Back before I ever spoke to a woman, or indeed social skills of any kind, I’m slightly embarassed to say I was a die hard member of the Strathclyde Doctor Who Society.
Bear in mind this was the early 1990s, long before the Internet made it easy for social lepers like us to find each other, so we were kind of like an elite bunch of sad cases.
Also, this was before Doctor Who got cool again; before normal people watched it. We were old-school.
Apart from getting together and discussing Doctor Who and the possibility that one day we might meet a lady, we published a fanzine called Paisley Pattern.
In that fanzine, I wrote a few pieces of Doctor Who fan fiction. I present one of them here. Since this was written at least a decade ago, it features the seventh Doctor and his companion Ace. More tales will follow.
A Place where There Isn’t Any Trouble
“Crikey, Professor!” said Ace as she fell out the door of the TARDIS. “Are you sure that you’ve got a licence to drive this?”
“Admittedly we’ve had smoother landings,” replied the Doctor, as he followed his young companion outside, “but there’s no harm done.”
“Try telling that to my stomach. I think I left it a few light years behind. What happened anyway?”
“I’m not sure,” mused the Doctor, seemingly oblivious to Ace bent over double and gasping to get her breath back. “We appeared to hit some kind of temporal barrier while materialising, but I managed to recalibrate the instruments.”
“Hah, you could have fooled me!”
“Oh come on Ace,” said the Doctor, suddenly noticing her queasiness. “Take a few deep breaths, get your senses back.”
As the Doctor took his own advice and gulped down a few mouthfuls of air, he began to feel quite reinvigorated himself.
“Taste that air, Ace! It’s so clean, and so fresh.”
“Yeah, and so’s my toothpaste,” muttered Ace. “So where are we then, Professor?”
The two companions began to look around their surroundings. Rolling green fields swept over to a majestic range of mountain peaks that sheltered a sleepy little village, that seemed to shimmer with a peaceful contentment.
As the Doctor walked towards a bridge that led over to a sparkling lake towards a small huddle of houses, he imagined he could almost hear a lilting playfulness in the air.
“We seem to have arrived in a pre-industrial agrarian society,” the Doctor said, marvelling at the abundance of over-sized flaura all around. “Isn’t this place beautiful Ace?”
“Yeah, it beats Crystal Palace any day Prof, but why aren’t there any people about?”
“Perhaps the TARDIS’ materialisation frightened them. Judging by the architecture, they would appear to be simple people.”
“Maybe,” said Ace. “I’ve got this feeling we’re being watched though.”
Just then, a strange rustling and squeaking in some bushes alerted Ace.
“What was that?” she said, nervously fumbling in her bomber jacket pockets for a can of Nitro 9 in case she had to blow the bush up.
“Mmmmm? What was what?” the Doctor replied, leaning over the bridge and pulling faces at his reflection in the deep blue water.
“There’s something out there Prof, and knowing our luck, it’ll be Daleks, Cybermen and Sontarans.”
“Oh my,” sighed the Doctor. “Ace, surely you can see there’s no danger here.”
“You think what you like Professor, but I’m keeping my eyes open.”
As Ace paced around the TARDIS, she let out a squeal that brought the Doctor running.
“What is it?” he said, but Ace didn’t answer. She was staring in silence at a pair of legs jutting out from underneath the TARDIS.
“Oh no,” the Doctor moaned, sinking to the ground. “This is terrible! It can’t be. There’s safety features in the TARDIS to prevent this from happening.”
As Ace kneeled down beside the Doctor and put a comforting arm round him, she seemed to sense something edging into her perceptions.
“What’s that sound Professor?”
“What sound?” muttered the Doctor, only half-hearing as he wiped tears from his eyes.
“A whistling sound, like in the distance.”
The two of them suddenly looked upwards, but it was too late. The plummeting black mass crashed down on top of them.
As the dust settled, a timid hand opened the door and a young girl walked out with a small dog tucked underneath an arm.
“Somehow Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”