Chapter 4
Back on the TARDIS, close-range sensor analysis has yielded no further trace of the Doctor. Despite the emotional repercussions among his friends, the mission had to move forward.
Nita, Michelle and Carolyn were in the observation lounge. Carolyn was witnessing a rare argument between Michelle and Nita.
"I'm not willing to accept that he's dead and leave it at that…"
"The Doctor cannot be our priority…"
"What's more important than the Doctor?"
Carolyn understood best what Michelle was saying, and said it with compassion… understanding the pain the people in the room were feeling. "Look at what we have so far… evidence that these aliens have been travelling back in time to Earth. What if they're trying to undermine Earth's history for some reason?"
"Some kind of guerilla war."
Nita nodded. "We have to operate on the assumption that there is a threat… if not to us then to 15th-century Earth. Our first order of business is to determine what that threat may be. In order to do that, Carolyn, we must find a way to communicate with these life-forms."
"It's not going to be easy to reproduce what the Doctor did. We can create a contained subspace field… but we'd need an extraordinarily sensitive phase discriminator to get that point zero-zero-four variance."
"Can you build one?"
"It won't be as good as the Doctor's…"
"Will it be good enough?"
"I don't know. I can try… it's going to take a while…"
"I don't want anyone else going in alone."
"I should be able to create a subspace field large enough to encompass everyone. Adjusting the phase inside the field will be the hard part."
"Let's do it."
"There's one thing we have to assume, Nita."
Nita looked at Michelle…
"That wherever he is, the Doctor's doing the same thing we are… trying to get to the bottom of this… he may know a lot more about what's going on than we do. It might be in the best interest of this mission to find him…"
"Perhaps in the course of our investigation we will. I hope so."
As Nita left the room, Michelle stood back with Carolyn for a beat… "If we do find the Doctor, it may be our fate to die with him… in the past. If our remains are in that cavern… they would have turned to dust long ago." She exchanged a look with Carolyn…
In the kitchen, Romana was at the counter, working over a dozen pieces of variously sized and shaped glassware, containing liquids or solid crystals of many hues. She was carefully pouring from a tiny vial into a large glass, the tension and concentration evident on her face.
"I'm afraid to interrupt." Nita stepped up to the counter as Romana continued to pour without answering her until she'd emptied the tiny vial. She relaxed and glanced up.
"Nita. You didn't have to come to me. I would've been happy to go to you."
Nita looked at the glassware. "And let me miss all this? I've never seen such a complex operation."
"It's a Tzartak aperitif. Very, very touchy." She picked up a small beaker and carefully poured. "The trick is to change the evaporation point of the main ingredient. You want the temperature where the liquid goes to vapour to be half a degree below the body temperature of the drinker." She added a few tiny crystals to the glass. "That way, the moment the liquid touches the tongue, it evaporates. The flavour is carried entirely by the vapour." She added a few drops of liquid to the glass. "But it's a highly delicate affair. A few molecules off and the vapour point crashes. Poof. It's gone. All of it."
Nita studied her. "What did you want to see me about?"
Romana studied her glassware. "I hear your team is going back out there."
"Yes."
"Are you going along?"
Nita reacted to the question. "Why?"
Romana shrugged, and started slowly adding , drop by drop, another liquid in the glass. "Maybe it's an unusual mission."
"Romana, if you have something to tell me, I'm listening."
Romana stopped pouring. She stared straight at her, and was more direct than Nita had ever seen her. "You have to go…"
"Why?"
"You just… do."
Nita studied her a long beat… she needed more than that and Romana knew it. "You remember when we first met?"
"Of course."
"Don't be so sure."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… if you don't go out there…" She dropped a single tiny crystal into the glass. A beat, then the liquid in the glass suddenly and furiously boiled away in less than one second. "…we didn't."
The Doctor was at the desk in his inn bedroom, using a high-tech device he had built out of 15th-century materials. He was now completely dressed in 15th-century clothing.
There was a heavy, low, muffled thump.
The Doctor glanced up toward the door. A beat and he turned back to the work at hand.
Another thump. This time closer. The Doctor continued to work. Another thump.
The Doctor finally set down the instrument and moved toward the door.
The loudest thump yet, right outside. The Doctor opened the door.
The porter was at the doorstep. Tucked in his back pocket was a rolled-up newsletter and at his feet was a huge anvil. The young man had obviously just moved it up the stairs to the Doctor's room. He appeared exhausted.
"Sorry it took so long, Doctor."
"An apology is not required."
The Doctor casually reached down with one hand – and picked up the anvil as though it weighed nothing. He started toward the centre of the room – there was a noise of astonishment from the porter.
The Doctor stopped, knowing he'd just made a huge mistake. The Time Lord quickly set down the anvil, as if dropping it. He clutched his arm as though strained.
"You alright?"
"I appear to have overexerted myself."
"I'll say."
A beat as the kid glanced up at the light bouncing around the room. There was a glint of curiosity and lightness in his eyes that the Doctor had never seen before. "You got it working."
The Doctor pulled out a coin for tip money and handed it to the porter, but the young man ignored it, continuing to stare fascinated at the light bouncing around the room.
"Yes."
"Whatever it is."
The Doctor gestured to the money, "this is for your trouble."
The porter accepted it, but distractedly, as if more interested in what the Doctor had created. "What are you going to do with the anvil?"
"I require a low intensity, magnetic field core. The iron mass of the anvil will provide that."
The kid nodded without comprehension. "What is it going to be when it is finished?"
The Doctor cocked his head as he tried to form a reply… "What do you think it is going to be?"
"If I were to guess… maybe a new kind of mainspring for one of those mechanical clocks…"
"That's a good guess."
"Truly? Damn. You really think there is money in those things?"
"Perhaps."
"Isn't that what makes England great?"
"To what are you referring?"
"Man rides into town in his night clothes… wins a grub stake at a chess table and turns it into a mechanical clock and makes a million pounds. That is England."
The Doctor was concerned at the conclusion. "Perhaps I have given you an erroneous impression…"
"Some day my ship is going to come in…"
"You have a ship?"
"Oh surely… and it is full of gold… I am just biding my time until it gets here… raising a stake any way I can… I have been a household page, studied at Oxford, I have even had legal training…"
"That is a considerable spectrum of occupations."
"Can't stay in one place too long… I am always looking for the angle, you know… I say, maybe you and I could go into business selling your mechanical clock… you invent them, I sell them… I can sell anybody anything, what do you say?"
"I believe your plan is a bit premature."
"Keep it in mind though. Well, I better get back…" He started to leave and the young man suddenly remembered the newsletter in his back pocket. "I forgot! I got you something at the bakery on Third." He set the paper down on the desk by the Doctor, unrolling it to reveal the pastry inside.
"Thank you, Thomas." The Doctor started to pick out some coins to pay him back, but the young man brushed it off.
"It is on me… partner." And he left.
The Doctor reached over to make an adjustment on his equipment. The newsprint and pastry were slightly in his way, so he picked up the edges of the paper and started to slide it aside – when something caught his eye. The Doctor stopped dead, staring at the newsletter.
A caption read: 'Literary Reception Announced.' Above the words was a drawing of the hostess' face. It was Romana. And it was unmistakable.
The Doctor was as stunned as a Time Lord could be…