Hello! I am back! It's been awhile...I went to uni and had to abandon some old projects and well...what can I say? I've returned in the summer of work and no uni to write a new crossover (I love them just that much) since I've been in a Doctor Who funk lately. There'll be some other bits in there later too but I don't want to spoil it for you all!

Now here's the important bits: This is Doctor Who (10th Doctor - David Tenant is so cute XD) crossed with Battlestar Galactica 2003. I haven't seen the original series so don't shout okay? It's set just after the Donner Noble finale when he's once more wandering alone. I claim none of the characters yadda yadda yadda (insert disclaimer here).

Anywho now thats out the way please do enjoy! I hope you like it....I have no beta either so if anyone feels up to the job please step forward!



Chapter One - The Rattle

It was the rattling that started it all. A rattle-clank that began as a niggle, the smallest of niggles, behind an auxiliary control panel. That control section didn't do much; a coffee here and a change of clothes there. Synthetic inanimate replication in its most basic form. But it was there that the niggle started. The thing about a niggle-rattle is that it isn't content with just continuing to be that small, insignificant echo is the back of the mind. It wants to get bigger. So big that soon it is an almighty clanking-crash that shakes the very ground beneath your feet.

At the same time it would be foolish to mistake a niggle as anything insubstantial; things do not begin rattling on their own. There is a method, a reason and a desire behind such rattles even if others cannot comprehend them. If the desire is strong enough then the niggle gets stronger and if the niggle gets stronger then the desire becomes a reality. So it is surely obvious to ignore such a little niggling rattle-clatter.

But when the seemingly insignificant auxiliary control panel beneath and slightly to the left of the large blue leaver began to cutter, twitch and cackle to itself he paid it no mind. After all the old girl was falling apart these days; with things so hectic he'd barely had time to repair her. Poor thing. He gave the panel a sound thump and the noise stopped. He assumed that was the end of it. Not an hour later the rattle began again but louder. This warranted a harder thump. Once again the rattle vanished but only to return angrier, louder.

He frowned and from the inside pocket of his long brown coat pulled a pair of black reading glasses. He pressed them on his nose and bent down to have a closer look. The rattle, now a clanging, had noted the attention and proceeded to become even more prominent. The man straightened, backed up a pace and crossed his arms. He narrowed his eyes at the revolving, glowing blue cylinder at the centre of the machine and cocked his head. As if in response it flashed a lighter blue.

"No," he said with a tone of finality.

The rattle got even louder, this time accompanied by a shuddering that was almost like growling.

"Sulking will not change my answer," he said patiently, as if talking to a child. "We don't have time for one of your moods."

The rattling sputtered, offended, before rising to an intolerable level.

"Now, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings but you're being ridiculous," he sighed, removing his glasses and pocketing them.

The light flashed red, angry.

He threw up his hands in exasperation and annoyance. "We are not having an argument, not this time. No. And that is final!"

However the rattling had other ideas and the whole thing was not as final as he wished it to be. The shuddering became violent as the ship literally hurled itself off course. He was thrown across the room like a doll until he managed to grab hold of nearby railing. If anything the shuddering and rattling got worse, reaching a deafening level. Things were rattled of shelves, panels were pushed loose and the whole thing seemed ready to fly apart at the hinges.

He forced his way to a nearby control terminal and set of leavers and big red buttons to try and alter their course. But she would not listen, she stubbornly refused. She'd never refused before! Who was he kidding? She'd done this far more times than he was comfortable with. He was almost thrown off his feet again.

Then suddenly it all stopped. They'd landed. That was good. Where they'd landed was the question. He dusted himself off as he straightened, sending a slight glare at the central unit and strode to the door on the far side of the room. Seizing the handle he pulled it open slowly and stuck his head out. He was thankful for the constantly circling air field around his ship because he was met with the open blackness of space.

He rolled his eyes. "You've placed us in the middle of nowhere," he accused dryly.

They lurched sideways.

"Fine. You've placed us in none-planetary orbit in the middle of nowhere by establishing your own leash gravitational field. Very nice. Now can we leave?" He slammed the door and turned to the centre of his ship.

It flashed again, blue and curious.

"What?" he replied, confused. He darted over to another control panel and began to run a routine search. The results appeared on holo-projection and revealed a fairly large ship, dreadnought class at a guess, gliding ahead of a smaller fleet of commercial ships. They were orbiting the dreadnought just out of radar range; the problem with that was that, while they couldn't be seen, he couldn't really see what he was dealing with either.

"What are you looking at?" he asked in bewilderment, running a confused hand through his hair. There was truly nothing remarkable about this ship to set it apart from any other vessel in the vicinity.

The rattle started again, echoing around him.

"Well clearly I don't see it," he grumbled back.

Suddenly everything was quiet. Quiet just for a second. Then the ship roared to life again, leaving orbit and ripping into the time stream. A few hectic seconds later it landed with a sound so silent a cat's step would have sounded louder.

"Wow. Something must really have interested you, old girl, to actually land us on a dreadnought class," he mused, patting the computer fondly. "I suppose it can't hurt to look. Even if I am getting tired of these goose chases."

He shook his coat once more and ran a quick inventory. He had his wallet, screwdriver, phone, glasses, a rubber duck and four chocolate bourbon biscuits. Where'd he picked up those? He strode to the door once more and eased it open, peaking out. Dreadnought battle ships had soldiers on after all.

From the look of the room he could tell he was in some kind of munitions storage in an out-of-the-way sort of corner. At least she'd hidden them. He tentatively stepped out and then the door locked behind him. "Yes," he grumbled, glaring at the blue police box, "I'm going, I'm going."

He started forward, brushing his hands down the walls. Metal, lead-steal mix, made to withstand nuclear or cold fusion attacks. Pretty advanced, post twenty fourth century probably. From the voices he could hear filtering through the nearby air vents he knew he was beyond the Lion's Head nebula, the occupants of the ship were speaking Caprican. Weird considering that a Caprican ship shouldn't be out this far for at least another four hundred years, they had light travel but hadn't really been anywhere. What were so many doing so far from Caprica?

He emerged onto what seemed to be a hangar deck filled with fighter planes. The name painting across the wall, old and fading, confirmed his suspicions. That and the munitions room and fighter spacecraft and armed soldiers and the fact that they were Caprican. This was a Battlestar. The ultimate of the Caprican fleet. That was interesting.

"Excuse me, civilian, could you please tell me why you are on the main deck?" a voice behind him barked. He was so preoccupied with the wall he hadn't noticed the sudden ceasing of noise in the hangar deck.

He turned around to see a marine, or at least he guessed, with a gun. The gun was pointed at him. Casually pointed mind you, but still pointed at him.

"Oh! Hello!" he beamed placing his hands behind his back, unperturbed.

"State your name and rank." Calm but a bit pushy.

He beamed even brighter and took his hands down. "I'm the Doctor," he grinned holding out his hand to shake.


So so so? What did you think? Please review and give me self-esteen! I look back at my old stuff and cry! I want to write good stuff so criticism is welcome!

The TARDIS totally talks to him O.O. She is alive after all. She has moods!

Oh yeah! Anyone wanna be my beta? (plugging as much as possible)

Reviewers get cookies! (Made of internet).

- D