"It's not working!"
Donna Noble's raised voice carried across the TARDIS console, through the grate and down to the Doctor who was buried, shoulder deep, in a mass of writhing cables. Around them the ship quaked and rattled. Loose pieces of what the Doctor considered collectable items rolled and bounced over the rocking floor landing in inopportune places, making Donna curse. Dust filled the air, shaken from its usual hiding places by the ferocious jerks and twists. Overhead lighting had failed, and with each slow lurch of the TARDIS the uplighters under the metal flooring flashed. A distant tolling bell rang out an ominous warning, spurring the Doctor into frantic action. He wriggled deeper into the bowels of the console, random squawks of concern leaping from his lips.
"You have to make the lever move!" he shouted in frustration., "We're caught in a riptide in the time streams. Very rare, very dangerous. The TARDIS is being pulled apart."
"I can hear that!" Donna bit back through gritted teeth as she put all her weight into dislodging the stuck lever. Travelling with the Doctor as amazing, flying with him was an altogether more trying experience. Donna found it hard to believe that he knew how to fly his own time machine; they seemed to spend half their lives clinging to railings, beating the console into submission with a hammer, or crash landing somewhere the Doctor had not intended to be.
With a violent shudder the TARDIS sent a blast of horizontal steam from the central console just over Donna's left ear. She shrieked in anger as another container of collectables opened and shed its contents. Propelled by a sudden roll of the TARDIS a large silver object bounced from the floor to the console and landed an inch from Donna's nose. She grabbed one of the handles and swung at the lever, clouting the offending control with sufficient force to make the metal object ring hollowly.
Against her predictions the lever moved and the familiar grating sound of the TARDIS dematerialising rose from the consol. There was a loud electrical pop, a pained yell, and one final lurch as the TARDIS dragged itself to safety. The lights dimmed, the TARDIS shook, and a great surge of power swarmed through the central column. Golden clouds of ether seeped from the console, the light so brilliant even through closed eyelids Donna could see the swarm of amber light. The light penetrated her skull, swamped her brain and just as she thought she would pass out it snapped out of existence. A small puff of smoke rose from the column where the Doctor had been working and a dirty, grinning face emerged from the nest of wires.
"Look at the state of you." Donna used her best impersonation of her mother's condescending tone. She was blinking away the dots of brightness that half blinded her but her eyes were alive with laughter.
The Doctor raked a hand through his electrified hair making a passing effort to calm the wild static energy from his follicles. He looked terribly pleased with himself, wearing his broad grin and sporting his unnecessary spectacles which tilted on the bridge of his nose. He looked, Donna thought, like any other man who believed he had solved a complicated problem single-handed and against the odds. Cocksure and smug.
"I knew I would get us out of there," the Doctor swaggered across the room., "I just had to cross the binary induction cables and…"
"Electrocute yourself," Donna interjected, giving him a hard stare that stopped him in his tracks. "I released the handbrake you doughnut. Seriously, why can't you buy a can of lubricant, and spray that lever occasionally?"
Donna hefted the silver thing with handles and brought it into her own view, turning it around on itself as she did so. Two hollow eyes with a tear drop at the outer corner of each stared up at her. Taken by surprise she stared at it for a moment wondering if a voice would appear from the small slit of a mouth then. When it remained silent, she waved the terrible find at him, her face alive with indignation.
"And what is this? Is this some alien custom of yours? Keeping the heads of your enemies floating about your ship? What else have you got rolling around in here? A skull? Is that why the store cupboard back there smells so bad? Do you have the real live mummy in there?"
The cyberman's head flew towards him, a perfect shot for hitting him square in the chest, but the Doctor caught it deftly. His toothy grin dropping a little as he looked into the vacant eyes.
"Alas, poor Yorik…"
"Don't you dare!" Donna grumbled, her anger dropping now so that all that was left in her voice was feigned frustration. "The last time you quoted Shakespeare you made me sit through the entire works at that colosseum on Abaram Prime. My backside has never been so numb. You didn't even tell me to bring a cushion."
The Doctor affected a look of academic horror, "It was a classical experience, I thought their interpretation of a Midsummer's Night's Dream was inspired."
"They sprayed the audience with fairy dust and performed the entire play in our dreams," Donna complained. "That's not inspired; it's down right creepy."
"Suit yourself," he replied with another grin. "Did you use Yorik here to hit the lever?"
Donna nodded whilst making a surreptitious check of the console for damage. "It worked a lot better than whatever you were messing about at under there."
An aggrieved look landed briefly on his face as he inspected the console and the severed head for damage. Seeing none he tossed the lump of inert metal into an open grate, flipped the cover shut with his toe and dusted his hands off on his jacket.
"We've stopped," he said. "I wasn't expecting that."
"Have we landed?" Asked Donna, joining him by the view screen which fizzed like a broken television set. No amount of robust tapping from the Doctor's open palm was encouraging the device to produce anything other than snow.
A curious frown was forming on the Doctor's forehead, emphasised by the black residue from whatever had exploded under the console.
"It didn't feel like we landed," he replied as he checked other dials and displays carefully for any clues, "Did you notice anything?"
"I've only been here a few weeks," Donna grumbled, "Not exactly your seasoned traveller yet, am I? How do I know if we landed? Something different happens every time. You've crashed us at least twice, landed upside down, and materialised on the wrong side of an airlock. If you're supposed to be a professional time traveller, you aren't giving over a fantastic impression."
"Oi!" he protested, giving his companion a playful glare, "I'm not a professional anything. I'm a Time Lord. My people didn't travel alone, it's hard work flying a TARDIS when all you have is your own set of hands and a partially trained ape. And, I'd like to point out, when I landed upside down I was still trying to remove the handcuffs from the prison cell in the Orlando Nebula. I had both hands tied behind my back and a rather large bowling ball attached to my ankle."
Donna's grin widened, "Excuses, excuses."
The wild fizzing of the monitor diminished, and the Doctor turned his attention to their current predicament. He caressed the control panel with a gentle hand and closed his eyes, listening to the song of his TARDIS as she became still and calm. The heart of his ship called out to him and he reached out to her with his mind. She sang in a low, melodic hum,, contented to be wherever they were. At her core the time vortex rippled in golden rivers. Though he could sense its movement, it was distant from him and had been since his last regeneration. It had burned with him in the moments after he had saved Rose Tyler, flowed through his veins, broken every cell and exhausted his body to the point of regeneration. Since that day the Doctor had kept the vortex at a safe distance in his mind and did not wander too close to it when communing with his ship.
With a nudge from Donna the Doctor opened his eyes and followed her gaze to the display which had cleared. Now it showed the world outside, a place rather like earth. In distance people walked by carrying baskets or bags of supplies and a market with small produce stalls was doing a roaring trade. It was a scene of urban bliss, and the kind of planet Donna had been hoping to explore.
"Looks peaceful," Donna said. "Oh and look, there's a cake stall. I bet they do a nice Victoria sandwich."
"Victoria sandwich?" the Doctor guffawed, then swallowed his humour as he caught Donna's withering stare. "Oh, right, well then, I could just do with a piece of cake a cup of tea. Shall we?"
"Come on then, Spaceman," his companion slid her hand around his elbow and led him towards the TARDIS door, "You're buying."
The Doctor toyed with the idea of telling her he had no money, but instead decided that just this once he would buy or trade without argument. Donna had been putting on a brave face since they had left the Oodsphere just a few days earlier. Then there had been the unfortunate misunderstanding that had led to their arrest, and the subsequent handcuffs. Donna Noble was in need of a nice cup of tea and a piece of cake, and just this once he would oblige.
The TARDIS door opened onto the square of a small but busy town. A warm and pleasing breeze moved the air circulating the exquisite and exotic aromas of the market stalls. Sweet pastries, cooking meats and spices fought in a battle to accost the olfactory senses, their strong scents drawing in many customers making the street a hive of activity. The background sound of a happy hubbub filled the air and though the marketplace was small, twenty or more stalls filled the cobbled square. There were tables with homemade household utensils, a cloth merchant hung her wares over the sides of a large cart with bales of colourful cloth stacked high in higgledy-piggledy fashion. Beside the well at the centre of the square stood a hardware merchant, behind him a jeweler and artist, and further back still lay the wares of the food sellers.
"Hot breads!" a child's voice called from behind them, and a small boy walked by with a tray of steaming bread rolls. He paused beside them for a moment. "Best bread in the town, I promise."
Perusing the tray, Donna thought the rolls were very much like the steamed bread her mother's neighbour, Mrs Li had made for the annual Christmas do at the WI. The anaemic, cloud-like offerings had tasted heavenly with hot and sour soup. Donna had a sudden craving for Chinese food and wondered if there was a place here that would do sweet and sour chicken balls with rice. With no sale forthcoming the boy walked on into the crowd.
"This place is amazing," Donna exclaimed as they walked into the crowds. "Look at all this stuff. I don't know what to look at first."
"I thought we were going to find cake," the Doctor pouted a little.
"Over there," Donna replied, nudging him so that he followed her outstretched finger.
Like the rest of the market the baker's stand was busy. A woman, short in stature with hair as red as a London bus, helped her child to select a tasty treat. Though Donna could not hear her words her voice was musical, and she spoke as if singing a lullaby. Her child, a small boy with a snub nose and dirty cheek was staring hungrily at a large cake with blue fruits layered on top.
Donna considered the choice of cakes with a sudden hunger. The selection was immense, and it felt as though the choices went on forever even though the table was small. Like the TARDIS the table was bigger on the surface than should have been possible. The cake with blue fruit stood in front of a row of doughnut shaped offerings, behind them were over sized cupcakes sprinkled with icing and the 1980's favourite from school, silver edible ball bearings. These in particular had attracted the Doctor's attention, and he was helping himself to a blue iced sponge which was as big as his palm. Scouring the table Donna's eyes lighted upon a distinct cream and jam filled creation. The jam, she had to admit, was deep purple, and the cream was... well it was cream not white, but it looked delicious. After a bit of bartering from the Doctor, which involved offering two packs of playing cards for the food, the trader beamed at him and the exchange was agreed.
"So where are we?" Donna asked, her mouth half full of alien Victoria sandwich.
"No idea," The Doctor shrugged munching on his purchase. "Oh, I haven't had edible ball bearings in years! These are brilliant."
"They're called dragees," Donna corrected him, and on the astonished look on his face continued, haughtily, "I did Home Economics^ at school. I'll have you know I was great at baking. Granddad loves my scones. Better than Mary Berry's*, so he says."
"Don't let Mary Berry hear him say that," the Doctor grinned.
They took seats on the square stone wall that surrounded the well at the centre of the plaza. The Doctor crossed his legs to sit in an awkward lotus pose, teetering a little before correcting his position, squashing his cake a little in the process. Donna handed her food to the Doctor to hold while she levered herself up beside him using both hands. She gave him a solid stare as he raised the cake to his nose for an inquisitive sniff and stuck his finger in the filling. With a half guilty look he licked his finger and handed over the damaged remains.
"It's like living with a five-year-old." Donna muttered loud enough for him to hear. Then she grinned. "How come you don't know where we are? I thought you always knew where we were."
"Well," he drawled, keeping his eyes fixed on a distant clock tower, "When I put the coordinates into the TARDIS I know where we are supposed to be going. This is more of a magical mystery tour. We sort of dropped out of the time stream this time, no planning. It's fun, don't you think?"
Donna considered this with caution. They had been travelling together for only a short while. Though Donna had said a few weeks, it was rather hard to tell. She had seen amazing sights, things she would have walked past, oblivious, 2 years ago. She had found the Doctor after a whole year of searching, seen funny little human fat creatures elevated into the sky by a tractor beam, and then there was Pompeii. They had drunk cocktails on an interstellar transport whilst watching two nebulas collide, spent a night in chains in a medieval cell and saved the Ood race from slavery. In days Donna guessed that totalled six, maybe eight... add another week for the unrepeatable Shakespeare experience. Fun was a dangerous concept where the Doctor was concerned.
"As long as we're not being chased by aliens with scissors for hands and there are no giant spiders living in the middle of the planet, yeah, this is fun. The minute we start running for our lives or the police show up we are out of here."
"Killjoy," the Doctor retorted with a wink. "Good choice on the cake though. I could do with a cup of tea now."
"No-one does a cup of tea like Betty at the hairdressers on Elmwood Drive."
The Doctor, however, was not listening. He was staring at the street with a quizzical look on his face. The shoppers were all humanoid if not human. They had two arms and two legs, hands, feet and heads were of normal proportions for earth, their faces were roughly symmetrical. Skin colour varied. More than half were a deep ebony colour, their scalps naturally bald, their eyes a magnificent golden yellow and their clothing the shade of every colour of the rainbow. Others with less exuberant clothes walked among them, simple shifts of grey, their skin almost translucent. These people seemed to slip unnoticed through the crowd, vanishing at points and emerging somewhere improbable. There were children of various ages. Some kept close to their parents while other running amok through the vendors, laughing and ducking out of the way of adults that passed by. There was nothing remarkable about the scene, it could have been a street on any number of worlds, at any point of development.
The street itself had no distinguishing marks. Whilst the well was a solid construction the style was basic and one common throughout the history of the universe. The houses were clad in orange clay, the buildings two storeys high, roofs of deep red tiles. In human terms they could be Mediterranean, but it was a style used on many worlds. Worn cobbles under their feet were smoothed by the footfalls of millions, the once uneven ground made calm by centuries of dirt and wear. In all his years of travel the Doctor could recall no place in space or time that was so indifferent. Perhaps the place was a quirk of nature, perhaps beneath the surface lurked a darker, seedier side of life. Perhaps at any moment the earth would split apart and a ravenous beast would emerge to devour them.
The Doctor held his breath. Waiting. After 90 seconds he shrugged his shoulders and let out the long breath. Uneventful, mundane, but restful.
In the silence between them Donna had taken the time to observe the scene herself. Perception was not something Donna had been known for before she met the Doctor. Earth shattering, universe changing events had occurred right before her eyes but pre-Doctor-Donna had failed to see them at all. Since her almost wedding to the traitor Lance, Donna's eyes had opened and her perspective widened. She did still miss quite a lot of the big important things happened around her but the small things, they caught her attention. Like the fact that every person in the market place had tan sandals. Every single one fastened on the left side of the ankle with a bronze coloured clasp.
"Maybe I should invest in a shoe shop?" her obscure comment made the Doctor blink in confusion. "They're all wearing the same style. I could make a fortune."
"It's a bartering system," he explained, his words calculated and slow. "How much cake would you get for a knock off pair of Jimmy Choo's?"
His dismissive scowl made Donna roll her eyes, and she changed the subject. "Are we going to explore then? We should at least find out where we are so we can write chalk it up as visited, good cake, no drama. Seriously, have you got a catalogue of planets? You know, like the library? It would help keep track of where to visit - and where to avoid."
The Doctor sniffed, his nose wrinkling with displeasure at the idea.
"Too mundane and organised for you?"
"Now you come to mention it," he agreed, hopping up from his seat offering Donna a hand down from her perch.
She ignored his proffered hand and shoved herself clear of the wall and landed with flare, giving him a small look of triumph.
"I'm going this way," she said. "Are you coming?"
Donna stalked off leaving the Doctor bemused but smiling behind her. When Donna had invited herself aboard the TARDIS he had been nervous of having company. Life had been complicated with Martha. If he allowed himself a moment of reflection, he would acknowledge their first months together had been blighted by his recent loss. The final months of Martha's tenure as a companion had been bitter. Martha and her family had suffered because of their connection to him. Becoming his companion was a dangerous occupation and though he knew that alone he himself liable to be reckless he could not bear the thought of breaking or losing another friend.
Having a travelling companion gave him focus. He was not a loner at heart and having someone to share his travels was comforting. And Donna, well Donna, was like no-one he had ever met. For the first time since Canary Wharf he felt alive, and he knew Donna was the reason for that. Her attitude, her sense of humour, her determination and her pure innocence, and most of all he loved her bossy streak. It kept him in line.
Donna strode off into the crowd in search of the local shoemaker and something that might approximate a cup of tea. As she moved further down the street, the stalls thinned out and a row of shops appeared that reminded her of her school trip to York in the 1990's. Quirky little shops with tiny windows lined the narrow row, the doors propped open and the front walls hung with displayed goods. After peeking inside one or two and finding nothing of interest she came upon a curio merchant whose property bulged from floor to ceiling with wooden trays. Each tray contained weird objects, some ancient oddities from prehistory like flints, arrow heads, carved idols and plaited beads that had long since lost their colour. Other trays overflowed with items that, despite looking old and worn, must have been created thousands of years later, ornate musical instruments made of metal, components that looked like they belonged in computers. It was an eclectic mix and one that did not seem to fit with the world outside the shop.
Curious, and determined to find something unusual to show the Doctor, Donna pressed on into the tiny store. Moving passed rows of ordered boxes labelled as mechanical parts for a variety of machines she had never heard of, Donna found herself drawn to a desk at the back of the shop. Mountains of goods reached from floor to ceiling, dimming the light and making every step a matter of careful precision for fear of dislodging one of the stacks of drawers and causing an avalanche. With caution Donna slidled around a large glass cylinder that was twice as tall as her and reached up into the ceiling. Slithering between two rather large statues of Anubis she reached the desk that so held her fascination.
The desk itself was old. Dark wood curled ornately on strong, wide legs. The front contained two side drawers and a folding writing area inlaid with deep red leather. Neat shelves made up the back of the desk and an array of papers spewed from every nook and cranny. In the centre of the desk sat an orange globe. It was perfectly spherical, about the size of a basketball with dotted segments that reminded Donna of a chocolate orange waiting to be cracked. Made of what appeared to be glass an amber glow swirled as the gaseous matter turned hypnotically. Her hand hovered over the ball, fingers trembling with a kind of fear and excitement she loved. There was something special about this item, it drew her in. Her fingers froze millimetres from the surface her gaze caught in the sudden passionate swelling of the cloud within. A silence drifted in around her. She could no longer hear the street outside, the voices of the shop workers next door who had been arguing about a broken plate. Her heart beat in her ears; a constant thud, thud, thud that drummed out thought. The need to hold the globe was almost overpowering.
It was a sudden and deafening crack that broke Donna's concentration. She shook herself, snatching her extended fingers back from the globe as a low, persistent, rumble rose from the ground making curios rattle. The precarious stacks wavered, each unsteady tower pushing against its neighbour until, in a crescendo loud enough to raise the dead, the boxes and their contents tumbled like rain.