Subject: All systems go!
Author:
Posted on: 2014-02-03 01:01:00 UTC
[The TARDISes of the Council (plus the Dalek Time Ship) materialise in their chamber one by one, and everyone emerges... save one.]
Fisherman: I don't wanna jinx this, but... where did the Notary go?
Librarian: 1875 isn't that far away from here, even in robes and a big stupid collar.
Agent: Maybe she died?
Morgan: We're not that lucky.
Agent: Aw.
[The traditional TARDIS materialisation sound echoes through the chamber, followed by a distinct lack of TARDIS. A few seconds later, a very large beige photocopier plummets to the ground and smashes the table. Smoke billows from the lid as it flips up to reveal the back of the Notary.
Notary: WHY DID YOU STOP YOU USELESS - Oh, we're here. Ahem. [She straightens her Big Stupid Collar] Shall we begin?
Fisherman: That is your TARDIS.
Notary: Yes, a Type 89-
Fisherman: That. Is your TARDIS.
Notary: Yes it is, Ruby Shipwright, get to the point-
Fisherman [shoving past her]: Poor baby! What did the nasty walking Filofax do to you? [He continues in similar vein for the next few minutes]
Morgan: Well, that explains why you didn't want to give me the key.
Fisherman: [from rather far away] Nails are not supposed to replace fuses in the drive transmission!
11th Doctor: How long have you had her?
Fisherman: Did you - the oscillator control board is not supposed to be glued on!
Notary: [rather stiffly] It is a museum piece, and one so completely useless it might have been built in a human yard.
Fisherman: The fire suppression system's on fire!
Notary: Yes, Ruby Shipwright! Message received and understood! Now calm down, you're embarrassing yourself and this Council!
Fisherman: I'll calm down when you stop using your helmic regulator to store paperclips!
Notary: They're the only things holding it-
[There is a noise like a duck being sat on, followed by the sound of moderately unpleasant electrocution.]
Notary: -together.
Fearn: SEE, MEMBERS OF THE DA-LEK COUNCIL! SEE HOW THE TIME LORDS DEVOLVE INTO BIC-KER-ING IN THE FACE OF SUPERIOR DA-LEK TEMPORAL TECH-NOLOGY! LET US GUF-FAW AT THEM!
Lat: BY ORDER OF THE SUP-REME CHAN-CELL-OR OF THE DA-LEK COUN-CIL, GUF-FAW-ING SHALL COM-MENCE! GUF-FAW! GUF-FAW! GUF-FAW!
Morgan: And now they've set them off. Y'know, some days, I just don't know why I get out of bed.
[The Notary is the subject of many, many glares, and this time has the decency to look embarrassed.]
Reader: Notary, do you do anything except make us look bad?
Agent: She also talks the back wheels off a bus for no good reason, can't forget that.
Morgan: Look, everybody just shut up. Including you. [She gestures at the Daleks with her Concussor, and they fall silent] Red, can you fix this TARDIS?
Fisherman: This alleged TARDIS might hold together long enough, but I can't say for sure. Hush now, sweetie, it's gonna be okay.
Notary: What is it with renegades and treating TARDISes like people? It's not a Type-103, it's not sentient.
11th Doctor: Oh, all TARDISes are a bit alive, right from the word go. It's how they're made. Even the Type I's were, though they were mostly grumpy old codgers shaking a walking stick at you from their living room.
Disentangler: Now who does that remind me of?
Notary: [with an air of defeat] Look, it was all I could get, alright? The Dromeian Chapter is not noted for its lavish funding.
Fisherman: Hold up. This is a Dromeian 89?
Notary: Yes, what of it.
Fisherman: These were blockade runners in the Time War, they're basically indestructible. We're in business!
Librarian: What is a minor bureaucrat doing in charge of a blockade runner?
Notary: [turning away] I don't like to talk about it.
Morgan: Then don't. Everyone, report to your TARDISes. I'll set up a conference call from mine.
[Exeunt omnes, save the Notary and The Fisherman. He emerges from her TARDIS a few minutes later, lightly charred and grinning like an idiot.]
Fisherman: It'll last! I think! Probably!
Notary: Must you shout?
Fisherman: What?
Notary: Oh, never mind. Get back to your own TARDIS.
Fisherman: What? I'm going to go to my own TARDIS! See you later!
[He runs, and the Notary sighs and gets back inside the photocopier.]
***
Morgan: Okay, everyone, check in.
Librarian: Citrine Theorist in position.
Fearn: IN POSI-TION ABOARD THE SU-PER-IOR TIME MAC-HINE-
Librarian: Would it kill you to stop doing that for a moment?
Morgan: [heading him off] Yellow's online. Blue?
Disentangler: Sapphire Warden standing by.
Morgan: Pink?
Agent: I'm here and it's purple.
Morgan: Keep telling yourself that, Pink. Red?
Fisherman: What?
Morgan: Red, check in.
Fisherman: What?
Morgan: ... Screw it, it counts. Green?
Reader: Where I need to be and praying to any gods that'll listen that this works.
Morgan: Doctors?
9th Doctor: In position.
11th Doctor: Same here, Tiger Thingy.
Morgan: And, last and by all means least, Grey? [Static] Grey? [More static] Notary, if you've bailed on us-
Notary: - GIVE YOU A DAMNED GOOD THRASHING - ah.
Morgan: Grey?
Notary: I'm in position, against all common sense. Wait a second. Er. Hold on. I might be sort of very slighty on fire.
Morgan: On fire?
Notary: Only slightly.
Agent: I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.
Morgan: Okay then, let's fix this mess! Anchor yourself to a particular timeline and pull like crazy!
Notary: That's it?
Morgan: What, you want to make us fill out a Health and Safety form first?
Notary: Well, I do have some on hand, but I was merely surprised. This scrapyard refugee's flaws will actually be useful.
Morgan: What d'you mean?
Notary: The brakes don't work, the accelerator locks on half the time, and it only stays in one direction if I hit the central control nodule with a brick.
Fisherman: It's like watching someone beat up a kitten.
Morgan: Your hearing back, Red?
Fisherman: Nah, I put subtitles on.
Morgan: Let's get pulling! Hold on, it's going to be a bumpy riiiiii-
[Sparks gout from the various panels on the TARDISes' central consoles, and from the Dalek bumps all over their bridge.]
Librarian: Morgan, I am experiencing major piloting difficulties!
Morgan: Already?
Fearn: WE DESIGNED OUR VESSEL TO USE THE SUPERIOR DA-LEK MANI-PU-LATOR AS A MEANS OF CON-TROL! IT IS NOT OUR FAULT THAT INFERIOR SPECIES DO NOT POS-SESS THEM!
Morgan: Just hit it with something and hope!
Agent: There are Sues on board and they're fighting back. I'm not sure I can hold a steady course and deal with them at the same time!
Morgan: Uh, um, Dalek Lat! Teleport over to the Agent's vessel and smoke 'em!
Lat: SO YOU FI-NALLY ACKNOWLEDGE THE SUPERIORITY OF DA-LEK ARMS!
Fisherman: You don't even have arms!
Notary: I must inform the Council that I've completed my initial pass and am coming around for a second attack on a Suvian-generate loop.
Morgan: That's good!
Notary: I must also inform the Council that I am rather more substantially on fire.
Disentangler: That's really good!
Morgan: Not the time! Come on, we're almost - gyah!
[Morgan is accosted from behind by a tall female Humanised Dalek in form-fitting battle armour that shows off her, ahem, larger Dalek bumps. Her TARDIS lurches to one side and a slew of alarms go off. She draws her pistol and hits the Sue square in the eye, but the bullet bounces off and elicits nought but a burst of static]
Fisherman: Morgan, what's happening?
Morgan: I'm under attack! There's a God Mode Sue on my bridge!
Agent: Aim for the heart, not the head!
Morgan: What?
Agent: The Sue's chest is exposed, right? God Mode Sues that die have trajeck deaths, and what's more trajeck than being shot in the heart?
Lat: I CON-SI-DER BEING A MEM-BER OF AN INFERIOR SPE-CIES TO BE MUCH MORE TRA-GIC!
Agent: Trajeck, dude, big difference.
Notary: Hold on, I'm sending you my staser.
Disentangler: Why do you even have one of those?
Notary: For the same reason that I apparently possess a blockade running TARDIS. Sending now.
[There is a metallic thump as a small, snub-nosed staser pistol bounces off of Morgan's control panel and hits her in the head. She grabs it and blasts the Sue twice in the chest, leaving a pair of gaping holes.]
Agent: Why twice?
Morgan: Could've been a Time Lord-Dalek hybrid.
Notary: Oh, I'm going to be sick - [She is. Violently. We're talking Exorcist levels of technicolor-yawn here.]
11th Doctor: I think mine's about to come loose, Morgan.
9th Doctor: Mine's just gone. I hope I see you again, chinny-
[There's static from the 9th Doctor's signal.]
Agent: Doctor?
11th Doctor: He picked his own universe to drag back. It must have pulled him back with it.
Notary: Will that happen to us?
11th Doctor: I'm not sure how it happened to him, if I'm being honest.
Notary: And are you?
Agent: Rule one: the Doctor lies.
11th Doctor: Not this time, honest.
Notary: The word of a renegade means little, but I see no reason to doubt him. Let's just carry on and rendezvous in the Chamber.
Morgan: Right. Wait, your TARDIS trashed the Chamber-
Notary: I'll aim for the corridor.
[One by one, with a lot of shaking control-room scenes from all the Councillors' vessels, the timelines are separated and the multiverse saved. Ish. From this sort of thing. Today. Probably. They return to the Really Very Tiny Auditorium with dazed but happy expressions.]
Morgan: ... We did it. We actually did it.
Fisherman: Yeah! We did what we were supposed to do and saved the day. Go team Continuity!
Morgan: Oh, hey, your hearing's back.
Fisherman: Yes it is.
[The Notary finally limps in, looking like a giant bruise]
Fisherman: And would you look at that, it's gone again. Deaf as a post. Couldn't hear a dropped match in a fireworks factory. I'm gonna go get lunch. [He scurries off into the distance]
Agent: So, um, is this meeting adjourned yet?
Morgan: Not quite. AOB time.
11th Doctor: I do have a little bit more. I mean, I know I'm not an official full-silly-collar member of the Council, but let's not stand on ceremony, eh?
Notary: I want to object but everything hurts.
Morgan: Okay, Doctor, hit us with it.
Notary: Please don't hit me with anything.
11th Doctor: Just a couple of things, really. Literally a couple, there's only two, although frankly that's not a very good way of looking at couples, I mean three's only a crowd if you're in a very small room-
Notary: The point, please?
Librarian: Now that is rich.
11th Doctor: Alright. Point one. I think this is the part where someone normally neuralyses me.
Morgan: Eh, we'll do it when you leave. Sorry, but rules is rules.
11th Doctor: I understand-
Disentangler: Wait, what about your older self? Nobody neuralysed him!
Agent: He went for the canon universe. I'll pick him up later.
11th Doctor: Good. I had a feeling this place made you forget, and I don't want to remember that you can do that. The other thing concerns her. [He jabs a finger at the Notary] What are you doing with a TARDIS like that and a weapon like that?
Notary: What are you doing with a Type 40, renegade?
11th Doctor: Running. Every single day.
Notary: Then the matter is closed. Tigereye Castellan?
Morgan: Hold up, this doesn't just concern you-
Notary: I fail to see who else it could concern. My TARDIS's origins and the fact that I am armed do not affect my ability to carry out my duties as Spinel Promotor in any meaningful sense. Thus, the matter is of total irrelevance.
Morgan: We have to be able to trust the other Councillors!
Notary: Then I respectfully suggest that you trust me.
Morgan: ... Alright, fine, but this isn't over. Don't think that for a second.
Notary: On the contrary. Unless anyone else has any other business... motion to adjourn?
[The hands of the Councillors shoot up.]
Notary: The motion is carried, and this Council is adjourned.
---
In which I show myself to be terrible at writing action scenes. Sorry.