Vulpana, the Loupeire System, 2195 ESC (Earth Standard Calendar)
Deep in the pits, a wheezing noise reverberated through the bowels of the mining craft. Slowly, agonizingly, a blue box forced its way into existence. The doctor stuck his head out of the door.
"Don't suppose there's much point in asking why I'm here? Or even where exactly here is?" he asked aloud.
The Tardis gave no response, which he took as agreement.
"Fine" He scowled, lower jaw jutting out in sullen displeasure. "I'll play your game for now, but if this turns out to be another pointless stop…" he let the statement hang, before surveying his surroundings.
"Metal gantries, pipes on all sides, I'm guessing engine room?" More silence. "Wait… No, those aren't engine pipes. They're pumps. So... So this is a mining vessel. But what are they mining? There's dust accumulating, but it's not due to time, it's all too fresh. So, mining something that is rather difficult to refine, lots of waste…"
He stooped and picked up a handful of the dust, sniffed at it and pulled a sour face. "Argentyle, a by-product of Triphase silver. Which means…" He pivoted on his heel. "Which means you need an awful lot of weapons grade silver. Now what could you want all that for?" He stopped when his brain finished processing the image it was getting from his eyes. The woman in front of him was pointing a rather powerful looking gun at his face which, in his experience, was never a good sign. He smiled. Wonderful.
"How did you get on-board?"
"Answer my question, darling. Then maybe, if you're a good girl, I'll tell you." He gave her a condescending smirk, grinning at her down the barrel of her own gun.
"I'm not going to answer to some trespassing freak." She snarled
"… But I asked first."
"What?"
He cocked his head to one side. "I'm sorry love, I didn't realize you were hard of hearing." He cleared his throat and repeated. "I. Asked. First. So. Please. Could. You. Answer. Me. Before. I. Answer. You... Thanks."
She stared hard at the man before her. He was a young man. Tall, with fair skin and a shaggy mop of black hair and a scruffy half beard. There was a pair of old welding goggles hung around his neck and a pair of black combat boots on his feet, their steel toecaps clinking as he danced from foot to foot. A long black leather coat that put her in mind of an ancient sci-fi her brothers had loved when they were younger, layered over a dark grey hoodie and black skinny jeans with patches on the knees.
"Who are you?"
"You've still not answered my question, but I'm the Doctor." His voice was a mess of accents she couldn't quite follow. And his eyes were balls of jade fire, burning right to her heart and soul.
"A doctor? Like an actual, proper doctor? Did you come because of the signal?"
"Why, who's hurt." His face softened a touch.
He was dragged through the corridors of pipes and pumps into a brightly lit room. There, slouched in a chair, was an old man. He was clutching a bloodied bandage to a large gash along his left side. He eyed the Doctor suspiciously.
"He don't look like no medic."
The young woman rolled her eyes, "Grandpa, please. He came to help."
"Yes, exactly, I'm the Doctor, here to help. What exactly did this to you?"
"Who do ya think, ya dingus. Same enemy we've been fightin' for months. The Lupan."
