The Twilight Zone
1
"I promise, Coo," the Doctor said as she skittered around the TARDIS console flicking switches and pulling levers, "This is a trip you won't regret. Xetos is beautiful; it's got crystal clear oceans for miles around; a metropolis built into a living, breathing tropical reef; barnacles the size of dinner plates; and critters so whacky they wouldn't make the final cut in a Sponge-Bob movie." Clara gripped the railings at the edge of the console room's platform as the central column thrummed up and down, trying to keep her balance as they span wildly through the time vortex.
Truthfully, she was very wary of going to an ocean world with the Doctor; the memory of Eleven drowning in the Irish Sea became fresh in her mind every time she was confronted with choppy waters, and she sometimes had bad dreams about the Twelfth Doctor sinking beneath the grey waves and slipping away from her forever. It had taken a lot of convincing not only to get Clara to agree to this specific destination but on any destination at all. But the Doctor's begging made her think about their fateful trip to Yellowstone the previous summer, that had ended in years of bitter, brewing resentment imploding just before the Doctor had disappeared for six sorry weeks. It was part of their agreement – their compromise – that they would still take trips in the TARDIS on occasion, despite it being entrusted to Jenny and her gaudy redesigns, so Clara was obliged to agree. Especially when the Doctor went on her spiel about what a picturesque and wonderful planet she had in mind with intelligent fish-people and urbanised underwater cities with coral skyscrapers, houses made of enormous and repurposed shells, friendly crustaceans the size of dogs, a glistening and vibrant horizon illuminated by perpetual moonlight from above… it did sound like the perfect destination for her birthday trip. She had turned seventy-eight that morning.
The ship landed with a sharp jerk and Clara was torn from her thoughts, knees buckling as the thrumming stopped.
"It's like nothing you've ever seen," the Doctor continued, grinning and slamming down one final lever to keep them grounded. The TARDIS silenced. "Go ahead," she smiled and indicated the door.
"What about the water?"
"The hordes of Genghis Khan couldn't get through that door, let alone a measly ocean," she said, "There'll be time to get the 'proper equipment' later, but you need to see the skyline from inside the water to appreciate it. Trust me, it's incredible." And Clara did trust her, and upon landing began to feel that old itch of excitement whenever the TARDIS landed somewhere new, somewhere she hadn't seen, somewhere the Doctor was so happy to be showing her. It always made her realise she was nowhere near as jaded with time travel as she sometimes feared.
Clara ran to the doors with all the passion of someone on their first trip to an alien world, let alone tens of thousands of worlds down the line. She pushed them open with no resistance from the water, and was met with… rain.
"The colours, the architecture, the volcano – it's like the whole city just grew out of the seabed, you have to see it to…" the Doctor continued her description as she came to join Clara in observing this allegedly astonishing city, but she too found herself besieged by a violent rainstorm as soon as she stepped out of the ship. Wind lashed around them and the smell of salt was thick in the air. They were in a street, that was clear enough, with people milling around, filthy and slouched down next to various bright lights and holographic signs. It was the exact opposite of everything the Doctor had described; it was industrial and cold, there were no signs of the sea aside from the sleek coating of water and the occasional sprout of algae covering all the visible surfaces. "This can't be right…" she grumbled, disappearing back into the TARDIS. Clara used her telekinesis in place of an umbrella – because what good would an umbrella have been underwater, where she thought they were going? – to keep the worst of the rain off her and ventured further out.
The closest holographic sign was being projected onto a wall directly above someone who appeared to be homeless and half-asleep, cold and dirty but with no place else to be. It read 'Aegean Industries' in a crystal-clear corporate logo, flickering every now and then and casting blue light onto the raindrops that passed through it. The hologram disappeared momentarily, quickly replaced by a differing one with the caption 'Sponsored By…' lingering above it. The new logo was for 'Milky Way Shakes – A fresh taste of home' with the fine-print disclaimer beneath declaring that Milky Way Shakes were 100% artificial and free of all dairy products and potential allergens. It flashed for around ten seconds and was promptly supplanted by the familiar 'Aegean Industries' screen again.
"Hey, you," the person she thought was passed out on the ground underneath the ad groaned at her. She looked at them expectantly. "Do you have any Glow?"
"Any what?"
"Glow," the repeated hoarsely.
"…No, sorry," she apologised, "I'll, uh, let you know if I come into any, though?" They didn't say anything else to her, only closed their eyes and leant back against the cold wall, seemingly indifferent to chilly air and the bad weather. Or maybe just used to it.
Behind Clara, the Doctor returned, and the TARDIS door closed behind her. With her, she now had the old umbrella she'd reclaimed from Osgood, with its question mark shaped handle, which she opened to protect against the rain.
"It's going to get blown inside-out," Clara warned her.
"This? Nah. It's made of tungsten. Perfectly capable of withstanding a little breeze." It was definitely more than 'a little breeze', Clara thought.
"Hey, there," the same person seemingly lolling in and out of consciousness was roused again by the presence of the Doctor, a newcomer, "Do you have any Glow?" they asked the same question. The Doctor frowned and came to join Clara, holding the umbrella over her head as well (though she didn't need it.)
"'Fraid not. Don't even know what that is," she admitted.
"The only thing that makes life bearable," they muttered, then crossed their arms and turned away, shutting their eyes once again. The hologram logo flashed and changed to a gigantic image of a half-naked woman; it was a borderline incomprehensible plug for some sort of virtual reality chatline, or maybe an escort service, it wasn't exactly clear just how far these women would go or whether there was even a real person on the other end of the line. Again though, the ad was of a human, not one of the aquatic denizens the Doctor had promised the planet was inhabited by.
"The TARDIS says we're in the right place, but…"
"Looks like a human colony to me," said Clara, taking a few steps back from the stranger curled up on the floor. The Doctor looked up at the sky, squinting. There were a lot of clouds but that didn't mean Clara wasn't alarmed at the scale of the gargantuan celestial body suspended above them. It was pearly white and obscured about half of the black sky, the other half lit up only by a pinprick-sized star. "What's that?" she asked.
"It's just a planet," said the Doctor amused.
"But – it's in the sky."
"Well, we're technically not on a planet ourselves, Xetos is a moon," she said, "That's Pheran, it's a gas giant about twice the size of Jupiter. But it means we really are in exactly the right place, Xetos is tidally locked with Pheran so you're always looking at it if you're on this side of the planet. Y'know, just like how Earth's moon always faces the same way."
"I suppose…" said Clara, who had developed a habit of zoning out when the Doctor tried to explain this or that to her about planets and moons and stars and galaxies. She thought they were pretty and appreciated being able to see and visit them in all shapes and sizes, but as far as the science behind something being 'tidally locked', for instance, was concerned, she just sort of dropped off.
"I don't like this," said the Doctor, "Something stinks, and it's not the sea. Well, not only the sea." The stranger sleeping on the floor wasn't the only one they passed as they began to walk. It quickly became clear that there were many people in the same position, lying on the ground looking sick and oppressed in the horrid weather.
"What were you doing when you were last here, then?" Clara asked, trying to distract herself. She wanted to do something to help but didn't have any money or food – or even Glow, whatever that was.
"Just visiting," she said cryptically. She was always 'just visiting.'
"Who with?"
"No one, actually; I was flying solo. I helped them out with an alien invasion. This Rutan warship wanted to use Xetos as a home base to mine Pheran for resources – it was a whole thing. They had a hydrogen extractor big enough to strip it of at least half of its mass. Anyway, I got them to leave."
"How'd you manage that?"
"Look at that vending machine," said the Doctor, stopping. Clara thought she was trying to change the subject and maybe she'd done something unscrupulous during her last visit to the distant moon, but it was a genuine interjection. Shoved against the wall of a narrow street with low buildings, all made of the same dull, grey metal and shining with rain and unpleasant grime, was a pristine vending machine with people clustering around it. Upon closer inspection, however, it wasn't the vending machine that people were so interested in, but someone stood next to it. This was what Clara noticed at least; the Doctor had made a different observation. "Everything else here is dirty, but that thing's in perfect working order."
"'This vending machine is brought to you by Cosnic,'" Clara read a message emblazoned on top of it. The 'this vending machine is brought to you by' part was made out of metal, while the logo of the company was a hologram. Presumably, this was so it could be switched out for a different brand or product at a moment's notice. It took Clara only a few more seconds to realise that 'Cosnic' was a cigarette brand. That was all the push she needed and fumbled to find where she'd put her old sonic screwdriver that day; it was stuck precariously in the back pocket of her jeans, where it was liable to fall out at any moment.
"C'mon, Coo," the Doctor implored.
"I'm not passing up the opportunity to smoke space cigarettes," she said, extending the screwdriver. It didn't light up when she pressed the button; she had to hit it against her palm a few times to get it to start.
"Why not take this as an opportunity to finally quit?" Clara ignored her and sonicked the vending machine interface with the green and gold screwdriver, but there was a brief hiccup during the process. And of course, the Doctor wouldn't use her new, improved, and fully working screwdriver to fix it. The vending machine took it upon itself to start spitting out cigarette packs, which were made of very thin metal, at an alarming rate. Clara stepped out of the way as slum-goers began to approach.
"Those things are supposed to be hack-proof," said a woman, emerging from a shadowy doorway nearby. The doorway was to a house, the door itself jammed open, and Clara saw a few more people sitting around inside. They were either sleeping, or worse. It looked like some kind of drug den.
"Yeah, well, must have malfunctioned," said Clara unconvincingly, stooping to pick up just one pack.
"You're not taking them all?" the woman asked her.
"No, she is not," said the Doctor firmly.
"…I'm not allowed," said Clara to the stranger. The woman studied her, then shrugged and bent down to scoop quite a few of the cigarette packs into her arms. Then she kicked them out into the street towards the others.
"Nobody here can afford things from the vending machines," she said.
"Do any of them have food in, or just cigarettes?" asked the Doctor.
"That one has Brew in it," the woman indicated another machine against a nearby wall.
"What's that?" the Doctor asked.
"It's caffeinated," she said, indifferent. Was it an energy drink? A soda? Some sort of coffee? It wasn't apparent by looking at the machine. "You two don't look like you're from around here."
"We're not," said the Doctor as Clara tried to prise open the metal cigarette case. "Oh, for – give it to me, I'll do it." The Doctor took it from her and easily slid the top open with one hand, handing it back as she shook her head. "It'll light automatically when it detects the oxygen." It did just that, and to Clara's astonishment, the smoke was a vivid purple. "These things are horrible, you know. They might not contain any tar, but they put dye in there to make it that colour. You don't want to inhale dye."
"I'll be fine," said Clara, taking a drag. The Doctor shook her head. Clara paused to think. "I mean, it's no Marlboro."
"And there's the famous brand loyalty Big Tobacco depend on. You're just putting money in their pocket."
"Whose pocket? I stole these," said Clara.
"Mm, well. I suppose that's your only redeeming quality," she said begrudgingly while Clara smoked her purple cancer stick.
"Who are you?" the stranger interrupted them, "We don't get visitors to Aegean-4. Except for brand ambassadors, but you don't talk like brand ambassadors."
"We're not. I'm the Doctor, this is Clara," she introduced them.
"I'm Regan. Is either of you interested in Glow? A thank you for the trick with the vending machine."
"What is that?" Clara asked quickly, "What's Glow?"
"Wow," said Regan, "You really are new. Glow is the latest pharmaceutical development designed to alleviate the Blues."
"The Blues?" asked the Doctor.
"So it's an antidepressant?" Clara said.
"No, the Blues," she reiterated, "What do you think is wrong with everyone here? They all have the Blues. Glow is the only thing that helps." The people were all in state of lethargy, many of them slumped on the ground while those who were standing swooned from side to side, barely able to keep their balance. "All the workers get the Blues."
"These people are workers? They're employed? To do what?" the Doctor stared around at them all.
"Do you want any Glow, or not?" she reiterated, getting colder the longer the exchange continued.
"Get that shit out of here," an interloper snapped at Regan, making Clara jump because they'd been approached from behind. This newcomer was another woman, but she was the least haggard person they'd seen so far. She stood out by the fact she was wearing a white jacket with a red cross on the sleeve – a medical worker of some sort. "You don't need to get newcomers hooked on that stuff." Regan turned sour and spat on the floor at the medic's feet, then took her haul of cigarettes and skulked away. "Did you do this to the vending machine?" she asked Clara sternly.
"I, um… it was an accident," said Clara, unable to look innocent with a bright purple cigarette in her hand. The medic shook her head.
"Well. Better they smoke those than take more Glow. Are you really new?"
"Yes, and we have a lot of questions," said the Doctor seriously.
"Do you have any medical training?"
"I'm a doctor," she said. Clara scoffed. "I am a doctor, the University of Glasgow said so."
"Are you from Earth?" the medic was surprised.
"No, but I've lived there for a long time. She's from Earth," the Doctor indicated Clara.
"If you're a doctor, you can help me. I'm the only medical personnel assigned to the dock workers, which is most of the people here," she began to walk away, and they followed automatically since she was the only person actually giving them information. "There used to be more, but they were cut. They wanted to cut me, too."
"Why didn't they?" asked the Doctor.
"Because I was willing to take a pretty huge pay deduction. I couldn't abandon the people here; they'd be lost without me. Half of them believe the Glow peddlers' story about 'the Blues.'"
"You're saying these people aren't ill?"
"Oh, they're definitely ill. It's decompression sickness. They're divers, and their hours have been increased and the safety rules have been reduced," she explained, "They do maintenance on the turbines. Xetians aren't permitted to be employed by Aegean Industries."
"Why?"
"Insurance premiums," she said bluntly. She was leading them somewhere, through metal, mass-produced slums and sick, sleeping people, all out there in the wind and the rain. It was like they'd landed in an epidemic, but decompression sickness was far from contagious.
"If the whole city is owned by one company, why don't they unionise?" asked Clara, the Doctor nodding in agreement. "Dockworkers are, like, the original trade unionists."
"Oh, they've tried; there was a movement growing in Homer's – that's a bar – but the Aegeans got wind of it and sent their entourage of mercs down to the rim to put a stop to it. Everyone in there had their contracts torn up. After that, everybody else has been too scared to speak out," she explained. "A few people even died."
"Whaddaya know," said the Doctor, "Pinkertons in space… But," she cleared her throat, "If the workers here are all divers with the bends, you must have a way to treat them that isn't this 'Glow' stuff? Don't you have a hyperbaric chamber? Oxygen dispensaries?"
"We've got one chamber, and it's broken. Doesn't hold the pressure, and it can only treat one person at a time. We used to have more, but they were cut. Maintenance costs were too high, and they needed specialist personnel to fix them. I've done the best I can with an old manual – I'm Persephone, by the way." She turned as she walked in front of them and held out her hand, which the Doctor shook.
"Nice to meet you," she said.
"The decompression sickness is the least of my problems if they don't stop taking Glow, though," she resumed, keeping up her speed, "It would help if I knew what it was or where it came from. And the health problems are bullshit." The rain was threatening to put out Clara's cigarette.
"How so?" asked the Doctor.
"They're too vague. Hair loss, skin atrophy, bleeding gums. I saw someone with cataracts. He died a week later, even without taking any more of it. People are handing over what little wages they've got to people like Regan and whoever it is she works for… but I've got some samples. Maybe you'll be able to make more sense of it than me?" she said hopefully, glancing back over her shoulder. The Doctor was about to answer in the affirmative, that she was more than happy to take a look at this 'Glow' and see what was causing the strange array of symptoms Persephone had described when she was cut off by a nearby commotion.
Persephone had led them further out than they had landed the TARDIS and was approaching another identical, metal building, but this one with a holographic red cross flickering like a sign above it denoting it as a medical facility. While the Doctor couldn't wait to get a look at the Glow samples Persephone claimed to possess, the sound of a large crowd shouting made Persephone veer away from the building to investigate. Clara and the Doctor still followed, crossing an empty square with a few lonely vending machines in it – also in pristine condition compared to everything else – and slipped through an alleyway to get to the very edge of Aegean-4. The city itself was built on a large disc, suspended over a choppy, black ocean Clara could now see in the gloomy distance; the waves were larger than any she had ever witnessed, but the city rose and sank with the tide.
Crowds were gathered around a narrow pier and were shouting at some figures climbing out of a docked submarine. Not everyone was human, either; there were two people there wearing suits with fishbowl helmets filled with fluid. They also had eight limbs, two arms and six legs, though they all resembled tentacles tightly clad in the outfits.
"What are they?" Clara asked the Doctor.
"Xetians," she explained, "They're intelligent cephalopods, they need suits to breathe the oxygen. Just like we'd need a diving suit… what's going on?"
"More protests," said Persephone. She went closer, so they did as well, and heard the two xetians shouting accusations of murder at the people leaving the sub. They were a pair of identical, young men – clearly twins – wearing elaborate, silver diving suits, smiling and talking to one another like they couldn't even hear the people heckling them. They motioned to some other divers traipsing behind them, not in gaudy costumes, and the divers hauled an enormous mass out of the dark water.
"Bloody hell," said Clara. To her, it looked like a gigantic eel, at least fifteen feet long, with bioluminescent colouring on its shiny, slimy skin. It had a segmented, translucent shell running across the length of its back as well as four strange antennae at the end she had to assume was the head. It was also, quite obviously, dead. She counted at least three harpoons sticking out of its body, glowing liquid oozing out from the missiles.
"What the heck!?" the Doctor was enraged, "You can't do that! That's a sqwill!" But still, they were oblivious. Some of the protestors, including the xetians, glanced back and noticed them.
"They do this every week," said Persephone, clearly also disgusted.
"They hunt sqwills? They're protected, there are laws," said the Doctor.
"What are they?" asked Clara.
"They're just filter feeders," she said, "But they're important to the ecosystem here, it's against intergalactic law to hunt them because the Shadow Proclamation categorises them as V-Class organisms. And you say they do this every week? On a moon this size there can't be more than a handful of sqwill pods."
"Why do you think the xetians are up here protesting?" said Persephone, "That's Blane and Pax Aegean, they operate Aegean-4. It's their family who owns the entire company."
"Where are they taking it?" asked the Doctor.
"To the Lighthouse," said Persephone.
"Pardon?" asked Clara.
"Ignore her, she's an English teacher," the Doctor brushed Clara off, "What's the Lighthouse?"
"That, over there," Persephone pointed out a structure that was quite hard to see without having it pointed out, ironically enough. A large tower loomed over the city from dead in the centre, piercing its heart like a knife.
"Doesn't have any lights on it," said the Doctor.
"The city doubles as a spaceport, it sends out all the necessary signals for crafts," said Persephone.
"And they're going to carry that thing all the way over there?" asked Clara incredulously.
"They have a private dock underneath the Lighthouse, I suppose their submarine must have malfunctioned and they needed to make an emergency stop at the outer rim."
"That does it," said the Doctor, marching towards them with Clara in tow. Not everyone in the crowd was focused on the sqwill, others were yelling abuse to do with longer working hours, less job security, changes to their healthcare policies and the epidemic of 'the Blues' circulating. But the Aegean brothers acted as though they couldn't hear a thing. They were just laughing and chatting to each other while a small, anxious-looking man holding holographic device and muttering followed them around. The closer they got though, they realised that they couldn't hear what the divers or the brothers were saying, either. "Give me that," the Doctor took Clara's purple cigarette right out of her hand and flicked it as though trying to put it out. It hit a forcefield that was otherwise completely invisible, a glistening surface appearing in the air where the cigarette bounced off and fell to the damp ground, going out. "Cowards, they can't hear a thing anybody is saying with a forcefield like that up." Clara was still disappointed by the loss of her cigarette.
"I mean, I can barely hear a thing over the storm regardless of a forcefield," she said, huddling underneath the umbrella. Then she noticed something. "Hold on, what's-?" It looked like a glowing lump of coral hanging from the belt of one of the faceless divers, armed with harpoon guns and accompanying the brothers. She didn't get the opportunity to point out what she had seen to the Doctor though, because the protestors grew dangerously rowdy. Specifically, the xetians.
"A forcefield won't stop this," one of them said, voice audible through a speaker rigged to the suit they were wearing. They lifted an object in one of their hands, which had only two thin fingers and a very long, strange thumb, holding an unusual sphere within. It was an electronic device of some sort, and they drew back their arm as if to throw it.
"Stop right there," the Doctor was furious and grabbed the xetian's arm, but they were so startled that they dropped the object to the floor. "Everybody get back!" the Doctor ordered, pushing people away from the device as it rolled away. Persephone dodged out of the way, and with the motion of the tides underneath, it rolled into one of the many vending machines and got stuck in a corner between it and the wall. The Doctor looked petrified, braced for the worst, but nothing happened.
"Great, now you broke it," the xetian argued. The Aegean brothers and their entourage barely noticed the kerfuffle and began dragging the sqwill away from the submarine, taking it through the city with them and their forcefield, leaving a trail of glowing viscera in their wake. People continued to shout and jeer and most of the crowd broke off to follow them directly, leaving the port. The two xetians didn't move and neither did two more humans, also wearing diving suits. But these weren't the suits of the brothers nor of their divers, they were patchwork and rusty, and they weren't wearing helmets.
"Broke it!?" the Doctor was horrified, "Broke that!?"
"What is it?" Clara asked. Persephone had disappeared with the rest of the crowd, clearly anticipating injury if any of the bodyguards turned their harpoons on the crowd of civilians.
"It's a singularity bomb," said the xetian. The Doctor scoffed and took out her sonic screwdriver, handing the old, question-mark umbrella to Clara. She pointed the sonic in the direction of the 'bomb' and scanned, then sighed.
"You got lucky, it's faulty," she left the cover of the umbrella to go and pick the thing up. It was no bigger than a tangerine and looked like it had been constructed very quickly, with loose screws and wires all over it. "If this thing worked, it would have destroyed the whole city, I hope you realise that."
"I told you, Sostan," said one of the humans, a girl, touching the xetian's arm, "It's too dangerous."
"The Doctor built it, and I trust the Doctor."
"Excuse me?" asked the Doctor, "Did you say 'the Doctor'?" They nodded. "The Doctor built this faulty black hole machine?" Clara was alarmed to learn that that was what the thing was, and now understood the Doctor's reaction.
"Yes," said Sostan, "The Doctor. The Time Lord. Do you know her?" He was scrutinising them, but Clara found it quite hard to understand his facial expressions – neither of the xetians had a visible mouth, though they were certainly talking, and their eyes morphed into unusual shapes like those of an octopus.
"Or him," added the other xetian, "They're a 'him' in the old stories."
"I, uh… a little…" she said unsurely. "Look – just – the Doctor is a pacifist. She wouldn't build a bomb, and especially not one like this."
"She returned to Xetia a few weeks ago, to help us," said Sostan.
"She did? The Doctor?"
"Do you want to meet her?" the other xetian asked.
"I…"
"Who are you, by the way?" Clara interrupted because the Doctor was floundering, unable to come up with something to say.
"I'm Aio," said the second xetian, "This is Nate and Alexa," she indicated the two humans. Nate was aloof and was still holding a large sign with a crudely drawn picture of a sqwill on it, reading 'Save the Sqwills', despite the Aegean brothers both having left with the rest of the crowds. It seemed like these four were the only ones concerned about the sqwills, while everybody else wanted answers for the sickness spreading through the city. "We're peaceful protestors. Well, as long as Sostan doesn't get his way, we are…"
"We need more direct action," Sostan argued, "They're not listening to us, and all our radio transmissions are being blocked-"
"The radio transmissions aren't our concern, the Doctor said she'll fix those for us eventually, as long as we stay out of her way," said Aio. It sounded like they'd had this conversation before, more than once.
"Well, it's, uh… nice to meet you," Clara managed to smile, despite her concern for their methods and morals, "I'm Clara. This is-"
"Do you say the Doctor is down there in Xetia?" the Doctor cut her off.
"She's been helping with our power supply," said Aio, "Something like that. We just have to stay out of her way."
"Who are you?" asked Sostan, then he paused, "Wait… you're not a Time Lord as well, are you? The Doctor said we should watch out for any other Time Lords."
"I am, as a matter of fact," she said, "I'm the Corsair." Clara didn't have a clue who 'the Corsair' was. "I'm an old acquaintance of the Doctor. She'll be dying to see me, I'm sure."
"The Doctor said to be careful of other Time Lords pretending to be her."
"Really? How far-sighted of her. Here I've always thought she was more of an improviser," said the Doctor. Then she cleared her throat, "But, as I said, I'm the Corsair. She'll be dying to see me, don't you worry. And, y'know, if she's so busy I might be able to help you out with your radio problem."
"If we fix the radios, we can send a message about what the Aegeans are doing," Alexa said.
"We don't have any spare diving suits, though," Nate interrupted, the first thing he'd said, putting down his sign finally, "We've only got these two." He meant the suits he and Alexa were both wearing.
"That's fine, we've got some. We can go grab them right now."
"Are you really a Time Lord?" Sostan was still suspicious.
"What do you wanna do, check my pulse? Because you can," she held out her free hand, still holding the bomb in her other. Sostan took this invitation and touched her wrist with his strange, tentacle finger. Since she was a Time Lord and did have a double pulse, this satisfied him.
"…Fine, you can come with us, but don't make any trouble for the Doctor."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"You're lucky we were planning on heading back to Xetia."
"In that case, just think of me as your friendly, neighbourhood hitchhiker," she smiled, "We'll be right along to meet you once we get suited up." After some more encouragement from Alexa and Aio, Nate remaining silent once more, Sostan finally agreed that if they came back with diving suits within fifteen minutes, they'd give them a lift down to Xetia on the seafloor. Clara hardly had a chance to thank them before she was dragged away by the Doctor as quickly as possible.
"When you say, 'diving suits', you don't mean that thing Jacques Cousteau gave you, right?" she asked sceptically as the Doctor tugged on her hand. They were backtracking through the rainy, windy slums.
"Of course not – we'll just wear the spacesuits."
"Do spacesuits work underwater?"
"Depends on the suit. The ones your sister made for us all definitely will, they're very versatile. A garden-variety, Earthling EVA suit couldn't withstand the pressure or the temperatures," she explained.
"But… space is colder than water, isn't it?"
"Well, yeah, but water is much more conductive. Those suits work in all kinds of environments, they're also resistant to most forms of acid and high concentrations of ionizing radiation."
"I mean, I don't know if you're aware of this, but Oswin is actually quite clever." The Doctor gave her a look. "What's going on, anyway? Who's 'the Corsair'?"
"An old friend of mine."
"Do you think that's this other Time Lord they're talking about? It can't be you. They sound nothing like you."
"It's not, but it's not the Corsair, either. They wouldn't give out bombs like this to people just like I wouldn't, let alone faulty ones," the Doctor said, holding up the device. They were walking so quickly it was hard for Clara to get a good look at it, but it looked like a grenade with wires falling out. "The entropy equations for this thing are all wrong, whoever built it doesn't understand half of the core tenets of thermodynamics. I'd never make a mistake like this; I could build you a black hole generator in my sleep. I wouldn't, of course, not after the incident with the donkey, but I could, and it would work perfectly."
"It's probably just the Master, then," said Clara.
"Normally that would be my first assumption, but the workmanship is still too shoddy. You'd wanna bet your bottom dollar that if the Master built a black hole bomb, the thing would work," she explained, "But this? Don't get me wrong, it has a lot of the hallmarks of an advanced mind of some kind, and it…" She paused, frowning at the object in question.
"What?" Clara prompted.
"It rubs me the wrong way, that's all… whatever. Sooner we get down to Xetia and meet this stranger for ourselves, the better. At least I'll finally get to show you the city, it really is like I described. I must've just overshot the date."
"Mm, you've got a habit of doing that…"
"It's not my fault the TARDIS doesn't have a manual."
"It is your fault, because you threw it away."
"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to."
"Have you not heard of this colony, then?" Clara changed the subject.
"Humans living on Xetos? No. I'm surprised that the sqwills seem to be the only point of contention, though."
"Yeah – what was that you were saying about the sqwills? They're V-Class organisms?"
"The 'V' is for 'vital', as in, organisms essential for life. When a planet – or a moon, in this case – becomes advanced enough to join the galactic community, one of the things they can do is nominate certain lifeforms for classifications like this. It means it's against intergalactic law for anyone to kill a sqwill," she explained as they rounded a corner and the TARDIS, nestled in a metal alcove, came into view.
"…Does Earth have any V-Class organisms?"
"Oh, plenty. In fact, planets have a bad habit of nominating most of their animals, though there are other, general poaching laws… dogs are V-Class organisms."
"Dogs? But they're not endangered," said Clara, the Doctor pushing open the door.
"They don't have to be endangered, just important. Dogs are very important to Earth culture. Poaching sqwills isn't just illegal though, it's dangerous, and if the Shadow Proclamation get wind of this I don't wanna know what they'll do to these Aegean brothers."
"They can't just buy their way out of trouble? That's what rich people usually do," Clara shook out the umbrella and rain splattered onto the floor of the console room.
"Not if I have anything to do with it… and leave the umbrella," she walked around the console to go deeper into the ship, "Where we're going, we don't need umbrellas."
"Proud of yourself for that?" Clara jibed.
"Always. Now, come on; time to get suited up."