Furies from the Deep
by Richard Dinnick

‘Perhaps this is the way out?’

She stopped dead in her tracks as one of the double doors began to swing open. Ruby brought the rifle smartly to her shoulder.

‘Freeze!’ she shouted at the door. Freeze? She grimaced. All this stupid soldiery! It was making her sound ridiculous! The door continued to open.

That is not an illusion! That is one of them!

Ruby found that she was the one frozen to the spot.

Standing in the doorway was a huge figure, dark and gnarled, with large, leathery wings worn like a cloak of the blackest black. The creature looked at Ruby with crimson eyes boring into her soul. It let out a piercing cry and started to move towards her.

With an equally loud scream of fear and anger, Ruby squeezed the trigger and spat death at the creature. Whether soft-nosed or gold, Teflon-coated or silver, the bullets had no affect.

Ruby suddenly found that her legs could move once more and she turned to flee. Running as fast as she could, she burst through the door she had just come through and back into the long corridor that seemed to run around the perimeter of the military base.

Alas, she was not as fit as she might have been and her turn of speed was not sufficient to outpace the Fury pursuing her. She heard the door break as the horrendous creature smashed its way through. Why is it that monsters never seem to understand the use of door handles? she thought to herself.

As she ran, puffing like an old steamroller, her face becoming redder and redder, a plan began to form in her head. It was a very simple plan, but it was her only chance. She just had to put some distance between herself and the Fury. The plan was simple, sure enough, but this was a different kettle of fish. How could she distract the creature long enough to put her plan into operation?

I may be of assistance there.

‘I wondered,’ gasped Ruby slamming through another door and spinning wildly before getting herself back on course, ‘when you would say that…’

Episode Three:

The Doctor was sitting in the high-backed wicker chair with his head in his hands, eyes cast down from the images circling in mid air around him. Before him, sitting cross-legged, like schoolchildren before a teacher or favourite uncle were two of the little girls – Meg and Alex.

‘If you always do what is right, you should not be ashamed of these pictures,’ Meg said with glee in her voice.

‘There are some things that are best left to sleep in one’s memory,’ replied the Doctor, removing his hands from his face and looking directly at his tormentor.

‘So that you don’t have to face the fact that you caused so many deaths?’

‘Besides what is “right” to you may not be what is intrinsically right,’ added Alex. ‘Just because the society you come from and those you mix with hold certain morals to be universal, does not mean that they are.’

‘The majority seem to think differently,’ replied the Doctor, looking at Alex as if she were his star pupil who had just let him down.

‘So you are saying that “right” is merely a consensus?’

‘Surely if the majority believe something to be right, then it is.’ The Doctor steepled his fingers and gazed at the two girls.

‘So, say there were more Daleks in the universe than all the other races put together,’ said Meg, her head tilted to one side as if she was trying to understand the concept. ‘What the Daleks thought of as right, would be right. Right?’

‘No.’

‘That’s what you said,’ whined Meg. ‘That’s what he said, wasn’t it, Alex?’

‘In essence, yes.’

‘The argument is flawed because by their very nature, Daleks have no morals. No understanding of good and evil.’

‘Good and evil, right and wrong,’ chimed Meg and Alex together.

‘And by their very nature, good and evil are not empirical, so your argument is flawed,’ Alex smiled apologetically. ‘It all depends on your viewpoint. And anyway, people always bend the definitions to their own ends – even you.’

The Doctor did not reply. He just turned his head in an attempt to see past the images that still revolved around him; to see the relative pleasantness of the surrounding orchard instead. But he could not. All he saw were people dying and things exploding. In a way, he thought, they were right. His chest heaved and possibly the greatest sigh he had ever uttered issued from his mouth.

‘Freedom is right, justice is…’

‘More personal perspectives?’ interrupted Alex.

The Doctor stared at her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘If your freedom was impaired unjustly, would you not wish to be freed?’

‘Freedom is relative,’ replied Alex. ‘All things are. That is what we want you to realise.’

‘Yes, yes, yes. Shades of grey. Of course nothing is ever black and white.’ Then his eyed suddenly lit up.

‘So, if everything is some form of grey, how can you sit in judgement on these “crimes” I have committed?’ he asked.

‘We merely judge you by your own standards,’ replied Alex evenly.

‘Besides, the biggest no-no for you is existing,’ added Meg.

‘If you had died on earth, so many would have lived that now lie dead. All because of your interference.’

‘Do you really not think I realise my actions have consequences?’ the Doctor demanded, more exasperated now than angry. ‘I am familiar with Newton’s law,’ he added almost in a whisper.

‘Still so flippant,’ sighed Alex, tilting her head on one side as if the Doctor just refused to learn his lesson.

‘Humour is a very good defence mechanism in unpleasant circumstances,’ the Doctor retorted sharply. ‘But you would not realise that, living out your life in this idyllic little illusion.’

‘Temper, temper,’ Alex chided and laughed her irritatingly high-pitched laugh once more. ‘Just because you’re losing.’

The Doctor lapsed into silence and Alex plucked the dice from where it had been sitting on the grass and tossed it to her sister.

‘And it’s your go,’ Meg said, offering the dice to the Doctor. He eyed the wooden cube as if it were an angry wasp, but finally reached out and gently plucked it from Meg’s open palm.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will continue to play your game.’

‘You have no choice, Time Lord,’ Meg said, her eyes glowing red for a split second.

‘How could I forget?’ asked the Doctor sarcastically, rubbing his aching, broken ribs. Without further ado, he let the dice fall from his hand onto the chequered wooden surface beneath him. The cube hit the game board and bounced twice before coming to a halt displaying three golden dots. Alex leant over and moved the Doctor’s blue counter along the squares to a where the head of a snake led down two rows.

‘You have just said you like to let things “sleep in your memory”,’ replied Meg. ‘You let so many things lie dormant in your mind.’

‘We just want to help you remember,’ said Alex with a mirthless wink at Meg.

The Doctor looked up and saw that one of the buzzing images had come to a halt in front of him. A battered but futuristic train was standing at the remains of a platform.

Alex slid the counter down the snake.

‘Oh no,’ whispered the Doctor.

‘Oh yes, Doctor!’ replied Meg triumphantly.

‘This is unfair,’ the Doctor stated as the scene began to play out. His former self was reaching out for a grid of wires that kept himself and an assorted group of aliens prisoner aboard the train.

‘Why?’ asked Alex as – in the image - the grid fell away and the older, bearded Doctor stepped through, saying something about “having hope”.

‘This did not happen,’ replied the Doctor. ‘It was a possible future. Mutable.’

‘Is that not the case with all your trips to the future?’ asked Meg with a sneer. On the screen, a Cyberman had grabbed the Time Lord and as the prisoners followed the Doctor through the door, they were massacred by other cyborgs. The image skipped as if being fast-forwarded.

‘Your conceit and bravado led to needless deaths,’ Meg added darkly. ‘And your only defence is that it didn’t really happen. Again, you did not know that at the time. I’d say it was you who had the case of what you called twenty-twenty hindsight.’

The Doctor closed his eyes for a few seconds. This was unbearable. Nevertheless he knew they would force his eyes open if he did not do it himself. Reluctantly, he stared once more at the image. Now his younger yet older self was with EnalcKarnip.

The Doctor frowned and looked down at the dirt. ‘Oh my... Falex. This is the future that he has to look forward to. Taureans are a long-lived race. What happened to him?’

’I am sorry to say he died, Doctor. Protecting Taureas from the onslaught of the Cyber army. After the Martians’ failed attempt to reclaim Mars the Cybermen became pretty much unstoppable. The Martians on their own were simply no match for the Cyber race.’

The Doctor sniffed back his tears and took a deep breath. ‘Right. You say you know how to get me back to 2501? Then show me. This future is wrong, and I must put it right. I am not having another companion dying on me.’

EnalcKarnip knelt onto the dirt and looked up. ‘Another companion? You have lost many?’

‘Have you lost many?’ asked Alex with a broad smile. The Doctor did not reply. This particular image faded, but others still swarmed around the trio sitting in the orchard.

‘He has lost a whole handful,’ Meg interrupted, holding up her open right hand. ‘We can count them on our fingers.’ She lifted her left index finger to point to the little finger on her upheld right hand. ‘Let’s see. First there was Sara…’ she bent down her little finger and moved the next one. ‘Then there was Katarina.’ Another finger bent down.

‘Ooh, I know the next one!’ squealed Alex. ‘Brad. He was next wasn’t he?’ Across from her, Meg closed another finger. ‘Then who? Falex wasn’t it?’ Another finger closed, just leaving Meg’s thumb pointing upwards like a Roman emperor about to decide a gladiator’s fate.

‘Yes. A child,’ Med goaded the Doctor, who was staring at the little girls with the closest thing to hatred he had felt in a long time. ‘And then his favourite.’

‘The one who looked on him as a father,’ Alex added. ‘So it could almost be infanticide and parricide.’

‘Very big words,’ growled the Doctor, ‘for one so small.’

‘Very heinous acts for one so convinced he always does what is “right”,’ replied Alex tartly.

‘I did not kill Falex or Nick.’

‘But you were responsible for them,’ Meg leant forward, her eyes gleaming in the summer sunlight. ‘You had taken them under your wing.’

‘Oh,’ said Alex suddenly, as if something had just occurred to her. ‘Do we have room for a sixth – a nice jewel to add to the collection?’

The Doctor exploded from his seat and grabbed Alex by the shoulders. ‘You said you had no truck with Ruby! You said you did not lie!’

‘Release her!’ screamed Meg.

The Doctor found himself petrified. He could not move – not even to breath. He felt his hearts pounding at the sudden lack of air. Just as his respiratory by-pass system took effect, the Doctor felt a new sensation. It was if he was being vacuum packed. He felt an immense pressure all over his body and saw Meg with one eye closed, gazing past the finger and thumb of her right hand, which were held up to her open eye. She was slowly bringing them together; slowly wringing the life from him. As he felt his skull creaking under the pressure, all became black...

Tardis had allowed herself to fully materialise as Ruby had turned a corner in the passage. The huge Fury had actually been gaining on the Doctor’s companion when it had collided with the elegant, blonde-haired figure. The almost immovable object had met a truly irresistible force and the Fury had careened back down the hallway, clutching at the walls to stop itself from falling. Tardis just stood there smiling sweetly.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, feigning concern. ‘How clumsy of me. How did I not see you there?’

The Fury regained its composure and moved forward once more to stand nose to nose with the slim figure before it.

‘Would you like me to move?’ asked Tardis. The Fury side-stepped the blonde woman, but she had moved the same way. The Fury took another step the other way, but Tardis had mirrored the manoeuvre. Like two people trying to pass one another on a narrow pavement, the corporeal time machine and the Greek myth continued their dance for a few seconds before Tardis finally faded away. She had places to be and people to meet.

The Doctor opened his eyes and squinted at his new surroundings. He was lying on a small bed, his legs dangling over the end, his hands clasped on his chest. There was pain – physical and mental. He could feel hope slipping away from him and his body on verge of regeneration. He tilted his head to look around the room.

It was obviously a little girl’s room. The walls were papered in a floral design of pink and green pastels; the woodwork a muted shade of white. Antique furniture populated the edges of the room – here a walnut dressing table with an oval mirror spotted with age, there a mahogany wardrobe with an old iron key in its lock.

He turned his head to view the other side of the room. Beneath the frilly-netted window was an upholstered nursing chair on which sat a collection of stuffed animals. Not the more typical teddy bears and zoo animals, but mythical creatures. The Doctor recognised a couple of harpies bizarrely dressed in little dresses, a griffon sporting a coat of Stewart tartan and a Cyclops wearing dungarees.

In front of the chair, sitting on a rectangular Persian rug were Alex and Meg and between them, the snakes and ladders board, set up exactly as it had been in the orchard. Alex looked up at him.

‘Nice nap?’ she asked.

The Doctor swung his legs from the bed and winced as his feet touched the floor.

‘You might want to stay in bed for a bit,’ advised Meg darkly. ‘We can throw the dice for you.’

‘No, thank you,’ the Doctor replied, standing up. He wobbled a bit, but remained upright. ‘Where were we?’ he asked, staggering forward to stand above the two little girls.

They eyed him suspiciously, but Alex broke the look and rolled the dice. When she had moved their yellow counter, it stood exactly three rows further up the board than the Doctor’s blue one.

‘So you feel no remorse for your companions,’ said Meg, brushing a stray piece of fluff from her kimono.

‘Of course I do,’ replied the Doctor, just managing to maintain his grip on the anger welling within him once more. ‘Had I been able to save them, I would have. They were my friends. I…’ he faltered for a second. ‘I loved them.’

‘Yet you do not mourn them,’ Alex said.

‘I mourn them in the rare moments when the universe is still. I mourn them when I should be sleeping or when I have a quiet cup of coffee.’

‘Flippancy again?’

‘The earthy brown vortex of a well-stirred cup of coffee can be quite an abyss of remembrance if one is minded to make it so,’ the Doctor said, looking straight at Alex. ‘They were all fine people. They fought incredible evil, triumphed over personal tragedy and bestowed me with the greatest gift a being can give another – their love. They knew that if one takes up arms against such a sea of troubles, there is often a price to be paid. I would not sully their memory by wishing them alive, because they died - be it fighting Daleks, Cybermen or Ashgotoroth - so that others may live. So you can sit there and judge me for “letting” my friends die, but you have no idea how I feel about those matters. Whatever the punishment you have planned for me, it cannot possibly supersede the loss I already feel.’

The Doctor bent down, picked up the dice and rolled a six. He moved the blue counter along the row and up a short ladder to rest just three spaces behind the Furies’ yellow one. Then he fixed his gaze on Alex.

‘And I will not concede on that point,’ he said.

The Fury growled as it hurtled down the corridor in its search for Ruby. It worked its way through each room and side passage systematically until it came to the small antechamber, leading to the armoury. Here, the room was apparently empty. The desk with the PC stood to one side, the device with the big red button winking at the Fury, telling it the armoury was open. The huge beast surged forward, through the open door and into the weapons room beyond. This, too, was empty, so the Fury turned to leave.

Ruby emerged from her rather cramped hiding place under the desk as soon as she heard the Fury enter the armoury. She saw the creature turn and its eyes blazed as she slapped the red button with the palm of her hand. The solid door drew itself neatly across the frame, sealing the Fury inside with the hydraulic hiss of its security bolts.

Ruby thought she could hear a bellow of rage, but did not wait to confirm it. Instead, she dashed from the antechamber and started back towards the elegant entrance hall where she had first encountered the Fury.

Now all was calm, one of the main double doors standing ajar, as the creature had left it. Jubilant, Ruby trotted forward and peered out.

Bizarrely, she was looking at a graveyard. With a shrug of her shoulders, the former UNIT cook stepped over the threshold and the door closed behind her with a slight creak. Ruby turned to look at the door and saw that it was now an arched oak door in the side of a grey stone English church.

Ruby could not see Tardis, but she felt as if she were being led through the granite dentistry of graves, towards a door in the far wall. She did not pause to look at the head stones, but made straight for the door. It opened easily and Ruby saw that beyond was a large grassy expanse with fruit trees growing randomly here and there.

‘The orchard,’ she whispered to herself. ‘At last!’

She passed through the doorway and strode out into the glorious sunshine and blossom smells. Unseen by Ruby, a thick metal door slid across the opening and the accompanying hiss was drowned by the wind rustling the branches of the twin willow trees that flanked her.

At first glance the area seemed to be deserted, but as she ventured deeper into the orchard, Ruby heard a gentle wheezing sound coming from behind an old, wooden applecart. Ruby approached cautiously, but then saw the familiar black trousers and shoes she knew so well. She hurried around the cart and smiled down at the figure before her, snoozing peacefully in the summer sun.

‘Doctor?’ she said quietly. No response. ‘Doctor!’ Her voice rose and she bent down to shake his shoulder with a plump hand. He did not stir. Instead, her efforts were rewarded by a slight increase in the volume of his snoring.

While Alex threw the dice, the Doctor took the opportunity to examine his surroundings in more depth. Tapping the tips of his fingers together, he sidled up to the wardrobe and opened the door.

‘Interesting,’ he said.

‘What?’ asked Meg. ‘All those fur coats?’

‘I suppose that if I went inside, I would find a lamp post and possibly a faun waiting for me in a snowy landscape?’

‘Possibly,’ Alex said, moving her counter four spaces along the board.

The Doctor shut the wardrobe’s door and sauntered back to the game. ‘I did not see a house from the orchard or the churchyard,’ he said.

‘No,’ Alex replied.

‘You can’t see the vicarage from either place,’ grinned Meg. ‘It’s obscured.’

‘I see.’ He took the dice and dropped it onto the board. A one. ‘Would you move my piece for me, Meg?’ he asked.

Meg duly slid the counter one square along and took the wooden cube from the Doctor and passed it to Alex.

‘Are you bored of the game?’ he asked, moving round the bed to look at the dressing table and oval mirror.

‘Bored?’ smiled Meg. ‘Oh no. We’re just waiting.’

The dressing table’s surface was protected by a lace doily, on which sat a vanity set of hairbrushes and a hand mirror, all silver inlaid with mother of pearl. Off to one side, hidden by a tortoiseshell cube containing tissues was a squat blue box. The Doctor peered at it more closely and stifled a gasp as he saw what was written on it in white letters: “POLICE MUSICAL BOX”.

‘Interesting mirror,’ the Doctor said quickly. ‘I wonder are we the right side of it?’

‘Once more, that depends on your definition of “right”,’ giggled Meg.

‘Hmmm.’ The Doctor lifted the music box and, shielded from the girls’ view, turned it over in his hand. On one side was an empty keyhole.

‘Your go,’ called Alex.

‘Yes. Just a mo.’ The Doctor quickly snatched the TARDIS key from his pocket and inserted it in the keyhole.

‘What are you doing?’ Alex was on her feet.

The Doctor turned the key four times and then turned to the two girls. Meg was now standing as well.

‘To tell you the truth, I am not sure,’ replied the Doctor with what felt like the first smile he had ever smiled. He slipped the TARDIS key back into his pocket, just as Alex jumped across the room and grabbed the blue box from him.

‘You lie!’ she spat, examining the item.

‘Oh no,’ replied the Doctor. ‘It is not you I am winding up!’

‘What is it?’ Meg asked, concern showing on her oriental features for the first time.

‘Open it and see,’ suggested the Doctor.

‘We have no need to,’ said Alex quietly. ‘This is our realm.’

‘Then allow me!’ Before she could react, the Doctor had the music box back in his hands and had opened the lid. Inside was a tiny figure in a sky-blue dress, with long blonde hair. Immediately she started to rotate on a small platform and from within the working of the box, a song began to play:

‘Just a castaway
An island lost at sea
Another lonely day
With no one here but me
More loneliness
Than any man could bear
Rescue me before I fall into despair.’

Alex slapped the box from the Doctor’s hands and it flew across the room, smashing against the wall above the bed and bouncing off, onto the pillow below upside down. The lid was still open, however, and the song continued.

“I'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle.’

‘What is it?’ implored Meg, holding her hands over her ears.

‘I think that someone is showing you that not just Furies can play at being - how shall I put this – off the wall?’ The Doctor’s smile broadened.

‘A year has passed since I wrote my note
But I should have known this right from the start
Only hope can keep me together
Love can mend your life
But love can break your heart.’

‘Very well, time machine,’ sneered Alex as the chorus played once more. ‘Show yourself.’

Nothing happened. Only the song continued to play out.

‘Walked out this morning
Don't believe what I saw
A hundred billion bottles
Washed up on the shore
Seems I'm not alone at being alone
A hundred billion castaways
Looking for a home.’

Feeling a bit peckish, Ruby was now sitting on the cart, rubbing one of the apples she had plucked from a nearby tree on her blouse. She had tried everything to wake the Doctor, but he remained resolutely asleep.

As she took a bit from the apple and began to chew, the Doctor sat up and looked round.

‘That was a nice nap,’ he said. ‘But I think it best if we were going now.’

‘Doctor!’ Ruby jumped up and gave him a hug, burying her head in his chest. ‘I thought those Furies had done for you!’

‘Those young whippersnappers? No, Ruby.’ He smiled and disentangled himself from her embrace. ‘Now then, where did I leave the TARDIS?’

Ruby bit her lip. ‘It’s back at the temple,’ she said.

‘Oh yes. Of course,’ the Doctor grinned. ‘Well, much as I like mythology, I think on this occasion we should be history, don’t you?’

Ruby nodded eagerly, but something made her lop-sided grin fade. This was too easy. Way too easy. Even for the Doctor. Wasn’t it?

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said the Doctor lightly. ‘How did I manage to escape and why was I asleep?’

Ruby nodded.

‘It’s quite a long story. Shall I explain as we go?’ He took her hand and started back across the orchard. ‘I really think I should get you home.’

‘I'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle…’

The song faded and as it did, the box began to glow an intense blue – the colour of sapphire. The Doctor felt his heart leap as the light began to form the shape of a figure – the Figure! Tardis.

She was sitting on the bed, her legs tucked under her, hands clasped behind her head, which rested against the pillow.

‘Should really have been "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic",’ Tardis said.

The Doctor laughed and tears rolled down his cheek. ‘"Walking On The Moon" would have worked just as well!’ he said.

Alex and Meg stared at the newcomer with something approaching disbelief.

‘She shouldn’t be here!’ cried Meg, the panic obvious in her voice.

Tardis rose from the bed and approached the little oriental girl. ‘No need to fear,’ she said gently. ‘You have been very naughty little girls, though.’ She placed a consoling arm around Meg’s shoulders and smiled down at her. ‘But I understand. I can be a bit mischievous myself at times.’ She winked.

‘Enough, foul Glaukopis!’ screamed Alex. ‘You should have been destroyed.’

‘Yes. I know, but I told you that I was not going to sit idly by and let that happen. I even warned you that I have self-defence capabilities…’

‘You are as arrogant as the Time Lord is,’ Alex raged.

Meg sniffled.

‘Try to be calm,’ said Tardis soothingly. ‘You are upsetting your sister.’

‘Perhaps we can now begin to sort this out like adults,’ agreed the Doctor, looking at Alex.

‘This-is-our-realm,’ Alex hissed between clenched teeth.

‘Of course it is. No one is denying that.’ Tardis knelt down so that she shared the little girls’ eye level.

‘Because you can’t deny it,’ Alex said, suddenly regaining her composure. ‘You have shown that you are adept at changing form to avoid us.’

‘Well, I am here now. And I want to help you.’

‘You? Help us? Destroy us more like.’ Alex smiled. ‘Do not play me for a fool, time machine.’

‘I would never do that,’ Tardis smiled innocently. ‘But you are in danger.’

‘Danger?’ asked Meg, looking at the blonde haired woman anxiously.

‘We are in no danger,’ laughed Alex. ‘But you are.’

The Doctor frowned.

‘Me?’ asked Tardis. ‘All I ask is that I help the Doctor here. He can be become quite befuddled at times, you know. Particularly when under the amount of pressure you have placed on him.’

‘You have shown us how adept you are at changing forms to avoid us,’ repeated Alex. ‘You have a chameleon circuit – that’s what it’s called, isn’t it?’

‘The TARDIS does, yes.’

‘Then perhaps you should be a chameleon.’

Alex extended her arm to Tardis, palm facing her. Before the embodiment of the TARDIS could move, she was caught in a vortex of swirling crayons and dancing felt-tips.

‘What are you doing?’ cried the Doctor, stepping forward.

‘Remain still, Time Lord,’ Meg screeched. ‘Unless you want a proper squishing again.’

The Doctor froze in mid step and watched helplessly as the various crayons and pens started to snick at Tardis’s dress, ripping it away to leave her naked and defenceless.

‘You will not help the Doctor, time machine,’ shouted Alex gleefully. ‘You will become our plaything and then you will die!’

The blonde woman screamed as the nibs and points dug into her flesh, painting a rainbow of agony on her skin.