Premier Division is set after Mark's Cellular Division, which gave a revised ending to The Ancestor Cell.
"Premier Airlines flight 502, this is your Captain speaking. We are now at our cruising altitude of 30,000 feet and will be touching down in New York in a little over four hours. Enjoy your flight and thank you for choosing Premier Airways."
***
Fitz looked about him, taking in the new, yet at the same time vaguely familiar sights. It was different from Compassion, that was for certain.
The Doctor stood by the console, checking reading and displays. He looked over at his young companion.
"It's bound to be a little different, Fitz. It's a type 70, more advanced than my original TARDIS, yet more primitive than Compassion. However, I think I might be able to make it a little more like home."
So saying, he waved his hand in the air like a magician, producing a slim isolinear chip, seemingly out of thin air. He smiled at Fitz, as if expecting a round of applause.
"Very clever," Fitz said, sounding like he thought the exact opposite. "What is that?" He indicated the chip.
"Personality circuit from my original TARDIS. Part of the telepathic circuitry. Should give us a ship that is a bit more like home, rather than whatever Romana could spare from the vintage vehicle museum." He inserted the chip into a waiting slot on the console and stood back.
The lights grew dim and the circular black console, with it's ringed time rotor, started to shimmer. It blurred and reformed as a hexagonal mushroom shape, stark white panels with black switches. The time rotor was now a transparent domed cylinder, full of clicking, turning devices; the function of which Fitz couldn't even guess at.
The Doctor looked round approvingly as the lights came up again. Indented circles covered the walls and doors. The scanner was a flat panel against one wall, currently covered. The Doctor beamed.
"Well, that's a bit more like it. Not as large or gothic as it was, maybe, but still functional and comfortable. What do you think, Fitz?"
"Oh, well, it's very nice, I suppose. Not as dark as before."
"Hmm, that's true. Now, where would you like to go?"
"Earth?" Fitz suggested with a shrug.
The Doctor grinned, nodding so fiercely he set his chestnut curls bouncing. "Excellent idea. Earth here we come." He ran round the reformed console, pushing and flicking the black controls with practised ease. He paused before throwing the last switch, for dramatic effect, Fitz thought.
"Now," the Doctor said, "let's have a cup of tea and see where the TARDIS has put our rooms, shall we?"
***
The automatic guidance controls fizzed and popped, flames licking against the ceiling. The fire suppressant system was obviously offline. Marcot sighed. Could this day get any worse?
As he tried to stabilise the guidance system, a warning light flashed on a nearby board. The engine pod was going into critical overload. Damn! He was going to have to jettison the engine pod, or the entire ship would blow. Yes, the day could get worse.
Marcot slammed his tentacle down on the engine jettison control and felt the explosive bolts separate it from the main part of the ship. At least something was still working. Before all the systems failed, he reached out a tentacle and activated the Mayday beacon, hoping it would be answered in this backwater area of the galaxy before he died of old age.
Now sensors were bleeping for his attention. He swivelled an eyestalk in their direction and was rewarded with the best news so far. There was a planet, close enough to reach before the ship fell apart around him. The Gods were back on his side, it would seem.
All he needed to do now was get the guidance system up and running long enough to input the co-ordinates and fix them into the flight system. Before the whole thing blew up in his face.
He bent to his task, hope welling in his four hearts for the first time that day.
***
"Premier Airlines flight 502, this is your Captain again. Please remain seated. We are passing through an area of turbulence and there is no cause for alarm. Lunch will be served ... What the hell was that? Malcolm, the controls are unresponsive! John, call ground control. Tell them we've been hit by some sort of shock wave and we're ditching. Malcolm, try and..."
***
"How come my room is now two miles from here?" Fitz asked as he and the Doctor re-entered the console room.
"Well, I think you're exaggerating a little there, but we can move it closer, using the internal configuration settings."
A light was flashing for attention on the console. The Doctor pressed a switch and the room was flooded with a rhythmic beeping sound.
"Intergalactic distress signal," the Doctor said, answering Fitz's unasked question. He checked the co-ordinates. "It's entering the Earth's atmosphere. If the heat shield is damaged, it could cause the ship to explode."
"Is there anything you can do?" Fitz asked, knowing there was always something the Doctor could do. His powers of improvisation were a constant source of amazement to Fitz.
"I'll try and land us onboard, as it skims the atmosphere. That way, at least we can check the safety systems. Hang on."
The TARDIS lurched as the Doctor tried to accomplish the tricky manoeuvre. Fitz was glad of the warning, grasping the edge of the console as if his life depended on it.
The domed time rotor slowed it's rise and fall, indicating they were landing.
***
The Doctor and Fitz dashed from the TARDIS, to find themselves the objects of the unbelieving stares of two flight attendants. Normally Fitz would have had a ready quip handy, but he was fresh out.
"We seem to have missed slightly," the Doctor muttered, turning to re-enter the TARDIS. As he was about to cross the threshold, the captain's voice came over the intercom, explaining about the turbulence. Then, as his voice changed in pitch, so did the aircraft. It tilted first upwards, then down at the nose. The floor beneath them was now at a thirty degree angle.
Immediately, the Doctor took charge. "Fitz, help these young ladies get the passengers safely into the TARDIS. I'm going to get the pilots." He disappeared in a swirl of green velvet.
Fitz shrugged at the two stunned women. "You heard him, let's save the world!"
***
Captain Cartwright was struggling to bring his plane back under control when one of the passengers burst through the cabin door. This was all he needed now, panicked passengers up here.
"Please, sir, return to your seat."
The man smiled slightly. "I don't have a seat, but I have a means of escape. My friend is helping get your passengers out of here. You must come with me."
"Don't be ridiculous, man. We'll crash if we leave the controls!"
"You'll crash anyway," protested the man. "You have no choice. If you want to live, come with me."
Malcolm Jenkins, the co-pilot, glanced at Cartwright. "He has a point, sir. There's nothing we can do here. Everything is frozen solid."
John Jacobs, sat behind them, looked at the stranger. "You can get us out of here? All of us?"
The man nodded. "Come with me. You can do no good here."
The two flight crew looked at their captain. He sighed. What other choice did he have? Malcolm was right, the controls were locked up tight. He nodded.
"This would be a very cruel joke to play on dying men," he said to the strange man in velvet.
"Trust me," said the man, leading them away from the cockpit and towards the rear of the craft.
***
"Is everyone aboard, Fitz?" the Doctor asked, strolling into the TARDIS followed by the three bemused members of the cabin crew.
Fitz nodded. "I sent them to the ballroom, thought it was a good holding area for now."
The Doctor grinned. "Excellent thinking, Fitz. I think it's time we were elsewhere." So saying, he pushed a lever and the TARDIS dematerialised from the crashing plane.
***
At 13.02 on the 13th February 2000, Premier Airlines flight 502 from Manchester to New York crashed into the Atlantic Ocean after suffering control failure. Amazingly, there was no loss of life at all.
***
The TARDIS announced it's arrival noisily at La Guardia Airport. Fitz stepped through the door and began ushering bewildered people out into the arrivals lounge. As he did, he noticed for the first time that the craft had once more adopted it's familiar Police Box shape.
It wasn't long before security arrived to look into this new arrival. Thankfully, nearly all the passengers and crew were out of the TARDIS. Fitz called through the double doors for the Doctor.
The Doctor appeared, looking as ever like a mad Edwardian scientist. He grinned at the security man.
"Ah, hello officer. Can I help you?" He held out his hand to the burly man.
"Yeah, you can tell me what the hell is going on here."
"Oh, we've just saved these people from a crashing airliner. Haven't we, Captain Cartwright?"
Cartwright was still looking a little stunned by it all, but he came over to where the Doctor and the security man were talking. The Doctor motioned Fitz back into the TARDIS, to hurry the other passengers out.
"Is this cock and bull story true?" the man asked Cartwright.
"Well, yes," replied the Captain. "We were hit by freak turbulence and the controls locked up. We were about to crash, when the Doctor appeared and took us all aboard his craft. And here we are."
Fitz poked his head out of the TARDIS door and gave the Doctor a thumbs up signal. The Doctor turned and shook hands with Captain Cartwright.
"A pleasure to meet you, Captain. Now, if you'll excuse me, duty calls." He headed back towards the Police Box, pausing to pat the side affectionately before entering.
"Hey, just a damned minute mister," blustered the security man, but the Doctor had already gone. Within seconds, so had the Police Box, amid the same trumpeting roar that had heralded it's arrival.
"Well, I'll be damned," muttered the security man. How was he ever going to write this up into a sensible report?
***
"Where to now, Doctor?" asked Fitz when they were in flight.
The Doctor was studying a particular readout. He looked up at Fitz.
"I think we should find where that alien craft crashed, don't you?"
In all the excitement, Fitz had forgotten the distress call. "Do you think that's what caused that aircraft to crash?"
"Undoubtedly," the Doctor replied. "Those controls were locked up by an ion backwash, which could only have come from close proximity to that craft. Aha!"
"Found something?"
"Yes. The craft crashed down in Iceland. It's mostly intact. We should see if there are any survivors."
The time rotor was just slowing down when the internal door into the depths of the TARDIS opened and a young woman walked through. She had dark brown hair, cut to collar length, an attractive but currently angry face and was wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans.
"Okay, where am I, who are you and what's going on here? Answers in that order, please."
The Doctor gaped at Fitz. "I thought you got rid of all the passengers!"
Fitz looked glumly back at him. "So did I," he replied.
***
"So," said the young woman, "this is actually a fantastically advanced time-space machine, masquerading as an obsolete English call box, and you two travel the universe in it, righting wrongs and fighting monsters."
The Doctor thought for a moment. "A bit simplistic, but basically quite sound," he nodded. "You catch on quickly."
She snorted. "Complete bull!" she exclaimed.
The Doctor looked like he had just been slapped. "But you've been wandering in the corridors of the TARDIS all this time. You must admit it's bigger inside than out."
"A clever optical illusion," she said grudgingly. "Now, if the plane has been stabilised, I'd like to return to my seat."
The Doctor frowned. "Flight 502 crashed into the ocean. We left your fellow passengers at the airport, which is where we'll take you when we've discovered if the spacecraft that caused the crash had any survivors."
"Little green men from Mars, are they?"
"I doubt it," the Doctor replied. "The energy signature indicated Narcosian technology rather than Martian. By the way, the people of Mars are not little, though they are green. Not a bad guess. Ah, Fitz. Any more unexpected house guests?"
"No, she's the only one," Fitz replied. "I found this in the ballroom, though," he reported, handing the Doctor a piece of hand luggage.
"Hey, that's mine!" said the young woman.
The Doctor read the name tag. Sheryl Whitehead. Then he handed the bag over.
"Then we had better check the crash site," the Doctor said, pressing the door release mechanism. He looked across at Sheryl. "You had best stay here, Miss Whitehead. And please don't touch anything." So saying, he and Fitz left the console room.
***
The Doctor stood beside the hatch of the downed spaceship, playing his sonic screwdriver over the locking mechanism. It popped open and the Doctor beamed at Fitz.
"After you," he said, indicating Fitz should go first.
"No chance. Remember that tomb on Triton?"
The Doctor frowned. "I suppose you're right." He led the way into the craft, swinging his pencil torch around the small ship until he found the pilot.
"Is it alive?" Fitz asked as the Doctor examined the octopod.
"Yes, but in a coma. We have to get him to advanced medical facilities, and quickly." He scooped up the alien, set a couple of controls on a panel and urged Fitz out of the craft.
Their first sight was Sheryl, standing outside the TARDIS, gazing about herself in awe.
"This isn't flight 502," she said.
"No," the Doctor replied. "It's a beach on Iceland, same time period, different spacial location. Now, I suggest you get back in the TARDIS quickly, as that spaceship behind us is about to self-destruct and this Narcosian is rather heavy."
The TARDIS dematerialised from the beach, just as the crashed spaceship destroyed itself spectacularly.
***
"How's the patient?" asked Fitz as the Doctor came strolling down the corridor of the Bi-Al Foundation.
"On the mend," the Doctor replied. "His name is Marcot and he's very grateful to us." He turned to the young woman beside Fitz. "Now, Sheryl, it's time we got you home."
She shook her head. "Look, I may be making the biggest mistake of my life right now, but you proved me wrong. You can travel in space and time after all. And, if you don't mind, I'd like to join you."
The Doctor pretended to ponder for a moment, then grinned and held out his hand. "Welcome aboard, Sheryl."
She grinned too and returned the handshake. "Just one rule though," she said.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Oh yes?"
"It's Sheri. I can't stand the name Sheryl."
"Very well, Sheri it is. Now, let's see what trouble we can find." So saying, he, Fitz and their new companion, Sheri, entered the TARDIS, heading off towards their next adventure.
