Ensign Miller sighed and rapped his hands furiously on the table. He was sitting in brig control, working his shift, and staring at the screen in front of him. In his right ear was a communications device. He had been assigned to monitor the new prisoners in the brig, and they had to be some of the most boring people in the world. They talked of nothing of importance for nearly an hour, and Miller was beginning to think he was being punished for making a snide joke about his senior officer earlier that week. He sighed again and sank lower in his seat and forced his eyes open. He simply had to watch the prisoners of lesser intelligence, or he could be transferred to another ship, or worse, scrub the plasma injectors.

He turned the volume on the device in his ear up and listened attentively.

"The original was way better than the reboot. No question," Smith insisted. "It looked kinda fake, sure, but it was made before CGI. Plus, it was more accurate to the source material. And I mean, the new one added things that weren't even in the book!"

"But the new one has Johnny Depp," Rose argued, rubbing her wrists and staring defiantly at her companion.

"True, but what matters more? The actors, or the quality of the movie itself?"

"It's the actors that make a movie good quality."

"In some cases, sure. But there's an argument to be made for-"

"Can you please stop talking about Willy Wonka and his stupid Chocolate Factory?" Jack groaned. He was on the single bed in the cell, on his back with his eyes closed, trying to get some sleep. Evidently, it was not faring well for him.

"Well, what movie do you suggest we talk about, then?" Smith asked loudly, glaring at the exhausted fake ensign. Jack groaned and rolled to face the wall.

"How about we just sit in silence?" Jack pleaded. Miller agreed with him silently.

"Fine," Smith said, shrugging. Rose nodded and sat on the floor, and a moment later, Smith joined her.

They went quiet for a good two seconds.

Then Smith began singing The Sound of Silence under his breath. He only knew a few of the words, and would make up random gibberish for the rest. After a few seconds Rose joined in, humming it very off key.

"That's not what I meant by silence," Jack hissed, turning around and sitting up. His eyes were rimmed with red and slightly unfocused, his hair stuck up in all directions, and his bruise on his face now was turning colors of green and yellow as well as blue and black.

"Speaking of, never watch The Silence of the Lambs," Rose whispered to Smith. "Gave me nightmares for months."

Smith's brow furrowed. "What's so scary about a bunch of cute, little baby sheep? It sounds adorable."

Rose blinked. "That's- it's not- that's not what it's…"

"I have a headache," Jack bemoaned, flopping back onto the bed and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Take an Advil then," Smith said dismissively, drawing invisible lines with his fingers on the ground and smelling them. He wrinkled his nose.

Miller snorted and frowned to prevent a smile from forming on his face.

Jack glared at him. "What Advil? In case you haven't noticed, we are IN PRISON! IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE!"

"Geesh. No need to yell," Smith scowled. Rose's head bobbed in agreement.

"No need to yell?" Jack screeched, his face murderous. "No need to yell?!"

"That's what I said."

"I am going to die here. That's it," Jack snapped. "It's over. We're doomed."

"Jack-"

"I said we shouldn't go when they called us for that little supply drop. I said it was a bad idea. 'We're gonna get caught.' I said that! And what happened?" Jack said. "We got caught? But does the 900-year-old alien listen? No! Because he's not interested in anything that's not life threatening and stupid!"

Miller sat up straighter in his seat.

"Oh bugger off," Smith said, shooting him an annoyed glare. "We'll be fine."

"How can you say that?" Jack asked snidely, his hands twitching at his sides as if he were just able to stop himself from strangling him.

"The TARDIS is still safe and sound; just waiting for us. We get out of here, find her, and go back to our own universe. Simple as that."

"Where did we park the TARDIS, anyway?" Rose asked nonchalantly, staring through the window at the front of the cell.

"Um… a little supply closet on the fourth floor. Section 3-B, to be exact." He frowned. "Either that or section 3-C…. I can't remember exactly."

Miller's brows stitched together. What in the world is a TARDIS? Who's 900? Did Smith say the words 'get back to our own universe?'

"Oh, great, he doesn't remember," Jack laughed dryly. He sank his fingernails into his arm and gritted his teeth.

"I kind of remember! I remember enough!" Smith cried defensively. Rose leaned over and patted him twice on the back in sympathy.

"Wow, that makes me feel so much better. Not!" Jack snapped.

"Will you just-"

"You forgot one thing in your master plan, genius," Jack said, cutting him off. He gestured at their surroundings, now completely awake. "How are we getting out of here?"

"Through the door, of course!"

"Oh man," Jack said, hitting his palm against his head. His voice absolutely dripped with sarcasm, like a melting popsicle on a warm summer day. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Ensign Miller decided he had enough. He picked up his small monitor and pressed the communication button on the wall.

"Ensign Miller to the bridge," Miller said into it, his eyes still glued to the screen. "I need to speak with Captain Kirk. Immediately."

Miller didn't take his eyes off the screen.

"I have an idea," Smith was saying, whispering to his companions. "How good are you at playing dead?"

"This is Captain Kirk. Report."

Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock pored over the video Ensign Miller, sent, looking up the references to movies and trying to see if the impostors were using some sort of code. There didn't seem to be one; it looked as if the three had no idea that they were being monitored. They played the same scene over and over again, in which Smith remembers where he put something called the TARDIS and where Jack becomes angry and mocks him, calling him a 900-year-old alien. There was also a passing statement that made it sound as if the three weren't even from their universe. It was all very perplexing.

"Ensign Ross to Captain Kirk." came a hesitant grainy voice over Kirk's communicator.

"This is Kirk. What's your status?"

"Uh… well… we entered the supply closet, the one the prisoner was overheard talking about? And… we, um… we found what we think he was talking about- and- uh…"

"Ensign, stop stalling. What is it?"

The crackling line went silent.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Ensign?"

"Captain, uh… I think you're going to want to come down here and see this."

Jim looked at his first officer in disbelief. Spock merely shrugged.

"What's the problem? What is it?" Jim asked, his voice taking on a worried edge.

"Sir, I really think you should come see this."

"Is it dangerous? Unstable? What?" Jim demanded. "I'm ordering you to tell me something, Ensign."

"I… I'm unsure Captain. I just really think you need to come down here, sir."

Jim sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "On my way."

Jim hopped out of his seat, nodding at Spock to follow him to the turbolift. They made their way down to the fourth floor. They walked with urgency down the hall, around several corners, right up to the supply closet, where Ensign Ross was waiting outside, fiddling with his hands nervously.

"This'd better be good, Ensign," Jim said coldly.

Ensign Ross nodded rapidly, jerking his thumb at the closet behind him. "It's in there, sir."

Jim shared a look with his first officer before slowly sliding the door open.

They stood in silence, surprise lathered on both their faces.

In the background, the ship's engine whirred.

"Is that a phone booth?" Jim asked in disbelief.

There, sitting in the closet, was a large blue wooden box; with windows and a door and a little sign that offered free public calls. Jim looked at Spock, his eyebrows high.

"It appears to actually be a police box, Captain," Spock corrected, his gaze not straying from the strange sight. Jim paused, confused.

"What?"

"Police boxes were commonly used in the United Kingdom during the 20th century," Spock explained. "They provided the public with a way to contact the local authorities in case of an emergency, and it also served as a temporary holding cell if needed. This appears to be a fake, however, as the windows are much too small."

Jim looked perplexed. "So it's a phone booth for police… from hundreds of years ago… and it's a fake?"

"It would appear so, Captain. More or less."

Jim squeezed his eyes shut. "But what, pray tell, is it doing on my ship?"

"I'm afraid I do not know, Captain."

Jim pressed his lips together. "This day keeps getting better and better," he muttered.

He stepped inside the closet and looked around. There appears to be a slight dent in the police box, surrounded by a section that looked as if it had just gotten a new coat of paint. Carelessly tossed on the ground next to the box were three hangers and a wrinkled brown trench coat that was definitely not Starfleet regulation.

Also scattered across the floor was an earpiece, Scotty's missing quantum flux regulator, and what appeared to be a piece of medical equipment. Kirk picked it up before turning and trying to pull open the police box.

It didn't budge.

Jim tried again, yanking the old handle sharply.

It stayed where it was.

Huffing, he turned back to the confused ensigns. "Clean this mess up. And see if you can get this open."

"Right away, Captain," an ensign nodded, hurrying into the room and kneeling down to pick up the stolen equipment.

Kirk walked over to one of the communicators on the wall and punched the button a little too hard with his fist.

"Kirk to medbay."

"What do you want?" came Bone's grouchy reply.

"Doctor, would you happen to be missing a piece of medical equipment?" Jim asked, weighing it in his hand.

"Is it my DERMAL REGENERATOR?!" he shouted.

Jim raised his eyebrows, looking down at the piece again. "Uhh… maybe?"

"It was the girl, wasn't it? She took it? I've been looking for it everywhere! The nerve-"

"Is that a yes?" Jim interrupted.

"-how dare she?! That is an extremely vital and important piece of equipment; I can not believe-"

"Okay, Bones, I'll have it returned to you immediately. Kirk out."

"-rat nest hair thinks she can-"

Jim flipped off the communicator. He waved over an ensign standing nearby. "Please return this to the medbay."

"Yes, Captain," she said, accepting the tool in her hand.

"And… be careful. Doctor McCoy is in a mood," Jim warned. The ensign nodded quickly and left the supply closet at a brisk pace.

Jim sighed before turning back to the communicator and turning it back on.

"This is Kirk to the brig. Come in."

"This is the brig… Ensign Miller reporting." came a hesitant and shy voice.

Kirk groaned internally. Ensign Miller could be a bit… slow. "Just checking in. How is everything down there?"

"Well. Everything's good, except, well… one of them is pretending to be dead."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry?"

"One of them, Smith, is lying on the ground pretending to be dead even though our medical scanners say he's very much alive; though they are picking up on two heartbeats… It might be a glitch in the system."

"Please focus," Jim sighed, and ran his hands through his hair.

"Right. Er… Smith is lying on the ground, pretending to be dead, and the girl is sobbing and screaming, and Harkniss is just nudging him with his foot and saying 'yep, he's dead. How unfortunate.' over and over again in a really deadpan voice."

"Oh, for the love-"

"And now they are requesting him to be moved to the morgue… sir, I think this is all a part of a really poor escape attempt… what should I do?"

Jim sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, and he was silent for a moment before perking up. "Tell them we don't have a morgue. Tell them once people die it's our custom to disintegrate them where they are."

"But, sir-"

"Just do it, Ensign."

"Yes, sir."

The line went dead for about ten seconds before Miller returned. "Sir, I did what you said and Smith jumped up claiming he was suddenly feeling much better, and Harkniss began kicking him repeatedly screaming that he's a zombie, and Miss Tyler is begging to be let out before, and I'm quoting her here, 'her brains get eaten'."

"Come on…"

"Smith has now jumped on top of Harkniss' back to stop him from kicking him, and for some reason Tyler has stolen their shoes and is throwing them at them. Everyone's screaming."

"Have you tried-"

"They are now all currently throwing their shoes at each other, and Mr. Smith is attempting to climb the walls. He is failing. And now he is on Harkniss' back again. And Tyler is trying to get on Smith's back. They've formed some sort of human tower; like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. And now… Ouch! That must have hurt. Harkniss slipped on a shoe… they all came tumbling down… just falling, like… like…. like lemmings. That doesn't look good." the ensign's voice trailed off.

"What doesn't look good?" Jim asked.

"Okay, our scanners are indicating at Mr. Harkniss' arm is, in fact, broken," Miller said musingly. "That's the bad news. The good news is that this job is a whole lot more interesting that I thought it was going to be."

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "You have got to be kidding me."