said Peri from the background.

The Doctor paused. “Yes, you're right. My apologies to both of you. It does seem I was uncharacteristically rash.” He took another blood sample. “We should learn enough about the effects of what has just happened, though.” He grasped Tad's hand firmly. “I shall return. Come along, Peri!”

Peri waved nervously, a little starstruck still, as she followed the Doctor out of the room, leaving the Lincolns a little shaken. He had been so sure of himself this time around, and could barely contain his self-belief. However, he had been unsuccessful. Close, but unsuccessful. What now?

A cacophonous din permeated the wood panelling of the small room, as Mary opened the door to locate its source, and saw a short man with a young woman at his side, cradling a large rectangular box to her ear.

“Turn that off, Ace! There's a time and a place, and here and now is neither.”

“Killjoy,” she said. “Remind me why we're here again, Professor?”

“Professor?” asked Mary. “I was waiting for the Doctor...”

“Ah, yes, just my friend's little joke,” he replied. “Fear not, I am the Doctor,” he said, raising his hat. Mary smiled, and led them into the room.

“Afternoon, Tad. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he replied. “Starting to feel a little worse. But at least you're dressed a little better now.”

The Doctor offered a smile. “Tad, this is Ace.”

“Ace? Funny name,” he scoffed.

“Look who's talking, big mouth!”

“Settle down, Ace. Our young friend here has gone through quite a traumatic experience.” Mary considered this new Doctor. He appeared to have calmed down with the braggard persona, and was clearly more aloof. That fierce intelligence still burned in his eyes, masked by an affected bumbling. However, he sat on the bed with a stony countenance. “I have managed to track down those responsible for the virus, Tad. A nasty group of beings called the K'zek from the Draklin Expanse. Quite how they got the virus to Earth, or why, I'm not sure, but it would appear to be at the experimental stage.” He lowered his voice slightly. “Most likely, the staging ground for an invasion.”

Tad forced a shocked expression. He was clearly weakening, and the Doctor knew it. “They're... using me to invade?”

“In a way. Infecting people from afar, turning them into a bio-weapon, wiping out the population and leaving the planet clear to inhabit. A plan that would take hundreds of years to manifest.” Tad was on the verge of tears, and the Doctor was about to push him over. “We're in a unique position to put a stop to their plans. You could save the human race, Tad, and this world.”

Tad wept. He had never had such a burden of responsibility before.

Ace shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “But he's just a kid.”

“No, Ace. He's a hero.” The Doctor produced a vial from within his jacket, and clicked it into a syringe. “I've had time to make this little concoction from analysing all of your blood samples. This should have a devastating effect on their plans.” He leant forward. “You don't have to do this if you don't want to.”

“No... I think I need to. I've done nothing good in my life. I wanna make my Pa proud. And my Ma,” he said, holding her hand.

“I'm already proud of you. I always have been. You and your brothers. I...” Mary wept.

“Two of her other sons have already died,” whispered the Doctor to Ace. “Only Tad and Robert are left.” Ace nodded, in tears herself.

“Do it,” said Tad. The Doctor held the syringe to his arm. There was that familiar tingling feeling, elevating to a stabbing sensation. It was more intense this time. Blood pounded around his ears, and the sweat flooded his brow. Shutting his eyes tight, he felt a strange sensation, as though he was being lifted from the bed. He could still feel it underneath him, the sheets drenched. He lurched forward, embracing the Doctor. “Am I...”

“Yes.”

Tad flopped backwards onto the bed, his breath shallow, and the Doctor took one last blood sample.

“Come, Ace,” he said in a solemn voice, “we've done all we can for now.” He tipped his hat, kissed Mary's hand, and silently left the room.

* * * *

There was a timid knock at the door, and Mary reached for the handle, her hand shaking. It creaked open, revealing another Doctor, syringe in hand. He wore a short green coat, and had long, tousled brown hair, framing a face bearing a tired expression.

“Doctor,” she said, tears streaming down either cheek. “I'm afraid you're too late.” She pointed at the bed, sodden sheets covering a lifeless human form, and she broke down.

He edged forwards, and embraced her. “He was a brave young man,” he said soothingly, “and I feel honoured to have known him over so many centuries, over so many lives.”

“It's been one morning, Doctor. July fifteen, 1871.”

“It's all relative,” he offered. “I worked with him for hundreds of years, in my own timeline, returning back here at specific times based on that clock over there, once my research had progressed enough to warrant it.” He sighed. “I'm only sorry that I couldn't save him.”

Mary strolled to the window, her grief a trailing spectre, as the morning light peeled through, highlighting the dust in the air. “But, if you knew he couldn't be saved, why've you got that... thing?”

“This?” asked the Doctor, holding the syringe aloft. “This wasn't for Tad. It's a cure. For you.”

“For me?” asked a stunned Mary. “But I'm not ill...”

“For now. But you've been in direct contact with Tad for so long, I believe you've contracted the virus in its early stages. Please..?” She rolled up her sleeve, and the Doctor injected her, pocketing the empty vial.

“Hang on... did you say 'cure'? So you can go back and...”

“Save Tad? I'm sorry, but it doesn't work that way, and Tad knew it.” The Doctor looked in the direction of the bed. “In order to formulate a cure, I needed Tad's blood as the virus tried to assert itself after my last injection. Tad realised he was going to die, and he made a noble sacrifice.”

Mary didn't know what to think. “Well, what good is it now? All that work you did, all those hours at his bedside, all for nothing! All for some monsters neither of us ever saw!”

“You should be consoled to know that Tad's sacrifice, three hundred years from now, halts a K'zek invasion of Earth dead in its tracks, and prevents the extinction of all human life on the planet. The human race is readied against all further attacks from them, and the K'zek race never leaves the Draklin Expanse with expansionist plans again.” He smiled. “Your boy is a hero.”

“But nobody knows what Tad did! Nobody can ever know what he did for the world!”

“I will know.”

“What about you, Doctor? You always had so many people around you, and now you're alone?” He nodded wanly.

“I just thought I'd spend a little time alone,” he said, but something caught his eye on the floor by the bed. He stooped to pick up a single red petal, still on the floorboards from when the vase had been knocked over. He smiled. “I suppose there's something to be said from having loved ones and close friends around.” He pocketed the petal, deep in thought.

Mary hugged him. “You're a good man, Doctor. Thank you for everything.”

“No, thank you. You have welcomed me into your home eight times without question. And you have reminded me of the value of company.” He lay one more petal on the bed. “Goodbye, Tad.”

He left the room, his head hung low, becoming a silhouette at the end of the corridor. And then he was gone. Mary closed the door, and planned to get a message to Robert, her only surviving son, bristling with pride and love for those that had gone, and who she had left.

“There are no accidents in my philosophy. Every effect must have its cause. The past is the cause of the present, and the present will be the cause of the future. All these are links in the endless chain stretching from the finite to the infinite.”

Abraham Lincoln