Post by The First Doctor on Jun 21, 2011 8:19:50 GMT -5
"Or, if you like, I can drop the three of you off in South Croyden," the Meddler had said.
Sarah had just looked skeptical. "It seems I've heard that before."
The Meddler held his hands up defensively. "I'm not the Doctor. I know how to steer my own ship."
Sarah lifted an eyebrow.
"C'mon," he said with a smile, pulling the front of the filing cabinet open with a grand gesture. "I'll have you home in no time."
The Meddler's TARDIS, at first glance at least, resembled the Doctor's. At least, it resembled the way it had looked decades ago, when he was all scarf and curls and teeth. Light-grey hexagonal paneling, with luminous white disks at the center. A six-paneled console built around the time rotor. Doors.
But the devil, as they say, is in the details.
The console had a jury-rigged look, with exposed wiring and circutry, and with extra toggles and buttons and dials grafted in. One of the monitors was mounted on an armature that allowed it to be positioned at any height and in any direction. Heavy-gauge cables snaked through an opened hexagon near the floor of the control room and into the base of the console.
Additional devices and objects studded the walls - Computers from a dozen different worlds, sensor readouts, and even a large mirror that appeared to be wired into the mechanisms of the TARDIS itself. An overstuffed, wing-backed chair with an unmatched ottoman rested against the wall opposite the mirror. Next to it stood a wrought iron coat rack
The entry door was freestanding. Behind it stood a vast space filled with artifacts and objects from across the universe, resembling nothing more than a museum.
"Here we are!" the Meddler announced, spreading his arms wide and turning in a slow circle. "My TARDIS. A Type 67, Mark IV. Not the fastest model ever created, but it's got comfort and reliability. And power. Lots of power."
He crossed to the console, twisted the dial that closed the doors, and began manipulating the controls. "South Croyden, right?" he asked over his shoulder. "I'll have you there in twenty minutes."
He turned a few more dials, and grabbed a lever. "Subjective minutes, that is. I've set the coordinates to get us there just as we leave here."
He grinned over his shoulder again. "Ready?"
The Invisible Army
Sarah had just looked skeptical. "It seems I've heard that before."
The Meddler held his hands up defensively. "I'm not the Doctor. I know how to steer my own ship."
Sarah lifted an eyebrow.
"C'mon," he said with a smile, pulling the front of the filing cabinet open with a grand gesture. "I'll have you home in no time."
The Meddler's TARDIS, at first glance at least, resembled the Doctor's. At least, it resembled the way it had looked decades ago, when he was all scarf and curls and teeth. Light-grey hexagonal paneling, with luminous white disks at the center. A six-paneled console built around the time rotor. Doors.
But the devil, as they say, is in the details.
The console had a jury-rigged look, with exposed wiring and circutry, and with extra toggles and buttons and dials grafted in. One of the monitors was mounted on an armature that allowed it to be positioned at any height and in any direction. Heavy-gauge cables snaked through an opened hexagon near the floor of the control room and into the base of the console.
Additional devices and objects studded the walls - Computers from a dozen different worlds, sensor readouts, and even a large mirror that appeared to be wired into the mechanisms of the TARDIS itself. An overstuffed, wing-backed chair with an unmatched ottoman rested against the wall opposite the mirror. Next to it stood a wrought iron coat rack
The entry door was freestanding. Behind it stood a vast space filled with artifacts and objects from across the universe, resembling nothing more than a museum.
"Here we are!" the Meddler announced, spreading his arms wide and turning in a slow circle. "My TARDIS. A Type 67, Mark IV. Not the fastest model ever created, but it's got comfort and reliability. And power. Lots of power."
He crossed to the console, twisted the dial that closed the doors, and began manipulating the controls. "South Croyden, right?" he asked over his shoulder. "I'll have you there in twenty minutes."
He turned a few more dials, and grabbed a lever. "Subjective minutes, that is. I've set the coordinates to get us there just as we leave here."
He grinned over his shoulder again. "Ready?"
The Invisible Army
