Archive of Our Own

The bumpy landing didn't worry Peri too much, in and of itself. After all, that was pretty much par for the course. She was, on the other hand, definitely concerned by the peculiar high pitched whine that came from the time rotor as it stopped, and the anxious look on the Doctor's face. It wasn't an expression he wore very often in this incarnation, but when he did, it always spelt trouble.

"What is it, Doctor?" she asked, starting to imagine all sorts of terrible fates that might have befallen them -- was he about to say that the TARDIS was perched on top of a cliff and about to fall, or , or perhaps surrounded by a lava flow cooling around them and entombing them ... But those were all things the TARDIS could survive, weren't they? What if they had somehow run aground in the Time Vortex itself, marooned on some sort of time reef?

The Doctor tapped one of the readouts on the console, leaned in to peer at it, then looked up at her, his face now set with determination. "Something out there is draining the TARDIS's reserves of artron energy. We won't be able to dematerialise again until we put a stop to it."

"But there is an out there, at least?" Peri said, trying to summon up as much optimism as she could.

"Oh yes," the Doctor said. He checked the console again. "And the weather is positively balmy, I'd say." He smiled at her. "You won't even need to change!"

She'd just returned from the swimming pool, and was wearing a short white robe over her bikini.

"Well, if you're sure, Doctor," she said, making her way towards the doors.

"No time like the present, Peri, that's the spirit!" the Doctor said, taking an inordinate amount of time to adjust his cat pin before joining her. "Now come along, we've got an energy drain to find!"

* * *

Two hours of walking later, and they were no closer to locating anything except a succession of slightly differently sized rocks in a hilly landscape with slightly different angles of slope -- though Peri was increasingly frustrated that the correct one to take according to the Doctor always seemed to be the steepest. Occasionally, at the top of a peak, he would lick a finger and stick it in the air, before nodding and heading off in a new direction, or sometimes making a cryptic comment about what the ochre colour of the sky indicated about the chemical constituents of the upper atmosphere.

As they were about to climb yet another hill that Peri saw nothing special about other than that it would make her legs even more sore she said, "Doctor, are we lost?"

"Lost?" he said indignantly. "How can one be lost when ."

"All right, then, put it this way: do we know the way back to the TARDIS?"

"Of course," the Doctor said instantly, but then his forehead creased into a frown. "At least I'm reasonably certain it's back that way." He gestured vaguely behind them, then said, "But we need to find the source of the problem before we can head back to the TARDIS, otherwise we won't be able to take off again."

"And are we any closer to finding it?"

"We're certainly no further away," the Doctor said cheerfully. "And the more ground we cover, the better the chances we have." He strode off purposefully up the hill, and Peri dutifully followed.

When she reached the summit, though, she gasped. Just the other side of the hill was a huge stone citadel, its walls manned by soldiers carrying odd double-ended tridents. Inside the citadel narrow streets wound around a variety of buildings, the most impressive of which was a four-storey castle-cum-palace in the centre. But the settlement was clearly thriving, with simpler houses and encampments sprouting up outside the walls.

"Still think we're lost now, Peri?" the Doctor said with satisfaction.

"I'll grant you that we've found something interesting," Peri said reluctantly.

"Come on, let's go and take a closer look."

* * *

It turned out that someone in the citadel had been taking a closer look at them, too, because before they had even reached the tented outskirts, a large group of people had come out to greet them. There were soldiers in close ranks, marching with precision even though they must have been sweltering in their bronze armour. They were holding their weapons stiffly, at attention, rather than with any real menace. They paraded up to Peri and the Doctor and then parted to allow through a man being borne on a strange contraption a little like an octagonal litter. Behind him were a number of women in ... well, not very much really: their garments were more like a simple strand of cloth wrapped around their torso in a V shape, looking significantly less substantial than the identical necklaces around their necks. Peri didn't really feel that she could judge them, in her beachwear. And it was hot here; they had to be more comfortable than the soldiers.

The man in charge, who was dressed in similarly loose attire, though covering rather more of his flesh -- the closest analogy Peri could find was to a Roman toga, though that didn't quite seem right -- stepped down from his litter, and one of the women scurried forward behind him. "Greetings, traveller, to Urbitar, the most thriving metropolis on all of Venalicius VI! I am Daireu, Transactor-in-Chief of the Mercantile Guild here."

"Why, thank you," said the Doctor. "It is indeed an honour. I am the Doctor and--"

But before he could introduce Peri, Daireu had already made his way over to her. Peri had been about to object -- loudly -- to the fact that he'd said "traveller" in the singular, and seemed to be ignoring her completely, but now he was taking a very keen interest, which turned out to be much worse. He was peering at her lewdly, hands near her breasts -- hovering but not quite touching. Peri would have felt grateful for this if it weren't for the fact that she had the distinct sense that he did not respect her as a person, so much as what he perceived to be the Doctor's rights over her. She was beginning to form a different opinion of the women accompanying him and their clothing; she rather suspected it wasn't their choice at all.

Removing all doubt, he said, "And where did you find such a fine specimen as this?"

"Ah," the Doctor said, caught short for a moment, and then extemporised, "Lan-Za-Rote." Over the man's head, he flashed Peri a brief -- and very pained -- "play along for now" look.

"I'm not familiar with that market. In the Southern Isles, I assume?"

"As it happens, yes," the Doctor said. He looked as though he was squirming, adding sotto voce, "After a fashion, from a certain point of view."

"I have never had the good fortune to travel there myself," Daireu said. He turned to the girl who had followed him forward. "Nexa, add Lan-Za ..." He looked to the Doctor.

"Rote," the Doctor supplied, clearly feeling more and more awkward.

"Lan-Za-Rote to the list of potential destinations for that tour I'm going to go on one of these days."

"Added, Master," the woman -- Nexa, Peri remembered -- said. The honorific provided further confirmation, if any were needed, of Peri's suspicions about just how this planet's society worked.

"Your slave, your clothes ... everything indicates you are a man of taste and refinement," the man said to the Doctor, going back to ignoring Peri completely. "I must insist that you come and dine with us tonight in the keep. It is so rare that I get the chance to converse with someone new. You have come from the East, I see; you must tell me all the news of the campaign against the pirate bands ..."

* * *

It stood to reason that it was a Mercantile Guild that held sway here, and there were no prizes for guessing what the chief commodity was. Peri could tell that the Doctor was deeply uncomfortable going along with any of it -- he had a very low tolerance for people who trampled on the rights of others -- but also that he perceived Daireu as their fastest route to working out what was draining the TARDIS.

Peri quickly realised that almost everyone she had encountered so far apart from Daireu himself was a slave: the soldiers and the serving women and, as they reached the keep, the various gardeners and others in the grounds. They were all wearing the metal necklaces, though she now thought of them as collars; once she got a closer look at the soldiers, she realised that even they had them beneath the cloth at their necks.

At dinner, Peri, as the Doctor's only "slave", was permitted to stand behind him, just as Nexa was behind Daireu. They didn't get to eat themselves, although the food did look pretty good; by the third course of who-knew-how-many, Peri was starving.

A little more light on the topic of the collars was shed as Daireu was waving away the slaves who had served up a meat dish with a sticky glaze ("the finest game to be found anywhere on Venalicius VI", and constituting course eight and counting). "I see your slave has no compliance collar," he said, sounding casual, but -- it seemed to Peri -- studying the Doctor's reaction very closely.

The Doctor looked up from his careful attempts to avoid eating any of the actual meat, a feat he had managed in three previous courses as well. "Ah, I prefer ... other techniques."

"I'm sure you do," Daireu said, an unpleasant twinkle in his eye. "But I have heard that supplies are running short in some of the outlying provinces. It is a great shame when local authorities fail to maintain population at the appropriate level where it can be controlled. Where was it you said you were from, again?"

"Oh, I'm from all over," the Doctor said confidently. "It's the travelling life for me; I never like to spend too long in one place."

Which was the most genuine thing he'd said all evening as he fenced verbally with Daireu, but the little glimpse of the Doctor's true self if anything made things worse, not better, for Peri, because right now, they were stuck here.

* * *

After dinner -- the feast would be a better term, Peri thought, or at least her increasingly hungry stomach said so -- Nexa led her away to the "slave quarters", which turned out to be two whole floors below ground level. Where a castle on Earth would have its dungeons, Peri couldn't help thinking.

Here, at least, she was finally allowed to eat, although the fare was much simpler than what had been on offer to the Doctor. Peri descended on it ravenously nonetheless.

Nexa had been watching her closely the whole time. "You are not like most slaves."

Peri looked up at her. "No, I suppose I'm not."

"I should warn you that I think my master may wish to acquire you from yours. And I should warn you that if you do become part of this household permanently, different standards will be expected of you." She looked uncomfortable, fingering the collar at her neck. "I would be expected to enforce them."

"Well, that's not a problem," Peri said, "because I'm definitely not for sale."

"My master can be ... very persuasive," Nexa said. "He has many things he can offer as inducements." She leaned in close, to whisper, "And he can be ruthless. What he cannot acquire in a fair trade, he may attempt to obtain by other means."

Peri looked at her. "Is that how you ...?"

"Oh, no," Nexa said. "I was born into master's family's service, trained from an early age to be the record keeper. But I have seen -- I have recorded -- many things."

"I guess you would have," Peri said. "So if you're the record keeper you're sort of like his secretary? Writing everything down for him ..."

Nexa looked nonplussed. "What is 'writing'?"

Peri briefly wondered whether there was something wrong with the TARDIS's telepathic translation ability, whether that was a sign that things were getting worse with the drain. But it was only that one particular word that had tripped her up. "Marks," Peri said, "on paper--"

"'Paper'?"

"Or ... a stone tablet, or ... I don't know, writing with a stick in the dust on the floor!" Peri was herself becoming confused by Nexa's evident confusion. She grabbed the plate with the remains of her meal and wrote her name in the remains of the salad dressing with her finger. "Look, this is my name, Peri. P. E. R. I."

Nexa looked at it. "And what would my name be?"

Peri adjusted the writing, though it was getting messier and messier. "Look, N, E, X, A."

"So each symbol stands for a different sound?"

"Yes," Peri said. "You really don't have anything like this here?"

"The record keepers remember everything," Nexa said. "We learn special techniques to help us retain all the information our masters might require."

It was Peri's turn to be nonplussed. "Then, earlier, when Daireu told you to remember where I was from--"

"Lan-Za-Rote," Nexa supplied instantly.

"You added that to a list in your head?"

"Of course," Nexa said. "I remember everything master requires or requests me to."

"Well, writing's great for ... not having to do that."

Nexa sat down next to her, clutched Peri's hands in her own. "Teach me?" she said.

"Well, we'll need to find something better than salad dressing to work in ..."

* * *

What they found ended up being some charcoal and a white painted wall. Nexa learned quickly -- the result, no doubt, of the special memorisation techniques she'd learned from childhood. Their lesson was interrupted when Peri was summoned back to the hall. Her last sight was of Nexa hurriedly washing the wall clean, as though she knew instinctively what Peri had shown her was forbidden knowledge.

Whatever had gone on in the hall without any slaves present was over; the Doctor seemed to Peri to be in a sour mood, but hiding it as best he could to avoid being openly hostile to Daireu.

"Nexa, do arrange for the Doctor to be shown to his quarters. I believe the suite in the southwestern tower would be most suitable."

Nexa nodded. "It shall be done, master."

"And take Peri with you back to the--"

The Doctor jumped in then, much to Peri's relief. "Actually, Transactor-in-Chief, I require Peri's service in my own quarters."

Daireu smiled unpleasantly. "Naturally you do." He nodded to Nexa.

"If you would like to follow me, sir," Nexa said. She was talking to the Doctor, but it was Peri that she was looking straight towards.

* * *

"Oh, thank god," Peri said, the moment the door was closed. "I can finally--"

"I'm not sure you can, my dear," the Doctor said, waving expansively at the walls and ceilings. "I think we may be under surveillance. Walls have ears, and all that. Primitive, surely, but effective enough in the circumstances."

Peri nodded. "What shall we do then?" she asked quietly.

"I suggest we follow their expectations, to an extent, and thus furnish ourselves with the opportunity to talk further."

"You mean ..."

But the Doctor had already got into the plush bed, and patted the space next to him.

Normally, Peri would have had no compunction at all about being physically close to the Doctor, but this suddenly felt very strange. The weight of this society's expectations about the nature of their relationship was like weighed down on her heavily. So too did the knowledge that there was a part of her that wasn't completely averse to the idea, albeit in different circumstances. Slowly, reluctantly, she climbed in next to him.

The Doctor grinned, then pulled the covers up over them both in one quick movement.

Their conversation proceeded at the lowest of volumes, heads held close together so they could hear one another's whispers.

"Doctor, Nexa told me that she thinks Daireu wants to ... acquire me."

"I'm afraid she's right," the Doctor said. "What you missed while you were downstairs were his attempts to negotiate with me. Apparently you're worth one hundred and thirty five ambulations of prime agricultural land in the north-eastern province, though since I have no clue what an 'ambulation' is I have no idea whether you should find that flattering or not."

"I most certainly don't."

"Of course," the Doctor said. "Not a joking matter in the slightest."

"Nexa also said that what he can't obtain by fair means, he'll try to do by foul."

She didn't see the Doctor nodding earnestly so much as feel the movement of his face in her hair. "I suspected as much. You noted the way he was very particular about which suite to put us in? I wouldn't be at all surprised if this room had a history of guests who met with unfortunate accidents, or just disappeared in the night." He grew very solemn. "I was also treated to a demonstration of the action of the collars the slaves all wear. Arbitrary cruelty to one of those guards, brought in only for the purpose of torturing them. Very nasty stuff; some sort of neuroelectric shock device, though the natives seem to believe the device that operates them is some sort of magical talisman."

Peri shivered involuntarily, and she felt the Doctor wrapping his coat around her, another layer between her and the outside world. "Where did they get those from? I mean, you said that they think it's just magic, but we both know there's no such thing, right?" She waited a moment, just to check that he wasn't about to tell her that actually magic was real, he was the Sorcerer Supreme, and she was the fairy queen or something.

Or a peri, she thought suddenly. That was what he'd accused her of being, when ... She pushed the thought away again; she couldn't deal with that, not right now, not with everything else going on. She was here with the Doctor, and he was going to keep her safe.

"I mean, they don't even have writing," Peri said. "Did you know that? The slaves memorise everything."

"Really?" the Doctor said.

"So where did they get the collars from?"

"You're right, there's no such thing as magic, but ... something indistinguishable from it, perhaps?"

"Sufficiently advanced technology," Peri supplied. "Clarke's Third Law." She knew exactly what he was doing: trying to get her thinking about the planet as a mystery to be solved to ground her -- remind her that they were visitors here, and that as soon as they solved the energy drain, they would be on their way again. "But where did the technology come from? Are there aliens trading with them?"

The Doctor considered the notion. "A possibility I admit I hadn't considered in full," he said eventually. "But I have to say that I rather think they're relics. As is, I would imagine, whatever is draining the artron energy from the TARDIS. There was clearly once a much more technological society here; it has decayed terribly, but the signs are everywhere if you look, and listen -- they know far more than is reasonable about the other planets in their solar system, for example. After all, what sort of primitive society includes a number in the name of their planet, for heaven's sake?"

"Oh, yes, Doctor, of course, that's exactly what I was thinking."

It took the Doctor a moment to realise she was being sarcastic; she could tell that he had been about to praise her for her perspicacity before he suddenly became crestfallen and said, "I'm sorry, Peri. I do realise this is very difficult for you."

"Oh, Doctor, can't we just go back to the TARDIS?"

"We certainly can," the Doctor said. "But unless we find a way to stop the drain on the artron energy we won't be able to go anywhere else. If the collars really are something to do with the ancient technology, it might be helpful to take a closer look at one ..."

"Would that be so bad?" Peri asked. "To be stuck in the TARDIS, I mean. I remember when you first regenerated, you talked about retiring to become a hermit."

The Doctor looked uncomfortable, a rarity in her experience. "Yes, well, I said and did a lot of things that ... well, I wasn't really myself at that particular moment in time. Neither my new one nor my old one. Between selves, you could almost say."

"It's all right, Doctor," Peri said.

He turned even more solemn then. "Is it?" he asked. For all that she'd been pushing the memory away, apparently it was inescapable. They had never actually spoken about what had happened since, not really. Were they really going to do so now, in the middle of this terrible alien planet? Whenever it had come to mind before on their travels, Peri tried to tell herself that it was water that had long since flowed under the bridge.

But water could drown you, and sometimes Peri worried that there was an ocean inside her that everything terrible that had happened to her flowed into. Not just the Doctor's moment of post-regenerative madness: being experimented upon on Varos; the Borad's attempt to mutate her; Sharaz Jek on Androzani. An ocean so deep and wide that if she ever let it out, it would come in a flood that would swallow both her and the Doctor whole.

She put the thought away, touched his arm lightly. "Like you said, you weren't yourself. If I'd really wanted to get away, get back to my degree, I had my chance when we landed in London in 1986. I could have gone back to ... my old life. I could have made up an excuse for the missing time. But I didn't want to."

"I suppose you're right," the Doctor said. "Thank you. For your trust in me." He took a deep breath. "If you really do want to go back to the TARDIS, we can survive there indefinitely. Or you can stay, and I can try to figure things out on my own. Who knows, I might even be able to do so faster--"

"Without me slowing you down? Watch it, mister." She sighed. "Besides, you and I both know that having me around as your 'slave' is the only reason they've assumed you have a high status. Without me as the subject of a negotiation, Daireu's got no reason not to dispose of you immediately."

"So you're willing to go along with it?" the Doctor asked. "It really won't be for long. It shouldn't take that much longer to track down the source of the drain."

Peri smiled weakly. "Looks like you've finally got your disciple, I guess. Enjoy it while it lasts." She frowned. "Is that really all we're going to do, Doctor? Track down whatever it is that's stranded the TARDIS and just leave?"

"It's certainly a necessary condition for our departure," the Doctor said. "But I'm sensing you don't consider it to be a sufficient one."

"This place is awful, Doctor, just awful. We've met some terrible people and you've stopped them, but this is an entire planet of people being enslaved ..." She sniffled, fighting back tears of rage. "I desperately want to get away from here, but how can I leave them all behind to face that fate?"

She felt the Doctor's arms around her before she really registered that he was actually, genuinely hugging her. "Peri, Peri, Peri ... You're completely right, of course." Even as he was reassuring her, she could hear the cogs in his brain whirring. "The whole system is dependent on those collars, of course. I think it must the case that they're an artefact of the predecessor civilisation, for all that the modern inhabitants dress it up with mystical nonsense. If we could get a closer look at one of those--"

"I'll see what I can do," Peri said, feeling a rush of resolve. "If I head back to the slave quarters--"

The Doctor leaned back a little. "Oh no," he said. "I think you should sleep here tonight. After all, they'll all assume that you're ..." He looked embarrassed for a moment before settling for "serving me."

"And you'll take the floor, I suppose?"

"If you mean in the sense of pacing it, then yes! Don't forget, my dear Peri, I require very little sleep. I'll continue to consider our twin problems while you rest."

"Thank you, Doctor. Really. Thank you."

* * *

She was woken in the middle of the night by the Doctor making some of the most outright bizarre noises she had ever heard. Alarmed at first, she soon realised that he was simulating sex, then, when he caught her eye and raised a finger to his lips even as he was moaning through them, that his reason for doing so must be that there was someone outside.

An assassin? Or just a voyeuristic Daireu? Whatever it was, the Doctor had felt the need to play up to his role. Peri decided to go along with it, making some small moaning noises, such as a slave might if they weren't particularly enjoying themselves.

Eventually, she heard a chuckle from outside the door, and then footsteps going away. The Doctor returned to the bed.

"Doctor?" Peri asked quietly.

"Yes?"

She suppressed a giggle. "Do you really sound like that when you're having sex?" She pouted. "Do you ... not have sex? Or are you just out of practice?"

"That's a very personal question, if you don't mind my saying."

"I think we've known each other long enough, Doctor, for such things. Besides, our entire cover story here is that you're ... taking advantage of me." That strange feeling came over her again: that without the threat to life, limb and liberty, something about this would be hot. Another thought she couldn't afford to think about right now, however insistently it pressed in on her mind; she pushed it away.

"Well, if you are going to pry," the Doctor said, "I will have you know that I am very experienced. One doesn't reach the grand old age of-- That is, when you've lived as full a life as I have, it is not merely intellectual pleasures that one has sought."

"Well, I'll grant you that maybe you are overall," Peri said. "But I'm not sure about this body. I've been with you ever since you regenerated and I don't remember any time when you might have ..."

"Let's draw a veil over this, shall we?"

The Doctor -- this Doctor, specifically -- had never had sex before. She was almost certain. But she was aware that part of her really wanted him to, with her.

She lay for a long time before falling asleep. This time, instead of pacing the room, the Doctor stayed with her, still wide awake himself. She thought about this new-found attraction to him, and decided that it wasn't new-found so much as newly-emerged from where it had been forming in her subconscious for some time. With the old Doctor, the attraction had been immediate, though she'd never quite had the opportunity to act on it that she would have liked. And he was still the same person, fundamentally, however much his appearance -- and, yes, some aspects of his personality -- had changed. She considered the possibility that it was this planet, that the whole business with her having to pretend to be the Doctor's slave had flipped some switch in her brain somewhere. But in the end she decided that it was the fact that they had, finally -- however elliptically -- talked about what had happened that day that had freed her up to think about such things again.

As she finally slipped into a fretful sleep, she wondered if the Doctor was even the slightest bit aware of what she was thinking.

* * *

In the morning, breakfast was brought to them in the Doctor's quarters. To the dismay of the still hungry Peri, the Doctor decided that they shouldn't eat it, just in case it was poisoned.

After that, they were brought back to the main hall in which the previous night's feast had taken place, and once again, Peri was taken away by Nexa at Daireu's insistence. Apparently whatever they were taking her for was a "special gift" -- not for her, of course, but for the Doctor.

Nexa took her to a small changing room. The "special gift" was an outfit like those Daireu's own slaves wore. Complete with the collar.

"The Doctor explained to me what that can do."

"My master believes that it is only fitting that your master have the ability to ensure your compliance. It is, in his consideration, part of what makes the society of Venalicius VI what it is."

"For once, I agree with him," Peri said bitterly. She looked straight at Nexa. "This isn't for the Doctor's benefit, is it? Your master means to make me his one way or another. And he wants to try to control me."

Nexa grabbed her arms. "He will control you." The look of anguish on her face was heartbreaking. "My master has me memorise every punishment ever given to any of his slaves. Not just the detail of the infractions they were punished for -- though often enough they are spurious -- but how many twists of the talisman he used, how long they screamed for as a result, whether--"

"I get the picture," Peri said. "Have you ever been tortured like that?"

"No," Nexa said. "As record keeper, I am too valuable." But Peri saw the truth of it: that keeping those records was itself a torture, a way of ensuring her compliance by showing her the consequences of failing to do so. "Peri, I have never said this before, but you must run. Run now, as far and as fast as you can. Run and don't ever look back. I do not understand what is really happening, who you really are, but I know that whatever it is that makes you different will make you resist him, harder than anyone ever has before. And I do not want to learn the litany of your torture."

Peri looked again at the collar, remembering what the Doctor had said: If the collars really are something to do with the ancient technology, it might be helpful to take a closer look at one ... She steeled herself, and said, "No, do it."

"Peri ..."

"I understand exactly what you're saying," Peri said. "I'm sure you're right about what Daireu would do to me if he got his hands on me. But he isn't going to. Just you wait and see. Because you're right, Nexa, I am different. I'm not Peri, the helpless slave from the Southern Isles or whatever it is you think. I'm Perpugilliam Brown from Earth, and the Doctor and I have got out of far worse situations than this before, and we will do again." As she was talking, she had been rapidly removing her clothes and putting on the new ones. "Now put this damned collar on me."

Nexa picked it up, uneasily. She stood in front of Peri and held it up -- the Doctor's hands, around her throat -- and then closed the clasp. Looking down, Peri thought she saw for the briefest of moments a faint blue glow from within its cold metal structure.

* * *

"Doctor, may I present to you ... your own slave, as she could be. May I even dare to say, as she should be?"

Peri heard Daireu's oleaginous voice and was walking out of the corridor before the soldier stationed there had even thought of trying to prod her forward with his double-ended trident. She stepped carefully into the room, making sure not to make eye contact with Daireu, not even to fix him the baleful glare she could very easily have summoned up for him. Instead she went straight to the Doctor and kneeled down in front of him, trusting that he would work very fast indeed.

"And here, Doctor, the talisman that is paired with your slave's new collar. Nexa." She sensed rather than saw Nexa passing something to the Doctor.

"A fascinating little device," the Doctor said, and Peri could tell that he meant it, though he was being careful to keep the disgust he also felt out of his voice.

"Perhaps you'd like to give her a small demonstration of what it can do?" Daireu said. "Its-- I should say, your power over her?"

"I'd certainly like to demonstrate something," the Doctor said. "Stand up, Peri."

Peri did so. "This, ladies and gentlemen--" Peri realised that the Doctor was addressing the slaves stationed around the room, serving girls and soldiers alike. "This person you see before you is free. What she does, she does of her own volition. Including, at great cost to her, pretending not to have that volition." The Doctor brandished the "talisman", turning it over and over in his hand as he did so; Peri thought she saw his fingers subtly manipulating it all the while. "This evil device that robs you of what Peri has, what I have, what each and every sentient being in the universe was born with, is not some mystical artefact. It is the product of a society that brought itself down by creating it, relying on slaves -- on you, and the generations that have come before you -- so much that its high technology was lost. But it is a technological device, based, as it happens, on technology used by my own people: artron energy. But where my forebears used it to explore the wonders of space and time, his--" an accusing finger jabbed out in Daireu's direction "--used it to enslave yours."

So far throughout all this, Daireu had seemingly been too flabbergasted to speak. But now he found his voice. "Seize him, immediately!" Seeing the slaves unwilling to obey, he said, "Seize him, or you will all feel the wrath of your collars!"

"I'm rather afraid they won't," the Doctor said. "You see, I've set up a resonance feedback pulse that will propagate throughout all of these devices and render them inert. Which," he said happily in an aside to Peri, "will solve our problem too. It was the low-level artron fields all over the planet that were interfering with the TARDIS."

"You're going to free all the slaves? Everywhere on the planet?

"My dear, I have already done so. The effect is increasing exponentially as it makes its way around this poor, benighted world." He addressed Daireu again. "In every slave market, in every mansion, everywhere your fellow thinking and feeling beings are exploited, the balance of power has changed. Suddenly and irrevocably. I know you fancy yourself a negotiator; I suggest you apply those skills post haste."

Daireu looked pleadingly towards Nexa. "Nexa, I've always ..."

"Nexa," Peri said. "He has no hold over you any more. And you know everything, more than he does. All of his business empire, it's yours now, by default."

"No!" Daireu said.

"She's right, I have the records of every transaction, every transfer of deeds and property ... I have the records of all your many crimes, too."

"Without me--"

"Oh, I think they'll all get along just fine without you," Peri said.

"Knowledge is power," said the Doctor.

Nexa nodded fiercely. "Especially once I teach everyone to write," she said.

The Doctor blinked several times. "What?"

* * *

The Doctor was still complaining about Peri's impromptu writing lessons when they reached the TARDIS. "If the Time Lords ever deign to pay attention to this place, it's going to be very obvious what you've done," he was saying as they finally rounded the last hill on the way there. "And then we really will be in trouble."

Peri was positively enjoying herself. After the stress of the last few days, an inconsequential argument about the finer details of time travel ethics was positively relaxing. "But I don't understand, Doctor; I thought the TARDIS translated written as well as spoken language."

"It does if there is a written language," the Doctor said. "But this place didn't have one -- or hadn't had one for thousands of years, until you came blundering along -- and so there was nothing to translate. They'll be spelling their own words in it, but they'll have the good old Roman alphabet, all right."

"You don't think I've done them a good turn?" Peri said.

"Oh, indubitably," the Doctor said. "I just wish you could have done it slightly less conspicuously. I'm sure you think I'm cavalier about the timeline when the greater good is at stake, and I admit, I probably am, but I am careful about drawing attention to myself in that sort of fashion."

He turned the key in the TARDIS door and Peri followed him through, grateful to see things back to normal. The Doctor crossed to the console and flipped several switches, seemingly satisfied with the results. "Well, there we are, we can take off again. Any preferences for where you'd like to go?"

"Away," Peri said. "Away from here."

"Gladly," the Doctor said.

* * *

They took a number of short trips after that. No crises, no invasions, certainly no one trying to capture them. Peri wondered idly whether the Doctor had more control over where the TARDIS went than he usually let on, or whether the TARDIS herself was picking up on her need for a holiday and taking them to suitable destinations. There were times when travelling with the Doctor was a gruelling trip through the darkest recesses of reality, places where life was cheap and cruelty ran rampant and evil had to be fought at every turn. But there were also times that it was a passport to seeing the wonders of the universe, things she could never have imagined existed before she met him. It did her good to be reminded of that.

It was under the light of a glowing nebula, on the observation deck atop the space liner Athena IV, that Peri finally summoned up the courage to say what she needed to say.

"I'm sorry."

"My dear Peri, I'm sure there's nothing at all that you possibly need to be sorry for."

"I made fun of you when you were ... committing to the role of my 'master' that night on Venalicius VI."

"Ah well," the Doctor said. "You were perhaps a little cutting, but they were very stressful circumstances. Think nothing more of it."

"That's the problem," Peri said. "I have been. Thinking more of it. Quite frequently, in fact."

"I see," the Doctor said slowly.

"I wouldn't mind doing more than thinking about it, if you see what I mean."

"Well, Peri, it's not as though-- That is to say, you're extremely attractive, but the nature of our relationship--"

"It's not going to spoil our friendship, Doctor," she said. "I promise."

"Well, then," the Doctor said, but all he managed to come up with to finish the thought was, "Well then" again. After a moment, though, he said, "If I can just clarify, do you mean, you would like us to engage in--"

"Whatever word you were about to say, Doctor, don't. Just say 'have sex'. Or even 'fuck'."

"Would you like us to ... have sex in general, or were you thinking of ... those specific circumstances in particular?"

Peri gave him a long look, trying to will him not to be quite so circumlocutory the whole time. It was going to make this very difficult if he was. "You mean when I was pretending to be your slave?"

"Yes," the Doctor said eventually.

"Yes," Peri said. "And no. I don't want to be your slave, but ... I don't hate the idea of you being in charge. Of the sex-having. If you see what I mean." She sighed to herself; she was being almost as bad as he was.

"I see," the Doctor said. "Shall we draw a distinction then, between 'slave' and 'submissive'?"

"If you think that would be helpful, why not?" Peri said, even as her mind was doing somersaults, catching up to the fact that moments ago she'd been trying to work out how to start this conversation, and now here the Doctor was talking casually about her being his submissive ... She couldn't resist teasing him, though. "I'm not sure you wouldn't have minded me having a working one of those collars, though," she said.

"I most certainly would!" the Doctor said. "A complete affront to all my principles, an infringement on--"

"You'd be able to stop me wandering off," Peri said waspishly. "Or teaching aliens to write ..."

"Oh, not this again!"

And they argued their way back to the TARDIS.

* * *

Peri lay in her bedroom, waiting.

It was dark, or as dark as it ever got in the TARDIS anyway; the soft glow of the roundels permeated everything.

She was waiting for the Doctor. Nervous, but excited. Or should that be excited, but nervous?

It was going to happen. Something -- possibly everything -- had changed. There had been a revolution in their relationship, as sure as on any alien planet they had visited.

Perhaps, Peri thought to herself, this would be a controlled way of letting some of that ocean that had built up inside her out. Perhaps it would just be a lot of fun. It would certainly help to show the Doctor that she did trust him. She had already trusted him enough to tell him that she fantasised about him taking control. Until that conversation, she hadn't even known for sure whether the Doctor was attracted to her, or even humans in general, so the enthusiasm of his response since that point had taken her by surprise. Once they'd got back inside, he'd ordered her to her room, told her to remove her clothes and lie on the bed. So that was what she was doing.

Now, though, he was leaving her waiting. Was that the start of it, teasing her with his absence? Or had he got sidetracked somewhere in the immensity of the TARDIS? Perhaps he had gone searching for equipment, or ... costumes. Would he want her to wear a costume? She had been glad of the way her nakedness was different from what had happened on Venalicius VI, but at the same time in all the immensity of the TARDIS wardrobe there might be all sorts of things that they would both find sexy and wouldn't trigger those associations. And had seen many strange rooms herself -- it wouldn't surprise her if there was one somewhere in the winding maze of corridors filled with sex toys.

The thought of the infinite different possibilities was filling her with an aching need, from her wet pussy to her tingling nipples. On any other night, if she found herself this turned on, she would stroke herself, until she came so hard she fell asleep. It would be simple enough -- the slip she had selected had such a high hemline that she would barely have had to move it out of the way -- but tonight it was for the Doctor to decide. She wondered if he would touch her, tease her, or whether she would have to beg to be allowed to make herself come after pleasing him, and the thought made the problem all the greater.

"Oh, Peri?" The Doctor's lilting voice came from just outside the door. It was the same tone he used when trying to convince her that some hideous alien death trap of a planet would be fun.

"Yes, Doctor?" she said.

"Could you come out here, please?"

She'd been expecting him to come in. Already he was wrongfooting her, establishing that he was the one in control.

She swung herself out of bed and padded to the door, which opened with its usual heavy hum. She wasn't quite sure what she was expecting to see on the other side, but the sight of the Doctor in nothing but a voluminous smoking jacket wasn't it. The lighting out here was low too, but not so low that the way his cock was only just not protruding from it wasn't obvious.

"Hello, Doctor," she said. Her stomach was doing somersaults; this was very different, a completely new way of seeing him, and yet it felt entirely natural, completely right.

She could feel his eyes on her, and she raised her own from his bulge to meet his gaze. "I have certain needs that require attention," he announced, as though his erection was something that just happened and he was only there to observe.

"And how would you like those needs met?" she asked.

"I have no use for a submissive who cannot use her initiative," he said grandly. "If you require step by step instructions, I will have to dispense with your services forthwith."

Peri swallowed to force back the last vestiges of her nervousness as she sank down to her knees, coming to a halt with the Doctor's cock directly in front of her face. She was trusting him, and he was trusting her too. She reached up not so much to stroke his shaft -- there was little need to, he was so stiff -- as to flick away the tiny amount of fabric in the way. Then she leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the tip of his cock before sliding her lips all the way down its length in one smooth motion.

With the Doctor's cock filling her mouth completely, she inhaled the sweet scent of the Doctor's arousal. Somewhere distantly she registered the increase in her own wetness as though it was something that was happening to someone else, almost the same as the way the Doctor had remarked on his hard-on, except that his cock was, right now, the centre of her universe, and her pussy was some tiny insignificant speck of space dust in its remotest outer reaches.

She began to work with her tongue, flicking it back and forth along the underside of his shaft, before beginning to rock backwards and forwards to give him a blowjob in earnest.

All too soon, he was coming, and she took the whole of his length in her mouth again so that she could ensure she swallowed every drop. Eventually, as he softened, she pulled away, and gazed up at him adoringly. "Thank you for letting me meet your needs, Doctor."

"The pleasure was all mine, believe me," the Doctor said. "Which is of course as it should be. But I have to say, it looks as though you have needs of your own ..."