Extract from Observations and Analysis, A Journal - by Nyssa of Traken:
I have begun writing this as a way of recording my observations while travelling aboard the TARDIS, to help order my thoughts and analysis of these experiences. My father always told me an able scientist needs to be an impartial observer when conducting experiments and I have decided to see whether such an approach will help me attain an understanding of the worlds I visit beyond the purely scientific. I am aware, of course, that no one person can be an impartial observer of their own life. My recording and subsequent analysis of any and all experiences will be inevitably coloured by my own perceptions and involvement. I cannot guarantee to be a reliable narrator of events, nor even claim to possess a full understanding of them.
(My travels with the Doctor thus far have shown even he frequently finds the ordering of experience and reality a frustrating endeavour.) Nevertheless, I am determined to do my best.
There is another reason for keeping this journal, I must confess - I am lonely. Since joining the TARDIS, this vast craft housed within a small outer shell has been filled with the sound of voices and arguments, laughter and even tears. But now it is all too empty. One of my travelling companions is dead, killed trying to prevent a cataclysm that proved to be historical fact. Adric's sacrifice seems to have been without reason or positive effect, making his loss all the more haunting. I keep expecting him to come running around a corner, some notation clutched in his hand, those eager eyes sparkling in anticipation of sharing the idea with the Doctor or myself. He was a loud, boisterous presence who could be trying, petulant and precocious - but he was my friend, all the same. I miss him more than I ever thought possible, perhaps because he was taken from us so abruptly, so unexpectedly. I can find no logic or purpose behind his passing, but I fervently believe his memory will always be with me - for good and for ill.
Just as I was coming to terms with that loss, Tegan has also gone, back in her own time and space. After being a quartet for so long, it is strange to travel with just the Doctor for company. We can have many fascinating scientific discussions - his depth and range of knowledge is the accumulation of several lifetimes - but I must confess to finding it difficult to relax in his company. At least, not like I could with Tegan. She was the elder sister I never had, a willing listener when I was troubled. We often shared our fears, finding each other a comfort when Adric became too trying to be near. I know one should not speak ill of the dead, but that boy could be quite annoying. He was close in age to me but surprisingly lacking in maturity. (Or perhaps I am mature beyond my years? Of this I am hardly the best judge, so it should remain as mere speculation.)
Perhaps my upbringing was to blame for the differences between us. I was raised by my father, Tremas. He tried to instil in me what he considered the best qualities of our people - patience, tolerance, inquisitiveness, a wish for harmony and tranquillity. Adric would best typify only one of those qualities, I think. But he had others to recommend him, such as loyalty and a boundless enthusiasm. He certainly had a capacity to irritate Tegan beyond what she could stand, but then they were too much alike. They were both insecure about themselves and their role within the TARDIS. Perhaps she saw a younger, more gauche version of herself in him? But she is gone now and I can no longer ask her. Even if I could, I doubt Tegan would agree with my assessment. Still, it would almost be worth asking, just to see the look on her face. But all of this is a digression.
There was a third reason that prompted the beginning of this journal, an event earlier today that I must record and try to make sense of. Today is a relative term while travelling in the TARDIS. When you journey through time and space, the passing of a day is notional at best. That is not to say time stands still within these walls. All the passengers continue to age at whatever rate is normal for their kind. If I were still on Traken, today would be what Tegan called my birthday - the anniversary of the day I was born. For her people such events were to be celebrated, often with the giving of gifts. Before her abrupt departure, she had even talked about organising an event for me.
Instead, today simply marks the passage of more time with just the Doctor for company. He reminds me in some small ways of my father, but our relationship is very different. It is hard to imagine the Doctor spontaneously embracing me as a gesture of affection. He is too self-conscious for that, too aware of the role he feels he must play. He keeps me at arm's length, more so since the loss of Adric, almost as if he were afraid of becoming too emotionally attached to me.
How many others have travelled with him in the TARDIS, I wonder? How many times has he had to say goodbye or to grieve for the loss of a friend? The Doctor's kind are able to regenerate their bodies, taking on a new physical form and personality while retaining all their memories and experience. In effect, he can live for hundreds, even thousands of years as we measured them on Traken. By comparison the lifespan of his companions must seem terribly brief and ephemeral to him. Perhaps it is no wonder he finds it difficult to become close. The loss of a loved one can be emotionally shattering. What must it be like to spend your lives with people, knowing they are doomed to die long before you? Perhaps even to know the manner and moment of their death? Such knowledge must be a terrible burden. I wonder if the Doctor has such knowledge about my future life? Would he share it with me if I asked? I doubt it.
If my father were here, he would suggest that all of this speculation was a form of emotional transference - a rationalisation for my reluctance to become emotionally involved. And perhaps he would be right. I must admit to myself I am lonely and take steps to do something about that loneliness. Unlike Tegan, I cannot go home again. Traken was destroyed by a dark field of entropy unleashed by the same individual who took my father's life. I suppose I could ask the Doctor to take me back to the planet at a time before its destruction, but there seems little point now. Traken is as dead to me now as my father.
With Adric dead and Tegan gone, I have never been more alone. At least that was what I believed - until the ghost appeared...
It was John who first noticed the disappearance of James. 'Where did he go? Where is he?' John called to his elder brother. Both lads had seen the younger boy swimming back to where their clothes were discarded on the riverbank. All three shirts were still there. So where was their brother?
'James, if you're hiding in the bushes, come out now and I won't tan your hide myself!' Josiah called out. 'James?'
'Josiah, you don't think he...' John's words trailed off, worried that if he gave voice to what he was thinking it might come true.
The eldest brother was biting his bottom lip, concern etched into his expression. 'There are strong undercurrents, even in this stretch. Sometimes the stones get shifted. He could be trapped underwater, unable to get back to the surface...'
John could feel a wave of panic rising in his stomach, a sickening hollowness. 'Dad will kill us if anything happens to James!'
Josiah had already reached the same conclusion. 'Come on!' He began swimming as fast as he could towards the riverbank, his arms thrashing through the water. John followed. Once near the edge, they began diving down to the bottom of the river, straining to spot their brother through the silt and debris. After a few seconds John resurfaced, took a deeper breath and dived once more. The pair of them dived repeatedly without success.
Eventually John gave up, his teeth chattering, his breath coming in brief gasps. 'It's no use, it's no use,' he cried. 'We should never have come here. This place, it is cursed!'
'Maybe he ran home as a joke,' Josiah replied. 'Maybe the current carried him downstream. He's probably walking back up the path now to get his shirt.'
John shook his head. 'You don't believe that any more than I do.'
Josiah sneered at his brother. 'Stop snivelling! If we can't find James, we can't go home - you understand that, don't you?'
John nodded helplessly, then twitched involuntarily. 'What was that?'
'What?' Josiah demanded.
'Something touched my foot - I felt it!' John peered down into the shallows.
Josiah was already diving down past his brother's legs. John hastily sucked in a deep breath of air and followed. For a few seconds he could see nothing. Then, between some rocks at the edge of the river, John thought he could see a hand reaching out. Josiah motioned for John to help him. They grasped at the twitching fingers, getting a firm grip on the limb. Together they pulled and tugged with all their might.
Just as John thought his lungs would burst, the rocks around the arm began to fall away. The two brothers were able to swim upwards, still holding on to the convulsing hand. The pair broke the surface, followed a second after by James, all three of them panting and spitting out mouthfuls of river water. John struggled to keep hold of his younger brother, the boy flailing at him with clenched fists. Strange, guttural sounds were issuing from James's snarling mouth, inarticulate in word and phrase but full of threat.
'For the love of God, stop it!' Josiah commanded, slapping James across the face. The boy reacted with shock, his eyes ablaze with anger. Then the pupils rolled back behind his eyelids and James was unconscious, his body becoming a dead weight in the water.
'Josiah! What have you done?' John demanded. The sun had disappeared behind the high hills and twilight was fast drawing in, bringing a sudden drop in temperature.
'Help me get him to the riverbank,' Josiah commanded. Together they got James to the water's edge. John clambered out first and pulled the boy up and out by one arm. Josiah joined him and they began slapping James on the face, trying to awaken their brother.
John could feel panic rising within himself again, a sick dread clawing at his insides. What would they do if James was dead? How would they explain to their parents? The youngest sibling was their father's favourite, the baby of the family. John had always been jealous of the attention his younger brother received and took any opportunity to exact that frustration on James. Now he looked down at the boy's ashen, lifeless face and wished he could take it all back.
The young boy's eyes blinked and then opened fully as James breathed in at last. 'I saw him, I talked to him,' he whispered.
'Who?' Josiah asked.
'Grandfather. He was there to welcome me. I saw him!'
'James, what are you talking about? Grandfather is dead, he has been for years. You can't have -'
'You're wrong. He was waiting there for me. He reached out and took my hand. He was going to be my guide.'
'Guide? To where?'
James sat upright, his breathing quicker now. 'The Other Side. The next life. I saw him, he was there.'
'James, you're not making any sense!'
'He told me you wouldn't understand, wouldn't believe me. But it's true, all of it.' James reached a shaking hand up to the side of his head. 'I can hear them talking in here. All those who have passed over.'
'Passed over?' John asked, not understanding any of this.
James just nodded. 'They want me to speak for them, to spread the word. Then, when the time is right, I have to go back.'
'Go back?'
'To the Other Side!'
Josiah grabbed James by the shoulders and began to shake him violently. 'James, will you shut up! You can't talk about things like this, you'll get us all in trouble!'
James smiled at his brothers. 'If only you could see what I have - you would understand. You would know. This, all of this -' the boy glanced around himself at the falls, the trees on the hillsides - 'it's just one world. There is another world beyond this.'
Josiah lashed out, slapping James across the face. He was about to strike his brother again but John prevented him. 'Josiah, no! Leave him!'
James began coughing. 'I - I -' The boy collapsed sideways, silt-laden water dribbling from the side of his mouth.
Josiah bent over James but could not revive the boy.
'It's no use. He's gone again,' Josiah muttered. He stood up and began pulling on his clothes. 'I'm going to get Dr Kirkhope - maybe he can find what's wrong with James.'
'What about me? What do I do?' John cried.
'Stay with him. Don't let him out of your sight.' Josiah began running the long track back to the village, his footfalls soon lost in the sounds of the surrounding trees.
John pressed an ear against James's chest. He could hear the faintest of rattles inside, along with an unsteady thumping noise. Good, James was still alive. That was something. But what had he been babbling about? John struggled to remember his grandfather, a kindly old gentleman who had only visited them once before dying. Why was James talking as if they had just spoken? It couldn't be right, what the boy was saying - could it? John realised he was shivering and pulled on his shirt, the fabric clinging to the dampness on his back. It would be dark soon and they had already stayed out far too long for their father's liking. A sound thrashing awaited them when they got home. But that was the least of John's worries.
He looked into the water from where they had rescued James. What had happened down there? James should be dead, by rights. He had been under the water far too long. John had seen the pasty white and blue faces of drowning victims before. But his brother was still alive. How was such a thing possible?
