In a darkened back room of This Time Round, plans were being|
made that would change the very course of History, itself.
"It is well past time for a reckoning," the Proprietor said heatedly.
"We must _not_ allow events to continue on their present course,
or it will be the end of us all. We must act _now_, and
"Bossman right," rumbled Francois in agreement. "No can afford
to wait. Find problems and beat to death with stick. Good plan,
never fail. No more worry."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I can see the merits there, Old Boy.
But, perhaps we should try something with just a smidgen less
Francois scuffed his toe irritatedly on the floor, gouging a small
trench in the wood. "But, violence Francois's favorite part..." he
"There, there, Old Boy." Harry clapped the Ogron on the
shoulder good-naturedly. "I'll tell you what. Be a good lad, and
I'll let you carve up the beef for tonight's steaks."
The Ogron's piggy eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas
morning. "Smiley-man mean it?" he asked eagerly. "Francois
get to hack up cow, for real?" Harry nodded, and Francois
clapped his huge paws in childish glee. "Chopchopchopchop,"
the big Ogron muttered, giggling and bouncing in his seat.
"Now, now," Harry admonished. "You have to be good for the
rest of this meeting, okay?"
Francois dipped his shaggy head in a quick nod and settled into a
slightly fidgetty immobility. "Chop chop," he whispered,
beaming at Harry.
"So, anyway," Chang Lee said after all had settled down, "what
kind of plan do you have in mind, boss?"
The Proprietor sighed. "I'm not completely sure. Maybe get a
restraining order against them, hire some more security staff,
cordon off the property..."
"Actually," Adric put in, "the Fifth Doctor and I were discussing
this just the other day, and he had a pretty good idea that I think
we could modify to work for us. You see, it's really only four of
them that are a real problem, and if we could isolate and maybe
even rehabilitate those, the rest would fall into line."
"Isolate?" Chang asked. "Isolate how?"
Adric grinned slyly. "That's the _really_ clever bit..."
A swirling, blasting, John Woo-esque firefight had erupted in the
forest. And, as all such battles tended to do in this area, this one
was headed toward This Time Round.
"They're getting closer," Adric called to Harry. "Is the Doctor
ready at the controls?"
"Affirmative," replied Harry smartly. "As soon as the first of
them reaches the parking lot, he will activate."
Adric couldn't keep the grin off his face. After all he'd been
through, this would be his personal day of reckoning as well.
"Damn it!" Doug ducked behind a log as a stream of bullets tore
into the trees around him. He popped up briefly and emptied the
few rounds left in his M-16 at his unseen enemy. In reply, a
second blast of gunfire chewed into the ground around him.
Seconds later, a string of fast single shots came in from his right,
narrowly missing him.
"We've been flanked again!" Di called desperately. She sent a
burst from her own rifle toward their flank, suppressing the threat
from that section for the moment.
Both cringed as another burst ripped through their position.
"How can such a small girl use such a big gun?" Doug demanded
over the roar of the Trakenite's BAR.
Diane grinned and shrugged. "Maybe we're under anime rules,
Doug shook his head as he reloaded. "Can't be. You and Nyssa
both still have your clothes on."
The firing let up and there came the sound of someone moving
through the underbrush. Diane hazarded a peek. "Looks like
she's changing position and heading toward the pub," she said.
"Then, let's go!" Doug leaped to his feet in pursuit, Diane right
behind. Before they'd gone three steps, bullets began to strike
from their right rear again, closely-spaced single shots. One
buzzed past Doug's ear close enough for him to feel the wind of its
passage, while another snipped away Di's pistol holster.
The two ADF soldiers were not about to let themselves be pinned
down again. They plunged through the woods heedless of the
incoming fire. Di kept up a constant return fire to pin their
assailant in place as they raced to intercept the psychotic
Trakenite before she could reach Adric's vicinity.
Nyssa dove out of the underbrush and into a drainage ditch at the
edge of This Time Round's parking lot. With a savagely
triumphant smile, she rested the Browning Automatic Rifle on a
piece of culvert and took aim at the treeline. She could hear the
ADF troops rushing for her position, apparently still engaged in a
running fight with whoever it was that had attacked them earlier.
She wondered idly who that might be. None of her few friends
were inclined toward that sort of thing, except maybe Leela. But
Leela preferred the knife over firearms. She ruled out the
possibility that the WANKERs might be responsible. The attack
was being conducted with far too much skill for them to have any
involvement with it.
No matter. When the two Adrophiles came to the treeline, she'd
perforate them in short order and then worry about who her
mysterious ally was.
Adric set down his thermal imaging scope and called over his
shoulder, "We have target P-1 in sight at the drainage ditch."
"Roger that, Adric," Harry responded. "You may begin when
ready, Doctor," he said into the storage room.
Moments later, a peculiar low hum filled the air and a black
obelisk-like shape appeared in the parking lot.
"Time-Scoop is go!" the Fifth Doctor called out from the storage
room. "Target P-1 acquired! Contact in five... four...three..."
Nyssa curled a finger around the trigger of her BAR as she caught
a glimpse of camo fatigues. She'd let them get just a little closer,
then she'd let them have it. At this short range, the .30-06 slugs
would shred the ADF's kevlar vests and what would be left of
Doug and Diane could be buried in a shoebox. A _small_
Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. She had a brief glimpse
of a tumbling black shape and then, she was gone.
"Confirming capture of target P-1," Adric stated, nearly laughing
with joy. "Targets P-2 and P-3 should be just ahead."
"Targets P-2 and P-3 acquired..."
Doug and Di had finally been pinned down just short of their
goal. A shallow gully had become a makeshift refuge from the
incessant fire from their rear. If only Nyssa didn't realize this and
take them in a crossfire, they might still fight their way out.
"Pass me another clip, Di," Doug hissed. "Di? Di?" He turned
around frantically, afraid his comrade had been hit. Instead, the
blonde trooper was staring at something toward the parking lot.
"Di! Are you all right?"
"Fine," she said puzzledly. "But what's that?"
Doug looked to see a dark shape hurtling through the air toward
them. "Oh, that's just a Time-Scoop," he said dismissively.
"Now, give me another clip. I think I can--"
The Time-Scoop swept them up into the darkness.
"Target P-4 acquired..."
Number One crept carefully to another firing point. Now that the
fire from the gully had ceased, he could move in a bit closer. Of
course, it might be a trick, but there was only one way to find out.
He dropped suddenly and brought his Mini-14 up to firing
position. Something was coming toward him, plowing through
the brush. Were the ADF'ers suicidal enough to try a bayonet
charge? He grinned and hoped so.
What burst upon him a few moments later was not, however, a
desperate and ammunition-less soldier, but a tumbling,
assymetrical shape that skimmed above the ground. He fired at it
just on general principle, thinking, "Now, there's something you
don't see every--"
"Target P-4 captured! All targets accounted for!"
"Wonderful," sighed the Proprietor, rubbing his hands together in
satisfaction. "Now, let's dump them where we agreed on..."
"Affirmative. Time-Scoop preparing to release at destination site,
geosynchronous orbit 420 kilometers above this point." The Fifth
Doctor pulled down on a small lever. "Welcome to your new
home, boys and girls..."
TO DIE FOR: MYSTERY PSYCHO THEATER 3000
[cue Theme Song]
~o In the not-too-distant future
Not too far from This Time Round
There was a girl named Nyssa whose
Sanity was not-quite-sound.
She and some others used to fuss and fight
And destroy the pub almost every night.
So the staff and patrons of that place
Used Borusa's Time-Scoop to stick them up in spaaaaace...
"You'll regret this!!"
"We'll send them crappy fiction
The worst we can find. (la-la-laaa)
They'll have to sit and read them all
To drive the violence from their minds." (la-la-laaa)
Now keep in mind only Adric controls
When the session begins or is through
As he tries to force some sense into
This completely unhinged crew.
PSYCHO ROLL CALL!
NYSSA! ("I'll kill you, Swamprat!")
DOUG! ("But, I thought I was the _good_ guy...")
NUMBER ONE! ("Put a sock in it, boy.")
DIAAAAANE! ("Umm, I don't think I belong up here.")
If you're wondering how they eat and breathe
And other science facts,
Just repeat to yourself, "It's just a 'fic.
I should really just relax."
'Cause it's Mystery Psycho Theater 3000!
[Interior bridge of the Satellite of Love.]
[NYSSA, DOUG, DIANE, and NUMBER ONE all suddenly
tumble out of thin air and land in a heap on the floor. All four
scramble to their feet and reach for their weapons, but all have
been disarmed. They glare suspiciously at one another.]
DOUG and NUMBER ONE: (to each other, simultaneously)
This is _your_ doing!
[NUMBER ONE and DOUG begin wrestling and grappling back
and forth across the bridge, cursing each other.]
NUMBER ONE: (to DOUG) Geek!
DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE) Loser!
NUMBER ONE: Jerk!
NUMBER ONE: Trekkie!
NUMBER ONE: Yankee!
[NYSSA and DIANE stand out of the way as the two fight.]
NYSSA: (to DIANE) [points at NUMBER ONE] Who's he?
DIANE: (to NYSSA) One of yours.
[A light begins to flash on a console. DIANE looks at it for a
moment, then shrugs, walks over, and presses it.]
DIANE: Oh, wow! A viewscreen!
[Interior back room at This Time Round]
[There are several large pieces of electronic equipment scattered
around, and in the center stands ADRIC, FRANCOIS, and
ADRIC: [waves] Hello, Diane! Did everyone make it all right?
HARRY: No casualties up there, I hope?
FRANCOIS: (mutters) Wimps...
DIANE: Umm... yeah. We're okay, I guess...
[NUMBER ONE and DOUG continue to fight back and forth
across the bridge.]
NYSSA: Excuse me for asking this so bluntly, Harry, Francois,
Swamprat, but (shouting) WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU
DONE TO US?!?
ADRIC: (smugly) We have temporarily incarcerated the four of
you on a satellite in orbit. There, you will undergo therapy until
you are capable of rejoining normal society.
HARRY: It's for your own good, you know.
[DOUG and NUMBER ONE have stopped fighting and are with
NYSSA and DIANE at the viewscreen.]
ADRIC: That's right. Conflict avoidance-and-resolution
training, team-building, sensitivity training, aggression
workshops, but mainly CPT.
NYSSA: So we're basically an orbiting encounter group?
DIANE: Yuck. It's like we've been imprisoned by Oprah
NUMBER ONE: (to DOUG) Heh. My inner child can kick your
inner child's ass.
DOUG: What's 'CPT'?
ADRIC: That stands for 'Crap Prose Therapy'. It basically works
like this: We broadcast some sort of pathetic literature into a
theater up there, and you lot have to read it. This will both force
the lot of you to cooperate for your own survival and wear down
your spirits enough for the rest of the therapy to have effect. I
adapted the techniques from the research of the eminent Dr.
[All look horrified, especially DOUG and DIANE.]
DOUG: How can you do this to _us_? I mean, the two loonies I
can understand, but Di and I have always been on your side!
DIANE: Yeah! Who was it who fought off Nyssa for you all
ADRIC: [snorts derisively] Ryoko, mainly. But, the decision
was not entirely _mine_. My boss is the one who made the call.
He just got sick of having contractors in here every night to fix up
the damage the four of you cause.
HARRY: Just think of it as a little vacation!
FRANCOIS: [scowls] Just be glad Francois's plan not picked...
NUMBER ONE: [writes on a small notepad] Note to self: obtain
tac-nuke and destroy pub ASAP...
NYSSA: [surprisingly calm and smiling] Just so you all know,
my vengeance for this will be such that God Himself will weep for
DOUG: (pitifully) I can't believe _Adric_ would do this to me...
DIANE: [pats DOUG on the shoulder] There, there. We'll get
through this. Somehow.
[NUMBER ONE puts away his notepad and pushes his way to the
center of the viewscreen.]
NUMBER ONE: Yo! Swamp Thing! I got a question 'bout this
NUMBER ONE: How are you gonna force us to do this crap from
down there? Seems like we've pretty much got free rein up here.
ADRIC: [smiles evilly] You do. If you don't want to participate
in the sessions, that's your choice. Of course, you also have to
take the consequences. Bear in mind who controls all the
DIANE: (horrified) You'd turn off the Life Support? You'd
actually _do_ that? To _us_?
ADRIC: (shocked) Of course not! However, I do control the
Satellite's audio systems, and I also possess this...
[ADRIC holds up a small object. The view zooms in to reveal that
it is an eight-track tape. The label says, 'Barry Manilow's
[All four look ill.]
DOUG: That's... that's... words fail me...
[HARRY and FRANCOIS have eased away from ADRIC and the
Eight-track of Evil.]
FRANCOIS: Francois think it too nasty, too. Much better be
messily dead than hear big-nose caterwauler.
ADRIC: But, enough pleasantries. It's time for your first
Aggression-Therapy session. [presses a button on a nearby
[A compartment opens on the bridge. The four reach in and
remove the items inside.]
DIANE: Water pistols? You're joking, right?
[NUMBER ONE glances nervously at the water guns, easing
away from the others.]
ADRIC: No joke. What we will do in this exercise is release
some of your pent-up aggression by squirting the person you are
[NYSSA is squirting water at the screen, DIANE is squirting
NYSSA, and NUMBER ONE is backing warily away from
NYSSA: [pulls trigger repeatedly] Die, Adric! Diediediedie!
NUMBER ONE: (to DOUG) Hey, man. Don't do it.
DOUG: [grins wickedly] (to NUMBER ONE) Ah, what are you
afraid of, you wuss? [squirts NUMBER ONE]
NUMBER ONE: Aaaah! Crap!
[Everyone watches as NUMBER ONE is transformed into a
shorter, female version of himself. The female NUMBER ONE is
an attractive, well-built redhead.]
NYSSA: (shocked) That's... weird...
DOUG: [stares for a moment, then bursts out laughing]
BWHAHAHAHAHA! You've got a Jusenkyou Curse! Oh man!
This is priceless! HAHAHAHA!
NUMBER ONE (FEMALE): (angrily) Why don't y'all take a
picture? It'll last longer.
ADRIC: [smirks] Well, I guess _you_ can skip the 'Getting In
Touch With Your Feminine Side' sessions.
FRANCOIS: How mirror-eyes man do that? How turn into easy-
HARRY: [tries not to laugh] Now, Francois. That's no way to
speak to a lady...
[NUMBER ONE (F) holds up her middle finger at DOUG,
DIANE, and the screen, then stomps away off-screen.]
ADRIC: Ah, well. So much for Aggression Therapy. Let's get
right to the CPT, shall we? I think we'll start off with two brief
but mind-numbing pieces of plotlessness I dug out of the bowels
of alt.drwho.creative. Send them the prose, Francois!
[FRANCOIS pushes a large and distinctive button on the
FRANCOIS: Loony people have one minute get to theater before
stereo cut on...
[Various alarms, lights, and sirens go off as general chaos
NYSSA, DIANE, and DOUG: Aaaah! We've got fan-fic sign!
[ALL run off.]
[Door sequence: 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...]
[SOL, Theater interior]
[NYSSA, DOUG, and DIANE enter the theater carrying drinks
and popcorn and sit down. NYSSA takes the aisle seat, with an
empty to her left. DOUG sits on the other side of the empty, and
DIANE sits on his left. Seconds later, NUMBER ONE, returned
to male form, dashes into the theater and sits down between
NYSSA and DOUG.]
DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE) Where were you? The little girls'
NUMBER ONE: (to DOUG) I had to get some hot water to
change back, smartass.
NYSSA: (to NUMBER ONE) You _must_ tell me who you are
and how you do that.
NUMBER ONE: (to NYSSA) Who I am is an admirer of yours.
People call me Number One. [shakes hands with NYSSA] And
as for how I change form... that's a long story.
DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE) I'm keen to hear this, too.
DOUG: It'll have to be later. The torture's starting.
[A screen in front of the four comes to life, and words begin to
appear on it.]
NYSSA: (suspiciously) That name seems awfully familiar...
NUMBER ONE: [fidgets nervously] Aheh heh heh...
>The Cyberleader was unimpressed by his captive.
DIANE: (Cyberleader) You drive a Chrysler? Oh, puh-leeze!
DOUG: But, I thought Cybermen were incapable of feeling
emotion, anyway. Therefore, the Cyberleader should be
unimpressed by _everything_, as he is unable to feel the emotion
NYSSA: (to DOUG) Pedantry suits you pretty well.
DOUG: Umm... that was an insult, wasn't it?
>"Is it a cyborg?"
NUMBER ONE: No. 'It' is a neuter pronoun referencing the
third person, whereas a cyborg is a quasi-mechanical creation
utilizing organic parts. But that's not important right now.
DIANE: Who's talking, anyway?
NYSSA: We've got two choices so far: a Cyberleader and a
prisoner of some sort.
DOUG: Five bucks says it's the Cyberleader.
NUMBER ONE: Ten says we can't be made to care one way or
>"Affirmative, Leader. It has the brain, spine, and circulatory
>system of a human female.
NYSSA: ...and keeps them in a box in the hall closet. Want to
> The rest is mechanical."
>The Cyberleader examined the prisoner more closely.
DOUG: However, he still couldn't figure out what McGoohan
was on when he wrote that final episode.
> She was
>quite small, standing just a little over a meter and a half high.
>The face was thoroughly human, a bit sharp-featured
NUMBER ONE: (cheesy commercial announcer) It slices! It
dices! You can even cut a tin can with it! It's the Popeil Ginsu-
DOUG: (cheesy commercial announcer) But wait! There's more!
Order now and you also receive this Ronco Pocket Fishergland!
Useful for camping or releasing hormones into the bloodstream!
NUMBER ONE and DOUG: (cheesy commercial announcers)
_Now_ how much would you pay?! BWAHAHAHAHA!
NYSSA: [looks at both and shakes head sadly]
> and framed by a thick shock of black hair.
DIANE: (convict) I wuz _framed_, I tell ya!
> She wore a trenchcoat, boots, and
ALL: (singing) Sister looks cute/in her trenchcoat and boots/and
a handful of grease in her hair...
>gloves that concealed the dully gleaming metal of her body. The
>body itself seemed frail and weak,
NUMBER ONE: (ROTC Instructor) You're all worthless and
weak! Drop and give me twenty!
> no match for Cybertechnology.
NYSSA: I've got a match for Cybertechnology. Their face and
>And yet, the girl showed no sign of recognizing her peril.
NYSSA: (girl) So, like, you must be Morton Rabinowitz.
NUMBER ONE: (annoyed voice) No, I'm not. I'm your peril.
NYSSA: (girl) Gee, you sure _look_ like Morton. Are you sure
you're not one of the Rabinowitzes?
NUMBER ONE: (annoyed voice) Quite sure. I'm your peril, not
NYSSA: (girl) That's funny, 'cause you look just like one of
Theo Rabinowitz's sons from Schenectady...
NUMBER ONE: (annoyed voice) No. For the last friggin' time,
I am your _peril_!
NYSSA: (girl, thoughtfully) Hmmm... No, I don't think I know
a Peril Rabinowitz...
> She glanced around the warehouse,
NUMBER ONE: _Villains'_Handbook_, Rule number six, Sub-
Clause D clearly states: "All evil plots carried out in an urban
setting _must_ be centered in a warehouse, preferably an
> taking in all the guards at their
>various stations before finally settling her gaze once again on
DIANE: (girl) I like what I see. Say, Tall-shiny-and-handsome,
howzabout we go upstairs and I'll blow your fuse like it's never
DOUG and NUMBER ONE: [both look at DIANE oddly]
> Her expression, although Cybermen were not
>good at reading them,
DOUG: They must not have 'Hooked on Phonics' on Mondas.
DIANE: But, when it comes right down to it, what _are_
Cybermen good at?
NYSSA and NUMBER ONE: Killing Adric. [both grin and
high-five each other]
DOUG and DIANE: [scowl]
>was one of amused disdain.
NUMBER ONE: Oh really? Mine is more like bored contempt.
NYSSA: Exasperated disdain.
DOUG: Annoyed resignation.
DIANE: Cheerful optimism!
OTHERS: [stare confusedly at DIANE]
DIANE: (defensively) Well, you guys were bringing me down...
>Something about that look made up the Cyberleader's mind for him.
DOUG: Yes! He _would_ go to Detroit and form his own
Motown girl-group and achieve fame by doing covers of old
>"Disassemble it for further analysis," he ordered, and the guards
>stepped forward to obey.
NYSSA: (Cyberleader) No! No! I meant 'disassemble the
_prisoner_', not me! AAAARRGH!
>None of them noticed the prisoner's exasperated sigh,
NUMBER ONE: She's bored with this crummy fan-fic, too.
DOUG: (Bill Clinton) We feel your pain!
> or the glow that began to build around her fists...
DIANE: (sarcastically) Nah. Glowing appendages. Easiest
thing in the world to overlook...
>"The last reading I had was that way, toward that warehouse."
DOUG: Madame Sophia says I'm going to marry a Capricorn.
>Nyssa gestured at a particularly delapidated building across the
NYSSA: Yay! I'm in this story!
DIANE: And this is cause for celebration?
NUMBER ONE: Yeah, Nyssa. That's kind of like saying, 'Yay!
I'm in the Property Tax Office!' or something...
DOUG: Or, 'Hurray! I'm finally in Wisconsin!'
DIANE: Or, 'Oh joy! A visit to the proctologist!'
NYSSA: (angrily) All right! I get the point! Sheesh!
>"Right," said the Doctor as he pulled down his Panama hat.
NUMBER ONE: ...which used to be a part of a Colombia hat until
it was shorn away in an imperialist land-grab by the Roosevelt
DOUG: All right, kids at home! Do you have your Doctor Identi-
Kit ready? Our clue today is a Panama hat. Which Doctor is that?
That's right! The Fifth Doctor!
>"Let's have a look."
DOUG: (Nyssa) Doctor! Quit lifting my skirt!
NYSSA: (to DOUG, indignantly) Hey!
NUMBER ONE: (to DOUG) Don't go there, Yankee.
DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE) Hey! Don't pick on Doug!
DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE) You gonna stop me, fem-boy?
NUMBER ONE: That's it!
[NUMBER ONE jumps on DOUG, DIANE jumps on NUMBER
ONE, and NYSSA jumps on them all. Just as the punches start
flying in earnest, all freeze in place as a restrictor field takes hold
in the theater.]
ADRIC (voice-over): No violence will be permitted in the Theater!
Return to your seats!
[The field drops and all four instantly resume brawling. A moment
later, the field freezes them again.]
ADRIC (voice-over): I'm not warning you again! Return to your
seats, or else...
[Cheesy music begins to come from the speakers. The four all look
ill as they recognize the tune...]
MUSIC: (warbling voice) I write the songs that make the whole
world sing/I write the songs of love and speeecial thiiings/I write
the songs that make the young girls cry...
[The music stops and the four un-freeze. They hastily return to
ADRIC (voice-over): (smugly) That's what I thought...
DOUG: (sadly) How could he do this to me? I'm his _fan_, for
crying out loud...
NUMBER ONE: (to DOUG) Just be glad he saved your butt,
DIANE: (sarcastically) Yeah, right...
>"Are you sure it's wise to just go barging in?" she asked with
DOUG: (to NYSSA) You can ask that with your eyebrow?
NYSSA: Certainly. The Traken language makes extensive use of
gesture and body language.
DOUG: Cool! Could you show us some?
NYSSA: Sure. I suspect you can translate this... [holds up middle
finger at DOUG]
DOUG: (sarcastically) Ha ha. Very funny.
>"Absolutely not. But we can't risk losing track of the Cybermen
>here. If they get hold of Scrap Iron City's cyborg conversion
>equipment, there's no telling the kinds of trouble they could
DIANE: Thank you, Doctor Exposition.
DOUG: 'Scrap Iron City'? That means this is a 'Battle Angel'
NUMBER ONE: [pumps fist in air] Gally! Gally! Gally!
DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE) You mean 'Alita', don't you?
NUMBER ONE: Uh-uh. Her name's Gally.
NUMBER ONE: Gally!
NYSSA: Actually, I prefer Doctor Ito.
DIANE: You would.
NYSSA: (to DIANE) Meaning _what_, exactly?
DIANE: [smiles mysteriously] Oh, nothing...
>A few moments later, they were beside the rotting structure.
>no one challenged them at the front door, the Doctor just
>shrugged and walked on in.
DIANE: (Doctor) Might as well just hurry up and get this stupid
'fic over with.
>"Shouldn't we be a bit stealthier, Doctor?"
>"No point," he replied. "If there's a trap waiting, we're already in
NUMBER ONE: Ah. He's studied at the ADF Tactical School.
DOUG: (angrily to NUMBER ONE) Watch it, Ranma-chan.
NYSSA: (to both) Hey! You heard the Swamprat! Any more
fighting, and it's Manilow Time!
>Nyssa wasn't sure about the logic behind that, but had little choice
>except to follow him in.
NYSSA: (bitterly) That's me, all right. Just follow along with any
DIANE: (to NYSSA) I thought you were happy to be in this story.
NYSSA: [glares at DIANE]
>Inside the warehouse was an absolute shambles. Cyberman
>bodies and pieces of Cyberman bodies lay strewn all about.
NUMBER ONE: So, basically, it was a Cyber-Post-Office?
NYSSA: (to NUMBER ONE) That was pretty tasteless.
NUMBER ONE: (to NYSSA) Thanks. I try.
> Some were still at their workstations, apparently having been
> killed before they
>could react. Others had evidently gone down fighting, judging by
>the guns they gripped.
DOUG: (Red Riding Hood) Gee, Grandma. What a _big_ grasp
of the obvious you do have...
> These were more savagely mauled than the
>others, many being utterly in fragments. One thing they all had
>in common, though...
NYSSA: Aside from being dead Cybermen, you mean?
DOUG: They all had a love for Lilly Tomlin movies?
DIANE: They all knew the real lyrics to 'Louie Louie'?
NUMBER ONE: They all voted Democrat?
>"Their heads," Nyssa whispered. "Where are their heads?"
NUMBER ONE and DOUG: [Both open their mouths.]
NYSSA: [glares angrily at both] Don't even try it!
DIANE: [opens mouth]
NYSSA: (to DIANE) You, either!
>The Doctor wasn't listening.
NYSSA: (bitterly) He never does. Except for that time when
Tegan and I were in the shower together and he was right outside
and-- [stops as she realizes everyone is staring at her]
DIANE: Please. Do go on.
NYSSA: [blushing] Uh... nevermind...
>He was staring at the little girl who
>was leaving through the opposite door. A pretty little thing in a
>trenchcoat and boots,
DOUG: So, the Doc's a bit pedo in this 'fic, eh?
> humming a happy tune and not at all hindered by the bulging
> sack thrown over her shoulder
DIANE: Ho ho ho! It's Alita Claus! Come to deliver a stocking-
load of cybernetic whoop-ass!
NUMBER ONE: (to DIANE) That's 'Gally Claus'.
DIANE: [rolls eyes] Whatever...
>--a sack that
>clanked and clattered as she walked off, laughing, into the
NUMBER ONE: ...where she was immediately vaporized by the
tremendous nuclear heat of the solar surface.
DIANE: (singing) I'm walking on sunshine/And don't it feel
NYSSA: That's one weird smiley...
NUMBER ONE: Brace for impact, boys and girls. Here comes
DOUG: Ah, yes. One of the 206 days of the year when the US Mail
>(the Western Atlantic, October 4, 1492)
DOUG: Cool! It's Sid Meier's 'Colonization'! Let's move the ship
one space due west.
DIANE: I hope we're not playing the French. I can never win when
I'm the French.
>The Captain watched in horror as the strange apparition stalked
>his decks and murdered his crew one after another.
NUMBER ONE: Q's in a pretty pissy mood today, ain't he?
> The fore-deck was
>already a shambles of corpses as the man-thing marched resolutely
>aft, killing as it went.
NYSSA: Okay, is it just me, or does 'man-thing' sound like a
euphemism for 'penis'?
OTHERS: [turn and stare at NYSSA]
NYSSA: (defensively) I guess it's just me, then...
>There was a ragged cry as a group of sailors broke from
DOUG: (sailors) Quick! Get out! Alonzo cut the cheese!
NYSSA: (to DOUG) Was that strictly necessary?
>and charged the figure, cutlasses and marlinspikes waving. With a
>blast of flame and a sound like a ripping sheet,
DOUG: [makes fart noise]
NUMBER ONE: Ooh. Must have had burritos for lunch.
NYSSA: (to NUMBER ONE) Now, don't _you_ start!
> the charge turned
>into an avalanche of bullet-ripped bodies. The first mate dodged
>from behind the mast
DIANE: ...while the helmsman chevroleted over the railing and the
bosun volkswagened through a hatch.
NYSSA: (to DIANE) That was pretty bad.
NUMBER ONE: ( to DIANE) Yeah. You auto be ashamed of
NYSSA: [winces] That'll be enough of that.
DOUG: (to NYSSA) Aww, don't pitch a fiat...
> and shot the figure point-blank with a match-
DOUG: So, Andy Griffith is in this now?
DIANE: (to DOUG) That's 'matchlock', not 'Matlock'.
NUMBER ONE: I'd like to just take a moment to point out that the
pistol as a separate category of firearm did not come about until the
advent of the wheel-lock firing mechanism, which development
occurred a great many years after this story is set. Thus, there was
no such device as a 'matchlock pistol'.
DOUG: (to NYSSA) So, now who's pedantic?
NYSSA: (to NUMBER ONE) Yes, yes. The story's crap and we all
know it. Just let it run its course so we can get out of here.
> The Captain's heart leaped
> as he saw the figure stagger
>backwards, but his hope was short-lived as the thing recovered its
>balance and blew the mate's head off.
DOUG: So this is sort of 'Chow Yun Fat meets Amerigo Vespucci'?
NUMBER ONE: [nods] I'd pay to see that...
>Beside the Captain, the helmsman fell to his knees and babbled out
>half-coherent pleas for mercy as the killer came towards them. A
>moment later he was silenced by a stream of bullets into his chest.
NYSSA: Actually, I kind of like this.
OTHERS: [move slowly away from NYSSA]
>The Captain himself could not move, could not even think of mov-
>ing. He merely stood frozen as the helmsman's cooling blood pooled
>around his feet and cried out the single word "WHY?!?"
NYSSA: Because you're extras in a crappy fanfic.
DOUG: (cowboy) 'Cause there ain't room enough in this two-deck
caravel f'r the two of us, ya low-down varmint.
DIANE: Because you are all rather unfortunately named 'Sarah
NUMBER ONE: Because they all witnessed one of President Bill's
little faux-pas and had to be 'suppressed'.
>He was about to yell it again when a half-dozen rounds removed
>most of his skull, providing the only answer he would get.
DIANE: (to NYSSA) Hmm?
NYSSA: Just thinking of all the times I answered Adric's questions
that way. [chuckles again]
DIANE: [glares at NYSSA]
>Rance Colville dropped his autorifle and helmet on the gore-
>spangled deck and opened his flak jacket,
DIANE and NYSSA: [wolf whistles] Yow!! Take it off! Woowoo!
> idly rubbing the bruise where the pistol ball had struck.
NUMBER ONE: ...fired from the non-existent pistol.
NYSSA: (to NUMBER ONE) I think you already made that point.
> A matchlock wasn't a particularly
>powerful weapon, but when someone fired one at you from eight
DOUG: ...you were likely to wet 'em.
>He gazed out at the placidly rolling ocean and lit up a cigarette. It
NUMBER ONE: He's my kind of guy. [lights up a cigarette]
DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE) Your kind of guy? I didn't know you
went that way. Is that part of your curse, or were you attracted to
NUMBER ONE: (angrily, to DOUG) I ain't gay!
DOUG: [casually throws his drink on NUMBER ONE, changing
him to female] You were saying?
NUMBER ONE (F): This don't change anything! I'm still not gay!
DOUG: So, then, if you're female right now and you're not gay,
then you must like men. Right?
NUMBER ONE (F): Hell, no! I only like girls!
DOUG: Therefore, you are gay. You like members of the same sex.
NUMBER ONE (F): (angry and confused) What!? No-- I mean--
I'm not-- Oh, you jerk! [draws back her fist to hit DOUG]
[All four freeze as a restrictor field once again takes hold. Speakers
hum to life and cheesy disco music can be heard.]
MUSIC: (warbling voice) ...At the Copa!/Copa Cabana!/Music and
passion/Were always the fashion...
[The four un-freeze as the music cuts off. DOUG and NUMBER
ONE (F) settle back down as NYSSA and DIANE glare at them.]
NUMBER ONE (F): (loudly) All right, Adric. Message received.
I'll be good. (aside, to DOUG) And I'm _not_ gay.
DOUG: [chuckles] I don't think I'll ever get tired of doing that...
>tasted flat and stale,
NUMBER ONE (F): Must've been a GPC. They suck.
> but helped hold back the omnipresent odors of
>blood and gunsmoke.
DIANE: The two least popular of Baskin-Robbins's 31 flavors.
> He glanced at the Captain's corpse, intact
>from the chin down, and sighed. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry it
>had to come to this."
NYSSA: (Colville) If you'd only brought back your library books
on time, this could all have been avoided.
> He flipped the cigarette into the sea and pulled
>a pair of grenades from his jacket, eyeing them contemplatively as
>he headed for the hold.
DIANE: (Colville) Hmm... maybe I can smoke _these_ instead!
>Suddenly, the too-quiet air was split by a horrendous, yet familiar
>and not-unexpected noise.
DOUG: [makes fart noise]
NYSSA: (to DOUG) I thought I said to stop that.
DOUG: [shrugs] It's a guy thing. [looks slyly at NUMBER ONE
(F)] And, since I'm the only guy here right now...
NUMBER ONE (F): (through gritted teeth, to DOUG) Stow it,
> Rance had once described it as sounding
>like a "donkey giving birth to a pipe organ".
DIANE: Must be Pearl Jam.
DOUG: Or one of those weird French police sirens.
NUMBER ONE (F): Or Ted Kennedy after finding the liquor
NYSSA: Okay, 'pipe organ' definitely sounds like a euphemism for
>He turned and watched
>as the TARDIS materialized amid the carnage on the foredeck.
>"You're about ten minutes too late," he said when the door opened.
DOUG: How do you know? Maybe the Doctor was coming to look
for salvageable organs or something.
>"So I see," said the Doctor as he stepped fastidiously around a pair
>of tattered corpses.
NYSSA: (Doctor) Eeeww! Icky icky blood! I just had these shoes
>Rance's coppery face twisted with faint amusement. "How were you
>gonna stop me, anyway? Bludgeon me with that umbrella? Pum-
>mel me with those damn spoons?"
DOUG: (Colville) Stun me with your haggis-breath?
NUMBER ONE (F): (Colville) Trick me with a convenient plot
DIANE: (Colville) Smother me with your hot monkey love?
NYSSA: (Colville, rapidly) Rip my heart right out of my ribcage
with your bare hands and then throw it on the floor and stomp on it
'til I die?
>"I'd have found a way," the Doctor responded quietly.
>Rance was silent for a moment, then nodded solemnly. "Yeah, you
DIANE: Wow. A villain who admits to his own incompetence.
>The two stood in tense silence, Rance squinting into the setting
>the Doctor gazing sadly at the scattered bodies of the crew.
>it was the Time Lord who broke the stillness.
DOUG: [makes fart noise]
NUMBER ONE (F): [snickers] This fanfic must be sponsored by
NYSSA: (resignedly) I give up...
>"You have something of mine." He held out his hand. "I'd like it
DIANE: (Doctor) Give me my ring! We're breaking up for good
this time! Find yourself another Prom date!
>Rance handed him the Time Ring, saying, "You're taking defeat
>better than I thought you would."
NYSSA: (Doctor) Oh, this is just an act. As soon as I'm alone
again, I'm going to pitch a hissy-fit.
>The Doctor sighed with deep weariness, and for just a moment, the
>absurd little Scotsman
NUMBER ONE (F): The Doctor is played by Jackie Stewart?
DOUG: (Jackie Stewart) ...And Fenric is circling about...
Circling... He's in the straightaway... Oh no! He's up against the
wall! Oh no! Fenric has...
ALL: (Jackie Stewart, loudly) ...BUUUURRRST INTO FLAMES!!
>seemed every bit of his thousand years old.
NYSSA: Colville must have noticed the Doctor's Depends.
>When he finally met the other's gaze, his eyes were filled with vast
>sadness and pity.
NUMBER ONE (F): Awww... He knows we're having to read this
>"Listen to me, Rance Blackfox Colville,
DIANE: You _know_ you're in trouble when they call you by your
NUMBER ONE (F): [shrugs] Blackfox. Deal with it.
> and listen well. Do you
>think that I'd not be happy to see the murderous history of the
>American conquest changed? Do you think it pleases me to know
>the incredible suffering the Europeans will bring? If you could
>change the course of history to create a real future for your people--
>if you _have_ done it--do you think I'd not rejoice with you?
DOUG: (Doctor) Do you think I'm glad to be in this fanfic?
NYSSA: (Doctor, as Joe Pesci) Do I look like a clown? Am I here
to amuse you?
NUMBER ONE (F): (Doctor, singing) Do you think I could hate
you/Or raise my hand against you...
DIANE: (Doctor) If I said you had a beautiful body, would you
hold it against me?
>learned a great deal from me about time travel, but very little about
NUMBER ONE (F): (Doctor) Or else you'd know its editorial
board is full of flaming liberals.
> When a thing is destined to be, Time resists any alter-
>ation of that destiny. You can make changes, but Time makes
>changes, too, to compensate.
ALL: (singing) Ch-ch-ch-changes/to com-pen-saaate/Ch-ch-
> So you kill the Discoverer of America before he discovers it. So
>what? Somewhere in Europe, some other
>man has the notion of searching for a western route to India, and a
>different name and date go into the history books.
NUMBER ONE (F): December 19th, 1776. Admiral Sir Michael
St. John Abercrombie-Fitzcarringtonburyshire discovers the
continent of America, at last solving the mystery of where that
mysterious 'Declaration of Independence' had come from.
> You can change
>history, but you can't change destiny!" More softly, he added, "Be-
>lieve me, I know."
NYSSA: (Doctor) I've been trying unsuccessfully to lose weight for
_ages_, now, but what can I do? It's destiny.
>Colville looked distrustfully at the Time Lord. "If all that's true,
>why did you come racing back here to stop me?"
DIANE: (Doctor) I didn't. I was trying to get to the Planet of
Open-Minded Bisexual Nymphomaniac Stewardesses In Heat, and
got so excited, I hit the wrong button.
>"To save their lives," he gestured at the bodies, "and yours. Will
>you let me take you back to 2007?"
>Now it was the big Cherokee's turn to sigh.
NUMBER ONE (F): Cherokee? [snickers]
DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE) What's so funny?
NUMBER ONE (F): I'm Chickasaw, myself. Kickin' Cherokee ass
was sort of a tribal hobby of ours.
> "No, Doc. I planned this as a one-way trip.
DOUG: (Colvile) I didn't have enough 'Frequent Flyer' miles to get
>The way I see it, if I've succeeded, then I've
>made a world I don't belong in.
NUMBER ONE (F): Must be a world with a plot and believeable
> If you're right, and nothing's changed,
DIANE: (Colville) ...then Alanis Morrissette _still_ sings like a
sackful of coyotes being hammered to death.
>then I killed all these poor bastards for nothing. That'd be
>pretty tough to live with. I'm not a monster, you know."
DOUG: (Colville) I just hang out with the Gromble and them
because they're cool.
DIANE: (Doctor) You're not a monster. A ruthless, mass-
murdering sociopath, sure. But not a monster.
>"No, you're an idealist. Sometimes, that's worse."
>"I reckon so. Anyhow, I can't go back."
NYSSA: (Colville) 'Cause then I'd have to explain all this to my
Mom, and boy, will she be p.o.'ed!
>The Doctor nodded. "I understand. I don't agree, but I
>He stepped into the TARDIS, then leaned back out. "Peace to your
>"And to yours, Doc."
>They did not shake hands.
NUMBER ONE (F): Nor did they give each other a peck on the
DIANE: Nor did they strip down, pour chocolate sauce on each
other, and then lick it off.
NYSSA: (to DIANE) So, basically, you're saying that this wasn't
written by a PMEB member?
>Rance waited until the police box had faded completely from sight,
>then climbed down into the hold and pulled the pins on the gren-
>His last words were,
NYSSA: "It's a cookbook!"
NUMBER ONE (F): "Rosebud..."
DIANE: "I regret that I have but one life to give for-- KABOOM!"
>"Please, God, don't let it have all been for nothing."
>Passing through the same area five days later, lookouts aboard the
>'Nina' and 'Pinta' claimed to have seen a burned and tattered Port-
>uguese flag drifting on the waves.
NUMBER ONE (F): But, since they'd been hitting the grog ration
pretty hard, no one really believed them.
NYSSA: That weird smiley again...
DOUG: Actually, it looks like a Dalek eyestalk, kind of...
DIANE: Come on, let's blow this joint...
[ALL get up and exit the theater.]
[Door sequence: 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7...]
[NUMBER ONE is male again. The others are standing around
him, listening as he explains about his curse.]
NUMBER ONE: ...but I didn't feel justified in killing Happosai
outright for selling me the wrong cursed water. After all, if he
hadn't double-crossed me, I'd be turning into a pig when I get
splashed instead of a woman.
NYSSA: So, basically, it was a plot to do something evil to Adric
that just happened to backfire on you?
NUMBER ONE: Pretty much.
NYSSA: [nods] I can relate.
DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE) Well, it serves you right for trying to
curse poor Adric like that!
NYSSA: (to DIANE) 'Poor Adric'? May I remind you that it's 'poor
Adric' who is holding us captive up here?
DOUG: (firmly) He works in mysterious ways.
NYSSA: (to DOUG) So does your brain, apparently.
[A light begins to flash on the console.]
NYSSA: Oh, look. The Three Amigos are calling. [pushes light]
[ADRIC stands alone in the middle of the room. HARRY and
FRANCOIS can be heard cleaning up in the background.]
ADRIC: Hello, everyone! Did you all make it through the CPT
[ALL are smiling vacuously.]
NUMBER ONE: (sweetly) Just peachy-keen, sir.
NYSSA: (sweetly) Oh, yes! I feel ever-so-much better and nicer!
DOUG: (sweetly) Absolutely! And we all learned to work as a
team to survive. We're just like family, now!
DIANE: (to the OTHERS) Come on! Group hug time!
[The four all put their arms around each other, trying not to show
their extreme revulsion at touching their enemies.]
DOUG: (sweetly, but strained) See? Best buddies!
ADRIC: [smiles and shakes his head] Sorry, guys. I'm not buying
[Scowling, the four spring away from each other. NYSSA whaps
DIANE on the head.]
NYSSA: (to DIANE) I _told_ you he'd never fall for that 'group
DOUG: [smiles] So, Adric. Buddy. Pal. When do we get out of
ADRIC: [smiles] Well, old buddy, we'll just have to wait and see.
[gestures at a huge sheaf of papers] There's still all this prose to get
through, first. And your other therapy. Plus, maybe some
DOUG: [smiles] Ha ha ha! You're kidding, right?
ADRIC: [smiles] Ha ha ha! [stops smiling] No.
[ALL swallow and look nervous.]
DIANE: (softly) ...electroshock...?
[NUMBER ONE grabs a glass of water and dumps it on himself,
changing to female.]
NUMBER ONE (F): [takes off sunglasses and makes puppy-dog
eyes at the screen] (girly-girl voice) Oh, Adric! You wouldn't hurt
a poor, defenseless girl, would you?
ADRIC: [snorts] No more than you would try to turn me into a piglet.
NUMBER ONE (F): (nervously) Aheh heh heh...
ADRIC: [looks at watch] My shift starts in a few minutes, so we'll
call it a day for now. [nods at screen] Until next time, Tony
Orlando and Dawn. [pushes a button and the screen goes black]
> Rance had once described it as sounding
>like a "donkey giving birth to a pipe organ".
Doctor Who is property of the BBC.
Mystery Science Theater 3000 is property of Best Brains, Inc.
Battle Angel/Gunnm is property of Kishiro Yukito, ADVision,
Other works referred to are property of their respective owners.
Characters: Nyssa, Tegan, Adric, Harry Sullivan, Fifth Doctor,
Seventh Doctor, Cybermen, Others
Categories: This Time Round; 'To Die For' spinoff series; Humor;
Crossover with Mystery Science Theater 3000
Synopsis: The ownership of This Time Round takes drastic steps
to deal with some of the more destructive patrons.
I hope you enjoyed my first MiSTing. Please note that this is
NOT NOT NOT a part of TDF's regular continuity. It's more of
an alternate-universe/diverging timeline kind of thing. We will
be returning to the regular TDF world soon enough, have no fear.
Thank you for reading.