"I do hope that they clean these matter-to-energy transporters regularly." The Doctor muttered as they stepped into the chamber."
"Such systems are no doubt part of the design, Master." K-9 replied.
"Perhaps, but you never know. A lot of species don't even figure out the molecular degradation problem until they accidentally beam up blobs of slime rather than people. Even the more advanced models like these shave off a couple million atoms on every trip, like a high tech exfoliant. If you don't purge the matter stream every now and then it builds up, and eventually you end up with a bit of someone's lower intestine in your lungs. Not a pleasant experience, let me tell you."
"Quite interesting." K-9 said, his audio receptors slowly rotating. An aesthetic choice by his original designers to indicate it when it was considering a response, no doubt. "According to my databanks, the main point of contention concerning matter-to-energy transportation in its formative period was a metaphysical one, based in part on the logistics behind it. Specifically, as matter-to-energy technology requires the deconstruction of the subject matter and its subsequent reconstruction, the question arises as to whether the resultant object is the same as the original. Applied to sentient beings, the argument could be made that the dissolution of the brain and nervous system causes instant death, and that the being at the end of the transport is in fact a copy built on the image of the original. Years of extensive testing has put to rest much of these speculations, but there are still significant portions of the population that maintain strict anti-MTE beliefs.
"You seem...oddly verbose about this subject, K-9." The Doctor said.
"We artificial intelligences are uniquely interested in matters of consciousness, Master."
"Ah well, carry on then." The Doctor mumbled, typing the code he was given by the Vilbrumin receptionist into the transporter control. "If they were really worried about it, they should just do what the Time Lords do: If you want to get from point A to point B without taking a step, just move the room."
The journey was instantaneous, as is the advantage of being converted to light, and when The Doctor and K-9 exited the transportation chamber they found themselves in a hallway about as large as the room they had just left. Along both sides of the hall, set a good distance apart were large mechanical doors, and on each one there was a name, or more accurately a description. "Akanine Caves, Lazeride", "Almeta Desert, Czirat", and most importantly, "African veldt, Earth". Seeing no other reason to tarry, they entered.
On the other side of the door was a room, and as much as the entrance looked like an airport terminal, this one looked like the waiting room at a dentist's office. A couple chairs, something that looked like a fern, a few electronic tablets containing a few hundred magazines, and three people who were (assumedly) waiting for The Doctor and his dog to arrive. Their expressions ranged from calm to unbelievably annoyed.
The unbelievably annoyed one, The Doctor was interested to note, seemed to be a human, dressed in traditional Old Earth safari attire. Although ruggedly built, with a well-manicured blonde beard to match, he exuded such an air of petulance and self-importance that one couldn't help but set themselves against him in their minds. At least The Doctor couldn't, making a mental note to annoy this particular fellow at every available opportunity. It just wouldn't be a proper adventure without it, really.
Standing next to the man was a alien that The Doctor assumed was an Orlon, if the cracked blue skin was any indication. From what he could recall, Orlons as a whole prided themselves on their strict adherence to all things business-like and contractual, their entire culture based itself around it in fact. Hire an Orlon, and you got a worker that never complained, never asked for time off, and always did exactly what was asked of them. Break a contract with an Orlon, and your life was forfeit, as well anyone else in the immediate vicinity after the guild jihad was finished. The temptation of the perfect employee was often too great a temptation for most however, and so Orlons were a pretty common site anywhere you could find an interstellar conglomerate. Likely too dedicated to his work to be rattled.
Last but not least, there was a Vilbrumin woman, dressed in the deep crimson that classified her as a member of the biome guide staff. The Doctor's opinion on the Vilbrum was already well-established at this point, and considering his history, his opinion on women was as well. Not that he was biased or anything, he had friends of a variety of different genders and sexes, it was just that in his experience women tended to receptive to the idea of time traveling misadventures, and rarely attempted to murder him. Although there was that one time on Titan…, but she was already walking up to greet them, so there was no time to reminisce.
"Hello, you must be-" She suddenly broke off, looking confused.
"Something the matter?" The Doctor asked.
"No, no, I apologize, it's just that I'm not used to picking up such a...bizarre reading from someone before. Like trying to peer through a smokescreen. Are you from Earth?"
"Gallifrey, actually. Though I have been known to holiday on Earth every few centuries." The Doctor replied, giving her an amicable grin and a doff of the hat. "I'm The Doctor by the way, and this is K-9."
"A pleasure, ma'am."
"Sorry about the confusion," The Time Lord continued " you see my species has quite the degree of mental power, if I do say so myself. We're not the greatest in the universe by ay stretch but we do have a way of not being sensed when the situation arises. I say, that's probably why that man at the front desk looked like he swallowed an orange whole, eh?"
"One never knows with you around, Master." K-9 said.
Right…" The Vilbrumin guide said. She had never heard of any planet known as Gallifrey, and he didn't look any different from the average human, aside from the strange fashion sense. An eccentric professor with a dampener implant, playing out a fantasy with a robot dog? "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Doctor, K-9, my name is Kel-Zazad, I'm the supervisor and guide for the Africa biome."
She waved an arm over to the other people. "These are the other members of our party today. Doctor, this is Sir Tiberius Caine of Earth, and Nom of Orlon Alpha."
"Gentlemen." The Time Lord said with a tip of the hat.
"Charmed, I'm sure." Caine said, thoroughly uncharmed.
"Hmph." Nom grunted.
"So this is everyone, then?" The Doctor asked, looking about as if someone was going to pop up behind the furniture. "Rather small for a group that's going to travel across half a continent, isn't it?"
"That's the trouble with visiting one of the less popular biomes, I suppose," Kel replied, "trips end up being a bit more intimate, for better or worst. In fact we were about ready to leave before your reservation came through."
"Which meant we were forced to wait until you and your antique arrived before we could get started." Caine muttered.
"Antique?" K-9 said, almost sounding annoyed.
"I'd have been here sooner, but it's such a pain to get the time coordinates exactly right. Some day I really must sit down and figure out what all those buttons do... Still, the important thing is that we're here, we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other Mister Caine."
"That's Sir Caine."
"Tibby it is then!"
"Now see here! I-"
"I think it's about time we headed out." Kel-Zazad announced, stepping in between the grinning Time Lord and the grimacing aristocrat. She could almost taste the indignation radiating off of the man in waves, sour like tilash soup that had sat out in the sun too long. "It's currently around midday in the biome, and there's a lot of ground we need to cover before night falls. The door is right over here, if you'd all follow me."
"Yes, let's get on with it. I only allow myself a few vacations per year, might as well try to get what little enjoyment of it that I can." Caine said, throwing a cold glare in The Doctor's direction. "Come along Nom."
"Yes, Sir." Nom said, in a sonorous voice.
"After you Mister Crane." The Doctor said cheerily.
"Master, am I really an antique?" K-9 asked, as Kel-Zazad and the two men headed to the back of the room and the entrance to the biome.
"Well, technically speaking you are several hundred years old, so you are something of an antique. Then again, technically speaking I'm something of an antique myself, so I wouldn't worry my CPU over it." The Time Lord knelt down and gave his dog a warm pat on the head. "Now come on, let's join the others."
"Yes Master!"