or_timelords | This could prove to be interesting.

The man's hiding something behind his back. A weapon, obviously. He thinks that Malcolm hasn't noticed, and for now, Malcolm intends to let him go on thinking that. At least until he's reached his desk, or more precisely, the phase pistol he keeps hidden in the top drawer. Trip rolled his eyes when he saw it, but Malcolm knew that it would come in handy some day.

He begins to edge towards his desk, keeping his hands loosely at his sides.

"What are you?" he asks the man. Distraction. And then, a quick shot from the hip. It's worked before.

"Hm, I'm a Time Lord. I doubt you've heard of me. Which century is this, 21st? 22nd? You are human, right?"

And he can see that Malcolm still isn't trusting him. At all. Seriously, he didn't even do anything. He wasn't planning to wake up here.

"I don't mean you any harm. I don't know how I ended up waking up here. I fell asleep in the TARDIS. That's my spaceship. I don't know what happened."

Time Lord. It reminds Malcolm of Daniels and his lot, although they never claimed any sort of temporal rank or title.

It doesn't matter, as it is. There'll be time enough later. He quickly opens the drawer, grabs the pistol and points it at the intruder. It's set to stun, but there's no need for the man to know that.

"What's that behind your back?"

Oh, wonderful, a gun. The Doctor, who is sitting on the edge of the bed, frowns. "Really, Malcolm, this isn't necessary. I don't mean you any harm, you can put the gun away."

When Malcolm asks, the Doctor considers lying about the screwdriver, but he doubts it would help the situation if he did. "A screwdriver. A sonic screwdriver, in fact, very handy little tool. I used it to disable the intercom. Not because I'm planning anything, I was just hoping to be able to skip the whole getting-locked-up-and-having-to-break-out process."

He moves his hands around to his front--very slowly; he doesn't want to give Malcolm a reason to shoot him, that would just be inconvenient--and holds up the screwdriver.

"Just a screwdriver. See?"

Malcolm instinctively takes a step back. The lengthy object does not look like a screwdriver at all. More like a hypospanner, or an injector perhaps. No matter what it is, Malcolm has no intention of allowing it anywhere near him. AT least not while the man's holding it.

"You used it to disable the intercom?"

The man doesn't seem to be lying, but he is quite obviously not to be trusted, and so, of course, Malcolm keeps the phase pistol pointed directly at him. "Hand it over," he orders. "Put it down on the floor, then move away. Slowly."

"I did, yes. I can also fix it with it. But I'd really prefer not to."

When Malcolm suggests he hand over the screwdriver, the Doctor hesitates. He does have spares, but they're back in the TARDIS, and he may not have time to get a new one before he will need the screwdriver again. "Do I have to? It's not a weapon. All it does is--well, it does quite a few things, really, but nothing hurtful. I don't like to hurt people. I would like to keep my screwdriver, though."

"Put it on the floor," Malcolm repeats. The man's rambling is distracting, and he wants him to shut up. No need to antagonize him unnecessarily, though. That thing, whatever it is, could do quite some damage. It might even be rigged to detonate. "Now."

He had really hoped not to have to do this. The man seems distrustful enough as it is. The Doctor's still not quite sure why, although the room does look like military quarters. Military types. They always have to make such a huge fuss about things that could be resolved so very easily.

"Alright, alright. Look, I'm putting it down."

He bends down very slowly. As he does, he turns the screwdriver in his hand so it's pointing in direction of the man's gun. A flick of the switch, and there's another high-pitched whining noise. Unless Malcolm pulled the trigger very quickly, the Doctor just disabled the phase pistol.

Malcolm has been expecting the move, and pulls the trigger as soon as the man flicks his hand.

Nothing happens.

He glances at the "screwdriver" in the man's hand, then back at the pistol. Somehow, this... thing disabled his weapon. And it might well disable him next, quite literally if he's unlucky. Which, in these situations, he tends to be.

"What do you want?" It seems like a reasonable question. After all, the intruder has all the advantages.

Okay, at least there aren't any more hidden guns. The Doctor was worried there might be. He gets up and pockets his screwdriver, then straightens his jacket.

"Nothing. I really don't want anything. I just woke up here, I don't know what happened." He notices the wary look the other man is giving him and sighs, then stretches out his hand in a greeting. "Hello. I'm the Doctor. You're Malcolm Reed. Pleasure to meet you, Malcolm Reed. Are we on a spaceship?"

Malcolm hesitates, then takes a cautious step forward and takes the man's hand. Better to humor him for now. And he does seem rather harmless, except for the ominous title he mentioned, Time Lord. Then again, it seems unlikely that this man is somehow connected to Daniels.

"Yes," Malcolm says. "We're on the Enterprise."

This could prove to be interesting.

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