The Eleventh Doctor || Doctor Who (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
makeherblue) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trans_92012-06-05 03:24 am
makeherblue) wrote in trans_92012-06-05 03:24 am
Almost good to go [Post-rebellion] [Open]
The surprising thing about Stacy was the Doctor hadn’t thought she couldn’t be more beautiful, in all her (sometimes) slimy, brilliant glory.
Then he saw her true face, right before she fought back with the rest of the crew.
Ah. So maybe he can be wrong from time to time, the Doctor finding that life on Stacy with the rebellion was easier in that you weren’t stumbling over Daligig or Kessek giving their impressive glowers, as if it was difficult not to just step on you and be done with (well, that and trying to avoid them when they decided enough was enough and it was far too long since they’d shot anything)…and then there was the clean-up. Considering how hard the Daligig had fought back, the Doctor had to say he expected far more casualties than Stacy’s crew had and this was probably the part where that voice in the back of his head bothering him with all sorts of things like niggling feelings.
It was probably telling him all sorts of annoyingly logical things, like in the end they probably should have been spacedust. He told it to shush.
The Doctor threw himself into trying to fix the TARDIS now that he had a second wind of sorts. With Stacy being twice as beautiful as before, the work was coming along much faster than before, now that she wasn’t resisting him. In fact, he’d go so far that she’d even given him advice – not that he’d be ready to admit to his companions that yes, the Doctor could at times need jiggery-pokery tips from a ship. At this rate, he thought he could actually tell Jamie, Barbara, Ian, Victoria and all his other friends a proper when instead of hedging around it and sending them on errands to get parts he didn’t even need. The Doctor roamed the halls of Stacy, sometimes in the hanger, sometimes rummaging about the City, picking his way through the damage and looking for anything that could stand in for an influx injector (or a toaster. A toaster would actually be better than a standard-issue injector!).
So yes. Right! The Doctor was in need of a toaster/influx injector. He just may temporarily kidnap anyone – or anything – he thought might be useful on that front.
[The Doctor will have met your character and kidnapped them for this. This is basically for characters okay with having somewhat short-term CR with Eleven (probably a few months OOCly?) and continuing CR )]
Then he saw her true face, right before she fought back with the rest of the crew.
Ah. So maybe he can be wrong from time to time, the Doctor finding that life on Stacy with the rebellion was easier in that you weren’t stumbling over Daligig or Kessek giving their impressive glowers, as if it was difficult not to just step on you and be done with (well, that and trying to avoid them when they decided enough was enough and it was far too long since they’d shot anything)…and then there was the clean-up. Considering how hard the Daligig had fought back, the Doctor had to say he expected far more casualties than Stacy’s crew had and this was probably the part where that voice in the back of his head bothering him with all sorts of things like niggling feelings.
It was probably telling him all sorts of annoyingly logical things, like in the end they probably should have been spacedust. He told it to shush.
The Doctor threw himself into trying to fix the TARDIS now that he had a second wind of sorts. With Stacy being twice as beautiful as before, the work was coming along much faster than before, now that she wasn’t resisting him. In fact, he’d go so far that she’d even given him advice – not that he’d be ready to admit to his companions that yes, the Doctor could at times need jiggery-pokery tips from a ship. At this rate, he thought he could actually tell Jamie, Barbara, Ian, Victoria and all his other friends a proper when instead of hedging around it and sending them on errands to get parts he didn’t even need. The Doctor roamed the halls of Stacy, sometimes in the hanger, sometimes rummaging about the City, picking his way through the damage and looking for anything that could stand in for an influx injector (or a toaster. A toaster would actually be better than a standard-issue injector!).
So yes. Right! The Doctor was in need of a toaster/influx injector. He just may temporarily kidnap anyone – or anything – he thought might be useful on that front.
[The Doctor will have met your character and kidnapped them for this. This is basically for characters okay with having somewhat short-term CR with Eleven (probably a few months OOCly?) and continuing CR )]
Hanger Bay Window Shopping of Honor!
A certain space Naval Officer from a backwoods Star Kingdom has been exploring the meatship in and out, familiarizing herself with every deck and area vital to keeping things running. The necessary details and inquiries.
But now her feet are dragging her to the one place that, despite all the pathos and anxiety that comes from waking up on a weird ship and having the fate of the multiverse thrust upon you, fills her with a burning 'kid in a candy store' interest.
What kinds of ship and technology might exist, the plunder of a million different militaries and technological paradigms? What sort of designs and innovations might be on display? What sorts of weapons, defenses, and propulsion systems might be available?
In brief, what sort of cool spaceships might be available for a military dame to check out in the Hangar?
Honor arrives in the Hanger bay, and openly gawks at the sheer number of transportation machines on display, before remembering her decorum.
But later, as she starts walking through the ground deck level, noting the varying types of ship designs, something starts to feel off. An ominous feeling in her gut.
Then she realizes what's so wrong.
"What..." She says softly.
Hemming in around her claustrophobically like a set of wolves surrounding it's prey...servo-axles, garish paint schemes, giant melee weapons....
"What..."
An excessive display of anthropomorphic design...and head-crests! Head-crests everywhere, with no practical military purpose!
Honor can't hold herself back anymore: raising up her head to the uncaring heavens, she bellows.
"What the Hell Are Giant Robots Doing Here?!?!!!!"
:3a
The Doctor stands behind her with his box of loot slash stuff in one arm, the other rubbing his ear ruefully because this woman has an incredibly impressive set of lungs on her. It isn't a very good question, in his opinion. Why wouldn't you have cool looking giant robots? Especially if they spend most of the time looking cool and not shooting at things. It's the best of both worlds!
Although he supposes a woman with that kind of bearing might not appreciate the finger points of Cool. She has that bearing that screams military, from the way she walks to the way she holds her shoulders crisply. Makes sense. Military-sorts aren't very well-versed in Cool from his experience.
Re: :3a
Honor turns around to see a man...wearing tweed. And a bowtie.
She stares at the bowtie for a moment like one would stare at a very large pimple.
Then she blinks and salutes.
'Apologies for any disturbance I cause. Commodore Harrington, Royal Manticorian Navy..."
She looks around for a moment, then spots someone very important.
"What are you doing up there, Stinker!"
Suddenly, a six-limbed bundle of arboreal fur drops down from the shoulders of one of the smaller mecha...electing to cushion his landing on the extremely fluffy and springy looking hair of the newcomer.
"And that's Nimitz: fresh out of the pods, you might say."
Re: :3a
Nimitz helps a great deal.
"Hi," the Doctor says, both to Nimitz as if it's perfectly logical to have a conversation with a six-legged alien cat, and then to Harrington. "Glad to see you've taken it upon yourself to start collecting companions. They're very useful, you know!"
The Doctor beams, shifting the weight of the box from one arm to the other. He has to resist the urge to preen at the staring. The intense look of concentration at the bowtie. He always knew he'd picked a good one when he was trying on clothes.
"Right. We don't need the saluting, do we? Or the sirs? Do I look like a sir to you?" The Doctor frowns at Harrington, almost as if he's rather distressed at it. It's not something he likes being called, especially when they're not in an immediate life-or-death situation.
I meant for Nimitz to land on your hair, but whatevs.
Honor chokes off her sudden explanation, and blushes faintly.
"But point well taken." She extends a hand. "Let's start over: I'm Honor Harrington. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
She gestures to the treecat climbing down onto her shoulder. "And this is Nimitz. Companion...perhaps, but I view him more as a childhood friend: if anything, he adopted me!"
Nimitz is quite frankly fascinated with the bowtie wearing biped, practically radiating curiosity and friendliness...
Literally radiating it: the tiny little thing's a highly intelligent empath from what you can feel, and the young military woman appears to be intrinsically bonded with him.
In fact, you think it might even be telepathic...always one way to find out, of course!
Snap, sorry, I misread
He peered a bit too long at Nimitz, past the point of polite conversation to downright studying him. Even without touching him, he can feel something pulsing off him and it takes a moment to identify it as curiosity - psychic curiosity.
"So you've known each other since you were young?" The Doctor asked to the both of them. He was still staring intently at the alien cat, looking about two seconds from seeing how he would like a little psychic chit-chat.
Re: Snap, sorry, I misread
Say, do you think frisbees are cool?
"Back home on Sphinx." Honored clarified. "I was about 8 years old then, growing up on the family homestead on the deciduous forest continent. I was on a jaunt with my uncle in the Forestry service when he bonded with me: why, I'm still not sure."
She grins faintly.
Nimitz starts starring at you intently as well. He deliberately sends an emotional burst your way, a mixture of curiousity/eagerness for knowledge/offer of friendship.
For a moment, he tries sending something additional, an actual telepathic gestalt capable of communicating complex concepts, of transmitting entire memories and thoughts, a clear hallmark of sentience...
But something chokes it off, garbling the message beyond recognition, like a man with damaged vocal cords trying to talk. With that failed attempt comes a deep emotional projection of sorrow, still fresh and deep, but sorrow that has been accepted somewhat.
Honor blinks. Then her eyes widen, and she stares at you intently, raising a hand to grasp one of Nimitz's paws.
"This may be forward...but are you a human psychic?"
no subject
It's when the connection twists in on itself that the Doctor realizes he's frowning now at Nimitz, his eyebrows knit together.
Now that wasn't very nice. About to have a perfectly good conversation and something had cut into it before they could really get started, the Doctor's expression softening as that sort of still-fresh hurt comes through the link from Nimitz. His eyes flicker over to Harrington.
"Psychic, yes. Did something happen?" The Doctor asks, jumping to what he deems Most Interesting without missing a beat. He meets Harrington's eyes and then peers at Nimitz again.
no subject
"We were taken prisoner in wartime by the enemy." She explains quietly. "The commanders who defeated and forced our surrender were men of honor and principles, willing to treat us and my crew with respect...but their had to answer to a rabid madwomen of a public information minister who wished to execute us on a live fax."
She strokes Nimitz's fur gently. "She attempted to kill Nimitz first. Worse, to spite us, as if he was just a favorite pet. We fought...and a trooper damaged his spinal column. It wasn't until our escape and return to Manticore a year later that we discovered...well, you seem to have an inkling of his problem. The Doctors back home don't understand treecat neurology near enough to help him."
Honor makes a concerted effort to reign in her emotions. The Doctor, have cultivated an understanding of human character, might know better.
"Do you know much about telepathic abilities?"
no subject
"I do. But I'll have to say, you're the first treecat I've met," the Doctor tells Nimitz. His eyes flick to Harrington. "Have you popped by Medbay?"
He's of course willing to help, but it's still something worth asking. He had assumed a military woman like Harrington would have wanted to get a "real" professional opinion, as rubbish as the Doctor finds those half the time. Then again, the Doctor is starting to come to the realization that he's wrong about several things about Harrington and it's probably high time he stops trying to assume she's standard military.
no subject
A spike of interest and hope from Nimitz occurs as you speak.
Interesting. So he can understand spoken speech.
Honor's eyebrows rise quickly.
"Would you say the Medicine of this place is much more advanced than where I came from? Enough to repair any variety of nerve damage regardless of species?"