Doctor Who: The Moonshine Adventure

The ship was humming to itself, as the central column of the TARDIS console rose and fell with satisfying regularity. The lights of the white-walled control room were dimmed. The Doctor was leaning back in an antique wooden and canvas beach chair, his floppy felt hat tipped forward over his eyes. But, he wasn't sleeping.

"You know what, K-9?" He asked his robot dog, which was sat on the floor next to the chair, "I think since Leela left us, things have gotten rather dull around here."

The Doctor was referring to his latest human companion, a knife-wielding young woman from an alien world, where a planetary survey team had crashed landed many years before, and some of the surviving humans had slowly devolved into a tribe of superstitious, violent primitives, living in a dangerous jungle.

"Affirmative, Master." K-9 replied. "Having to dust the floor of the TARDIS is within my parameters of the definition of the word 'dull.'"

"Aww—but you did such an awfully good job, K-9, and it does help keep the magnametric circuitry from shorting out."

"No, it doesn't, Master. You are presently, what the humans call, 'fibbing.' K-9 retorted.

"Fibbing? Fibbing?" The Doctor asked, seemingly shocked by the suggestion. Then, he shrugged, "Well, maybe it doesn't help the circuitry, but the floors have never looked so marvelous."

"Now you are 'soaping' me, Master."

"Yes, well," he retorted, clearing his throat, "if you can't take a complement, K-9..."

Taking off his hat, the Doctor reached into his pocket, and popped a Jelly Baby into his mouth. While he chewed, he contemplated where he might go to alleviate his temporary boredom. Suddenly, his eyes widened with delight, and grinning broadly, he jumped up from the chair and dashed over to the control console.

"I know what we'll do, K-9. I'll set the controls at random, and see where the old girl takes us," he suggested, patting the TARDIS console affectionately. "That might prove to be quite interesting, don't you think?"

"As long as it doesn't take us to the designation known as a shopping mall, then I concur, Master." K-9 responded, wagging his antenna-tail.

With a grating, wheezing sound, the blue police box landed. Unfortunately, just before they landed, the TARDIS scanner went on the blink, and the Doctor had no way of knowing what planet they'd landed on. He'd had to send K-9 out first, to make sure the atmosphere was sufficient to support a Time Lord's lungs. He stood near the doorway, as K-9 extended his small sensor dish.

"Atmosphere registering nitrogen, oxygen, argon, carbon..."

"In other words K-9," the Doctor interrupted him, "the air is perfectly breathable."

"Affirmative, Master."

"Good! Let's go see what's out there, shall we?" He suggested.

"Affirmative!" K-9 answered positively, seemingly as eager to go exploring, as his master.

The door opened, and the Doctor emerged, wearing his long trailing striped scarf, with the hat now perched at a jaunty angle on his dark curly hair. The TARDIS had landed under a grove of pine trees, on a rocky, heavily forested mountainside. There was a well-worn dirt path nearby, and picking K-9 up, the Doctor set him down on the dirt path, and started walking. A short time later, the Doctor came upon what appeared to be some kind of rough, make-do shelter of a sort. It appeared to be part wooden shack, and part of what looked like some kind of large, motorized transport, similar to the holiday caravans used by humans on their motorways.

"Well, this planet seems to have some sort of indigenous population, K-9." The Doctor said to his faithful robot companion. "And judging by the looks of things, they've had to cobble together some sort of makeshift shelter. Maybe their ship crashed, or they are some sort of refugees. Perhaps they're primitives, and haven't yet reached the industrial stage on this planet. I wonder what sort of creatures live here? Then again, looking at the state of disrepair, perhaps it's deserted, and no one lives here at all"

"Negative, master. I detect four life forms. Two of them are registering as human." K-9 informed him smugly.

Without warning, two thin red hound dogs came rushing up to the Doctor. The two animals set off a chorus of howls and growls. The Doctor stood stock still, and made no sudden moves. He began to softly home a Venusian lullaby. The dogs stopped barking, and began wagging their tails happily. One began sniffing the Doctor's shoes, while the other dog sniffed K-9. He began to lift a leg against the robot dog but leaped backwards with a surprised yelp, as K-9 spun around and gave it a mild zap with his nose laser.

Before the Doctor could admonish K-9 for his rude behaviour towards his fellow dogs, a voice bellowed out from behind him.

"What's goin' on there, yew danged dawgs?" yelled a man's voice. "G'wan an git now, ya'hear?"

The Doctor turned, grinning broadly, and waved to the man behind him.

"Hello! I'm the Doctor!" he said.

Facing him was a large, overweight middle aged human. The man had a great bushy brown beard, and seemed to be wearing nothing but some camouflaged overalls and an orange baseball cap with a picture of a stag on the front of it. His feet were encased in a pair of hunting boots. He stood there, staring at the Doctor like he'd never seen another human before. He held what appeared to be some sort of beverage in a tin container in his right hand.

"Who the hell are yew?" The man asked in a heavily accented voice that was both shocked and angry.

"Erm—as I just said, I'm the Doctor."

"We ain't got no sick people 'round here's, and even when we do, we doctor'm our own selves. We don't need no bleedin' heart liberal commies comin' up here on our mountain, pokin' needles filled with who knows what'all in'ta us'n's" the man said belligerently.

"Well," the Doctor said, still smiling, "that's fine because I'm not a commie and I'm not that kind of doctor. I was just wondering, if you could tell me what planet this is?"

"Dew Whaaat?" the man asked, puzzled by the question.

"Dowatt? Don't think I've ever heard of that one. Is that in the constellation of Krakatolia, by any chance?"

"Yore one'a them furiner's, aint'cha?" The man asked, narrowing his eyes. "Yew come to take my job away from me?"

"Erm—no. At least, I don't think so. What is it that you do?" The Doctor politely inquired.

"Ain't got no job." The man said in a challenging tone. "Ain't no work 'round these parts since the mill shut down. So's ya'll kin just go back to whatever commie country you came from." The man said, pointing back up the trail.

"Actually, I'm from Galifrey. We're not communists. Our political structure is sort of a cross between the British parliamentary system and the American form of democracy, I suppose..." the Doctor's voice trailed off as the man suddenly seemed to go cross-eyed. "I say," the Doctor asked, "Are you quite alright?"

"Bobby Lee, just what in the hell's going on here? Who in the billy blue blazes is that man ya'll are wastin' yer time with, when ya'll should be out in the shed workin' on the pick up truck?" Demanded a loud, rough female voice from behind the Doctor.

The Doctor turned to see a woman who was even larger than the man, dressed in a too tight halter top and shorts, standing on the rickety wooden porch attached to the front of the shack. She appeared to be about the same age as the man, and the Doctor noted that she had a wedding ring on one finger.

"Ah, Hello, you must be Mrs. Bobby Lee." he said to her, doffing his hat. "I'm the Doctor, and I was just asking your husband here about your lovely planet."

"Dew Whaaat?" She replied.

"Yes." The Doctor answered, "That's right."

"Waat's''s right?" She repeated.

"Yes, Dowatt." He said, wondering if the TARDIS translation circuits were malfunctioning.

"Dew Whaat, what?" She drawled back at him.

"Erm-?" The Doctor shrugged, perplexed.

"Master!" K-9 exclaimed.

"Not now, K-9," the Doctor shushed him, "I'm trying to figure out what these humanoids are saying. This is a very strange planet, I must say."

"Who ya'll callin' a 'human-oid,' mister?" she said, suspiciously. "Is ya'll tryin' to insult me?"

"Master!" K-9 shrilled again, more stridently this time.

"Quiet, K-9, mind your manners." The Doctor dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"Er—I do beg your pardon. I 'm new to this planet, and I'm afraid I'm not sure what you prefer to be known as. Human, I'm thinking might be a better way of putting it." He gave the woman a curious look. "You are human, I take it?"

Walking up to the Doctor, the fat man in the camouflage overalls put his hands on his hips and gave the Doctor a dark scowl.

"Are ya'll insultin' my wife? Yew cain't do that, Mister Doctor, that'all's supposed to be my job!" The fat man told him.

"Well, at least you're gainfully employed then." The Doctor nodded.

"Dew Whaaat?" The man and woman said simultaneously.

"Erm—oh please, if you don't mind, let's not get started on that, again." The Doctor told them, putting up his hands in mock surrender and feeling more and more out of his depth.

"Is there's sumpin' I kin' hep' ya'll with?" The fat man asked. "Are ya'll here lookin' to buy some moonshine?"

"Er—come again?" The Doctor asked, puzzled.

"Come again? We ain't even left yet!" the woman told her husband. "Honey, I think this gent's already been at the moonshine!"

"Your planet actually sells moon light?" The Doctor asked, smiling. "You know, that's what I like about traveling. You always learn something you didn't know, or see something new, every day."

"Nah, it's not moonlight ya' idjit. It's called moon-SHINE." The fat man said, shaking his head. "Ya'll is the strangest flat-lander I've ever seen."

"Actually, I'm from a far-away place called Galifrey." The Doctor replied, bending down to brush away a stray brown chicken, who was trying to peck on his shoes.

The Doctor blew out his cheeks, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. There definitely was something wrong with the translation, here. What to do? Then his eyes widened and lit up, he grinned.

"I wonder, do you give away any free samples of your moon-shine?" he asked the fat man, shrugging, "You know, just to see if I want to buy any."

"MASTER!" K-9 shrilled, "Suggest you not try..."

"Shush, K-9!" The Doctor ordered. He shook his head at the fat man, "I'm so sorry about my dog, he isn't TARDIS-broken yet." K-9 responded by giving off what very much sounded like an electronic raspberry.

"Waall, I suppose we could give ya'll a taste. I just made up a batch last night." The fat man agreed.

"Now, see here Bobby Lee, you just give 'em a taste, ya' hear? Don't go givin' the whole jar away!" his wife commanded. "I'm savin' some of that money to buy me some lottery tickets and shotgun shells."

"Ya'll come with me, Doctor, and I'll show you the best durned moonshine in the whole county!" The fat man told the Doctor. He headed back towards the woods behind the shack, the dogs following on his heels, the Doctor following the dogs, and K-9 bringing up the rear.

Two days later found the Doctor, stumbling about a construction site, bleary eyed, disheveled, climbing over debris in the bright summer sunshine, with his eyes half-closed and his head hurting worse than the time he challenged Morbius to a mind-bending contest.

"K-9," he asked, "Where in the name of Davros are we?"

"The same planet I tried to tell you about before, master, when you kept ordering me to be quiet." K-9 said, about as sarcastically as a robot dog was able to be.

"Yes, yes, alright, alright, K-9. I'm un-ordering you to be quiet. Where, specifically, are we?" The Doctor said through gritted teeth, rubbing his temples.

"It is Sunday, sixth March. The year is 2011. K-9 replied, a tad smugly. "After drinking too much of an illegally produced distilled alcoholic beverage made primarily from corn, you got in the TARDIS, said you were going to look up your future selves and tell them to had to shop at someplace called Wal-Mart. You then flew the TARDIS into two grain silos and a John Deere tractor, took a wrong turn at Albuquerque, bounced off the earth's gravity field and ended up here, in Milton Keynes, Master. My data suggests that some earth humans refer to it as drink driving."

Walking around a stack of steel girders lying on the floor of the construction site, the Doctor's blurred vision made out a familiar blue box. He stumbled up to it, but found his key didn't fit in the lock! The Doctor held up the key. It was the right key. He tried the lock again. It still wouldn't fit.

"Master!" Said K-9, faithfully trundling along behind him, that is a toilet, not the TARDIS!"

"Oh good, I needed to take a slash." The Doctor told K-9.