A Genius in France

The Doctor slammed open the door to the TARDIS a little harder than he intended to, still staring intently at his sonic screwdriver. Clara followed quickly after him, sealing the entrance to the Time Lord ship behind her.

"What was all that?" she asked, both out of curiosity, and because she knew that sometimes talking would help him remember something or figure something out, "Did a rhino just attack 'Weird Al', and did he escape using a magic accordion?"

"It's not a rhinoceros, it's an alien, a Judoon," he explained, holding his sonic in one hand while he tapped on the TARDIS controls with the other, "They are a military species; most of them work for the Shadow Proclamation, but since she wasn't she wasn't spouting off ordinance numbers, I'm guessing she was a mercenary."

"She?" Clara noted in surprise, remembering the singer had called the alien male.

"Yes, she," The Doctor sounded annoyed, "Not every species has their females go around hanging out mammary glands for everyone to gape at."

"And the Shadow Proclamation?" the young woman allowed herself to be diverted from her original topic, "What's that?"

"The closest analogy would be a cross between Interpol and the Federation from Star Trek," he answered, calming slightly thanks to her distraction, "Police that work against criminals that cross interstellar borders."

She nodded for a moment, and then returned the recent events, "So what about that 'Vancian Matrix'? Do you think that's Al's magical accordion?"

"It's not magic," he chided her, "There's no such thing as... Anyway, it's not magic. It's some kind of alien device, and its got an energy signature I can track."

He waved his screwdriver as he said that.

"And since I've never heard of a Vancian Matrix before," he admitted petulantly, "I can only assume that it's some kind of alien machine that has somehow become part of his accordion. Hopefully we will find out more when we ask Al."

"We're going after him?" Clara asked hopefully.

"Of course." The Doctor flipped a lever on the control panel, and the TARDIS began to hum as she moved into the Vortex. The Time Lord's demeanor returned to a hint of his previous dark mood as he stared at the central column.

"You knew this was going to happen," he accused the ship, "That's why you got us there on the first try, and on time."

The TARDIS, wisely, did not answer. But an instant later, she began to wheeze again as she landed.

"That didn't take long," Clara noted, "Where or when are we?"

"Same time, same planet," he answered, hurrying out the door.

"But different continent," he added as she followed him out, seeing a certain world famous four-sided needle spire only a few dozen feet in front of the TARDIS.

"The Eiffel Tower?" she sounded surprised, "Paris? Al came here?"

"Apparently," the Time Lord sounded nonplussed, and began scanning area with his sonic again, "Now we just have to figure out where in the city he is..."

"Uhh, Doctor?" Clara said in a tone of voice that told him he was missing something obvious again. He stopped waving the screwdriver, and looked where she pointed. It was a small cafe, with a growing crowd of extremely excited French people around one of the tables.

"Probably a good place to start," he conceded. A few strides of his long legs brought him to the edge of the throng, where he began to deftly weave through the Parisians. Clara kept close behind, lest she get lost or simply fail to get through the horde. She wondered if it was just skill that let him weave his way through the crowd, or if it was some sort of technology or psychic power. Whatever the means, The Doctor brought them to the center, where the inner most circle of fans were keeping a polite distance from a single table. Al Yankovic sat in one of the four chairs, and his instrument occupied a second. The singer sipped a coffee, and had a croissant waiting.

"Doc, Clara," Al exclaimed in pleasant surprise, "Good to see you again. How long has it been?"

"No longer for us than for you," The Doctor struggled to stay serious.

"Aren't you making a bit of a scene?" Clara asked.

"Not intentionally," Al shrugged, "But they love me here. What can I say..."

"Yes, yes, A Genius in France," The Doctor interrupted, "Now, about what happened back in Minnesota..."

"Are these 'people' bothering you, sir?" a well dressed waiter had slipped through the onlookers with the same skill as The Doctor, and was now staring down his nose at Clara. The Doctor was well enough dressed, and frankly to tall for the waiter to look down on; not that he did not try for a second. So he focused on the young woman. Al looked blankly at the server, who recognized his faux pas and repeated the question in heavily accented English. Clara realized the first time he spoke, the TARDIS had translated for her and The Doctor, but not Al.

"No, these are my friends," Yankovic told the Parisians, "I was waiting for them."

"You were?" Clara asked.

"Well, after that little skit, I guessed The Doctor would have some questions for me," Al answered, "And I thought I could use that to wrangle an invitation into the blue box."

"I suppose it is better than talking out in the open," the Time Lord conceded, "especially if the Judoon is still looking for you."

"So I take that to mean you will not be ordering anything?" the waiter interjected politely.

"Sorry, things to do, rampaging aliens to avoid," The Doctor told him.

"I hope this covers it," Al threw down two twenty dollar bills as he stood and collected his accordion. The crowd parted for them, but a number of them gave The Doctor and Clara dark looks for stealing their idol. Once the Parisians had cleared a path, Al was able to see the TARDIS. It was all the singer could do not to run to the police box. The Doctor unlocked her and opened the door with a bit of a flourish, gesturing for Yankovic to step inside. Al paused, and then stepped inside almost reverently, looking around in awe.

"It really is twenty pounds of ship in a five pound box," the singer exclaimed. The Doctor had tensed at the first three words, but almost tripped at the unexpected end of the sentence. Clara covered up a chuckle at the Time Lord's expense.

"Right, now then," the alien in tweed tried to recover, "You're inside the TARDIS, so how about you tell us what is going on?"

"Weeeell, it started with a meteor shower about four years ago..." Al began.