Trust

"You're kidding?"

The Doctor stopped in mid-stride, his riotously colorful patchwork jacket, striped yellow trousers, and lime green spats at odds with the grey and gloomy terrain. He turned and arched an eyebrow at his companion. "I am doing nothing of the sort."

Perpegillium Brown pouted, not the least bit happy. She was finding that traveling with this particular aspect of the Doctor was not so much adventuresome and thrilling as it was dark and dangerous. "You want me to just walk across that . . . that swamp?"

"That swamp, as you call it, is perfectly safe. Merely an holographic illusion to dissuade hungry predators and unsavory characters from poking their noses where they don't belong."

"A hologram."

"That's right."

"Perfectly safe."

"Completely and absolutely. A few more steps and we'll find ourselves on the other side of the energy barrier and in the heart of one of the most beautiful tropic resorts in the cosmos."

Peri's expression was clearly skeptical.

"Trust me," he told her with an engaging smile, then turned and strode off once more.

"I was afraid you'd say that," she grumbled. In her experience, nothing good ever followed the Doctor's invoking the phrase "trust me."

But then, what other choice did she have?

With a heavy sigh, Peri slogged into the swamp after him.