Chapter 19- Behind Enemy Lines
At some point in my partnership with Clara, I realized that my role had reversed, if only temporarily: I had become the Doctor, and Clara was my companion. In fact, the beginning of our alliance started much the way mine with the Doctor did: we'd partnered up when things looked bleak; she'd stopped me from taking her to the TARDIS until she got some answers; and she'd allowed me privacy when I needed it. I suppose the Doctor feared for my safety like I feared for Clara's, but he and I were both glad we weren't going it alone.
The TARDIS suddenly jolted violently, my hand slipping off the crank as Clara and I fell to the floor. I immediately shot to my feet, hurried to Clara, and pulled her up—I wasn't having any repeats of how I met River. When she was steady, I hurried back to the crank and wound with renewed vigor, fighting against the ship's resistance.
"What's going on?" Clara asked, gripping the console more strongly.
"Oh, she always does this!" I exclaimed, pushing against the crank that had gone completely immobile. I clamped both hands around it and threw my weight into it, getting my rhythm going. Suddenly, the Voice Interface appeared beside me, again taking the image of the Doctor.
"The Daleks have shielded their headquarters," the Interface said. "Their technology is interfering with mine."
I refocused my efforts on the crank, but the TARDIS lurched again, but the opposite way, throwing Clara and I against the console. Then the TARDIS quaked again, and again, and again, sending Clara and I to the ground every which way. I was close to panicking—would the Daleks' shielding triumph over the TARDIS's power?
"Come on, girl, you can do it!" I encouraged. I'm not sure if I was cheering on the TARDIS or myself.
"Can the ship land?" Clara asked.
"I can materialize now, but I cannot get close enough to materialize around the Doctor and River," the Interface answered, now back to its usual stoicism.
"How close are we to them?" I shouted.
"Ten feet."
"Land!" Clara and I yelled at the same time.
The TARDIS's vibrating grew more intense and then ceased, before an almighty jolt threw Clara and I to the floor. The Interface fizzled and disappeared as Clara and I hurriedly got to our feet, bolting to the TARDIS doors. Our hands slipped together as I pushed the doors open, peering outside to see if it was safe.
The TARDIS had landed in a lecture hall, moonlight streaming through the tall windows. Rows upon rows of student desks extended up and away from us; a teacher's desk stood next to us, cluttered with stacks of paper.
"I see not much has changed since my time," I said. "Come on, let's go find the Doctor and Riv—I mean, Professor Song." I hurried across the room toward the door, but Clara grabbed my arm.
"Shouldn't we get weapons or something?" she asked. "These Dalek things seem pretty dangerous, shouldn't we protect ourselves?"
"Good idea," I agreed. "There's probably an armory or something in the TARDIS." we both trooped back to the TARDIS, but when I reached up to push the doors open, they stayed firmly shut, and I plowed face-first into the wooden panels. "Oof!"
"You all right?" Clara fretted, steadying me as I rebounded off the doors.
"Fine, fine," I assured, gazing at the enigmatic ship. "But the doors are locked."
"What?" Clara pushed past me and rattled the door handles; they remained firmly shut. "Come on, let us in!"
"I don't think she'll let us," I said, thinking back to Athens. The Doctor had been completely averse to killing the Craggaron, or any sort of violence except when necessary, like on the Star Ariel. So if the Doctor was nonviolent (or trying to be)…
"The Doctor hates violence, so the TARDIS does, too," I sighed. "There probably is a weapons room in there, but the TARDIS won't let us get to it."
"Fantastic," Clara said sarcastically, throwing up her hands and walking away. "What do we do now?"
I spun around and leaned against the TARDIS doors, folding my arms across my chest. The TARDIS probably had a whole wealth of weapons in there, but she wouldn't let us get to them. Thanks for your help, I thought sarcastically. A harsh, unpleasant twang echoed from the ship, showing her indignity.
"Well, the TARDIS is out of the question," I said. "Let's see if we can find anything in this room that can help." Clara began rummaging through the teacher's desk while I looked around in a small closet in the corner of the room, which only contained spare teaching supplies—the most dangerous thing I found was a laser pointer (I pocketed it anyway). I was messily going through a bucket of pens when I heard Clara yelp.
I tore out of the closet and back into the lecture hall, where I found Clara sitting by the bottom right open drawer of the teacher's desk, clearly shocked. "Is everything okay? Did the Daleks find you?"
"No, no, I'm fine," she shakily reassured as I ran over and helped her up. "I'm okay. I just…just look in there." She pointed down at the drawer, and I almost yelped myself.
Sitting in the bottom of the drawer was a gun.
It wasn't like any gun from my time; it was like a ray gun they had on Star Trek or something. It had a soft silver luster instead of the familiar harsh shine from my century; the barrel was swollen instead of straight. Clara and I stared at it, neither of us willing to touch it. If we did, one of us would have the power to take lives, and that was too much power for any one person to have. It was different than when I held one on the Star Ariel: I had to keep Dr. Whittaker from doing the Doctor and me harm. I had no choice. But this time we had a conscious choice to take the gun, and the potential to cause damage hung all around us like pig carcasses in a slaughterhouse.
No wonder the Doctor hated guns.
"Which of us should take it?" I asked. The Doctor-companion dynamic was gone, now; we were both equal now, equally terrified of the potential sitting in that drawer. After a few more seconds, Clara bravely reached in and gingerly took out the gun, dangling it from the fingertips. She carefully wrapped her fingers around the handle, keeping her pointer finger as far from the trigger as possible.
"I'll hold on to it," Clara said, pointing the barrel at the floor.
"Are you sure?" I didn't want to be responsible for the gun, but I'm sure she didn't, either.
"Yes," she said. "You're from a time period too early for this technology to have come about yet—I'd be more familiar with how to use it."
"A gun is a gun is a gun," I said. "I think the universal operating instructions for them are just point and pull."
"But I'm also more experienced than you," she said. I opened my mouth indignantly, but she cut across me. "I knew from the look on your face that you've never touched a gun in your life. Well, my family and I used to always play Light Tag—uh, sort of like Laser Tag. I played it often enough to still have some good aiming skills." She playfully cocked an eyebrow. "What, don't you trust me?"
"I do! I just wanted you to be sure."
"Well, I'm sure. Come on, Erica, let's go find the Daleks."
Together we walked out of the room, ready to face our foes. On the way out, I noticed that the lettering on the glass of the door read:
Professor River Song
History of Archeology and Technology
I almost laughed with shock. River was full of surprises.
Clara and I hurried down the corridor, keeping watch for any blue eyestalks. We'd landed on the ground floor, evidenced by a quick look out the windows and the fact that the entrance to the building was just around the corner from River's classroom. Luckily, the moonlight was bright enough to reveal—
"Oh, my stars!" Clara exclaimed as I pulled her into an open doorway, out of the line of sight of the Daleks patrolling the entrance hall.
The heels of our shoes clattered against the marble floor in our hurry, which drew the Dalek's attention. We heard the shrill sound of its domed head spinning around, our hearts pounding. A low whirring sound filled the entrance hall, growing closer: one of the Daleks was moving toward us.
"It's coming closer," Clara whispered. I clapped a hand over her mouth. The sinister sound grew louder as the Dalek neared, and soon the black eyepiece appeared around the corner. The Dalek, painted a bright red, crept into our view and stopped right in front of us, causing our terror to skyrocket. Clara and I slid down the door to the floor, as far from that eyestalk as we could get. Suddenly, the domed head swiveled around, examining the space Clara and I had just occupied. Everything in me wanted to scream, but I resorted to biting my lip until I drew blood.
After the longest while I have ever experienced, the Dalek swiveled around and moved away, going back to its companion. "No in-tru-ders sighted in the east wing entrance," it reported.
"None in the west wing entrance," the other informed.
I sighed, overflowing with relief. The Daleks didn't know we were here.
"Report back to the Un-der-ground Base!" one of the Daleks- they sounded exactly alike- ordered.
"Af-firm-a-tive," the other Dalek said. Loud crackles and bright flashes filled the room for a moment, but then they stopped.
"They can teleport?" Clara moaned. "That's just not fair."
We awkwardly climbed back to our feet, trying to stay hooded under the door. I peered carefully around the doorframe: the scarlet Dalek stood guard over the hall alone. Okay, so we had only one Dalek to get past now—but still, how do we do that? And where do we go when we've done it?
"Underground Base," I repeated. "Clara, is there anything like that here? A cellar, an emergency shelter?"
"There's the archives," Clara replied. "In the basement. It's the biggest collection at the university. Can't think of anything else."
"Can you get us there?"
"Yes, but…" She glanced out into the entrance hall. "We'd have to pass the Dalek."
"Okay," I breathed, resting my head on the door. How were we going to pass a literal killing machine without being seen? I took stock of everything in our favor: we had a gun to match its own, there were two of us and one of it, and we had the cliché element of surprise.
"Okay, Clara. I have a plan."