Every fiber of his body screamed from the strain of keeping the universe together, charged with adrenalin as he danced about the console, making sure his little blue box didn't tear an unforgiving hole in the fabric of reality. After an indeterminable amount of time, which was already quite wobbly to him, the tension eased; he and his vessel breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
"That's a good girl," said the strange little man, patting the glass of a strange contraption inside his strange little blue box. "What a smooth landing. But where are we?"
He turned to face a set of doors across the circular chamber that made up the control centre of his craft. They were incongruously wooden and earthly among the mish-mash of otherwise futuristic, foreign objects that made up the console. An optimistic smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he straightened up the corners of the maroon bowtie round his neck. "Geronimo," he said to no one in particular, for his usual companions were not around, and headed for the unknown.