TARDIS Spring Cleaning (after Darksoul possession/Jamie-talk)
Several days after being possessed and the Doctor’s convinced he needs to do some spring cleaning. Or at least some kind of cleaning. Probably should have done it awhile ago, come to think of it, but things kept coming up. Things do that, so he doesn’t blame them. So, spring cleaning. Needs doing, established that, good as a distraction except….
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Setting it down next to him, intending to put it in the study where he'd have no excuse forgetting where it was (provided he could...find the study), the Doctor went back to work sorting. He peered at Mirana over the pile of Stuff, Things and Other still needing to be organized, giving her a lazy sort of blink, as if the answer was obvious.
"Not entirely surprising. Depending on when and where you came from, I'd guess it wasn't something anyone could just pick up." And yes, for some reason he kept getting that question. There were so many ways to explain it, but really, the Time Lords simply just predated the humans. Humanity never did seem capable of grasping how young they were as a species. It was typically...well, typically human.
The Doctor waved away the question. Another time. "Trust me, plenty of differences under the surface. So. You. Miranda -- lovely name, Miranda, good roll on the tongue -- human, extremely good at organization. Professional. Military?"
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"You could say that," she said as she continued sorting. Stuff, Things, Stuff, Stuff, Other... "I have no formal military training but I worked with a paramilitary group for quite some time. I was a lead operative until I left to work under Commander Shepard." She motioned across the hangar towards the Normandy, "Our ship is farther down that corridor."
She looked over to the TARDIS, "Is it safe to assume that is your ship?" The TARDIS didn't look much like a ship but since it was being housed in the hangar, Miranda felt it was a logical leap.
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She's about 70% right on what she's doing, all without him having to tell her. Of course he'll have to fix it later, but there isn't that much to fix. The Doctor shifts on the floor as Miranda points in the general direction of their own ship, as if he could identify it from here. Unfortunately, he'd probably need more to go on: uniforms, badges or pins, things like that. There are plenty of vehicles and ships in the hanger that he doesn't recognize. It's all rather exciting.
"I'd love to take a look at it sometime," the Doctor says, and it's not just him acting gracious. He really is truly interested in Miranda's ship. The Doctor kept sorting through the stuff on his end. "The TARDIS? Ship, home, everything machine. Call it what you like. I haven't been able to get her flight-worthy though. Are you the same problems with your ship?"
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"You're welcome to come aboard and take a look whenever you'd like. EDI would be more than welcome to answer any questions about its workings." With Donnelly and Daniels possibly somewhere among the pods, they lacked an Engineering staff that could answer questions face-to-face. But EDI knew more about the ship than any human could possibly ever know and Miranda was grateful she hadn't been severely damaged.
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"I think I'd like a look around," the Doctor smiled at her. "Who knows, maybe I could help."
Of course his idea of "help" didn't always match with a human's and no, he'd most likely never seen this ship before in his life(s), but silly details like that didn't stop him. The Doctor paused, having come upon a box of old books. Books, by the way, that were in mostly perfect condition and many, if not all, were first editions. The Doctor held one up.
"How are you on books?" Some of them he remembered being his favorites. Still, he could probably stand to clean some out. No sense hoarding them and Miranda looked like a perfectly intelligent woman.
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Books weren't all that common in Miranda's time, most everything was stored electronically on datapads and accessed through the extranet and comm buoys. While paper copies of books were still floating around, they mostly belonged to collectors. Miranda had seen Kasumi's collection on several occasions but her own personal stash was considerably smaller. "That's very kind of you but I couldn't possibly accept. Books aren't very common where I'm from and I'd hate for you to think I was taking advantage of your kindness."
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"Think of it as borrowing. Long-term borrowing. Probably won't even miss it," the Doctor insisted. If she didn't have many books where -- and when -- she came from, then that was even more reason to for her to have it. The Doctor pressed H.G Wells's Journey to the Center of the Earth into her hands, "Just mind the pages and you'll be fine."
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She looked back over to the pile of whats-its, doo-dads and other various thingamajigs and went back to sorting. She was through nearly half the pile and mentally commended herself for her efficiency.
"So, the TARDIS... Do you know what's wrong with it? Certainly there must be engineers who can help with damaged ships."
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"Not sure yet, I'm still looking," the Doctor frowned at a paperback copy of a book that must have belonged to one of his previous companions. He carefully set it aside. "Engineers? Oh yes, right. That's fine and all for ships still in production but the TARDIS here is one of a kind. Old Type-40."
He reached behind him to give her wood paneling a pat. No, he wasn't too keen on strange engineers trying to pick her apart and find out how she worked. He'd simply have to fix her himself. Basically, just like old times.
"How about your ship? New? Or about to be decommissioned? Not that there's anything wrong with decommissioned ships, I rather like them myself."
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Miranda noted the way the Doctor treated the TARDIS, "You're very fond of your ship, I see. You've been through a lot together, haven't you?" While she did treat the Normandy like a person from time to time, Miranda knew that was mostly because of EDI. Many people could feel an attachment to things like ships but Miranda rarely felt that same connection. Honestly, Miranda rarely felt that connection with anything -- or anyone, for that matter. It was a downside (upside?) to her upbringing.
Though that's not to say Miranda was cold and distant to everyone, she was very fond of Shepard and Jacob (though she'd known Jacob for quite some time now). And she was already finding herself enjoying the Doctor's company, so she wasn't a complete emotional robot.
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“Of course.” If there was anything the Doctor loved to do, aside from travel and sniff out the interesting, it was talking about ships. Namely TARDIS-shaped ships. Namely this TARDIS. No matter how cross she was with him currently, not that he blamed her. “Bit like your Normandy, actually. Seen trouble, even a bit of peril: not that a little peril isn’t healthy but yes, I’ve been with her quite some time. I wonder if she could talk to your Normandy,” the Doctor said thoughtfully. “You should see her when she can travel.” The Doctor’s voice was wistful.
He wasn’t sure if they could actually exchange notes. Ship notes. Vehicle notes, to keep it open? In theory, the TARDIS could do scans, but he hadn’t established just yet what other functions were locked out, aside from space-time capabilities. The work kept building, which was exactly why he needed capable volunteers like Miranda here. The Doctor eyed Miranda’s pile, which was almost finished (or at least he thought so). Very, very good. Incredibly efficient and fast: probably from her background, but she also had the presence of mind to be fairly accurate with her sorting. The Doctor felt that book he’d let her “borrow” would be in good hands.
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"If she ever gets space-bound, I'd love to see her fly." Miranda was incredibly curious as to how the little box navigated through space. She knew aerodynamics meant nothing in space travel but, from the way the Doctor spoke of it, the TARDIS wasn't an ordinary ship and Miranda wanted to see it in action.
Her pile had dwindled down to the last few items and, as she sorted them into their respective categories, she looked over to the Doctor for approval. "I hope my organization has been to your liking."
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When Miranda draws attention to her piles, the Doctor glances over. He peers at it, then nods. Definitely approving of that. Very good work, he couldn't have asked for a better assistant on the sorting.
"You've saved me quite a bit of time with your help," the Doctor tells Miranda. He moves to start collecting things so he can put them back into the TARDIS. "Give me a hand, will you?"
With an armful of Stuff in his arms, he moves to nudge open the TARDIS door.
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She gathered up an armful of Things and followed behind the Doctor, "Of course. It was my pleasure." And it was a pleasure, really. She looked forward to telling Shepard all about how she'd made an acquaintance (friend?) and didn't even have to shoot anyone. Yet another thing to be proud of.
Upon entering the TARDIS, however, Miranda's self-pride turned into awe. Her assumption of 'bigger on the inside' had been correct but she hadn't been aware of how correct she'd been. "This is..." She furrowed her brow, searching for the words to describe it. "I hadn't been expecting this at all. It's quite spectacular, I must say." While she was far from a child in a candy store, it was clear she was curious and a bit excited, her eyes scanning everything they could see.
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"You should see it on her better days." The TARDIS chose at that moment to give a low, almost annoyed groan from the time rotor's central column, the Doctor leaning over to give the old girl a reassuring rub on the glass. "So. Yes, pile of Stuff. You can just put it right on the chair right over there."
He pointed at the squeaky wobble chair with its wobbling springs, hence the...wobble. It was probably best Miranda not try to sit on it since it had a habit of occasionally dumping its occupants on the floor: he'd been the latest, especially after the Darksoul, and the Doctor had ended up spending more time on the floor than the wobble chair. The Doctor fiddled with the control console, pushing as some levers and standing back, as if waiting for something. Not entirely satisfied, the Doctor turned back to Miranda and he was happy to say that entirely thanks to her work, he wouldn't have much to sort through the piles. Just a matter of putting it all away, nice and meticulously sorted.
The Doctor clasped his hands together, pleased. "Wonderful work. If you ever have more free time, you know where to find me."
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