inferno fiction presents harmony

Chapter FIVE

Light rimmed the eastern horizon by the time they left the Tardis. Dawn. Blue-black storm clouds hung low above the mist, the November air cool and crisp, the earth beneath their feet slick from the rain. He led them back through the forest and across the motorway, thankful for the early hour. Three blokes and a tall, gorgeous, red-haired woman trudging out of the wood at daybreak? It wouldn’t do to arouse that kind of suspicion. Not that the local authorities didn’t already expect the unexpected where he was concerned. Just not that sort.

The Doctor placed the Tardis just a moment out of sync, hiding her in the unlikely event that someone was to wander past in their absence. She had landed there for a reason, even if they were not yet privy to it. Relocating, even the relatively short distance to the Tyler home, might jeopardize a return to their universe if she relied on a power source, they were as yet unable to detect more than residual traces of. If a return was even possible. He had held his tongue in that regard, allowing the Doctor to placate worried companions with technobabble laced assurances. He’d have done no less. They would address the prospect of a homecoming later. For the moment the ship would remain hidden. And rightly so. Pete and Jackie Tyler both knew the sound of those engines, and the sight of that big blue box. They would not, however, recognize the Doctor’s new aspect. He wondered if Rose would be so easily fooled and what her reaction would be to this new face on an old friend.

They climbed the hill into the nature preserve that lay to the east of the Tyler estate, skirting one of several idyllic lakes where wintering Tundra Swans-- Cygnus columbianus and Cygnus columbianus bewickii--and rarer Icelandic Whooper Swans-- Cygnus Cygnus-- glided silently across the face of the water. He had begun watching them during the summer when the first pair arrived, using it as an excuse not to return immediately to Scotland after his miscalculations had resulted in his Tardis crash landing in south-eastern England, destroying Pete’s new garden shed. Not that Rose had been fooled. He wouldn’t insult her that way. They both knew the truth but, as was often the case, she was the only one able to put it into words…and he wasn’t listening.

A small herd of Roe Deer scattered into the mist as they hopped a pasture fence and made their way across country. Before long a string of Pete Tyler’s prized Fell Ponies fell in behind them, long tails skirting what was left of the summer grass. Amy was enchanted by the ponies, the wildlife, the rolling hills, even the clean morning mist, taking pictures by the dozens with her camera phone, but it seemed to him that she belonged on the other side of the lens.

Seeing where they were, not far from the copse of trees separating pastureland from the orchard, he motioned for them to stop. He pressed a finger to his lips, smiling to dispel any worry. The Doctor in particular, looked concerned, turning every which way as if some great evil was sure to emerge from the shadows. He would have laughed if it weren’t for the fact that he still got those same feelings himself--that whisper of foreboding scurrying up his spine. In a moment he saw what he was looking for and drew Amy closer, pointing at the secretive Pine Marten atop a fallen limb, its mouth wide with a yawn. Amy managed one picture before the creature darted into a hollow tree.

As they walked on he explained that more of the English countryside around London had been preserved on this world, the quaint old homes and rolling pastures a contrast to the city sprawl the inhabitants of Amy and Rory’s world were accustomed to. Central London itself they would recognise, if only for the major landmarks. The Tower was still there, as were Westminster Abbey and St. Paul‘s Cathedral, and the Houses of Parliament, where the President and her cabinet conducted state affairs, still crouched above the Thames. He had certainly frequented there enough over the years, had even grown fond of Harriet Jones again, though it had been odd seeing her that first time, knowing that she had died in another universe opening the sub-wave network to find him. He glanced at the Doctor. Well, almost him. She had proved herself that day and here, in this world. She’d shone like a star even in adversity. Her unprecedented third term in office had been fraught with difficulty. The Golden Age of The People’s Republic of Britain had already begun to lose its lustre before the last election. Not her fault, he supposed. It was the cyclical nature of economics and politics, professions he had long ago determined to eschew.

‘This is amazing,’ Amy said, trudging along the path ahead of them beside Rory. ‘To be so close to the city and have it still be so beautiful. But wet. You might have mentioned needing Wellies.’

Apologizing for November English weather seemed pointless. He was glad of the coat the Doctor had snagged from the wardrobe before embarking on their hike. It swept along behind him like a familiar shadow.

‘I don’t know if our timelines are in sync but in any case, the history here isn’t quite what you were taught in school…’

‘By the looks of you, I’d hazard they are not,’ the Doctor commented. ‘Is Harriet Jones still President?’

‘Not for much longer. None of my doing this time. She fancies me.’

‘Rightly so. Still. I imagine you kept an eye on her.’

‘Both. But she did well here. Brilliant career.’ That, at least, was the way it always should have been.

‘And then there’s the zeppelins,’ Rory said suddenly.

‘The what?’ Amy laughed.

‘The zeppelins,’ Rory repeated, pointing up when she laughed again. ‘No. Seriously. Really big zeppelins.’

Sure enough, just as a sliver of sunshine shone through rolling clouds, a silver airship bearing Pete Tyler’s Vitex advert drifted fully into view. The ponies scattered as a holographic billboard rippled to life, Pete smiling down at them and giving a cheery thumbs up. Trust Me On This flashed beneath the image. Peter Tyler might have been a key figure in the establishment of the People’s Republic and an influential director of Torchwood, but to the man about town Rose’s dad was still the friendly face of Vitex health drinks. Vitex, at least, had remained stable, even during the economic downturn.

‘Now, that’s really amazing,’ Amy said, snapping pictures as the zeppelin passed overhead.

He barely looked at the great airship, having grown so accustomed to their presence. On a world where the Hindenburg had never crashed and the tides of the Second World War had turned in Britain‘s favour sooner, zeppelins had become as commonplace as aeroplanes had been on the Other Earth. After a few minutes the zeppelin turned along its established course, and seeing as the rudder was not as interesting as the ship itself, Amy and Rory set out again. The Doctor remained, standing next to him quietly.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘I’d think that would be obvious,’ he said, pointing at his hair.

‘That long,’ the Time Lord repeated slowly. ‘Which explains the greyness and the—'

‘Wrinkles. Yeah. It’s called aging. I do that now.’

‘So, I noticed. And you look remarkably good for a man who is--uhm--aging. What would they call that? Being middle-aged? Oh, that was a rubbish thing to say wasn‘t it?’

‘I’m sure you’ll do worse before the day’s through. I always do. Welcome back to Pete‘s World, Doctor,’ he sighed, looking up as it began once more to rain.

‘I’m sorry I left you here,’ the Doctor said at last, softly so only he could hear.

‘No, you’re not.’

‘No, I’m not.’ the Doctor agreed.

They both knew it was true.

The blues and twos were their first indication that something was amiss at the Tyler residence. Handfuls of black ore and what looked like musket shot, scattered like marbles across the close-cropped lawn, was the next. Smoke and steam wafted from gaping holes in the roof of the 17th Century manor house and the acrid scent of sulphur permeated the humid air. The fire brigade and three DPG units were lumbering onto the tarmac by the time they reached the house, blue beacons switching off as the vehicles pulled away. He groaned inwardly. The presence of the Diplomatic Protection Group  was never a good sign. They were a tenacious bunch to say the least. Not his favourite, nor he theirs.

Jackie Tyler, clutching the front of her pale pink mac, her blonde hair twisted into one of those up-dos he still couldn’t quite fathom, was closing the front door as they rounded the building. He could see the boys, Tony and Rusty, already in the family Jeep with what appeared to be a great deal of luggage. Tony lowered the window and waved enthusiastically.

‘Well, it‘s about time you showed up!’ Jackie told him, gripping her pink umbrella tightly as she hunched against the cold rain. ‘What were you thinking of, swanning off in the middle of the night and not telling us about the meteor shower you plum?! Rocks the size of cricket balls hit the house. The roof is a mess, and the gas line was leaking!’

‘It was totally wicked!’ Tony exclaimed, hanging out the window now. The boy was the spitting image of Pete Tyler--albeit with more hair. A brush had yet to touch that tousled reddish mop this morning. ‘I thought we were under attack from aliens! Maybe even the Fendahleen! Who are your friends? Don’t you have a brolly? Mum said you‘d probably run off to the pub, but I told her that‘s not where you go when you—'

‘--Tony, you’re going to fall out the window!’ Jackie chastised her son as she loaded the last suitcase into the boot. “And you! What kinds of ghost stories have you been tellin’? They had all the table salt in the house in their bedrooms!

‘Honestly, Jon Noble, I don’t know what’s got into you! Rose is right. You’re not right in the head these days. Not that you ever were totally right in the head, but really, this is too much. Pete got called to an emergency session in Paris just after you skived off, Mrs. Browne had the night off, the boys and I were alone, and next thing I know the boiler explodes in the cellar! They don’t know how. I guess meteors went through a window, or the kitchen floor. I don’t know. I’m not going back in to look. I thought we were under attack. I suppose we should be thankful for all the rain. We‘re lucky the whole place didn‘t go up in flames or fall down around us. As for your old room, I hope there wasn’t anything in there you wanted –'

She kept talking but his attention was drawn to the bemused expression on the Doctor‘s face.

‘You must be Tony,’ the Time Lord Incognito told Rose’s brother. ‘I know your sister.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes, I do. She’s… amazing.’

‘That’s what Jon says. All the time. Then the snogging starts!’ the boy said, eyes rolling dramatically. ‘Mum tells them to “get a room”.’

The Doctor let out a bark of laughter and gave him a sideways glance. He could only shrug. He wasn’t about to make excuses. Or maybe this was the appropriate time to try out the one that went I’m only Human. Jackie was still talking--something about bad weather in Scotland-- but his attention was still on the Doctor who was now intent on the Tyler‘s younger son. The Time Lord leaned in though the open window, waggling fingers at the freckle-faced, red-headed boy in the back seat.

‘Hello, who’s this?’

‘My brother, Rusty,’ Tony told him. ‘He doesn’t say much.’

‘Doesn’t he? Rusty,’ the Doctor said, rolling the name around as if it were a tasty treat. ‘Brilliant. Hello, Rusty Tyler.’

Rusty beamed. He groaned. Jackie was never going to get out of the drive at this rate, which meant they were never going to get around to examining the cannon ball or...

‘Do you like magic tricks, Rusty Tyler?’

He yanked the Doctor back into place by the collar and scowled, but that old Time Lord charm had gone to work and both boys were clambering out the open window. He caught Rusty in one arm before the child fell and nabbed Tony by the seat of his trousers, turning him deftly back around to point into the Jeep again. Not that the boy stayed there for long. Boys were like that. Rather like keeping frogs in a box.

‘Aw, Jon! Leggo! Can’t I stay with--hey! Is that a brolly in your pocket? How’d you get a big ole brolly in your… mrmph.’  The words were muffled as he dumped the boy back through the window of the Jeep.

‘Shhhhh,’ he told Rusty, seeing that the younger Tyler boy had also gotten a glimpse of the umbrella handle. Rusty shushed him back conspiratorially; a chubby little finger pressed comically against chubby little lips.

‘Muuuum,’ Tony begged again, ‘can’t I stay here with Jon and his friends?’

‘Don‘t be daft. The house is a mess. Jon’ll be going over to Torchwood Towers or, knowing him, will be sleeping in the ruddy greenhouse. You know something tore through there, too, don‘t you? Don’t worry, I rang up Pete and it’s all squared. No one saw your… Hold on.  Where did you get that coat?’

At last, she paused to take a breath and looked the four of them over.

‘Don’t any of you have umbrellas? It’s been pouring all morning! Tony! Get back in the Jeep. Jon, quit muckin‘ about with the kids!’

He put Rusty into her arms. He winked at the boy and Rusty grinned, winking both big, brown eyes back at him.

‘Sorry Jackie. Really. I--didn’t realize it was going to get so bad,’ he said, ushering Tony back into the Jeep a final time, mussing the boy’s hair playfully. ‘Tony’s right. I went to meet some friends of mine. Experts on… stuff. This is, uhm, John Smith from the-uh-Ministry of -uh-Meteorology.’

‘Yes, quite right,’ the Doctor said, flashing credentials at her via the psychic paper. Too late, the Time Lord seemed to realize it still held the gibberish that had appeared earlier and it was swept back into a pocket. ‘Happy to be of service Mrs. Tyler. And these are my colleagues, Rory and Amy Pond. Expert meteor cleanup crew. We… work best in the rain. Better to… see things… that are…wet.’

‘Lame,’ he whispered under his breath.

‘You didn’t give me much to work with,’ the Doctor whispered back, smiling all the while.  ‘And you failed to mention there was a problem with the psychic paper.’

‘Is it a problem?’

‘I have no idea.’

Not that Jackie was listening. She was too busy strapping Rusty back into the Jeep. He considered wishing her luck with that. He had yet to see a child seat that could contain the younger Tyler boy.

‘Yeah, all right, well just get on with it and don‘t mind the builders and the cleaning service when they get here,’ she told them, sliding into the front seat of the Jeep. ‘They say it could be weeks before everything in the house if fixed. Maybe longer. Kitchen’s a mess. I reckon you plan to live on take away.’

‘I’ll be fine, Jackie.’

‘Oh, and don’t forget to feed the dog this time. And not just peanut butter and bananas.’

‘Yes Jackie.’

‘I’d bring her but I‘m taking the boys to stay with granddad Prentice for a few days while I fly over to meet Pete in Paris. Haven‘t been to Paris in over a month, you know. Oh, here,’ she said, taking a bright pink, rhinestone encrusted mobile from her purse.

‘Take my other phone. Go on, take it. And you‘d better ring up Rose straight away and hope she finds the other Jeep once the weather clears up north or you can forget about replacing the zeppelin you wrecked. Pete said you must have disabled the GPS again because Torchwood can‘t get a lock on it. Rose said she saw you standing outside the house in the rain but by the time she got to the door you were gone. What did you do? Hitch hike 400 miles home? Honestly, Jon, after all you’ve been through, I just don’t understand you. You’re as mad as he ever was.’

Beside him, the Doctor was juggling a variety of objects taken from impossibly deep pockets, much to little Rusty’s delight. Jackie’s words caused a miss and a yo-yo clattered to the ground and split in half, the two sides rolling in opposite directions. Rusty liked that even more.

‘Sorry. What?’

‘Oh, not you,’ Jackie told the Doctor with a dismissive wave. ‘A friend of my daughter’s. We never knew where he was off to either. Your mate Jon here is just as bad. Oh, look. I‘m going to be late for my flight. Have to leave before the next line of storms roll in. Don‘t forget little Petunia. Food and walkies!’

He stared at the garish phone in his hand then shoved it into a pocket as Jackie and the boys drove away. The Doctor lifted a questioning eyebrow:

‘Rose’s grandfather is alive and you crashed a zeppelin.’

‘Yep.’

‘You crashed a zeppelin? Wait. You had your own zeppelin, and you crashed it?’

‘And lost a Jeep, apparently,’ Amy chimed in.

‘Not on the same day,’ he said in defence. ‘More importantly—'

‘Yes,’ the Doctor agreed, scooping up the two halves of the broken yo-yo.

‘I meant the psychic paper.’

‘So did I,’ the Time Lord retorted, sweeping the wallet back out to examine the calculations.

He wondered if all the turning sideways and upside down was in any way assisting in the deciphering of the code. It hadn’t worked for him earlier.

‘What ‘s all of this about, then? Coordinates? And across at least four dimensions. For what?’

‘Guys,’ Rory interrupted, picking up a chunk of the black ore. ‘I could be wrong, but this doesn’t look like what I think a meteor should look like.’

‘That’s because—'

‘--it isn’t.’

As if one were not enough, two sonic screwdrivers confirmed their suspicions.

The black rock-like substance that Rory had picked up--remnants of which lay scattered all about the property--was not, strictly speaking, meteoric. It was, however, awash with considerable amounts of Void Stuff. They agreed on that at least, even without the aid of 3-D glasses. They also agreed that faint traces of Zeiton 7 were everywhere. He ran in one direction while the Doctor ran the opposite way, both scanning the debris scattered over the lawn. Every so often they circled back, having to take a care not to collide. He felt more than a little like a Keystone Kop and from their expressions, that’s precisely what Rory and Amy thought, sitting side by side on the garden swing beneath the patio awning, arms crossed, watching the pair of them.

‘So… Thing One and Thing Two. It isn’t meteorites?’ Amy asked.

‘No, and neither are they cannonballs. But that,’ he pointed to the black sphere still laying in the garden not four metres from the back door, ‘is.’

‘And,’ the Doctor told them, after waving a sonic screwdriver over it like a magic wand and checking the readings twice, ‘it seems to be made, at least partially, from the same stuff. Stuff that doesn‘t belong here. Not only because this is, in fact, a 17th Century cannonball, but because the ore it is made from didn‘t originate on this planet.’

‘And I suppose you--uhm- both of you that is--have been to this other planet,’ Rory commented, ‘and did something totally brilliant. Or did you misjudge and end up where you shouldn’t have been again?’

‘Yes. And something brilliant as well.’

‘Excellent response, Doctor,’ he said.

‘Why thank you, Doctor.’

‘Kill me now,’ Amy said, head lolling backwards.

‘Now, what about our little friend here, hmm?’

Before he could prevent it from happening, the Doctor drew a finger over the cannonball’s smooth surface and took a taste.

‘Aah-aah-aah-- that’s disgusting!’

‘What did he expect a cannonball to taste like?’ Rory asked Amy. She only shook her head.

‘Traces of copper and Zeiton 7?’ he asked.

‘Not the purest sample I’ve tasted but, yes. Also, a dash of gunpowder for flavour and, hello? What’s that?’ the Doctor said suddenly, dropping the cannonball and heading off in the opposite direction. ‘What a magnificent orangery you have there. And what a magnificent hole in your magnificent orangery.’

He was hardly accustomed to being the one playing catch up, but the Doctor was off like a shot, hopping the garden fence with ease, running up the hill to where the greenhouse stood. Though it post-dated the last addition to the manor house by half a century or more, the majestic stone and glass structure remained an architectural marvel and a point of pride for the Tylers. At least for Pete. Jackie said the old place always gave her the creeps. As did the cellar under the house. In his haste to determine the origins of the cannonball last night he hadn’t stopped to inspect the building or its contents. Now, he could clearly see the splintering hole in one of the arching windows some ten feet above his head where the cannonball had apparently exited the building. That meant there was another hole where it had made entrance. The long and short of it was he had the unenviable task of repairing it. Probably alone.

‘There‘s something in there besides orange trees. I can hear it… no. I can feel it!’ the Doctor said, pressing an ear against the door and rattling the doorknob. ‘Ooh, and a locked door. A locked door just begging to be opened. A locked door just begging to be opened and—'

‘Save the sonic, Time Boy.’

He produced the key from his back pocket and slid it smoothly into the lock. For just a moment he paused, enjoying the build-up of suspense. He knew himself well enough to know that very few things would surprise, well, him. He hoped this was one of them.

As the door opened, he was relieved to discover that the solar-powered sun lamps he had augmented for optimal growing conditions during the winter months were still operational. That meant the ice box and cook stove in his workshop that drew power from the solar cells were also still running. And that meant hot dogs and spaghetti rings for Tea. Or perhaps for breakfast since he was still peckish. He never had gotten that cuppa on the Tardis earlier. Despite the damaged windows it was warm inside, and the scent! Intoxicating! He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the back of a teak garden bench, leading Amy, Rory and the Doctor past rows of ornamental and fruit-bearing trees. He paused to pluck ripened kumquats, distributing them to his companions. His companions. He had companions. The notion made him smile.

‘My God, that’s a Siva and Neville Tourer.’

Rory drifted away from their group to lift the car cover off the partially restored roadster parked just inside the double carriage doors on the north side of the orangery.

More than mere recognition shone on the man‘s face. This was sheer pleasure. Maybe even love. He nodded his consent and before he could say “bob‘s your uncle,” Rory had peeled off the cover and was lovingly caressing the bonnet. He had discovered the derelict Edwardian kit-car in a scrap yard in Dorchester two months back and, feeling nostalgic, had arranged for it to be towed here. This time he might paint it blue.

‘Does it have minimum inertia hyperdrive?’ the Doctor asked him.

‘It will have,’ he grinned.

Amy seemed only peripherally interested in the car. She followed more slowly, her fingers trailing along the pink and purple blooms of climbing bougainvillea and brilliant fuchsia A break in the clouds sent a shaft of sunshine in just as they reached the far end of the structure. He didn’t have to wait long for their reaction to what waited there.

‘What’s that, some sort of statement in modern art?’

‘No, Amy, no,’ the Doctor said with a broad smile. The man was practically dancing across the floor. ‘That’s a Tardis. A baby Tardis!’

‘That? What? But it isn’t, you know, a big blue box. Or even a little blue box.’

‘I’ve explained that to you before. The police box is a carefully analysed, clever disguise. To blend in.’

‘Blend in where? The same place you’d blend in with your bowtie?’

‘Bow ties are cool,’ the Doctor said, straightening it deliberately, ‘Our Amelia seems to think I couldn’t be more conspicuous.’

‘You evidently haven’t mentioned,’ he cleared his throat, not sure he should bring up past Regenerations, ‘that coat we had.’

‘That was an amazing coat!’

He laughed. ‘I think I saw it down in the cupboard you were tucked up in if you fancy—'

‘No!’

‘It looks like a Nautilus.’

They all turned to look at Rory.

‘What? It does. Do you think the only thing I know about is cars? And Romans? Really? It looks like a giant Nautilus shell. Which would explain it, you know, why the Tardis seems to go on forever.’

He was rather intrigued by the statement about the Romans, but before he could ask the Doctor draped an arm over Rory’s shoulders and steered the man back toward the car.

‘Rory, Rory, Rory. You never cease to amaze me.’

‘I’m right, aren’t I? It’s like a giant growing shell.’

‘It’s almost completely nothing like a giant growing shell, but if you want to believe that I won’t stop you,’ the Doctor said, abandoning Rory to go back to touching the smooth surface of the Tardis. ‘Look at you, you lovely little thing. Daddy’s taking really good care of you.’

They looked at each other then and he concentrated for a moment on the younger-older green eyes in a younger-older face glinting mischievously under a pronounced brow. Seeing the expression of genuine amazement, he wondered, not for the first time, if the Doctor had ever really expected that chunk of Tardis to grow in this strange parallel universe. Would it ever find a compatible power source to draw upon or was it all for show, that day on the beach in Norway? Grow your own, indeed. As if conjuring a complex space-time event could be done on mere whim. It was as unlikely as, well, as he was. But he had held that piece of coral in his hand the whole way back to England in a Vitex Corporation zeppelin. Held that in one hand, and Rose’s hand in the other, as if to let either one go would mean letting go of life itself. After that he had carried it in his pocket for months before finally deciding to give it a go. What would it hurt? Either he would prove himself a fool or a liar. And since when were those two things mutually exclusive?

‘Ground control to Major Jon—'

He forced himself to heed the Doctor’s words. Once again, the Time Lord had caught him up in a moment of distraction and was looking into his eyes, as if to uncover some secret hidden there.

‘You do distract easily, don’t you? So?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Are you going to invite us in, or not?’

He hesitated. A scant few had even seen the Tardis, let alone stepped foot inside. She had yet to achieve dimensional stability. He had ventured beyond the central control room only a few times since the Architectural Configuration System seemed to have gone haywire. Once, last spring, he was gone so long Rose was certain he’d gotten lost. Of course he had, but he wasn’t keen to admit it. He had taken to sleeping in the control room rather than risking waking up levels above or below where he had started out. Or between levels. Always a nuisance. Add to that the sheer strangeness of a native state Tardis and the experience was unlike any other.

‘You may find it rather unsettling,’ he cautioned the Ponds, pressing his hand against the plasmic-shell surface to release the hatch. He glanced side long at the Doctor, enjoying the expression of boyish anticipation. ‘You, on the other hand, are going to love it.

‘Lights, Little Girl.’

If the old Tardis was ravishing in her steam punk, Maritime glory, this young Tardis was her beautiful native sister. Coral-like buttresses not unlike those he remembered from a previous desk top theme twisted from floor to ceiling, but here they gleamed with the lustre of pearl and jade. Pulsating lights glimmered from beneath roundels that adorned the walls in apparently asymmetrical patterns. Spiral staircases with the appearance of speckled cowries and shimmering abalone defied the laws of gravity, winding left, right and centre to an upper deck that ran around the interior of the vaulted room. Long corridors resembling the interiors of living coral corkscrewed off at illogical angles, some of which looked impossible for anyone dependent on gravity—or feet—to, actually traverse. The alcove in which he’d spent many a night sleeping was shaped into the wall of the lower deck to their right. Little more than a writing desk and a ship bunk, really, the bed unmade, a curtain of pale light hinting at the containment field that afforded that secure space a modicum of privacy and peace. The closest thing to a Zero Room the Time Ship had to offer. He’d spent a long time there after the crash. A very long time. The hexagonal main control console directly ahead sprouted mushroom-like from a floor of green shell, the central column encased in a fibrous lattice that climbed to the ceiling, becoming one with the arching colonnades. Within the confines of the lattice, blue light twisted like a living thing.

‘Oh, you are a beau-ty!’

‘Steady on, Soldier. Oy, you two,’ he said, tossing the ball of yarn he now kept beside the door to Rory. ‘Mind you don’t wander too far. I fell asleep in here one night and it took me two days to find my way out.’

Rory gave him a mock salute then hurried down the corridor Amy had already ducked into.

‘What‘s down there?’ the Doctor asked him.

‘I have no idea.’

‘Ha-ha!’ the Doctor laughed and he couldn’t help but grin himself.

A moment later the Time Lord was everywhere at once, hands rubbing together like a pianist preparing for a symphony. Whipping out the sonic screwdriver like a baton, the Doctor passed it rapidly over native and electronic circuitry alike, moving first around the console, then along the bottle green crystalline floor, up one of the massive buttresses, and down rows of golden, pulsing roundels. Apparently satisfied, the device was returned to a coat pocket and the pressing of buttons, big, red, and otherwise, commenced. Well, he mused, the admonition Do not touch never had held much meaning for him.

While the Doctor tinkered with flight controls and giggled about isomorphic interface nodes, he performed his own diagnostic review. Aside from some indeterminate fluctuations in the trans-power system, everything seemed to be stable, if still in the state of evident hibernation it had lapsed into after their arrival in the Tyler garden a few months previously. Stable and quiet… but still growing.

Donna, the Doctor-Donna, had been exactly right about how to accelerate the growth of the chunk of Tardis coral. By shatter-flying the plasmic shell and modifying a dimensional stabiliser he had assembled from a crashed Transperion ship to a foldback harmonic of 36.3--well 36.3392 to be precise--the Tardis had burst into life. In the space of two weeks the meta-structure had torn through three consecutive garden sheds and after the minor explosion in the orangery, where he had moved her in secret with the help of a forklift and the closed-lipped old gardener, Norman, he was no longer able his keep his little secret.

A mighty battle of words had ensued then, with an incredulous Pete Tyler insisting that for security reasons alone the Time Ship should be housed at one of the Torchwood facilities. He’d have waged a war to the death to keep her from falling into the wrong hands but finally acquiesced on the condition that she was transported to Scotland with him and Rose. And there she might have remained to complete her initial life cycle in a barn populated with shaggy Highland cows, four Clydesdale horses and Rose’s llama, had it not been for his one desperate attempt to time jump. Just one, very small, very necessary time jump. And he had failed. It was a wonder either of them had survived that ill-fated journey that had ended with them crashing here, and he knew, deep in his all-too-human heart--that he owed his life to this, a sentient ship. Rose had begged him not to even attempt it. She, of all people, understood the dangers, but the lure was too great. The sakes too high. His grief too powerful. He had deduced the probabilities and accepted the risks, and he would have done anything to preserve that precious life they had created…

‘Care to share your thoughts with the class?’

‘Hmm--what? Oh, sorry. Sorry. It‘s easy to get distracted in here. You should see the Cloister Room. Molto Bene!’

The Doctor was looking hard at him, hard and knowingly, but any suspicions were kept behind a carefully rehearsed façade. Thankfully, the psychic link they had shared earlier was no longer in place. At least for his part.

‘You haven’t taken her into space?’

‘I wouldn‘t exactly call where we went space, no,’ he admitted, busying himself on the far side of the console to avoid accusing eyes.

‘But you’re going to need to get her off planet soon. Keeping her here during this stage of development is dangerous. Think of the potential for time spillage!’

‘Do you think I don’t know that? Pete’s got good connections, but not that good. Not anymore. Not without raising too many questions about the payload. The only intact Transperion ship we know of fell into the hands of the Earth Prime nutters in Findanavia,’ he said, deciding that it would serve no purpose to admit to his having piloted the ship there. Albeit unintentionally. With Harriet Jones. No, that was best left for another day.

‘We‘ve got a little side project getting ready to launch from Torchwood West in America, but it isn’t like on Gallifrey. Even if I got her up there, where am I going to dock her? I don’t have access to even a fraction of the technology I really need--and I’ve never grown a Tardis before. No ship looms. No docking bays. No Eye of Harmony. I didn’t know what I’ll end up with,’ he said, running his fingers along the latticed central column. She grew more magnificent with every passing year. ‘I’ll tell you one thing they lied to us about at the Academy though.’

The Doctor lifted an eyebrow in question.

‘A Tardis is far more than a complicated code series of block transfer equations. In fact, block mathematics are a whole lot of Time Lord rubbish.’

‘If only they’d let us present that paper.’

He nodded his agreement, his attention drawn by the reappearance of the Ponds. Amy looked pale and her ginger locks were mussed. She was clutching the ball of yarn tightly with both hands. At least half of it was wrapped around her body and more than a few loops entwined her husband.

‘You might have warned us about Audrey II,’ Rory complained.

‘Yeah. It’s a jungle in there. Literally. I think I saw monkeys.’

‘Lemurs,’ he told them. ‘They‘re lemurs.’

‘Why do you have…?’

‘Ye-ow!’ the Doctor cried, jumping back from the controls, right hand waving as if it were on fire. ‘She bit me.’

‘She what?’

‘More importantly, look at this,’ the Doctor mumbled around an injured index finger. ‘Drive system, life support, guidance all coming online…’

‘What?’ he asked, rushing around the console to examine the displays. He hadn’t gotten readings like those since the crash earlier in the year. He scowled. ‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing. I mean, I just touched the thing. You know. That thing,’ the Time Lord pointed at the Primary Initiator, ‘and systems check came up just like you’d expect it to. Aside from the biting part. Why do you look so surprised? You must have had fully operational systems before.’

‘I did.’ His emphasis was on the past tense. Most of the main systems had been unresponsive in the wake of their catastrophe.

‘I guess she just needed a little energy snack,’ the Doctor told him, counting fingers as if to establish they were, in fact, all still present and accounted for. ‘Needn’t be so greedy. No wonder you look so… tired. She probably used your life energy to start her life cycle and continues to feed off you every time you step through the door. Must be exhausting. Say, how was navigation before? I don‘t like that at all.’

‘Eh,’ he said, tossing his head. He pulled absently at one ear. Navigation had definitely been a concern. To say he had had any real control over their aborted flight would have been stretching the truth even more than usual.

‘Ok. Need work on navigation. Power fluctuations in the trans-power system means something isn’t aligned, which is why you‘ll be wanting that Zeiton 7. Not much going on with defence that I can see, but I’m sure I saw an extra tribo-physical waveform macro-kinetic extrapolator in storage 2 that we can wire in. Oh, this is going to be fun!’

‘Well, I’m glad someone is having fun,’ Amy muttered behind them.

‘I’m having fun,’ Rory offered. ‘It’s brilliant. But does it fly?’

‘It… did. Once.’ He scanned the current interior configuration, pleased to see expanded living quarters and an increase in crystal growth in Power Room 3, then turned back to the Doctor to show off some of his more innovative modifications. ‘I integrated the inherent biological plasma screens with holo projectors that turned up at a crash site at the South Pole and we recovered a Trachoid Time Crystal nursery in the jungle near Kota Kinabalu which I introduced successfully to the power room but I’m having trouble converting the—'

‘--yes, I see. Well, of course. You’ll need—'

‘Precisely. And it still needs a proper artron energy capacitor to modulate the phasic output from the core. I started adapting the systems to standard Type 40 configurations and some of the later models’ specifications, but it isn’t like rebuilding her back at UNIT when I--we--still had all the original, well, most of --well, some of the original parts. Then there‘s the small matter of a briode nebuliser—'

The Doctor visibly paled. ‘You didn‘t try to go into—'

‘Not exactly. Well, no. Well, almost. Let’s just say I burned the first one out in about 3 minutes flat and did heavy damage to her Symbiotic Relationship Circuits. I don’t think she’s quite gotten over that.’ For that matter, neither had he.

‘Sorry. What? Stupid humans here,’ Rory was saying.

‘Oy! Speak for yourself,’ Amy told him, still winding the ball of blue wool. ‘But, yeah. What’s a bio nebula whazzit?’

‘A briode nebuliser,’ the Doctor corrected her. ‘Every Tardis is primed with the biological imprint from the symbiotic nuclei of a Time Lord’s cells. Without it, travel through the Time Vortex is… unadvisable to say the least. At least that‘s what it says in the textbooks. Not many people are crazy enough to try it.’

‘So, what? It’s like some sort of genetic link between a Time Lord and a Tardis?’ Rory asked.

‘Something like that.’

‘But you’re half human,’ Amy pointed out.

He exchanged glances with the Doctor. ‘I’m part human.’

‘Yes. Well. No one’s perfect,’ the Doctor told him, adjusting the switches on the chrono-synchronization feed until the holographic screen appeared. ‘Ooh. Pretty! But first things first. Assemble a proper nebuliser or possibly override the dematerialization circuit.’

The interior lights visibly dimmed.

‘Or not. Interesting. Very interesting. Nebuliser. Right. We can do that. Probably. Likely. We’ll look in the storerooms in the Tardis. See what we can find for you, eh dear?’

The lights dimmed further…

‘Oy. Fringe. My Tardis. Mine.’

…then brightened again.

‘Yes, I see. And nebuliser or no nebuliser she‘s very attuned to her designated driver, isn’t she? Well, well. Just remember whose biological imprint woke you up, you sassy thing. At the very least you need to take me on a test drive.’

He considered this for a moment. Fair enough. Besides, though it pained him to admit it, he might require the Doctor’s assistance if he were ever to finish with the necessary modifications before something disastrous occurred.

‘What do you say, Little Girl? Take this lot for a spin around the galaxy, shall we?’

The lights brightened significantly.

‘Okay,’ Amy said slowly. ‘That’s just a little spooky.’

She had finally come to the end of the ball of yarn and tossed it triumphantly into the air before performing a slam-dunk into the gardening basket beside the door. She walked up the steps lightly, linking one arm around his and another around the Doctor‘s.

‘So boys. Where is everything, then? I mean it’s a little overgrown in here, but this is the control room, yeah? But in the Tardis--the other Tardis--there are rooms and buttons and lights and I don’t know, a swimming pool…’

‘And no giant man-eating plants,’ Rory added.

‘Not that you know of,’ the Doctor said, wiggling free of Amay and going to the right.

‘All here. Or will be. Might even be a little shop down one of those corridors,’ he said, going to the left.

‘Oh, I do like a little shop,’ the Doctor chimed in, not looking up.

‘Don’t I know it,’ he replied, not looking up either.

Amy was still waiting for an explanation and seemed rather put out that they had both abandoned her.

‘It’s… young. Really young. Still adapting. There’s no real interface other than the raw, organic circuitry. Back to basics here,’ he said, patting the casing around the Time Rotor affectionately. ‘Very basic.’

‘A little too basic,’ the Doctor said with a visible shiver.

‘It’s very pretty,’ Rory offered, running a hand along one of the buttresses.

‘And pretty deadly with all these isomorphic controls and telepathic links still in place,’ the Doctor commented. ‘Dodgy stuff. Even for… us.’

‘What, this isn’t how they’re issued to Time Lords after you get your pilot‘s certificate?’

Both he and the Doctor laughed.

‘Like this? No. Never. Not in thousands of years. Millions. A long time anyway. It’s…,’ he swallowed deeply, searching for the right words. ‘Let’s just say it’s hard on the pilot. A Tardis is a very sophisticated living ship. Which is why later models, like the Type 40’s, need a crew of 6.’

‘Or one very clever old man,’ the Doctor pointed out smugly.

‘Yes, well, there is that.’

‘You do realize what this means, though,’ the Doctor told him excitedly. ‘You’ll be able to leave this planet. Maybe not this Universe--not sure we’re going to get back ourselves honestly-- oh. Did I just say that out loud? Shame on me. Amy. Rory. Forget you heard that.’

‘You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding…’

‘Just kidding,’ the Doctor sang the words. ‘But think of it. The Doctor in the Tardis with Rose Tyler, as it should be. Saving the… ‘

‘Yeah,’ he interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck absently. It seemed as good a time as any to broach that subject. ‘About Rose—'

His confession was short lived. Shattering glass outside the Tardis put an abrupt end to any further conversation. At times, he mused, the universe seemed to have its own agenda. No matter which one he was in. Or when.

Another cannon ball lay mere feet from the roadster and more broken glass littered the greenhouse floor. At this rate he’d need to employ a professional glazier. Outside, musket balls and more bits of iron ore lay scattered amid the perennials.

‘Doctor-s!’ Amy protested as they shouldered their way past one another to get out of the greenhouse. ‘You’re going to get your heads crushed! Or didn’t you notice the sky is falling?’

‘Under ordinary circumstances I’d agree with you, Amelia—'

‘But this is not ordinary circumstances. I‘m reading more traces of Zeiton 7.’

‘As am I, but something more. Temporal energy. Boatloads of temporal energy, but the fluctuations are off the chart and coming,’ the Doctor said, spinning in circles, sonic screwdriver extended like a dousing rod, ‘from… that way. No, that way. No, wait. That way.’

‘Hey Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat…’ he said, enjoying Rory‘s involuntary laughter at the joke. Amy was still, sensibly, concerned about cannonballs landing on their heads.

‘Did you not hear the part about fluctuations?’ the Doctor asked.

‘Sure, you don’t want to have another go?’ he jibed. ‘No, wait. There aren’t many directions left are there?’

‘I’m not the one with the rubbish sonic,’ the Doctor told him, petulantly.

‘Uhm, Doctors,’ Rory interrupted, ‘I think we may have a more pressing problem.’

Indeed, a more pressing problem was on fast approach. Furthermore, it was on horseback.

‘No way,”’ he breathed. Wherever, make that whenever the cannon balls had come from, so to have this hapless cavalier.

As the small bay horse crested the hill they could clearly see a dishevelled-looking man in a buff coat, baggy red breeches and bucket boots. One hand clutched at a magnificently feathered cap perched crookedly on a head of blazing red hair, the other hauled on the reins. The frothing horse snorted and kicked as it came over the laurel hedge, nearly spilling its rider amid the last of the Kaffir lilies, Morning Glories, and Jackie’s favourite rose bushes.

The horse shook itself violently as the rider drew rein before the greenhouse, pausing a moment to gape at what must have appeared to be the strangest of ensembles gathered there. A young man, clearly, with eyes like chips of a summer sky, swivelled in the saddle to gaze across the lawn toward the old house that might well have been a familiar landmark, now rendered strangely out of place. And Time. More slowly, that gaze turned back to the greenhouse and to the four of them. This close it was hard to miss the sword and pistols in the saddle holsters. As if the full weight of the situation had dawned upon them both, the horse began to back away.

‘Whoa there, whoa… ‘ he said gently, reaching for the bridle to steady the wild-eyed gelding. It was a stocky creature, not unlike the native ponies in Pete Tyler’s stables. Battle sound though it might be it was, nonetheless, not accustomed to time travel.

The Kids are All Right ring tone erupting from Jackie’s mobile in his pocket spoiled any chances of a proper introduction. The horse tore away from him, taking its rider back in the direction from which they had come whether the man had wanted to depart or no. The feathered hat landed at the Doctor’s feet.

‘Oh, no you don’t,’ Amy said, reaching for it, but the Doctor already had it in hand. She grimaced, then turned toward him. ‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’

‘No,’ he said, silencing the mobile before shoving it into his back pocket. ‘Com’ on!’

It was his turn to lead. Vaulting over the garden wall, he led them back along much the same path they had taken earlier. The ponies in the meadow had formed a herd behind the fleeing horse and rider, not breaking off until they had galloped clear to the far end of the pasture where their leader jumped a low stone wall and continued on into the nature preserve that stretched east to the main road. They heard the blaring of horns and the squeal of tires on tarmac long before they got to the scene. He wasn’t sure who was panicking more, the horse, the rider, or the coach driver whose vehicle was now blocking two lanes of traffic. The mayhem gave them a chance to catch up to the frightened horse before it bolted into the forest, heading toward the rematerialized Tardis. What? What?

He skidded to a halt just as horse and rider plunged into a swirl of mist and light for places unknown, shielding his eyes from the waves of energy spilling from the newly opened portal.

The Doctor circled the distortion field, sonic screwdriver in hand, sputtering disbelief.

‘That’s impossible! That was not here earlier! I‘d have known!’

‘Well, it’s here, now, Time Boy.’ He pounded his own sonic against his palm until it lit up and he checked the readings for himself. ‘Yep. It’s here. And this is definitely where the Zeiton 7 came from, too. Look. If we could bring back even a fraction of what we got on Varos to combine with the elements I’m already using it would solve any remaining problems with the trans-power system!’

‘Nice plan, but it’s massively unstable,’ the Doctor warned, gesturing at the gathering clouds above them. ‘Atmospheric abnormalities on top of the temporal flux. I don’t like it. Not one bit. It could close again in minutes or days or hours.’

‘Then what are we waiting for?’ he yelled back over his shoulder, not waiting to see if the Doctor was following or not. ‘Allons-y!’

Behind him he could hear Amy and Rory yelling Doc-tor as he leapt forward into shimmering adventure.

end of chapter five

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