Rock Pool on Zeta Minor

The Doctor lands the TARDIS in a shallow depression of the blackened granite bedrock, where a brackish seawater pool laps against worn, smooth stones. The air carries the sharp tang of salt and ozone, mingling with the metallic scent of the Doctor’s equipment. His collection jars and the dented toffee tin lie half-sunk in the muck at the pool’s edge, near the TARDIS’s outer shell. The space is cramped but open above, the cavernous ceiling lost to gloom as the jagged walls press inward. Reflected light fractures through the rippling surface, casting shifting pools of sickly sky onto the damp rock, betraying the planet’s poisoned atmosphere. This is no shelter—just a shallow indentation in a world that resists intrusion.