Martha. 'Won't do it again.'
'I should hope not!' said Martha. She lifted up her vest top to show him the scar on her belly where the knife had gone in. 'See that?' she said. 'That's what you did to me!'
The Doctor put on his glasses as he bent to examine the scar. 'That's healing nicely,' he said. 'Looks like you've had it for years.'
Archibald also examined the scar. 'Skin's good,' he said. Martha quickly dropped her vest back down.
'Don't go getting any ideas,' she told him.
'No,' said Archibald, guiltily.
'I like having ideas,' said the Doctor. 'Ideas are good. I think I'm having one now. Yes, here it comes.' They waited for him to go on. 'Yes, here we go. Martha, you remember dying.'
Her shoulders sagged at the memory. 'Yeah,' she said quietly.
And the scar is there to prove it happened, yeah?' he went on.
'I guess so,' said Martha.
'Well, don't you see?' said the Doctor.
'No,' said Martha. She sometimes found his enthusiasm for all things a bit exhausting. 'It's been a long day and you can just tell me.'
'Right,' said the Doctor. 'Now, you died, yeah?'
'Yeah,' said Martha.
'And then you got brought back to life down here. Like being in a board game and having to go back to the start.'
'Yeah,' she said.
'That's what I said,' said Mrs Wingsworth.
'Yes, it's a good analogy, thank you,' said the Doctor. 'But whatever it was that brought you back to life, Martha, whatever made you better... It left you with a scar.'
'Yeah,' said Martha. And then her eyes opened wide with sudden realisation. 'But it didn't need to! Something as powerful as that...'
'It could have made you good as new,' agreed the Doctor.
'But it's not just me,' said Martha. 'It brought back Mrs Wingsworth, too.'
'I don't have any scars,' said Mrs Wingsworth. Then she considered. 'But I did the first time they killed me.'
'We killed them a lot,' explained Archibald. 'An' they never died.'
'It's all very convenient, isn't it?' said the Doctor. 'Like . . .' He looked to Martha. 'Like what else? Something in the cocktail lounge.'
'The canapés!' she said.
'Canapés are good,' said Archibald.
'So good you ate a whole tray of them,' said Martha. 'And then the moment the tray was empty it was suddenly full again.'
'That's good, too,' agreed Archibald.
'But not when anyone's looking,' said the Doctor. 'It only happens when no one can see how it's done.'
'But why?' asked Martha.
'Oh really, dear,' said Mrs Wingsworth. The mechanics of these things are so terribly vulgar.'
'Exactly,' said the Doctor. 'It's all part of the well-mannered service. Isn't it, Gabriel?'
They all turned to the robot. His blank, metal head reflected their faces back at them. 'There are protocols, Mr Doctor,' he said.
'You don't really understand it yourself, do you?' said the Doctor, gently.
'I . . .' began Gabriel. 'The logic is impaired.'
'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'That's the problem, isn't it? You're struggling to make sense of it. The whole starship is.'
'What?' said Martha. 'The starship is thinking?'
'Well, yeah,' said the Doctor. 'Kind of. We can have the philosophy later, but basically it responds to stimuli the best way it can, just like the rest of us. And sometimes we think about it and sometimes we just respond.'
'You mean it's like breathing,' said Martha. 'You can control your breathing consciously, but mostly you don't really think about doing it.'
'That's true of the Balumin, too, dear,' said Mrs Wingsworth. 'Although my cousin Sandy makes a great kerfuffle about how you should always control your breathing. She was into all that sort of thing: crystals, coloured smoke...'
'I can hold my breath,' said Archibald proudly. 'For when we go swimming.'
'I think we've established the analogy,' said the Doctor impatiently, always eager to get back to the mystery. 'Now, this ship is going round and round in circles, isn't it? So
'I should hope not!' said Martha. She lifted up her vest top to show him the scar on her belly where the knife had gone in. 'See that?' she said. 'That's what you did to me!'
The Doctor put on his glasses as he bent to examine the scar. 'That's healing nicely,' he said. 'Looks like you've had it for years.'
Archibald also examined the scar. 'Skin's good,' he said. Martha quickly dropped her vest back down.
'Don't go getting any ideas,' she told him.
'No,' said Archibald, guiltily.
'I like having ideas,' said the Doctor. 'Ideas are good. I think I'm having one now. Yes, here it comes.' They waited for him to go on. 'Yes, here we go. Martha, you remember dying.'
Her shoulders sagged at the memory. 'Yeah,' she said quietly.
And the scar is there to prove it happened, yeah?' he went on.
'I guess so,' said Martha.
'Well, don't you see?' said the Doctor.
'No,' said Martha. She sometimes found his enthusiasm for all things a bit exhausting. 'It's been a long day and you can just tell me.'
'Right,' said the Doctor. 'Now, you died, yeah?'
'Yeah,' said Martha.
'And then you got brought back to life down here. Like being in a board game and having to go back to the start.'
'Yeah,' she said.
'That's what I said,' said Mrs Wingsworth.
'Yes, it's a good analogy, thank you,' said the Doctor. 'But whatever it was that brought you back to life, Martha, whatever made you better... It left you with a scar.'
'Yeah,' said Martha. And then her eyes opened wide with sudden realisation. 'But it didn't need to! Something as powerful as that...'
'It could have made you good as new,' agreed the Doctor.
'But it's not just me,' said Martha. 'It brought back Mrs Wingsworth, too.'
'I don't have any scars,' said Mrs Wingsworth. Then she considered. 'But I did the first time they killed me.'
'We killed them a lot,' explained Archibald. 'An' they never died.'
'It's all very convenient, isn't it?' said the Doctor. 'Like . . .' He looked to Martha. 'Like what else? Something in the cocktail lounge.'
'The canapés!' she said.
'Canapés are good,' said Archibald.
'So good you ate a whole tray of them,' said Martha. 'And then the moment the tray was empty it was suddenly full again.'
'That's good, too,' agreed Archibald.
'But not when anyone's looking,' said the Doctor. 'It only happens when no one can see how it's done.'
'But why?' asked Martha.
'Oh really, dear,' said Mrs Wingsworth. The mechanics of these things are so terribly vulgar.'
'Exactly,' said the Doctor. 'It's all part of the well-mannered service. Isn't it, Gabriel?'
They all turned to the robot. His blank, metal head reflected their faces back at them. 'There are protocols, Mr Doctor,' he said.
'You don't really understand it yourself, do you?' said the Doctor, gently.
'I . . .' began Gabriel. 'The logic is impaired.'
'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'That's the problem, isn't it? You're struggling to make sense of it. The whole starship is.'
'What?' said Martha. 'The starship is thinking?'
'Well, yeah,' said the Doctor. 'Kind of. We can have the philosophy later, but basically it responds to stimuli the best way it can, just like the rest of us. And sometimes we think about it and sometimes we just respond.'
'You mean it's like breathing,' said Martha. 'You can control your breathing consciously, but mostly you don't really think about doing it.'
'That's true of the Balumin, too, dear,' said Mrs Wingsworth. 'Although my cousin Sandy makes a great kerfuffle about how you should always control your breathing. She was into all that sort of thing: crystals, coloured smoke...'
'I can hold my breath,' said Archibald proudly. 'For when we go swimming.'
'I think we've established the analogy,' said the Doctor impatiently, always eager to get back to the mystery. 'Now, this ship is going round and round in circles, isn't it? So
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