Doctor Who: The Sunken Vessel

8. A loose leg tourniquet

Amy hurried down the aisle. The endless cases and shelves flanked her sides, soon enclosing her in a corridor of silence. Rory’s moans faded away, leaving only the sound of her breath in the still air.

    Triangle ... E ... Z read the letters etched in copper plate on the wood. Greek, Amy thought, Delta, Epsilon, Zeta I think ... Next came a capital H she thought she remembered as Eta. Haha, I guess that disastrous trip to ancient Greece came in handy after all! She quickened her pace. Cases flitted past her, the rhythmic padding of her feet softened by the carpet. Why would a spaceship from another planet like Gallifrey use Greek letterings in its library? She thought, but it must have been something to do with the translation circuits.

    The bookbinding cabinet was at the end of the aisle, just as the Doctor had said, tucked away behind a spiral staircase to the upper floors. Piles of books crowded around. Ancient Memoirs of Pash-pash colony 9, she read. The old leatherbound cover was inlaid with spindly gold plate letters. Tales of the ancient Oort Mariner by Arthore Bertwood, The Ochre Casket by Timitus Squawk, and Thomas Kincade Brannigan, the first cat Mayor of New New York and Survivor of the Bliss, a Biography, read others.

    Amy shoved the books aside and tugged at the handle. A wealth of materials greeted her inside; bookcloth, thread, needles, glue, brushes, plain paper, lined paper, coloured paper, hardboard, scissors, tape, rulers, some bizarre weights wrapped in old socks, a binding knife, some sort of spongy mesh, a paper punch, a bone folder and – yes – there, right at the bottom, under some waxy paper, lay a coil of book headbands.

    Something moved out of the corner of her eye. She darted round, internal alarm bells ringing, expecting to see screechers swimming towards her or water gushing through a door. Instead before her ran a corridor of shifting shapes; the letters and words of the books on all sides were moving, shifting, changing, now words and writing Amy didn’t understand, a million alien languages transcribed into the form of human books. On the floor the book that had previously read ‘Ancient memoirs of some colony or something’ was now a mass of spindly oval letters with little plumes flowing out of them. Another which she thought had been The Ochre Casket was now set with a series of dots and lines in a horizontal fashion like a barcode. Above Amy the former Greek letters on the bookcases had now morphed into an array of Gallifreyan circles and spirals.

    The translation circuits were down. It was time to go.

    Back by the entrance, the Doctor was kneeling beside Rory unravelling a roll of headbands. Amy handed him hers.

    “How are you doing?” She said to Rory.

      “Uhh, surviving” he grimaced. His veins were going green around the knee.

    “You find the kit Ok?” The Doctor asked.

    “Yeah fine. Bit crowded though. Why do you have a bookbinding kit anyway?”

    “I think the default library theme is on old Earth classic. The old girl does love those places.” He patted the floor lovingly. “Here, help me with this.” The Doctor flung her a length of headband, pink with a red border.

    “Tranlsation circuits are down by the way.” She told him.

    “I know,” he looked grim, “everything’s going. We need to hurry.”

    “You know... I almost expected not to understand you” Amy said. The Doctor laughed.

    “Really Amy? A thousand years of coming to this planet and you think I haven’t learnt English yet?”