Hello. :) New story, new fandom, same old me. Quick apology for the things I'm almost certain to mess up considering I'm still relatively new to the world of Who, but I'm sure you'll forgive me eventually (if I screw up too badly let me know and I'll do my best to fix it – pinky promise).
Just a quick introduction to my character with very little of her background included. I like developing things slowly – adds to realism and tortures readers ;), but in a good way I hope.
Disclaimer (applies for all future chapters): anything you recognize, I don't own. I may pull elements from other fandoms and drop them into this story, so I also don't own any of those.
Lemme know what you think :) Not only do reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, they also make the story better for you. So do yourself favors and drop me a line.
Chapter One: Not Exactly the Way It Should Have Gone
Cass was about 85% sure she'd completely lost her mind.
If she were honest, the rest of her day wasn't terribly hard for her to believe. Waking up feeling drugged and groggy in a small, doorless cell was sadly not out of the ordinary. It wasn't the first time – and hopefully not the last – she'd forgotten being captured and imprisoned, now traveling through some stretch of unknown space surrounded by people who probably would kill her as soon as look at her. Luckily those sorts of situations all followed a sort of script – one which she was particularly adept at exploiting.
Step one: escape the cage. Nothing really difficult there. She'd gotten out of this one in less than ten minutes, throbbing head and all. The ache behind her left temple probably should have worried her far more than it actually did, but not because of any medical problems it might be hinting at. Only rarely did anyone get away with successfully sneaking up on her.
Step two: identify the vessel. That was even easier, if far more concerning, than step one. The ship was obviously Judoon. If the unimaginative structure of the corridors wasn't enough of a giveaway, the monosyllabic text – which she found far easier to decipher than normal – running across the computer terminals chased away whatever lingering doubts she might have had.
Step three: discern the purpose of the trip. Well, that was a no-brainer. She was a prisoner on a Judoon ship – likely a prisoner transport vessel. Early 52nd century – she was probably headed to Stormcage.
Step four: recover personal belongings. Judoon always kept prisoners' effects in the same place, so that wasn't a problem either. Before the end of a half-hour, she had her pack slung across her back, communicator (currently useless) strapped to her thigh, and cutlass hanging from her hip. Her last business partner had always teased her about her rather archaic choice of weapon, but she'd never cared much for his opinion. There was something awe-inspiring about a pirate with a proper cutlass that not even he had been able to deny when it came down to it. Besides, the man had lost his right to criticize when he'd stolen her ship and disappeared into the expanse of time, leaving her stranded and scrambling to survive in a century far more advanced than her own. Luckily, a life of crime required more determination and wit than actual know-how in this time period, so she hadn't floundered for long, current situation aside.
Step five: escape. Not so easy. Still, it hadn't been avoidance or the probable difficulty of stealing an escape pod or small ship that had her skulking around in the shadows, trying to shake the growing feeling that none of this quite added up. There were no troops on patrol around the ship – nor had there been a guard near her cell. Judoon were suckers for military procedure and formality, so there was no way they'd let that slide under normal circumstances. On top of that, if they were planning on taking her to Stormcage, or even to the Shadow Proclamation itself, for that matter, they were headed in the complete wrong direction.
Looking back now on her decision to stick around and do some snooping, she recognized she should have let it go and made her run while she'd had the chance. She decided she really hadn't needed to find the missing Judoon – who, as it turned out, weren't actually Judoon at all – or sprint back down various hallways and side corridors in an attempt at losing her small tail of fifteen or so well-armed guards, all of whom knew the ship far better than she did. Definitely, she hadn't needed to trap herself in a small medical bay, her pursuers detained at the whim of a now-busted key pad to the left of the door. And really – perhaps most of all – she hadn't needed to come nose-to-wood with a tall blue box, which she was absolutely sure hadn't been there before.
Zsince continuing to run was no longer a viablee option, Cass did what any semi-reasonable person questioning their mental stability would do when confronted with a large, proudly lit object that really shouldn't be anywhere near where it was. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the thing.
She was more than sure it hadn't been there before. The express purpose in choosing this particular room out of the several she'd passed in the last few minutes was that it had another door, hopefully to be used for her timely escape. Of course, that door was now very inconveniently located behind the impossible blue box.
After a moment's reflection, she decided that the universe must really hate her – not surprising, all things considered. Still, it could have picked a better time.
Whump.
The not-Judoon pounded on the door at the far end of the room, trying to get it open. Frankly, time was on their side. Cass glanced over the room frantically looking for anything useful. Admittedly, a pistol might have been a better choice of weapon than a cutlass – although she might get points for intimidation or confusion factor if it really came down to the wire, which it almost certainly would. Regrets were about as useful as anything in the rest of the room, however. 51St century medicine had all but eliminated the need for sharp and pointy objects onboard starships. The med bay was little more than a room with several person-sized transparent tubes that could be filled with nanogenes at the push of a button. It wasn't quite as elegant as the free-floating nanogenes in her own ship, but the Shadow Proclamation had apparently outlawed that version of the technology last century due to a series of problems with the little buggers being reprogrammed and weaponized. Had Cass had enough time – and had she known what exactly the not-Judoon were – she might have attempted to use the medical technology to a similar less-than-healthy effect. As it was, she was just about entirely out of options.
Whump. Whump.
It wasn't a terrible way to go, she decided as she backed away from the door and towards to blue thing. She would have preferred a more dramatic or useful exit, but it was better than getting mugged in a back alley, she supposed.
Whump. Whump.
She was now leaning against the blue box in an admittedly-futile attempt to get as far away from the door as possible. Nowhere to hide, no way to fight – at least not effectively. A cutlass wasn't going to be much use against the large, high-powered rifles in the hands of the rhino-people. Maybe there was someone waiting at the end of the line giving orders for her to be kept alive for some nefarious purpose. After all, they seemed to have gone through a lot of effort to get her all the way out here in one piece.
Whump.
On second thought, Cass doubted she was that lucky.
Whump.
She could try and talk her way out of being atomized, but she really doubted that reason would have much of an impact on the not-Judoon.
Whump. Whump. Bang.
Great. It sounded like the door was breaking. Wonderful timing.
Bang.
As she braced herself for the not-Judoons' impending arrival to the scene, squeezing her eyes shut in dreaded anticipation and gripping the hilt of her sword in a white-knuckled fist, the wall behind her suddenly gave way, leaving her to fall gracelessly to the floor, which also shouldn't have quite been where it was.
A small "oh" was all that escaped her lips as her brain tried to reconcile what her eyes were telling her. A big ship within a small blue box onboard another ship that looked Judoon but wasn't. Beyond the white door her feet were currently sticking out of was a large dome-like room, shining with the most beautiful bronze light she'd ever seen. Organic-looking branch like structures rose from the metal grated floor into the ceiling, perfectly staging what looked to be some sort of command console in the dead center of the room. Still, all that wasn't nearly as surprising as the two people staring down at her, faces a mix of mild shock and astounding curiosity.
Make that 95% sure she had completely lost her mind.
The woman peered out the door after a moment, frowning at the medical bay in disappointment.
"I thought you said 'beach day,'" she complained drily at her male companion, who was still hovering over Cass with an almost frightening inquisitiveness. "This is not a beach."
The man hardly spared a glance at the room beyond his door before returning his intense dark gaze to the young woman who was trespassing – albeit entirely unintentionally – on his ship. "It's not perfect, Donna. You know that."
"Yeah, but where are we then?" she shot back, entirely unphased. "When are we?"
Perfect, came Cass's internal commentary, accompanied by a small frown as she continued to look around. Time travelers. More than that – British time travelers. The woman was indeed dressed for a lazy day by the sea, large floppy hat covering her long auburn hair and a rather archaic style of sandals on her feet. The man, however, looked like he'd have been more at home in an office building – but that wasn't quite right either. Maybe a college campus rather than an office. He just about screamed "professor." Brown pinstripe suit, blue shirt, fantastic hair, and... were those Chuck Taylors not six inches from her nose? Damn, those didn't even exist anymore – not even in the 31st century, which was her usual hunting ground. She'd seen pictures, of course, but never dreamed she'd see a pair in person.
"Early 52nd century, I think. As for where..." he trailed off, finally furrowing his brow in confusion and stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Who are you?"
She made no move to get to her feet, tearing her eyes away from his priceless shoes and raising an eyebrow up at him from right where she was. "Cass Jennings. And you?"
"I'm the Doctor," he provided, almost offhand. "And that's Donna."
Donna smiled and waved a bit down at her.
"You're British," she stated, though it came out as more of an accusation.
"Well, I am," Donna smirked. "He's not."
"What are you doing here?" The Doctor demanded.
"Which 'here' are you referring to? There seem to be several options at the moment."
"This is a Judoon transport ship."
"Well, that is over there. Not sure exactly what this one is, but it's far more impressive than the other one."
"You're not a Judoon."
"Nope. And you're apparently not British."
"But what are you doing onboard a Judoon transport ship?"
She shrugged. "I'll let you know when I've got a good answer. Better question – what are you doing onboard a Judoon transport ship?" After a moment's thought, she revised the question. "Or, what is the Judoon transport ship doing around your ship?"
"It was supposed to be the beach, mind," Donna put in with a halfhearted glare at her friend. The Doctor, however, was not to be deterred.
"So you're a prisoner."
"I was an hour or so ago," she smirked, finally getting to her feet and dusting herself off, glancing around curiously as she adjusted her customary black vest. "And you're still apparently not British. You've certainly got the accent, though."
Bang.
"Doctor? What was that?"
"That would be the Judoon," Cass shrugged. "Or, rather, not the Judoon."
"What does that mean?" Donna frowned.
"They look like Judoon, but they're not. I accidentally came across one of them unzipping their forehead a few minutes ago, and I'm pretty sure they don't normally do that. Also," Bang. "I'm pretty sure they want to keep their little secret to themselves."
"What are they doing to the door? Wait, hold on. Did you just say 'unzipping their forehead'?"
"I know, right? Can we leave now?"
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no..." The Doctor looked far too interested for what remained of Cass's peace of mind. She was fairly certain figments of her imagination should be more concerned with the continuation of the source of their existence than these two seemed to be.
Bang. Bang.
"The TARDIS took us here on purpose, diverting us from our original course to here. There's got to be a reason."
"Well, you kinda got in the way of my escape attempt. Not helpful, by the way."
He took a closer look at her, brown eyes unnervingly unblinking. "Who are you?"
"Cass Jennings. I thought we'd just been over that. You're 'the Doctor' and that's Donna." She punctuated the last bit with a small smile and wave at the half-confused woman standing a little off to the side.
"Why do you have a cutlass?"
Bang.
"Because I like it."
Bang.
"Yes, but why?"
Bang.
She'd admit she was starting to get a little on the nervous side as the slams against the door increased in intensity. "Do you have a death wish? Or maybe it's a murder wish."
Bang.
"And why do you sound American?"
Bang.
The seam between the door and the wall was beginning to smoke a bit, and she estimated they'd probably be flooding into the room within the next shot or two.
"Doctor..." Donna groaned anxiously, also noticing the immediate problem.
"Really, can't I answer these questions after we get out of here?" Cass growled
"Nope, I don't think so. We've got plenty of time. And I want to know what's going on."
"For God's sake, you're going to get yourself killed."
Bang.
"And Donna killed," she continued. The Doctor paid her no mind, simply stuffing his hands into the pockets of his brown pinstripe suit and wandering out the impossible doors and into the med bay.
Bang.
Cass resignedly followed him, muttering one last "and me," before the door came apart in a small explosion. Donna closed the blue doors to the blue box Cass was half sure wasn't actually there just in time to be met with the business ends of six primed incinerators, all held by very angry looking rhinoceroses.
Or was it "rhinoceri?" Cass could never remember. It was funny the things you thought of when you were about to be shot.
None of this seemed to bother the strange man with the impossible blue box. He stood there casually with a large smile on his face, hair ruffled as if someone had just gotten done with running their fingers through it, hands still deep in the pockets of his trousers, and looking for all the world like he owned the place. What was more, he wasn't bluffing. Cass had been around the block enough times to know when someone was putting up a brave front, trying to intimidate the other party into giving up their advantage. But this man seemed to genuinely believe that he could handle a small squad of heavily armed people who'd theoretically managed to steal the skins of at least six of the best trained mercenaries in the universe with nothing more than his friend and some woman he'd just met at his back.
If Cass had lost her mind, she was certainly in good company, because this man was either the cleverest or the most stupidly insane person she'd ever come across.
"Hello," he beamed, that dreadfully curious light back in those dark eyes. "I'm the Doctor."