Chapter 1
Attention to Detail
"What's that?" The bright-eyed brunette dusted her pettifor and glanced over her shoulder at the Doctor.
Looking at his hand he replied, "It's a fife."
He hastily returned his prized possession to the inside of his oversized coat, nesting it gently between the carcanecular and the protimic carburetor. The curious young woman raised an eyebrow as she observed.
"Not that, sir, that." She raised her finger to indicate the big blue police box standing on the 1606 docks of England.
"It's a storage container of course," he answered, waiving the T.A.R.D.I.S. away like a normal decoration of the busy shoreline, "nothing more."
"Oh, it's a storage container, of course."
The Doctor locked the door and stepped off to explore.
"A bright blue storage container with a window and a door?" the girl pressed.
He shrugged and continued on his way. She gathered her skirts and followed, stepping carefully over ropes and debris scattered about.
"A bright blue storage container with a window and a door, and that appears out of nowhere? And what is a 'Pol-ice'?" she continued. The Doctor, continuing his stride, circled the young woman and doubled back to the T.A.R.D.I.S. mumbling something about expired dampening fluids. "… And what creature offered its pelt for that odd looking cloak?"
"Burlington," he replied fumbling for his key.
"Burlington?"
"Yes, a Burlington. Big creature, lives overseas." Turning the lock he tossed open the door and strode inside, and swatted the door shut behind him.
The young woman caught it before it closed and peered inside. "Have you reflectors in there?"
The Doctor slapped the console twice and checked his monitors. "Dampening fields are operational. Perspective filters are clear-"
"Interesting." The woman's dark eyes widened as she inspected the interior of the T.A.R.D.I.S. "It's smaller on the outside."
"Hmm, yes..." he replied while opening a panel under the console. " I've heard that one before…wait." The panel slammed shut with a loud "clack" that echoed through the spaceship's many chambers. "What did you say?"
The woman stepped one foot though the doorway.
"No!" the Doctor strode out the door, locking arms with his uninvited guest and pulling her along as he exited.
"How rude!" she exclaimed. "Unhand me, sir!"
The Doctor stopped and withdrew his arm to secure the T.A.R.D.I.S. again with his key. "I do apologize, my dear. But, it's for protection, you know?"
"Then the strange box is dangerous. I hope you informed the yard manager."
"No," he replied, looking at other passersby who took no notice of the T.A.R.D.I.S. whatsoever. "The box is harmless. It's full of … lab equipment."
"Lab?"
"Laboratory." For the first time, he took proper notice of her. "It's a portable laboratory to be more precise. Its contents are very valuable and I was protecting it from you."
"Oh! That explains so much."
"Good, good… explains what?"
"Your lack of personable skills. You are a professor or something akin to it I would wager." She smiled. "In my experience, highly educated persons seem to sacrifice their personable skills for a higher standard of knowledge."
The Doctor shook his head with a slight laugh. "Well, I beg to differ. I am very personable. You could not imagine the persons I have interacted with."
She grinned at him. "Oh I didn't say you didn't interact with people. I inferred that you were not skilled at it."
"And you are?"
"I am what, skilled at being personable? Yes, I am."
"That is a shame." He glanced at the T.A.R.D.I.S. and back at her. "Then by your own hypothesis, you are personable and therefore, not very intelligent."
"Not remarkably so."
The Doctor studied her carefully from head to toe. "I disagree, my dear. You not only appear to be intelligent, but also considering your ability to perceive my, uh, portable laboratory, I would say that you are very, very remarkable. What was your name again?"
"Clara. My father owns the Warg Bidden Cargo Company."
"The Angry Wolf cargo company? What a peculiar name."
"Yes, he named it after some adventure he had as a younger man, before he met my mother."
"Yes, yes, of course. Interesting." the Doctor studied the docks intently as if trying to remember something. "Clara, I would like to apologize for my lack of employment of personable skills. As atonement, I wish to offer my services as your escort around this shipyard."
She laughed. "I'm sorry, but how can you possibly be my escort if you do not know where it is I am going?"
"My dear! I do not even know where I am going. But, I believe a well-planned coincidence in an unfathomable infinite timeline of quantum-finable possibilities which allows for the opportunity to escort a clever, and might I add very beautiful, young lady around a shipyard is neither coincidental at all, nor an opportunity to be ignored."
He held his hand out to her as if he had just asked a debutant to dance.
"My gracious! Those are a lot of words arranged in an unorganized and hectic manner which I believe was orchestrated not only to flatter your momentary host, but to work out a strategy by oral inspection of flowing thought which happened to lead nowhere."
The two paused starring at each other; the Doctor's arm was still outstretched
"I like you," he finally responded.
"How cheeky," she replied, but she took his offered hand with another brilliant smile. "But I believe you mean that platonically. I am delivering these papers to my father's business. They are required for supplies to be shipped on the Godspeed. However, perhaps I should not have said that. Tell me my good sir, how may I have the pleasure of addressing my escort?"
"Oh, yes. I'm called the Doctor."
"Which one?"
"Which eh-huh? Uh- the Godspeed! Bound for the Americas I gather?"
"Yes, the New Land." They began to merge themselves into the busy foot traffic moving in the general direction of London Bridge. the Doctor recognized their location as Blackwall. The famous London Port would run from here to London Bridge one day. Around them warehouse workers and shipmen rushed to and from the multitude of wharves and warehouses lining the shore.
"King James has granted The Virginia Company of London a charter. The men traveling to the New World want nothing more than to establish a colony, but of course, their stockholders of the Virginia Company want to see a profit. In my father's line of work, he has quite an interest in the endeavor, as you can imagine."
"Ah yes, Jamestowne."
"Come again?"
"Nothing, no matter. That's a lot of information for a young woman is it not?"
"I listen a lot. My father talks a lot. It makes for a good relationship."
I would gather to say that you and your father are not one of the esteemed one hundred forty four traveling to the New World."
"One hundred forty five." She looked at him curiously. "But no. My father has responsibilities and no women are traveling to the New World."
"I have a feeling you would jump at the chance, Clara. What do you mean 'one hundred forty five'?"
"The sea and new settlements, exploring new worlds, a life of excitement and intrigue and facing the unknown… these are the dreams of men, not women. There are one hundred forty five travelers to the New World, not one hundred forty four." She watched as he furrowed his brow in thought. "That was too close a guess to be coincidence though. Are you an investor, Doctor?"
The Doctor withdrew his escorting arm and halted, drawing back his coat and placing his hands on his hips. "One hundred forty five, then. Close enough. What is your surname, Miss Clara?"
"Oswone," she stated hesitantly.
"Well Miss Clara Oswone, I want you to listen to me very carefully."
The Doctor looked over both shoulders to ensure the passing crowd was not eavesdropping before he approached and drew her close to his side. She could feel his breath on her hair as he breathed his secret quietly into her ear. "Men do not have dreams, men only have ambition. And that ambition is driven solely on the dreams of women."
Clara turned and eyed the strange little man with skepticism. He only smiled and again offered his arm in emblem of escort. "Miss Oswone."
After a quick moment of reflection and a glance at her surroundings, she determinedly took his outstretched arm. "Doctor."
Together they strolled along bustling Thames, approaching the warehouse ahead which indicated its purpose with a large angular hanging sign reading, "Warg Bidden Cargo Company - Thomas and Fester Oswone – proprietors."