"You respect the Earth as family," Jabe explains. "So many species evolved from that planet. Mankind is only one. I'm another. My ancestors were transplanted from the planet down below. And I'm a direct descendant of the tropical rainforest." What a fucking awesome concept. Even the Doctor is impressed. He sonic screwdrivers a panel with that same alien script on it, and begins looking at readouts. The more Jabe talks, the harder the Doctor concentrates; the further he retreats. "And what about your ancestry, Doctor? Perhaps you could tell a story or two...Perhaps a man only enjoys trouble when there's nothing else left...I scanned you earlier. The metal machine had trouble identifying your species -- refused to admit your existence." The Doctor pretends to concentrate, but a shadow crosses his face. "Even when it named you, I wouldn't believe it. But it was right." He stops scanning, sadness so deep in his eyes you wish the farting aliens would show up. Jabe whispers, awed, "I know where you're from. Forgive me for intruding, but it's remarkable that you even exist." She reaches out: "I just want to say how sorry I am." That's great drama, that there, because you could have put it together, but the way things are left out, it hits you in a non-verbal place anyway. The Doctor's eyes fill with tears and he places his hand over Jabe's, and a tear falls down his cheek. He finishes up, and they head to the engine room. The Galaxy Quest joke about why would you ever have a hallway with pounding things at set intervals: there are huge fans circulating all the way down the corridor. At least this makes sense, as a venting room for the engines, but it's still a funny visual. In Russell Davies's world, they've just learnt about Frogger. The Doctor notes that it's a bit cold down there. Not for long.