Chapter 4
He nodded to Marco, then turning, not wanting to drop any of his precious fluids, awkwardly put his key in the Tardis's lock again. Nearly all of the restoratives had been collected over his long years from diverse worlds. Some had come into his possession eons ago, but the efficacy of these medicines was still strong. Time had actually strengthened a few of them.
"Gavilan, sir, would like to see you, if you are free," said Marco, pointedly disregarding the clutch of bottles in the Doctor's arms, or his sneaky behavior.
"Yes," replied the Doctor, a bit shame-faced. "I will be, but first I must give my little supply here to one of your nurses, and explain the use of it. It will help Turlough, my companion, to get well."
"I will take them." Marco reached out his hands.
The Doctor shrunk back, stopping just before he banged into the Tardis door. "No, Marco, I really must."
Marco signaled to two men, and the Doctor found four hands divesting him of his bottles, and he hoped aloud that they would not get broken.
"Come along with us now, Doctor," said Marco, putting his own hand on the Doctor's upper left arm and beginning to move him in the direction of the door.
But the Doctor still hung back. "You'll see that the medicines get to my friend's nurse, Marco?"
Marco nodded, smiling. "I will, be assured. We have grown very fond of both of you on this ship, Doctor."
What did he mean by that?
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In an anteroom adjoining the bridge, Gavilan stepped up to admonish him as he entered. "You should have told me, Doctor, that you were going back into your ship."
"I didn't realize it was off-limits," he said, with a raised eyebrow and a surprised tone of voice. "Especially after all the work I've done for you."
"That's true, you've fixed a lot of things wrong with the ship, and we're thankful. However, we need to know if you're planning to leave."
"I wouldn't leave my friend. I needed medicines for him."
"That's commendable. But for a month now, in perfect freedom, you've been enjoying our hospitality, so Darvis, myself, and several others on the Council believe it's time for you to give something back. Do you follow me?"
"Not quite, but I'm sure it has to do with the Tardis. Am I right?"
"It's time you fixed it. We can use it to ferry us to Frelia."
"That world of myth, not substance! I'll take you to one of the green worlds in this galaxy, but no further."
Gavilan looked downcast, but resolute. "Do you have nothing at heart, Doctor, for a dying race?"
"If that race chooses to die," he shot right back, "then I must let it continue on its way, while I go mine. Colonize one of the other worlds, Gavilan," he urged.
"How obstinate you are, Doctor. Our blood is bound up in Frelia, our peace, our harmony. Our lives. We'll accept no other world as our goal."
"Why not?"
"On our old worlds, quite a few desired peace after our many wars. Then we came across Frelia, in the Eberi system. With our whole heart, we grew to hope that one day we'd go there."
More softly now, in a tone reasonable and earnest, the Doctor said, "It will do you no good to die."
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Admonished not to mention the four green worlds to the colonists again, the Doctor was given time to fix his Tardis. No more requests came his way to help repair the freighter, or any of its systems.
But before he started his repair work, he took the elevator down to the infirmary to see how Turlough was doing. He was watched over and whispered about as he walked the long hallway. He was no longer free, he could see that. And that bothered him, he who valued his autonomy above all else.
Through the 'eyes' of the patients and nurses, he made his way to Turlough's bedside. The small nurse sat in a chair beside it, Turlough regaling her with stories of his Tardis adventures. In the door, listening for a moment, the Doctor smiled. A few of the details he was making up to make himself look more heroic in her eyes.
Excusing her sweetly, the Doctor sat down in her chair and talked quietly but firmly with his companion.
"Passions are running high on this ship," he said. "I'll fix the Tardis and then make one last offer to 'ferry' the colonists off the freighter."
"And if they don't go?" asked Turlough.
"Then we will."
With the Doctor's help, Turlough weakly sat up. The Doctor plumped his pillow and laid it behind his head again.
"I'm sorry, Doctor," Turlough said. "I shouldn't have mentioned the myth among my people. Sometimes I talk out of turn. It might not even be the same world in both myths."
"Chances are, lad, it isn't. Myths abound all over the universe, but that doesn't make any of them related. The colonists, though, will grasp at any straw."
Picking up one of his medicine bottles, he asked, "Is it time for another dose?" He poured out a spoonful, then with a warm glee in his eyes, a smile below, he said, "Open up."
Making a face, Turlough obliged. "How old is that, Doctor?"
"Not old enough to worry about. I gave you the green liquid, the best for fever, and not the purple. It has not fully mellowed with age yet."
"Very funny."
Capping the bottle of green liquid, the Doctor said, "I must hurry back to the Tardis. When you're well enough, make your way back to the ship. I need someone to keep me on my toes."
"Like Tegan used to do?" asked Turlough, cagily.
The Doctor laughed, though it made his head swim a bit. He put a couple of fingers to his forehead and frowned.
Turlough had something to say. "Thank you, Doctor, for all you've done for me."
The Doctor rallied from his short dizzy spell. "Why, Turlough, I've never seen you so grateful before. If that's the effect of the fever, then it was worth it."
Turlough grinned, but after the Doctor left, he lay back and wondered if the two myths could be the same. He slept, and in a dream, the colonists were a part of his own people, a people he missed so much.
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All that day, and far into the night, the Doctor worked on the Tardis. Alone on the ship, he could act out his frustrations without having his usual audience. If a panel is stuck, hit the console, and it will open. If a light does not come on, kick the console, and, sure enough, the truant light comes on.
He recalled Tegan's oft-repeated reproach, "It's no use kicking it, Doctor. It's only a machine."
Tegan Jovanka had been good at wrecking his concentration with her 'penetrating' voice. It was something he actually missed about her.
About midnight, he pounded again on the console, and the time column wobbled up, and then back down again. Its indolent gears and wheels rang out in protest, but after a few hiccups, it took on a steadier pattern.
The Tardis dematerialized.
Had he fixed it? Or had it fixed itself? No way of knowing, even as he returned the ship to the deck of the freighter. Perhaps it was only partly fixed—the jump through space had been flawed, and he almost did not return.
"What's that funny noise?" he asked himself, then provided his own answer. "Just wires crossing, and not in a saintly way."