in conclusion: Luke is actually Encyclopedia Brown.
Across the whole of the galaxy people wondered: “What is Earth’s secret?” For more than a year now, no one had gotten away with a world domination plot, a con job, or even an accidental crash-landing on Earth.
Aside from being the destination of choice for aliens looking for an unsuspecting planet to break down into scrap parts, Earth was a lovely little ocean-covered planet. It had movie theatres and edible ball-bearings. It had internet and a few continents that no one knew quite what to do with, but agreed were an excellent source of ice anyway.
Only a few people knew the truth of Earth’s late success in circumventing alien invasion. These people worked in very secret organizations with names like UNIT and Torchwood, and of even those people, only Sarah-Jane Smith and her friends knew the true extent of the story behind their secret weapon.
The real brain behind Earth’s war on alien invasion was her son, one-year-old Luke Smith.
Whenever UNIT or Torchwood had an alien problem they couldn’t solve, they called up Luke and took him out for ice cream. Over a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone, he would listen as they explained their problem. And by the time he reached the bottom of the cone, he would devise a solution for them. (Sometimes, if their problem was particularly tricky, he’d have to ask for three scoops.)
When Parliament was invaded by Silverians, UNIT bought him three scoops in a waffle cone. As he neatly licked dribbles of melted ice cream off his fingers, he explained that reversing the polarity of the neutron flow would catalyze a reaction causing the Silverians to temporarily revert to their natural form, ball lightning, easily trapped by the device he’d written out plans for on his napkin. While he drank a cup of water, he added that the real members of Parliament were probably locked in their underground spaceship, and the lock to get them out probably worked in base pi.
(He asked Ross if he’d come to his very first birthday party, and all the kids who attended were duly impressed by his military friend, and even more so by the cool robot he brought as a gift. Sarah-Jane threw a fit when Mr. Smith identified it as a miniature Positronian with the guiding intelligence removed, but he was allowed to keep it after all the due tests and precautions were taken.)
When the new line of children’s hats turned out to be brain incapacitators, causing most of the UK’s children to act like zombies, Torchwood footed the bill for an entire banana split. After he remarked on the caloric intake of his treat, he told them that if they doused all the kids in water and then dried them off with heated air, the hats would shrink and disengage.
(While Jack made the phone call to Cardiff, he asked Ianto if he could have ice cream with Gwen next time, explaining that she always gave him good advice about how to ask Clyde on a date. At Ianto’s mildly puzzled expression, he added that his Mum had warned never to take relationship advice from Captain Harkness.)
And even sometimes, on very secret occasions he was never ever allowed to tell his mum about, the Doctor would bring Luke to the Great Fair of Upsilon Zeta for fried ice cream. While they clogged up their arteries with completely unhealthy treats, he and Luke would debate the best ways to defuse a sticky situation, or why the TARDIS was mad at the Doctor for not recalibrating her systems properly, or what to do when another of his companions had left him and he needed to mope for a bit.
(Once, Luke asked the Doctor what you were supposed to do if you wanted to kiss someone, seeing as how he was a Time Lord and had the benefit of hundreds of years to work that sort of thing out.
“Look at the time,” the Doctor said. “Long-past due for a… thing. Spit-spot, Luke, we can’t have your Mum knowing you’ve been out.”)
At the end of the day, when the Slitheen were dealt with, the wrong turns sent away with directions home, and the Judoon duly aided in their civic duties, everyone knew that, if they had a problem they couldn’t solve, one-year-old Luke Smith would fix it for them.
Is it any wonder they kept him a secret?
Word count: 700-something words.
Author's note: I DID SAY I WOULD WRITE THIS. Ignore that it took me a year or something.
Aside from being the destination of choice for aliens looking for an unsuspecting planet to break down into scrap parts, Earth was a lovely little ocean-covered planet. It had movie theatres and edible ball-bearings. It had internet and a few continents that no one knew quite what to do with, but agreed were an excellent source of ice anyway.
Only a few people knew the truth of Earth’s late success in circumventing alien invasion. These people worked in very secret organizations with names like UNIT and Torchwood, and of even those people, only Sarah-Jane Smith and her friends knew the true extent of the story behind their secret weapon.
The real brain behind Earth’s war on alien invasion was her son, one-year-old Luke Smith.
Whenever UNIT or Torchwood had an alien problem they couldn’t solve, they called up Luke and took him out for ice cream. Over a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone, he would listen as they explained their problem. And by the time he reached the bottom of the cone, he would devise a solution for them. (Sometimes, if their problem was particularly tricky, he’d have to ask for three scoops.)
When Parliament was invaded by Silverians, UNIT bought him three scoops in a waffle cone. As he neatly licked dribbles of melted ice cream off his fingers, he explained that reversing the polarity of the neutron flow would catalyze a reaction causing the Silverians to temporarily revert to their natural form, ball lightning, easily trapped by the device he’d written out plans for on his napkin. While he drank a cup of water, he added that the real members of Parliament were probably locked in their underground spaceship, and the lock to get them out probably worked in base pi.
(He asked Ross if he’d come to his very first birthday party, and all the kids who attended were duly impressed by his military friend, and even more so by the cool robot he brought as a gift. Sarah-Jane threw a fit when Mr. Smith identified it as a miniature Positronian with the guiding intelligence removed, but he was allowed to keep it after all the due tests and precautions were taken.)
When the new line of children’s hats turned out to be brain incapacitators, causing most of the UK’s children to act like zombies, Torchwood footed the bill for an entire banana split. After he remarked on the caloric intake of his treat, he told them that if they doused all the kids in water and then dried them off with heated air, the hats would shrink and disengage.
(While Jack made the phone call to Cardiff, he asked Ianto if he could have ice cream with Gwen next time, explaining that she always gave him good advice about how to ask Clyde on a date. At Ianto’s mildly puzzled expression, he added that his Mum had warned never to take relationship advice from Captain Harkness.)
And even sometimes, on very secret occasions he was never ever allowed to tell his mum about, the Doctor would bring Luke to the Great Fair of Upsilon Zeta for fried ice cream. While they clogged up their arteries with completely unhealthy treats, he and Luke would debate the best ways to defuse a sticky situation, or why the TARDIS was mad at the Doctor for not recalibrating her systems properly, or what to do when another of his companions had left him and he needed to mope for a bit.
(Once, Luke asked the Doctor what you were supposed to do if you wanted to kiss someone, seeing as how he was a Time Lord and had the benefit of hundreds of years to work that sort of thing out.
“Look at the time,” the Doctor said. “Long-past due for a… thing. Spit-spot, Luke, we can’t have your Mum knowing you’ve been out.”)
At the end of the day, when the Slitheen were dealt with, the wrong turns sent away with directions home, and the Judoon duly aided in their civic duties, everyone knew that, if they had a problem they couldn’t solve, one-year-old Luke Smith would fix it for them.
Is it any wonder they kept him a secret?
Word count: 700-something words.
Author's note: I DID SAY I WOULD WRITE THIS. Ignore that it took me a year or something.