IMPORTANT! READ THESE AUTHOR'S NOTES!
Me: Greetings, my fellow lunatics! It is I, J.J. Hatter, Master of All Wonderlandian Whackos!
VS: And I, Van Skittles, the Great and Powerful! Welcome to me and J.'s first collaborative effort, as well as my first venture into fanfiction in general!
Me: Well, for those of you who don't know me, I am utterly obsessed with Lewis Carroll's Alice stories, having collected nearly 400...things, for lack of a better, all-encompassing word, related to the books (actually maybe more, though I doubt less...I kid you not, and still have a LONG way to go yet in my collection).
VS: And I, fellow Whovians, am just that: I am about as obsessed with Doctor Who as J. is with Lewis Carroll's works. I have all the Dalek episodes (and more, but most of my Classic Series DVDs are the Daleks), complete seasons from the show, Heaven-Knows-How-Many toys and action figures, and a Tom Baker scarf & hat...and that's just the tip of the Sea Devil Iceberg!
Me: Naturally, a crossover was inevitable. It is an attempt that several have tried...
VS: And few have COMPLETED.
Me: AND COMPLETE IT WE SHALL!
Both of Us: "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; or close the wall up with our English dead...the game's afoot! Follow your spirit, and upon this charge, cry 'God, for Harry, England, AND SAINT GEORGE!"
Me: NOW FOR THE BORING STUFF!
(Pause)
Me: ...I'm posting this, I'll...I'll take care of it...
VS: Indeed.
Me: ...Ahem...
Rating: T (And we hope to keep it that way...but, seeing as we are both sick in the head, it MAY be raised...)
Disclaimer: Doctor Who does not belong to us; it belongs to the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC). This take on Wonderland, however, is OURS. (Since Carroll's works are in the public domain, we CAN claim this...however, the original stories, obviously, belong to Lewis Carroll himself. En pace requiescat...)
Summary: Me: Actually, Van, would you do the honors here? You wrote most of it...
VS: All right...
The Cloister Bell can be heard throughout the TARDIS as the Doctor and Ace arrive in a place where they shouldn't. Outside those doors can be found a carnivorous shape-shifter, a cannibal cook, a tyrant whose only title is the queen of fools, and a maniac who has some unfinished business with Time himself. Brace yourselves, for this is not the Wonderland you know. Welcome, Foolish Mortals, to the Madhouse.
Me: Very nice.
VS: Thank you.
Me: I'll take back over from here, then...
Notes: This story, in keeping with the Sylvester McCoy era's style, will be told as a serial; this is just the first of a four part series. Just saying, just in case the title didn't indicate that. Also, if any of you lovely readers have no experience, for whatever reason, with the 7th Doctor and Ace, you can find most of their episodes on Dailymotion, and a few on YouTube...or, just buy the DVD(s). That works, too. (Personally, we recommend Remembrance of the Daleks, Curse of Fenric, Battlefield, and The Happiness Patrol...the lattermost episode is referenced in this chapter.) The TARDIS here is based on the version from Doctor Who: The Movie, which shows what caused the 7th Doctor to regenerate, among other things. I (J.) know that it wasn't the mainstream TARDIS for McCoy, but I like it more than the one from the show itself. Please, Whovian allies of my dearest friends and fellow authors Katzsoa and Van Skittles, don't kill me. "If you believe in me, then I'll believe in you."
VS: Is that quote from "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?"
Me: Actually, "Through the Looking-Glass." You were close.
VS: Curses. "KHAAAAAANNNN!"
Me: ...Did I mention he's a Trekkie, too?
VS: Enough about that. Engage! Fanfiction on-screen!
Me: YES, CAPTAIN!
And so, good readers, having completed quite possibly the longest author's note I, J.J. Hatter, have ever written, allow me to present...
Chapter I: Crash Landing
Picture a tunnel burrowing through space and time, so deep and so penetrating you would never know about it till you got inside. To describe the time vortex, picture a tunnel filled with chaotic beauty, ripples of time set ablaze encompassing everything that has been and everything that will come to be. Hurtling through this grub-dug passage, picture a the most majestic craft: a flying blue police phone booth—of all things—spinning like a gyroscope as it pierces through the vortex. Picture this object gliding like a boomerang at super-supersonic speed, moving back and forth through time, over, under, and around galaxies, from era to era, world to world.
Curious, isn't it?
Curiouser and curiouser: it's much bigger on the inside.
Much, MUCH bigger.
Now, imagine the interior: a cavernous realm of metal, lights, tunnels, stairs, swooping arches, a few lifts, and circling catwalks. A soft, constant buzzing of machinery mingles with the quiet sound of soft music from an aged phonograph just adjacent to the ship's control room. The control room itself is held by four large arches meeting together at the center column that is the ship's computer. This computer is set on a large, pedestal-like base—hexagonal in shape—for its controls, with a massive column featuring a rotor set in constant motion. Just imagine such a fantastic machine, one so fast it makes our modern, Earthly supercomputers look like turtles.
Yes, turtles.
This is the TARDIS—well, more technically, it is a TARDIS, but, since it is the only one present in this tale, we can refer to it as the definite article. The word TARDIS is, in fact, an acronym, short for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. A time machine and space ship, all in one, an incredible feat of trans-dimensional technology.
A police box that can travel anywhere through time and space, traversing the unthought-of plains of the fourth and fifth dimensions, might be looked upon as some act of sorcery by species much like our own. In reality, it was all the result of some advanced scientific engineering beyond our comprehension, but no one can deny the magical quality of this box. Just imagine being whisked away from this blue sphere of ours, and, in an instant, standing on an alien planet. Picture taking in the sights and scents of a foreign land, seeing all those strange creatures, and beholding the countless wonders of the universe; all this and more could be accomplished by the TARDIS. Just imagine for one moment such a thing was possible, and in that moment you would find yourself inside the console room of this wonderful machine.
A loud BANG! interrupted the soft hums, followed by a short yelp.
From beneath the control panel, a figure popped up, rubbing his sore head. His hands mussed his dark brown hair, and his blue eyes blinked fast in response to the pain. The man wore a light gray safari jacket, the lapels of which half-covered a paisley scarf slung about his shoulders. A fob watch was hooked onto his lapel, snuggly placed settled in his left breast pocket. He placed a white Panama hat with a red and green striped hatband—which matched his tie and the handkerchief protruding from his lower coat pocket—onto his head as he rose, hissing through his teeth. His trousers were olive with a plaid pattern, with his feet covered with brown shoes with spats. Over his white collared shirt, and under his jacket, was a yellow pullover sweater, covered in zig-zagging turquoise stripes and red question marks, the latter of which matched the strange, scarlet handle of his black umbrella.
Who is this fellow?
We'll call him the Doctor.
"Doctor who," you ask?
Good question.
The Doctor belonged to a race of beings known as the Time Lords who had long held mastery over time and space. The Time Lords held such incredible power, power which under the wrong hands could be catastrophic to our universe and the universes beyond. To prevent any such corruption, the Time Lords vowed never to interfere in the affairs of lesser beings. However, some found this creed of unacceptable, and were cast off as renegades. The Doctor was one such renegade who stole a box and ran away, ran so he could see the infinite majesty of time.
Along his several journeys, he has encountered the most marvelous things. However, he has also met the most heinous creations that stand against all that we hold dear, that see what we perceive as evil to be good, and act towards the total extermination of all life that is different from their own. He has fought these creatures with the weapon of wit and sheer intellect, reigning triumphant over the cynicism and brute force of his enemies. The Doctor was no mere Time Lord, and certainly not one to be trifled with.
He has traveled for many centuries and has always stood for what is right. These qualities have remained constant with the Doctor, but little else has remained the same. As a Time Lord, the Doctor did not die, but rather regenerated into a new body, with a new face and a renewed spirit of adventure. The Doctor had undergone this process six times before, making this his seventh incarnation. Over his many lives, he has travelled with the most brilliant of companions, but even they had come and gone. He was seldom alone, however, always opening the doors of the TARDIS to some kindred spirit who too longed to see new stars and the splendor of the worlds beyond.
So there he stood in the TARDIS, setting a course for their next destination.
"Ace!" called the Doctor, in his light Scottish accent and reedy voice, hardly reflective of his incredible mind, filled with over 900 years of knowledge. "Have you rrrelocated my spoons?"
Somewhere above him, from one of the TARDIS' many catwalks, a decidedly female voice responds with a simple, "No, Professor!"
The Doctor sighed, with his fingers drumming thoughtfully over his umbrella handle.
"Oh, where could they be? I'm out of practice at playing them!"
"You were out of practice when you lost them."
"Ace!"
"It's true!"
The Doctor rolled his eyes and ran to another area of the control room, the Time Lord's two hearts pumping with agitated excitement. He scuttled about, rummaging through a bookshelf in the sitting room, where the aforementioned phonograph sat beside a jeweled lamp and a glass bowl filled with Jelly Babies. These objects could be found on a wooden desk beside an antique chair with red and gold cushions, but one object he could not find were his spoons. He grumbled softly in an alien language.
"It's hardly a surprise," came Ace's voice once more. "I mean, there's gotta be at least a hundred rooms in this place as it is..."
"More than that, though that doesn't exactly help. Did you check the closet?"
"Closets, with an 's.' In the thirty-seven I've checked so far, all I've found of interest are some old notebooks, a broken cricket bat, a yo-yo, a model train set..."
She trailed off.
"And?"
"Make that thirty-eight closets. Who wore THIS patchwork abomination, anyway?!"
The Doctor paused, immediately knowing which outfit his young companion was referring to.
"Um...w-w-well, you know, some cultures do find such...er...bold colors and designs a sign of friendliness."
"Where I come from, it's a sign of horrible taste, Professor. I say it should have died with disco, if not sooner."
"Oh, never mind that!" snapped the Doctor, and returned to the bookshelf.
As he moved on to a second shelf, he heard a door open somewhere above him...
"OI!"
"What now?"
"Professor...did you even know you had a swimming-pool?!"
"Never mind that, Ace, they wouldn't be in there..."
"Forget the spoons, you have a swimming-pool! With a diving board, no less! Might pop in next time there's a nasty invasion, or something..."
The Doctor growled softly, ignoring her, and continued to check the shelf.
A few minutes later, as he checked the drawers of his desk, where the phonograph and lamp sat, he inquired once more:
"Any sign of them yet?" he whined, like a little boy wondering if a trip was over.
"Now that you mention it, I'm beginning to think you left it on that circus world...or maybe the one with those candy-coated buzzkills..."
"Peachy; narrows things down splendidly."
"I'm doing my best, Professor..."
The Doctor paused, leaning on his umbrella and biting his lip in thought.
Hmm...maybe I DID leave them behind somewhere. Perhaps on-
WHAM!
A sudden lurch and a groan echoed from all around. The Doctor cried out, falling into the nearby chair. The lights flickered, flashed, and, somewhere overhead, he heard a short scream.
"Ace! You all right?!"
"Fine! Just-"
WHAM!
Another lurch, and the chair spun around. A second scream and a faint splash echoed somewhere above.
"WHOA THERE! ACE?!"
"Just a bit wet; I was about to double-check the swimming-pool..."
"Ace, do you not grrrasp the situation...?!"
WHAM!
"AGH!"
The chair slid back first into the control panel.
With a wry smirk, the Doctor turned the chair around fast, hanging the umbrella on the armrest. His hands flew over the console, as the lights continued to flash and the ship continued to shake.
A few moments later, a damp hand touched his shoulder.
"Are you alright?" he asked, not turning around.
"No," said Ace, a teenaged girl with a ponytail tied halfway up her light brown haired head, held down with a yellow scrunchee. She was dressed in black leggings, shoes, a miniskirt, and a leather jacket covered in a variety of badges, pins, and patches, with her name stenciled onto the back; all sopping wet.
"This is my favorite jacket," she mumbled.
"Ace..." the Doctor half-snarled.
"I know, I know. What's wrong now?"
"Not really sure...this isn't just normal turbulence..."
Suddenly, a loud, ominous tone resonated throughout the entire ship as it swayed and lurched. Red lights blazed all around the console.
"What's that?"
"Cloister bell...rings when there's trouble..."
"Well, it's a little late."
The Doctor's eyes widened.
"TARDIS says something's caught her in mid-flight...some kind of force, a gap within the time vortex..."
"Is that even possible?"
"Apparently."
Just then, the shaking stopped. Soon it felt as if the entire ship was in free fall. Ace grabbed onto a nearby ladder, while the Doctor gripped onto the control panel to keep from sliding.
"Crash landing!" he shouted. "Hold on tight, Ace! We're nearly-"
KER-WHAM!
The Doctor gasped as he fell backwards out of his chair, hat flopping over his face. Ace fell flat on her back, as well.
"...There."
Ace sat up, wincing a bit. She then glanced over to her right.
She stopped short, eyes wide.
"Er...Professor..."
"Ach, what is it NOW?!" snapped the Doctor, sitting up only slightly.
Ace smiled sheepishly, and held up two small, silver objects.
"I found your spoons..."
The Doctor's eye twitched.
And, with a groan, he flopped back onto the floor.
Then, for a short while, everything was still.