The Dalek cautiously headed down one
aisle, then paused. One second. Two seconds. Turning quickly, he spun
around and fired, narrowly missing a tall silver creature running away.
Should he pursue? No - the Supreme Dalek was down this way. At least
he thought.
The Centurion fired at the humanoid
creature, then ran, jumping up and climbing on top of the aisle. He
could see another strange creature fire at another humanoid creature,
then the two run away from each other. He climbed down the other side.
Left or right? Left he thought, towards the strange creature.
The Cyberman fired another shot, just
missing the tall silver creature. The silver creature fired, then
managed to jump up almost ten meters to the second shelf of the racks,
and disappeared over the edge. This task was going to be more
challenging than he first thought.
The Borg turned left, walk down the end
of the aisle, then turned left again. He paused, listening intently
for the others. That was his one advantage, he thought. I started late, but at least I know there are others - others that I can assimilate into the Borg collective.
The spider replicator turned a corner
and paused, delicately sniffing the air. Was that cherry electrodes
down that aisle? MMM! He loved cherry electrodes. He turned and
headed off for another snack.
He was pissed.
It was probably a good thing, he reflected, that the great treasure needing to be rescued was not a skin job, and that it was the uranium jewel in front of him. In front of them. He’d be tempted to rip its arms out of its sockets.
He was, decidedly, very pissed. It wasn’t the first time, although, unbeknownst to him, the last time that he cursed the skin jobs for not giving him a cool catch phrase. Or more specifically, a mouth in which to utter a cool catch phrase.
The weird dude in front of him, just on the other side of the uranium jewel, kept screeching ‘Exterminate! Exterminate! We are a superiour being!’ Funny, he thought, a superior being wouldn’t have that silly egg beater or toilet plunger.
The dude on his right wasn’t much better. He looked like some half-breed between a toaster like himself and a skin job: some parts human, some parts metal. And he kept squawking about assimilating people. Maybe that was the problem? It had assimilated too much?
At least the dude on his left was a proper metal individual. He kept mumbling ‘Upgrade in progress even though he didn’t seem to be upgrade himself at all.
The centurion slowly shook his head. He’d figured out how to get the uranium jewel, figured out how to carry it out. The question was were exactly was out?
Part 6
The replicator spider gazed at those luscious morsels and wondered: was that one cherry flavored? It did have that red bouncing center.
And did that one have a cream center? He was pretty sure the one next to it was some sort of cake pop - it did have that stick, and the egg beater. Although, it did have that toilet plunger: maybe it was a plumber?
The third one was mint, he was pretty sure. All crispy and metallic and minty.
The last was a toss up; it did have some interesting little bits, but it also had lots of that organic matter that just didn’t taste that good. He figured he’d leave him for last.
No - that glowy thing in the middle would be last. It didn’t move, so would be easier to eat.
He decided to go for the cake pop one, and delicately dropped down from his perch on the ceiling onto the stick, and began to munch. Yum!
Behind him, one by one, the 2001 other replicators that he had spawn followed, some going for the cherry thing, some going for the minty thing, and some going for the glowy thing. Poor AB23 - he was still a bit slow since that cherry thing shot off his hind leg - still hadn’t grown it out again. He was stuck with that weird half ‘n’ half thing. He really hoped that those metal pieces were tasty.
Part 7
As the last bit of the jewel was consumed, the man behind the voice stepped out from behind what appeared to be a post.
“You have done well, my little pets. Just as I thought you would.”
He smiled, picked up one of the replicator spiders, and petted it. “Yes, my pets, you have done well,” the Master continued, carrying the pet back around the post. As the door shut to his TARDIS, he added, “But now I have a special treat for you.”
He materialized his TARDIS, and opened the door. “See? The blue police call box? It’s really, really tasty. Why don’t you have a bite?”
The replicator spider hesitated for a moment, then as the man dropped him on the ground and disappeared again, scurried over to the blue box.
********
“Now really, Doctor!”
“Yes, Ace - really. That is why levels 73 and 74 are entirely made of replicators. It was easier to give them a couple of levels of the TARDIS then to try and get rid of them. So far, they haven’t been able to eat through the wall. Yet.”
Part 8
The TARDIS landed hard, with a nauseating crunch. The War Doctor managed to half crawl, half climb out of the smoke filled console room, and out of his beloved TARDIS.
He crawled away from her, not looking back, about twenty yards away, to the edge of the cliff and collapsed, staring up at the midnight sky on this un-identified planet.
She was dying, he knew. Behind him, he heard a thud as the door fell off its hinges. He knew he’d have to inspect the damage, try to scavenge parts to build a singling device.
Then again, as he continued to stare into space, maybe not. The battle which had doomed his TARDIS was bad - the battles had been getting worse. They, most likely, would be getting worse. He wasn’t sure he had the heart to fight anymore.
He was tired. His TARDIS was tired, worn out. He knew even the outside showed damage from that last battle. Her beautiful top light was even gone, cracked.
He felt something brush his hand. Startled, he jerked his hand, then realized it was one of the replicator spiders that had inhabited the inner levels of the TARDIS for many regenerations.
“Hello, little one,” he told it. Sitting up, he saw tons of replicator spiders tumbling out of the TARDIS. “I am sorry,” he told the spider that had brushed his hand. Petting it, he explained, “She’s dying. Soon, we’ll both be losing our home.”
As he watched, the replicators began. . . Ingesting his TARDIS. He thought about shoeing them off, telling them to leave her final moments in peace, but then resisted. It was cowardly, he knew, but he wouldn’t have to deal with the corpse like shell of her.
But then, a miracle happened: the replicator spiders began to . . . . replicate her. They were combining with his TARDIS to become. . .a repli-TARDIS.
It took some time - she was a big ship, after all - but by sunrise, she was rebuilt. He cautiously stepped aboard, trailed by a handful of the replicator spiders that were left over.
The console room was amazing! Gone were the little white bubble things. Instead. . . .Instead it was huge! And lots of gadgets! A second floor! A Library! As he walked down through the ship, accompanied by the click-clack of little replicator feet, he realized everything was rebuilt, improved. Suddenly a horrible thought occured: Was the Eye of Harmony safe? Had the replicator spiders hacked it?
If they had. . . .he shuddered. While they were content to stay deep within the TARDIS eating, growing, replicating, she was able to keep the most dangerous pieces safe. Now. . .?
No, it was safe. It was somehow . . . upgraded in fact. He was awestruck. Walking slowly back to the console room, he wondered about his next move.
He headed back to the console room. There was a message for him. “TAKE US HERE:’ followed by a coordinate in time and space and signed ‘The Final Five’.
“So that’s your game, eh?” The Doctor asked the five replicator spiders that had followed him in the inspection of the TARDIS. “You’ve rebuilt the TARDIS, and are now heading off to bigger and better things?”
He absentmindedly petted a couple as he entered the coordinates into the console, and pulled the start lever. The TARDIS responded effortlessly - no noise, no grinding, no bumps. They’d even upgraded her time drive.
The TARDIS materialized on some sort of space station. It was hard, sleek, and entirely black - lifeless and sterile. The only contrast was the white troopers marching all around. Surprisingly, none even noticed the TARDIS.
He cautiously opened the door, craning his head around the door. Licketty split, the five replicator spiders were out the door, like a dog sneaking out when it shouldn’t. Well, the Doctor really hadn’t owned a dog aboard the TARDIS, besides K-9 who never really sneaked, but that’s the way he imagined they’d sneak out. The final one turned, waved good-bye to the Doctor.
“Good-bye,” the Doctor replied, waving back. “Thank you for your help.”
The replicator spider turned, scurrying off to join his siblings who had already started munching on the elevators.
Inside on the console was a note: You are welcome. Thank you for sharing the TARDIS with us.
The Doctor smiled, and headed back to Galifrey, ready to end the war with the Daleks.
