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Jack sat on the cot tucked in the corner furthest from the door, drumming his fingers on his thighs as he refrained from jumping up to pace yet another lap around the cell. The pirates had taken the bright-eyed Chirr pilot three hours ago, then, an hour later, the tiny Leptan steward who’d fought fang and claw as they dragged him out. By now, he could only assume that they hadn’t survived the interrogation and he’d be next.
“Not looking forward to this,” he told himself out loud. “Bit of manhandling, and not the good kind, and then the threats, then torture and a slow death. Then I wake up and it starts all over again. Sometimes this little trick of mine isn’t all that much fun.”
His head snapped up as a whirr buzzed in the corridor and the door slid open. A familiar face - familiar yet wrong in some subtle way he couldn’t place - popped around the jamb. “Never took you for a defeatist.”
Jack stared. That accent sounded Scottish. “Doctor?”
“Nope,” the man replied as he tossed Jack’s holster into the room. The gun slid to his feet. “They’ve got the prisoners in cargo. Gotta get the upper bulkheads open, so I’ll leave you to it.” And he was gone.
Jack snagged the gift and strode out, stuffing the holster into a coat pocket as he undid the safety on the blaster with his teeth and pausing only to grab the handcuffs and passkeys his captors had left on a nearby table. Dashing into the corridor, he stopped in the intersection to check all directions, but his saviour was nowhere to be seen. With a shrug, he sprinted off toward the cargo bay. Heading for an escape never crossed his mind; as long as there was a chance he could save either of his cellmates or anyone else from the Eloran cruise ship, he had to try.
A booted foot sticking out of an open door alerted him to the first sign of active life, and he flattened against the silvery wall, blaster in both hands in front of him. He spun into the doorway, weapon forward, and trained it instinctively on the only standing figure in the room. A pirate, in a jumpsuit similar to that of the one lying in the doorway, lay unconscious at the man’s feet.
“Doctor?” he asked again, though this man, clad in a grey pinstripe suit, dark blue shirt, and blue trainers, seemed as wrong as the first.
“Not the one you’re lookin’ for,” the man quipped, his accent a thicker Estuary than Jack remembered. He flipped the steel pipe in his hand then let it drop, and it clanged and rolled to rest against the pirate that Jack suspected it had dropped only a moment earlier. “One more headin' for navigation, I’m guessin’. I’ll get 'em. You go on.” He turned and kicked open the opposite door, stopping to glance back at Jack. “Shift, fly boy!” He flashed a grin and scampered off.
“What in the world is going on?” Jack murmured to himself as he resumed his run for the cargo bay.
He charged across the catwalk above the engine room and swung down the ladder to the lower level. The wide double doors to the cargo bay stood open, and this time, a perfectly recognisable voice rang out. “Well,” it drawled, “I’ve quite a gob, me. I can prattle on for hours and not say much of anything. But! I never talk without a purpose, though it might take a bit to figure out what it is. I’ll let you in on a little secret. This time, the purpose was to stall you.”
On cue, Jack stepped out, his blaster pointed at the pirate captain’s back. “For just long enough. Drop it.” The man dropped his gun, and Jack moved in to secure him. “Doctor,” he said as he pulled the handcuffs from his pocket and locked them around the man’s wrists.
The Doctor pulled out his sonic and set to releasing the pilot, the steward, and the other prisoners who were chained up nearby. “Answered the distress call. We found your cabin when we searched the ship and I figured I could count on you to show up at the right time.”
Jack pushed the captain toward the Doctor, who secured him with the now-empty chains. “I try not to disappoint. But who -”
“Here’s the rest of them,” announced a Scottish voice, and Jack whirled to see the first identical man he’d seen standing in the doorway surrounded by more cruise ship passengers. “I convinced the guard I’d been his captain’s plant onboard. It wasn’t hard to persuade him to consider a change of professions once he’d realised his error.”
A small access door popped open and the second identical man strode in, twirling a red-tipped sonic screwdriver in his hand. “Secured the bridge. Blighter dashed on first sight, left the consoles open. Not much of a challenge.”
Jack shook a finger at the latest entry. “You, I know. The Donna shines through. You’re that other Doctor, from the hand, aren’t you?”
He tapped his nose. “Only took two tries. Call me James.”
“Okay, so you’re Handy, but…” He ignored James’ annoyed sneer at the moniker and spun on the Scot. “Who exactly are you?”
“Yet another copy but not. Long story.” He held out hand. “I’m David.”
Jack shook his hand then stepped back, pointing at them one by one. “And you’re all travelling together in the TARDIS?”
“For a bit, yes,” admitted the Doctor.
Jack eyed each of them from head to toe, a suggestive smile playing on his lips. “All my dreams have just come true.”