Doctor Who: Time Lords Don't Cry
CHAPTER 13: Home Sweet Home
Hands in pockets, the doctor paced a bit, then sat down on the edge of the coffee table. “Marie? What about your uncle? He doesn’t seem to be like the others, he’s seems much stronger. You said that when he’d found out you’d been hiding Chauncey from him, he’d thrown you into the well. That was this afternoon, in broad daylight. What about that?” Marie drew a deep sigh. “It’s the armor. During the daytime, when he has to come out for some reason, he wears a big suit of metal, like the knights used to wear in the olden days.”
The Doctor drew back, puzzled. “What? You mean like armor, armor? Like King Arthur and all that?” He sat back in reflection. “Hmmm---that does put a new light on things.” All at once the front door burst apart. The Doctor whimsically said, "Honey, I'm home!" Marie just raised an eyebrow. Smiling encouragingly, the doctor bolted up, "Come on, then.” Without hesitating, he grabbed Marie by the hand and they both fled into the kitchen.
The Doctor picked up Marie and set her down on top of the kitchen table, with the stern admonishment to “Wait here!” Promising to be right back, he dashed back into the parlor. Grabbing up every lantern, he headed for the fireplace. The Doctor turned as the lumberjack and the hunter burst through the parlor door. “Oh, hello!” He said, cheerfully. “Come for a spot of tea, have you?” He nimbly skirted around the hunter and got the last of the lamps, putting them on the fireplace mantel. The Doctor backed against the fireplace, as the logger was reaching out for him, making a grab for the his neck neck.
The Doctor gracefully side-stepped around the lumberjack, and lined up the lamps and lanterns along the mantel, in front of the large mirror. The hunter made a move to cut off the Doctor’s escape. In a series of quick movements, the Doctor turned up the wicks on each of the lights, causing the room to be bathed in their brilliance. The hunter and the logger raised their hands in front of their eyes. Giving inhuman shrieks, they both backed out of the room. “What they need is a really good pair of sunglasses.” The Doctor murmured to himself.
Back in the kitchen, the Doctor found Marie moving the icebox aside. “Good girl!” He said. He helped her move it completely off the wooden trap door. Opening it, he saw a rickety set of wooden stairs. Shining his torch down there, he saw that the stairs led to what appeared to be an old root cellar. Just then, he heard a metallic clanking noise coming from the parlor. “That’s Uncle Tobias, I presume.” The Doctor looked at Marie soberly. “Marie, here’s my torch. Go on down there and be as quiet as possible. I’ll be down shortly.” She looked at him with, biting her lip with worry. “But where are you going?” She asked quietly. You’ll be careful, won’t you?” Chuckling, the Doctor patted her back affectionately. “Of course I will, never you worry about that. I just want to have a chat with your uncle. I’ll be along directly.” Helping her down the ladder, he whispered soberly, “Remember, no matter what happens, be quiet--and, Marie, if for some reason, I can't come back, get out of here. Hide. Don't let them find you." Grinning brightly, he added, ”Not that you're going to get rid of me that easily. Now, be a good girl and wait for me, eh?"
Closing the trap door, the Doctor whirled around as the kitchen door swung open on its hinges, crashing into wall. There framed in the doorway, was a man encased in a rustic black space suit complete with helmet, made up of thin sheets of some kind of heavy shiny metal. It had all the appearance of something some late 19th or early 20th century writer might dream up. The Doctor stepped forward, looking the armored man up and down. “Well now, you certainly took you own sweet time getting here, didn’t you?” He said sarcastically. The armored man said nothing. He just stood there, motionless, like he was waiting for something.
“Waiting for what?” The Doctor thought. Out loud he said, “What, you’re going to just stand there? What’s the matter? Oh, let me guess,” he said angrily, “you prefer to beat little girls and kill helpless animals, is that it, Uncle Tobias--or whomever you are?” He narrowed his eyes. “But you’re not Uncle Tobias, are you? What species are you then, hmmm--?" The armor plated figure said nothing. The Doctor assumed a bored expression, and pretended to consult a non-existent wrist watch, sighing, " Oh, come on, spit it out, I haven’t got all night. Places to go, things to do, and all that.” The thing in the suit spoke. “We are the Droom. We will assimilate you. We will assimilate all life and make it our own.”
