The 12th Doctor was alone in his TARDIS. Not that he didn't want company, it was just that he didn't have company. He sauntered around the console, watching the warm orange light of the time rotor. He was wearing a red velvet coat today, one of his favorites.
The Doctor stopped and touched the palm of his hand to the console. Maybe he could go on an adventure. He stopped to think about it. Nah, maybe some other day. He was a Time Lord. He had all the time in the world.
Walking over to a red velvety chair (it matched his clothes) next to some bookshelves, he sat down tentatively, as if the cushion was something else that would be disturbed if he sat on it.
The Doctor scanned his eyes around the edges of the bookshelves, looking for something interesting to read.
The Unique and Complex History of the Planet of Rinfaius. The Politics of Gallifrey. TARDIS Manual.
No, no, no. There was nothing to read! The Doctor stood up suddenly and pulled book after book off of the bookshelves, revealing another layer of books behind them.
"Aha! There we go," the Doctor grunted as he reached all the way to the back of the shelf, pulling out a dusty, worn-out book. The brown tattered book had a square of lighter brown fabric sewn on to the front of it. The fabric read Missy's Diary.
A while back, Missy had dropped the book and the Doctor, because of his kind nature, tried to return the diary. He didn't have the chance to give it back, and hoped he'd run into her at some point (hopefully not literally). He also hoped she wasn't trying to enslave another civilization.
He knew he shouldn't read it, but he wanted to anyway. He sat back down and stared at the book for a few minutes.
No. It is not for me to read.
He placed the book back on the shelf. The floor was a mess. Books were everywhere. He was never much of a reader in a lot of his past lives, seeking other alternatives when he wasn't saving the universe from obliteration and destruction.
He thought about all the times the two had met, all the fights and all the squabbles.
Wait a moment. Something was missing. Sure, the Doctor had a lot of things in his memory, but something wasn't quite right. What was it?
Suddenly, the TARDIS console started beeping. The monitor attached to it flashed a bright red light on its screen.
The Doctor sighed. It was another distress signal. Even though it seemed unlikely, the Doctor was worried that it was fake. He remembered all the times he was lured into a trap by a distress signal.
His memory. There it was again! Something was missing from his memory, and he decided at that moment that he would find out what it was.
The Doctor then proceeded to pilot the TARDIS to the location of the distress signal. Once he flicked the switches, pulled the levers, and pushed the buttons on the console in order to get there, he straightened his collar and made sure his clothes looked classy and dignified, not messy. He believed that it was important to look nice when saving people.
Once the TARDIS landed, the Doctor briskly walked to the doors and peeked his head out. He was half expecting to be surrounded by Daleks or be plunged into some sort of chaos.
No. He was proven wrong. Nothing. He stepped out. An empty hallway. There were circle-shaped lights on the ceiling. The hallway was rounded, almost like a tube.
The Doctor turned around and closed the doors to the TARDIS, then locked them.
Wouldn't want anyone getting inside.
The Doctor turned around again. As he turned around, he noticed a rectangle-shaped window down the hall.
He tentatively stepped across the hall and peeked out the window.
Space. He was in space. On a spaceship.
Emergency. Emergency. All Sector Nine personnel to the Sector One command room. I repeat. All Sector Nine personnel to the Sector One command room. Emergency. Emergency.
"What is it now?" Commander Bennings was annoyed, not just because the room he was in was about to get somewhat crowded. A Sector 1 personnel member stepped from his monitor to the Commander.
"Sir, there has been an emergency with the ship's propulsion units. We are crashing into the nearest planet, with I believe is named Dirvivus. Sir."
"Fine. Keep an eye on the propulsion units. Report to me if there is any way we can steer the ship away from crashing. Then we'll take action."
"Yes, sir," he said, before turning back to the monitor.
There must be artificial gravity, the Doctor thought.
Suddenly, the Doctor felt the spaceship shake. He steadied himself on a flat surface jutting out from the wall next to the window. Then, the ship tilted sideways. The Doctor gripped on tight to the surface to keep from falling all the way down the hallway.
It stopped, and the Doctor got back up to his feet.
"What's happening here? Come on, Doctor, think," he mused aloud as he pounded his head. "Engine problems? No. Bad piloting. Definitely not."
The Doctor peered out the window and saw the planet.
"That must be, no it can't be. In this time zone? That must be Dirvivus, not too long in the future of the start of humans' conquest of space. Perhaps this is a human ship? Not sure if that's bad or good."
In the command room, Commander Bennings was informed about the state of the ship.
"Sir, the planet is extremely close. We should be able to land. If we don't soon, we will either crash or fall into the planet's orbit. We don't have enough power to escape," the same personnel member reported to the Commander.
"No. I want you to attempt to escape. Use the emergency power banks if you have to."
"Are you sure, Sir?"
"Yes. I'm not going to just let this ship land on Dirvivus and stay there forever without a fight."
Soon, the Commander's orders had been carried out.
Meanwhile, the Doctor sauntered through the hallway, looking for something interesting to study.
Suddenly, the ship shook again. The Doctor fell to the floor. This time, he fell forwards. The ship was crashing into the planet, and fast.