Authors' Note: This chapter is written by Fenton Hardy Fan. It should be rather obvious to whom it is dedicated. :P The authors would like to thank everyone who kept reading all the way to Chapter 6! Tonally, each story should be somewhat different from the others, but we'll be writing the circuit of Companions again, so if you prefer the lighthearted Jay Jones type stories, don't worry, they'll be back. :) (Uh, oh, we might be heading into rambling mode. Fortunately, these 'Authors' Notes' are usually the last bit written so cohesive writing will follow.)
As Clara entered the third room she had selected at random from the myriad choices in the hall, her eyes slightly widened in surprise. The Doctor simply stood in the doorway, unmoving, unspeaking, unsettled. Only Clara physically pulling him into the room would make him step foot into its confines. Jay's room had more or less matched the current TARDIS interior design, Natalie's room appeared to be in the more organic style used before her first Doctor came to be, but this room looked nothing like any format ever used on this ship. The ceiling appeared to be a sheet of glass through which one could watch the infinite glory of outer space. Black walls and a white and black tile floor continued the strange motif. Hesitantly, Clara walked further in. Atop the neatly made bed, a short sword with a t-shaped handguard and a dark leather sheath caught her attention. Emblazoned on the surface of the sleek case, in slender gold letters, the word "Namialus" drew her gaze. Unsettlingly perfect in its placement on the bed, the sword brought to Clara's mind unformed thoughts of the tombs of kings. With effort, she looked elsewhere. A wooden nightstand beside the bed held nothing but a small switch in one corner. When Clara pressed the switch a compartment opened in the top, and she peered inside to see a large black book. Reverently lifting it from the nightstand, Clara wondered what it contained. As she gently turned the opened the book, a hologramatic image of a beautiful woman in her late twenties sprung from the inside cover. Clara read the text on the first page aloud.
My name is Namialus Ramo. Experience taught me skill with a blaster. Tradition instructed me in the ancient art of swordplay. Necessity drilled stealth and cunning into my methods. I have stood upon one hundred different worlds, discovered and lost great treasures, tangled with the law, and upheld it also. On the very day I burst forth into this universe from within my Mother's womb, a great war began. The greatest war. The Last Great Time War. Fate decreed my part to play in this universe should be bound-up with fire, and destruction, and death. During my twenty-second year I crossed paths and joined with a great man. An incredible genius. A valiant warrior. Now I fight beside him in the great conflict devouring all of creation. I am the Companion to the man who once called himself "The Doctor," and this is the event which set my course in history.
"That's rather dramatic," Clara looked up from the first page of the book in her hands.
"Yes. Well, Nam was rather fond of a melodramatic portrayal of a situation," replied The Doctor, looking as if he wanted to speedily walk out of the room and leave its contents buried. "He conveniently left out that he sounded like a Canadian and once almost drowned in a vat of melted chocolate."
"Mmm, I can think of worse ways to die."
"So could he; and he found one, I assure you. Now can we please go? I've already told you about two of my previous traveling companions. Isn't that enough?"
Clara once again used her ready answer, "According to you, the TARDIS directs us to the rooms it thinks we need. It must want you to remember this Namallious person."
"Namialus," corrected The Doctor, "And the story about how we met isn't nearly as incredible as he would make it out to be. I was only there to recruit one of my former companions named Melanie Bush to help recover an ancient Time Lord weapon from a planet in the midst of a civil war." He paused for a second, considering his words, "That came out sounding much more interesting than I intended."
Two figures stood before a picture window, both gazing into the infinite stellar landscape flowing past. On the right, a short woman with long brown hair held an electronic clipboard in her left hand. Floating behind her right shoulder, a gunmetal gray cube studded with five spikes and inlaid with a small screen quietly played an electronic melody. To the woman's left, a tall man leaned against the glass, resting his weight on his left forearm. At the young man's left hip a short sword stood sheathed in its leather case, which was embossed along its length with golden letters spelling out his name, Namialus. When a gentle chime interrupted the song, the woman sighed.
"Incoming call from Commander Bush," intoned a modulated male voice as the device floated around to face her.
"Complete the connection, Spiffy," she instructed her hovering companion.
"Connected," spoke the device as its screen changed from a dark green to light blue. Then its voice changed as the person on the other end spoke, "Leftenant Teneb, could you please report to my office?"
"Of course, Mel," the woman tossed her hair over her shoulder as she lifted her clipboard and tapped out something, "I'll be right there."
Namialus smiled; only Elocin was close enough to the commander use her nickname. But then, thought Nam, she was the commander's protégé and assistant, just as he was to Glitz. Of course, the girls managed to be friends in a way that he could never be with Captain Glitz. While his mentor was certainly good at being a mercenary, Namialus could not bring himself to respect a man with no sense of honor, and he certainly would not befriend such a person. Fortunately, he did not need either respect or friendship in order to learn from Glitz these last seven years. Now, in his twenty-second year, he practically ran the Nosferatu ll during normal operations, turning over command only during unusual missions. (An arrangement that suited Sabalom Glitz quite well as it left him much more time to use his wealth to pursue pleasure.)
"Good, see you then. Melanie out." As the connection broke, Spiffy's screen once again dimmed to a sickly green.
"I've got to go, Nam," Elocin redundantly announced with a slightly annoyed looking smile.
"Go on then," encouraged Namialus, pushing himself away from the window.
"Duty calls," she replied, with a genuine smile this time. Spinning childishly on her right foot, Elocine called back, "Are we still on for the shooting range tonight?"
"Yeah, sure." Nam tried to sound enthusiastic about it, but he did not love firearms like Elocine, preferring the graceful violence of swordplay. And she always outshot him too. Abruptly, Namialus drew his sword and began to cycle through all six of the Sataraw velocities. Strike, parry, strike, parry, thrust, he lost himself in the exercise. When a strange noise began to reverberate through the empty white corridor, Nam paused. Suspecting danger, he whirled around while holding up his custom blade in an aggressive pose.
All that met his gaze was a tall blue box emblazoned with words that made sense on their own but seemed a confusing mishmash when combined to make phrases such as "OFFICER AND CARS RESPOND TO ALL CALLS." Okay, he didn't actually know what a car was, but all the other words seemed real enough. Mysteriously appearing blue boxes might be extremely dangerous, so Namialus kept his guard up as he took a step closer. From inside it, one of the box's doors opened inward, and Nam glimpsed grey walls studded with brighter round indentations of uncertain purpose behind a man in a brown coat.
"Who are you?" asked Namialus in a tone that rang out like a threat rather than a question.
The man, who appeared to be in his thirties, seemed more amused by this display than anything, and he certainly didn't appear to feel the least bit intimidated. "I'm looking for Melanie Bush, could you point me in the right direction?"
"You didn't answer my question."
"This is the Nosferatu II isn't it? I called ahead and left a message for Mel—What day is it?" The stranger stepped out of his impossible box which appeared to Namialus to be larger inside than the outside would allow for. A wall mounted panel containing a clock and communication panel caught the man's curious gaze, "Oh, I see, my call hasn't come through yet. That's the trouble with time travel," he looked over at Nam as if this last statement cleared everything up.
"You won't be able to con your way past me with such a ludicrous story."
The man sighed, "Typical."
"What's typical, that no one falls for a weird time travel explanation for why you're not expected?" Namialus took a half-step closer.
"No, typical that I run into an idiot, Glitz doesn't choose his lackeys for their intelligence."
"Lackey. Lackey! Me, a lackey! Listen here, I all but run this ship Mister—"
"Doctor," interrupted the man in the leather coat.
"What?"
"I'm," the man checked himself, "a doctor."
"I don't care if your title is Doctor, Nurse, Professor, General, Leftenant, or Sir. If you don't come quietly to the brig your prefix is going to be 'the late.'"
"I'll just come back in an hour," spoke the man placatingly before turning to walk back to his boxy, wooden crate of a ship.
"Freeze!" ordered Nam. Immediately, he realized the man intended to continue, so Namialus sliced his sword forward to wound him. Inexplicably, his intention turned sour as the man whirled about and stepped towards him while raising a hand which sent the blade swishing harmlessly past his body. Or had the man simply sidestepped the blade, using the hand as some sort of feint? Namialus began to formulate the thought that the stranger might outclass him at hand-to-hand, but everything moved too quickly for him to properly think at all. Now the stranger was standing hip-to-hip with Namialus, but only for a fraction of a second, for as the man's hand clasped Nam's wrist, the young swordsman felt his own momentum pushing himself off balance. With a quick series of motions Namialus failed to observe clearly, the man forced him to the ground and the blade from his hand. Nam expected a quick death. However, the man simply held the sword to his throat.
"I need to speak to Melanie Bush on a matter of extreme importance to both the Time Lords and the general well-being of this time zone. There is also a sizeable reward in it for Glitz and his crew if all of you agree to help me recover an ancient Gallifreyan artifact from a nearby planet."
Namialus blinked. "You should have mentioned wanting to hire us sooner. I'll take you to Commander Bush, and she'll determine if your proposal is up to her legal and ethical standards. If she gives you the okay, then you can hammer out the particulars with Glitz if he thinks there's enough profit in it for him." Without moving, Nam asked, "Can I have my sword back now, or do we need to keep up this whole prisoner thing until you've satisfied yourself that I've taken you to the Commander?"
Minutes later, Namialus walked down another corridor with a sword at his neck, casually informing anyone they passed that everything was under control, or not to worry, or that this man was a potential client. Inside he cringed at the complete indignity of the situation, but as he still suspected that this man far outclassed him in hand-to-hand combat and no one seemed to be in immediate danger, Nam put up with it. After what felt like an eternity, they finally arrived at the door to the Commander's office. Hesitantly, Namialus pressed the doorbell.
"Come in," chirped the Commander's voice over the intercom as the door slid open.
"Commander," began Namialus, wishing the man had allowed him to use the intercom to call ahead. The two women sat across from one another at a square table, in many ways a perfect picture of contrast. The Commander sat on the left, her red hair permed into very tight curls, and while her clothing was not as odd as it once had been, she still clearly preferred shirts with "puff" to the sleeves and lots of elastic included in the design. Elocin, on the other hand, showed, off sleek, long, dark hair, and as always when she worked aboard the Nosferatu II, her clothing was all about smooth, flowing lines. Both of them appeared to be going over some paperwork, although at the moment of interruption both seemed to be laughing about something and therefore had probably been rather distracted.
When they saw him standing in the doorway, both women half rose from their seats, Elocin instinctively reaching to her hip for a gun that was elsewhere. "Nam," the Commander preferred to use people's informal names, "what exactly is going on?"
"This is a prospective client, Commander," Nam explained with his usual acknowledgement of her rank as the sword was lowered from his neck at last.
"Hello, Mel," spoke the man as he stepped around Namialus.
"Do I know you?" asked the Commander in confusion.
"I found your message in a bottle. The one you promised to send me all those years ago."
"But it can't be you, can it?" The Commander sank into her chair as if overcome, "Doctor?"
The man hesitated a long moment before replying, "Yes."
"But your face, you've regenerated."
"Twice."
"Oh." For a moment there was complete silence interrupted only by the sound of the door closing. Finally, the Commander spoke again, this time with a slightly suspicious edge to her voice, "If you're really The Doctor, then answer this question, 'Who committed all those murders at the Intergalactic Song Contest?'"
"The answer, Commander, is 'Mr. Loozly.'"
"Oh, Doctor!" the Commander sprang from her seat and leapt at the man, giving him a hug. However, when she pulled back, she asked a question that seemed to dampen her enthusiasm even as her posture continued to show she trusted this man completely. "Why are you here, Doctor? You were never very interested in social calls when I knew you eleven years ago." Before the man could answer, she supplied an answer of her own. "Nam said you were a potential client. What do you need?"
Namialus walked over and tried to help Elocin put up the paperwork, although both of them knew he was really trying to give the Commander and The Doctor a smidgen of privacy at the other end of the room. A minute later the Commander left the room with their newest client. Elocin abruptly pulled the papers out of his hand, sorting them with a practiced eye in a fraction of the time it would have taken him. "Do you mind if I come up to the bridge with you?" she asked as she finished, "I don't have any interest in filling out tax forms when I know something interesting is about to happen."
Lost in thought, Namialus looked up from the wooden grain of the table with an intelligent, "What?"
"The bridge, can I hang out with you on the bridge. You are on duty in four minutes aren't you?"
"What? Oh. You know you're always welcome on the bridge, Elocin."
"And I also know it's proper to ask for permission first, which is why I always do."
An hour later Namialus sat in the command chair blankly staring at an instrument panel. Behind him, Elocin sat fidgeting in a seat by the communications panel. Every few minutes she would stand up and pace the perimeter of the bridge a few times before collapsing once more into her seat. Finally, Glitz himself came with the news, "Set course for Lotecam." As soon as the navigator plotted the course, Glitz added, "Namialus, Elocin, meeting in my office. This is going to be the biggest haul I've ever made."
When Nam arrived in Glitz's office, the Commander at once shut the door and engaged its lock. Turning a knob, she dimmed the lights to near darkness before striding over to a table with a white tile top. She inserted a data disc and at once a hologram of a tiered structure appeared above the surface of the tabletop. "This," she explained, "is the temple of Linmer. Over one hundred thousand years ago, a powerful Time Lord weapon was hidden here by a now deceased renegade Time Lord. The civilization which built the structure has long since passed. The planet is currently inhabited by two feuding nations of humanoids, and unfortunately, Linmer's Temple lies in a large forest right on the border of the two countries." Namialus looked up from the slowly spinning hologram to watch the stranger, who stood with his arms crossed near the wall. The Commander continued her presentation, "You two will penetrate the temple's defenses, find the weapon and bring it to The Doctor."
"Excuse me, love, but you left out the most important part." Glitz spoke up indignantly.
"Oh yes," the Commander rolled her eyes, "many valuable treasures are also stored within the temple; you are to assess their value and carry out the most valuable objects you can find."
"Sorry, stupid question, I'm sure," Elocin began as soon as the Commander finished, "but why can't The Doctor just go and get it himself? Surely he has the technology."
The man stepped forward to answer, "The temple of Linmer is protected by Gallifreyan technology capable of preventing my TARDIS from landing inside. And the interior is believed to be contaminated with several virulent strains of bacteria and powerful viruses capable of killing even the most healthy Time Lord, but harmless to humans. I can provide you with detailed holo-maps of the temple which should enable you to avoid the various traps within."
"Why us?" Namialus asked the question foremost in his mind. "Why just the two of us, wouldn't a large party be better?"
"I need to send only those I can trust," answered the man as Namialus leaned toward him through the hologram. "And I only want to send those I believe capable of survival."
Author's Note: For more information about Mel's adventures during the International Song Contest with the Seventh Doctor, check out the Big Finish Audio story "Bang-Bang-A-Boom!" by Gareth Roberts and Clayton Hickman. (It happens to be a sort of Star Trek spoof and one of Fenton Hardy Fan's favorite audio adventures to date.)