I KNOW I JUST POSTED BUT
Title: To Skaro and Back, or Immortality: A Dalek’s Worst Nightmare
Inspired by and Written for: superfluously
Rating: PG
Fandom: Baccano!/Doctor Who
Characters: Isaac & Miria, the TARDIS (she’s totally a character and you know it), Derek and Lindek the Daleks, and featuring Nine and Rose at the end.
Word Count: 3,408
Disclaimer: I am not Narita or RTD, although sometimes I wish I were.
Warnings: Isaac & Miria?? They’re crack in and of themselves, and this is a crossover, so do prepare yourself for massive amounts of silliness. Also, I quite enjoy the use of italics.
Summary: The Daleks may have to reconsider who their arch-nemesis is when they receive an unexpected visit from two Earthian costume thieves.
Comments: This takes place sometime during the timeline of Series 1 (2005) episodes Aliens of London and World War Three, but also includes time travel to Skaro when it still existed (i.e., before the Last Great Time War but after the Doctor and the Daleks had had enough encounters to consider themselves arch enemies). I haven’t actually seen enough Classic Who to cite specifics, so let’s just assume it is a period in which the Daleks still inhabited Dalek City.
It was raining in London. Isaac and Miria were standing under a tiny umbrella, staring up at Big Ben. Isaac vaguely resembled Sherlock Holmes, with pipe in hand, pointing it up at the giant clock tower with a Holmesian smirk on his face. Miria, probably overdressed and quite uncomfortable in her now damp Victorian layers, glanced sideways at Isaac, curiosity laced all over her pale face.
Isaac puffed on the pipe, pretending for a moment that there was anything in it to smoke, then stuffed it in the pocket of his (also damp) trench coat and grinned like a madman. “Just look at it, Miria!” he exclaimed, his booming voice seeming to echo through the heavy downpour. The devious smugness on his face was directed at the clock, as if to say “I will feel your blood on my hands-tonight.” That is, if clocks had blood, and if they were murdering it, which they were not, especially not tonight. But all the same, the devious smugness of a thief staring down his next target was written all over his face, from the infamous Isaac smirk to the way his eyes sort of glimmered with excitement with the tick of each second passing. Tomorrow, Time as they knew it would be in their hands.
Miria was staring up in awe. “It’s gorgeous, Isaac,” she said, clasping her hands together over her chest. She glanced over at Isaac again, half curiously and the other half still in awe. “You really think we can steal it, Isaac?”
Isaac nodded curtly, completely determined that they could, indeed, steal Big Ben. “Of course we can, Miria!” He paused, as if he were still in the middle of a sentence, and Miria stared at him expectantly. “It’s just going to take a lot of effort, you see?” Miria nodded. “This is certainly bigger than anything we’ve stolen before, but all we’ve got to do is make it fly.” He looked far too pleased with himself, but Miria just beamed at his conclusion.
“Make it fly? How are we gonna do that, Isaac?”
Isaac shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat and pulled out the pipe again, raising it gloriously as if to poke the face of Big Ben with the end of it. “It’s simple, Miria,” he started, draping his free arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him. He puffed on the pipe, then made a swiping motion as if a headline would suddenly appear there. Together they stared up at the clock tower, the cogs in their own heads running so much faster and with more imagination than dear old Ben. “You see, we just have to make time go fast enough that the tower flies by itself. Then, once we’ve got it in the air, we can take it anywhere we’d like-we’ll have Time on our side. Just think: we can travel the world, Miria! Just you, and I, and our good friend Big Ben.”
The next morning, the skies above London were wide and clear and blue. All the things that made up a perfect skyline were in place; birds were chirping, children laughing. Isaac Holmes and Miria Adler strolled down the streets of Westminster, collecting various stares from the good people of London who thought it was strange to walk around in this day and age in full costume. Isaac was puffing bubbles out of his pipe, and Miria walked alongside him, her arm linked with his. They had both obtained hats since last night, Isaac now donning a classic detective cap, while a fancy arrangement of feathers and tulle rested atop Miria’s head. Her heels clicked on the brick pavement, and with each step, they were one less click away from reaching their destination.
A loud rumble came from overheard, and when they looked up, they thought they saw a giant green bug flying through the sky. But of course, bugs aren’t that loud, and they certainly can’t grow to be so big, so the couple continued on their merry way, closing in on Westminster Bridge.
Just as they set foot on the bridge, a huge roaring monster whizzed directly above them, and their heads would have been nearly cut off had Miria not screamed and Isaac not forced them to duck. They stared at the flying thing-the same giant green thing from before-and wondered what on Earth it could be. “Just look at the size of that thing, Miria! It nearly killed us!” Almost dying was exhilarating; especially since dying had become such a novelty once they realized they couldn’t actually stay dead.
“What if it’s hurt, Isaac?” It seemed to be out of control, not able to fly properly in a straight line or even keep altitude. The two thieves stared at it from a distance-
CLANGCRASH!
Miria gasped, then began wailing excessively. “Isaac! Isaac, it hit Big Ben! How will we travel the world now?” Isaac stared at the catastrophe that would have been their ticket to anywhere in the world and pulled Miria close to him, letting a few manly tears stream down his face. He took off his cap and held it close to his heart, mourning the loss of their now timeless friend.
“We’ll find another way, Miria, don’t you worry.” She looked up at him, sniffing, her eyes shining with hope.
“You really think so?”
Isaac grinned that smug grin of his again, letting go of Miria to grab her hands enthusiastically. “I know so, Miria! After all, we got here didn’t we?” Miria’s face lit up and she squeezed Isaac’s hands in her excitement.
“You’re right, Isaac!” Then her face fell as she remembered how exactly they got here. “But now airport security thinks we’re terrorists, Isaac. We’re wanted!”
Isaac brought his hand to his chin, stroking his invisible beard. “Yes, that is a problem, isn’t it... I guess another plane robbery is out of the question then.” Miria nodded solemnly, recalling how they just barely escaped. It sounded like a great idea in theory, but when the a flight attendant realized the two thieves were actually wearing costumes from Indiana Jones and were trying to “recover precious artifacts” from the passengers, she notified airport security at London Heathrow Airport that flight 867 would have two terrorists in custody, which was Isaac and Miria’s cue to make a mad dash for the back of the plane, escaping on a lifeboat a la The Temple of Doom. From there, they managed to row their way to shore and catch a cab from somewhere in rural England-it had, after all, been a somewhat successful plane robbery.
Isaac sighed, but didn’t let that unfortunate chain of events get him down. “We’ll just have to find a different mode of transportation, then, my dear!” The obvious answer, of course, but the fervor in Isaac’s voice was enough to cheer Miria up, and she instantly forgot about the security fiasco and the fact that Big Ben had just been crashed into by a giant alien spaceship.
Amidst the confusion of the masses being herded like sheep by disgruntled police officers and the swarming conglomerate of reporters trying to document the crash, Isaac and Miria forgot which way they intended to go and instead tried to find the nearest clear road. They dodged their way past people, around abandoned cars and picked a direction and began to walk-to where they didn’t know, but that was half the fun. Eventually, they found themselves walking through what looked like an apartment complex.
That’s when they saw it: a large blue wooden box with a something akin to a police siren atop it. POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX it said across the top. Isaac and Miria looked at each other deviously and then sprinted over to the box, circling it in opposite directions, examining it closely. Isaac stopped in front of the doors and studied the sign that was plastered below the left window.
POLICE TELEPHONE
FREE
FOR USE OF
PUBLIC
ADVICE & ASSISTANCE
OBTAINABLE IMMEDIATELY
OFFICER & CARS
RESPOND TO ALL CALLS
PULL TO OPEN
“Miria”-Miria poked her head from around the corner of the box-“come look at this, my dear,” Isaac said, still studying the sign with his hand on his chin. Miria joined Isaac in studying the sign, and when a few seconds of staring at it did not rid her of confusion, she stared up at Isaac curiously.
“What do you think it means, Isaac?” Isaac thought for a moment, then:
“Well, Miria, you see...” He leaned in closer to the sign, reading bits of it out loud to himself, as if that would help him decipher the very plain message. “Aha! It must be some sort of trap! Like-oh, what was that thing called-” Miria looked at him expectantly. “Oh yes! Reverse psychology!”
“Reverse psychology?”
“Yes, Miria! Reverse psychology! Obviously the police want people to use this box to catch criminals-like us-by making them think it’s safe to hide in because it would be the last place the police would suspect to look-you know, like hiding a tree in a forest! But actually, it’s the first place they look!” Isaac beamed, awaiting Miria’s response. After a few seconds, Miria’s face lit up.
“Oh, I see! So what we should really do is hide inside because the police think we won’t, right? Because no one would actually be stupid enough to try?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it, my dear!” He held out his arm. “Shall we, Miria?”
Miria nodded excitedly. “You bet!” And she linked arms with Isaac as they flung open the door-which was surprisingly enough unlocked, probably due to Nine being distracted by the excitement of aliens in London; that, or Mickey was just an idiot.
Miria gasped. “Isaac! It’s bigger on the inside!” The two exchanged a look and then ran outside and around the box in opposite directions, then back inside, then around again-and when they finally made it back into the box for the third time, they simply stared in awe, mouths agape.
“This is absolutely amazing, Miria!” Isaac announced, breaking the silence. In front of them, the main console hummed, and for the first time the duo stepped closer to it, examining every button and knob and lever, wondering what each object could possibly do. The TARDIS creaked and hummed and shook with all the unfamiliar, untrained touches. It wasn’t until they heard the machine begin to produce a sort of groaning, wheezing sound that Isaac and Miria looked up, watching the strange tubular generator in fascination. That is, until the box jerked them sideways, and they had to scramble for something to hold onto.
“I think we found a new mode of transportation, Isaac!” Miria called out to him over the noise of the TARDIS dematerializing from its parked position at Powell Estate.
“I think you’re right, Miria!” Isaac called back to her. They laughed heartily at one another while trying not to fall on top of each other as the box jerked again, but Isaac accidentally grabbed onto the parking lever and the box came to a sudden halt. The duo composed themselves and let out a round of laughter before Isaac started:
“Well, Miria, that was certainly exciting, don’t you think?”
“Invigorating!” she replied, clasping her hands together. “Where do you think we’ve gone, Isaac?”
Isaac pondered this for a moment, then glanced at the door with a devious grin on his face. “We’ll just have to find out for ourselves, won’t we, my dear?” He held out his arm to Miria and she beamed, taking Isaac’s proffered limb excitedly, replying with her usual “You bet!”
They marched toward the door and stopped behind it, exchanging looks of determination before nodding and peeking their heads outside.
Before them stood a vast city made of red rock, and behind it an enormous mountain stretched for miles. This was definitely not Earth.
“Wow...” Miria breathed, stepping outside, taking in the foreign landscape. “I don’t think we’re in London anymore, Isaac.”
Just as Isaac opened his mouth to respond, they heard a strange noise in the distance, like some sort of strangled robot. As whatever it was came closer, they recognized the word “IN - TRU - DER!” They both squinted their eyes, trying to discern where the robotic voice was coming from. It couldn’t possibly be coming from the odd little trashcan rolling towards them. Said little rolling trashcan stopped in front of them. It had a camera on a stick attached to the top of it, and the duo wondered what on Earth it could be for. Attached to the middle of the bin was a plunger and a baking whisk and a multitude of round bumps covering its circumference. Isaac stared at it closely, putting his face centimeters away from the lenspiece. He turned back to Miria.
“What an odd trashcan, Miria. Where do you suppose it came from-?”
“IN - TRU - DERS!” There it was again, that strangled robotic voice. This time, both Isaac and Miria leaned in closer to the trashcan, peering at it curiously. “YOU - ARE NOT - THE DOC-TOR.”
“Doctor?” Isaac repeated, more to Miria than the trashcan. “Maybe this trashcan belonged to a doctor, and that’s why it’s trying to talk to us.”
“Do you think his former owner abandoned him, Isaac?” Her eyebrows furrowed in concern for the poor thing.
“That could be it, Miria! Let’s find out, shall we?” Back into the blue box they went, and appeared a few minutes later clad as Doctor Dian and Nurse Harvent. The trashcan was still there, surprisingly.
“WHAT - IS - THE MEANING - OF - THIS?”
“It’s alright, my good fellow, Doctor Dian and Nurse Harvent are at your service.” The duo threw the trashcan their biggest grins and the heartiest of thumbs ups.
“YOU - ARE NOT - THE DOC-TOR,” it repeated, sizing them up with a few rigid movements of its stick-camera. Isaac and Miria exchanged glances, disappointed that their disguises hadn’t worked. “THE DOC-TOR - IS OUR - ARCH-NEM-ISIS. WHY - DO IN-FER-IOR - HUMANS - POSSES HIS - TARDIS?”
“TARDIS?” Isaac repeated, stroking his invisible beard. “You mean this blue box has a name? And an odd one at that, don’t you think so, Miria?” Miria nodded. “Well, my dear trashcan friend-”
“YOU - DARE - INSULT - THE DALEKS? WE - ARE - SUPERIOR - TO - HU-MANS.”
Isaac looked offended, and Miria followed suit. “Now look here-what did you say your name was?” He paused, trying to remember what the trashcan had called itself. Dalek? No, that wasn’t it. “Oh yes!” he announced a moment later. “Derek!”
The Dalek seemed to tense, its lenspiece focusing suddenly. “MY - NAME - IS NOT - DER-EK. I - AM - DALEK - FORDON. YOU - WILL - OBEY - ME.”
“Right!” Isaac said, smirking as if he’d know that all along. “Derek Fordon: A fine name for such a fine... trashcan fellow,” he continued, reaching out to grab the Dalek’s plunger with both hands, shaking it vigorously as if he were meeting a new acquaintance for the first time. He leaned in closer to the Dalek, staring it square in the eye, still gripping its plunger. “Now then, you wouldn’t happen to know where we are, would you, Derek?”
Derek scooted away violently, knocking Isaac to the ground. “YOU - WILL - CEASE - EXAM-INA-TION!” he ordered. Isaac stood, rubbing his butt, while the Dalek continued, “YOU - WILL - CEASE - CONTAM-INA-TION.” A light came from Derek’s whisky thing as a laser shot through Isaac’s stomach. “CON-TAM-INATOR - HAS BEEN - EX-TER-MINATED.”
Miria gasped in horror, hands covering her silent scream as Isaac collapsed. She knelt down to him slowly, tears running down her face. “Isaac...?” Derek’s lenspiece followed her every move, and when she looked back up at him, nose running with tears streaming down like a waterfall, she knew this was no ordinary trashcan.
“CRYING - WILL NOT - BE - TOL-ERATED,” Derek said, although it almost sounded uncomfortable. “YOU - ARE - WEAK. YOU - WILL BE - EX-TER-MINATED.” Miria collapsed next to Isaac, shot through the chest. “INTRUDERS - E-LIM-INATED. DALEKS - CONTINUE TO REIGN - SUPREME.” Of course, just as he began to roll away, Isaac gasped for breath, suddenly coming back to life (it helped being immortal sometimes). He sat up and noticed Miria, lifeless, next to him. He removed his hat and cried the manliest of tears as Derek halted and turned to face the intruders again. As soon as he reached them, Miria gasped back to life herself.
“Oh, Isaac!” she said, flinging herself on him. As they hugged each other, Derek surveyed them, most certain that the scan had been correct, and that these two were in fact humans and not Time Lords. There had been no regeneration; they had just simply... come back to life.
Just then, another robotic voice, slightly higher pitched than Derek’s, came out of almost nowhere as a new Dalek, Lindek, for the sake of simplicity, sneaked up on Derek and the intruders. It rolled over to Derek, whose body swiveled toward the other Dalek. “LIN-DEK. THESE - HU-MANS - ARE - A-NOM-ALIES. NOT - EVEN - THE - DOC-TOR - IS - IMM-OR-TAL.”
Lindek’s lenspiece adjusted itself, almost as if it was afraid. “IM-POSS-IBLE. HUMANS - DO - NOT - HAVE - THE - TECH-NOL-OGY.”
Isaac cleared his throat and stood, helping Miria up with him. The Daleks whirled around to face him, staring intensely at him with their strange little lenspiece eyes. “Now now, my dear trashcan folk, I really don’t think we should resort to name-calling. I assure you Miria and I are not, er... anoma-whatsits...” He glanced at Miria for support, but she only shrugged in response.
“THEN - THERE - ARE - MORE - OF - YOU?” Lindek said, scooting jerkily away from the costumed duo.
Isaac beamed and threw up his arms nonchalantly, as if the answer was obvious. “Of course, my fine fellow!” Miria nodded, and Isaac began to count on his fingers. “Let’s see... Well, there’s Firo and Maiza, and I suppose Ennis counts too-oh! And we can’t forget little Czes! So that makes-”
“Six!” Miria held up six fingers, grinning like a loon.
“Yes! That’s exactly right! Six!” The pair of them looked quite ridiculous holding up their fingers and laughing jovially with each other.
And, for the first time in the history of Time, the Daleks ran away. There was no telling what kind of power six immortals held... They would have to report this to their leader and regroup...
Meanwhile, Isaac and Miria just stared into the distance, wondering where the funny little trashcans went. “I guess they had other trashcan duties to see too, huh, Isaac?”
“Yes, you’re probably right, Miria, my dear. It’s a shame we couldn’t spend more time with them. I was becoming quite fond of little Derek.”
“Hey, Isaac?” Miria asked after a moment’s pause. “How do you suppose we’ll get home?”
“Well, Miria, we’ll just have to give this strange box another whirl, won’t we?”
Miria’s face lit up. “Oh, that sounds just wonderful, Isaac!”
Hundreds, maybe thousands, of years later, a new Dalek race was born, and as each new Dalek came into existence, it screamed. For though Daleks learn not to fear, they are all born with the fear of those known as immortals.
At an undisclosed point in the vast vortex that is Time, a huge, resonating chime reverberated throughout the TARDIS. The Doctor’s head perked up. He glanced over at Rose, who was asleep on the bench, then at the hallway that led into the recesses of the TARDIS. “Funny,” he said to himself, leaving the controls for a moment to investigate. “I don’t remember picking up a grandfather clock...”
Upon entering his massive “Artifacts and Various Other Objects” room, he nearly fell over a priceless doormat from the Acacia Galaxy. Standing right in front of him was none other than Big Ben itself, clock tower and all. He stared for a moment, wondering how in the world he could have Big Ben in his time machine and not know about it, but then burst out laughing.
“Rose!” he called, his voice echoing down the hall as he ran back to the control room. “Rose! Wake up, Rose, I’ve got something to show you!” He stood over his companion with a huge grin on his face, and when she blearily opened her eyes, she squeaked and nearly fell off the bench.
“Blimey! Doctor, don’t scare me like that!”
The Doctor leaned in, his grin somehow widening. “Rose,” he said again, “we’ve had ourselves a visitor.”
THE END.