Categories > TV > Doctor Who > Doctor Who- the Vanishing of Penelope Kelsey
John Smith is wandering through the Tardis, ostensibly looking for the Doctor, but not trying as hard as he could be to find her. Rose is asleep in her room, which the Doctor had unlocked before walking away, muttering. He has already checked the console room and the small grotto, now he opens the door into the library and moves slowly down the isles. Halfway through the room he can hear shuffling pages and turns, following rows of uneven shelves. He finds the Doctor sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, a pile of books on her lap.
“Doing some light reading?” John drops down beside her and picks one up. “For the Love of the Dead- The Secret and Mystery of MogDoth. Really?”
“I know, I know. But listen to this-” The Doctor opens the book she's holding and finds her place again. “Ah, here we are...'found a number of clay artifacts which appeared to be infant burial vessels, however upon closer examination were revealed to be a species related to...blah blah...posses a soft body with a pliable shell which can be hardened to weather adverse conditions….tentacles or tendrils by which they can crawl or climb, some species at a rate of several feet per hour...many species are known for their distinct odor, which is described as rotting or mildewed fruit…' that sounds like the thing Kelsey described, I'd imagine the atmosphere on Earth would let it move quite a bit faster. And they're known for their fondness of areas where there are high carbon deposits- coal mines, post-fire zones-”
“Chimneys.” John says.
“Indeed. They'll put on a display when threatened, but they aren't terribly aggressive, not much in the way of defense. Some of them excrete a mildly psychoactive substance.” She tosses the book aside with a sigh.
“Maybe someone is running an experiment and it got out of hand.” John says. “Things go bad, last resort is always call the Doctor.”
“Mm, could be.” The Doctor sighs.
She shoves at his knees, scoots back to lean against his chest and props her feet on the opposite shelf.
John tightens his arms around her ribs, lowers his head and speaks in a stage whisper “Hey-”
“What?” She whispers back.
“I can feel your hearts.”
“I know. Here- look at this-” She pulls a paper out of her pocket. “Telegraph from Scotland Yard, I asked about Kelesy's wife.”
“And?' John tries to see, but the Doctor is intentionally holding it at just the wrong angle.
“And...she doesn't exist!” The Doctor finally flips the telegraph up for him to look at. “Adrian Kelsey never married. According to this, he popped up a few years before he moved here, started up a practice claiming to have graduated from an acclaimed medical school 'overseas'. Penny seems to have appeared between the time he left his old practice and arrived here.”
“Could be using an assumed name.” John says. “Why did he leave?”
“It's a mystery. Packed up one night and vanished, had patients showing up the next day waiting around. No indication of foul play, though, so they didn't do much in the way of investigating.”
The Doctor pulls the photo out of her pocket and holds it up again. “I found out something very interesting when I was scanning this earlier.”
“What's that?” John smiles, willingly playing along with her prompting.
“It's not from the 1800s.”
“No?” John takes the photo again, looks it over carefully.
“Guess.” The Doctor says.
John shakes his head. “Ursa Minor?”
The Doctor laughs. “I wish. No, this came straight out of New Shanghai.”
“Really.” John whistles. “Now that's impressive. Somebody dropped a pretty penny on it, I'd bet. Ow! Oh, come on, that was a good one.”
“Yeah, yeah, you're so clever. But you're right, this wasn't cheap. Here-” She fishes the sunglasses out of her pocket and hands them over. “the fibers are nanotagged.”
“These are nice.” John comments. “Oh, yes, I see. 2781-5537...hang on, that's the matcom maintenance prefix, isn't it?”
The Doctor laughs. “Never forget an important number. Yes, it is. Which means this was illegally manufactured. And I found traces of Fromolayze embedded in the surface, which was used to coat power generating pavement until all those people got poisoned.”
“They were near to a construction site.” John says.
“Mm-hm. Now, the photo paper has been compiled, but it was processed with chemical agents- this is a very, very high quality fake. And no way it's a one-off, somebody is doing this a lot. There's skill involved here.”
“So somebody is taking deliveries.” John says.
“And from a company with a no-questions-asked policy, which means we're talking about a private courtier service located in a seedy part of town- the closer to an underground entrance the better, since they wouldn't want to risk damaging the shipment sending it farther than they have to.”
“If I wanted to make sure my volatile chemicals arrived in one piece, I'd look for a service that would pick them up directly, instead of at a central location.” John comments.
“So would I- and as it so happens, there is one courier service which meets all of those criteria and was in service when that maintenance code was being used to pirate materials- 2255 to 2257. And from September 5-8 2256, the street three blocks away from them, just one intersection away from an underground entrance, was under construction. Whoever made this probably cleans regularly, so this photo was most likely made during or very shortly after that period. Those chemicals last forever, and the couriers have a pretty high turnover rate so it might not get us anywhere, but I think it's worth a try.”
“Do you know where the picture actually came from originally? The image itself?” John asks.
“No, I'm hoping the person who made it can shed some light on that subject.” The Doctor rolls forward and onto her feet. “Now, I came in here for something...I came in here for….for….oh, right, it's in the back desk there-”
She shoves papers off of a desk, pulls out several of the smaller back drawers After dumping the contents of two she finally finds what she is looking for, a very small, silverish model of the Tardis, attached to a strip of ribbon.
“Here we go, random things that come in useful-” She waves it between her fingers.
“Tracking device.” John says. “Nice.”
“At least now we shouldn't get permanently stranded if they pull that little trick on us again.” The Doctor drops the tracker around her neck and tightens the string.
..........
Rose blinks awake to someone shaking her foot. For a moment she is confused by the sound and room, then remembers where they are. John is sitting at the bottom of the bed, looking very much like her Doctor in a snug fit suit.
“Did we move earlier? Where are we?” Rose yawns.
“New Shanghai.” John says.
“ 'kay. Why?”
“I'll explain later. Get dressed. And grab something to eat, we're going underground and the food is...well, not good.”
Rose laughs. “Wow, that has to be pretty bad. Not even rats?”
“You'd be very, very lucky to get insects.”
“Eew.” Rose wrinkles her nose.
“There are plenty of rats about, though.” John says in an encouraging voice.
Rose sighs. “You want me to ask why people aren't eating them, don't you.”
“Yes.”
“Why don't people eat the rats.”
“Because they're toxic.” John grins. “Turns out the sealant they use on the streets binds with a commonly used rat poison, makes it harmless to the rat but lethal to humans in a very small dose. One good sized rat could kill three or four adults.”
“Great.” Rose says.
They find the Doctor waiting just outside of the open door. They have materialized in an alley, it's been raining recently and the wet pavement glitters with reflected neon. The air is heavy, thick with water and greasy smoke.
The courier service is around the corner, a low bio-cement building almost completely covered with graffiti. A chipping door opens into a small office, where a young man with violently purple hair is sitting at the desk with his feet propped up, poking at a computer terminal.
“Dropping off or picking up?” He asks without looking up.
“Neither.” The Doctor says.
The attendant looks up, runs a slightly suspicious eye over them. “What do you want?”
“I'm looking for information about a possible client of yours.”
“All delivery information is strictly confidential.” The young man turns his attention back to the screen.
“Yes, I thought you might say that.” The Doctor says. “Which is why I brought this-”
She offers out a thin slip of what looks like plastic, with words printed on it. The attendant takes it looks it over, then sticks the end into a scanner and presses a few buttons.
“UNIT special agents, huh.” He peers at a display that has come up on his monitor. “Wow, that's a long list of chemicals, hang on, this is gonna take a minute. Do you know when it was made?”
“No.” The Doctor says. “But it was probably picked up and delivered directly from the source.”
“OK, well that should narrow it down a little bit. What's this stuff used for, anyway?”
“Processing film.” The Doctor says. “Replica photographs.”
“I appreciate your cooperation.” The Doctor says.
“Hey, Unit doesn't mess with us, we don't mess with you. We ain't doin' no funny business around here. Why are you after somebody doing photos, though?”
“We believe that whoever is making them may be involved in the disappearance of a child.” The Doctor says.
“Ooh.” He sucks air through his teeth. “That's no good.”
“Um...alright, I have two shipments in the last twelve months- Killborne Chemical Stock to...oh, oh wait, I remember this. They requested the same courier the second time...um...yeah, here we go...and we have...special delivery instructions written on package. Hang on a minute.” He pulls a headset on, types in several codes. “Skye? Hey, yeah, what's your ETA? Can you make it ten? No, just need to talk to you about something.”
He pulls the microphone away. “She'll be here in a little bit, just dropped a package off.”
Skye turns out to be a girl of about 15, who rolls through the door on wheeled boots and grabs the corner of the desk, skating back and forth in place as she looks at the group.
“These guys are from Unit. You remember those packages you got from Killbourne the other month? The ones with the special delivery note?”
“Yeah.” Skye says.
“Where did you take them?”
“Fifty-Seven Corner Stop.” She replies immediately. “Dunno who picked it up after that.”
“Who would know something like that?”
“Carbon Fisher, maybe. He finds stuff.”
“Can you take us to him?” The Doctor asks.
Skye shrugs. “Yeah, sure, but you're probably wasting your time.”
“We have all the time in the world.” The Doctor says.
Skye arches an eyebrow at her, then shrugs. “Whatever. I better get paid for this.”
“I'm sure we can work something out.” The Doctor says.
Skye groans. “Yeah, right.”
She retracts the wheels on her shoes, offers out a hand. “'Name's Skye.”
The Doctor makes introductions, and the three fall in step behind the girl as she heads back out onto the street. They cut through several alleys, then come to a wide opening that looks as though it was once the entrance to a driving tunnel. There are a few people slouching around, smoking and watching the scant few pedestrians with mildly suspicious looks.
The wide tunnel is lined with makeshift stalls, where a group of rather shady vendors are hawking Name Brand Merchandise at Low, Low Prices. They come to an intersection, begin making turns past progressively more permanent looking structures.
“What was here before?” Rose asks.
“Right here?” John says. “Underground rail. This is a city on a city on a city- the substructure goes down ten, twelve stories in some places. Old temples, catacombs, basements, some of it into natural caves and tunnels, who knows, could go down miles.”
Skye stops at a corner, knocks at what looks like an old maintenance door. After a moment it is opened by a man wearing a set of VR goggles, which he pushes up on his head to peer at them.
“Help you?” He asks.
“Hey, Fisher. These guys wanna talk to you.” Skye nods her head in their direction.
Fisher gives them a wary eye. “You cops?”
The Doctor flashes her psychic paper.
“Unit, huh. Alright, come in.” Fisher opens the door all the way.
The walls in the room are lined with shelves, crammed with mixture of antique electronics and scientific equipment. A door in the back is covered with a faded, flower print blanket.
“What can I do for you?” Fisher asks.
“We're looking for the person who made this-” The Doctor pulls the photo out.
“May I?” Fisher takes the picture and looks it over carefully. “Hm, come with me.”
He pushes the blanket aside and ushers them through into the room behind, which is narrow and crowded with metal shelves holding distinctly newer looking stock. Down a short flight of stairs and through another blanketed door, they come into a room which is cooler and brightly lit, air from a forced ventilation system rustles papers sitting on several desks and pinned to boards on one wall. The room is lined with work tables and shelves, some of which hold very complicated looking equipment.
Fisher puts the photo into a slot on the front of a white metallic box, presses a few buttons on it's surface. After a few seconds a display screen comes on, numbers and codes scrolling down in neat rows.
“Hmm...high quality printing...cheap matcom paper, though, won't last more than a few months. Hang on...there's a serial number here...” He pulls the goggles down, his head jerking slightly as he navigates through something only he can see. “Here we go...this was taken with a...RetroBox22k...September 7, 2256.”
“It's a new photo?” Rose says. “Not a reprint?”
“Yeah.” Fisher says.
“Can you tell us who made it?” The Doctor asks.
“Plum Pudding.” Fisher pulls the photo out and hands it back. “She's the only one down here who does this legacy stuff.”
“Where can we find her?”
“Up and to the left, pink stall.” Fisher says.
“Thank you. We appreciate your cooperation.” The Doctor says.
Fisher grunts noncommittally, waves them toward the door as he fiddles with one of his machines.
Plum Pudding turns out to be about three feet tall and three hundred years old, a tiny wrinkled creature in a neon pink mumu and fluffy slippers. She takes the photo with one shriveled hand, peers at it through thick glasses.
“Yes, yes, I remember this. Very unusual.” She shuffles to the back of the stall and pulls aside a curtain, motions them through. They step into a small studio crammed with lights and furniture, a corner cleared and set up with curtains and reflectors.
“She came in dressed like that-” She grunts as she shoves a stool over to pull open the top drawer of a filing cabinet. “With two men, very strange. Very strange men. And a woman, but she stayed outside. Very strange.”
Plum Pudding finds what she's looking for and pulls a folder out.
“Very specific with what she wanted- did all the talking, she did. Reproduction Cabinet style photograph, developed in the darkroom- cheap paper, though. Cheap matcom paper.΅ She shakes her head. “Told her it wouldn't last. Left all the numbers on, too...wouldn't let me strip them. Was wondering if someone would come looking.”
“These men, and the woman, I don't suppose you have a photo.” The Doctor says.
Plum Pudding makes a face. “Yes and no-”
She clambers over to a monitor setup and fusses for a few seconds, leans to the side so they can see. A security camera feed of the front and back rooms. Penny appears, stepping through the door flanked by two men who look very much like Lean and Arrow, though their faces seem curiously blurred. Penny looks directly up into the camera for a second, her face pale and blank. Then both sets of video abruptly cut to lines of static.
“It stayed like that until they left.” Plum Puddings says.
“Signal blocker.” The Doctor says. “What about the woman?”
Plum Pudding works the controls for a moment, switching the camera feeds and running them back. “There...just for a second you can see her.”
The Doctor leans forward, looking at the image. Her eyes narrow. She can't be completely sure from this angle, but she thinks she knows who that is.
“Why are you after her?” Plum Pudding asks.
“She was reported as missing.” The Doctor says distractedly.
“Custody battle?”
“What makes you say that?” The Doctor asks.
“Oh, she just seemed to know the men she was with.” Plum Pudding says. “Girls that young, with strangers, even if they pretend you can tell they don't want to be there. People come in sometimes, wanting...photos...normal ones, even, but...” She shakes her head. “I don't do that sort of thing. Even rats have scruples. Send them away to the Tiger. But this one, she ordered them around, you know the way bossy kids will.”
“How did they take that?” The Doctor asks.
Plum Pudding laughs. “They'd give eachother looks, roll their eyes a bit.”
“Can you give me a copy of these videos?” The Doctor asks.
“Here- take the original. And all the negatives and test prints. Whatever is going on, I am officially no longer involved. I'm not going to get killed over this, am I?”
“I doubt it.” The Doctor says.
They come back out into the main tunnel, the Doctor shoves her hands into her pockets and does a little bouncy dance. “What to do, what to do...I haven't been to New Shanghai in forever. You know, if this Penny girl is coming through with that little trick she pulled on us she might have left some evidence.”
“I don't know how long we can stay down here before we wear out our welcome.” John says.
“Mm.” The Doctor purses her lips. “You're right. But we can go up there-” She lifts her chin, indicating the surface “and have a look around.”
“Hey, there she is.” Fisher jerks his head.
“Who?” Hal asks.
“That girl I was telling you about!” He jams his elbow into her side. “Look! The one with shorter hair.”
Hal lifts her eyes from the control board she has been assembling and looks through the open door. It takes her a second to figure out who he's talking about, then she spots the group, two blond girls and a man in a suit.
“She's cute.” Hal says. “You should go talk to her.”
“Yeah, right.” Fisher rolls his eyes. “Oh, no- she saw me-”
“Mr Fisher!” The Doctor has motioned her companions to stay behind and poked her head in.
“Hi.” Fisher says, his friend laughs.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Um, yeah, sure.” Fisher straightens up. “Come into the back.”
“You seem like a man who knows things.” The Doctor says.
“Sometimes.” Fisher says.
The Doctor smiles. “Have you heard anything about...this is going to sound rather insane...but something that looks like an egg or large mushroom with...tentacles...anywhere, have you?”
Fisher goes the kind of quiet that always means something. “Funny you should mention that.”
“That's a 'yes', then.” The Doctor says.
“Yeah. I've seen them.” Fisher says. “Down in the end tunnels. Some of the kids have, too. Nobody goes in there anymore.”
“Really.” The Doctor's eyes light up. “Would you mind to terribly coming along with me?”
“Am I in trouble?” Fisher asks.
“I think that as long as those things are here, everybody is in trouble.” The Doctor says.
They find Rose and John standing in the small front room, chatting with Hal.
“I'm gonna go with them for a minute.” Fisher says.
Hal flashes him a grin and nods. Fisher rolls his eyes. Rose gives the Doctor a look and smirks at her.
The Doctor shakes her head. “I don't even want to know. Come on, then.”
Fisher leads them down a side tunnel, the lights quickly go out and he pulls a flashlight out, aims it ahead of them. They have gone several hundred yards when the beam picks out several round shapes clinging to the wall.
“Are there more of them?” The Doctor asks.
“I don't know.” Fisher says.
The things shudder, reacting to their presence. One of them lifts itself from the wall and begins to slide along on it's tentacle legs.
“Woah. They never did that before.” Fisher takes several quick steps back.
A cold wind hits their back.
“No-” The Doctor shouts- “No, no no no nooo- son of a-”
There is a blast of cold air, a shadow that swoops past with a whirl of snow and ice. For a moment, the city seems to flicker around them, then vanishes, leaving Rose and John standing alone in the empty tunnel.
“What just happened?” Rose asks.
“It took them.” John says.
“Why didn't it want us?” Rose asks.
“I dunno.” John puts a hand on her arm, guides her gently back the way they had come. “But I suggest we don't stick around to long. Not unless you think those things are interested in a conversation.”
The egg creatures are moving toward them again, their motions distinctly aggressive.
“Come on.” John grabs Rose's hand and tugs her into a run.
The tunnel is dim, they follow the low glimmer of light until reaching an intersection filed with light and voices. He keeps hold of her until they have opened the Tardis door and stepped through.
“What do we do?” Rose asks.
“We're going to track her.” John says, starting to flip switches and pull levers. “You knew this was going to happen, didn't you.” This is aimed either at the Doctor or the Tardis.
John is working the controls, but he keeps making irritated noises.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing, it's just...different in here.”
The console makes a strange sound, the lights in the room dim and come back up. Rose stumbles, the footing has changes, reaches out and her hand lands on one of the tall columns that always remind her of trees.
“Oh, thank you, that's much better.” John says.
Rose watches him dance around the console. He catches her eye, jerks his head. “Come hold this lever. Alright, now lets see...”
The Tardis emits a deep twang and a series of clicking sounds, the engine engages with a heavy whoosh and then they are rocking and shuddering as the ship wheezes and wails.
Skye is skating along fast, her weight thrown forward as she works up momentum. Something appears right in front of her, a big blue box with a flashing light on top. She doesn't have time to stop or turn, and throws up her hands expecting an impact.
Instead, she passes right through, for a second she thinks she sees the man and one of the women from earlier, then she is out the other side and coming to a less than graceful stop. She takes a second to catch her breath, goes back to where the box was and skates in a slow circle.
Nothing there. She shakes her head, adjusts the strap on her bag and pushes off again. Within seconds, the incident has slipped from her mind. She has deliveries to make, after all, strange vanishing boxes are somebody else's problem.
“Doing some light reading?” John drops down beside her and picks one up. “For the Love of the Dead- The Secret and Mystery of MogDoth. Really?”
“I know, I know. But listen to this-” The Doctor opens the book she's holding and finds her place again. “Ah, here we are...'found a number of clay artifacts which appeared to be infant burial vessels, however upon closer examination were revealed to be a species related to...blah blah...posses a soft body with a pliable shell which can be hardened to weather adverse conditions….tentacles or tendrils by which they can crawl or climb, some species at a rate of several feet per hour...many species are known for their distinct odor, which is described as rotting or mildewed fruit…' that sounds like the thing Kelsey described, I'd imagine the atmosphere on Earth would let it move quite a bit faster. And they're known for their fondness of areas where there are high carbon deposits- coal mines, post-fire zones-”
“Chimneys.” John says.
“Indeed. They'll put on a display when threatened, but they aren't terribly aggressive, not much in the way of defense. Some of them excrete a mildly psychoactive substance.” She tosses the book aside with a sigh.
“Maybe someone is running an experiment and it got out of hand.” John says. “Things go bad, last resort is always call the Doctor.”
“Mm, could be.” The Doctor sighs.
She shoves at his knees, scoots back to lean against his chest and props her feet on the opposite shelf.
John tightens his arms around her ribs, lowers his head and speaks in a stage whisper “Hey-”
“What?” She whispers back.
“I can feel your hearts.”
“I know. Here- look at this-” She pulls a paper out of her pocket. “Telegraph from Scotland Yard, I asked about Kelesy's wife.”
“And?' John tries to see, but the Doctor is intentionally holding it at just the wrong angle.
“And...she doesn't exist!” The Doctor finally flips the telegraph up for him to look at. “Adrian Kelsey never married. According to this, he popped up a few years before he moved here, started up a practice claiming to have graduated from an acclaimed medical school 'overseas'. Penny seems to have appeared between the time he left his old practice and arrived here.”
“Could be using an assumed name.” John says. “Why did he leave?”
“It's a mystery. Packed up one night and vanished, had patients showing up the next day waiting around. No indication of foul play, though, so they didn't do much in the way of investigating.”
The Doctor pulls the photo out of her pocket and holds it up again. “I found out something very interesting when I was scanning this earlier.”
“What's that?” John smiles, willingly playing along with her prompting.
“It's not from the 1800s.”
“No?” John takes the photo again, looks it over carefully.
“Guess.” The Doctor says.
John shakes his head. “Ursa Minor?”
The Doctor laughs. “I wish. No, this came straight out of New Shanghai.”
“Really.” John whistles. “Now that's impressive. Somebody dropped a pretty penny on it, I'd bet. Ow! Oh, come on, that was a good one.”
“Yeah, yeah, you're so clever. But you're right, this wasn't cheap. Here-” She fishes the sunglasses out of her pocket and hands them over. “the fibers are nanotagged.”
“These are nice.” John comments. “Oh, yes, I see. 2781-5537...hang on, that's the matcom maintenance prefix, isn't it?”
The Doctor laughs. “Never forget an important number. Yes, it is. Which means this was illegally manufactured. And I found traces of Fromolayze embedded in the surface, which was used to coat power generating pavement until all those people got poisoned.”
“They were near to a construction site.” John says.
“Mm-hm. Now, the photo paper has been compiled, but it was processed with chemical agents- this is a very, very high quality fake. And no way it's a one-off, somebody is doing this a lot. There's skill involved here.”
“So somebody is taking deliveries.” John says.
“And from a company with a no-questions-asked policy, which means we're talking about a private courtier service located in a seedy part of town- the closer to an underground entrance the better, since they wouldn't want to risk damaging the shipment sending it farther than they have to.”
“If I wanted to make sure my volatile chemicals arrived in one piece, I'd look for a service that would pick them up directly, instead of at a central location.” John comments.
“So would I- and as it so happens, there is one courier service which meets all of those criteria and was in service when that maintenance code was being used to pirate materials- 2255 to 2257. And from September 5-8 2256, the street three blocks away from them, just one intersection away from an underground entrance, was under construction. Whoever made this probably cleans regularly, so this photo was most likely made during or very shortly after that period. Those chemicals last forever, and the couriers have a pretty high turnover rate so it might not get us anywhere, but I think it's worth a try.”
“Do you know where the picture actually came from originally? The image itself?” John asks.
“No, I'm hoping the person who made it can shed some light on that subject.” The Doctor rolls forward and onto her feet. “Now, I came in here for something...I came in here for….for….oh, right, it's in the back desk there-”
She shoves papers off of a desk, pulls out several of the smaller back drawers After dumping the contents of two she finally finds what she is looking for, a very small, silverish model of the Tardis, attached to a strip of ribbon.
“Here we go, random things that come in useful-” She waves it between her fingers.
“Tracking device.” John says. “Nice.”
“At least now we shouldn't get permanently stranded if they pull that little trick on us again.” The Doctor drops the tracker around her neck and tightens the string.
..........
Rose blinks awake to someone shaking her foot. For a moment she is confused by the sound and room, then remembers where they are. John is sitting at the bottom of the bed, looking very much like her Doctor in a snug fit suit.
“Did we move earlier? Where are we?” Rose yawns.
“New Shanghai.” John says.
“ 'kay. Why?”
“I'll explain later. Get dressed. And grab something to eat, we're going underground and the food is...well, not good.”
Rose laughs. “Wow, that has to be pretty bad. Not even rats?”
“You'd be very, very lucky to get insects.”
“Eew.” Rose wrinkles her nose.
“There are plenty of rats about, though.” John says in an encouraging voice.
Rose sighs. “You want me to ask why people aren't eating them, don't you.”
“Yes.”
“Why don't people eat the rats.”
“Because they're toxic.” John grins. “Turns out the sealant they use on the streets binds with a commonly used rat poison, makes it harmless to the rat but lethal to humans in a very small dose. One good sized rat could kill three or four adults.”
“Great.” Rose says.
They find the Doctor waiting just outside of the open door. They have materialized in an alley, it's been raining recently and the wet pavement glitters with reflected neon. The air is heavy, thick with water and greasy smoke.
The courier service is around the corner, a low bio-cement building almost completely covered with graffiti. A chipping door opens into a small office, where a young man with violently purple hair is sitting at the desk with his feet propped up, poking at a computer terminal.
“Dropping off or picking up?” He asks without looking up.
“Neither.” The Doctor says.
The attendant looks up, runs a slightly suspicious eye over them. “What do you want?”
“I'm looking for information about a possible client of yours.”
“All delivery information is strictly confidential.” The young man turns his attention back to the screen.
“Yes, I thought you might say that.” The Doctor says. “Which is why I brought this-”
She offers out a thin slip of what looks like plastic, with words printed on it. The attendant takes it looks it over, then sticks the end into a scanner and presses a few buttons.
“UNIT special agents, huh.” He peers at a display that has come up on his monitor. “Wow, that's a long list of chemicals, hang on, this is gonna take a minute. Do you know when it was made?”
“No.” The Doctor says. “But it was probably picked up and delivered directly from the source.”
“OK, well that should narrow it down a little bit. What's this stuff used for, anyway?”
“Processing film.” The Doctor says. “Replica photographs.”
“I appreciate your cooperation.” The Doctor says.
“Hey, Unit doesn't mess with us, we don't mess with you. We ain't doin' no funny business around here. Why are you after somebody doing photos, though?”
“We believe that whoever is making them may be involved in the disappearance of a child.” The Doctor says.
“Ooh.” He sucks air through his teeth. “That's no good.”
“Um...alright, I have two shipments in the last twelve months- Killborne Chemical Stock to...oh, oh wait, I remember this. They requested the same courier the second time...um...yeah, here we go...and we have...special delivery instructions written on package. Hang on a minute.” He pulls a headset on, types in several codes. “Skye? Hey, yeah, what's your ETA? Can you make it ten? No, just need to talk to you about something.”
He pulls the microphone away. “She'll be here in a little bit, just dropped a package off.”
Skye turns out to be a girl of about 15, who rolls through the door on wheeled boots and grabs the corner of the desk, skating back and forth in place as she looks at the group.
“These guys are from Unit. You remember those packages you got from Killbourne the other month? The ones with the special delivery note?”
“Yeah.” Skye says.
“Where did you take them?”
“Fifty-Seven Corner Stop.” She replies immediately. “Dunno who picked it up after that.”
“Who would know something like that?”
“Carbon Fisher, maybe. He finds stuff.”
“Can you take us to him?” The Doctor asks.
Skye shrugs. “Yeah, sure, but you're probably wasting your time.”
“We have all the time in the world.” The Doctor says.
Skye arches an eyebrow at her, then shrugs. “Whatever. I better get paid for this.”
“I'm sure we can work something out.” The Doctor says.
Skye groans. “Yeah, right.”
She retracts the wheels on her shoes, offers out a hand. “'Name's Skye.”
The Doctor makes introductions, and the three fall in step behind the girl as she heads back out onto the street. They cut through several alleys, then come to a wide opening that looks as though it was once the entrance to a driving tunnel. There are a few people slouching around, smoking and watching the scant few pedestrians with mildly suspicious looks.
The wide tunnel is lined with makeshift stalls, where a group of rather shady vendors are hawking Name Brand Merchandise at Low, Low Prices. They come to an intersection, begin making turns past progressively more permanent looking structures.
“What was here before?” Rose asks.
“Right here?” John says. “Underground rail. This is a city on a city on a city- the substructure goes down ten, twelve stories in some places. Old temples, catacombs, basements, some of it into natural caves and tunnels, who knows, could go down miles.”
Skye stops at a corner, knocks at what looks like an old maintenance door. After a moment it is opened by a man wearing a set of VR goggles, which he pushes up on his head to peer at them.
“Help you?” He asks.
“Hey, Fisher. These guys wanna talk to you.” Skye nods her head in their direction.
Fisher gives them a wary eye. “You cops?”
The Doctor flashes her psychic paper.
“Unit, huh. Alright, come in.” Fisher opens the door all the way.
The walls in the room are lined with shelves, crammed with mixture of antique electronics and scientific equipment. A door in the back is covered with a faded, flower print blanket.
“What can I do for you?” Fisher asks.
“We're looking for the person who made this-” The Doctor pulls the photo out.
“May I?” Fisher takes the picture and looks it over carefully. “Hm, come with me.”
He pushes the blanket aside and ushers them through into the room behind, which is narrow and crowded with metal shelves holding distinctly newer looking stock. Down a short flight of stairs and through another blanketed door, they come into a room which is cooler and brightly lit, air from a forced ventilation system rustles papers sitting on several desks and pinned to boards on one wall. The room is lined with work tables and shelves, some of which hold very complicated looking equipment.
Fisher puts the photo into a slot on the front of a white metallic box, presses a few buttons on it's surface. After a few seconds a display screen comes on, numbers and codes scrolling down in neat rows.
“Hmm...high quality printing...cheap matcom paper, though, won't last more than a few months. Hang on...there's a serial number here...” He pulls the goggles down, his head jerking slightly as he navigates through something only he can see. “Here we go...this was taken with a...RetroBox22k...September 7, 2256.”
“It's a new photo?” Rose says. “Not a reprint?”
“Yeah.” Fisher says.
“Can you tell us who made it?” The Doctor asks.
“Plum Pudding.” Fisher pulls the photo out and hands it back. “She's the only one down here who does this legacy stuff.”
“Where can we find her?”
“Up and to the left, pink stall.” Fisher says.
“Thank you. We appreciate your cooperation.” The Doctor says.
Fisher grunts noncommittally, waves them toward the door as he fiddles with one of his machines.
Plum Pudding turns out to be about three feet tall and three hundred years old, a tiny wrinkled creature in a neon pink mumu and fluffy slippers. She takes the photo with one shriveled hand, peers at it through thick glasses.
“Yes, yes, I remember this. Very unusual.” She shuffles to the back of the stall and pulls aside a curtain, motions them through. They step into a small studio crammed with lights and furniture, a corner cleared and set up with curtains and reflectors.
“She came in dressed like that-” She grunts as she shoves a stool over to pull open the top drawer of a filing cabinet. “With two men, very strange. Very strange men. And a woman, but she stayed outside. Very strange.”
Plum Pudding finds what she's looking for and pulls a folder out.
“Very specific with what she wanted- did all the talking, she did. Reproduction Cabinet style photograph, developed in the darkroom- cheap paper, though. Cheap matcom paper.΅ She shakes her head. “Told her it wouldn't last. Left all the numbers on, too...wouldn't let me strip them. Was wondering if someone would come looking.”
“These men, and the woman, I don't suppose you have a photo.” The Doctor says.
Plum Pudding makes a face. “Yes and no-”
She clambers over to a monitor setup and fusses for a few seconds, leans to the side so they can see. A security camera feed of the front and back rooms. Penny appears, stepping through the door flanked by two men who look very much like Lean and Arrow, though their faces seem curiously blurred. Penny looks directly up into the camera for a second, her face pale and blank. Then both sets of video abruptly cut to lines of static.
“It stayed like that until they left.” Plum Puddings says.
“Signal blocker.” The Doctor says. “What about the woman?”
Plum Pudding works the controls for a moment, switching the camera feeds and running them back. “There...just for a second you can see her.”
The Doctor leans forward, looking at the image. Her eyes narrow. She can't be completely sure from this angle, but she thinks she knows who that is.
“Why are you after her?” Plum Pudding asks.
“She was reported as missing.” The Doctor says distractedly.
“Custody battle?”
“What makes you say that?” The Doctor asks.
“Oh, she just seemed to know the men she was with.” Plum Pudding says. “Girls that young, with strangers, even if they pretend you can tell they don't want to be there. People come in sometimes, wanting...photos...normal ones, even, but...” She shakes her head. “I don't do that sort of thing. Even rats have scruples. Send them away to the Tiger. But this one, she ordered them around, you know the way bossy kids will.”
“How did they take that?” The Doctor asks.
Plum Pudding laughs. “They'd give eachother looks, roll their eyes a bit.”
“Can you give me a copy of these videos?” The Doctor asks.
“Here- take the original. And all the negatives and test prints. Whatever is going on, I am officially no longer involved. I'm not going to get killed over this, am I?”
“I doubt it.” The Doctor says.
They come back out into the main tunnel, the Doctor shoves her hands into her pockets and does a little bouncy dance. “What to do, what to do...I haven't been to New Shanghai in forever. You know, if this Penny girl is coming through with that little trick she pulled on us she might have left some evidence.”
“I don't know how long we can stay down here before we wear out our welcome.” John says.
“Mm.” The Doctor purses her lips. “You're right. But we can go up there-” She lifts her chin, indicating the surface “and have a look around.”
“Hey, there she is.” Fisher jerks his head.
“Who?” Hal asks.
“That girl I was telling you about!” He jams his elbow into her side. “Look! The one with shorter hair.”
Hal lifts her eyes from the control board she has been assembling and looks through the open door. It takes her a second to figure out who he's talking about, then she spots the group, two blond girls and a man in a suit.
“She's cute.” Hal says. “You should go talk to her.”
“Yeah, right.” Fisher rolls his eyes. “Oh, no- she saw me-”
“Mr Fisher!” The Doctor has motioned her companions to stay behind and poked her head in.
“Hi.” Fisher says, his friend laughs.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Um, yeah, sure.” Fisher straightens up. “Come into the back.”
“You seem like a man who knows things.” The Doctor says.
“Sometimes.” Fisher says.
The Doctor smiles. “Have you heard anything about...this is going to sound rather insane...but something that looks like an egg or large mushroom with...tentacles...anywhere, have you?”
Fisher goes the kind of quiet that always means something. “Funny you should mention that.”
“That's a 'yes', then.” The Doctor says.
“Yeah. I've seen them.” Fisher says. “Down in the end tunnels. Some of the kids have, too. Nobody goes in there anymore.”
“Really.” The Doctor's eyes light up. “Would you mind to terribly coming along with me?”
“Am I in trouble?” Fisher asks.
“I think that as long as those things are here, everybody is in trouble.” The Doctor says.
They find Rose and John standing in the small front room, chatting with Hal.
“I'm gonna go with them for a minute.” Fisher says.
Hal flashes him a grin and nods. Fisher rolls his eyes. Rose gives the Doctor a look and smirks at her.
The Doctor shakes her head. “I don't even want to know. Come on, then.”
Fisher leads them down a side tunnel, the lights quickly go out and he pulls a flashlight out, aims it ahead of them. They have gone several hundred yards when the beam picks out several round shapes clinging to the wall.
“Are there more of them?” The Doctor asks.
“I don't know.” Fisher says.
The things shudder, reacting to their presence. One of them lifts itself from the wall and begins to slide along on it's tentacle legs.
“Woah. They never did that before.” Fisher takes several quick steps back.
A cold wind hits their back.
“No-” The Doctor shouts- “No, no no no nooo- son of a-”
There is a blast of cold air, a shadow that swoops past with a whirl of snow and ice. For a moment, the city seems to flicker around them, then vanishes, leaving Rose and John standing alone in the empty tunnel.
“What just happened?” Rose asks.
“It took them.” John says.
“Why didn't it want us?” Rose asks.
“I dunno.” John puts a hand on her arm, guides her gently back the way they had come. “But I suggest we don't stick around to long. Not unless you think those things are interested in a conversation.”
The egg creatures are moving toward them again, their motions distinctly aggressive.
“Come on.” John grabs Rose's hand and tugs her into a run.
The tunnel is dim, they follow the low glimmer of light until reaching an intersection filed with light and voices. He keeps hold of her until they have opened the Tardis door and stepped through.
“What do we do?” Rose asks.
“We're going to track her.” John says, starting to flip switches and pull levers. “You knew this was going to happen, didn't you.” This is aimed either at the Doctor or the Tardis.
John is working the controls, but he keeps making irritated noises.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing, it's just...different in here.”
The console makes a strange sound, the lights in the room dim and come back up. Rose stumbles, the footing has changes, reaches out and her hand lands on one of the tall columns that always remind her of trees.
“Oh, thank you, that's much better.” John says.
Rose watches him dance around the console. He catches her eye, jerks his head. “Come hold this lever. Alright, now lets see...”
The Tardis emits a deep twang and a series of clicking sounds, the engine engages with a heavy whoosh and then they are rocking and shuddering as the ship wheezes and wails.
Skye is skating along fast, her weight thrown forward as she works up momentum. Something appears right in front of her, a big blue box with a flashing light on top. She doesn't have time to stop or turn, and throws up her hands expecting an impact.
Instead, she passes right through, for a second she thinks she sees the man and one of the women from earlier, then she is out the other side and coming to a less than graceful stop. She takes a second to catch her breath, goes back to where the box was and skates in a slow circle.
Nothing there. She shakes her head, adjusts the strap on her bag and pushes off again. Within seconds, the incident has slipped from her mind. She has deliveries to make, after all, strange vanishing boxes are somebody else's problem.
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