Time and Tide: Drydock
Part 3. This is an experiment, in part of the tentatively named, TIDERAKER series, which will be completely in 6B and Parallel Time(s).
Summary: The Sontarans are still in Space. The Time Lords are planning. The Third Zone is about to be very unhappy. Guess who has to clean up the mess?
Characters: Second Doctor, 2nd Doctor, Jamie McCrimmon, unspecified Time Lords.
Jamie woke up feeling better than he had in...he couldn't remember. His eyes blinked open in this surprise and he turned his head. The Doctor was flat on his back on the grassy slope, sound asleep with his recorder perched in his hands. The Piper smiled at the sight. At least when the little man was sleeping, he was resting. He hoped.
Jamie leaned back and stretched like a cat. He couldn't believe the improvement of a deep sleep.
The Doctor never moved as the Piper left the room for another washup and some more food. One grabbed what meals they could when they were living with that busy little man. He was pouring milk into a bowl of cooked barley when the man himself showed up with a yawn and a shuffle.
“Good timing, Jamie.” The Doctor passed the table, vanished into the back, and returned with a dish of steaming flatcakes. Jamie recognized Venusian cooking when he saw it, and had no desire to steal any for himself. “I just had word from the Time Lords while you were still asleep. Things are finally moving forward.”
“Oh, that's good.” Jamie chewed and swallowed. “Very good,” he added with feeling. “Did I miss anything?”
“The rest of the dead have been cared for.” The Doctor beamed and the young man almost wilted over the table in gratitude. “All we have to do is check ourselves in for another medical exam--” He chimed in with Jamie's groan of exaggerated dismay, “--and prepare for a meeting of the minds with the Third Zone Delegates.”
“That's g-wait. What about the dead Androgums?”
“There are plenty of them on the Station, Jamie...”
“No, I mean, will that include the ones in the...” Jamie swallowed, “storage?”
The Doctor's tired face creased in a smile of pride, which Jamie didn't understand. “We'll make sure of it, Jamie.” He reached across the table and patting the younger man's hand. “I promise.”
“Thank ye for understanding.” Jamie said simply. “I don't know if your people do such things...”
“Really, it depends. You don't need me to bore you with the tales of my people...” The Doctor cleared his throat awkwardly and found himself looking elsewhere. “Yes, well.” He smiled and stood. “I'm going to give the TARDIS a look-over while we're waiting. I suggest you enjoy yourself doing whatever you so choose...the meeting will happen soon enough!”
“Aye, thought I'd get out the pipes and practice a bit before...the lament.”
The Doctor's attempt at being pleasant ended, giving him a face to match his faded hair. “Very good, Jamie. Let me know when you're ready.”
“Doctor...”
The Time Lord stopped in the midst of a hasty retreat at the smallness of his friend's voice. “Yes?”
“I... I have a question for you. When all of this is over and we can talk without--” Jamie's face flickered. “Without worryin' about getting interrupted or someone needin' our help at the last minute?”
The Doctor felt a smile bloom over his face. And Time Lords thought themselves so clever. It's easy to be clever when you already know the key to the Rosetta Stone. He wondered if any of his people had been around humans enough to know when they were conveying one of their many secret and surprisingly subtle messages.
Jamie was hinting that he needed to speak without fear of eavesdropping, and that could only mean the Zero Room.
“I'll let you know as soon as that's possible, Jamie.” He promised. “But I ought to warn you, we're both going to need a visit to the Zero Room before the Zone meeting. I'm not up to my old self and neither are you, young fellow!”
Jamie's face relaxed. His hands stilled over his meal. "Mòran taing." He said simply.
"'Se do bheatha."
“Shall we get this medical appointment over with?”
“Will they do anything that will make me lose my breakfast?”
“No, not this time,” the Doctor tried to sound optimistic. “At least they're much better about warning us about the possibility beforehand.”
“Now they are.”
“Patience, Jamie. Most Humans in their experience are temporal criminals, slaves for so-called advanced races they must be nice with, or deranged. The last Human brain in their possession was a converted cyber-skull!”
“Ugh!” Jamie shuddered. “Now dinnae remind me!” He rose and washed out his bowl, the Doctor following suit. “I'm gunna go find my old hiking boots. Those medical floors are a fright to walk on wi'out falling down flat.”
“That's because the floors, like everything else at the CIA, are based on nothing found in Nature.” The Doctor grumbled under his breath.
______
The TARDIS materialized in all-too-familiar surroundings. Jamie sighed and let the Doctor poke his head out first before following suit. At least they always knew where they would dock at a Gallifreyan facility. Back and forth went a cluster of hurrying Gallifreyans, wrapped up in their rather dull and uninspiring colors. Jamie always found his kilt patterns, humble as they were, as brilliant as a tropical bird's in comparison.
Jamie had long ago realized that the CIA had the most experience with off-worlders, and their prejudices and hidebounded, high-handed dealings were a matter of choice more than anything else. They demonstrated tolerance for himself and the Doctor in small but significant ways: most made no comments to their choice of dress, and only a few had something derisive to say to the Doctor about his choice of body. Jamie didn't think he would ever get used to the idea that one could control their appearances from “birth” to “death” to “birth” again. At the occasional banquets they knew that the Doctor didn't want to eat anything his companions wouldn't, and they rarely spoke to the Doctor in their own language in Jamie's presence. Those who tried were quickly discouraged by a short, sharp slice of the Doctor's tongue-so sharp, in fact, that there were times in which Jamie felt obligated to apologize, citing the inevitable collision between worlds.
“Oh, lovely,” the Doctor said sarcastically at a kiosk liberally sprinkled with the circular Gallifreyan letters.
“What's that mean, Doctor?” Jamie asked though he already knew.
“More magnetic storms headed our way. They really need to find out what's causing them.”
“I dinna fathom why people as powerful as Time Lords are so fashed up over magnetic storms.” Jamie protested. “Tis a natural event, is it not?”
“Well, I suppose that's part of the problem with being a Time Lord, Jamie.” The Doctor rubbed his hands absently as they hurried down the hall. “Once you've accomplished so very much with the Universes, some people forget there are always events out of our control.” He shook his head, sending his tousled mop of hair flying. “I do wish they would come to that conclusion. It's remarkably liberating to not feel obligated for everything.”
Jamie did not imagine the askance expressions from passing Gallifreyans at that comment, but he did a good job of pretending not to see them. “Oh, aye.” He chimed in.
_____
CIA medical offices had a strict no waiting policy. Considering what they often witnessed, it was hardly surprising. The Doctor and the Piper stood under the scanning beams for identification and resolutely stepped through the integrating arch, instantly transmatting them into the right area. Jamie was relieved to see a familiar face: Surgeon Darandix; a man who looked to be Jamie's own age and had a lovely sense of humor. He was always curious about Jamie's time spent off-planet and kept the human distracted from his discomfort at being examined by a steady stream of questions. Jamie was certain it was just CIA information-culling, but he enjoyed the politeness and talking to someone besides the Doctor once in a while.
“Well it sounds as though you had a rough time of it, young man.” The Surgeon commented halfway through an analysis of Jamie's blood gases. “Two weeks trapped in a rotting tomb? That would have been enough to snap anyone's mind.”
“Ah...that wasn't the worst of it.” Jamie shrugged, and kicked at a reflex test.
“Excellent. Now the other one...what was the worst of it, if I may ask? It was horrible enough.”
“All that time I thought the Doctor was dead.” Jamie said simply. “I'm noo stranger tae death, mind. I've seen my fair share o' it even before I met the Doctor. But the Sontarans made me think he died, screaming in pain and I couldn't do anything to stop it.”
The other's face was kindly. “You're very attached to him.”
“I'd care about anyone who died like that.” He said more roughly than he meant. “It's just...och. The waste of taking life! I'm a fighter, but I can't imagine killing all those innocent people just because someone thought their lives were worth less than a...a thing.” He balled his fists up. “And to kill someone uncleanly? In a way tae damage the soul for the next life? That's terribly wrong, and its the sort o' wrong that spreads. Like a sickness.” He shook his head. “I suppose I'll work out the nightmares one of these days.”
“Now that,” Darandix mused, “Is exactly why I enjoy talking with you. Your insights are so clear and refreshing. You do cut to the bone of a matter.” He straightened and wrote something lengthy on a computer screen. “Well, considering you went without proper nourishment and water for so long, surviving by your wits...you've done quite well. That Androgum device did more damage than anything else, but I see some time in the Zero Room has set the healing in progress.”
“Aye. The Doctor said I might have to go back and finish up.” Jamie supplied.
“I'd listen to him if I were you. He's had plenty of experience in you humans.” The Surgeon wrote some more. “Make certain you keep up the eating and drinking that is normal for your race, do.”
“Er...what's supposed to be normal?” Jamie asked practically.
“Oh. Eat and drink as if you are going to live to see another day, I suppose.”
“I can do that.” Jamie said wryly.
“Very good. The scans on your brain are blessedly normal, with expected traumas from your ordeal falling within the safe parameters. The Zero Room will alleviate these better than anything else. I am reluctant to place you under any mental therapies considering your medical history; I might accidentally cause some damage and that's never advisable.” The Time Lord clapped his hands to finish the conversation-this was a mannerism from his House of Jade background, which had startled Jamie in the first days of their getting to know each other. “When you pass back through the arch, take a detour to the Solarium. It's a better place to wait for the Doctor than the boring old limbo they call a library.”
________
The Doctor's experience with medicine was not going as well as Jamie's. Not by half.
To begin with, the Surgeon was new. Nearly all of the Doctor's service-term had been under the medical supervision of a good friend, Ttoth. The two had worked well with each other and with great respect. Unfortunately he had been old and when Goth had finally “promoted up” and out of the Agency, Ttoth had been one of the changes in the system. Save for the rare party, they didn't see each other and it was a shame. The old fellow was ever good about prodding the Doctor out of an ugly mood, or inspiring a thought difficult to come out of his brain.
This replacement was not only not Ttoth, he was younger to a fault, mechanical, and unimaginative. He was also the sort of person who thrived on a live culture of bureaucratic minutia.
“Look, there's no point in this,” The Doctor protested with increasingly sincere acting. “I was ordered to come here, be examined, and then go my merry way and out of your life until next time.”
“That doesn't change the fact that we have an anomaly in your readings.” The man droned with all the enthusiasm of a tone-deaf frog. “CIA Procedure are final and not open for negotiation.”
The Doctor ground his teeth in a manner that could have rendered stone marbles into sand. “How am I supposed to put up with this and be on schedule?” Desperation was always a good tactic; he didn't have to fake it at all. “I was told very clearly to stick to the regime and not deviate one iota!”
“That is not your problem. I will send the report to Madame Supervisor and inform her she is to wait for your appearance until I am satisfied the anomaly is neither a threat nor in a state of growth.”
“Growth? You make it sound as though I have another parasite in my brain!”
Most Time Lords, Gallifreyans, and for that matter, most beings, contemplate cranial parasites with a disfavorable physiological reaction. A shudder, perhaps, though the Doctor had seen more than one violent jerk of the gag reflex. Blanching was common. Horror was part of the package deal. Time Lords hated to be reminded they were vulnerable in any way.
But no, not this lad, the Doctor thought sourly as his gaoler/physician failed to react in any way whatsoever. He never looked up from writing his report.
“You do not have another parasite in your brain. This involves various pressure points throughout your body, and I must determine the cause.” Scribble-scribble.
“Can you at least tell me what it looks like it is?”
“It looks like someone was taking biodata samples.”
The Doctor felt his hearts lurch, once, and then drop to his ankles. The biodiagnostic machine, still scanning him, gave an alarming chirrup of sensors which actually made the man look up from his work, frowning at the interruption.
“You don't say.” The little man said weakly.
“I do say," corrected the linguistically strangled Gallifreyan. "There is no point in saying it is until proof is produced. You asked me what it looked like; I told you. There is no proof, ergo, it is not a fact and it will not go into my report until I have satisfied myself.”
Dimly over the roaring in his ears, the Doctor wondered if there was a possible way to manipulate this rockheaded old ninnyhammer of a physician. Probably not-at least not at the moment.
“Very well.” Play for time...play along. He took a deep breath. “Where shall I be while I am...waiting for the report?”
“Standard non-quarantine protocols. Rejoin your team-mate or team-members, and stay together until further notice.”
“Does this mean we can return to the TARDIS?” The Doctor asked without hope.
“Standard non-quarantine protocols. Your usual address will suffice.”
“Of course.” The Doctor said dryly.
__________
The Physician never looked up as he left, but as soon as his report was finally signed, he opened another program into his computer and began reading the machine's rather interesting scans of the patient at what should have been a perfectly ordinary sentence.
He was dull, unimaginative, and technical. A perfect CIA staffer and he was utterly perfect at collecting information that an emotional being would never notice. Information for its own sake was his duty and calling. And in that broad single-mindednes, the most interesting things often came to light for his superiors.
________________
Jamie found himself hungry again, and produced the ID card that proclaimed him a working Agent for the CIA. That and a few of the toy coins Time Lords called money got him a decent meal-cube and plenty of water, which he craved. He was long familiar with the Solarium, and liked the view the dome gave of the sky-especially at night. A purplish cloud crawled across the starfield and a meteoroid shower speckled the blackness. For some reason meteroids were green when they burned up in Gallifrey's atmosphere, and he never tired of the sight. Against the copper of the Moon the Doctor called, “The Virgin Goddess,” the sight was breathtaking. He picked his way to a deserted portion of the Solarium's Dome, where a cluster of potted red and silver trees created a small clearing. Hammocks suspended between the trees and he picked the nearest one so he could lie back with his water and just enjoy the view.
“Aren't they magnificent?” He heard a new voice at his elbow.
Jamie twisted his head up, smiling. The Doctor was standing so upright in his too-large coat his sleeves had swallowed all but his fingertips. The little man was smiling too, but there was a pained sadness to his smile. Jamie had seen this look many times.
“Yer lookin' sad again, Doctor.”
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