On the one hand... But then, on the other... Oh well. You never know where you’ll get lucky, do you? The Doctor uses that as the main reasoning behind his decision when he lands the TARDIS aboard a cargo spaceship. Have you ever been to cargo spaceships? They are enormous. Gigantic! Not as big as the TARDIS on the inside, of course. Then again, no ship is as big as the TARDIS on the inside. Nevertheless, you still could get lost in a cargo spaceship and spend years trying to find your way back. Quite tricky, these cargo ships.
    When the TARDIS lands with a soft thud, in the console room the Doctor swirls around, pressing buttons and pulling levers, until he finally stops in front of a screen. Now, there is just one more thing to do. One more thing before they go outside and face whatever adventure the universe prepared for them today. He stares at the message on the screen. It reads, “Captain and all officers dead lying in chartroom and on bridge. Probably whole crew dead.” The Doctor sees, “A gigantic cargo ship worth of adventures. Slightly spooky, possibly dangerous, obviously hostile. We need the Doctor.” Who would have thought?
    “Ame-e-elia Pond,” the Doctor’s voice echoes through the TARDIS. He turns around, swiftly switching off the message on the monitor, and claps his hands together. Once he gets the attention he inquired for, the Doctor lights up with a huge smile, “What do you think of space pirates, Amy? You think they would like my hat? It’s the best one I’ve got.”
    In his defence, it’s not a fez. That would be an improvement, if the Doctor didn’t pick the most atrocious purple tricorn the universe has ever seen. He, of course, did, and now he, of course, points at it with a pride of a five-year-old child. But that’s unimportant, because the adventure awaits, and a moment later the Doctor is already at the door—and outside, on a cargo ship “Morag Eudann.” To be precise, in one of its crew cabins, blissfully empty now—not that it surprises him. Quite the opposite. Briefly looking around and noting a sleek environment containing a bed, a table with a chair and a wardrobe—all things screwed to the walls and unmovable—the Doctor turns back to the TARDIS.
    “You coming?” he asks and without a pause proceeds to the little round window, where he stops dead in his tracks. “Seems like we’re right on time,” he says, and it doesn’t sound good.

[icon]http://savepic.net/7398236.jpg[/icon][nick]The 11th Doctor[/nick][status]GERONIMO![/status][sign][/sign]

Отредактировано Poe Dameron (08.05.2016 18:05:07)

    The Doctor saw many things since he has left Gallifrey for good. He saw the stars go out, and he saw the most enduring things break, and he saw the impossible things become possible. Yet there are some things you can never grow used to. As the Doctor looks outside the small window, he stands aghast at the massacre he could not prevent. Some part of him wants to go back inside the TARDIS and bend the time to his will. Go back and save all the people on this ship.
    Instead he leaves his atrocious, totally inappropriate for this occasion hat on the table next to the window and shifts his eyes to Amy’s face. She’s afraid. Well, of course she is, she didn’t see the message prior seeing this. The Doctor doesn’t feel afraid himself anymore—he never truly does, in fact—he feels determined. Like a hound on a trail. He doesn’t think of it, of himself like the one who has to disperse justice in the vast universe. He does think that every mystery deserves to be solved, though. That’s what he does. He solves things.
    He will solve this one, too.
    “Somebody sent us the SOS signal, so there is somebody, who is still alive and in dire need of rescuing,” says the Doctor, his face collected and serious. He isn’t talking as much to Amy as to himself. “We have to find that person quicker than whoever—whatever did this.”
    The Doctor doesn’t say a word about being careful and not wandering around to Amy, she must have heard such phrases million times before from him. To be honest, he forgets. His mind is at work already, searching for anything and everything that might give him a cue as to what exactly happened here. As far as the Doctor knows, space pirates, however vicious they might be, haven’t favored good ’ole bloodbaths since XVII century, and XVII century was a very long time ago. Who then? Or what?
    The Doctor exits the cabin, all his gestures cautious as if he’s afraid to set off some alarm or trap. However, once he is in the cockpit, he relaxes somewhat. The bodies on the floor don’t seem like they are going to attack anyone from now on. Besides, it’s not them he instantly becomes interested in. It’s the main computer screen. The map. Oh, he loves maps! Although, maybe, not the ones that have Terra Nullius in them. Why, out of all the nice routes across the universe, Morag Eudann crew decided to choose such a dangerous one? The Doctor frowns.
    And what exactly does it transport?
    The list of questions caused by this scene and this entire situation keeps getting longer with every second. The Doctor pulls out the sonic screwdriver and points around the screen. What could be really useful right now, is their captain’s journal. The map on the screen falters for a second, the computer runs a quick search and pulls out the latest journal entry. The Doctor steps back and barely avoids tripping on the captain’s body and falling right into the biggest puddle of blood he has ever seen. Luckily, he steadies himself by gripping the funny-looking smooth white structure. Then he chances a glance at Amy.
    The date at the upper right corner of the recording, playing on the screen now, says it was made on the twentieth of April. Year 4015.
    “Now you’re just being rude,” remarks the Doctor, looking at the captain’s bearded face filling the entire screen. “Sending messages forth to the past. That’s cheating.”
    The captain, however, doesn’t hear him. He goes on and on, describing the state of the ship and that the food is horrible, as usual, and that all is well and they proceed as planned. He seems grumpy and a bit tired, but otherwise in perfect health, both mental and physical. As far as it’s possible to judge looking at the biggest nose in the universe filling one third of the screen, and the bushy beard and the wrinkly forehead filling the rest of it.
    The Doctor lets go of the funny structure he used to prevent himself from falling and steps in closer to the screen, his screwdriver at hand like a sword. While he is busy taking a closer look at the recording and, specifically, its date—“Some sort of malfunction, maybe?” he mumbles to himself—the structure behind him opens up. There appears to be some sort of a spherical robot inside of it. White and seamless, the robot glides through the air right to Amy, emanating low purring noise. Almost like a pet.
[icon]http://savepic.net/7398236.jpg[/icon][nick]The 11th Doctor[/nick][status]GERONIMO![/status][sign][/sign]

Отредактировано Poe Dameron (08.05.2016 18:22:44)