shatterverse | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's taken a little while to find, but this place definitely fits the description of an odd collection of buildings - so, a blue police telephone box materialises in a conventient open space near the farmhouse, ad a blonde head pokes out.

"Hello, the farm!" She calls.

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Babs, sitting on the back porch, recognizes that voice. "Hello yourself."

Due to her voice-filtering, the Doctor doesn't. But, red hair, and a wheelchair? It adds up.

"Oracle," she says, smiling. "Or would you prefer Barbara?"

"Barbara's fine," she answers with a quirked eyebrow. "Though I must admit I expected to have to introduce myself." She seems mildly disturbed by the lack of such a need.

"Oh, you haven't heard about that yet? Universes sort of. . . leak into each other, and come out as fiction. I've read comics about you and your world. I don't know if they're completely accurate - and I'm not a huge obsessed fan anyway - but I know enough to recognise you. Leah, our marooned friend, seems to be from a world with me as fiction, she called me 'doctor' after hearing my callsign."

Exposition, yay!

Babs blinks a few times, the nods slowly. "Well... that's interesting. I guess that means that you know more about me than I know about you." She offers a self-deprecating chuckle, "And you probably know just how much that thrills me."

"Yeah, sorry about that," she says, ruefully. "But on the other hand, it's enough to trust you implicitly. Enough to let you have full access to the TARDIS and all it's systems."

Which is. . . a pretty big thing.

"Seriously?" Barbara asks, surprised. "I must have a pretty dang talented inter-dimensional publicist..."

"Apparently so," she says. "Want a look around?"

"I'm now far less impressed by your comics if you even feel the need to ask that," Barbara smirks.

"It's only polite," the Doctor says with a chuckle, and holds open the door.

Everyone knows the drill, right? Bigger on the inside than the outside, glowy lights on the walls, big green phallic thrusting. . . thing, in the middle of the control room?

"Impressive," Barbara says as she rolls in, looking around. She clearly doesn't know the drill, but she's seen enough odd things in her life not to be too terribly surprised.

This is the console room," she says. "Secondary console is a ways away. Bathroom and pool are over there, art gallery's down that corridor, wardrobe and living quarters that way. There's a set of stairs to the attic somewhere, but I can't remember where they are or what's up there. Medical bay's just through there, storage is past the wardrobe. Oh, and the kitchen is somewhere by the living quarters, I hardly ever go in there."

She laughs.

"I don't sound like I know the place very well, do I?"

"No you don't," Barbara agrees with a grin. "But I have to admit that this thing makes the Aerie One look like a rickety treehouse of a base of operations."

She looks around, "And the entire thing fits inside a teleporting phone box?"

"It's too bloody big," she says grumpily. "Sometimes I hear noises and wake up convinced that blasted city is still in here somewhere."

"Pretty much," she says. "Actually, it's not a phone box, it's just a blank grey cubicle, but the chameleon circuit got stuck and I've never been able to fix it. It's not so much inside as. . . it's dimensionally transcendental. The inside and the outside are in different dimensions."

"Yes, well, want to trade? I've got a really nice plane and a brilliant pilot, you know."

"There's only one penalty for unauthorised use of a TARDIS," she says, with a wink. "And you wouldn't like it."

"Well, can't blame a girl for trying," Babs shrugs lightly. "How does a girl get her hands on one of these things anyway?"

"Of course not," she says. "Unfortunately, you'd need to get one on Gallifrey and that planet no longer exists."

"In that case I guess I can reassure Zinda that she's not out of a job after all."

"Zinda?" She asks.

She did say she's not that much of a fangirl.

"She's that brilliant pilot I mentioned. Good woman to have at your back in a fight, too."

"Always good to have people who've got your back," she agrees, and leans back against a console, looking at Babs.

"So. Any idea what you're going to do with me?"

"Well, at some point I'm going to grill you for information. I imagine you've got quite a bit of experience with situations at least somewhat like ours so that'll be helpful. But for now I think you'll mostly be lowly transportation for a while. Teleportation is a good deal faster than flying around, and I don't have to worry about landing zones with you."

[I actually meant to take out the name. . . bother.]

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