In the Beginning (Doctor Who Fan Fiction)

Bright orange sparks showered upward from under the TARDIS console while the Doctor laboured urgently among the dense tangle of wires and luminous parts that made up its navigation array.

His sleeves were pushed to the elbows, showing forearms lightly smudged with grime; his forehead creased in intense focus, and the sonic screwdriver rested clamped between his teeth like a tradesman’s implement.

With measured precision he held two worn wires clear with one hand and reached farther into the machine’s depths with the other. His fingers threaded the maze of cables, guided by long practice, until they found the pair he needed. Drawing them into a tidy bundle, he shifted them to one palm, then withdrew the sonic screwdriver from his mouth with a quiet click.

He aimed the tool at a small, dark-purple switch set into the console’s surface. The familiar ascending electronic tone filled the broad, curved chamber. The purple unit flared fiercely, spitting static and coating him in a fresh spray of scorching sparks.

“Oh, behave,” the Doctor muttered, flicking a stray ember from his sleeve.

The TARDIS answered with a prolonged, low rumble that travelled through the floor like an offended sigh.

The Doctor lifted one eyebrow and peered upward through the metal grating beneath the console.

“If you’d actually put me down in the correct time zone and the correct century,” he grumbled, “I wouldn’t be forced to do any of this.”

The old ship replied with another sharp, disapproving note.

A moment later Grace Wilson appeared at the head of the entrance steps. She blinked while her eyes adjusted to the warm, amber light of the console room, then halted as another cascade of sparks burst from under the central column.

“Doctor?” she called.

Without raising his head the Doctor forced another cluster of wires into position, seating them firmly in their socket.

“Down here!” he shouted, voice somewhat muffled. “Just recalibrating the navigation, ignore the fireworks.”

Grace exhaled, a small smile touching her mouth, and sank into one of the coral-soft chairs arranged around the console.

“What is he putting you through, old girl?” she asked softly, leaning forward to rest her hand on the rail.

The TARDIS hummed in reply, quiet and even, as though agreeing.

Then came a tremendous crack.

A brilliant flash erupted from beneath the console, flinging sparks high into the air. Grace leapt up as something heavy struck the floor below, followed at once by the Doctor’s unmistakable groan.

She hurried down the steps, gripping the handrail as she rounded the corner. There he lay, stretched on his back in the narrow space under the console, his already unruly hair now standing out in every direction like a dandelion in a strong wind.

He blinked up at her, briefly dazed, before his expression brightened.

“Ah,” he said cheerfully. “That was entirely intentional.”

Grace regarded him for a long moment, then offered her hand. He took it and she drew him effortlessly to his feet. Standing, he towered over her, a sheepish smile at the corners of his mouth as he brushed dust and scorch marks from his trousers.

“Honestly,” he said, “that’s far from the worst thing that’s ever occurred while I’ve been doing maintenance”

Grace crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Has it never crossed your mind,” she said, “that you might simply not be very skilled at TARDIS maintenance?”

The Doctor’s grin broadened. He bent to recover his sonic screwdriver, straightened, and spun it deftly between his fingers before catching it cleanly in his palm.

“I am outstanding at TARDIS maintenance,” he declared, with the gravity of one stating an unalterable cosmic law. “I may not have sat the Academy examination, entirely optional, in any case, but I know my own abilities. And my excellence.”

Grace laughed, shaking her head. Ten months of travelling with him, and he could still astonish her, amuse her, and leave her speechless within a single breath.

He strode past her, taking the steps two at a time, and returned to the console. Grace followed, her smile still present.

He began at once, flipping switches, pressing illuminated buttons, and drawing brass levers with the smooth confidence of someone who had cared for this machine across centuries.

Then he groaned, shoulders slumping.

“Still not fixed!”

Grace folded her arms once more.

“As I said,” she remarked, “you’re not particularly good at maintenance.”

The Doctor elected to ignore her. Instead he drew the curved display screens nearer, watching Gallifreyan characters flicker across it as he examined the readings. After a moment he glanced over his shoulder.

“So,” he said, “where would you care to go today? Past? Present? Future? Somewhere on Earth, or somewhere far beyond it?”

Grace blinked in surprise.

“You’re asking me?”

The Doctor shrugged, as though the question were the most natural thing in all of time and space.

“Of course I am.”

Leaning against the railing, Grace tilted her head.

“You haven’t asked me since the very first day I walked through those doors,” she said. “Usually I simply go wherever you decide we need to be.”

The Doctor’s expression softened.

“Well, I’m asking you now.”

Grace chewed thoughtfully on her lip, then a bright smile spread across her face.

“The nineteen eighty's ,” she said. “I want to see what it was truly like, all the noise, the colour, the music.”

The Doctor’s face lit with delight.

“An excellent choice.”

He closed one hand around the great central lever and pulled it down with theatrical flourish. The TARDIS groaned in protest, then her engines surged to life, the familiar rhythmic wheeze resounding through every corridor as the ship lurched into the Time Vortex.

Grace moved to his side, watching the central column rise and fall in its steady, ancient cadence.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

The Doctor released the lever and turned to face her.

“For what?”

Grace nudged his shoulder gently with her own.

“For showing me all of time and space.”

For a moment the Doctor said nothing. He simply smiled, soft and warm.

“Grace,” he said, “it’s my favourite thing in the whole universe to do.”

She stood watching him as he moved around the console, checking dials and tapping panels, driven by boundless energy, every motion evidence of the millennia he had spent guiding this impossible machine.

She opened her mouth to speak.

Before she could utter a word, the TARDIS lurched violently.

The engines produced a strained, guttural groan, and the entire room shook as though struck by a massive hand.

Grace lost her balance. She stumbled backward, arms reaching for support that was not there. She struck the metal grating hard, the back of her head meeting the floor with a sickening impact.

White-hot pain flared through her skull. Her vision swam, dissolving into streaks of gold and shadow.

“Grace!”

The Doctor’s voice broke with alarm. He left the console at once and ran to her side, dropping to his knees. Carefully he slid one arm beneath her shoulders and raised her head to rest on his lap.

“Grace? Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

She blinked hard, trying to clear the haze from her sight, while a dull, throbbing ache settled behind her eyes.

“What…” she groaned. “What happened?”

The Doctor glanced up as the central column slowed and came to rest.

“I’m not entirely certain,” he admitted. “Whatever it was, we’ve landed. But I believe we were thrown slightly off course.”

He helped her sit up, then offered his hand.

“Take it slowly.”

She took it, and he drew her carefully to her feet, keeping his hands steady on her shoulders until he was sure she would not sway or fall.

“What do you mean, ‘knocked off course’?” she asked, rubbing the back of her head.

Once he was satisfied she could stand alone, he hurried back to the monitors. Gallifreyan symbols raced across the screen as he studied them, his brow tightening.

“It happens,” he said. “Debris is drawn into the Vortex. Asteroids, the remnants of old starships…” He paused, his voice quieter. “Other things as well.”

Grace frowned.

“What kind of ‘other things’?”

The Doctor looked at her for a long moment but offered no further reply. Instead he walked to the railing where his brown pinstriped blazer hung, pulled it on, and fastened it neatly. Then he gave her his brightest, most reassuring smile.

“Shall we go and discover exactly where we’ve arrived?”

Grace hesitated.

“Is it safe?”

The Doctor considered the question, then nodded.

“As safe as crossing a busy road.”

Grace gave him a look of profound skepticism as she followed him toward the double doors.

“Oh,” she muttered under her breath, “that’s so very comforting.”

The Doctor only smiled to himself as he closed his hand around the brass handle and pulled.

Blinding white light poured into the console room. A cool breeze drifted across the threshold, carrying the sharp, sweet scent of lemon and wild lavender, catching in Grace’s curls as she squinted against the glare. Without hesitation the Doctor stepped out into the open air. Grace followed.

As her eyes adjusted she stopped dead in wonder.

The sky above stretched endlessly, a vast expanse of deep violet crossed by ribbons of lilac and soft rose that drifted like smoke across the heavens. Two suns hung low on the horizon: one glowing rich amber, the other a brilliant molten gold, their combined light gilding great clouds of shimmering dust that moved across the purple sky.

The landscape was equally breathtaking. Rolling fields of sapphire blue and vivid gold stretched to the edge of sight, rippling in the wind like the surface of an endless ocean.

It was beautiful, utterly, impossibly beautiful.

“Where are we?” Grace whispered.

The Doctor held a finger aloft, testing the breeze, then nodded to himself and turned back as she closed the TARDIS doors behind her.

“Planet Caster” he announced. “Current population: zero. Temperature: a very pleasant twenty degrees. And…” He sniffed the air theatrically. “…there’s a fair chance of rain later this afternoon.”

Grace shook her head, smiling. She still had no idea how he managed it, how he could know precisely where they were, and what the weather would be, simply by stepping outside and sensing the air. It was merely one of those things about the Doctor that she had long since accepted as simply… him.

She walked to stand beside him.

“So,” she said, glancing out over the silent fields, “is it truly safe?”

The Doctor tilted his head, looking entirely innocent.

“Now,” he said, “would I be this calm if I didn’t believe it was?”

Grace folded her arms.

“You said exactly the same thing about New York in 1912.”

His smile faltered, just for an instant.

“About five minutes before the ghost ship Titanic appeared in the middle of Fifth Avenue,” she added.

The Doctor cleared his throat.

“…Fair point.”

Grace laughed. He, however, was already gazing out across the empty hills, curiosity bright in his eyes.

“Still,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back, “this feels different. And besides…” He drew a deep breath of the scented air. “Planets without people are almost always the most interesting ones.”

Grace sighed, amused and resigned.

“That is precisely what I was afraid of.”

They set off across the rolling landscape, the blue-and-gold grass swaying around their ankles. The Doctor talked almost without pause as they walked, explaining that Caster had once been home to an entire civilisation of cloud-beings, creatures composed of living mist who had drifted through its skies for millions of years. As the twin suns gradually burned hotter, they had simply, gently, evaporated into the atmosphere, leaving the world in silence.

“It was rather tragic,” he said, hands deep in his pockets as he bounded over a small rise. “Not violent, not dramatic, just… inevitable. One day they realised it was time to leave, gathered everything they could carry, and drifted away among the stars. Lovely creatures, by all accounts. Terrible singers, though.”

Grace smiled to herself. She could listen to him speak about the universe forever, every word filled with such warmth and wonder. He never merely walked: he skipped, spun mid-sentence, gestured so expansively it was a wonder he remained upright. His joy was infectious.

“Oh!” he cried suddenly, pointing toward the horizon. “There should be a city nearby, abandoned now, of course. Built entirely of crystal. Unless time is playing tricks again.”

“That’s very reassuring,” Grace said dryly.

They walked on until the ground simply ended.

A cliff edge.

The Doctor stopped just short of the drop. Far below, deep violet water shimmered beneath the twin suns, waves breaking softly against rocks that appeared no larger than pebbles. He turned slowly in a circle, scanning the skyline, then drew out his sonic screwdriver and directed it at the empty air between their cliff and the one facing them across the chasm.

The familiar whirr sounded in the stillness.

“Thought so,” he said.

And then he stepped forward, straight into empty space.

“Doctor!” Grace lunged to seize his arm, then froze.

He had not fallen. He stood perfectly still, several feet beyond the edge, as though the vacant air had become solid ground. He looked back at her, grinning.

“Anti-gravity stabilisers,” he began cheerfully. “They generate a compressed atmospheric field that permits..”

Grace stared at him.

He paused.

“…It’s an invisible bridge.”

“That,” Grace said flatly, “would have been the ideal place to begin.”

“I do tend to get carried away with the explanation,” he admitted.

Grace took a deep breath and edged one foot out over the drop. Her Converse met something firm and unyielding. She shifted her weight, testing it, and the invisible surface held.

“See?” the Doctor called. “Nothing to worry about.”

Grace shot him a look that made clear she disagreed completely, but stepped out after him. Every step accelerated her heartbeat; more than once she glanced down, seeing only the abyss beneath her feet, and quickly fixed her gaze on his back instead. Only when she stepped onto solid rock on the far side did she release the breath she had been holding.

“I’m beginning to think,” she muttered, brushing imaginary dust from her jacket, “that travelling with you is going to shorten my life by years.”

The Doctor beamed.

“Oh, almost certainly.”

Grace stared at him.

“You weren’t meant to agree with that.”

They followed a path of bright white stone that wound through the hills, where hardy little plants forced their way through the cracks, their leaves a vivid mix of emerald and gold.

The breeze tangled Grace’s hair about her face, and she brushed it aside for what felt like the hundredth time. Without warning the Doctor stopped so abruptly she walked straight into his back.

“Oof.” She rubbed her shoulder. “Doctor!”

He did not appear to hear. He stood perfectly still, staring ahead.

“That’s not right,” he murmured.

Grace looked past him. Half-buried in the long grass lay the wreck of a spacecraft. Its once-polished chrome hull had faded to a dull grey, and long, dark-orange viewports ran along its side. Great gashes split the metal plating, and twisted debris lay scattered across the ground; vines and alien flowers had crept over the ruin, slowly reclaiming it for the planet.

“It looks as though it’s been here for centuries,” Grace said quietly.

The Doctor tilted his head, his expression growing serious.

“That’s a Dominator vessel.”

Grace frowned.

“Is that bad?”

“Potentially.” He narrowed his eyes at the wreckage. “Let’s hope there are no Quarks still aboard.”

“Quarks?” Grace asked. “What are they?”

“Robotic soldiers,” the Doctor said. “Servants of the Dominators. Small, relentless, and thoroughly unpleasant. I haven’t seen one in two hundred years or more. But this ship crashed a long time before that, at least two centuries, perhaps three. Those vines take a hundred years merely to reach that thickness; this degree of corrosion takes another hundred.”

Unease stirred in Grace’s stomach.

“So whatever happened here…”

“It was a very bad crash,” the Doctor finished softly.

For a long moment neither spoke. The wind sighed through the broken hull, producing a low, mournful whistle that echoed across the valley. Then the Doctor’s smile returned.

“Which means…”

Grace already knew what was coming.

“We’re going to investigate,” they said together.

The Doctor chuckled. “You really are getting to know me.”

Grace sighed, but her eyes were bright.

“I was afraid of that.”

Together they moved cautiously toward the silent wreck, the long shadow of the ancient ship stretching before them across the white stone.