Part One
Hello. I’m the Doctor.
You’ve probably heard of me. An old chap with white hair.
No? How about a tall one with curls and a long, colorful scarf. Not that one
either, eh? Oh, what about a handsome devil in a pin-striped suit and tie with
Converse shoes? Still nothing? Hmm…
Ohhh. I’ve got it. You’re familiar with the latest model.
Yup. That lil’ ball of sunshine is me now. “The
Thirteenth Doctor” as some would call me. Doing what I can to right all the
wrongs in the universe, sorting out fair play. Gotta admit that the body’s
still taking some getting used to, even after so many adventures with my fam –
Yasmin Khan (I call her “Yaz” ‘cause she’s my friend), Ryan Sinclair, and
Graham O’Brien.
We just stopped a recon scout Dalek from bringing an
invasion force to Earth. And on New Year’s, too! How could we top something
like that?
Well…that’s what I’m about to tell you now.
Yaz asked me a really good question, shortly after we
departed from Earth. She asked me, “Where to next?”
And I said to her, “I was thinking…everywhere.”
And I meant it, too. Except I didn’t intend for
“everywhere” to mean outside the boundaries of reality. Or did I?
It all started when I pulled the lever on the control
console (I love that bit). Not a second thereafter, a massive tremor hit the
TARDIS, knocking all of us off our feet and on our keisters (never saying that word aloud – just keeping it here
in text). I zipped about around the console, working to get back control of my
ship. Graham asked me something that I didn’t have the time to answer. He was
worried, and worried people ask questions during times of stress.
I found out through the scanners that we hadn’t
materialized in the time vortex.
“We’re headed somewhere beyond the vortex!” I blurted without the intention of alerting my
mates.
Soon, the bumpy ride was over.
Everyone (and by “everyone” I mean Ryan and Graham) was
quick to presume that everything was right as rain. But Yaz and I were wise to
keep on the alert and not prematurely take a breather. I wasn’t able to discern
where we ended up, ‘cause the TARDIS’s systems blew out from the dimensional
turbulence. I resorted to doing it the old-fashioned way: sticking my head out
to have a look-see.
We landed on the rooftop of a building in the middle of a
city. It was nighttime.
“The coast is clear,” I told the others, permitting us
all to step out and onto the roof. It’d been quite a long time since I’d landed
the TARDIS on a building rooftop. Last time I did, it was with my old “savage”
friend Leela. We were in Detroit within a parallel dimension.
“We’re in New York.”
In my moment of reminiscing, I almost didn’t catch Yaz’s
observation.
“So we are,” I acknowledged, sighting Lady Liberty
far-off in the distance. (Still don’t trust her, after finding out she’s a
Weeping Angel – the biggest in the universe.)
“Always wanted to see the Big Apple,” Graham beamed.
“So, when in
New York are we?” Ryan asked. He always asks the good questions.
With the TARDIS burned out at the moment, I had to depend
on my sonic to give us the answer. I scanned the atmosphere and read off the
results on my handy tool. “Nuage energy,” I muttered in a rather unsettled way.
“What’s that?” Yaz asked.
I tried to maintain composure as I explained: “It’s
energy commonly associated with the infinite dimensional corridor.”
“And what’s that?”
Ryan asked.
My anxiety only worsened as I then elucidated for him, “It’s like a cousin to the time vortex, just
enabling its occupants to go beyond the dimensions of reality.”
Graham chuckled in amusement. “Didn’t know the TARDIS
could do that.”
“It can’t,” I
nervously negated. “We have to find a way out of here. No good ever comes from
being in a parallel universe…especially
not one in the infinite D.C.!”
I brought everyone back into the TARDIS, so that we could
make quick repairs. This involved me putting on the necessary gear, taking off
my coat and trading it for a welding apron and mask. I was able to get the old
girl up and running in minutes. This wasn’t my first rodeo within the
dimensional corridor, and I certainly wasn’t gonna let it be my last.
“Goodbye, infinite D.C.,” I bid to the world outside and
pulled the lever.
The engines wheezed and grinded as the ship phased in and
out between dimensions. But we were still on that same rooftop.
I did whatever I could to keep my cool in front of my
friends.
“O.K., so…we might be here for a little while,” I told
them.
“New York City in a parallel dimension,” Graham measured
our circumstance. “I’m game for it.” Always one to look on the bright side, he
led the group back out of the TARDIS and into the building it was latched onto.
Graham did have the right idea though. What I didn’t tell
the team was that a source within this dimension prevented us from leaving. I
needed to investigate, and I could only do that outside the TARDIS. I wasn’t gonna fill them in until I had enough
to go on.
The building itself was one of the “office” variety –
several formally-dressed people moving in and out between rooms, making copies
of important paperwork and whatnot (not exactly my kind of setting). One stood
out from the rest: an auburn-haired young woman in a distinctive yellow
jumpsuit and white boots. Ryan accidentally bumped into her, knocking some of
that important paperwork out of her hands.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he said to her, as he helped pick
up the papers. (Grace sure did a fine job raising him to be mannerly. Wish I
could say the same about myself.)
“It’s fine,” the woman said, looking on Ryan and the rest
of us with curiosity in her eyes. “Don’t think I’ve seen you all around the
Channel 6 headquarters before. You must be the new news team.”
I love it when the cover story provides itself like it
did here.
“Yes,” I stepped in to say, retrieving the psychic paper
from my coat pocket and flashing it to the jumpsuit-wearing lass. “Jane Smith,
former BBC News anchorwoman. We were just transferred here all the way from
Cardiff.”
“All of you…at the same time?!” she reacted, dumbfounded
by that additional bit of information. Nonetheless, she bought into it. “Well,
I guess Burne Thompson is that bent on getting international talent.” She stuck
out her hand for me to shake, introducing herself as, “April O’Neil. I’m one of
the reporters here at Channel 6.”
While shaking her hand, something in me sparked with
recognition…like I’ve heard the name “April O’Neil” somewhere before. Rather
than linger any on it, I took advantage of our current role as a news team –
and that of April’s as a reporter – and let her in on our purpose for being in
the city: investigating unusual activity.
“Boy, have you guys come to the right place,” she said.
“Unusual activities happen all the time around here!”
Our next stop was the garage level of the Channel 6
headquarters.
April invited us a ride through New York in a Channel 6
news van.
During the trip, I sat up front with Graham and our
driver, April, and kept tabs on my sonic screwdriver, using it as a compass to
guide us towards the source of the dimensional interference. Through my keen
Time Lord hearing, I detected Yaz and Ryan whispering away at the back of the
van.
From what I could tell, they had their own suspicions
about April.
“Haven’t we heard the name ‘April O’Neil’ somewhere
before?” Yaz inquired.
“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. “Isn’t it from that show we watched
as kids? The one with those crime-fighting frogs?”
I had to cut their conversation short as soon as I got a
reading on the sonic.
“STOP!” I yelled, unintentionally stirring a panic once
April instinctively slammed down on the brakes, screeching the van to a halt in
the middle of an empty street corner. I stepped out with my eyes glued to the
sonic, pointing it directly at the street. “This is where the source is
emanating from.”
“There’s nothin’ here,” Graham said (ever the one to
point out the obvious).
“Not here,
Graham,” I elaborated. “Not above ground…underneath it.”
“Erm…I think I have a feeling what it could be that
you’re looking for,” April said, sounding a bit uneasy, like she was hiding
something. “But you’re gonna need more than my
help to get where I think you want to go.”
She was being very cryptic. I love people who are cryptic.
“Who else can help, Miss O’Neil?” I asked.
