Concurrently with the experiences of the unknown Time Lady and newly transgender TTC with the Silver Twist, Lestor sent a message to sapphire, emerald and myself in my TARDIS via sub-etha requesting we rendezvous on Bruce. I relayed this request to the rest of the Killing Time Alliance and set my ship's trans temporal coordinates to the home planet of our merry band of misfits. My sister responded with the simple message of "Retired. Bugger off!", so it was clear she would not be returning anytime soon.
Upon materialization, we stepped out onto the planet's surface and found it had changed some in the time we were away. For example, the ocean which formed during Rowan's regeneration was now teeming with sea life from a myriad of worlds, though, for some unknown reason, were all the same shade of bright green. This caused sapphire to begin referring to it as the Lime Sea, though, having tasted it, myself, I can attest it was in fact NOT lime flavoured, but more had a flavour combination of strawberry, tequila and rhinoceros sweat.
As we were getting re acclimated to Bruce, Lestor's Time Travel Capsule materialized next.
As he stepped out, we noticed his new regeneration: Blond, longish hair, and, inexplicably, dressed in a white dinner jacket, formal trousers and a pair of blue trainers. He was followed by the young Portuguese lady (and her regeneration-causing breasts), whom he introduced as Noctem.
Interesting fact about the name Noctem: It exists on countless worlds throughout the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash, with vastly different meanings on each. For example, on Lyzando 7, the name Noctem translates to "Dreamer of Creation", whereas on Boros, it translates to "More ale, I still have clothes on".
As we were getting caught up, Nereid materialized and Rowan disembarked with a Time Lady none of us recognized, whom she referred to as Kylie. Her arrival and meeting of Rowan is a story for another time, which I told you all four years ago and if you can't remember it, this is not my fault.
Finally, the final TARDIS of our group arrived and out stepped her only passenger... Skippy.
We all, of course, inquired about the whereabouts of Tristan. "Long story," Replied the fez-adorned kangaroo, " so best we all get drinks."
A few moments later, we were all sat about in beach chairs (with the exception of Rowan, who was, obviously, more comfortable in the Lime Sea, being a Mer-Time Lady) and Skippy regaled us with the tale.
It seems that after we all went our separate ways, Tristan and Skippy decided to set out on a pub crawl.
It should be noted that pub crawls have a whole different scale when one has access to time and space travel. It means, essentially, that one does not attempt to have a pint at every pub along a stretch of road or in a town within the space of a night. It means, instead, that one attempts to have a pint at every pub in existence at every moment in its existence before one's liver leaps from one's body and, having gained self-sentience, decides to literally beat one to death out of revenge.
It seems, during the course of this multi-planetary, trans-temporal pub crawl, Tristan had gone from his usual somewhat randy self to attempting to copulate with anything possessing a pulse (and many things lacking one) It became his driving purpose, apparently.
It was during this time that Tristan decided to set his TTC to a temporally stationary position in space, open the door, extend the air corridor and have a bit of zero-gravity fornication with an inflatable sex doll modell after Dr. Zira from the Terran film Planet of the Apes. His odd choice of partners, notwithstanding, I can't say I blame him for this action, as I've done this, myself a number of times, though I generally do so with the live passengers within my ship... Mmmmm... Sorry... Where was I?
Right. Tristan had set the parking brake correctly in his Capsule and had, as I said, remembered to extend the air corridor, before he began his escapades. What he had FORGOTTEN however, was to activate the shields.
I must inform you all at this time that micro-meteors are a bitch.
One such micro-meteor punctured Tristan's partner, causing a small leak of air...
The high-squeaky sound of the leak died off as the small but fast stream of air escaped, acting as a jet in the gravity-free environment of space, propelling Tristan and his latex concubine faster and faster... Toward a dwarf star.
To those non-Gallifreyns who may be reading this, understand that, yes, a Time Lord CAN regenerate most mortal injuries, incineration at the heart of a dwarf star is a tricky matter. There is only one way for even a Time Lord to survive incineration at the heart of a dwarf star. By never actually being drawn into the heart of a dwarf star in the first place.
Tristan was not so lucky.
And so, we were gathered again on Bruce, having lost two of our number, and gaining two more. And being thoroughly surprised by the sudden arrival of what can best be described as an eighty foot, fire-breathing halibut.
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