==Chapter 2: A Piece of Cardiff==

"No matter what we attempt to do, no matter to what fields we turn our efforts, we are dependent on power. We have to evolve means of obtaining energy from stores which are forever inexhaustible, to perfect methods which do not imply consumption and waste of any material whatever."

– Nikola Tesla

The Doctor's breath caught. The machine before him was a marvellous piece of work, considering the era, but it possessed a sort of cylinder large enough to hold a person. He donned his specs on instinct and began to inspect the machine. It didn't run on electricity—that much he could tell right away—and that alone was tripping off alarms in his mind. He didn't have to be a Time Lord to know something too-advanced when he saw it.

"You!" The Doctor whirled as Tesla burst in and advanced on him, bearing a washer-covered magnet. "What the devil do you think you're doing?! Get away from there!" The smaller man trembled in fury, face flushing. "I might have known—you're from General Electric!" His tone turned scornful. "You can tell that plebian buffoon that I'm not going to sue him, but the press will have a field day at the generator test when they learn that Thomas Edison is reduced to spying on his rivals!" He drew himself up and pointed imperiously at the door. "Now, get out, before I summon the police!"

Holmes and Watson appeared in the doorway, tense, both staring in wonder and curiosity at the machine.

"Mr. Tesla," the Doctor said softly, soothingly, "please..." He touched the steel casing with all the reverence due to a new invention, no matter how unsettling. "It's an impressive set-up." Tesla did a double-take, apparently intrigued with the Doctor's obvious expertise. "Your control console isn't quite there yet—you've accounted for time and intensity but not pressure, temperature, radiation... Not even a safety gauge to alert when something malfunctions."

Tesla looked mildly insulted. "I shall overlook your offense on this occasion, sir, as it is clear that you are unfamiliar with my methods. Hardly surprising, I suppose; your employer is not one to give credit to any man's labours unless he can claim them as his own..." The scientist's tone had turned bitter, and the Doctor knew that, sadly, it was justified: Edison might end up being the most famous inventor of his time, but his business ethics hardly warranted it.

Tesla proudly waved a hand in the air, in much the same attitude as a magician on stage. Yeah, the Doctor could see how Watson was reminded of his friend in the Serbian... Tesla began to pace, restless, before the machine. "You see, sirs, when I begin a new project, I start at once building it up in my imagination; I change the construction, make improvements, and even operate the device. It is immaterial to me whether I run the machine in my mind or test it in my workshop. The inventions I have conceived in this way have always worked. In fourteen years there has not been a single exception. My first electric motor, the vacuum wireless light, my turbine engine, and many other devices have all been developed in exactly this way."

He stopped and looked at each of the three time-travellers in turn, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Once I have finished construction, this machine will operate precisely as it ought, of that I can assure you."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, faintly amused at the man's hubris. He knew that Tesla would be regarded as the archetypal mad scientist, but it was kind of something to see it in-person... He raised a placating hand once he was sure the scientist had finished. "I don't doubt it. Listen, Mr. Tesla, we're not under Edison's employ—of that I can assure you. Personally, I'm something of a concerned party. So your machine will work—my greatest concern, at the moment, is how it will work. You're clearly not running it on electricity, despite all the wires and tubes." He dug his hands into his pockets, frowning, equally curious and apprehensive. "What's your power source?"

Tesla studied the Time Lord closely, then must have decided he was telling the truth. His face relaxed, and he beckoned the three of them closer to the machine. "Gentlemen, you are about to witness a technological marvel. For rather than relying on electricity—such clumsily generated static—this machine is yoked to the very wheelwork of nature." In a hushed, reverent tone: "Behold!" He opened a compartment at the base of the control panel... and the Doctor's breath caught again.

It was a fist-sized, brass-bound glass tube—a power cell—full of sparkling, glowing, multi-colored energy, moving and rippling inside the power cell as though it were alive. "For the first time in history," Tesla continued in that same reverent tone, "mankind has harnessed the cosmic energy of the universe itself..."

The Doctor could only stare in horror, never mind the wonder in his Companions' eyes. "Whoa, wait, no! That's not—that's Rift matter; that could kill you. That's infinitely more powerful than electricity and infinitely more uncontrollable." Eyes blazing, he straightened and withdrew his hands from his pockets. However Tesla got the stuff could not be good, and the Doctor was betting already on the worst. "Where did it come from?"

Tesla's ears had pricked up on hearing the proper term for the energy, the description obviously exciting him further. He shrank back at the Doctor's anger, but defensively, resentfully, looking like nothing so much as a little kid worried about a favourite toy being taken away. "That, sir, is confidential. In any case, I have already conducted several tests on this energy cell to determine its efficiency—and none of my equipment has indicated that it is as volatile as you claim."

The Doctor grabbed at his hair. "But your equipment would be nowhere near capable of reading it accurately!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Holmes frown. "I notice, Mr. Tesla," he said, "that you have yet to explain what this machine's function is—I assume whoever gave you that fuel cell had a specific purpose in mind."

Exactly. The Doctor gazed steadily at Tesla. "Why would a machine need 'cosmic energy' in the first place?" he said quietly, and jerked his head at the capsule. "It's obviously meant to have somebody inside it—what happens to them?"

Tesla, to his credit, looked aghast. "'Them,' sir? How could you think I would subject anyone to such a process without first carrying it out on myself?" His eyes positively glowed with enthusiasm. "And with the throw of a single lever, I will change the course of mankind's destiny overnight.

"Have you never looked back over the course of your lives, sirs," he continued earnestly, "and sincerely wondered if you had truly made any difference at all in the grand scheme of things? What if you could find out, could live long enough to see the greater picture?"

Holmes winced. The Doctor held his peace—in his mind's eye, he saw Satellite Five. The entire human race that he'd effectively abandoned to the Daleks.

Tesla laid a reverent hand on his machine, half talking to himself—clearly a familiar, long-rehearsed internal monologue. "As men of science, we do not aim at immediate results, or expect that our advanced ideas will be readily taken up. Our work has always been like the planting of trees, laying the foundation for those to come. So many projects have been retarded by the laws of nature, being too far ahead of their time. Nevertheless, there is an inherent belief which drives us, that those same laws will prevail in the end and make each one of those ideas a triumphal success. And now..."

He seemed to return to the present. "Now we need not merely imagine their coming to fruition; we shall see them realised. You and I and others like us shall live to see our theories vindicated, rescued from decades of ignominy and ridicule." He smiled in satisfaction. "They say a genius is never appreciated in his lifetime—well, no more."

The Doctor shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving Tesla. The man would die in the New Yorker Hotel in 1943, at the age of 86... Whatever was going on here, the scientist would not succeed; even Time-in-flux could only change so much. "You mean to prolong lifetimes," the Doctor murmured impassively. "For how long?"

Tesla looked at him as if the answer was obvious. "Why not indefinitely?"

The Doctor lifted one eyebrow slightly. "Because it doesn't work like that. Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It's not the time that matters—it's the person." He sighed, and it was the sigh of someone old, someone with authority, whether he liked it or not, having to do something he wasn't going to particularly enjoy. He looked Tesla directly in the eye, holding nothing back, his gaze intense and ancient. "Please, for your own sake... stop the project."

Tesla spread his hands and shrugged. "There seems to be nothing I can say to convince you, sir, that I am doing this for the sake of humanity." His expression was pitying, and the Doctor felt a flash of genuine anger—the man had no idea... "But men like you you cannot stand in the way of progress indefinitely." Tesla turned to Holmes and Watson. "And you, gentlemen? What would you not give to have a second, a third, lifetime—time enough to accomplish all that you are capable of?"

Holmes shook his head firmly. "I can understand your position, Mr. Tesla... but I sincerely doubt that your machine would truly benefit humanity—for who would use it? Ultimately, it would fall into the hands of the highest bidder, the powerful, the corrupt; for the pure of heart and purpose would not shrink from death, or call it a curse. I honestly believe that in trying to rise above Nature, we are far more likely to fall below it."

Watson's expression was strained, and the Doctor realised that his human colleague must be thinking of Mary... Oh, dear heavens, Watson was entirely the wrong person to be offered something like this: he had seen so many die—his wife, his patients, his fellow soldiers... But Watson took a deep breath, and peace came over his features. "My friend is right," he said quietly. "I would not want immortality..." His gaze strayed toward the Doctor. "I would pity, rather, anyone unfortunate enough to possess it."

The Doctor regretted that Watson had to answer in the first place, but he was proud of him. Of them both. The Time Lord took a step towards the inventor. "I'm sorry, Nikola, I truly am. But I can't let you do this."

Tesla sniffed scornfully. "And you have the authority to stop me, I suppose?" He lifted his chin and stared haughtily at the Doctor. "Who do you think you are?"

The Doctor brought the full weight of a thousand years and the authority of that experience to bear in his gaze. Tesla's dark eyes widened, the Time Lord's presence finally making an impression as he declared, in a low tone, "I'm the Doctor." He lifted the sonic and pointed it at the power cell, disengaging it from the machine. "And you, Nikola Tesla, are playing with something far bigger and more dangerous than you can imagine."

"Doctor, please!" Still so stubborn... "This is humanity's best opportunity to evolve, to transcend our limitations—you can't take that away from me..." The man fell silent, seemingly a bit abashed.

"I'm sorry," said the Doctor. He knew this would burn and fester—any inventor's invention was a part of him, just as a book was a part of its writer and a painting a part of its painter. But better that poor Tesla bear that pain than regret later on when he saw Holmes's predictions borne out... The First World War loomed on the horizon. Tesla would even live to see the Second. If there could be a worst time in history for something like his invention to happen, this would be it.

The Doctor reached in and carefully, gingerly removed the cell from the machine. "You think history's only made with equations?" he continued, gently but firmly. "Facing death is part of being human. You can't change that. No one can."

Tesla apparently saw that he didn't stand much of a chance in stopping the Doctor, especially with numbers on the Doctor's side. He could only glare daggers at the Time Lord, his tone bitter. "Forgive me, sir, if I remain unconvinced. Good day to you." He gave a cold bow.

"Good day, Mr. Tesla," the Doctor said sadly. He really didn't enjoy doing this... "Don't stop being brilliant." He lowered his head, turned, and strode away, and his Companions were not far behind. Not the kind of meeting he'd been looking for, especially with it being Holmes's specific wish.

Some days, being the Doctor was no fun at all.

Holmes nodded down at the cell as they headed back to the TARDIS, not liking in the least the way the Doctor was gingerly cradling it, as if he were afraid it might shatter at the slightest jolt. "Doctor, what exactly is Rift matter? Why is it so dangerous?"

The Doctor gave him a worried look. "There're breaks in the fabric of reality – rips, tears. You remember the breach that the K'vir came through?" As if Holmes could forget... "That was the most deadly type, a rip allowing access between this universe and the Void. Well, never mind the Void for now – normal rips, or rifts, are breaches within reality rather than between reality and nothing. Rift matter is what's inside the rifts – it's..." He waved his free hand, searching for the right word. "Well, I suppose you could say... it's reality. It's physical reality – it's potential reality."

Holmes blinked slowly, doing his best to wrap his mind around the concept. "So... the cosmic equivalent of clay, before it is shaped by the potter?" Which was not a reassuring analogy...

"But how in blazes is such a powerful substance being contained in such a flimsy-seeming vessel?" Watson's brow furrowed. "That can't be ordinary glass, can it?"

"Basically," the Doctor nodded approvingly at Holmes before turning to Watson: "And no, it's not ordinary glass." He hefted the cell cautiously. "It's nothing that the sonic can identify, though. I wonder if this is Torchwood's doing..." he mused, gazing warily at the swirling energy. "I mean, it's across the Pond, but it's not strictly in defense of Britain, as far as I can tell..."

Holmes pricked up his ears. "Torchwood?" The name sounded vaguely familiar.

The Doctor grimaced. "Oh! Pfff... Torchwood's a special agency, created by Victoria around the time you would have been getting started as a detective. Its purpose is, ah, to defend Queen and country... from extraterrestrial life..." he finished awkwardly.

Watson sighed – the Doctor's self-conscious air spoke volumes. "Without exception, I gather?" He shook his head, half in amusement, half in exasperation. "Honestly, Doctor, you seem to make a veritable hobby of upsetting royalty!"

"I saved her life!" the Doctor protested. "Queen Victoria would've been killed by a werewolf, or become one if Rose and I hadn't been there! She knights me and makes Rose a dame and then she banishes me!" He frowned indignantly. "Of all the nerve!"

"Werewolf?!" Watson's eyes were as round as saucers. "Actually, never mind," he continued hastily, "I don't want to know!" Holmes could just hear his friend's heartfelt muttering: "As long as vampires stay fictional..."

Holmes cast the doctor a sympathetic look – the Baskerville case hadn't been a pleasant experience for either of them, but it had taken weeks for Watson to stop flinching whenever they heard a dog howl. "So Tesla may have obtained the cell from this Torchwood agency?" he continued, partly in the hope of turning his friend's thoughts elsewhere.

"Maybe..."

Holmes frowned uneasily – the Doctor's uncertainty on any subject was a certain indicator of impending trouble, as reliable as a canary in a coal mine. "What do you intend to do with it?"

"Well, first thing to do is get back to the TARDIS – we'll make a stop in Cardiff. Deposit this thing where it probably came from, the Cardiff Rift." The Doctor sighed as they approached the vessel, smiling ruefully at the detective. "Well, Holmes, what do you think? Should we come back later?"

"For the Thursday test?" Holmes shook his head. "I suspect we've already worn out our welcome. Besides, what if Tesla were to notice and kick up a fuss? The last thing Watson and I need is to come to the attention of any journalists at this point." The chance of their pictures or descriptions making the London papers was minimal perhaps, but all the same... better to err on the side of caution this time.

The Doctor nodded regretfully. "Sorry about that, Holmes. Just our luck, eh?" He stepped up to the TARDIS's door and tried to open it, only to find it shut tight. Frowning, the Doctor reached for his key, but even then the door refused to open. "Heeey!" He jiggled the key in the lock. "Honey, come on, let us in! We need to take care of this!"

Holmes blinked in surprise as he felt a swift brush across his thoughts, carrying a clear picture of Mrs. Hudson's face on discovering certain bullet hole initials in her sitting room wall. The TARDIS was broadcasting exactly the same horrified disapproval – and loud enough for all three men to sense, judging by Watson's startled expression.

"Oi, I know!" The Doctor's voice took on a pleading note. "That's why you need to let us in! Honey, come on!"

"Doctor, why won't she open?" Watson peered suspiciously at the energy cell. "Could she be –" He frowned as he searched for the right word: "I don't know – allergic to that?"

The Doctor straightened, gritting his teeth. "Gah, she doesn't want to let something this volatile in. She's not allergic – she literally feeds on this stuff when I can get her positioned over a Rift, but she doesn't want it brought inside her like this." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, which was caught a moment later by a sudden rising wind.

Holmes and Watson looked up together in alarm as iron-grey clouds began to gather overhead, seemingly out of nowhere. Lightning flashed across the sky, echoed by rolling thunder – and the next instant, little blue-white sparks started discharging off everything: the Companions, the TARDIS, trees, fences, arcing between blades of grass... Holmes' eye was caught by a flutter of movement – a butterfly was serenely floating past with what looked like blue St. Elmo's fire swirling around its wings...

The detective heard a gasp from the Doctor, and turned to see the Time Lord staring in horror towards Tesla's lab. "This wasn't the only cell he had!" The Doctor took off at breakneck speed back up the road, sparks leaping between his feet and the ground. "Come on!"

Author's note from Ria: If any of that last bit sounds far-fetched, look up Nikola Tesla on wikipedia, namely his experiments in Colorado Springs... Truth can be way stranger than fiction, folks!

Author's note from Sky: I really, really love the first scene, I must say! The real life Tesla is such a strong figure, and I think Ria did an excellent job with him! And, of course, it's yet another hard-hitting, emotional scene to do from the Doctor's POV—always love those; those are my faves.

And, of course, the Rift-induced storm? Still gives me shivers!