"Bother."
The Doctor drummed his fingers on his chin, annoyed as he found himself once again at a loss.
To the casual observer, the Doctor was a slight man; tall and thin, friendly faced with a ruffled mess of brown hair atop his head. Wearing a brown, blue-pinstriped suit with sneakers, (as well as a long brown overcoat when the occasion called for it) he was an average-looking individual, when he wasn't being particularly loud or eccentric. Most people wouldn't even give him a second glance if he was being "normal".
But behind the guise of an average man, the Doctor was completely different from anyone else in the entire universe. The Doctor was from another world; the last of the ancient race of Time Lords, the final survivor of the Last Great Time War. He wasn't even as young as he seemed; the Time Lords possessed the gift of practical immortality, regenerating fresh new bodies instead of dying. The young face that he currently had was but one of many he worn over the centuries.
Due to his habit of getting into trouble, the Doctor had developed a bit of a reputation. Not a negative one, that couldn't be further from the truth; wherever he journeyed, whatever the catastrophe, the Doctor could always be relied upon to make the right choices and save as many lives as the laws of time would allow. Behind his warm brown eyes and excitable demeanour, the Doctor hid an unsurpassed intellect, a pair of very broken hearts and a strong sense of moral standing. The first and the last of these were always handy when it came to tight spots.
The second, unfortunately, was not. He'd had a habit of inviting friends or companions along on his travels and now that he was the last of his kind, the need for companionship had been stronger than ever. The only problem was that he was currently... between friends at the moment.
Unfortunately for his mighty brain, being alone was not the Doctor's only problem that day. Instead, he was having trouble with his beloved time machine, the TARDIS. She was also the last of her kind, a super-massive living time-ship that was bigger on the inside, "disguised" as a wooden Police Box. Although the disguise wasn't perfect, it was certainly iconic, showing up in tales and folklore across the universe if one looked closely enough. Inside his TARDIS, the Doctor could travel anywhere in time and space... when she wanted to, of course.
That was one of the many disadvantages to having a living time-capsule like the TARDIS; sometimes she disagreed on the heading. What's more, if she wasn't being stubborn, she was often rather broken, though that was a more recent problem that the Doctor was constantly seeing to. She didn't always end up where you wanted her to go and that usually lead to a great deal of trouble.
That day was one such occasion where the Doctor's knowledge was being scoured for an answer, a solution to a problem that should not be. Standing in the middle of the TARDIS' central control room, he grew a little more impatient when the ship gave him the same excuse as before. Staring at the huge aqua column that rose from a podium in the centre of the golden room, the Doctor could have sworn she was doing this just to be awkward.
"Oh, come on! What's wrong, why won't you just go to Earth?!" he finally said, his voice bouncing in frustration against the idle hum of the TARDIS. "Did it insult you or something? Was it because of Woodstock? I know that it was rude of those people to throw mud at you, but it was a different time."
The TARDIS kept humming idly, but the Doctor interpreted that as a reply, pulling a face.
"...alright, alright, so it was very wrong for them to try painting you bubblegum pink," he admitted, sheepishly, "But you know what humans are like. They come up with an idea and they never stop to think if they should go ahead with it."
The TARDIS' central rotor remained where it was, so with a sigh, the Doctor reached forwards to adjust some buttons and cranks on the control hub. The TARDIS' fault was getting on his nerves far more than it should. If he didn't know better, he would say that something about it seemed off, nagging on his subconscious. After all, he had adjusted subroutine after subroutine and still the time machine wasn't happy, refusing to exit the Time Vortex, maintaining its heading on the road to nowhere. What if something was wrong? He wasn't exactly a stranger to "coincidences" by now.
The Time Lord cranked a lever, continuing to lecture his vehicle on proper performance as the machine bayed and swayed in protest as the time rotor began to rise and fall, drifting them too close to the 51st Century for her liking. The TARDIS protested and began to move backwards in time, looking to shave off 3000 years or thereabouts from their heading.
"Now, behave!" the Doctor scolded. "I was nice to you when I ran that spot-check on you, wasn't I? I fixed the gravimetric anomalies you were moaning about, the leaky pipes and that one cracked roundel on level eighty-seven. That alone took me 10 hours, considering it was behind the fabricator banks. Not to mention being stuck in a cramped space with only the light of the sonic screwdriver to see me by is something I'd not like to repeat. I reckon you owe me one."
Seeming to consider this, the TARDIS came to a juddering halt and her engines lay still. The Doctor knew better than to think she'd arrived on Earth, but was trying to show him what she'd uncovered. It seemed that the TARDIS had homed in on her problem, letting a read-out reach the tiny monitor that lay upon the control hub.
"Is that it?" the Doctor sighed, peeved. It seemed that whenever the TARDIS locked onto Earth with the random dates setting on, the time-machine generated a false alert, seizing up the TARDIS' scanning systems. For whatever reason, the TARDIS thought that Earth was extremely dangerous and veered as far away from it as possible.
Just a glitch, nothing more. Secretly, the Doctor was a little relieved, laughing off his earlier suspicions. There was no force in the universe that could infiltrate a TARDIS like that with his people gone, so the Doctor reasoned that there wasn't really any harm done. Rigging up a fix for the problem, the Doctor finally cracked a smile as the TARDIS set her sights on Earth without hesitation.
"Aw, there we go, Earth! No hard feelings, eh?" he said, patting the central column affectionately. The TARDIS' rotor rose and fell, and with a grinding, whooshing sound, she came to a rest in the approximate location of Earth. Crossing the distance to the door, the Doctor forwent his huge over-coat and bounced out of the exit as he was.
Of course, the approximate location of Earth extended to its orbit. Luckily for the Doctor, rather than disgorging him into the void, one of the safety features aboard had sent the TARDIS to some kind of space station, judging from the lack of engine-noise. That said, it wasn't exactly a Renaissance-era palace or the court of King Henry the Eighth, but a space station was always interesting to see.
Curiosity piqued, the Doctor wandered over to a window to get an idea of where and when he was. Outside, he was met with the view of the planet Earth spinning below, suspended in the starlight speckled darkness of space.
"Ah. Not quite Earth then. Not by a few hundred kilometres." the Doctor said, checking he'd closed the TARDIS' doors behind him. He allowed himself a frown when he took in his surroundings. Taking in the scale of the station and the fact he had gravity weighing him down he quickly realised that he was in an advanced orbiting facility above an Earth that didn't quite have that down yet.
"Not quite human either. Getting a distinctly IKEA vibe about the assembly, so it's mass-produced by the looks of things. Somebody's used to setting up flat-pack space stations at a moment's notice." he frowned, thinking aloud. The Doctor spun around, looking for more clues. "Pink-y, purple-y colour scheme and it still manages to look all grim and foreboding. Oooh, way not human."
Turning back to face the TARDIS, the Doctor shook his head admonishingly. Considering the little incident before landing, it was entirely possible that the TARDIS had done this to him just to be spiteful. Granted, she wasn't usually a mean-spirited sort, but it didn't mean she couldn't get annoyed. Tutting, he turned to the window once more to stare down at the planet below, trying to pin the date down a bit more accurately.
He grimaced when he reached his conclusion, disappointed at what he saw. "Not my favourite period. 'Bit further into the future than I'd hoped, if I'm honest." the Doctor muttered to nobody.
The Earth was currently in what could best be described as a low point in human history, not too far from his contemporary time. Severely polluted, the planet was hurt and humanity itself seemed to be following suit. Common sense and intelligence weren't exactly in abundance at that moment. Being a time-traveller, it wasn't exactly a worrying issue and he could be comforted by the fact it would all work out in the end, but the Doctor felt sorry for the people who couldn't know that. He was shocked that the brilliant and clever little people of the blue marble below had let themselves get this far.
With Earth and its populace vulnerable like that, it made the question of who built this space station a little more distressing. There wasn't exactly a lot to gain here, considering how far along humanity was. Why would anyone want come here? To observe? No, the Earth wasn't exactly at the most interesting stage of its development, was it? Bile fascination, perhaps?
Still, the potential of a far darker motive in play still concerned the Time Lord. If someone was hoping to use the Earth, even after all it had gone through, it didn't bode well for the human race. And if that was the case, well, that would make it the Doctor's business.
Clapping his hands together, the sound echoed in the otherwise empty room. "Right, okay! Meddling time, methinks. Let's see if we can-" the Doctor began, before realising that he was talking to himself.
Now that he was alone again, he'd often forget there was nobody around to listen to him asides from the TARDIS. The thought of being alone like that was always a bit of a drag as well as a hindrance. After all, if anyone stumbled across him speaking to himself, they could come to the quite reasonable conclusion that he was insane. That would make any discussions or negotiations difficult, at best.
Clearing his throat, the Doctor decided to address no-one in particular. Fine, he decided, if he didn't have a friend with him, he was more than old enough to think aloud. "I'll talk to myself if I want." he declared. "I mean, no one can tell me I'm crazy if there's no one to hear me, right Doctor?"
A pause ensued, with only the idle processes of the station making distant noises in the violet gloom. Hearing no protests, the Doctor continued to chat with himself.
"Oh yeah, quite so, Doctor, certainly looks like it's the case." he smiled, quite satisfied.
"Thanks for confirming a theory, Doctor."
"You're welcome, Doctor. You always know just what to say!"
"Aw, why thanks, Doctor." he grinned.
But before he could continue his attempt at an amusing distraction, the Doctor's attempts at self-worship were interrupted by one of the more ominous sounds in the universe. Diabolical, maniacal and generally clichéd cackling laughter, the bread and butter of wannabe despots, rang somewhere in the distant bowels of the space station.
Whoever it was, they were really, really putting some effort into it, straining significantly to keep it that loud for as long as they did. It begged for investigation, certainly, but how to find out what was going on if the source of the laughter was less than benign?
Spying a vent, the Time Lord took out his all-purpose tool, the sonic screwdriver and tapped it the palm of his opposite hand. "Now then, Doctor. Should we check out that noise?" he asked himself.
"Oh yeah, good idea, Doctor. One of the best. Mind you, got to say," he smiled, peering at his reflection in the tiny glass top of the tool, "The Sonic's blue glow really brings out your eyes."
"Oh, behave, you cheeky chap."
Dib, junior paranormal investigator extraordinaire, struggled against the pair of energy shackles that pinned him to the wall. The bespectacled kid thrashed and strained, but it did little other than cause his long scythe of jet-black hair to fall across his face, so he blew it out of the way in annoyance.
Beside him, his sister glared out of the corner of her eyes as she too struggled against her bonds. The fact that her bonds were crackling on a higher pitch and had nearly had their emitters wrenched from the wall betrayed how much of a strength difference there was between the two. She was Gaz, Dib's younger (and infinitely more terrifying) sister.
"I swear, Dib, this is the last straw. When we get out of this mess, I'm going to kill you." the small, magenta haired girl fumed. Her older brother shot her a look of both exasperation and sheer terror.
"Come on, Gaz! How is it my fault that Zim filled the house with sleeping gas?!" Dib asked. When she didn't respond, he continued bringing up the absurdity of their predicament. "Most of the time he can't even think straight! Besides, it was you that started the-"
The words died in his mouth when Gaz clenched her hand, a phantom crushing sensation suddenly forming around his throat. Blaming her for the situation would only make things more painful.
"Today, Dib." she reminded him. Meekly, Dib shut up.
The siblings were the children of the world famous scientist Professor Membrane and were pretty smart themselves. Dib devoted his time to tracking and investigating that which science could not explain, no matter how strange, dangerous or ridiculous the situation was. His sister, Gaz, didn't. She was more than content to play video games in her spare time, ridicule her brother's awful lifestyle choice along with the rest of the world and when circumstances didn't allow that, her foul temper and her unholy strength quickly fixed that.
Of course, even with Dib being on the look-out for all things strange and paranormal, he hadn't quite expected the mother-lode to land in his classroom one morning. From there, his life and that of his sister's on occasion, became a tumultuous, insane mess.
Because one day, completely out of the blue, an alien came to take over the Earth. There was just one problem standing in his way, not counting the boy. The alien himself was out of his tiny little mind.
As the siblings struggled to break their bonds, a maniacal cackle rent the air, accentuated by a large piece of machinery spewing lighting and accompanied with the audible sound of welding.
"GIR! What are you doing!?" a snappy, almost nasal voice barked. "That piece was supposed to go there! No, don't touch the power amplifier!"
A small explosion followed, and thrown to his captives' feet, covered in ash, Zim stood up and dusted himself off. He was a small alien, one of the Irken Empire, which meant that he was pretty much the archetype of a "little green man": an alien invader from outer space. Considering what was out there, Zim could be called the worst that the universe had to offer the Earth. Of course, that depended on the way you defined "worst", but either way, you'd be closer to the truth than not.
Climbing to his feet, Zim dusted himself off. Silently, Dib and Gaz counted down, knowing that the calm wouldn't last for long.
When they'd reached zero, there was an even more impressive explosion, knocking Zim back onto the ground as the tiny space station shook. As a result of the blast, a tiny, green-eyed, silver robot flew by, aflame and giggling madly the whole way. That was GIR, Zim's android "henchman", who was this in the loosest sense of the word. Meant to be a Standard Information Retrieval unit or SIR, GIR was even more off his gourd than his master. While this made him seem more sociable and nice, he was just as unpredictable as Zim was and possibly even more dangerous.
Gleefully ignoring the flames, GIR immediately hopped to his feet, smiling broadly at both children, spontaneously deciding that he wanted to dance on the spot. Quite forgotten, Zim picked himself up again, coughed and looked around shiftily.
"I meant to do that!" he declared, abruptly turning on his heel to face his prisoners. "FOOLS! YOU CANNOT INHIBIT THE POWER OF ZIM!" he added, pointing an accusing finger at Dib.
"I wasn't trying to, that was all you." Dib pointed out.
"SILENCE!" Zim snapped, before continuing. "Sooooon you will all will tremble before my rocket powered DOOM... thing." he said, losing momentum. Ignoring the questioning look his arch-enemy shot at him, Zim continued. "Yes, it's a work in progress, I suppose. But for now, it's known as the Doom Thing! Look at it!"
The "Doom Thing" appeared to be a beaten-up hover-platform, not unlike the ones that arced in the air above them. Four outsized booster rockets on its underside, along with a nasty-looking blaster, gave the Doom Thing its propulsion and weaponry systems. It listed awkwardly to one side, the rockets struggling to keep the heavy payload of a lumpy, misshapen mass afloat. It seemed more dangerous to the pilot than anything else.
Blinking at the pathetic sight, both children were beginning to wonder why they considered this moron a threat again. "Zim. I cannot tell you how underwhelming that is," Gaz sneered, "But I'm going to try-"
Zim made several shushing gestures, rudely interrupting her argument. "Silly simple-minded human." the Invader spat. "How can you possibly fathom my greatness?"
"... well, unless you've got another arch-enemy somewhere, I can't think who else'd listen to you." Dib muttered, ignoring Zim's snarl. "I mean, you captured us for this?! I haven't even done anything to you recently! I haven't even seen you for a few weeks! Where have you been, filing your taxes or something?!"
"Pfft, mind your booze-in-ess." snorted the Irken.
Dib sighed in complete exasperation. "The word is "business", Zim. You've used it before." he frowned. Casting a fresh eye over his project, Zim brushed the remark off, trying to get his foes to shut up instead.
"Yes, well, er... SILENCE!" he barked. "But I'm not stupid, Dib-smell. It was obvious that you'd interfere with the impending doom of the Doom Thing's special virus transmissions. Once the worm is established in your... filthy internet, it will spread and infect all the computers interfaces of the planet, rendering you all helpless!"
Both of the children looked between Zim and the Doom Thing sceptically. The gun, while nasty-looking, didn't seem like it was built for the task of toppling an entire civilisation.
"And the floating table-thing is part of that?" Gaz drawled.
"Yes, the floating table-thing is part of that." Zim replied. "Isn't it obvious?!"
With an eerie calm, Gaz nodded. "I see. Why am I here?" she asked. Dib, having seen what was coming, shied away from his sister a little. She was down-right scary when angered. Nonchalantly, Zim shrugged at Gaz's second question, not picking up on the subtle sign she was about to explode.
"Meh, I dunno. You're my enemy too, I guess." he frowned, looking for a more elegant way to put it. "Uh... just don't question my motives, 'kay?"
Working Zim's plan over in his mind again, Dib shook his head. "Wait a second... the internet? Have you even been on the internet? A lot of the computers you'd be trying to infect don't even use the internet!" he said, redoubling his efforts to escape once more. "Do you even know what the internet is?!"
"Well, it's a database..." Zim said uncertainly. "And... humans... go on it to... look at other... humans, I guess?"
Another awkward pause ensued, while Zim blankly stared at the boy. Turning to the still dancing SIR unit beside him, Zim changed his mind about the whole "internet" thing.
"Plan B!" he cried. GIR threw up his arms and with a joyful squeak he repeated what his master had said.
"PLAN B!" the robot whooped, sprinting off. Turning back to his prisoners with an evil-looking grin, Zim began to issue commands to his servant, pointing off to his left.
"GIR! The Meson-Bombarder!" he ordered, holding one hand out for the device. Moments passed and nothing happened. The closest to obeying the instruction GIR got was wandering back over and calmly falling onto his backside. Zim opened and closed his hand expectantly.
With an irritated groan, Zim continued flexing his empty hand. "GIR? Where is it?" he asked in a sing-song way.
"It's in my brain bits." GIR replied, quite happily.
"... are you planning on handing it to me any time soon?"
The little robot shrugged and fished around inside the compartment in his head. "Lessee… taco... credit card… tomayters… yak eyes… here you go!" GIR grinned brightly, tossing the machine carelessly in Zim's general direction. Diving to catch the delicate device, the Irken reached out and gingerly swept GIR's other possessions away from it, grimacing as he did.
"Disgusting," he muttered, and spun around to continue his monologue, "With this mighty weapon at my fingertips, I'll use this station cause electrical doom to ignite your nuclear... stuff and your, eh... um, your corn, causing an absolute global winter." Zim explained, not caring if his plan made total sense. "Then, it'll be easy for the Irken Armada to turn this place into a ski resort for the Tallest! OR SOMETHING ELSE!"
Dib's eyes followed the device as Zim brandished it around, looking confused and horrified. Gaz however, frowned like she had been told it was going to rain.
"Oh, that'll be safe. A nuclear winter isn't what you think it is. They don't work like that." she pointed out, her usual sneer working itself into the sentence as normal. The alien pooh-poohed her "limited" scientific understanding.
"It'll work the way I want it to work, living pig-slave-beast. I don't expect you to understand science this advanced!" Zim retorted, oblivious as ever to his plan's massive, radioactive flaw.
Finally finding something to say, Dib began to panic, shrieking at his sister. "Y'see Gaz! This is what I was trying to stop! But you never listened! You never-!"
"Be quiet, Dib!" she snarled, eyelid twitching. Dib had no choice other to comply, cowering a little under his sister's stern gaze. Turning her attention back to Zim, she continued her argument. "It'll never work." she said simply.
"Heh, shows what you know! It's a tried and tested tactic, fool. You're wrong. So very, very wrong, like a wrong, wrong thing." he paused for breath. "Yep. Wrong indeed!"
"You done?"
"You are wrong." Zim said, clenching his hands together. Marching towards a small elevator, something on his little device caught his eye and Zim stopped mid-march to extract a long, slightly slimy cylinder from the Meson-Bombarder. He shot a glare at his servant, obviously laying the blame on him.
"GIR! Fetch me a replacement energy converter! You've made this one all... goopy…" he ordered, grimacing at the slimy mess. The robot immediately lost his cyan shading and took on a blood red glow, becoming slightly more of the machine he was made to be.
"YES SIR!" he replied with gusto. He stomped over to a cardboard box and turned it upside down, looking to empty the contents. When nothing happened, his usual colouring returned. "Fresh out!" the robot chirruped.
Grumbling at the delay, Zim dragged his hand across his face. "Well go home and get some then!" he barked, turning back to Gaz and Dib. Desperately, the wannabe paranormal investigator tried reasoning with the alien, hoping that this one time, Zim would be willing to listen to reason.
"Wh-what about all the people down there?!" Dib asked. Taking his question as one borne out of scientific curiosity rather than concern, he answered the boy.
"Oh, I'd imagine they'd be fine." Zim said with a dismissive wave. "Your kind can survive stuff like a bazillion radioactive isotopes, right?"
"No." Dib answered.
"Oh. Well, I guess they'll pop like water balloons then." decided Zim, stopping to savour the child's expression with a particularly cruel laugh. He was halfway through one particularly throaty cackle when GIR toddled up to him and tugged on his sleeve.
"I can't find them." GIR whispered, voice low for no real reason. "They're all gone. Like a spider in a house full of apricots."
"I'll... pretend I know what that means." Zim growled. "I couldn't have used a month's supply already. Me! Invader Ziiiim!" the Irken shrieked. "Hm, alright, keep calm, GIR."
"OKAY!" GIR screamed, with a piercing shriek. Everybody else (even Zim, who didn't have ears), winced at the loud noise.
"I usually keep a spare somewhere around here. Help me look!" Zim said, dropping to his hands and knees.
Skimming himself along the floor, one eye open, Zim gazed meticulously at the floors. Perhaps a spare energy converter had rolled under a console. He did remember that GIR dropped more than one of them on the way here, so it was possible that his robotic servant had just been clumsy.
"Hm, this is awkward." Zim muttered to himself. "How can I doom the Earth in front of the helpless Dib-child when this sort of thing happens? It's embarrassing!"
Zim continued crawling along the floor for a good minute and a half, searching high and low. Eventually, he decided to try the nearby storage cupboard, throwing the door open.
"Now where did GIR put those things?!" Zim hissed in irritation, glaring at the floor. The cupboard was mostly empty asides from a pair of human sneakers and the man attached to them, but his energy converters were nowhere to be seen.
"Excuse me." he murmured to the shoes, moving the man to one side. He didn't really notice that the shoes were currently occupied by some feet, attached to big long legs and the rest of a person.
"Lost something?" asked the man, hands in the pockets of his brown pin-striped suit, finally getting Zim's attention. The Irken didn't seem too concerned on the how or why the figure was standing there; all he wanted was the missing component for his doomsday device.
"Uh, yeah, an energy converter." Zim replied, still oblivious to the whole "Man standing in a cupboard" bit. Dib and Gaz on the other hand, boggled in disbelief at the man, who glanced at them with a reassuring smile, then back to Zim.
"Eh... Zim?" Dib tried. Gaz motioned for him to be quiet.
"Wait, no, I wanna see where he's going to go with this." she smirked. In the cupboard, the Doctor puffed up his cheeks, head rocking from side to side.
"Well, normally I'd hand you one over, but we're outta stock. Sorry, hope it's not any trouble."
"Oh." Zim frowned, disappointed. "Well, thanks anyway." he added, closing the door.
"Bye." replied the Doctor. Zim took about two paces away from the door before the penny dropped. Opening the door again, the Doctor looked down at the Irken, waving in a sheepish manner.
"Hi again!" was all he managed before Zim began screaming incoherently.
