Phone Call
From chapter two of my Doctor Who fanfiction “The Former Companions Club“. Because I haven’t got around to finishing the other thing yet.
——————————————————————
THE FORMER COMPANIONS’ CLUB:
PHONE CALL
——————————————————————
The Doctor slowly backed away from the hostile men aiming weapons at him,
“Now, look, this really isn’t necessary,” he began. “In fact, it’s not even a good idea really, considering the tendency of fluorine to combust in the presence of – anyway, trust me, letting those off in here would not be a good idea. I suggest – ”
Doo-doo-doo-da-dat-doo-eee…
The Doctor frowned as irritating music burst from somewhere about his person.
“Sorry, won’t be a moment,” he said, patting his pockets and momentarily reflecting on the disadvantages of dimensionally-transcendent pockets when you wanted something, until he finally fished out a mobile phone, beep.
“Hello?”
There was the sound of raucous female laughter on the other end
“I said I’d call you!” Martha laughed. She didn’t sound precisely sober.
“Ah, yes,” the Doctor scratched the back of his head and eyed the blasters, “listen, now’s not the time –”
“No, no, my new friends want to talk to you, here –”
“YOU BASTARD!” the Doctor winced and held the phone away from his ear, “it’s all your fault All I wanted was to be an air hostess, and air hostess, find a decent bloke and settle down, but noooooo, aliens, always aliens, everywhere I go –”
“Tegan?”
“ – I’m cursed, you wanker, cursed –”
He could hear Martha laughing in the background.
“Tegan, you can’t say that – hahaha – no – oh my god, you make an angry drunk, hehheh…”
Tegan continued on.
“I hope someone – hey!”
“It’s my turn,” declared yet another familiar voice in the background, triumphantly, then spoke into the phone. “Hello Doctor. I don’t think you thought you’d hear from me again.”
“Sarah Jane?” The Doctor was getting bewildered. Also apprehensive. Once he’d been innocent enough to think companions meeting was a good idea, now he knew better. No good could come of this…
A squabble over the phone had apparently erupted at the other end.
“Stop snatching, Tegan –”
“Give it back, I hadn’t finished yet –”
“It’s my phone –”
“ – bloody bastard –”
“ – for heaven’s sake, can’t you –”
“ – my turn, you! –”
“I said, it’s my bloody phone!” Click.
-
The Doctor stuck the phone back in his pocket, shaking his head. From now on he was only going to read the messages. In relief he turned back to the men with laser blasters. He could deal with these.
“Now,” he said, “and I hate to be the one to point this out, but you’re at a particular disadvantage here, because you’re all holding blasters emitting beams of visible light concentrated into laser form by filtering them through an array of artificially-produced crystals, all of which are in fact produced at one particular frequency and are therefore vulnerable to disruption by sonic waves at that frequency. And this, in my pocket, just happens to be a sonic screwdriver –”
oo o0o oo
The next morning Martha lay on the floor and wondered why they’d all decided to have that extra shot of Sambucca. She felt ill. Trying to move as little as possible and squinting at the light, Martha cast her eyes around the room. Sarah Jane was draped unconscious over the sofa, while Tegan –
The sound of someone throwing up came to Martha’s ears. A few minutes later Tegan staggered in, grey-faced, tripped over a footstool and went sprawling over Sarah Jane.
“Uarrughh!”
“Oh, my head –”
“God, what did I drink?”
Martha wasn’t really listening to them moan. She’d had several minites to think already. And, unfortunately, remember.
“Erm,” she said hesitantly, “did we really, um, ring the Doctor last night while we were pissed?”
Long silence.
“I’m depressingly certain that we did.”
“Bugger.”
END
