Getting to Drive
Jenny's lessons on the TARDIS are becoming practical. She can feel the TARDIS now. It's always there in the back of her head, soft sensations of doubt or comfort, annoyance or pride. It's like having another parent, this one in her mind.
She's really getting into the works. Checking the hadron crystals for cracks. Helping to wire the circuits, replace fluid links, check dampers and stabilizers in the understory. Fix thrusters. Even work with a few of the temporal circuits at her father's side. Sometimes she can feel something, when she's working on them. Something on the edge of her vision, just beyond her reach. Sometimes she can just catch a glimpse of Time. Almost. She'll grow into it. She can't wait for that.
They move in a steady rhythm when they're traveling, used to working together. He still looks at her sometimes as if she's glass, tries to guide her hands. But he just wants to protect her. She can live with that.
He let her make a landing a while ago. It wasn't pretty. But he let her try again. And again. She slowly pulls down the handbrake, tilts the stabilizer matrix with two fingers, materializing the ship smoothly. It settles with a soft 'woosh', the rotor stilling.
"Great!" her father exclaims, "You're getting good at that."
"Thanks." Jenny sets one more stabilizer, then looks up.
"How long did it take you to learn this?"
"In theory or practice?" the Doctor asks, striding across the room to pull his coat from the hat rack.
"In practice. The actual driving."
"Somewhere around…I think it was nine years, 'course that was after I'd learned all the basics on temporal functions. It would have taken less time, 'cept they failed me the first time 'round."
"They what?!" Jenny's dark eyes go wide, half shocked and half laughing. The Doctor turns, shrugging into his coat.
"Failed me. First time around I did a bit…" he makes a so-so gesture with his hand. "Had to test on a type Nintey, which was bad from the start, and ol' Borusa was only too pleased to give me the fail. But, got me extra practice, made me better at it I suppose."
"You actually failed?!"
His face takes on a slightly offended look. "Well, just goes to show what humble beginnings genius can rise from. Late bloomer, that's all."
"Late bloomer?"
"Yup."
Jenny pulls her satchel from the rack. Then maybe I'll be blooming late too.
"So can I try piloting in the Vortex next?"
Her father's head shoots up. Alarm thrills through her mind, intermingled with a ripple of amusement from the TARDIS.
"Ah, not just yet. Like I said, practice…"
Then he's out the door. Jenny snorts her annoyance. But she follows her father. She has years to learn.