dr_bombastic (![]() ![]() @ 2009-04-11 09:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !entry post, ayame, hannibal, jo grant, third doctor |
Enter the Third Doctor and Jo Grant!
Who: Third Doctor, Jo and greeter
Where: UK to Hannibal's Hotel (in one quick shot!)
When: Time is fleeting, and elastic, and subject to change, but for your sake, call it Saturday morning
What: Entering the Hotel, of course, did you sleep through the part that says greeter?
Status: Complete (possible spoilers for The Sea Devils)
The Sea Devil colony had been dispatched, rather handily, thanks to the ingenuity of the Doctor in sabotaging the machine which the Master had forced him to build for their resurrection, ending their threat to the inhabitants of Earth once and for all. Although, to his chagrin, the Master had managed to escape once more, that sly trickster having handily slipped away after feigning a heart attack then hijacking a rescue hovercraft. But that couldn't be helped now, the Doctor and Jo were on other business. And somehow he suspected that he and the Master would meet up again some other time. Time was so fluid after all, wasn't it? It flowed through one's fingers like fine wine, and like wine it had its good vintages as well as its bad.
The Doctor still chafed at his inability to travel in his Tardis - the result of the Gallifreyan Time Lords' decision to punish him for what they termed his interference, thus breaking their laws, which forced him to regenerate from his second incarnation and stranded him on earth as well - but there was nothing he could do about it. Not yet, anyway. Although he was still working on it. With the assistance of UNIT, of course. For which he repaid them by acting as their scientific adviser, and for which he himself had an assistant, by the name of Jo Grant.
He was restricted to Earth therefore, unless one counted the times when he was pulled to other worlds at the behest of the Time Lords, but he had no true control over that, now did he? But while on earth, at least he had Bessie to use - his vintage canary yellow roadster which he had added a few modifications to, such as a remote control, dramatically increased speed capabilities and even inertial dampeners. And they were in Bessie now - he and Jo, that is - travelling along a rather empty highway in the north of England, heading toward Scotland, toward a remote monastery there, seeking information on a situation which UNIT found rather alarming. Astronomers at the Jodrell Bank had reported that PSR B1919+21 (once known as CP 1919) was emitting pulses at an erratic rate (CP 1919 being a pulsar, of course), and supposedly the monks at this out of the way monastery possessed some vital information, gained during the course of their own observations. The rub of the matter was that these monks had taken strict vows of silence and only communicated in an obscure form of sign language. Luckily, the Doctor knew that language.
It was early in the morning, as they drove along the slender thread beside the sea. Sea eagles wheeled above them, weaving and bobbing amongst themselves in an intricately balanced flight ballet. They cried to one another as they lazily drifted along the sky waves. The Doctor appreciated the sight, even though his mind was on the business at hand.
He frowned slightly, as he maneuvered Bessie around an unpleasant looking hole which lay in their path, pulling her back onto course with ease. "I can't help but wonder if the Master has something to do with this," he commented, "and what vile trick he has up his sleeve now?"