Setting: Post-season 4 for Ten, waaaaay after Chosen for Dawn.
Characters: The Tenth Doctor, Dawn and a couple of OC’s later.
Word count: 721 and 1048.
Disclaimer: They’re not mine. They’re not Morag’s either.
Summary: Dawn, the Doctor, and the rest of our merry band discover even more hazards of traveling in the TARDIS when you're also the Key to all worlds.
The third in the A Girl and Her Time Lord series.
Author's Notes: Yet again, written by myself and moragmacpherson cliffhanger style, desperately trying to stump each other. She does the first part in each post, I do the second.
Part 7 - Tentative Advances
“Could you please get off of the floor?”
“No, mate, I’m comfy.” Captain John continued to recline on the floor. The Doctor jerked his head in Martha’s direction, and John finally sobered. “Can’t go poncing about, playing merry hell with time if we’re not willing to have a laugh every now and then, can we, eh, John Smith?”
‘John Smith’ rolled his eyes. “Back to the crystals then, Doc-tor?”
Captain John bounced up to his feet. “Right then, the coordinates knowledge.” He turned back to Martha. “There wouldn’t happen to be a confiscated alien property room somewhere hereabouts?”
“Anything for you, Doctor.” There was something in the flatness over her tone that pushed the Doctor’s willies up to 2.5*.
“John, you stay here, brush up on your organic technology,” said ‘The Doctor’.
The real Doctor gritted his teeth. “Aye, of course Doctor, I’ll try not to break any of your magical technology.”
Left alone, he buzzed the sonic screwdriver along the somewhat gooey machinery. “Haven’t seen ganglia like this since right before the end of the universe, funny how things circle round like that.” He hit a particularly organic junction. “Let’s just adjust this now, shall we?” Bits of crystal began to luminesce. “Very good then. Now the time before that, I saw-” He sat back. “Oh bloody hell. I know exactly who grows machines like this.”
Just then Dawn’s urgent thoughts about the cycle of void incursions hit him. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed a rather large spanner off a pegboard on the wall. “It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it?”
~ + ~
‘The Doctor’ and Martha were on their way to the confiscated property room and she still wasn’t responding to any of his flirtations. “You ever run through the honey-grass fields of Fremulon IV buck naked? There’s nothing quite like the feeling. You’d be a vision, you would.”
Martha turned around to face him, a disapproving frown on her face. “I’m certain I would, Doctor, but please keep your attention on the matter at hand.”
Just ahead of them, Captain John saw Dawn and a large man, no it must be Clark in disguise, coming out of a heavily guarded doorway. Taking the initiative, he grasped Martha’s shoulders and pulled her in for a romantic kiss. His initiative was blocked by the knee that Martha pulled up into his groin. “Oi! That was uncalled for,” he shouted from a fetal position on the floor. A quick glance ahead showed that his gambit had allowed Dawn and Clark time enough to clear out of sight. He shut his eyes for a moment of thankfulness and self-pity, then opened them. Now instead of Martha’s disapproving look he had another rather statuesque woman with lots of ribbons pinned to her chest looking down on him.
“You claim to be the Doctor?” asked the large man.
“Ah, you’ve got me there, that’s me,” said John, making the first tentative steps towards being upright.
“I’m Captain Magambo. You are not the Doctor. You will come with me.”
~ + ~
Clark found himself working to keep up with Dawn’s rapid pace. “What do we need in the TARDIth?”
“I need to look at her sensors and databanks. Also, there’s an Osiran reality loom in there somewhere, we might be able to use that to help patch this hole in the Void back together.” She snapped her fingers and the locked TARDIS doors immediately swung open. “Knew I could do it.” Clark followed her into the TARDIS, shutting the door behind him, but lingered in the control room while Dawn left to plumb the depths of the TARDIS’ storage rooms.
He entertained himself by looking at the monitors and sensors. What little he could understand from the read outs indicated that Dawn was right and the Void incursions were in fact beginning to synchronize with this reality. But it was the monitor showing the exterior of the TARDIS that really caught his eye. “Uh, Dawn?” he called out.
“Yes?” came the echoing response.
“Hold on to something!” As the words escaped him mouth, a forklift raised the TARDIS up, and the shaking rocked Clark onto his backside.
*2.5 being when he discovered a poster for a Sontaran Poetry Slam.
Part 8 - Bad Day To Be a Time Agent
Captain John Hart was regretting his decision not to wear a cup today. Although on other occasions he would not have regretted being dragged along several corridors by two fairly attractive women, the fact that he’d been kicked in the groin more than once now was somewhat distracting.
“Are you sure this is not the Doctor?” Martha asked, almost hissing as she dragged him along.
Captain Magambo nodded curtly. “The memories from my body-print are quite specific, in regard to the London bus incident. I do not know who this human is, but the Doctor was clearly the other visible on the viewscreen when I was given my orders.”
Martha supported John’s weight for a moment, as Captain Magambo quickly entered an access code to a secured storeroom. “This is most perplexing,” she said, a frown on her face. “My body-print memories do not seem to match up in this regard.”
John took the opportunity while being held by only one of his captors to struggle and to try to break free of Martha’s hold. A massive stinging, electrical shock ripped through his body and he convulsed, dropping to the floor again. Really not his day, he thought briefly before sliding into unconsciousness.
~ + ~
“Priorities, priorities…” mused the Doctor, as he studied the mess of ganglia in front of him, and made one or two final alterations. “Whatever else may well be going on, my friend, number one has to be stopping you from ripping open time and space.”
He made one last tweak, and then bounded upwards from the table. “And that should delay it a while longer!”
Taking his glasses off, he stared around the room quickly, and spotted a rucksack abandoned in the corner. “Priority two. Again, not quite sure what’s going on, but removing you from this spot can only mess up somebody’s plans.”
Opening the rucksack, he carefully placed the Postbiological Enviromental Network Integrated System inside it. Slinging it across one shoulder, he tested the weight carefully, and then grinned broadly. Sure, his internal willies were rising to 3.6* now at the thought of carrying something like that around so haphazardly, but conversely these were the moments he felt the most alive.
He strode over to the exit, and banged on the door several times. “Oi! Toilet break time! Even us freakishly intelligent school teachers need to visit the little aliens room every now and then.”
The door swung open, and two amused looking UNIT soldiers looked back in. “Freakishly intelligent school teacher, my arse, sir,” one grinned.
The other pointed down the corridor to the right, also smirking. “Second door on the left, round the corner, Doctor.”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “You recognise me?”
Confused, the UNIT soldiers looked at each other, and back at the Doctor. “Course we do, Doctor. The Sontaran invasion, that stuff with the flying bus….”
“Huh,” said the Doctor thoughtfully, nodded politely at the privates and walked away, leaving them grinning and shrugging at each other in a scientific-advisors-whatcha-going-to-do way.
If his suspicions were correct, then most likely they’d only taken over the upper reaches of UNIT’s command structure. Which in turn, meant there could only be a limited number of them around. Similar to that time in Scotland. But then, what about Martha? The most obvious target, but her reactions had been so off….
The Doctor suddenly stopped dead in the corridor, grinning like a loon. “Martha Jones, you magnificent creature!”
~ + ~
“She has been deliberately tampering with her memories!” ‘Martha’ exclaimed fiercely. “The body-imprint is flawed!”
“I agree,” Captain Mugambo replied. “This can no longer be tolerated.”
Groaning and feeling like he’d gone three rounds with an angry gorilla, John Hart regained consciousness. From his face-down prone position on the floor, he scanned the area around him. The walls looked organic, almost grown and glowing with their own internal light. The floor (thankfully for him) was fibrous and spongy. The whole area was an orangey green, apart from the alcoves before him.
Each alcove contained a motionless human being, their heads all partially concealed by a transparent dome. There was a blonde woman in a UNIT outfit, there was Captain Magambo… John guessed this had to be how this ‘body-imprint’ they were talking about worked.
‘Martha’ and ‘Captain Magambo’ were stood arguing in front of another body at the end: what had to be the real Martha Jones. John felt a surge of admiration run through him momentarily – anyone who could hold up to that detailed a psychic interrogation and still manage to give false data had to be very, very good. The Doctor chose his companions well, it seemed.
“Fortunately, we now have a second source of information on the Doctor available,” hissed ‘Martha’, and turned towards John.
‘Captain Magambo’ tilted her head in thought. “I concur. I will report this to Brotox, while you assume the new imprint.” She left, stalking off through a nearby exit.
Still too weak to move much, John’s eyes widened in horror as the remaining figure came towards him, its form shimmering, blurring, changing….
As the gnarled orange-gray claw reached towards him, John remembered from all those years back in Time Agent training… tales of a race whose planet had been destroyed. Whose few remains had spread through the stars, seeking a new home world.
“Oh bollocks, not agai….” he managed to gasp before the excruciating pain started.
~ + ~
Inside the TARDIS, Dawn and Clark clung onto each other for dear life, until eventually the shaking stopped. Emort squeaked plaintively from the TARDIS console, and scurried off into Dawn’s arms.
“What the hell was that?” Dawn demanded, stroking Emort.
Clark moved to the console, and activated the viewscreen again. “Latht I thaw was thome thort of forklift trying to move uth.” The screen panned around until Clark stopped it on the UNIT soldiers hard at work outside them.
“Clark?” inquired Dawn, “Just why are those UNIT soldiers busy placing explosives all around the TARDIS?”
*3.6 willies on the Doctor’s scale : Opening one’s eyes for the first time after regeneration, and praying to all the ancient Galifreyian gods that he hadn’t grown a mustache like the Brigadier’s.
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