Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Whitehall never improved with familiarity.

Liz Shaw descended the broad stone steps, nodded politely to the civil servant who held the door for her and paused long enough to button her coat against the London wind. It wasn't particularly cold, merely damp enough to remind her that autumn was making up its mind.

Behind her, the meeting continued without her.

Which, frankly, was an improvement.

Somewhere inside that building another committee was probably still discussing whether Moonbase required additional funding to replace laboratory equipment that had been obsolete before half the committee had finished school.

She had asked for six replacement spectrometers.

They had offered to form a working group.

There were days she missed the Brigadier.

At least when UNIT had needed something, he'd argued with ministers instead of inviting them to establish subcommittees.

She had barely reached the pavement before someone stepped neatly into her path.

"Excuse me."

Liz looked up. The woman was perhaps a little younger than herself. Chestnut hair framed an open, friendly face. A camera hung from one shoulder beside a battered leather satchel that had clearly seen years of use.

There was nothing aggressive about her.

Nor was there any uncertainty.

She stood like someone who had every expectation that strangers would eventually become acquaintances.

"Dr Elizabeth Shaw?"

"Yes."

"Sarah Jane Smith."

Liz accepted the offered hand. "How do you do?"

"Very well, thank you." Sarah smiled. "I was wondering whether you might have a few minutes."

"I'm afraid I'm rather expected elsewhere."

"I suspected you might say that."

Liz found herself almost smiling. "You came prepared?"

"I interview politicians."

"Ah."

"They're much harder to persuade than scientists."

"I rather doubt that."

"Oh, scientists are usually curious enough to ask what I wanted."

"And politicians?"

"They ask who sent me."

Liz gave a short laugh before she quite meant to.

Sarah noticed. "So that was worth trying."

"What was?"

"Making you laugh."

Liz tilted her head slightly. "You planned that?"

"I hoped for it."

"Why?"

"Because people answer questions more honestly after they've laughed."

"You've studied psychology."

"I've interviewed enough people."

Liz looked past Sarah towards Parliament Square where traffic crawled through the afternoon. "What publication?"

"The Metropolitan."

Recognition flickered. "I've read several of your articles."

Sarah looked genuinely pleased. "Well, that's encouraging."

"The piece on satellite communications."

"You agreed with it?"

"I didn't agree with every conclusion."

"I'll settle for most."

Liz found herself smiling again.

Dangerous.

The woman had the disarming habit of making conversation feel as though it had already been going on for several minutes.

"And what is it you wish to ask me?"

"Oh, Moonbase."

"That's rather a broad subject."

"I know."

"It also contains a considerable amount of classified material."

"I'm not terribly interested in the classified material."

"No?"

"No. The interesting part is the people."

Liz regarded her for a moment. "Most journalists say the opposite."

"They're wrong."

"You've already decided that?"

"I usually have."

There was no arrogance in the answer.

Only certainty.

Sarah adjusted the strap of her camera. "I've spent the morning trying to persuade someone in your office that Moonbase isn't simply a collection of machines orbiting the Earth."

"They were unconvinced?"

"They suggested I write about the latest guidance computer."

"And you declined."

"I'd much rather write about the woman responsible for keeping the place running."

Liz folded her arms. "You realise that sounds suspiciously flattering."

"It wasn't intended to."

"No?"

"I genuinely think people are more interesting than machinery."

"Even on Moonbase?"

"Especially on Moonbase."

A taxi splashed through a puddle nearby.

Neither of them moved.

"I don't generally give interviews."

"I know."

"You knew before approaching me."

"I did my homework."

"And yet here you are."

Sarah's smile broadened. "Optimism is occasionally rewarded."

Liz considered the woman in front of her.

She wasn't pushy.

She wasn't trying to corner her.

She wasn't filling every silence in the hope that one of them would become awkward enough to surrender.

She simply waited.

Comfortably.

As though she had all afternoon.

"I'm afraid I don't have very much time."

"I only need twenty minutes."

"I have another meeting."

"Then I'll buy you tea."

Liz blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Tea."

"I know what tea is."

"Good."

"You think tea will persuade me?"

"I think Whitehall has probably just deprived you of some."

That stopped Liz. "You've guessed."

"I saw your expression when you came out."

"My expression?"

"You looked like someone who'd just spent two hours explaining orbital mechanics to a room full of people who thought gravity was negotiable."

Liz laughed outright.

It escaped before she could stop it.

Sarah looked quietly triumphant. "There."

"There what?"

"I knew there was another smile in there."

"You appear remarkably confident for someone who's just accosted a stranger outside Whitehall."

"I prefer to think of it as introducing myself."

"And if I'd said no?"

"I'd have thanked you for your time."

"You wouldn't have tried again?"

"Oh, probably."

Liz shook her head. "I thought as much."

"So..." Sarah pointed towards a small café across the road. "They make excellent tea."

"You know this?"

"I've tested quite a few."

"Of course you have."

"I take journalism seriously."

Liz looked towards the café.

Then back towards Whitehall.

The committee would still be arguing over procurement procedures.

The paperwork waiting on her desk would still be waiting in an hour.

Twenty minutes.

Perhaps thirty.

"Very well."

Sarah brightened immediately. "Tea?"

"Tea."

"And perhaps," Liz added as they crossed the road together, "you can explain how you managed to persuade me."

Sarah looked genuinely puzzled. "I asked."

"I suspect it was slightly more complicated than that."

"I bought the tea."

"You haven't yet."

"No." Sarah smiled. "But I will."

The café Sarah chose was tucked away on a side street where Whitehall's hurried footsteps gave way to quieter conversations and the comforting rattle of china. Brass bells chimed softly as they entered, and the scent of fresh baking wrapped around them almost immediately.

Liz looked around with approval. "This is considerably better than the government canteen."

"I should hope so." Sarah smiled at the elderly woman behind the counter. "Afternoon, Mrs. Taylor."

"Afternoon, love."

"The usual pot?"

"If you would. And two fruit scones."

Mrs. Taylor looked towards Liz. "Butter?"

"Yes, thank you."

"And the proper marmalade," Sarah added. "The dark one."

Mrs. Taylor grinned knowingly. "I thought you might."

Liz waited until Sarah had paid before raising an eyebrow. "You come here often."

"When I'm in Westminster."

"You have favourite tea shops?"

"I have favourite tea shops everywhere."

"You've made a study of it."

"I have."

Sarah carried the tray to a small table beside the window, carefully arranging the teapot between them before pouring.

Liz watched her.

Most people poured tea as though it were an interruption.

Sarah poured it as though it mattered.

Milk.

Sugar bowl.

The small pot of marmalade with generous strips of peel suspended in amber.

A dish of butter.

The scones arrived still warm enough for steam to curl from where they had been split.

Sarah slid one towards Liz. "I hope you like marmalade."

"The dark sort?"

"The only sort."

Liz smiled. "I was about to say exactly the same thing."

Sarah looked absurdly pleased. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"You've known me less than an hour."

"Yes."

"And?"

"And sometimes that's long enough."

Liz laughed quietly and reached for the marmalade. "I've rarely met anyone quite so certain of people."

"I'm not."

"No?"

"I'm certain of tea."

"You distinguish between the two."

"I've had excellent tea with dreadful people."

Liz spread butter across the warm scone. "And dreadful tea?"

"Oh, that can ruin perfectly nice people."

She sampled the marmalade. "Oh."

Liz looked up. "What?"

"That's really good."

"I did tell you."

"You undersold it."

"I didn't want you disappointed."

"You've clearly thought this through."

"I think through most things involving food."

Liz shook her head. "I was expecting an interview."

"You still might get one."

"Might?"

Sarah stirred her tea. "It depends where we end up."

Liz regarded her over the rim of her cup. "Very well."

Sarah opened her notebook. "Commander Shaw."

"Director," Liz corrected automatically.

Sarah blinked. "But Commander is your rank."

"It is. My appointment here is Director of Moonbase Operations."

"Oh." Sarah glanced down at her notebook. "So Commander Shaw is right, just not the right right."

Liz smiled. "Something like that."

Sarah neatly crossed out the word she'd written and replaced it. "Director Shaw."

"You didn't have to change it."

"I know." Sarah looked up and smiled. "I just like getting things right."

Liz found herself watching Sarah write. There was something oddly satisfying about the rapid, tidy script flowing across the page.

"So." Sarah looked up. "What surprised you most about living on Moonbase?"

Liz didn't answer immediately. "The quiet."

"I would've expected that."

"No." Liz shook her head. "Not physical quiet."

Sarah waited.

"The Earth is... loud."

"Loud?"

"People walking outside. Birds. Wind. Rain against windows." She looked out towards the street. "You stop hearing those things after a while."

"And miss them?"

"Sometimes."

Sarah nodded slowly. "I can understand that."

"You can?"

"My aunt spent months at a time working in containment laboratories."

"A scientist?"

"A virologist."

Liz's interest sharpened immediately. "Really?"

"Doctor Lavinia Smith."

"I don't believe we've met."

"She'd probably remember if you had." Sarah smiled fondly. "She remembers every scientist she's ever argued with."

Liz laughed. "That narrows it down very little."

"No." Sarah smiled into her tea. "I grew up listening to conversations about grant applications."

"Oh dear."

"Oh yes."

"Those are enough to send anyone into journalism."

"I watched brilliant people spend half their lives proving they deserved enough money to continue being brilliant."

Liz's expression softened. "That sounds rather familiar."

"I thought it might." Sarah reached for another piece of marmalade. "I used to think scientists mostly did science."

Liz actually snorted. "I wish."

"Instead they seem to spend half their careers justifying the other half."

"That is a remarkably accurate description."

"It always struck me as backwards."

Liz rested both hands around her cup. "It is."

"The people actually doing the work become experts at convincing people who aren't."

"And usually people who've already decided the money would be better spent elsewhere."

Sarah nodded. "Exactly."

"You've heard that argument."

"For years."

Liz smiled ruefully. "I've just spent two hours hearing it."

"They wanted another committee?"

"They wanted further review."

Sarah groaned theatrically. "Oh, not further review."

"You've heard that one too."

"My aunt used to come home muttering about review panels."

"What did she say?"

Sarah's eyes sparkled. "I probably shouldn't repeat most of it."

Liz laughed. "I think you should."

"There was one gentleman she referred to as a particularly persistent intellectual fungus."

Liz laughed hard enough to put her cup down. "That's wonderfully specific."

"I thought so."

"And unfair to fungi."

"So did she." Sarah smiled. "Apparently fungi at least accomplish something."

Liz found herself laughing again.

It had been an unexpectedly long time since she'd laughed this much.

Sarah finally looked down at her notebook. "Oh."

"What?"

"I haven't written anything for several minutes."

"I hadn't noticed."

"I don't think I've asked another question."

"You've asked several."

"Not interview questions."

"No."

Liz looked at the notebook. "I don't believe this is really an interview any longer."

Sarah considered that. "No."

"What is it?"

Sarah looked genuinely thoughtful. "I think..." She smiled. "...it's just a rather nice conversation."

Liz surprised herself. "I believe it is."

The notebook remained closed.

Instead they talked about laboratories that acquired personalities after enough years.

Scientists who forgot to eat.

Engineers who refused to leave machines alone once they started making unusual noises.

The peculiar satisfaction of solving problems everyone else thought impossible.

The frustrations of bureaucracy.

The delight of discovering someone who understood why any of it mattered.

Neither of them noticed when Mrs. Taylor quietly replaced the empty teapot with a fresh one.

Nor when the lunch crowd came and went.

Outside, the afternoon edged towards evening.

The bell above the café door chimed again.

A young man in a dark government suit looked around before spotting Liz.

Relief flooded his face. "There you are."

Liz blinked. "I'm afraid so."

"Director Shaw." He approached the table with obvious hesitation. "I've been looking everywhere."

"You found me."

"The Permanent Secretary asked me to."

Sarah quietly reached for the teapot. "Would you care for some tea?"

The young man looked completely wrong-footed. "I..."

"It's fresh."

He looked helplessly at Liz.

Liz almost smiled. "I suspect if you sit down she'll produce another scone."

"I probably would," Sarah admitted.

"I'm afraid I really can't." He looked back at Liz. "They've reconvened the meeting."

Liz stared at him. "They're still discussing it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She sighed. "I was hoping they'd reached a conclusion."

"They've reached several."

"Have any of them agreed with each other?"

"...No, ma'am."

Sarah bit her lip.

Liz caught it. "So."

Sarah looked entirely innocent. "You'll have to go rescue them from themselves."

"It would appear so."

Liz stood reluctantly. "I hadn't realised..." She glanced towards the window. "...quite how much time had passed."

Sarah looked at her watch. "Oh."

"What?"

"I may owe you rather more than twenty minutes."

Liz laughed softly. "I believe you do."

"I'm terribly sorry."

"Don't be."

For a moment neither of them moved.

Then Liz picked up her gloves. "I should like to continue this conversation."

Sarah's smile was immediate. "So would I."

"I suspect," Liz said, "that next time we might leave the notebook at home."

Sarah looked down at it as though she'd forgotten it was there. "I think that's an excellent idea."

Moonbase never truly slept.

It simply changed shifts.

One laboratory dimmed its lights while another brightened. Engineering handed over to maintenance. Astronomers surrendered their telescopes to communications specialists. Somewhere, someone was always beginning another day's work, regardless of what the clocks insisted.

Doctor Elizabeth Shaw preferred it that way.

She crossed the Operations Centre with a mug of tea in one hand, pausing behind one of the navigation consoles. "How are we looking?"

"Cargo shuttle docked on schedule."

"Good."

"No anomalies."

"Even better."

She moved on.

The Operations Centre had become one of her favourite places over the years. It wasn't because it housed the station's command systems.

It was because everyone in it had a job.

No committees.

No speeches.

No one asking for another feasibility report while the oxygen recyclers quietly continued doing exactly what they had done yesterday.

Problems arrived.

People solved them.

Life continued.

The communications officer looked up. "Director."

"Yes?"

"We've received a priority transmission from Whitehall."

Liz stopped. "Government?"

"Yes. They've marked it urgent."

"Very well."

She accepted the data slate and continued into her office.

The door slid shut behind her with a muted hiss.

She set her tea beside the terminal.

The Home Office crest appeared first.

Then the recording began.

A middle-aged civil servant looked directly into the camera.

"Director Shaw."

Liz resisted the urge to sigh.

"The Home Office requests your immediate assistance regarding a matter presently under the authority of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce."

United Nations Intelligence Taskforce.

At least someone still remembered what the initials stood for.

"The organisation has recently recovered an extraterrestrial device of uncertain origin."

Liz's attention sharpened.

"Initial examination suggests the object may be computational in nature. There is also evidence indicating possible communications capability."

The recording continued.

"Current personnel have been unable to establish meaningful interaction with the system."

Not encouraging.

"We therefore request your assistance."

The civil servant glanced briefly downward.

"Our records indicate your extensive experience with alien technologies."

Reasonable enough.

He continued reading.

"And your documented service as one of the Doctor's companions."

Liz closed her eyes.

Just briefly.

When she opened them again, the man was still speaking.

"...making you uniquely qualified..."

She stopped listening.

Companion.

It was such an extraordinarily inadequate word.

As though she'd merely wandered after him carrying luggage.

She had been a physicist before she'd met him.

She had remained one afterwards.

She had argued with him.

Corrected him.

Occasionally saved him.

Companion.

The title suggested someone who followed.

It entirely ignored the fact that she had very often refused.

The recording ended.

Silence settled over the office.

Liz reached for her tea.

It had gone cold.

Of course it had.

She activated the communications console. "Operations."

The communications officer appeared. "Director?"

"Prepare an outgoing priority transmission to Whitehall."

"Ready."

Liz thought for only a moment. "This is Director Elizabeth Shaw, Moonbase Operations."

She paused.

"I acknowledge receipt of your request."

Another pause.

"I will make arrangements to travel Earthside."

She consulted the station schedule displayed beside her. "The earliest practical transfer will be aboard Supply Shuttle Seven."

Her finger moved across the display. "I shall arrive within forty-eight hours."

The communications officer nodded. "I'll transmit immediately."

"Thank you."

The screen faded.

Liz leaned back in her chair.

Forty-eight hours.

Enough time to hand temporary authority to her deputy.

Enough time to review whatever information they could send ahead.

Enough time...

Her eyes drifted almost absently towards the small calendar sitting beside the terminal.

Three weeks.

She smiled despite herself.

Three weeks since a journalist had somehow turned twenty minutes into an afternoon.

She wondered whether Sarah Jane had ever finished writing the article.

Probably.

Eventually.

Although she'd developed the distinct impression the notebook had been more of a prop than a necessity.

The intercom chimed.

"Director?"

"Yes?"

"Engineering reports they've finally persuaded Life Support Three to stop making that knocking noise."

Liz smiled. "Did they repair it?"

"No. It simply stopped after they threatened to replace it."

"Machines can be remarkably cooperative."

"So I've been told."

She rose from her chair. "Very well. I'll be down shortly."

The office fell quiet again.

Earth.

Whitehall.

UNIT.

It had been rather a long time.

She only hoped whoever had inherited the organisation understood that asking for scientific assistance was not quite the same thing as asking for someone to wave a sonic screwdriver at the problem.

If the thing truly was an alien computer...

She smiled faintly.

...it might finally prove an interesting reason to leave the Moon.

Captain Winifred Bambera met her before she reached the reception desk.

"Doctor Shaw?"

Liz offered her hand. "Captain."

Bambera shook it firmly. "Thank you for coming all this way."

"I was curious."

"I thought you might be."

Bambera started down the corridor at a brisk pace. "I'm afraid I owe you something of an apology."

Liz glanced towards her. "Oh?"

"When we sent the request, we genuinely didn't have anyone who could make head or tail of the thing."

"And now you do?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?"

Bambera smiled ruefully. "We found someone who insisted they could."

"And you believed them?"

"I believed they sounded remarkably confident."

"Not always the same thing."

"No."

Bambera pushed through a pair of heavy security doors. "We've still got engineers standing by in case it explodes."

"Comforting."

"We try."

Another corridor.

Unlike the old UNIT headquarters, this place still smelled new.

Fresh paint.

Fresh wiring.

Fresh concrete.

It had all the efficiency of somewhere designed by committee.

It lacked the comfortable untidiness of years spent actually solving impossible problems.

"Have you identified the technology?"

"No."

"Species?"

"No."

"Age?"

"No."

"What have you established?"

Bambera considered it. "It's definitely alien."

Liz smiled faintly. "I had gathered as much."

"And very expensive."

"You can tell that?"

"It looks expensive."

Liz laughed quietly. "I'll reserve judgement."

Bambera stopped outside a laboratory. "The gentleman from Whitehall who found this file." She held up a folder. "He said you were the obvious choice."

Liz caught sight of her own name.

Beneath it...

Associate of Extraterrestrial Consultant.

Not...

Good.

At least someone had resisted the temptation.

Bambera continued. "He also found another name."

"Oh?"

"I've absolutely no idea why."

Neither did Liz.

Bambera pushed the laboratory doors open.

The room beyond had once been intended for materials analysis.

Most of the benches had been pushed back against the walls.

Engineers stood in small groups around a large metallic structure occupying the centre of the floor.

Folded in on itself, it resembled an enormous steel cabinet.

No obvious controls.

No visible seams beyond impossible geometric joins.

Its dull grey surface absorbed the light rather than reflecting it.

Liz walked slowly around it. "Interesting."

"So they keep telling me."

She crouched slightly. "No obvious power source."

"No."

"No external interface."

"No."

"No access panels."

"Not that we've found."

Liz frowned. "It almost looks..."

She stopped.

A pair of boots protruded from beneath the machine.

Brown leather.

Comfortable.

Scuffed.

Someone wriggled slightly.

A familiar voice drifted out.

"Try it now, K-9."

A metallic voice answered immediately. "Affirmative, Mistress."

A soft electronic whine filled the room.

The machine vibrated.

Panels that hadn't appeared to exist separated almost silently.

Sections rotated.

Others unfolded.

What had looked like a featureless block began expanding upwards and outwards into sweeping curves of crystalline displays and translucent control surfaces.

Engineers instinctively stepped backwards.

Lights rippled through the structure like water.

Liz stared. "Good heavens..."

The transformation continued for several more seconds before settling into silence.

The alien apparatus now stood nearly twice its original height.

Elegant.

Organic.

Impossible.

From underneath it came an entirely satisfied voice.

"There we are. I knew it wasn't broken."

A hand emerged.

Bambera looked at it for a moment. "Need a hand?"

"I'd appreciate one."

Bambera took hold of the offered hand and braced herself. "One... two... three."

With an undignified shuffle involving one shoulder, an elbow and what sounded suspiciously like someone talking to a piece of alien machinery, Sarah Jane Smith finally emerged into daylight.

She brushed imaginary dust from her jacket. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

Sarah looked up.

Saw Liz.

Stopped.

Then smiled so brightly it transformed her whole face.

"Well."

Liz felt herself smiling before she'd even realised she was doing it.

"Doctor Shaw."

"Sarah Jane."

Sarah laughed. "Imagine meeting you here."

"I confess..." Liz looked from Sarah to the fully unfolded alien console. "...I had imagined rather a different expert."

"Oh, I never claimed to be an expert." Sarah walked over and affectionately patted the alien console. "I've just spent enough years around awkward alien technology to know it's usually sulking rather than broken."

K-9 rolled neatly to Sarah's side. "Mistress successfully diagnosed malfunction."

"It wasn't a malfunction." Sarah smiled down at him. "It simply wasn't switched on."

One of the engineers blinked. "It... wasn't?"

Sarah looked at him sympathetically. "Alien interfaces don't always use buttons."

"No," Liz murmured, unable to take her eyes off Sarah. "They rather don't."

Sarah turned back towards her. "I was hoping we'd meet again."

"You were?"

"I may have been inventing reasons to telephone Moonbase."

Liz raised an eyebrow. "You never did."

"I couldn't think of one that didn't sound ridiculous."

"And this does?"

Sarah looked around the laboratory.

The alien console shimmered quietly.

K-9 emitted a contented hum.

Half a dozen UNIT engineers stood staring at her.

Captain Bambera was openly curious.

Sarah smiled. "No."

"I suppose not."

Liz found herself laughing.

Captain Bambera looked from one woman to the other. "I'm getting the distinct impression..." She folded her arms. "...that you two have met before."

Sarah answered first. "Over tea."

"And marmalade," Liz added.

Sarah pointed at her triumphantly. "The proper sort."

Liz nodded with complete seriousness. "The only sort."

Captain Bambera blinked. "...Right."

Neither woman seemed inclined to explain further.

Sarah wandered slowly around the now awakened console, fingertips hovering just above the translucent displays without touching them.

"It's beautiful."

One of the engineers looked up. "Beautiful?"

Sarah smiled. "You lot only ever notice the electronics." She leaned closer to one of the glowing panels. "I always wonder who designed them."

Captain Bambera folded her arms. "You can tell that from looking at it?"

"No." Sarah's smile widened. "I can tell someone loved building it."

She frowned. "Hmm."

Her eyes moved across one display.

Then another.

She made a distinctly unimpressed face. "Oh honestly..."

Liz watched quietly.

Sarah wasn't staring blankly at symbols.

Her eyes were moving with purpose.

Left.

Right.

Back again.

As though she were reading.

"You've got to be kidding."

Sarah reached out and touched a glowing symbol.

Nothing happened.

She frowned harder. "No..."

Her finger moved one space lower.

The display changed.

"That's better."

Liz stepped closer. "You can read that?"

Sarah didn't answer immediately.

Another panel lit.

She scanned it. "Oh."

"What?"

"They've got the reference frame upside down."

"You know that?"

"No."

Sarah reached farther across the console and pressed what appeared to be an entirely unrelated control.

The room dimmed.

Something above the machine unfolded.

A sphere of light blossomed into existence over the console.

The hologram expanded until it filled the space above their heads.

Gas drifted through impossible colours.

Stars blazed.

Lines appeared and vanished.

Tiny points of light crept slowly across the display.

One of the engineers whispered, "...Bloody hell."

Sarah looked rather pleased. "There you are."

Liz hadn't taken her eyes off Sarah. "May I ask you something?"

"Always."

"Were you actually reading any of that..." Liz gestured towards the alien script flowing across the displays. "...or was it an educated guess?"

Sarah pulled a face. "Oh..."

She looked almost embarrassed. "I was reading it."

Silence settled around the room.

"You were."

"Yes."

"You can read that language."

Sarah looked back at the display. "I can."

"You've seen this species before?"

"No."

"No?"

Sarah shrugged helplessly. "I can just..." She searched for the right word. "...read it."

One of the engineers laughed uncertainly. "I'm sorry, but that doesn't make any sense."

"I know." Sarah smiled apologetically. "It doesn't to me either."

Liz stepped up beside her. "You understand every word?"

"I understand what it says."

"But?"

Sarah tapped one line of text. "I've absolutely no idea what it means."

Liz looked at her. "You'll have to elaborate."

"It says..." Sarah read silently for several seconds. "...'Gravitic compensation offset exceeds acceptable astrometric variance.'" She looked up. "I know every one of those words."

"And?"

"I've no earthly idea what they're talking about."

Liz stared at her for a moment.

Then she began to laugh.

Not loudly.

Just with genuine delight.

Sarah looked relieved. "I was hoping someone sensible had turned up."

"I'm not certain sensible is the word."

"No?"

"I think..." Liz looked at the display. "...useful is considerably closer."

Sarah brightened. "I like useful."

Liz stepped in front of the console. "What else does it say?"

Sarah leaned over one display. "This appears to be..." She frowned. "...signal acquisition."

Another display.

"Navigation."

Another.

"Long-range telemetry."

Another.

"Oh."

"What?"

Sarah smiled. "I think this one's asking whether we'd like the local stellar traffic."

Liz looked up sharply. "The what?"

"I said I can read it." Sarah pointed. "I didn't say I understood why anyone would ask."

Liz examined the controls. "If that's telemetry..." She reached towards another section. "...then this should increase acquisition range."

Sarah nodded. "That says..." Her eyes flicked over the text. "...'Expand observational horizon.'"

Liz rested one finger against the control. "Reasonable."

She activated it.

The hologram expanded.

The Earth shrank.

The Moon slipped into view.

Then Mars.

Hundreds...

Thousands...

Tens of thousands of tiny moving lights appeared.

Some followed neat, predictable paths.

Others curved impossibly.

Several accelerated far beyond anything built on Earth.

One vanished altogether.

Another seemed to emerge from nowhere.

Captain Bambera looked upwards. "...Those aren't satellites."

"No." Liz spoke almost absently. "They're not."

Sarah moved around the opposite side of the console. "This group's highlighted."

"What does it say?"

Sarah read. "'Commercial transit.'"

Liz nodded slowly. "Ships."

"Looks like it."

Another cluster.

"'Scientific survey.'"

Another.

Sarah stopped. "Oh."

Liz looked up. "What?"

"'Avoidance advisory.'"

"What are we avoiding?"

Sarah looked upwards.

The hologram shifted.

A shimmering distortion drifted silently through empty space.

Nothing visible occupied it.

Yet every nearby vessel altered course.

Liz's scientific curiosity immediately displaced everything else. "What is that?"

Sarah read again. "I..." She frowned. "...don't know."

"It has a name?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Sarah laughed. "It translates as..." She looked utterly baffled. "...'Persistent gravitational hiccup.'"

Liz blinked. "That cannot possibly be the technical term."

"I'm fairly sure it is."

One of the engineers muttered, "I rather like it."

"So do I," Sarah admitted.

Liz was already studying another display. "If this is a communications and navigation array..."

"It is."

"...then it's doing more than tracking ships."

Sarah followed her gaze.

The hologram shifted again.

Meteor streams.

Radiation bursts.

Solar flares.

Objects too large to be asteroids.

Too small to be planets.

Phenomena no Earth observatory had ever catalogued.

The display wasn't merely observing.

It was interpreting.

Prioritising.

Warning.

Planning.

Sarah quietly translated each new heading as it appeared.

Liz quietly worked out what each system actually did.

Between them the impossible slowly became understandable.

Captain Bambera eventually realised she hadn't spoken for nearly half an hour.

She wasn't the only one.

The engineers had stopped trying to interrupt.

It was like watching two people solve a crossword neither could complete alone.

Sarah supplied the words.

Liz supplied the meaning.

Neither seemed able to manage without the other.

Eventually Liz stepped back.

She looked at the console.

Then at Sarah.

Then at Captain Bambera.

"This needs to go to Moonbase."

Bambera nodded immediately. "I rather thought you might say that."

"It isn't a weapon."

"No."

"It isn't simply a radio."

"No."

Liz looked back up at the hologram. "It's an observatory."

"A very clever one," Sarah agreed.

"It belongs where it can see."

Captain Bambera sighed. "I'll begin the paperwork."

Liz looked almost sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

Bambera headed for the door. "I'll leave you two with it."

The laboratory became unexpectedly quiet.

Sarah continued reading another display.

Liz watched her for several moments.

"You really can read all of it."

Sarah nodded. "Apparently."

"You've no idea why."

"No."

"And it doesn't concern you?"

Sarah smiled. "It probably should."

"It probably should."

Sarah looked up. "I expect eventually I'll stumble across an explanation."

"You usually do?"

"Eventually."

Liz found herself smiling again. "I've been considering another problem."

"Oh?"

"If this console is transferred to Moonbase..."

"Mm?"

"I shall require someone capable of reading it."

Sarah looked back down at the display. "That does sound inconvenient."

"It does."

She paused. "I wonder..."

Sarah's smile grew without her looking up. "What?"

"Whether I might persuade a journalist to spend rather more time on the Moon."

Sarah laughed softly. "I've only just persuaded you to leave the notebook at home."

"Quite." Liz folded her hands behind her back. "I thought perhaps next time..." She looked around the laboratory. "...the tea might simply have a rather better view."

Sarah looked at her then, still smiling. "That's a remarkably tempting invitation."

"I hoped it might be."

Sarah turned back to the alien display, her eyes following another line of script.

"You know..."

"What?"

"I think I may actually know why I can read this."

Liz looked up from the console. "You sounded rather uncertain before."

"I've never really had to think about it." Sarah smiled apologetically. "I've just always... read things."

Liz waited.

"When I travelled with the Doctor..."

The name stopped Liz for a moment. "You travelled with the Doctor."

Sarah nodded. "For years."

"I didn't know."

"It never really came up over tea."

Liz smiled. "No."

Sarah rested one hand lightly against the glowing console. "The TARDIS translated."

Liz's expression immediately shifted from surprise to recognition. "Of course."

"I could understand every language we came across."

"Spoken."

Sarah nodded. "Written too."

"The Doctor mentioned the translation circuits once."

"So I remember." Sarah shrugged. "I always assumed that when I stopped travelling..." She looked down at the flowing alien script. "...I'd stop understanding everything."

"You didn't."

"No."

"How long?"

Sarah thought for a moment. "Years."

Liz became very still. "You've continued reading languages you've never encountered..."

Sarah nodded. "I suppose I have."

"The Doctor never mentioned that possibility."

"I don't think it was supposed to happen."

"No." Liz shook her head slowly. "I don't believe it was."

She stepped closer to the display. "The translation should have ceased once you were no longer travelling in the TARDIS."

"I know."

"It didn't."

"No."

Sarah smiled faintly. "I seem to have... kept it."

Liz looked at her for a long moment.

Then the scientist won.

"My God..."

"What?"

"If your brain has retained the TARDIS' translation matrices..."

Sarah laughed. "There you are."

"There I am?"

"I know that look."

"What look?"

"The one where you've stopped seeing me as Sarah and started seeing me as an extremely interesting research paper."

Liz actually looked mildly guilty. "I wasn't going to dissect you."

"I should hope not."

"I was thinking scans."

Sarah grinned. "That's better."

Liz folded her arms. "Do you realise what this implies?"

"That something changed."

"Fundamentally." Liz looked almost awed. "I wonder if it didn't merely translate for you."

"Oh?"

"I wonder if it taught your brain how."

Sarah blinked. "I rather like that explanation."

"It's only a hypothesis."

"It would make sense in a way." Sarah looked at Liz curiously. "She let me in before he invited me. She always seemed..." Sarah paused for a moment. "...to be oddly possessive of me."

At the moment, it didn't seem odd to Liz at all.