Part Five: A Dynasty of Stowaways

The TARDIS hummed steadily with the central column rising and falling at a gentle rate. The Doctor was alone, having sent Broxa to explore the rooms that he had shown her previously. It was a good opportunity to allow her to become familiar with the overall layout of the TARDIS, as well as where all the most important rooms are without requiring his help. With her distracted he could finally return to his long postponed activity of updating the console room. He spread several apparently random materials across the floor and began sorting through them.

There were a lot of jobs that needed doing, several parts needed replacing and he wanted to replace some of the aging panels. Most of these were minor projects though, his sights were ultimately set on fixing that chameleon circuit. It wasn't that he was bored with the constant use of a police box, he liked that image for him, it was that he was coming to a point in his life where more and more people were becoming aware of it. It would be nice if he had the option to change the TARDIS's appearance should the need ever arise.

But as is often the case with those planning to knuckle down for some especially hard work, the Doctor found himself polishing the portholes first. Well they were dirty after all, it was one of the jobs that needed doing, he could fix the chameleon circuit later. It was while he was doing this that Broxa came back into the room. She was carrying a pile of clothes in either hand.

"You have some very strange klarb in that wardrobe room," she said. "All that fabric and torn clothes strewn around the place."

"Well you didn't think that I found a coat that looked exactly like this in there, did you?" the Doctor replied. He eyed the clothes that she was carrying and spied several familiar things. "Why have you brought all those in here?"

"These particular things stood out," she said, holding up two different jackets. One was quite long, made of several different coloured materials and appeared to fit a very large man, while the other was cream coloured, shorter in style and the right size for a rather short, yet slightly chubby man. "Neither of them seem to fit you, it's as if you have prepared for any sort of man walking in there in need of a new set of clothes."

"It's funny you should say that," the Doctor replied, for that was the exact purpose of the wardrobe room. "Used to wear those a lot, not for centuries mind."

She looked at them both in confusion. "But they don't fit you."

"Not anymore they don't," he agreed. Something else in the piles caught his eye, he rushed over to pick it up. It was a female Police officer's outfit, although the skirt was far too short for any conventional policewoman to ever wear on duty.

"And I don't see you ever wearing anything like that either," Broxa commented. "Don't see anyone wearing it actually, there doesn't seem to be anything to wear to cover your genetalia."

"This was Amy's," the Doctor said. "Poor Amy," he added distantly. "And Rory too."

Broxa noticed the pain in his eyes, most others would not have noticed, so decided not to press any further on that subject. "Where are we going this time?" she asked.

"Haven't decided yet," he replied instantly returning to his cheerful self. "Just letting her circle through the vortex so I can upgrade some components without it detrimentally affecting her."

"What are all these numbers?" she asked pointing to one of the monitors. The Doctor's head shot up, he hadn't ordered the TARDIS to do anything. Then he remembered the little stowaway he had discovered.

"Comet, I had forgotten about that," he cursed, rushing over to her side. His eyes quickly scanned over the readout and he cursed again.

"What is it?" Broxa asked.

"Stowaways, Broxa," the Doctor explained. "Hundreds of little stowaways."

"Stowaways? What are they?"

"Unwelcome passengers," the Doctor explained. "How can I have not noticed this before?"

"Is it a bad thing?" she asked, supposing that as he had only just discovered it there probably was no danger; they would have had plenty of time to cause trouble if they had wanted to.

"I don't know," the Doctor shrugged. "It may explain why the TARDIS stopped working properly. We had better go and find them." he grinned at his companion. "An adventure in the TARDIS, haven't had one of these for years." He sprinted off into the corridors, Broxa following close behind.

Somewhere deep into the maze of the TARDIS corridors, in a room that has not been entered, something stirred. They crawled from their stationary positions, using their sixth sense to navigate in the darkness, towards the centre. They scuttled and shuffled and hitched rides on the backs of the more tolerant, or unaware, forever whispering, contacting one another telepathically. Soon they all knew.

The Doctor is coming.

They came to a stop awaiting the next collective decision. The Doctor would certainly throw them out, they were unwelcome guests. But this was their home, they had been here for generations and he would surely understand; he was merciful. These thoughts tumbled through their minds. Circling over and over, jumping from 'reason with him' to hide then back to reason again; total confusion enveloping the. And then one different thought pierced through this panic.

We are numerous, we are strong. They are few, they are limited. We should not wait, we should act, we shall take the TARDIS.

This thought circulated through the masses weighing up the pros and cons. Why would they need the TARDIS, they had been safe here all this time. But the TARDIS can take them anywhere, bring forth more to join their ranks, create further subspecies. Yet the Doctor could do that for them, if he was willing to. Would he be willing though? They could enter other worlds, create a web of thoughts through time and space. Would they want more in their ranks? Would inferiors be welcome? They could become food. The weight of thoughts shifted, the balance slowly tipping in favour of this action. Soon it was decided. They would take action.

Despite only just deciding now that they would take an aggressive stance they had a plan. There was always a plan, always one that was thinking through a possible action for the future, be it a schemer plotting their movement through the ship when they needed to exit to pick up new foods or troops, or a harvester leeching information from the TARDIS databanks. There was always a plan and now they were ready to act upon it.

We shall spread, we shall conquer. We shall befriend, we shall make enemies. None can predict us, we have it all planned. We speak with one voice but think with a thousand. We are the Dynasty.

"Isn't this exciting," the Doctor said. "I don't think I have ever been in this part of the TARDIS before."

The Broxa looked up and down the corridors. "But it all looks exactly the same," she said.

"Oh it may look the same," the Doctor scoffed, "but it feels different. All these unexplored rooms and corridors. Round that next bend we could find ourselves walking on the ceiling."

"Is that possible?" Broxa asked, raising her eyebrows in scepticism.

"I don't know," he replied happily. "Let's find out!"

They turned the corner and strolled down it. There was nothing remarkable about it, just the same metal floor and walls, with the occasional bronze arch. The Doctor suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Broxa asked.

"Turn around, slowly," he said. She did as was instructed and was suitably bowled over by the sight. The archway that they had just passed though was orientated in the opposite direction to all the ones that they had passed through, despite it being completely normal when they had passed through it. The amazement didn't end there, as they peered though the arch they could see that the entire corridor beyond was also upside down. The lights that normally bulged out of the ceiling, bulged out of the floor that was now the colour of the ceiling. Doors were upside down.

"How?" Broxa questioned.

"That's the magic of the TARDIS," the Doctor smiled. He stared down the corridor carefully. "I wonder," he said. "Stay there."

He took several confident steps, walking back through the arch. He once again had that sensation that had prompted him to turn round in the first place and turned round. Broxa was gaping at him in shock. He realised that the corridor was now the correct way round once more.

"You're upside down," Broxa exclaimed.

"Well I never," he shouted back. "This part of the corridor flips when you walk through that arch, but walking back through re-orientates it. Most fascinating."

Broxa laughed as she twisted her head so that it seemed to be upside down from the Doctor's point of view. In all the hilarity, they did not know that they were being watched.

Hundreds of tiny bodies threaded through holes in the walls and thin ducts. They carried out the plan with efficiency, moving in amongst the wires that threaded through the entire ship and carefully rearranging or cutting them like they had done so many times before. One sat on the ceiling of the corridor that the Doctor and Broxa were in, watching them closely. This was a perfect opportunity to split them up.

The thoughts of the others were very distant, directly proportional to the actual distance from the other bodies, so it was harder for it to pass on its message. While it waited it took time to think, it was much easier to think when there weren't the thoughts of the others pulsing through. It wondered whether the doctor really was a threat, he certainly wasn't doing anything now. But it knew that they would take power regardless, they had collectively decided that. He distantly heard the confirmation from the others.

A wire was cut and another moved into its position. They all felt the thrum as the TARDIS performed a lockdown to compensate. That phase of the plan was complete. The ones who could hear the thought from those that remained in their home took it up as well, like a battle cry.

We shall spread, we shall conquer. We shall befriend, we shall make enemies. None can predict us, we have it all planned. We speak with one voice but think with a thousand. We are the Dynasty.

"What was that?" Broxa blinked as the lights flickered and the sound of the cloister bell rang a couple of times.

The Doctor stared at her in confusion. "You just flipped!" he exclaimed.

"I'm upside down as well?" she exclaimed. A feeling of unease washed over her. "That doesn't sound like a good thing."

"Not really no," the Doctor agreed. He leaned forwards and put his hand up to the gap in the archway, holding it there as if it were pressed up against a pane of glass. Broxa brought up her hand to touch his but felt resistance, as if there was an invisible barrier. She slapped her other hand against an area of empty air but felt the same resistance.

"We've been cut off," she said in despair.

The Doctor looked up, or down in Broxa's opinion. "What is it?" he asked the TARDIS. "You're not sulking because I have found something else to distract me from servicing you, are you?"

"It doesn't really matter what has caused it," Broxa interjected. "What is important is that we sort it out, and quickly."

"I don't think that speed is really of the essence her," the Doctor disagreed. "As there isn't anything chasing us, wanting to put our heads on poles, I think we can take as much time as we want. In fact the cause of this sudden lockdown in dimensions may actually offer us a solution, if we knew what it was. Take Sudoku as an example, you can't fill in all the solutions straight away you have to ponder on for hours trying to work out where they go based on the knowledge that you already have; until you run out of patience and just look at the answers, but that isn't the point."

He halted his tirade and leaned forwards onto the invisible barrier, arched his back and allowed bio-energy to escape from his mouth. He shuddered once the spasm had subsided, he needed to sort this out.

"Is that your regeneration still troubling you?" Broxa asked sympathetically.

"It is a lot better than when I first met you," he replied. "I managed to complete most of it on Mondas but there are still a few finishing touches to be done. But back to our problem at hand, once I get back to the console room I can probably track what is causing the problem."

"And leave me here?" Broxa cried in indignation.

"Afraid of the dark now are we?" the Doctor teased. "No there should be an access panel somewhere nearby, hopefully one either side of the barrier. If we each go to one of these we can manually override this lockdown and you'll be able to come back through."

"Access panel?"

"Those circles on the walls," the Doctor pointed. "One of those should come out giving you access to a collection of wires. I'll shout instructions to you once you find it, it may be round a corner in one of the other corridors."

He watched as she nodded, turned and ran down the corridor, checking each circular indent in the wall as she passed. Watching her moving upside down brought the continuous chant of a song into his head. He couldn't help but join in.

"Tumbling tumbling, tumbling tumbling, tumbling tumbling, tumbling tumbling," he looked up to the ceiling once more. "TARDIS could you play 'Falling To Our Deaths' by the Sinking Ships please." He waited and there was nothing. "Well I guess that was too much to hope for-"

There was a sudden guitar rift that was quickly accompanied by the chant that he had been murmuring a second ago. Broxa paused and looked back at him. He smirked in response. "I couldn't resist," he said, and joined in when the actual verse started.

"Gravity gripping and yanking its leash
The wind whipping your hair.
Soon you'll feel the smack of the ground
Squashing the life from your bones (tumbling, tumbling).

Time to ponder your very last words
No need to be rushed.
There's always time to be so profound
Or just gibber and whimper (tumbling, tumbling).

Twisting, turning, head over heels,
Rolling and spinning around.
Blaming others is easy yet,
It is your fault as well.
Twisting, turning, hurtling down,
Why can you not see?
At this speed we will surely be
Falling to our deaths.

Clawing and scrabbling for dear life
Futile in the end.
Nothing can stop this unending fall
You're already over the edge (tumbling, tumbling).

They told you that the world was round
Told you there was no edge.
Never mind, they will soon
Sail over themselves (tumbling, tumbling).

Twisting, turning, head over heels,
Rolling and spinning around.
Navigation is easy 'till
You have to do it yourself.
Twisting, turning, hurtling down,
Why can you not see?
At this speed we will surely be
Falling to our deaths.

Mistakes have been made,
You were betrayed.
It makes no difference,
You're already, doomed doomed doomed.

You can try to catch the edge
and struggle back to the top.
The waterfall of your enemies
Will force you down again.

Twisting, turning, head over heels,
Rolling and spinning around.
One mistake is all it takes
To doom you once and for all.
Twisting, turning, hurtling down,
Why can you not see?
At this speed we will surely be
Falling to our deaths.

(We'll be)

Twisting, turning, head over heels,
Rolling and spinning around.
Blaming others is easy yet,
It is your fault as well (tumbling, tumbling).
Twisting, turning, hurtling down,
Plummeting like a stone.
Navigation is easy 'till
You have to do it yourself (tumbling, tumbling).
Twisting, turning, plunging too,
Hurtling, spinning as well (tumbling, tumbling).
Rolling and flailing futilely
Flipping and flapping your arms (tumbling, tumbling).
Twisting, turning, hurtling down,
Why can you not see?
At this speed we will surely be
Falling to our deaths (deaths).
At this speed we will surely be
Falling to our deaths (deaths)."

The song came to an end with a continuous chant of the word 'death'. "Found it yet?" the Doctor called down the corridor.

"No!" came the reply.

"What? But you've had four minutes and 37 seconds. That should have been plenty of time," the Doctor exclaimed.

"It isn't so easy to hunt down something when it looks exactly the same as hundreds of other things," she called back. "Especially with that noise distracting me."

"I'll have you know that the Sinking Ships are a fantastic band," he bristled. "And that is a great song, even if it is only a b-side. Humans would appreciate it, if only it wasn't from all their futures. I'm not one for spoilers, I certainly wouldn't let any of them read books from the future so songs are a real no, no."

"Found it," Broxa shouted.

"Good what does it look like," the Doctor shouted back. "Describe it to me."

"It is a random tangle of wires."

"Yes, could you be more specific," the Doctor said patiently.

"There is an obvious group of blood and sky coloured ones intertwining," Broxa shouted. "Behind that they are all individuals, a soil coloured one is plugged into a sort of tube along with one the colour of grass, one the colour of blood, and one the colour of fire but not the colour of fire; it is lighter and less bloody if you understand what I am saying. There is a similar configuration on a few boxes."

"Do you not have colours on Mondas?"

"We probably did but that isn't something we were ever taught or needed to know."

The Doctor nodded in understanding. "Ok, blood is red, grass is green, soil is brown and fire is orange. Though this is not quite the colour of fire, it is lighter and less bloody, your description makes me think it is yellow," he explained, Broxa shouted that she wouldn't remember them all but would try to remember yellow at least. "What is the order on the tube and where do they attach to?" the Doctor asked.

"From left to right: soil, grass, blood, y-yell-oh," she shouted. "I can't see where they go, somewhere deeper into the chamber."

"Ok unplug the red wire, then unplug the yellow and connect the red into that terminal. Only once you have the red plugged in once more can you unplug the brown which is where the yellow needs to go. Green stays where it is while brown goes where the red started," he instructed. "Don't be tempted to deviate from the order I have told you in anyway."

"Ok red is blood, right," Broxa said. The Doctor shouted a confirmation of this fact. There was silence for a moment, which the Doctor took to mean that she was concentrating on the task at hand. "Do I reconnect yell-oh or b-row-n first?"

"Yellow first," the Doctor replied.

"Ok, is that it?"

"How many boxes are there?" he asked, confirming that she had not finished.

"Three," she replied.

"Are the wire configurations the same as with the tube?" he asked.

"Yes, except that the middle one has a sky coloured wire in between the grass and the blood."

"When you say sky, do you mean a Mondas sky?" the Doctor queried.

"Yes, of course," she shouted back.

"Ok, leave that one alone, on the other two simply swap the green wires," he waited until she confirmed that she had completed this task. "Ok that's it, I just need to find my access panel and do a similar-" he was cut off by a sudden cry of surprise. "What was that?"

"Something just landed on me," Broxa replied.

"Something just landed on you?" the Doctor replied with confusion.

"Yes," she replied in annoyance. "Something landed on my shoulder and then scuttled off."

"You didn't see what it was?"

"No, otherwise I would have told you."

"Must have been one of our little stowaways," the Doctor mused. "I wonder why it wasn't in the room with the others." A sudden realisation dawned on him. "They could have caused the lockdown!"

"That can't be good," Broxa recognised.

"Not in the slightest," the Doctor agreed. "Get back here, I'll go and undo the lockdown from my end. Come through to me as soon as the barrier opens, I don't want us getting split up."

He did not wait for a response, he simply turned and sprinted down the corridor towards where he knew the nearest access panel would be.

The Doctor has moved, the companion is alone. We are never alone, we always have someone nearby. The next phase of the plan shall be enacted, she shall not see it coming. Spread, conquer, befriend, alienate. We speak with one voice but think with a thousand. We are the Dynasty.

Broxa stood up and started to make her way back towards the barrier. She walked two paces, then stopped, something had caught her attention; a movement in the corner of her eye. She whipped her head round but was unable to catch it. She made to walk off again, but she sensed it again. Once again she failed to spot it when she turned her head. She carefully scanned the corridor for anything out of place. She heard a door open behind her. She spun round just in time to catch a small dark shape entering the door which slammed shut after it.

Highly intrigued she went to follow it, striding up to the door and firmly placing her hand on the handle. She paused for a minute, the Doctor had told her to head straight for the barrier. But surely the stowaways wouldn't be dangerous otherwise the Doctor would have had difficulty with them before. Besides she wasn't going to be in there for very long, she would just take a quick look, to see what they were. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

It had been pitch black when she opened the door but once she entered the lights flicked on. Everything in the room was covered in cobwebs. In places it stretched from the ceiling to the floor, creating intricate webs. These webs were massive, droopy and incredibly creepy. The strands were so thick in places it was almost as if they were ropes. Sat amongst these webs were spiders. They varied in shape and size but were generally black, large bodied, with thin spindly legs.

Broxa had never seen anything like it, there were no spiders on Mondas. She watched with intrigue as one moved in on one of the parcels of web in. She realised that it was another creature that had been captured and bound to prevent its escape, it wriggled about futilely as the spider inched over took hold of it with its front legs and bit into the back of its neck. It proceeded to suck it dry. Deciding that she had seen enough, Broxa turned to leave.

The door slammed shut and a chorus of voices began to echo through her brain. She brought her hands to her temples hoping to shut the voices out. It was like a massive debate, several shouting to leave her be, she is just a girl, while the others pointed out that she was a friend of the Doctor and far from helpless. It wasn't much of a debate, very quickly the Dynasty decided.

Get her!

That had been the plan all along anyway.

Author's note: the Sinking Ships and the associated song are completely fictitious any similarities to any real life bands or songs are coincidental. I have a clear idea of the tune in my head but there is unfortunately no way for anyone else to hear it, I have not composed it and lack the software or motivation to do so. The Doctor is a time traveller so is bound to be obsessed with music that comes from the future as well as the past and present, this made a pleasant change from simply copying and pasting lyrics from online.