I landed in a life boat, blacking out for a moment. When I came to, I saw stars.

Through the haze, I saw men above me walking around on deck. They appeared to have forgotten about me, probably figured me dead. I feigned being dead until they fully lost interest in me.

I looked around and spotted a porthole I could climb through, which would be easier than fighting through the mob of goons up top. The invention of the unopenable porthole is a modern thing.

I glanced over the side of the boat. My wife was still down at the planks, lizard lady scolding her when she tried to advance forward. She pointed to me, motioning for Eve to be silent.

I noticed a new companion, a little brunette chick in a tight black Victorian dress. Jenny, that person from the phone, I guessed.

I checked the lifeboat for weapons, but it only had oars. Not the greatest weapon.

Fighting the pain in my hand and my aching head, I grabbed a rope, attempting to shimmy to the porthole. As I did this, a round object landed beside me, accompanied by a small card. "Smoke bomb. Pull ring," the card read.

I pocketed the bomb and climbed the rope.

It had been awhile since highschool gym class. Although I had an image of myself shimmying up there like Aladdin, reality involved my clammy hands getting rope burns from slimy hemp fibers. I nearly fell off.

Adjusting my grip, I pulled myself higher, trying to ignore burning muscles and a sprained finger. Just another foot, I kept telling myself.

I reached the porthole. Not as simple as I thought. The thing lay a foot out of reach, and closed when I attempted swinging that way. I found that someone had also latched it from the inside. Someone puffed on a pipe within.

I thought about kicking in the glass and beating the stranger down, but I wasn't Stallone. I'd just end up falling to my death with shards of glass stuck in my leg. The only feasible option: Going back up top.

My puny muscles protested, but I slowly dragged myself higher and higher, until I hung below the lip. Once there, I curled my legs around the rope as tightly as possible, secured a one handed death grip above, and dug out the bomb, clamping my teeth on the pin. I would have thrown it earlier, but in little league I always sat around in the outfield playing with the dirt, so I didn't want to risk such a play.

It looks so easy in the movies. In reality, pulling the pin was like opening a beer bottle with a cap fastened by one of those pneumatic lugnut wrenches. My teeth would have broken first.

After some awkward fumbling, I got the ring clamped under a rope holding finger, pulled the pin, threw it.

The gas gave a fair amount of cover. When the entire deck filled with the stuff, I hurried up top, swinging over the wall.

I had a few ideas while standing around in that fog, all of them generally hinging on me locating an area where I could see.

I could hide in that room I knocked the guy into, and get clobbered, or shove ahead through the goons staggering around in the pea soup, and get clobbered.

I decided to run the gauntlet.

I shoved past a guy here, squeezed between sailors there, dove out of the way when a particularly determined guy came plowing through.

When I neared the edge of the cloud, I dove between someone's legs.

Not the best idea. A thick hand grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, yanked me to my feet, and I found something sharp poking my throat. "Move and you're dead."

I could have elbowed the guy in the crotch, but he'd still have slit my throat, his arms too thick to pry off.

Not sure why he didn't just slit my throat and be done with it, but the cluster of redcoats and three Daleks gave me a hint.

I got shoved in front of a stern looking fellow in red with a hawk-like nose.

The first thing that blurted out of my mouth was, "Are you General Cornwallis?"

He laughed. "What do you know about Cornwallis?"

Sympathizer or traitor, I didn't know. I also didn't know if Mr. C had reached his time of fame in that year. "Um...he's...a..powerful guy."

My captor smirked. "Indeed he is!"

I glanced down and saw Riversong bound, gagged, and tied to a chair.

"You must think that all British people look alike."

"I take it you weren't impressed by my daughter's Cockney accent."

"Ah. `Robert Will-Son.' She's told me so much about you. In between the screaming. Since you're a doctor, I'm sure you'll have no trouble repairing the damage."

"Don't make me splurt blood on your clothes and die all over you," I threatened in hopes of being released. I didn't have much else I could do anyway.

"Ah. A man who appreciates fine fabric." The man clapped his hands. "Tie him up."

As I got being tied to the mast, I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw a figure in a black robe and a wimple stepping onboard. The nun snatched a rapier from a guard's sheath, brandishing the blade like it were a large icepick.

Eve stood in a rough fighting position, ready to stab the nearest assailant.

Around the other corner, the woman in the black dress strode across the deck with amazing speed for one so encumbered by folds of ankle length fabric.

Without the slightest sign of hesitation, the brunette unzipped her outfit, casually shrugging it off to reveal a shiny black catsuit.

The ropes cut into my circulation, and a Dalek pointed its laser at me, but I found myself too busy staring slack jawed at the girl as she flipped across the forecastle like Catwoman in Batman Returns.

Seconds later, her leather clad boot came flying out to stop my wife from ramming a rapier through Fake Cornwallis's chest. "I've had quite enough of you mucking up time!"

She knocked Mystery General to the floor with a sweep kick. "Both of you!"

Throwing the Redcoat's sword overboard, she knocked down four other men with a taser and flying kicks, then undid Riversong's bonds.

The robot rolled over to her position, aiming its laser cannon. "DO NOT MOVE THE CAP-TIVE!"

"Dalek 9776!" Eve shouted. "Stand down!"

"I DO NOT RE-COG-NIZE THE AU-THOR-I-TY OF NUNS!"

Eve threw off her wimple, wiggling her hair tentacles at the robot. "This is the Dalek Queen! Stand down!"

The two silently stared each other down for an entire minute.

"I RE-COG-NIZE NO QUEEN!"

Eve held out her hand, her palm glowing with blue light.

The front of the robot unzipped like it had voluntarily opened itself. The creature let out a gurgling scream as Eve grabbed it, hurling it across the harbor like a football.

The other robots bowed their eyestalks in submission.

The girl in the catsuit, having finished untying Riversong, disappeared behind the mast to untie me. When the girl stepped back around the mast and I had the ropes off, I resumed gawking at her catsuit again.

The woman probably wouldn't have smiled at me if she knew what I was thinking, but she did smile. I guess she thought I could save the universe or something.

A third, greenish feminine shape joined us, tasering any threatening targets nearby and throwing more smoke bombs down the side decks. Madame Vastra.

The Daleks remained in their submissive poses, backing into railings.

"Incredible!" the catgirl cried. "Is she really the Dalek Queen?"

Like the guy said in Ghostbusters, there's only one right answer to the question "Are you a god". "Yes. Yes she is."

"Then tell them to leave me alone!"

The robots had crowded around the reptile lady, looking ready to blast her.

"Dalek 9777 and 9779 stand down!" Eve shouted.

"WE HEAR AND O-BEY."

And they retreated, bowing their stalks.

My eyes followed the catgirl, admiring how her suit clung to her body as bent down to gather up her dress.

I got caught. Eve slapped me across the face, flashing me her crooked teeth.

If anything could indicate the cavewoman I loved was still in there, it would have to be that. I gave her a sheepish grin, forgetting the stranger.

Well, not forgetting, but making conscious efforts to keep my eyes averted.

"Jenny, did you see the TARDIS?" Ms. V asked the catgirl.

"Which one?"

"The blue one, of course."

"No, but the British guard station has an extra wing that doesn't quite match with the rest of the building."

"So that explains the kidnapping." I said as I watched Jenny cinch her dress up to her throat. "Aren't you hot in that?"

Eve slapped me again.

The other girl laughed. "Your friend makes a very convincing nun."

"Yes, she does. And a very convincing wife."

She offered a hand. "Jenny."

I told her my name, then put an arm around my woman's robe. "This is Eve, my wife."

Jenny gave her hand a polite shake. "Nice to meet you, when you're not trying to stab people's ancestors with a sword, I mean."

I guess Jenny hadn't noticed or pretended not to notice me stabbing a guy with a harpoon, or she would have knocked me out, too. "Who was that guy anyway?"

"Let's go somewhere else where there aren't unconscious soldiers everywhere."

With a nod, I followed her and Madame Vastra to the boarding ramp.

When we got there, Vastra's ally, the big guy in the suit, came marching up to us, fist clutching a funny looking gun. Without a word, he aimed and blasted a Dalek to pieces.

"No!" my wife shouted, lunging for the weapon.

The man casually shoved her aside, blowing every last one of them to bits. "Looks like we'll have something to toss in the harbor after all."

Eve let out a feral scream, snatching a laser off a smashed Dalek shell. She turned it on `Spuds', firing a shot into his chest.

The man staggered back a little, but seemed unaffected.

I glanced at his tux and saw something shiny poking through the burn hole. Body armor, I presumed.

It looked damaged by the weapon, but not badly.

Without a word, the man fired. My wife collapsed on the deck.

"Eve! No!"

I glared at the man. Although upset, I still thought Eve deserved justice for killing the president, so my next outburst didn't come out that that singeing. "Dammit! You jerk!" I punched him in the arm.

Brilliant. I might have just as well punched one of the cannons they had downstairs. It hurt so bad I thought I broke something.