Doctor Who: Legion

Chapter 1

Donna was not thrilled. She looked out at the hills and trees flashing past the taxi's windows in what she saw as one monotonous blur. For what seemed like the fiftieth time she harangued the driver for his breakneck speed. To the cabbie, it seemed more like a hundred. She was on her way to visit an old friend who'd just married a wealthy investment broker.

They'd set up house in aVictorian era mansion. Her friend told her it was built on the site of an old priory, which had been taken over by a staunch supporter of the Round Heads. The old priory building burnt down sometime in the mid-nineteenth century, and a wealthy industrialist built the present home on the site. It was located a few miles from a small Welsh town, whose name Donna found quite unpronounceable.

The Doctor had promised to take her to Cinco De Mayo in Mexico. Only once again, the TARDIS had got things wrong, and they'd ended up somewhere outside of Reykjavik, Iceland. In January. The Doctor had made all of his usual excuses, plus a few she'd not heard before. Donna thought back on that day and gave a derisive snort.

"Erm-?" Was all the Doctor said at first, as he threw open the TARDIS door, and got a face full of windswept snow. Looking over his shoulder, he said, "Donna? Maybe you'd better forget the shorts and bikini top. And the sandals. And the sun block. And the beach chair."

Donna was just emerging from the TARDIS wardrobe, kitted out for a fun beach holiday in warm, sunny Acapulco.

"Oooh, don't tell me it's raining? I had this friend once," Donna went on, "Violentia, and she'd saved the whole year for a two week holiday in Greece, and it not only rained every day, they had mudslides and an earthquake, as well. Not a pence in compensation, either. I'm telling you," Donna laughed, "She didn't half want to kill her travel agent."

"Well—no, it's not exactly raining Donna." The Doctor said. He sighed, having been patiently leaning against the open doorway, while his friend nattered on. He was watching the snow driving across the open moors. It was likewise swept across the black volcanic rocks on the nearby shore, which were in turn being repeatedly dashed with the white foam and emerald waves of the northern Atlantic. The Doctor found both majesty and serenity in the sight. He hoped Donna would feel that way. But, he wasn't going place any bets on it with Ladbrokes.

Looking down, the Doctor noted some snow gathering on the shoulder of his suit. Against the dark blue material, it made him look as if he had dandruff. Shrugging into his long brown coat, he waited for his friend to stop talking long enough for him to explain. Then again, the Doctor thought, looking out at the barren, virtually treeless landscape. Maybe he should ask Donna about this friend of hers. Then he wouldn't have to explain anything. For a while, anyway.

Unfortunately, just as the Doctor was about to ask her about Ala-whatever her friend was called, Donna's mental penny dropped. She put her head back and let out a long groan.

"Oh, you've so got to be kidding me!" She told him, stalking over to the door to look at what she guessed wasn't going to be golden sands, sunny skies and some really fit surfer blokes. "What is it this time?" She asked with a sniff and a sarcastic bobble of her head, "Hurricane season? The Isle of Wight? A sewage treatment planet?" She shook a finger at him, "All I can say is, it'd better not be snow—." Just then, a gust of wind through the open door, blew a flurry of snowflakes in her face.

"Erm—yeah. Sorry, Donna." The Doctor shrugged lamely.

Peering through the snow, Donna saw that the TARDIS had landed in the back of the car park of a petrol station. On the opposite side of the road, were an American truck stop and a popular American fried chicken takeaway. There was no other buildings or signs of life to be seen for miles in any direction. No vehicles were on the road or parked at the restaurants. At least, none that she could see. It seemed to be late dusk or early dawn, as there only was the barest hint of light in the sky.

"So, where are we then?" Donna asked skeptically.

"Iceland, somewhere between Kevlavik and Reykjavik. It's winter, in the middle of the afternoon, probably early twenty-first century. The volcano of 2009 hasn't erupted yet." The Doctor informed her, talking more like an eager tour guide than a hundreds of years old Time Lord.

"Ice-what?" Donna did a double take, and stared bleakly at the vacant landscape.

"Doesn't look like much hereabouts, but there's loads of fun to be had." The Doctor explained, ignoring the look on Donna's face. "We could take snowmobiles to the top of a glacier, or ride their wonderful gaited Viking horses to see some beautiful waterfalls. Or, we could skip all that, and hop over to Greenland to visit some Eskimos. I've never taken you to see Eskimos before, Donna! I met an Eskimo once, gave me a terrific recipe for barbecued whale blubber. How many people do you know who can say they've had barbecued whale blubber, Donna? Think of the terrific conversation starter that would be at a party! Molto bene!" he chortled virtually non-stop. Until Donna put the flat of her hand over his mouth.

It turned out that the accelerated magnatron processor had shorted out, which lead to a failure of the TARDIS' navigational positioning systems. The Doctor managed to jerry-rig a quick fix, which landed them in Cardiff, in September of 2008. Donna wasn't pleased by this location either, but, the TARDIS was grounded there, until the Doctor could fix the problem to his satisfaction. He said something about getting parts he needed from someone named Captain Jack. Personally, she thought he just wanted an excuse to nip out to the pub on his own for a bit.

But, the delay gave Donna a chance to catch up with an old school friend of hers, whose wedding she'd attended just before her own disastrous near-wedding with Lance. Unfortunately, that ceremony was permanently postponed when Lance was killed by a giant talking spider woman known as the Queen of the Racnoss. The Doctor had programmed a speed dial number into her mobile, so if Donna needed him for any reason, she would automatically be connected to the TARDIS. Provided the Doctor bothered to answer the phone, that is.

Donna was started out of her thoughts, when the taxi turned into a long, narrow drive. Going between two wrought-iron gates, the drive wound through a grove of trees. Some horse and sheep paddocks were passed, before the cab rounded a bend and the stately old red brick house hove into view.

As the cabbie was taking her bags out of the boot, Donna beamed a smile at her friend, Lucrece, as she came down the front stairs to meet her. However, Donna was startled to see her friend. Her face was white as a sheet, and she seemed quite unsettled as she took Donna by the hand and greeted her with

fleeting pecks on the cheek.

"I'm sorry, Donna." She smiled apologetically, "I know you came all this way, but it seems I'll have to cancel our little weekend get together. It's Michael, you see. He's come down with a stomach ailment, and I'm afraid it's not very pretty."

"Is everything alright?" Donna asked anxiously. "If you need any help, I could stay. I don't mind. Trust me, after some of the things I've seen lately, a little sick isn't going to put me off. Well," she rolled her eyes and smiled, "not enough to go home and spend the rest of the weekend with my mum."

Before her friend could send her away though, the matter was settled by the cab driver. Overhearing that he might have to drive the bossy woman all the way back to Cardiff, he quietly closed the boot, climbed back into his cab, and sped off. He didn't even bother to look at the two women in his rear view mirror, as he made his way back to the main road. It's not like the woman left him much of a tip, anyway. Pesos? Now he'd seen everything.

"Oi!" Donna shouted after him. "Next time I flag your cab down, it's going to be with just one finger, sunshine..."

"Oh no." Violentia said softly, "Please God, not again."

Donna spun around to see what was wrong with her friend. Violentia was staring, horror-stricken, at an upstairs window, on the right side of the house. In the window was a face, a terrible face. It was dark gray and skeletal. The head had short dark hair, and the mouth was wide open, as if in an agonizing scream. But there was no sound. Around it's neck was hanging a white stock, like some old clergyman's from two hundred years ago. Only, the ends of the stock were burgundy colour, and seemed to be dripping with blood. The blood ran out of the open window, dripping down the white sill on to the slate roof.

Donna stared at the head in the window for a long moment, before she realized that it wasn't actually attached to a body. She looked away for a second and asked her friend what was going on. Her friend only could shake her head, wordlessly. Donna looked back at the window. But, the headless clergyman was gone, and there was nothing to indicate he'd ever been there, not so much as a drop of blood.