For a Certain Definition of 'Safe', Anyway

"Oh, well," the Doctor mutters, after hopping down off the stage and looking at the same scanner she used to find out we were at Wakeford Manor, "that's not what I asked for. A Drahvin command warship, 2086, on a course for Earth." At the prompting of some strange whim, I poke one of the buttons on the console and am pleasantly surprised to have a ginger biscuit dispensed into my hand. "Alright, don't tell me anything else," I interrupt as I quickly consume the biscuit, "I actually asked for notes on a bunch of aliens while we were flying." And I was telling the truth, too, though I'd only half-skimmed it for inspiration between watching the Doctor's more acrobatic feats on the pole and wasn't too enthused by the current state of Drahvin society. Fortunately, I don't have to put up with it.

"Right, so, Drahvins," I begin, a picture of what I want to do slowly settling in, "look like beautiful blonde women, almost all female, normally kill all but the most exceptionally virile men in their society in order to save resources and limit social strife." She nods and mutters something about how I 'should be safe, then'. "They normally only care about sexual pleasure and conquest of species that might have compatible males, normally humanoid species. They normally prepare for their invasions by sending infiltrators who assume the guise of highly sexually-active members of the target species, who assess the defences of the world and the proportion of males likely to meet their criteria for breeding."

"And they're very picky," the Doctor cuts in, "they're absolute size queens who expect their men to be able to fuck dozens of women every day for the rest of their lives." This'd be a more effective warning if she wasn't visibly licking her lips, I think wryly, or sounding like she was admiring their taste.

"Really? Good to know. Anyway," I continue, "normally, a Drahvin invasion only occurs if their infiltrators don't find enough satisfactory men, otherwise they stick with 'farming' the planet by occasionally abducting men as breeders. Once the do send an invasion, they normally use their warships to dissuade military resistance and their incredible sexual prowess to keep public resistance to the occupation low while secretly setting up for a purge of the planet's population. That about it?"

"Yeah, that's a pretty good summary," she agrees, "I've fought them a few times before. Earth's even seen off a couple of invasions without my help. But at this time, against proper warships? They don't stand a chance - soon they'll all be nothing but lust-addled slaves, not knowing they're about to be culled." Grim stuff. Probably appealing to a not-insignificant part of the population, but still grim.

"Well," I reply, " sounds like we'd better get out there and find a way to stop them."

"I'm liking you more and more, John," she says with a grin, before glancing down at the scanner "no guards about yet, come on!"

I go to follow her as she opens the door and struts out determinedly, before going back to the console for another biscuit - chocolate and almond, this time - and actually following her.