Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. This story is based on the Doctor Who characters and universe.
Science Assassin: Chapter eight
Wanda sat at the reception desk, writing out a witness report for the death of Mr Sam Apricot. Although she hadn't witnessed anything, the police had asked her to write out everything she knew about the death, and the attempted death of Mr Lewis Klyne. She debated whether to mention the 'Doctor' and Donna. She had been surprised the other scientists accepted him in the committee and allowed him to attend their meetings. He was after all only a detective from Scotland.
Wanda's pen hung over the perfectly ruled paper. Should she or shouldn't she? The trouble had started when the Doctor and Donna arrived, but was it a coincidence? And the Doctor did seem to try and help when Sam Apricot was killed. Hadn't he interviewed the motroid? Didn't the police trust him? But then there was Donna. Very odd. She refused to eat the nutrition packets at meal times. She seemed to gorge on unhealthy, salt-filled potato crisps. Her clothes were old fashioned, as if from years ago. And what about that space ship? The TARDIS, as the Doctor called it? Wanda had never seen anything like it. Where had it come from? Why did a Scottish detective have such a fancy ship? How did he make it appear and disappear?
The Doctor was always looking at her, like he suspected her. Was he trying to fix the blame on her? Had he waited for the right opportunity at Big Ben to push Sam Apricot over the balcony? Was he trying to hide the fact that he had something to do with the murder?
Wanda was sweating. What should she do? She had never been in a position like this. She had always been so confident, so sure of herself. Now she was stressing about whether or not to accuse these two peculiar people. Wanda! she seemed to say to herself. Concentrate! You know you should turn them in! But another part of her seemed to know they were innocent. That they had nothing to do with the murder. Which side should she choose?
Shaking, she scribbled down her report. For the first time in her life, her writing was not its usual neat cursive. It looked like a messy scrawl. Without reading over what she had written, Wanda sealed it in an envelope, wrote down an address and rang the reception desk bell. The motroid porter came over. Wanda handed him the envelope, her voice slightly shaky as she gave mailing instructions.
Sitting at the desk, she watched the porter run off with the envelope until he was out of sight. There. It was done. Had she made the right choice? Wanda didn't know. It didn't seem right, not knowing. All her life she had known what to do. She had never been faced with such a decision.
Trembling, she stood up and walked to her room. She was already starting to regret what she had written. Wasn't that human nature? To change your mind so suddenly after such a difficult decision? As she walked, a single tear ran down Wanda's face and hit the carpeted floor.
More to come...
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