posted by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
katherine_b at 08:10am on 20/04/2009 under dw, fan fic, planet of the dead, planet of the dead and the living
katherine_b at 08:10am on 20/04/2009 under dw, fan fic, planet of the dead, planet of the dead and the livingTitle: Planet of the Dead and the Living 5/7
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katherine_b
Characters/Pairing: The Doctor (Ten), Donna, Lady Christina de Souza
Rating: G
Spoilers: Everything in Planet of the Dead and some things for NuWho.
Part V
The Doctor and Christina follow the Tritovores into a room with a massive hole in the centre of it.
“Oh, yes!” he exclaims as they get close enough to look down. “Gravity room. Look. Goes all the way down to the engine. So what happened?”
The Tritovore commander chitters in response and he turns to explain the answer to Christina.
“He says the drive system stalled. Ten miles up they fell out of the sky. But what caused that?”
The Tritovore shrugs and Christina turns to the Doctor.
“Which means no idea,” she suggests.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “But – wait a minute!”
He points into the hole, looking at the Tritovores.
“That's a crystal nucleus down there, yes?”
And when the fly-like heads nod in agreement, he dashes to the rim to survey the object at the bottom of the hole.
“Looks like it survived the crash and the crystal's intact. Ooh, yes! That's better than diesel!”
“What, you can use a crystal to move the bus?” Christina demands in disbelief.
“I think so!” The Doctor looks around, surveying the ship. “Place is a write-off, but the 200's small enough.”
“How does a crystal drive a bus?”
The Doctor waves his hands vaguely in the air, knowing she would never understand if he explained it all. “In a – super clever – outer-spacey way. Just trust me.”
He types frantically at the computer, relieved when he sees the crystal and its holder on the screen.
“There's the crystal, it's fallen into the bottom of the well!” He turns to the Tritovores. “Have you got access shafts?”
The response isn't as positive as he'd hoped for.
“All frozen – well, maybe I can open them! Aah!” He snatches up an object at the side of the monitor. “Internal comms.”
He tosses it to Christina and fits the other piece into his ear. “Put that on! You stay here. Keep an eye on the shaft. Tell me if anything happens.”
Running back into the main console room, he hunts through the various wires and electronic boxes, trying to find the button that will release the access shafts.
“If I can use that sunlight to start the automatic maintenance,” he explains as he begins work. “Christina, if you see a panel opening in that shaft, let me know.”
“Nothing yet,” she reports.
“Anything now?” he asks as he plugs in a cable
“'Fraid not.”
He plugs something else in. “Any sign of movement?”
“Nope!”
He adds another wire to the box. “How's that?”
“Nothing.”
Getting frustrated, he tries another. “Any result?”
“Not a dickey-bird,” comes the almost careless reply. There's a pause, and then, “So let me get this right. You need that crystal?” There's a whirring sound he can't quite identify. “Then consider it done!”
“Why, what d'you mean?” He blows into the box to clear sand out of the connection. “Christina?” And then suddenly it all makes sense. “Christina!”
Her voice is cool and measured in his ear. “The aristocracy survived for a reason.”
He arrives in the doorway of the room to see her standing on the edge, smirking at him over her shoulder.
“We're ready for anything,” she tells him, spreading her arms and, as he arrives on the edge, falls forwards.
“No!” he cries out as she vanishes.
Desperately fishing the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, he aims it at the winch, muttering under his breath as he hears her falling below him.
“Come on,” he mumbles between clenched teeth. “Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.”
And then she stops abruptly and he heaves a sigh of relief.
“That's better!”
“I decide when I stop, thank you!” she snaps.
His annoyance is audible in the grimness of his voice. “You're about to hit the security grid – look!”
“Excellent,” she says in what he can hear are sarcastic tones. “So what do I do?”
“Try the big, red button.”
Even as he remembers another big, red button on board another space ship so many years ago, when everything about this body was untried and untested, he looks down to see her press the glowing red object and watches the security grid fade away.
“Well done!” she says approvingly.
“Now come back up,” the Doctor orders. “I can do that.”
“Oh, don't you wish!” comes the snide reply.
He sighs, knowing there's no way to make her do it. “Slowly,” he warns.
“Yes, sir!”
And as he wanders around the edge of the hole, with the opportunity that this situation has presented, he thinks it's time he got to the bottom of this rather intriguing woman's secrets.
“Like a mystery, don't you?” he muses. “Lady Christina de Souza. Carrying a winch in her bag.”
“No stranger than you, spaceman.”
“Yeah,” he says evenly as he sits beside her backpack, “might want to come up with something else, Christina. I've already got someone who calls me that.”
“And are they right? Do you zoom about the place in a rocket?”
“Well, little blue box,” he confesses. “Travels in more than space. It can journey through time, Christina. Oh, the places I've been. World War I. Creation of the universe. End of the universe. War between China and Japan.”
He peers into the backpack on the ground beside him, moving the cover back far enough to reveal a golden chalice.
“And the court of King Athelstan in 924 AD.” He musters a wry smile. “I don't remember you being there.” Taking the cup out of the bag, he examines it. “So what are you doing with this?”
“Excuse me.” She sounds offended, but not surprised. “A gentleman never goes through a lady's possessions.”
The Tritovore asks a question about the gold chalice.
“It's the cup of Athelstan,” he tells the commander. “It was given to the first King of Britain as a coronation gift from Hywel, King of the Welsh. It's been held in the International Gallery for 200 years. Which makes you, Lady Christina, a thief!”
“I like to think I liberated it!” she retorts.
“Don't tell me you need the money.”
Her voice invites sympathy. “Daddy lost everything. Invested his fortunate in the Icelandic banks.”
He smiles mockingly at the thought that she expects him to believe her. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no. You're short of cash, you rob a bank. Stealing this – that's a lifestyle.”
“I take it you disapprove.”
“Absolutely!” He hesitates for a moment, unable to help thinking of his own great theft. “Except – that little blue box.” He can't suppress a rueful sigh. “I stole it. From my own people.”
And he feels a familiar stab of pain at the knowledge that he and the TARDIS are the last remaining traces of Gallifrey in existence. However Christina's response shows that she understands none of his feelings.
“Good boy!” she praises him. “You were right – we're quite a team!”
* * *
Donna makes it to the top of the largest dune and looks out over the horizon. There's a mass of clouds all along the skyline and she can see lights dancing in them.
If that's the storm they heard on the bus, she muses as she stops to catch her breath, then it won't be long before it's upon them.
And, by following the Doctor's path, she's running right at it.
She stands frozen, torn between following him and turning back to the others on the bus.
The whooshing of the oncoming storm is louder here than it was at the wormhole. She can feel the wind whipping around her in all directions.
Over her shoulder, she can just glimpse the red of one corner of the bus, standing out vividly against the golden sand.
And the other way, as she looks around, she catches sight of a black line and various spears that seem to stand up in the air.
She knows that that's where the Doctor is.
Without another thought, she heads in that direction, feet pounding on the sand, breath catching slightly as she keeps one eye on the approaching clouds and the other on her destination.
“Donna!”
The voice carries in the air and then she sees two figures racing away from what she assumes is a spaceship.
“Doctor!” she yells, stopping and waving at him. “Come on!”
In seconds they're beside her and the Doctor has grabbed her hand, pulling her with them as they run wildly.
And then the sound of the phone ringing makes the Doctor exclaim in annoyance.
“Not now Malcolm!” he screams almost as soon as he connects the call, having had to let go of Donna's hand to answer it, and he grabs it again as he thrusts the phone back into his pocket.
“What is it?” she demands breathlessly.
“Danger,” he replies as they come over the hill to see the battered red vehicle. “Got to get away Donna. Get into the bus!”
* * *
Nathan comes out as they run down the hill. “At last! Where have you been?”
“Get inside,” the Doctor orders. “Get them sitting down.”
And as everyone does as he says, Donna as the recipient of a gentle push, he plucks the crystal out of the holder.
“Now then, let's have a look.”
“So what does the crystal do?” Christine demands.
“Oh, nothing.” He throws it over his shoulder, unable to help loving the look of horror on her face. “Don't need the crystal.”
“I've risked my life for that!” she exclaims in horrified indignation.
“No, no,” he says, pulling the anti-gravity locks apart. “You risked your life for these.”
He holds one up in demonstration.
“The clamps,” he tells her as he runs to put on the first wheel. “One there. Another one,” as he runs around to bus to fasten it. “One there, and one there.”
Christina leaps onto the bus, still asking questions. “So what are the clamps for? Do they turn the wheels?”
“Eh, something like that,” he says as he throws himself into the driver's seat. “I just need to fix this. Have you,” he asks knowingly, “got a hammer in that bag?”
“Funnily enough,” she says drily, fishing around for it.
The Doctor pulls the phone out of his pocket and swaps it for the hammer.
“Press redial,” he tells her, and then, as soon as the call is answered, “Malcolm, it's me.”
“I'm ready,” the man on the other end says eagerly.
“Ready for what?” the Doctor asked, mystified as Christina holds the phone to his ear.
“I don't know,” he admits. “You tell me!”
“I'm going to try to get back, but listen, there might be something following us. You need to find a way to close the wormhole.”
“Would that be a compressed burst of feedback on a counter oscillation perchance?” comes the smug response from the other end, and the Doctor grins.
“Oh, Malcolm, you're brilliant!”
“Coming from you, sir, that means the world.”
And then he hears Captain Magambo's voice and he knows he was right to be cautious about what he said.
“Doctor, what sort of 'something'? That wormhole is now measuring ten miles and growing. I need to know the exact nature of the threat.”
“Sorry, gotta go,” he says sharply, nodding at Christina to disconnect the call, which she does.
The Doctor attaches a wire from the steering wheel to the clamps and then tries to make it react, but the machinery simply spits and shoots sparks. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Donna come up behind Christina.
“Ugh, it's not compatible,” he groans.
“Bus, spaceship,” Donna reminds him. “Spaceship, bus.”
“I need to weld the two systems together,” he tells her.
“And how d'you do that?” Christina asks.
He thinks and speaks at the same moment. “I need something non-corrosive, er, something malleable, something ductile, something,” he stops in realisation and turns to her, “gold.”
Christina steps back, shaking her head, a smile of disbelief on her lips. “Oh, no you don't.”
“Christina, what is it worth now?” he demands impatiently.
And then the Doctor sees that Barclay has come up to them. “Hey, hey, hey,” he interrupts, a watch lying over the palm of his hand. “Use this.”
“I said gold,” the Doctor reminds him.
“It is gold,” comes the ready reply.
The Doctor shakes his head. “Oh, they saw you coming!” And then, as Donna pats the disappointed Barclay on the back and follows him further into the bus, “Christina!”
They hold each other's gaze for a moment before Christina looks down at her bag, out at the other passengers, and then back to him. He knows he's won when, finally, she reaches down and takes out the cup, handing it over as gingerly as if it was made of glass.
“It's over 1,000 years old, worth 18 million pounds,” she reminds him as she places it in his hands. “Promise me you'll be careful.”
He can't quite cross his fingers without her seeing, so he crosses his toes instead. “I promise,” he says in an honest a voice as he can manage.
Taking the cup, he can't help watching out of the corner of his eye as he turns it upside down, places it on the ticket machine and begins banging away at it with the hammer.
Christina stares at him in disbelief for a moment before she finally manages to speak.
“I hate you.”
As he continues to beat it into the shape he needs, he sees her walk away, shaking her head. Several minutes later, once everything's ready, he raises his voice.
“This is your driver speaking,” he announces. “Hold on tight.”
“Wh-what for?” Barclay stammers. “What's he doing?”
“Do as he says,” Donna orders from her seat. “Although – what are you doing, Spaceman?”
The Doctor, however, is focusing on starting the bus and doesn't answer. “Come on, that's it!” he urges the recalcitrant vehicle. “You can do it, my beauty. One last trip!”
And then he feels the movement beneath them as the bus trembles, wobbles and slowly lifts of the sand. There's a mass cry of voices behind him, but he's more focused on getting the bus into the air.
“Oh, you are so kidding me!” Barclay cries out.
“We're flying!” Nathan adds, delight in his voice. “It's flying!”
“It's flying!” adds Lou. “The bus!”
“It's a miracle!” Angela exclaims eagerly.
“What is it, Spaceman?” Donna demands. “How's it happening?”
“Anti-gravity cloud,” he calls back to her, adding, with a cheeky grin. “Didn't I say? And round we go!”
He really shouldn't chuckle at the sight of Donna sliding from one end of the bench seat to the other as he turns the bus, but he can't quite help himself.
But then he hears Carmen's voice.
“Doctor! They're coming!”
And he slides open the driver's window to see the mass of silvery objects approaching the bus at a rapid pace and he curses in Gallifreyan under his breath, thankful for once that the TARDIS isn’t there to translate for everyone.
Next Part
Author:
katherine_b Characters/Pairing: The Doctor (Ten), Donna, Lady Christina de Souza
Rating: G
Spoilers: Everything in Planet of the Dead and some things for NuWho.
Part V
The Doctor and Christina follow the Tritovores into a room with a massive hole in the centre of it.
“Oh, yes!” he exclaims as they get close enough to look down. “Gravity room. Look. Goes all the way down to the engine. So what happened?”
The Tritovore commander chitters in response and he turns to explain the answer to Christina.
“He says the drive system stalled. Ten miles up they fell out of the sky. But what caused that?”
The Tritovore shrugs and Christina turns to the Doctor.
“Which means no idea,” she suggests.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “But – wait a minute!”
He points into the hole, looking at the Tritovores.
“That's a crystal nucleus down there, yes?”
And when the fly-like heads nod in agreement, he dashes to the rim to survey the object at the bottom of the hole.
“Looks like it survived the crash and the crystal's intact. Ooh, yes! That's better than diesel!”
“What, you can use a crystal to move the bus?” Christina demands in disbelief.
“I think so!” The Doctor looks around, surveying the ship. “Place is a write-off, but the 200's small enough.”
“How does a crystal drive a bus?”
The Doctor waves his hands vaguely in the air, knowing she would never understand if he explained it all. “In a – super clever – outer-spacey way. Just trust me.”
He types frantically at the computer, relieved when he sees the crystal and its holder on the screen.
“There's the crystal, it's fallen into the bottom of the well!” He turns to the Tritovores. “Have you got access shafts?”
The response isn't as positive as he'd hoped for.
“All frozen – well, maybe I can open them! Aah!” He snatches up an object at the side of the monitor. “Internal comms.”
He tosses it to Christina and fits the other piece into his ear. “Put that on! You stay here. Keep an eye on the shaft. Tell me if anything happens.”
Running back into the main console room, he hunts through the various wires and electronic boxes, trying to find the button that will release the access shafts.
“If I can use that sunlight to start the automatic maintenance,” he explains as he begins work. “Christina, if you see a panel opening in that shaft, let me know.”
“Nothing yet,” she reports.
“Anything now?” he asks as he plugs in a cable
“'Fraid not.”
He plugs something else in. “Any sign of movement?”
“Nope!”
He adds another wire to the box. “How's that?”
“Nothing.”
Getting frustrated, he tries another. “Any result?”
“Not a dickey-bird,” comes the almost careless reply. There's a pause, and then, “So let me get this right. You need that crystal?” There's a whirring sound he can't quite identify. “Then consider it done!”
“Why, what d'you mean?” He blows into the box to clear sand out of the connection. “Christina?” And then suddenly it all makes sense. “Christina!”
Her voice is cool and measured in his ear. “The aristocracy survived for a reason.”
He arrives in the doorway of the room to see her standing on the edge, smirking at him over her shoulder.
“We're ready for anything,” she tells him, spreading her arms and, as he arrives on the edge, falls forwards.
“No!” he cries out as she vanishes.
Desperately fishing the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, he aims it at the winch, muttering under his breath as he hears her falling below him.
“Come on,” he mumbles between clenched teeth. “Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.”
And then she stops abruptly and he heaves a sigh of relief.
“That's better!”
“I decide when I stop, thank you!” she snaps.
His annoyance is audible in the grimness of his voice. “You're about to hit the security grid – look!”
“Excellent,” she says in what he can hear are sarcastic tones. “So what do I do?”
“Try the big, red button.”
Even as he remembers another big, red button on board another space ship so many years ago, when everything about this body was untried and untested, he looks down to see her press the glowing red object and watches the security grid fade away.
“Well done!” she says approvingly.
“Now come back up,” the Doctor orders. “I can do that.”
“Oh, don't you wish!” comes the snide reply.
He sighs, knowing there's no way to make her do it. “Slowly,” he warns.
“Yes, sir!”
And as he wanders around the edge of the hole, with the opportunity that this situation has presented, he thinks it's time he got to the bottom of this rather intriguing woman's secrets.
“Like a mystery, don't you?” he muses. “Lady Christina de Souza. Carrying a winch in her bag.”
“No stranger than you, spaceman.”
“Yeah,” he says evenly as he sits beside her backpack, “might want to come up with something else, Christina. I've already got someone who calls me that.”
“And are they right? Do you zoom about the place in a rocket?”
“Well, little blue box,” he confesses. “Travels in more than space. It can journey through time, Christina. Oh, the places I've been. World War I. Creation of the universe. End of the universe. War between China and Japan.”
He peers into the backpack on the ground beside him, moving the cover back far enough to reveal a golden chalice.
“And the court of King Athelstan in 924 AD.” He musters a wry smile. “I don't remember you being there.” Taking the cup out of the bag, he examines it. “So what are you doing with this?”
“Excuse me.” She sounds offended, but not surprised. “A gentleman never goes through a lady's possessions.”
The Tritovore asks a question about the gold chalice.
“It's the cup of Athelstan,” he tells the commander. “It was given to the first King of Britain as a coronation gift from Hywel, King of the Welsh. It's been held in the International Gallery for 200 years. Which makes you, Lady Christina, a thief!”
“I like to think I liberated it!” she retorts.
“Don't tell me you need the money.”
Her voice invites sympathy. “Daddy lost everything. Invested his fortunate in the Icelandic banks.”
He smiles mockingly at the thought that she expects him to believe her. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no. You're short of cash, you rob a bank. Stealing this – that's a lifestyle.”
“I take it you disapprove.”
“Absolutely!” He hesitates for a moment, unable to help thinking of his own great theft. “Except – that little blue box.” He can't suppress a rueful sigh. “I stole it. From my own people.”
And he feels a familiar stab of pain at the knowledge that he and the TARDIS are the last remaining traces of Gallifrey in existence. However Christina's response shows that she understands none of his feelings.
“Good boy!” she praises him. “You were right – we're quite a team!”
Donna makes it to the top of the largest dune and looks out over the horizon. There's a mass of clouds all along the skyline and she can see lights dancing in them.
If that's the storm they heard on the bus, she muses as she stops to catch her breath, then it won't be long before it's upon them.
And, by following the Doctor's path, she's running right at it.
She stands frozen, torn between following him and turning back to the others on the bus.
The whooshing of the oncoming storm is louder here than it was at the wormhole. She can feel the wind whipping around her in all directions.
Over her shoulder, she can just glimpse the red of one corner of the bus, standing out vividly against the golden sand.
And the other way, as she looks around, she catches sight of a black line and various spears that seem to stand up in the air.
She knows that that's where the Doctor is.
Without another thought, she heads in that direction, feet pounding on the sand, breath catching slightly as she keeps one eye on the approaching clouds and the other on her destination.
“Donna!”
The voice carries in the air and then she sees two figures racing away from what she assumes is a spaceship.
“Doctor!” she yells, stopping and waving at him. “Come on!”
In seconds they're beside her and the Doctor has grabbed her hand, pulling her with them as they run wildly.
And then the sound of the phone ringing makes the Doctor exclaim in annoyance.
“Not now Malcolm!” he screams almost as soon as he connects the call, having had to let go of Donna's hand to answer it, and he grabs it again as he thrusts the phone back into his pocket.
“What is it?” she demands breathlessly.
“Danger,” he replies as they come over the hill to see the battered red vehicle. “Got to get away Donna. Get into the bus!”
Nathan comes out as they run down the hill. “At last! Where have you been?”
“Get inside,” the Doctor orders. “Get them sitting down.”
And as everyone does as he says, Donna as the recipient of a gentle push, he plucks the crystal out of the holder.
“Now then, let's have a look.”
“So what does the crystal do?” Christine demands.
“Oh, nothing.” He throws it over his shoulder, unable to help loving the look of horror on her face. “Don't need the crystal.”
“I've risked my life for that!” she exclaims in horrified indignation.
“No, no,” he says, pulling the anti-gravity locks apart. “You risked your life for these.”
He holds one up in demonstration.
“The clamps,” he tells her as he runs to put on the first wheel. “One there. Another one,” as he runs around to bus to fasten it. “One there, and one there.”
Christina leaps onto the bus, still asking questions. “So what are the clamps for? Do they turn the wheels?”
“Eh, something like that,” he says as he throws himself into the driver's seat. “I just need to fix this. Have you,” he asks knowingly, “got a hammer in that bag?”
“Funnily enough,” she says drily, fishing around for it.
The Doctor pulls the phone out of his pocket and swaps it for the hammer.
“Press redial,” he tells her, and then, as soon as the call is answered, “Malcolm, it's me.”
“I'm ready,” the man on the other end says eagerly.
“Ready for what?” the Doctor asked, mystified as Christina holds the phone to his ear.
“I don't know,” he admits. “You tell me!”
“I'm going to try to get back, but listen, there might be something following us. You need to find a way to close the wormhole.”
“Would that be a compressed burst of feedback on a counter oscillation perchance?” comes the smug response from the other end, and the Doctor grins.
“Oh, Malcolm, you're brilliant!”
“Coming from you, sir, that means the world.”
And then he hears Captain Magambo's voice and he knows he was right to be cautious about what he said.
“Doctor, what sort of 'something'? That wormhole is now measuring ten miles and growing. I need to know the exact nature of the threat.”
“Sorry, gotta go,” he says sharply, nodding at Christina to disconnect the call, which she does.
The Doctor attaches a wire from the steering wheel to the clamps and then tries to make it react, but the machinery simply spits and shoots sparks. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Donna come up behind Christina.
“Ugh, it's not compatible,” he groans.
“Bus, spaceship,” Donna reminds him. “Spaceship, bus.”
“I need to weld the two systems together,” he tells her.
“And how d'you do that?” Christina asks.
He thinks and speaks at the same moment. “I need something non-corrosive, er, something malleable, something ductile, something,” he stops in realisation and turns to her, “gold.”
Christina steps back, shaking her head, a smile of disbelief on her lips. “Oh, no you don't.”
“Christina, what is it worth now?” he demands impatiently.
And then the Doctor sees that Barclay has come up to them. “Hey, hey, hey,” he interrupts, a watch lying over the palm of his hand. “Use this.”
“I said gold,” the Doctor reminds him.
“It is gold,” comes the ready reply.
The Doctor shakes his head. “Oh, they saw you coming!” And then, as Donna pats the disappointed Barclay on the back and follows him further into the bus, “Christina!”
They hold each other's gaze for a moment before Christina looks down at her bag, out at the other passengers, and then back to him. He knows he's won when, finally, she reaches down and takes out the cup, handing it over as gingerly as if it was made of glass.
“It's over 1,000 years old, worth 18 million pounds,” she reminds him as she places it in his hands. “Promise me you'll be careful.”
He can't quite cross his fingers without her seeing, so he crosses his toes instead. “I promise,” he says in an honest a voice as he can manage.
Taking the cup, he can't help watching out of the corner of his eye as he turns it upside down, places it on the ticket machine and begins banging away at it with the hammer.
Christina stares at him in disbelief for a moment before she finally manages to speak.
“I hate you.”
As he continues to beat it into the shape he needs, he sees her walk away, shaking her head. Several minutes later, once everything's ready, he raises his voice.
“This is your driver speaking,” he announces. “Hold on tight.”
“Wh-what for?” Barclay stammers. “What's he doing?”
“Do as he says,” Donna orders from her seat. “Although – what are you doing, Spaceman?”
The Doctor, however, is focusing on starting the bus and doesn't answer. “Come on, that's it!” he urges the recalcitrant vehicle. “You can do it, my beauty. One last trip!”
And then he feels the movement beneath them as the bus trembles, wobbles and slowly lifts of the sand. There's a mass cry of voices behind him, but he's more focused on getting the bus into the air.
“Oh, you are so kidding me!” Barclay cries out.
“We're flying!” Nathan adds, delight in his voice. “It's flying!”
“It's flying!” adds Lou. “The bus!”
“It's a miracle!” Angela exclaims eagerly.
“What is it, Spaceman?” Donna demands. “How's it happening?”
“Anti-gravity cloud,” he calls back to her, adding, with a cheeky grin. “Didn't I say? And round we go!”
He really shouldn't chuckle at the sight of Donna sliding from one end of the bench seat to the other as he turns the bus, but he can't quite help himself.
But then he hears Carmen's voice.
“Doctor! They're coming!”
And he slides open the driver's window to see the mass of silvery objects approaching the bus at a rapid pace and he curses in Gallifreyan under his breath, thankful for once that the TARDIS isn’t there to translate for everyone.
Next Part
rushed