Lawsuit of a Time Lord - Part 1

Once their mission on Logopolis was complete, Lestor, Quandhee and Sabrae (newly regenerated, barely recognizable and, happily, caffeinated) returned to Bruce to regroup with the rest of us. We all decided it was time for a bit of down time and, thus, we all went to the bowels of my TARDIS for a few strings of bowling followed by a game of hockey in the ice rink.

That was the plan, anyway.

Roughly halfway through the second string, two things became readily apparent.

First, sapphire had a remarkable skill in bowling, able to play well enough to score a normally impossible 647, though that may have been due to the fact that my Time Travel Capsule being rather fond of her, perhaps to the point of infatuation. I've often caught the engines purring to her when it thought I wasn't listening.

Second, the engines had fired up and we were in transit, somewhere.

And so, we all headed to the primary console room to check the trans-temporal coordinates, which were less then useful, as they indicated only that we were, in fact, not heading to someplace it referred to as "Steve's house". This, apparently, was enough to worry Skippy, as he immediately, without a word, hopped on a passing huon and vanished.

And so, we waited.

It is interesting to note that time, while, essentially non-existent within a TARDIS, still SEEMS to pass. This can seem like a very boring prospect. It is one of the reasons many Time Lords and Ladies keep some diversions within their TTCs. In my case, my TARDIS contained the previously mentioned bowling alley, and ice rink, but also a lovely garden, cinema, pool, and fully stocked library.

None of which mattered an emu liver at the moment, as the best way to pass time when one's TARDIS is being controlled by some external force is not bowling, swimming, skating or reading.

Hence, we all adjourned to the pub and began drinking copiously.

During our travels, we had discovered the actual recipe for a drink previously spoken of only in legend: The Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.

It was the only information I kept in the database of the food machine in the pub.

For sixteen virtual hours, we all waited and drank in the pub until the engines stopped. By this time, however, I had become convinced I had once again joined the vortex, itself and Lestor and Tristan had exchanged livers. Cannnnnndy and sapphire had long ago given up on drinking and had abandoned consciousness altogether.

Sabrae, oddly, seemed completely unaffected.

I stumbled, along with the other sentient (and now, more numerous, semi-sentient) passengers, to the primary console room to try to work out, through what can only be described as a mental oblivion, where we had finally materialized.

The scanners were still less than helpful, as they merely read "Now not at Steve's House". Ad so, I had to open the main doors.

And we were greeted by a detachment of Chancellery Guard, pointing staser pistols at us.