Doctor Who_ Bad Therapy - Matthew Jones [130]
His relief of being out of the dark box was intense. The Doctor had carelessly left the doors of the car wide open. A single headlight cut a beam of light into the misty darkness. Jack clambered out of the car, panting. After taking a moment to get his bearings, he hurried after the Doctor across the wet grass.
The Doctor looked down upon the cavern from the small entrance cut into the wall close to the roof. The dark floor of the cave shifted and shimmered. Pools of black liquid erupted, forming strange, twisted shapes, before splashing back into the liquid form.
Whatever science created this strange material was alien even to the Doctor.
Quite unlike anything he had encountered before. He imagined the devasta-tion that a fleet of the murderous black cabs shaped from it might do to a city like London. If Moriah was successful, hundreds, perhaps thousand, would die.
He glanced at the woman standing next to him. Petruska stared impassively down upon her husband’s work. The Doctor reached for her hand, and began to guide her down the rough stone steps which led to the cavern floor.
‘Moriah. First King of Kr’on Tep, Emperor of the Seven Systems,’ the Doctor’s voice was a hushed whisper as he reached the last step, ‘I wish to speak with you.’
Moriah stood in the middle of a circle of emerald fire, staring in wonder at the blossoming, spiralling shapes that towered above him. On hearing his name, he swung around to locate the new presence in his underground chamber.
‘Is it not magnificent?’ he exclaimed with passion. ‘It is an expression of my thoughts, my desires, my will.’ If Moriah was surprised that the Doctor had returned he didn’t show it.
Despite the gravity of the situation, the scientist in the Doctor was curious.
‘But what is it?’
‘An artificial material that responds to my thoughts and feelings. I created it when I first attempted to bring my bride back from the dead. But it was far too crude and primitive to be shaped into the complexity of a whole person. I needed to build from human tissue itself. Now, are you ready to return to me 226
that which you stole –’ he gestured to the writhing shapes which cast shadows on the walls of the cavern ‘– or must I loose my anger upon London?’
‘I have told you that you cannot have the Toys. They’re a people in their own right now. They’re not answerable to you.’
Moriah’s face twisted into a snarl. ‘Then the consequence will be on your head.’
As if in his response, a wave of black tar-like material reared up behind the Doctor; a tidal wave, threatening to crash down upon him.
‘Moriah, wait! You don’t need to trouble yourself with the Toys any more.
I’ve brought you what you most want,’ the Doctor shouted. ‘I have completed your work, I have brought your wife back from the dead.’ He pointed to the woman who stood behind him in the shadows. ‘If you agree to leave the Toys and the Earth in peace, then you may have her.’
Moriah laughed bitterly. ‘You presume to offer me what I have struggled and failed to create for myself despite centuries of work? When I look into her eyes, I know that I will see her treachery written there. Do you come here to mock me?’
The Doctor shrugged, trying to look relaxed despite the wall of tar-like goo teetering over him. ‘You don’t have to take her. But can you bear to go on never knowing whether my offer was genuine? Never knowing whether you passed up your chance for happiness.’ The Doctor held his hands behind his back and turned away from the large man, staring up at the trembling wave of gelatinous material as if it were an exhibit in a gallery.
‘Wait,’ Moriah said, almost hurriedly. ‘Your attempts to manipulate me are naive in the extreme and yet –’
‘And yet have they worked, Moriah?’ the Doctor interrupted, too angry with the man to defer to him or to play any more games. ‘Do you want to be reunited with your bride? If you do then give me your word that you will