The Wheels in Space go Round, Round, DELETE!

(Closed to Charlotte and The Fourth Doctor)

In the luscious groves and nooks of the TARDIS, somewhere along the fifteenth library and the third spa, was a magnificent lounge, complete with lush, red velvet sitting chairs, a large, roaring fireplace, shelves of brandy and cognac, and small wax-lined bags with various amounts of jelly babies in each. On the far end of the room opposite the door was an antique phonograph, but had the striking appearance of being brand, spanking new. Resting on the needle was a record from the roaring '20's that the Doctor had picked up during one of his incarnation's trips.

The sounds of sultry jazz echoed through the lounge as the Doctor stood on top of a latter, mumbling and grumbling to himself, trying to reach the upper shelves of a bookcase he had installed a couple hours previous. On the book case was stored his various books and bobs that he had started and not finished. He thought this was a convenient way to compile all of his unfinished projects into a singularity, encouraging him to finish them...eventually.

Not hearing Charlotte come in, he pulled out a small, leather bound journal that he had kept in his first incarnation. He remembered how quickly he had filled this up, and how much he had forgotten over the years. Flipping through the pages, he began to (audibly) talk out loud to himself. "Now those were the days. Ah! The great Zodin. They don't make villains like her anymore. Poor thing, looked like a balding kangaroo."

Being a bit preoccupied with the cleaning and his newly found journal, he never bothered to hear that the TARDIS, which had been whirring and buzzing away, was now completely silent...

Charlotte had been wandering the seemingly endless halls of the TARDIS for going on half an hour when she reached the lounge. Typical of the Doctor to say he wanted to read and then not head to any of the fifty-three libraries he had claimed were inside this ship. Of course, he must have been exaggerating... then again, this was bigger on the inside. Why couldn't it have fifty-two libraries?

He must not have heard her come in; he was too engrossed in his reading. She cleared her throat. "Docteur." No response. "Docteur, I think we might have landed. The TARDIS isn't making those whirring noises anymore. Where are we going?" And... silence. "Docteur, where have we landed?"

Charlotte had only met the Doctor hours ago, but already she was in lighter spirits than she had been in years. She wasn't trapped, for once. She wasn't stuck in Revolutionary France about to be beheaded, and she wasn't stuck in 2014 trying to figure out how the hell she had gotten there. It was liberating, the prospect of travelling in time and space. She barely even resented the bargain she had made with the Doctor that she'd have to return to France and die after their adventures were over. Surely she could extend their adventures long enough to live a fulfilling life... and besides, the Doctor had mentioned dying and clearly he was still alive, so there must be a loophole, right? There was always a way out.

Sighing, she resorted to tugging the Doctor's scarf to get his attention. It was a multicolored, absurdly long thing wrapped loosely around his neck. With one pull, it fell into Charlotte's hands. "Docteur, listen! We landed!"

"Landed...right. What?! We've landed?! Why didn't you say something sooner?!" He quickly raced down the latter past Charlotte, pausing for a moment at the door to run back and grab his scarf, which seemed to be attached to Charlotte, and began to travel back to the console room.

To the Doctor's surprise, she wasn't lying. The console was silent and still, the TARDIS had materialized. The Doctor approached one of the more basic looking panels and began to twist some knobs. The vector screen flipped to a black image, with even darker shadows lurking. With a sigh of frustration, he turned to the manual screen, which flipped through calculations and circular formations at a blinding speed.

The screen did calculate that they HAD landed, but where? "Most interesting...radiation levels high, but not deadly or toxic. It appears that we've landed on solid ground, but we're still moving...how is that possible?" Rhetorically speaking, the Doctor often spoke aloud to himself in an effort to get a response from...well, himself.

Expecting a sarcastic, but informative response from K-9, the Doctor stood at the console for only a moment before looking over his shoulder past Charlotte and saw K-9 in the corner, fast asleep, presumably charging up. Turning back to his console, he flipped a singular switch.

With a brief ah-ha!, he went to the coat rack, grabbed his dark brown velvet frock, slipped it on, and headed out the door. Stopping in the doorway once more, he turned back to Charlotte. "To answer your question, I have no idea where we're at. Shall we take a look?"

"You first." Charlotte was both chuckling and shuddering, if it was possible to do such a thing. "And if it's 1793, don't expect me to keep a level head." Mon Dieu. Had she just made a "head" pun? Her knees felt a little weak, but she crossed her arms and peered out from behind the Doctor at what lay beyond the TARDIS doors.

It almost looked like a giant spindle in the sky, a white drop spindle of metal against the black of space. It must have been a station or base of some kind. Underneath the white disk was a silver, funnel-like contraption, which was connected to something like wires that reached up to the spindle and down below the funnel in what might have been stairs and might have been some kind of receiving antenna attached to a clear cylinder.

"Do all spaceships look like strange objects hanging around for no reason?" Charlotte asked the Doctor, raising an eyebrow. "Time and Relative Box in Space, Time and Relative Wheel in Space..."

She looked over at his face and stopped. It was hard to tell his expression. "Docteur, is this where we're supposed to be?"

Letting the beheading joke bounce right off of him, he zeroed in on the massive structure. The looming wheel-like thing floating in the crevices of space showed up on the scanner screen, dimly lit by a nova-like blue star far off into the distance.

The Doctor swiftly walked out of the door and into a dimly lit corridor, with metallic planks revealing floors below and metallic walls that held sconces littered with dust and cobwebs. The Doctor looked back, letting the interior lights from the TARDIS shine onto the floor, casting a terribly large shadow on the wall opposite. "Grab a torch from the console, will you?!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, a whirring, buzzing sound began to fill the room. The lights began to flicker on, dimly at first, then slowly reaching a comfortable atmospheric level. It revealed that the TARDIS had landed in a small storage room at the end of a corridor, with a faded read P-7 on the wall. The door had apparently been jammed open, but other than that, the room was emptied and spacious.

"I wonder....why here? This abandoned place...it reeks of familiarity."

The lights flickered on.

"Are we in a storage closet?" Charlotte looked around, her question seemingly being answered by her surrounding. "I take it that this wasn't where you were planning to land, then." It certainly didn't seem like the kind of place he would take her. She glanced at the door, which appeared to have been forced open.

Heading back into the TARDIS as the Doctor had asked, she looked around for a flaming torch a few seconds before realizing he probably meant an electric, 21st-century one. Charlotte grabbed it, fixed her skirts a little - they had gotten ruffled - and headed back out. "I wonder....why here? This abandoned place...it reeks of familiarity."

"You remember ever visiting a giant space spindle?" Charlotte supplied. "That's what it looked like when I first saw it."

There was a metal clanking sound from outside the room, growing louder. It almost sounded like footsteps, except metal. "Someone wearing armor?" she suggested, looking at the Doctor again.

The Doctor, caught off guard by the stamping feet, quickly pushed Charlotte back into the TARDIS and slammed the doors shut. He jumped behind an empty storage container, making sure to be away from vision from whomever--or whatever--could be coming.

Peering through the cracks and crevices of the storage container, he saw a metallic boot and leg stamp into the entrance way of the room. The leg, although lacking in meat or definition, stamped powerfully with authority and with intention. It stood there, watching and presumably scanning it's surroundings.

After what seemed like an eternity of scanning, the thing turned about face, and continued on down the hallway. With a sigh of relief, the Doctor looked down at his scarf. With a small bout of grumbling, the Doctor realized that his scarf had gotten caught on the far end of the storage container, plainly giving away his hiding spot.

After unhooking his scarf,The Doctor hesitantly stood up, watching the entranceway like a hawk. He ran over to the TARDIS and unlatched it for the rather upset Charlotte...

"Docteur, qu'est-ce qui se passe? What is happening?" Charlotte lifted her petticoats and ran up to meet the Doctor. The footsteps had sounded like armored guards... but why would they be guarding an empty place? Unless it wasn't empty... unless they were searching for someone. "Is this a prison? An army base?" she asked. "If so, perhaps they're searching for an escaped prisoner, or a team of insurgents come to rescue the prisoners."

Her mind briefly flickered to the storming of the Bastille, 1789. She hadn't been there in person, but she remembered it well. It had been le quatorze juillet. She had wondered, in 1793, whether she should wait until the Bastille anniversary to assassinate Marat and make more of an impact. But she hadn't been able to wait. She had killed him the day before Bastille Day, le treize.

Why did it seem like the revolution followed her everywhere she went?

Charlotte thought about how the TARDIS had landed without the Doctor's permission and asked, quieter, "Do you have enemies? People or--or extraterrestrials--who would want to lead you into a trap?"

Now metallic footsteps sounded again, though they were further away in the distance this time. Charlotte held her breath and waited for the Doctor to reply.

((posted on Bastille Day because timing   ))