MARINER II
by Jason A. Miller (C) 1998
Chapter 4: Town Without Pity
"Callie's Journal September 21, 1992"
Dear Leda,
The Doctor came yesterday morning. He parked his
phone box right on the docks. It looked sort of cute sitting
there. Then he and Benny joined Dad and I on the sub, and we
took it out into the Atlantic for a little joyride. That's the
first time the ship's left the pier in over a month!
We spent the night bobbing underneath the Atlantic
Ocean, 30 years off shore. Barek was right all along!
Last night, I dreamed. Do you know the kind of dream that
seems unbearably *real*? When I woke up in the morning, I
felt *wrong* somehow -- as if the dreams were my real life,
and everything else was a prison sentence. The Doctor cooked
a fancy breakfast for all of us, but I felt empty inside. I
felt like I wanted to jump out of my physical self (as Saja
would say) and go to live in that dream landscape.
We were at a beach. In the dream, it was Costa Del Sol,
though it didn't look like the real Costa Del Sol. There was a
hotel along the beach -- well, actually, twelve one-story bungalows,
in a sort of pentagonal formation along the shore. All my
friends from town were there -- twelve people, twelve bungalows,
I guess. (Saja would talk about harmonic mystical convergence.)
The thunderstorm was ferocious. Waves beat against
the shore. It was primal, scary. But inside, the buildings
were warm and safe. The heating systems were noisy, and the
rooms smelled like fresh laundry.
Jimmy and Sydney Rutledge were supposed to share a bungalow.
But the two of them had a terrible fight, right outside in the rain,
and Sydney's mother came to take her away. So he came to stay with
me instead. We cuddled up together, hiding from the storm, and
watched television. He had his arm around me as we lay on the floor!
When I woke up, there was a real storm outside. The sub
pitched in the water. And Jimmy's arm wasn't around me. I closed
my eyes and tried to get the dream back. But it was gone, and
I felt empty, exhausted, even after eight hours of sleep.
Then the boson's whistle sounded in my quarters. It was
the Doctor, asking me to join the others on the bridge. There was
a lot to talk about.
* * * * * * * *
Bernice S. Summerfield, Ph.D. (imagined)
While Chris and Roz were out chasing some stereotyped
late-20th-century Eastern Bloc spies, the Doctor and I were
engaged in some family counseling. In 1992 time, we'd been
away from Swans Crossing for a month, and Captain Walker and
his daughter had essentially stopped speaking to each other.
She'd withdrawn from her old friends at school, and he was making
noises about lifting anchor and moving away from Swans Crossing
again.
I really don't think they needed our help for this.
Callie Walker is an Earth girl, after all, and she's fifteen
years old. This was all to be expected. We even saw the beginnings
of this when we left last time. But her dad's one of the Doctor's
oldest friends. So I guess he thought he needed to help out.
And besides, he had reasons of his own for wanting the Walkers
to stay in town for a while longer yet.
The Doctor and the Captain tinkered on the submarine's
bridge all night long. I don't like sleeping underwater, so
I kept watch on them with half an eye, and doodled in my journal
with the other eye and a half. They were trying to install some
new techniques that would restore the sub's old travel capacities.
After all, we're going to need them in about a week, when the Eastern
Bloc spy action is going to shift to the Eastern Bloc, and the local
children will have to follow them in a hurry.
Well, actually, the Doctor and Chris and Roz will
need to join them. I'm supposed to stay here, and start
dealing with the *other* problem that's going to be cropping
up here. I hate ghosts, but at least I'll get to work with
Saja again.
Callie and I had a strained heart-to-heart in her room.
Neither of us really knew what to say. She's concerned
about the Clayton boy at her school -- I didn't really get
a chance to get to know him the last time we were here. Neither
of us knows the first thing about boys, it seems. She'd had
a typically adolescent dream about him last night. I gave her some
vague advice -- If you want something, you have to go after it, and not
stop for anything -- but she grabbed it for more than it was worth,
and cheered up considerably after that.
Then, we rejoined the Doctor and Captain Walker for an espionage
planning session around the sub's periscope. The Captain was
unusually chipper. I wonder if any of us should be worried about
that.
* * * * * * * * *
It was September 21, the first day of autumn, and although
it was sunny, there were little nips of true fall in the air
for most of the morning. Jimmy compromised with the weather by
wearing his denim jacket (instead of the leather one) over a white
Swans Baseball T-shirt (with his name and uniform number 21 on the
back). He parked his bike next to the other cycles, both
motorbikes and not -- next to Owen Fowler's, as it turned out --
and chained it to the rail.
Hundreds of students crowded around the main doors of
the building, waiting for the homeroom bell to ring. When
the weather turned, they'd wait inside, in the massive school lobby,
but for now, students congregated in groups of 10 to 12,
in rough circle formation. The older students, the juniors and
seniors, tossed frisbees and footballs around on the grass.
He scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces. There
were Nancy, Sandy, and Sydney, sitting on a wooden bench near
the main doors. J.T. and Glory sat on the ground next to them.
He quickly turned away before they could make eye contact, but it
was too late -- they'd noticed him, and all beckoned him over.
"Good morning, Jimmy!" they all said, roughly in unison.
"'Morning," he grumbled. He was *so* not in the mood.
Sydney grabbed the collar of his jacket, and with a playful
grunt, dragged him onto the end of the bench. She and Nancy scooted
over to make room for him. Sandy stood up, and, realizing that she
wasn't going to get her seat back, joined J.T. and Glory on the
ground. Glory met her with a shrug.
"Well well well, Mr. Clayton", said Sydney. "We're looking
awfully solitary and mysterious this morning, aren't we?" She
wore a tiny T-shirt with a panda on it, and fashionably plaid
shorts. Mirrored designer sunglasses were pushed back onto her
head; she dropped them onto her nose and stared straight at him.
"See? We're all being Aloof on this fine school Monday!"
Jimmy laughed in spite of himself. Sydney was the social
magnet of the 9th grade.
"Now, Glory and J.T. tell me that Callie and her dad are
out of town again?" J.T. and Glory each poked Sydney's ankles,
but it was too late. Jimmy's frown returned.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" she said.
"Don't be," said Nancy. Her voice was gravely and
sarcastic. "Honestly, James, what you can see in a woman who
won't even tell you when she's leaving town?"
"Nancy!"
"It's all right, it's all right," Jimmy said. "It's
only a temporary thing. They'll be back before the week is
out, I promise."
"Ah," said Nancy. Her face fell.
"Well. We're throwing a party for you guys," said
Sydney. "This Friday. You're the guests of honor! Um. So
long as Callie comes back, that is."
"For *me*? And Callie?"
"Actually, it was Glory's idea, but I'm in charge of
arrangements."
"And I'm in charge of organizing dates," said Nancy.
"And I'm doing the music!" said Sandy, but the sense
of what she said was lost in the morning when the bell rang.
The overlapping crowds of Swans Junior-Senior High
students began moving towards the main doors with a collective
sigh. "We'll talk more during lunch!" Sydney promised, and
then she and Nancy got up and ran after J.T. and Glory.
Jimmy was left alone with Sandy, who smiled shyly.
"So, erm," he said, "I guess we'll -- I'll -- see you
on Friday?"
"I'll?" she said. "Is Callie going to be there?"
"Whatever," Jimmy said, and then he got up and walked
back towards his bike. He wasn't up to going inside just yet.
* * * * * * * *
The TARDIS was still parked at the Swans Crossing
docks. Callie stood outside of it, eyes closed, enjoying
the feel of the ocean breeze against her face. Her hair
blew in the wind. She could smell strong salty water,
and lots of other hidden smells and fragrances carried out
from all over the Atlantic. She'd been to all those places.
She loved it there.
The Doctor's return had been exactly what she and
her father needed. For the first time in a month, she
felt *normal* again. Fifteen. Happy -- well, as happy as you
could get at fifteen.
So, she was off to school. It wasn't as much fun
as learning with her dad -- but her friends were there now.
Her friends. Who'd have thought?
Well, she'd always had friends. But this was different.
None of her other friends had ever been Jimmy.
* * * * * * * *
The school day was split up into nine class periods, each
of them forty minutes long, with four minutes in between
them. This was a big school, housing six grades. When
he'd first started here two years ago, Jimmy had wanted
to ride his bike through the school corridors -- it'd be a lot
easier, and faster, than walking!
It was fifth period now. Lunch. No enthusiasm here --
school food was drab and tasteless. Pizza (rubbery -- tasted
more microwaved then oven baked) and hamburgers (usually
used as hockey pucks when he and J.T. were feeling frisky)
were the staple meals. Something vaguely lasagna-esque was on
offer today, but Jimmy couldn't be bothered to buy it. When
your dad runs his own restaurant, you don't let yourself suffer
school cuisine. Jimmy brought brown-bagged lunch, prepared
by his dad's kitchen staff the night before.
He found a seat at table all the way at the back of
the room. He kept his back to the main doors. Through
the window, he faced the teachers' parking lot. Students
weren't allowed to leave the building for lunch, but teachers
were. He envied them their freedom.
He opened up his lunch bag and emptied the contents.
But he only had a few seconds to survey them before someone
grabbed his shoulders. It was Sydney. Of course.
"I told you I'd find you!" she said, and sat down
opposite him.
"I didn't know you, um, had lunch this period. I
thought you weren't here until next period."
"Oh, you're right. But our English teacher was
absent this morning, and they couldn't find a sub in time.
So we have a free period. Lovely feeling."
"Well. That's good news. I have Ms. Arnold
ninth period. No class means I can go home early."
"Yes! You can go home and find out if your tuxedo
still fits."
"Oh wait, that's right," said Nancy, who'd sat
down next to him. "You don't *wear* a tuxedo, don't you?"
She put an arm on his shoulder. "Such a rebel! My young
James."
He looked at Sydney for an escape route, but she
wasn't helping. He let the arm linger for as long as was
polite (two or three seconds, but it felt a lot longer),
and then gently shrugged her off.
"Maybe I can have Ralph design a line of tuxedoes
for all the boys at the party. Clayton Chic," said Sydney.
"A black jacket over a white T-shirt. How avant-garde,"
Nancy smirked.
The lunchroom was big, but the walls were closing in.
"Well. I'll be seeing you then," he said. He tactfully
wrapped the remains of his lunch in the tin foil, and left.
"Ta," called out Nancy behind him, but he didn't answer.
* * * * * * * *
Saja and Sandy both had lunch two periods later. Sandy
ate with her friends in the cafeteria. Saja chose to be alone.
She didn't find him until late in the period, sitting cross-legged
outside the building, eyes closed.
She knelt down in front of him. "Guess who?"
He opened his eyes, and looked right at her. "I give up."
She groaned melodramatically. He winked at her. Her
pulse shot up and she felt momentarily dizzy, displaced. She
was not used to this.
"So, um, Saja, have you heard about the big party this
Friday?"
He nodded sagely. "My counsel has been sought for this
festive occasion. I have been communing with warriors past for
advice on how to conduct such an affair of state."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I shall go in costume. I shall adopt the guise of
Bobby DeCastro. Teenage Partygoer."
She frowned at him. "You mean you're not going to be
Saja?"
"To the extent that I am always Saja, I shall not be
Saja for this particular night. A grand costume party!"
"Great," she moaned. "I have nothing to wear. I'll
have to borrow something from Sydney again."
"You misunderstand. I shall be going in costume.
But it is not a costume party."
"Wait. If it's not a costume party... why will you
be going as Bobby?"
"Because it would not be seemly for a Saja to be
seen with a date. But..." he trailed off, and quickly
broke off eye contact.
"Ahhhh," she said. "I get it! You want to go with
a date. To Callie's party."
"You read my mind. My guard must be down."
"If I could read your mind, I'd know who your date
was going to be! Instead, I'm in suspense." Oh please, oh
please, she thought.
He reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a mirror.
He silently flashed it at her. She could see her reflection.
Gah! She was having a bad hair day! No wonder Sydney had
ignored her during homeroom this morning.
Oh. Wait.
"Saja? Do you mean..." Before she could finish
the thought, he winked at her again, replaced the pocket
mirror, stood up, and walked away.
Wow. Wow!
* * * * * * * *
When Jimmy reached his ninth period classroom, a
teacher's briefcase sat on Ms. Arnold's desk, and a cream-
colored jacket was draped over the chair. Not Ms. Arnold's usual
sweater. Shoot! They'd found a sub, this late in the day. No
free period. No getting out of school early.
J.T sat down next to him, not so much by choice but
because Ms. Arnold had arranged the seating in alphabetical
order on the first day of class, and the students were arrayed
such that Adams sat next to Clayton. Callie would have
been on the other side of the room. He turned around to look
at her customary seat. Still empty.
"Aw, rats!" yelled J.T. "I thought for sure we were
getting out early today!"
"It's not like you to want to miss class," Jimmy said.
"What's the matter?"
"Miss class?" said a familiar voice. "Why would two
fine young boys such as yourselves want to remove yourselves
from such a fascinating literature lecture?"
Jimmy and J.T. both wheeled around in their seats
to face the new voice, the familiar Scottish accent.
It was the Doctor.
* * * * * * * *
Callie pulled her bike up next to Jimmy's, and chained
it to the rack. She checked her watch. 1:45. The last period
of the day would have just been starting. She was late for
English. Which was all right -- the current substitute English
teacher at Swans High would be more than willing to forgive her
absence. Indeed, the new substitute English teacher had *caused*
her absence.
She walked through the hallways quickly. Her absence
today may have been excused, but she was still afraid that
one of the administrators would notice her and instantly mete
out punishment. This was her first real school experience since
that woeful year in Jakarta, and she wanted things to go more
smoothly this time.
Fortunately, no-one noticed her. She reached the door,
but didn't go in just yet. Her heart was pounding, and she
closed her eyes, to compose herself. I will not make
eye contact with him. I will walk slowly so I don't trip
out of nervousness. Oh please, don't let me make an embarrassingly
noisy entrance. I am not going to care.
She opened the door and walked into the room.
* * * * * * * *
Predictably, the class stopped short at the late arrival.
Even the Doctor stopped lecturing. The class had been laughing
at something when she opened the door, but stopped abruptly.
Naturally, her desk was all the way across the classroom from
the door, and she felt every eye follow her across the room.
The Doctor surreptitiously winked at her, and then
resumed his lecture. "I'm afraid this interruption has left us in
the lurch, so to speak. We're in between Parts Four and Five
of `The Rime of the Ancient Mariner'. What on Earth do we
do to remedy this incomplete state of affairs?" He rolled
his "R"s to comic effect. The class laughed again.
"Ms. Walker, now that you're here, perhaps you can
enlighten us by reading from Part V. Mr. Clayton had been
doing a valiant job in your absence, so let's give him a rest
and let you take over."
She opened her textbook. She longed for her dad's
glossy edition. She read the verses, a little uncertainly.
She hadn't had to perform since dinner theater in Vienna a few
years back. It didn't help that the Doctor stood directly
over her desk, eyes closed, rapt smile on his face.
"The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew;
The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do;
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools-
We were a ghastly crew."
"All right, let's pause there for a moment. Very
good, Ms. Walker. But what does it all mean?"
"Well," she said. "It's a little weak, isn't it?"
The Doctor frowned. "Weak?"
The class laughed. Disagreements between teacher and
student were the essence of class discussion. They lived for this.
"Well, it's got a nice rhyme scheme. But there's no
real effect to what he's saying, is there? I mean, yes, he's
trying to be terrifying, but there's no humanity here."
"Ms. Walker, this is a poem *about* humanity." The class
laughed again, but the Doctor silenced them with a wave of his hand.
"Well, here's the next verse then," she said. "`The
body of my brother's son / Stood by me, knee to knee.'" We're
more than halfway through the poem, and this is the first time
the Mariner even bothers to tell us he *has* a brother."
"Ms. Walker, the Mariner is alone in the middle of the
world's largest ocean, and he's being surrounded by two hundred
animated corpses. And you're trying to tell us that there's not
*enough* horror?" The class laughed again.
"There's no human element. We don't know who the Mariner
is, what makes him tick. He's a human plot device."
"Exactly!" the Doctor said, as he turned to face the
rest of the class. "A little preachy, isn't Coleridge?"
The Doctor turned back to Callie. A special look.
"Maybe he should have consulted with someone who was there, hm?"
He winked at her. Then he walked across the room,
and laid a kindly hand on Jimmy's shoulder. "And now, Mr. Clayton,
you can resume the narrative for us."
She smiled at him, from across the room. He gave her
a thumb's up sign, and she leaned back happily in her seat. It
was all starting to come together again. She couldn't wait for
the period to end. Then they'd really get to talk. Maybe he'd
kiss her again. She missed that.
TO BE CONTINUED
Let Us Hear From You!
***If you have any comments, questions, suggestions, etc. for Jason, send
them to him at JMILLER6@uoft02.utoledo.edu
Text file Source (historic): geocities.com/hollywood/hills/2262/fanfic
geocities.com/hollywood/hills/2262geocities.com/hollywood/hills
geocities.com/hollywood
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