Common Ground

by T. R. Myers

Phoebe is a typical teenage misfit, content with her gothic lifestyle, until a strange man and his blue box crash in her yard. Phoebe now finds that she may be the only one able to prevent a war between humanity and the Silurians. Mild Language

1. Chapter 1

Happiness washed over him...and jealousy. He was very old, over 900-years-old, and she was a young human, and she loved him with all of her heart, but she would live to be, what, 80? 90 perhaps? She would be gray, infirm; she would feel helpless and weak in her old age, and he would be eternally young and helpless to ease her suffering and that would be torture to him. No, this was better. The man that she was with was a copy of him, all 900 years of him, and yet he was mortal. He would grow old with her. They could even have children...and he was him. He was all of his memories. He even looked like him. Yet when they kissed, a terrible jealousy welled up inside of him. Thankfully, all he had to do was think of what was best for her and the fact that she was happy with the man she wanted, and the green-eyed monster was quelled. He was the man she wanted. She had him and yet he did not have her. That was why an alternate reality was such a perfect escape for them.

Now, Donna was back with her family, blissfully oblivious of her miraculous adventure. If she ever found out, she'd hate him, even knowing the knowledge would kill her, but he had to save her life. He couldn't let her die. As he watched the incomprehensible lights of the TARDIS console, he carefully pondered where he would go next. Deciding that he didn't know where he wanted to go, he threw caution to the wind, not forgetting that the TARDIS was still extricating itself from the hole in the void between realities-between Rose and Donna-but paying little mind to the fact that activating the TARDIS now had a small chance of spelling disaster.

When he engaged the time circuits, the cloister bell sounded immediately. The knell was intended to forewarn that the TARDIS was in imminent danger of destruction. He did not take its tolling lightly. The TARDIS didn't dematerialize and he immediately understood why. As the void was sealing, the TARDIS had come into contact with one of the stronger tendrils of void attracting particles and the TARDIS launched itself into the air rather than dematerialize to avoid being hopelessly drawn back into the reality that was being sealed off. Where he was, he wasn't sure: somewhere over the Atlantic, maybe.

The TARDIS spiraled out of control, the main console catching fire and the ship lurching tremulously beneath his feet. He desperately tried to slow the progress so that should the TARDIS crash, he would not be dashed to smithereens. A large box that he didn't recognize tumbled past, smashing into the doors, flinging them open. He was indeed over the Atlantic and close at hand was a city built along a coastline. He hooked an arm around the console and wrestled to bring the TARDIS under control. He managed to slow it down quite a bit. He might survive a crash at this speed, but it would take him a long time to recover.

He tried to slow the TARDIS down more, but the ground rushed to meet him faster than he anticipated. His grip was torn from the console and he was thrown through the door onto hard concrete. There was a swimming pool next to him...how quaint. He looked up at a tree towering over him and said, "Ah, would you look at that...mangoes. One of those would hit the spot right about now." He then was lost to oblivion.

A tremendous racket had jarred Phoebe from her sleep. It sounded like a bomb went off. She expected to hear sirens at any moment. Looking out her bedroom window, she could see smoke coming from somewhere. As she strained to see in the direction of the smoke, a strange sight caught her eye, but it was too hard to see to be certain. From what she could see, a destructive swath had torn through her mother's hibiscus and gardenia, but had managed to miss the patio and the pool. She got up and ran downstairs. There was no sound from her parent's room, meaning they were still out. Looking out the patio door, Phoebe rubbed her eyes, convinced she was still dreaming.

She picked up her cellphone automatically and snapped a picture. Then she dialed her mother.

"Phoebe, why aren't you in bed?"

Phoebe very cautiously said, "Mom, something just crashed into our yard. It ruined your flowers. It's a...um...well...I'm not sure what it is."

"What does it look like?"

"It looks like a blue...phone booth..." and sure enough, that was exactly what it looked like, on its side.

There was a long silence on the other end and Phoebe wondered if the call had been dropped, but then her mother said, very gently, "Phoebe, sweetheart, are you sure you're not dreaming?"

"Mom, I have pictures and everything. I can text them right to you."

Another pause and then, "Okay, honey, I believe you. You think maybe you should call the police?"

"And tell them what? A weird phone booth crashed in our yard?" But Phoebe saw something that made her blood chill. "Oh, my God, mom, I've got to go." Hanging up without another word, Phoebe ran out onto the patio and there he was, laying in a pool of blood, covered with blood. "My God, were you in that thing?"

For one terrifying moment, Phoebe thought the mysterious man was dead, but then he stirred, though he didn't wake. She tried to call an ambulance, but for whatever reason, her phone had suddenly stopped working. She could still take pictures, tweak her settings, and play games, but could no longer make calls or surf the internet. Thinking it was a temporary loss of service, Phoebe tried the main phone inside, but found it to be dead. The computer could not get a connection either.

Running back outside, Phoebe faltered at the sight of the man. She wondered if she should drag him into the house or if that would harm him even more. His leg was obviously broken and there was quite a bit of bleeding. She decided that she could not leave him there and hoisted him up. With one of his arms around her shoulder, she brought him into the living and laid him on the couch. She got a rag from the laundry room and wet it in the kitchen sink. With the rag, a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, and a bowl of water, she returned to the man and began to clean his injuries.

Most of the blood was coming from a cut along his forehead and deep gash in his shoulder. With the blue suit jacket, shirt, and tie removed, numerous other small cuts could be seen. Bruises along the side of the chest looked nasty enough to suggest broken ribs. She decided to document the injuries with the camera phone, since with communications out, it might be some time before paramedics could be contacted and they may need a record of the fresh injuries. Putting the phone away, she went back to the rag and began cleaning his wounds. As Phoebe ran the cold rag along the bruise, the man stirred. As Phoebe pulled the rag away, he muttered something about a mango tree.

Phoebe said, very quietly, "Did you say something?"

"I thought I was lying under a mango tree."

"You were. I brought you in. Don't move now. I'm going to clean you up then I'm going to find a phone that works and call an ambulance."

"Thank you," said the man, weakly, "but never mind the ambulance. Just a spot of tea and one of those mangoes will do the trick."

"Right," said Phoebe, absently.

"I'm serious. I really don't need the ambulance. I have a very unique way of healing. It's better if we didn't call an ambulance, actually."

Phoebe noticed at this point that the man spoke with a British accent. His brown eyes stared into hers with an intensity she had never seen before.

"I'm the Doctor, by the way." Anticipating her next question with an amused twinkle in his eye, he said, "Just the Doctor."

"Phoebe."

A delighted grin creased the injured man's face. "Ah, Phoebe! Meaning 'beautiful goddess', its associative words meaning 'bright', 'radiant', and 'to give prophesy', one of the daughters of Uranus and Gaia making her one of the legendary Titans. Oh, that's one of my favorite names."

Phoebe smiled, "So, why is it just the Doctor?"

The Doctor's eyebrows scrunched together. "Why, is there something wrong with it? I've always been the Doctor. You see, I always want to help people and so I always do. That's my name. I'm the Doctor." With that, he lost consciousness again.

It was strange, but Phoebe could have sworn that there had been a gash upon his forehead, but now, the skin was smooth. His other injuries were still there. Now that Phoebe thought about it, the bruise on his ribs was getting lighter. She reached for the brown jacket for identification. Inside was an ID wallet with blank piece of paper. Another ID wallet contained an United Nations ID, on it, the photo of an elderly man with shoulder length white hair, curling towards the neck at ends. The tag, simply identified him as "Doctor". There was no birth date and no expiration date, but the year issued was 1963. The man laying on the couch looked to be in his mid to late thirties. He certainly wasn't elderly. Looking back at the tag, she saw in fine print, "(letters "DNA" had been taped over the word "blood", which showed partly beneath) test needed to verify. Photo may not match presenter." What did that mean? Did it mean that he wasn't expected to look the same as his picture?

Phoebe replaced the ID in the jacket pocket just moments before keys fumbled at the lock of the front door. Her mother came through with her father close behind. "Phoebe dear, we got home as fast as we could. You know we were all the way up in Sunrise." Mother's gaze fell upon the couch. "Who's that?"

Phoebe said, "He had to have been in the phone booth. He's hurt really bad. I can't get any of the phones to work."

At the words "phone booth", a look of concern crossed her mother's face, and she went to patio door, and looked outside. "You weren't kidding! It really is an old blue...is it a phone booth?"

Phoebe's father went to the patio door and said, "Yeah, it's an old British call box."

They went to examine the man, and Phoebe's mother said, "Well he doesn't look that bad."

Phoebe ran over and sure enough, the bruise was now a light yellow. The leg was still broken but the gouge in his shoulder was nearly gone. "What? Nobody heals this fast." She pulled out her phone and flipped through the pictures she had taken of the man, and now that she saw the images back to back, realized that even as she was taking the pictures, he had been healing at an impossible rate. Phoebe looked up at her mother, handed her the phone and said, "What do you make of that?"

Phoebe's mother's eyes widened as she looked at the pictures.

"I swear," said Phoebe, "there's no way he faked it. I didn't take my eyes off him for any of those pictures." The man stirred but was still again. "Right, he asked for tea...and a mango."

"I'll stay out here," said Phoebe's father. He began trying to call on his own cellphone with absolutely no luck.

Phoebe and her mother went into the kitchen. Deciding that the Doctor probably wanted hot tea, Phoebe got out the tea pot and asked her mother, "How was the party?"

"Boring. I'm glad you gave me an excuse to get out of there." She got out the tea bags.

"So now you don't have to hurt Aunt Dee's feelings with a fake excuse." Phoebe filled the pot with water from the refrigerator and turned the stove on.

"One of these days I'm going to strangle my sister." Throwing her hands up, she said, "Phoebe, I just don't understand where that man came from. Blue phone boxes don't fall into people's yards and skinny men with sideburns don't fly them. It's like a Jules Verne book."

"I don't know, but I couldn't leave him out there. He was bleeding all over."

"And we're getting him tea? And a mango?"

"It's called hospitality. I'm pretty sure he didn't want to be injured in some weird crash."

"Phoebe, this is Miami Beach. You'd be surprised what people around here want."

Phoebe took the tea bag from her mother and dropped it into the pot, though the water was not quite boiling. Stirring it, it took another two minutes to boil. Once Phoebe was sure the tea was strong enough, she took the bag out with a spoon. Back out in the living room, Phoebe's father was trying everything to get the phones to dial out. The Doctor was awake, but still in a daze.

Phoebe set the teapot on the coffee table in front of the Doctor. "You're almost completely healed. You're leg even looks okay. After two hours, how is that possible?"

"I'm unique, but it's a good thing I didn't heal instantly. That would have meant I was dying."

"You mean, you didn't heal instantly?"

"No, you said so yourself. It took two hours." The Doctor turned to the tea. "Ah, you even brought me sugar and lemon and a bit of milk. You brought me a mango, too. Thank you so very much." The Doctor looked down at himself and said, "I'll need my shirt back."

"You won't want it. It's covered in blood."

"Ah! I was afraid of that."

Phoebe's father disappeared and returned a moment later with a tee shirt. The Doctor thanked him for the shirt and said, "I'm so sorry about your flower garden. I'll make it up you to you, I promise." Helping himself to a cup of tea and even pouring one for everyone else, he said, "She completely went out of control. There I am in Norway one moment, and then here I am in...Miami, was it? That explains the mango tree. Well, of course, I should have known better. I had just crossed the void between realities, and the vortex was still closing. The TARDIS must have been caught in the middle of an energy burst as the temporal fields of two separate dimensions collided and could have resulted in an inverse juxtaposition of space-time surrounding my immediate spatial and temporal location, which could have been very bad."

"Wow!" said Phoebe. "You speak Chinese, too."

"It means I could have gotten stuck on the wrong side of a wall."

"Are you from space?"

"No, I'm from Gallifrey. Nobody's from space. It's a big vacuum, isn't it? Not much can live in it. Well, some things live in it, but they're nothing you really ever want to meet. They certainly wouldn't sit politely with you having tea and slices of mango."

Phoebe's father could be distinctly heard saying, "The man's nuts," under his breath.

"Well, I can't argue with that, but consider this: there is a man in your living room who had a serious concussion, a crushed rib cage, and a broken leg, who by your daughter's own observation, healed completely in two hours. Is it so odd that such a man would have a unique world perspective?"

Phoebe's father stammered a bit and said, "Well, I guess not."

"There are strange things in this universe. You likely will never see but one or two of them. You've seen one tonight, but Earth is a tiny pebble in a vast universe. What is strange and otherworldly far exceeds what can be found on Earth. Why, just two days ago, there were 26 planets in the sky."

"The news said that was a mass hallucination. Something happened in the upper atmosphere."

The Doctor smiled and glanced at Phoebe. He seemed to be looking through her. "I'll say something happened in the upper atmosphere. I should know. It's the reason I ended up here." The Doctor finished his tea, and his mango and said, "Well, you don't have to worry about me. I will repair the damage to your flower garden and be gone tomorrow. Besides, it's only the major wounds that have healed. I've got a whole night of mending ahead of me." The Doctor laid back on the couch and folded his hands over his chest.

"Who are you?" asked Phoebe's mother.

"I told you. I'm the Doctor."

Phoebe hadn't been sure what the Doctor could do to repair the grievous damage that the blue box had caused to the gardenias and hibiscus, but when she got up the next morning and went outside, she was stunned to see the destroyed flowers in perfect condition and in full bloom. The blue box was now correctly standing and Phoebe really observed it for the first time. It looked like a blue box made from wooden panels. It had a lamp on top and along the top of the doors and every side was a sign that read, "Police Public Call Box." On one of the doors was a sign reading, "Police Telephone: Free for use of Public: Advice and Assistance Obtainable Immediately: Officer and Cars Respond to all Calls: Pull to Open." On the other door was some kind of emblem with the words "St. John Ambulance" posted upon it.

Phoebe pulled the little door and revealed a small antique telephone, the kind with the separate ear and mouth pieces. Closing the small door again, Phoebe turned to the Doctor, who was putting his finishing touches on the flower garden, which looked fantastic. Her mother had never gotten them to grow like that. The Doctor made no indication that he had noticed Phoebe's approach.

He said, "Are you attending a funeral?"

Phoebe had heard too many jokes like that to be surprised. "No. I always dress like this. Got a problem with that?"

"Not if that's who you are. I would still like to point out that it is extremely odd that a girl with hair such a wonderful color would prefer to dye it black."

"And how do you know my hair's real color?"

"Red with blonde highlights." The Doctor turned and smiled. "Just because you've hidden it doesn't mean others can't see it."

"Let me guess. My green eyes gave me away?"

"No. You're wearing contacts. Your eyes are brown." The Doctor stood and Phoebe saw that only his hands were dirty. "And you have a tattoo of a unicorn on your right ankle. It's washable but you put it there because you wanted to see how it would look if you got a real one."

"I decided not to get it. I-"

"Isn't he wonderful?" Phoebe's mother came briskly walking out with two large glasses of lemonade. "He even got my desert roses to start budding." She handed a lemonade to the Doctor. "Oh, dear. You should have told me you were out here. Take this one." She handed Phoebe the second lemonade.

"Thank you, Mrs. Willows," said the Doctor, lifting his glass. "Cheers."

"Cheers," said Mrs. Willows with a charmed expression. "You know, I'm having a party tonight. There will be a ton of people who will want to know all of the gardening tips you can give them. I'm not sure how you pulled this off. My flowers were flattened."

"Ah, flowers are resilient little buggers. You'd be surprised what they'll spring back from given the right stimulus." Phoebe caught a glimpse of a silver pen-shaped object going into the Doctor's pants pocket. "I'm sorry, though. I can't stay. I have things to do. I really can't ignore them."

"Come on," said Phoebe. "You deserve a break."

The Doctor said, "I wouldn't want to impose."

"Impose, nothing. You're a guest and you've been injured. The least we can do is make sure you're fully healed."

The Doctor said nothing but simply smiled and shrugged. As Mrs. Willows went back inside, mollified by the Doctor's cheerful smile, the Doctor turned to Phoebe. His stare was frightening, but somehow, Phoebe knew that there was no malevolence in him. He exuded kindness and joy, but in him was a sorrow beyond anything Phoebe could understand.

"Lets see...dressed all in black, with liberal amounts of leather...real leather; not vinyl...hair teased out to look spiky, pentagram hanging down the front, and is that a dog collar? Let me guess...the so-called Gothic lifestyle?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well, I don't see what you have to be so 'goth' about. Your parents seem charming enough, your house is beautiful, and you drive a new car to school."

Phoebe's first reaction was to wonder how any of that was his business, but as her mother had so often pointed out, she wore that business for all to see. She felt like she could relate to the Doctor better than anyone she ever knew. Not only did he act and think strangely, but there was something in his eyes that just screamed sadness. He knew sorrow so deeply, not only would he understand another person's sadness, but would never belittle that sadness as being less than his or somehow unimportant in comparison to others.

"Never compare yourself to anyone else," the Doctor said, startling Phoebe. "You are somebody completely unique and nobody can place a value on your personal experiences. The gravity of another person's life experience should never be used to judge your own."

The statement moved Phoebe so completely that she completely forgot the snide comment would she would have made to anyone else about psychic ability. Instead, she said, "I feel like I'm all on my own, you know, like, it's not like people don't understand; it's like they don't care enough to try, and that wouldn't be a problem, except you're expected to understand them. I just think, 'Fine,' and I just show them what they expect to see."

"Well, they really can't understand. Think about what they're trying to understand, whatever it is you want them to understand. They can't actually place themselves in another person's shoes. All they can do is imagine and very few people in this universe have an imagination. You can always tell the ones who do. They're the ones who make movies, write books, invent the machines that bring progress, and design magnificent buildings. How many of them do you think there really are when compared with all of the other people on Earth? It's a drop in the pond."

Phoebe walked over to the patio set, a white table with an umbrella shading it surrounded by four matching chairs. The Doctor, accompanying her, sat down and leaned on the table, resting his chin in the palms of his hands, his fingers curling up his cheeks. He said, "You know, what you're feeling is perfectly normal. You've got issues and that should be a relief. It's the ones who don't seem to have problems that you need to worry about. They're the most insane of us all. Do you know what's wrong with them? They actually believe they're sane. Every well adjusted person has things that bother them."

"If I'm well adjusted, how come the world always seems so skewed?"

"Because it is. I take it you don't wear that pentagram because you toe the accepted religious line. I mean, really: can you imagine anything more bizarre than a bunch of men in robes strolling through neighborhoods with big thick books looking for any sign of sin and debauchery they can find? Seriously, why are they looking so hard? A bit jealous? And what's so normal about a bunch of crusty old men telling you that you'll be punished for eternity unless you seek forgiveness for all of your basic bodily functions? Obviously, you think they're off they're rockers too or you wouldn't be looking for answers to all of your burning questions elsewhere."

"Who are you, really?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"Who do you think I am?"

"Can I use my imagination?"

The Doctor smiled. "I insist."

Phoebe took a long hard look at the blue box. Who pilots an old English phone booth? She took a look at the Doctor and took in his appearance. He had returned the shirt and got his own shirt with a tie and a blue suit jacket. In spite of working in the garden all morning, the only spot of dirt on him was his on his hands, and though she could not see them through the table, Phoebe already knew he was wearing those red Converse tennis shoes, which mismatched the suit horrendously. He looked human, but with deliberate mistakes.

"You are a man who has been alone for a very long time, so alone that there is nobody left to keep you company, so you look for people to talk to because you hate talking to yourself, because when you talk to yourself, you already know what you are going to say back, and where's the fun in that? That blue phone booth isn't really a phone booth and you're from a very long way from here. Is Gallifrey another planet?"

"Oh, yes."

"What is that phone booth, really?"

"Would you like to see?"

"Oh, yes."

At that moment, the patio door opened, and Mrs. Willows came out with a pitcher of lemonade and another glass for herself. "Would you like some more lemonade?" The Doctor raised his glass with a grateful smile and Mrs. Willows refilled it. "You know, Jodie Arnold may show up tonight."

"Really," said Phoebe, sounding hopelessly uninterested.

"Jodie Arnold?" asked the Doctor, significantly more interested. "Isn't that the designer who just recently dedicated a clothing line to the Malaika for Life charity?"

"Yes, and Mrs. Arnold is definitely in town. You've heard of her?"

"You're surprised?"

"Well, you kind of struck me as having your own self-image and no care for fashion. I mean, not to be rude, but those shoes with that nice suit? It's cute and gives you personality, but you won't see it on a runway."

"No, no interest in fashion. I'm more interested in humans when they're at their best, and helping to find a cure for malaria is certainly worth being interested in. Yes, I think I will stay."

"Well, I can't argue with that." Mrs. Willows took a seat and scooted over to the Doctor. "But you know, seriously, I can't just introduce you as the Doctor."

"Why not?"

"You can't tell me you don't have a name."

"That is my name."

"But that can't be a name."

"Why, is there something wrong with it?"

This seemed to take her aback, and Mrs. Willows tried to find her voice several times before saying, "Well, nothing I can think of offhand. Okay, Doctor." And she stood, slightly bemused, turned toward the garden and an expression of great pride crossed her face, and with a skip, went back inside.

The Doctor turned back to Phoebe and raised an eyebrow. He took a long drink from his glass and said, "Well, you wanted to see the TARDIS."

Phoebe opened her mouth to speak, but her mother's voice drifted out from the kitchen window. "Phoebe, I need your help for tonight."

Phoebe swore, drawing a disapproving look from the Doctor and said, "Why do I have to be the errand girl? It's her party."

"You know," said the Doctor, "you'll find this hard to believe but you really do have plenty of time. Go on. I can show you later."

Phoebe sighed with disappointment and looked longingly at the blue box. Drinking the rest of her lemonade, she put the glass down on the tray with the pitcher and went back inside to help her mother with the party. No doubt, she would have her doing those ridiculous kerchief ties and cutting out those ridiculous doily patterns. The Doctor went back to his blue box and disappeared inside, only to reappear a moment later, obviously perturbed. He patted the blue box and put his ear upon it, as if it were a beloved pet.

Jodie Arnold did not show up for the party. Who did show up were several design executives for area department stores, the Executive Vice President for Macy's, two headlining models for Victoria's Secret, as well as several runway models, and an artist working directly under Barton G Weiss. Phoebe had made no effort to dress for the occasion, drawing dirty looks from her mother, who clearly didn't approve of her daughter's dress. The Doctor felt he was beginning to understand Phoebe a bit better. Everything she did, she did for shock value. She seemed to relish the stunned looks she received. She was a child who needed attention and in this household, the Doctor could see why she was so desperate for it. Mrs. Willows was more interested in entertaining her fashionista friends. The Doctor did not fault her for it. Very few parents, after all, truly understood the needs of their children, and Phoebe had, at the very least, turned out honest and well-adjusted.

Phoebe, after making her rounds collecting coats, she sauntered up to the Doctor, obviously pleased with herself. The Doctor could finally see that she had gone all out. She had used hair-gel to great effect, with a hairstyle that would make Tim Burton or Marilyn Manson proud. Black lipstick and black eyeshadow with purple highlights accentuated her face. She was wearing black press-on fingernails with skulls on them. She wore a corset style dress with black fishnet stockings and she wore knee-high, black leather, buckle down boots. She carried a handbag in the shape of a coffin. When she finally reached the Doctor, she gave a slight curtsy, and came to stand beside him.

"You dress like that for their benefit, don't you?" The Doctor was barely suppressing his amusement.

"The gods and goddesses need to be reminded that they are here on Earth mingling with the rest of the commoners. The best way to do that is to simply not fit into their worldview."

"But what's the point?"

"Self-expression."

The Doctor smiled. Odds are, that was the best answer she could give him, but maybe not. Maybe she really understood. He'd give her that chance. "But what are you expressing?

"How I feel. What I think. The way they make me feel. I want to upset them and make them think, because they really don't think. The models are vapid and empty. The executives think the world stops and starts with money. The artists and designers think their opinion of beautiful is the only correct one. That's how the fashion industry is. They're all very shallow people. They are people who genuinely believe that your importance is determined by how expensive your clothes are. By the way, I'm glad you decided not change into something else. That suit looks great but they're all going to be mortified by the shoes."

The Doctor's eyes swept the revelers and he said, "They'll actually notice that?"

"Every detail. They're vultures."

"So, to clarify, these people generally make you feel like you're less than you really are. So to counter that, you dress to reflect their worst ideas in response to their shallow attitudes."

"Exactly," said Phoebe, a large smile spreading across her face.

"I notice you don't smile for them."

"You make me feel important. You make me feel the way they think they are. Whenever you talk to me you tell me things that make me feel beautiful. They don't. They're polite because of my mother, but that's it."

"Has it occurred to you that the ensemble you're wearing costs as much as what two of them are wearing?"

"Yes."

The Doctor smiled. "So what does your mother do that she knows all of these people?"

"She's a fashion photographer. She's worked for Vogue, Maxim, Ocean Drive, Fashion TV; you name it. She's done work for Elle..."

The lights briefly flickered out and came straight back on. The chandelier swung ominously and the Doctor could hear glasses rattling. The Doctor looked around, hoping to see the source of the disturbance. The revelers were disturbingly unfettered by the event, a few of them merely stopping their various activities for a moment and then continuing as though nothing had happened.

"Power surge," said Phoebe. "That happens all the time in Miami. Dad says it's because the South Florida power grid is too small for the number of people living here."

"I see, and do glasses usually rattle and chandeliers sway when it happens?"

Phoebe looked at him as though he had spontaneously grown antlers. "No, they don't."

"I thought so."

The lights flashed again, and the glasses rattled once more, but this time they didn't stop. While the chandelier never swayed more than a few inches, the rattling glasses grew steadily louder. Now the party goers were showing signs of alarm.

"What is that?" said Phoebe.

"Something's digging."

"You mean they're doing construction?" She gave him an incredulous look.

"No, something's digging up. This is an island, right?"

"Right, it's Miami Beach."

"Miami is a city and only a small part of the city is an island chain. Which of those islands are we on?"

"I don't know. We just call it South Beach."

One of the fashion designers approached, a small man with earrings and wearing a very effeminate ensemble and said, "This is Bayshore Island."

"Thank you."

But the man went on. "This is the main island in a series of artificial islands called the Venetian Islands, which are the home of a large portion of Downtown Miami-"

"Thank you, I know the history. I just wasn't sure which island I was on. What was your name?"

"Paul."

"I'm the Doctor." He turned to go to the front door.

"Where are you going?" asked Phoebe.

"Just to check on things." He unlocked the door to step outside and found himself facing two dark strangers, one male, one female, dressed extremely warm for Miami weather. Black suits and trench coats hid a white shirt and black tie. Their sunglasses looked ridiculous in the evening and their trilby hats made them look like mobsters. He felt the telepathic contact of two creatures attempting to invade his mind. They clearly believed that they were extremely powerful, but the Doctor brushed the intrusive contact away with a casualness belying the power of a mental juggernaut.

The two took a step back and then the male said, "Please come with us, sir."

The Doctor considered, and seeing the military vehicles driving down the street, he might have considered just to see what was going on, but the Doctor thought of the people in the house, shallow though they may have been, and without knowing what any of this was about, the Doctor decided it was better not to take a risk. "No, I don't think I will. I take it you're not here for the party."

"Sir, you are ordered to accompany us."

The Doctor shook his head. "You might consider rephrasing that. You have no authority to order anything where no laws have been broken and public safety is not in question and if you aren't government officials, then you have no authority to order anything except a hamburger and chips. Let me clarify: no." He put as much psychic force behind the word as he could. The two creatures flinched, as if jolted by electricity.

"Sir, you are not from this world and do not belong. You-"

"I am on a first name basis with the President of the United States, the Queen of England, the Dalai Lama, the Pope, and the President of Japan to name a few. I've more business being here than either of you, who know about as much about being human as a pair of Slitheen." The Doctor took a menacing step forward and the strangers fled. The Doctor took his first look at the troop movement, that seemed to be converged on a park on the other side of Alton Rd...or was it a golf course?

Phoebe appeared by his side and said so that only he could hear, "I knew you were from another world."

"Like I said, you need to use your imagination. So, do you want to see what this is about?" The Doctor offered his arm to Phoebe.

Not taking her gaze from his, she hooked her arm around his, stars twinkling her eyes in spite of the cloudy night. The Doctor realized that he and Phoebe must be a strange sight, a man dressed as though he was ready for a board meeting strolling arm in arm with a girl that wouldn't have looked out of place in a death metal concert. As they reached the perimeter of the military units, two fully geared soldiers approached, their weapons in their hands, but in a standby position. The Doctor could see the odd couple that approached him previously watching them at a distance.

The closer of the two soldiers said, "I'm sorry, sir. No civilians beyond this point."

"Ahh, right..." the Doctor reached into his jacket, the soldier tensing up at the action, but otherwise not responding. The Doctor pulled out his I. D. wallet containing his psychic paper and presented the blank paper to the soldier. What the Doctor wanted him to see was the credentials of a scientific adviser of great military importance. The paper didn't disappoint. "I think this should clarify my status. I'm the Doctor and this is my assistant, Phoebe Willows."

The troop glanced at her incredulously, clearly doubting her qualifications in any area. He asked no questions though, and said, "Right, sir. Right this way, sir." There was a characteristic movement in his shoulder.

The Doctor quickly said, "Please don't salute. Everybody always salutes."

The soldiers announced into a radio the Doctor's arrival to a person they addressed as Colonel and turned to lead the Doctor and Phoebe to the command unit. Phoebe, knowing full well the soldiers could hear her, said, "Doctor, I'm not sure about this 'assistant' thing. I mean, what can I really contribute here?"

"Ah, don't worry about it. You think anybody starts anything knowing any more than you? You'll do fine." The Doctor chuckled. "Ah, I see Hekyll and Jekyll aren't too happy I can walk right in." Indeed, the suited pair were talking very animatedly amongst themselves and violently gesturing in the Doctor's direction.

"Do you know why they're upset?"

"I'm guessing they fart in my general direction," said the Doctor, affecting a mock French accent. Even both soldiers couldn't keep from laughing. The pair, on the other hand, stopped and stood stock still. "Oh, my. I think they heard me."

"From this far away?" Phoebe was stunned, but there could be no doubt. The pair stiffened as they heard both the Doctor's statement and Phoebe's exclamation.

"Alright, so they look human, act somewhat human, dress human, but they have highly developed telepathic powers and have hearing so acute they put a rabbit to shame. Soldiers, what can you tell me about those two?"

"Creep me the hell out, sir," said the second soldier, the shorter of the two. "You said it. They can't be human."

"Where did they come from?"

"No idea," said the first soldier. "They show up at base about a week ago and then all of the brass starts going on about a possible terrorist attack in Miami. These two are giving everyone the information we're going on, right? So anyway, people start talking about an impending invasion, but nobody will say who or from where. These two are freaking everyone out meanwhile, saying there may not even be a country left to defend."

"Have either of you been hearing any alien conspiracy theories?"

"They're all over, are you kidding? We got one nutcase who's always on the internet going on about Grays, Reptilians, and God knows what else."

The Doctor looked over at Phoebe and said, "A picture is starting to develop. What do you think, Phoebe."

Phoebe looked at the two soldiers, who didn't glance back as they walked forward. She said, "It sounds like those two are telling everyone about some kind of alien invasion and for whatever reason, the army is actually listening to them."

"Yes, that's what I think, but I also think they're lying."

"Why?"

"That rattling you're feeling is coming from underground. It is a vehicle and it is carrying people. If there is an impending alien attack, why is the army looking down instead of up?"

"Well, who are the people coming up?"

"That's not the question. I already know who they are. The question is why and what is their intention?"

Phoebe asked, "Do you have any ideas?"

"I always have ideas."

"You mind sharing some of them?" asked the shorter of the two soldiers.

"Not until I have a few facts."

They walked on until they came to a white trailer. The soldiers marched the Doctor and Phoebe inside and there they saw communications switchboards, sensor equipment, and computers. The only human amenities to be found was a small hotplate, an office refrigerator, and a well-used coffee pot, the carafe of which was completely brown, with a black ring around the edge. There were several monitors mounted to the walls, each displaying camera feeds, and two showing images with spectrographic and infrared filters. A third monitor on the other wall showed sonar imaging. The trailer was more than tall enough to stand up in, but the walls were so cluttered, one couldn't help but feel claustrophobic. Two bored, yet attentive looking young men sat in chairs observing the monitors.

Leaning against a wall with an IPad in his hand was a stocky, middle-aged man who looked as if he had been ironed into his uniform. His hair was dark brown with flecks of gray at the sideburns. His face had that etched look, like a rugged man of the wilderness, not unlike Lee Marvin or James Coburn. He looked up and said, "Doctor, welcome to the front lines. I'm Colonel Seymour Darby." He dismissed the Doctor's escorts.

"The front line?" said Phoebe. "What, is Osama bin Laden hiding in Sobe?"

"No, young lady, and I don't expect one as inexperienced as you apparently are to have any sincere input."

"Now, now," said the Doctor, "there's no need to be nasty, and her question raises a valid point. I think a lot of people might be a bit bemused if they saw troops treating a tourist trap like a war zone. This isn't downtown Baghdad."

"That's true enough." Darby took a moment to silently assess the Doctor. Though he may have spoken dismissively about Phoebe, he didn't pass her over. He gave her a bit of a stare down, too. "There was some word that someone bearing your moniker might show up and if you did, you would likely have insight that was worth listening too."

"Well, that's good to know. At least someone's got good things to say about me lately. To the point then. I have, in my possession, zero information about what is going on here and now." A slight edge of irritation had crept into the Doctor's voice. He pushed it back, reminding himself that humans could sometimes be infuriating to deal with.

"What do you know about the Grays and the Reptilians?"

All of the Doctor's attempts to relieve his irritation failed at that moment. "Oh, not that nonsense."

"Nonsense? What do you think our two Men In Black out there are? They're Grays. They've been at war with the Reptilians for years and now the Reptilians want to conquer Earth for its resources. The Grays approached White House officials decades ago to warn them of the impending attack."

"Well, that explains twits one and two out there. Grays? Big black eyes? Tiny hands? Small mouths? No noses?"

The Colonel's face was mostly unreadable, but he seemed taken aback at hearing the Doctor call the Grays a pair of twits. "Yeah, that about describes them."

"Ocavri. This is starting to come together. Let me guess, the Reptilians aren't willing to risk a full aerial attack and so they created bases underground to dig up towards their targets. Somehow, they managed to do this near major populated areas without anybody noticing."

"Exactly."

The Doctor pursed his lips and failed to stifle a laugh. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry...but you've been suckered, mate."

The Colonel blinked in surprise. "Suckered?"

"Your Grays are called the Ocavri. They're a nomadic scavenger race that simply goes from planet to planet strip mining what they need to keep their race alive. Usually, when they meet inhabitants, they're primitive enough that Ocavri have little trouble destroying them. If you've ever seen the movie Independence Day then you get the idea. You are primitive next to the Ocavri, too, but advanced enough and numerous enough to be considered an unacceptable risk. The Ocavri can't just attack Earth without risking major losses. I can't begin to imagine what their plan might have been for humanity, but I can imagine that they scouted and surveyed Earth several times, even burrowing as deep underground as they dared.

"Like I said, whatever their original plan was, I couldn't say, but based on what you've just told me, it's easy enough to figure out what they ultimately decided to approach humanity with." The two technicians had abandoned their work and were listening with rapt attention. "If the Ocavri were to ever dig deep enough, they would find exactly the catalyst they needed to manipulate humanity with. You haven't tried to launch an attack against these Reptilians, have you?"

"The Grays," said the Colonel, stressing the word, "showed us a station that was just a thousand feet beneath the surface just a few miles from here. We sent a team of green berets in that never returned. These aliens have either killed them or captured them. I'm hoping I can get my men back safely."

"Yeah, they aren't aliens."

"Excuse me?"

"You're Reptilians; they aren't aliens. They're from here, Earth. They're natives. Alien would be a term reserved for people not from here. I'll bet they're sending a team up to determine why you launched an unprovoked attack. You may have started a war that humanity has no hope of winning, and the Ocavri will just sit back and circle like crows."

"Who are these Reptilians?"

"The original dominant species of this planet."

The Colonel's eyebrows were knitted together in consternation. He held up is I-Pad and said, "What do they call themselves?"

"You can't pronounce it with your tongue. The closest you can come to saying their name is 'Viaosssshan'. You won't find that name in your records. You call them Silurians."

The Colonel keyed in the name and apparently received information, because he began to read intently. Suddenly, he said, "I want everyone to hold back. Cancel our attack."

But it was too late. Even as the Colonel gave his order, the rattling ceased and an explosion ripped through the night. The trailer shook and several of the monitors turned white. The Doctor wasted no time, running outside with Phoebe following close behind. The Colonel ran behind shortly after and the Doctor, not paying attention to what was going on around him, made a direct line for the site of the explosion, where there was a vehicle of peculiar design, apparently designed to drill. The Doctor felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he saw three bodies in the wreckage. Approaching to examine the bodies, several soldiers approached to pull him back.

The Doctor shouted, "Let me go! If they die, everyone dies!" Though the Doctor was considerably stronger than a human, the three soldiers that were restraining him were too strong together to resist. When Phoebe tried to run ahead, they became distracted enough for the Doctor to break free. When he reached the capsule, he saw one of the bodies stir. Examining them, the Doctor breathed a sigh of relief as he realized none of them were seriously injured. The travel pod had protected them well.

Four soldiers came running out of a grove of date palms. They each approached the Colonel and saluted. "Sir," said the only female among them, "we saw three exit the wreckage and flee in the direction of Indian Creek. We weren't able to locate them."

The Colonel said so that everyone could hear, "We need to find them before a civilian does. Take them alive and unharmed at all costs."

Nobody had noticed the two black clad agents nearby. The Doctor wondered if they were shielding their minds as he certainly hadn't noticed their approached.

"Sir," said the male, "as they are enemies of the Earth, would not it be prudent to simply eliminate them on sight?"

The Colonel said, "Some new information has come to light and we need to clarify some things."

"Taken from a mysterious man that you have only just met tonight?"

"A man I was told to expect. The President personally alerted me to the possible appearance of this man and that he was to be given full consideration and his counsel taken into advisement. I have found his advice to be sound."

"Your government trusts us. It would be ill advised to have second thoughts with such a dangerous adversary beneath your feet."

"My government also trusts the Doctor, but you can rest assured, I am taking every precaution. These captives will be held under the highest guard at our nearest medical center."

"Medical center?" asked the creature, obviously disdainful.

"Yes, we have as much respect for our enemies as we do our allies. We can't have them dying in our custody, now."

"Yes," said the Doctor, intent on interrupting the creature's further objections, "any soldier in this country knows that all prisoners of war are required by law to be treated well."

Phoebe said, "Killing them would be un-American, and has anyone told you how dumb those sunglasses look at this time of night?" She turned to the Doctor and said, "Can I sing my rendition of Sunglasses at Night?" The two Ocavri stalked away, clearly displeased with the outcome of the debate.

Colonel Darby turned to the Doctor and said, "Now you had better be right. Those two have the President's ear and our only saving grace is that I've been ordered to fully assess the threat."

The Doctor smiled and said, "I wouldn't worry. I usually am right, and in this case, I'm completely certain. Let's go meet our three visitors from the deep, shall we?"

The Colonel, the Doctor, and Phoebe followed the medical crew as they took the three creatures to another trailer with a large red cross upon the side. Once the three reptiles were inside, they were each removed from their gurneys and laid on medical beds where they would receive treatment for their injuries. They were all apparently female, dressed in red uni-tards of a type of thick leather or vinyl. They wore creepy masks that formed to their faces.

"Alright Doctor," said Colonel Darby, "you said they weren't aliens, so who and what are they?"

"They're the first dominant species to evolve on this planet." The Doctor took a look at the figures laying on the beds. "They developed a civilization, scientifically advanced and warrior driven. They aren't war-mongers, but have a warrior mentality. They developed technology far in advance of anything you, or even the Ocavri could imagine. The only reason they never developed space travel was because they never had a real interest. They weren't like humans, breeding like crazy, so there was no resource depletion and no drive to look beyond our world.

"In the 1960's, a biologist that didn't have a great deal of knowledge regarding paleontology mistook two of this planet's evolutionary eras for each other and based on the age he had been given, misnamed them after the wrong era. He called them the Silurians. In truth, the Silurians did not evolve during the Silurian Era; they evolved during the Eocene Era, which was quite some time later in history. At the height of their power, the planet froze. During this time, humans were little more than vicious apes that attacked them without provocation. The Silurians, being reptiles, couldn't survive the extreme cold of the ice age and dug down towards the Earth's mantle where it was still warm.

"There, the various tribes used many methods of survival. Most chose to build giant stasis centers and put their population into suspended animation. Imagine their surprise when they woke up and found that violent humans had built a civilization while the Silurians slept. They could have chosen to simply conquer humanity and retake the surface. Some of them certainly tried, but didn't have the full support of the largest Silurian tribes. You see, most Silurians chose to peacefully wait to return to the surface until humanity was mature enough to accept its older, reptilian cousins. Now do you see what this little incident might, very well, have done?"

Colonel Darby looked over to the creatures and said, "So, that outpost was an observation point. Our friends out there said it was a staging area. Now we need to worry about the other three."

"If any of them are dead, Colonel, I guarantee that there will be conflict. As it is, we have to hope we can return all six to their people alive and well."

"I've got people out looking for them now. For the time being, I'm not involving local law enforcement, but at this point, I don't think I can avoid calling UNIT in."

"Oh," said the Doctor, clearly disappointed, "don't you think we have enough soldiers here? I'm not complaining, mind. UNIT has some fine men, but they do tend to take a rather hard line. Once the Brigadier left the service, they ended up even stiffer than they used to be."

"In charge of field operations for the South Eastern states is a Sergeant-Major Carolyn Harding."

"I know her. She, at least, listens to reason."

"I've already put in the call, Doctor. You're objections are noted. Unfortunately, on top of all of this, I've still got a missing team to locate."

"Brilliant," said the Doctor, returning to his normal cheerful self, "I'm just going to walk around and see what I can see."

"Looking for missing Silurians?"

"That, or sniffing out that rat I've smelled ever since those two Ocavri tried to arrest me. Always follow your nose." The Doctor put his finger on the side of his nose, slightly closing the nostril. "I have an exceptionally good one, you know." The Doctor turned to leave.

"Doctor, who are you, really?"

The Doctor turned back and considered for a moment, weighing whether or not he should supply an answer. "I'm a man in search of a vacation. Haven't found one yet. I've been looking for 500 years."

Phoebe looked on with awe. "I feel so sorry for the man who can't find a vacation in Miami Beach."

"That's the problem with being me. Most people go to work. In my world, work goes to me." As before, the Doctor offered his elbow, and without hesitation, Phoebe accepted.

They walked back across the green, for this was in fact a golf course, to the site of the Silurian drilling platform. They hadn't used missiles-too showy. The soldiers had apparently chosen to disable the vehicle using remote activated stationary bombs, positioned at the calculated site of contact. That explained why the vehicle had been cracked open, but not obliterated. It was also fortunate for the passengers. The shell of the craft was heavily protected and designed to be used in the deepest rock of the Earth at the highest levels of pressure imaginable. These explosives generated exactly the kind of force that the craft was designed to deflect, even if it proved more than it could handle. Missiles, which struck from above with high velocity and concussive force, would have spelled certain doom for the Silurian passengers. "What do you see, Phoebe?"

She circled the craft several times, looking in. She studied the debris and grass. After careful consideration, she said, "The craft was spartan. The controls were basic, there were only six seats. No apparent storage containers for food or weapons, or changes of cloths. I doubt the three missing ones took it all with them, and there just isn't much debris."

"Very good," said the Doctor, "this group didn't come to start trouble, and they weren't a simple scouting party, otherwise they would have exercised a bit of stealth. I'd say this was a diplomatic envoy. What can you tell me about the three runners?"

"Erm-they went that way?" she said, pointing at the tree line that marked the position of the river.

"Yes, anybody observing the tracks can gather as much, but did you notice that there are only two people running? The third is not moving her feet at all. Yes, they are all female, rest assured. No. The third is between the two and is definitely unconscious, and considering the amount of blood, she may even have lost a foot in the explosion. See how there are no tracks of the runners. The grass is too springy for untrained eyes to spot the flattened areas. All you can see are the tracks of the person being dragged, made even more apparent by the blood that dripped all over the place."

"So, they'll go back down?"

"No, this is their only exit. They're stranded. Coming up here is the equivalent of venturing to the moon. If your ship breaks, you're stranded with no hope of rescue."

Phoebe's eyes widened in the moonlight. "They need help."

"Yes, they do. One of them needs it desperately." The Doctor picked up something metallic, glinting gold.

"Who was this envoy? Who would they have sent?"

"Someone important, and the one who wore this wasn't just any government official. She was the daughter of the empress."

"Oh, shit. Are you sure?"

"I was the one who gave her this brooch." He put it in his pocket. "That just means I'll give it to her again. We have to find her."

Phoebe couldn't sleep, and before the sun was even up, she took her preferred mode of transportation to the golf course. Her dirt bike would be perfect for following the trails along side Indian Creek. The missing Silurian princess couldn't have gotten far, not with the injuries the Doctor suspected. They couldn't have outrun the soldiers either. They had to have hidden. In no time at all, Phoebe had left the golf course and was now in Bayshore Park, riding along sandy river banks that were off limits to the public. A sight on the bank made her coast to a stop and let her bike drop into the muddy sand. Something had made quite an impression on the beach. There were fresh footprints everywhere and large heaps of sand scooped out of the ground.

Phoebe looked around, never forgetting that U. S. troops were scouring the area, too. In fact, Phoebe wasn't sure she hadn't been spotted. She certainly had been heard, the motor of her bike roaring in the darkness. It couldn't be long before they came bothering her, telling her to leave immediately, or be detained or arrested, or whatever. Still, there was no sign of them. She remembered seeing pictures of forest scenes in magazines that were supposedly of soldiers, but apparently, their camouflage was so good they couldn't be seen. It was certainly possible there were troops here. There were enough places to hide, but Phoebe couldn't help but think that if they were here, they wouldn't have let her get this far along the river.

Just when she was reassured, she saw a leg, under a bush, the same color as the sand...no...it was caked with the sand. Camouflage. Phoebe uneasily bent to examine it. Yes, it was a person, but whoever it was didn't stir at Phoebe's approach. Then she saw a second leg. The foot was still attached, but only just barely. It was one of them. Phoebe had found the injured one. Then Phoebe heard the ragged breathing. She removed the bush and saw the creature. The other ones hadn't had their masks removed. This one, however was staring into Phoebe's eyes with nocturnal pupils. Her mouth open, her teeth roughly the same size as human teeth, but pointed with more pronounced fangs. Her skin was a translucent green, tight and scaled. There were bloody gashes along one side of her face, just narrowly bypassing an eye.

The creature said something, weak, dehydrated, barely perceptible. "You've found me. Now what?"

Phoebe found that her voice was just as weak. "What can I do? How do I help you?"

"You can start with water."

Phoebe was momentarily lost. There was water all around, but then she realized, it's all salt and the river is too brackish to drink. "Water," she said, weakly. "Water," she said, finding her voice. "Right! I thought of water. I have water." Phoebe dressed warmly considering the climate, but she did so because she was motorcycle riding, and in the inner pockets of her leather jacket, she had four bottles of water. She pulled one out, nervously fumbling with it, then finally opening it. "Here."

The Silurian grasped it between her clawed hands, which looked disturbingly human, as if it were a precious treasure. She tried to raise her head, but couldn't. Phoebe put her hand under the Silurian's head, which was cold-not good for a reptile-and helped her raise her head. The Silurian drank slowly until the water was drained. With a strong voice, she said, "Oh, it's clean too. Blessedly clean. I thought I was going to die." Without waiting to be prompted, Phoebe pulled out another bottle of water. The Silurian took it greedily, opening the cap herself and drinking it a bit more quickly. She laid back and licked her lips. Though her tongue was pointed it wasn't forked, to Phoebe's surprise.

"I was afraid you were going to shoot at me, and here I am, so helpless."

"I'm here to help. I'm a friend of the Doctor's."

A shout came from behind. "Enagrah pal bartlev mal!" Whoever it was may as well have been speaking Greek, but the tone could be understood universally. Phoebe's hands darted into the air. "Pal gwu." When Phoebe didn't move, she was struck hard in the back of the head. "Pal gwu!"

"Anuch," said the injured Silurian. "Enagrah vix dav helri brasvol ti. Chal bartlev mal." After a moment, the injured Silurian said, "You can put your hands down now."

Phoebe did so reluctantly. She turned around and saw another Silurian, dressed identical to the ones in the medical trailer at the army base. She had a gun of some kind. She couldn't imagine why it needed such a widely fluted barrel. She still had it pointed defensively, but not so menacingly as Phoebe was sure it was a moment ago. She turned back to the injured Silurian and said, "Look, you need medical treatment and I don't think the Doctor is that kind of doctor. Unfortunately, your fastest road to a medical doctor is through those soldiers, and I think we both know that the further away you are from them, the better off you are. Those aliens won't let you leave alive, I think."

"Then you've seen them too, have you?"

"Black suits, black hats, black everything, kind of like me but not as stylish. The Doctor says they're scavengers that just murder planetary populations so they can take their resources." She was sweating. What did a reptile make of sweat? Then she remembered herself. "My name's Phoebe. Phoebe Willows."

The Silurian smiled and said, "I am Bakra. Daughter of Hess, Alpha Prime of the Empress' High Guard. I am exposed here. It would help if we could get by the soldiers here."

Phoebe pulled out her phone, more shouts came from the Silurian behind her, but Bakra calmed the guard. "Do you think I can...I mean, the Army would monitor communications, right?"

"I would."

"Right," she dialed in a number and held the phone to her ear. After a moment, she said, "Jack, it's me. I need-Phoebe, who else would I be? This is an emergency, I need you to come to Bayshore Park. Bring the SUV, and remove the back seat. I had an accident on my bike. I need you-what? I'm okay. No. I'm fine. No. I don't need a doctor. No. I'm fine. I need you to bring your girlfriend, too. I know you have the bike rack on the SUV. Just get the back seat out. It's important. You'll see. Please hurry. What? The golf course side, by Alton Road. I'm by Indian Creek. Get as close to the trees as you can." She hung and said, "Thirty minutes."

During that time, Bakra lost consciousness. The guard relaxed and kneeled on her other side. As the time passed, Phoebe kept staring at her phone impatiently. The time crawled by. Eventually, she heard yelling, recognizing Jack's voice. Jack was her older brother. She called him and heard his ridiculous ringtone. "Keep your voice down. The Army's out here. I think I see you. Stay right where you are. I'll tell you later. I'll tell you later. Just...right. I'm right over here. I'll tell you later, I promise. I promise. I promise." She hung up the phone and said, "Sheesh." Looking at the guard, she said, "I'll be right back." She put both hands on her chest and did a peculiar pantomime. "Stay right here." She pantomimed putting her hands on flat surface.

It took her a minute to make her way to her brother. She saw his SUV on the road and said, "You call that close? I told you to get as close as you can. It's a sports utility vehicle. It can handle grass."

Jack was now fuming, and his girlfriend appeared next to him, looking rather inconvenienced. Jack said, "I thought you were hurt or something. Is this your idea of a joke?"

"I can't talk on the phone. They're listening. After what happened last night, they're probably listening to everyone in the area."

Now, Jack was puzzled, having looked disdainful at the clearly paranoid comment, and then becoming puzzled. "What happened last night?"

"There was an explosion. Look, I'm not alone. The people who are with me, one of them is hurt really bad, and it is really important that we fix her up. She cannot go to a hospital. I'm serious."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm...you won't believe me unless you see. I can't tell you because you'll think I'm nuts, or lying. You have to see."

"See what?"

"Just," and now she turned to Jack's girlfriend, who looked bewildered by the whole proceeding, "promise me that no matter what you see, no matter how strange, or scary that you won't scream, you won't run, and most importantly, you won't tell anybody. You too, Jack."

Jack's girlfriend said, "Yeah, okay."

Without waiting for her brother's response, she grabbed his girlfriend by the wrist and pulled her along. When all three reached the coast, she very nearly did scream, in spite of her promise. The guard had raised her weapon. Phoebe had her hands back up, this time trying to placate the Silurian, willing her to trust. The guard lowered her weapon again.

Jack weakly said, "Phoebe..."

"I don't her name, but the one who is injured is Bakra."

"Who are they, and where do they come from?"

"Underground. Deep underground. Can we please just get them out of sight?"

Jack fixed Phoebe with a hard stare. "If the Army is looking for them, then I don't think we should argue with that."

"No, we should. You weren't there last night. I was. These people didn't attack. We did. The Colonel even said that we attacked them. Then he took three prisoner."

"Phoebe, what colonel?"

"That's what I can't tell you right now. Look, these people were sent to us as ambassadors, to prevent a war, and the injured one is a princess. Get the SUV over here. Please, trust me. This isn't stuff I've come up with on my own. Please?"

Jack looked more like his father, with his dark blonde hair and gray eyes. He was also as muscular, an athlete playing on his college football team. His girlfriend's name was Carrie, and she was exactly the type of blonde cheerleader one might expect a football hero to date. Exactly the kind of person Phoebe would ordinarily hate, except she was nice and didn't put people down. She was also getting a nursing degree, so she was actually smart...somewhat. Thus, on some vague level, Phoebe actually respected her...kind of. After the initial shock, she simply stood by and watched, thoroughly stunned. Jack finally bowed his head and ran to move the SUV closer to the woods.

Carrie finally bent down to Bakra and said, "Phoebe, she's really hurt. It may not be such a good idea to move her without securing her."

"Can we?" asked Phoebe.

"I don't know. There's nothing around here that really looks suitable. There's plenty of bamboo, but nothing to cut it with."

"Well, they dragged her here all the way from the golf course. If that didn't kill her, I don't think a short trip to the SUV will." Then Phoebe finally realized something. "Hey, wasn't there supposed to be a third one of you?" The guard clearly couldn't understand her. "There's something else. You'd think the Army would be all over us by now, but it's like they're nowhere. I'll have to ask Bakra when she wakes up."

Jack came back at that moment. "There's nobody around here, but you weren't kidding about the Army. They've got all kinds of trucks coming in. We need to hurry."

Jack and the Silurian guard helped Bakra to the back of the SUV. They had moving blankets in the back and they were able to make Bakra a makeshift bed. Phoebe, the guard and Carrie climbed in the back while Jack secured her dirt-bike to the rack. Phoebe admonished him to leave the air conditioner off. When he got in, he asked her, "Now can you tell us what this is about?"

Phoebe explained everything. She started with the crash of the Doctor's mysterious blue box and explained about the Doctor himself, how he had healed spontaneously, showed Jack the pictures to prove it. She explained about his bizarre intimations that he wasn't human. She talked about how the military let him do what he wanted. She explained how everyone had said those men in black were aliens. High ranking military had said it right in front of Phoebe, almost casually, just because she was with the Doctor. She told about what the aliens had told the government and how the Doctor had exposed them as liars. She told them about the attack, the captured Silurians, the escaped Silurians and how she had gotten up especially early to try to find Bakra before the Army did.

"Should we go to mom's house?"

"No!" said Phoebe. "They're bound to be watching it, aren't they?"

"Well, we can't take them to the dorm. Try explaining them to campus police."

Carrie said, "I'd suggest going to my mom's house, except, Phoebe, I really do think we need to hand them over, if for no other reason than to get her medical treatment. Seriously, this could kill her. If she just loses the leg, she'll be lucky. A bad infection has set in."

"We have to get her back to her own people," said Phoebe. "They'll know how to help her. If the Army gets her, those men in black will make sure she's dead. I know it."

Carrie exhaled hard and said, "Let's go to my mom's. I'll get out my Merck Manual and I think I might want to get a couple of books on reptilian veterinarian medicine. I think I've got a book on iguanas somewhere."

A weak gasp said, "Are you trying to be insulting?" Phoebe and Carrie both looked down. Bakra was looking up at them, but with an obvious smile.

Phoebe said, "I thought you were resting."

"How can I rest with you making all of this racket? Do you have more water?" Phoebe pulled the third bottle from her jacket and gave it to her. "It's amusing," said Bakra. "I spent years learning English, ready for the day I might meet the homo sapiens, when I should have learned Spanish instead." Phoebe and Carrie both laughed.

Phoebe said, "I wanted to ask you, wasn't there supposed to be a third one?"

"Hmph, now I know you're not affiliated with your military. In the darkest hours of the morning, they came perilously close to capturing me. One of my bodyguards sacrificed herself so that I might evade them. She had intended to die for me, but she has been captured alive. I doubt she will be able to cope with the shame of it. I would never fault her and would even tell her I saw nothing but courage from her, but she would never hear it. It is not our way. We are warriors."

"The Doctor said that you chose peace rather than conquer us."

"Not from the kindness of our hearts. When we saw Ancient Egypt standing above us, our concern was not for the welfare of apes of this fledgling civilization, but for how many people we might lose crushing their civilization to dust. When human soldiers attacked one of our outposts that is nearby, many of my people saw it as the ultimate call. We would awaken our sisters and trample the human usurpers and then awaken our brothers so we could rebuild our society. My mother has no love of war, but she has no love of humans either, but she listened to me. After all, it would not be the first time in past hundred years that we have clashed with humans. I chose to come to the surface and meet with the humans. I wanted to negotiate peace. You saw what happened. Colonel Darby and I arranged to meet and then he attacked me."

"What? He knew? He knew you were coming to negotiate peace terms and he set up an ambush?"

"You don't think the Ocavri knew we were coming. Do you think your military intelligence had a sudden profound insight? We were attacked under a flag of truce. You're quite right to avoid them. I would rather die of infection under the ministrations of the human girl that came to me as a friend than to submit myself to the mercy of that oath breaker. I'm sure your president would have heard me. I'm certain my voice would have meant something to him."

"So what do we do now?" asked Carrie.

"Obviously, the path to peace is closed by Colonel Darby, which means we should find a way of bypassing him."

The Doctor didn't entirely trust Colonel Darby and he said as much to Sergeant-Major Harding. Her reassurances that the activation of UNIT meant he was no longer in operational command were not comforting. For one thing, the Odd Couple were still skulking about, present even at this meeting. Harding was young for her position, thirty at the most but it was clearly well deserved. She certainly commanded the respect of the men under her command and knew her job well. She reminded the Doctor of an ambitious Sergeant Benton. Alistair would have approved.

Harding wasted no time. Having the observed the formalities, greeting Colonel Darby and his staff, showing the respect due to the officers that outranked her, she immediately established operational command. Though this was no longer the Colonel's operation, the Doctor understood that he would remain behind to keep Harding briefed on the particulars of the situation. Harding on the other hand, was more interested in the Doctor. Though he and Harding had only met once, she was a colleague of Martha Jones, and had learned through that association to respect the opinions and advice of the Doctor.

She was Native American, and though the Doctor had never discussed her heritage, he was certain she was Sioux. Their first meeting had been brief, lasting only a few minutes, but her spirit was courageous. She had a strong sense of justice and an equally strong sense of logic. Her skin was light and coppery, her hair black, but the Doctor was quite struck by her strong resemblance to Susan Foreman. Susan had always believed the Doctor to be her grandfather, when in fact, he was her father. Though Harding's mind thought along very different lines than Susan, she had that same sense of logic and that same persuasive charm. Though her skin was a different color, the shape of her face, the build of her body, and even the sound of her voice was uncanny. In Harding, the Doctor saw Susan as a soldier, a rather chilling image.

Harding shook the Doctor's hand, her grip much stronger than her physique let on. "I recall you dislike salutes."

"Excellent recollection," said the Doctor. "Do you recall I dislike anything to do with the military? Not the soldiers personally, mind you."

"Your file makes your position quite clear. You are a decided pacifist. You have to agree regarding the need for a military presence in this situation, though."

"I have to agree to no such thing. In fact, I feel that it is the military's involvement that caused this situation in the first place. Indeed, I feel that the reason this situation escalated is because the military was allowed to try and fix it. Typical military strategy: 'If it's broke, hit it again.' I mean, bloody hell, the United States even try to open diplomatic channels before they sent a bunch of soldiers to attack people they didn't know from Adam?"

"Doctor, I assure you, we had no of knowing-"

"No way of knowing." The Doctor's voice dropped dangerously. "Dear lady, you are a member of UNIT. UNIT is an United Nations entity. It isn't just any operation. I made UNIT what it is, and as many times as the Brigadier and I dealt with the Silurians, considering what is on file about them, a ranking leader of UNIT had better damned well be able to figure it out. The Brigadier would have known better, and so would the men under his direct command. UNIT has always known who the Silurians were. Don't you dare tell me you've forgotten."

"Doctor, I don't think you understand the complexity of the situation."

"Complexity? I can promise you that I understand the complexity of the situation better than anyone in this room and if you want to prevent a war, which the United States will have started, by the way, then you had better start listening to me. Code Yellow, Silurian. Look up the file and familiarize yourself with it."

"I already have, Doctor. The Silurians have been aggressors in a number of our encounters with them. They have even admitted to hunting humans for sport during the early development of our species."

"Certainly. Humans were vicious, violent killers who often attacked Silurian settlements without cause or provocation. I witnessed it on several occasions. In fact, humans haven't changed much. Why, just yesterday, I witnessed vicious, violent killer humans attacking a Silurian reconnaissance probe without cause or provocation. Complexity. While we're on the subject, try looking up Code Red, Ocavri. It's in there. Find out a little bit about your oh, so trustworthy friends. These Silurians were here on an errand of peace."

Harding shook her head. "You have no way of knowing that."

"Oh, but I do." The Doctor held up the gold pin. "The High Commander of the Guard, Empress Ascendent was leading this mission. Tell me, what would happen if a foreign country tried to kill the President's children, took four of their guards hostage and then openly accused the U. S. of being the attacker?"

Harding said nothing. Indeed, she looked quite stunned.

"You fired first! Stop blaming them!" The Doctor turned towards the Ocavri. "You two are awfully quiet. Cat got your tongues?"

The male, the taller of the two, considered the Doctor from behind his glasses. Phoebe was right. It did look idiotic. "You have previously made a great deal of the fact that we are not human."

"Not true in the least. The fact that you are not human doesn't bother me in the slightest. It's the fact that you're Ocavri that I'm making a fuss about."

"You also are not human."

"True, but there's a difference. I'm not Ocavri. I've invested a great deal of time and effort into keeping this planet and its inhabitants safe. That fact is well documented among the governments on this world. Now, I have experience with the Ocavri. You have no interest in defending anybody." The Doctor took a step toward the male. "You have no good reason to be here. Let me stress, you have no *good* reason to be here." The Doctor turned to the Colonel and his advisors, Harding and her troops. "When you are expecting an alien invasion, you don't look down. This is common sense. The Ocavri could have come up with any number of lies, but they chose a particularly flimsy one."

The Ocavri female said, "It doesn't matter what anyone here believes. It only matters what the President believes." They made no overt motion. Nothing indicated that they had done anything. Yet they vanished in an apparent transmat beam. Only the Doctor wasn't surprised.

Harding was taken aback only momentarily and was the first to recompose. "Doctor, I will be briefing the President directly."

"I'm not sure it matters," said the Doctor, staring at the spot where the Ocavri had vanished from. "You have four Silurians who refuse to communicate with you. As far as the Empress is concerned, she has one unprovoked attack and now her diplomatic envoy has gone missing. The Ocavri may very well believe they've accomplished their mission. The Silurians are reasonable, but they rouse very easily, and in this particular instance they have been uncharacteristically patient. If I were the Empress, my next move would be to send an ultimatum demanding the return of my daughter, or face all out invasion. In fact, she probably won't be so cordial. She'll most likely just skip the ultimatum."

"But we don't know where she is," said Colonel Darby, in a calm voice, not despairing the situation, but merely adding a figure to the equation.

"Precisely. The Ocavri expected you to kill her. Now that they've been exposed, they'll settle for missing."

"Forgive me, Doctor," said Darby. "I had no idea it would escalate in this fashion. If that team had contacted us for parley-"

"Spare me, Colonel. The Imperial Guard would never have allowed their princess to leave the safety of her home unless diplomatic contact had been made with the surface. We both know bloody well they contacted you and if not you, someone who ordered you here. This was prearranged. You knew they would be here. You were ready."

"So what now?" Colonel Darby's voice was low and dangerous. The Doctor felt not the least bit concerned.

"What can we do? It's all done and buried anyway. Thankfully, you've operationally removed yourself. It's up to Harding to clean your mess up, now. If they haven't killed the troops you've sent in, likely, they will now that you've bombed their princess." Then the Doctor looked back at Harding. "As long as the princess is still alive, there's a chance we can resolve this peacefully." The Doctor made toward the door.

"Doctor, I need your expertise here," said Harding, her voice full of authority.

"You have it, but unless you plan on making me a prisoner, for the moment, I have something to do elsewhere. I won't be long. I'm just checking on my ship, see how her repairs are coming, and then I want to take a look at the wreckage in the daylight."

But the Doctor followed the trail first. The blood trail ended at the sandy bank of the Indian Creek, probably absorbed, but the Time Lord's sensitive nose could still smell it. However, there was another track he hadn't expected, a dirt bike. "Well, that's interesting." He followed the tracks until they led him to a poorly disguised set of tracks covering a campsite. A large hole in the ground suggested that someone had been laying there partially buried. There were five sets of tracks total. One set was definitely the injured Silurian, and another was her remaining helper. Two others, the Doctor could not identify except to say that one was male and the other female. Another track would have been unidentifiable except a single boot print had not slipped and left a perfect imprint. Definitely boots, size seven, with a heart in the middle. A smile tugged at the edges of the Doctor's lips. "Dear, Phoebe."

The Doctor tuned his sonic screwdriver to resonate with the particular energy signature that Phoebe emitted. He walked. He walked across the golf course, past caddies and down Alton Rd. He walked quite a distance until he came to Arthur Godfrey Rd. There, his screwdriver directed him towards the ocean and he followed the pull until Pine Tree Dr. It wasn't far now. The sonic screwdriver was practically trying to pull away from his hand. It led him to a small art deco apartment complex painted in pastel and seafoam blues. It led him straight to a door. That door opened into a stair case, and here, the Doctor saw mere hints of blood.

It was the first floor on the right, and the Doctor knocked. A young blonde woman answered. "May I help you?" Her voice quivered and she was under great deal of strain.

"Oh, I'm looking for a friend of mine; Phoebe."

"And who are you exactly?"

"Oh, I'm the Doctor. Just the Doctor."

With that, the young girl lost her composure. "Oh, my God, you're real. She wasn't lying. You're the-you're the-you're the..."

Another voice, a man's voice said, "Carrie, what's going on?"

The Doctor said, "Well, any moment, Carrie's going to figure out exactly whatever it is she thinks I am."

The man appeared and said, "Who are you?"

"The Doctor."

"The Doctor," he said, mimicking the inflection and tone.

"May I see Phoebe?"

"Watch yourself," said the man, backing up to let the Doctor enter, pulling Carrie away with him. "That's my kid sister, and you better believe I've got her back."

The Doctor smiled. "Exactly as it should be."

The apartment was small. The living room and kitchen shared the same room. One door led into a bathroom. Another led into a bedroom. There were shelves with numerous medical texts on them. Carrie, the Doctor gathered, was going to medical school as many of the texts had her name on them. Other than those, there were numerous books of Dungeons & Dragons, numerous fantasy novels, and some classics. There was a single couch. A thirty-two inch flat screen television hung from the wall, beneath it a set of shelves with a Playstation 3 and a stereo system as well as surround sound. Along the only remaining wall space, there was a spinet piano, a Baldwin Acrosonic. In the kitchen space, there was a GE refrigerator and matching stove and microwave and woefully small counter connected to a small sink.

The Doctor took a brief inventory of the books that interested him: Gray's Anatomy, The Merck Manual, the Complete List of Pharmaceutacals 2010, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the Picture of Dorian Gray, Dracula, The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone along with its sequels, the Hunger Games, the Holy Bible, the Nag Hammadi, Alice and Her Adventures in Wonderland, and the list went on.

"Cozy, very cozy," said the Doctor, "you have some of my favorite books on that shelf. Nice and tidy, a little more tidy than I like, but there it is."

Phoebe stumbled out of the bedroom and looked at the Doctor as though she didn't recognize him. "How did you find me?"

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, "Oh, a simple little trick really. You see, human beings each emit an unique energy frequency, which on the surface seem identical, but when you observe the minor fluctuations-"

"Never mind," Phoebe said, fending off what promised to be a lengthy explanation. "I need your help. The princess, she's-"

"Ah, yes, you found the missing Silurian princess. I assume she's through there, with her guard, who is no doubt prepared to fricassee me."

"Yeah, and you're probably right about the guard."

"Yes," said the Doctor, unconcerned, "they do tend to get a bit touchy when they're guarding princesses. That's true any species."

"Doctor, we can't understand each other. She doesn't speak English."

"Yes, that probably hasn't been problem since...oh, since I got within a mile of you, thereabouts. Funny thing. It's my ship that actually does it. It's a little psychic. It gets in people's heads. No need to learn a million languages. Everyone understands each other perfectly. We haven't been introduced, by the way." The Doctor indicated Carrie and Jack.

"Oh, right!" Phoebe, her hair now straight and hanging to her shoulder, in a black leather jacket, unseasonable, but appropriate for bike riding, indicated everyone with her open hand. "Doctor, this is my big brother, Jack, and this lady is his girlfriend, Carrie, who is very smart and has been really helpful."

"A pleasure," said the Doctor.

"Jack, Carrie, this is the brilliant, amazing, extraordinary man I told you about, the Doctor." Jack and Carrie each managed to mutter a hello. "Now, if you don't mind, Bakra needs help badly."

The Doctor closed his eyes in consternation. "Bakra? But there was nobody named...oh, I must have my time periods mixed up." The Doctor moved forward and went into the bedroom.

"Come no closer!" came a voice from the other end of the darkened room. Phoebe muttered something about the Doctor being right and that she understood.

"Okay," said the Doctor, "I'm stopping. May I at least turn on the lights? Rather difficult to see in here." The Time Lord could see perfectly well, of course. His question was met with silence, which the Doctor took as a yes. Flipping the switch, the Doctor could now see the Silurian, in full uniform, her mask firmly in place, with a plasma gun pointed at the Doctor. On the bed, Bakra lay awake, silently observing the proceedings. "I come to give aid. Are you going to just shoot?" The guard didn't budge. "Okay, I can just stand here and do all of the talking, meanwhile your princess's medical needs become more desperate by the minute. I'm not the military. That mask has some very sophisticate sensors, so you can see that I'm not even human."

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor. I'm here to help."

Bakra sat up. "Teeva, put away your weapon," she said gently. "The Doctor, my family has trusted for a long time."

"Highness," said Teeva, protest in her voice.

"Teeva, this is the Doctor. You know the stories. It is He of the Clay Face, the Lonely God of the Stars."

"He is just a man. I admit, he is right about what my sensors show, but however strange he may be, that is still blood I see flowing, not the Essence of Ardor."

"Even so, he is the man of whom the legends are written. You know he came with two hearts because his love could not be contained in one. Check your medical scanners. How many hearts does he have?"

The gun began to shake. Teeva was beginning to waver. "He has two, but he is no god."

"True enough, but there is a reason he was named so. He has guided my family many times, even as recently as showing my grandmother the path to our survival. The gold pin I wear was given to my grandmother by him."

The Doctor said, "Speaking of which, I found that pin at the wreckage. It was my intent to return it to you, unless Teeva intends to melt it with the rest of me."

Teeva asked, "Are you god?"

"Oh, I assure you, if you shoot me, you'll find out I'm not."

"Then how can a simple man be an immortal god?"

"Oh, that's easy. I'm a time traveler. I have some peculiar physiology that lends itself a bit to the illusion, too. I'm not immortal...theoretically. I just have fancy tricks."

Teeva lowered her gun and bowed, much to the surprise of the Doctor. "I am terribly sorry, Doctor."

"No reason to be sorry. The princess should feel fortunate to have such a dedicated protector. So this means you trust me now?"

"You have spoken not a single lie, and you said you were here to help."

The Doctor observed her, a bit bemused. Looking back at Phoebe, Jack, and Carrie, he said, "I just told her I'm a time traveler. You'd think a little incredulity would be called for, right?"

Teeva retreated to a corner, contrite and the Doctor approached Bakra, pulling the golden pin from his pocket. He affixed it to Bakra's shirt. "That's better." He then examined her wounds. "You know, I'm not that kind of doctor."

"I know."

"Of course, I do have some medical expertise. Carrie did a fine job on your wounds. Your foot, on the other hand, looks a bit worse for wear." Indeed, it appeared to have been crushed, the ankle broken, and at that point, much of the skin, muscle and fatty tissue had been torn away. "I don't think they'll be able to reattach this."

"I know."

"You're people can grow a new one for you, of course."

"I know."

"There isn't much you don't know."

Bakra smiled. "I have been instructed to be the master of my domain. I know what goes on in my body, and in the labs of others of the Vaioshan. So what now? You'll prepare me to make peace with the humans so the Ocavri usurpers can be exposed before all?"

"No, I think we both know Colonel Darby can't be trusted. I like to think Sergeant-Major Harding would be a bit more reasonable, but she's relying on information given to her by Darby, even now being fully aware of the Ocavri's true intent. No, I've never trusted the military and I don't think they can be trusted now. The Ocavri, on the other hand, can be trusted. They can be trusted to be deceivers and murderers. That's the difference between the military and someone predictable. With the Ocavri, you always know where you stand."

The Doctor felt a peculiar sensation on his back. Smelling the scent of the air and looking at the shadows, he realized Carrie had sneaked up behind him and was now holding something to his left heart, then to his right heart. "Oh, you must be joking." The Doctor turned to look up at her. Sure enough, she was holding a stethoscope. "Can't you exercise a bit of self-control for five little minutes?"

"You're not human," said Carrie, her eyes wide.

"Really? How did you come to that conclusion?"

"You have two hearts," said Carrie, her voice raising in pitch, the timbre becoming more tremulous.

"Now that you mention it, there is a very rare condition by which a human may have two hearts. It's called Clark's condition."

"You don't have Clark's condition," said Carrie through clenched teeth.

"You're point being?" The Doctor gestured toward Bakra. "She's not human. You don't seem to have a problem with her."

"She's from this planet."

The Doctor stood and smiled. "I see. As long you hadn't met an actual alien, you could keep some of your comfortable preconceptions, even after having met this pair, am I right?"

Carrie seemed to respond to this. "Yes."

"They're from Earth. You're from Earth. Up until I showed up, everyone was from Earth and everything could still fall under a rational explanation."

Carrie's shoulders slumped and relaxed. She nodded."

"There's a simple cure, you know. 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'." When Carrie looked confused, the Doctor said, "Every morning, think of eight impossible things before breakfast." Turning to Bakra, he said, "I'll fix all of this. I promise." He turned around and ushered the three humans out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Turning to the humans, the Doctor said, "I have to get back, or Sergeant-Major Harding is going to become insufferable."

Phoebe said, "Isn't there any way you can get her back to her people?"

"Easily, but that would be an incredibly unwise thing to do at the moment. Carrie, you've done an excellent job. Thanks to you, she will recover from the injuries that might have been life-threatening. Still, there is the matter of a horrible foot injury. Her people can repair that injury easily. You have to look at this from their point of view. They came in peace, and humans attacked them and caused these grievous injuries to their princess, and heiress to the Imperial throne, whose mother, the Empress of Vaioshan, commands an army equipped with plasma based weapons operating on an almost unlimited power source, with armor that can resist all but your strongest munitions. Furthermore, their society institutes minimum military service requirements, meaning that their army is, at any given time, between 50 to 80 percent of their population. Suppose we take Bakra home now. What do you think will happen?"

"Wait a minute! This is Colonel Darby's fault. He's the one responsible."

Jack said, "What do you think he's going to do? Admit he screwed up? Apologize? Do you think the Army would ever admit that?"

The Doctor said, "With the Ocavri effectively gone, the military has nobody to blame. You don't think they are going to take the blame, do you? Who's left? Me? I have 200 years worth of Presidential orders vouching for me. President Franklin D. Roosevelt personally granted me U. S. citizenship after I thwarted a Cyberman invasion during the Second World War. Thomas Edison would have been murdered by an assassin trying to steal his light bulb if I hadn't shown him how to create an audio record that he could use to record his enemies conspiring against him. Let them try to blame me." These extraordinary comments were greeted with dead silence. "Moving right along, what do you think the military is going to do?"

Phoebe said, "Blame the Silurians."

"Precisely."

"But they didn't do anything."

"Do you think that matters? That only means the Army can use its imagination when it makes something up. They do not care the cost, or the wars they start, so long as they are not held accountable."

"So how do we fix it?" asked Jack.

"You three, keep taking care of those two. Keep them out of sight. The time will come when you have to flee with Bakra. Phoebe, Teeva must be free to protect Bakra. She can't do that if she's carrying her. It'll be up to you and Carrie to help her. Not you, Jack. I'm afraid they have some rather strict taboo's about how they contact males." The Doctor went to the door.

"And where are you going?" asked Carrie.

"To find Things Number One and Two."

End of Part 1