The grinding of ancient engines, the sound of the winds of time howling through a timeless machine, filled the TARDIS control room. At the console, his sharp features illuminated in the pale blue light, stood the Doctor. He felt about the familiar controls, flicking the occasional switch, turning a dial, pulling a lever. Despite all the remodelling the ship had been through, it still felt the same. Same old TARDIS being piloted by, somewhere beneath that bow tie and floppy hair, the same old Time Lord.
He had just dropped Clara off back home. Wednesday, he'd said. He'd see her Wednesday. If he could remember how to get there. They tended to jut out a little, Wednesdays – set into the middle of the week like that, they created neat little bumps in time, making them much easier for time travellers to spot. Always had to watch out for them though – made Thursdays a nightmare to get to. Several times the TARDIS had tripped on a Wednesday, trying to get to a Thursday and ended up tumbling into Friday or Saturday. The Doctor never could get the hang of Thursdays.
There was silence. The continuous calming breath of the engines suddenly vanished. The rising and falling of the time rotor stopped, the vast central column now utterly still. The Doctor looked up, his eyes wide and darting around beneath his furrowed brow.
"That shouldn't have happened," he muttered. "We're in flight. That definitely should not have happened."
Placing his hand softly on the glass column, he whispered to his time machine.
"What is it, old girl? What's wrong?"
A loud clang filled the room – the Cloister Bell. The TARDIS's emergency alarm. The resting blue light of the control room had been disturbed and replaced with a violent crimson.
"Okay," said the Doctor, more volume to his voice now, "that is definitely not good."
The whole ship lurched, throwing the Doctor off his feet as the TARDIS plummeted into freefall through the time vortex. It was only with a lucky and wild flailing of his arms that the Doctor managed to grab one of the bars around the console platform, stopping himself from being thrown clean off it.
"Not good!" he cried. Shoving his hand into his jacket pocket, he rummaged through its impossibly vast interior, pushing aside playing cards, a rubber duck, a frying pan and a Dalek eye-stalk to find the sonic screwdriver. Pointing it at the console, he pressed the button and the screwdriver responded with a high-pitched squeal and burst of emerald light. Bringing it back up to his eyes, the Doctor checked the readings – the TARDIS seemed to be… on pause. As if something was holding the engine in place, still active but utterly unable to move.
Okay, haven't seen that before.
Pushing himself away from the railing, the Doctor ran at the console, clinging onto it as soon as it was within reach. His hands dashed over the controls, throwing back all switches and levers. The engines screamed out at him – not their usual, regular grinding, but an agitated screech.
"Sorry, old girl, but if you want to survive the landing, I'm going to have to try the oldest trick in the book…" He grabbed the biggest lever on the console and pulled it back with all his might, sending sparks flying from the controls. "I'm turning you off and on again!"
There was a heavy 'clunk' as the lever fell back and the TARDIS was plunged into darkness.
"Right… that's off," said the Doctor. He gripped the lever again, his hand frozen for a moment. He gulped, not quite knowing what to expect. "Now here's back on again…"
He threw the lever forwards and it slammed into place. A flood of light streamed through the control room, the calm blue returning to the metal chamber, followed by the familiar sound of the engines in motion. The Doctor beamed at his machine as normality resumed.
"Oh, well done, you sexy thing! Now – something just took hold of my TARDIS and stuck its hands in the gears. Let's find out what."
Back at the controls, the Doctor set a landing course. The engines came to a crescendo before falling silent with a whispered 'thud'.
Dashing from the console to the doors, the Doctor wrenched them open and looked out. As soon as he saw his surroundings, he froze, mouth open and eyes wide.
White walls, adorned with roundels, surrounded the TARDIS. A smaller, white, console sat just beyond the threshold. The Doctor recognised this pace all too well.
It was the TARDIS. The TARDIS had landed in the TARDIS – an older version of itself. The first version of itself. This was the TARDIS when the Doctor had first left Gallifrey.
"Excuse me, young man," snapped an old voice that the Doctor had not heard in a very long time, "but I think you had better explain yourself."
"Yes…" the Doctor murmured. "I think there's going to have to be quite a lot of explaining… Doctor."