by Cour M.
“Precisely.”
Eleven turned to Martha and placed his hands on his hips.
“How could you tell that?”
“Because I am beginning to understand them, I guess,” Martha answered, unsure of if she was making any sense.
“Don’t worry, it is logical. It is just, Martha, this hurts to see.”
“Why?”
“Because it reminds me of my people.”
Without hesitation or thought, Martha held him, to which he responded in kind.
“I can’t bear to look at them. And the Master…”
“Don’t worry,” Martha assured him, “you don’t have to think of him now. Doctor I understand that we appear as if we are flouting the principal lore of your people, but we found them already created, and we can’t destroy them. It would be like…”
“Like what?”
“You once told me, back when we were on New Earth, about your people and what you had done. And I saw how it consumed you, how it hurt that you had to be the one to destroy your home planet because of it all. Well, if I were to stand by and watch all these TARDISes get eradicated before they are full grown, then what about me? What happens to my soul? I’ll spend the rest of my life with guilt.”
“Of course you would,” Eleven answered simply, resting his head on top of hers as they still held each other. “It’s just…”
“I know.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“Oi! Hello you two!” Soldier Nigel interrupted as he came up to them.
“Nigel!” Martha welcomed eagerly, for it got rid of the silent awkwardness that had crept up in between the two of them. “You come for us?”
“Well, a bit. I just came out of curiosity, really. Now that you’re here, I can get in, because I don’t have clearance to view this yard. But you do. Would you mind if I take a stroll with you?”
“Sure, we’re not offended by it. Come along, Nig.”
He walked alongside them and then marveled as the Doctor moved around the half-grown TARDISes, and inspected them with his sonic screw-driver.
“What is that?” Nigel asked.
“Oh, it’s his sonic screwdriver,” Martha answered for him, “It tests, detects, and can manipulate sound waves. Believe me, it’s more essential than you expect.”
“Truth is I’ve always wanted clearance to see this yard. I don’t even really understand how this could all even work.”
“You see those,” Martha began to explain, “those below the TARDISes, which they are grown on, those are called hyper-looms. The bulk of a TARDIS is made up of Block-Transfer Mathematics. This form of Distributed Cluster Algebra was first developed by the people of the planet Logopolis.”
“You know about Logopolis?” The Doctor asked her, startled.
Martha grinned.
“Doctor, really? You traveled with me for quite some time and think that I never secretly discovered a manual in the TARDIS or I researched things through your computer?”
“You little sneak,” Eleven said, amazed.
“And sneak is the correct word for it,” she continued, absolutely playfully, then she turned back to Nigel to explain, “I used to travel with him. Well, in the middle of the night, when he was asleep or in the pool or something, I would sneak to the consul room and request information on the TARDIS itself.”
“Herself.”
“What?”
“The TARDIS, it’s a she.”
“Boys and their cars, of course she is,” Martha noted mischievously, then she continued to explain to Nigel while the Doctor continued to look around.
“What do you mean Cluster Algebra?” Nigel asked.
“It is based on the idea that the essence of matter is structure and the essence of structure is mathematics. Using the hexadecimal notations of Block-Transfer it is possible to create Space-Time Events through pure calculation. Any event or object can be described by thinking the correct Block-Transfer equations and it will instantly become reality. Block transfer equations can alter history itself. A sufficiently adept mathematical genius can project a temporary block transfer projection of himself through space and time just by reciting the right equations. With 11 other people reciting the right block transfer numbers it is possible, though difficult, for a Time Lord to track his TARDIS through space and time even. And you have no idea what I am talking about, do you?”
“Sorry, yeah, completely lost.”
“Don’t worry. I just explained it, but truth be told, I don’t really get it either. But one thing we both can understand is defenses. All TARDISes have Chameleon Circuits, which allows them to blend into their environment.”
“But the Doctor’s is a police box, and we all can see it.”
“Yeah, good question. Hey Doctor, if your TARDIS has chameleon circuitry, then why do we always notice it and it remains a police box?”
“Well, it camouflaged when I was on Earth, turning into a police box,” Eleven said as he inspected a growing TARDIS with his screwdriver. “But then the circuits busted. And now it stays looking like that.”
He looked at Martha and Nigel peering at him in wonder.
“She’s a type-40 TARDIS. What can you do?” Was his only explanation.
“So the answer is mathematic equations then?” Nigel continued.
“Block Transfer might work by using pure mathematics to model the possible existence of a specific space-time event or piece of matter in a quantum alternate of this universe. Once this model has been created, then the relevant parts of that quantum universe can be transferred into this universe in discrete blocks of information - hence the term Block-Transfer. Thus any matter, or other space time event, can be created out of pure mathematics if its quantum possibility can be modelled.”
“So the whole universe is all just a large cluster of numbers then, that can fit into an equation.”
“And the TARDIS has to be able to fit into that equation, because if it doesn’t, then it cannot travel it. Thus the TARDIS is made of up many equations itself—or herself in this case. Because the equations have to function in multiple timelines, block transfer equations used in creating a TARDIS use Base Code Numerals which are numbers that are true in all Universes. Some examples would be the numerals Etra, Secque, Eram, Nol, Kayrie, Gorrock, Zel, Nerus, Av, Ressa, Carra, Otto, and Perdunesta. These are pretty constant forms of numeric representation. These calculations are powered by raw Artron Energy.”
“Artron energy? Now that I have heard of.”
“And then there is some other stuff involved about bubble memory and what not, but my brain does not stretch that far to remember it.”
“But how is the TARDIS able to travel through the Time Vortex?”
“Let me see if I got this right. I believe that matter created by a TARDIS using block transfer will have enhanced temporal properties and be resistant to being retro-annulled. This also makes it immune to the normal Vortex energies. Was I right about that Doctor?”
“Frighteningly so,” The Doctor confirmed, not looking at her as he was looking around.
“Had a feeling he was still listening to us,” Martha acknowledged.
“Some, but not all, Gallifreyan technology is made of non-atomic matter, by the way,” The Doctor also added.
“That same rule goes for TARDISes?” Nigel asked.
“Indeed, the same rule does go for them.”[1]
“That’s why a TARDIS is not built, but it’s grown,” Martha said, “Yet, the process used to create a TARDIS is one of the greatest secrets of the Time Lords. Even the TARDIS wouldn’t show me how it was done when I tried to research it.”
“Ha!” The Doctor roared, triumphant.
“Oh, shut up!”
“See, my girl knows where her loyalty lies.”
“Oh does she?”
“Yes, she always does.”
“Be careful, because you are beginning to sound as if you are in love with that box of yours.”
“Oh
Martha, if you only knew the adventures that I have had.”
“Do I really want to know?” She bounced up to him and leaned against one of the growing TARDISes.
“Perhaps not, but I shall tell you anyway probably.”
“Of course you will,” Martha teased, making a pouty face.
Eleven smiled at her, bonked her on the head lightly with his screwdriver, and then he realized that they were still being watched. He turned to Nigel, who shrugged, then holding his gun, he continued to look away and inspect the other machines.
“So,” Martha urged, “what is the great secrets of the Timelords in regards to TARDISes? Look at these TARDISes. They are still not full grown yet, and I’m beginning to wonder if it’s because they were grown incorrectly.”
“Nice try, but I shall never give away the secret of the Timelords in regards to that.”
“After all this time, you still have secrets,” Martha stated simply but fascinated.
Eleven raised his finger at her, as a warning, but Martha was not afraid.
“No,” she replied, serene, “that look doesn’t frighten me. Remember, I have seen you at your very worst. Therefore, there is nothing left for me to be scared of.”
“No, perhaps not.”
“And still you have secrets.”
Eleven patted her face affectionately, his possessive side deflating as soon as it had begun.
“It’s better that way.”
“I know that you think so, but sometimes you keep too much in. You’ll die that way.”
“I’ve died many times already, believe me.”
“Then stop welcoming death like an old friend, and come back to life.”
Eleven blinked.
“Did you just quote ‘Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows’ at me?”
“I thought you would have liked it, seeing as how that’s how we had managed to save the day when we met William Shakespeare.”
Eleven laughed at that.
“Yes, those were the good ole days.”
“Yes, they were. And what’s sad is that we call that the good ole days.”
“Yes, we do.”
Eleven stood up and began to walk away, but then he had a change of heart and turned back to Martha.
“What?” She asked, amused at his confusion.
“I want to believe you are comfortable around me.”
“I am. Always have been, Doctor.”
“Yes, but now… how are you Martha, really?”
“Well, I am doing that thing that we humans do, where I am happy but also not so. But why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Look at me as if I am about to break.”
“Because I never noticed when you were breaking before.”
Martha was silent for a time.
“Don’t hate yourself, Doctor,” Martha stressed.
“Right.”
Martha looked at the man who was before her. For reasons she could not explain, not only did she feel a comfort around him, but it was all different. She felt light around him, whereas before, due to her feelings for him, she felt a heaviness; she felt weighed down, a woman trapped in her body. She felt every action marred by this separation, this wall between them that could not be torn down. Yet now, here he was, and she was not only carefree, but she was also charming again, witty and she felt… fun.
“I don’t know how to explain why I am so open now and changed than I was before,” Martha said, “but I guess that I am.”
“Can I guess?”
“Go ahead, your guess is as good as mine.”
“Different face, different look… and different outlook. I’m older now. I try to pretend like I’m not, try to hide it as being silliness, but I feel… so very old.”
“Is that weighing you down?”
“Yes, and no. In some ways, I care little for things, and in other ways, I care very much. Forgive me, I have been alone for a time now, and I am in the habit of talking just to be talking.”
“You’re right,” Martha admitted, “I do feel different around you. As if I could change things, or re-write time. Re-write myself even. When I look at you, I feel as if all of my mistakes are over. I feel as if now I could be perfect.”
“You were not bad, Martha,” Eleven said, “you are a human. And quite frankly, that’s more than I can say for myself.”
Eleven smiled sadly and then began to walk away. As he did so, Martha took in his tall frame, his hunched over countenance that hinted at his real age, his interesting fashion sense and his hair—his really great hair, and she had an impulse that she did not deny.
The Doctor was beginning to hate himself again. Yet with this one, with his face and form, she didn’t like to see that. Therefore, she rushed up to him and took his hand in her own as they walked onward, through the TARDISes.
“Martha?”
“Yes?”
“This yard is missing something.”
“I know.”
“Without it, these TARDISes will never grow.”
“And you will never tell us what we are missing?”
“For the good of the universe, it is better that way.”
“Then they will remain here, not ever being allowed to reach their potential. Doctor, they will be living half-lives. You made me see them as living entities, and they are. I’m a Doctor, Doctor. I cannot sit around and watch them like this. That’s like leaving a patient in a coma when you can bring them out of it.”
“They are in no pain. None at all.”
“But they will never be able to fly. They will never have tasted the Time Vortex. Doctor, I adore you, but I cannot let that happen.”
“I know that you can’t.”
Hand in hand, they walked through the TARDIS yard.
Chapter 8
Ten & the Ponds
“Come along Williams!” Ten said as he led Amy and Rory out of the TARDIS.
“You call us Williams, brilliant!” Rory cried.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“No, I wasn’t actually being sarcastic, because our Doctor called us always the Ponds.”
Ten stopped and looked between Amy and Rory.
“Wait, you took your wife’s name?”
“Not by choice, mate,” Rory informed him.
Ten then turned to Amy.
“You forced him to take your last name?”
“Shut up, no,” she refuted, “It was just something the Doctor always did, because he just liked my name.”
“Amy Pond?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Are you insulting my name, buster?”
Her threatening looks, mingled with his soft spot for ginger hair made him a little unnerved by Amy.
“No, it’s a great name. A brilliant name. I was just talking to a friend the other day and we were discussing good names for girls and Amy Pond was said to be a great one.”
“Now you’re trying too hard, good effort though. Still, just to warn you, you’re on thin-ice. Cling to a life-line. The Doctor simply liked my name because it was very fairy-tale like.”
“Fairy tale like?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” Ten scoffed, “that’s the sort of man I turn into. That is just sad.”
“And why is it sad to care about my name?”
Ten realized that he was walking on thin-ice again and he looked to Rory himself, who just raised up his arms in retreat.
“Fat load of good, you are,” Ten grumbled.
“I’m her husband, and there are few things I’ve learned about being a husband. Yeah, this is one of those.”
They exited the TARDIS and found themselves at the top of a sports arena—right in the middle of space.
“Bloody hell!” Rory gasped, seeing the stands filled with people and aliens of all walks of life—or should he say, all walks of the universe. “Now that is something I never thought we’d ever see.”
&n
bsp; “Rory,” Amy cried, “we’re back, in space. We’re honestly back in space!”
Amy and Rory laughed, jumping up and down as Rory twirled her around. Seeing them there together made Ten smile, so he leaned his body against some of the stands and just looked upon them. In their innocent happiness, they were two adults who were like children at the moment, and he missed that expression. Whenever he had someone climb aboard the TARDIS and be his companion, they always were like children in his eyes. So wide-eyed and dreamy, and they were the same. He had missed that expression terribly.
“I suppose that was the problem with Martha,” he whispered to himself, “From the moment I met her, I treated her as if she was the adult… and I was the petulant child.”
He was torn out of his thoughts when Amy turned to him, seeing him gazing upon them.
“What is it?” She asked archly.
“Nothing, it’s just… you both look so very happy now.”
“We never thought we would be able to return to space again,” Amy sighed, “and now here we are, at a football game in the middle of… where are we now?”
“We went to the star on the right, and then straight on till morning,” Ten joked, referencing Peter Pan, “Fine then. It’s the year 4228, and this is the annual intergalactic games, where the game is played right in the middle of space itself. You have no idea how much artron energy is used to keep this thing running, but as you can see, it’s one of the largest social events of the universe.”
“And I can see why!” Rory smiled, and the Doctor realized that that may have been the first time that he saw the man smile actually. Before that, he just assumed that it was not something he ever did. “My god, what things have occurred.”
“So, I never took you here, huh? My future self, I mean.”
“No, he never did,” Amy acknowledged, still looking around in wonder, “who are the teams? Oh, never mind, I really don’t care one way or the other about that.”
“He never took you here,” Ten said proudly, “But I did. Yup, this is all me.”
“But how will we get in?” Amy asked, “we don’t have tickets.”
“We don’t really need to,” Ten brandished his wallet.
“Ah, the good ole psychic paper,” Amy whispered conspiratorially, “How I missed that.”