Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2008-08-21 12:09 am
ptahrrific) wrote2008-08-21 12:09 am
Entry tags:
Fake News/Doctor Who: A Thousand Words, part 4
Title: Truthiness And Relative Dimensions In Space: A Thousand Wørds (4/5)
Rating: PG-13 (sexytalk, impending Aliens Made Them Do It)
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything through New Who S3 is fair game.
Summary: Ten has angst, Jack is supportive, the Wørd is snarky, and adult Stephen begins to have doubts about the nature of this quest.
Table of contents, and footnotes, here.
A Thousand Wørds
Part Four
Mot: 109 AE.
The Doctor is in his fourth incarnation. Stephen Colbert is 44. Sarah Jane Smith is 29.
"Aha! We've arrived," said the Doctor brightly. "Come on, you two, get up. We've got a baby papilløn to find."
Sarah Jane and Stephen, their legs still a bit wobbly from a particularly erratic TARDIS trip, staggered to their feet. Sarah Jane had spent the flight pulling levers and pushing buttons as the Doctor directed, until she had been thrown to the floor by a particularly violent jolt. Stephen had briefly thought about helping her, but hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from the paper.
"Back in this century, there are more than enough papilløn to go around," the Doctor explained as he opened the door of the TARDIS. "You'll find a clutch in almost any cave, and most of them die before anyone shows up to be imprinted on. All we have to do is pick one up."
"Do you remember this?" asked Stephen, holding up the paper to see the papilløn's response. "You as a baby, me finding you, your . . . imprinting?"
Do You Remember Being Born? came the response.
"Well, there's no need to be snippy about it," grumbled Stephen as he followed the Doctor and Sarah Jane out the door. "I was just asking."
The surface of Mot, at least in this region, was made up of steep, rocky hills dotted with blue-violet shrubs. In the valley far below them stood a little cluster of red-roofed houses; in the sky above hung a dim sun and two large moons. Stephen buttoned his suit jacket against a chill gust of wind.
"How are we supposed to tell which papilløn we're supposed to get?" asked Sarah Jane. "I mean, if we pick up the wrong one, won't it change the timeline?"
"Oh, no need to worry," replied the Doctor offhandedly. "Whichever one imprints on Stephen now, in his present, will become the one in his past that he picked up in his future. It's an ontological paradox, you see."
"We're causing a paradox?" exclaimed Sarah Jane.
"Well, yes. But one of the nice ones."
⇔
Thoros Beta: 24,280 BC (Earth time).
The Doctor is in his tenth incarnation. Stephen Col-bert is 17. Jack Harkness is old enough to have been around the block . . . and the planet . . . and the outer rim of the galaxy, with time to stop for gas.
Someone was knocking at Stephen's door. Don't wanna get up, he thought blearily. Was having such a nice dream.
Dragging the moment out as long as possible, he opened his eyes . . .
. . . and found himself staring at the blinking purple object, still cupped in his hand.
"Stephen! Wake up, already!"
Stephen was out of bed like a shot, checking to make sure he was really still in the alien room before opening the door to see Captain Jack. "You're still here!"
"Of course! Where else would I be?"
Stephen couldn't answer. For some bizarre reason he found himself too choked up to speak.
Jack didn't press the issue. "Hurry up and get dressed," he urged. "The Doctor isn't planning to stay parked here too long, and you don't want to miss your chance to see neon pink oceans."
⇔
Mot: 109 AE.
"So, if I understand this correctly," said Stephen, picking his way carefully over the uneven slope, "these beings are dying out at some point in the future? Along with the species that usually bonds with them? And I'm going to take one through time to renew the population?"
The Doctor had identified a dark opening in the hillside as one of the most likely places for a papilløn clutch, so they were heading towards it in spite of the dubious terrain. Stephen had never been a fan of standard Earth-green grass stains, and he suspected he would like them even less if he got a set in blue.
"Yes, that's right," confirmed the Doctor.
"So, this little pest of mine—"
I Resent That!
"—will need to have as much hot energy-based sex as possible for this to work out, right?"
Ooh. I'm Starting To Like This Plan.
"Right!"
"Now I want to have this absolutely clear," Stephen continued, nearly slipping on a rock as the slope grew steeper. "This thing . . . while psychically bonded to me . . . will be doing the incorporeal nasty with other things . . . which are psychically bonded to aliens."
"Well, other aliens, anyway. What are you getting at?"
"Doctor, are you telling me that, in the noble cause of saving an entire species from extinction, I have to have lots of commitment-free sex with a bunch of hot alien women?"
"Oh, no!" exclaimed the Doctor, looking distressed. "No, not at all! The instinct will be there, but we can just lock you in the TARDIS for the duration, and you won't have to touch them at all."
"It's okay!" said Stephen bravely. "It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."
"If papilløn are so plentiful in this time period," cut in Sarah Jane hastily, "what happens in the future to put them on the edge of extinction?"
"Psychic plague," replied the Doctor. "The really insidious kind. Doesn't just kill the population off all willy-nilly—no, it targets specific ages and genders. By the time it runs its course, there are some male papilløn of all ages still around, but very few females, and all past ideal clutch-laying age. The government will initiate a last-ditch artificial breeding program, but without any females young enough to produce viable clutches, it will fail. Which is where Stephen comes in."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop right there," broke in Stephen, doing just that. "It's a girl?"
⇔
Thoros Beta: 24,280 BC (Earth time).
Under the bright green sky, Jack and the Doctor stood on the beach and watched Stephen wade in the neon pink waves, occasionally picking up a bit of mauve-colored driftwood or a fragment from an alien crustacean's shell.
"You could be a little nicer to the kid," remarked Jack.
"Nice? I'm being perfectly nice," said the Doctor evasively. "I'm taking him to see aliens, aren't I?"
"Yeah, but you aren't talking to him. You haven't launched into a round of technobabble once since he's showed up. I know it wasn't your choice to bring him, but you might as well make the best of it, right? Besides, he's a little star-struck with you."
The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed. "Yes, he is that. But I can't . . . it's complicated, Jack."
"Is this about his age? You've had younger companions before, right?"
"Yeah, I have," said the Doctor wistfully. "Adric. Brilliant, brilliant boy, died trying to save a spaceship that crashed anyway. Zoe, almost as clever as I was, caught by the Time Lords and sent home with her memory wiped. Dodo, unfortunate name but a sweet girl, made it home fine but then had a nervous breakdown. Katarina—"
"Whoa, whoa, easy there!" Grabbing the Doctor's narrow shoulders, Jack gave him a shake. "None of that! Stephen's going to be fine. He's got you and me to look out for him, and I promise you, I will not let him die. You got that?"
For the first time in several days, the Doctor smiled. "Aw, Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack. You're a good guy. Even if you still haven't noticed the giant squid."
Jack spun, scanned the ocean—Stephen, where was Stephen?—there, just a few meters down the beach, unharmed—and not a living thing to be seen in the clear pink surf.
When he looked back at the Doctor, the Time Lord had a refreshingly cheeky grin on his face. "Made you look."
⇔
Mot: 109 AE.
The Doctor turned to Stephen, looking befuddled. "Yes, your papilløn is female. I thought you knew that."
Stephen glanced down at the paper. No Wonder I'm The Smart One, it said smugly.
He made a fist, crumpling it in its case, and tried to ignored the way Sarah Jane was smirking to herself. "I've had a psychic energy being taking up space in my mind since I was seventeen, and it's a lady? No. No way." Time to beat a hasty retreat. "I am not going to be a party tooooaaaahhh!"
—the world was spinning, blue grass and grey sky flashing in circles, rocks pounding his sides as he rolled, must have tripped over one of them and now he was tumbling down the hillside, and not the fun kind of tumbling either, the wind rushed in his ears and he dimly heard someone call his name—
—and then the ground fell away beneath him.
Rating: PG-13 (sexytalk, impending Aliens Made Them Do It)
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything through New Who S3 is fair game.
Summary: Ten has angst, Jack is supportive, the Wørd is snarky, and adult Stephen begins to have doubts about the nature of this quest.
Table of contents, and footnotes, here.
A Thousand Wørds
Part Four
Mot: 109 AE.
The Doctor is in his fourth incarnation. Stephen Colbert is 44. Sarah Jane Smith is 29.
"Aha! We've arrived," said the Doctor brightly. "Come on, you two, get up. We've got a baby papilløn to find."
Sarah Jane and Stephen, their legs still a bit wobbly from a particularly erratic TARDIS trip, staggered to their feet. Sarah Jane had spent the flight pulling levers and pushing buttons as the Doctor directed, until she had been thrown to the floor by a particularly violent jolt. Stephen had briefly thought about helping her, but hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from the paper.
"Back in this century, there are more than enough papilløn to go around," the Doctor explained as he opened the door of the TARDIS. "You'll find a clutch in almost any cave, and most of them die before anyone shows up to be imprinted on. All we have to do is pick one up."
"Do you remember this?" asked Stephen, holding up the paper to see the papilløn's response. "You as a baby, me finding you, your . . . imprinting?"
Do You Remember Being Born? came the response.
"Well, there's no need to be snippy about it," grumbled Stephen as he followed the Doctor and Sarah Jane out the door. "I was just asking."
The surface of Mot, at least in this region, was made up of steep, rocky hills dotted with blue-violet shrubs. In the valley far below them stood a little cluster of red-roofed houses; in the sky above hung a dim sun and two large moons. Stephen buttoned his suit jacket against a chill gust of wind.
"How are we supposed to tell which papilløn we're supposed to get?" asked Sarah Jane. "I mean, if we pick up the wrong one, won't it change the timeline?"
"Oh, no need to worry," replied the Doctor offhandedly. "Whichever one imprints on Stephen now, in his present, will become the one in his past that he picked up in his future. It's an ontological paradox, you see."
"We're causing a paradox?" exclaimed Sarah Jane.
"Well, yes. But one of the nice ones."
Thoros Beta: 24,280 BC (Earth time).
The Doctor is in his tenth incarnation. Stephen Col-bert is 17. Jack Harkness is old enough to have been around the block . . . and the planet . . . and the outer rim of the galaxy, with time to stop for gas.
Someone was knocking at Stephen's door. Don't wanna get up, he thought blearily. Was having such a nice dream.
Dragging the moment out as long as possible, he opened his eyes . . .
. . . and found himself staring at the blinking purple object, still cupped in his hand.
"Stephen! Wake up, already!"
Stephen was out of bed like a shot, checking to make sure he was really still in the alien room before opening the door to see Captain Jack. "You're still here!"
"Of course! Where else would I be?"
Stephen couldn't answer. For some bizarre reason he found himself too choked up to speak.
Jack didn't press the issue. "Hurry up and get dressed," he urged. "The Doctor isn't planning to stay parked here too long, and you don't want to miss your chance to see neon pink oceans."
Mot: 109 AE.
"So, if I understand this correctly," said Stephen, picking his way carefully over the uneven slope, "these beings are dying out at some point in the future? Along with the species that usually bonds with them? And I'm going to take one through time to renew the population?"
The Doctor had identified a dark opening in the hillside as one of the most likely places for a papilløn clutch, so they were heading towards it in spite of the dubious terrain. Stephen had never been a fan of standard Earth-green grass stains, and he suspected he would like them even less if he got a set in blue.
"Yes, that's right," confirmed the Doctor.
"So, this little pest of mine—"
I Resent That!
"—will need to have as much hot energy-based sex as possible for this to work out, right?"
Ooh. I'm Starting To Like This Plan.
"Right!"
"Now I want to have this absolutely clear," Stephen continued, nearly slipping on a rock as the slope grew steeper. "This thing . . . while psychically bonded to me . . . will be doing the incorporeal nasty with other things . . . which are psychically bonded to aliens."
"Well, other aliens, anyway. What are you getting at?"
"Doctor, are you telling me that, in the noble cause of saving an entire species from extinction, I have to have lots of commitment-free sex with a bunch of hot alien women?"
"Oh, no!" exclaimed the Doctor, looking distressed. "No, not at all! The instinct will be there, but we can just lock you in the TARDIS for the duration, and you won't have to touch them at all."
"It's okay!" said Stephen bravely. "It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."
"If papilløn are so plentiful in this time period," cut in Sarah Jane hastily, "what happens in the future to put them on the edge of extinction?"
"Psychic plague," replied the Doctor. "The really insidious kind. Doesn't just kill the population off all willy-nilly—no, it targets specific ages and genders. By the time it runs its course, there are some male papilløn of all ages still around, but very few females, and all past ideal clutch-laying age. The government will initiate a last-ditch artificial breeding program, but without any females young enough to produce viable clutches, it will fail. Which is where Stephen comes in."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop right there," broke in Stephen, doing just that. "It's a girl?"
Thoros Beta: 24,280 BC (Earth time).
Under the bright green sky, Jack and the Doctor stood on the beach and watched Stephen wade in the neon pink waves, occasionally picking up a bit of mauve-colored driftwood or a fragment from an alien crustacean's shell.
"You could be a little nicer to the kid," remarked Jack.
"Nice? I'm being perfectly nice," said the Doctor evasively. "I'm taking him to see aliens, aren't I?"
"Yeah, but you aren't talking to him. You haven't launched into a round of technobabble once since he's showed up. I know it wasn't your choice to bring him, but you might as well make the best of it, right? Besides, he's a little star-struck with you."
The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed. "Yes, he is that. But I can't . . . it's complicated, Jack."
"Is this about his age? You've had younger companions before, right?"
"Yeah, I have," said the Doctor wistfully. "Adric. Brilliant, brilliant boy, died trying to save a spaceship that crashed anyway. Zoe, almost as clever as I was, caught by the Time Lords and sent home with her memory wiped. Dodo, unfortunate name but a sweet girl, made it home fine but then had a nervous breakdown. Katarina—"
"Whoa, whoa, easy there!" Grabbing the Doctor's narrow shoulders, Jack gave him a shake. "None of that! Stephen's going to be fine. He's got you and me to look out for him, and I promise you, I will not let him die. You got that?"
For the first time in several days, the Doctor smiled. "Aw, Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack. You're a good guy. Even if you still haven't noticed the giant squid."
Jack spun, scanned the ocean—Stephen, where was Stephen?—there, just a few meters down the beach, unharmed—and not a living thing to be seen in the clear pink surf.
When he looked back at the Doctor, the Time Lord had a refreshingly cheeky grin on his face. "Made you look."
Mot: 109 AE.
The Doctor turned to Stephen, looking befuddled. "Yes, your papilløn is female. I thought you knew that."
Stephen glanced down at the paper. No Wonder I'm The Smart One, it said smugly.
He made a fist, crumpling it in its case, and tried to ignored the way Sarah Jane was smirking to herself. "I've had a psychic energy being taking up space in my mind since I was seventeen, and it's a lady? No. No way." Time to beat a hasty retreat. "I am not going to be a party tooooaaaahhh!"
—the world was spinning, blue grass and grey sky flashing in circles, rocks pounding his sides as he rolled, must have tripped over one of them and now he was tumbling down the hillside, and not the fun kind of tumbling either, the wind rushed in his ears and he dimly heard someone call his name—
—and then the ground fell away beneath him.
no subject
Of course! It wouldn't be right any other way!
And now I suddenly have the beginning of 'Cowboys Are Frequently Secretly Fond Of Each Other' in my head. =P
Ahh, I love this. It kind of makes me want to see if I can get into Doctor Who at all. Because, you know, I totally don't have enough fandoms as it is. I so need to add another!
no subject
You should totally get into Doctor Who. Because the canon spans all of time and space, and therefore has infinite places to play in. Not to mention piles of characters that need fleshing out, and all kinds of subtext. And there is time travel! (I have a huge thing for time travel stories.) And comedy, and geekiness, and occasional angst, and massive crossover potential!
...well, that's my pitch. From here it's up to you =3
no subject
...oh man, you should so do that.
Well, it appears that Side Reel has the new stuff. I wanted to at least find out about the Fourth Doctor and Sarah Jane, though, so I'd know more about them. Looks like I may have to torrent.
no subject
Could you imagine him running about in pink waves later? Awesome
no subject
no subject
Loved it! *g*
no subject
"We're causing a paradox?" exclaimed Sarah Jane.
"Well, yes. But one of the nice ones."
Aw, a cute little domestic paradox, not one of the fierce wild ones.
For the first time in several days, the Doctor smiled. "Aw, Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack. You're a good guy. Even if you still haven't noticed the giant squid."
Jack spun, scanned the ocean—Stephen, where was Stephen?—there, just a few meters down the beach, unharmed—and not a living thing to be seen in the clear pink surf.
When he looked back at the Doctor, the Time Lord had a refreshingly cheeky grin on his face. "Made you look."
That is just MADE of win.