DISCLAIMER: Anything you recognise- the Doctor, the Brigadier, the TARDIS-
belongs to the BBC. Anything you don't recognise- Time Scales, the Stranger-
belongs to me. Nina, Chris, Matteo and Natalie belong to themselves, and I
use their names here with their permission. Enjoy.
FEEDBACK: Feel free to give it.
challengerspet: Inferno's one of my personal top stories as well. Just wait; I go into a great deal more detail on it's past in some future chapters.
Chapter Two
Nightmares
Far outside Time, in the higher dimension called the Time Vortex, the TARDIS revolved slowly as it spun through that dimension, waiting for its next destination to be entered by its pilot.
The pilot was the Doctor.
However, it was not the Doctor in velvet and frills that had sent the Stranger to the edge of the Time Spiral years ago. Instead, it was a new Doctor, the Seventh Doctor, whereas the one in the frills had been the Third Doctor. This new Doctor had no trace of an Edwardian- like attire- indeed, his current outfit was a brown jacket that reached, cream trousers, a white shirt, and a red waistcoat, as well as carrying a bright red question- mark handled umbrella and wearing a straw hat. But then that's regeneration. Each body always undergoes a personality change from the last one, and although some factors remain, such as the sharp wit, inquisitive mind and heroic drive remain, each body has a different method of saving the day, and each never wears the same outfit as the last one. This one was a good example- his previous body had always worn a large, multicoloured coat that clashed horribly with black and banana- yellow striped trousers, along with a ridiculous waistcoat and green shoes with orange spats. Generally, this incarnation took it easy in clothing by comparison, since at least he looked rather inconspicuous in some time zones.
Although the Vortex itself was highly turbulent, inside the TARDIS things were more relaxed. Recently, the Doctor had reconfigured the TARDIS's secondary console room for his more permanent use, and it was now much more impressive. Originally it hadn't been much to look it- the control console was a lot smaller then the one in the other control room, and instead of a Time Rotor in the centre of the console it had what looked a little like a shaving mirror, and there was practically nothing else in the room beside the console- just a door, steps, and a few railings. It had been nice, but not particularly interesting.
Now, however, everything was very different. The console was now the size of its counterpart in the main control room, but still made of wood and with a little less controls than the other. Metal girders surrounded the console, stretching up to the roof and then curving down to connect with the Time Rotor, a lot thinner then its counterpart, but taller. Inside it, several metal poles, joined by a metal circle, were positioned in the top and the bottom of the rotor, which moved towards and away from each other while the TARDIS was in flight. Carpets lay around the console, and an armchair was nearby, beside a table with several books in a pile on a table beside it, a teacup at the top of them all. There were several candles around the console as well, and above every door stretching away from the console room was a shape that resembled an infinity symbol in a circle- the Seal of Rassilon, greatest of the Doctor's people.
Recently, the Doctor had just left the planet Artais, after a battle with its immortal warlord, Grayvorn, calling himself Vaughan Sutton. In the fight, the Doctor had managed to stop Sutton's plan to control all of the planet's dead, but he hadn't been able to stop Sutton launching nuclear warheads. Several of the planet's population had been killed, and the planet itself wouldn't be left in good shape either. The Doctor knew that he had been unable to do anything, but couldn't stop himself from wishing there had been something he could have done...
Deciding he might as well stay about in the console room for a bit, not feeling up to going anywhere yet, the Doctor had set the TARDIS to dematerialise and just remain parked in temporal orbit for a while.
After checking the clothes in the mirror, the Doctor sat down in the armchair and picked up his teacup. However, as he drank it he had a very unpleasant surprise- the coffee was cold.
"Only to be expected, I suppose," he said to himself. After all, he had spent a lot of time running around trying to stop Sutton. Getting up, he headed off to a nearby tea machine and poured himself a new cup. Turning around to go back to his chair, he noticed his old cat, Wolsey, sitting on the arm of his old chair. Wolsey was about the only companion the Doctor had left, dating back to the end of a rather complex chain of events that had occurred on Earth in 1914, and right now the Doctor was glad of his company.
"Ah, hello there, Wolsey," the Doctor smiled, stroking the cat on the back with his fingers. "How have you been, then?"
Wolsey meowed in reply, and jumped off the chair. Putting his cup down, the Doctor gave Wolsey a little scratch behind the ears, before walking off to his room in the TARDIS.
Sitting down back in his chair, he began to sip his tea again. This time it was a lot better, just the right temperature. Smiling, the Doctor put the cup on top of the pile of books, and closed his eyes a little. Maybe a quick doze would do him some good...
*****
Opening his eyes, the Doctor looked around him. The light was incredibly bright. Where was he...?
Then, he saw something recognisable. An old ruin that looked a little like the remains of a cathedral. Taking a deep breath, the Doctor sensed the positive ion bombardment in the atmosphere. He was on the Eye of Orion, widely renowned as one of the most peaceful planets in the Universe. Looking around, he saw no sign of the turmoil that had resulted from his last visit two lifetimes ago, which had left a Raston Warrior Robot running around the planet amid several dead Sontarans. Possibly somebody had dealt with them, or this was the Eye before those events occurred.
"Exactly, my boy!" a voice called out from behind him. "Those events are still to occur on this delightful little place!"
Turning around, the Doctor searched for the source of that voice.
"We're down the hill!" another voice cried out, sounding like it was laughing a little. Looking down the hill, the Doctor saw five men relaxing on the bottom near a tree. He recognised them all at once. One man was tall and old, dressed in a Victorian outfit, and carried a walking stick. Another was younger and shorter, with a pudding- bowl haircut and a tramp- like outfit consisting of a black jacket at least two sizes too big, a rumpled blue shirt and checked brown trousers, currently blowing a recorder. The third was taller then the old man, and was wearing a blue velvet jacket, black trousers and a blue frilly shirt. The fourth wore a burgundy outfit, consisting of a jacket reaching down to his knees, a long scarf in varying shades of red, and a floppy hat. The fifth and last was wearing a cricket outfit, a red- and- white striped trousers, and a long beige frock coat with a stick of celery pinned to the lapel.
All of them were the Doctor- or, to be more accurate, they were the Doctor's first five incarnations.
"This is a dream," the Doctor said to himself.
"Well, why not?" the Second Doctor asked. "Doesn't do you any harm to dream about us, eh? It doesn't break the Laws of Time!"
"Care for a quick drink?" the Fourth Doctor asked, waving a bottle of ginger beer at the Doctor. "Can't do you any harm, you know!"
"Well, just one, I suppose," the Doctor said, walking down towards his past selves.
"Good on you, my- URK!" the First Doctor cried. A large man dressed in a military outfit sticking a sword right through him caused the 'URK'. The First Doctor gasped, and then collapsed to the floor.
"DOCTOR!" the other four cried, looking down at their first self. They looked up at the man that had just killed their past.
"There was no need for that!" the Second Doctor cried, charging towards the man. He struck him in the stomach with his head, but all that resulted in was a loud 'oomph' from the man and a disoriented Second Doctor.
"Not smart," the man said, pulling out a large gun and shooting the Second Doctor once in the head. The Second was dead before he hit the ground.
"Who are you?" the Third Doctor cried, as the Fourth and Fifth examined their younger self's body. "Why do this?"
"Why, I'm you," the man replied.
"What?!" cried the four Doctors.
"You heard," the man said, pulling a large machine gun out. "I'm your eighth incarnation. This is my Mind now. You lot are no longer a part of it!"
With that, he opened fire.
It was horrible. The Seventh Doctor was unscathed, being behind the Eighth and not noticed yet, and the Fourth and Fifth managed to retreat to safety in time, but the Third was shot down before he could do anything.
The Seventh Doctor, from his vantage point on the hillside, made his decision. This was not a fight his past selves could win on their own. Their only chance was if the Eighth Doctor could be defeated. This was simply a battle in a dream, so therefore, if the Eighth was defeated, the First, Second and Third Doctors would be restored to him.
The Seventh made his decision on his strategy. His best bet was a surprise leap onto the Eighth's back, and then hit him over the head with something- either his umbrella or one of the Eighth's guns. However, just as the Doctor was charging forward, someone grabbed his collar.
"Going somewhere?" a voice asked him. Turning around, the Doctor saw a very unwelcome sight- his sixth incarnation, clad in the long black robe with the ornate collar and the black skullcap that were the traditional garb of the Doctor's dark side, the Vaelyard.
"What are you doing here?" the Seventh Doctor asked the Sixth, trying not to look too nervous.
"Stopping you, of course," the Sixth grinned. But no, the Doctor thought to himself. This wasn't his sixth incarnation- not anymore. This was a degenerate monster, an amalgamation of his previous self and the darkest parts of the persona. However, despite all that, the Seventh Doctor couldn't help but think of this as anything other then his past self.
"Why?" he asked his past self, waving his hand at the scene in front of them. The Eighth Doctor was currently battering in the head of the Fourth Doctor with the butt end of his gun, and was holding the Fifth Doctor at gunpoint with a pistol. "What can you gain from butchering our past?"
"It hurts you, Doctor," the Sixth said simply, raising his fist to the Seventh's face. "That's all I've wanted lately- you to suffer."
Then the Sixth Doctor punched the Seventh in the face.
The Seventh Doctor reeled back, bringing his hands automatically to his nose. They came away dripping blood. "Why...?" he asked dazedly, before the Sixth punched him again.
"You cut my life short," the Sixth Doctor said, as the Seventh tried to regain his footing. "You erased my future. Now I'll erase yours."
"This...this won't do anything for you..." the Seventh Doctor gasped, looking up at his past self. "Nothing changes...for you..."
"You'll be dead," the Sixth Doctor said, kicking him in the stomach. "That's enough of a difference for me."
"Good job, Doctor," another voice said. Looking round, the Doctor saw the speaker. It was the Eighth Doctor.
"The others..." he gasped, weakly; the Sixth's blows had done a lot of damage. "Dead," the Eighth said simply. "As you will be."
"Will you do the honours, Doctor?" the Sixth Doctor asked the Eighth.
"With pleasure, Doctor," the Eighth said. He raised his gun, and pointed it at the Seventh Doctor. Looking into the face of his future self, the Seventh suddenly saw a different face than the Eighth Doctor's.
It was the Valeyard.
He began to pull the trigger...
*****
The Doctor woke up, gasping a little.
"Oh...a dream...just a dream..." he said to himself. But then, on the other hand, he knew that dream, didn't he?
It had been haunting him for some time now, ever since that affair with Davros and the Hand of Omega in 1963, and had gotten worse after the confrontation with Dr. Who and his meeting Ace and Mel again. He knew what it was all about- his worries that, because of the actions he had committed in his present incarnation, his next regeneration would allow the Valeyard to gain dominance, and he would become all he had ever fought. He had committed so many atrocities in this life, and had so much blood on his hands that, evil or no, he wasn't sure he could ever truly be the Doctor he once was. And the Sixth Doctor in the dream? Simply his worries as to what his memories of his previous self would do to him if given the chance. Everything seemed to be getting on top of him lately. What had happened to him in the week prior to this recent battle? Well, there'd been that meeting with his future self, that annoying affair involving his immediately preceding two selves, the damage to the Web of Time caused by the Sirens of Time, and what else... no, that was it.
Maybe a holiday would take my mind of that dream... How long has it been since I had a break, anyway? the Doctor asked himself. Then it occurred to him- the last break he'd had was when he went to Metebelis Three for a break and almost got eaten!
"The Brigadier would say that's overdoing it even for a Time Lord," the Doctor said to himself as he sipped his tea. "Got to try for somewhere more relaxing, somewhere where I don't even have the smallest chance of getting attacked, captured, or eaten by anyone or anything."
The question was, where to go? The Doctor knew that just sitting back and relaxing at home could have its positive merits for some people, but he presently felt like doing something when he got to wherever he was going. But what to do...?
Reaching into his pocket, the Doctor's hand closed around his sonic screwdriver, which felt a little different. Pulling it out of his pocket, he could see why- in the distortion caused by the Relic releasing all its souls at once, the screwdriver had been badly damaged. Several parts were leaking out of the cracked casing, and the Doctor was fairly sure that at least the pitchometer had fallen apart, and possibly more.
"Well, that solves that problem, eh?" the Doctor smiled. Getting out of the chair, he headed to the console and, after a little contemplation, set the coordinates for Earth, during the 24th century. He could always go to Gallifrey, but he felt like a little challenge, and repairing the screwdriver with human technology would be a good one. "This should be just perfect, eh, old thing?" he asked the TARDIS as he headed back to his chair. "Let me know when we arrive, will you?" he asked, as he reached over and picked up the first book on the pile beside him. He smiled as he saw what book it was; his first edition signed copy of The Time Machine, by H. G. Wells. Grinning a little, the Doctor took a little look at the signature in the cover.
To the Doctor, with affection and respect. H.G.
"This shouldn't be too hard," the Doctor smiled to the TARDIS as he began to read the first line of the book; The Time Traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak of him) was expounding a recondite matter to us. "In, pick up the parts I need, and out. What could be easier?"
FEEDBACK: Feel free to give it.
challengerspet: Inferno's one of my personal top stories as well. Just wait; I go into a great deal more detail on it's past in some future chapters.
Chapter Two
Nightmares
Far outside Time, in the higher dimension called the Time Vortex, the TARDIS revolved slowly as it spun through that dimension, waiting for its next destination to be entered by its pilot.
The pilot was the Doctor.
However, it was not the Doctor in velvet and frills that had sent the Stranger to the edge of the Time Spiral years ago. Instead, it was a new Doctor, the Seventh Doctor, whereas the one in the frills had been the Third Doctor. This new Doctor had no trace of an Edwardian- like attire- indeed, his current outfit was a brown jacket that reached, cream trousers, a white shirt, and a red waistcoat, as well as carrying a bright red question- mark handled umbrella and wearing a straw hat. But then that's regeneration. Each body always undergoes a personality change from the last one, and although some factors remain, such as the sharp wit, inquisitive mind and heroic drive remain, each body has a different method of saving the day, and each never wears the same outfit as the last one. This one was a good example- his previous body had always worn a large, multicoloured coat that clashed horribly with black and banana- yellow striped trousers, along with a ridiculous waistcoat and green shoes with orange spats. Generally, this incarnation took it easy in clothing by comparison, since at least he looked rather inconspicuous in some time zones.
Although the Vortex itself was highly turbulent, inside the TARDIS things were more relaxed. Recently, the Doctor had reconfigured the TARDIS's secondary console room for his more permanent use, and it was now much more impressive. Originally it hadn't been much to look it- the control console was a lot smaller then the one in the other control room, and instead of a Time Rotor in the centre of the console it had what looked a little like a shaving mirror, and there was practically nothing else in the room beside the console- just a door, steps, and a few railings. It had been nice, but not particularly interesting.
Now, however, everything was very different. The console was now the size of its counterpart in the main control room, but still made of wood and with a little less controls than the other. Metal girders surrounded the console, stretching up to the roof and then curving down to connect with the Time Rotor, a lot thinner then its counterpart, but taller. Inside it, several metal poles, joined by a metal circle, were positioned in the top and the bottom of the rotor, which moved towards and away from each other while the TARDIS was in flight. Carpets lay around the console, and an armchair was nearby, beside a table with several books in a pile on a table beside it, a teacup at the top of them all. There were several candles around the console as well, and above every door stretching away from the console room was a shape that resembled an infinity symbol in a circle- the Seal of Rassilon, greatest of the Doctor's people.
Recently, the Doctor had just left the planet Artais, after a battle with its immortal warlord, Grayvorn, calling himself Vaughan Sutton. In the fight, the Doctor had managed to stop Sutton's plan to control all of the planet's dead, but he hadn't been able to stop Sutton launching nuclear warheads. Several of the planet's population had been killed, and the planet itself wouldn't be left in good shape either. The Doctor knew that he had been unable to do anything, but couldn't stop himself from wishing there had been something he could have done...
Deciding he might as well stay about in the console room for a bit, not feeling up to going anywhere yet, the Doctor had set the TARDIS to dematerialise and just remain parked in temporal orbit for a while.
After checking the clothes in the mirror, the Doctor sat down in the armchair and picked up his teacup. However, as he drank it he had a very unpleasant surprise- the coffee was cold.
"Only to be expected, I suppose," he said to himself. After all, he had spent a lot of time running around trying to stop Sutton. Getting up, he headed off to a nearby tea machine and poured himself a new cup. Turning around to go back to his chair, he noticed his old cat, Wolsey, sitting on the arm of his old chair. Wolsey was about the only companion the Doctor had left, dating back to the end of a rather complex chain of events that had occurred on Earth in 1914, and right now the Doctor was glad of his company.
"Ah, hello there, Wolsey," the Doctor smiled, stroking the cat on the back with his fingers. "How have you been, then?"
Wolsey meowed in reply, and jumped off the chair. Putting his cup down, the Doctor gave Wolsey a little scratch behind the ears, before walking off to his room in the TARDIS.
Sitting down back in his chair, he began to sip his tea again. This time it was a lot better, just the right temperature. Smiling, the Doctor put the cup on top of the pile of books, and closed his eyes a little. Maybe a quick doze would do him some good...
*****
Opening his eyes, the Doctor looked around him. The light was incredibly bright. Where was he...?
Then, he saw something recognisable. An old ruin that looked a little like the remains of a cathedral. Taking a deep breath, the Doctor sensed the positive ion bombardment in the atmosphere. He was on the Eye of Orion, widely renowned as one of the most peaceful planets in the Universe. Looking around, he saw no sign of the turmoil that had resulted from his last visit two lifetimes ago, which had left a Raston Warrior Robot running around the planet amid several dead Sontarans. Possibly somebody had dealt with them, or this was the Eye before those events occurred.
"Exactly, my boy!" a voice called out from behind him. "Those events are still to occur on this delightful little place!"
Turning around, the Doctor searched for the source of that voice.
"We're down the hill!" another voice cried out, sounding like it was laughing a little. Looking down the hill, the Doctor saw five men relaxing on the bottom near a tree. He recognised them all at once. One man was tall and old, dressed in a Victorian outfit, and carried a walking stick. Another was younger and shorter, with a pudding- bowl haircut and a tramp- like outfit consisting of a black jacket at least two sizes too big, a rumpled blue shirt and checked brown trousers, currently blowing a recorder. The third was taller then the old man, and was wearing a blue velvet jacket, black trousers and a blue frilly shirt. The fourth wore a burgundy outfit, consisting of a jacket reaching down to his knees, a long scarf in varying shades of red, and a floppy hat. The fifth and last was wearing a cricket outfit, a red- and- white striped trousers, and a long beige frock coat with a stick of celery pinned to the lapel.
All of them were the Doctor- or, to be more accurate, they were the Doctor's first five incarnations.
"This is a dream," the Doctor said to himself.
"Well, why not?" the Second Doctor asked. "Doesn't do you any harm to dream about us, eh? It doesn't break the Laws of Time!"
"Care for a quick drink?" the Fourth Doctor asked, waving a bottle of ginger beer at the Doctor. "Can't do you any harm, you know!"
"Well, just one, I suppose," the Doctor said, walking down towards his past selves.
"Good on you, my- URK!" the First Doctor cried. A large man dressed in a military outfit sticking a sword right through him caused the 'URK'. The First Doctor gasped, and then collapsed to the floor.
"DOCTOR!" the other four cried, looking down at their first self. They looked up at the man that had just killed their past.
"There was no need for that!" the Second Doctor cried, charging towards the man. He struck him in the stomach with his head, but all that resulted in was a loud 'oomph' from the man and a disoriented Second Doctor.
"Not smart," the man said, pulling out a large gun and shooting the Second Doctor once in the head. The Second was dead before he hit the ground.
"Who are you?" the Third Doctor cried, as the Fourth and Fifth examined their younger self's body. "Why do this?"
"Why, I'm you," the man replied.
"What?!" cried the four Doctors.
"You heard," the man said, pulling a large machine gun out. "I'm your eighth incarnation. This is my Mind now. You lot are no longer a part of it!"
With that, he opened fire.
It was horrible. The Seventh Doctor was unscathed, being behind the Eighth and not noticed yet, and the Fourth and Fifth managed to retreat to safety in time, but the Third was shot down before he could do anything.
The Seventh Doctor, from his vantage point on the hillside, made his decision. This was not a fight his past selves could win on their own. Their only chance was if the Eighth Doctor could be defeated. This was simply a battle in a dream, so therefore, if the Eighth was defeated, the First, Second and Third Doctors would be restored to him.
The Seventh made his decision on his strategy. His best bet was a surprise leap onto the Eighth's back, and then hit him over the head with something- either his umbrella or one of the Eighth's guns. However, just as the Doctor was charging forward, someone grabbed his collar.
"Going somewhere?" a voice asked him. Turning around, the Doctor saw a very unwelcome sight- his sixth incarnation, clad in the long black robe with the ornate collar and the black skullcap that were the traditional garb of the Doctor's dark side, the Vaelyard.
"What are you doing here?" the Seventh Doctor asked the Sixth, trying not to look too nervous.
"Stopping you, of course," the Sixth grinned. But no, the Doctor thought to himself. This wasn't his sixth incarnation- not anymore. This was a degenerate monster, an amalgamation of his previous self and the darkest parts of the persona. However, despite all that, the Seventh Doctor couldn't help but think of this as anything other then his past self.
"Why?" he asked his past self, waving his hand at the scene in front of them. The Eighth Doctor was currently battering in the head of the Fourth Doctor with the butt end of his gun, and was holding the Fifth Doctor at gunpoint with a pistol. "What can you gain from butchering our past?"
"It hurts you, Doctor," the Sixth said simply, raising his fist to the Seventh's face. "That's all I've wanted lately- you to suffer."
Then the Sixth Doctor punched the Seventh in the face.
The Seventh Doctor reeled back, bringing his hands automatically to his nose. They came away dripping blood. "Why...?" he asked dazedly, before the Sixth punched him again.
"You cut my life short," the Sixth Doctor said, as the Seventh tried to regain his footing. "You erased my future. Now I'll erase yours."
"This...this won't do anything for you..." the Seventh Doctor gasped, looking up at his past self. "Nothing changes...for you..."
"You'll be dead," the Sixth Doctor said, kicking him in the stomach. "That's enough of a difference for me."
"Good job, Doctor," another voice said. Looking round, the Doctor saw the speaker. It was the Eighth Doctor.
"The others..." he gasped, weakly; the Sixth's blows had done a lot of damage. "Dead," the Eighth said simply. "As you will be."
"Will you do the honours, Doctor?" the Sixth Doctor asked the Eighth.
"With pleasure, Doctor," the Eighth said. He raised his gun, and pointed it at the Seventh Doctor. Looking into the face of his future self, the Seventh suddenly saw a different face than the Eighth Doctor's.
It was the Valeyard.
He began to pull the trigger...
*****
The Doctor woke up, gasping a little.
"Oh...a dream...just a dream..." he said to himself. But then, on the other hand, he knew that dream, didn't he?
It had been haunting him for some time now, ever since that affair with Davros and the Hand of Omega in 1963, and had gotten worse after the confrontation with Dr. Who and his meeting Ace and Mel again. He knew what it was all about- his worries that, because of the actions he had committed in his present incarnation, his next regeneration would allow the Valeyard to gain dominance, and he would become all he had ever fought. He had committed so many atrocities in this life, and had so much blood on his hands that, evil or no, he wasn't sure he could ever truly be the Doctor he once was. And the Sixth Doctor in the dream? Simply his worries as to what his memories of his previous self would do to him if given the chance. Everything seemed to be getting on top of him lately. What had happened to him in the week prior to this recent battle? Well, there'd been that meeting with his future self, that annoying affair involving his immediately preceding two selves, the damage to the Web of Time caused by the Sirens of Time, and what else... no, that was it.
Maybe a holiday would take my mind of that dream... How long has it been since I had a break, anyway? the Doctor asked himself. Then it occurred to him- the last break he'd had was when he went to Metebelis Three for a break and almost got eaten!
"The Brigadier would say that's overdoing it even for a Time Lord," the Doctor said to himself as he sipped his tea. "Got to try for somewhere more relaxing, somewhere where I don't even have the smallest chance of getting attacked, captured, or eaten by anyone or anything."
The question was, where to go? The Doctor knew that just sitting back and relaxing at home could have its positive merits for some people, but he presently felt like doing something when he got to wherever he was going. But what to do...?
Reaching into his pocket, the Doctor's hand closed around his sonic screwdriver, which felt a little different. Pulling it out of his pocket, he could see why- in the distortion caused by the Relic releasing all its souls at once, the screwdriver had been badly damaged. Several parts were leaking out of the cracked casing, and the Doctor was fairly sure that at least the pitchometer had fallen apart, and possibly more.
"Well, that solves that problem, eh?" the Doctor smiled. Getting out of the chair, he headed to the console and, after a little contemplation, set the coordinates for Earth, during the 24th century. He could always go to Gallifrey, but he felt like a little challenge, and repairing the screwdriver with human technology would be a good one. "This should be just perfect, eh, old thing?" he asked the TARDIS as he headed back to his chair. "Let me know when we arrive, will you?" he asked, as he reached over and picked up the first book on the pile beside him. He smiled as he saw what book it was; his first edition signed copy of The Time Machine, by H. G. Wells. Grinning a little, the Doctor took a little look at the signature in the cover.
To the Doctor, with affection and respect. H.G.
"This shouldn't be too hard," the Doctor smiled to the TARDIS as he began to read the first line of the book; The Time Traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak of him) was expounding a recondite matter to us. "In, pick up the parts I need, and out. What could be easier?"
