Chapter 1
In Which a Marriage Proposal is a Hoax
Donna Noble didn't know it yet, but her fiancee, Lance, was obsessed with Earth's interplanetary neighbors. There he stood, occasionally smiling over his cup of candy cane cocoa as Donna updated him on their wedding plans, sipping at a latte.
The smell from her steaming mug wafted into her nostrils, further lowering her guard as she gazed into brown eyes that she would never know were willing to feed her to a nest full of spider-like beings just to see another planet.
Lance was only half-paying attention to Donna, browsing the web on his phone. He grinned suddenly. "Well, what do you know?"
Donna leaned forward. It wasn't like Lance to change the topic. Whatever it was, it had to be big. Something business-related. Or something at the national or global level. "What? Did some politician get caught in an embarrassing situation?"
"Only if he's wrong." Lance showed her a picture on his phone. In it, Harold Saxon, the Prime Minister, was in front of a podium, shaking hands with a tall skinny man in a funny get-up. Who wore flowing red robes and an over-sized headdress? "He says he's welcomed first contact on Earth's behalf."
Donna snorted. "He must have gone bonkers."
Lance ignored her judgment. "He says they're Time Lords from the planet Gallifrey. They want to trade with us. They're offering spices for raw materials and are looking for some cheap labor as well." He continued to scroll through the article.
Donna set her coffee down on a round purple pad, not daring to set the hot mug directly on the wooden desk. "Time Lords? They sound even snootier than the people here."
Not looking up from his article, Lance shrugged. "It would be interesting to meet them once."
Donna watched him read with his big, excited grin on his face for a moment. She enjoyed some thoughts of how much his perfect white teeth matched the immaculate suit jacket on his broad shoulders. She could more than put up with his newly-revealed interest in extraterrestrials for that. Just a few more weeks and they'd be married. Her – married – finally!
She couldn't help but tease him for this fascination though. "You're not going to ditch me for one of those so-called aliens, are you?"
He chuckled. "Of course not. But imagine, if we could enter into interstellar trade, what an opportunity that would be. I bet our trade partners would need a head of human resources."
Donna reached up and slapped his wrist lightly. "Oh, come off it, you. My gramps is bad enough with that talk."
Lance excused himself to return to work, but instead of walking to his office, he strolled off to the elevator. Donna finished her coffee, half-wondering if he really were going to look up some Time Poser girls. Stupid bloke. He'd better stay her stupid bloke.
Donna didn't think about the rumored interplanetary visitors for the rest of her work day, but she happily texted Nerys to gossip about them while she rode the metro home. Her fingers flew over the touch screen's miniature keypad with the same speed that made her the best temp in Chiswick. Of course they're not real aliens. Where's their spaceship?
Really, Nerys should know better than to be so gullible. This was just as bad as the so-called Christmas Invasion the previous December. It was actually just as bad too – again, with so many people buying into the latest scam, just because Harold Saxon was involved. Donna didn't think highly of Britain's leader constantly trying to pull bamboozle them in his last term in office. If he were eligible to run again, he would be the absolutely last candidate she'd be voting for this election cycle. She was going to remember not to vote for anyone else from his party.
She glared at Nerys' latest text. I heard they teleported directly here or something. Anyway, their Lord President is a looker, don't you think? I'll be more disappointed if he turns out to be a slug in a human suit than if he turns out to be a phony.
Donna rolled her eyes. Of course that would be Nerys' main concern. Do you mean that skinny streak of nothing shaking Harold Saxon's hand in the photos? I'd find him better-looking if he were a slug in a human suit.
She got a snort just picturing Nerys' scandalized face over her latest reply. The image lasted as the train pulled up to her station and she disembarked.
Nerys hadn't replied by the time she climbed up the grimy subway stairs and side-stepped the puddles gleaming in the streetlamps. She didn't reply at all.
There was no more unearthly nonsense until she arrived at her parents' house and saw a woman waiting in front of a recycling bin in the yard. Strange. For one thing, her parents didn't keep a recycling bin in the yard. For another, the woman was dressed similarly to that conman who claimed to be from a different world.
It was hard to see the details of the woman's garb in the dark, but Donna could spot a few differences: her robes were white, she wore a cap in place of a headdress, and a pendant with two overlapping circles and what could have been a stylized keyhole hung around her neck.
Donna crossed her arms. "Oi! This is private property. I can't believe the nerve of you people and the things you pull getting poor dunderheads to believe you."
Although the strange woman took a moment to fold her arms in her sleeves, her face remained impassive. "You are Donna Noble, correct?"
"Who wants to know?"
"I am Demeter. I am a respected scholar on Gallifrey who interprets the Matrix's prophesies. A government adviser."
Demeter went silent. She stared, unblinking, at Donna with a pair of dark eyes. With her flawless skin, her perfect stoic expression, and thick rings of charcoal hair pulled into a low bun, she was more a statue of some forgotten goddess than a human being. Donna could see why she'd been chosen as an actress for whatever ridiculous scam they were pulling with the non-terrestrial visitors.
Her intimidation tactics weren't going to work on Donna. "Well, Demeter. I have a prophesy for you: I am going to call the police in fifteen seconds if you don't leave."
Demeter didn't even blink. "I'm sure your grandfather would take exception to this. He invited me to stick around and meet you."
Yes, that sounded just like something her gramps would do if someone claimed to be from space. Donna scowled. "What do you want?"
"Lord President Doctor needs a human bride. I was told you're looking to get married."
A marriage proposal as a hoax. A marriage proposal from a supposed space man as a hoax! What was this lot up to? Donna raised her hand and pointed at her engagement ring. "Sorry, lady! Kind of taken."
Finally, Demeter showed the faintest hint of emotion: the corners of her lips turned upward. It was as though she knew some joke that Donna didn't. She'd better not have walked straight into her trap. But how could you get conned by saying no? "I have it on the best authority that Mr. Bennet will call off the engagement soon. Should you accept, the Time Lords will see to it that you live a worthwhile life. Would you rather stay as a temp, migrating from one dead-end job to another, seeking a husband with whom you'll just make do? I guarantee that you'll never accomplish anything greater here than if you marry our Lord President. You have a week to think about this."
Well, if she didn't know how to make a mark trust her! Just how was she expecting to pull one over on her like this anyway? Donna snorted. "You expect me to marry anyone after asking like that?"
"It's true, isn't it?" Demeter stepped closer, pulling out some sort of cylindrical device from her sleeve. "There is just one more matter, and I'll leave you to your pondering."
"The answer is no!" Donna shouted, but Demeter stayed as cool as ever.
Demeter flicked her cylinder up and golden sparks flew up out of Donna. They gathered into a tiny, glittering ball, and floated into the edge of Demeter's device. "Evidence. Mr. Bennett told us that there's a Racnoss manufacturing Huon particles on this planet."
"Hold up a sec!" Donna strode toward Demeter. "What was that? What did you do to me?"
Demeter looked down her nose at Donna. "Those were Huon particles. Quite possibly, I just saved your life. Here's a free word of advice: don't go around drinking things that you haven't tested for poison." She turned, lifted the bin's lid, and climbed inside.
Donna stared. How could a door fit there? And down inside, she thought she saw a full, circular room!
The door closed. With a sound like vworp, vworp, the bin faded out of the yard.
No, no, no! That couldn't be real. She was sleep-deprived or something from all the recent nights of staying up and chatting with the girls about her wedding plans. Donna stepped forward, as though expecting to find disturbed soil where wheels once were. There was an imprint of something in the grass, but no sign of the bin itself. "Gramps!"
It was her mother who came out. "Is that alien finally gone? We would have sent her away, but we weren't sure what she would do to us. And your gramps was thrilled to meet her!"
Donna looked at her mother, silently begging her to deny what she was about to say. "You saw her too."
"A Time Lord. The whole world knows about them! What did she want with you?"
Donna entered her parents' house, complaining about her recent visitor.
The following day was a Thursday. Donna got dressed into professional clothes as usual – a red blouse with a pair of white heels, blue-gray slacks and a matching blazer – and went to work. It wasn't long into the morning before she was called in to see her boss.
That office was as posh as the rest of the building: expensive wood that shined under the florescent lights: soft spotless rugs that stretched across the floor, smooth detailed wood-working, post-graduate diplomas hung on the walls, and not a spot of dust anywhere. The whole thing could intimidate anyone who let it. It was a little much even for someone who never let herself be intimidated, such as Donna.
Her fat boss was leaning back in his leather-backed swivel chair, a scowl on his face. "Ms. Noble."
She put on her best smile. "Good morning, Mr. Clements."
"You have been with the company far too long for someone who does not fit in the company culture." He glared at her, as though it were somehow her fault that she grew up in Chiswick.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Additionally, you disturb the other employees with your endless gossip, fail to show interest during company meetings, and neglect to take the initiative to find more tasks when you completed your assignments. Truthfully, we have not had need of an extra secretary for a while. The only reason we have kept you on is because our head of human resources took a special interest in you. Since he quit-"
"What do you mean?"
Clements tapped his fingers on the chair's arm. "He suddenly left yesterday. Last night, he called to say he'd found a better opportunity."
Lance really was serious about working for aliens? "Well," Donna huffed, "he'd better enjoy it."
Clements nodded slightly. "As for you, you have until lunch to remove your things from our office. Dismissed."
Well, the nerve! Just like that, and no job. Donna left Clements' office, silently fuming. As soon as she was back at her desk, packing her things with one hand, she called up Lance to ask what was going on. He picked up after several rings.
"Oh hey, Donna."
"Don't you oh hey, Donna me!" Donna tossed a pen case into her bag. "When were you going to tell me the news?"
"News, yes. Alright, here's the news: the engagement's off. Why would I want to settle down with someone like you – a future-less nobody who isn't worth anything?"
Donna gasped. "Why you back-stabbing prawn! I devoted the last six months to you. I love you."
"I know," Lance said, "but something better's come along than the future that involved you. I never loved you back. You know that, right? No, of course you didn't. That's what made it easy."
Donna blinked away the wetness in her eyes. Just because Lance couldn't see her didn't mean she could cry in front of everyone else at H. C. Clements. They didn't care for her anyway. "How could you?"
"Simple. I wanted to get off this planet, so I did what I had to." He paused, but not long enough for Donna to swallow the lump in her throat and scream at him. "You should be grateful. You're desperate to get married and I set you up with a groom. He's a prominent politician too. What better are you going to get when chance is the only thing you have going for you?"
Donna squeezed the mini-stapler she was holding inside a trembling fist. "That visit to my house, you were responsible for that?"
"Calm down. Look at it this way: whatever Lord President Doctor needs a human bride for, we humans are so far behind Time Lords that even you should be suitable. You'll finally be of value to someone, and those wedding plans of yours might not entirely go to waste."
Some of Donna's tears sneaked past her stubbornness and onto her cheek. She set her stapler in her bag and wiped the drops away. "You think that's what I wanted, Sunshine? I wanted to marry you, and you set me up with some- some alien streak of nothing! Or is that even what he really looks like?"
"Donna." Lance's firmness caught her off-guard. "We're through." He hung up immediately.
Donna shoved the rest of her things into her bag and rushed onto the elevator. She mostly managed to hold her feelings in until she got home and locked herself in her room. She took some comfort in the sight of the magazines stacked on her black nightstand and the touch of the smooth purple covers on her bed. It wasn't quite enough, so she curled up on her mattress and let it all out. Now and again, she'd shout at nobody in particular.
Her sob session lasted maybe ten minutes before her mother banged on her door. "Donna? Why aren't you at work?"
"Go away, Mum. I got fired, okay? And Lance ditched me for some space woman, so you see the morning I've had."
"What?" The doorknob rattled. There was more banging on the door. "Donna Noble, you let me in this instant."
Donna reached for a plush pillow to throw at the door if her mother didn't shove off. "I want to be alone."
Her mother didn't let up. "So help me, Donna, this is my house. If you don't-"
"And this is my life!" Donna threw the pillow and reached for her phone. She blasted music through it to drown out her mother. It worked. Not much of what Sylvia Noble was saying was clear over the bass guitar, and Donna was able to just lie there and have a good cry.
That Lance, trying to substitute someone of a different species for himself! What did Lord President Whatever need a human for anyway? It seemed a bit fishy to her, like those sci-fi shows where Mars just needed women, but that wasn't the case, was it? They had their own women, like Demeter. Lance was probably cuddling up with one right now.
Next time:
Donna investigates the aliens' plot.
Review incentive:
The fifth reviewer for this chapter gets to pick the color of the Doctor's bow tie if the review is posted by April 28th.
Disclaimer:
Doctor Who is property of the BBC.
