Chapter Text
Part Two: Planet of the Chipmunks
"We're here!" the Doctor announced proudly, dashing down the ramp to halt just before the doors. Assuming his best Rod Serling accent and stance, he said: "Submitted for your approval: beyond these doors, a new world awaits. A unique planet guaranteed to brighten even the sourest disposition. Case in point: one Donna Noble, a human woman well deserving a break."
Donna shot him an odd look.
"Why are you talking like that?"
The Doctor's expression fell into a wounded pout.
"It's Rod Serling."
Donna's expression remained completely blank.
"Rod Sterling? Who's Rod Sterling? Is that supposed to be some kind of alien reference, because you know I'm new to all this space stuff."
"Alien—?" The Doctor did a startled double take, then his eyes widened in understanding. "Ah— Wait. Don't tell me. You've never seen 'The Twilight Zone'."
"The…?"
"'The Twilight Zone'," he repeated. "It's a classic television series, from Earth, circa 1960s. Rod Serling narrated it, and also wrote many of the episodes."
Donna scrunched her forehead.
"'The Twilight Zone'…," she mused. "An' you're sure it's from Earth?"
"From the US, yeah."
"Hm..." Donna rubbed her chin. "Would it be that old black-and-white thing, then? The one with the irritating de-de-de-de theme song?"
The Doctor frowned.
"Possibly. Although with that description, you could be referring to any number of old black-and-white programs."
Donna shrugged, clearly no longer caring.
"Then no. I don't think I ever watched it."
"Never ever?"
"Science fiction? 'S really not my 'thing,'" she told him in an exaggerated stage whisper, as if imparting a piece of common knowledge to an outsider who was rather slow on the uptake. "I never watched Star Tracks either. You know, the one with Darth Vader? Or that show about that genius bloke who hops about in time fixin' stuff… God, I can never remember the name of that one… Doctor Quantum? Outer Leap? It wasn't 'Red Dwarf', I know that much at least. Had a boyfriend once – was obsessed with that show, he was. Never cared for it myself, though. Highly evolved talking cats? 'S jus' not realistic."
The Doctor winced and pinched his nose as if in pain.
Donna frowned, starting to grow impatient.
"Doctor?" she said, crossing her arms when no immediate response was forthcoming. "Oi, Doctor!"
He looked up, and it was obvious now he'd been smothering a laugh. He coughed slightly before he could respond, much to his companion's irritation.
"Yes, Donna?"
She gestured with her thumb.
"So, uh, did you intend to open this door, or were you plannin' to wait?" she said with a sardonic jut of her chin. "'Cause I don't know about you, but I've got better things to do with my time than standin' in doorways making obscure television references to shows that aired back in the Dark Ages, an'—"
"Donna!" the Doctor interrupted, raising a hand then using it to gesture to the doors. He smiled. "Ladies first."
Donna gave a slight huff, and thrust the TARDIS doors open.
Following her out into the bright, alien afternoon, the Doctor took in a deep breath of warm, sweet-scented air and his smile widened into a cocky grin. Oh yes, he'd landed right on the dot. This was going to be fun.
*******
The town center was small and quaint, and absolutely deserted. Donna looked around at the narrow shops, the sparkling fountains, her eyes lingering on the trees that lined the walkways: thin and tall with smooth, bone-white trunks and sharply pointed silvery-pink leaves that complimented the pale green stone facing of the buildings.
"Definitely alien," she commented, shivering slightly when she saw that, instead of the blue she'd expected to see, the sky was a bright golden color. "Where is everyone?"
"Must be lunchtime," the Doctor said, glancing up at the clock tower standing like a patient sentry watching over the empty streets. In place of hands and numbers, the clock's octagonal face featured clusters of tiny glowing dots that sparkled in particular patterns to tell the time. "It's the custom round here to take a few hours off work at about midday, go home, have some food, relax a bit, then head back to work about threeish. Listen…" He tilted his head and smiled. "Hear that?"
Donna shrugged.
"Sounds like someone's got the radio playing." She cleared her throat, then frowned and cleared it again. "That's odd… Erm, is it just me, or does my voice sound different to you?"
The Doctor pressed a finger to his lips.
"Shhh," he said.
"Don't 'shush' me—" she started, then swallowed, her eyes widening slightly. "Now I'm certain of it!" she exclaimed. "Listen! Listen to my voice! It's gettin' higher. I sound like a ruddy cartoon! What's going on here? What's happening to me?!"
"Donna, I'll explain if you just calm down—"
"Oh my God!" She backed away, pointing at the Time Lord with accusing apprehension. "You've got it too! What kind of planet did you bring me too! Oh no – don't tell me – the atmosphere's toxic! Our throats are constricting, that's what it is!" She rubbed anxiously at her neck. "Oh, God, I can feel it…the poison's eatin' away my lungs!"
"No, no, no, there's no poison, it's—" the Doctor tried, but Donna was too absorbed in her own panic to listen.
"Of all the ways I thought I'd die, I never imagined this. Suffocated on an alien world because my brilliant alien guide was too stupid to land his bleedin' spaceship on a planet with a breathable atmosphere! Ten pounds is never worth this. Oh, I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die soundin' like..." she sniffled, "...like a chipmunk!"
The Doctor couldn't help it. Listening to her dramatics in that squeaky, high-pitched voice was just too hilarious. He doubled over, clutching his ribs to keep the giggles from splitting his sides. His laughter was like the chittering of a squirrel, which only made him laugh harder.
"An' now he's gone mad," Donna squeaked.
The Doctor struggled to straighten up and catch his breath, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
"No, no, it's not what you think," he piped in his newly cartoonish voice, fighting to keep his smirking mouth under control. "Well, you're right that it is the atmosphere causing this effect, but it isn't toxic. At least, not in the short run."
Donna opened her mouth, but the Doctor interrupted her.
"No, Donna, listen. It's helium! 'S just helium!"
"What?"
"The atmosphere here, it's laced with helium," he explained.
"What the hell is helium!" she squealed, too panicked to think clearly.
"'S one of the six 'noble' gases," he quipped, "found in Group 18 of your periodic table. After hydrogen, it's the second most abundant and the second lightest element in the universe, with an atomic weight of only—"
Seeing she wasn't following, he stopped himself in mid-babble and tried again.
"Oh, you know, it's that gas you use to fill party balloons and make them float," he said. "That's all it is, Donna. The concentration here is just enough to mildly affect your voice. It's not permanent, and it's not – hear me? – not toxic."
"Not toxic?" she repeated, starting to calm down.
"No," he assured her. "So just relax! This is supposed to be a fun trip, remember?"
"Fun, right..."
She nodded, her brow furrowed as she came to terms with the situation.
Satisfied that she was finally coming around, the Doctor glanced down the street, where he thought he'd spied some motion, only to gasp in alarm when a sudden SLAP assaulted his cheek.
"Yow!" he peeped. "What the—"
"Why the hell didn't you just tell me!" Donna roared, her flushed face and blazing eyes only making her high-pitched voice seem more comical. "You let me carry on like a lunatic – you let me 'believe' I was going to die – an' you just—"
"If you recall," the Doctor corrected rather sharply, "I never said the atmosphere here was toxic. That was all you. If you had listened to me from the beginning, there would have been no need to panic. Now, come on. I think the Helias are on their way back to the shops. The best time to find bargains is when they're still lazy from their meal."
"The Helias?" Donna frowned. "Yeah. And what are they like? Six-foot koalas? Fifty-stone chimps?"
The Doctor shot her a look.
"Hardly," he said dryly. "I should tell you, though… Remember that radio you thought you heard earlier?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
"Well, it wasn't a radio," he told her. "That's how the Helias communicate. They don't talk the way that we do. Rather, they sing every word and phrase."
"You're kidding."
"No, I'm serious!" the Doctor assured her. "Every person who speaks adds to the greater harmony of the conversation. Once it gets going, it's really quite beautiful."
"An' me?" Donna asked warily. "Will they expect me to sing?"
"The Helias here are quite familiar with tourists. They'll appreciate you trying, but you don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."
He smiled and looked up.
"Ah, and here they are now! Let's go say hello!"
*******
The Helias were slender, fragile-looking humanoids with long fingers and very round black eyes. They dressed in light, flowing fabrics that only barely concealed the fact that their bodies were covered in a very soft, fine, fair fur that grew slightly longer and bushier at the tops of their heads. Their mouths were surprisingly wide, and even wider when they smiled, their noses straight and long, and their ears, which were about the size of dinner plates, rested flat against the sides of their heads. Many of the Helias, men and women alike, adorned their ears with small jeweled studs and delicate gold and sliver chains that jingled pleasantly as they moved, adding a gentle bell-like tinkle to their complex song.
"They're beautiful," Donna gasped as they strolled down the high street, admiring the Helias' wares and sniffing the enticing aromas of alien street food. "So graceful. And their voices— 'S like listenin' to angels singing! Little chipmunk angels."
"They have the helium to thank for that," the Doctor told her. "Take a Helia off Helios an' his voice would be deeper than mine. Well, I mean mine the way it is normally, not as it is now, all squeaky and cartooney."
Donna smirked.
"I don't know, I think I rather prefer it this way," she teased. "Makes it much easier to bear when you start spoutin' on about this or that."
"I could say the same about you," the Doctor retorted, only to earn one of Donna's patented glares. He laughed.
"So, Donna," he said. "Here we are. A nice peaceful day on a nice peaceful planet jus' browsin' the shops. Is it everything you wanted?"
"An' you promise there's no, like, repressed group of revolutionaries hidin' in the sewers ready to invade, no monstrous supercomputer network controllin' everyone's minds, nothin' dangerous or alien lurking behind the scenes jus' waiting to cause trouble and try to kill us?"
"Absolutely nothing of the sort. All is as you see it."
"Well, then..." Donna sniffed. "Yeah, I'd say you got it just about right. An' it's about time too," she added.
"Then you won't mind paying for supper!"
The Doctor smiled, leading her across the street toward a small, though rather elegant-looking restaurant with an outdoor seating area.
Donna frowned.
"Come again?"
The Doctor's smile stretched into a grin.
"Oh yes," he said, taking a long whiff of the air. "I've got a hankering for a slice of rhumbo-manna meat pie, and I'd think that ten quid you owe me should just cover the bill."
The End