The Tardis had hiccups.
That was the only explanation Mary received when holding onto the railing for dear life. She assumed it was a rail, there were moments during the tumultuous tumbling travel where her physical space seemed to flicker randomly every few seconds. There were even moments when Mary felt nothing around at all. Once everything became solid enough to stagger and stand, for now, Mary tentatively approached the two constants that remained no matter what.
A strange hexagon-shaped control console and its stranger pilot who called himself
the Doctor.
While deceptively young-looking, she had learned quickly this man from another world was brilliant enough to possibly realign stars. A fact that contradicted his method of
'vehicle maintenance'.
"We should be close enough soon," the Doctor climbed out from under the console, orange-long sleeved shirt radiated in the machine's glow while wearing goggles. "We're at least in the correct coordinates, give or take a century." He explained it with the charmed annoyance of trying to parallel park.
It took a moment for Mary to process how she was inside an alien spaceship. Jumping inside to escape authorities, the sheer size of a building impossibly help inside within an old blue police box should have been life changing. It probably would be, but Mary's first experience was sadly sabotaged.
A hole in the door was the only other constant, the wound. Mr. Raven had injured the Tardis severely when they recently confronted him to save London. Daring to glimpse out the hole created an ever-shifting view of reality. Fire, ice, jungles, deserts, and stars appeared rapidly before vanishing in a haze of blue light.
With another groan of the Tardis, Mary decided to delicately cling to the console for dear life. Now that the Doctor was only fiddling with levers and switches, it seemed things were safe enough for a discussion. Thinking about traveling through space and time was… difficult to consider still, so she focused on the obvious.
"How are we steering without looking around? There aren't even windows?"
"Well, there used to be, big round ones," the Doctor grunted as he reached to press several buttons further away in a careful sequence. "The Tardis places herself where it can. Normally a spot where nothing else would be… except the Tardis."
"You mean she just knows where to land?"
Mary was never fond of the way men referred to vehicles with female adjectives, but this felt more complex than patriarchal dogma. Ever since entering the ship, she could feel heat, an energy similar to the hum of living creatures. To have a soul in machine seemed less bizarre to one that's 'bigger on the inside'.
"More likely, I think the Tardis knows where to land, because they've already been there in the future. It's like seeing your footprints ahead in the sand instead of behind. They usually are gone with the tide and eventually will be, but they only exist because they get there by walking the path."
"…OK," Mary said, slowly considering her next question. "You're saying the Tardis knows where to go because she's been there in the 'future'. But why not avoid Mr. Raven? Does the Tardis really walk the path, dangers and all, without changing course?"
She thought of her own alleged sins; what journey could be worth such destination?
The Doctor took a moment before manipulating several other switches in the dim lighting with a quiet look of reflection while taking off the goggles. Hints of a mustache on youthful dark skin could never hide the Timelord's eyes. A being older than Earth stood before her, standing inside their impossible machine they called friend.
One last definitive hum of the Tardis and the man leaning away confirmed Mary's guess they had finally landed. It could only be assumed until proven real. There's a curious sensation similar to riding an elevator she felt at that moment. Even though they only seemed to shake around in place, with very little motion of going 'up' or 'down', she knew something awaited them. Very little structure could be seen inside the Tardis, but a walkway from the console to the deceptively wooden doors appeared real enough.
"To answer your question, I don't know," the Doctor sighed while flipping a switch with the diligence used when setting a parking brake. "All the damages my friend has endured… the few I caused… it's a miracle she hasn't dumped me in a blackhole centuries ago. But she once told me, she always sent me where I'm needed. So, I trust the path, because she still does."
The Doctor walked towards the entrance, his jacket pulled down from a hood next to the doorway, now fully armored. Mary respected her comrade's boundaries, but would have loved far more clarification.
Did the Tardis… speak?
Hopefully those answers would come soon, she thought. Bitter sweetness soured her ambition. Mary had learned quickly how mysteries brought monsters when with the Doctor.