The first planet she visited after Messaline had a funny name she couldn't remember. It kept tickling at the back of her mind, even after she left it, but it was too long and too complicated for her to wrap her tongue around, and so she'd let it slip away instead of crowding her brain with unnecessary and unreachable memories. She knew her father wouldn't approve, because he seemed like the sort to remember everything and to think that the remembering of everything was terribly important, even if the things you were remembering weren't.
Wait, did he seem like that or did she just think he seemed like that? Sometimes when Jenny dreamed she saw her father in very different ways than she had known him. Besides, she hadn't known him very long. Maybe she just was putting characteristics onto him that she thought he ought to have.
She thought he ought to be a great many things that she didn't know about him.
Anyway, the planet had been boring. It was devoted to art and philosophy. It wasn't that Jenny didn't appreciate those things, though it'd taken her a few days to realize the difference between art and architecture, art and graffiti, and art and the phonebook. It was just that she didn't appreciate them enough yet. She was sure she would one day, just as soon as she was done appreciating adventures and danger. It hadn't occured to her that art could be involved in such things, and of course philosophy couldn't, so neither pursuit was particularly exciting to her at this point in her life.
She'd learned, through a particularly boring automated tour of the planet capitol, on the shores of its far too serene burgundy seas, that the species who lived there had once been fantastic hunters and fighters. She'd wondered what had happened to change them to the boring, stuffy race that they were now, but the tour didn't take questions.
So Jenny left a small note in the feedback box near the gift shop near the exit, asking that they please fill in that gap in the planet's history, and then she went to try to find the local army.
Every planet had an army, or so she had thought. The army would be the place to learn the interesting history of the planet: the military history. Oh, sure, her dad would tell her that all sorts of histories were interesting, but Jenny just didn't think that was right. Not yet, anyway. She knew she'd grow into the idea of a more general historical overview, but right now she just wanted to know why the inhabitants of the planet had stopped doing perfectly rational things like hunting and started doing perfectly irrational things like talking for ten hours without stopping.
Fillibustering was an odd word, and she had to check the translation circuits of her ship to make sure it had gotten it right.
The funny thing was they didn't have an army. They'd never had an army. Just different families and clans all trying to find the greatest prey.
"Okay, then," Jenny told the very dour looking secretary at the local chapter of something called The Salvation Army (not at all the same thing), "where do I learn about those?"
Apparently you didn't.
All in all, Jenny thought, as she exited the planet's air space, that it had been a very boring first trip to a new planet all by herself, and that she'd have to find something a little more interesting and warlike for next time. She'd read good things about a planet called Sontar.
Setting the coordinates, Jenny took off towards a (hopefully) new adventure.
"Thank you for leaving Raxacoricofallapatorian space. We do hope you'll visit us again soon."
Jenny shook her head and flipped the audio relay off. "Not bloody likely."
Doctor Who and its accoutrements are the property of the BBC, and we obviously don't have any right to them. Any and all crossover characters belong to their respective creators. Alas no one makes any money from this site, and it's all done out of love for a cheap-looking sci-fi show. All fics are property of their individual authors. Archival at this site should not be taken to constitute automatic archive rights elsewhere, and authors should be contacted individually to arrange further archiving. Despite occasional claims otherwise, The Blessed St Lalla Ward is not officially recognised by the Catholic Church. Yet. |
Script for this archive provided by eFiction. Contact our archivists at firstname.lastname@example.org. Please read our Terms of Service and Submission Guidelines.