The Doctor And I

The Beast Below - Very Old, Very Kind, and The Very Last Of Its Kind

Bailee's POV -

Amy and I look through a grating, where tentacles are flailing. It makes me feel sad, but I don't know why.

"Doctor, where are we?" Amy asks.

"The lowest point of Starship UK. The dungeon." The Doctor looks down at the tentacles as well, seemingly analysing them with his old green eyes.

"Ma'am." A man walks up behind us, and addressed Liz Ten. She looks at him, an expression on her face that is somewhat like disgust.

"Hawthorne. So this is where you hid yourself away. I think you've got some explaining to do." Children walk past us, earning a reaction from The Doctor.

"There's children down here. What's all that about?"

"Protesters and citizens of limited value are fed to the beast. For some reason, it won't eat the children. You're the first adults it's spared.
You're very lucky." Hawthorne explains. Oh yeah, I feel real lucky at the moment. The Doctor obviously shares the same opinion as me.

"Yeah, look at us. Torture chamber of the Tower of London. Lucky, lucky, lucky. Except it's not a torture chamber, is it? Well, except it is. Except it isn't. Depends on your angle." He pointedly looks down at the middle of the room, where the top of a pulsating brain is visible, with giant electrodes pointing down at it.

"What's that?" I ask, as I look at the sickening sight. The Doctor looks at me, his expression saddening.

"Well, like I say, it depends on the angle. It's either the exposed pain centre of big fella's brain, being tortured relentlessly."

"Or?" Liz presses The Doctor to continue. "Or it's the gas pedal, the accelerator. Starship UK's go faster button." He says, his eyes hardening.

"I don't understand." Liz Ten whispers.

He looks at her with a terrifying expression. "Don't you? Try to. Go on. The spaceship that could never fly. No vibration on deck. This creature, this poor, trapped, terrified creature. It's not infesting you, it's not invading, it's what you have instead of an engine. And this place down here is where you hurt it, where you torture it, day after day, just to keep it moving. Tell you what. Normally, it's above the range of human hearing. This is the sound none of you wanted to hear." He raises his sonic screwdriver in the air, and presses the button. A heart stopping scream reaches our ears, and shocks me to the core.

"Stop it. Who did this?" Liz Ten demands, walking threateningly towards Hawthorne.

"We act on instructions from the highest authority." He says, seemingly unfazed by her cold glare.

"I am the highest authority. The creature will be released, now. I said now! Is anyone listening to me?" She shouted, waving around.

"Liz. Your mask." The Doctor says gently.

"What about my mask?" She demands, clearly trying to tell The Doctor as politely as possible that she simply couldn't care less about what he has to say. I know I wouldn't, what is he doing? There's a poor innocent creature that's being tortured and apparently Liz's mask is more important? What?!

"Look at it. It's old. At least two hundred years old, I'd say." The Doctor continues, not getting the hint.

"Yeah? It's an antique. So?" Liz Ten snaps, losing her patience and fast.

"Yeah, an antique made by craftsmen over two hundred years ago and perfectly sculpted to your face. They slowed your body clock, all right, but you're not fifty. Nearer three hundred. And it's been a long old reign." That can't be right. But yet it makes sense.