This chapter is dedicated to Trickster, for being so awesome and being not only my first (and only) reviewer, but also agreeing to beta this fic.

And also badgering me to write more, because she knows I'll never get round to it otherwise. Pssh. I'll make her a Whovian in no time, mark my words. Or just of this fic. Either way.


"Because the thing is, I only found you by accident. Just travelling past when I saw this teensy little spaceship docked on the ice. And I thought, Axel 62, that's not right, that's not safe." He glanced over at Ixfin as he stood to his feet. The young man looked so vulnerable sat on the floor of the TARDIS, extensive burns only just masked by the swathes of bandages across his chest.

"And it isn't safe, of course it isn't. That's why it's category six, because it's just not safe. It can't even support life! I mean, sure, it has a breathable atmosphere – for most humanoid races, anyway – but the temperature, and the acid... No." He pulled a face. "Just, no. Unsafe. Stupidly unsafe. Good grief, you'd think your government wanted you dead or some–" He paused before looking up, eyebrows knotted in a frown. "...You said they were Frorling weapons."

"That's right."

The Doctor glanced down at him. "How sure of that are you?"

"I saw them with my own eyes, Doctor. At least a hundred missiles, buried underneath the ice."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "And just who would bury missiles on a planet so unstable that it might collapse?"

Ixfin clambered to his feet, scowling and wincing in pain. "People who didn't want them to be uncovered, I expect. Or–" His expression crumpled. "Or people who wanted them to be uncovered by the enemy."

"Possibly, possibly." The Doctor looked up at the roof of the TARDIS, in deep thought. "Somebody who wanted them uncovered, certainly."

"That explains the shells."

The Doctor turned to face him abruptly. "What do you mean?"

"The shells. They'd started to corrode because of the ice. Acid and all that."

"Acid!" the Doctor said suddenly, practically throwing his pointed finger towards Ixfin. "Acid! You don't make weapon shells out of materials that easily corrode, that would be stupid!"

"More stupid than excavating on Axel 62?" Ixfin meant it as a joke, but the Doctor's expression was perfectly serious.

"Exactly as stupid."

Ixfin frowned.

The Doctor just looked like he was in the middle of an epiphany. Perhaps he was. "They weren't missiles. It was all just pretence. They wanted people to think that there were Frorling weapons buried there, but then they went and blew up the evidence. Oh, that's clever." He gave a derisive snort that showed he didn't think that at all.

"But who are they?"

"Well, it obviously wasn't Fror. I'd hazard a guess at... Well, at Larth, actually."

"But Larth don't have that sort of weaponry. We lost the war, Doctor. If we'd had that sort of weaponry, we'd have used it."

"But Fror were better equipped. Bringing out your big guns would just have made them bring out even bigger ones, am I right?" The Doctor shook his head. "Fror came off better than Larth following the ceasefire, yes? So, your lot are bitter."

Ixfin opened his mouth to protest, but was cut short.

"Don't argue with me, I can see it written all over your face. When you tell stories, they're the villains. When something goes wrong, you blame it on them. Enemy number one."

"They slaughtered thousands of innocent civilians and methodically burned half a continent," Ixfin spat.

"And you didn't do the same?" The Doctor shot him a disbelieving look. "I've been around for centuries, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that nobody ever comes out of war with clean hands. There isn't a war in history where one side's escaped hurting innocents or broken moral codes, and there isn't a war where they haven't tried to justify it. So claim whatever injustices you like, but don't try saying your side aren't guilty of similar crimes."

"We didn't burn them," Ixfin choked out. "We didn't set fire to their cities in the dead of the night and have them wake to find their family's ashes."

"No." The Doctor laid a hand on his shoulder. "I don't suppose you did."

Ixfin leaned against the central console, blinking back hot tears.

"My point is," the Doctor continued, his voice softer now, "that I think, what anybody would want, in your planet's position, is revenge. Maybe not what they need, but what they want. And–" He waited for Ixfin to face him "–I think that that's probably a bad idea. Because that'll only start off the conflict all over again. And I think you've seen enough wars for your lifetime."

"But the Voluptran Council called a ceasefire," Ixfin said. "If either side restarted the war, they'd take action."

"Exactly. So what Larth would need to do is, they'd need to restart the war and make it seem like it wasn't their fault. By blaming it on Fror."

Ixfin's mouth fell open. "They weren't Frorling weapons. Larth buried them there."

The Doctor said nothing, preferring to simply look grim. He turned away to the central console and began adjusting various controls.

"So you mean that...they're trying to start another war?"

The Doctor nodded. "It would seem that way."

"But they've barely recovered from the last! That's madness."

"Well, yes. Except that they'll have the Voluptran Council on their side, which increases their chance of winning rather significantly. Strength in numbers and all that."

Ixfin hurried to his side. "Then we have to stop it. Take us to– Can you take us to Larth?"

The Doctor regarded him with a sombre expression. "To do what? They initiated this plan, and you expect them to just abandon it at the drop of a hat?" He shook his head. "If anything, they'd silence you so that you couldn't interfere. Take you prisoner, or kill you, or..." His voice crept to a murmur. "Worse."

Ixfin remained undeterred. "Then take me to Fror. We can warn them, make sure they're prepared."

"I'm not taking you into a war zone," the Doctor answered sharply. "You tell them to prepare themselves, and then they'll actually break the ceasefire. Then there'll be no way of helping them."

"So what?" Ixfin searched him with desperate eyes. "We just let it start all over again? Sit it out in your ship and just watch them burn?" A tear trickled down his cheek. "I have friends down there, Doctor. And I won't let them be slaughtered by a needless war."

The pair stared at each other for several moments before Ixfin broke away, lower lip trembling, and headed for the door.

He cracked it open, and was met with a gust of icy wind. A hand rested above his and pulled it shut again. "I didn't say that."

"So what do we do?" Ixfin spoke to the door rather than to him. It was easier.

"Well." The Doctor paused, and when he spoke again, his voice came from further away. "I thought we might pay the Voluptran Council a visit. Only first, I think you might rather want to get some clothes on."

Ixfin looked down. He was still in only shorts and bandages.

--

"Very nice," the Doctor said, not even turning to face him. All his attention was focused on the console, which was now brilliantly lit up in blue-white hues.

"I didn't want to wear anything that might get ruined," Ixfin replied. The clothing underneath was in decent enough condition – a white shirt and blue shorts that came down past his knees – but the coat that he wore was tattered enough to make up for it. It looked as though it might have started life as a labcoat, though the white had long since faded to grey, several buttons were missing, and barely a seam remained intact.

"Why, are you planning on ruining it?" There was no answer, but it seemed the Doctor wasn't expecting one. "So, Voluptran Council. I'm assuming this is your first flight aboard a TARDIS, so you might want to hold on tight."

The light of the glass column shivered, and Ixfin had the stomach-churning sensation of moving without being able to see himself doing so. He clutched onto the console with one hand and clamped the other to his mouth, mumbling through it.

The Doctor looked at him. "Pardon?"

Ixfin swallowed before risking an attempt to speak. "Haven't you got any windows?" he repeated.

"Windows?" The Doctor stared at him as though he were barking mad. "What would I want windows for?"

To see out of? Ixfin bit back the obvious reply and cautiously removed his hand from the console. He stumbled towards the doors and cracked one open slightly. He was expecting fresh air. There wasn't any. They weren't on any sort of planet; instead, they were whizzing past streaks of the universe in an odd pirouette that only made him more nauseous. He shut the door and shrank to the floor, burying his head between his knees.

"Atmospheric stability field," said the Doctor, without so much as a glance toward the young man. "So yes, it's perfectly safe to open the door, don't worry, thanks for asking."

It was then that he saw Ixfin huddled on the floor. His expression fell. Without another word, the Doctor leaned across the console and reversed levers, twisted dials and jabbed at display screens until the ship came to a slow and juddery halt.

A few seconds of silence passed before Ixfin raised his head, looking positively green. The Doctor walked over to him, hands in pockets.

Ixfin tentatively glanced up to meet his gaze. "Whereabouts are we?"

"Don't know." Something in the Doctor's voice was alarmingly cheery. "I've travelled with hundreds of companions, but I can honestly say you're the first I've met who gets time-travel sick. The TARDIS made an emergency stop. I don't blame her. Probably thought you were going to throw up on her circuitry." He kept his gaze warily on Ixfin, as though he were still very much expecting the same thing.

The young man merely stared straight back at him, though he felt slightly green. "You're speaking as though your ship's alive."

"She is."

"Right."

"And you can wipe that expression from your face, too."

Ixfin frowned. "What expression?"

"The oh-dear-I'm-travelling-with-a-madman expression."

The light within the glass column wavered.

The Doctor shot it a sidelong glance. "I don't know what you're laughing about. I've half a mind to drive us through some turbulence, see how you like that. No, I know it won't damage your infrastructure, but it'd be interesting to see how well your interior deals with having him onboard." A pause. "No, I am not a madman."

"You're talking to a spaceship," Ixfin pointed out, rather loudly.

The Doctor turned to him, perfectly at ease. "I've found she often offers better conversation than the alternative. No offence intended, of course, but she's highly sophisticated technology."

"Let me guess," Ixfin said, with a vaguely amused expression. "You built her."

"Built? You don't build a TARDIS, you grow it. You can't just build a sentient spaceship, you know."

"My mistake. So you grew her then, did you?"

The Doctor scratched at his chin, suddenly looking very awkward. "Not exactly. More...acquired under dubious circumstances."

"You stole it."

"Let's not jump to conclusions."

"I notice you're not denying it." Ixfin folded his arms, ignoring the twinge of pain from both his shoulder blade and left elbow.

The Doctor heaved a sigh. "Look, it's a long story. The point is, she is mine. TARDISes are telepathically linked to their pilots. For all intents and purposes, I'm her owner. Okay?"

"And you're all right with being 'owned', are you?" Ixfin asked the glass column, a hint of irritation in his voice.

The TARDIS didn't move.

"Oh, I see. You only answer him, is that right?"

"Not quite," the Doctor corrected. "She just doesn't like you yet."

"Oh, thanks."

The Doctor pulled a face. "Oh, come on. You've only just met. Give her a while. Besides, you were threatening to be sick just a second ago, it's no wonder her first response is to keep her distance." He glanced over, caught Ixfin's expression, and coughed. "Anyway," he continued, as the machine whirred back into life under his expert hand, "ready for another try?"


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