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Chapter Text

Drolemitaybdekcirtsawi: A Name Is A Name Is A Name
By Rowena Zahnrei

It was a perfectly lovely day on Yggiz Tsudrats. The red suns shone brightly in the lilac sky, the grass blades glinted a clear, crystalline turquoise, and the twittertoads were twerting in the klerb roots. The breeze wafting up from the purple sea was salty-sweet, warmed by the rich scent of wild knimflell berries. And high, high up on a rocky ledge, overlooking the pale, pink sand that hugged the coast, the Doctor and Rose Tyler were having an argument.

"No," Rose insisted, shaking her head. "No, I can't do it. I won't."

"But I told you, it's perfectly safe," the Doctor coaxed. "Come on. You just lift one foot, and then–"

"No, it's too far, even with the low gravity." Rose took a step back from the edge. "But if you want to have a go on your own, you're welcome to it."

The Doctor sighed, a hint of exasperation–or it could have been pleading–creeping into his tone.

"Well, what if we moved to a lower ledge?" he tried. "Would you make the jump with me then?"

Rose pursed her lips and glanced around, her eyes seeking out a ledge some twenty feet below the one they were on.

"I might," she allowed, but before the Doctor's happy grin could spread too wide, she added, "on one condition."

The Time Lord's smile sagged.

"What is it?"

Now it was Rose's turn to smile, her dark eyes twinkling naughtily as she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

"You have to tell me your name."

The Doctor rolled his head back and groaned, raking his hands through his unruly brown hair.

"You know my name," he said. "I've told you my name. I'm the Doctor. That's who I am. The Doctor. No less, no more, no further."

"That's not good enough," Rose said stubbornly.

"Well, it'll just have to be," the Doctor retorted, just as stubborn. "Because that's the only name I can give you."

Rose's dark eyes flashed with frustration, and she turned away, striding purposefully through the ankle-length grass crystals back towards the sweeping silicate branches of the intricate tree-top village.

"Right," she huffed. "Then I vote we ditch these pink cliffs and head back to the shops. The smell of those berries is makin' me hungry."

"Rose! Rose, wait!" the Doctor whined, running after her to catch her gently by the arm. She glanced up at him, her expression expectant, but carefully composed. The Time Lord shot her a look.

"Why is this such a big thing with you?" he asked. "It's just a name."

"Exactly," Rose retorted. "It's just a name. So why won't you tell me what it is?"

The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples with his hands. Rose just waited, her arms crossed over her brightly colored jacket.

"Rose," he said at last. "Sit down."

"What, on the grass crystals?"

The Doctor sighed and shrugged off his long overcoat, spreading it out on the oddly flexible blue grass.

"Better?"

"Only if you join me," she smiled, taking his hand and pulling him down beside her. The Doctor looked at her for a long time, a debate clearly raging behind his brown eyes, but Rose was willing to wait him out. Finally, the Time Lord lowered his head with a sad, grudging smile.

"I used to have another name," he said quietly. "A real name. It was a very, very…oh, such a very long time ago. The name was very long, very old, and very pompous, and it didn't fit me at all. At least, I never felt it fit me. I hated it, in fact. I hated it so much, I didn't even protest that awful nickname they gave me at school."

Rose laughed in delight.

"You had a nickname at school?"

"Oh, yes," the Doctor nodded. "And it was awful. Really embarrassing."

Rose grinned, her eyes bright with wicked interest.

"What was it?"

"You promise you won't use this against me?"

Rose rolled her eyes.

"Doctor, come on. Who would I tell?"

The Doctor made a face, but finally admitted, "Theta. It was Theta Sigma" (1).

Rose looked terribly disappointed.

"What, that's it? Theta Sigma? Not Bonehead or Stinky Stilton or anythin' like that?"

"Why, do you think I stink?"

"No, no, it's jus'…" Rose shook her head. "Theta Sigma. It jus' sounds so, I don't know. Not like an insult, anyway."

"Yeah, well..." The Doctor shrugged. "It was. But even that was better than my real name. At least, that's what I thought at the time."

"So what was it, then?" Rose asked eagerly. "Wait, wait, I know. I bet it was, like, the Time Lord equivalent of somethin' really posh, really high-brow, like, Cuthbert Wilberforce Percival Belfridge III or somethin.' Yeah?"

The Doctor snickered.

"Actually, you're not far off," he said. "But no, it was all one long string of syllables. I was a member of a very old House, you see. My whole Family had the most terrible names" (2).

"And…?" Rose prompted.

"And…" the Doctor said, "I lost mine."

Rose shook her head.

"Come again?"

"I lost it," he said again. "It's gone. I don't have it anymore."

Rose stared.

"You can't just lose a name," she said. "It's not like an earring or a pocketful of loose change. It's a word."

"It's a label," the Doctor corrected. "A title given to an individual to mark him or her out from everyone else. And titles can be retracted. Or renounced."

Rose furrowed her brow.

"So, what are you sayin'? That you renounced your name?"

The Doctor looked away, sniffing in a deep breath through his nose.

Rose frowned.

"But…why?" she asked. "Why would you do that?"

"I left." The Doctor's voice was sad and quiet, and he didn't turn his eyes from the sky. "I ran away. I broke my Prydonian Vows, renounced my position in Time Lord society. I abandoned my Family, my House, and my people, and went off on my own. And in a society obsessed with 'non-interference,' that was a cardinal sin." (3).

"…Prydonian…?"

"Yeah." The Doctor's voice was distant, and a little wry. "It's sort of like a College at Oxford, or one of those boarding school Houses. At least, that's probably the nearest Earth equivalent."

"Like Gryffindor at Hogwarts, you mean?"

The Doctor slid his eyes to her, and now it was obvious he was suppressing a smirk.

"No, not Gryffindor. There was actually a House like Gryffindor at the Academy, but it was made up of the most awful prats. Straight-laced, unthinkingly obedient little clones, slimy would-be politicians, all of them roaming about the place with such a smug air of superiority–"

"Not at all like you, then," Rose commented, her expression teasing. The Doctor didn't seem to notice.

"Nothing like," he asserted. "My lot, we were more the science-minded types. Chemistry, temporal and quantum physics, genetics… The building blocks of the universe. We felt it our job to question. Three of us in particular–we challenged the comfortable status quo, thinking thoughts and tinkering with experiments that made many Time Lords very nervous."

"Those three–was that you and your mates, then?"

The Doctor shrugged absently.

"At the time, I suppose… I was the youngest, the other two largely ignored me unless they needed me. Ignored each other as well. They were like that, even then, very self-absorbed. But I never guessed…"

He sighed, looking out at the purple horizon.

Rose frowned.

"Guessed what?" she prompted.

"My 'mates,' as you called them, would become my two most terrible enemies. The Master and the Rani. That's what they called themselves. That's the kind of House I was in. Not unlike the ancient Roman house of the Claudians, it was said to produce two kinds of fruit. The sweet and the bad." He almost smiled. "There were many Prydonian Presidents, though. More than that Gryffindor-y group could boast. That's because we Prydonians could look beyond tradition. Think for ourselves."

"Ah," Rose nodded. "Could it be a touch of House pride still lingers, Doctor?"

"Nothing wrong with that," he said, turning to face her.

Rose looked thoughtful.

"So," she said slowly, "if we're still goin' with the Harry Potter analogy, that would make you a member of, what? Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw always seemed so bland… But then it's just Slytherin left. Oh," she made a face. "Oh, don't tell me you're Slytherin!"

"Hey," the Doctor protested. "Some of the most complex and interesting characters to come out of that series were from Slytherin House. Harry was nearly sorted into Slytherin."

"Yeah, but he chose Gryffindor."

"And I chose to roam around the universe in a blue box rescuing planets and repeatedly saving your violent, ape-like race from its own short-sighted blunders. What does that make me, then, eh?"

He slumped his shoulders slightly, resting his chin on his knees.

"Slytherin's really not the best analogy, anyway. The Oxford one's far better. Or Cambridge. I always did like Cambridge. Especially in the spring. Or autumn." He smiled slightly, his eyes distant with memory. "So many colors."

Rose nodded slowly, shooting him a rather suspicious look.

"Riiight," she drawled, deciding it was up to her to get the conversation back on track. "So you were a questioner an' a rebel an' you challenged authority, yeah? An' authority didn't like that, so you swanned off, as usual. Is that it?"

"Well, I wouldn't phrase it exactly like that…" the Doctor sniffed.

"Yeah, but that's it, isn't it," Rose smiled. "I can just see it–the young Doctor shakin' things up, fightin' the establishment…"

"Actually, I looked quite the old man when I left," the Doctor told her, his lips twitching despite himself. But then he sighed and turned his gaze to the purple sea.

"I'm glad I did it," he said. "Even now…"

He slid his eyes back to her, his expression lit softly by the ghost of a smile.

"The Time Lords would have held a very low opinion of this, you know. What we're doing now. You and me, sitting here together, listening to the crash of the purple waves. They were such a stodgy lot. They kept life at a distance, analyzing it objectively through computers and books and the odd field study. But me…" He chuffed a soft laugh. "I always had to make things personal. I wanted to explore, to get involved, to experience life first hand. They invited me back, you know. The Time Lords. Several times. But I always turned them down."

Rose furrowed her brow.

"But…if they invited you back, does that mean they forgave you for leavin'?"

The Doctor gave a thin lipped smile.

"Some of them did," he said. "Others…never. I was the infamous Prydonian renegade–a dangerous streak of chaos in their perfectly ordered world. They hated me, and everything I stood for. But they needed me…in the end. They always needed me."

"What about your family?" Rose asked. "Did you ever make it up with them?"

"In a way…I suppose," the Doctor said distantly. "I went back to them once, when I was on my seventh incarnation. That was the first time I truly realized how much they'd resented what I'd done. I was dead to them, had been dead to them for centuries. They'd even gone so far as to arrange for my replacement. But I helped them out of some trouble, and things got better after that. Well, I say better… They were still angry. But you know how it is with Families" (4).

"So, they never gave you back your name?"

"More like I never asked," the Doctor shrugged. "Didn't matter anyway. I wasn't the same man who'd left them all those centuries ago. The name he'd abandoned was no longer mine to claim. Besides, I'd made my own name by then. A name I'd earned. Independently, and in my own way."

"The Doctor..." Rose smiled.

"The Doctor," he repeated, finally turning his head to look her directly in the eye. "So, now you know."

Rose started to nod, but then she frowned.

"No, I don't," she said. "You still haven't told me what the name was."

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"Rose–"

"Please?" she pleaded. "'S not like I'll ever use it. I probably won't even be able to pronounce it. But I'd like to know, Doctor. Unless…" She shot him a searching glance. "You do remember it, don't you, Doctor?"

"Of course I remember it," the Time Lord retorted. "I had to answer to that awful name for the first three centuries of my life!"

"Well then?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"You, Rose Tyler," he said, "are quite possibly the most annoyingly persistent human being I have ever come across."

"Thanks," Rose grinned. "The name, please?"

"It isn't mine, I told you! I don't have any right to– Wait."

The Doctor paused for a moment, apparently considering. Then, surprisingly, he chuckled.

"All right, then," he said. "You want a name, you've got one. But if I'm to do this, you have to promise you'll jump off the cliff with me. And not that little wussy one, either. I mean the fifty-eight foot ledge we just left." He shot her a look of pure challenge. "So, Miss Tyler? What's it gonna be?"

Rose glanced back the way they'd come with a reluctant wince.

"If you'd rather we head back to the shops…"

"No," Rose interrupted quickly. "No, OK. I'll jump off that cliff with you. Jus' tell me the name already!"

"Yeah, I will," the Doctor said. "But remember, you asked for this."

"Doctor," Rose stretched the word like taffy. "Will you quit stallin' and spill it!"

The Doctor grinned.

"Drolemitaybdekcirtsawi."

Rose tilted her head.

"Come again?"

"Drolemitaybdekcirtsawi," he repeated, completely straight faced. "Now you try it."

"Drole–sorry, what was it?"

"Drolemitaybdekcirtsawi."

"Drolemitay–" Rose shook her head. "Yeah, I'm gonna need you to say that again."

"Here, I'll spell it out for you," the Doctor said, folding over his coat so he could dig out a crumpled napkin and a well-chewed pencil from the pocket. "Drol-emit-a-yb-dekcirt-saw-i," he pronounced, stretching out the word as he scribbled it down. "There, see?"

Rose studied the napkin for a long time, her brow furrowed in concentration. The Doctor watched in obviously growing amusement as she held it close to her face, then at arm's length, then crossed her eyes with a frown.

"OK," she said at last. "I think I've got–no, wait…"

The Doctor observed her closely, his brown eyes gleaming as her studious expression slowly shifted…

"Wait–oh…" Rose's mouth dropped open in incredulous disbelief, and the Doctor only just managed to stop himself from bursting out laughing. "Oh, you are…!" She slapped the napkin down on the coat, her brown eyes fuming. "You are so full of it!"

"What's wrong?" the Doctor asked, his eyebrows raised in exaggerated innocence.

"Drol-emit!" Rose exclaimed. "That's English! It's 'Time Lord' spelt backwards!"

This time, the Doctor couldn't help himself. He exploded with laughter, sprawling back onto the spiky, blue grass. "I always said she was clever!" he giggled to himself. "And the rest of it?"

Rose's glare was like twin daggers, but she turned her attention back to the gibberish on the napkin.

"Is the whole thing backwards, then?"

"You tell me," the Doctor snickered, sitting up as he watched her puzzle it out.

"I was…" she read hesitantly. "I was…tricked… I was tricked by a Time Lord! Why you–you–"

"You asked for it."

"I meant a proper name you–you–!" she sputtered, slapping at his arm.

"Ow!" he gasped, laughing too hard to meet her blows with more than token resistance.

"I am so gonna kill you!"

The Doctor cackled gleefully.

"Oh you are, are you?" he grinned, surging to his feet and yanking his coat out from under her. "In that case, Rose Tyler, you're gonna have to catch me first!"

"You're dead, Doctor!" she shouted, stumbling slightly as she struggled against the planet's unusually low gravity to sprint after his racing back. "You hear me? You are so dead!"

"How many times have I heard that one!"

The Doctor laughed, slowing his pace just enough to let her catch him up as he reached the edge of the sheer precipice. Looking back over his shoulder, he shot her his most impish grin, then grabbed her hand, using her own momentum to pull her after him as he leapt off the cliff–

Rose screamed, but the Doctor pulled her close, laughing and howling in delight as the pair of them floated gently down to the soft, pink sand far below. Their landing left footprints no deeper than if they'd jumped down from a five-foot wall.

Rose gasped, reaching up to brush the hair from her face.

"Wow," she said, looking back up at the dusky-red cliff with a smile. "That was…that was amazin'!"

The Doctor grinned, standing beside her with his brown hair wild and a smug, self-satisfied expression stretched across his face.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she grinned back, then punched him in the shoulder, hard. "But I'm still gonna kill you."

"Ow–hey!" he protested, rubbing the spot. "It was a joke! A teensy, tinesy, harmless little prank. Besides, it got you down here, didn't it?"

He smiled, holding out his hand.

"Fancy another go?"

"Oh no, you're not gettin' off that easy," Rose stated, her eyes sharp. "Not after pullin' a stunt like that! Come here." She stalked off down the coast, waving him after her. "Come on, over this way."

"Why, what's over–oohhAAAggghhhh!"

There was an enormous purple SPLATSH, and suddenly the Doctor found himself sputtering and flailing about in water the color and consistency of warm grape jelly. He stood up to the sound of Rose's gleeful laughter, the thick seawater sloughing off him in oozing clumps.

"Oohhh, Rose Tyler," he rumbled dangerously. "Now you're gonna get it. You know why? Because now you've got my suit all slimy, there's nothin' to prevent me doin' this!"

Pouncing from the surf, the Doctor tackled Rose around the middle and pulled her with him back into the sloshing waves. Rose shrieked and splashed him, but he was right there, rubbing the thick seawater into her hair.

"Eergh!" she giggled helplessly, nearly choking on the salty slime. "Stop, stop! Oh, it's horrible–stop it!"

"Had enough?" he laughed.

"Yes!" she squealed.

The Doctor let up, laughing like a wicked schoolboy as he took in her oozing, disheveled appearance.

"Not your best look, I must say," he commented.

Rose glared.

"Yeah? Well you should see yourself! Your hair's all stickin' up in spikes."

"Really?"

He seemed excited, reaching up to gingerly touch the pointy clumps with his palm. His reaction was surprising to Rose, since this latest incarnation of his seemed to take such pride in his appearance.

"Come on!" he grinned, grabbing her damp hand. "We've got to get into the shade."

"Why?" Rose asked, sloshing out of the water after him. She frowned when she saw how the fine pink sand was clinging to her soggy clothes.

"You'll see," he told her, drawing her into a cave. "In here!"

"What's in here?"

"Just a little further," he said, leading her well out of the light. "Ah! This should be far enough!"

"Doctor," Rose said, a little warily. "That seawater… It's not, like, toxic or anythin'…?"

"What? Oh, no, not a bit of it. Ah, here we go!"

He grinned, holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers in front of his face.

"It's starting!"

"What is–oh!"

Rose gasped in startled wonder as the Doctor began to glow. It wasn't a steady glow, but rather a glimmery sort of glitter, as though he'd been dipped in stardust. The twinkles shifted as he moved closer to her, giving the rather odd impression that he was walking in front of a very swiftly blinking strobe light.

"Wow," she breathed, eyes wide and admiring.

"I know," he agreed, a somewhat breathless laugh hiding in his voice. "You look amazing."

Rose felt herself blushing beneath the sparkling seawater on her face.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah." He nodded, his eyes gleaming even brighter than his twinkling skin. Then he grinned, and the moment was lost.

"Hey Rose," he said, "watch this!"

As Rose struggled to adjust to the sudden shift in mood, the Doctor began a peculiar sort of dance, raising his glittering arms up over his head as he kicked out his feet. It took a moment, but Rose suddenly realized she recognized those moves.

"Oi, I know that one. That's from Ziggy Stardust, isn't it?"

"Of course!" the Doctor beamed, turning the slow, deliberate dance into a sort of brief, energetic jig before sidling up beside her. "How'd you think this planet got its name?"

Rose frowned.

"Huh?"

"It's the diatoms!" he explained. "We're covered in 'em. The species that live in the seawater here act as a sort of thickening agent, which is what gives the ocean on this planet its…rather unique consistency. And it's their luminescent quality that earned this planet its name: Yggiz Tsudrats! Well that, and the bloke who discovered this system was a huge David Bowie fan. Completely obsessed, poor chap. Couldn't have been healthy for him."

Rose waved him off, still lagging a few sentences behind.

"Yggiz Tsudrats?" she repeated. "But that doesn't sound like any Bowie song I've ever–" She caught the Doctor's expression and her eyes widened. "No, wait. Are you sayin' it's backwards? But…why?"

"I don't know. Looks cooler that way, maybe?" He gave a philosophical shrug. "Who am I to fathom the quirks and peculiarities of the human mind?"

"Who indeed," Rose said, and smirked.

"But you have to admit," he added. "It is rather catchy."

She shot him a look.

"What?" he said defensively. "It is! Well, in a weird, backwards sort of way. Yggiz Tsudrats. Yggiz Tsudrats! Don't you think?"

"Doctor?"

He glanced at her.

"Yeah, Rose?"

"Uoyevoli."

The Doctor squinted in confusion.

"What was that? Sorry, it's just you said it so fast…"

Rose smirked her cheekiest smirk, delighting in his confusion.

"I'll tell ya," she said, backing slowly out of the cave in the direction of the rose-colored cliffs, "but you have to catch me first!"

THE END

Chapter Text

Excerpted from my Star Trek: The Next Generation story 'Data's Daydreams' (Chapter 4).

The Starman

"You're not an Android. You're a Starman!"

Data stared at the little girl he identified as five year old Daria Henderson, daughter of Ensign Lee Henderson, an astrophysicist, and Sam Henderson, a civilian cartographer. He had a great many more details available to him, such as her date and place of birth and those of her parents and grandparents, but they did not seem as immediately relevant.

"Why do you say that?" he asked her.

"Because you're the same color as the stars outside the ship!"

The kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Twemlow, seemed uncomfortable; perhaps even embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry, Commander," she said, her voice taking on a scolding tone as she turned to address the class. "Children, you know personal comments like that are not acceptable. Commander Data was kind enough to come here today to help us celebrate our diversity, and—"

"Please, there is no need to apologize," Data said, rather bewildered by her reaction. "I assure you, I am not offended. In fact, I find Daria's observation intriguing."

The little girl beamed.

Later that day, after disengaging himself from the children, who had latched on to him with hyperactive adoration (something that often happened when he visited the kindergarten, though he couldn't fathom why), Data took a moment to look up the term 'starman' on the computer terminal in his quarters. The top results came back quickly: an alien, an otherworldly being, a song by the 20-21st century Terran rock star David Bowie…

Data tilted his head and accessed that last file.

Information flooded across his screen: lyrics, sheet music, holoimages, audio files. He found himself fascinated by the performer's pale makeup, his elaborate costumes, and ran a comprehensive search for all information related to the English singer/songwriter David [Robert Jones] Bowie.

Within moments, Data's imagination was afire. In his mind's eye, he saw a raised stage with flashing lights, a crowd of manically cheering people, their voices so loud it was almost impossible to hear the steady beat and electric shrills of the instruments. Data raised his guitar - the lights above him catching the blue glitter that lined the star painted over his eye, reflecting off the shiny gold material of his high collared shirt - and the crowd's screams grew increasingly wild. He leaned forward, toward the raised microphone, and opened his mouth to sing—

Data sat back in his chair, the noise and lights fading back to the muted colors of his quarters and the distant hum of the ship's engines. The daydream had been a promising one, but why sit still behind the computer console when he could live the experience on the holodeck? If it went well, he could even incorporate elements of the performance into the comprehensive dance tutorial he was developing.

With swift fingers, Data booked a holodeck, defined the parameters of the necessary program, then stood and strode out of his quarters.

As for the handful of crewmembers who witnessed his journey through the Enterprise corridors, when they spoke of their Starfleet service in later years, they would always recall the time they saw the android officer, Mr. Data, lost in his thoughts, swinging his hips in a peculiar dance step as he sang to himself:

"There's a Starman waiting in the sky. He'd like to come and meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds… La la lala, la la lala…"

~fin~