I must have been on something when I concieved this idea. I've decided to write River's first meeting with the Doctor, in the hopes it's never covered on screen. Expect some ElevenxAmy and some ElevenxRiver over the chapters. Enjoy and don't judge me too harshly - this is my first fic that's not a oneshot.
The disappearances started on May 1st 4999.
The air outside Henry Jones's house was sweet with the smell of marzipan as he made his way to vote. He smiled - it was one of his favourite smells. Ever since the second global warming disaster in the 41st century, the air was now filtered for toxins and purified, with a new fragrance added daily.
He and his wife, Magenta, kissed their children goodbye and assigned the home computer it's duties for today.
"GOOD MORNING MR AND MRS JONES." The onboard computer welcomed them to their vehicle as usual, in its usual toneless female voice. Twin cups of herbal tea hung from cup holders.
Silently, their car took off.
The hover-strips were busy as cars carried voters to the town centre.
"Busy, isn't it?" Magenta's attention was on her communications device; no doubt e-messaging her business partners.
"IT IS VOTING DAY."
"Thank you, computer." Henry pressed the mute button.
"She enjoys joining in the conversation, Henry." Magenta berated her husband. "Don't silence her."
"I wouldn't need to if you hadn't installed a sarcasm app." shot back Henry with a tiny smile.
Magenta grinned back. "It gives her a bit of edge."
The car parked itself a short walk from the voting booths. Henry and Magenta made their way to the waiting room. Magenta saw one of her colleagues and disappeared to chat.
"RESIDENT HENRY JONES. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO VOTING BOOTH 45."
He followed the holo-directions to his cubicle and locked the door behind him. The computer took fingerprint scans and voice recognition software confirmed his identity.
On screen, the candidates flashed up. His hand hovered above his choice. The first alien Prime Minister – he was definitely a fan. He wondered what his wife would vote – after all, discussion of politics was forbidden.
"RESIDENT HENRY JONES, YOU WILL NOT BE VOTING TODAY."
"But its voting day." protested Henry. "I got an e-message and everything."
"RESIDENT HENRY JONES, YOU WILL NOT BE VOTING TODAY."
"Fine." He turned around. "Door, open."
It remained solidly shut.
"What the fnarg is going on?" he swore, hammering a fist against the door.
"RESIDENT HENRY JONES, YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED FOR THE LUPUS PROJECT."
"The what project?" Henry frowned. "I didn't get an e-message on that. I thought I was just here to vote."
"RESIDENT HENRY JONES, YOU WILL NOT BE VOTING TODAY."
The floor beneath him opened up and he screamed as he plunged into darkness.
*
The deep, metallic groan of an ancient machine as a small blue box materialised into existence. The door opened and a head peeked out.
"Ah, we've landed."
The voice seemed much older than the man whose mouth it came from; he was young and unscarred, with long, brown hair and deep green eyes. His lanky frame was garbed in an older man's clothes – a tweed jacket and a silk blue bow-tie.
The man crossed to the edge of the building they had landed on and looked down. "Excellent." A broad grin crossed his face.
A Scottish woman, barely out of her teens, followed him out of the curiously small box. She was pale and thin with vivid red hair which fell in curls onto her shoulders. She was dressed in her usual contemporary clothing – today wearing an oversized red t-shirt and black leggings. "Doctor, where are we?"
"Welcome to the 50th century London." The Doctor gestured to the sprawling city below.
They were at least ten storeys high, looking down at a futuristic metropolis of sorts; everything was in varying shades of silver with the occasional emerald-green patches Amy supposed were parks. Cars were flying – actually flying – along semi-transparent roads that were stacked on top of each other. Looking upwards, the sea was sapphire and shining in the brightness of the sun.
"Has the sun always been that colour?" she asked, noticing it was electric yellow.
"The sun's much older now." said the Doctor. "Of course, the Human Race has years until it explodes. I've been there too. End of the World. Bit of trouble with a very vain woman." he added, with boyish glee.
"London's not a coastal city." Amy noted.
"50th century, Amy." said the Doctor, tapping her on the nose with a long, pointed finger. "Didn't you pay attention in geography? Erosion and all that?"
"Why didn't they try to stop it?" asked Amy.
"Are you kidding? In a hundred years, most the human race has took to the stars. Well, those who can afford it."
The pair paused for a moment in silent contemplation before the Doctor chirped up. "Anywho, shall we explore?"
"Allons-y!" In a Scottish accent, it sounded almost like a war cry.
The Doctor paused, considering Amy carefully. "What did you say?"
"Allons-y." repeated Amy, a rather devious smile on her face. "I was always very good at French."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, and then shook his head. "Never mind."
A buzz of the sonic screwdriver and the rooftop door swung open. As they stepped inside, lights burst into life; revealing they were in a large glass box with a holo-keypad.
Amy, wide-eyed, examined the surroundings. "Where are we?"
"PLEASE STATE YOUR IDENTITY." An unfamiliar, robotic voice boomed from above.
"Elevators of the future – bossy things." said the Doctor, tutting, as he pointed the screwdriver at the keypad. The light changed from blue to white and hummed.
"IDENTITY ACCEPTED. WHICH FLOOR DO YOU REQUIRE?"
The Doctor cleared his throat. "Ground floor please." Silently, the door shut. They were descending.
"So tell me about the 50th century." said Amy, wonder shining in those green ovals. "What's it like?"
"Let's see, you have a female Prime Minister – the twelfth, in fact – a Ms. Wanda Tundra. She's nice, represents the Green Party. Did the air smell funny to you?"
Amy nodded, confused. "It smelt like peppermint, but I couldn't work out–"
"–One of her policies. Giant converters, deep underground, sucking in the air, cleansing it and pumping it back out with a nice fragrance. 'Course, wouldn't be necessary if you watched your emissions. Global warming from your time gets sorted by the 28th century but there are solar flares, so you flee to the stars. Come back – fresh new Earth. And what do you do? Change your habits? Become greener? No – it's back to your old ways and by the 41st century, it's a disaster." He sighed. "So you do this to prevent an ice age." he paused. "Doesn't stop it, just delays it though. But sssh." He winked.
"GROUND FLOOR."
The doors opened to reveal a spacious room. Great deals of people were gathered in small groups, waiting for something. A general hubbub of conversation filled the air. High above their heads, in flashing neon letters, was "VOTING STATION ALPHA."
"'Voting station'?" read Amy, bemusedly. "Is there an election?"
"Must be." said the Doctor, who was frowning. "I thought we'd landed in 4998. There shouldn't be an election 'til next year."
Several feet away, a computer screen was embedded into the wall. The Doctor strode to it, Amy shadowing him. As they came into view, it lit up, displaying strange graphics and voice-wave patterns.
"GOOD DAY. HOW MAY I HELP?"
"Information, please."
"You seem to know what you're doing," noted Amy dryly. "Been here before?"
The Doctor pressed his fingers against the alien symbols on the computer. "It's your basic human-computer interface. Touch screen, voice activated – pretty standard. I'd estimate it has about six thousand times the capacity of a PC from your time. These public ones are prehistoric compared to the ones used by businesses and in homes."
He paused.
"Oh, I see."
"What do you see Doctor?"
Before he could answer, a disturbance distracted them.
"Get your hands off me!" cried a female.
"You are in violation of your rights, madam!" replied a deep male's voice.
The Doctor tore off with Amy sprinting after him. The crowd parted as they reached it, silence has now descended upon them.
"You are violating my rights." the woman insisted.
"Madam, you know that discussion of voting is forbidden, as is an attempt to access another resident's voting cubicle."
The Doctor and Amy made their way to the front of the crowd.
The woman was Amy's age, diminutive but more curvaceous than the Scottish girl, with excessively curly dirty-blonde hair and light caramel skin. She was dressed in a turquoise blouse and a flowing black skirt. Her hands were balled into fists. The man opposite was dressed in a long black robe, with receding white hair.
"There is something strange happening!" The woman was now shouting to the crowd. "People are disappearing."
"Madam, calm yourself or you will be retrained."
"Not until I know the truth!" shouted the woman. "And it has something to do with the Lupus Project!"
"RESIDENT RIVER SONG. YOU WILL LEAVE THE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY." The computer's voice was strict; anger seemed to be seeping into its usually toneless voice.
A beam of light came from the ceiling. It illuminated her and for a moment, she froze. As her particles dissolved in the light, the Doctor pointed his screwdriver in her direction, a strange look on his face. The bulb burned blue as the light vanished, leaving no trace of the woman.
"Doctor, what's going on?" asked Amy in a whisper. Everyone was staring at the spot where River had been. "What happened, where has she gone?"
"Teleported away." the Doctor replied, reading from a tiny screen on his screwdriver. "They sent her somewhere but clever me – I'm too clever sometimes – I've tracked her to her destination."
There it was again – the blazing in his eyes. He was keeping something from Amy.
"Keep up Amy, we're going to chat with an old friend. Allons-y!"