Dr. Who - BBC New Series 25 (8 page)

Adelaide jerked upright in her seat. ‘I don’t believe it!

He’s one of the men I was going to tell you about. He turned up at the camp last night. He said his name was Dr John Smith.’

‘Yeah, that’s the name he… I mean… yeah, that’s him,’

said Donna, jumping to her feet.

Ronny looked at her, perplexed. ‘Aren’t you having any breakfast?’

‘No time,’ Donna said, and turned back to Adelaide.

‘So how do I get to this camp of yours?’

*

The Doctor looked over his shoulder to see Ranjit standing at the entrance to the tent, grinning at him.

‘Hiya, Ranjit,’ he said. ‘How’s the old noggin?’

Ranjit touched the bandage around his head. ‘The noggin is fine, Mr Doctor. How are you?’

‘Oh, coping, you know. Been helping out a bit here and there. Keeping busy.’

‘Have you been making people better with your magic torch?’ Ranjit asked.

The Doctor switched the sonic off and straightened up from the patient he had been examining. He slipped the sonic into the inside pocket of his jacket, then took off his black-framed spectacles, folded them up, and slipped them into the opposite inside pocket.

‘Not curing so much as diagnosing,’ he said, ‘which means—’

‘I know,’ said Ranjit. ‘Finding out what’s wrong with them. Correct?’

‘Correct,’ said the Doctor, impressed.

‘Haven’t you been to sleep?’ Ranjit asked.

‘Nah, what would I wanna do that for? Far too many interesting things going on.’ He cocked an eyebrow. ‘I’ve been talking to Gandhi. Me and him, we’re best mates now.’

‘Mr Gandhi is a great man,’ Ranjit said.

‘Oh, he certainly is,’ agreed the Doctor, and stretched, making his shoulders pop. Casually he asked, ‘So you all set for today’s little trip?’

Ranjit nodded determinedly. ‘As long as you and Mr Gandhi are by my side, everything will be fine.’ Then his expression changed, a frown crinkling his brow.

‘Everything all right?’ the Doctor asked.

‘I promised my friend that I would meet him this morning. But with everything that has happened…’

Ranjit’s voice tailed off and he wafted a hand. ‘It is no matter. It will be better this way. I’m sure my friend would not have proceeded without me.’ He paused a moment.

The Doctor stayed silent, sensing that there was something else the boy wanted to say. Sure enough, a moment later, Ranjit asked, ‘We will be… safe, won’t we, Mr Doctor?’

The Doctor smiled and said airily, ‘Yeah, course we will. Once you’ve faced one god of destruction you’ve faced ’em all.’

Ranjit looked reassured.

The Doctor said, ‘So was this just a social call?’

The boy’s eyes widened. ‘Oh yes. I came to tell you that Mr Gopal is here with our transport. We can leave

whenever you are ready.’

‘Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?’ said the Doctor, sweeping past Ranjit. ‘Come on.’

A minute later he was looking up at the transport Gopal had provided, grinning all over his face.

‘Elephants!’ he exclaimed. ‘You brought elephants!’

‘Are they to your liking, Doctor?’ asked Gopal anxiously.

The Doctor patted one of the elephants on its rough grey forehead, and it responded by raising its trunk and sniffing delicately at his hair.

‘Oh yeah,’ he said, ‘brilliant. Better than a smelly old car any day.’

The four elephants had elaborate, multicoloured floral designs painted on their heads, trunks and ears. They wore bracelets of spherical bells on their feet, which jingled when they walked, and each was equipped with a howdah, a boxy, open-sided canopy edged with tassels, containing seating enough for two people.

Gopal looked pleased at the Doctor’s approval. ‘Where is Mr Gandhi?’ he asked.

‘In his shelter,’ said the Doctor. ‘I’ll go and fetch him.’

He had taken no more than a couple of steps when a voice bellowed, ‘Oi! Stay right there, buster.’

‘Uh-oh, here comes trouble,’ the Doctor murmured to Gopal, rolling his eyes. He spun round and opened his arms. ‘Donna!’

One of the small, two-wheeled passenger vehicles known as tongas had come to a halt on the slight elevation of dusty road that ran alongside the camp. The wiry

teenage boy who had been pulling the tonga lowered the handles carefully to the ground and offered a helping hand to its occupant.

Donna emerged a little ungracefully. She was wearing a plum-coloured dress of some silky material which shimmered in the sunlight, and a hat with a wide, floppy brim.

‘Um… nice hat,’ the Doctor said neutrally.

‘I burn easily,’ snapped Donna.

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ muttered the Doctor. ‘One flash of those eyes is enough to frazzle anyone.’

‘What did you say?’ Donna asked, picking her way down the dusty slope towards him.

‘Nothing complimentary,’ he said quickly, and then grinned again. ‘Aw, but it’s good to see you, looking all…

purple and shiny. Come and give us a big hug.’

He ran towards her and threw his arms around her. She hugged him back for a moment, then realised what she was doing and shoved him away.

‘No way. You’re not getting round me like that. I’m annoyed with you.’

‘What for?’ he exclaimed, all shrill indignation.

‘You were about to go swanning off without me.’

‘No I wasn’t.’

‘Yes you were. You’re off to some temple or other.’

He looked like a child caught with his hand in the sweetie jar. ‘Who told you that?’

‘Adelaide,’ she said.

‘Aw, you’ve met Adelaide? She’s lovely, isn’t she?’

‘Doctor, don’t try and sidetrack me.’

He saw the hurt look in her eyes and dropped the flippancy. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.

‘Weren’t you in the
least
bit concerned about me?’ she asked.

‘Course I was. That’s why I came here. I was looking for you.’

‘But you were still about to go off on one of your adventures.’

He opened his mouth as if to offer an excuse, then closed it again and sighed. ‘I just got caught up in things. I was going to come and find you later. Promise. I knew you’d be all right.’

‘How could you possibly know that?’

‘Well, look at you. You’re Donna. Tough as old…’ he saw her face harden and said quickly ‘… resourceful and resilient. Blimey, you’ve even got a new wardrobe.’ He punched her arm lightly. ‘C’mon, don’t be mad. Hey, I want you to meet someone.’

‘Who?’ she said as he grabbed her hand.

‘It’s a surprise, but I promise you’re gonna love it.

Come on.’

He led her through the camp, weaving between the shelters and lean-tos. Donna looked around, appalled at the poverty and suffering.

‘Doctor, all these people—’

‘Yeah, I know,’ he said, centuries of sadness seemingly encapsulated in those three little words.

Eventually they came to a shabby lean-to, no different from all the others. He nodded at the two young men sitting outside, then leaned towards the tatty sheets of

cloth draped across its entrance. ‘Knock, knock. You decent in there?’

There was an answering chuckle and a voice replied, ‘Come in, Doctor.’

The Doctor lifted aside one of the sheets, said something to the occupant of the lean-to, and then turned to Donna, obviously relishing the moment.

‘Donna Noble, may I introduce you to Mohandas Gandhi.’

Donna gave him an incredulous look, then stepped inside the shelter, which was dark and hot. A little old man wearing what looked like a white bed sheet was sitting crosslegged on a thin reed mat. He smiled almost toothlessly up at her.

‘Hello, Donna Noble,’ he said, pressing his palms together. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ said Donna a little breathlessly. She was clearly overwhelmed. Then she blurted, ‘Blimey, you look just like you do in the film.’

Gandhi looked at her quizzically. ‘Film?’

‘She means the newsreels,’ said the Doctor quickly, stepping in front of her. ‘I’ve just come to tell you that our transport is here, Mohandas. We’re ready to roll whenever you are.’

Gandhi thanked him and said he would be there in a few minutes. As soon as they were out of earshot of the lean-to, Donna said, ‘I can’t believe it. Gandhi! The real Gandhi!’

The Doctor grinned delightedly at her enthusiasm. ‘I know,’ he said.

‘Do all historical figures look just how you imagine?’

she asked.

The Doctor pondered a moment. ‘Well, not all of them.

You know what they said about Cleopatra?’

‘Most beautiful woman in the world, wasn’t she?’

He clenched his teeth in a grimace.

‘You mean that was all just hype?’ said Donna.

‘Well, let me put it this way – if the world had been the size of her bedchamber and all her handmaidens had had the day off, then there
might
have been a grain of truth in it.’

Donna laughed. Then she said, ‘Hey, hang on. How do you
know how big her bedchamber was?’

The Doctor sniffed and shot her a sidelong look. ‘I’ve been around a bit, you know.’

She laughed harder and grabbed his hand. ‘You old devil,’ she said.

Cameron had a puncture. It had happened not long after he had set off, just as the sun was climbing a ladder of thinning purple clouds into a salmon-pink sky. He had fished his puncture-repair kit out of his knapsack and tried to mend it, but the heat had made the glue go runny and it wouldn’t stick.

Eventually, hot and dirty, his fingers sticky with glue, he had given up. He had briefly considered turning back, and then had wondered whether it would be all right to leave his useless bike by the side of the road and continue on foot.

In the end he decided to carry on, but to wheel his bike

along with him. He couldn’t face turning back, and if he left his bike then someone would probably steal it.

Not that he had seen anyone, which was strange. True, it
was
still early morning, and the temple
was
situated off a quiet farming track out of the city, as opposed to a main route, which he had heard were populated by long caravans of people trying to escape the troubles. But even so, the wheat farmers and tea plantation workers were normally out in the fields by now, and whenever he and Ranjit had come this way before they had passed kids leading goats on strings, or the occasional camel-herder, or farmers riding rickety wooden carts pulled by skinny oxen.

Today, though, there was nobody, and Cameron could only guess that those who hadn’t already fled were too scared by the fighting to stick their noses out of their front doors. He had heard Ronny and Father say that gangs of bandits had moved into the area and were using the violence as a smokescreen to rob and kill innocent people.

Cameron wondered what
he
would do if a gang of bandits suddenly appeared on the road ahead of him. Would he hide, or run, or simply stand his ground and hope that because he was English, or a child, they would leave him alone?

All at once he glimpsed movement in the long grass at the side of the road about thirty metres ahead. Thinking it might be a bandit crawling along on his belly, getting ready to ambush him, he stopped. Then the ‘bandit’

revealed itself, and he saw it was not a bandit at all. It was a huge snake – at least six metres long and as thick as his

thigh – and it came slithering out on to the road, leaving a winding track, like a series of Ss in the dust.

Cameron had seen snakes before, and he knew the thing to do was stand still and let them go about their business. In his eleven years in India, this advice had always stood him in good stead – but not today. To Cameron’s horror the snake altered direction and began to slither towards him. When it was about fifteen metres away, it stopped, rearing up on its tail until it was taller than he was.

Though terrified, Cameron noticed a couple of things about the snake at once. Firstly, he noticed that its distinctive yellow and black markings, and its even more distinctive ability to flatten its upper ribs so that the area below its head flared out in a hood shape, identified it as a King Cobra. And secondly, he noticed that the creature was not only huge but oddly misshapen, its body bulging with the same strange black carbuncles that he had seen on the crocodile last night.

The Cobra regarded him with flat eyes, its head weaving from side to side. Its forked purple tongue flickered in and out of its mouth. Moving as slowly as he could, Cameron placed his rucksack on the ground and opened it. Suddenly the snake hissed, its head darting forward, its fangs dripping venom.

Cameron jumped back, heart pounding. He knew that a snake like this could kill him with a single bite. However, this was a feigned attack, a warning. The Cobra’s head snapped back as though on a piece of elastic. Slowly Cameron reached into his rucksack and took out his

catapult. Then he felt about on the ground until he found a suitable rock.

The Cobra lunged again, and again Cameron jumped back. He had no doubt that the snake would keep playing this game until it either killed him or he managed to drive it away. Mouth dry, he loaded his catapult with the rock, took careful aim and fired.

All his hours of practice paid off. The rock flew straight and true and struck the Cobra on its snout. It curled in on itself, dipping its head back into its nest of coils. Before it could recover, Cameron grabbed another rock, half-expecting the snake to come for him again.