by Cour M.
“Oh you need proof, so here are my credentials,” Eleven said, branding the psychic paper, to which Martha flinched.
“Sorry Doctor,” she apologized, “But I might have trained them to see through psychic paper.”
Eleven put the paper away and scoffed.
“Really, are you serious?”
“I thought it would have helped,” Martha countered back immediately.
“Not in this circumstance! This just complicates things.”
“Not when you have a doctor around,” she replied confidently.
“Oh why thank you,” Eleven grinned.
“Yeah, I was talking about myself,” Martha energetically replied, then she removed a pocket-portable x-ray from her pocket and ran it over the Doctor’s chest, thus showing two hearts. “Zygons may be able to take other shapes,” Martha explained to the General, “But when it comes to anatomy, they can’t replicate this.”
“No, they can’t,” General Sidney agreed, then he signaled for them all to lower their guns. The soldiers all did and saluted the Doctor.
“Welcome Doctor,” General Sidney greeted, “to Cardiff, the settlement and colony established on the west quadrant of Marinus.”
“Thank you,” The Doctor grinned, saluting back, “I haven’t been on Marinus for quite some time. It’s nice to be back.”
“Yes, well, things have changed a lot since then.”
“You’re letting people salute you?” Martha whispered, “bloody hell, so does your whole personality change with your looks?”
“More or less.”
“So how many settlers are there here?” Eleven asked General Sidney as they followed him into the principal base.
“Well, before this skirmish, the full number was 1,300 residents,” Sidney responded, “but we still have to get the death numbers in.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Eleven apologized, “I got here when I could.”
“But that’s the thing, though. How did you know to come here? And how did you know that the cybermen were attacking?”
“It’s the TARDIS,” Martha explained for the Doctor, “it receives distress signals.”
“Oh,” Sidney concluded, “so when I sent the message out to our other settlement on Crassus planet…”
“Yes, I intercepted it,” the Doctor cut in, “sorry if I talk fast. I just talk as fast as I draw conclusions in my mind. Yes… pretty fast. Now, just hang on a minute.” The Doctor turned up to the sky and the space ships that assisted them were still hanging in the air. The Doctor pressed his hand on his chest as a salute and then the ships were off, disappearing across space.
“You see, that’s the great thing about Silurians,” Eleven explained about the ships that just departed, “they always have access to earth minerals, and as long as you didn’t do anything to them to make them hold a grudge against you, they’re always willing to help.”
“Especially if they owe you a favor?” Martha hinted.
“Yes and then there’s that too,” Eleven admitted, “I did this clever thing where I refueled their sun when it was dying, and it was brilliant… and it’s a long story.” Eleven clapped his hands and turned back to the General. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but that unit of cybermen were no random patrol. No, it appears as if it was a planned attack, with the specific aim to overwhelm this quadrant. Now why would that be?”
Martha turned to the General.
“General,” she began, “judging by the state of things, you will have your hands full with organizing the rebuilding crews and establishing communications back to Earth and the Galactic Alliance. Would I be presumptuous for asking if I may escort the Doctor to the site?”
“You may. Besides, I’ll have my hands full with reaching the GA as well. Doctor, welcome to Cardiff, and everyone else, to your duties.”
Eleven saluted him once more and then followed Martha.
Onward they walked through the settlement and as such, Martha passed a few soldiers she knew, and introduced the Doctor in passing, but only one had the time to give him his name.
“Hey Nigel,” Martha said, “this is the Doctor.”
“Nice to meet you Doctor,” Nigel greeted, “We survived another one because of you.”
“Ah, I barely did anything. Well…”
“How is your wife?” Martha asked, worried, “did she make it through?”
“Yes, she did,” Nigel grinned happily, “she got shot in the arm though, but she is in the medical wing, recovering.”
“Really, well, when I’m done here, I shall visit her,” Martha added, sympathetic.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Nigel replied.
“You’re welcome,” Martha and the Doctor answered in unison.
They both turned away and Martha grinned.
“I think that he was talking to me that time.”
“Oh shut up!” The Doctor smiled and they playfully bumped shoulders against each other.
“So, I carry a gun, and you are fine with it. And then you salute the general. Your personality has changed as much as your hair. And your chin.”
“Well I like my chin!”
“And when did I say that I didn’t?”
Eleven closed his mouth.
“Oh, insecure are we?” Martha laughed.
“Well, you haven’t changed much.”
“We humans are good at keeping one face.”
“You must get so bored with that,” Eleven said, inspecting his screwdriver.
“It looks different, like you.”
Eleven smiled, and then handed her the screwdriver. Eagerly, and thinking nothing of it, Martha took it and inspected it.
“I remember the first time that you had me work it,” She recalled, “it was when we had attended the event that Tish had overseen, and Richard Lazarus had just changed. You gave it to me to open the doors for the people to get out.”
“Yes, I did. Now that I’m looking back on it, did I even show you how to work it before I handed it to you?”
“No,” Martha replied archly, “you did that a lot, now that I think about it.”
“Yes, I did. Always expecting you to work things without knowing if you could do it first.”
“I was an idiot at the time,” Martha admitted, “I took your reliance on me in that regard for admiration.”
“Oh, Martha, Martha, Martha,” Eleven cajoled, “it very much was.”
Eleven and Martha looked at each other, then they laughed without even knowing what they were laughing about.
“I laugh a lot around you now,” Martha realized.
“Of course you do. You see that is the wonderful thing about going through absolute hell with someone. You have nowhere to go but up.”
“Oh nowhere but up, eh?” Martha challenged, making a face at him.
“Yes, nowhere but up!” He made a face in turn. “Martha, I get the sense that you missed me!”
“You’ll never hear me say that.”
“Oh will I not?”
“No, you shall not,” she chuckled as he draped his arm around her shoulder.
“So I forgot to mention it, but it’s nice to see you Miss Jones.”
“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Smith.”
Eleven laughed at the reference.
“And I had a theory once,” Martha elaborated as they neared the site, “it was about you.”
“What about me?”
“Well, I wondered about your choice of alias, John Smith. At first I wondered if the reason you chose it was because it was such a popular name. It’s easy for a man to hide himself in obscurity with a name that is popular and the last time we spoke, you were content with being as unknown as you could.”
“It’s stayed that way, for I have been doing my best for the portion of a year to erase myself from much of history.”
“Why do you hide?”
“Because you know how much it is better that way.”
�
��True, but with your alias…”
“John Smith.”
“Yup, John Smith. Rather than it being what I thought, of you choosing it because it is so popular, was it popular because you always choose it?”
Eleven looked on Martha in wonder, for he had never thought of that before.
“Think on it,” she continued, “how many times have you entered an era, a time period, a planet, a quadrant in space, and the people there knew you as John Smith, and never the Doctor. It’s gotten so much that it feels as if John Smith is his own man and is always out there somewhere, doing as he wishes. Therefore, is the fame of the name John Smith a popularity that it has gained, or is that your signature on history—and on the universe.”
Eleven did not know how to reply to that—because he feared that Martha might have been correct.
“Martha…”
“What?”
“You can be clever sometimes.”
“Oh thanks!” Martha scoffed.
“You know what I meant.”
“Not really, but continue,” she answered lightly, too aware of her self-worth to ever be hurt by the Doctor—especially since she knew that he cared for her.
“Martha, do you think, with all the times that I have used the name John Smith, do you think that anyone could use the name to find me, to track me?”
Martha considered before she stood in front of the Doctor, walking backwards as she talked to him.
“Doctor, you fly a machine that is not made, but grown, that calculates space coordinates and actions through equations, and you have never thought that someone could use an algorithm, one algorithm and equation to find you?”
“How did you know about how the TARDIS operates?”
“I’ve been learning,” she answered confidently.
“Ah, Martha, you are too brilliant.”
“Miss me at all a little?” Martha grinned wickedly, placing her hands on his shoulders. He held her cheeks and kissed her forehead.
“I’ll never admit to that,” he replied, but Martha cared little as she took his hand and pulled him along, beginning to break out into a run.
“Now come on, we’re close.”
The Doctor looked at their hands as they ran together. Before, whenever they had held hands, he took her hand first. He always took the person’s hand first. Until months ago, when he had been joined by Clara to fight off an invasion of snowmen. She had grabbed his hand and pulled him along. For a moment, in Martha’s place, he saw Clara instead, in her Victorian gown, then his daydream ended, and Martha reappeared beside him.
He did not know why his mind thought of the one, then the other, and then back to the one, but it had.
Martha took his hand.
Clara had taken his hand.
Then again, life was just full of coincidences, therefore this ought to have meant nothing.
Yet it did.
‘Doctor,’ he thought to himself, ‘you are getting quite old.’
As they reached the site Martha sought out, the Doctor’s attention was caught when he read a sign alongside it.
I.M. Foreman Scrap Mechanic Yard
When the Doctor saw that, he froze, unable to believe what he was seeing. Martha allowed him to stop and stare at it, for she understood what it meant to him.
“Yes,” she answered his thoughts, “Doctor, your people may be gone, but parts of their legend shall always live on.”
“You know the history of this name?”
“Yes, I was told that… that was the junk yard that you had retrieved your TARDIS from.”
“Martha, what is this?”
“I think you know already. This, Doctor, is what the Shadow Proclamation issued when they discovered a secret about Marinus. Something that has gone undetected all these years.”
“What?”
“Come on, it’s best if you see it first.”
With trepidation, mingled with alarm, as well as resentment, Eleven followed her onward.
They turned into the shipyards, though the better term for them might as well have been scrap metal yard, as they were first greeted at the gate by two guards.
“How are you, Mrs. Gibbs?” Martha said to one of the guards.
“I’m well, ma’am, and how about yourself?” Mrs. Gibbs asked.
“Well enough, but this time I come with company,” Martha eagerly replied.
“We know ma’am, and we were told how it was the Doctor,” Mrs. Gibbs said, looking at the Doctor, “and with dress sense like that, you have got to be him.”
“My dress sense is legend,” Eleven grinned, “there, see I told everyone. Bow ties are cool.”
“Do you always say that nowadays?” Martha asked.
“I have no choice, because people often forget that.”
“How are they doing today?” Martha asked Mrs. Gibbs and the other guards. “Any change?”
“No, Doctor Jones,” Mrs. Gibbs reported, “just more of the same.”
“Well,” Martha removed her wallet and showed her clearance papers, “Permission to enter.”
“Permission granted.”
The guards allowed them to pass, and as they walked in, the yards opened up to a vast space.
“Behold Doctor,” Martha whispered, uncertain about how he was going to react, “The Shadow Proclamation’s best kept secret.”
Eleven started when he saw the vast land before him, and what was being grown on it.
“TARDISes!” Eleven gasped, feeling betrayed, “You’re growing TARDISes!”
“Yes,” Martha replied calmly, “Doctor, please let me explain.”
He turned on Martha with a fury.
“I don’t need your excuses! I will never forgive you.”
When he said this, Martha did not falter. Yes she was hurt, but only for a split second before she continued on.
“Doctor, it is not the Proclamation’s fault. Nor the Galactic Alliance either. Or Earth for that matter!”
Around them was an entire field made up of hyper-looms on which unfinished TARDISes were growing. And there were many of them.
“Then what am I to believe?” Eleven accosted her with alacrity and in a threatening way. “Tell me Martha! What am I to believe!”
“You had that same look in your eye and that tone in your voice,” Martha answered simply.
“What look? What tone in my voice!”
“It was when you and I flew to the end of time. To the end of the universe and found the last of humanity that was looking for Utopia. That same tone was when I had just discovered that Professor Yana had a watch like yours—and that he was the Master. You had that same tone in your voice.”
Eleven quieted down and turned away from her.
“I am not going to apologize,” he answered simply, “no I have done that enough for centuries, and I’m done with apologizing.”
“And I am tired of not defending myself—from you.”
Eleven wielded on her with a fury.
“Do not blame me for what happened between us. I know I am the same man, but I was also a different man than what I was.”
“I know, but remember back then, you didn’t always listen to me,” Martha took a step forward, “therefore, please listen to me now. Let me explain.”
Eleven rolled his lip in consideration, and then he gestured around him.
“This is intolerable. The TARDIS is the property always of a Timelord. So is growing them.”
“And it was a Timelord who had grown them!”
Eleven blinked with surprise.
“What?” He asked at last.
“Look around you, Doctor,” Martha said, “This is planet Marinus, and it has never been known to produce land that makes it able to produce TARDISes in your past, so what happened? Come on, make the connection.”
Eleven looked around him.
“Martha, you and I both are very much aware that there are no more Tim
elords left, except for myself. Believe me, I have been given enough false hope on that one enough.”
“You’re right, but that was not the case for awhile, was it?” She asked rhetorically, “Doctor, who was from our past who was your fellow Timelord?”
“No…”
“Yes, this is the work of the Master.”
“And how could that be? When was it ever his plan to do anything else but wage war with the rest of the universe?”
“This was a secret project. All that time while he was destroying Earth, because you loved it so much, he was mining this quadrant of Marinus. He had discovered that this part of the planet had elements in it that could grow a TARDIS. He was the one that had implanted the hyper-looms in this area. Then, after the fall of the Master, it went unchecked, and the occupants of Marinus just took back the land and then just let it go to waste, not knowing what the Master had been doing all along. And of course it just looked like rubbish to them. I mean, look at them. They just look like metal half-rooms.”
“They are not full grown yet, nor at all near full capacity, it is clear.”
“Yes, so when the Shadow Proclamation organized a settlement here, just to re-establish connections back to this planet, they discovered what he was up to here.”
“And you’ve been growing them ever since.”
“As you see, they are not complete, but we have begun to understand the science and mechanics behind them all very well.”
“Have you?”
“The Master didn’t make it so hard, because he left much of the science behind, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did.”
Eleven looked around, walking forward through the junkyard and looking at all the TARDISes around him.
“And what would you have suggested,” Martha continued, “that we destroy them all? Doctor, you know as well as I do that we could never kill them. After all, Doctor, I understand now. They are all… alive.”
“Yes, they are,” Eleven acknowledged, his voice turning gentle and romantic. “They are like children right now.”