Author's note: This is the "pre-credits sequence" of a Tenth Doctor story that's still in the middle of being written. The title, like everything else in this piece, is subject to change...
The grating, whining, nails-on-chalkboard noise, had it come from my car, would have spelled disaster or at least costly inconvenience. I decided I would never quite get used to the fact that the same noise, coming from the Doctor’s fantastic machine, indicated perfect working order.
The wiry man – was
he a man? The wiry man in the pinstriped suit had picked me up who knows how long ago, rescuing me from the clutches of a grotesque creature that appeared to be a walking collection of green phlegm with great beady eyes and a tendency toward flatulence. A Slitheen, he called it, and I had no reason not to take him at his word. After all, he seemed to recognize it at first sight, and besides, what else would a beady-eyed flatulent phlegm creature be called? The impossible man and his impossible ship had taken me to what was apparently an entire planet
of slimy habitual wind-breakers, where I apparently served as prosecution exhibit A in the case against the… thing that had nearly captured me.
Now, thankful to be back in the seemingly tiny ship’s cavernous interior, I reveled in the simple pleasures of a shower and clean clothes and phlegm-creature-free surroundings before bracing myself for a look at my watch. And somehow, less than twenty-four hours had passed since my rescue. “I can still make it back,” I marveled, mostly to myself.
“Oh, but who’d want to go back?” the Doctor protested. “After such a brilliant adventure?”( Collapse )