(Author's Note: Welcome to Black Inertia, the sequel to my previous fic A Cold Reunion, and part 2 of my series, "The Twelfth Hour" . This is the next adventure of The Twelfth Doctor and Sarah Jane Smith, and, as requested by the previous story's poll, it will feature the Weeping Angles. I highly recommend you read the previous fic in the series, as it will be referenced frequently. I do not own Doctor Who or it's characters, nor do I claim to. Please enjoy, read and review! )

The ever present hum of the engines was a constant comfort to Marcus Quinn. From the moment they shuddered to life, to the level whir once take off was complete there was never a more calming sound to him. It was the familiarity; in an ever changing, ever shifting galaxy, his job aboard the LSL Black Inertia was a place of stability.

Marcus was fit for a man of fifty eight. Tall and thin, with pale skin and defined muscles toned in a life of hard work, he was in better shape than most of his younger colleagues. His face was starting to show signs of age however, with light wrinkles around his eyes that made him look kind, and lines around his mouth from a tobacco habit he couldn't kick. His receding hair line was covered by a brown, wide brimmed hat. It matched his jacket and pants, both of which were emblazed with an authoritative badge. Marcus was a security guard, a job he had kept for two decades and running.

This job was aboard the finest Luxury Space-Liner of its class-The Black Inertia. The rich and the famous frequented the glamorous vessel as it cruised its way from planet to planet, passing swirling nebulas and twinkling stars. A human built vessel constructed on Keta-Major, it was created to look like the Earth ships of old, vessels that once floated across the water carrying passengers to islands for what historians referred to as "fun in the sun". Many had believed its archaic design, (as it was the spitting image of an ancient cruise liner, albeit much larger) would make the Inertia a novelty at best. However, it's top of the line amenities, expensive furnishings, and its art déco inspired style made it an immediate sensation. It was like stepping back in time, but without the technological limitations. As a result, people scrimped and saved to board the iconic vessel, and its popularity was evident. It had a waiting list of two years.

Being a guard on such a vessel was a job Mr. Quinn would never give up. He got to see the most beautiful sights the galaxy had to offer, brush shoulders with the most famous celebrities, eat only the finest food and live in a luxurious apartment he would never afford normally. What man in his right mind would give that up? Who would not love that? Marcus certainly loved it, and he was the first to admit it. Many men his age were looking to retire soon. He had no plans of doing so.

His heavy boots clunked down the velvet carpeted hall. The upper floors were primarily rooms, so they were mostly quiet but for the sounds of excited conversations and the shuffling of automatic doors as guests left to explore the ship. His rounds always began up here, to make sure nothing with the passengers was amiss.

Even though Marcus was fit, he rarely had to stop any real crimes. Once and awhile he had to escort a drunk guest to his room, or break up a liquor fueled brawl. Even those were rare occasions. Sometimes the mundane was broken up by something odd, such as a patron caught stealing the dining ware or the disappearance of an expensive coat. All were tame however, making his job rather relaxing. In a time of political strife and conflict, each voyage was an escape. The Black Inertia may as well have been its own country, free of all political affiliations and worries about tomorrow. Everyone on the trips seized the day, as though nothing else but their corner of the universe mattered. It was... refreshing.

"Marcus, are you there? We have a call," the sweet voice in his ear piece said.

"What is it Dorly?" he answered back. Dorly was his supervisor, a gorgeous Diplosian. She monitored the cameras for floors forty through fifty five. Marcus and she had a dinner date coming up when they next made port, which by his calculations, would be the next day. He was greatly looking forward to a night out on the town with the silver-skinned woman. It was a long time coming...

"A passenger has reported hearing strange noises coming from the cargo hold four. I can't see anything on the cameras... I think they've malfunctioned again. Can you go check it out?"

"Sure, I'll get right on that," he replied.

The way he saw it, it was one of two things. Either a passenger had smuggled a pet on board, which was strictly prohibited, or they had a stowaway. Stowaways were another common inconvenience of his job. Almost everyone wanted to take a trip on the Black Inertia, but many could not afford such a luxury. As a result, they tried to sneak on often. Most of the time, port security caught them, but people were getting clever now these days, using sonic disruptors and short range teleporters to fool or bypass scanners. They were lucky most people meant no one harm, because a slip up like that could lead to a catastrophe if the wrong person got on board. He had advocated better preemptive measures but upper management never listened to its employees.

He clunked down the hall to the employee elevator, and put his palm up to the scanner. He waited as a red light spread across it then beeped.

"Welcome Marcus Quinn," the computerized voice said, "I hope you are well today." The cylindrical doors slid to the side, letting him in.

Standing in the elevator's center, he looked up at the small camera above the doors.

"Cargo bay four," he shouted.

"Command accepted," the computer voice replied, "taking you to Cargo bay four." He felt the elevator begin to descend, shooting downward quickly. It then stopped, and he felt it fly to the right, then back up again. He had ridden on this elevator a million times before, but he could never get used to it. He still remembered when he was a kid and elevators could only go up and down. Horizontal travel always made him a tad nervous.

Back to the right it went, then came to a halt, and dinged loudly.

"You have reached your destination," the computer voice said, and the doors slid open.

The cargo hold was a gigantic space filled with large, sleek, metal containers. These held all kinds of supplies needed around the ship. Some were refrigerated and held food, others held the massive amounts of toiletries the ship went through on any given day. Some were heated to hold some of the exotic foods that required such special care. He also knew of a few that housed broken items that had yet to be fixed, such as chairs or electronics, and some garbage ready for dumping when they pulled into port.

Marcus stepped out of his elevator, and listened. Other than the drone of some of the units, he heard nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps there had been a misunderstanding, or something had just fallen over during take-off.

He walked forward anyway, his head on a swivel. He put his hand on his trusty blaster just in case, he did not want to take his chances after all. He had been lucky enough to never have to use his gun on the job, but like his father once told him, there was a first time for everything.

"Hello? Is there anyone here? I'm not going to hurt you," he shouted. That never made any stowaways come out but he still tried it every time. Most of the time they did get scared and start moving around though, which got them caught every time. He stopped and listened again.

Still nothing. He put his finger to his communicator in his ear.

"Dorly, I don't hear or see anything down here. I think we're all clear," he said called in, "something probably just fell over in one of the units or something."

"Alright, why don't you come back up and...," she started, but the transmitter was suddenly drowned in fuzzy static. He could only make out bits and pieces of her voice under all the noise.

"Dorly? I can't hear you! Repeat!" he said loudly to no reply.

He switched off his ear piece, not wanting to listen to the racket. That was very strange. Normally they had no trouble with the communication networks, or if they did it was a small hiccup. Actually, he could not think of a time when it had gone completely down.

Suddenly, he noted the ceiling lights start to flicker, dimming until they were almost off, then back to normal. That was even stranger, and was starting to give him the creeps. He shook his head and scolded himself. He'd been watching too many horror films lately, and he was being stupid.

A loud banging abruptly erupted behind him, like something slamming on the metal containers. He whipped around, pulling his blaster from his holster.

"Come out now, and put your hands up!" he shouted. The sound had echoed in the big hold, but he could tell it came from the back somewhere. He started walking forward slowly, his gun up and his eyes focused. If he saw anyone down here, he would fire a warning shot first. That usually convinced people to stop whatever they were doing.

As he tiptoed forward the lights above flickered again, this time blacking out completely for a second or two. Whoever this was definitely had a disrupter device of some kind. How else could he do that to the lights?

Bang bang. He heard it again, from close by. It definitely came from the second to last container that was supposed to be storing food. It was from the inside.

He smirked. Poor blighter probably stowed away on the dock, not knowing it was a refrigerated container. He was probably frozen half to death by now.

He walked up to the big doors of the container, and banged his fist against them.

"Alright, I know you are in there. I'm going to open these doors, and when I do, I want to see your hands in the air. If they aren't you will be shot. Do you understand me?" Marcus shouted. There was no reply. Fine by him, he was done playing.

He gripped the door handle, turned it, and yanked it open. What he saw inside surprised him.

He had almost shot the human shaped figure, but he realized right away it was a just a statue. Made out of grey stone, it was sculpted into the shape of a women wearing a chiton. A pair of angelic wings sprouted from her back, something that may have made it more appealing were it not standing with its head down and its hands covering its face in utter despair. He imagined it should have made him feel sad, but the statue only succeeded in sending a chill up his spine. Something about it gave him the creeps that he could not put his finger on.

Moreover, this was odd. This rather morbid statue did not fit the Black Inertia's general ambiance. It looked almost like something more comfortable in ancient Greece back on Earth, not here in an art déco paradise. Furthermore, this was a refrigerator unit meant for food and other perishables, not a statue. This was all very strange.

Much to his surprise more loud banging erupted from the room, this time from the container next to him. He narrowed his gaze at the big metal box. Something funny was going on here, and he wasn't laughing. He stomped his way over to the next container, ready to open it.

His heard a light pitter patter of footsteps on the metal floor somewhere behind him. Marcus whipped around, his gun held level in front of him. Whomever this was wanted to scare him, but the guard refused to falter.

He found nothing behind him. He glanced around, finding only the angel statue in the container beside him. He did a bit of a double take this time however. It looked a few feet closer than it had been, and like its head was moved at bit to the left.. He shook his head and blinked, rubbing his eyes. He was just tired and being paranoid. Statues don't move.

Bang. Bang. Again came the slamming behind him, and the lights above flickered on and off.

Marcus had now had enough of this. He turned around, and purposefully walked to the next container. He was about to open it, when yet another sound caught his ear. Echoing from within the container was a light, child-like giggle. It reminded him of when his daughter was a young girl, chasing butterflies in the yard, laughing and carefree.

Marcus smiled a bit, and holstered his gun. It was just a couple of kids playing tricks on him. He suddenly felt very silly for being so worked up. He should have known it was only a couple of kids mucking about.

"It's alright, come on out, Uncle Marcus isn't going to hurt you," he called out. He wanted to find them as soon as possible, he was sure their parents were worried sick. He pulled open the container's big doors.

No children playfully hid within. Instead, even more of those creepy statues stood in their mournful stance, except rather than one there were four or five. Littered around their feet were smaller statues resembling cherubs from old myths. These covered their eyes as well, but had playful grins on their faces, as though they were playing hide and seek and counting gleefully.

"I don't..." he muttered, confused. He knew it had come from that container. Yet there was nothing inside but more of those hideous statues. More footsteps came from behind him, these hurried.

Marcus turned around. At the end of the row of containers stood another angelic statue, its face in its hands. Fear gripped Marcus in its chilly grasp. That had not been there a second ago. He would have seen it... how could he not notice something so eerie? He turned his head back to the container.

All but one were in the same place. One of the small cherubs had moved ever so slightly, just a few inches. Its chubby hand was outstretched, while it's other palm covered it's eyes.

How was any of this possible? Statues don't move. They're rocks, not living things. His head whipped back, finding the statue across the room now closer, its head lifted slightly. Marcus pulled his gun from his holster, and aimed it at the statue.

"Stay back! Don't you come any closer! I'm warning you!" he yelled. He started stepping backwards, keeping his eyes on the statue. He wanted to see it move... to know he wasn't insane. That this wasn't just some trick being played on him by his mind or his eyes.

As he stepped back the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, heralding danger. He quickly glanced over his shoulder. He jumped, and spun around again, for standing behind him was yet another statue. This one's horrific face was revealed, a monstrous woman with nothing but evil in her sculpted eyes. Her face was contorted into an angry scream, showing off her mouth full of sharp teeth. Her clawed hands reached toward Marcus, wishing to grab him.

"Get back! Stay away from me!" Marcus shouted. Terror gripped him as he readied to pull the trigger.

Marcus Quinn would not be afraid for long however. He did not see the statue that crept up beside him. He did not feel its stone finger brush the side of his neck. With that one touch, Marcus disappeared, his gun clattering to the floor, the last remnant of the kind security guard. He was gone in the blink of an eye, like he never existed in the first place, and as the lights dimmed to black, so too did the Weeping Angels, off to find their next quarry.

There was much feeding to be done tonight, and they were only just beginning.

A strange grinding echoed throughout an expensive suite on one of the Black Inertia's topmost floors, followed by a dull "thunk". Were a stranger to walk in right now, they would find an archaic blue police box, the likes of which were not seen anymore. It would be a strange sight to any to behold, except for those familiar with its pilot, The Doctor.

With a loud creak, the front door opened, and said man stepped out. He was an older man, with prickly grey hair and a hooked nose. His piercing blue eyes swept around the room, his gaze always unwavering, assessing, and deducing. A slight smirk came to his wrinkled face and he patted the corner of his ship, the TARDIS. He then adjusted the cuffs of his black waistcoat and the collar of his white undershirt. He then bent down and checked the laces of his boots. He always liked to look his best after all.

"Are we here? Did we land in the right place this time?" called the English accented, female voice from inside the ship.

"Yes, yes, of course we are," his Scottish voice replied, "that business in the Corapax Nebula was just a fluke."

"You call two thousand light-years away and three decades late a fluke? I'll remember that next time I make a mistake," his companion returned.

Said companion, Sarah Jane Smith, stepped out of the TARDIS. A woman in the middle of her life, she was by far, The Doctor's oldest friend. With chocolate colored hair that had begun to grey, and a kind, heart shaped face struck by wrinkles here and there, she smiled broadly to the man with whom she travelled. Her attire was far more casual than her Time Lord friend; as she wore a dark red cardigan and a pair of blue jeans. Still, her subtle clothes was clean and simple, a style that never went away.

"We were still in the same century, that's not that bad. She just got it a little wrong this time, no harm done," he shrugged, patting the police box reassuringly, "we got here now, that's all that matters."

"Speaking of which, where are we exactly? You have been awful shifty about where we were headed," she asked.

"I thought I would surprise you with a bit of fun, considering this is our first real adventure together in a long time," he replied, "and I'm not counting that market on Karpis yesterday."

"With what you stepped in, I should think not," she chuckled. He shook his head. They should have gone there in 5123. He had forgotten how far downhill it went after that.

"In any event, I'll give you one guess before I tell you," he smiled mischievously. She would never figure it out in a million years, and he knew it. He saw his old friend glance around the room.

This room was a very simple yet elegant hotel room. A pair of beds adorned one wall, both twins and covered in vibrant, satin bedspreads. In the center sat a low, glass top coffee table, topped with a vibrant, potted croton. Pretty wooden dressers sat against a nearby wall, there fronts carved with maple leaves and trees along the sides and drawers. The room was lit by a diamond chandelier that twinkled pleasingly, as well as wall sconces shaped like candles. Stark white walls mixed with black tile floors, completing the ambiance.

"Hmmm," he heard his friend murmur. He saw her cover her mouth in her cupped hand, and tap the side of her nose with her index finger, deep in thought. She glanced around the room, then shook her head.

"I give up, where are we?" she finally caved.

"Perhaps I should show you," he said, quickly brushing passed her. He reached the door of the room and rested his palm on the handle. "I chose this room because of the view outside. I think it's rather... magnificent."

He opened the door, walking out, with Sarah Jane following close behind. As they entered the hall, he heard his companion gasp.

The glorious hall before them stretched out in either direction. The wall behind them contained door after door, each plausibly containing a room similar to the one The Doctor and Sarah had just exited. Ahead however was far more impressive.

Glass windows reached from floor to ceiling, allowing guests to look out upon the awe inspiring vista of space itself. In the distance, stars twinkled welcomingly, tracing patterns around one and other in a celestial dance to beautiful for words. These however, were only the smallest delights the scene had to offer. To the east, a blazing, red sun was fully visible, tinting the glass in amber and auburn colors. Planets of all colors and sizes floated in the distance. One was bright green, was a floating belt of asteroids circling it. Another was a deep purple, with a pair of vertical, icy rings hugging it. Moons orbited most nearby, sitting vigil over the worlds they called home. To the west, splashes of color painted the space like the brushstrokes of a magnificent artist. Pink and orange mixed with blue and red, creating a star strewn nebulae like no other, swirling like a colorful pond in the depths of the heavens. Further northwest, barely visible was its twin, this one in hues of green and aqua.

Sprawled out below was the bow of a massive ship. It appeared to be a cruise ship like those in the twenty first century, though this one was painted in black with trusses in gold. Floor after floor was visible, descending down like a skyscraper to the main deck below.

"Welcome to the LSL Black Inertia, the finest vessel of its kind," The Doctor announced, spreading his arms out wide.

"Good God..." Sarah Jane murmured, her deep eyes locked on the space-scape before them, "you still have a flair for the dramatic... I'll give you that much."

"As though you would have it another way," he smirked.

"Absolutely not," she replied.

He and Sarah Jane had known each other for longer than he cared to admit, nearly all of his many lives. She knew him better than most, and as the most loyal of friends should, she accepted his many flaws and idiosyncrasies, and he hers. They had only recently begun traveling together after a long absence of one and other's company, and looking over at his old friend, rapt at the scene before her, he was happy to be with her once more.

"I must say," she started after a short time, "you've picked a good opener." He only nodded in reply.

The Doctor eyed his oldest friend, then the depths of space again. He wondered what she was thinking right now. How amazing this was perhaps? How beautiful the universe could truly be? He could hazard a guess, but only just. He could appreciate the boundless splendor, yes but in many ways he had gotten used to it. He saw the mysteries and whole of the universe on a daily basis. He had seen things no other had seen, witnessed birth and death of stars a hundred times over.

Fleetingly, his mind wandered to his home world, Gallifrey. His world was lost among the cosmos, tossed like a stone into the rapids of a river, landing who knew where. It was up to him and only him to find it. He was the last of his people, as far as he knew, and the weight of finding those that were lost weighed on his shoulders like a cross he could barely carry.

His intense blue eyes scanned the stars ever searching. He wanted to see something out of place, a planet that did not belong, or a star that was out of alignment. Just one that was wrong. It would herald the return of his home world.

A scowl came to his face when he saw that everything was where it should be. He knew that it would not be so easy of course, but he could still hope... no matter how small that hope was.

He pushed it out of his mind for now. There was no purpose in dwelling on what was lost... not for now. Not in the company of a friend such as Ms. Smith. Today was meant to a happy day, of adventure and fun, not a melancholy of what was lost and could not be found.

"Come Sarah, what do you say we have a bit of fun," he said, clapping his hands together and tossing his friend an ornery wink. She returned with a side long glance.

"Bet I can beat you to the lift," she abruptly said, and before the Time Lord had a chance to reply took off down the hall, quick as a girl half her age. With a grin, The Doctor took off behind her, his hearts feeling light.

Neither of them knew of the darkness that lurked in the shadows. A darkness that would soon envelope them.