Ivory Maiden 2
Title: The Ivory Maiden
Part: 2/7
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4562
Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
Special thanks to vampydirector for her beta help!
The Doctor sighed as he watched his silent companion, knowing there was really only one option now. He couldn’t leave Oliver like this--especially not in the middle of an as-yet-unexplained crisis. “All right, Oliver, back to the TARDIS,” he instructed.
“Okay,” Oliver replied flatly. And without another word, he turned and began walking toward the doorway.
The Doctor started, surprised by that reaction. “What? Now wait!” he cried. The young man complied again as the Doctor rushed over to him, holding his hat on his head with one hand and giving Oliver a look. “I’m supposed to lead.”
If Oliver had been in full control of his mental faculties, he would have snickered, but as it was, he didn’t react at all, which just made the Doctor frown more.
“Come on, then.”
As they headed back past the security guards and through the empty corridor, the Doctor realized, to his dismay, that the unsettling nature of the current situation was being rather annoyingly amplified by Oliver’s presence. For the first--and probably only--time, his companion was walking quietly, staring forward with the same dull, unseeing gaze as the guards they had just passed. It was perhaps the furthest from Oliver’s normal personality that he could possibly act, and the Doctor didn’t like it one bit.
Still, he knew that this had created a prime opportunity to gather more information about the phenomenon from what he considered to be a very reliable source. After all, if Oliver was in a state that somehow caused him to do anything the Doctor asked to the letter--which all the evidence was pointing to so far--then there was no reason not to ask as many questions as he pleased. As they continued walking, he decided to give it a go, hoping he wasn’t misjudging the situation. “Oliver, describe how you’re feeling,” he said.
“Empty,” Oliver replied simply, his tone still hollow.
“You feel empty? Why?” the Doctor pressed. He leaned toward him, giving him a probing look that did little to penetrate the blankness in Oliver’s eyes. “Is this about your girlfriend again?” he added, watching to see if he could get a spark of recognition.
There was none. “Which?”
The Doctor stopped in his tracks. Unfortunately, Oliver didn’t. When the Doctor had recovered his composure, he scrambled after him, his mind already working to put the pieces together concerning this revelation. What could Oliver possibly have meant by that?
“Wait! Oliver, get back here!” he ordered. “Stay with me!” He waited for Oliver to turn and walk back to him. Then he started forward again, watching for his companion to follow before asking, “What do you mean which? Don’t tell me there are two Chloe Elliots in Birmingham!”
This time, a flicker of thoughtfulness and confusion crossed Oliver’s gaze, and it took a moment before he answered. The Doctor narrowed his eyes, wondering if this meant the phenomenon was affecting his memory--suppressing it in the same way it was suppressing his will and personality, perhaps?
“Chloe…she’s one. But she’s not why I’m empty,” Oliver finally said.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow at that. Nevermind his initial theory; it seemed Oliver did still have access to his memories--which was a good sign. But it didn’t do anything to explain what was happening. “Then why are you empty?” the Doctor pressed.
“I saw Galatea.”
“Gala…ohhh.” The Doctor nodded to himself, more pieces falling into place now. “You mean Pygmalion’s Galatea. The statue he fell in love with when no woman could interest him--or, in this case, the White Maiden in the museum.”
“Yeah. Galatea.”
The Doctor frowned. At least the parallel to a statue with power over men meant Oliver’s mind had some grasp of what was happening to him, but he was still much too far from his normal self for the Doctor’s comfort. “And you’re empty because…you saw her, but you aren’t with her anymore?” the man guessed.
For the first time, Oliver turned his gaze directly to the Doctor. “Yes.”
The Doctor stared straight back at him. “And you’d feel that way even if you were with Chloe right now?”
Oliver didn’t hesitate, and this time there was the faintest bit of emotion--of conviction--in his voice when he responded. “Yes.”
The Doctor exhaled loudly. “Well. Now I know it’s serious.”
Oliver, predictably, made no reply.
The Doctor narrowed his eyes. “Oliver, raise your hand.” Oliver complied. “Stand on one foot.” Again, Oliver immediately did as he had been told. “Turn round,” the Doctor continued. “Careful there!” He put out a steadying hand as Oliver followed his instructions but with his foot still raised. “All right, lower your foot and…sing a song.”
He paused for a moment in his instructions, regarding his companion with some degree of consternation amidst the sound of a rather off-key rendition of a stanza of the Killers’ Mr. Brightside. However, it didn’t take him long to say, “Yes, yes, that’s quite enough of that!”
Oliver stopped, quiet and still. The Doctor sighed again. “Fine, well, come along.”
Leading his silent companion, the Doctor headed back down the stairs to the lower level of the museum, taking another look at the line waiting to see the statue before he made his way toward the entrance. With a hand on the door, however, he paused. “Have you noticed anything strange about these people, Oliver?”
“Yeah,” Oliver replied immediately, “They’re very short and they have hair colors we don’t and they spend all-”
“No, no, no, don’t answer that.” The Doctor waited for Oliver to stop, exasperated. He’d have to be careful of rhetorical questions for the moment. “Good. I meant that we haven’t seen any females of the species--and that wasn’t a question, so don’t answer it.” There was an awkward silence. “Oh, you don’t say, Doctor! I never noticed. Yes, well, I am rather more clever than even your cleverest bipeds. Comes with being me.” He headed out the front entrance as he spoke, just catching the door with his arm when he realized he’d done so alone. “Oliver, come along!”
It wasn’t difficult to cross back through town toward the outskirts and the TARDIS--not with the locals scurrying out of the way of the Doctor and with Oliver following closely behind him. As they were passing through the main square, however, an idea occurred to the man, and he stopped in his tracks. Quietly, he instructed, “Oliver, stay with me.” He kept his gaze fixed on the people in front of him. They had been just beginning to move to the sides to get out of his way, but once he and Oliver had stopped, they had all paused very briefly and were now moving back to where they had originally been standing.
“I think this calls for an experiment, don’t you? …don’t answer that.” The Doctor took a step forward, addressing the crowd. “Hello everyone, I’m the Doctor, and this is my friend Oliver. If you can, I’d like you all to do something for me. Would you all turn to your right, please?”
As one, nearly everyone in the crowd did just that--Oliver included. Three people, however, looked at the Doctor, puzzled, before they began to tug at the arms of people near them. When their efforts received no response, they glanced at the Doctor--in fear this time--attempting more forcefully to lead their loved ones away.
“Oh, don’t worry, no one’s going to be hurt,” the Doctor assured them. “But,” he mused to himself, “I wonder what it would take for all of them to realize I’m not the one who’s supposed to be controlling them.” He frowned, thoughtful for a moment, but then he raised his voice again, looking out at the blank-eyed people. “And what happens then, hm? You mob me and drag me to the statue so I fall under the influence, too? No, don’t answer that. You’ve already realized I can’t fall under the influence, haven’t you? Which is why you’ve been listening to me thus far.” He grinned, leaning forward and gazing into the eyes of one of the men. “That’s the one, isn’t it? Far more likely. Which is why you don’t seem to be taking any notice of these others around here.” He gestured through the crowd toward one boy in particular. “I’d stay away from that statue, if I were you,” he advised very seriously, shifting his gaze to look down at the child and then stepping forward until he was standing in front of him. “I’m the Doctor, by the way. What’s your name?”
The boy was even smaller and clearly younger than his fellow Filiorans. He was somehow as thin as a rail, despite his species’ squat build, with wispy blue hair and frightened purple eyes, which were only visible for an instant as he glanced at the Doctor nervously before quickly lowering his gaze. He had his hand on the arm of a man next to him, who had pale blue hair and a rather slight build of his own. The boy was moving closer to him now, tugging on his arm in a last futile attempt to convince him to move away. “What did you do to my father?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
“Me?” the Doctor repeated, eyes bulging. “Why, I haven’t done anything. But whatever it is that’s happened to him, I’m going to reverse it. Now what do you think about that?”
The boy stopped moving, looking up at him again, but in surprise this time. “That would be good,” he said softly.
“Yes, it will be, won’t it?” The Doctor grinned. “So, could you tell me your name?”
“Tirik.” The boy took a tentative step in front of his father, watching the Doctor closely.
“All right, then, Tirik,” the Doctor continued, unconcerned with the youth’s skepticism. “What can you tell me about that statue everyone’s so interested in?”
“You mean the White Maiden?”
“Unless there’s some other statue causing obsession in your fellow townspeople that I don’t yet know about, then yes, I suppose I do.”
Tirik frowned nervously at those words, still clearly undecided as to what to make of the Doctor. “The Goddess gave her to us as a gift,” he replied.
“Did she now? That was very generous of her. Did the Goddess give a reason?”
The boy paused, hesitant at first, but then he beckoned him closer, and the Doctor obliged. “To make everybody worship her since nobody was,” he whispered.
The Doctor looked at him, wide-eyed. “Is that what she said? Very interesting.” He straightened, giving the boy a pat on the back. “You’ve been very helpful, Tirik, very helpful. One more question for you, if you don’t mind. I’ve been walking about your town for a few hours now, and all I’ve seen are men and boys. Do you know where all the women have gone?”
The boy frowned at the Doctor, seemingly confused by the question. “They’re in Sorodum, like always.”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow at that. “You mean they don’t live in this town? With the men?”
The boy shook his head vigorously, laughing awkwardly as he seemingly decided that the Doctor must be trying to be funny. “Why would the women live with the men?”
The Doctor frowned. “I can think of a few reasons, but none you need to concern yourself with yet, my boy. Thank you again. Would you like a jelly baby?”
“A what?” the boy asked, his nervousness fading.
“Here.” The Doctor reached into his pocket, producing a white bag and holding it out to him. Tirik looked between him and the bag for a moment, uncertain. “Go on,” the Doctor encouraged, reaching in and taking one out for himself, showing the boy how it was done. “See?” he asked, his mouth still full.
Tirik nodded. Hesitantly, he reached a hand into the bag and took a sweet, putting it in his mouth as the Doctor had done and chewing. He smiled once he had swallowed. “Can I have another?”
“Why, of course you can do. Here, Oliver, you have one, too.”
Whether his phrasing was intentional or not, it ensured that Oliver would reach forward and take a jelly baby from the bag, eating it almost mechanically. However, as soon as he had finished the sweet, he gasped loudly, reeling slightly. The Doctor quickly reached out a hand, grabbing his arm.
“Steady on! You know, Oliver, I have to say, you’ve never reacted quite so strongly to a jelly baby before.”
“I what?” Oliver asked blearily, glancing at the Doctor in confusion.
“Ah! Ahahah! Now that’s more like it. A question.” He gave Oliver a rather hard pat on the back. “Good to have you back, Oliver. Try not to let it happen again.”
“Let…what?”
“And do try not to get too repetitive. The questions are less interesting that way,” the Doctor advised, his tone grave.
“Yeah, but…” Oliver began to look around him, his expression startled at the sight of the crowd, all turned in one direction and staring blankly. He followed their gaze, but was only just able to ascertain that there was nothing obvious there before the Doctor grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him back to face him.
“Now that’s quite enough of that. I take it you don’t remember what happened? What’s the last thing you do remember?”
Oliver was about to work out some sort of answer when he was interrupted by a young boy tugging at the Doctor’s sleeve. “Mister, can I have one to make my father better?”
“Hm?” The Doctor blinked at him. “Oh! I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
The boy’s expression was the picture of heartbreak. “But…but why not?” he stuttered.
The Doctor pursed his lips. “You’re a different species from Oliver here, and so is your father. And as this is my first time encountering both the Filiorans and whatever it is that’s controlling you lot--and only because it’s my first time, mind you--I don’t have the information I need to be sure that giving him a jelly baby when he’s in that condition would be quite safe. However! After the opportunity to run a few tests in the TARDIS, I’m sure I could find out. But that’s not what I’m going to do.”
“What?” Oliver spoke up now, still looking rather confused but obviously having worked out enough to know that he wanted the Doctor to help the boy’s father. “That’s a rubbish reason! You’ve never held off on jelly babies before. Well, except with the Manicoll, but these people are nothing like them! So what’s the real reason? Why can’t we help?”
The Doctor looked wounded. “Oliver! When did I ever say we wouldn’t help? But...” He made a face, looking distinctly uncomfortable at being contradicted. “Well, you don’t really think I’d heal this whole world person-by-person through the use of jelly babies--my jelly babies--do you? I only carry so many, you know!” he declared, defensively. “Not to mention, if people begin to walk free of control, don’t you think that might draw a bit of attention? It’s one thing for you to be freed--you shouldn’t have been here in the first place. But to free this boy’s father or his friends? No, that wouldn’t be a good solution at all.” He grinned. “I’ll come up with one that’s much better.”
Oliver considered that, his expression dubious.
The boy let go of the Doctor’s sleeve, however, placated. “You’re going to make everybody better?” he asked, his eyes wide with awe. “Really?”
Oliver caught the look of dismay on the Doctor’s face at apparently being questioned again and, mind made up now, decided to step in. “‘Course he is! He’s the Doctor. Saving people is what he does.”
“You promise?” the boy pressed.
“Yeah. We promise. Don’t we, Doctor?”
The Doctor gave him a wide-eyed look, as though appalled at the question. “There’s no need for promises--just a bit of patience. Now, Oliver, what’s the last thing you remember? Before the jelly baby, of course.”
Oliver frowned, annoyed. “Doctor, you’re going to have to explain a bit more than that. What’s all this about a jelly baby ‘saving’ me? What from?”
“You were like everybody else,” Tirik put in.
In their current company, there was no need to explain what he meant. The other two who hadn’t been under the influence of the statue appeared to have made a hasty retreat when the Doctor had turned his attention on Tirik--probably spooked by the giant stranger that was controlling their loved ones. Not for the first time, the Doctor noted the rather intriguing--if frustrating--contrast in adaptability between the children and adults of a species.
“And how did that happen?” Oliver pressed, looking first at Tirik and then turning a pointed gaze on the Doctor. “I thought the security footage was safe.”
“Yes, well, you really should learn not to rush into things, Oliver,” the Doctor said. “Sometimes you find more than you bargained for. I thought you would have realized that by now.”
Oliver gave him a look but knew better than to bother attempting to contradict him. “Okay, so whatever it is the statue does happened to me. And a jelly baby brought me back?”
“Well, more like specific chemicals in the gelatin-”
“That really is what happened!?” Oliver interrupted, a grin beginning to slip through his worry and confusion.
“Oh, jelly babies have many beneficial qualities. There’s a reason I carry them, you know.”
“Other than you’re addicted,” Oliver mumbled, still grinning. He caught Tirik’s eye and gave him a wink. “Okay, so you wanted to know what I remember, right? I remember being in the museum and heading into the security station so we could take a look at the footage, but that’s about it. What’s been going on since then, anyway? How did we get all the way across town?”
“On foot, of course.”
“But…” Oliver frowned.
“Oliver, Oliver!” the Doctor cried, sounding dismayed. He gestured at the crowd around them. “Think about the obliging guards. Not to mention these lovely people!”
“Yeah, yeah, I see that,” Oliver protested. “You mean…all the brainwashed people do whatever’s asked of them?”
“Oh, I doubt it’s quite that easy.” There was a twinkle in the Doctor’s eyes that Oliver knew well.
“So what’s the catch?”
“I have a feeling that I am,” the Doctor confided with a toothy smile.
Oliver quirked an eyebrow at him. “You mean they only listen to you?”
“That’s the theory. You can test it, if you’d like. I do know that this young man’s father had little interest in listening to him.”
“Yeah, but he’s a Fili...oran, too.” Oliver’s eyes lit up with understanding, and he smirked. “Which is why you want me to test it. Right?”
The Doctor grinned. “Glad to hear your inquisitive mind is still intact.”
“Me too! Uh…” Oliver turned to slowly survey the people around them. “So how does this work?”
“Well, you could start by asking them a question, rather than me.”
“Yeah, uh…” Oliver cleared his throat, raising his voice slightly. “Could you all point the way to the museum?”
No one moved.
“Point the way to the museum,” the Doctor echoed.
Every person in the crowd, except for Tirik, raised an arm and pointed toward their left.
“You see,” the Doctor said with a grin. “Simple.”
Oliver shook his head, grinning faintly as well. “The brainwashed people only listen to you, got it. But how are we planning to free them all? Destroy the statue?”
The Doctor’s eyes boggled, his grin fading immediately. “Oliver,” he hissed, “You should never speak of destroying an object capable of psychic control when surrounded by its victims.”
He hardly needed to have made the comment, as the crowd of people had immediately dropped their arms and were already spreading apart, beginning to surround them. Their expressions were rather less vacant now and far more menacing.
“Oh. Sorry,” Oliver muttered sheepishly as he, the Doctor, and Tirik moved more closely together. “So what now?”
The Doctor considered that. “Now I would imagine they snatch you away from us and carry you off, probably either to show you the statue again or to murder you.”
“Comforting. But I meant, what do we do now?”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Doctor,” Oliver sighed as the attackers began to reach out toward him in a rather classic zombie-movie fashion--except for the difference in height, of course. “They’re getting a bit close here.”
“I suppose you’re right. Well, then.” The Doctor took a step forward, gaining enough proximity for the reaching hands to scrabble at his stomach. In a booming voice, he cried, “Stop!”
Every single one of the people stopped exactly where he was, lowering his hands to his sides and standing as if at attention.
“Whew.” The Doctor reached up to adjust his hat. “I was hoping that would work.”
Oliver gawked at him. “What if it hadn’t?”
“Why worry when it did?”
His companion opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by Tirik coming between them, tugging at the Doctor’s sleeve. “When are we going to help my father?”
“Good question. Doctor?” But Oliver made a face at the look in the Doctor’s eyes, knowing his mind was elsewhere at the moment. “Back to the statue, I’m guessing?” Oliver suggested.
All three of them jumped as those words seemed to bring the victims of the statue’s control right back to life--and in just as vicious of a mood as they had been a moment ago.
“I didn’t say anything about doing something to it!” Oliver yelped as the crowd again began to converge on him.
“Stop!” the Doctor cried.
The people froze--for about ten seconds. Then they began closing in again.
“Okay, so you did have a backup plan, right, Doctor?” Oliver asked, glancing between the man and the people who were starting to grasp at his shirt.
The Doctor didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he reached into his pocket, fiddling with something. It wasn’t hard to work out what--everyone cried out in pain as the sonic screwdriver whirred to life at a high frequency. “Run!” the Doctor barked.
Neither Oliver nor Tirik needed to be told twice. Wincing through the pain of the sound, both attempted to take off the through the crowd. However, whatever frequency the Doctor was using appeared to be even more painful to the Filiorans than it was to Oliver and the Doctor. This would have been perfect except that it was just as bad for Tirik as for the others. The Doctor fairly scooped the staggering boy under his arm as they pushed through the crowd. “Move move move!” he ordered their attackers as he went, causing the citizens to stagger slightly out of the way even through their pain.
It didn’t take long for them to escape from the original crowd of onlookers. Once they were safely clear, the Doctor switched off the screwdriver, and all three slumped to the curb of a deserted side street.
“What,” Oliver started breathlessly, “caused that?”
For one of the first times that day, he saw an actual serious expression on the Doctor’s face. “It seems whatever is controlling them has decided to mark you as a target,” the man replied simply.
Oliver stared. “You mean they were still just after me?”
“And rather insistently so,” the Doctor agreed, as though that had been a statement rather than a question. “I think it would be best if none of us says anything else about…well, you know. To their statue.”
Oliver nodded numbly in agreement, but he couldn’t help a faint grin as some of the horror of the experience began to fade. “You know, that was really cool, Doctor. I’ve never seen you do that with the sonic screwdriver before!”
The Doctor furrowed his brow. “Haven’t you? You must not have been watching closely enough.”
Tirik, perhaps surprisingly, did not share any of Oliver’s rather childish excitement. “But what are we going to do now?” he broke in, his dismay audible in his voice.
Oliver glanced at the boy, his mood dampened by the reminder of reality. “We could…you know, do that anyway, couldn’t we?” he suggested. “We just can’t talk about it first.”
The Doctor gave him a look. “You do realize you wouldn’t get anywhere near that building without being attacked? And if you’re even considering letting yourself get caught and be dragged to the statue, I don’t think I need to remind you how you reacted to it the first time.”
Oliver’s expression said far more than words could have about what he thought of the Doctor’s statement--but the frustration in his eyes also showed that he knew it made sense. “But we have to do something about that statue!” he protested.
“No, we need more information about what’s going on here.” The Doctor stood, giving off an air of finality about the issue. Oliver raised an eyebrow at him, following suit. Tirik did the same.
“So where are going to get that?” Oliver asked.
The Doctor shifted his gaze to the boy. “Tirik, do you think you could show us the way to Sorodum?” He grinned disarmingly, his gaze eager.
Tirik, on the other hand, suddenly looked just as terrified as he had been in the face of the advancing mob. “But we’re not permitted there,” he protested, his voice quavering slightly. “We’d be killed!”
The Doctor’s grin faded. “Executed for consorting with the females of your species? Pish.”
Oliver couldn’t resist. “Maybe that’s exactly the sort of behavior they mean to execute people for.”
The Doctor gave him a look.
“Oh, right. Kid.” Oliver looked thoroughly chastised, glancing at Tirik. For his part, the boy was still looking at the two of them in utter terror. Oliver frowned, crouching down in front of him. “You saw how the Doctor got us away from those people, right?”
Tirik nodded numbly.
“He can do stuff like that to get away from anything. So if anything happens when we’re in Sorodum, you just remember that, okay?”
“But I’m not allowed,” Tirik insisted softly.
“Who says?” Oliver countered.
Tirik blinked, genuinely surprised by the question. “That’s just how it is.”
“Well, we say it’s different and you are allowed. How about that?”
The boy didn’t look convinced, so Oliver switched tactics.
“You want us to help your dad, right?”
Tirik nodded vigorously and, knowing what Oliver meant, hunched slightly as though to get away from the young man’s prompting gaze. The boy exhaled loudly. “I could show you where to go,” he finally assented with a fair degree of reluctance.
Oliver grinned encouragingly. “I knew you could do it!”
“Yes, of course, and now that that’s settled, shall we go?” the Doctor interrupted, coming up behind them and putting a hand on each of their shoulders, starting to lead them eagerly away. Several seconds later, he stopped. “As soon as you’ve pointed us in the right direction.” He looked at the boy expectantly.
Tirik took a deep breath before he nodded again and pointed. “It’s this way.”
“Then let’s be off!” the Doctor declared.
Part: 2/7
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4562
Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
Special thanks to vampydirector for her beta help!
The Doctor sighed as he watched his silent companion, knowing there was really only one option now. He couldn’t leave Oliver like this--especially not in the middle of an as-yet-unexplained crisis. “All right, Oliver, back to the TARDIS,” he instructed.
“Okay,” Oliver replied flatly. And without another word, he turned and began walking toward the doorway.
The Doctor started, surprised by that reaction. “What? Now wait!” he cried. The young man complied again as the Doctor rushed over to him, holding his hat on his head with one hand and giving Oliver a look. “I’m supposed to lead.”
If Oliver had been in full control of his mental faculties, he would have snickered, but as it was, he didn’t react at all, which just made the Doctor frown more.
“Come on, then.”
As they headed back past the security guards and through the empty corridor, the Doctor realized, to his dismay, that the unsettling nature of the current situation was being rather annoyingly amplified by Oliver’s presence. For the first--and probably only--time, his companion was walking quietly, staring forward with the same dull, unseeing gaze as the guards they had just passed. It was perhaps the furthest from Oliver’s normal personality that he could possibly act, and the Doctor didn’t like it one bit.
Still, he knew that this had created a prime opportunity to gather more information about the phenomenon from what he considered to be a very reliable source. After all, if Oliver was in a state that somehow caused him to do anything the Doctor asked to the letter--which all the evidence was pointing to so far--then there was no reason not to ask as many questions as he pleased. As they continued walking, he decided to give it a go, hoping he wasn’t misjudging the situation. “Oliver, describe how you’re feeling,” he said.
“Empty,” Oliver replied simply, his tone still hollow.
“You feel empty? Why?” the Doctor pressed. He leaned toward him, giving him a probing look that did little to penetrate the blankness in Oliver’s eyes. “Is this about your girlfriend again?” he added, watching to see if he could get a spark of recognition.
There was none. “Which?”
The Doctor stopped in his tracks. Unfortunately, Oliver didn’t. When the Doctor had recovered his composure, he scrambled after him, his mind already working to put the pieces together concerning this revelation. What could Oliver possibly have meant by that?
“Wait! Oliver, get back here!” he ordered. “Stay with me!” He waited for Oliver to turn and walk back to him. Then he started forward again, watching for his companion to follow before asking, “What do you mean which? Don’t tell me there are two Chloe Elliots in Birmingham!”
This time, a flicker of thoughtfulness and confusion crossed Oliver’s gaze, and it took a moment before he answered. The Doctor narrowed his eyes, wondering if this meant the phenomenon was affecting his memory--suppressing it in the same way it was suppressing his will and personality, perhaps?
“Chloe…she’s one. But she’s not why I’m empty,” Oliver finally said.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow at that. Nevermind his initial theory; it seemed Oliver did still have access to his memories--which was a good sign. But it didn’t do anything to explain what was happening. “Then why are you empty?” the Doctor pressed.
“I saw Galatea.”
“Gala…ohhh.” The Doctor nodded to himself, more pieces falling into place now. “You mean Pygmalion’s Galatea. The statue he fell in love with when no woman could interest him--or, in this case, the White Maiden in the museum.”
“Yeah. Galatea.”
The Doctor frowned. At least the parallel to a statue with power over men meant Oliver’s mind had some grasp of what was happening to him, but he was still much too far from his normal self for the Doctor’s comfort. “And you’re empty because…you saw her, but you aren’t with her anymore?” the man guessed.
For the first time, Oliver turned his gaze directly to the Doctor. “Yes.”
The Doctor stared straight back at him. “And you’d feel that way even if you were with Chloe right now?”
Oliver didn’t hesitate, and this time there was the faintest bit of emotion--of conviction--in his voice when he responded. “Yes.”
The Doctor exhaled loudly. “Well. Now I know it’s serious.”
Oliver, predictably, made no reply.
The Doctor narrowed his eyes. “Oliver, raise your hand.” Oliver complied. “Stand on one foot.” Again, Oliver immediately did as he had been told. “Turn round,” the Doctor continued. “Careful there!” He put out a steadying hand as Oliver followed his instructions but with his foot still raised. “All right, lower your foot and…sing a song.”
He paused for a moment in his instructions, regarding his companion with some degree of consternation amidst the sound of a rather off-key rendition of a stanza of the Killers’ Mr. Brightside. However, it didn’t take him long to say, “Yes, yes, that’s quite enough of that!”
Oliver stopped, quiet and still. The Doctor sighed again. “Fine, well, come along.”
Leading his silent companion, the Doctor headed back down the stairs to the lower level of the museum, taking another look at the line waiting to see the statue before he made his way toward the entrance. With a hand on the door, however, he paused. “Have you noticed anything strange about these people, Oliver?”
“Yeah,” Oliver replied immediately, “They’re very short and they have hair colors we don’t and they spend all-”
“No, no, no, don’t answer that.” The Doctor waited for Oliver to stop, exasperated. He’d have to be careful of rhetorical questions for the moment. “Good. I meant that we haven’t seen any females of the species--and that wasn’t a question, so don’t answer it.” There was an awkward silence. “Oh, you don’t say, Doctor! I never noticed. Yes, well, I am rather more clever than even your cleverest bipeds. Comes with being me.” He headed out the front entrance as he spoke, just catching the door with his arm when he realized he’d done so alone. “Oliver, come along!”
It wasn’t difficult to cross back through town toward the outskirts and the TARDIS--not with the locals scurrying out of the way of the Doctor and with Oliver following closely behind him. As they were passing through the main square, however, an idea occurred to the man, and he stopped in his tracks. Quietly, he instructed, “Oliver, stay with me.” He kept his gaze fixed on the people in front of him. They had been just beginning to move to the sides to get out of his way, but once he and Oliver had stopped, they had all paused very briefly and were now moving back to where they had originally been standing.
“I think this calls for an experiment, don’t you? …don’t answer that.” The Doctor took a step forward, addressing the crowd. “Hello everyone, I’m the Doctor, and this is my friend Oliver. If you can, I’d like you all to do something for me. Would you all turn to your right, please?”
As one, nearly everyone in the crowd did just that--Oliver included. Three people, however, looked at the Doctor, puzzled, before they began to tug at the arms of people near them. When their efforts received no response, they glanced at the Doctor--in fear this time--attempting more forcefully to lead their loved ones away.
“Oh, don’t worry, no one’s going to be hurt,” the Doctor assured them. “But,” he mused to himself, “I wonder what it would take for all of them to realize I’m not the one who’s supposed to be controlling them.” He frowned, thoughtful for a moment, but then he raised his voice again, looking out at the blank-eyed people. “And what happens then, hm? You mob me and drag me to the statue so I fall under the influence, too? No, don’t answer that. You’ve already realized I can’t fall under the influence, haven’t you? Which is why you’ve been listening to me thus far.” He grinned, leaning forward and gazing into the eyes of one of the men. “That’s the one, isn’t it? Far more likely. Which is why you don’t seem to be taking any notice of these others around here.” He gestured through the crowd toward one boy in particular. “I’d stay away from that statue, if I were you,” he advised very seriously, shifting his gaze to look down at the child and then stepping forward until he was standing in front of him. “I’m the Doctor, by the way. What’s your name?”
The boy was even smaller and clearly younger than his fellow Filiorans. He was somehow as thin as a rail, despite his species’ squat build, with wispy blue hair and frightened purple eyes, which were only visible for an instant as he glanced at the Doctor nervously before quickly lowering his gaze. He had his hand on the arm of a man next to him, who had pale blue hair and a rather slight build of his own. The boy was moving closer to him now, tugging on his arm in a last futile attempt to convince him to move away. “What did you do to my father?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
“Me?” the Doctor repeated, eyes bulging. “Why, I haven’t done anything. But whatever it is that’s happened to him, I’m going to reverse it. Now what do you think about that?”
The boy stopped moving, looking up at him again, but in surprise this time. “That would be good,” he said softly.
“Yes, it will be, won’t it?” The Doctor grinned. “So, could you tell me your name?”
“Tirik.” The boy took a tentative step in front of his father, watching the Doctor closely.
“All right, then, Tirik,” the Doctor continued, unconcerned with the youth’s skepticism. “What can you tell me about that statue everyone’s so interested in?”
“You mean the White Maiden?”
“Unless there’s some other statue causing obsession in your fellow townspeople that I don’t yet know about, then yes, I suppose I do.”
Tirik frowned nervously at those words, still clearly undecided as to what to make of the Doctor. “The Goddess gave her to us as a gift,” he replied.
“Did she now? That was very generous of her. Did the Goddess give a reason?”
The boy paused, hesitant at first, but then he beckoned him closer, and the Doctor obliged. “To make everybody worship her since nobody was,” he whispered.
The Doctor looked at him, wide-eyed. “Is that what she said? Very interesting.” He straightened, giving the boy a pat on the back. “You’ve been very helpful, Tirik, very helpful. One more question for you, if you don’t mind. I’ve been walking about your town for a few hours now, and all I’ve seen are men and boys. Do you know where all the women have gone?”
The boy frowned at the Doctor, seemingly confused by the question. “They’re in Sorodum, like always.”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow at that. “You mean they don’t live in this town? With the men?”
The boy shook his head vigorously, laughing awkwardly as he seemingly decided that the Doctor must be trying to be funny. “Why would the women live with the men?”
The Doctor frowned. “I can think of a few reasons, but none you need to concern yourself with yet, my boy. Thank you again. Would you like a jelly baby?”
“A what?” the boy asked, his nervousness fading.
“Here.” The Doctor reached into his pocket, producing a white bag and holding it out to him. Tirik looked between him and the bag for a moment, uncertain. “Go on,” the Doctor encouraged, reaching in and taking one out for himself, showing the boy how it was done. “See?” he asked, his mouth still full.
Tirik nodded. Hesitantly, he reached a hand into the bag and took a sweet, putting it in his mouth as the Doctor had done and chewing. He smiled once he had swallowed. “Can I have another?”
“Why, of course you can do. Here, Oliver, you have one, too.”
Whether his phrasing was intentional or not, it ensured that Oliver would reach forward and take a jelly baby from the bag, eating it almost mechanically. However, as soon as he had finished the sweet, he gasped loudly, reeling slightly. The Doctor quickly reached out a hand, grabbing his arm.
“Steady on! You know, Oliver, I have to say, you’ve never reacted quite so strongly to a jelly baby before.”
“I what?” Oliver asked blearily, glancing at the Doctor in confusion.
“Ah! Ahahah! Now that’s more like it. A question.” He gave Oliver a rather hard pat on the back. “Good to have you back, Oliver. Try not to let it happen again.”
“Let…what?”
“And do try not to get too repetitive. The questions are less interesting that way,” the Doctor advised, his tone grave.
“Yeah, but…” Oliver began to look around him, his expression startled at the sight of the crowd, all turned in one direction and staring blankly. He followed their gaze, but was only just able to ascertain that there was nothing obvious there before the Doctor grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him back to face him.
“Now that’s quite enough of that. I take it you don’t remember what happened? What’s the last thing you do remember?”
Oliver was about to work out some sort of answer when he was interrupted by a young boy tugging at the Doctor’s sleeve. “Mister, can I have one to make my father better?”
“Hm?” The Doctor blinked at him. “Oh! I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
The boy’s expression was the picture of heartbreak. “But…but why not?” he stuttered.
The Doctor pursed his lips. “You’re a different species from Oliver here, and so is your father. And as this is my first time encountering both the Filiorans and whatever it is that’s controlling you lot--and only because it’s my first time, mind you--I don’t have the information I need to be sure that giving him a jelly baby when he’s in that condition would be quite safe. However! After the opportunity to run a few tests in the TARDIS, I’m sure I could find out. But that’s not what I’m going to do.”
“What?” Oliver spoke up now, still looking rather confused but obviously having worked out enough to know that he wanted the Doctor to help the boy’s father. “That’s a rubbish reason! You’ve never held off on jelly babies before. Well, except with the Manicoll, but these people are nothing like them! So what’s the real reason? Why can’t we help?”
The Doctor looked wounded. “Oliver! When did I ever say we wouldn’t help? But...” He made a face, looking distinctly uncomfortable at being contradicted. “Well, you don’t really think I’d heal this whole world person-by-person through the use of jelly babies--my jelly babies--do you? I only carry so many, you know!” he declared, defensively. “Not to mention, if people begin to walk free of control, don’t you think that might draw a bit of attention? It’s one thing for you to be freed--you shouldn’t have been here in the first place. But to free this boy’s father or his friends? No, that wouldn’t be a good solution at all.” He grinned. “I’ll come up with one that’s much better.”
Oliver considered that, his expression dubious.
The boy let go of the Doctor’s sleeve, however, placated. “You’re going to make everybody better?” he asked, his eyes wide with awe. “Really?”
Oliver caught the look of dismay on the Doctor’s face at apparently being questioned again and, mind made up now, decided to step in. “‘Course he is! He’s the Doctor. Saving people is what he does.”
“You promise?” the boy pressed.
“Yeah. We promise. Don’t we, Doctor?”
The Doctor gave him a wide-eyed look, as though appalled at the question. “There’s no need for promises--just a bit of patience. Now, Oliver, what’s the last thing you remember? Before the jelly baby, of course.”
Oliver frowned, annoyed. “Doctor, you’re going to have to explain a bit more than that. What’s all this about a jelly baby ‘saving’ me? What from?”
“You were like everybody else,” Tirik put in.
In their current company, there was no need to explain what he meant. The other two who hadn’t been under the influence of the statue appeared to have made a hasty retreat when the Doctor had turned his attention on Tirik--probably spooked by the giant stranger that was controlling their loved ones. Not for the first time, the Doctor noted the rather intriguing--if frustrating--contrast in adaptability between the children and adults of a species.
“And how did that happen?” Oliver pressed, looking first at Tirik and then turning a pointed gaze on the Doctor. “I thought the security footage was safe.”
“Yes, well, you really should learn not to rush into things, Oliver,” the Doctor said. “Sometimes you find more than you bargained for. I thought you would have realized that by now.”
Oliver gave him a look but knew better than to bother attempting to contradict him. “Okay, so whatever it is the statue does happened to me. And a jelly baby brought me back?”
“Well, more like specific chemicals in the gelatin-”
“That really is what happened!?” Oliver interrupted, a grin beginning to slip through his worry and confusion.
“Oh, jelly babies have many beneficial qualities. There’s a reason I carry them, you know.”
“Other than you’re addicted,” Oliver mumbled, still grinning. He caught Tirik’s eye and gave him a wink. “Okay, so you wanted to know what I remember, right? I remember being in the museum and heading into the security station so we could take a look at the footage, but that’s about it. What’s been going on since then, anyway? How did we get all the way across town?”
“On foot, of course.”
“But…” Oliver frowned.
“Oliver, Oliver!” the Doctor cried, sounding dismayed. He gestured at the crowd around them. “Think about the obliging guards. Not to mention these lovely people!”
“Yeah, yeah, I see that,” Oliver protested. “You mean…all the brainwashed people do whatever’s asked of them?”
“Oh, I doubt it’s quite that easy.” There was a twinkle in the Doctor’s eyes that Oliver knew well.
“So what’s the catch?”
“I have a feeling that I am,” the Doctor confided with a toothy smile.
Oliver quirked an eyebrow at him. “You mean they only listen to you?”
“That’s the theory. You can test it, if you’d like. I do know that this young man’s father had little interest in listening to him.”
“Yeah, but he’s a Fili...oran, too.” Oliver’s eyes lit up with understanding, and he smirked. “Which is why you want me to test it. Right?”
The Doctor grinned. “Glad to hear your inquisitive mind is still intact.”
“Me too! Uh…” Oliver turned to slowly survey the people around them. “So how does this work?”
“Well, you could start by asking them a question, rather than me.”
“Yeah, uh…” Oliver cleared his throat, raising his voice slightly. “Could you all point the way to the museum?”
No one moved.
“Point the way to the museum,” the Doctor echoed.
Every person in the crowd, except for Tirik, raised an arm and pointed toward their left.
“You see,” the Doctor said with a grin. “Simple.”
Oliver shook his head, grinning faintly as well. “The brainwashed people only listen to you, got it. But how are we planning to free them all? Destroy the statue?”
The Doctor’s eyes boggled, his grin fading immediately. “Oliver,” he hissed, “You should never speak of destroying an object capable of psychic control when surrounded by its victims.”
He hardly needed to have made the comment, as the crowd of people had immediately dropped their arms and were already spreading apart, beginning to surround them. Their expressions were rather less vacant now and far more menacing.
“Oh. Sorry,” Oliver muttered sheepishly as he, the Doctor, and Tirik moved more closely together. “So what now?”
The Doctor considered that. “Now I would imagine they snatch you away from us and carry you off, probably either to show you the statue again or to murder you.”
“Comforting. But I meant, what do we do now?”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Doctor,” Oliver sighed as the attackers began to reach out toward him in a rather classic zombie-movie fashion--except for the difference in height, of course. “They’re getting a bit close here.”
“I suppose you’re right. Well, then.” The Doctor took a step forward, gaining enough proximity for the reaching hands to scrabble at his stomach. In a booming voice, he cried, “Stop!”
Every single one of the people stopped exactly where he was, lowering his hands to his sides and standing as if at attention.
“Whew.” The Doctor reached up to adjust his hat. “I was hoping that would work.”
Oliver gawked at him. “What if it hadn’t?”
“Why worry when it did?”
His companion opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by Tirik coming between them, tugging at the Doctor’s sleeve. “When are we going to help my father?”
“Good question. Doctor?” But Oliver made a face at the look in the Doctor’s eyes, knowing his mind was elsewhere at the moment. “Back to the statue, I’m guessing?” Oliver suggested.
All three of them jumped as those words seemed to bring the victims of the statue’s control right back to life--and in just as vicious of a mood as they had been a moment ago.
“I didn’t say anything about doing something to it!” Oliver yelped as the crowd again began to converge on him.
“Stop!” the Doctor cried.
The people froze--for about ten seconds. Then they began closing in again.
“Okay, so you did have a backup plan, right, Doctor?” Oliver asked, glancing between the man and the people who were starting to grasp at his shirt.
The Doctor didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he reached into his pocket, fiddling with something. It wasn’t hard to work out what--everyone cried out in pain as the sonic screwdriver whirred to life at a high frequency. “Run!” the Doctor barked.
Neither Oliver nor Tirik needed to be told twice. Wincing through the pain of the sound, both attempted to take off the through the crowd. However, whatever frequency the Doctor was using appeared to be even more painful to the Filiorans than it was to Oliver and the Doctor. This would have been perfect except that it was just as bad for Tirik as for the others. The Doctor fairly scooped the staggering boy under his arm as they pushed through the crowd. “Move move move!” he ordered their attackers as he went, causing the citizens to stagger slightly out of the way even through their pain.
It didn’t take long for them to escape from the original crowd of onlookers. Once they were safely clear, the Doctor switched off the screwdriver, and all three slumped to the curb of a deserted side street.
“What,” Oliver started breathlessly, “caused that?”
For one of the first times that day, he saw an actual serious expression on the Doctor’s face. “It seems whatever is controlling them has decided to mark you as a target,” the man replied simply.
Oliver stared. “You mean they were still just after me?”
“And rather insistently so,” the Doctor agreed, as though that had been a statement rather than a question. “I think it would be best if none of us says anything else about…well, you know. To their statue.”
Oliver nodded numbly in agreement, but he couldn’t help a faint grin as some of the horror of the experience began to fade. “You know, that was really cool, Doctor. I’ve never seen you do that with the sonic screwdriver before!”
The Doctor furrowed his brow. “Haven’t you? You must not have been watching closely enough.”
Tirik, perhaps surprisingly, did not share any of Oliver’s rather childish excitement. “But what are we going to do now?” he broke in, his dismay audible in his voice.
Oliver glanced at the boy, his mood dampened by the reminder of reality. “We could…you know, do that anyway, couldn’t we?” he suggested. “We just can’t talk about it first.”
The Doctor gave him a look. “You do realize you wouldn’t get anywhere near that building without being attacked? And if you’re even considering letting yourself get caught and be dragged to the statue, I don’t think I need to remind you how you reacted to it the first time.”
Oliver’s expression said far more than words could have about what he thought of the Doctor’s statement--but the frustration in his eyes also showed that he knew it made sense. “But we have to do something about that statue!” he protested.
“No, we need more information about what’s going on here.” The Doctor stood, giving off an air of finality about the issue. Oliver raised an eyebrow at him, following suit. Tirik did the same.
“So where are going to get that?” Oliver asked.
The Doctor shifted his gaze to the boy. “Tirik, do you think you could show us the way to Sorodum?” He grinned disarmingly, his gaze eager.
Tirik, on the other hand, suddenly looked just as terrified as he had been in the face of the advancing mob. “But we’re not permitted there,” he protested, his voice quavering slightly. “We’d be killed!”
The Doctor’s grin faded. “Executed for consorting with the females of your species? Pish.”
Oliver couldn’t resist. “Maybe that’s exactly the sort of behavior they mean to execute people for.”
The Doctor gave him a look.
“Oh, right. Kid.” Oliver looked thoroughly chastised, glancing at Tirik. For his part, the boy was still looking at the two of them in utter terror. Oliver frowned, crouching down in front of him. “You saw how the Doctor got us away from those people, right?”
Tirik nodded numbly.
“He can do stuff like that to get away from anything. So if anything happens when we’re in Sorodum, you just remember that, okay?”
“But I’m not allowed,” Tirik insisted softly.
“Who says?” Oliver countered.
Tirik blinked, genuinely surprised by the question. “That’s just how it is.”
“Well, we say it’s different and you are allowed. How about that?”
The boy didn’t look convinced, so Oliver switched tactics.
“You want us to help your dad, right?”
Tirik nodded vigorously and, knowing what Oliver meant, hunched slightly as though to get away from the young man’s prompting gaze. The boy exhaled loudly. “I could show you where to go,” he finally assented with a fair degree of reluctance.
Oliver grinned encouragingly. “I knew you could do it!”
“Yes, of course, and now that that’s settled, shall we go?” the Doctor interrupted, coming up behind them and putting a hand on each of their shoulders, starting to lead them eagerly away. Several seconds later, he stopped. “As soon as you’ve pointed us in the right direction.” He looked at the boy expectantly.
Tirik took a deep breath before he nodded again and pointed. “It’s this way.”
“Then let’s be off!” the Doctor declared.