So a whole lot of you are really excited for the Torchwood crossover. :) I've already got 35 comments out of (hopefully) 75 to answer the question as to when the Doctor is going to appear, so after I hit that number, I'll consider how long it'll take to get to the end of the book, and I'll list the number of comments so I can say when that crossover will be. :)
35/75 comments, so read and enjoy! Here's "Gridlock!"
***
The Apocalypse crossed her arms, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she considered what to do about Martha. It was nice to have someone traveling with her again . . . but it wasn't the same as with Rose or Jack. Granted, it had only been one trip, in the past. So . . . "Just one trip," she said out loud, making Martha look up at her. "That's what I said. One trip in the TARDIS, and then home." Martha looked visibly disappointed. "Although . . . " the Apocalypse dragged out, making Martha straighten. "I suppose we could stretch the definition. Take one trip into past, one trip into future. How do you fancy that?"
"No complaints from me!" Martha cheered.
"How about a different planet?" the Apocalypse suggested, moving to the console.
"Can we go to yours?" Martha asked eagerly.
The Apocalypse froze, her grip tightening on one of the levers. "No," she said shortly.
"Come on, though!" Martha begged. "I mean, planet of the Time Lords! That's got to be worth a look. What's it like?"
"Gorgeous," the Apocalypse answered honestly before putting coordinates in.
"Is it, like, you know . . . outer space cities, all spires and stuff?"
The Apocalypse closed her eyes. "I suppose it is."
"Great big temples and cathedrals!"
"We had those."
Martha obviously didn't catch the "had." "Lots of planets in the sky?"
"The sky's a burnt orange, with the Citadel enclosed in a mighty glass dome, shining under the twin suns," the Apocalypse finally told her. "Beyond that, the mountains go on forever. Slopes of deep red grass, capped with snow."
Martha's eyes lit up. "Can we go there?"
"I said no," the Apocalypse told her, shaking her head. "I don't want to go home. This is much better." She beamed. "Year five billion and fifty-three, planet New Earth." The TARDIS landed, and the Apocalypse grabbed her cardigan. "Second hope of mankind. Fifty thousand light years from your old world, and we're slap bang in the middle of New New York. Although, technically, it's the fifteenth New York from the original, so it's New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York." Martha stared at her, and the Apocalypse shrugged. "One of the most dazzling cities ever built," she promised.
Martha stepped outside, and blinked, pulling her jacket tighter around her, rain pouring on her. "Oh, that's nice!" she complained as the Apocalypse closed the door behind her. "Time Lord version of 'dazzling!'"
"Nah, bit of rain never hurt anyone," the Apocalypse smiled. "Come on, let's get under cover!"
"Well, it looks like the same old Earth to me on a Wednesday afternoon," Martha observed, looking around the old city around them.
"Hold on, hold on," the Apocalypse shook her head, going over to a monitor. "Let's have a look."
She used her sonic screwdriver, and an overly cheerful blonde woman appeared. "And the driving should be clear and easy, with fifteen extra lanes open for the New New Jersey expressway," she said.
The Apocalypse beamed as an image of flying cars appeared. "Oh, that's more like it!" she approved. "That's the view we had last time. This must be the lower levels, down in the base of the tower. Some sort of under-city."
"You've brought me to the slums?" Martha asked in bemusement.
"Much more interesting," the Apocalypse told her. "It's all cocktails and glitter up there. This is the real city!"
"You'd enjoy anything."
"That's me!" the Apocalypse beamed, looking up as the rain lightened. "Ah, the rain's stopping. Better and better."
Martha bit her lip as the Apocalypse started to walk off. "When you say last time, was that you and Rose?" she asked.
The Apocalypse froze mid-step.
+++
Rose poked her head out of the TARDIS, and her jaw dropped when she saw cars actually flying overhead! "It's the year five billion and twenty three," the Apocalypse explained, stepping out behind her, leaning against the door. "We're in the galaxy M87, and this?" She held out her arms. "This is New Earth!"
"That's just . . . " Rose sputtered and she spun in a circle, her jaw literally hanging open as she stared at everything around her. "That's just . . . "
"Not bad," the Apocalypse supplied, laughing as she nodded. "Not bad at all!"
"That's amazing," Rose breathed, shaking her head and wrapping her arm through the Apocalypse's. "I'll never get used to this. Never. Different ground beneath my feet, different sky - " She paused, sniffing. "What's that smell?"
The Apocalypse winked, bending down and plucking a couple pieces of grass from the ground. "That'll be apple grass," she answered, handing Rose a piece.
Rose took a deep breath, and yes, the grass did smell like apples. "Apple grass," she repeated faintly.
"Apple grass," the Apocalypse repeated back with a laugh. "Yeah!"
"It's beautiful!" Rose gushed in amazement. "Oh, I love this!" She beamed at her older sister. "Can I just say? Traveling with you? I love it."
"Me, too," the Apocalypse replied with a smile before tugging her hand. "Come on!"
+++
"Yeah," she nodded slowly. "Yeah, it was."
Martha swallowed. "You're taking me to the same planets you took her?"
"It's hard, Martha, losing someone you love," the Apocalypse told her, looking at her hardly. "I'd already lost two siblings before I lost Rose. I guess the third time's the kicker, right?"
Martha lowered her head, embarrassed. "Yeah," she admitted, she hadn't known about the other two siblings. Then again, the Apocalypse was closed off so much.
"Oh!" a voice called, and they turned as a man opened a hatch in a stall. "You should have said! How long you been there? Happy. You want Happy."
Another woman opened her stall. "Customers!" she called happily. "Customers! We've got customers!"
"We're in business!" another woman cheered. "Mother, open up the Mellow, and the Read!"
"Happy, Happy, lovely happy Happy!"
"Anger. Buy some Anger!"
"Get some Mellow! Makes you feel all bendy and soft all day long!"
"Don't go to them! They'll rip you off." The Apocalypse frowned and approached the man. "Do you want some Happy?" he smiled at her.
"No, thanks," the Apocalypse shook her head.
"Are they selling drugs?" Martha asked as other people began coming into the market.
"Moods, drugs," the Apocalypse shrugged. "Same thing."
"Over here, sweetheart!" one of the women called to a woman in rags. "That's it, come on. I'll get you first."
"Oi!" the man shouted at her. "Oi, you! Over here! Over here! Buy some Happy!"
"Over over here, yeah," the pharmacist smiled as the woman shuffled over to her. "And what can I get you, my love?"
"I want to buy Forget," she answered.
"I've got Forget, my darling," she nodded. "What strength? How much do you want forgetting?"
"It's my father and mother. They went on the Motorway."
The Apocalypse and Martha looked at each other in confusion, but the saleswoman nodded sympathetically. "Oh, that's a swine. Try this." She handed over a patch. "Forget 43. That's two credits."
"Sorry, hold on a minute," the Apocalypse ran up as the woman handed over the money. "What happened to your parents?"
"They drove off," she answered.
"Yeah, but they might drive back."
"Everyone goes to the Motorway in the end. I've lost them."
"But they can't have gone far. You could find them." The woman shook her head, raising the patch to her neck. "No, no, no, don't - !" the Apocalypse tried to stop her.
But the woman stuck the tab on, and like a switch was flipped, she blinked. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" she asked.
"Your parents," the Apocalypse said slowly. "Your mother and father. They're on the Motorway."
"Are they?" the woman smiled dreamily. "That's nice." The Apocalypse's jaw dropped as Martha gaped in shock. "I'm sorry, I won't keep you."
"So that's the human race five billion years in the future," Martha shook her head in disgust as the woman left. "Off their heads on chemicals - " She broke off with a scream.
The Apocalypse spun, turning as a man grabbed Martha around her neck, a woman pointing a gun at her. "I'm sorry," the man apologized as the Apocalypse narrowed her eyes. "I'm really, really sorry. We just need three, that's all."
"No, let her go!" the Apocalypse ordered, walking after them, trying to find a way to somehow telekinetically get Martha free without killing her, judging by the choke hold around her neck. "I'm warning you, let her go! Whatever you want, I can help. Both of us, we ca help! But first you've got to let her go!"
"I'm sorry," the woman apologized as the man dragged Martha through a door. "I'm really sorry! Sorry!"
She locked the door behind her, and the Apocalypse growled, pulling her sonic screwdriver out to get the door open. She burst through, and ran out onto a porch, leaning over the railing as one of the flying cars took off. "Martha!" she shouted before growling and stalking back to the stalls.
She hammered on one's stall, and the woman who sold the Forget smiled as she opened it up. "Thought you'd come back," she beamed. "Do you want . . . some . . . Happy?" she asked weakly, seeing the furious look on her face.
"Those people, who were they?" the Apocalypse asked. "Where did they take her?"
"They've taken her to the Motorway," the man answered.
"Looked like carjackers to me," the other woman nodded.
"I'd give up now, darling," the Forget seller sighed. "You won't see her again."
"Used to be thriving, this place. You couldn't move. But they all go to the Motorway in the end."
"He kept on saying three, we need three," the Apocalypse told them. "What did he mean, three?"
"It's the car-sharing policy to save fuel. You get special access if you're carrying three adults."
"This Motorway, how do I get there?"
"Straight down the alley, keep going to the end. You canna miss it." The Apocalypse nodded, turning to leave, when the woman asked, "Tell you what, how about some happy Happy? Then you'll be smiling, my love."
She yelped when her containers fell over with a crash, and the Apocalypse sneered as she looked at the pharmacists. "Word of advice, all of you," she warned darkly. "Cash up, close down, and pack your bags."
"Why's that, then?" the man swallowed.
"Because as soon as I've found her, alive and well, and I will find her alive and well, then I'm coming back, and this street is closing tonight!" the Apocalypse yelled, telekinetically slamming their stalls closed before running down the alley.
***
"Now, you just settle back. It's all going to be worth it."
"Yeah. The view from the windows." Martha blinked warily as she began to wake up, and she patted at her neck, finding a patch on it. Horrified, she took it off and eyed it. "You can see all the way out to the flatlands," the woman continued. "They say the air smells like apple grass. Can you imagine?"
"The houses are made of wood. There are jobs going in the foundries. Everyone says so."
Martha grabbed the gun by where she was laying and aimed it at the two in front. "Take me back!" she ordered. "Whoever you are, just take me back to my friend. That's all I want. I won't cause any trouble. Just take me back!"
"I'm sorry," the woman apologized. "That's not a real gun."
Martha frowned. "Yeah, well, you would say that."
"Where do you get a gun from these days? I wouldn't even know how to fire."
Martha sighed. "No, nor me," she admitted, putting it down. "OK."
"What's your name?"
"Martha. Martha Jones."
"Well, I'm Cheen, and this is Milo." The man smiled. "And I swear we're sorry. We're really, really sorry. We just needed access to the fast lane, but I promise, as soon as we arrive, we'll drop you off and you can go back and find your friend."
"Seriously?"
"I swear! Look." She pulled her hair away from her neck, a patch on her neck. "Honesty patch."
"All the same, it's still kidnapping." Martha looked out the windshield. "Where are we, anyway?"
"We're on the Motorway."
"What's that, then?" She pointed at the gray stuff blocking their view. "Fog?"
"That's the exhaust fumes," Cheen explained.
"We're going out to Brooklyn," Milo said. "Everyone says the air's so much cleaner, and we couldn't stay in Pharmacy Town, because . . ."
They exchanged smiles. "Well, because of me," Cheen beamed. "I'm pregnant. We only discovered it last week. Scan says it's going to be a boy."
"Right," Martha nodded slowly. "What do I do now, congratulate my kidnappers?"
"Oh, we're not kidnappers! Really!"
"Nope! You're idiots!! You're having a baby, and you're wearing that?" She pulled the tab off of Cheen's neck. "Not anymore."
"This'll be as fast as we can," Milo promised. "We'll take the Motorway to the Brooklyn flyover, and then after that, it's going to take a while, because then there's no fast lane, just ordinary roads, but at least it's direct."
"It's only ten miles," Cheen assured Martha.
"How long is it going to take?" she asked.
"About six years."
Martha blinked rapidly. "What?"
"Be just in time for him to start school!" Cheen beamed at Milo.
"No, sorry, hold on," Martha shook her head quickly. "Six years? Ten miles in six years? How come?"
***
The Apocalypse finally got the door to the Motorway open and stepped inside, then started coughing on the fumes around her. She had time to stare around at the myriad of flying cars stacked top to bottom before one door slid open. "Hey!" the figure in the door wearing a World War II flying jacket and helmet, goggles, and scarf called. "You daft little street strut! What are you doing standing there? Either get out or get in. Come on!"
The Apocalypse bolted in, the figure closing the door behind him. "Did you ever see the like?" he asked.
"Here you go," a dark haired woman in front smiled, putting an oxygen mask on the Apocalypse.
She nodded thankfully, taking deep breaths as the figure removed his goggles and scarf, revealing a cat. "Just standing there, breathing it in! There's this story, back in the old days, on Junction 47, this woman stood in the exhaust fumes for a solid twenty minutes! By the time they found her, her head had swollen to fifty feet!"
"Oh, you're making it up," the woman rolled her eyes.
"A fifty foot head! Just think of it! Imagine picking that nose."
"Oh, stop it." She made a face. "That's disgusting."
"What, did you never pick your nose?"
The woman suddenly straightened. "Bran, we're moving!"
"Right," he nodded, taking the controls. "I'm there. I'm on it." The Apocalypse jerked a bit as the car shot forward only a little bit, but both looked pleased. "Twenty yards," the cat nodded. "We're having a good day." He turned to her. "And who might you be, ma'am? Very well-dressed for a hitchhiker."
"Thanks," she smiled. "Sorry. I'm the Apocalypse."
"Just what we need, the end of the world," the cat sighed. "But, my name's Thomas Kincade Brannigan, and this is the bane of my life, the lovely Valerie."
Valerie smiled at her. "Nice to meet you."
"And that's the rest of the family behind you," Brannigan added.
The Apocalypse pulled away the curtain and beamed when she saw the kittens in a basket. "Oh, they're adorable!" she gasped, picking one of them up and nuzzling it on the head, the kitten purring. "Hello, there." She looked up. "How old are they?"
"Just two months," Valerie answered.
"Poor little souls," Brannigan sighed. "They've never known the ground beneath their paws. Children of the Motorway."
The Apocalypse blinked. "Wait, they were born here?"
"We couldn't stop," Valerie nodded. "We heard there were jobs going, out in the laundries on Fire Island. Thought we'd take a chance."
"What, you've been driving for two months?"
"Do I look like a teenager?" Brannigan huffed. "We've been driving for twelve years now."
The Apocalypse blinked again. "Twelve years?!"
"Yeah!" Brannigan grinned. "Started out as newlyweds. Feels like yesterday."
"Feels like twelve years to me," Valerie grumbled.
"Ah, sweetheart, but you still love me."
"Twelve years?" the Apocalypse repeated, looking out onto the Motorway. "How far did you come? Where did you start?"
"Battery Park," Brannigan answered. "It's five miles back."
"You traveled five miles in twelve years?"
Brannigan looked at Valerie. "I think she's a bit slow."
"Where are you from?" Valerie asked.
"Never mind that," the Apocalypse shook her head. "I've got to get out!" She put the kitten back and headed for the door. "My friend's in one of these cars. She was taken hostage. I should get back to the TARDIS - " She cut off when she opened the door and saw there was no place to get off, and she quickly closed the door before she could choke on the fumes again.
"You're too late for that," Brannigan said. "We've passed the lay-by. You're a passenger now. Sorry, sweetie pie."
"Sweetie . . . ?" The Apocalypse shook her head. "When's the next lay-by?"
"Oh . . . " Brannigan thought a moment. "Six months?"
***
"How many cars are out there?" Martha asked as they dropped through the line of cars.
"I don't think anyone knows," Cheen answered, holding out a biscuit. "Here we go. Hungry?"
"Oh, thanks," Martha nodded, taking the biscuit. "But how far down is it to this fast lane?"
"Oh, it's right at the bottom, underneath the traffic jam," Milo answered. "But not many people can afford three passengers, so it's empty down there. Rumor has it you can reach up to thirty miles per hour."
"Wow," Martha nodded, sarcastically, of course. "That's, like, crazy! But, how are you supposed to live inside this thing? It's tiny!"
"Oh, we stocked up," Cheen smiled. "Got self-replicating fuel, muscle stimulants for exercise, and there's a chemical toilet at the back. And all waste products are recycled as food."
Martha stopped herself from taking another bite of her biscuit. "OK," she said slowly, dumping it somewhere nearby.
"Oh, another gap," Milo grinned, going through. "This is brilliant!"
"Car sign in."
Milo spoke into his radio. "Car Four-Six-Five-Diamond-Six, on descent to fast lane, thank you very much."
"Please drive safely."
***
"I need to talk to the police," the Apocalypse said once she hacked into the communications system.
"Thank you for your call. You have been placed on hold."
"But you're the police!"
"Thank you for your call. You have been placed on hold."
The Apocalypse sighed, going back to Brannigan and Valerie. "Is there anyone else?" she asked. "I once met the Duke of Manhattan. Is there any way of getting through to him?"
"Oh, now, ain't you lordly?" Brannigan rolled his eyes.
"I've got to find my friend!"
"You can't make outside calls," Valerie shook her head. "The Motorway's completely enclosed."
"What about the other cars?"
"Oh, we've got contact with them, yeah," Brannigan nodded. "Well, some of them, anyway. They've got to be on your friends list. Now, let's see . . . who's nearby?" He browsed his list, then brightened. "Ah, the Cassini sisters!" He picked up his radio to talk to the two older women. "Still your hearts, my handsome girls. It's Brannigan here!"
"Get off the line, Brannigan," one woman huffed. "You're a pest and a menace."
"Oh, come on, now, sisters, is that any way to talk to an old friend?"
"You know full well we're not sisters. We're married."
The Apocalypse grinned as Brannigan rolled his yes. "Ooo, stop that modern talk," he said. "I'm an old-fashioned cat. Now, I've got a hitchhiker here, calls herself the Apocalypse - "
"Hello," the Apocalypse took the mic. "Sorry, I'm looking for someone called Martha Jones. She's been carjacked. She's inside one of these vehicles, but I don't know which one."
"Wait a minute," a different woman said. "Could I ask, what entrance did they use?"
"Where are we?" the Apocalypse asked.
"Pharmacy Town," Brannigan answered.
"Pharmacy Town, about twenty minutes ago," the Apocalypse relayed.
"Let's have a look."
"Just my luck to marry a car-spotter," the first woman said.
"In the last half hour, fifty-three new cars joined from the Pharmacy Town junction."
"Anything more specific?" the Apocalypse asked.
"All in good time." She paused. "Was she carjacked by two people?"
"Yes! She was, yeah!"
"There we are. Just one of those cars was destined for the fast lane. That means they had three on board. And car number is Four-Six-Five-Diamond-Six."
"That's it!" the Apocalypse beamed. "So how do we find them?"
"Ah, now there, I'm afraid, I can't help."
"Call them on this thing," the Apocalypse held up the mic. "We've got their number. Diamond six."
"But not if they're designated fast lane," Brannigan shook his head. "It's different class."
"You could try the police," the second woman suggested.
"They put me on hold."
"You'll have to keep trying," the first woman said. "There's no one else."
"Thank you," the Apocalypse sighed.
***
"See?" Milo smiled as they cut through traffic lanes. "Another ten layers to go. We're scorching!"
Martha frowned, hearing a growling noise. "What's that?" she asked. "It's coming from underneath."
"It's that noise, doesn't it?" Cheen asked worriedly. "It's like Kate said. The stories, they're true!"
"What stories?" Martha asked curiously.
"It's the sound of the air vents," Milo shook his head. "That's all. The exhaust fumes travel down, so at the base of the tunnel, they've got air vents."
"No, but the stories are much better!" Cheen said excitedly and looked at Martha. "They say people go missing on the Motorway. Some cars just vanish, never to be seen again, because there's something living down there in the smoke. Something huge and hungry. And if you get lost on the road, it's waiting for you."
"But like I said," Milo cut in as a distant roar cut through. "Air vents. Going down to the next layer."
"Except look out there," Martha pointed at the fumes. "Does it look like the air vents are working?"
Cheen shook her head, eyes wide. "No."
"So what's that stuff, then?"
"Nah," Milo shook his head. "Kid stuff." He reported into the mic again. "Car Four-Six-Five-Diamond-Six, on descent."
***
"We've got to go to the fast lane," the Apocalypse said hurriedly. "Take me down!"
"Not in a million years!" Brannigan denied.
"You've got three passengers!"
"I'm still not going."
"She's alone, she's lost, she doesn't belong on this planet, and it's all my fault! I'm asking you, Brannigan, take me down!"
"That's a no, and that's final," Valerie said shortly. "I'm not risking the children down there."
"Why not?" the Apocalypse asked. "What's the risk? What happens down there?"
"We're not discussing it. The conversation is closed."
The Apocalypse sighed, leaning on the shoulders of their seats and put her chin in her hands. "So we keep on driving."
"Yes, we do," Brannigan nodded.
"For how long?"
"Till the journey's end."
"Lovely. I'm not waiting that long." She grabbed the radio again. "Mrs. Cassini, this is the Apocalypse. Tell me, how long have you been driving on the Motorway?"
"Oh, we were among the first," the first woman answered.
"And in all that time, have you ever seen a police car?"
"I'm not sure," the second woman answered uneasily.
"Look at your notes. Any police?"
"Not as such."
"Or an ambulance? Rescue service? Anything official, ever?"
"I can't keep a note of everything!"
The Apocalypse swallowed. "What if there's no one out there?"
Brannigan snatched the radio back. "Stop it!" he snapped. "The Cassinis were doing you a favor!"
"Someone's got to ask, because you might not talk about it, but it's there in your eyes," the Apocalypse retorted. "What if the traffic jam never stops?"
"There's a whole city above us. The mighty city of New New York. They wouldn't just leave us."
"Well, I don't see them here, do you, hmm?" the Apocalypse quizzed. "What if there's no help coming, ever? What if there's nothing? Just the Motorway, with the cars going round and round and round and round, never stopping, forever?"
"Shut up!" Valerie snapped, tears in her eyes. "Just shut up!"
The blonde woman appeared on the monitor again. "This is Sally Calypso, and it's that time again," she smiled. "The sun is blazing high in the sky over the New Atlantic, the perfect setting for the daily contemplation."
"You think you know us so well, Apocalypse," Brannigan told her. "But we're not abandoned. Not while we have each other."
+++
"Gone now," the Apocalypse told him. "Gone forever. I'm the last of them. The last of the Time Lords, wandering around the stars in a police public call box with four more lives to live."
"You've got me," Rose told her.
"And me," Jack added, patting her shoulder.
The Apocalypse smiled. "Not a bad life," she admitted.
"Better with three," Rose joked.
+++
"Oorah," the Apocalypse whispered.
"This is for all of you out there on the roads," the woman continued. "We're so sorry. Drive safe."
The Apocalypse closed her eyes as a haunting church hymn rang out from the monitor, and Brannigan and Valerie joined in. She squeezed the shoulders of the seats, trying not to cry, because that just hit something in her.
The Master.
The Doctor.
Jack.
Rose.
All of them were gone.
She shook her head, she was not losing someone else. So what if there was no help coming?
She'd get Martha out, whatever it took.
***
Martha was crying freely as the song ended, and then the computer said, "Fast lane access. Please drive safely."
"We made it," Milo grinned as they flew along. "The fast lane!"
***
"If you won't take me, I'll go down on my own," the Apocalypse decided, crouching down and taking her sonic screwdriver out.
"What do you think you're doing?" Brannigan asked.
"Finding my own way," she shrugged. "I usually do."
"Capsule open," the computer voice said as the trapdoor in the floor opened.
"Now that's more like it," the Apocalypse beamed as a car stopped directly under her. She slid her cardigan off and tossed it to Valerie. "Look after that," she said. "Mum made that." She smiled sadly. "Good ol' Mum."
+++
"Mum, I keep telling you, I've already got plenty of clothes," the Apocalypse rolled her eyes fondly, even as she slipped on the white cardigan the Priestess had made her.
"One day, that could come in handy," the Priestess reminded her with a smile. "Be careful, all right? Try and avoid your brother and his best friend."
"Never works," the Apocalypse laughed, kissing her on the cheek. "Bye, Mum."
"Good luck, sweetheart."
The Apocalypse stepped out of the house and took a few steps out before stopping and sighing. "You're both right behind me, aren't you?" she asked dryly.
The Master burst out laughing as he came out from behind her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, the Doctor grinning as he came up on her other side. "No," the Master shook his head. "We're right beside you."
"Shut up!" the Apocalypse giggled, swatting at him, beaming and letting the Doctor take her hand.
There was no way her mum was stopping her from hanging out with her best friends. Three Musketeers they were. She frowned, she was pretty sure that was what the saying was.
"That's it," the Master confirmed. "The Three Musketeers."
She yelped, swatting at him again. "Don't get into my mind!"
The Master just laughed as they headed towards the Academy.
+++
"She always knew," the Apocalypse shook her head, preparing to jump.
"But you can't jump!" Valerie protested.
She rolled her eyes. "If it's any consolation, Valerie, right now, I'm having kittens."
"This Martha," Brannigan began. "She must mean an awful lot to you."
"Hardly know her," the Apocalypse shook her head. "I was too busy showing off. And I lied to her. Couldn't help it. Just lied. Bye, then!" She waved and began her descent.
***
"Try again," Cheen urged.
"Brooklyn turnoff one, closed."
"Try the next one."
"Brooklyn turnoff two, closed."
Cheen tried to avoid sobbing as every exit Milo tried reported it was closed. "What do we do?"
"We'll keep going round," Milo answered. "We'll do the whole loop, and by the time we come back round, they'll be open."
Martha raised an eyebrow as the car shuddered with something growling. "You're still calling that air vents?"
"What else could it be?" Milo asked.
"What the hell is that?" Cheen asked worriedly as the growl sounded again, but louder.
"It's just the hydraulics!"
"It sounds like it's alive," Martha pointed out.
"It's all exhaust fumes out there. Nothing could breathe in that."
"Calling Car Four-Six-Five-Diamond-Six," a woman's voice called worriedly. "Repeat, calling Car Four-Six-Five-Diamond-Six!"
Milo picked up the radio. "This is Car Four-Six-Five-Diamond-Six. Who's that? Where are you?"
"I'm in the fast lane, about fifty yards behind. Can you get back up? Can you get off the fast lane?"
"We only have permission to go down. We need the Brooklyn Flyover."
"It's closed. Go back up!"
"We can't! We'll just go round."
"Don't you understand?! They're closed! They're always closed! We're stuck down here, and there's something else out there in the fog. Can't you hear it?"
Milo swallowed when a roar echoed through the lane. "That's the air vents."
"Jehovah, what are you?" the woman huffed. "Some stupid kid? Get out of there!"
Milo frowned when there was a thumping noise. "What was that?"
"I can't move! They've got us!"
"But what's happening?"
Martha grabbed the radio. "What's got you?" she asked. "What is it?"
"Hang on. It's here! Just drive, you idiots! Get out of here!"
"Can you hear me?" Milo asked, but the woman didn't answer again. "Hello?"
"Just drive!" Martha urged. "Do what she said. Get us out of here!"
"But where?!"
"Just straight ahead, and fast!"
"What is it?" Cheen panicked as Milo took off. "What's out there? What is it?"
***
The Apocalypse dropped into the last car, taking her scarf off from around her mouth. "Sorry, Motorway Foot Patrol," she smiled at the man in a bowler hat. "Whatever. Have you got any water?"
"Certainly," he nodded out of his shock, going to a water tank. "Never let it be said I've lost my manners."
The Apocalypse downed the drink, then looked at the man. "Is this the last layer?"
"We're right at the bottom," he nodded. "Nothing below us but the fast lane."
"Can we drive down?"
"There's only two of us. You need three to go down."
"Couldn't we just cheat?"
"Well, I'd love to, but it's an automated system. The wheel would lock."
"Then excuse me."
She crouched down and sonicked open the hatch in the floor. "You can't jump!" the man protested. "It's a thousand feet down!"
"No, I just want to look." She got the hatch open, then jerked back when she heard a loud growl. "What's that noise?"
"I try not to think about it," the man answered, crouching next to her.
"What are those lights?" she frowned. "What's down there? I just need to see . . . " She sonicked the computer. "There must be some sort of ventilation . . . if I could just transmit a pulse through this thing, maybe I could trip the system, give us a bit of a breeze." She connected a few wires, then smiled. "That's it! Might shift the fumes a bit, give us a good look." She ran back over to see things shifting in the fumes.
"What are those shapes?" the man asked.
"They're alive."
He jumped back as claws snapped at them. "What the hell are they?!"
"Macra," the Apocalypse sighed, rubbing her forehead. This was not good.
***
Cheen yelped as something hit the car. "Go faster!"
"I'm at top speed!" Milo protested, driving through the claws.
"No access above."
"But this is an emergency!"
"Thank you for your call. You have been placed on hold."
"Turn everything off," Martha suggested.
"You've got to be kidding!"
"But listen, it's all fog out there, so how can they see us? Maybe it's the engine, the sound, or the heat, or the light. I don't know. Turn everything off! They might not be able to find us."
"What if you're wrong?"
"It can't be worse than this! Just do it!"
Milo finally shut the car off, and everything went dark, but everything outside fell silent as well. "They're stopped," Cheen whispered.
"Yeah, but they're still out there," Milo pointed out.
"How did you think of that?" Cheen asked Martha.
"I saw it on a film," she answered. "They used to do it in submarines." She cleared her throat. "The trouble is, I can't remember what they did next."
Milo rolled his eyes. "Well, you'd better think of something, because we've lost the aircon. If we don't switch the engines back on, we won't be able to breathe."
Martha winced. "How long have we got?"
"Eight minutes maximum."
***
"The Macra used to be the scourge of this galaxy," the Apocalypse explained. "Gas. They fed off gas, the filthier the better. They built up a small empire using humans as slaves and mining gas for food."
"They don't exactly look like empire builders to me," the man huffed.
"Well, that was billions of years ago. Billions. They must have devolved down the years. Now they're just beasts. But they're still hungry, and my friend's down there."
The man looked up when there was a clang on the roof. "Oh, it's like New Time Square in here, for goodness's sake!"
The Apocalypse raised an eyebrow as a cat in grey dropped in. "I've invented a sport," she remarked.
"Apocalypse," the cat told her. "You're a hard woman to find."
"No guns," the man pointed at the gun the cat held. "I'm not having guns!"
"I only brought this in case of pirates," the cat promised. "Apocalypse, you've got to come with me."
"Do I know you?" she asked with a frown.
"You haven't aged at all. Time has been less kind to me."
"Novice Hame!" the Apocalypse beamed, giving her a hug, before frowning and pulling back. "No, get off. Last time we met, you were breeding humans for experimentation."
"I've sought forgiveness, Apocalypse, for so many years under his guidance. And if you come with me, I might finally be able to redeem myself."
"I'm not going anywhere," the Apocalypse denied. "You've got Macra living underneath the city. Macra! And if my friend's still alive, she's stuck down there."
"You've got to come with me right now."
"No, no, no, you're coming with me," the Apocalypse shook her head. "We've got three passengers now."
"I've sorry, Apocalypse, but the situation is even worse than you can imagine." She grabbed her wrist. "Transport."
"Don't you dare, don't you dare!" the Apocalypse shouted, but they were teleported out. She cringed when she hit a grungy floor. "Oh!" she groaned. "Rough teleport. Ow." She straightened and pointed at Hame as she stood. "You can go straight back down and teleport people out, starting with Martha."
"I only had the power for one trip," she said.
"Then get more!" She looked around the darkened hall. "Where are we?"
"High above, in the over-city."
"Good," she nodded, scowling. "Because you can tell the Senate of New New York I'd like a word. They've got thousands of people trapped on the Motorway. Millions!"
"But you're inside the Senate right now," Hame told her, making the Apocalypse blink. "May the goddess Santori bless them," she mourned, turning the lights on with her bracelet. "They died, Apocalypse. The city died."
"How long's it been like this?" the Apocalypse breathed, looking around at the myriad of skeletons everywhere.
"Twenty four years."
"All of them?" she gaped. "Everyone? What happened?"
"A new chemical," she answered, picking up a worn patch on the ground. "A new mood. They called it Bliss. Everyone tried it. They couldn't stop. A virus mutated inside the compound and became airborne. Everything perished. Even the virus, in the end. It killed the world in seven minutes flat. There was just enough time to close down the walkways and the flyovers, sealing off the under-city. Those people on the Motorway aren't lost, Apocalypse. They were saved."
"So the while thing down there is running on automatic."
"There's not enough power to get them out. We did all we could to stop the system from choking."
"Who's we?" the Apocalypse frowned. "How did you survive?"
"He protected me. And he has waited for you these long years."
"Apocalypse . . . "
Her eyes widened and she took off running, finding amongst a ton of power cords, a familiar face . . . literally. "The Face of Boe!" she gasped, running to his tank.
"I knew you would come," he whispered as she rested a hand on the tank.
"Back in the old days, I was made his nurse as penance for my sin," Hame explained, walking over.
"Old friend, what happened to you?" the Apocalypse murmured, seeing the cables hooked up to him.
"Failing," he rasped.
"He protected me from the virus by shrouding me in his smoke," Hame explained. "But with no one to maintain it, the City's power died. The under-city would have fallen into the sea."
"He saved them," the Apocalypse realized.
"The Face of Boe wired himself into the mainframe. He's giving his life force just to keep things running."
"But there are planets out there! You could have called for help!"
"The last act of the Senate was to declare New Earth unsafe," Hame shook her head. "The automatic quarantine lasts for one hundred years."
"So the two of you stayed here, on your own, for all these years?"
"We had no choice."
The Apocalypse smiled, stroking the glass where Boe's cheek was. "There's always a choice."
"Save them, Apocalypse," the Face of Boe begged. "Save them!"
***
"How much air's left?" Cheen asked a bit later.
Milo checked. "Two minutes."
"There's always the Apocalypse," Martha told them. "That friend of mine. She might think of something."
"Martha, no one's coming," Milo sighed.
"She looked kind of nice," Cheen remarked.
"Bit rude, though," Martha admitted. "Though, with her life . . . " She shrugged.
"I never even asked. Where's home?"
"It's a long way away," Martha answered. "I didn't really think. I just followed the Apocalypse, and they don't even know where I am." She teared up a bit. "My mum and dad. If I died here, they'd never know."
"So, er . . . who is she then, this Apocalypse?" Milo asked.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Well, not really. There's so much she never says."
"But that means the only hope right now is a complete stranger." Cheen huffed. "Well, that's no use!"
"It is, though, because you haven't seen the things she can do," Martha told her. "Honestly, just trust me, both of you. You've got your faith, you've got your songs and your hymns, and I've got the Apocalypse."
Milo pondered that before nodding. "Right," he said, flipping the power back on.
"Systems back online."
"Good luck," he told Martha.
"And you," Martha nodded as they flew through the claws trying to grab them.
***
"Car Four-Six-Five-Diamond-Six," the Apocalypse pointed at the computer screen. "It still registers! That's Martha." She grinned. "I knew she was good." She pointed. "Novice Hame, hold that in place." Hame nodded going to do what she said. "Think, think, think, think! Take the residual energy, invert it, feed it through the electricity grid."
"There isn't enough power!" Hame insisted.
"Oh, you've got power," she grinned. "Me! I'm brilliant with computers, you just watch! Hame, every switch on that bank up to maximum. I can't power up the city, but all the city needs is people."
"So what are you going to do?" Hame asked.
"This!" The Apocalypse threw a switch, and all of the lights went out. "What?!" she shrieked, running around trying to double check things. "No, no, no, no, no! The transformers are blocked! The signal can't get through!"
"Apocalypse," Boe said.
"Yeah, hold on," she waved absently. "Not now!"
"I give you my last . . . "
The power switched back on, and the Apocalypse beamed. "Hame, look after him," she ordered the cat. "Don't you go dying on me, you big old face," she ordered. "You've got to see this. The open road. Ha!"
***
Martha gasped as the computer monitor suddenly lit up, but instead of that Sally Calypso woman, it was the Apocalypse. "Sorry, no Sally Calypso," she grinned. "She was just a hologram. My name's the Apocalypse, and this is an order. Everyone drive up, right now!"
"Is she insane?" Milo blinked.
"I've opened the roof of the Motorway. Come on through! Throttle those engines, and drive on up, all of you! The whole under-city. Drive up, drive up, drive up! Fast! We've got to clear that fast lane. Drive up and get out of the way. Oi! Car Four-Six-Five-Diamond-Six!" All three of them blinked. "Martha! Drive up!"
"That's the Apocalypse!" Martha cheered.
"We can't go up!" Milo shook his head. "We'll hit the layer!"
"Just do as she says! Go up!"
"You've got access above. Now go!"
Milo started to drive up, away from the claws, and Cheen gasped when bright light flooded through the windshield. "It's daylight!" she gasped. "Oh, my God, that's the sky! The real sky!"
"She did it!" Martha cheered. "I told you she did it!"
***
"Did I tell you, Apocalypse?" Brannigan's voice asked through the radio. "You're not bad, ma'am. You're not bad at all! Oh, yeehah!"
"You keep driving, Brannigan," the Apocalypse beamed. "All the way up. Because it's here, just waiting for you. The city of New New York, and it's yours. And I want my cardigan back."
"I reckon that's a fair bargain, ma'am," the cat laughed.
"And Car Four-Six-Five-Diamond-Six, I've sent you a flight path. Come to the Senate."
"On my way!" Martha called.
"It's been quite a while since I saw you, Martha Jones."
"Apocalypse!" Hame gasped, and she turned to see a large crack spreading across Boe's tank.
***
Martha ran into the Senate building, gasping when she saw the skeletons everywhere. "Apocalypse?" she called.
"Over here!" she called back.
"Apocalypse!" Martha ran in. "What happened out there?" She paused, seeing the Apocalypse and Hame crouching by the Face of Boe. "What's that?"
"It's the Face of Boe," she whispered. "It's all right. Come and say hello. And this is Hame. She's a cat. Don't worry. He's the one that saved you, not me."
"My lord gave his life to save the city, and now he's dying," Hame mourned as Martha approached.
"No, don't say that," the Apocalypse shook her head desperately. She didn't want to lose anyone today. "Not old Boe! Plenty of life left."
"It's good to breathe the air once more," Boe rasped.
"Who is he?" Martha asked.
"I don't even know," the Apocalypse chuckled. "Legend says the Face of Boe has lived for billions of years. Isn't that right? And you're not about to give up now."
"As you should not. Everything has its time, and you know that, old friend, better than most."
"The legend says more," Hame began.
"Don't!" the Apocalypse snapped, knowing exactly what she was talking about.
+++
"The rest of Boe-kind became extinct long ago," Hame replied. "He's the only one left. Legend says that the Face of Boe has watched the universe grow old. There's all sorts of superstitions around him. One story says that just before his death, the Face of Boe will impart his great secret, that he will speak those words only to one like himself."
"What does that mean?"
"It's just a story."
The Apocalypse shrugged. "I rather like stories. And I think this is important. Tell me the rest."
Hame nodded. "It's said he'll talk to a wanderer. To the woman without a home. The lonely Goddess."
+++
"A great secret."
"So the legend says."
"It can wait."
+++
"There's no need for that!"
"It says that the Face of Boe will speak his final secret to a traveler," Hame continued anyway.
"Yeah, but not yet," the Apocalypse shook her head, tears stinging in her eyes. "Who needs secrets, eh?"
"I have seen so much," Boe told her. "Perhaps too much. I am the last of my kind, as you are the last of yours now, Apocalypse."
Martha frowned, hearing a bit of emphasis on the word "now," but the Apocalypse didn't. "That's why we need to survive," she encouraged. "Both of us! Don't go!"
"I must. But know this, Time Lady. I am so sorry." He spoke out loud, not telepathically to finish. "You are not alone."
The Apocalypse's eyes widened, her skin draining of color as Boe took his last breath. Hame started crying into her paws, and the Apocalypse took a deep breath, bowing her head, Martha rubbing her back, feeling tears in her own eyes. She hadn't known the Face, but the Apocalypse had. She needed the comfort.
***
"All closed down," the Apocalypse said happily, shrugging into her cardigan as they walked through Pharmacy Town.
"Happy?" Martha joked.
"Happy Happy," the Apocalypse joked back, the two of them laughing a bit. "New New York can start again. And they've got Novice Hame. Just what every city needs, cats in charge." She smiled. "Come on. Time we were off."
"But what did he mean, the Face of Boe?" Martha asked. "You're not alone."
"I don't know," she admitted.
Martha tilted her head. "You've got me," she offered. "Is that what he meant?"
"I don't think so," the Apocalypse shook her head sadly. "I've almost always had a companion with me. I don't think it was in reference to that."
Martha nodded, that made sense. "Then what?"
"Doesn't matter," the Apocalypse shrugged, walking towards the TARDIS. "Back to the TARDIS. Off we go!" She heard a clatter behind her and turned to see Martha straighten a chair and sit down, her arms and legs crossed. The Apocalypse huffed. "All right. Are you staying?"
"Till you talk to me properly, yes," Martha nodded stubbornly. "He said last of your kind. What does that mean?"
"It really doesn't matter," the Apocalypse shook her head. The last thing she needed was a reminder of the War.
"You don't talk. You never say. Why not?"
The Apocalypse bit her lip, looking down at the ground before taking a deep breath and walking over, hearing the city start to sing again. "I lied to you," she answered. "I lied because I liked it. I could pretend, just for a bit, I could imagine they were still alive, underneath a burnt orange sky." She pulled up another chair and sat down. "I'm not just a Time Lady. I'm the last of the Time Lords. The Face of Boe was wrong. There's no one else."
Martha blinked in surprise. "What happened?" she breathed, leaning forward, offering a hand.
The Apocalypse took it, taking a shaky breath. "There was a war," she answered. "A Time War. The last Great Time War. My people fought a race called the Daleks for the sake of all creation, and they lost. My family, my friends, even that sky." She smiled. "Oh, you should have seen it, that old planet," she chuckled, making Martha smile and nod encouragingly. "The second sun would rise in the south, and the mountains would shine. The leaves on the trees were silver, and when they caught the light every morning, it looked like a forest on fire! When autumn came, the breeze would blow through the branches like a song."
Martha smiled and listened more as the Apocalypse told her about her home, noting she never once mentioned the War again, only the planet. Never her family, only life on her home. She might have been hurting, but she was getting better.
Martha only hoped she could help her all the way.
***
Poor Caly. :( Or, since Jack is technically in this episode, poor Calypsie. ;)
Anyway, next up is "The Lazarus Experiment!" . . . wait, WHAT?! :P Yes, it is "The Lazarus Experiment" next, but I am not skipping the Daleks, don't worry. We're just changing up the order here. ;) Tell me why you think I am in the comments. And after that episode, we'll have another Torchwood insider!