Chapter Eighty: A Song of Freedom

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The lights of the translator balls go out. The Ood bow their heads, clasping their hands over their ears as if pained by some unheard din. When they stand again, the red light in their eyes is gone. "Inara. Doctor. Donna. Friends."

"Yes!"

"That's us!"

"Friends! Oh, yes!"

With their help, we get free from our cuffs. A blizzard has begun to rage outside. Racing down the steps of the fire exit, we run right into an active battle. Bullets whizz past, red staining the snow. Bodies of both races lie unmoving. Halpen and Dr Ryder are nowhere to be seen. The Doctor stops us before we can step into the open, looking around. "I don't know where it is, I don't know where they've gone!"

"What are we looking for?"

Sticking to the edges, we get clear from the line of fire and make it into an empty alley. "Might be underground, like some sort of cave, or a cavern, or..."

What else, he can't guess. Just as we think we're clear of the fighting, a stray bullet hits the fire tanks behind us. We manage to jump away in time. The heat of the explosion pushes us back.

Recovering from the fall, the Doctor quickly looks over the two of us. "All right?"

We hastily nod. Something else catches our attention, though. The smoke clears until we are met with the curious stare of an Ood. His eyes are normal, unaffected. He tilts his head, a gesture for us to follow.

There is no time to ask questions. Hurrying after him, we come to one of the larger warehouses at the edge of the complex. Its door is printed with a red '15', sliding open to the sonic's command. An electric hum grows louder as we sprint along the corridors.

Its source is soon clear to us. The corridor opens into a balcony overlooking the ground below. Within this square of space lies a giant brain, wired into machines. It pulses in and out with each pump from the tubes connected to it, as if breathing on its own. A circle of blue electricity surrounds it.

"The Ood brain," the Doctor marvels. The song can be heard again, ringing out to us from this wonder of creation. "Now it all makes sense. That's the missing link, the third element, binding them together. Fore brain, hind brain, and this — the telepathic centre. It's a shared mind, connecting all the Ood in song."

The familiar clicking of a gun alerts us. Halpen grimaces back from the shadows. "Cargo. I can always go into cargo. I've got the rockets, I've got the sheds. Smaller business, much more manageable, without livestock."

Dr Ryder trudges along behind him, far less enthusiastic. "He's mined the area," he warns us.

Donna looks around. Sure enough, at least a dozen mines have been fused to the walls surrounding the brain, scarlet lights blinking steadily. "They're gonna kill it?"

"They found that... thing," Halpen continues in disgust, "centuries ago beneath the Northern Glacier."

Inclining his head towards us, the Doctor notes, "Those pylons."

She nods. "In a circle. 'The circle must be broken'."

"Damping the telepathic field, stopping the Ood from connecting for two hundred years."

Halpen ignores us, instead looking to his servant who remains silent in the corner, unnoticed until now. "And you, Ood Sigma, you brought them here. I expected better."

He blinks and starts to approach. "My place is always at your side, sir."

A cold burst of laughter comes from Halpen, who keeps his gun steadily trained on us. "Still subservient. Good Ood."

Resisting the urge to berate him for his patronising tone, Donna says, "If that barrier thing's in place, how come the Ood started breaking out?"

The Doctor scrunches his nose and turns up his bottom lip in an expression of casual uncertainty. "Maybe it's taken centuries to adapt — the subconscious reaching out."

Finally, Dr Ryder interrupts us once more, emerging from the invisibility that he had previously shared with the Ood. "But the process was too slow, had to be accelerated." He turns his glare on his boss, a strange satisfaction showing through his goading tone. "You should never have given me access to the controls, Mr Halpen. I lowered the barrier to its minimum. Friends Of The Ood, sir. It's taken me ten years to infiltrate the company and I succeeded."

"Yes. Yes, you did." I should recognise that flicker in Halpen's eyes, I should notice the rising of his hand towards our unexpected ally. But I don't. Not until it's too late. Not until Dr Ryder has been shoved over the railing and into the mass of flesh below. The brain engulfs him, dragging him in between the creases into the darkness.

By the time I get to the railing, reaching over it, he has vanished completely. The brain resumes its natural form. Beside me, Donna goes rigid with horror. "You... murdered him," she gasps.

"Very observant, Ginger."

The second the gun turns on her, I step in the way, forgetting my injury in the haze of defensive rage. The Doctor is quick to guide both of us out of the line of fire.

Examining the weapon with a glimmer of fondness in his black eyes, Halpen sighs, "Now then, can't say I've ever shot anyone before. Can't say I'll like it. But it's not exactly a normal day, is it? Still..."

I ignore the warning squeeze of my arm, moving to stand level with the Doctor. "Listen, you don't need to do this. Nobody else needs to die. Please, just let us fix this."

"Would you like a drink, sir?" the Ood offers before he can reply.

"I think hair loss is the least of my problems right now, thanks," he sneers.

But Ood Sigma persists, holding out a shot glass of clear tonic. He positions himself between us and the gun. "Please have a drink, sir."

Halpen shut his eyes for a moment, as if to stave off a sudden headache. His grip on the weapon wavers a little. "If— If you're going to stand in their way, I'll shoot you, too," he slurs, struggling to maintain the threat.

"Please, have a drink, sir."

The hidden meaning is obvious now. His eyes flicker down to the glass, then to him, bulging wide in realisation. He can barely make out a gasp. "Have— Have you... poisoned me?"

"Natural Ood must never kill, sir," says Sigma.

The Doctor doesn't approach him but instead eyes the glass. "What is that stuff?"

"Ood-graft suspended in a biological compound, sir."

As if the realisation of this betrayal has sparked a reaction, Halpen brings a leather-gloved hand to his head. With little hair to catch them, beads of sweat roll down his brow and sheen over his pallid complexion. "What the hell does that mean?" he groans.

"Oh, dear," the Doctor sighs, failing to cover up the obvious satisfaction in his tone. Whatever this is, it's justice — the kind he approves of.

"Tell me!"

This time the aim of the gun in his hand does nothing to scare us. He can barely get the words out, let alone pull the trigger. So the Doctor continues to gloat, "Funny thing, the subconscious. Takes all sorts of shapes. It came out in the red-eye as revenge. Came out in the rabid Ood as anger... and then there was patience. All that intelligence and mercy, focused on Ood Sigma. How's that hair loss, Mr Halpen?"

Whimpering, he runs a hand over his scalp. It comes away with a clump of thin, dull brown hair. "What have you done?"

"Oh, they've been preparing you for a very long time. And now you're standing next to the Ood Brain. Mr Halpen, can you hear it? Listen."

He looks as though he might be sick any minute. It is getting harder for him to speak, especially with the tremors that build throughout his body as the chemical takes effect. "What have you— I'm... not..."

Taking the chance, I skirt around the others and pry the gun from his hand. He doesn't stop me but I can feel the Doctor's watchful gaze from behind me. I offer Ood Sigma a nod of recognition and put the weapon into his hand, returning to my place behind him. I already know that he will not use it. Sure enough, he sets it down on the floor, his eyes squinting kindly at me.

Before us, Halpen clutches at his head. The pain overcomes him, doubling him over with a silent cry. He pulls at his roots in anguish until the strangest thing happens.

The skin of his scalp comes away, peeling off to reveal a more greyish shade underneath. From his gaping mouth, strings of flesh cascade out and the wrinkles about his jaw and beneath his nose become more pronounced. When he stands up straight again, Halpen's face is gone and another's has taken its place.

Struggling to contain her urge to gag after this bizarre transformation, Donna's horror is evident. "They— They turned him into an Ood!" she breathes.

"Yup."

"He's an Ood."

The Doctor shrugs. "I noticed."

The creature that was once Halpen retches. The action forces a small, pink organ out of his mouth and into his cupped hands. A cord attaches it to him, disappearing up behind his tentacles, slimy with strings of mucous. A new voice joins the rising chorus that echoes in the back of my mind.

Opposed to us, Ood Sigma is unfazed. "He has become Oodkind, and we will take care of him," he informs us.

Donna grimaces. "It's weird, being with you two, I can't tell what's right and what's wrong anymore."

"It's better that way," the Doctor remarks, finding no disagreement from me. "People who know for certain tend to be like Mr Halpen." He is cut off by a shrill ringing noise and leans over the railing, disabling the mines that I had forgotten all about until now. "That's better. And now—" he races over to a control board on the wall "—Sigma, would you allow me the honour?"

"It is yours, Doctor."

"Oh, yes! Stifled for two hundred years, but not anymore. The circle is broken, the Ood can sing!"

With the flip of a switch, the electricity surrounding the giant brain below us fizzles out. It is free. The chorus of voices surges, a warmth glowing from their new song. They have been composing it for centuries and it is finally ready to be sung.

I let out a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. Grinning, I take the Doctor's hand in mine. Beside us, Donna's fearful gaze brightens. "I can hear it!"

——————

We are escorted back to the Tardis by our new friends. They stand around us in a perfect half-circle, their people's song still ringing out all around us, carrying on the icy wind.

"The message has gone out," the Doctor tells them. "That song resonated across the galaxies, everyone heard it. Everyone knows. The rockets are bringing them back, the Ood are coming home."

I know it is far from over, though. I know, deep down, that this kind of atrocity cannot simply stop. In my time, the Ood are still slaves. They won't truly escape it, not all of them. Not yet. Like a virus, humanity will return.

But their home has been reclaimed, their thoughts restored. For now, they can start to heal.

Strangely, I get the feeling that they know my thoughts. Perhaps they can hear them. If they can, they say nothing. Instead, Ood Sigma takes up his translator. "We thank you, Inara, Doctor-Donna. Friends of Oodkind. And what of you now, will you stay? There is room in the song for you."

We exchange warm glances. He smiles, squeezing my hand. "Oh, I've... sort of got a song of my own, thanks."

"I think your song must end soon," the Ood replies.

A new kind of cold seeps into my blood. I shiver and edge closer to him. "What does that mean?"

"Every song must end."

Tensing against me, he suddenly seems to be trying very hard not to look me in the eye. "Yeah. Um..." he says, turning to Donna, "you still want to go home?"

"No. Definitely not."

"Then, we'll be off."

In unison, the Ood all raise their palms to the glacial sky. "Take this song with you."

She smiles. "We will."

"Always."

"And know this, Inara, Doctor-Donna. You will never be forgotten. Our children will sing of the Doctor-Donna and of the Last Capitian, and our children's children. And the wind and the ice and the snow will carry your names. Forever."

——————

'The Last Capitian'.

What can that mean? Besides the obvious. I have been trying to figure it out all evening, sitting in the open doorway of the Tardis, the stars beneath my feet.

I look back at the Coin, locked away in its glass prison atop the console. It glints coldly in the warm light. It knows. It must. And yet I am always in the dark, one way or another.

Of course, I am the last. I am the last of my line, the last of those before the Coin. It must change us in some way, I suppose that is to be expected. My home will not be the same after I save it. That has to be good. To remain as it was, polluted by humankind, is to continue its decay.

Yes. That must be it. In order to survive, my people must change. And I will stay behind as the last of what we once were — a living fossil.

My thoughts are disturbed by the sound of footsteps. Quickly turning, I relax once more when I see Donna stood behind me. She looks over my hunched form, sighs, and sits in the space beside me, nudging me over to make more room. She pushes a beer into my hand, saying, "Figured you could do with one."

Chuckling, I flick off the cap and clink the bottle against hers. "Cheers."

We drink in silence for a while and watch a cluster of starlight pass us by, leaving weaving trails of silver in its wake. I trace them with my mind's eye and imagine what it might be like to join them in their journey. What wonders stars must see, what adventures they must get up to. To live a bright life and die by that same light, strong enough to drag everything in with it. It is by the will of the Gods that they are never alone — they used to be like me, after all; ordinary people who followed a divine calling and are granted a reward in their last moments.

"Why'd you do that?"

Breaking my focus from the fading glow, I look over at Donna with a frown. "Do what?" I ask.

Whatever her question, it does not come from anger, merely curiosity. "You gave Ood Sigma the gun. Why?"

Shrugging, I reply, "Because it wasn't my fight." My gaze returns to the sky, fixating on the wisps of a far-off nebula of purple and gold, twisting in on itself like a whirlpool. I take another sip. "And because it takes a special kind of person to get the kind of weapon that might end all of their suffering and choose peace instead."

She watches me in interest, nodding slowly. "Are you one of them?"

I scoff light-heartedly. "Gods, no. I'll never be strong enough for that, too full of myself."

Her elbow digs into my side and she sighs, "Oh, come off it!"

"I'm serious," I protest, my smile growing more genuine and yet more pained as the conversation goes on. "I may have been one of those brave few a very, very long time ago... but people change — sometimes for the worse —and that's just something I've learned to accept. We can't all be perfect heroes. This isn't a fairy tale."

She doesn't argue with that. I am almost grateful for it; there are few people who would let me say what I know is true without attempting to change my mind. For a little longer, we watch the stars. I hear an impatient huff from her. "All right, just to set things straight... are you two married or what?"

"Pardon?"

"You and the Doctor. I mean, you're obviously in love with each other but I thought you weren't actually together together, then you called him your husband. So is it just a joke or are you, like, literally married and didn't bother to tell me?"

Taking in the rant, I narrow my eyes, trying to recall whatever event she is hinting at. "I'm sorry, Donna, but what in Minerva's name are you talking about? When did I say that?"

"Oh, you know. We were all cuffed up in Halpen's office and you were wigging out again —not that it's a totally common occurrence but, seriously, are you okay? — and you two started arguing. And I thought to myself, 'My God, could these two quit bickering like an old married couple?' Then you drop the 'husband' bomb! I mean, I know it's not any of my business, but if you ask me, it's your fault for depriving me of Hello! magazine and Corrie and just expecting me not to live vicariously through you. A girl needs drama."

Now that Donna has mentioned it, I vaguely remember saying something of the sort. I don't, however, remember the Doctor saying a thing. Maybe he didn't hear, or he didn't want to embarrass me. It was only a slip up, surely. But I'm not so sure.

I conclude that it's better to explain this now rather than have her go to him for answers. "For starters," I cautiously begin, "we're not married. Well, not yet."

My comment only interests her further. With an exaggerated gasp, she sits up straight and shakes me by the arm. "Oh my God!"

"Calm down. We're not engaged or anything. It's just... you see, I met a future version of him and it turns out that we might get together at some point." She makes a squeaking noise and I quickly add, "But I haven't said anything to him and it's probably not that deep, so not a word. Got it?"

"Oh, I have got it! Totally understood. Not a word," she enthusiastically agrees.

I nod to myself, feeling a little more secure. "Good. Now—"

"I'm thinking a beach wedding. What are your thoughts on blue? 'Cause I reckon I'd make a great maid of honour in blue."

——————

A/n:

I know the actual episode ends on a much lighter note with all the Ood being returned home, but that just didn't make sense. I wish it did but you can't cover a theme as messed up as slavery and then imagine everything to be resolved so easily, just because the Ood regained control over themselves. It's an issue the Doctor can't fix on his own, humans actually have to acknowledge the evil of their actions and undo it.

Anyway, on that pessimistic note...

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️


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