Fic: Who Wars [part 2 of 2]
Title: Who Wars
Summary: A Doctor Who/Star Wars mash-up. The Doctor receives a cryptic clue from a - seemingly familiar - floating head, which leads him on an adventure he may, or may not, want to forget…
Disclaimer: We own neither Doctor Who, nor Star Wars [nor any of the other random references, for that matter]. We pleaded with Auntie Beeb and Uncle Lucas, honest we did, but they refused to share. So we’re just borrowing them for a while and might… might… give them back. That is, if they ask nicely…
Warning: Some serious, serious, serious artistic licence has been taken with this story line - historical accuracy has been temporarily banished to the Lost Moon of Poosh. So no complaining…! And yes, it's more of a parody than a serious story ;)
A/N: Written for a very special geeky teacher, by her equally geeky students! *grin* A writing collaboration between me and loopstagirl :) Virtual cookies if you can identify the various added references - some may be more obvious than others! Enjoy!
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“No, wait! We can’t take off! My ship’s still down there!”
“Too late, buddy, you should have thought of that before you followed us here…”
“Ignore him,” waved Leia. “He’s always like that!”
“Am not!”
“Ohh, you sooo are…!”
“Please, go back. I have to get to her.”
“Go back?” Han cried, spinning in his seat to face the Doctor, his expression one of disbelief. “We were never meant to go there in the first place. If it wasn’t for that damn tractor beam…”
“We can’t go back,” Luke butted in gently, stopping Han on his latest tirade. “Han is right; we’ve only just got away. We are risking too much by returning. Surely as a Jedi master, you wouldn’t have formed an attachment…?”
“But-,” the Doctor bit his lip, gazing out of the screen in front of him into the endless stretch of space. “I need her. You’re a pilot, Han. Would you not go back for your ship?”
The pilot frowned, as if seriously considering the Doctor’s line of thought, but before he could reach a conclusion, Leia gasped.
“Star fighters, three o’clock. Five of them.”
“Here’s hoping Chewie fixed that hyperdrive.” Jerking the stick in front of him, Han sent the Falcon spiralling down, sending the Doctor flying in the process. Grasping Luke’s helping hand gratefully, the Time Lord pulled himself to his feet, no longer sure where the ceiling and floor were in comparison to one another. Smoothing out her course, the trio didn’t relax their tense posture for quite some time, obviously scouting the immediate area for any danger. When no one made any attempt to break the silence, the Doctor figured he may as well do the honours. Before he could open his mouth, a large and very heavy hand clamped its self down on his shoulder, making him yell out in utter surprise. A loud noise - best described as a croaky roar - emitted from behind him, causing the Doctor to spin around and find himself looking up at (what looked suspiciously like) a walking carpet.
“What do you mean, we can’t get into hyperspace?! It may have escaped your attention, fuzz ball, but we have five star fighters after us!”
Assuming from the responding roar that Han could understand the creature behind him, the Doctor sighed.
“If I can’t have the TARDIS translating for me, could someone at least give me a babel fish, please?”
“A what?” Leia asked curiously, but the Doctor was too busy gazing in awe at the large hairy creature in front of him to answer.
“He’s a Wookie,” Han replied irritably, as if annoyed by the fact his friend was getting more attention than he. As the Wookie responded, the pilot suddenly frowned, clearly agitated.
“No I am not jealous of him. What is there to be jealous of? … What?! … His gorgeous good looks and obvious charm? What is wrong with you, fuzz ball?”
“If you two will stop arguing, you may want to notice those fighters have found us. We need to get out of space; we are sitting ducks here!”
“How about here?” Luke asked suddenly, his finger tapping some unknown destination on the monitor in front of him. Dancing across the ship, the Doctor hurried over, anxious to see for himself where they were. He never liked to be the last to know, especially when it came to running away.
“Endor?” Leia pondered thoughtfully. “Doesn’t the Alliance have a squadron down there trying to dismantle the weapons of the Death Star?”
“We could help!” Han butted in excitedly. “They’re sure to need some help, and in return someone must be able to fix the hyperdrive.”
“You know,” he interrupted casually, “I am a Doctor. I could probably fix this hyperdrive thingy for you.”
“Yeah right,” Han responded sarcastically, swivelling in his chair to flick the switches above his head. “You don’t even know what one is. Next you’ll be telling me that super ship of yours translates things.”
“Well, now that you mention it…”
“Evasive action needed! Star fighters coming in hot!” At Luke’s cry, Han broke off the conversation and once more jerked on the controls. The Doctor only just managed to grab hold of the chair and keep himself upright.
As the ship ploughed its way onto the planet below, the Doctor braced himself as the Falcon came to a shuddering stop, dirt covering the front in a great scattering. Letting out an explosive breath, all present sank into their seats - except the Doctor, who slid to the floor.
“Another happy landing,” he muttered to himself, bouncing to his feet and racing to the door.
“You don’t know what’s out there,” Leia called after him, her worry about his intentions obvious. With a sudden flash of his infectious (but dazzling) smile, the Doctor bounded out of the door gleefully, leaving a slightly flustered Leia in his wake.
Gazing around him in awe at the beauty of the planet, the Doctor marvelled at the dense forests surrounding the ship. They couldn’t have picked a better spot… shame they weren’t here for a picnic.
Staring at the sky in wonder, the Doctor failed to notice a small shadow slip from the protection of the door. In fact, he had just thought he saw some charming tree houses in the distance when he felt himself trip quite spectacularly over something near his feet. He landed with a thud on the - thankfully - soft ground.
“Omph!” the Doctor cried, looking about him in wonder. To his astonishment, a small creature stood in front of him, a long stick held threateningly in its paw.
“Oooh, who are you? I’m the Doctor,” the man announced cheerfully, still on the floor. Somehow, being faced with something that looked suspiciously like a teddy bear meant the threat of danger seemed to disappear in a puff of logic. The creature muttered something intelligible under its breath and sprung back a few paces, cautiously poking the Doctor’s arm with the end of its stick. Obviously a jumpy fellow then.
The door shooosed behind him and three cautious figures emerged.
“Sith..!” Han Solo cursed, as he was sent sprawling over the Doctor who - having been too preoccupied with the over-sized cuddly toy - remained on the ground.
“Han!” gasped Leia, “Mind your language! There may be younglings around!”
Han grumbled an inaudible response as he picked himself up and dusted the leaves off his jacket. He sighed in resignation, “Right, let’s find the squadron and get this party started.”
“Don’t let Jack hear you say that,” the Doctor muttered, climbing to his feet, “He’d take it waaay too literally...” No one bothered to waste breath asking what the hell he meant. “Sooo, where are we going?”
“We’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here to guard the Falcon… anything happens to her and I’ll teach you the meaning of pain!”
“You like pain?” the Doctor questioned, eyebrows disappearing, “Try wearing a corset…!” He grinned to himself; now that was an interesting disguise!
Obviously ignored, the Doctor pouted as the others sped off into the trees. “Oh, they weren’t kidding.” Whistling softly to himself, the Doctor began to pace in front of the Falcon, strongly resisting the urge to nip aboard and give her a proper explore. Han hadn’t said anything about not doing that, had he? Hearing a far off thud that sounded like a falling tree, the Doctor changed his mind. He never could resist investigating ominous noises…
Digging a hand into his pocket, the Doctor rummaged around for a moment, before his hand finally caught onto the object of his search. Pulling it out with a triumphant cry, the Doctor headed towards the thuds, peeling the banana as he went. Humming merrily to himself as he ate, he had just taken the last bite when something made him freeze mid-action.
Turning very slowly on the spot, the Doctor found himself face to face with a metal-looking-leg-thing. Letting his eye line roam upwards, the Timelord craned his neck backwards to take in the scale of the AT-ST Imperial Walker in front of him.
“Ah.” Watching with an impressed expression, the Doctor winced at the nails-on-a-chalkboard grating noise as a component on the machine moved. Even more so at the sudden realisation that the moving thing was, in fact, some sort of gun now pointing directly at him. Slowly raising his hands - the banana skin clutched in one of them - the Doctor gestured he was surrendering. It always seemed a good idea not to get himself shot.
“Parley?” he asked, watching the gun prepare to fire. As the motor whirred to life, the Doctor quickly spun around. Or not. Byeeeee.” Darting off into the trees, the Doctor wildly threw his hands out, feeling the banana skin fly out of his grip. He wasn’t going to stop; after all, he was quite the expert at running away. He could stand and fight when he wanted too; it was just that at this moment in time, he simply didn’t want too. Nothing at all to do with the fact he knew the sonic screwdriver wouldn’t be able to help him against these giant machines, nor the fact he hadn’t a TARDIS to run too. Nope, it was all to do with not wanting too.
However, despite not planning to stop, a resounding crash caused the Timelord to skid to a halt. The first Walker had just reached the edge of the trees, but then promptly stopped. Whipping around and watching it in surprise, the Doctor’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as the giant slowly began to topple, before slipping completely backwards.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he cried, his hands flying up in front of him.
But that wasn’t the end though. Ohhh no. On its journey, it somehow managed to crash into the one behind, which in turn repeated the whole process; the entire line was wiped out in minutes.
“How…?” Gazing around him in wonder, the Doctor slowly grinned, his eyes falling on an innocent looking banana skin sticking out from the edge of the first Walkers’ foot. And people said bananas weren’t good for you…
Luke, Leia, Han and Chewie suddenly burst into the clearing behind him, jaws dropping at the sight before them.
“How did… what did you…. how… WHAT?!” Han was clearly flabbergasted.
“Why, he used the force… look!” Luke pointed to the Doctor’s hands, which were still outstretched with palms facing the fallen robots.
The Doctor looked from Luke, to his hands, and then to the AT-STs. “Oh no, I didn’t- ” he acted out a strange mime, “- really! It wasn’t…”
“Ohhh, you!” Leia gushed. “You’re so modest! Helping the Federation out like that and not taking the credit! Oh Han, isn’t that nice? Han?”
“Yeah, yeah. Wonderful,” he muttered dismissively, his attention focused on an unfamiliar yellow object at the foot of the first metal creature. A suspicious eyebrow was raised.
“Well, I am what I am, and what I am needs no excuses,” started the Doctor, rocking on his heels with both hands now dug into his pockets. “So what if I love each feather and each spa-” He promptly cut himself off. No wait, he thought, that’s more like Jack…
Hmmm, maybe he shouldn’t be gloating for something that he technically didn’t mean to do. After all, the Doctor never gloated. Nope, not him. Not ever. He coughed slightly, “Aaanyway…” Preparing to make a dash for it - the situation was getting slightly embarrassing - the Doctor jumped when he felt something latch itself onto his arm like a limpet. Startled, the Doctor followed the arm with his eyes, feeling even more uncomfortable when he beheld Leia on the other end. She either had something in her eye and couldn’t dislodge it, or something else was goi- oohhh. With a realisation what that look in her eye meant, the Doctor cleared his throat subconsciously. It really was time to be going. Looking around wildly, the Doctor truly truly regretted the TARDIS wasn’t around. He really needed a quick escape…
Trying to hide his rather nervous swallow (Daleks? No problem. Cybermen? Sorted. Girls? Ahh...), the Doctor plunged his hand once more into his pocket, this time pulling out the famous sonic screwdriver. Or whatever they considered it to be. Twiddling it in between his fingers, the Doctor slowly frowned, a thought meandering its way into his head.
“What?” Han demanded rather suspiciously, the mysterious object still on his mind. Quite frankly, he didn’t trust the look on the Doctor’s face; it made him slightly uncomfortable. After all, he had just proposed his own brilliant plan for getting rid off the At-Sts, but noooo, no one listened to him anymore.
“I wonder…” the Doctor pondered thoughtfully, seemingly not having heard the rather rude demand.
“You have another plan?” Leia practically babbled, adoration shining in her eyes.
“There’s only a 41% chance of success… but I need to try and get out of here,” he added under his breath. The Doctor fixed his eyes skywards, locating the strange planet, or machine, or whatever it was he had landed in earlier… What he did know was that his TARDIS was up there, and he needed her down here.
“Hang on,” Han interrupted suddenly, following the Doctor’s eye line and almost certain he knew what was going through the Timelord’s head. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, then why didn’t you do it before?”
“That depends precisely on what you think I’m thinking,” the Doctor responded, choosing to ignore the flabbergasted expressions of the others as they tried to follow the conversation. “And in answer to your question, like I said before, there is only a 41% chance of this working.”
To a stunned silence, the Doctor slowly raised the screwdriver into the air. With an agonising slowness, he extended the gadget out, flicked a setting and pressed the button. “Expelliarmus!” For one long moment, everyone held their breath, not precisely sure what they expected to happen. Han let out an amused snort when nothing seemed to occur, when suddenly… BOOM! Blinking in surprise, the Doctor glanced towards the screwdriver, before looking up suddenly at everyone’s cries of glee.
Fixing his eyes once more on the sky, the Doctor felt his own jaw drop at the fireworks that seemed to be littering the otherwise clear sky. Free of any Death Star, that was certain. Once more glancing at the screwdriver, the Doctor felt as though the words were going to stick in his throat.
“Did I..?”
“He did it! He did it!” Leia exclaimed suddenly, practically jumping up and down. “He destroyed the Death Star; he has saved us all from Vader.” As the entire clearing erupted in cheers of delight, the Doctor felt himself being hugged by everyone all at once; even the teddy bears had somehow latched themselves onto his leg. And then, peering over Chewie’s very hairy shoulder, he saw her.
Standing tall and proud in the clearing, the TARDIS materialised, the blue light winking down at him.
“Atta girl,” the Doctor muttered, his face threatening to split in two at the grin he was now supporting. Feeling the small hands detach themselves from his leg, the Doctor glanced down, just in time to see all of the Ewoks bowing down to him.
“Yub yub. Yub yub yub.”
“Err…thanks?”
“I don’t belieeeeve it!” cried C3P0 as he joined them, looking as crestfallen as his metal features would allow him. “I thought they were supposed to worship me?!”
“Worship?” the Doctor yelped. This trip had certainly been one for awkwardness. “I really have to be going now.”
“Oh don’t go,” Leia cried, also looking crestfallen.
“Yeah, we’re all going to head off to the Cantina. Please, join us to celebrate?” Luke chipped in, his eyes pleading. Taking one look at them all, the Timelord came to his decision. One drink surely couldn’t hurt…
“Awww, how nice of you!” grinned the Doctor.
Han gave him a hearty slap on the back and smirked. “Did I mention, the ‘hero’ buys the rounds…?”
The smile faltered, “Nope… nope, I think that comment may have passed you by.”
****
Three Intergalactic Gargle Blasters, two hypervodkas and two cans of machine oil please. Ohhh, go on then - chuck in a packet of chocolate fingers while you’re at it…” The Doctor flashed his psychic paper, hoping it would get him out of paying. Wuher, the barman, nodded in approval and proceeded to meet the order. Phew.
Two rounds later, and he was well and truly hammered. The Doctor didn’t look too good either. With another glass in his hand, the Timelord - staggering ever so slightly - made his way over to his new ‘friends’, who were clearly arguing over something…
“We have all been blind, yet the answer’s been staring us in the face!” shouted Han, a hand slapping down on the bar-counter. “Don’t you see? This man -” he pointed at the Doctor, whose head bobbed up behind Leia’s shoulder, “- is an impostor!” An echo of gasps filled the room and Luke’s jaw actually dropped in shock.
“What he used back there wasn’t the force! Ha, you can’t even prove it exists! There’s no empirical evidence! This whole ‘force’,” he wiggled his fingers in the air, “malarkey is just non-sense!” Han folded his arms and leant back, satisfied that he had won the argument.
“Ohhh, Ayer tried to explain this to be in 1935, buuut,” the Doctor chipped in, “With a TARDIS that can defy gravity, I’m living proof his theory’s ruuubbish…” He seemed to be slurring slightly. Blimey! He was drunk! It was obviously a good party…
Luke rolled his eyes, “Oh, you’re just jealous! If Jedi Master Doc-”
“Who? Ohhh, no. Please, just ‘The Doctor’ is fine…”
“-tor didn’t use the force, what did he use? Hmmm?”
“A… a… yellow thing! Arghh,” Han cried in frustration, “Trust me! He’s an impostor!” He reached into his gun holster and produced a dangerous looking banana.
“What, one of those?” asked Luke, brows raised in amusement.
“Yes, one of…. Hey!” Han growled as the anger bubbled within him. He really didn’t like to be outsmarted.
The Doctor’s eyes widened, “Err, right. I’ll be off then!” He staggered slightly towards the TARDIS, patting his pockets for the keys. “Luke,” he said, pointing a skinny finger at him, “Nice hair. Droids, play nicely. Han… Han… er… yeah. And Leia,” the Doctor took her hand and kissed it gently, the princess blushing violently as she stared into his chocolate-brown eyes, “It would never have worked out between us, darling…” With a subtle skip in his step, the Doctor headed for his ship, oblivious to the array of expressions he’d left in his wake.
Before he closed the door behind him, the Doctor opened his mouth to say: “You should always bring a banana to a party…” but, on seeing the steam fire vertically from Han’s burning-red ears, he thought better of it and made for a quick escape.
Dancing over to the console, the Doctor proceeded to hit random buttons and flick a few switches. “Beam me up, Scotty! Haha! Allons-y Mos Eisely!” Whistling Copacabana, the Doctor plonked himself down on the TARDIS sofa, swinging his legs up to rest on the edge of the machinery. He had, however, misjudged the angle, causing his foot to squeakily slide onto the big red button labelled: ‘Whatever you do, do not press this big red button.’
“Oops!” he winced but, on opening one eye, saw that nothing had changed. “Phew…”
The movement in the console column slowed as the TARDIS came into a bumpy landing. Jumping up and giggling to himself, the Doctor dug his hands into his trouser pockets and strode over to the TARDIS door - pushing it open with his foot. Stumbling into the room before him, the Doctor found himself eye-level with a banana.
Han Solo raised a cocky eyebrow, “As if you could out run me…”
“Ah.”
~ THE END ~ Or is it…?
Summary: A Doctor Who/Star Wars mash-up. The Doctor receives a cryptic clue from a - seemingly familiar - floating head, which leads him on an adventure he may, or may not, want to forget…
Disclaimer: We own neither Doctor Who, nor Star Wars [nor any of the other random references, for that matter]. We pleaded with Auntie Beeb and Uncle Lucas, honest we did, but they refused to share. So we’re just borrowing them for a while and might… might… give them back. That is, if they ask nicely…
Warning: Some serious, serious, serious artistic licence has been taken with this story line - historical accuracy has been temporarily banished to the Lost Moon of Poosh. So no complaining…! And yes, it's more of a parody than a serious story ;)
A/N: Written for a very special geeky teacher, by her equally geeky students! *grin* A writing collaboration between me and loopstagirl :) Virtual cookies if you can identify the various added references - some may be more obvious than others! Enjoy!
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“No, wait! We can’t take off! My ship’s still down there!”
“Too late, buddy, you should have thought of that before you followed us here…”
“Ignore him,” waved Leia. “He’s always like that!”
“Am not!”
“Ohh, you sooo are…!”
“Please, go back. I have to get to her.”
“Go back?” Han cried, spinning in his seat to face the Doctor, his expression one of disbelief. “We were never meant to go there in the first place. If it wasn’t for that damn tractor beam…”
“We can’t go back,” Luke butted in gently, stopping Han on his latest tirade. “Han is right; we’ve only just got away. We are risking too much by returning. Surely as a Jedi master, you wouldn’t have formed an attachment…?”
“But-,” the Doctor bit his lip, gazing out of the screen in front of him into the endless stretch of space. “I need her. You’re a pilot, Han. Would you not go back for your ship?”
The pilot frowned, as if seriously considering the Doctor’s line of thought, but before he could reach a conclusion, Leia gasped.
“Star fighters, three o’clock. Five of them.”
“Here’s hoping Chewie fixed that hyperdrive.” Jerking the stick in front of him, Han sent the Falcon spiralling down, sending the Doctor flying in the process. Grasping Luke’s helping hand gratefully, the Time Lord pulled himself to his feet, no longer sure where the ceiling and floor were in comparison to one another. Smoothing out her course, the trio didn’t relax their tense posture for quite some time, obviously scouting the immediate area for any danger. When no one made any attempt to break the silence, the Doctor figured he may as well do the honours. Before he could open his mouth, a large and very heavy hand clamped its self down on his shoulder, making him yell out in utter surprise. A loud noise - best described as a croaky roar - emitted from behind him, causing the Doctor to spin around and find himself looking up at (what looked suspiciously like) a walking carpet.
“What do you mean, we can’t get into hyperspace?! It may have escaped your attention, fuzz ball, but we have five star fighters after us!”
Assuming from the responding roar that Han could understand the creature behind him, the Doctor sighed.
“If I can’t have the TARDIS translating for me, could someone at least give me a babel fish, please?”
“A what?” Leia asked curiously, but the Doctor was too busy gazing in awe at the large hairy creature in front of him to answer.
“He’s a Wookie,” Han replied irritably, as if annoyed by the fact his friend was getting more attention than he. As the Wookie responded, the pilot suddenly frowned, clearly agitated.
“No I am not jealous of him. What is there to be jealous of? … What?! … His gorgeous good looks and obvious charm? What is wrong with you, fuzz ball?”
“If you two will stop arguing, you may want to notice those fighters have found us. We need to get out of space; we are sitting ducks here!”
“How about here?” Luke asked suddenly, his finger tapping some unknown destination on the monitor in front of him. Dancing across the ship, the Doctor hurried over, anxious to see for himself where they were. He never liked to be the last to know, especially when it came to running away.
“Endor?” Leia pondered thoughtfully. “Doesn’t the Alliance have a squadron down there trying to dismantle the weapons of the Death Star?”
“We could help!” Han butted in excitedly. “They’re sure to need some help, and in return someone must be able to fix the hyperdrive.”
“You know,” he interrupted casually, “I am a Doctor. I could probably fix this hyperdrive thingy for you.”
“Yeah right,” Han responded sarcastically, swivelling in his chair to flick the switches above his head. “You don’t even know what one is. Next you’ll be telling me that super ship of yours translates things.”
“Well, now that you mention it…”
“Evasive action needed! Star fighters coming in hot!” At Luke’s cry, Han broke off the conversation and once more jerked on the controls. The Doctor only just managed to grab hold of the chair and keep himself upright.
As the ship ploughed its way onto the planet below, the Doctor braced himself as the Falcon came to a shuddering stop, dirt covering the front in a great scattering. Letting out an explosive breath, all present sank into their seats - except the Doctor, who slid to the floor.
“Another happy landing,” he muttered to himself, bouncing to his feet and racing to the door.
“You don’t know what’s out there,” Leia called after him, her worry about his intentions obvious. With a sudden flash of his infectious (but dazzling) smile, the Doctor bounded out of the door gleefully, leaving a slightly flustered Leia in his wake.
Gazing around him in awe at the beauty of the planet, the Doctor marvelled at the dense forests surrounding the ship. They couldn’t have picked a better spot… shame they weren’t here for a picnic.
Staring at the sky in wonder, the Doctor failed to notice a small shadow slip from the protection of the door. In fact, he had just thought he saw some charming tree houses in the distance when he felt himself trip quite spectacularly over something near his feet. He landed with a thud on the - thankfully - soft ground.
“Omph!” the Doctor cried, looking about him in wonder. To his astonishment, a small creature stood in front of him, a long stick held threateningly in its paw.
“Oooh, who are you? I’m the Doctor,” the man announced cheerfully, still on the floor. Somehow, being faced with something that looked suspiciously like a teddy bear meant the threat of danger seemed to disappear in a puff of logic. The creature muttered something intelligible under its breath and sprung back a few paces, cautiously poking the Doctor’s arm with the end of its stick. Obviously a jumpy fellow then.
The door shooosed behind him and three cautious figures emerged.
“Sith..!” Han Solo cursed, as he was sent sprawling over the Doctor who - having been too preoccupied with the over-sized cuddly toy - remained on the ground.
“Han!” gasped Leia, “Mind your language! There may be younglings around!”
Han grumbled an inaudible response as he picked himself up and dusted the leaves off his jacket. He sighed in resignation, “Right, let’s find the squadron and get this party started.”
“Don’t let Jack hear you say that,” the Doctor muttered, climbing to his feet, “He’d take it waaay too literally...” No one bothered to waste breath asking what the hell he meant. “Sooo, where are we going?”
“We’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here to guard the Falcon… anything happens to her and I’ll teach you the meaning of pain!”
“You like pain?” the Doctor questioned, eyebrows disappearing, “Try wearing a corset…!” He grinned to himself; now that was an interesting disguise!
Obviously ignored, the Doctor pouted as the others sped off into the trees. “Oh, they weren’t kidding.” Whistling softly to himself, the Doctor began to pace in front of the Falcon, strongly resisting the urge to nip aboard and give her a proper explore. Han hadn’t said anything about not doing that, had he? Hearing a far off thud that sounded like a falling tree, the Doctor changed his mind. He never could resist investigating ominous noises…
Digging a hand into his pocket, the Doctor rummaged around for a moment, before his hand finally caught onto the object of his search. Pulling it out with a triumphant cry, the Doctor headed towards the thuds, peeling the banana as he went. Humming merrily to himself as he ate, he had just taken the last bite when something made him freeze mid-action.
Turning very slowly on the spot, the Doctor found himself face to face with a metal-looking-leg-thing. Letting his eye line roam upwards, the Timelord craned his neck backwards to take in the scale of the AT-ST Imperial Walker in front of him.
“Ah.” Watching with an impressed expression, the Doctor winced at the nails-on-a-chalkboard grating noise as a component on the machine moved. Even more so at the sudden realisation that the moving thing was, in fact, some sort of gun now pointing directly at him. Slowly raising his hands - the banana skin clutched in one of them - the Doctor gestured he was surrendering. It always seemed a good idea not to get himself shot.
“Parley?” he asked, watching the gun prepare to fire. As the motor whirred to life, the Doctor quickly spun around. Or not. Byeeeee.” Darting off into the trees, the Doctor wildly threw his hands out, feeling the banana skin fly out of his grip. He wasn’t going to stop; after all, he was quite the expert at running away. He could stand and fight when he wanted too; it was just that at this moment in time, he simply didn’t want too. Nothing at all to do with the fact he knew the sonic screwdriver wouldn’t be able to help him against these giant machines, nor the fact he hadn’t a TARDIS to run too. Nope, it was all to do with not wanting too.
However, despite not planning to stop, a resounding crash caused the Timelord to skid to a halt. The first Walker had just reached the edge of the trees, but then promptly stopped. Whipping around and watching it in surprise, the Doctor’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as the giant slowly began to topple, before slipping completely backwards.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he cried, his hands flying up in front of him.
But that wasn’t the end though. Ohhh no. On its journey, it somehow managed to crash into the one behind, which in turn repeated the whole process; the entire line was wiped out in minutes.
“How…?” Gazing around him in wonder, the Doctor slowly grinned, his eyes falling on an innocent looking banana skin sticking out from the edge of the first Walkers’ foot. And people said bananas weren’t good for you…
Luke, Leia, Han and Chewie suddenly burst into the clearing behind him, jaws dropping at the sight before them.
“How did… what did you…. how… WHAT?!” Han was clearly flabbergasted.
“Why, he used the force… look!” Luke pointed to the Doctor’s hands, which were still outstretched with palms facing the fallen robots.
The Doctor looked from Luke, to his hands, and then to the AT-STs. “Oh no, I didn’t- ” he acted out a strange mime, “- really! It wasn’t…”
“Ohhh, you!” Leia gushed. “You’re so modest! Helping the Federation out like that and not taking the credit! Oh Han, isn’t that nice? Han?”
“Yeah, yeah. Wonderful,” he muttered dismissively, his attention focused on an unfamiliar yellow object at the foot of the first metal creature. A suspicious eyebrow was raised.
“Well, I am what I am, and what I am needs no excuses,” started the Doctor, rocking on his heels with both hands now dug into his pockets. “So what if I love each feather and each spa-” He promptly cut himself off. No wait, he thought, that’s more like Jack…
Hmmm, maybe he shouldn’t be gloating for something that he technically didn’t mean to do. After all, the Doctor never gloated. Nope, not him. Not ever. He coughed slightly, “Aaanyway…” Preparing to make a dash for it - the situation was getting slightly embarrassing - the Doctor jumped when he felt something latch itself onto his arm like a limpet. Startled, the Doctor followed the arm with his eyes, feeling even more uncomfortable when he beheld Leia on the other end. She either had something in her eye and couldn’t dislodge it, or something else was goi- oohhh. With a realisation what that look in her eye meant, the Doctor cleared his throat subconsciously. It really was time to be going. Looking around wildly, the Doctor truly truly regretted the TARDIS wasn’t around. He really needed a quick escape…
Trying to hide his rather nervous swallow (Daleks? No problem. Cybermen? Sorted. Girls? Ahh...), the Doctor plunged his hand once more into his pocket, this time pulling out the famous sonic screwdriver. Or whatever they considered it to be. Twiddling it in between his fingers, the Doctor slowly frowned, a thought meandering its way into his head.
“What?” Han demanded rather suspiciously, the mysterious object still on his mind. Quite frankly, he didn’t trust the look on the Doctor’s face; it made him slightly uncomfortable. After all, he had just proposed his own brilliant plan for getting rid off the At-Sts, but noooo, no one listened to him anymore.
“I wonder…” the Doctor pondered thoughtfully, seemingly not having heard the rather rude demand.
“You have another plan?” Leia practically babbled, adoration shining in her eyes.
“There’s only a 41% chance of success… but I need to try and get out of here,” he added under his breath. The Doctor fixed his eyes skywards, locating the strange planet, or machine, or whatever it was he had landed in earlier… What he did know was that his TARDIS was up there, and he needed her down here.
“Hang on,” Han interrupted suddenly, following the Doctor’s eye line and almost certain he knew what was going through the Timelord’s head. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, then why didn’t you do it before?”
“That depends precisely on what you think I’m thinking,” the Doctor responded, choosing to ignore the flabbergasted expressions of the others as they tried to follow the conversation. “And in answer to your question, like I said before, there is only a 41% chance of this working.”
To a stunned silence, the Doctor slowly raised the screwdriver into the air. With an agonising slowness, he extended the gadget out, flicked a setting and pressed the button. “Expelliarmus!” For one long moment, everyone held their breath, not precisely sure what they expected to happen. Han let out an amused snort when nothing seemed to occur, when suddenly… BOOM! Blinking in surprise, the Doctor glanced towards the screwdriver, before looking up suddenly at everyone’s cries of glee.
Fixing his eyes once more on the sky, the Doctor felt his own jaw drop at the fireworks that seemed to be littering the otherwise clear sky. Free of any Death Star, that was certain. Once more glancing at the screwdriver, the Doctor felt as though the words were going to stick in his throat.
“Did I..?”
“He did it! He did it!” Leia exclaimed suddenly, practically jumping up and down. “He destroyed the Death Star; he has saved us all from Vader.” As the entire clearing erupted in cheers of delight, the Doctor felt himself being hugged by everyone all at once; even the teddy bears had somehow latched themselves onto his leg. And then, peering over Chewie’s very hairy shoulder, he saw her.
Standing tall and proud in the clearing, the TARDIS materialised, the blue light winking down at him.
“Atta girl,” the Doctor muttered, his face threatening to split in two at the grin he was now supporting. Feeling the small hands detach themselves from his leg, the Doctor glanced down, just in time to see all of the Ewoks bowing down to him.
“Yub yub. Yub yub yub.”
“Err…thanks?”
“I don’t belieeeeve it!” cried C3P0 as he joined them, looking as crestfallen as his metal features would allow him. “I thought they were supposed to worship me?!”
“Worship?” the Doctor yelped. This trip had certainly been one for awkwardness. “I really have to be going now.”
“Oh don’t go,” Leia cried, also looking crestfallen.
“Yeah, we’re all going to head off to the Cantina. Please, join us to celebrate?” Luke chipped in, his eyes pleading. Taking one look at them all, the Timelord came to his decision. One drink surely couldn’t hurt…
“Awww, how nice of you!” grinned the Doctor.
Han gave him a hearty slap on the back and smirked. “Did I mention, the ‘hero’ buys the rounds…?”
The smile faltered, “Nope… nope, I think that comment may have passed you by.”
****
Three Intergalactic Gargle Blasters, two hypervodkas and two cans of machine oil please. Ohhh, go on then - chuck in a packet of chocolate fingers while you’re at it…” The Doctor flashed his psychic paper, hoping it would get him out of paying. Wuher, the barman, nodded in approval and proceeded to meet the order. Phew.
Two rounds later, and he was well and truly hammered. The Doctor didn’t look too good either. With another glass in his hand, the Timelord - staggering ever so slightly - made his way over to his new ‘friends’, who were clearly arguing over something…
“We have all been blind, yet the answer’s been staring us in the face!” shouted Han, a hand slapping down on the bar-counter. “Don’t you see? This man -” he pointed at the Doctor, whose head bobbed up behind Leia’s shoulder, “- is an impostor!” An echo of gasps filled the room and Luke’s jaw actually dropped in shock.
“What he used back there wasn’t the force! Ha, you can’t even prove it exists! There’s no empirical evidence! This whole ‘force’,” he wiggled his fingers in the air, “malarkey is just non-sense!” Han folded his arms and leant back, satisfied that he had won the argument.
“Ohhh, Ayer tried to explain this to be in 1935, buuut,” the Doctor chipped in, “With a TARDIS that can defy gravity, I’m living proof his theory’s ruuubbish…” He seemed to be slurring slightly. Blimey! He was drunk! It was obviously a good party…
Luke rolled his eyes, “Oh, you’re just jealous! If Jedi Master Doc-”
“Who? Ohhh, no. Please, just ‘The Doctor’ is fine…”
“-tor didn’t use the force, what did he use? Hmmm?”
“A… a… yellow thing! Arghh,” Han cried in frustration, “Trust me! He’s an impostor!” He reached into his gun holster and produced a dangerous looking banana.
“What, one of those?” asked Luke, brows raised in amusement.
“Yes, one of…. Hey!” Han growled as the anger bubbled within him. He really didn’t like to be outsmarted.
The Doctor’s eyes widened, “Err, right. I’ll be off then!” He staggered slightly towards the TARDIS, patting his pockets for the keys. “Luke,” he said, pointing a skinny finger at him, “Nice hair. Droids, play nicely. Han… Han… er… yeah. And Leia,” the Doctor took her hand and kissed it gently, the princess blushing violently as she stared into his chocolate-brown eyes, “It would never have worked out between us, darling…” With a subtle skip in his step, the Doctor headed for his ship, oblivious to the array of expressions he’d left in his wake.
Before he closed the door behind him, the Doctor opened his mouth to say: “You should always bring a banana to a party…” but, on seeing the steam fire vertically from Han’s burning-red ears, he thought better of it and made for a quick escape.
Dancing over to the console, the Doctor proceeded to hit random buttons and flick a few switches. “Beam me up, Scotty! Haha! Allons-y Mos Eisely!” Whistling Copacabana, the Doctor plonked himself down on the TARDIS sofa, swinging his legs up to rest on the edge of the machinery. He had, however, misjudged the angle, causing his foot to squeakily slide onto the big red button labelled: ‘Whatever you do, do not press this big red button.’
“Oops!” he winced but, on opening one eye, saw that nothing had changed. “Phew…”
The movement in the console column slowed as the TARDIS came into a bumpy landing. Jumping up and giggling to himself, the Doctor dug his hands into his trouser pockets and strode over to the TARDIS door - pushing it open with his foot. Stumbling into the room before him, the Doctor found himself eye-level with a banana.
Han Solo raised a cocky eyebrow, “As if you could out run me…”
“Ah.”
~ THE END ~ Or is it…?