Chapter 2: Spaceships, Manuscripts and a Cuppa Tea
There were six of them, whatever they were. They fell alarmingly quickly, the signature pop-pop-pop of the sound barrier being broken by multiple objects remarkably loud. When they were close enough, Christopher had a concept of what they might be.
"Landing pods," he said. The Doctor looked at him, a little surprised and a little impressed.
"Exactly," the Doctor said.
The devices were perhaps twenty feet tall and fifteen wide, shaped a bit like sharply-angled teardrops. They were a dull silver, all rivets and harsh steel. Their wide bottoms were made of a black metal that had heated to red with their fall. While Christopher lost sight of them as they passed beneath the edge of his vision, the lack of impact booms suggested that they had slowed their descent.
And then they were gone.
"What just happened," Liz asked.
"I think," said Rory, "I think that your town might have just been invaded by aliens."
"Exactly right, Rory," the Doctor grinned like a loon. "You, Christopher, Chrissy, tell me something."
"What's that?" Christopher was as confused as everyone else.
"How would you write what we should do next?"
"What," Christopher was stunned. "How did you know that I was a writer?"
"Easy," smiled the Doctor. "You have calluses along the edge of your wrists and fingertips: you type often. You're at home, in your pajamas, at what appears to be noon. And I've read your collected works. All 44 novels. You are Christopher Dawkins, correct?"
"I've written seven," Christopher said.
"So far," the Doctor winked. "So tell me. What happens next?"
"We head off to examine the landing pods."
"No we do not," said the Doctor. "We go inside. We sit down. We wait about five minutes. Because nobody, and I mean nobody, lands in that amount of style without wanting to convey a message. We're not going to them. They'll come to us."
The Doctor was already heading for the door. "Also, and this is important, so keep your ears open, there's a reason that the air smells like roasted pork and the leaves taste bad, and I do not want to go meandering off until I know exactly what that reason is."
The Doctor opened the door and walked inside. Christopher looked at everyone.
"So, um," he said, "do you want to come inside?"
Rory shrugged. "I could use a cup of tea."
"Yeah, me too," said Amy.
Liz looked relatively more frazzled. "You're not at all shocked by the fact that alien spacecraft just landed here?"
"Alien spacecraft have been landing in my backyard since I was a kid," said Amy. "Best get used to it."
They went inside. Up the stairs. Into Christopher's flat. The Doctor was already heating water on the stove.
"Lots of manuscripts lying around," said the Doctor.
"I write more than I publish," said Christopher. "Um, could you explain why we're…"
"Sitting around, drinking tea?" The Doctor danced about the kitchen/dining room, opening cupboards.
"Yeah, that," Rory, Amy and Liz sat around his modest table. Each of them looked distinctly uncomfortable in their own way.
"Well," said the Doctor. "Here's why. I know nothing about what just fell from the sky. The design, the method. All different from what I'm used to. Do you know how strange that is?"
"It's very odd," Amy answered. "HE knows more than is good for him."
"That," said the Doctor, pointing in confirmation. "Now, ordinarily, that would have me running off. But, BUT, there's a co-related problem. The air smells like pork, the leaves taste like hydrochloric acid and the TARDIS. Is. Asleep."
"You keep saying that," Amy said. "The TARDIS is asleep. How can the TARDIS be asleep?"
"Oh, parts of it are always asleep. Functions flicking on and off. Usually it only lasts less than a second," the Doctor grabbed 3 mugs, an empty jam jar and a teacup and laid them out. "But for some reason, a main function stayed asleep."
"Main function," asked Rory.
"Shielding. We were spinning through the Vortex and hit something and were knocked here. Because we didn't have a shield. Why?"
"Because your shields were…asleep," said Liz.
The Doctor pointed at her next. "That! Okay, so…"
"Wait," said Liz. "Wait. Before you go any further, before you say another word, can someone explain what the hell is going on? Who are you people? What is the box, and what the hell is a TARDIS?"
Amy looked at the Doctor. Rory looked at Amy. And the Doctor looked at Christopher.
Christopher scratched his nose. "I'll try. Okay. So. This is the Doctor. He is an alien. Rory and Amy are humans. They're…married?"
Amy nodded.
"Okay. The box and the TARDIS are the same thing. They're some form of spaceship and, if I am right, a time machine. The Vortex is…a hole? In space and time?"
"It's more of the place linking all spaces and times."
"Okay, so," Christopher continued. "These three travel through space and time. And, if I am right, the Doctor isn't a doctor-doctor or a professor-doctor. He fixes things, though."
The Doctor snapped his fingers. "Very good."
Liz looked shocked. "How did you work that out?"
"I write sci-fi," Christopher said.
"No, really," Amy said. "How?"
"He went to school to be a detective," the Doctor said.
"It's in the biography section of my books," said Christopher.
"You? You're a detective," said Rory.
"No, I write sci-fi," said Christopher. "But you'd be surprised how handy detective-skills can be when writing."
Everyone blinked, except the Doctor.
"Okay," said Christopher, "most of it was told to me. But let's say it like this. Amy and Rory aren't wearing rings, but they face each other when they sit and talk, especially Rory. They're not wearing rings because on their travels rings can get in the way. Evidently they travel a lot. From what I've seen, I have to assume they're not insane, and so they must have been telling some truth. Which means that they travel through space through this Vortex. However, the Doctor's watch is linked to the TARDIS, meaning it's time must change automatically. Why? Because they are traveling through time as well as space. The Doctor was confused when he didn't know the time. Because he is so used to knowing. Everything falls into place."
The Doctor grinned. "You are smarter than your books give you credit for."
"I have difficulty translating the process," Christopher coughed.
The kettle whistled and the Doctor sprung back into action.
"So why do you write science fiction, then?" Liz looked genuinely interested.
"Well, long story short, I decided I didn't like investigating. I tried to write a detective story but halfway through it changed into something else. Aliens and spaceships and all that. My path was set."
"Tea's ready," said the Doctor, and he set a mug or jar in front of each of them. He took the cracked teacup and saucer. Christopher gathered milk and sugar and set them out.
"I don't have honey," he said.
"We'll manage," Amy grinned.
They all sipped.
"Is it just me," Christopher said. "Or does this seem really…strange."
"What?" The Doctor was still pouring sugar into his cup.
"We're sipping tea while aliens have landed outside."
The Doctor sipped. "Let me ask you something. What is the one thing everyone in town will be doing right now?"
Christopher began to understand. "Flocking to the pods. Touching. Prodding. The police will be setting up lines."
"Crowds. Big crowds. Now, we all know what those things were. Us being there isn't going to help. And in about a minute, they'll open up and each and every person in town will be relayed a message," the Doctor set down his cup. "I'm willing to bet through telepathy or hologram. Immediately after, there will be chaos around the pods. So, what would we get from being amidst the chaos."
"Nothing," Christopher answered. "We'd be too distracted to investigate. Too much bother."
"Exactly. Instead, I'm going to do something I am not good at and wait."
They sat silent. Rory spoke after a moment. "Wait a second, we don't have to do nothing."
The Doctor turned to Rory. "Rory, those are words I love to hear."
"Let's straighten out the TARDIS. All the power is still on. Maybe we can get her flat, go inside and use her to help figure out why the air smells like pork."
The Doctor grinned wildly. "I knew I kept you around for a reason! Let's go then."
"But we just started out tea," Amy argued.
"Not now, Pond. Allons-y!"
They stood. "Allons-y?" Amy's face screamed of mocking.
"It's just a thing I used to say," the Doctor answered. "Let's go see what is ailing Sexy."
"Sexy?" Liz asked.
"The TARDIS," Rory answered.
"It's a woman," Amy explained, "sort of."
"You guys go on," Christopher said. "I'll be out in a tick."
The others stood and headed for the door. Christopher dashed to his bedroom and pulled out some more appropriately attractive clothes: a pair of jeans, his Converse, a shirt with the Star Wards logo, a blazer. Sort of thing he would wear to a meeting with his agent. He ran his fingers through his unruly black hair and rolled on some deodorant quickly. Then he jogged outside.
"You've changed your clothes," said the Doctor, who was looking intently at the impact crater around the TARDIS and didn't even glance in Christopher's direction..
Christopher shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was in my pajamas at noon."
"And you put on deodorant," the Doctor continued. "For a fight with an alien race."
"Who said anything about fighting?"
"I just did," said the Doctor, who stood quickly. "Do you have any rope?"
Christopher looked at Liz, who shrugged. "Uh, no. No I don't," answered Christopher.
"Shame, would have been easier to get the old girl straight. Alright, everybody, looks like we'll need to push."
He took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. Christopher walked over and looked at the box.
"It doesn't look that heavy."
"It's heavier than it looks," answered the Doctor. "Just don't tell her I said that. Okay, let's go."
It took a few minutes, but between the Doctor, Rory and Cristopher, they managed to get the box straight.
"Well, that worked," said the Doctor. "Now then, let's work out what…"
Suddenly the Doctor dropped to his knees and contorted his facee in pain. He rubbed his temples and gritted his teeth. Everyone lese looked at everyone else. The Doctor stood as quickly as he had dropped.
He spoke. "Here comes the message."
