Chapter 46 - Dalek, Part 1

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In an instant they had been rounded up and were being marched down a hall, towards what Lyssa could only assume was the head of whatever entity had set up this underground museum. She still couldn't place what episode this was, if it even was an episode, or what was going to happen, but she had a bad feeling about this place. Something about it just seemed... off. Wrong, maybe. Could have something to do with the fact that there was a strong possibility that whatever or whoever was sending out the emergency signal was trapped in the museum as well.

"Rose?" she whispered to the blonde, careful to keep her voice low.

"Yeah?" the companion answered in the same tone, not looking at her.

"I don't think that my brain-to-mouth filter is fully working right now, so if you think I'm about to say something stupid, or that could endanger us, please clap a hand over my mouth. I might need it."

Rose furrowed her brow at her, but gave a minuscule nod. The Doctor, who had clearly been listening in without an ounce of shame, ducked his head slightly to hide his lips twisting up in a smirk. Lyssa took advantage of their enforced pace and "accidentally" kicked him in the ankle, looking away innocently when he glared at her.

She felt another piece of a memory return when a young woman, curly hair bound up into a ponytail and clad in formal attire, joined them, a strict expression on her face. "Take them to Mr. Van Statten," she ordered the men surrounding them briskly, with an American accent that was almost refreshing after how often she'd heard only British or the occasional Scottish accents in the past year.

Something twinged in her memory.

Lyssa flinched, staggering into the Doctor and only staying upright when he helped her up, now looking worried. She hardly noticed, trying to sort through the sudden stream of memories pouring through her head. Including, unfortunately, who they were actually there to rescue, and the pretentious blowhard supposedly in charge of this place.

And it was too late for her to do anything about it - like run away screaming, perhaps - as they turned a corner and were propelled through a doorway into a small office area. There was a desk near the back, where a middle-aged man with a receding hairline sat, while a younger man next to him had just handed him a small, metallic object.

"What does it do?" the older man asked, also with an American accent, taking the object and flipping it over in his hands.

"Well you see, the tubes on the side must be to channel something, I think maybe fuel...," the younger man said with a British accent. Images of him with a hole in his head and being shoved out of the TARDIS popped into her mind, along with his name - Adam.

"I wouldn't hold it like that," the Doctor interjected as the older man began to shake the object.

"Shut it," the woman escorting them ordered, glaring at the Doctor.

He, of course, didn't listen. "Really, though, I wouldn't hold it like that. That's wrong."

"Is it dangerous?" Adam asked, glancing between the object and the Doctor.

"No. It just looks silly," the Doctor said calmly, holding out his hand for the object. All the guards immediately aimed their guns at the Doctor, but he didn't even flinch, meeting the older man - Van Statten's - gaze evenly. Looking vaguely impressed and amused, he held up a hand to stop them and handed the object over.

"You just need to..." the Doctor trailed off, running his fingers gently over the object. A single note, like a key on the piano, rang out. "Be delicate," he finished, smiling widely at the appropriately impressed faces as he began to play a little melody.

"It's a musical instrument," Van Statten realized.

The Doctor nodded proudly, like a teacher with an egomaniacal student. "It's a long way from home."

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