The Doctor and I.
My entry for the Big Finish short story competition a few years ago. Okay so it was only a first draft and the prose was over descriptive- not to mention it seemed disjointed narratively but, to date, it is my only piece of fan fiction so I am going to put it on my Blog anyway!
“Right Little ones not long now before you need to settle down for the night!”
“Oh but Mommy, it’s too early!” sniffed Ratsinger, congealed snot tumbling from his squat green nostrils.
“Now now, Ratty, you need to get your sleep otherwise you will never grow up to be as strong as Bulfraser the mighty…”
“Huh, I don’t want to be as strong as him! I want to be like the Doctor, come on Mommy tell me about the doctor, Please I want to hear about the Doctor!”
Ratina let out a sigh – a theatrical sigh but a sigh nonetheless. How many times had she told her son about the Doctor? Ten times? Twenty? Or more? She suppressed a smirk as she prepared herself to regale her son of the events of ten months ago back to the day of cataclysmic change; a day of despair, of fear and yet of hope and freedom. Ratina sat down to recount the tale of the Doctor.
Charley Pollard opened her eyes. The fantastic sight of Roundeled walls disappearing into shadow cast by the flickering of the everlasting candle by her bedside table, greeted her. It didn’t matter that she had been aboard the TARDIS for a while now: she was still amazed by the vastness of the interior dimensions. Folding back the sheets, she tiptoed like a cat on hot tin to the enormous ornate wooden wardrobe approximately three metres in front of her. Looking at the looming wardrobe, she smiled to herself: it reminded her of something from ‘The lion, the witch and the wardrobe’- a book that will be written in her future. The Doctor had given her a worried look upon finding her with the book- a look that swiftly turned into a smirk as he remonstrated with her-think of the Time lords! He had said; think of the web of time. Oh she had scolded him for playing with her like that! So typical of the Doctor: so full of mischief and life. She got dressed and meandered to the console room.
The Doctor was hunched over the ornate console. Clucking quietly to himself, he slowly pulled a lever whilst simultaneously pulling the monitor closer to him.
‘Come on old girl, I know you can find it: Megetetis 9, home of the Isithicalis and the Lambians!’
‘Where Doctor?’
‘Good morning Charlie,’ Cheshire-cat grinned the Doctor ‘are you ready for the delights of Megetetis 9?’
‘Why of course Doctor. Tell me: is this another planet habited by monstrous odditities covered in mucous?’
‘No Charlie, they’re humanoid in appearance. Quite possibly related to you humans.’
‘Related?’
‘You didn’t think the human race had started from Earth had you?’
‘Well call me old fashioned, but I had rather, you- you are teasing me aren’t you Doctor?’
The Doctor grinned in reply as his blue eyes flashed into Charlie’s soul. Confound the man she thought: he is like a ten year old but with charm to boot.
The elephantine wheezing of the TARDIS engines drowned out the rest of her thoughts as the ship materialised to its destination.
The governor of Raydia sighed as she sat down at her ornate desk. Her eyes scanned the room: first class copies of artwork by Hrithr dominated the wood panelled wall. The scenes depicted the battle of Ragnan from twenty years before. Victorious Isithicalians were captured in heroic poses their vanquished foe, the Lambians, were depicted as weak, vulnerable and cowardly. She inwardly winced at this sight: it wasn’t like that. She had been there. The dead had littered the battlefields. Scorch marks lacerated revealed flesh. The early morning sun had cast a picture of hell: the jumbled, confused remains of Isithicalian and Lambian alike served as a reminder for anybody who was unfortunate to witness the sight the truth: War is hell! The truth had been different to the painting: victory was a close run thing. Victory could have gone either way. A fact, the governor, reflected that was not forgotten by the Isithicalian high command.
A rude sharp rapping on her office doors abruptly ripped the governor out of her meditation. Upon her command, a small, bent shape crept into her office. His face looked strangely youthful and at odds with his somewhat frail physique. The Governor inwardly recoiled: Rinwyn. How may people had found themselves out of office or interrogated by the Ministry of truth thanks to this… creature? Gulping air down, she spoke:
“Rinwyn, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Governor Snare, you know why I’m here- The truth! Your Peninsula’s project: it is now two months overdue. The Ministry of Truth demands to know why!” snarled and slithered Rinwyn.
“It..it is nearly complete Rinwyn, you can tell the Ministry that Trepat and his team have nearly completed the Serum. Tests are to be carried out by volunteers. Unfortunately, volunteers are few and far between…”
“Volunteers!” hissed Rinwyn. His question mark shaped neck straightened and quivered with rage “volunteers- use your prisoners! The Ministry predict that The Lambians will try their first major offensive since Ragnan. The Truth will help to secure victory for the Isithicalian confederacy.”
The neck resorted back to its original shape. Silence punctuated the room. The taste of anger lingered: Snare, furious with herself for the stutter and Rinwyn’s arrogance- Rinwyn with the ineptitude of the peninsula. An eternity passed. The enmity of the two became obvious.
“We will go to see Trepat immediately!” Snare announced curtly. Without another word the two left the office and headed to the laboratories.
Trepat was exasperated: he had heard that Rinwyn from the Ministry was heading to Snare’s office. He had inadvertently nearly killed Parong, the pretty Brunette medical student, with the Truth. He reflected that he probably had no chance with her. To top it all the Doctor had arrived with his understudy with the curious accent and name Charlie. He assumed that The Doctor was from above. He had the confidence and authority of someone who was accustomed to finding things out. He looked like a strong man in his mid-thirties with chestnut brown curls on his head and dazzling blue eyes. Despite his strange attire he had given Trepat the impression that he was somehow to be trusted. Charlie was blond haired and quite attractive. She too was wearing outlandish clothing- were they partners? They certainly seemed to possess informality in their dialogue with each other-quite unusual for a Doctor and his understudy. All this flashed through his mind as he observed the Doctor racing through a lab computer’s monitor. As the data reflected on the Doctor’s face, his eyes that had radiated with joy began to darken. The grin that had seemed to be permanently fixed to his face had down turned into a grimace.
“Trepat, this data. It suggests that the Serum you are developing will chemically alter DNA structures. You will alter life. What do you think you are doing?”
“Charlie, I think we should return to our own laboratory,” informed the Doctor whilst simultaneously deftly stroking the computer’s keyboard. His hands soon became a blur.
“Hey,” interrupted Trepat, whose voice was now tinged with concern, “Unauthorised personnel are not allowed to touch Peninsula property!”
“Unauthorised personnel!” the Doctor indignantly replied. “Unauthorised personnel, Why Trepat, I have every authority to examine this material further. I will return…”
“Do you indeed?” barked a voice from the other side of the laboratory. Trepat’s heart sank as he recognised the voice as belonging to Rinwyn.
“Guards, we have two unauthorised personnel in The Peninsula’s official laboratory. By the powers invested in me by the Ministry, I instruct you to do what Trepat should have done in the first place: remove these people at once! Take them to Ministry block one.”
“Block one! Repeated Trepat, “Surely that is a little extreme…”
“You are forgetting to whom you are addressing Science officer.”
“And you seem to be forgetting who is in command here,” intoned Governor Snare, still prickling with the indignity she felt from the way Rinwyn had spoken to her earlier, “take the man and his underling to my…”
“Underling,” retorted Charlie “Why of all the nerve… Underling indeed! I’ve never been insulted in all my life. I am most certainly not an underling!”
Charlie’s indignant outburst was lost upon Snare as she gazed into Rinwyn’s hate filled eyes. His neck shuddered as he struggled to contain his fury. Tunnel vision enveloped Snare as she focused on her enemy. Licking her dry lips, she slowly and carefully uttered the next few words:
“Take the two prisoners to my office.”
“May I enquire why we are your prisoners?” enquired the Doctor.
“Ask away,” retorted Snare haughtily, resolve strengthening, she rotated on her heels and marched back to her office leaving an apoplectic Rinwyn; a bewildered Trepat; two stony faced guards; an indignant Charlie and a contemplative Doctor behind her.
As Charlie marched with the others, she took in her surroundings: dull grey stonewashed walls and concrete floors: miles upon miles of uniform grey. Peering through the gloom of the corridor, she could just make out a pinprick of light ahead. If she could just shake off the two guards and attract the Doctor, who had withdrawn into himself in deep contemplation, then maybe, just maybe they could escape. Honestly, she reflected, every time we land somewhere the same things happen: The Doctor marches in as if he owns the place; people divulge all of their secrets; the Doctor becomes morally outraged and then the authorities come in and arrest us! This part is the boring part: the corridors. Next will be the really scary part: the interrogation and the threats. She shivered at this thought. Smiling to herself, she anticipated the Doctor’s affected indifference to their peril- the requests for cups of tea and cream cakes. The smile disintegrated into a grimace: what if the shambolic escape plan deployed by the Doctor fails? Okay the plans always fail but still work out for the best. What if this part of the adventures of the Doctor and his companion fail this time? Why did she come? What possessed her to come? Okay staying in the blazing wreck of the R101 was perhaps, upon reflection, not the best of alternatives… Oh come on she thought: Who are you trying to fool? She had seen worlds no other humans had seen! She had met alien races; climbed the steepest of mountains; seen exquisite architecture; eaten food which tasted divine; explored the universe in a beautiful time travelling machine; transported to different historical epochs with a man who seems incorruptible: the Doctor. He has all that power and influence and yet he fights for the underprivileged and wronged: others, in his position would have been the wrong doers. Sure, she reasoned, others may have started the same way as the Doctor but, as she had witnessed in many of her recent adventures with him: power corrupts. Smiling to herself she thought: I wouldn’t have it any other way: the danger; the threats; the uncertainty: it made her feel alive. This whole life with the Doctor was positively exhilarating.
The pinprick of light had become a sky of dull grey then reverted back to the even duller grey of yet another corridor. If, mused Charlie, there was one thing she would change it would be the corridors!
The Doctor, Charlie, Rinwyn, Trepat and the two guards hesitated outside the oak wooden door. Rinwyn rapped sharply on the door and with neck erect marched imperiously in.
“Your prisoners,” he hissed glaring at Snare.
Smiling inwardly, Snare beckoned the Doctor and Charlie to her desk.
“Ah!” beamed the Doctor, eyes twinkling mischievously “You look like a reasonable person: could I possibly ask you for two teas and cream cake?”
Charlie rolled her eyes. Things deteriorated rapidly.
Half an hour later and Charlie surveyed her cell: more grey and gloom. The Doctor was hunched in the far corner of the room by the wall containing the door.
“Doctor, how are we going to get out of here? I’m tired hungry and I am fed up with this beastly business!”
“Patience, dear Charlie, I’m formulating a plan as we speak.”
“You mean you’ve actually got a plan!”
“Charlotte Pollard, do you doubt me?”
“Well, no not exactly, but tell me Doctor: why come to this planet? Have you developed a fascination with the colour grey?
The Doctor snorted with laughter. After a while he composed himself.
“The truth Charlie.”
“The truth? I do not understand Doctor.”
“I’ve been visiting this planet on and off for decades now. About thirty years ago the planet was engulfed in a civil war. Two rival factions upon familial lines had formed: The Isithicalians and the Lambians. A minor skirmish erupted into major conflict. The war was short, chaotic and deadly. The loss of life was immense. The Isithicalians were victorious. Just. The closeness of the victory frightened the Isithicalians: they feared a resurgent Lambian uprising. The strategy to prevent this was two fold: fear through the Ministry: an oppressive secret police force and the development of a serum- a serum so deadly when injected it could manipulate DNA. I had heard rumours that in humans or humanoids, this would result in a simplification of the genetic code that is the basic building block of life…
“It’s okay Doctor, I have researched DNA in the TARDIS library. It was on the recommended research list you gave me. Do you remember?”
“Er, oh yes, I did didn’t I.”
“So, Doctor, you are trying to tell me that the Isithicalians have invented a serum that reduces people into simpletons?”
“Quite simply: yes!” The Doctor’s grave look metamorphosed into a grin; he delved his right hand into his inside jacket pocket. He pulled out a test tube filled with yellow liquid and his sonic screwdriver. “I think that it is time to escape our dreary prison Charlie Pollard!”
Ratina looked at her slumbering infant son. Her heart increased its beating. She thought back to that day. Before the Doctor life had been different, simple and instinctive. Then the liquid fell upon them. Everything seemed so much more wondrous. Thoughts raced through her mind: contradictory, frightening and exhilarating. She had started to hop back to her pond invigorated by the fluid. She looked back at the man in the velvet green jacket and flowing hair. His intense blue eyes locked with hers. He frowned momentarily and then smiled.
“Right Little ones not long now before you need to settle down for the night!”
“Oh but Mommy, it’s too early!” sniffed Ratsinger, congealed snot tumbling from his squat green nostrils.
“Now now, Ratty, you need to get your sleep otherwise you will never grow up to be as strong as Bulfraser the mighty…”
“Huh, I don’t want to be as strong as him! I want to be like the Doctor, come on Mommy tell me about the doctor, Please I want to hear about the Doctor!”
Ratina let out a sigh – a theatrical sigh but a sigh nonetheless. How many times had she told her son about the Doctor? Ten times? Twenty? Or more? She suppressed a smirk as she prepared herself to regale her son of the events of ten months ago back to the day of cataclysmic change; a day of despair, of fear and yet of hope and freedom. Ratina sat down to recount the tale of the Doctor.
Charley Pollard opened her eyes. The fantastic sight of Roundeled walls disappearing into shadow cast by the flickering of the everlasting candle by her bedside table, greeted her. It didn’t matter that she had been aboard the TARDIS for a while now: she was still amazed by the vastness of the interior dimensions. Folding back the sheets, she tiptoed like a cat on hot tin to the enormous ornate wooden wardrobe approximately three metres in front of her. Looking at the looming wardrobe, she smiled to herself: it reminded her of something from ‘The lion, the witch and the wardrobe’- a book that will be written in her future. The Doctor had given her a worried look upon finding her with the book- a look that swiftly turned into a smirk as he remonstrated with her-think of the Time lords! He had said; think of the web of time. Oh she had scolded him for playing with her like that! So typical of the Doctor: so full of mischief and life. She got dressed and meandered to the console room.
The Doctor was hunched over the ornate console. Clucking quietly to himself, he slowly pulled a lever whilst simultaneously pulling the monitor closer to him.
‘Come on old girl, I know you can find it: Megetetis 9, home of the Isithicalis and the Lambians!’
‘Where Doctor?’
‘Good morning Charlie,’ Cheshire-cat grinned the Doctor ‘are you ready for the delights of Megetetis 9?’
‘Why of course Doctor. Tell me: is this another planet habited by monstrous odditities covered in mucous?’
‘No Charlie, they’re humanoid in appearance. Quite possibly related to you humans.’
‘Related?’
‘You didn’t think the human race had started from Earth had you?’
‘Well call me old fashioned, but I had rather, you- you are teasing me aren’t you Doctor?’
The Doctor grinned in reply as his blue eyes flashed into Charlie’s soul. Confound the man she thought: he is like a ten year old but with charm to boot.
The elephantine wheezing of the TARDIS engines drowned out the rest of her thoughts as the ship materialised to its destination.
The governor of Raydia sighed as she sat down at her ornate desk. Her eyes scanned the room: first class copies of artwork by Hrithr dominated the wood panelled wall. The scenes depicted the battle of Ragnan from twenty years before. Victorious Isithicalians were captured in heroic poses their vanquished foe, the Lambians, were depicted as weak, vulnerable and cowardly. She inwardly winced at this sight: it wasn’t like that. She had been there. The dead had littered the battlefields. Scorch marks lacerated revealed flesh. The early morning sun had cast a picture of hell: the jumbled, confused remains of Isithicalian and Lambian alike served as a reminder for anybody who was unfortunate to witness the sight the truth: War is hell! The truth had been different to the painting: victory was a close run thing. Victory could have gone either way. A fact, the governor, reflected that was not forgotten by the Isithicalian high command.
A rude sharp rapping on her office doors abruptly ripped the governor out of her meditation. Upon her command, a small, bent shape crept into her office. His face looked strangely youthful and at odds with his somewhat frail physique. The Governor inwardly recoiled: Rinwyn. How may people had found themselves out of office or interrogated by the Ministry of truth thanks to this… creature? Gulping air down, she spoke:
“Rinwyn, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Governor Snare, you know why I’m here- The truth! Your Peninsula’s project: it is now two months overdue. The Ministry of Truth demands to know why!” snarled and slithered Rinwyn.
“It..it is nearly complete Rinwyn, you can tell the Ministry that Trepat and his team have nearly completed the Serum. Tests are to be carried out by volunteers. Unfortunately, volunteers are few and far between…”
“Volunteers!” hissed Rinwyn. His question mark shaped neck straightened and quivered with rage “volunteers- use your prisoners! The Ministry predict that The Lambians will try their first major offensive since Ragnan. The Truth will help to secure victory for the Isithicalian confederacy.”
The neck resorted back to its original shape. Silence punctuated the room. The taste of anger lingered: Snare, furious with herself for the stutter and Rinwyn’s arrogance- Rinwyn with the ineptitude of the peninsula. An eternity passed. The enmity of the two became obvious.
“We will go to see Trepat immediately!” Snare announced curtly. Without another word the two left the office and headed to the laboratories.
Trepat was exasperated: he had heard that Rinwyn from the Ministry was heading to Snare’s office. He had inadvertently nearly killed Parong, the pretty Brunette medical student, with the Truth. He reflected that he probably had no chance with her. To top it all the Doctor had arrived with his understudy with the curious accent and name Charlie. He assumed that The Doctor was from above. He had the confidence and authority of someone who was accustomed to finding things out. He looked like a strong man in his mid-thirties with chestnut brown curls on his head and dazzling blue eyes. Despite his strange attire he had given Trepat the impression that he was somehow to be trusted. Charlie was blond haired and quite attractive. She too was wearing outlandish clothing- were they partners? They certainly seemed to possess informality in their dialogue with each other-quite unusual for a Doctor and his understudy. All this flashed through his mind as he observed the Doctor racing through a lab computer’s monitor. As the data reflected on the Doctor’s face, his eyes that had radiated with joy began to darken. The grin that had seemed to be permanently fixed to his face had down turned into a grimace.
“Trepat, this data. It suggests that the Serum you are developing will chemically alter DNA structures. You will alter life. What do you think you are doing?”
“Charlie, I think we should return to our own laboratory,” informed the Doctor whilst simultaneously deftly stroking the computer’s keyboard. His hands soon became a blur.
“Hey,” interrupted Trepat, whose voice was now tinged with concern, “Unauthorised personnel are not allowed to touch Peninsula property!”
“Unauthorised personnel!” the Doctor indignantly replied. “Unauthorised personnel, Why Trepat, I have every authority to examine this material further. I will return…”
“Do you indeed?” barked a voice from the other side of the laboratory. Trepat’s heart sank as he recognised the voice as belonging to Rinwyn.
“Guards, we have two unauthorised personnel in The Peninsula’s official laboratory. By the powers invested in me by the Ministry, I instruct you to do what Trepat should have done in the first place: remove these people at once! Take them to Ministry block one.”
“Block one! Repeated Trepat, “Surely that is a little extreme…”
“You are forgetting to whom you are addressing Science officer.”
“And you seem to be forgetting who is in command here,” intoned Governor Snare, still prickling with the indignity she felt from the way Rinwyn had spoken to her earlier, “take the man and his underling to my…”
“Underling,” retorted Charlie “Why of all the nerve… Underling indeed! I’ve never been insulted in all my life. I am most certainly not an underling!”
Charlie’s indignant outburst was lost upon Snare as she gazed into Rinwyn’s hate filled eyes. His neck shuddered as he struggled to contain his fury. Tunnel vision enveloped Snare as she focused on her enemy. Licking her dry lips, she slowly and carefully uttered the next few words:
“Take the two prisoners to my office.”
“May I enquire why we are your prisoners?” enquired the Doctor.
“Ask away,” retorted Snare haughtily, resolve strengthening, she rotated on her heels and marched back to her office leaving an apoplectic Rinwyn; a bewildered Trepat; two stony faced guards; an indignant Charlie and a contemplative Doctor behind her.
As Charlie marched with the others, she took in her surroundings: dull grey stonewashed walls and concrete floors: miles upon miles of uniform grey. Peering through the gloom of the corridor, she could just make out a pinprick of light ahead. If she could just shake off the two guards and attract the Doctor, who had withdrawn into himself in deep contemplation, then maybe, just maybe they could escape. Honestly, she reflected, every time we land somewhere the same things happen: The Doctor marches in as if he owns the place; people divulge all of their secrets; the Doctor becomes morally outraged and then the authorities come in and arrest us! This part is the boring part: the corridors. Next will be the really scary part: the interrogation and the threats. She shivered at this thought. Smiling to herself, she anticipated the Doctor’s affected indifference to their peril- the requests for cups of tea and cream cakes. The smile disintegrated into a grimace: what if the shambolic escape plan deployed by the Doctor fails? Okay the plans always fail but still work out for the best. What if this part of the adventures of the Doctor and his companion fail this time? Why did she come? What possessed her to come? Okay staying in the blazing wreck of the R101 was perhaps, upon reflection, not the best of alternatives… Oh come on she thought: Who are you trying to fool? She had seen worlds no other humans had seen! She had met alien races; climbed the steepest of mountains; seen exquisite architecture; eaten food which tasted divine; explored the universe in a beautiful time travelling machine; transported to different historical epochs with a man who seems incorruptible: the Doctor. He has all that power and influence and yet he fights for the underprivileged and wronged: others, in his position would have been the wrong doers. Sure, she reasoned, others may have started the same way as the Doctor but, as she had witnessed in many of her recent adventures with him: power corrupts. Smiling to herself she thought: I wouldn’t have it any other way: the danger; the threats; the uncertainty: it made her feel alive. This whole life with the Doctor was positively exhilarating.
The pinprick of light had become a sky of dull grey then reverted back to the even duller grey of yet another corridor. If, mused Charlie, there was one thing she would change it would be the corridors!
The Doctor, Charlie, Rinwyn, Trepat and the two guards hesitated outside the oak wooden door. Rinwyn rapped sharply on the door and with neck erect marched imperiously in.
“Your prisoners,” he hissed glaring at Snare.
Smiling inwardly, Snare beckoned the Doctor and Charlie to her desk.
“Ah!” beamed the Doctor, eyes twinkling mischievously “You look like a reasonable person: could I possibly ask you for two teas and cream cake?”
Charlie rolled her eyes. Things deteriorated rapidly.
Half an hour later and Charlie surveyed her cell: more grey and gloom. The Doctor was hunched in the far corner of the room by the wall containing the door.
“Doctor, how are we going to get out of here? I’m tired hungry and I am fed up with this beastly business!”
“Patience, dear Charlie, I’m formulating a plan as we speak.”
“You mean you’ve actually got a plan!”
“Charlotte Pollard, do you doubt me?”
“Well, no not exactly, but tell me Doctor: why come to this planet? Have you developed a fascination with the colour grey?
The Doctor snorted with laughter. After a while he composed himself.
“The truth Charlie.”
“The truth? I do not understand Doctor.”
“I’ve been visiting this planet on and off for decades now. About thirty years ago the planet was engulfed in a civil war. Two rival factions upon familial lines had formed: The Isithicalians and the Lambians. A minor skirmish erupted into major conflict. The war was short, chaotic and deadly. The loss of life was immense. The Isithicalians were victorious. Just. The closeness of the victory frightened the Isithicalians: they feared a resurgent Lambian uprising. The strategy to prevent this was two fold: fear through the Ministry: an oppressive secret police force and the development of a serum- a serum so deadly when injected it could manipulate DNA. I had heard rumours that in humans or humanoids, this would result in a simplification of the genetic code that is the basic building block of life…
“It’s okay Doctor, I have researched DNA in the TARDIS library. It was on the recommended research list you gave me. Do you remember?”
“Er, oh yes, I did didn’t I.”
“So, Doctor, you are trying to tell me that the Isithicalians have invented a serum that reduces people into simpletons?”
“Quite simply: yes!” The Doctor’s grave look metamorphosed into a grin; he delved his right hand into his inside jacket pocket. He pulled out a test tube filled with yellow liquid and his sonic screwdriver. “I think that it is time to escape our dreary prison Charlie Pollard!”
Ratina looked at her slumbering infant son. Her heart increased its beating. She thought back to that day. Before the Doctor life had been different, simple and instinctive. Then the liquid fell upon them. Everything seemed so much more wondrous. Thoughts raced through her mind: contradictory, frightening and exhilarating. She had started to hop back to her pond invigorated by the fluid. She looked back at the man in the velvet green jacket and flowing hair. His intense blue eyes locked with hers. He frowned momentarily and then smiled.
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