A/N: Yay, another chapter! Don't forget to leave reviews.
Disclaimer: Do not own Doctor Who. That is the property of the BBC. Oh well. CHAPTER TEN: A CONFLICT OF IDEAS
The EMP missile streaked silently through space, a spindly construction of metal heading straight for the Thoraln ship. With a squeal of metal, the missile pierced the ship's outer hull, claws unfolding to hold it in place. Then, just as planned, the weapon released a burst of highly concentrated electromagnetic energy that fried every electronic system hooked up to the spaceship's generator.
The Doctor had only just finished reducing what he could reach of the mind control machine to a twisted mess of warped metal. The warleader's blade was now severely blunted, and useless to anyone except as a memento. He was just turning to leave the room when the EMP hit.
The ship shuddered violently from the impact, and squeals of protesting metal rang out as the missile's claws dug in. Then everything fell into darkness.
Pulling a tiny penlight from his pocket, the Doctor raced for the bridge of the ship, passing numerous confused Thoraln on the way. The door to the bridge was hanging open, electronic lock completely dead, so he burst in flashing his penlight around the large room. It was nearly pitch black, other than the light he was flashing around madly and the slight glow that came in through the window.
"Everyone alright?" he called out. "No one injured?"
There was a low murmur of 'yes' as the Doctor ran to the warleader's side and looked up at the alien, which was a good two feet taller than him. "Any idea what happened?" he queried, punching a few buttons on the dead computer before him. "Looks like you've been hit by an EMP to me."
The taller Thoraln looked down on him and nodded. "That's what I believe," it said. "Look, I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean any of it.
"Happens to me a lot, think nothing of it." The Doctor waved a hand flippantly. "I don't really mind. Our real problem is that we have no power, and if we have no power, we have no air filtration system. And that is one hell of a problem."
"The air is going to run out," the warleader realised.
The Doctor nodded. "It is a bit of a doozy, isn't it?" He thought for a moment. "Do you have escape pods? Emergency back-up?"
"Yes, but they would have gone down with the rest of the systems."
"You didn't think to have shielding?" The Doctor shook his head in dismay. "I'll try to fix it, but I can't promise anything."
He tore the cover off a computer hastily, as he knew he didn't have much time left. He could already feel his breath getting short.
With numerous amounts of crashes and bangs, Brittany and Ben tumbled out of an air vent and a box-filled storage room. Brittany looked up, and immediately spotted what she was looking for.
The TARDIS was sitting in the corner, a large blue box so far out of its time and yet, it just kind of fitted in.
"Hello old girl," Brittany cooed, running her hands along the wooden exterior. "Boy, am I glad to see you." She reached down to where her key was hanging around her neck on a slender steel chain, and fitted the small Yale-type key into the lock. The door softly creaked inwards, and she gestured for Ben to enter. "Go in."
"What, in there?"
"Yes, in there."
Ben shrugged, and stepped inside the blue police box. There was a moment of silence.
Then: "That is impossible!"
With a grin, Brittany entered the TARDIS, closing the door behind her. The timeship hummed pleasantly, as though it was happy to see her. The thirty-eighth century human ran her hands over the controls, completely at a loss about how to drive the ship. Sure, the Doctor had shown her a little bit, but it was overly complicated. The Doctor said he had hundreds of years of experience at flying his ship, and look how bumpy his landings were.
Brittany bit her lip. Hang on; what was that thing that the Doctor had told her? About his ship being telepathic? Maybe if she just asked nicely, the TARDIS would help her.
"TARDIS?" Brittany asked, not sure about this plan at all, "take me to the Doctor."
And although the TARDIS did not utter a word, she was certain it replied to her.
Yes Brittany, we shall find him.
"Come on, work," the Doctor hissed under his breath as he clung onto one of the bridge's computer terminals. "You've got to work, please!"
Apart from his curses and ragged breaths, the bridge was deathly silent, as slowly, one by one, the Thoraln had succumbed to the lack of oxygen in the air. They were still alive, lying about on the numerous padded couches, and where there was life, there was hope.
The Doctor thumped a few more buttons, and kicked the computer just for the hell of it. "You've got to work," he pleaded, releasing his hold and slipping to the floor. "I don't want any more deaths."
And even though he was finding it harder and harder to breathe, he forced himself back to his feet, stumbling across the room like someone who'd had more than one too many drinks. He tripped and fell, and it seemed like the floor really wanted to be his friend today, considering how fast it was rushing up to meet him.
He groaned and rolled over, pain pulsing through his head. His vision was blurring, the room spinning in ever tightening circles. Then, he heard a noise, and at first he thought it was some kind of auditory hallucination caused by oxygen starvation.
But it was real – the TARDIS was materialising, his hair blowing back from the force of the landing. The blue door opened, and Brittany stepped out.
"Doctor, get over here right now!"