19
CHOICES
Neil Davies 2008
The cold wrapped around you like a cloak made of ice crystals, it was beyond cold beyond chilly; this was an environment that could freeze thoughts. Huddled inside a ton of fur Nyssa still couldn't feel her toes and her legs were moving automatically as the numbness spread up them. She was afraid to clench her teeth in case she couldn't separate them.
It had only been a short journey from the pod less than two hundred meters in distance but it had taken her fifteen minutes such was her fear of slipping on the icy ground; if you fell over here getting up was unlikely.
At last the yawning, jagged mouth of the cave appeared ahead of her she knew that once inside it the deadly cold of Artemis 5 would cease due to a protective environmental cocoon, not much further she told herself just another few steps and you'll be fine just keep moving and don't lose hope; after all you're here to save an important life.
Instantly and without warning her boots lost their grip on the ground, there was nothing Nyssa could do about it other than scream inside her fur womb then the air was knocked out of her lungs as she upended and crashed onto the steel hard earth. She didn't pass out (which was a mercy), but the moment she tried to move she found she couldn't – her clothing was welded to the ice as if by a super strong glue, the coldness seizing her in an unbreakable grip and refusing to let go.
Panic jumped into Nyssa's mind the thought she was going to die on this tiny, inhospitable rock the last of her people and still a young woman. Forcing logic to replace hysteria she fumbled inside her fur until she found it; her only hope under the circumstances, barely able to use her fingers to even feel them she jabbed the tiny bulb near the end of the tracer. Jab, jab, jab, come on come on come on, help me please.
How long could she survive lying on her back out here a minute, half a minute? There was no data because almost nobody came to this asteroid by choice. Nyssa was tough her life had made her so but she could feel the paralysis rapidly spreading inwards, once it reached vital organs there would be oblivion; a point beyond resuscitation.
Then…a sound, high above her a kind of whisper a hint of muted chorus, despite her situation she was moved to ease the fur hood back a few inches. Cutting through the wind and snow the whisper was growing in pitch, seductive, caressing and alien. Nyssa saw nothing at first – visibility was down to three feet – then high above the white escarpment something moved in a fluid, graceful, non solid sort of way it oozed and expanded like vapour only it had nothing to do with the weather for one thing the colour scheme was all wrong – purple not white then there were the faces, many of them all different and yet curiously similar in expression and ambition.
Nyssa couldn't count them there were so many, a multitude of eyes, noses and mouths, vaguely humanoid but also clearly alien and also clearly hostile if the frowns were anything to go by. They swept down towards her she had clearly been seen and resented to as the whispers grew in pitch to an angry buzz.
The red beam shot across her vision a proximity laser narrow and ultra hot, beneath Nyssa the ground cracked, crunched and mellowed her clothing grew hot and came free, gloves took her by the sleeves they pulled insistently and a male voice urged haste.
Fascinated by the cloud of ghostly faces she almost stayed where she was for a moment, the scientist in her desperate to make sense of the impossible. How could anything survive out here unprotected because she didn't believe in ghosts –monsters yes she'd met plenty but not spooks?
"Come on Nyssa, hurry!"
The man was too strong to resist and this probably saved her life. Dragging her into the cave he took her out of minus 250 degree death to warm, ambient life. The cave illuminated around her as a pleasant, modern research unit. The cave exterior was its cloak an illusion, the large dwelling was very different once you were inside it a haven of lounges, laboratories, beds and a deeply buried power generation plant that the man before Nyssa had helped design.
"Thank you," she sighed shedding the fur which was now unbearably hot, ice and snow fell of it in a mini avalanche of what could have been dandruff. She apologized at once for making a mess, Dr Flavian waved this aside at once removing his own survival helmet and gloves.
Nyssa was struck by the handsome even features, the bright questioning eyes and thick main of dark curly hair – Flavian lived up to his reputation in more ways than one.
Then she recalled the ghosts, "Outside I saw something."
She regretted the words at once as a frown marred the narrow, seductive face and he stood back from her with a curl of distaste to his lips.
"Thin air and a sub zero freeze will make you see all sorts of things."
Nyssa drew in scented air to object then decided not to, Flavian was lying to her he was denying what she had plainly seen but why; could he be afraid in some way or like some scientists did he just block out anything he couldn't rationalize? She'd met a few academics like this even on Traken it was a common failure of minds married to pet theories.
"Yes I see," she chose to be diplomatic for now but peering back through the fake cave mouth she saw a flash of purple just the merest hint of an after image then it was gone taking the angry faces with it. What did I see she mused because I know it wasn't the cold; could some intelligence actually live on Artemis despite all the evidence against?
"It's good to see you," Flavian was the genial host, "Your reputation precedes you of course, the woman who found a cure for the Lazzer fever."
She felt a blush burn its way up from her neck not that old chestnut again; she'd just been in the right place at the right time with the right motivation.
"Ancient history," she said quickly although it wasn't all that long ago, "I've done other things since then."
Flavian was nodding eagerly, "Honours degrees, chair of the deep space medical council and a roving science consultant for the company that sponsors this bleak little outpost."
Nyssa permitted herself a little glow of pride yes she'd done all right for herself in the years since…
Catching sight of her reflection in some glass she saw not the gawky teenager in ruffled, slightly aristocratic clothing, but a mature woman in her thirties with shorter hair and spectacles. She was still attractive but calmer, more self-assured.
"You've achieved much to," she said generously.
Flavian waved around, Artemis might be bleak but the research team here were making some interesting breakthroughs…or they had been until recently, until the mental breakdowns had begun until the suicide of Dr Lamb.
"It's all gone a bit sour," he said.
Yes thought Nyssa recalling the reports she'd read, "Do you know why Dr Lamb killed herself, your memo was a bit vague?"
Going to a drinks dispenser Flavian filled two plastic cups with a viscous blue gel and offered one to his guest, his features were lined with concern and his eyes had a slightly haunted look.
"I'm afraid I told a lie in my memo, Dr Lamb didn't kill herself we had to shoot her she was on the verge of activating the self-destruct mechanism."
Utterly stunned Nyssa just stood there holding her drink but not sampling it, she couldn't believe what she'd just heard Flavian was telling her that one of the most brilliant astro-psychologists of modern times had turned into a homicidal maniac.
"I think you'd better explain that doctor," she said putting the drink aside and sitting down in a comfortable chair, sitting opposite he lowered his head for a moment.
"The breakdowns began six months ago with a staff member called Kira Noble; it was a kind of extreme anxiety leading to loss of appetite, hyperactivity and aggression. Since then the breakdowns have become progressively more alarming leading to ever more extreme behaviour, Dr Lamb was by far the worse."
Not looking so great himself Flavian sighed, as director of this facility this was his responsibility and it was clear he was finding it a heavy burden; which else am I here thought Nyssa?
"What is the cause of these breakdowns," she asked, "And why are they getting worse?"
A weary head shook and taking a sip of gel Flavian winced as though burned by the berry juice.
"I've no idea I can't find any answers, that's why I sent for an expert."
She felt flattered, "I'm not an expert in abnormal behaviour on remote outposts," she said, "I'm a technical consultant."
"Oh not you," he replied swiftly, "The other arrival," and getting to his feet he led her over to a viewing screen that filled one entire wall, "He got here just ahead of you in a most unusual way."
An alcove formed on the screen part of a huge bay area and sat within the alcove as out of place as ever was the incongruous form of a blue London police call box with a lamp on top, Nyssa almost dropped her drink in shock her mind reeling. Jaw slack and eyes wide she stepped back removing her glasses with a shaking hand. Here of all places and now, why now after all this time?
"Are you all right Nyssa," Flavian asked? No she thought I'm not I feel strange, scared, surprised but also excited beyond words.
"Take me to him."
It wasn't the Doctor not her Doctor, in fact she didn't recognise him at first although the short man in the paisley jacket and question mark festooned jumper would have stood out anywhere, he wore a straw hat and this was the only familiar feature because Nyssa remembered that hat. No taller than her now the Doctor fixed his still brilliant blue eyes upon her and smiled, he was older (like her) and a little less manic with a mysterious, deceptive quality but the undercurrent of wisdom was there, the penetrating intelligence, when he sang her name there was a slight accept she didn't recognise.
Going over to him she paused before falling into a hug, something stinging her eyes. "You're so…" What could she say – older, shorter, darker – they all seemed a bit crass and rude?
"Yes so are you," he interrupted patting her gently on the shoulder in that paternal way she remembered with affection, the Doctor had always treated her as a clever but vulnerable child and maybe she had been back in the old days.
"How much time has passed," she said, "For you?"
He shrugged what did the passage of time mean to a man who could twist around it with such agility.
"A couple of regenerations," Was the modest response.
"Have there been many companions, since me I mean?"
He shook his head giving her the answer she found she wanted, not many hardly any at all.
"It's so nice to meet one of my favourites again," he said hinting that it rarely happened; much less than he'd like.
"Flavian said he called you," she said.
"He called for help," the Doctor softly corrected meaning that he'd picked up the signal, found it intriguing and decided to take a look himself.
"And can you help," she asked thinking that the situation was slipping back under some kind of control, with the Doctor involved a breakthrough was more likely than not.
"Possibly," he evaded.
"There's been a death," she told him and his response to this was.
"There'll be more I'm afraid," this added a new chill to her blood.
"Outside," she began wanting to tell him of the ghostly faces but lifting a finger to her lips he stifled the outburst, not here said his eyes later tell me in private. Maybe he'd seen the faces to.
"I'd like to see the body of Dr Lamb," he said looking beyond her to Flavian, who hovered close by awkward and excluded. Yes thought Nyssa so would I.
For a moment it looked like the director would refuse but such was the intensity of the Doctor's gaze that he nodded mutely and indicated that they should follow him.
In the chill of the small morgue Nyssa once again shivered but this time it had more to do with dread, "How did you kill Dr Lamb," she asked hoping it wasn't anything too grotesque?
"Phaser bolt," came the reply as Flavian went over to a freezer cabinet, keyed in his PIN and pulled out a drawer. Moving past him the Doctor took hold of the environmental protection sheet and unzipped it to expose…
Oh dear god! Nyssa reared back in shock. A phaser bolt left a small red patch on the outer skin nothing more, all the real damage was internal a kind of microwave effect but here – she couldn't believe what she was seeing and nor from his expression could the Doctor; although he hid his feelings better than her.
Charlotte Lamb no longer looked like a woman or even a human being; her body was distorted, twisted out of shape, the flesh gouged into rippling waves and bulges; the head and face squeezed to twice normal length with the features warped out of shape – the mouth a monstrous rictus, the eyes too far apart each a crescent moon. The look of fear and pain was undeniable; this woman had lived and died in total agony.
Turning to Flavian, the Doctor fixed him with a look of censure that Nyssa remembered from her Doctor – it was outraged and demanding.
"Explain this," said a sharp Scottish lilt.
"I can't," Flavian muttered.
"This wasn't done by a phaser or any other kind of energy weapon," snapped the time lord, "You know that as well as us so what's going on?"
Head bowed the director seemed to be holding himself together with an effort, "What you see happened post-mortem," he said. Nyssa couldn't believe it, dead bodies didn't deform themselves.
"I don't understand," she said, "Once life has ceased tissue can't redefine itself."
But this time the Doctor wasn't with her she could tell, his mind playing over variables and possibilities at high speed.
"Unless," he muttered, "There was more than one form of life inhabiting this body."
Flavian flinched as though kicked, he didn't comment on this theory but Nyssa did.
"Are you saying Lamb was possessed or controlled by something alien?"
She again thought of the ghostly faces, they had been distorted and stretched.
The Doctor demanded, "Why don't you tell us the whole story Dr Flavian, there's more to these mental breakdowns than we've been told isn't there; what else did the victims have in common?"
Flavian had no choice now so he revealed that Lamb and the other victims had a belief that some form of consciousness existed outside, it wasn't physical might not even be alive as science defined life but it was sentient and could be communicated with.
"They held séances in Lamb's room, psychic development circles as she called them. I was very against it but Charlotte insisted it was the only way; that technology was too limited." Flavian snorted, "We try to discourage spiritual beliefs but they persist; remnants of more primitive times when ignorance was rife."
Nyssa swapped a look with the Doctor but he didn't react to this with anything other than a slight smile, so she said.
"But Lamb was right wasn't she, this consciousness existed and her group made contact with it?"
"No," the roar was a blunt denial and Flavian shook his head several times, "There is absolutely no proof of such a theory."
But his gaze drifted to the shape under the autopsy sheet forcing him to add, "There is a logical explanation and we will find it."
Possibly said the Doctor's expression then he became business-like, "What have tissue samples and blood analysis revealed about this corpse?"
Very little Flavian had to admit, "Our equipment is the very best but we can make no headway."
"Mine," said the short man with a wry grin, "Is superior so I shall take some samples into my….er pod with me. What about the other members of this development circle?"
Flavian parted his hands and admitted they were being kept in isolation cells, Nyssa saw her chance to do something productive; whilst the Doctor did his chemical work-ups she could apply herself to something practical.
"I'd like to meet some of them," she said, "Talk to them and see if I can get any answers."
Flavian looked sceptical but he didn't object. Putting a hand on her shoulder the time lord lowered his voice, "Be careful," he advised, "I don't know what we're dealing with here but Flavian is holding out in some way."
"You think he's lying?"
The puck features gave an ironic smile, "He's been honest in what he's told us, he just hasn't told us everything." Not adding anymore the little man turned back to his grim task and Nyssa was glad to leave him to it, she wasn't normally squeamish but there was something about Dr Lamb's remains that awoke primal fears within her. Traken like most worlds had its ghostly myths its folktales of demons from beyond the grave, and despite her education she wasn't completely immune to them; maybe demons did exist - after all hadn't she seen some for herself not so long ago?
The door was bland enough but it could only be opened from the outside and once again you needed a PIN, before keying it in Flavian paused as though reluctant. "Don't expect too much Nyssa," he said guardedly, "These people have gone beyond reason and logic, some can even be manic."
Should I be armed she mused, should I even be doing this? Too late to chicken out now she was helping the Doctor get at the truth.
"I'll be fine," she said.
"Well if you're sure," Flavian did seem convinced.
The sight that greeted Nyssa seemed normal, sat at a desk a young man in his twenties with long straggly dark hair was playing chess against himself – at least that's what it looked like to begin with. He was moving the white pieces but the black pieces were….she gazed in disbelief – the black pieces were moving all by themselves.
He moved a white pawn, a black root slid itself across the board, he attacked it with his knight; the root retreated.
Turning to Flavian, Nyssa demanded to know with her eyes what was going on; the director said.
"This is Adam his unusual telekinetic ability has developed since his background."
Ignoring the two visitors Adam moved another piece, a black bishop shot diagonally across the board to place him in check. Why would Adam put himself in check, Nyssa mused?
"How do you know that this is telekinesis," she asked Flavian?
"What else can it be," the thin man responded. Nyssa didn't know but she had the strangest feeling Adam had a 'real' opponent.
"May I speak to Adam," she asked? Flavian sighed as though he thought it unlikely the patient would respond then he nodded.
Drawing up a chair and sitting beside the desk Nyssa watched the game unfold, she was a fairly decent player herself but Adam was better, that said he was still losing the game and the more she watched of it the more convinced she became that this wasn't telekinesis.
Finally the black queen moved to checkmate Adam who sat back rubbing his head; clearly surprised. Swiftly Nyssa reached and grabbed the black queen – she found she couldn't move the tiny plastic piece it seemed glued to the board.
Adam glared at it then up at Nyssa as if seeing her for the first time, his green eyes wide with fear.
She spoke his name softly and with a smile trying not to stress him, wanting more than anything to forge some kind of link and build trust.
"Who are you playing against," she enquired hoping he would give her some clue.
Suddenly all the black pieces including the queen flew off the board they shot into the air and hovered there poised over Nyssa and Adam like sentinels, to her mind they formed a shape a kind of cone and within the cone was a soft purple light; within this she was sure she could see a face – stretched, twisted and distorted with madness or rage.
Returning the morgue the Doctor was holding an item of portable equipment, it was a transparent cube with a series of probes and wires extending from top and bottom. Setting this apparatus onto a trolley next to the freezer cabinet he attached various leads together and adjusted touch-sensitive controls, one lead he placed on the forehead of the late Dr Lamb.
Beginning to pulsate a soft orange colour the cube gave off a quartet of low notes and on its readout screen a digital counter flashed numbers and symbols. Frowning, the little man rubbed his chin and moved around to the other side of the body; cautiously he lifted one of the lifeless eyelids. It was a very nasty jolt when the eye underneath rotated to stare at him!
Rearing back with shock the Doctor stared back at the eye – there were no life signs from Lamb there was no brain activity so how could this be happening?
A purple glow extended down over the twisted face then down further over the neck, chest and arms, the glow expanded out slightly from the cadaver to create a fiery aura.
The Doctor's cube recorded this event turning from orange to green, more figures flashing onto its display. Swiftly he returned to it and as he did the dead body of Dr Lamb jerked violently as if hit by a thousand volts of current, the purple ghost rose up away from her into the air until it was near the ceiling of the morgue. Possessing a definite shape the entity's twisted and stretched face gazed down at the time lord; who remained perfectly still refusing to yield to panic.
"I am the Doctor," he declared, "I'm not a member of staff here nor am your enemy, please tell me who you are and what you want?"
For several seconds this nebulous form over the freezer remained perfectly still then without warning it shot over the Doctor's head to the morgue exit and passed through this. As fast as his short legs would carry him the time lord followed, certainly he was onto something and that the alien wasn't just trying to escape.
Entering a room decked out with computers and other equipment he found the purple energy being poised over a terminal, this had been switched off but suddenly turned itself on – a password was demanded.
"Let me help you," the Doctor offered, "I'm something of an expert with technology," he said sitting down before the terminal. He had no idea what the password could be but thanks to the sonic screwdriver this didn't matter. "There," he said as a menu came up, "We're in."
At once a purple finger pointed to the last item in the menu something that looked sinister to the Doctor's eyes – Project Spectre.
"We must get out of here now," Flavian screamed very close to panic he had backed out of the cell with a shaking head and looked poised to run for his life. Scared herself Nyssa didn't move, she was fascinated by the non-corporeal being over the chess board it was identical to the ones out on the surface but how had it gotten in here?
"Who are you," she called to it hoping for an answer.
"Nyssa, come on," Flavian was almost hysterical. Ignoring him she stood up cautiously, as far as she was concerned Lamb and the other spiritual explorers had been onto something; there was a different kind of consciousness on Artemis 5 possibly a totally new form of life.
"I want to help you," she said to the admittedly ugly face, "To understand you if I can."
The eyes of the ghost bored into her then they turned to glare at Flavian with something very close to abject hatred.
Next instant the ghost flew at the director.
Wheeling about he fled up the corridor but he wasn't fast enough and Nyssa heard a terrible, heart-rending scream. Dashing out of the cell she ran up the same corridor to a junction, Flavian was to her left he had sunk to his knees and was now gripping his temples.
The ghost was all around him it had enveloped him and seemed to be trying to flow into his body. Teeth grinding together and head shaking Flavian was making low, negative moans and grunts along the lines of no leave me alone I won't allow this, you've no right.
It was definitely an attack and aimed at the director but why him?
"Leave him alone," Nyssa cried out, "He's done nothing to you," she argued not sure if this was true or not, "Communicate with me instead."
The ghost looked up at her and seemed to come to a decision – it flew right at the girl from Traken.
Sitting back grim-faced the Doctor let out a sigh that might have been disgust or disbelief but there was no denying the anger in those azure blue eyes. He stood up and turned from the terminal able to read even complex technical data with amazing speed, he now had a good idea what had been going on here what Dr Flavian and his colleagues had been up to in secret.
A scream cut into his thoughts and he recognised the voice instantly, moments later he was running again it seemed to be his day for athletics, the purple ghost watched him go but it made no attempt to follow instead a printer clicked to life and began to vomit a hard copy of Project Spectre.
It didn't take long to reach the junction in the corridor, there was no sign of Nyssa but Flavian was still knelt there rubbing his forehead, perspiration dripping from his brow. The look the Doctor gave him was caustic; I know, it said, I know what you've been doing here.
"Where is she," growled the time lord. Moments later he entered Adam's cell, Nyssa was sat alone at the desk before her white and black chess pieces moved around the board by themselves. Nyssa's face was aglow with light but it was her eyes that shone with the fiercest radiance.
The time lord realised what had happened at once. Coming to a halt he kept some distance between himself and the possessed girl hoping she wasn't being harmed by whatever form if mind-merge the aliens employed.
"I know what's been going on here," he said softly letting his disapproval show, "I've just read all about it."
The luminous orbs scorched into him getting brighter by the second, it was most disconcerting. He was looking at his former companion yet he wasn't, this was a memory of Nyssa familiar yet different. He wondered what his fifth self would make of it, would he try levity? His current seventh persona was more sombre.
"It was Flavian who contacted you first wasn't it not Lamb he found the frequency of your collective psyche and tried to tap into it to learn your secrets; when you resisted…?"
Breaking off with a sigh the time traveller parted his hands, "How many of you are trapped in here by the frequency web Flavian created?"
Nyssa's lips moved but it wasn't her voice that spoke, oh it was similar in some ways but there was an echo, a fizz, an alien cadence like many voices speaking at once.
"Our brothers and sisters are tormented by the separation, he refuses to free them and it is driving them insane – us to for we are one."
The Doctor nodded his understanding, "You're a collective intelligence, what one feels you all feel. Flavian still thinks he can exploit you, learn your secrets."
The alien replied, "They are not for the likes of him, a vain, ambitious and shallow man."
Appearing behind the Doctor and stood framed in the cell doorway, Flavian held a small pocket phaser which he aimed first at the time lord then at Nyssa; his features were now contorted with rage.
"They called my exile here a promotion," he spat bitterly, "Me, the finest mind of my generation sent to this god forsaken rock in the middle of nowhere; this floating ice cube. One mistake that's all I made, one error of judgement and they said my career was over." Moving further into the room and raising his gun Flavian shook from head to toe with outrage, "But the Artemeans will change all of that, a living non-corporeal intelligence, telepathic, telekinetic; they will shake our scientific establishment to its core."
Nyssa's eyes flashed angrily, "We are not your play things to exploit, we are not zoo exhibits."
The Doctor was calmer his response more measured, "What you've done here is immoral Flavian, you can't hijack an entire race."
This cut little ice with the director, "I can do anything," he spat, "Like kill Nyssa for example," he clearly meant this much to the Doctor's horror. Flavian nodded, "Are you willing to stand by and watch me do that Doctor?"
Still calm, unnaturally so the little man now had a glint of steel in his eyes.
"Switch the frequency web off Flavian, free these beings and free the minds of your tormented staff; the death of Dr Lamb is enough don't let there be more tragedies."
"The only tragedy here," Flavian spat, "Is the criminal waste of my potential."
From Nyssa came a cry of near despair, "This fool does not listen," and the girl jerked to her feet like a puppet her limbs stiff and head rigid, angrily she overturned the chess board scattering its pieces.
"I will fire," Flavian threatened but the Doctor stood between him and Nyssa so that the gun was aimed at the Doctor's own head.
"No," he said softly, "I don't think so," before the director could do anything a single finger rose in front of his eyes arresting his gaze, it moved slowly to the man's face touching him between the eyes. It wasn't a blow little more than a caress but power shot through the single digit from Doctor to director, a form of irresistible energy.
Flavian collapsed with a groan and his gun clattered harmlessly on the floor.
"Kill him," the alien demanded but the time lord shook his head, there was no need for that.
"Release Nyssa and I will release you; I will find and deactivate the force keeping you here."
Trembling violently Nyssa flopped back into her seat her head lolled one way then the other, then her face rose into the air and she let out a gasp. The alien fire was gone from her eyes; it hovered a yard above her as a purple haze.
"Thank you," said the Doctor then he looked down at Flavian thinking of a better use for this cell.
They danced outside the cloaked facility floating free as birds untouched and unaffected by a cold that would kill any corporeal being, Nyssa had never seen anything so beautiful as the rainbow coloured streams of life you could almost hear them singing with joy. Tears in her eyes she turned to the Doctor knowing he was going to leave so, depart perhaps forever from her life.
"We will meet again," he said under his breath, "Don't ask me how I know."
But in a way she could guess just as he knew she wouldn't be joining him in the TARDIS for a second time.
"Is there anyone with you at the moment," she had to ask had to know? Slowly he nodded supplying no details, turning to her he rested his hands on her shoulders and for a moment his own eyes seemed bright and moist.
"Have a good life Nyssa of Traken," he said and his voice seemed to tremble. A single tear ran down her cheek, yes she would a very good life; a life of being there and making a difference. Her first task being to decide what to do about Flavian and how to open a productive dialogue with the aliens.
"You're so different," she said then revised this opinion. No he wasn't all that different he was still the Doctor and he always would be.