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“Are you all right?”
Rose gave an affirmative as the Doctor pulled her to her feet. “What happened? Did we crash?”
The console looked intact, but the TARDIS had been jolted so hard Rose was surprised she didn’t have any broken bones.
“No; we’d have had more damage. Probably just a prang on a passing ship. I’d better check everything’s all right.”
He began a diagnostic check, and while it was running opened the doors to check on the ship’s exterior. Rose stepped out too and had a look around.
They’d landed in the middle of a bustling street on an unfamiliar planet, a stream of various species side-stepping the TARDIS, some of whom sounded like they were grumbling about the blocked pavement. Although it was hard to tell—it took her a moment to realise that she couldn’t understand a word of the language.
“Not a scratch on her,” the Doctor said, running a hand down the blue paint. “Good.”
“Doctor.”
“What?” He turned to look at her.
“Listen.”
He frowned slightly. “Ah.”
The Doctor turned and went back inside the TARDIS, pulling Rose in too. “I believe I know what’s wrong here.”
“What?”
He pulled up a piece of grating and rummaged around before pulling out a handful of wires and material Rose didn’t recognise. “Translation circuit’s bust. That’s gonna take a while to fix.”
“You can do it, right?”
“Don’t be daft, of course I can. It just might take a while. Go and put your feet up, read a book or somethin’, I’ll call you when it’s done.” He started working on it, but Rose didn’t move, staring at the Doctor in fascination. After a moment he realised she was still there and looked up. “Rose?”
“You speak English?”
“Eh?”
“You speak English,” she said.
“Of course I do, what sort of question is that?”
“I dunno, I guess I figured, once I knew about the translating, that you were free to speak whatever language you liked to me. You could have been speaking Raxacoricofallibitorian, it’s not like I’d have known.”
“You will,” the Doctor assured her. “Once the translation’s been in your head a while you start to recognise the difference between a translation and the real thing.”
“Yeah, okay, but how comes you’re speaking English now? Have you been all along?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Why not your own language? I’d have thought that would be your first choice.”
There was a pause; the Doctor looked very intently at the circuit in his hands. “The TARDIS doesn’t translate Gallifreyan.”
“Why can’t it?”
“I didn’t say she couldn’t, I said she doesn’t. There’s a difference.”
“But you could make her, then you could speak your own language to me and I’d still understand.”
He shrugged. “Habit, I suppose.”
“What habit?”
“When my people were still around I spoke Gallifreyan to them, but elsewhere I spoke English.”
Rose paused thoughtfully. “Did you never speak English to your people?”
He laughed, though it didn’t sound very humorous. “You’ve got to be joking. Time Lords don’t learn languages, not when they have translators to do the work for them.” He grinned. “That’s why I made a point of picking up all the linguistics I could over the years.”
“You’re not a typical Time Lord then?” Rose asked with an eyebrow raised.
“Ah, Rose. If I were a typical Time Lord then neither of us would be here now. Pass the yellow wire.”
Rose hunted for the wire he wanted and handed it over, then settled back and watched the Doctor work. She loved watching him; the way he got so engrossed in his mechanics, yet could spare the odd moment to flash a grin at her.
“What about when you’re speaking to aliens?” Rose asked after a few minutes. “People who don’t know English or Gallifreyan.”
“If I know the language of the person I’m speaking to I’ll use it, if not I use English.”
“Why?”
He looked up again. “Why not?”
“Yeah, but out of all the zillions of languages in the universe, there’s gotta be some reason you use English. Stop dodging the question.”
He paused, apparently deliberating, before saying shortly, “Sentimental value.”
“Ooh,” Rose said, leaning forwards eagerly. “Now we’re getting somewhere. What kind of sentimental value?”
“Are you Rose Tyler or a journalist disguised as her?”
“I’m just trying to get to know you more. I know practically nothing about you.”
He gave her a withering look and turned back to the circuit.
“Can’t blame me for trying,” she pressed.
“Suppose not.”
“So where’d you learn it?”
“England.”
Rose grinned. “You’re so informative.”
He grinned too. “I try.”
“You’re fluent.”
“’Course I am, after eight hundred and eighty-two years.”
Rose did a quick calculation. “So you were eighteen?”
“What?”
“When you started learning.”
He stared at her for a moment. “When I made my first journey to Earth.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine you that young.”
The Doctor snorted. “Oh, thanks a lot.”
She giggled. “I didn’t mean it like that. So what were you like at that age?”
“No comment.”
“Oh, come on!”
“Nope, sorry. This interview is over. Now go and do something that doesn’t involve prying into my adolescenthood.”
“Okay, you mean like … read your diary?” Rose shot off before he could stop her.
“Hah, well, the joke’s on you!” he called after her. “It’s in Gallifreyan!”
The End