OK, this is one of my first attempts at a DW story. Basically, two things inspired this: firstly, while I can't deny enjoying the new series, one thing I disliked was the lack of Time Lords. Secondly, as I hope many will agree, it's about damn time the Doctor had an alien sidekick.

So, I present to you a little story set in a universe where the Time Lords still exist, and of course our dear Doctor is still wandering the universe…

Doctor Who is © BBC

COST OF PANDORA

Part One

"Planet Rivesh," the smooth, female voice of the info-spike recited, "colloquially known as Farpoint: average temperature 17.2 degrees Celsius, atmosphere tolerable to humans and similar life forms. Native species: Iolan and Shen. Silfrax Galaxy. One of the last five uncolonised planets in its sector…"

"Will you bloody turn that off?" Gray snapped as he jabbed his shovel back into the ice again. "Hard enough to break through this without your bloody toy whittering away like that."

"Sorry, Corporal," the young man to his right said, hastily shoving the device back into his pocket. "Sure you don't need a hand there, sir?"

"Well, since somebody got his shovel snatched away from him, that's not likely to happen, is it?" Gray snapped. Seeing the look of embarrassment cross the youth's face, he softened and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't look so glum, lad- bound to happen. Just one of those things, like the waste-recycles always backing up when they're needed. Besides, we're only grabbing one soil sample, and- "

Before he could finish, there was an upward burst of snow from the ground, and he winced as something jabbed into his hand. It was a tiny, thin cylinder of glass, narrowing into a sharp point- which was now embedded in the skin of his hand, having effortlessly punched through his thick gloves. And, inside, a tiny quantity of clear liquid was sinking into his body.

"Jay…" he gulped, staggering as his limbs suddenly turned to lead, "fetch the… medic…"

"Corporal?" The young ship-hand stared dumbly as Gray collapsed. "Corporal!"

---

In a small clearing, a cluster of thick, blue trees stood in a circle. Their branches formed a tight, knotted ring, and birds covered in silver fur took off into the glaring sunlight, the soft outlines of two other planets visible in the clear, blue-green sky. The only thing to disturb the calm was the sudden whirring, and a rush of wind that send the snow into a flurry.

It appeared in seconds, first only a faint outline, and then the old, battered police box stood firmly rooted in the snow, as though it had always been there. The front doors opened with a creak, and the machine disgorged a man who looked particularly out of place. Then again, with his shaggy hair, yellow shirt, khaki waistcoat, grey jeans and long red coat, he'd probably have stood out anywhere.

He took a few paces, securing an old, worn, black straw hat, then paused in mid-step. "This isn't Cornwall, is it?" he asked to the empty air. "No, certainly not." He placed his hands on his waist, swaying from side to side as he examined his surroundings. "Hmm. Bit on the cold side, but it seems nice. Let's see," he turned his attention to the planets in the sky, "if I'm not mistaken, that's the Rexal Configuration, which makes this… ah. Rivesh. Always wanted to take a peek. Well, then, I'll forgive you, old girl," he smiled, patting the side of the battered old machine. "Right then," he said to himself, "let's see what we can see."

As the Doctor strutted away between the trees, something stirred under the snow. It said, in its own tongue and in a thin, raspy voice: "Confirm biometric scan?"

"Unable to confirm", came the reply, "Planet of Origin: Unknown. Species: Unknown.."

"Recommendation?"

"Procedure 001. Observe. Obtain precise biometric identification."

"Acknowledged. Will observe."

Some distance ahead by now, the Doctor, quite unaware of the fact that he was being observed, came to a stop and admired the view. The city was quite unlike any other: the skyscrapers, the office blocks, hospitals, schools and houses, all looked just as they might on any other planet. There was, however, one distance, clear even from this far away: it was all constructed of pure, shimmering ice.

---

"You've been fighting again, Misorel?"

The girl looked up, keeping her arms wrapped round her knees as she sat at the base of the old bluewood. "I am reflecting," she said quietly, as was the custom among Iolans. She pushed some of her light-blue hair over her shoulder, brushing against skin that was white as snow. Her eyes had no pupils, but instead large, powder-blue irises.

"I will have to speak with your caregivers," the instructor told her.

"They started it," Misorel answered sulkily. "They always do."

"Nevertheless. You will report to the Chief Instructor's office after Noontime." The instructor walked away, leaving his troublesome student to her thoughts. She idly drew a circle in the snow with her finger, then crossed it out.

"You were telling on us," a voice said above her. Rorell, his pure-white hair tied back, glared down at her from beside his friend. "Weren't you?"

"Leave me alone," Misorel said, though any menace it might have held was lost the instant she said it out loud. She turned her eyes down to the snow, as if that would help.

"Or what?" Rorell smirked. "You'll tell your parents?"

Misorel flinched. She gave no reply, instead standing straight up and walking away. There was no use in fighting them- they'd just win, and she'd just get in trouble again.

"Did you hear?" She heard one of the other youths say as she walked past. "There was a Shen attack last night. Five people died…"

She didn't want to listen to it. Not today. And so, she made up her mind. She was getting out of there, just for the day, just out of the hope that something, anything, new might happen.

---

The two security guards grabbed hold of Gray, pinning him down to the table. He thrashed blindly, giving a suppressed howl- had his mouth not been swelling up, he'd almost certainly have screamed. Patches of his skin were turning brown and beginning to flake, leaking with pus, and clumps of his hair, their ends stained with blood, littered the floor.

"What's wrong with him?" The Captain asked, watching the ship's doctor inject a syringe into Gray's neck.

"I don't know sir," Dr. Reeves shook his head, "I've never seen anything like it. Every cell in his body's breaking down. You did the right thing not touching him, Jay," he said to the ship-hand who was sat quietly in the corner, "he doesn't seem contagious, but it's probably best to keep him safe."

The door to the medical bay opened with a mechanical 'swish'. "Captain Myers," the young officer reported, "still no report back from Professor Simms' team. It's been seventeen hours, sir."

"Seventeen," the captain repeated, leaning against the wall. "He couldn't have lasted out there for that long." He closed his eyes for a moment, muttering something under his breath. "That' it, Lieutenant: tell engineering that I want the engines repaired within the hour."

"Sir?"

"We're pulling out."

"But sir, the mission parameters state-"

"Don't quote me regulations, Lieutenant," the Captain snapped, "one of my crew is half-dead, and three others are missing. I'm not risking any more of my men on this God-forsaken rock."

---

Misorel rested her chin in her open palms, sitting on an old log as she looked over the lake- which was, of course, covered in a sheet of ice. And this was summer on Rivesh. It would be nice, of course, to go out there once, to see what else there was. Maybe the ships that came and went every now and then…

Or just to get away from all the taunts and jeers. That wouldn't be so bad…

"Somehow I get the feeling you're upset."

Misorel sat bolt upright as if she'd been given an electric shock. The source of the voice, already sitting down next to her, was certainly like no Iolan she'd seen- his skin was pinker, and his hair was the colour of weevil-straw. Then, of course, she remembered the ships.

"O-outworlders aren't allowed within the city limits," she said reflexively.

"Well, I shouldn't worry, the city limits are about half a mile that way," the man said, pointing back over his shoulder. "Heavens, child, you look like a rabbit in headlights- here," he dug into his pocket, "have a jelly baby."

Misorel took one of the soft, squishy treats, and, after cautiously watching the stranger do the same, popped it into her mouth. It wasn't bad, actually. "Are you one of the explorers?" she asked. "The… humans?" she believed that was what they called themselves.

"I'm an explorer," the man said, "certainly not human. I'm the Doctor. And you?"

"Misorel."

"Ah. A lovely name. That city: that would be Tsolan, correct? I've never been myself, but another decade or two and it'll be the height of elegance in this system."

Misorel blinked. This Doctor, whoever he was, was talking absolute nonsense.

"Misorel!" This time she stood up, as the two older members of her species ran through the trees. "What on Earth are you doing, child?" the older one snapped, "get away from him! You know you're not supposed to-"

"Mother, it's alright!" Misorel protested, "we're outside the city limits."

"What do you think you're doing?" the other, whom the Doctor assumed to be the father of them family, demanded, pointing at the Doctor. "There is such a thing as a treaty, you know, and-"

"It's quite alright," the Doctor said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of white paper. "See? Written permission from the City Leaders. Ambassador John Smith; civil capacity."

"Well," the father said, clearly taken aback, "be that as it may, I'd have thought you'd exercise more caution than this. You could've gotten my daughter exiled if someone less understanding had come along!"

"Exiled?" the Doctor stared, "well, I know children shouldn't take to strangers, but that seems a bit extreme."

"And you, Misorel," the mother scolded, "what are you doing outside the limits? You've heard about the attacks! And what are you doing out of the learning?"

"I was just going for a walk," Misorel said awkwardly.

"Well, you're going straight back. Your father and I will deal with you once you get back. I'm terrible sorry, sir," she turned back to the Doctor with a fake smile, "but you'll have to ambassador to someone else."

"Go on, Misorel," the father instructed, "and I expect you to reflect on this."

"Actually," the Doctor interrupted, "terrible sorry, but I'm an incorrigible meddler, and I was wondering what you meant by "attacks"?"

"Where on earth have you been?" the father half-laughed, "the Shen, of course!"

"Shen? …Ah, yes, the Shen. Wait, you don't mean that the Shen have been attacking you, do you?"

"The Shen Elders say they're separatists," the father scoffed, "not a bit of it. They're all in it together. They bombed a hospital last week. Disgusting."

"Wait- what year is this?" the Doctor pressed.

"Year?" the father gaped, "you've been at the Voor wine, have you? It's the Century of the Bird, Seventeenth year."

"Hmm. That's…" the Doctor counted off on his fingers, "2516 by the Galactic calendar? Well, that's not right."

"What isn't?" Misorel piped up.

"Well, the war between the Iolans and the Shen should have ended in 2510. "

"Ended?" the father shook his head, "if anything it's gotten worse!"

"Hmm." The Doctor flapped the piece of paper against his open palm. "Interesting. All terribly interesting…"

"Anyway, if Ambassador Smith is about done being strange, I think Misorel should be getting back to school," the mother said brusquely. "Come on, girl. I'm late for a counsellation because of you…"

"Oh, well if there's a problem," the Doctor chimed in, "I'd be more than willing to escort her. I was going that way, anyway; I'm supposed to act as an emissary within the education system as well, you see- that's why I stopped to talk to your daughter."

"Fine, fine," the father sighed, "we've got to be going. And don't think that we won't discuss this later, Misorel."

And so, the Doctor and Misorel set off back toward the school. "Now, Misorel," the Doctor said, "tell me about this situation with the Shen."

---

"Information has been recovered."

"Proceed."

"Subject Ident: 'Doctor'."

"Known. Will inquire with the Self."

---

"We were at war with the Shen for many cycles," Misorel explained as she and the Doctor carried on down the street, "and there was a ceasefire six turns ago."

"I see. And these continued attacks?"

"They started again this last turn," Misorel said. "We all thought it had ceased for good. There were terrible things done."

"I see."

"My forebears," Misorel said quietly. "You call them parents. They died when I was young."

"Oh. I'm very sorry," the Doctor said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's alright. My foster parents are good to me, but they can't be my real mother and father. It's just that these attacks remind me of them."

"And because of these attacks, the city has been sealed off?"

"The people are scared. They do not wish to speak to the explorers, either. Anyone who breaks the restrictions is subject to exile."

"Am I right in thinking this isn't your first brush with the law?" the Doctor asked.

"I've wanted to meet the explorers many times. They only want to learn, but we treat them like the enemy. They are different, so the Iolans shun them."

"Hmm." The Doctor paused, looking around. The street was indeed deserted. "You know," he said shrewdly, "it wouldn't be inconceivable for you to have snuck out of school after I left."

"Oh?"

"Indeed, and with that in mind, it's quite possible that you'd have wandered out of the city limits again."

"In the company of a human explorer?"

"I could have found you," the Doctor said, holding up the paper, "and be bringing you back to the city."

Misorel started to smile. "And if I were to do such a thing, where might I follow you?"

---

The woods certainly got thicker outside of the city limits. The Doctor and Misorel both looked around inquisitively, or in the Doctor's case, rather suspiciously. Something, evidently, was amiss on Rivesh.

"What is that paper?" Misorel asked. "The one you showed my father?"

"Oh, that? Psychic paper. It shows people whatever I want. Marvellous invention, really; before I got it, I spent half my time in jail cells."

"Yes," Misorel said faintly, "you never said who you really are."

"Rather reckless of you, then, following me out here."

"You have kindness about you," Misorel smiled. "There is something curious about you- you are as young as a flower, and as old as a mountain. And you seem…" she stared off into the distance for a moment, "sad. So far from a home you can't go back to…"

The Doctor stopped in his tracks, about to say something in reply, and then remembered. "Oh. Yes, that's right."

"I- I'm sorry," Misorel blushed, "didn't you know?"

"I rather forgot for a moment. Iolans are empathic, yes?"

"We read strong emotions in others," Misorel explained. "Yours are powerful. You were never taught to control them?"

"Well, what's the point in that?" the Doctor replied brashly. "People who want to control their own emotions often try to control other people. I've seen enough of those sort of creatures for one lifetime, thank you."

"You talk strangely," Misorel smiled. "You must have many turns."

"Oh, an awful lot. You?"

"Only sixteen. I am not yet of age."

"Hmm." The Doctor searched his memory. "Yes, Iolans have arranged marriages, correct?"

"My destined one died during one of the attacks. I never actually met him."

"Well, if it helps, my approach to those matters is just to throw the whole thing out the-" the Doctor stopped as he stepped into a spacious clearing. "Well, just look at that."

The ship was half-buried in the snow, the top half of its body formed of sleek, smooth silver metal. The word Wayfarer was emblazoned across its side.

"An explorer's transport machine," Misorel commented. "I shouldn't go near it."

"I shouldn't worry," the Doctor said, tapping his fingers against his folded arms to the sound of footsteps. "They're hardly going to report us. And besides, we have something much more urgent to worry about."

"What?"

"Well, we've stopped walking…" the Doctor said warily, "so where are those footprints coming from?"

Tall, scaly-skinned, clad in animal skins and wielding a bronze crossbow, the alien soldier froze in its tracks and took aim at Misorel. "For the Glory of the Shen," it hissed, "the Iolan will be buried!"

TO BE CONTINUED

Yeah, I thought I'd upload this in four "episodes", in the style of the classic DW serials. Next Time: What is happening to the crew of the Wayfarer, and what is behind the war between the Iolans and Shen?

Questions for anyone who feels like reviewing:

1. What do you guys reckon to this version of the Doctor? He's sort of intended as a mix of Four, Seven and Ten.

2. Similarly, what's the verdict on Misorel? Is she companion material?

3. What do you think of the Iolan culture, since I put a lot of thought into it?

4. Can anyone guess what our alien menace is- and no, the Shen aren't the threat.

All Reviews Welcome!