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Chapter Text

Sound doesn't carry in space, but it sure does in time. If there had been people in the Time Vortex to hear it, they would have described a thundering noise as a monstrous behemoth of a saucer sped through, pursued by a blue box that tumbled from side to side, avoiding fire from the ship. Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor watched his monitor and bit his lip as he waited for the opportune moment to pull the handle his hand rested on. The ray gun on the underside of the saucer began to light up as it charged again. He pulled the handle hard and suddenly, and the TARDIS once again lurched to the side, avoiding a devastating blast from the alien ship.

"Ha!"

He allowed himself to grin, and ran around to the other side of the console to hit some more buttons and levers, before quickly rushing back to check the monitor again. His face fell as he saw the saucer turning away from him; until now, it had been flying backwards to fire its main gun at the TARDIS, but now it was done fighting, and was instead running away at full pelt.

"No, no, no, no!"

They weren't getting away that easily. He had promised to bring those people back safe.

"Come on, old girl. Don't give out on me now..." he muttered.

The TARDIS shot forward through the vortex again as the Doctor stepped on the throttle. The alien saucer fired its smaller weapons at them as they approached, but none posed quite the same level of threat as that death ray. As the TARDIS came closer, the engines of the ancient machine began to groan, and it dematerialised near the hull of the ship.

The Doctor ran for the doors, casually throwing on his brown trenchcoat as he swept them open and stepped outside. He then stopped abruptly as he found that he had emerged straight onto the bridge, and now had several dozen guns pointed straight at him. They were wielded by yellowish-green humanoids in white uniforms, with bald heads and beady black eyes, standing at roughly the height of a Sontaran. Actually, their unamused glares were also very Sontaran-esque, now that he looked at them. They even had three-fingered hands.

One of them standing near the front window of the ship approached. His uniform was silver, unlike the regular white colouring of the others, and while the rest were all threatening him with their high-tech rifles, the Doctor noted that this one carried only a sidearm.

"Doctor," the alien hissed with loathing. "You've wasted so much of our time."

"Yeah, well..." The Doctor shrugged. "Sorry."

He wasn't really sorry.

"Sorry? You've set our experiments back decades! This universe's inhabitants could have been the key to our race's survival, and you just ruined it!"

"And for that, I really am sorry, but the people of Station Gemini-Fourteen are not yours to experiment on. You can find another way to survive. You don't need to do this. I can't allow you to do this."

The alien captain narrowed his eyes.

"So be it." He lowered his pistol and turned his back to the Doctor. "Kill him."

The Doctor winced, but did not move as the aliens discharged their energy weapons. Beams of light flew, but fizzled out and disappeared before they reached him. The aliens all lowered their weapons and stared in confusion. A few took the initiative to check them for sabotage, apparently not putting it past the Doctor to have somehow tampered with their weapons before even boarding the ship. The captain turned around slowly, his eyes widening as he saw that it had not worked. The Doctor simply grinned at him.

"Extrapolator shielding," he explained. "Good enough to stop daleks. Good enough to stop you."

Well, some daleks anyway, but there was no need to tell them that.

"Grrr..."

"You aren't getting past these shields, so you may as well just listen to me—"

"No! I will not! Words are your weapons, Doctor, and I would never let an armed foe aboard my ship! We may not be natives to your universe, but don't make the mistake of thinking that we are ignorant to your reputation!"

"Well, if you know my reputation, then you know what you're up against, captain...?"

"Ruzzgar."

"Captain Ruzzgar. I'm giving you one chance. Just one. Stop this right now, or I'll stop it myself."

The furious alien stepped right up to the edge of the extrapolator shield, and looked the Doctor in the eyes. As he did, he smiled.

"Do it, then. I dare you."

The Doctor opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted.

"Captain, we're entering home space now!" shouted an alien at a control console. "Establishing contact with Zeta!"

"Switching to main power!"

"Exiting vortex!"

The Doctor's expression betrayed his surprise, and Ruzzgar's sly smile grew ever wider.

"Time's up, Doctor."

The entire ship shook suddenly as the view from the windows at the front of the bridge switched from the swirling colours of the Time Vortex to the blackness of space. In the corner of their view below them, an identical alien ship could be seen. It floated above a dull-looking planet with a green ocean, mostly brown landmasses, and a mysterious yellow circle about the size of a continent, which was either reflecting light from the sun or glowing brightly.

The TARDIS shook as well, but far more violently than the ship they were on. They had entered a whole new universe now, and she didn't like it. It wasn't as bad as the incident which had landed them in Pete's World for the first time, but these were far from ideal circumstances.

Captain Ruzzgar raised his pistol again, and fired at the Doctor. Once more, it fizzled out on contact with the shield. That caused him to stop smiling.

"Pity," he said. "I was hoping that the cross-dimensional travel would do something about that pesky shield. Oh well. Not much you can do now, unfortunately. We're not in your universe anymore, Doctor. This is our world. Our home. You'll fight on our terms now, and if you think we gave you trouble before, now you'll have Zeta to deal with as well."

He gestured through the window towards the other ship as they rapidly descended towards it. Ruzzgar looked confident, and he had every reason to be. By all appearances, the aliens had the advantage. But it was not to last.

"Eta! Come in, Eta!"

A red 3D hologram of another alien's face appeared by the captain's chair. It looked panicked.

"Eta, we need immediate assistance! A group of human captives escaped, and have been running amok! They're using our own weapons against us, and have set the experiments loose! They've already killed almost the entirety of our crew! Soldiers, scientists, engineers, it didn't matter to them! They're animals!"

"What?" Ruzzgar shouted back, approaching the hologram. "How did this happen? They're only a primitive species! Especially in this universe! How are they—"

"I don't know, but please, send help immediately! The humans have already taken the engineering core, the hangar, the labs, and disabled our main gun! They're currently making their way through the living quarters! If you don't hurry, they could be on our bridge at any— "

There was a scream from the other ship, accompanied by the distinct sound of an energy weapon firing. The Zeta captain's head turned around, and then exploded in a shower of hologram gore. He slumped out of sight, leaving the hologram displaying only a red-tinted partial view of an alien chair. In the background, a voice could be heard.

"Yippee ki-yay, ya ugly green fucks!"

The Doctor paused. Though the telepathic circuits of the TARDIS perfectly translated just about any language in universe for him, he was still always aware of exactly what language others were speaking. Until now, he and the aliens had been conversing in their native tongue. That, however, was unmistakably English. American English.

"'Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the Earth! I have not come to bring peace, but a sword!'" More energy fire sounded through the speakers, along with the horrified screams of Zeta's bridge crew. "'For the evildoers shall be cut off, but those who wait for the Lord shall inherit the land!'"

Bible quotes. Here of all places. Being loudly shouted by a strange American man as he killed large numbers of aliens with their own weapons. The Doctor would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation, were people's lives not still at stake.

Captain Ruzzgar growled, and pointed a long finger at Zeta through the window.

"Cut the feed and bring us around! I want us facing Zeta head on! Approach from above, move in backwards, and aim main gun for Zeta's vitals! Ready for fire on my mark!"

He marched across the bridge and jumped into his chair. The other aliens ran for their consoles, following their captain's commands. The ship twisted around and drifted backwards, towards the planet, just as Ruzzgar ordered. The Doctor stood watching the action, transfixed by the scene as the crew seemed to forget about him entirely.

"Send a red to their bridge!"

"Ruzzgar—" the Doctor began.

"Quiet! I have matters to deal with."

He slammed a fist on the console, and began speaking into it. No hologram appeared on the bridge again this time.

"Human! You have vastly overstepped your bounds! By attacking the civilian crew of Mothership Zeta, you and your compatriots have lost all right to protection by the treaty of Silarmellos, for instances of negotiations between our species! You are advised to surrender immediately, or else the full might of Mothership Eta will be brought to bear against you! This is your only warning!"

There was a temporary silence, aside from the hum of the ship and the pressing of buttons as the crew of the Eta continued their work. Still no red hologram appeared. Ruzzgar broke the silence.

"Stop ignoring me, human! What are you doing to that body? Put that down!"

"Captain!" the Doctor shouted. "They can't understand you! They probably don't have any clue what you're saying."

Ruzzgar grunted, and turned back to the computer in front of him. As he did, Zeta began to emerge back into their view as Eta floated down to its level. A human woman's voice came through the speaker.

"Holy shit. Where did that come—"

The audio cut out as Ruzzgar slammed a three-fingered fist on the console.

"Forget it! Fire at will!"

"Sir!" One of the aliens stood up from his console, facing the captain. "We're to fire on Zeta? One of our own?"

"I'd rather see her as ashes than in the hands of a degenerate race like theirs! Destroy her!"

The alien marched right up to the captain's chair.

"Captain Ruzzgar, with all due respect, I can't abide by this order. As one of the last remaining motherships of the old fleet, Zeta is too important an asset for us to lose! Our race is on the brink of extinction! We can't afford to abandon any possible survivors!"

Ruzzgar's head twisted to face him.

"Duly noted, lieutenant," he said through gritted teeth.

He raised his sidearm and shot his subordinate in the head, causing the lieutenant to disintegrate in seconds.

"Now fire!" he screamed.

There was a loud blaring noise, and through the windows, the Doctor saw the blast of Mothership Eta's death ray striking its opposite number. The beam appeared to be blocked by some kind of energy shield, which he observed as a ripple of blue light flickered across it from the point of the laser's impact.

"Fire again! Full power!"

"We need time to charge, captain!"

In that time, Zeta took the initiative to fire instead. A thunderous boom struck the ship. Sparks erupted from panels and machinery. A klaxon alarm began blaring. Everything shook, and the Doctor fell onto his knees briefly, before scrambling up again.

"We've been hit!"

"No!" Ruzzgar screamed. "How do the humans know how to operate those weapons?!"

The Doctor was momentarily paralyzed, until he shook himself out of his stupor, and remembered what he was here for in the first place.

The captives.

He turned back to the TARDIS and ripped the doors open. The moment he did, the klaxon alarms were complemented by the ringing of the cloister bell. Inside, everything was dark, except a red glow coming from all around. He spared a look back at the alien captain, who suddenly looked terrified, before rushing in and closing the door behind him.

"Not now!" the Doctor said to himself. "Any time but now!"

He reached into his pocket and drew his sonic screwdriver. Pointing it at the console, he changed to the TARDIS maintenance setting and activated it, but instead of fixing anything he just caused a small explosion of sparks and smoke to start pouring out. The cloister bell sounded ever louder.

"Come onnnn..." he whined.

The TARDIS shook again. There was another explosion outside. Zeta was hitting back and hitting hard.

"Doctor!" That was the sound of Ruzzgar, pleading as he pounded on the wooden doors. "Let me in, Doctor! I don't want to die!"

For a second, the time lord just looked at the door, contemplating it. With a sad shake of his head, he returned his attention to the console.

"You had your chance," he muttered.

Another explosion, and another scream. Finally, the TARDIS wheezed to life once more, and the lights came back on. The monitor displayed a view of Eta's bridge outside, just in time for the Doctor to see it engulfed in flames. The explosions continued. The shaking continued. The crashing and burning and rattling, the screams of dying aliens, and the sound of flying metal all filled the air just outside the doors.

The TARDIS dematerialised just as the ship exploded, but it wasn't too late for the captured humans. All he had to do was go back a few minutes and land in the holding cells, after Eta entered this universe, but before it was destroyed...

A sudden crash interrupted the Doctor's thoughts.

"What?" He pulled the view monitor over to him, and saw that he had just impacted a piece of flying debris. "Impossible!"

They were supposed to be travelling back already. Instead, the TARDIS had dematerialised in the ship as it exploded, and materialised outside it again during the same explosion. How could the TARDIS have failed something as simple as jumping into the Time Vortex?

It must be this new universe, the Doctor thought.

Not a good sign. And now it appeared they were riding the explosion, and hurtling down towards the planet.

"Hang on, old girl!"

***

The TARDIS couldn't decide if it wanted to dematerialise or fall, so it was instead opting to do both. It sailed down through the atmosphere of the planet, thrashing about in the air wildly, and leaving a burning trail of orange in its wake. Every so often, though, the light would cut out. The blue box vanished for several seconds at a time, before appearing further along the same course, as if it had never stopped falling, but had become invisible for just a few moments. As it did, it also fell further backwards in time, hopping back a decade or so with every jump.

Inside, its pilot was madly trying to contain the situation with a fire extinguisher, spraying it all over the control console while the fires raged around him. Smoke filled the innards of the TARDIS, and that cloister bell just would not shut up.

The Doctor coughed and tried to wave the smoke away. He threw the fire extinguisher aside and grabbed a handle attached to a small wheel, which he spun rapidly. The view monitor began making an obnoxious beeping of its own, independent of the equally obnoxious cloister bell, forcing the Doctor to take time between his manic scrambling and wiping the sweat from his forehead to pull it over again and see what it wanted. It appeared to be warning him that they were about to impact the surface of the planet.

"Brilliant..."

***

Somewhere in California, in January of the year 2162, a man in a suit of metal armour worn over a blue jumpsuit looked up at the night sky. As he saw the trail of light, he thought that it must surely have been a shooting star, like the old science textbooks in his vault talked about. He briefly considered making a wish, before dismissing the notion as childish folly, and continuing on through the desert.

Chapter Text

In the warm night air, a lone figure stood on the outskirts of Junktown, clutching a green-eyed helmet with a built-in gas mask beneath his arm, as his trenchcoat swayed in the desert breeze. His armour was ancient, and showed its age with various scratches and minor damage all over, but on the whole, it was solidly built. Excellent protection against the dangers of the wasteland.

The man underneath this armour looked up at the sky curiously, his eyes following a trail of light that blazed across it. He watched it fall towards the Earth. Nonchalantly, he removed a burning cigarette from his mouth and exhaled a puff of smoke, before dropping it to the ground and crushing it under his boot. The light fell to the ground in the distance, southwards, and out of his view. It looked like it landed maybe half a day's walk from Junktown.

"Hmm. Now, what might that be?" he muttered.

"Don't know."

The other man who responded to his question was a town guard. He was an unshaven youth in simple leather armour, clutching a beat-up desert eagle that seemed to be his only weapon. He looked slightly nervous even being out here.

"You gonna go out after that thing, Mr. Tycho, sir?"

Tycho shrugged. "Might as well, kid. No reason for me to hang around here any longer."

He raised his helmet and placed it over his head, tinting his vision green. Then he drew his double-barrel shotgun, and checked to confirm that it was properly loaded. A quick inventory to make sure he had his brass knuckles close at hand, and that his knife was safely in its sheath on his belt, and he seemed satisfied.

"Guess I'm heading out," he said, voice distorted by the helmet. "See ya around, kid. Tell Killian and Lars I said goodbye."

And then he marched out into the wasteland.

***

The TARDIS pulled up as it hit the ground, correcting its path all too late. Fire still streaked behind it as it spun like an out of control merry-go-round, and every so often it would also flip over and nearly land upside-down, too. Normally that would be enough, but the TARDIS was also bouncing several feet into the air every time it struck the ground. Inside, the Doctor was thrown from side to side by the chaotic movements. He fell back against one of the pillars, only for another jerk to then send him careening into the console. A third movement threw him back into the chairs behind him. And still the alarms sounded, the sparks flew, and smoke poured out everywhere.

The Doctor tried to right himself and regain control. He held onto the chair tightly, using it to support himself and remain standing while he waited out the crash. Fortunately, it was almost over already. The TARDIS shook for only a short while longer, before eventually coming to a rest. Or so it seemed. The TARDIS had stopped bouncing around the alien landscape and spinning like crazy, but it was still unbalanced, and was now about to fall.

In the dark desert outside, only startled rats were there to witness the blue box crashing onto its side.

***

A quarter of an hour later, the doors to the TARDIS flew open again. From within the box, a metal grappling hook shot out and latched onto a rock. It was attached to a long rope, which pulled taut as the Doctor used it to scale up the floor of the control room. The artificial gravity had stopped working for some reason. Likely not serious damage. He'd probably just hit a button by accident while flailing his arms, but he'd have to look into that later.

A strange sense of deja vu hit the Doctor as he climbed, though he wasn't sure from what. He quickly dismissed it as time echoes, and continued up.

The Doctor crawled out of the TARDIS a complete mess. His coat was filthy, his hair was untidy, and he coughed from all the smoke he had inhaled. Though they weren't visible, he was also now sporting several new bruises from being thrown into everything during the crash. Once out the doors, he fell from the top of the TARDIS and landed on his shoulder on the dusty desert floor. The Doctor groaned momentarily, but then rolled onto his back and sighed in relief. He had crashed, but it could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse.

His head rolled to the side, and the Doctor looked across the landscape he now found himself in. The desert at night was mostly barren, but there were a few cacti and small plants scattered around. And rocks. Lots of rocks. As he slowly sat up and took in the scenery, he came to the realisation that he had somehow landed on what was most likely this universe's version of Earth.

"...Huh."

Interesting coincidence, he thought. He hadn't been anywhere near Earth back in his universe before they crossed over. Something had obviously drawn them here. What had Zeta and Eta wanted with this version of Earth? They hadn't dared come near Earth back in normal space. Too dangerous. By 2277, the human race was a force to be reckoned with, and easily capable of fending off invaders, even if the planet itself wasn't in the best state. But this was a parallel world. Events could have happened differently here. Maybe in this universe, humanity had never really recovered from the dalek invasion in the 22nd century?

The Doctor pulled himself onto his feet again and leaned against the side of the TARDIS. Smoke still poured out from inside, but she'd get over it. Right now, he had only one job. Steeling himself for the task ahead, he clamped his fingers around the bottom of the box, and tried to force it upright. He grimaced from the strain; the TARDIS was proving especially unhelpful right now.

Once it was off the ground at least, the Doctor got underneath and gave it a good shove, forcing the old girl upright with another loud crash from within. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his brow, leaning against the TARDIS again and taking another look around the moonlit desert.

"Right," he said to himself. "Now, where am—"

He clutched his head suddenly, as a searing pain ran through him.

WHAT ARE YOU?

Something living was speaking inside his mind. A psychic entity, very curious and evidently with no sense of privacy, was trying to force its way in. It had a voice like an echo, as if it were actually several voices speaking in unison, but they were definitely all of one mind.

WHAT. ARE. YOU?

The voice was demanding and authoritative. It spoke with confidence and certainty, like it knew everything it did was right, and did not question its own actions for even a second. The Doctor could practically feel the superiority complex radiating from it.

"Sorry," the Doctor said with a strained grunt, "but you're not getting in here!"

The thing was persistent, and very powerful from the feel of it, but it was also a massive distance away. Though the intruder could probably have given the Doctor at least some minor trouble were they face to face, right now it didn't take much to get the thing to go away. The Doctor pushed back with his own psychic ability, forming a barrier around his mind that most other telepathic species would be hard-pressed to break through.

Still it persisted, lashing out and trying to claw through, but the thing soon learned its lesson. It was not going to beat a mind as strong as the Doctor's from such a distance, and it knew better than to waste energy trying. Still, it smouldered with a quiet anger, almost offended that another sapient being would dare deny it entrance.

The Doctor smiled to himself in satisfaction. He turned around to face the TARDIS again, took a single step towards it, and then immediately and without warning fell unconscious.

***

In the dim light of the early morning, Tycho lowered his binoculars and raised an eyebrow at the scene below him.

"Hmm."

No meteorite or wreckage to be seen. Instead, the man had spent hours trekking all the way out here to sate his curiosity, and found only a dead guy and a blue box where there should have been a crater. What was worse was that he didn't even know what the box was. "Police Public Call Box," the sign on top of it declared. Those were all words that Tycho knew individually, but put together like that, he wasn't sure what meaning they were trying to convey. Obviously it had to be some kind of Old World relic, and the fact that it was somehow related to the police went without saying, but he'd honestly never seen one of these before during his many wanderings in the wasteland, and he considered himself very well-travelled.

Approaching the thing at a casual gait, he sidestepped a group of rats, and looked over his shoulder in case of raiders. Soon he came up to the box itself. After a failed attempt to open up the doors on its front, he then turned his attention to the stranger sprawled on the ground before it. Somehow, he hadn't noticed until this point that the other man actually appeared to be alive.

"Hey." Tycho prodded him in the ribs with a boot. "You okay, buddy?"

No response.

"Hmph."

He leaned down and grabbed him by the shoulders to shake him awake. Still nothing happened. He lightly slapped his face, but that did nothing for him either. Tycho considered slapping him again harder,  but figured that that would be rude, and that the mystery man might not appreciate it when he woke up. Still, he couldn't just leave him out here in this state.

Sighing, Tycho hoisted him up and threw him onto his shoulder.

"Don't worry. I'll get you out of here."

***

Everything was hazy. The Doctor groaned and put a hand to his forehead as he re-entered the waking world. His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself staring up at a dirty brown ceiling that looked like rusted metal. Turning his head to the side, he saw that the walls were the same, though slightly less grimy-looking, as if somebody had made a half-hearted attempt at cleaning them, but gave up trying to make it look completely presentable.

The Doctor sat up. To his right was a short bookcase and a wooden door, and there were a pair of chairs and a long table at the other end of the room. The floor was patterned with brownish-pink tiles, many of which were faded or cracked. The whole room felt old, but not like an abandoned Victorian mansion or a drifting dead spaceship felt old. More like it was just well-worn.

Looking down, the Doctor saw that he was still in his suit, albeit a lot filthier than he normally liked to be seen in it. He briefly worried as he noticed that his coat was missing, but he soon spotted it on top of the bookcase, neatly folded and prepared for him. With a smile, he threw the thin sheets aside and climbed out of bed to retrieve it. He unfolded the coat and put it back on, checking his pockets for his sonic screwdriver and psychic paper as he did.

The door opened behind him, and the Doctor looked over his shoulder at the woman who stepped inside.

"Oh, you're awake," she said. "Good. Tycho was worried for you. He's the one who found you in the desert and brought you back."

"Well, I'm alright now, happy to say," the Doctor replied.

The woman smiled at him. "Glad to hear. I'll let the others know you're up; Tycho and Killian will both want to meet you properly."

"Right. Although... if you don't mind... Where am I?"

"Junktown," the woman said simply.

She walked out the room, leaving the Doctor alone.

"Right. Very helpful."

***

Wandering out of his room, the Doctor concluded that he was in some kind of hotel. There was an unmanned reception desk nearby, and several other doors identical to his room's all around him. None of them were numbered, though they looked like they could have once been. The floor and walls were all the same – all faded, aged, and rusted.

It was hot, too. The warm air drifted through the open door, and from the light coming in, the Doctor could tell that it was a bright day outside. Not surprising, considering he'd crash-landed in a desert. There was another building visible through the doorway, as well as people walking around outside. He felt like going out to see where he actually was, but for now the Doctor contented himself with exploring the hotel lobby.

A sign caught his eye by the reception desk. He almost hadn't noticed it, because it wasn't so much an actual sign as words spray-painted onto the wall, and not in a colour that made it stand out, either (red against a brown background; not smart). But it gave this place a name – the Crash House Hotel.

A pair of men soon walked through the door, following the woman from before. One of them was a youthful-looking man with short but messy light brown hair, a bit of stubble, and wearing faded and worn but casual clothes. The other man seemed about middle aged, bald, and had most of his body concealed by a suit of dark metal armour and an only slightly lighter trenchcoat. He even wore gloves, which struck the Doctor as at least slightly unusual, considering the heat. Like everything else he had seen so far, the armour appeared old and battered.

"Ah, good to finally see you awake," said the younger man as he approached and offered his hand. "Killian Darkwater. I'm the town's sheriff, mayor, and I own and run the general store, so if you need anything, you come and see me. I wanted to welcome you to Junktown."

The Doctor took his hand and shook it. "Thank you. I'm the Doctor."

"'The Doctor?'" Killian repeated with a slight smile.

"Yep."

"Doctor who?"

"Just the Doctor."

"Alright then." Killian seemed amused rather than annoyed by the lack of a name. "And this is Tycho. He's the one who brought you in from the desert."

Tycho leaned over and grasped the Doctor's hand as well. The leather of his gloves was still warm from the sun.

"You were in a bad way when I found you. Wouldn't wake up when I tried to rouse you, and still didn't when I carried you all the way here. Not sure what happened to you, but it must've been pretty bad. Could tell you weren't dehydrated, at least."

"Yes, thank you, I had a... bit of an accident..."

Before he could begin fishing for information on the possible fate of the TARDIS, Tycho volunteered it outright.

"You were laying in front of some box. Blue thing. Said 'police' on the front, but the doors wouldn't open when I tried them. Know what that's about?"

"Oh, that. It's a, uh... storage container. I keep things in it. Um... you wouldn't happen to know where it is now, would you?"

Tycho shrugged. "Left it out in the desert where I found you. Sorry. Looked too big to move."

"No, it's alright," the Doctor said with a sigh. "I can always go pick it up later. It's not far from here, is it?"

"About half a day's walk. I can show you the way back tomorrow, if you want. I'd offer to take you now, but the sun'll be getting low by the time we reach it."

The Doctor strolled over to the front door.

"I'll be fine, thanks. I can go myself."

"I wouldn't recommend that," said Killian, crossing his arms. "Route between there and Junktown is treacherous, and Tycho said that you didn't have a single weapon on you. God knows how you survived the wasteland without one, but then again, maybe that's why you were in such a state in the first place."

"I don't like guns." The Doctor paused. "Sorry,'the wasteland?'"

"Wasteland. Desert. Whatever you want to call it. Either way, not a place you want to brave unarmed. Between raiders, mutants, local wildlife... not pleasant."

"There are mutants?"

"So the rumour goes. Ain't never seen 'em myself, but there's a vault dweller who passes through here sometimes who claimed to have actually met one, and he's not the lying type. Local hero, in fact. Helped bring down some gangsters that were causing us hassle, among... other things."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Other things?"

He was beginning to sound like an echo, but he couldn't help it. Everything that came out of Killian's mouth prompted further questions.

"Well, let's just say that there used to be another doctor in town before you showed up. There's a vacancy now, if you're looking to fill the position?"

"I'm not that kind of doctor... And I should tell you, I'm really not from around here."

"Wouldn't have guessed," said Killian with a wry smile.

"I've come a long way, and I'm not really sure where I am, because I've never heard of Junktown, or anything about these, these... raiders or mutants."

"Killian," said Tycho, leaning against the reception desk. "If it's all the same to you, why don't I take our new guest for a drink while I help fill in a few gaps for him? You probably shouldn't be away from the store for long anyway."

"Alright then. I'll leave it to you. Nice meeting you, Doctor."

With that, he turned and walked out the door. The Doctor and Tycho stood by the hotel's exit, until the man patted the Doctor on the shoulder and gestured in the direction of the town's bar.

"Come on. Let's see if the Skum Pitt's open. What's your drink?"

***

The Skum Pitt turned out to not be as bad as the name implied. The bartender and waitress were friendly, and the alcohol was okay, even if the bar itself looked just as ugly and worn-down as the rest of Junktown. Actually, all the buildings were like that, made of rusted old metal and whatever other junk their builders had on hand at the time. Hence "Junktown," he supposed.

Tycho and the Doctor took a table in the corner as they drank. It wasn't like a diner's booth; it was an actual wooden dining table, almost like the table from his hotel room. Tycho sat right in the corner with his back against the wall, and would periodically look around at the rest of the room. The Doctor, meanwhile, hunched over and listened to him as he nursed a bottle of scotch. He wasn't exactly much of a drinker, but that wasn't because he had some principle to never touch the stuff. He just never felt much of a need to.

"See, this whole place used to be dominated by the Skulz gang and a guy called Gizmo, who owned that casino we passed by."

"Right."

"The Vault Dweller, Albert, stopped here just after Christmas. He was travelling with some caravan guard called Ian. The two of them were searching the wasteland for a water chip, because Albert's vault broke theirs, and if he didn't get a replacement, they were all gonna die. Last I saw him, he was still searching. But anyway, he made fast friends with Killian when they helped save his life, 'cause it just so happens that on the day the Vault Dweller came to town, Gizmo put a hit out on Killian. Vault boy killed the assassin before he was able to finish the job, and then over about three days started dispensing wasteland justice all over town."

The Doctor took a swig of scotch.

"He was doing all sorts," Tycho continued. "Saved one of the girls from some psycho back in the Crash House, saved the waitress in here from a rowdy Skul, helped a guy who was having problems with a crazy dog, and he helped me and Killian in getting the evidence we needed to finally do something about the Skulz and Gizmo.

"See, until then, they got by because we couldn't prove that they did anything. Vault Dweller put an end to that, though. He got recordings of Gizmo confessing to orchestrating the assassination attempt, and infiltrated the Skulz to learn their plans too. Him, Ian, me, Killian, and the rest of the Junktown police staged two raids and brought down the whole gang in one night. The first was in here as they were trying to kill Neal the bartender."

Tycho nodded in the direction of the man at the bar, who nodded back at him. The Doctor briefly turned around to see who he was talking about.

"Albert blew out Vinnie the gang leader's brains himself. And then he turned right around and insisted we attack the casino right away. Gizmo had bodyguards of course, but the Vault Dweller? He didn't even care. Threw a grenade at the guy! Boom! Blew that fat fuck into giblets."

The Doctor winced at the thought. Tycho gave an apologetic smile.

"Yeah. And then when he left town... well... The last thing he did before leaving was to expose what exactly our town doctor was up to... Killian doesn't really like to blab about it to strangers, 'cause it's kinda embarrassing and reflects bad on Junktown, but Doc Morbid was up to some real creepy stuff. Did it for ages, right under our noses. No idea how he got away with it for so long."

"What was he up to, then?" asked the Doctor.

The other man leaned in slightly as well, and brought his voice down to a whisper.

"Morbid was cutting up his dead patients, and sending the bits off to the Hub. If what the Vault Dweller found is to be believed, there's a guy up there called Iguana Bob, who cooks it and sells it to people, telling them it's iguana on a stick."

The Doctor stared in disbelief.

"Is anyone at the Hub looking into this?"

"Well, yeah. The Vault Dweller is. And he's having a tough time of it from what he's told us, but the guy's sticking it out."

The Doctor threw up his arms and returned to his scotch.

"I know, I know," Tycho muttered. "It's a shitty goddamn wasteland, Doc. All we can do is try to make it better in small ways. That's what the Vault Dweller is doing. It's what I am, too. Why I saved you. I just want to help people where I can. That's what I do. I roam, and I help people."

He didn't say anything, but the Doctor gave the other man a grim smile. That was a feeling he could honestly say he understood. That was his whole life, every day; just trying to help people who needed it.

"My grandfather was a Desert Ranger, you know," Tycho continued. "Continuation of the old Texas Rangers from before the war. Big community of survivalists and protectors. They're all about fighting those that prey on the weak. About the closest thing to authorities the wastes have outside of the towns. I was never officially a Ranger myself, but grandpa taught me and my father all the tricks of the trade. That's where I got this armour from, too."

The Doctor's eyes lingered on the scratches and other light damage on the chest plate. He was beginning to put it together now. Mentions of a war. No central government or authority. Mutants and raiders roaming the desert. The place was called the wasteland. And everything was old and damaged, like it was all salvage. It hadn't escaped his notice either that Tycho paid for their drinks with bottlecaps.

All signs pointed to some kind of disaster. Possibly a nuclear apocalypse. Not enough to wipe out humanity, but if America as a country still existed anymore in this universe, it at the very least had no control over this particular region. Whatever happened, it was a few generations ago, and it was bad. Mankind still hadn't recovered by the looks of it. His hearts went out to them, but he was glad to see that they had survived, and that they were coping in their own ways.

"You know," the Doctor began, putting his drink down, "I do a bit of travelling myself, and it's the same for me. Everywhere I go, it seems I'm always helping with something. I don't go looking for trouble; it just finds me. But I just do what I can, and then I move on and keep travelling, only to end up in even stranger places helping with something else..."

"What do you travel for then, Doctor?"

"To see something new, mostly."

"Heh. Well, you'll get that out here. But I'm not sure how many people you can help around these parts without a gun. I don't know what kind of problems you're used to, but out here, that's really the only thing that solves anything."

"Well, that's where you and I disagree," the Doctor replied. "If you want to see how I solve problems, you can come with me if you like."

"Of course I'm coming with you. I ain't letting you go back to get that blue box of yours alone and unarmed. You'll be killed before you make it halfway there without me."

The Doctor grinned at him, and raised the bottle of scotch again.

***

They left the town early the next day. The Doctor and Tycho said their goodbyes to Killian, and ventured out together in the general direction of the TARDIS.

The human was heavily armed for their trip, carrying a knife, shotgun, and brass knuckles for the journey. What's more, he also donned a strange, green-eyed helmet once they left Junktown, which Tycho claimed also functioned as a gas mask, protected him from radiation, and had night vision. All standard issue Desert Ranger equipment, supposedly. It also made his voice sound tinny, like he was talking through a radio.

In contrast, the Doctor only had some cheap leather armour, which he wore over his suit and under his coat. He hadn't wanted it, but Killian had insisted it would be necessary, and Tycho concurred. The fact that the Doctor had no bottlecaps to pay for it was no concern. Killian offered it for free, just this once, since the Doctor refused to take a weapon off him.

Now the two men wandered through the desert at a leisurely pace. Every so often, Tycho would stop them and draw some binoculars to look around, watching the horizon for signs of their destination, picking out landmarks, or watching for possible threats, like raiders or mutant wildlife. Mostly, though, the two just talked some more.

"So where are you from, if not from around here?" asked Tycho.

"Oh, you know... around."

"Around like... what? North? Because I've been east and west, and they still call it the wasteland out those ways, but you acted like you weren't familiar with the term."

"Well, where I come from it's not really a wasteland."

"No shit? Where then?"

"Um... Canada," the Doctor answered. "Can't tell by the accent?"

"No. Never even met a Canadian before."

"And now you have. This is what Canadians sound like."

Tycho turned to look at the Doctor as they walked, but the helmet obscured his expression.

"So tell me then, what's it like in Canada? I've never been."

"Oh, you know. Mountains and forests. Really cold. Moose. All that."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Tycho kept staring for a moment.

"See, because I was always under the impression that Canada was hit pretty hard in the war. Never did see it myself, granted, but being annexed by the US when the bombs started falling, I wouldn't have thought Canada would be that much better off than here."

This was the trouble with lying about your identity when you didn't know all the facts. You got caught out by the smart ones. Tycho was definitely one of the smart ones.

"Ahh... can we change the subject, please?"

"Okay. So what about you then? I've been calling you 'the Doctor' for a couple days now, and I don't even know what you're a doctor of, let alone your name."

"I'm a doctor of a lot of things."

"Always with the vague answers, huh?"

"You'll get a lot more once we reach the TARDIS," the Doctor assured.

"The what?"

"The TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. That's what the police box is called."

Tycho tilted his head. "And why is it called that?"

"You'll see when we get there."

***

The Doctor couldn't help but break into a big grin when he saw his old friend at long last. She stood out against the sandy backdrop of the Californian desert, still clean and undamaged, despite her less than stellar landing. It was ironic really; she was far more ancient than any structure in Junktown, but where the post-war junk shacks looked old and rundown, she still looked magnificent.

His walk gradually broke into a run as they came near the TARDIS. Reasonably certain that there were no dangers out here, Tycho dared to remove his helmet to reveal his visible confusion. The TARDIS doors were facing away from them as they approached, so he couldn't see inside when the Doctor flung them open and ran in. Ran. The box was only about as big as him. Tycho just shook his head.

"Doctor, what the hell are you even...?"

As he came closer to the thing, he began hearing a clanging bell coming from within, but it was distant and echoing. He frowned as he walked around the box and found the doors himself, left slightly ajar by the Doctor. Gently, he pushed them open and walked inside.

His eyes went just a little wider as he took it all in, gazing from the console, to the coral pillars, to the ceiling, and to all the other space that had no business being here. The Doctor had thrown his coat onto the pillar just to Tycho's right, and was now circling the console, checking various readouts and examining the instruments. No longer was he smiling. Now he just looked worried. For no apparent reason, he had put on a pair of glasses, and was now staring at a monitor. The ringing of the cloister bell set an ominous tone.

Tycho prodded a gloved finger against a nearby pillar, and tapped a foot on the metal grating beneath him. Perturbed, he strode back to the doors and shoved them open to stick his head out and look around the side. The box's outside size remained unchanged. Withdrawing, he closed the doors again, properly this time. Then he marched back over towards the console.

"This thing is bigger on the inside," he announced, saying it like a man complaining that the Sunday paper was late.

The Doctor looked over to him.

"Oh. Right. Sorry. I didn't mention, did I? I'm a time lord from the planet Gallifrey, from a universe parallel to yours. I'm nine hundred years old, I've got two hearts, and I travel through time and space. This is my time machine. She's called the TARDIS."

He leaned over and grabbed Tycho's hand to shake it again.

"Welcome aboard."

Chapter Text

Tycho walked in a circle around the console, just as the Doctor had been doing. He stared down at all the controls and interfaces, his expression never faltering from that mixture of surprise and confusion. He showed a lot more restraint than he could have. Everybody reacted differently to seeing the TARDIS for the first time, but whatever they felt, most reacted quite strongly. Despite the prominent clanging of the cloister bell in the background, the Doctor stood aside and let him have this moment.

"It's... You said this was a... a time machine? "

"Yep," the Doctor said, smiling.

Tycho looked up at him.

"And you're... you're an... an alien? "

"I suppose I would be, to you."

Tycho took a step back. His expression hardened. Though he didn't draw a weapon, the Doctor was disappointed to note that one of his hands had dropped to his side where the combat knife was sheathed.

"Bullshit. You look just like one of us. Speak our language, too! I ain't stupid, Doctor, so tell the truth!"

The Doctor sighed and took a step forward.

"First of all—"

Tycho pulled his shotgun and pointed it right in the Doctor's face. He immediately threw up his arms in surrender, but he kept calm and maintained eye contact with Tycho. He didn't usually have much patience for overly aggressive men pointing guns at him, but Tycho had been a friend to him so far, and he knew that this was just the other man's nerves getting the better of him, not any genuine attempt to harm the Doctor. He moved slowly as he reached up and grabbed the end of the shotgun.

"First of all..." The Doctor spoke softly. "...Calm down. Nobody here wants to hurt you."

Gently, he pushed down the shotgun so that it was no longer pointed at him, and reached out to put a hand on the man's shoulder. Tycho now looked more embarrassed than afraid.

"And yes, I am an alien. Lots of species look like us."

"And speaking English?"

"I know a lot of languages. But even if I didn't, the TARDIS has telepathic translation circuits that do the job for you. I've been speaking Chinese Mandarin for the last ten seconds, and you haven't even noticed."

Tycho blinked at that. The Doctor took a step back, and returned to looking at the monitor.

"But why are you here? Where did you come from? Why is this box so... strange? The size is all off, and there's that bell... In fact, what is that bell? It sounds bad."

He was right. The cloister bell was not getting any less annoying, and it had been sounding for days now. Looking back to Tycho, the Doctor gestured for him to get away and ran back over. Tycho wordlessly stepped back, and observed as the Doctor began removing the floor grating where he had been standing.

"It is bad. The TARDIS is in pain. She's not used to this universe. The laws of physics here are ever so slightly different from where we're from, and it's like a slow-acting poison, eroding and eating away at her."

"You talk like the ship's alive," Tycho said with a smirk.

The Doctor just looked back at him. He didn't need to say anything. That glare made Tycho's smile slowly melt away as he began to realise what the look implied.

"...Seriously? Like... really alive?"

"Like I said, she's in pain. This universe's makeup isn't exactly familiar. Not completely toxic, mind. If she had enough exposure then she'd acclimate to this universe's effect. Like measles. Get sick with it once and you never will be again. It's not nice for her, though, and this universe will probably kill her before she can build up that 'immunity.' Wouldn't be so bad if we hadn't made such a rough entrance, but she also had a bit of a shock to go with it."

He stroked a hand against the edge of the console.

"Standing still here and soaking it all up isn't helping. If I moved her back and forth in time a bit then she'd adjust better. Stave off the worst of it a little longer, at least."

"Why can't you do that, then?" asked Tycho.

The Doctor ducked down into the crawlspace beneath the grating and began fiddling with some components.

"Some of these parts are broken. Normally, she could use the architectural reconfiguration to repair them herself, but with the reality misalignment in effect, those systems aren't working. She needs replacement parts. And until then, all I've got is a time machine that can't time travel."

He popped back up. Still standing in the small pit, his head came up to Tycho's knees. He leaned against another bit of floor grating and took off his glasses.

"I ended up crashing here in the first place when I tried to make a jump back in time. I was meant to be rescuing some humans that were stuck on an alien mothership. They'd abducted them from a space colony in my universe for experiments. I chased them into this universe to get them back, but I didn't account for the turbulence."

Tycho just smiled and shook his head. "Jesus, man."

"What year is it, by the way?" the Doctor asked.

"You serious? It's 2162. January."

"Mmm." The Doctor nodded thoughtfully. "It was 2277 when I entered this universe. I was only trying to go back a few minutes. Then I ended up falling here."

"Yeah, I saw your crash. Came out here in the first place thinking it was a meteorite, but instead I found you. Was going to ask you about it when you woke up, but I thought you'd mention it in your own time if you were involved at all. Gotta say, I didn't expect this..."

The Doctor put both hands on the grating and hoisted himself up out of the hole.

"But if this is 2162, apocalypse or not, there should be some good parts around that I can use to fix up the TARDIS. Just enough to get her working, then a quick jaunt back in time and forwards again should be all she needs."

"Well... how long do we have?" asked Tycho.

The Doctor sighed.

"Two? Maybe three weeks?"

"What do we need?"

He smiled at that "we," and rushed around to the other side of the console again.

"The navigation is offline, so any attempt to travel will just scramble the controls and throw us anywhere. I can improvise a temporary replacement out of a few routine sensor modules, bits of wiring, and maybe a few computer circuit boards. It'll be very slapdash for a system this complex, but once the TARDIS makes the jump into this universe's Time Vortex, she should acclimate enough to synthesise some proper replacement parts."

"Any specific kind of wiring?"

"No. Nothing specific. Tearing apart a toaster should be enough. Do you know anywhere around here we can get electronics like that? I didn't see much in Killian's store."

Tycho laughed.

"Finding a working toaster will be a challenge, but you can find plenty of broken ones around... There are certainly plenty of functional terminals in the wasteland, if you know where to look. In the last days before the Great War, RobCo started producing more resilient models. Lots of them you find will be fried, but important people had hardy ones, built to last a thousand years. So any working terminal you do find is usually guaranteed to have interesting stuff on it at least... and top of the range parts."

"So where's important enough to have working terminals, then?"

Tycho turned his back to the Doctor and began pacing. He rubbed his chin as he considered the question.

"...The Brotherhood of Steel might have what we need," he mused.

"Who are the Brotherhood of Steel?"

"Descendants of the pre-war military, the way they tell it. Sort of like how the Desert Rangers are descendents of the Texas Rangers. They fancy themselves as knights, and wear these huge suits of armour that make them bulletproof, 'less you got armour-piercing rounds. I've heard that they worship technology, though I don't know how true that is. They're certainly very protective of their tech. But they do trade with the water caravans from the Hub, so they must be willing to part with some of their valuables for the right price."

The Doctor walked over to the pillar where he'd left his coat and threw it back on.

"Then let's make them an offer they can't refuse."

***

Tycho's introduction to the world of time and space travel was followed by another long walk back towards Junktown. As he explained, the Brotherhood of Steel was a fair distance away, and they had to get more supplies if they wanted to walk all the way out there; it was a five day trip on foot.

It was late upon their return. The great metal gates were locked up tight when they arrived, but fortunately for the both of them, Tycho was enough of a familiar presence to warrant opening up. Normally, he explained to the Doctor, people were not allowed into the town at night except in special circumstances. Or if they could sweet talk the guard into it.

Despite the late hour, the Skum Pitt remained open. This, in fact, was its normal business time, according to Tycho. The bar being open during the daytime, like it was when they first drank there, was apparently the exception rather than the rule. And since it happened to be open, Tycho invited his new friend out for another drink. Nothing better to do, the Doctor joined him once more, and the two took their previous place in the corner of the bar. Neal walked by and poured a glass of gin for the Doctor, who looked at it oddly for a moment, before picking it up and nodding to the bartender in thanks.

"So what's it like out there?" Tycho asked. "Among the stars, I mean?"

"Oh, it's... it's great, yeah. Lots of places to go. Sights to see. People to meet. Usually trouble to be found too, but Earth's just the same really."

"Hmm," said Tycho as he took another drink. "You do this alone? Travel the universe in your little ship? Or universes, as the case may be?"

The Doctor leaned against the table and also took a sip.

"Normally? No. Used to travel with people. Mostly humans, but not always."

"Yeah, I'll bet. How old did you say you were? Nine hundred? Must have travelled with a few."

"Loads."

"But not right now?"

The Doctor drew himself up.

"I'm between companions right now," he said. "It's all good travelling with them for a little while, but they all have to leave in the end. They might have other responsibilities, or find something worth staying for... some hit a breaking point. Some die. Some end up worse. Some get lost where I can't help them back. Some forget me..."

"Must be pretty painful..." said Tycho.

The Doctor looked down at his drink.

"Yeah..."

***

The Doctor's designated living quarters while staying in Junktown was the hotel room he had woken up in on his first day. Tycho had paid for his room on both previous nights (renting for a night was pretty cheap), and he himself stayed in the same building, just across the hall. This time, he lent the Doctor a number of bottlecaps to pay for the room himself. Though he hadn't done so with any expectation of repayment, the Doctor still endeavoured to collect some more caps wherever he found them, and pay back the gentleman as thanks for his charity.

The next day, the two of them proceeded to Killian's store. The other man was happy to see the two of them still alive and well after their trip, and asked them how it went.

"Pretty good, Killian, but we're not done yet. Our dear Doctor here has a need to visit the Brotherhood of Steel."

Killian sighed and shook his head again, before crouching down behind the counter to rummage through his supplies.

"Long trip ahead of you," he called from below, as a lone hand reached up and placed a canteen on the table. "Might wanna keep that armour for a while longer, Doc."

In truth, the Doctor really didn't want to. For all the warnings the two men had given him about the dangers lurking in the wasteland, they had yet to come across any major trouble on either trip. So far, the armour had served no real purpose except to make the heat even more unbearable. It was bad enough that he was wearing his coat over it all, but at least he actually needed his coat.

"Here ya go."

Killian dumped a number of lunchboxes on the desk, as well as several more water canteens, a sleeping bag, a military ammo box, and a bulky-looking pistol.

"Will that be all?"

Tycho's eyes scanned the pile for a second.

"...Got any pulse slugs or grenades?" he asked.

Killian held up a finger to tell them to wait a moment, and walked over to a shelf along the back wall.

"What do you need those for?" the Doctor whispered.

"We're going to see the Brotherhood of Steel," Tycho replied. "Pulse weapons are effective against their armour. About the only things that are, aside from armour-piercing rounds."

He tapped the ammo box.

"That's what this is."

The Doctor frowned. "Are we expecting a fight?"

"No. But it never hurts to come prepared. I've never heard of the Brotherhood starting fights without reason, but I've not had any dealings with them before. They're an unknown, and you don't live long in the wasteland by blindly trusting strangers and expecting it all to work out."

Killian returned and dumped a handful of pulse slugs plus a single grenade on the counter.

"All I've got. Sorry."

"It'll do."

From nowhere, the shopkeeper pulled out a giant rucksack, and began stuffing Tycho's purchases into it. The sole exception was the gun, which Tycho took for himself and inspected. After checking that it was unloaded, he looked down the sights and gave it a test fire, pointing at the wall. Seemingly satisfied, he put the safety on, shoved in a clip of the armour-piercing rounds, and holstered it. Then he quickly counted out the caps to pay Killian.

Once he was done, Tycho grabbed the rucksack and slung it over his shoulder.

"A'ight. Looks like we've got everything. Let's be on our way, Doc."

***

"It's not a healthy mentality, you know."

"What?" a tinny voice answered from beneath a green-eyed helmet.

The Doctor and Tycho trekked across the desert together. The desolate, sandy wasteland had given way to rocky and uneven terrain as they went further west. The sun was still beating down on them, but there was at least more available shade along this route. Tall rock cliffs and large boulders made for decent stopping points, but they frequently had to navigate over hills or through small canyons, too. It definitely slowed the journey.

"That 'be prepared to kill everyone you meet' mindset," the Doctor clarified. "I don't think it's a good attitude. I mean, I'm sure the wasteland is dangerous and all, but you've got to be able to trust some people. Otherwise, how do you ever make friends?"

Behind his helmet, Tycho chuckled.

"I see. Sorry. I was generalising a bit. It's not so much that you need to be constantly watching everyone and preparing for a fight. That's being paranoid. I just mean that it always helps to be suspicious of strangers. I have plenty of friends, I assure you, Doctor. Killian's a good man. So is Lars. The Vault Dweller and Ian were decent folk as well. Shame you couldn't have met them, really. I think you would have liked them."

"But if the Brotherhood don't have a reputation for starting trouble, don't you think it's paranoid to expect it? If anything, showing up with grenades and bullets specially prepared to kill them might just cause trouble that could've been avoided."

"Well..." Tycho paused, and looked over to the Doctor. "Okay, fine. Maybe it is paranoid. But I don't feel comfortable walking into a base of heavily equipped guys in invincible armour that I know nothing about without a backup plan. We need some insurance, Doc."

The Doctor sighed and didn't bother arguing any further. The two walked in silence for half a mile more, before Tycho removed his helmet and brought his rucksack around to remove a packet of cigarettes. He lit one and smoked it. The Doctor looked over to him again, and Tycho looked back. His eyes briefly became a little wider.

"Oh, sorry!" he said, holding out the packet. "Did you want one?"

"No thanks."

"You sure? I don't mind if you do."

"Really, I don't smoke... anymore."

"Anymore?" Tycho repeated, putting the cigarettes back in his pocket and arching a brow. "But you used to?"

"Lifetimes ago..." the Doctor said wistfully.

"Heh. You know, I've been trying to quit for years but never managed. What's your secret?"

"I didn't quit. I just didn't feel the need for it anymore after I... changed. Lost the taste for it and never bothered to take it back up. But this is going back centuries now."

"It an alien thing?"

"Yeah. It's an alien thing."

Tycho snorted. "Lucky bastard."

As he said that, a sudden bang rang through the air.

"Jesus!"

Tycho dropped his cigarette and grabbed the Doctor by the scruff of his neck, shoving him forward. As fast as they could, the two ran to a nearby boulder and took cover behind it, the rock being easily big enough to conceal the both of them standing up.

"Fuck!" Tycho shouted as he threw his helmet on. "That bastard got the drop on us!"

He quickly removed his rucksack as well, presumably so that he could move more freely without carrying the weight. He threw it over to the Doctor, who caught it and slung it over his own shoulder. Then he pulled out his shotgun and checked that it was loaded.

"You see what I mean?" Tycho's voice had regained the tinny quality given by the helmet. "This goddamn wasteland!"

The Doctor had his back to the boulder, and crouched on the floor. For his part, he wasn't afraid, but the gunshot had definitely set him on edge.

"Who is it? Who's shooting at us?"

"Raiders, probably! Not the usual jokers, though; that was a sniper round. Whoever this is, they at least have better equipment than the standard fare."

"Not quiet, though," the Doctor observed.

"Snipers don't always have to be stealthy. And raiders aren't known for their subtlety."

Tycho stepped towards the edge of their cover and poked his head out for a split second, before pulling it back.

"She's moving."

"She?"

"Crazy-looking girl with a Mohawk and a high power rifle. Definitely a raider. The armour's cobbled-together crap, and she's pretty filthy. Might be from one of the tribes."

"What tribes?"

"Raider tribes. There's three. Jackals, Khans, and Vipers. She's probably with one of them. My money's on Jackals. Khan territory is far from here, and the Vipers are pretty scarce nowadays since the Brotherhood wiped the floor with them a generation back. Then again, I heard the Shrine is pretty close to Junktown..."

Another shot cracked. The raider was shooting at them still, but she couldn't hit them while they were behind cover.

"Damn it. Had to be a sniper, didn't it? All I've got is a pistol, shotgun, and melee weapons. I've got nothing for long range!"

He smacked a fist against the rock. "How am I supposed to—"

"Yaaarrgh!"

A man came charging around the rock from behind the Doctor with a crazy look on his face, startling him. He was tattooed with odd symbols everywhere his skin was visible, and wore tatty leather armour. In his right hand he held a knife, and in his left a lead pipe. His hair was long and unkempt, and when he growled at them, the Doctor saw that his teeth were sharpened to points. The man reminded him of the Futurekind, the cannibalistic tribal degenerates he had encountered at the end of the universe with Martha and Captain Jack. How long ago had that adventure been now? A year? Two years?

His brief second of musing was interrupted as Tycho whipped out the double-barrel shotgun and blasted the raider in the face. He fell onto his back, his head torn apart by the explosion of the shotgun, which splattered blood and bits of brain everywhere. The Doctor winced, and had to turn his head away from the gruesome sight.

"Okay, definitely Jackals."

"You didn't have to kill him!" the Doctor said as he climbed to his feet.

"Doctor, I will gladly debate the morality of killing in self-defence with you when we are not about to be torn apart and eaten by insane tribal freaks."

"Raaaaaaaaaaah!"

Another man came charging around from the other side. This one had his hair spiked up like a punk rocker, and had piercings. He was also armed with a baseball bat, punctured with nails. He swung for Tycho, who ducked under the attack and pointed the shotgun up. He stuck the barrel under the raider's chin, and decapitated him too.

"I hate these guys..." Tycho muttered as he went to reload.

Two more popped out before he could finish, one coming from either side of the boulder. A woman and a man armed with a small handgun and a sledgehammer respectively. The survivalist and the time lord both dodged out of the way as they attacked. The woman with the gun was on Tycho's side, and nearly got a shot at him before he finished reloading and blasted her twice, the first time crippling her legs, and the second finishing her off.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was trying to negotiate with the man. He held his hands up, trying to gesture for the raider to calm down.

"Now please, stop this!" he warned, backing away. "I'm the Doctor, I can help you! Just put down the hammer and—"

He leapt back as the man lunged at him. He was slow and lumbering, and easily avoided, but he grinned maniacally as he closed in.

"Just stop it! You don't have to—"

Tycho's shotgun roared, and the Doctor's attacker dropped dead like the rest, sledgehammer falling with a thud beside him.

"Doctor, if they could be reasoned with, then they wouldn't be in a fucking raider tribe!"

Tycho calmed as he noticed that the attacks seemed to have stopped. He relaxed and lowered his shotgun, which he then proceeded to reload anyway. The Doctor continued to smoulder, standing over the body of that last raider. He wasn't saying anything, so Tycho didn't speak either, and instead went back to peek around the side of the boulder again.

"Oh, Jesus..." he groaned. "Jackals! Sick fucking bastards..."

"What?" the Doctor asked, his curiosity momentarily overpowering his simmering anger.

"Man, I do not need this today..."

"What is it, Tycho?"

"Little Raider Junior on the prowl."

That warranted another raised eyebrow.

"Come again?"

"One of these sick fucks brought their kid with them."

The Doctor walked to Tycho' side, and looked around the side of the boulder too. He spotted the woman with the sniper rifle marching towards them across the open desert, foolishly not taking cover. By her side, a sandy-haired boy around twelve years old followed, carrying a knife. He too was tattooed and had sharp teeth, but he didn't have armour, and his hair was shorter.

"Oh..."

"That's the Jackals. Cowards, the lot of them. They use ambush tactics to get you when you're not expecting it, like they did with us, and they don't like to go into a fight unless they have a large group to make sure they win it. And the thing about Jackals is that they aren't above using their children to boost the numbers. Jackal raiders get into the game early."

Tycho looked around, his eyes searching the landscape. Then he turned them back to the shotgun in his hands, and lifted it again. Before he could pop out from their cover, the Doctor grabbed his shoulder.

"Don't you dare."

"I wasn't going to," Tycho responded indignantly.

He looked down his shotgun's sights and prepared to jump out and fire.

"I'm gonna shoot to the other side of the mother. At this range, nothing should hit the boy, and I doubt anything will get her either. If they're smart, they'll scatter and try to go for cover behind one of those other rocks out there. When they do, you and me can run for it."

The Doctor paused for a moment, but gave his newest companion a grim smile. Tycho nodded.

"Alright. On the count of three. One... Two... Three!"

***

It was very dark by the time the wandering duo eventually made camp for the night. They were set up in a small nook off the side of a winding pathway that led through a canyon. Tycho insisted that it was dangerous to set up an actual campfire out in the open, as it would be seen from a distance, and attract raiders or predators. In the canyon, though, he felt it was secluded enough that they were safe. They had rolled a number of rocks over to form a small wall, blocking off the entrance to their camp from the main path. They could easily climb over it, but it was a hindrance to any rats, radscorpions, or other pests that could come and be a nuisance to them in the night.

As they sat either side of the campfire, Tycho passed over one of the lunchboxes he had picked up from Killian. The lunchbox turned out to contain a tin of "Greasy Prospector Pork n' Beans," a box of "InstaMash," another box filled with processed meat called "Cram," and a small bottle of water to add to the InstaMash to get something edible out of it. The Doctor cooked his Pork n' Beans over the fire, holding it out with a pair of tongs. The mash also cooked in its own little pot, but the Cram was good to eat right away. It was essentially just Spam. The only obvious difference seemed to be the name. Parallel universes were weird like that.

"It's called a caravan lunch," Tycho explained. "Caravan traders take them on long-distance journeys. They'll fill you up right quick."

"More like a caravan dinner," the Doctor said between bites of Cram, "with all this stuff you need to cook."

"Strictly speaking, you can eat it raw. It's just not as nice. Especially not the InstaMash."

"Don't think it'd do me much good to swallow a packet of dry powder."

"Well, none of it is good for you; those things are stuffed with so many preservatives they can't even list them all on the packaging. But InstaMash without the water is just as nutritious and filling as it is with it. The only difference is that it won't taste like mash."

The Doctor scrunched up his face as he lowered the tongs and left the tin baking in the fire. He picked up the now finished pot of InstaMash and began digging into his meal with a spoon.

"So tell me about where you're from," Tycho asked. "Since I assume we're past the stage where I'd think you're crazy if you told me straight, you can answer honestly now, can't you?"

The Doctor coughed.

"I, um... don't much like talking about home."

"Planet of the time lords off limits to discussion?"

"No, but... well..." With a sigh, the Doctor sat up and put his pot of mash aside. "It's... not around anymore."

"No?" Tycho sat up, curious. "What happened?"

"A war. Time war. The Last Great Time War. We fought with a race called the daleks. It ended... a bit like your war did, I suppose. Only there weren't any survivors left to rebuild afterwards. The daleks and time lords are all gone now. I'm the only one left."

The Doctor wasn't sure why he was so forthcoming with Tycho. It normally took him a little longer than this to open up to a new companion. But perhaps it wasn't so odd, given the circumstances; he was stranded in a foreign universe, separated from his TARDIS, alone in this wasteland but for the man by his side. Was it any surprise that he'd formed a connection with the only other friendly face for miles around?

Tycho bowed his head. "Sorry. Didn't mean to poke at a sore wound. That must have been rough."

The Doctor looked away.

"Yeah."

"They have a saying around here, you know. 'War never changes.' Meaning there'll always be wars fought. It's the nature of man. Or time lords, I guess. Or daleks. Whatever."

"You've never heard of the daleks before?" asked the Doctor, curiously.

"No. Should I have?"

"Well, in my universe, the daleks had already invaded Earth by this time. They should have only been kicked out five years ago now. Then again, a lot of things are different here..."

"What's the alternate Earth like?" asked Tycho. "When we first met, you acted like the wasteland was new to you. You said where you came from, it's not a wasteland."

The Doctor cringed slightly.

"Well... it was, just not the same. Like I said, there was a dalek invasion in my universe. Several of them, actually, but only the one in the 22nd century was successful. I was around to help stop all the others, but for the last one, I was too late; I had to help out afterwards instead. But until that point, the world was doing basically alright. Few close calls and incidents, and the climate wasn't looking too good, but nothing like this. This Earth looks like it suffered a third world war."

"Yeah, Chinese blew us all to Hell," said Tycho, nodding. "October 23rd, 2077. Mankind has been struggling to survive ever since. Or, at least over here we have. I don't know how badly affected any of the other countries in the world are, but I'm pretty sure that Canada and Mexico are just as bad as we are."

The Doctor winced as he was reminded of his earlier bold-faced lie, but refrained from commenting on it.

"Say, uh..." Tycho leaned back against the rock wall. "I know it's a long shot, but is there any chance that... well... since you're a time traveller and all... might we be able to...?"

The Doctor felt a pang of sorrow.

"Sorry, but I doubt it. An event that big would likely be a fixed point in time. There's no changing those."

"Fixed point? So... you can change other bits of history?"

"Eh... it's complicated."

"Well, I've got time. Explain it to me."

***

The following day passed without incident. The journey remained long and arduous, but they came under no further attacks from raiders, and even the mutant wildlife was scarce, though not completely absent. Tycho pointed out wasteland flora and fauna wherever they came across it, introducing the Doctor to such beautiful creatures as the bloatfly, the molerat, the radscorpion, and the majestic giant ant.

Going through the more mountainous regions didn't help. The trip remained slow and plodding, and the longer it took them to reach the Brotherhood, the more agitated the Doctor became. He wasn't quick to panic, but there wasn't much certainty of how long the TARDIS would last without proper maintenance. On the third day of their journey, the Doctor voiced his concerns about their travel speed.

"Believe me, I understand," said Tycho. "But this is just the way of it. Travelling the wasteland is slow. I know we'd all like it to be otherwise, but there's no other way to get around. Now, if we could find a still functioning Chryslus around here or something, then I'd gladly help fix it up, and we could cruise the wasteland in style. But until then, we have to play the hand we're dealt."

And sadly, they never did come across that Chryslus. They found a few Old World roads, and a few buildings and shacks along their route, but never any cars in workable condition. But they did find something else that would help them – a Brotherhood patrol.

"That's them."

Tycho passed his binoculars. Looking through, the Doctor could see them in the distance, looking like knights of yore as the sunlight gleamed off their shining armour. They were built like tanks, with massive shoulder guards, and thick plating all over their full-body suits. The helmets had tubes coming out either side, plugging into the back of armour, and had either lights or small telescopes of some kind mounted on the right sides of the helmets. The visors were small and dark, and the helmets had no mouths, only circular parts that may have been speakers, or possibly air filters.

The Brotherhood patrol team all carried blocky-looking energy weapons, except for one who was carrying a minigun as his weapon of choice. He wasn't the only one armed to the teeth, either; two of the other soldiers, though they carried laser rifles in their hands, also had rocket launchers on their backs as secondary weapons. Idly, the Doctor wondered what they could possibly need them for out in this desert. With armour like that, who or what could even challenge them?

"See why I didn't wanna take chances?" asked Tycho.

The Doctor looked over, and saw that he was busily loading his shotgun with the pulse slugs he had picked up in Killian's store. He then drew his pistol as well, and loaded it with armour-piercing rounds. Finally, just for good measure, Tycho also placed a pulse grenade in an easily accessible side pocket, just in case.

"I really don't think it's a good idea to go up to them with pulse weapons and armour-piercing rounds. Even if you don't attack first, don't you think it'll make them uneasy to see you're carrying weapons specifically chosen to kill them?"

"Nah. How'd they be able to tell unless I start firing?"

Tycho holstered his weapons and broke from cover, striding across the desert to meet the patrol. The Doctor followed. As they approached, the men seemed to notice them, and began walking in their direction too. The two sides met halfway, with one bulky armoured soldier with a laser rifle marching up to meet them head-on.

"You. What's your business in this territory?"

Just like Tycho when he was wearing the helmet, the patrol leader's voice was distorted and tinny, relayed through some kind of speaker rather than being heard directly as he spoke.

"On our way to Lost Hills," Tycho replied coolly. "Need to speak to someone up there. Work out a deal for some vital components we need."

"Heh. That's rich. The Brotherhood trades its goods for water and supplies from the Hub's caravan companies. We don't just barter with any random johnny who makes his way to the base. You'd better have something interesting to us if you want anything we got."

"Ahem," the Doctor said as he stepped forwards. "He's with me."

He reached into his coat and produced his psychic paper. He held it out to show the patrol leader, who cocked his head and reached up to take it with a huge armoured hand. The man looked down at it for several minutes.

"...Well, I'll be damned. Apologies, Dr. Smith. I didn't know you were acquainted with the High Elder. We'd be happy to escort you the rest of the way to Lost Hills."

"Lead the way," the Doctor replied with a flourish.

The patrol leader nodded and turned back to the rest of his team.

"We're returning to base, paladins!" he barked. "Move out!"

As they began marching away, Tycho dared crack a smile. He removed his helmet to show it, silently asking the Doctor how he had just done that. The time lord only winked, and walked off after the paladins, Tycho following after.