Of TimeLords and Ticking Clocks {Doctor Who}

Chapter 4: I Ask Questions and Get More Questions

Hello again! Before I get into the story, I'd like to thank all of you for your endless support for this book. Given that my update schedule is about once every three months, I never expected that this many people would be reading and enjoying my dangerously-close-to-a-writer-insert, 2am idea.

Ironically, I have a question to ask you guys. So I usually have a standard for the lengths of my chapters, it being 1200-2200 words. I know that my updates are extremely sporadic and rare, so if you'd like, I can shorten the chapters and maybe post them more frequently. However, I don't want to end up disappointing you guys if the chapters (potentially 700-1000 words) are just simply too short, so until I hear your opinions, I will be sticking to basically the same length as past chapters.

Anyway, without further ado: Of Timelords and Ticking Clocks, Chapter Four. Enjoy!

The voice over the intercom isn't the Doctor, it can't be. It's too smooth, the pitch a bit too high, and it ultimately ends up sounding a great deal more feminine. Well, if it weren't for the previous statement about being the eccentric, ever energetic time-traveler, I'd assume that it was a woman speaking. Of course, the Doctor is, and has never been a girl... has he?

I mean, at this point, nothing would surprise me.

"There's been a bit of an issue with your operation." She...? Pauses, leaving me to listen to the alien intern who's still sniffling on the floor. After a moment, she jumps back into her speech.

"Surprise, it's me! The issue, that is." I can almost hear the smirk in her voice. "Nice intercom system, by the way- Oh!"

There's a scuffling noise, and the sound of a keyboard clicking. A moment later, a dull ringing reverberates through the compound.

"Sorry about that," she sighs, "forgot to unlock everything. It's fixed now, though, you'll be fine. No- sorry. That was a complete lie, actually. You're all screwed."

The metal chaining me loosens, and I pull my hands and ankles free, rubbing the raw skin on my wrists tenderly. I gingerly rise to my feet, wincing as the scrapes on my ankles protest the sudden movement.

"I know about your weird experiments, yeah, surprise, though I'm not sure having a giant door marked 'EXPERIMENTS' in capital letters is helping your secrecy."

Experiments. Is that what they're here for?

-yes, sure, let's go with that. He sounds audibly frustrated, as if not knowing the answer is killing him.

Is she you?

Time travel is a weird sort of business.

So you don't know?

No idea.

I find myself unsurprisingly un-assured.

"Oh! Jane, you might want to get out of here, by the way. I've arranged an explosion, and we're on a rather tight schedule."

I freeze when she addresses me exclusively, feeling my heart jump to a worrying pace, and my breath stopping short. My palms are already sweaty, the temperature of the underground doing nothing to ease my discomfort.

"Alright, five minutes, thirty five seconds. Then, everyone gets pulled into my science-y teleport-ish event. It'll take you right back to where you came from. I'm nice like that, aren't I. Hopefully you'll be out by then, Jane. Oh, who am I kidding, I already know the answer to that. Bye-"

The intercom cuts off with a high pitched screech, as if she's placed the microphone down with a bit too much force. Then, the rest of the compound erupts into a flurry of noise and action. Even the semi-soundproof room I'm being kept in can't block out the confusion and panic.

After a few seconds of pure, overwhelming anxiety, I regain control of my body and mind.

I have to get out of here.

Wrenching the now unlocked door open, I shove myself into the throng, being crammed this way and that, my hair clinging to my face as if it's trying to blind me. The air is filled with desperation and something that can only be described as hopelessness, almost as if they know that they're not going to make it out. I almost feel bad.

Almost.

I push aside alien-I'm still not sure what they're called- after alien, but to no avail, I'm tossed and slammed in seemingly every direction like a rubber duck in a hurricane.

I'm beginning to become impossibly more nervous about my chances of survival, when, lo and behold, I've arrived in a deserted corridor, the crowd within eyesight, but behind me.

I'm not quite sure if it's a good thing or not.

I exhale shakily, running my fingers through my hair (unsuccessfully, as it's a literal jungle, and my hands are trembling far too much to be of any use), and leaning against the wall as if it'll support the normal life that's come crumbling down upon me in less than twelve hours. (It doesn't.)

I've gotten approximately thirteen seconds into my momentary break, when there's a wailing noise that sounds suspiciously like my inner monologue at this point, and the screaming crescendos into "teen girls at their favorite artist's concert" level. Not that I'm one to talk, but that's beside the point.

I clumsily shove my hands over my ears, and begin to stumble further down the hallway, running on adrenaline and the: "well there's pretty much nothing else I can do to make this worse", mentality.

There it is.

The door I've come across on pure dumb luck, the door that I probably needed to find all along, and the door that would've been helpful all those hours (that I've now lost track of) ago.

EXPERIMENTS

It reads, in large, bold letters and a simplistic font.

Very smooth, alien invaders.

Oh, they're always like that, obvious. Makes them feel like people know that they know things. The now-familiar voice pipes in.

Why do you always reply when I don't need you?

I think it's part of my personality. I can't resist a good one-liner.

I got that, thanks.

I take another tentative step towards the door, pausing to visually sweep the area again. My nerves are on edge, understandably.

You're very wel- He stops abruptly, and my stomach lurches, as if it knows something's wrong.

What? This can't be happening.

You're not going to make it out.

Excuse me? My heartbeat picks up its tempo, and my entire body is trembling as opposed to just my limbs.

Whatever she-me, the girl, whatever she did, somethings gone wrong, someone's messing with her programming. I can't fix it remotely, and the TARDIS won't teleport there, they've warded it with some kind of protection. The whole base- it's going to blow up, Jane. And it'll take everyone with it.

Despite all they've put me through, I can't help but be overtaken by a wave of pity. I didn't exactly have genocide on my to-do list today, though I suppose it isn't entirely my fault. Well, that's what I try to tell myself.

It doesn't work.

She said they'd be taken back to where they came from- It's a last ditch effort, I know the answer won't be one I want to hear.

Not anymore, there's someone who's willing to let their entire colony die rather than let you get out. Your life isn't the only one on the line, Jane.

They're all going to die because of me. It's going to be my fault.

It's as if a switch has been flipped. My brain shifts into overdrive, a million different solutions, a billion ways I could fail. I've stopped shaking, but my heart is still going, sounding almost as if there are two beats instead of one, a side affect of the most adrenaline I've ever felt before, I suppose. I'm going to find a way out, but-

What am I supposed to do?

Pause for dramatic effect.

Everything.