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That Untravelled World by shinyjenni [Reviews - 5]  Author's Notes: Thanks to cedara and persiflage_1 for beta-reading! | |
Most people’s lives got stranger after they joined UNIT, but this wasn’t quite true for Martha. Her experiences with the Doctor meant that her standards of “strange” were different from most people's, and just the fact that she got up every day on the same planet where she'd fallen asleep meant that her life was now more normal than it had been for a while. If anyone asked, she’d say that normal was good, that working with UNIT was an ideal combination of the extraordinary and the mundane. And if she sometimes looked up at the stars and wanted to be out there, well, didn’t everyone feel like that sometimes?
One cold November afternoon she was out on a standard meet ‘n’ greet somewhere in Wimbledon, picking up a stranded alien and offering them UNIT’s help to either get back home or settle down on Earth. (This wasn’t something she’d usually do, but it being a Sunday they were short staffed and besides, it was nice to get out of UNIT HQ for a non-apocalyptic reason every now and then.) The alien in question, however, a small humanoid woman with an upturned nose and long blonde hair, was behaving like neither a lost traveller nor a prospective invader. She’d knocked Martha off-balance by responding to her reassuring “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” with a tart “well, I should hope not!”
While Martha was mentally rewriting the next bit of her “welcome to Earth” spiel, the woman was getting to her feet and brushing the dust off her skirt. “Is this Earth, then?” she asked briskly.
“Yes,” Martha replied, trying to regain control of the situation. “London, to be exact.”
“Thought so,” replied the woman. “There’s a familiar tang in the air. Twentieth century? Early twenty-first?” She extracted a neat pair of gloves from one pocket and pulled them on, wrapping her long coat more tightly round her against the chill air.
“2008,” Martha told her, determined not to let the woman’s assurance visibly wrong foot her. “November the ninth. Just after three in the afternoon.”
The woman broke into a smile at that. “My name is Romana,” she told her. “And you are?”
“Martha Jones. Doctor Martha Jones. I’m with UNIT.”
Romana offered her hand and Martha shook it. “UNIT, eh? I believe we have a mutual friend.”
“You know the Doctor?” asked Martha, on the assumption that since the woman was obviously a time traveller it was unlikely to be anyone else.
“I knew him, yes,” replied Romana, but there was something brittle and closed-off in her tone that stopped Martha pursuing that line, for the moment anyway.
“Are you stuck here?” Martha asked instead. “We can help...” but her words were cut off by a very familiar noise. Another TARDIS? she thought. She’s a Time Lord?
“Thank you, but that would be my transport now,” replied Romana. “We arrived separately, terribly tedious story which I won’t bore you with now.” She turned to go.
Martha felt as if she was about to lose something she’d never even had, and concentrated. That little horology shop with the dusty windows, between the coffee shop and the... other coffee shop. Had that been there before? Worth a try, anyway.
“Is that your TARDIS?” she asked quickly, pointing.
Romana looked back at her. “Well done,” she said quietly. “Not everyone would have spotted that.” She paused, and then asked diffidently, “Would you like to come with me?”
Martha hesitated for a second, reasons to say no rushing through her head, her family, her job, Tom, the terrible things she saw last time. But then she thought of all the stars she could see from her window on a clear night, even in London. She thought of all the beauty and joy she’d seen and how much there was still to see. And she looked at Romana, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a hopeful look breaking through her expression of studied carelessness, and it wasn’t such a hard decision after all.
***
Despite a few basic similarities in the layout, Romana’s TARDIS was rather different to the Doctor’s. Where his was all organic struts, golden-brown tones and a general sense that the actual workings might well be held together by rubber bands and paperclips, hers was lighter, calmer: clean lines, elegant ornamentation and a general sense of efficiency. Romana divested herself of her coat and hung it on a peg by the door, indicating to Martha to do likewise.
“Well, she doesn’t seem to be any the worse for our adventure,” said Romana, checking the discreet displays on the central console. She looked up at Martha, who was hesitating halfway between the door and the console. “Would you like to settle in first,” she asked politely, “or would you rather go somewhere straight away?”
“I should probably phone my boss,” said Martha. “Luckily UNIT has a form for ‘indeterminate leave of absence; gone time-travelling’. And my mum.” She winced slightly, anticipating that conversation. “Then we could go somewhere?”
Romana smiled. “Take any room you like,” she said, waving a hand to indicate the door to the rest of the ship. “I haven’t chosen one myself, yet. And help yourself to anything from the wardrobe, of course, if the TARDIS hasn’t hidden it again. I’m aiming for the Grand Market on Zepran V. It’ll be warmer than London in November, but not boiling hot. Oh, and don’t wear anything mustard coloured. There’s a large Nelfrin population on Zepran V and they take it as a terrible insult. The Market’s a protected zone, but the Nelfrin are a notoriously short tempered bunch and most people find it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Martha nodded her acknowledgement as she headed through the door.
***
Half an hour later, Martha was back, dressed casually in jeans and a dark purple t-shirt: the TARDIS's wardrobe room had been in a cooperative mood. “How’s this?” she asked, sticking out her arms and giving Romana a twirl.
Romana looked up from the book she was reading. “Perfect,” she said. “Did you make your phone calls?”
Martha nodded and suppressed a twinge of guilt at the though of her mum’s reaction. She loved her mother and she understood exactly why she’d been so upset, but she didn’t regret choosing to leave with Romana, however impetuous that decision might have been. She trusted the other woman instinctively, remembering the Doctor mentioning her with affection once or twice, before quickly changing the subject in the tones of forced enthusiasm that had made Martha’s heart ache for him. She wondered if the Doctor knew that Romana was still alive, but Romana’s reaction to his name made her hesitate to raise the subject unprompted.
“So!” said Martha, a little too brightly, joining Romana at the console. “What’s on Zepran V?”
“The greatest market you’ll ever see,” said Romana. “Aliens of all sizes, shapes and of course colours, buying, selling, meeting or just chatting. Bustle and enthusiasm and pretty things everywhere you look, it’s wonderful.”
Martha cocked an eyebrow sceptically. “And we’re going there because?”
Romana laughed. “Can’t get anything past you, I see. We are going for the market, and it is all that I said it was, but we’re also tracking down an unlicensed time traveller that I’ve got a lead on.” She paused, as if deciding how much to tell Martha, and then carried on, one eye on Martha’s reactions. “The Web of Time needs a lot more hands on attention since the fall of Gallifrey.”
Martha hesitated a moment, then said: “The Doctor told me about that. He said that all his people had died. I mean, the Master survived,” (she shuddered involuntarily at the memory) “though he’s dead now, but...”
“The Master always survives,” said Romana somewhat wearily. “It’s one of life’s universal truths.” She bit her lip. “The Doctor thinks we’re all dead?”
‘We’, thought Martha. That answers that question. “He said that he had some kind of telepathic link with you all. That he’d know if anyone had survived.”
“And so he never went looking.” Romana sighed. “Stupid. The link was destroyed when Gallifrey fell, but we had a rendezvous, a spaceport named Haven, a safe place for the survivors to regroup. Why didn’t he go there?” she asked in frustration.
“Maybe he didn’t want to go there and find no-one?” suggested Martha gently. “Maybe he preferred to hang onto that little bit of hope?”
“Maybe,” conceded Romana. “I suppose it’s up to me to find him, then.” For a moment, she looked so lost that Martha wanted to reach out to her, but before she could do so, Romana recovered her composure with a visible effort. “Right now, we’ve got a market to visit.”
***
The Great Market was all Romana had promised. From the moment Martha stepped out of the TARDIS, which had disguised itself as a shuttered stall, she was bombarded with a riot of colours (despite a marked lack of mustard yellow), smells and noises. A huge variety of people jostled them jovially as they wandered along, looking at the various wares on display. Martha ran her fingers along an impossibly soft, impossibly gauzy silver scarf on one of the stalls, then laughed delightedly as the stallholder deftly whipped it around her neck and bowed elaborately, mandibles waving delicately in the slight breeze.
“It suits you,” Romana told her.
“I love it!” said Martha, examining her reflection as best she could in an antique mirror above the stall.
Romana smiled and pressed a few bright coins into the stallholder’s hand. He, she, or possibly it bowed again and withdrew. Romana waved away Martha’s thanks and, taking her by the elbow, led her deftly into a quieter corner.
“What’s the plan?” asked Martha in a low voice.
“You enjoy the market,” Romana told her, “while I go looking for our renegade.”
Martha’s face fell. “I want to help!”
“And you will,” Romana reassured her. “I’ll find out where he is, what he’s up to and whether he’s dangerous, then I’ll find you and we’ll deal with him together.”
“Alright,” Martha agreed, slightly mollified.
“Have fun,” Romana said, pressing some more of the shiny coins into Martha’s hands. “Buy me something. And try the trellcrish, they’re delicious!” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the crush.
“What on Earth are trellcrish?” wondered Martha aloud as she pocketed the money. She smiled ruefully. “What on Zepran V are trellcrish?”
“These are!” came a voice from behind her, and Martha turned to find a vaguely purple person with a tail and far more limbs than Martha was used to proffering a tray of what looked almost but not quite like toffee apples. Tentatively, Martha picked one up and, half an eye on the alien’s reassuring smile, bit in. The flavours burst on her tongue like nothing she’d ever tasted before and she almost gasped. She closed her eyes for a moment, the better to savour it, and when she opened them again the alien was smiling.
“You like it, then?” it asked, its eyes (all four of them) sparkling with pleasure.
“Mmm,” said Martha, with her mouth full. With her free hand, she pulled a coin out of her pocket and held it out, rather worriedly. “Is this enough?” she asked.
“More than,” replied the alien, plucking it out of her hand with one arm whilst one of his others reached into his apron for change. Martha accepted the slightly less shiny coins, thanked the alien and began to look around, trying to decide where to go next.
“I recommend over there,” the alien suggested, gesturing. “You’re human, right? There’s a lot of humanoid stuff that way.”
“Thanks!” said Martha, taking another bite of the trellcrish and heading off in the direction it had indicated.
“You’re welcome!” it cried after her.
***
By the time Romana came back, the light was beginning to fail and Martha was laden with bags and parcels. “Here, let me take some of those,” laughed Romana, trying to take a few without destabilising Martha completely.
“Sorry,” said Martha ruefully, “went a bit mad. Some of it’s for you, though!”
“No need to apologise,” said Romana, warmly. “You should have seen how much I ended up with the first time I came here. Come on, let’s get back to the TARDIS and we can decide what to do next.”
***
“He’s not actively dangerous,” Romana said, helping herself to another sweet. “Mmm, Xelya fruit, I love these ones.”
“Me too,” agreed Martha. They were both sitting on the floor of the room that she’d earmarked as her own, surrounded by her purchases. “I’ve been to the Xelya orchards on Tarralon; I could have stayed there for days, just eating the fruit and looking at the view. Sorry, you were saying?”
“The renegade time traveller. His intentions are harmless enough, as far as I can tell, but a little carelessness can go a long way when it comes to damaging the Web of Time. We need to stop him.”
“And then?” asked Martha carefully.
“We take him back to Haven, find out where he got the technology from, teach him and whoever gave it to him how to use it properly. We’re not against other species having time travel — well, some of us aren’t,” she conceded, “but misused it can be terribly dangerous.”
“So what do we do?”
“We take the straightforward route: go up to him, escort him back to the TARDIS and persuade him to come with us.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“We think of something… less straightforward,” said Romana grimly.
***
It was dark by the time they left the TARDIS, but the fall of night didn't seem to have had any effect on the level of activity at the market. Everywhere she looked Martha could see crowds of people milling about, lit by hundreds of tiny and not so tiny lights in all different colours. The temperature had dropped considerably, though, and Martha was glad she'd decided to put on the snug brown knee-length coat she'd bought earlier.
Romana slipped her arm through Martha's. "This way," she said. "Our renegade is staying at the Barlan Hotel, over there," she pointed out a large building towering above the market stalls. "All we have to do is wait for him to get back."
Arm in arm they made their way through the crowds towards the hotel, pausing briefly to buy cups of a hot coffee-substitute (the stand was offering genuine Earth coffee too, but Martha was in the mood to be adventurous). Once there they found a bench in a quiet corner to sit and wait, sitting close together and sipping their steaming, spicy drinks.
Before too long their target appeared, a tall, humanoid man with dark hair and a smug expression. Romana nodded to Martha and they got up and headed over, matching step with him, one on each side.
"Hello," said Romana sweetly, "I'm Romana."
"And I'm Martha."
The man looked a little confused but not at all displeased. "Lewis," he said.
Romana smiled. "Hello, Lewis," she said. "Would you like to come with us?"
Lewis's eyes lit up.
***
They were almost back at the TARDIS and Martha was having second thoughts.
"Excuse us a moment," she said, giving Lewis a smile and dragging Romana aside.
"What are you doing?" hissed Romana. "We're going to lose him!"
"Oh, don't worry, he's hooked," muttered Martha. "I just feel a bit bad about leading him on like this, kidnapping him."
"It's for a good cause," said Romana.
"I know, but... couldn't we explain? He doesn't seem like a bad person, if we just told him what trouble he could be causing and offered to help, I think he'd agree."
Romana looked thoughtful. "All right," she said. "But we'll have to watch him. If he looks like making a run for it, we grab him. Understood?"
Martha nodded and the two of them turned back to Lewis.
"Is there a problem?" he asked.
"I'm afraid we haven't been entirely honest with you," Romana confessed.
"Don't worry, we don't mean you any harm," chipped in Martha. Lewis looked alarmed, and Martha realised belatedly that she probably hadn't sounded as reassuring as she'd meant to.
"You're a time traveller, aren't you?" Romana asked.
"Yes," Lewis confirmed cagily.
"And you use that device on your wrist to travel in time?"
Lewis nodded again.
"May I have a look?" Without waiting for an answer Romana grabbed his wrist and, getting out her sonic screwdriver, began to scan it.
Thoroughly spooked now, Lewis tried to pull away.
“It’s ok,” said Martha. “She just wants to have a look at it.”
"Hmm," said Romana. "Not as primitive as I'd expected-"
"And you're the expert, are you?" snapped Lewis.
Romana gave him a level stare. "Actually, I am. I'm a Time Lord." She paused for a moment to allow Lewis to process this revelation, then went on: "Just by using this device, you're polluting the space-time vortex. If you agree to come with us and tell us where you got it from, we'll help you learn to develop a better one and to use it in a way that doesn't risk damaging the Web of Time."
"And if I don't agree to come with you?"
Romana sighed. "We'll have to take you with us anyway, I'm afraid. What Martha said was true, we don't mean you any harm, but we can't run the risk of just letting you run around doing untold damage to time and space."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You don't know. But you can trust us," said Martha earnestly.
Lewis rubbed his forehead, ran his hands through his hair. “Alright,” he said. “Alright, I’ll come with you.”
Martha grinned broadly. “You won’t regret it,” she promised. “And just wait ‘til you see our ship! Er, I mean, Romana’s ship.”
“Our ship,” Romana said, unlocking the door and waving Lewis inside.
***
“But it’s…”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
"I thought that was just a myth!"
***
Arriving at Haven was rather more like arriving at an airport than Martha had expected, only with fewer queues and with Romana's access codes instead of passport control. Once past the barriers that separated the TARDIS bays from the rest of the station, Martha couldn't help noticing a change in Romana's demeanour. She swept down the corridors almost regally, Martha and Lewis trailing in her wake.
By the time Romana had got passcards for Martha and Lewis, and handed Lewis and his time travel device over to another Time Lord, Martha was beginning to flag. By Haven time, it was early afternoon, but it had been late evening at the Market when they left, and before that she'd gone from mid-afternoon on Earth to just after lunch at the Market.
Romana took her hands and smiled. "You look tired, and I'm going to have to go to a lot of rather dull meetings now. Why don't you head back to the TARDIS and get some sleep? The passcard will get you there. It’ll also get you anywhere else on Haven that's not restricted, if you feel like exploring. I'll come and find you when I'm finished here."
"OK," said Martha. “I’ll try not to sleep for too long; come and wake me up when you want to leave, I won’t mind.”
"Oh, don’t worry about that. One thing Time Lord meetings aren't is concise." Romana squeezed Martha's hands once and then let go. "I'll see you later."
***
Refreshed by her sleep and a meal she'd firmly insisted was breakfast, whatever Haven's clocks might happen to be saying, Martha was feeling more robust. Heading out, she ended up taking a slight unplanned diversion via the library, the wine-cellar and some sort of adventure playground, which she couldn’t imagine Romana using but couldn’t resist having a go on herself, before finally finding herself at the console room. Romana was standing by the console, head bowed, long hair falling in her face, her hands playing pensively across the controls.
"Hi," said Martha, suddenly shy.
Romana looked up. "Hello there. Sleep well?"
"Yes thanks. Where are we off to next?" Martha asked, wandering over to stand next to Romana.
“My people had a report of a space-time anomaly three sectors away and a few centuries ago, relative to your time. I’ve volunteered us to go and investigate it. But first we should find the Doctor.”
“You don’t want to do that, do you?” asked Martha gently.
“No,” said Romana. “No, I don’t. He’s an old friend and I care about him, but…” she paused for a moment, then went on with visible effort, “it was he who destroyed Gallifrey, in the end. I know it’s illogical to blame him. It was a decision we all made, and it could have been any of us who did it.”
“But it was him,” said Martha, putting an arm around Romana’s shoulders. Romana half turned into her embrace.
“Yes,” Romana said. “And if I go to him now, that means talking about what happened. Thinking about it. And truth be told, that’s something I’ve tried to avoid. We all have, really. We’ve spent hours in meetings talking about what happens next, what we do… but not about why. Not about the past. The war.” Her voice broke on the last word, and Martha pulled her closer, rubbing her back. They stood there like for a long moment until Romana pulled away, wiping her eyes surreptitiously. “I can’t let him go on not knowing. That’s not fair. It’s my duty to tell him.” She laughed hollowly. “I’m so tired of duty, Martha,” she confessed.
“You don’t have to tell him,” Martha said slowly. “I could do it.”
A spark of hope flashed in Romana’s eyes at Martha’s words. “You’d do that?”
Martha grinned sheepishly, embarrassed by Romana’s gratitude. “Yeah. I would. If you wanted me to.”
Romana smiled properly at that. “Oh, Martha, thank you,” she said. “But it’s alright. I can do this. I may not want to do this, but I don't want to palm it off on someone else either.” She began to flip switches on the console with new resolve.
Martha hesitated for a second and then asked: “Romana… why did you ask me to come with you?”
“Ah,” said Romana, “we’re doing the big questions today, are we?”
“You don’t have to answer,” Martha said quickly. “I just wondered. I’ve had a lot of not knowing where I stand.”
“It’s a fair question,” said Romana. “I don’t know. I was… lonely, I suppose. I lost a lot of friends in the war. Literally lost, in one case. I don’t know where she is and I can’t seem to track her down.” The lost look was back in her eyes for a moment. “The Doctor always seems to travel with people, so I’d been thinking I might give that a try. And then I met you… You tried to help me. You spotted the TARDIS, despite the perception filter. And you’re a friend of the Doctor’s, that counts for a lot. And I just liked you. I like you.” She paused for a moment, before asking: “And you? Why did you come with me?”
Martha shrugged. “Same, I suppose. And I turned down the chance of travelling the universe a while ago. I don’t regret it, it was the right thing to do at the time, but I couldn’t say no to another offer.”
“Well, I hope it lives up to your expectations,” said Romana.
“So far, nine, nine and a half out of ten,” said Martha, eyes sparkling mischievously.
Romana raised her eyebrows. “Oh yes? What was the half a point deducted for?”
"Nothing in particular, it's just good to have something to aim for."
"Speaking of having things to aim for, you've seen the Doctor more recently than I have, do you know where he might be?"
Martha shook her head. "No, sorry. Don't you have some way of tracking him?"
"I should do. I was assuming I would, but it seems my TARDIS hasn't recovered completely yet. Most of our technology was badly damaged if not outright destroyed. Hmmm, maybe if I..." she ducked under the console and started pulling out wires.
Martha stuck her head under the console. "I have his phone number, if that's any help," she offered, fishing her phone out of her pocket. "You could call him..."
"Let's make that plan B," Romana said, after a moment's thought. "I'd rather speak to him face to face, if possible, and I think I can program the TARDIS to follow the phone signal, if I just..." She took the phone and began wiring it into the TARDIS's circuitry.
"That should do it," said Romana, after a while. She swung herself up neatly, just about managing not to headbutt Martha, who was peering worriedly at the mass of thin, airy wires connecting her phone to the TARDIS, checking for sparks.
Romana leant forward and reached for the dematerialization switch.
"Wait!" said Martha. "Is this definitely going to work?"
Romana grinned. "Let's find out."
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