We awoke in the med-bay of Vorton. I sat up, a little too quickly, and got dizzy. “Easy,” said a masculine Japanese voice. “Save your strength.” I looked up to see Hiiro putting his hand on my shoulder. Emu and Emily were next to him.
“What happened?” I asked as I realized I wasn’t in my suit.
“When that thing started collapsing in on itself,” explained Emu, “Death fired some sort of beam to your location, allowing Vorton to pick you guys up before they rescued us.”
“The ones you rescued are safe,” assured Emily, sensing my worry. “They’re waiting outside for you lot.” I heard stirring as my team and Robin woke up. Once things were deemed okay, we explained the story and were released from the med-bay. When we left, our friends greeted us.
“Wyldstyle!” cheered MetalBeard.
“Gandalf, we got out!” called Frodo.
“Of the frying pan, yes,” countered Gandalf.
“Did we destroy the piece of Vortech?” wondered Robin.
“We did,” confirmed Batman, “but if that’s what a tiny piece of Vortech can do, we’re going to need help.”
“From who?” asked Momotaros. “We got all the help right here!”
“No, we don’t,” I countered. “We need help from a few of our new friends, and maybe an enemy. One that Chell should be familiar with.” Chell then signed something hurriedly.
“I agree!” affirmed Tanisha. “We’re NOT recruiting GLaDOS into this!”
“We need an a.i to help run things,” I explained.
“Then let’s get someone else!” begged Emily.
“My mind’s made up,” I said, putting my foot down. “Emily, you will retrieve GLaDOS. Michael, I need you to get the Doctor. We need X-PO back online. Xiomara, you’re getting the Ghostbusters. Richard, Mr. Saunders, I need you to get, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, Mr. Simpson. Hiroki, I need you to get the Ninjago team. Elphaba, scour the multiverse for Dorothy and her friends.” Elphaba winced. “Wyldstyle, see if you can gather more Master Builders. Gandalf, I need you to gather the Fellowship. Batman, get the Justice League. Livia, I need you to get the Gamer Kid and whatever characters you can retrieve. Haitao, see who you can get in Jurassic World. Tonje, you’re going to Chima. Mikhail, I need you to pick up Mystery Incorporated. Josh, I need you to make contact with Marty and Doc Brown. I’ll pick up Godzilla. The rest of us will train with the Kamen Riders and Vader and his men.”
“Your Majesty,” piped up Rusty, “you may want to answer this distress call. I heard that a Prometheus-class starship from S-T-4-R-T-R-3-K was a Foundation Element. I’ve found that ship’s crew and Captain.”
“Get them here,” I ordered. “We may need Starfleet’s help.” A portal opened and the crew, led by a Klingon woman with all four pips on the collar of her red shirt, came onto Vorton.
“Q let us contact your home,” explained the Klingon Captain. “I am Captain Sh’Kar of the U.S.S. Enterprise-H.”
“Welcome to Vorton, Captain,” I said. “I am Queen Megumi Hishikawa of the Vortex Riders. Forgive me if I don’t guide you around the place, but we’re rather pressed for time. We’re picking up allies for our final battle with the one who stole your ship. Would you like to join us?”
“Is a Vulcan logically minded?!” snarked Sh’Kar. “You ask a Klingon if she would like to join the fight?! Of course! Besides, I have a mission with my crew to begin! I can’t do that without a ship!”
“Then Emmanuel will give you the tour and you can join the rest of my people in training,” I told her.
“Before you gather allies,” Sh’Kar stopped me, “do you have any idea what these are?” It was a pouch of studs, 125,000, to be exact.
“Money,” I explained. Sh’Kar handed the pouch to me. “How do you guys pay for goods when dealing with Ferengi?” I asked.
“A small supply of latinum is given to each officer,” explained Sh’Kar. “How rich are you now?”
“We’re now at 4,486,000 studs,” I elaborated. I turned to my people. “All right, ladies and gentlemen, you know your objectives?” Everyone confirmed. “Rusty, send us to our destinations!”
“I obey!” confirmed Rusty. She sent us through, starting with Xiomara.
I found myself on a pump-car on an old subway line. I shrugged, figuring I didn’t need it. I then heard someone shout “Hello!”
“Hola?!” I responded.
“Hey!” called another voice.
“Ghostbusters? Is that you?” I quizzed.
“Xiomara?!” called Peter as the Ghostbusters rounded a corner.
“Ghostbusters, hola!” I said. I was hugged from all sides. “It’s nice to see you too!” I affirmed. “However, my business here is not to catch up with you guys. I know the world ending is nothing new to you four, but this is bigger than just the world.”
“Judgment Day,” guessed Ray.
“Si, only worse,” I replied. “I’ll fill you in.”
“WINSTON!” called a demonic voice. It sounded like it was from behind us.
“Okay, I’m outta here!” yelped Winston. We backed up, almost stumbling over ourselves.
“Rusty,” I stammered into the comms, “I found them and could really use a…” I turned and saw a shriveled, severed head! I screamed and soon, many more heads in the same condition appeared around us! We all screamed as long as they stayed! Then, just as suddenly as they appeared, they vanished. “…Everyone okay…?” I mumbled. The Ghostbusters mumbled their confirmation, then a whistle sounded.
“Did you hear that?” asked Peter.
“It sounded like a…train,” mumbled Winston.
“Uh uh,” argued Ray. “These lines have been abandoned for…fifty years.”
“…Oh,” I said. We walked further forward and then…I heard them! Train wheels on rails! We turned around to see the light of a steam engine coming right for us! The Ghostbusters got out of the way, but I was frozen in fear! Thankfully, it was a ghost train, so it passed through me, but I still screamed as it did! It vanished into the darkness and the Ghostbusters came up to me to see if I was okay.
“That must have been terrifying!” guessed Winston.
“I think it was the train that went through you, Winston!” theorized Egon. “The old New York Central, City of Albany! Derailed in 1920! Killed hundreds of people! Did you catch the number on the locomotive?!”
“Lo siento, Señor Spengler!” I weakly apologized, still getting over my fright. “I missed it!”
I couldn’t believe my eyes! I was in front of the first iteration of the TARDIS! The one William Hartnell used! I approached the box and lightly touched the door, causing it to open. “What on earth?!” spluttered an old man’s voice. I heard footsteps and saw a man with white hair poke his head out. “Young man,” he griped, “do you realize how dangerous it is to just waltz into someone’s house?!”
“Er, begging your pardon, sir,” I said, pretending not to know this old man, “but I simply tried knock and the door moved on its own.” The old man grabbed his lapels in contemplation.
“Goodness me,” he muttered to himself. “It seems I forgot to lock it.” He then returned his attention to me. “What do you want?” he asked.
“I don’t suppose you know of a doctor around here?” I asked.
“My dear boy, you happen to be talking to one,” explained the old man, the First Doctor. “Come inside and tell me your troubles.”
“What, in there?!” I said, feigning ignorance about the TARDIS’ internal dimensions.
“Well, I can’t exactly have you freezing out here, can I?” snapped the Doctor. “Come in and shut the door! I don’t want a draft!” I followed him in and then lit up my face in astonishment. I’ve always wanted to be stunned at the TARDIS’ interior.
“Good heavens!” I breathed. “This is impossible!”
“Impossible?” snapped the Doctor as he fiddled with the console, the time rotor in the center not going all the way up to the ceiling. “Whatever next?” Just then, the TARDIS shuddered and took off on its own!
“What’s going on?!” I yelped, really wanting to know the answer.
“I don’t know!” responded the Doctor as he worked the controls. “Dear boy, go and check the fault locator, in that wall over there!” Most TARDIS console rooms don’t have it, but a fault locator does exactly as it says on the tin, it locates faults in the TARDIS’ systems. I checked it and got the readout.
“System J-27-Beta!” I called.
“J-27-Beta?” asked the Doctor. “Oh dear. You haven’t touched anything, have you?”
“No, why?” I responded.
“Well, you see,” explained the Doctor, “J-27-Beta is what keeps me from travelling into my future.” Just then, the TARDIS shook again and the console room looked slightly different. “Oh dear, it’s already started!” breathed the Doctor. I then noticed something on the console, by the time rotor. I picked the object up and examined it with the Doctor.
“A recorder?” I muttered.
“What on earth is that infernal thing doing in my TARDIS?” asked the Doctor.
“Excuse me, may I have that back?” asked a new voice. We whirled around to see a man in a Beatles’ haircut and dressing like a hobo. His hand was outstretched. I put the recorder into his hand and he put his mouth to it, playing a few notes. He then inspected it with a furrowed brow. “You haven’t been trying to play this, have you?” he asked. He then saw the Doctor. “Oh dear, we ARE in a pickle, aren’t we?”
“I presume this is YOUR TARDIS, sir?” asked the Doctor, rather One, since HIS immediate future incarnation, Two, was now with us. “I don’t like it,” muttered One. Two frowned
“So young, and yet so old,” he muttered. The TARDIS then changed again, altering just a bit. “Oh no,” moaned Two. “It’s that old fop’s TARDIS. My word, he’s always trying to show off!”
“You’re no joy to work with either, you midget hobo!” came an erudite voice. An older man in fancy clothes came in. “I take it YOU’RE the reason System J-27-Beta is out of commission.”
“Indeed not!” argued Two. He and the dandy, Doctor number Three, then started arguing.
“Oh, good heavens, will you lot stop messing about?!” snapped One.
“He started it!” argued Two and Three together. The TARDIS then changed into a wooden room with the console in wood and no time rotor.
“Oh, there you are!” said a jovial voice. A man with a mop of curly hair and an enormous grin and long, multi-colored scarf appeared with a bag of something in his hand. “I don’t suppose either of you would like a Jelly-baby?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t mind one,” I said. The man, the Fourth Doctor, let me reach into the bag and I took an orange one. The sweetness took me by surprise.
“Oh, don’t like it?” guessed Four.
“No, I do,” I assured him, “it’s just been a while since I had one.” The console room then went back to white and the time rotor came back. Standing there was a man in a cricketer’s uniform with a stick of celery on his left lapel.
“Good heavens, that can’t be right,” muttered the man, Doctor Five. “Well, time to fix…” He then caught sight of us. “YOU!” he exclaimed. “How did you lot get into my TARDIS?!”
“I could ask the same question!” said a rather loud voice. The owner was a man wearing some brightly colored patchwork coat! We all screamed in pain as our eyes saw it. The man, Doctor Six, put his hands to his hips.
“Please, tell me you’re me at my last incarnation!” begged Five.
“Why should I tell you such a lie?!” snapped Six. “I come directly after you! Good thing, too. A stick of celery on such a boring outfit?!”
“Oh, Rassilon, you’re worse!” moaned Four. “You’re the Mid-lives crisis!”
“MID-LIVES CRISIS?!” protested Six.
“I’d say that’s rather accurate,” said another voice. The owner, Doctor Seven, was a little man with a question-mark waistcoat, or vest, if you’re American. “Good heavens,” muttered Seven. “It’s as they say, too many cooks spoil the child!”
“…Spoil the soup,” I corrected. The TARDIS changed again. It looked more like a library and the time rotor went all the way up to the ceiling.
“What are you lot doing here?!” demanded a voice. We whirled around to see a man with long, wavy hair, the Eighth Doctor. “You can’t just stroll into my TARDIS like that!” snapped Eight. The TARDIS changed again. The walls were back to having roundels, but now there were coral supports. “…System J-27-Beta?” he guessed.
“It looks that way,” rasped an older voice. A war weary man then approached us. “It looks like time is showing its disappointment in me,” sighed the man, the incarnation most fans call the War Doctor.
“You’re not involved with the Time War, are you?” asked Eight.
“Time war?” asked One. The walls changed to yellow.
“Yeah, and he made a mistake that cost us Gallifrey!” snarled a voice that sounded like it was from the north. A man in a leather jacket arrived. “Because we lost our home, I can’t call him the Doctor!” snarled the man, Doctor Nine.
“What I did, I did without choice!” argued W. Doctor. “In the name of peace and sanity!”
“You didn’t do it in the name of the Doctor!” said another voice. Another man in a long coat approached. The TARDIS changed again to look more steampunk. “Okay, who touched what?!” demanded the new man, Doctor Ten.
“I’d say you lot touched something!” said a voice as someone in a bowtie tripped into view. Yes, I meant “tripped”. The man, Doctor Eleven, was one of the clumsiest Doctors.
“Wait, you two are my replacements?” asked Nine. “A pretty boy and a baby giraffe?!”
“More like uncoordinated house-cat!” replied W. Doctor.
“OI!” snapped Eleven. “I am NOT uncoordinated! And YOU!” he pointed to Nine. “How about those ears, Dumbo?!”
“My ears are just fine!” snapped Nine. The TARDIS then changed into Twelve’s.
“Good Lord, will you all stop arguing?!” snapped Twelve as he arrived. Eleven looked confused. “Seriously, it’s like dealing with pudding brained versions of yourself!” he griped.
“That…makes no sense,” whispered Eleven. “Pretty Boy over there…”
“OI!” protested Ten.
“…regenerated into that body again, making him the eleventh and twelfth incarnation,” continued Eleven. “Strictly speaking, I’m the last Doctor. So, why am I getting the same sense of familiarity with you as I do with them?”
“The Time Lords granted us a new regeneration cycle,” explained Twelve.
“The Time Lords?” asked Nine.
“But…they’re gone,” said a confused Ten. “HE killed them!” He was pointing to W. Doctor. Just then, the TARDIS landed.
“Well, it looks like explanations will wait,” I said.
“Michael, were you the one who fiddled with System J-27-Beta?” Twelve asked me. His previous incarnations looked at me.
“Michael?” asked One. “That’s your name?”
“…Yes, sir,” I replied, dropping the charade.
“And he addressed you by name,” noted Two.
“You’ve been in the TARDIS before, haven’t you?” quizzed Nine.
“Yes, Doctor,” I confirmed. “Specifically, this exact TARDIS interior. And, to answer your question, Twelve, I didn’t touch System J-27-Beta! While Six appeared, I had a brief chat with the TARDIS. It sabotaged that system itself.”
“You did what?!” Twelve snapped at the TARDIS. It beeped its reply. “You know the laws of time as well as I do! I can’t travel with my previous incarnations! On top of them risking creating a weak point with their mere presence, they cramp my style!”
“A magician with style?” muttered W. Doctor.
“Look, if we can all concentrate!” I snapped. All Doctors turned to me. “I’ve just had another chat with the TARDIS and we need to pick up Twelve’s successor. Somehow, the TARDIS couldn’t pick her up, but it could at least land in her general vicinity.”
“Her?!” wailed Six. “Are you telling me I become a woman?!”
“What difference does your physical makeup matter?!” I responded. “She’s still the Doctor!”
“Probably not as charismatic as me,” scoffed Four.
“Oh, for goodness sakes!” I snapped. “You lot sound like Internet trolls right now! Come on! Those that have them! Screwdrivers out!” Three, Four, and Eight to Eleven whipped out their sonic screwdrivers while Twelve pulled out sunglasses. He tossed me his TARDIS-like screwdriver.
“I have a feeling you’ve always wanted to swish about with a Sonic Screwdriver,” he explained.
“What are you doing with those wands?” asked One.
“They’re Sonic Screwdrivers,” explained Nine.
“Sir, where’s yours?” asked Three to Twelve.
“Right here,” explained Twelve as he pointed to the sunglasses.
“…Sonic Sunglasses?” asked Nine.
“…Okay, why?” asked Ten.
“I think they’re cool!” replied Eleven with a grin.
“Will you stop using that word?!” snapped Twelve.
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, let’s just get on with it!” snapped One. We all exited the TARDIS to see that our surroundings were coral-like.
“Well, if this isn’t a Zygon ship,” muttered Five, “then I didn’t beat Sir Francis Drake in cricket.”
“You brought cricket into that time?” I asked. My screwdriver then picked up a double pulse. “Gentlemen, around that corner!” I whispered.
“Not yet!” whispered W. Doctor. “Zygons too!”
“I have an idea,” whispered Twelve. “Adjust the frequency settings to 0.3794-Z. It should fool a Zygon’s eyes into thinking we’re Zygons.” We all did so and simply waltzed right in. The Zygons paid us no mind as we saw the current Doctor strapped to a table and a Zygon holding some instrument to her head.
“Identity confirmed,” reported the Zygon to his superior. “It IS the Doctor!”
“So, Doctor,” snarled the warrior-engineer, an aggressive chap, “what’s you game here? Do you seriously expect me to believe that Vortech is real?”
“That WAS the plan,” confirmed Thirteen. “Look, Zorkoth, Vortech will…!”
“Vortech is nothing more than something I told my hatchlings to scare them into behaving!” snarled the Zygon. “Now, if you will not return my ship’s power core, I will most certainly…” he was interrupted by the emergency lights shutting off. “WHAT NOW?!” he roared. I quietly congratulated Three for fiddling with emergency power. “Find the malfunction!” Zorkoth ordered his troops. The Zygons then left the room, allowing us to cancel our disguises and free Thirteen.
“Thanks for the helping hand, gentlemen,” thanked Thirteen. She then realized who her rescuers were. “Oh, good heavens,” she sighed. “I was only expecting Eyebrows over there!”
“We can discuss that later, Doctor!” I yelped as a Zygon alerted his crewmates to a prisoner escaping and intruders on board.
“RUN!” shouted Nine. We all made a mad dash for the TARDIS and entered it. The console room had changed while we were gone, looking exactly as Joshua described it.
“I see you’ve redecorated,” observed Two. “I don’t like it.” Thirteen had gotten the TARDIS to take off, then tried to pull her hand away from the console only for it to be pulled back. She rolled her eyes, then buzzed her silver sonic screwdriver on whatever glue was used so it would dehydrate.
“That Zygon webbing gets everywhere!” she griped.
“Zygons make webbing?” I asked myself as the Doctors had a telepathic conference to catch each other up.